~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Part One ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


As I strummed my lute, I realized it was times like these that I was happy to be mysterious, hiding behind my yellow-feathered mask. The crowd was rowdy and I could tell that something distracted my partner, but there was no time to find out what was diverting his attention as my pointed ears picked up a call from one man at the bar.

"Sing us the ballad of the girl of the squirrels!" The crowd erupted into similar cheers for the song, and I did not need to look to the masked elf next to me to know that was our next selection.


We had begun the evening with a Sindarin song of love lost and the perils of the sea calling. The next few tunes were happier ones, prompting a few of the visitors to hum or clap along. Eventually we had a few dancers out on the floor, but our purpose was to have everyone dance, so as to tire them and cause them to thirst, thereby giving the innkeeper more business and us a greater gratuity in return. Then again, we were hardly in it for the money.

The ballad was a duet and a bit of a round, for though we began to play together, the harper and I, my companion began the chorus one line after I did and would continue to sing the chorus throughout the song as I sang the verses in a louder voice as I strummed my lute:

"Let us sing you the ballad of the girl of the squirrels,
No long bushy tail, instead hair with curls,
And across all the branches you can see her pitter patter,
Listen in the forest you will hear her chitter chatter!"

"Into Mirkwood forest, she came one day.
Came to see the King, but not long did she stay,
Back into the woods, to the warden she did reach,
And the rootless mallorn went up into the tall beech."

As we recalled the chorus, much clamor arose as some patrons joined us in song. What caught my attention were not the rowdy dancers, nor the jovial singers, but a small group devoid of clapping, stomping, or singing. One lady was trying her best to discreetly slip beneath the table while the other feigned innocence – I knew the look well – as she looked with extreme interest to the ceiling. I thought little more of it as I continued the
tune:

"Back to Mirkwood and back to the King,
Many times she did dance but he didn't make her sing,
Her reverence was perfect, her Elvish was divine,
And such a lovely backside – The perfect concubine!"

I heard an abrupt cough across the room from the table, and though I could not see the cause, both women were now sitting straight in their seats. Most of the inn was in a fury of dance and laughter, while the tone was quite the opposite at just that one table. I doubled my efforts as I began the third verse, determined to have everyone in a joyous mood:

"If you need to calm her, offer her a nut.
She was raised by squirrels –"

I stopped my strumming briefly, as did my partner when he asked:
"Did we mention her fine butt?"

"She used to dig holes and bury things and live in a tree,
Now she comes when called and curtseys for his majesty.

Let us sing you the ballad of the girl of the squirrels,
No long bushy tail, instead hair with curls.
And across all the branches you can see her pitter patter,
Listen in the forest you will hear her chitter chatter!

Now you know of the ballad of the girl of the squirrels,
Don't follow bushy tails, just hair full of curls,
No longer does she climb trees or go chitter chatter,
'Tis her charm and magnificent behind that really matter!"

We finished with a flourish and to the sound of coins dropping into a hat on the floor, and we bowed in turn to our audience. A simple touch on my arm told me we were to decline further song for the time, and we left our instruments in their spots. Scooping up the coins, I placed the hat upon my head while minding my mask as we strolled up to the front of the inn to refresh our voices with a mug from the bar.

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~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Part Two ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


"Who is that duo? Familiar they are to me," I heard an elf remark in broken Westron to the men folk at the table where he sat. Men and elves were mingling quite a bit now and everyone was in a jolly mood, but I tensed upon hearing his words. Though I had been assured that we could only be recognized while masked by very few, I still tightened my grip upon my drink as I listened and discreetly watched from the bar.

"They usually travel in a larger group - altogether, there are four of them when they are all present," explained one of the men slowly. A few elves from other tables leaned closer to hear the tale, as well as a few mortals including the two mortal women, who did not lean but rather sat straighter and appeared to listen better than the rest. Foreigners, I assumed. "Birds of a Feather, they call themselves. The Canary often regales us with tune or tale, but rarely does the Swan come to sing. It is a true treat this evening."

I felt like saying, 'There are five of us, you dolt,' but the Swan did not need to remind me that I was there to sing, and if needed he would be the one to speak. As he stood to return to our corner I realized he did not find the need to correct the error, and so I stood as well and led our way through the crowd. Halfway, I realized he was not on my heels and turned to see him standing next to the table I had taken note of earlier. I blinked, and that
is when I noticed Him.

