Nilme/Songs

This page is a work in progress. The lyrics will be added when it is possible to do so.

Original Songs

Nilme is a prolific writer enjoying both writing freely and adhering to restrictive poetry forms. She also enjoys being commissioned to write for people and events, making them as personalized as possible. The songs below were written from 371 AV to the present. (2004-2021). Singers in Elanthia are welcome to use these songs as long as she is credited for her work.

If there are any questions regarding the use of Nilme's songs, or to commission a piece, contact her in game or OOC: Discord- Nilme Iondu'il#2122

Autobiographical

Nilme's Tale

Orphaned at an early age when evil chose a mortal sin, a fair young child with blue-black hair, her tale, in sorrow, doth begin. Her parents (strong, Ilithic souls) did travel far and wide, they say. to sing the 'Rage', the 'Drums', 'Resolve'. Their instruments, they'd gladly play. They wandered into forest deep, where Cheldennat made his abode, and to their ignorance- he crept and sent them down the Starry Road. Upon their walk, they left this child in forest glen to mourn and keen, when the selfish Cheldennat, smiled, and toward the child approached unseen. With one strong arm, he swept the child, fleeing quickly from the glen. To home he went, and kept her there, a slave, to cook, and clean his den. Her days were spent in cold, dark room with naught but pallet, pot and chair; But merry ever was her soul, in spite of Cheldennat's cold stare. In secret, this young maiden sang- her mother's gift, a high, clear voice; Her Father's gift, a merry heart. She, through each struggle, did rejoice. While Cheldennat did hunt and fight, she mended rags and cooked his meal. In humour mild, she'd tend the fire and grew the herbs, his wounds to heal. O'er many andu, her sweet voice, a beaming light to darkness showed, and finally the day arrived- Cheldennat walked the Starry Road. She stayed for days in cottage old but Cheldennat came not to feed. She finally went to garden gate- hunger and thirst an aching need. As she ventured through the brush, she saw the world, amazed, through eyes which recognized, at last, the truth masked by Cheldennat's bold lies. She wandered 'round, ('twas grace alone, that kept her far from danger's way). To the Crossing she finally came, and heard a street-side minstrel play. Her spirit rose. Her heart grew light. Cheldennat's prison now her past. She asked him whereupon he'd learned, and found the Bard Guildhalls at last. She saw the ones who came and went through magic portal, smiling wide. She spoke with Silvyrfrost to join and then at once ventured inside. And so her life began anew, good friends she meets and songs she sings. She embraces with heart, the Bardic life, and smiles at all that each day brings.

Nilme's Tale: A New Page

The orphan of two merry Bards the Starry Road took too soon, I wandered the lands by day, and slumbered under the moon. Gypsy Achrennight Filanti, with black hair and eyes of jade, listened to me fill the Guild, with songs of both light and shade. We spoke for hours about all things, sharing how our lives began. Before the sun rose again, Achren added to her Clan. Achren's love, and husband, Izzit, to me was a dear Father. Parents to me, they became, the Nightingale and Ranger. They taught me about Bardic lore, and how to shape a short bow. When I went out on my own, with their blessings did I go. Through many years, I was happy- but I sadly lost my way. Finally I made my way back, and it is here I stand today. Friends of old are still with me, held deeply within my heart. Each day begins a fresh page, with friends newly met, a part.

Nilme's Tale: The Prodigal

Written after a sleep that lasted 10+ years Long ago I made a life here- Travelled the paths and knew the land. Peace and conflict, both in measure- A future here was planned. Every moment cherished, for I deeply loved my home. My little cottage out in Lang, The Bowyers where we'd made a 'Guild', Theren Theatre, and our plays- Concerts with each and every seat filled! Every waking moment, I loved Elanthia, my home. Too many moons have come and gone Since all those happy, reckless, days, Since I was lied to and betrayed By one with petty, jealous ways. Forbidden and exiled, I mourned- longing for my home. Dreaming of the life I’d had here, Family who tightly held my heart, Guildmates, Neighbors, Lovers, Friends, From whom I was, tragically, kept apart. Filled with sadness and despair, I ached to see my home. A tiny ember filled with hope Lay dormant, 'til the happy day Rescue came and it was tended. Light to help me find my way! Stumbling over every step, I made my way back home. Every instinct brought me closer, A prodigal, once lost, now found, With every step I breathe it in And find true peace, unbound; Restored, I've found the way back to my beloved home.

