This wasn't going to have a second chapter, but you knwo how it is when you get attacked by Trombone players who are older than you, and better qualified to boot? The thing is, the song got sung, as it always does, then I was doing some research on maori music, and this turned up, and I'll work in the original lyrics to another story too, but for now, they placed themselves firmly here, and won't leave. stubborn things, songs.
Brought on by ANZAC day, late, I know, but thats what happens. and it's now updated! hopefully less spelling mistakes.
disclaimer: not mine. wish it were so. sorry.
"Ada! Ada! We were cleaning and look what we found. Can you read it for us? Mum won't." The boys, his boys thought Aragorn with a hint of pride, came in, clamouring for attention and holding a large and beautifully bound book between them. On the front, in large, embossed letters, were runes. Aragorn read them aloud, "'The childs dream' are you sure?" The children nodded, eagerly crowding round him. Standing from his seat on the floor (he was still a ranger at heart), Aragorn lead them back to the window seat. All three were son sitting there, comfortable on the cushions, sun shining on the thick white pages. Thankfully the rest of the writing was easier to read. Opening it, he found beautiful picture of fields, forests and Ranges with streams running down them.
"There was an old man, who lived in the land." The poem began. As he read through them, the children gasped at the exquisite decorations, and the stories their fathers voice brought alive for them. After a while, Aragorn stopped. "Ada!" the complained, "Can't we please have a few more pages?" the man shook his head, "No, if you like the pictures so much, and are very good, I'll take you out for a night or two, alright?" The nodded, emphatically, just as Arwen came through the door.
"What have you planned?" she asked, worried. The man looked solemnly at his sons, "Nothing bad, I promise. We'll let you see if you can guess at the end of the week. Have you seen this book?" The elf glided closer, "Yes, a brief glimpse. What's in it?" The man flicked through the pages, talking as he did so. "Poems, rhymes, lots of pictures, and." Here he paused, looking at the unfamiliar writing, "Songs. Want to sing?" she shook her head, "I'd gladly hear you though. What about my boys, choose one with nice pictures."
Reverently, they turned the pages, choosing on ea rom a section with 'really good' pictures. It was marked as 'a song from the wars. International; Title, 'Now is the Hour.' Taking the book, he hummed a few bars. Then, swallowing, he began, his clear voice cutting through the room.
"Now is the Hour,
When we must say goodbye.
Soon you'll be sailing,
far across the sea.
While your away,
oh Please remember me.
When you return,
you'll find me waiting here."
Arwen, loking over his shoulder said, "There's more writing here, are they alternate words?" Aragorn tried to read them, "They aren't in any language I recognise.
Te iwi te, I-wi e te iwi e
Ta hu-ri mai ra, Te nga-ka-u e
Ki nga ku-pu, O te rongo pai
He oranga O te iwi e
Haere ra, Te manu tangi pai
E haere ana, Koe ki pamamao.
Haere ra, Ka hoki mai ano,
Kite tau, E tangi atu nei"
He murmered, his accent terrible. Arwen took the book off him, turned the page, "Here's more. It's to the same tune.'
"Pö atarau
E moea iho nei
E haere ana
Koe ki pämamao
Haere rä
Ka hoki mai anö
Ki i te tau
E tangi atu nei
On a moonlit night
I see in a dream
You're going
To a distant land
Farewell,
But return again
To your loved one,
Weeping here"
Aragorn sighed. "I wish I knew what language they were in." Arwen nodded, then turned to her two sons, who were now at the door, "Yes?"
"Please, can't we go, you and Ada can work out what those words mean any time, and where they come from, but we want to play, and it's sunny now." With a smile and a laugh, the whole family left, down the stairs and outside.
The book stayed lying on the chair, showing the words clearly in the sun.
"Farewell,
But return again
To your loved one,
Weeping here"