“I making songs for you.” Daelinn straddled thick tree roots that stuck out into the river, stick firmly gripped in one small fist. She tapped against the roots with the stick, beaming at the satisfying thud this made.
“How beautiful,” Barangolf commented with a smile. He sat beside the tree, feet dangling in the water. “Does your song have any words?”
The Elven child scrunched up her face and nodded before embarking on a garbled lullaby about the stars. Any Elf who didn’t spend much time in her presence would undoubtedly be hard pressed to understand her; she wasn’t exactly in tune, and she still didn’t always pronounce words correctly, and her lyrics were confused and blended together.
But Barangolf had the benefit of familiarity, and so he ended the song with her.
...and the stars watch over you, beloved.
Daelinn beat her stick against the roots in quick succession, then flung both arms into the air and smiled.
“I be singer, oompah.” She declared proudly.
He leaned over to ruffle her hair fondly. “You are a wonderful singer.”