Tavern Troupe Audition Piece

Celebrating People

Almarius, the Itty Bitty Bard

This song was written to honor a very dear friend- Almarius. A faint scent of gingerbread flies into the room A cloud of colorful glitter behind. It's a Gnome Bard, beloved by all she meets- New friends and new fun to find. With tortoiseshell glasses framing sparkling green eyes, She's prepared for all tart emergencies. She inspires laughter and joy from all, Bouncing up and down with great frequency! Puddle Stomper Almarius, in her pink gown- Red-gold hair carelessly crowning her head, When smiling, dimples appear in her cheeks- With a generous and kind heart, she's led. An itty-bitty goblin friend never far away, Only windmills and paperwork bring fear. If she's your friend, she'll stay in your heart, And her sweet laughter forever you'll hear. I hope you'll meet her and see for yourself- Find out how smiling with her is not hard- Hear the cheerful cadence of her very first words, "Hiiii! I'm Almarius- The Gnome Bard!!"

For Someone Unknown

Three moons above me rise and fall, Seasons arrive and then adjourn, While I, in silence, contemplate And into the past return. Another lifetime, it seems now, All my memories are vague and pale. I've tried to grasp the history. But it's been to no avail. Still, the hint of peace you gave me, While the whole world was filled with war, Encouraging me, as you healed When you found me at your door. You gave me strength to carry on, And gave me courage in the fight, Those words of comfort, then bade me To hold close to what was right. You helped me to grow and prosper, Which led me where I am today, You'll ever have my gratitude, Though your name has slipped away.

Izzit Myadow, Da

Gentle carver of ebony, You fletch and you shape, While you pass through both forest and brush With soft, whispered footfalls that seek unseen trails, With your constant companion- your wolf. Strong fighter of creatures, You skin and you tan, Using nature's abundance to aid you, With eyes like an eagle in search of a meal, You find that which you track-without fail. The dawn's colour creeping Through leaf, limb and tree And the darkness which falls into place-- Each paint in my mem'ry the picture of you, And the love that you've shown me, always. Honourable Ranger, Father and Friend, The world, it moves by, while you watch. The towns, they change daily, The cities they grow, But for you, the deep forest's enough. Skilled Archer and Teacher, you forage and search. Da, I've learned so much, there by your side. As your Father before you- at one with the land, With your honor and strong 'Rangah' pride. The dawn's colour creeping Through leaf, limb and tree And the darkness which falls into place-- Each paint in my mem'ry the picture of you, And the love that you've shown me, always.

Kaedan's Birthday

Mendira, 100 Circles Strong

Commissioned by Navesi and Ahneya for Mendira when she reached 100 circles Each circle reached means quite a lot. It represents all you've been taught. But when one hundred have been earned, it goes beyond what you have learned. All those ranks in your vocation demonstrate your dedication. We celebrate this milestone and the commitment you have shown. Regardless how you like to train, with every circle that you gain, You'll find much closer you will be to reach the goal of Mastery. And friends that you've met on the way, celebrate this with you today. The pride you feel is echoed here, in joyful smiles of those near. Each class, and hunting trip you've made, the practicing in guild or glade, The time you've spent has brought you far. Your talents show that you're a star. You perform and bring us pleasure, giving memories to treasure. One hundred circles! What a feat! Let's now enjoy both drink and treat! Mendira, You're now one hundred circles strong. We've believed in you all along! Our fondest wishes follow you, in all the things you've yet to do.

