Galeroth the Harper



Well we remember, and will always, I tell ’ee. He came to the in 309, in the early summer it was, and sang for us working the docks. Not much work got done that day, I tell’ee. I dan't think he made much silver that day. There were little about, but we gave what we could spare and he acted grateful like we’d dropped ’im a king’s ransom. I reckon that’s more like what ee’d be used to, but ee ’ad a soft spot for poor folk like us. He played the’arp that day. Oh what a sound it made. Surely it was burstin’ with the magick of the fair folk. The tunes tinkled along the wharves and up the alleyways and almost made the old smells stop and listen.


 * This voice is mine to sing my truth,
 * As you will hear your word.
 * For who can sing the puremost
 * And hope to have it heard?
 * My melody declares my sight
 * With lyric sharp and lean
 * But who can taste the innermost,''
 * Discerning what I mean?
 * I like to see you growing.
 * Are you more inclined to shrink?
 * I never can affect you,
 * But I will make you think.

Th’ole place was quiet for days after. Like no one wanted to spoil the memory of Galeroth that lay like a warm shadow o’er the Alienage. Days later people would run around corners thinkin’ they'd ’eard ’im singing, but it was just echoes. Them took a long time to fade away. He said he'd be gone soon, and that might have been his last performance. I don't know, but he asked us to remember ’im, an’ that we do.


 * Remember me then,
 * As I leave again,
 * For this time I may not return here.
 * If you look for me,
 * Then mayhap you’ll see,
 * Why this time I cannot return here.
 * I sought out the prize,
 * The truth pulled from lies,
 * But this time I will not return here.
 * I have never foretold,
 * That the love could grow old,
 * ’Though this time I will not return here.
 * The past is laid bare,
 * The future’s out there,
 * So this time I will not return here.
 * Remember me then,
 * As I leave again,
 * For this time I will not return here.

One thing Galeroth ne’er sang ’bout that day was ’is great skill as a warrior, an’ ’is great battle with the evil necromancer. But other bards told us ’bout that, ’bout how Galeroth rescued the four young maids the necromancer took for evil purpose, ’bout how Nideri spat his death curse on brave Galeroth, a terrible curse, that tore ’is soul from the path that all fair-folk tread, doom'd ne’er to reach ’is Blessed Realm.

Now, did that evil curse kill ’is body, or does ’e wander Ham yet? An’ if there be a body, where doth his tomb lie? But ’is echoes do not fade. The harper’s fair voice, they say, comes to ’em who deserve to hear it, here and there, now and then. Aye, ’em as knew Galeroth, wish ’im peace.

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