Inside, the foreigner nodded to himself and began to play. It was a mournful combination of chords—not too complex, but it tugged at the emotions. The music filled the small tavern and spilled into the night. Then he began to sing.
In the days of yore when the world was new Ioveh walked in morning dew. All things he made, their splendor grand All things he touched with outstretched hand. But lonely soon Ioveh grew His only consort sun and moon. And so he fashioned flesh and bone From water, breath, stick, and stone. For days he labored on his craft Stopping not for food or draght. When at last his work was done He spoke her name beneath the sun. Eturiel, Eturiel I bid thee wake, thy sleep expel. Eturiel, Eturiel Forever in my heart will dwell. Daughter mine, ope thine eyes Pure and fair arise, arise. Of all the things Ioveh wrought Most precious was Eturiel Her heart was full of purest love Her wonder could no man dispel. Together traveled they the world Seeing all creation. The way she marveled at his works Filled him with elation. Then one night Ioveh left while she slumbered sound, Through hill and vale and forest deep he traveled ‘crost the ground And once the moon swelled full and ripe he went into the wild. And there repeated he the spells To birth another child. With dawn’s approach a son came forth. From light and shadows he was formed. Beauty from his visage shown But in his heart the darkness stormed. Then to Eturiel they went To be there when from sleep she woke But nightmares of her brother’s hate Pressed around her like a cloak. Eturiel, Eturiel I bid thee wake, thy sleep expel. Eturiel, Eturiel Forever in my heart will dwell. Daughter mine, ope thine eyes Pure and fair arise, arise. But Eturiel was gripped with fear And heard she not the words he spoke. Then anger stirred in Ioveh A mighty wrath in him awoke. He turned his gaze to Malachi His son, her brother newly made He saw therein a jealousy, An envy of his love displayed. In grief Ioveh banished him From off this mortal realm Then took his sweet Eturial And laid her under Eaton’s Elm. To this day she lies there silent Eternal dreams embrace her still She waits for one to free her And the prophecy fulfill.
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