The Gor'Tog People

For Rawtubby I have written this song to honor the Gor'Tog people as a whole, but also for one honorable Gor'Tog specifically. Rawtubby has inspired this work. It is my hope I have done it justice. Solinga kalmui takat soling, yaka wana kaupak kua talna tau damaska atna aina muru kau tukwanaka atsa luka nauka. Our families before us, that came from out of the forests, were held captive to work without freedom. Kangka talna yu dap rip, basna kua kau rubuknaka- oming nakana dap ana as diwak huna kau tau wausuan. Full of hunger and cold, thrown out in exile, they endured and made a new home in the mountains. Karakpa soling, tau silaman talna amat at talnala pas tau yaringka. While we, the descendants of sorrow, are finally inside the light. Aisau "Sangka Wiribibit" uba, soling yanaka sa sikwanaka, katka abinaka amangkau wirida dia kau im dap tambas. No "Green Troll" now, we do not forget but abandon anger to live freely in peace and friendship. I observed a mighty Gor'Tog who sat sharpening a sword. I noticed as he worked he seemed neither distracted nor bored. His movements slow, intentional, I saw as I walked away. I thought of the complex history that brought him to this day. The Gor'Togs, long ago, abandoned the forest and emerged- The reason a mystery. Time silenced the loss they incurred. Discovered by a race of saviors, some histories have said, They were taken in and were given clothing, shelter, and bread. Some say it is with gratefulness for this hospitality They worked under the whip, to the best of their ability. But still others say this gentle race was not with kindness saved, for "Green Trolls" as they were called, were taken in and then enslaved. Whether for themselves or against their will, they labored the same. These Gor'Togs worked with no reward, and then one harsh winter came. Though they had given of themselves, when the bitter cold went on, They were released and told to leave, for the stores would soon be gone. Forced to brave the threatening elements with no food or heat They huddled as one, unknowing if they'd find death or defeat. In their strength, they found the Dwarven mountains and a blessed fate. They passed down love and over years lost their bitterness and hate. From Nan to child, throughout generations, they shared their story, And taught how perseverance would lead from suffering to joy. They value honest work and will be a true and loyal friend, It's careful focus on their tasks that satisfy at days' end. Sadly some will only see their size and not their dignity, They mistake the lack of speed for not grasping complexity. It can be a tragic mistake to judge someone by their looks Common sense is possible without understanding fine books. In the important ways that feed our souls, they play a smarter hand. Just a plate of food, a pint or two, and friends can make life grand. Keeping far from stress and strife is a most worthwhile endeavor. To enjoy the best of life you do not need to be clever. A gigantic size or slow speed doesn't mean you are not smart. The wise know romance, love, and kindness can fill the biggest heart. Tau tinga wataknaka wasbila dap atni sumh buluni as palka itukwana tumi.

Temmel, the Bard of Clanthew Blvd

Sounds of nature mingled with sweet sounds that fill the air Are coming from the small building on Clanthew Boulevard! Just past the Commons, through the portal, and just inside the hall Are the sweet lilting tones, you see, of the great Temmel, the um.. Bard! He rarely plays a song, and true, I’ve not yet heard him sing, And while sometimes in groups of us he doesn’t say too much. He sits and smiles when you come in, injured from a hunt Giving not a tune, melody, or song, but instead a "Bardic" touch! When he touches you, your body can start to feel warm, And have a brief sensation that leaves your wounds tingling But when asked his profession, he won't quibble too much Saying he's a Bard, then proves it by getting his zills ringing! Temmel can fix where the troll nearly cut off your arm And can heal every minor cut or abrasion, He can rid you of internal and external scars And stop twitching on any occasion! He reminds us of how his is a great Bardic life, Then cures the impact that left your head reeling He has rutilant sparks that dance all around his head Saying, "I'M A BARD", 'til you're almost believing. Temmel faithfully cheers on bards playing or singing And in all ways he's earned the highest regard He's the greatest "Bard" healer the world's ever known- He is simply the Bard of Clanthew Boulevard!

The Ballad of Bay

For my daughter, Baylix I'd like to sing this song I wrote to one who loves a tale, But it's likely she is dead somewhere, or sitting in a jail. She has no fear to give her pause- her excitement is too great, Forgetting to release her spells until it's much too late. She attacks her foes with confidence-without a single care, Knowing that kind Empaths and Clerics will be there. So if she wiggles to the left when she should have waggled right, Her friends will go and hunt her down, in the day or darkest night. They'll drag her to where help is found, and hear the tale she tells. When healed, she'll jump up to her feet to the ringing of her bells. Then you'll see her later on, arriving from the Keep, Where she's been "visiting" the dungeon for singing folks to sleep. That tangerine blur cartwheeling off from the bin after she mingles, Can be heard from at least 2 rooms away, betrayed by her hat's jaunty jingles. I'd sing to her, but where is she- in Langenfirth or Leth? There's no point asking where she is... she hasn't rubbed her gweth.

Crafting

The Forge

In the forge the day is long- Making steel from iron and dust. Lifting from the burning fire, Armor fit to fuel men's lust. In the forge the work is hard- Pounding hammer onto plate. Waves of heat flow with each tap. Success left in the hands of fate. In the forge the fire reigns- Throwing sparks that burn and sting, Skillful hands that turn and shape, Armor fit to give a King. In the forge when metal cracks- Curses fill the steamy air, Then the forger starts to melt anew, His strong determination rare. In the forge when water cools- And steam begins to rise and hiss From heated metal cast and formed A look of pride is not amiss. In the forge when all is done- The Armor, every test has passed. The one who wields the hammer sees, Gauntlets forged and made- at last!

Darker

Ancient

Into the ground, I fall again. Pushed by words that tumble down- Sliding like rocks down a mountain. And I am undone. So many years of sight Wasted in a moment- Blinded and rendered useless, And I am overcome. Into the shadows, I fade once more, Pressed back with words Spiraling fast- with no warning, And I am alone. So many steps I've taken, Stilled in an instant, Hidden by a thousand grains of sand- And I am lost. Into the past, I find myself Paths marked by forgotten things, The familiar now strange, And I remain. So many times, I fly... yet;Into the depths, I disappear.

