Egfor lofted a brow as he heard a young man singing. A young man singing a love song. Egfor walked towards the cow pasture, carrying a small bale of hay over one shoulder. He stopped at the base of an apple tree and looked up into it's budding branches, "Darel...?"
A young man yelped and dropped an apple he was eating on poor Egfor. Egfor fumbled and caught the apple before lobbing it back up towards it's owner, "Come help me sow the seeds, lovebird?"
Darel caught the apple, flushing in the face. He held the fruit between his teeth and he swung down from the branches of the tree onto the grass. He starts munching his apple as he walks beside his older cousin.
Egfor looks over, smiling slightly, "Glad you are liking Bree... and it's men." Darel briefly considering throwing his apple at Egfor, but that would be a waste. He grumbles under his breath and finishes off said apple instead, dropping the core into the pig's pen as they pass.
Egfor drops the bale into the cattle pen, cutting the twine and rolling it out. He turns to leave with Darel on his heels, heading towards the largest field. Since Darel's arrival, the two men grew close as cousins. Egfor felt like Darel was that little brother he never had, seeing as both of them were the youngest siblings.
Darel stuffs his hands in his pockets as he walks, keeping quiet. Egfor glances over at him, "Got that young fellow on your mind?"
Darel starts to protest loudly, then stutters and falls silent, then replies meekly, "Maybe... Alright, yeah." Egfor reaches over to pat Darel's shoulder, "If I can find love here, you can too." Eg stoops to pick up two sacks of seeds, handing one to Darel, moving to the opposite side of the field.
Eg dips his hand into the seeds, grabbing a handful. He casts the seeds about into the earth, starting to sing. Soon Darel's voice joins in, their two voices carrying across the field and dancing in the spring breeze. The men sung in an odd mix of Dunnish and Westron, their slow and gentle love song lilted into the sun speckled warmth, matching the rythm of their work:
"There is my sweetheart down in the orchard,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
Oh how I wish I were there myself,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
There is the house and there is the barn;
There is the door of the cow house open.
Ffaldi radl didl dal, ffaldi radl didl dal,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal.
There is the gallant, branching oak,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
A vision, lovingly crowned.
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
I will wait in her shade
Until my love comes to meet me.
Ffaldi radl didl dal, ffaldi radl didl dal,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal.
There is the harp, there are her strings;
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
What better am I, without anyone to play him for?
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal
There’s the delicate fair one, exquisite and full of life;
What nearer am I, without having his attention?
Ffaldi radl didl dal, ffaldi radl didl dal,
Tw rym di ro rym di radl didl dal."
Dacw 'Nghariad, Welsh Folksong
