And it was a gala night, and all the court were there and
ambassadors from the lands of legend and myth, and even some from
Terra Cognita.
And Ackronnion sang as he never sang before, and will not sing again.
O, but dolorous, dolorous, are all the ways of man, few and fierce are
his days, and the end trouble, and vain, vain his endeavor: and
woman--who shall tell of it?--her doom is written with man's by
listless, careless gods with their faces to other spheres.
Somewhat thus he began, and then inspiration seized him, and all the
trouble in the beauty of his song may not be set down by me: there was
much of gladness in it, and all mingled with grief: it was like the
way of man: it was like our destiny.
Sobs arose at his song, sighs came back along echoes: seneschals,
soldiers, sobbed, and a clear cry made the maidens; like rain the
tears came down from gallery to gallery.
All round the Queen of the Woods was a storm of sobbing and sorrow.
But no, she would not weep.
THE HOARD OF THE GIBBELINS
The Gibbelins eat, as is well known, nothing less good than man. Their
evil tower is joined to Terra Cognita, to the lands we know, by a
bridge. Their hoard is beyond reason; avarice has no use for it; they
have a separate cellar for emeralds and a separate cellar for
sapphires; they have filled a hole with gold and dig it up when they
need it.
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