Blindsided

Without warning, it is at melee, Striking me with its weapon With a singular hit so powerful It resonates through my body and stuns. Eyes closed in pain, I fall prone, Weapons and defenses meaningless, And the inevitability of my death- An unquestionable fact. Hurt and confused, I try to focus- Evaluating the critical injuries. Wounds external create a mere shadow Of internal carnage that steals my soul. As quickly as the attack came, it ends. My assailant moving silently into the distance, As if the acts of this day never occurred, While I lay flayed open and dying. Disoriented, alone, and broken, Silent tears slide down my dust-covered face, Falling, unnoticed, into the dirt and rock, Where the shell of my body rests. As my heartbeat begins to grow faint. My eyes see sunlight for the last time. Into the ether, I release my final breath, Formed around the sound of your name. And I, without hope or favor, Struck down blithely by one unknown, Await the words that point me to the Starry Road, As I take my place before my god.

The Mountain

In Ilithi's Cold, I fell. This is what happened before I was sent back from the Starry Road. Through cold and dark, we walked, our hands entwined, In the freezing cold, with Snowbeasts in sight. Testing our skills- our Bardic voices raised- Arising victorious from the fight. Huddled up closely to stave off the cold, Searching lost caves where the faithful would pray, Finding more about each other to love, Sharing our histories along the way. Through the Frozen Heavens, we were passing, When down came a torrent of ice and snow. As fast I fell charging toward my fate, The biting wind escorted me below. When the Mountain finished having its way, I lay with body shattered- skin and bone You scrambled down, searching until you found me. You offered me comfort, and I did not die alone. You'd said by my side you would always stay, But instead, the Mountain took me away.

Encouragement

Light

In all ways, the light remains- Dutifully exposing the paths we walk- Keeping our feet fast upon uneven ground. In darkness deep, the light diminishes- Never fully extinguishing so we have hope- Yet leaving us faltering, to stumble and fall. In love's embrace, the light enfolds- Shining brighter than ever before- Making clear the way ahead. In early morning, the light rises- Blanketing the world with its brilliance- Stealing away the cover of the night. In all ways, the light remains- Bringing warmth to our often cold world.

Food and Drink

Apple Brandy

The window's opened to the breeze, The moonlight shines above the trees. The day is over now. I gaze at you. My need is great. I smile, and knowing I can't wait, I walk to where you are. I am drawn in by your tempting heat. I savor how you'll taste so sweet. I pull you close to me. The scent of you intoxicates The effect that you have elevates The dreamy mood I'm in. The nightly ritual we share I've tried but nothing can compare To you, my Apple Brandy!

Bacon is Better

This song was commissioned by Baylix It seems there's a matter of great debate By those who feel that ham is great, But when Ham and delicious Bacon compete It is Ham that will always find defeat. For no matter the glaze that covers it, Ham will always taste like shiii- something really bad that no one wants to eat, But Bacon prepared well will never miss The chance to fill your mouth with deliciousness. Whenever generations pass down their story You'll hear mighty tales of Bacon's superiority And the horror of finding it's Ham they're serving To those who are hated and not deserving. Bacon, not Ham, is the tastiest snack. Ham, as a food, should be sent back And the kitchen closed and the cook let go Because Bacon is better, as we well know. So this concludes the great debate And it's clear that Ham just isn't great Compared with Bacon, sizzling and hot, Which gives you pleasure- while Ham does not.

Barmaid

There, at the bar, I was, And picked up a tray- Then something special happened, And I was changed that day! No more did I stumble, Or spill steins of ale, Or when taking down orders, Did my memory fail! I stopped mistaking cheap wine For the fancy liqueur. When bringing absinthe, Hands steady and sure! The whole place applauded! The patrons approved! I wondered whose magic Had my bad luck removed! For some things we're grateful And don't question why! But since that good day I've held my head high! So, when you go get drunk, My fine skills you'll observe! I'm now Super Barmaid! ...To Deliver and To Serve!

