"It was a very close contest," remarked the Lord Ambassador. He had returned to his usual place in the Hall of Fire, beside Sogadan, and was of the proud belief that he had averted a national catastrophe. "Linguleth played with great precision, and Uilossiel has a sweet singing voice, like the meadowlark singing on a cloudless day. But when Alcarinwë played his next tune, Lord Veryacano looked at Laurelindo, and Laurelindo looked at Dolthafaer, and Dolthafaer looked at me, and their eyes seemed to say, "'He is the victor.'"
"I have heard all that has happened," Sogadan said to him, "and it is nothing like what I am hearing now."
"I say, if one can move Lord Veryacano with music to so touch his heart, well, he deserves to win," declared Parnard. "Still, we may conclude - hmm - that the music, or rather the musicians, especially Lindaire, were seized - nay, totally seized," he repeated with emphasis, "by the performance of Lady Anglarien - I never did get to ask her how she managed to squeeze herself up into that box. She must be double-jointed..." he concluded, and made a little sigh, remembering how her hair fell down her back like golden rain, and how she looked at Veryacano, her eyes shining softly through the twilight. “Lord Veryacano must like marching songs more than anything else, that is how Alcarinwë won, I think,” he added quickly. How Linguleth blushed and blushed when her name was announced for third place! Her face was like a wild rose, and no longer a lily -
“Ah, why do I feel that you were not listening to the music?” grinned Sogadan, interrupting his thoughts.
“Poor Lindaire took the judgment very hard,” said Parnard, sobering up a little, and steadfastly kept his eyes trained on the fire. “I thought for certain he would win, playing the ‘Maypole and the Maidens Three,' with so much feeling! It told, all in one song, of the passion of joy, and the passion of love that endures, and never turns bitter." He nodded, smiling to himself at some pleasant memory. "His wife, Eilanneth, is very charming. She was one of the judges, and I do not think she would have cast her vote against her own husband - it must have been a very close contest."
"What were you expecting, with so much talent assembled in one place?"
"True, true...but Lindaire felt sure that he must win. When he did not, away went his lute, and away went he, and his charming wife…" Parnard sighed.
"I do not know who is more disappointed, Lindaire, or you!" cried Sogadan.
“I did what I could to stave off hurt feelings. Eilanneth, no doubt, will console him.” Parnard nodded, and signalled for more wine. "It was a terrible fuss, but I enjoyed myself. Immensely."
"So I have heard. I also heard that, at the end of the concert, two Wardens had to hold a certain someone up, one on each side, so that he would not fall into the river, and be drowned."
"It was a wonderful time," retorted the Lord Ambassador, and suddenly deciding that he had lingered long enough in the Hall, said good-bye to Sogadan, and returned to his chambers, but he could not sleep; all night long he looked at the stars and dreamed waking of flaxen-haired maidens, and of beautiful music.
