bard

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!

Do you spread joy, or seek to annoy?

Diddle-liddle-dee! My, you are free!

Tick of the clock or click of the tongue?

Tick-click-tock! Just a bit of fun!

Sweet as nectar, nay, you are better!

Diddle-liddle-dee! Fly off like a bee!

Stomp of the foot or beat of a drum?

My father would be rolling in his bed if he knew where I was and what I am doing now.  After our departure from our family homestead outside of Archet, my father and I settled in with my brother and his family in Bree. I miss the farm and the homestead, my father toiling in the soil and me helping him worok nearby with the farmhands. I miss the long field of flowers that I would pick through, now burned.

From fair free lands, from far froathy waters - wreathing, rounding rocks - the wayward wind comes a-writhing

From dankest dells, from dim deeps - drowneds’ dusky dwelling - it’s shadow spins a solemn story, now screaming shrilly, now sleeping soundly

”Come o wanderer-wind, come tell thine thrilling tidings!”

OOC Note: This is simply a tale Ellynore speaks of, whether it is mythology in Rohan or simply of her own creation is difficult to tell.