Lament for a Bottle of Wine

I'd like to sing a song for you, of a happy, horrible day. It is entitled "Lament for a Bottle of Wine". You may want to find a handkerchief... The evening was perfect! The friendly company fine! We sat laughing together Drinking the very best wine. The vintage- exceptional. The conversation- profound. Every moon rose and then set, While we enjoyed round by round. Then came the tragic moment... Our money spent-pockets bare- We tried to pour one last glass, But there was no more wine there! Our drunken hearts were broken. Every patron heard us gasp. How the wine had disappeared, Our clouded minds could not grasp. Many tears fell in our grief. We sang out a loud lament, 'Til the barkeep (OUR HERO!) Had a new FREE bottle sent! Our great sadness turned to joy! Our grief gave way to pleasure! But wait! Now this one's empty!! ...No more wine to treasure!

• (Placeholder) Menu
• (Placeholder) The Bar Sees It All
• (Placeholder) The Inn

Friendship

My Friend

Form: French Rondeau Commissioned by Rawtubby I look to you when I'm laid bare, When life throws me into despair. A greater friend I could not find, With both interests and thoughts aligned. I can be sure that you'll be there. You come to me when life's not fair, When trouble finds you unaware, As you look to me to be kind, I look to you. Our friendship no one can impair. Loyalty, love, and trust we share, Neither leads or is left behind, Both are equal, our fates are entwined. To see a friend whose joys I share, I look to you.

Fun

Faeries Wheel

Through the gate and pay your fare! Don't stop or hesitate! Step right in and snuggle close, leave your worries now to fate! For though the height of the Faeries' Wheel might intimidate, Excitement wins the day as you start to levitate. A lurch! A swing! Then you've left the ground, and to the sky migrate, The height gives new perspective as the crowds accumulate. The Faeries' Wheel! The Faeries' Wheel! One silver buys a ride! Come right in! Step right up! Your carriage awaits inside! The scent of delicacies from below waft up and permeate, While you make a note to try the tasty foods the cooks create. Halfway up the Faeries' wheel, the people fascinate And upon their faces, eager smiles show it's time to celebrate! A subtle swing- your body reels, then vertigo's effects abate. A long deep breath and you smile in relief as your senses modulate. The Faeries' Wheel! The Faeries' Wheel! One silver buys a ride! Come right in! Step right up! Your carriage waits inside! Witness the trail of people as they circumnavigate The many festive tents they've set up on this big estate. The Faeries' Wheel! The joy it brings your smiles illustrate! Still, at the top, the distance from the ground seems very great. Suddenly your heart stops- and with yourself you hold debate, Was that a flying gnome?! There is no time to speculate! The Faeries' Wheel! The Faeries' Wheel! One silver buys a ride! Come right in! Step right up! Your carriage awaits inside! Outside the swinging carriage, the views simply scintillate! You beam at your companion as you both luxuriate! All too soon, the ride will end, as your descent will indicate, And to your fondest memories, the Faeries' Wheel you'll relegate. But for the final moments before the Faeries' Wheel you must vacate, Savor the grand experience you've had. Let your happiness resonate! The Faeries' Wheel! The Faeries' Wheel! One silver buys a ride! Come right in! Step right up! Your carriage awaits inside!

• (Placeholder) Gambling

Jack the Pirate (For Rudius)

Written for my story-loving brother-in-law, Rudius Lift up your glasses and slurp down your ale, While I share with you, friends, a most terrible tale! Now Jack's been a pirate for many a year. He's sailed with the best- rode the waves without fear; But there's one thing that makes the lad quiver and hide, And that's jolly old Mary, Jack's salty old bride! Well, Mary has known that her man was a snake, A debauched, drunken sot and a nasty old rake. How her parents would weep if they'd lived long to see The insulting, mean rotter Jack'd turned out to be! Jack went to sea, with a mighty fine crew, Leaving poor Mary home to mutter and stew, 'Bout the years that she'd laboured to provide a fine home, While that bastage went to sea to pillage and roam! Jack arrived back, peg leg moving REAL slow, Duffel bag dragging. He didn't want to go, Just to listen to Mary who'd harp ON and ON About where he had been and how long he'd been gone! The first thing Jack noticed was the cottage all dark. Not a lantern was lit. There was nary a spark. No warm light poured forth. No smoke rose from the flue. So Jack took a deep breath while anxiety grew. His hand shook, his heart beat a tune in his chest. In all of their years, Mary'd not took a rest From screeching and hollering- loud as she could About keelhauling pirates, who'd been up to no good! His torch shone, but light fell on a big empty room. The chairs were all gone- it was still as a tomb. Jack paced through the house, but found nothing but dust. What had happened to Mary??;Find out he must! Well, while Jackie pondered, far away on a beach Sat Mary and Armand, from the King's mighty fleet! They snuggled and cooed, kissed while passing the time, As they waited for snacks and a flagon of wine. What Jack never learned applies to us, too. If you don't treat your love well, your love won't be true! You will end up with pub food for years without end, And that mangy ole parrot will be your sole friend! And, good friends, one more lesson to learn from this song: If your pirate comes back but doesn't stay long, And upon each return sits all day and drinks beer, And the kids 'aven't seen 'em in many a year... Go find a new love with humor and grace, A very tight bottom, and who makes your heart race, Leave your sad pirate to parrots and treasure, And run off with someone who will love without measure!