Sweeping my hat from my head I bowed as low and graciously as I could without falling to the floor. "Your Majesty, your pardon! I did not see you until now." He said nothing to me as I placed my hat back upon my head and retreated to the stage, but the Swan remained unmoved. I concentrated my efforts to observing and listening and thanked the Elven part of my heritage that I could do so at a distance.

"Your performance has been flawless," said the King quietly. "Your voice does great service to your realm."

"My voice as an instrument of my realm is resting this eve, for it is in my own service tonight," came the answer from the Swan, his voice regal and deep for an elf.

King Thranduil narrowed his eyes -- not in malice but in thought. "Whatever came of that quaint drinking song you would play years past in jest?"

The Swan tilted his head. "Would it please his majesty to hear such a tune?"

"Only if it pleases you to sing it."

There was a twitch, a smile, and then it passed. "I shall consider it," was the answer before the Swan continued on his path to join me at the makeshift stage.

"He's shall consider it?" I heard an elf sputter at another table. "He stands before a sitting King, he does not bow, and he says he shall consider it?" Many of the others looked aghast at what had transpired, but King Thranduil raised his wine-bowl and it took but a look to calm the crowd.

"He is an artist and it is his art that is master over him. To deny him his own will over the matter would be to tell the sun not to rise. The wind blows as it wishes, flowers bloom as they fancy. And the songbird shall sing when he decides." Thranduil drank from his bowl and none said further on the matter.

"He knows?" I whispered to the harper, to which he returned under his breath, "Tune your fiddle."

And all was silent until the birds began to sing.

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~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Part Three ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


The harp was in the hands of the Swan, but I exchanged my lute for a fiddle. I rosined my bow as I was given a few short words of instruction from the Swan and I nodded, resting my instrument under my arm and striking up a beat with my foot upon the floor. It was unusual, but he wished to sing while I played and I simply agreed to all of his requests. The crowd joined, tapping feet and clapping hands and singing along when they knew the words as the Swan led them in song:

"Well life in the forest has always been good,
From Mirkwood's green trees into the golden wood,
Where there's a silver tree everywhere I stood,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

Well I love my daughter and I love my wife,
I never asked for nothin' but a simple sorta life,
I can shoot with a bow and hunt with a knife,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

Well, I got me a tall tree, but I like to travel,
I like to tell stories, and I try not to battle,
I can walk on snow an' all that other fiddle-faddle,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

Here now we began to play, Canary and Swan. My fiddle was frantic to keep the pace that was set as deeper notes were plucked from the harp in time with the beat:

"More often are my hands upon bow than harp,
But about all of that you'll never hear me carp,
I just keep the strings tuned and my weapons mighty sharp,
An' thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

I'd sing and I'd strum if I could all the day,
But the Lady of the Woods wouldn't like it that way,
So I see to my duties before I head 'round to play,
An' thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

Well, I got me a tall tree, but I like to travel,
I like to tell stories, and I try not to battle,
I can walk on snow an' all that other fiddle-faddle,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

Quite a few of the patrons were no longer in their seats, those of the race of men danced heartily around the large room while those who were as greater kinfolk to me were either following along as best they could or being instructed by those who knew. Many of the elves were dancing with women, the men dancing with ellith, and we were delighting in the response from our song:

"Well, some elves now they like to have power,
They think about rings and taking down towers,
I'll trade all that for grass, trees, and flowers,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

An' other elves I know sit around and grouse,
Buildin' up realms and livin' in a homely house,
I'd rather sing a tune an' make love to my spouse,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!

Well, I got me a tall tree, but I like to travel,
I like to tell stories, and I try not to battle,
I can walk on snow an' all that other fiddle-faddle,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

I dared let my eyes sweep to the table my partner had stopped at and was pleasantly surprised to see the King of Mirkwood clapping along. I nudged my companion and the Swan looked up, catching a nod from King Thranduil. The Swan tilted his head in answer back, but it was innocent enough that I doubted any really noticed the gesture as he began to sing again:

"Well, I once knew of a famous Elven prince,
His Ada said to me as he turned his head and winced,
"Just do what you like, son," -- an' I haven't stopped since --
"An' Thank Eru you're not an Elven lord!

Twas my Ada who first taught me how to use a sword,
Later made my harp when he saw me gettin' bored,
He taught me to fight and how to strum a chord,
Thank Eru I'm not an Elven lord!"

