Excerpt: Bard's Heart

He had been practicing, cooling down his voice after singing for the lord. A fat purse of coin hung from his belt. He had first assumed the tiny waif had been sent by her parents to lift the coins from him. After all, drunks rarely kept a close eye on their money. However, the child hiding beneath the stairs made no move to come forward even when he left the gold apparently unattended. Instead, she sat silently, enraptured by his music. And so, despite himself, he began to play and sing just for her. After all, no bard could resist an audience, even one that small!

After a few songs, he turned to the darkened corner.
“It’s alright, little one, you can come out.” The child jumped as if she had been struck, and she reluctantly left the safety of her hiding spot. She would not look at him. She could not have been any more then five or six years old. She was thin, wearing an adult’s shirt as a loose dress. Her hair was tangled, but she was surprisingly clean. He figured she worked in the kitchen. “Would you like a song?”

She looked up at him then. Her eyes were round, full of disbelief, and also of fear. “It’s alright,” he coaxed again. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Yes please, sir,” she whispered, looking away as she spoke. “You sing such very pretty songs!”
“Well then, munchkin, I will sing you a lullaby, and then you can be off to your parents before they notice you are gone.”
“No one will notice I’m gone,” she replied softly. “My parents are dead.” For all the emotion in her words, she might as well have been telling him the sky was blue.
“Well then, I’m terribly sorry,” he said, a little unnerved by her apparent lack of emotion.
“Why? You didn’t do it. The guards said my uncle did, before he sold me.” There was a flash of anger in her face, and she made tiny fists. Edward blinked down at her. Could it be? “They tell me I’m even worser then the others, ‘cause I was freeborn, but ‘cause of Uncle Nailo I’m dirty.”
“You are not dirty, child,” he said softly. “And Nailo’s a fool, clearly. Come now, such dark thoughts are not good for a child before bed. Sit next to me, and I’ll sing you a nice song and make you forget about this.”

He sang her a soft lullaby. By the end, the child was still staring up at him, her eyes wide in adoration.
“Would you teach me that song?” she begged. “I only know one song that I’m ‘llowed to sing. The others I know are from the kitchen ladies, and they say they’ll wash my mouth out with soap if I sing them.” She giggled. “I heard you sing one for the lord. About the widow and the devil. It was funny.”
“You understood it?”
“She beat the devil! What is there to understand?” she looked at him blankly. He grinned. At least the poor child wasn’t too worldly yet!
“I’ll teach you the song, but first would you sing me the song you know?” He wanted to see if he knew the song.
“M’kay.”

The little girl suddenly stood up. She put her hands at her sides, and began to sing, breathing properly, even tilting her head the best way to get a pure sound.
“All alone in my little bed, as the night draws nigh,
The moon and the stars over head give me strength to not cry.
So if you feel lost and alone, keep this in your heart
That e’en if your loved ones go, you never truly are apart…”

Edward listened to the child, absolutely fascinated. He had heard a similar melody before, but the words were new, and there were slight changes.
“Who taught you that, little one?” he asked softly. The child shrugged.
“No one. Maybe my mommy, ‘afore she died, but the words just came to me one night when I was sad. They made me happy again.”
“You write songs?”
“N’uhn,” she replied, shaking her head. “I just kinda knew it.” Her cheeks went red. “Did I do something bad?”
“No, not at all. That was very good, Little one. You could be a bard.”
“No I couldn’t,” she replied sadly. “I’m a slave. The lord owns me.” Anger flashed across her face.
“You let me deal with the lord, dear child. Would you like to leave?”
“Oh yes!” she clapped her hands. “But if they caughted you, you would get into big trouble.”
“I’m a bard. We always get out of trouble… or into it. Chin up. If we leave right now, we can get you out of here, and into a nice safe inn before dawn. What do you think, little one?” She grinned and nodded vigorously. “Perfect. But I can’t keep calling you little one. Do you have a name?”
“Finola.”