The Hunt

"I've written this song to commemorate those cherished moments that some of us hold so dear. It is called, "The Goblin Hunt", but any hunted creature applies. Katamba starts to slowly set. The clouds grow thick, the stars- obscured. The forest's trees and clearings sigh As we approach without a word. Our eyes grow sharp as arrow tips, Our senses keen- our prey observed. The trap is sprung, our weapons raised, Our soft footsteps are barely heard. We hunt and fight 'til Xibar's rise, When woodland folk, at last, have stirred. Then wear our bows and sheathe our swords, All treasure stowed. Success assured. We trace the paths our steps have made. To tavern's door, once wounds are cured. We drink our fill and celebrate To bolt and steel-- To Goblin's lured.

• (Placeholder) The Violin

Guild Related

• (Placeholder) Outside the Bank

Phelim

Commissioned by Zynell for the Order of the Apostles' Dream Event 439 AV Dry your tears, they are starlight now. Against the heavens' blackened shade They are diamonds in the night. Tamsine, be ye comforted, And look what I have made. The nightingale flew across the sky Where once there was no light. And drew the eyes of Tamsine Who saw how the stars shone bright. Strike your hammer, and craft four moons. Amongst the twinkling stars I've laid They'll rise and fall, marking the night. Kertigen, you'll be revered, For the moons that you have made. The nightingale flew toward the moons While Kertigen observed his flight, And set them turning in their place When he reached their heavenly height. The fourth moon hatched and danger woke. Phelim's ambush our demise delayed So we can sleep in peace each night. World Dragon, be awake no more And end the chaos you have made. The nightingale left the creature to sleep In Elanthia's heart- a prison tight. Now Peri'el sings her soothing songs, And they've saved the world from darker plight. We walk under his cloak of stars. Beneath his moons, we're unafraid We dance and celebrate tonight. Phelim, we acknowledge you, And the wonders you have made. Sweet nightingales remind us all Of greater deeds, of wrongs made right, And how we have Phelim to thank For sweet dreams that give us such delight.

• (Placeholder) The Guardian
• (Placeholder) The Guildhall
• (Placeholder) The Langenfirth Bard Guild
• (Placeholder) Trader

Historical

• (Placeholder) Gorbesh
• (Placeholder) Neithrel

Inspiration

• (Placeholder) Inspiration

The One Who Leads

When inspiration moves my quill And sunrise over hillsides spill She leads me swiftly where she will. I follow where she leads. Sometimes she leads to oceanside, Sometimes to where my feelings hide, She finds the places I reside. To you, she sometimes leads. My deepest thoughts flow through my pen And I start writing once again. In silence or by noisy din. I start to take the lead. My confidence, each shattered piece, Salvaged so gently, fears decrease. Doubts, once so strong, their whispers cease. I revel as I lead. Her eyes I feel upon my page Words fly like birds freed from their cage The wounds of quiet pen assuage. She smiles while I lead.

• (Placeholder) The Quill

Love, Found

Beloved

This song was commissioned by a newly engaged friend to her intended. They have since traveled far from the Realms, but her experience is likely shared by others. I offer it with their permission. In and out of love, I've been. I've felt the lows and highs. I've fallen deeply, lived with love And said those last 'Goodbyes'. But with each love, I kept my finger Clear of jewelry's charm. I kept my hopes reserved a bit To keep my heart from harm. Sometimes that's been successful, and my heart survived intact. Sometimes the blow has wounded hard, with a shattering impact. But love's resiliency healed those wounds, When you came into my life. For us both, the love grew quietly Then you asked me to be your wife. Your merry heart and cheery smile Caught my heart off-guard. You make me laugh and share with me Both the pristine and the marred. You say you miss me whenever I am gone, That you rejoice when I am near. You lend your strength when I have need, And dissolve my every fear. It's true I thought myself immune from holy bond and vow. It's true I thought the past would keep me closeted somehow. But... OH! The joy that fills me When I see your smiling face, The warmth that makes my life complete, And sets my heart to race! I didn't think that it could happen, Least of all to me- But love surprises each of us With what's destined to be. Now we're to be bonded, and my heart does sweetly croon. I hope others, too, will feel love's tap, 'neath some unsuspecting moon.

