[Bêthberry]

A voice, hitherto unheard in the game, rang out, strong and clear.

Cold be hand and heart and bone
and cold be snow upon the stone.
Yet vanish now in bright sunsong:
Let orcs melted be
and balrogs quenched in that deluge.
Thus evil be its own defeat.
And now we gamers have a treat.

It was Bethberry, singing and laughing as nonsensically as ever did old Tom. When she was finished, she bent low over Ruthven's cart and picked up a volley of snowballs, releasing them faster than Fatty Bolger could run. And her aim was true.

Then Ruthven gasped in surprise as some of the children tumbled into the wall of their snow fort, tumbling it down and all over the old woman, who fell herself into the snow. She rolled over and over, then spread her arms in the snow, making snow Ainur. It was a theme which unfolded to reveal more, as the children joined in the harmony and created their own melodies.

For her part, Bethberry chuckled watching the old woman, who she had never seen look more spry.

"You will be wanting something to warm you now for sure," she said to her friend, offering a hand to lift her up.

"Mellon, Ædegard, children, everyone, come. There's eggnog and mince tarts, hot cider and chocolate, sweet, exotic oranges, gingerbread cookies and shortbread, waiting for all in the Horse. Warm your bodies a bit and then return to the play, for the snow is soft and light and will last for many a day."

<font size=1 color=339966>[ 1:04 PM December 26, 2003: Message edited by: Bêthberry ]