The firelight shivered across the harp strings, sending bright reflections like sparks spinning into the deepening shadows of the room.
A lone figure sat in a chair near the harp, watching the play of light upon the strings. It captured him, woke a memory deep within his mind….
His mother’s hands, moving smoothly in and out of the firelight, flashing on the harpstrings, weaving a melody that spoke of moonlight, starlight, the wind in the trees….
He reached out, took the harp gently in his hands, remembering his mother’s face….his fingers trailed gently across the strings, shattering the silence of the hall. Half dreaming, his fingers drew from the harp the ancient, long remembered melody. The sound of the sea echoed in his memory, intertwining with the harp song in his mind….
His fingers slowed, then stilled. The harp fell silent, the last notes fading into the dusk. He sat with bowed head….dreaming….the firelight washed over his still form.
“Thy starlight on the Western Seas”, he murmured, then started at the sound of his voice. Lifting his head, he looked about the darkened hall, then with a sigh, set the harp gently down.
Rising, Elrond Half-Elven turned and walked from the hall.