Elements

• (Placeholder) Falling
• (Placeholder) In the Garden
• (Placeholder) Ranger Love
• (Placeholder) The Ledge

The Muse

• (Placeholder) The Paragon and His Love
• (Placeholder) Treasure
• (Placeholder) Two
• (Placeholder) Waterfall

• Wedding Song for a Friend

Love, Lost

• (Placeholder) Long Days
• (placeholder) Passerby
• (Placeholder) Regret
• (Placeholder) The Bay
• (Placeholder) The End

Love, Seeking

• (Placeholder) Together

Love, Threatened

• (Placeholder) The Elven Lovers

Love, Wistful

• (Placeholder) Empty
• (Placeholder) Half a World Away
• (Placeholder) The Gift
• (Placeholder) Unrequited

Lullabies

• (Placeholder) Burden
• (Placeholder) Sleep

Sleepy Lullaby

Close your eyes while the music plays. Let the warm fire soothe you. Set aside your worries. As the moon shines down, close your eyes. Gone are the troubles of the day, Lifted up to the sky, Released like birds, they fly. Dispersed like mist, they fade away. The day that held you in its grasp, Without a needed rest Puts you, safe, in your nest Removing its restrictive clasp.

Memorials

• (Placeholder) The Ballad of Kittrinna Muffkins

Places

Ode to Langenfirth

Commissioned by The Theren Guard for their event, "Songs for Therengia" Portions adapted slightly from "The Langenfirth Bard Guild" Langenfirth for hearth and home. Langenfirth for stout and ale. Langenfirth for hunting grounds and for Rangers on the trail. Langenfirth for friend and mate. Langenfirth for child and kin. "Lang" fills a very special place held somewhere deep within. Within a quiet, peaceful clearing, an ancient fir tree stands, And I, atop its splendor, my gaze unfettered, view the lands. Once I sought adventure, blind to the time the journey would take, Leaving my fair village on the shore of Gwenalion's Lake. I saw many wondrous places, far away from where I'd been. Elanthia's jungles, isles, and towns- all muses for my pen. Each day I wandered I discovered wells of inspiration, But in the depths of night I felt a quiet desperation, I trained my sword, wrote my songs, and studied every dusty tome, But I missed Danduwen Forest and the comforts of my home. In Langenfirth, I hear owls call when darkness comes each night, Smell the fresh scent of fir trees, and follow trails of dappled light. There are sweet primroses and bright yellow cat's-ears by the roads, Woodmice dart throughout the hedges, to the sounds of croaking toads. On the lake, the patient fishermen cast out their line and wait, While teeming fish play in the lake, avoiding the tempting bait. All along the wharf where barrels sit near crates piled around, A duck waddles between the stacks, seeking food upon the ground. The wind whistles, while I watch treetops wave toward each northern hill As they meet the green-clad mountains, and all other life stands still. I revel in the bright blue sky sometimes hidden from the trail By the dense, dark leaves of her forest that form a verdant veil- When inside the Bowyer's shop we once claimed as a Bardic Hall Jarrod's infinite patience with our merriment I recall. At long last, with joy, I have returned to see those things I've missed, Finally to taste her ale, walk the paths that wind and twist. I cherish the warm embraces from the friends I knew before. Although I had adventures, being back home means so much more. Atop her ancient tree, I gaze out at these beloved lands, Standing high above the quiet, peaceful clearing, where it stands. There is no town that can match my village's every wonder, No sweeter place for songbirds than her trees which I walk under. The Binfolk's laughing camaraderie also plays a part In making Langenfirth the town I keep closest to my heart. The blissfulness she brings me cannot be measured or surpassed As I listen to the sounds that tell me I am home at last. Langenfirth for hearth and home. Langenfirth for stout and ale. Langenfirth for hunting grounds and for Rangers on the trail. Langenfirth for friend and mate. Langenfirth for child and kin. "Lang" fills a very special place held somewhere deep within.