As we finished, much cheering and applause rang through the room. Some even continued to dance about, hoping and calling for one more song. When finally the crowd was calmed and my fiddle put away, the Swan had already begun to strum thin, sad strings of notes along the strings of his harp.

Sitting down next to the Swan, I leaned my head back against his shoulder, careful not to disrupt his playing. Tragic as the tale I was to sing was, for the moment I felt content and quite happy. It reminded me of the many days he and I would spend traveling alone together, and how there never seemed to be enough of those days to look forward to.

He began to speed the notes, but they remained somber as I began to sing with a clear voice, yet beneath the words was a hint of desperation. As always, I knew how the song was to end – just as it had happened in life.

Glorfindel - chief lord of the golden flower
Guarding the gates of Gondolin, you help to keep the secret tower
Surrounded by the Echoriath, only entrance is the Way of Escape
The Head Captain is Ecthelion; he is warden of the seventh gate

But when you fought that balrog, did you know that you would fall?
When you heard Mandos call, calling, Glorfindel?

Glorfindel - when did you know you’d fallen?
When Gothmog was in the king’s square?
When Morgoth knocked the walls in?
You missed the Gates of Summer
Namo called you to his halls, calling Glorfindel

Glorfindel - your blade struck like thunder
You fell into the precipice
As Gondolin was plundered

But when you fought that balrog, did you know that you would fall?
When you heard Mandos call, calling, Glorfindel?

Glorfindel - you raced around the mountain
You could see the horde approaching,
Did you know they took the fountain?
Telling Morgoth the location, was one of Hurin’s great regrets
You thought the city was hidden away, but Maeglin betrayed all its secrets

And when you fought that balrog, did you know that you would fall?
When you heard Mandos call, calling, Glorfindel?

Glorfindel - You were brought up by Thorondor
Flowers bloomed amid barrenness
Of the stones you’re buried under

But when you fought that balrog, did you know that you would fall?
When you heard Mandos call, calling, Glorfindel?

Calling, Glorfindel?

Calling, Glorfindel?

As I finished a faint murmur went through the crowd and many of the elves bowed their heads in remembrance of those lost in battles great and small. The Swan whispered the name of one final song to me. As I slowly sat up and looked to my companion, I saw there was a tear even in his eye, but his mask hid this and only moments later he began one true final cheerful song - something livelier that brought the crowd back to their feet as I gracefully raced to retrieve my fiddle. I couldn’t help but grin as the Swan traded his harp for my lute before we began to sing, trading lines as we went:

“What do you do with a drunken elf, when he arrives home in the wood?
You could explain his wrongs, with some songs, but you won’t be understood.
So what do you do with a drunken elf, when he arrives home in the morn?
You hang him in a tree all by himself, that’s what you do with a drunken elf!

What do you do with a drunken dwarf, when he arrives home to his cave?
You could take his mug, and think you’re smug, but I doubt that he’d behave.
So what do you do with a drunken dwarf, when he arrives home in the noon? |
You shove him in the sea right from the wharf, that’s what you do with a drunken dwarf!

What do you do with a drunken man, when he arrives home to his house?
You could forbid him out, but he’ll sit and pout, and consequently grouse.
So, what do you do with a drunken man, when he arrives home in the eve?
You lock the door as fast as you can, that’s what you do with a drunken man!

What do you do with a drunken orc, when they arrive home the next day?”

Abruptly we stopped, and the Swan meekly said, “Um, good morning dear, you’re back early...” A roar of laughter followed before I said, “The next day? That had to be some party!”

“What do you do with a drunken horse, when he arrives home to his stall?”

Again there was a pause, and I spoke first this time. “Apparently, the party was in Rohan.”

Groaning, the Swan said, “Why don’t I ever get invited to parties like this?”

“What do you do with a drunken horse, when he arrives home to his stall?
You’re probably the one who is the drunk, so don’t you mind at all.

What do you do with a drunken friend, when you’re done singing this song?
You can say it’s bad, but we already know that, and it isn’t very long.
So, what do you do with a drunken friend, when we leave you now?
Well, now we’ve come ‘round to the end, so sing it again with your drunken friend!
Now we’ve come ‘round to the end, so sing it again with your drunken friend!”

After the last tune was finished, we bowed and smiled and packed our things to the clapping and cheering of men and elves. They began to sing songs of their own as we walked to the bar, stopping one final time to see to our tab, only to have it waved off and a bag of coin tossed in our direction.

