Chapter Title: Sending for Susurrus
Prompt: note
Summary: Menolly makes music.
Set during the cave portion of Dragonsong. (First book in the Harper Hall trilogy. Otherwise known as two Menolly books and then Piemur? For some reason? Not that I have anything against him really, but I was rather lead to expect Menolly. I'd been looking forward to it too. That what fanfic's for, I guess.)
Literally something I wrote to get the song out of my head. Unfortunately it didn't work quite the way I wanted it to, because now I'm just getting lyrics.
This fic, and it's followers, were written for my personal dice fic challenge, which consists of two sets of story cubes I bought to survive Lockdown (toilet paper being unavailable at the time), a fandom and a whole lot of spare time that hopefully combines to make fic like this one.
Menolly rubs her hard-won oil into itchy, scaly hide. The work is almost finished for today, but with nine firelizards to tend to, she will have to start over again tomorrow to prevent patchy skin from developing. Not that she minds the work. It's better than hauling nets. Outside her cave, the sea glimmers bright. Boats will be out at work from Half-Circle, and children gathering greens. They won't come out this far, but for once everyone is fed and sated and supply gathering can wait until the morning. It's a perfect opportunity for staying in and making music.
Still, she has a while to wait until she can make use of her pipes. Needs both hands for the instrument.
Beauty grabs at her hand when the petting strokes begin to slow. "Silly thing." Gets back to work, but her eyes are drawn to sea gleam. She's seen it every day of her life, more or less, but the surface of the water seems to be ever changing, especially near the Dragon Stones.
The happy humming of her flair has tune to it. And, Menolly realises once more with the same thrill of freedom, there is no one here to stop her.
"Silly dilly ... sea shores do gleam ... sea shells all green silly dilly ..."
Beauty happily chirps up at her as Menolly's attention returns to its rightful place on her ridge. "For you my queen."
It's nothing like a teaching ballad, or boisterous feast song. Just a silly scrap of tuning, but it's hers.
Harpers wear blue, and woodworkers green
Dragons wear all, my silly wherries, and go between
Down from black skies, silly dillys, grey threads do stream
Up rise the Wyers, pretty berries, brown, blue and green
High up in the blue, bronze lizards a-wing
Flairs full of praise, my pretty Beauty
For you my queen