Song

Gilrilion ran, and he sang as he ran,

As bright-feathered crow soared high in the sky,

Clear sky, that bird did shine, as crow did fly.

A December Night
by Miss Corydalia Birdsfoot of the Little Delving Birdsfoots
with extreme apologies to W.S. Gilbert

When a hobbit’s not engaged in digging taters (digging taters)

Nor is elbow-deep in scrubbing pots and pans (pots and pans)

One look at her and you may see
A fate unkind, it’s a mystery
She is young and yet she’s torn apart
For hope has now left this woman’s heart
Hope has now left this woman’s heart

Whispering tales, a word of lies
The man and the maid of the love denied
One breath, one lie may end or may start
For hate took a place of the man’s heart
Hate took a place in the man’s heart

Roaring fire burning bright,

Dancing merry through the night.

Speech and song run sweet and long,

Everbathed in glowing light.

Gentle fire under star,

Warming trav’lers from lands afar.

Crystal clear ring cries of cheer‿

While flames flick’ring play on logs smoke-charred.

Raging fire blazing bold,

Greedy tongues lick red and gold.

Click here to listen.

Ryheric's theme for Atharann, the ranger who had experienced hardships, death, loss and fuel for violence and war throughout his long life.

Often, Atharann was separated from the group and operated alone. Ryheric often wondered about him during those times.

(( This is an orchestrated soundtrack piece. Ryheric's original lute piece is represented by the sound of the guitar.))

Dance for the fire,
The glow of warmth!
Dance for the breeze
Bringing rains from the north!

Dance for the grass;
For the green of the hills!
Dance for the sun;
The warming of chills!

Dance for the lilies
The gems of the forest!
Dance for the frogs;
For their sweet little chorus!

It has now been some days since I was in the House of Elrond, having been sent there on an errand by my allies in Esteldín.  I confess that I was afraid, for never before had I met so many of the Fair Folk, nor stayed in their halls.  Sire Angild would on occasion trade with the Fair Folk of the Greenwood, but seldom, and never did I accompany him to those far distant borders.

In the valley of eve,

Fell the sun into sorrow.

The silver stars laid low,

Yet by darkling sky ungrieved.

Crimson was the still dawn,

The wind wailed down, the clear lake

Shone red in evil’s wake,

Yet none by the shore did mourn.

O forsaken land, o failing breath,

O fallen kin and cursed waste,

O unhappy fate I would embrace,

Yet by ill fortune scorned by death.