Scenes from the Bin

Commissioned by Lillietta, who gave me names, a little bit of information, a basic concept, and some ideas for phrases she wanted me to use in this song. The binfolk are a happy bunch who laugh throughout the day And the Lady behind the Curtain peeks out. Let's hear what she has to say! The ones she sees as she sits 'round the bin are honorable or at least they try. But then Lasaia starts making some mischief, while Shelken sits nearby. Queen Vadne and her consort, Fitzgor, observe their kingdom large, Just a few quick steps away from the trail, the tanner and Barge. Vadne's Special Ranger, Senthic, observes Harsh's frequent gestures. They laugh upon the antics of "hidden" Hoger and Baylix- their Jesters. Nilme comes and takes a seat as they drag a body in. Oh, it's just Koramoor, he must have died- yet again. People bring boxes to pick- as many as they can carry And Almarius might bounce in, with a smiling Dairy. Brehm, Kintryn, and Merilwen stop by the court, With Vixonia, (her virtues Stelling will exhort)! And if you watch closely you might see Miranza, Rush past Theren Guard recruiter Aaiyaah. Intrigue fills their merry court as Darkgaze, by the tree, Tempts those who might join his secret cult by offering them tea. Mireillere and Malykai come and relax in this idyllic scene, And Lady in Waiting, Lillietta, closes her eyes and begins to daydream. She imagines groups of people and names them as they pass. Will her titles spread far and wide, for groups that gather en masse? A keg of Bards pass out liquor So the enclave of Empaths gets sauced As the head of a warren of Rangers FINALLY finds the trail- no longer lost. Next comes a commune of clerics And a nest of necromancers at war. Look at the lightning of a wrath of War Mages! Can you hear the blunder of Barbarians roar? A mystic of Moon Mages come through a gate As the Lady continues to name. Sneaking by is a pocket of Thieves, A penance of Paladins look on with disdain. Awake from her daydream and present once more, Lillietta smiles at those she is so thankful for. She sees so many friends and so many faces, Who stay for a while before running off places. And if you stop by, you'll be welcomed in By the binfolk that sit by the Langenfirth bin.

• (Placeholder) The Trail
• (Placeholder) Therenlethgenfirth, The Musical

Sad/Wistful

• (Placeholder) Reunion
• (Placeholder) The Boat
• (Placeholder) The Fallen Knight
• (Placeholder) Untrue

Original Stories

Toy Soldier

Toy Solider   Written for Tavern Troupe story challenge 1/10/2021) For me, Leth was simply a blur barely acknowledged while running to ferry or gondola. However, finding myself in no particular hurry one day, I decided to take time to look around. A formidable line of deobar and alder trees line either side of the Alder Bower Gate. Passing through these towering protectors of the town’s homes and shops, I began to discover what many already knew: Leth Deriel, with its quaint charm, is actually a lovely place. This Elven village I'd been running through, I saw with different eyes. I enjoyed a glass of Wild Honey Mead at the Taproot Tavern (cleverly held within a massive hickory tree) and perused the wares in several shops, pausing to buy some warm chestnuts by the Sana'ati Dyaus. I wandered amongst the maple, birch, e'erdream and other trees densely filling this woodland hamlet; listened to nightingales, calling birds, and unexpectedly- a peacock. The town I falsely assumed was sleepy and rural bustled with traders, townsfolk, and scholars who came and went from a University tucked within the trees. On Elder Bark Road, partially hidden beneath the roots of a sickly-looking deobar, I glimpsed a wooden figure. Reaching into the shallow cavity at its base, I extracted a soldier the size of my hand. It had been crudely carved, as if some child somewhere was just learning to whittle. Despite its simple form, the time was taken to fashion a uniform out of cloth remnants, but the once fine adornments had worn and faded from use and time. I imagined a loving caregiver overseeing its creation, smiling encouragingly as the wood was shaped and the sense of pride the budding carpenter must have felt upon viewing the finished results. Straightening the soldier's ragged jacket, I walked, eventually coming to a quiet arbor. A brief respite desirable, I settled on a comfortable ash bench, listening to the song of a cardinal perched nearby. As the bright red bird flew away, I found a spot to gently prop the toy. Subsequent travels through the area went at a slightly slower pace, my steps mindfully redirected to where the wooden protector faithfully continued to keep watch. After some time, my detour brought me once again to the quiet arbor. I noticed, slightly disappointed, the abandoned post where the wooden sentinel had been and pondered its fate while heading to the Southern Trade Route and the path toward Shard. Just past the Deobar Bower Gate, faint sounds of laughter drifted from a nearby cottage, set back a bit from the road. In the front was a beautiful but unruly garden where two young children laughed and played with the re-discovered toy soldier. Sitting near them was an older child and someone who was likely a grandparent, examining a small block of wood. With a nod from the elder, the older child took a knife and began to whittle, taking care and nodding as the kind voice explained various techniques. All is right and good.", I thought contentedly. The children had recovered their toy and were happily playing. I mused how, in years to come, the carver in training would be able to look back, both remembering pleasant times shared with the elder and comparing the soldier's simplicity with items he now carved. The pleasure felt noting how both quality and technique had matured, improving as the years passed, would perhaps provide the inspiration to teach whittling to a new generation of children, overseeing their creative efforts and offering encouragement. All because the soldier had finally found home.

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