We waved one last time to the crowd, offering exaggerated bows as we exited the merrymaking that continued in the inn. Out of the corner of my eye I had noticed the King of Mirkwood watching us from the corner of his, and I had a feeling he waited only for our departure before he made his own.

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~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Part Four ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


It did not take long to retrieve our horses for we had asked they be ready for us at the end of our performance. We had been in this town now a fortnight, and I longed to be out traveling in open fields and lush forests. Although I left my mask on, my companion was eager to remove the barrier to his identity, and he pulled at the ribbons that tied behind his ears as he spoke jovially about the songs we had sung and the response to them.

A sudden noise caught our attention, and the Swan quickly retied his mask as both of us looked to the building. Out from the shadows came the King of Mirkwood, clapping his hands together slowly and not too loud as he stepped forward. “May I compliment your performance?” he asked.

“That depends…” came the sly reply. The Swan held out one arm, which was taken by the king, and each of them clasped the other’s shoulder. The gesture did not surprise me in the least. “It was an unexpected pleasure to see you. You are well?”

“I am. And you?”

“As always,” nodded the Swan. He let go King Thranduil’s arm and stepped back, motioning me forward. “I believe you are familiar with the Canary,” he said, and I bowed, carefully minding the lute on my back.

“That I am,” the king said carefully, watching me as he continued to speak with the Swan. “I did not know that she traveled with you. She is--”

I began to open my mouth to explain just exactly what purpose I served, but I was silenced as the Swan’s hand brushed against the small of my back. It was a gentle reminder - he did the talking, not me. “My protégé,” he finished rather quickly, and though he might have rightly called me other things, the title he chose made me feel quite inferior at that moment.

Thranduil nodded, eyes still focused upon me. “Excellent.” He looked again to the Swan. “Most excellent.”

“Our horses are ready,” the Swan then said, motioning behind him.

“You’re leaving so soon?” King Thranduil tilted his head. “Pity.”

They stood facing one another for a brief time until the Swan smiled. “Stable our horses,” he said to me, “and see if there are two rooms available for us.”

As he turned to leave with the king, my stomach knotted and I called after him, “Were you unhappy with the room we had while we were here?” I asked, placing a great deal of emphasis on the word ‘we’.

“Stable the horses,” he said sharply, “and ask if they have two rooms.” He looked back once more to see if I dared to defy his order again, but I gave a small nod and took the reigns of our mounts, leading them back to the stables.

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~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Part Five ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~


When I had seen to our horses and procured rooms – curse that there were many more than two available – I deposited my gear in what would be my room before taking my lute and walking back into the hall. It was still very crowded, despite the time. Drawing my hat down over my eyes, I walked to the bar to retrieve a glass of water.

“Your friend left something here for you,” said the bartender as I paid for our lodging. He pulled out a scroll of parchment, tightly rolled so that it was no wider than my thumbnail and no longer than my hand. There was silver thread wound around it, and I thanked the man at the counter and took my drink and my note outside. Finding a quiet place near the base of a tree, I unfolded the note and read through it as I sipped my water.

~~*~~

Songbird –

I will be busy this evening.

Amuse yourself with these lyrics if you like, they require both melody and harmony.

We leave come the dawn.

~~*~~

There was no signature, but that was to be expected. The print was tiny, very fitting to the scroll it had been written on. I pulled my lute over my shoulder and began to strum a few chords experimentally. It needed a steady rhythm, maybe something with drums as well. I did my best as I quietly tried the new song:

“Mary, oh, Mary, why did you try to fly away?
Mary, oh, Mary, this is where you should stay.

Mary, oh, Mary, though the world is wide, aye, and vast,
Mary, oh, Mary, I'll still catch you though eagles are fast.

She loves the trees...
She loves the caves...
You'd never know,
How she behaves!
She wants to be caught,
But then she runs away,
Mary, oh, Mary, why ever did you stray?

Mary, oh, Mary, why did you try to fly away?
Mary, oh, Mary, this is where you should stay.

Mary, oh, Mary, though the world is wide, aye, and vast,
Mary, oh, Mary, I'll still catch you though eagles are fast.

She loves the food...
She loves the wine...
All the time,
I thought everything was fine!
Then I heard her thought,
And she flew away,
Mary, oh, Mary, why ever did you stray?

Mary, oh, Mary, why did you try to fly away?
Mary, oh, Mary, this is where you should stay.

