A Land Far Away

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Now, half-orcs are notoriously downhearted folk. Shunned by the humans and orcs alike, they are rarely welcomed anywhere, finding few friends along the pathways of life. The solitude of existing is a burden to many of them.

"What you sing for?" The half orcs gruff manner and grunting voice took the lad back a moment. He had not known the half orc long, only a day's travel along the roadway out of town. Sitting on this rolling hillside with his new companion, he couldn't help but note the deep sorrow in that gruff voice.

"Whatever do you mean sir?" said the lad.

"Nothing good in this world. We live and die alone. What you have that make you sing? What reason? Nothing good, we are all alone." replied the half orc.

"I know a secret though, a reason to be happy."

The young minstrel saw the curiosity rise in his orcish companion.

"We are indeed all alone, every one of us. That is why it's so wonderful." the lad paused a moment, then continued, "By that I mean in knowing that we all feel alone, and that we all share that pain... it brings us together does it not?"

The Half Orc raised an eyebrow and turned on the boy. The young man saw the beginnings of a thought stirring about the half orcs mind and reaching down to pluck a strand of grass free, he decided to drive home his point...

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"This blade of grass a simple thing
A small infectious wondering
That stirs my blood to course within
I look at it as if a friend
I know it well, it's small like me
We hide from view, almost unseen

Much like a breath in a hurricane
A grain of sand, a drop of rain
A single star in a brilliant sky
Insignificant to a passerby

So why, you ask, do I go on
Why do I smile is something wrong
What keeps me whole and makes me strong
How does a small thing continue on

The answer is in you my friend
You are the blade of grass again
And all of us a field of green
That makes the hills and mountains sing"


-As sung by Tither the Wit of Loudwater

Your song blew up like a hurricane, a hurried tune, a minor key.
My wit a single drop of rain among those words so wild and free.
Why, I ask, should I go on when skill and wit grow thickly here?
Why do I smile when another bard sings the beliefs that I hold most dear?
The answer is in you, my friend, glowing outside Tervale's walls
Three short months after you began your name resounds in ALFA's halls.
My clumsy play and my feeble wit may someday grow so that I may bring
Laughter, comfort, hope and love, and we will make the mountains sing!

Sung by Elm Terese of Silverymoon, to a bard she met while dreaming of Teri Neri of Tervale, to a bard she hopes to meet again, often.

Yes, Aer, I sing out loud when I read your verse. The words pull the tune from me. Would that I could sing and dance in Silverymoon instead of merely typing and clicking here at home.

I can't take any more of your verse right now. I'll read the rest of the cycle later. Thank you!

Well done Ludo! I am glad you enjoy my little poems and must say yours in turn holds me fast in anticipation of what wonderous works you will write!

Looking forward to hearing the voice of ALFA's newest bard!

Thanks again for the compliments, blushingly,

//Aer

(( btw - for some truly tremendous troubadorianistic tantalization... bend an ear to Laddy's tunes... the man is truly gifted! --Ladellon--))

If I'm to write verse that outshines the ditty you compliment, I will require similar inspiration. When and where can we get together for a bardic jam?

Ask Wynna whether I can keep my tongue from rhyming at the slightest excuse.

Maybe I could bring a bard to Tervale? I miss the place, and I dare not bring a bard to the home of the grandest bards in all the land, especially since I've never played a bard, even solo.

The aer lies thin on the peaks of the singing mountains.