Mary, oh, Mary, though the world is wide, aye, and vast,
Mary, oh, Mary, I'll still catch you though eagles are fast.”

I was wondering what eagles had to do with anything. The song was just as peculiar as they one about the squirrels, and I wondered if this one was based on some local gossip as well.

I had attracted quite an audience by now, and through my musings had continued to play. Though it was late, I was still a bit hurt by the Swan’s earlier comment of protégé, and played louder now to those who would listen:

"Mary, oh, Mary, why did you try to fly away?
Mary, oh, Mary, this is where you should stay.

Mary, oh, Mary, though the world is wide, aye, and vast,
Mary, oh, Mary, I'll still catch you though eagles are fast.

She loves the tales...
She loves the songs...
And from now on,
This is where she belongs!
She only had to be taught
Not to run away
Mary, oh, Mary, now she is here to stay.

Mary, oh, Mary, why did you try to fly away?
Mary, oh, Mary, this is where you should stay.

Mary, oh, Mary, though the world is wide, aye, and vast,
Mary, oh, Mary, I'll still catch you though eagles are fast.”

I smiled at the applause and grinned at the words of praise, but as soon as everyone had gone, I leaned against the tree and sighed, looking up at the windows of the inn. As practiced as I was at playing, it just wasn’t the same without the Swan.

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~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Part Six ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~




“It was good to see you. May you have an enjoyable time while you are here,” the Swan said.

"Safe journey to you," answered Thranduil, and the Swan gave a nod. I rocked back and forth on my heels impatiently. Morning was breaking, travel was faster before the sun rose and heated the horses. I also wanted to get the damned mask off of my face, but the Swan insisted we not remove them until we were far from anyone who could identify us.

"And to you,” said the Swan, nodding his head. “Be safe," he added.

"Be wise," said the King, eyes smiling.

For the first time in the conversation, the Swan smiled, and then grinned, shaking his head merrily at the joke. As he turned away, he motioned me to my horse, and I mounted. We began to ride off at a leisurely pace, and I was about to ask why we were riding in a direction opposite of where we were going. The Swan turned his horse suddenly, and I did the same. His hands were no longer on his reigns, for he had pulled his hood up over his head and was untying his mask. With his face hidden in shadow, we rode close the inn, and the Swan cast something in King Thranduil’s direction.

The King caught the feathered mask easily, and he smirked briefly before walking back inside. I could have easily wrung the Swan’s neck for that – he has no concept of how long it takes to make these masks. I was still upset, not only about the previous evening, for that I could have overlooked, but for a name he’d called me that hurt more than any night spent without him.

We flew across the fields in the misty morning. Usually, we travel only out of sight of the town or inn before stopping to unmask and stow our instruments, but we seemed to go a bit further this time. When finally we did slow, the sun was shining down upon us. My mask was the first to go as I eased my horse to trot, and next the lute was packed away.

He was ahead of me by a halfdozen steps, and singing. Always singing, if we weren’t speaking, he was singing. Today it was a Sindarin song, a drinking song to some, that could be heard. It was really a song about the first coming of the new wine, but it was short and easy to recall and worked well enough for a drinking song. I let him finish the tune without interrupting.

“Na vedui! Na vedui!

Tolo, panno i hûl nín!

Sogo, sogo! Daro, bedithon minui!

Sogo mae! Cuio mae! Mado mae! Meletho mae!

Na vedui! Na vedui! Na vedui!”

As I coaxed my mount to pace alongside the Swan, I spoke to him finally for the first time since he’d made me stable the horses the night before. “Your protégé?”

“You might wish a scandal, but I do not,” he said sharply.

“Protégé?” I repeated, still bitter about the previous night when he had used the word in reference to me in front of King Thranduil. “In my mind, that brings about the exact thoughts you are hoping not to convey.”

“Can it be helped that your mind is impure?” he teased me as I tucked the mask I had removed earlier away in my cloak. “Tell me then, what would you have me call you?”

“We’re traveling companions. Perhaps, associate? I would like to think we’re equals,” I dared say. “Protégé makes it sound as if I’m beneath you.”

“If I am recalling correctly,” he said before spurring his steed, “you spend quite a bit of time beneath me.”

Scowling again, I couldn’t help conceal a smirk as I tugged the reigns and instructed my horse to catch up to the one racing ahead.



~*~ The End ~*~


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