Tel\' Lindar (The Bard)

Chapter 7

There is no escape from the gilded cage or Who could be weirder than Filch?

***


The Voyeur stood in a forest - dark, forbidding. He would have been at home in the dankness, except that he was surrounded by Elves; hundreds and hundreds of Elves. All were in battle gear; all were bloodied, most were injured, swords, knives, dripping carnage. The air permeated with the thick smell of iron, sweat, bloodshed. All attention was directed to the middle of the glen.

The Big Elf stood in the hollow, head bowed, the Woman lying unconscious in the bloodied mud. Both were covered in blood, gore. A sudden flash of light spilled into the darkened forest. What Elves were standing fell to their knees as a bright being emerged from the glow and approached the Elf.

\"Well done, our most faithful servant. Know that I, and the others of the Hall, recognize your valor and devotion to this most difficult of creatures with whom you have burdened. We have chosen her Shield and Champion well.\" She looked down at the still body of the Woman. \"Arise and claim your destiny.\"

Eyes slowly came open and the Woman picked herself up from the grass. Her features were slack with exhaustion, but she looked at the being clothed in white with no fear.

Words understood by only the Vision and the Woman passed over the ears of the Voyeur. The Vision produced the sword with the illegible inscriptions from his dreams. It glowed green, but was clean, free of blood and gore. The Voyeur came closer, strained to hear, to see. The Vision - the Valar - handed the weapon to the grubby, small warrior..

In a strong voice, the Woman recited foreign words; the language was, captivating, beautiful, yet the Voyeur was perturbed by his inability to understand what she said.


\"Mana lúme caita syadlla?
Mana lúme lerya quingalla?
Mana lúme hehtane siklla?
Mana lume mappe eppessella?
Er Valar quetuvar\"

Lovely. Gibberish, but lovely.

Fascinated, the Voyeur watched as one by one, the Woman handed over her weapons - a bow, a set of knives, the sword - only to have them pass across the fingers of the Vision and return to the owner.

For a few short minutes, the Woman stared at the sword, lifted high. Then dawning rained over her features and in a clear, ringing voice, she pointed the sword to the sky, her tone daring anyone to gainsay her.

These words, he understood. Merlin\'s Robes, they had been spoken to him enough times...

\"I am the Historian for all the Ages, past and future; I am the Storyteller of the Races, the Protector and Seer of the Future; the Musician of...\"

Yada Yada Yada. The Voyeur rolled his eyes. I know who she is.

And with that, she laid the sword across her forearm, cutting deep. Her voice remained strong.

\"Serkenin naa a Arda
Arda naa a serkenin
Naem er, Naem atya
Naem weerenen ullume
Hanyo allasse ar nwalma.\"

The Voyeur watched grimly as she turned her arm over, so her blood spilt and seeped into the ground. The thought came quickly...

Do these people speak a civilized language that all can understand?

Obviously not...

She had raised the sword, one last time, and with a mighty heave, thrust it into the ground where her blood had dripped . Electric white light raced from the dirt to the sky and all were blinded.

\"She needs your help.\" The Voyeur looked down, expecting to see the Elf, but instead seeing the vision. Raven black hair, glowing sapphire blue eyes... and a smile that reached into the cold recesses of his soul. \"Her bow has lost its way.\"

\"I do not know how to help her. She is stubborn...\"

\"Yes. She has been a most difficult vessel.\" The Valar\'s hand reached to cup his face and he reveled in the sweet contact. \"Her blood in the Earth runs thin and it must be rejuvenated. The time has come for Elrond\'s children and her children - Haldir\'s children, to no longer hide behind the veils of secrecy, but to take their rightful place and stand alongside Man. You must be strong. She will find her strength, receive her strength from you, as she does Haldir.\"

The Voyeur closed his eyes and held the gentle hand to his face. His frustration was giving way. \"The Elf. He...\"

\"Yes. He is a thorn to you, a difficult task master. They both grieve for each other, but their purpose is no longer theirs alone. He will continue to guide you, aid you. He will also put walls in your path. He wants his way, as would she, if she knew.\"

\"What way?\" The Voyeur\'s voice was a whisper. He could feel the smile in her soft voice.

\"You must watch for the obstacles he will throw at you, put in your path. You must help her find her bow.\" The gentle hand continued to caress his jaw, moved slowly to his earlobe. \"She never knew, they never realized, her sword; in this form, it takes both she and her Guardian to wield it properly. Remember that.\" He shuddered at the sweetness of her touch, at the compassion in her voice.

\"Do not throw aside her titles. They are not empty. She has held the race of Man in the palm of her hands for countless millennia. She has also held Elrond\'s children. This Vessel comes so very close to cracking, to breaking, and we must prevent that. You must prevent that. She must hold on until the cycle is complete. Only then, will all be well.\"

\"We have chosen her Shield and Champions well. Help her. Help her find her bow. Answer her questions. Do not be afraid of her. Be afraid for her.\"

When the Voyeur finally looked up, the light, the Elves, were gone. Only the Woman remained. Dark, haunted eyes stared into his.

Reservo mea. Reservo mea.

Save me. Save me.

I am.....


***

In the five minutes it took her to change, he looked at the transformations of the apartment, took in the things she had done to make it hers. It was pleasantly cluttered, inviting, with comfortable, over-stuffed furniture, books stacked everywhere, fresh cut flowers in vases on the tables, the mantle, musical instruments tucked in every corner. Flutes of all kinds; brass, wood, reed. Drums, shakers, a bagpipe hung from over the fireplace, a violin, propped on the mantlepiece, a cello in the corner. There were framed pictures made with colorful threads on tightly meshed material, precisely placed tiny ‘x\'s stitched over equally tiny woven squares. One was in stages of being sewn, lying on the couch, a colorful quilt slung carelessly over the back. He attentively took in the complexity, the obvious care given to each laid stitch. As he walked around, he noticed the portfolio on the end table. Very carefully, he picked it up and opened it, looking at the top drawing.

The artist was good. Very good. He looked at the artist\'s signature in the corner.

Rumil.

The top drawing was of her husband, Haldir, of that he had no doubt. The big Elf had haunted him long enough to know who he was. Indigo blue eyes stared from the parchment, almost alive. Long moon-blonde hair seemed to glisten against a dark tunic. The look was stern, this was one who would not abide any rebelliousness, any silliness from a foolish chit. How, by Merlin\'s Vestments, had he managed to reign in the she-devil upstairs?

With love. The Elf had loved her, enjoyed her company.

Severus snapped the portfolio shut, shaking his head of cloying thoughts. He did NOT want to enjoy her company. He most certainly did not want to love her. As he laid the portfolio back down, he heard her coming down the stairs.

\"Lovely.\" His eyes raked her body in thinly veiled disgust.

A look of quirky smugness settled on her face as she took in his perusal. \"Yes, the very picture of decorum, aren\'t I?\" She wore shredded jeans and a faded t-shirt with a rather endearing sentiment on it:

Drink Beer or Fight

She walked to the door and opened it, Amadeus at her side. \"Are you coming? I am sure you wish to observe my eating habits,\" she tapped her index finger thoughtfully on her lip, \"since I must be - now, how did you put it - constantly monitored.\" Her imitation of him was eerily Gryffindorish.

\"Do not be absurd.\"

Scowling fiercely, he followed her, warding the door behind them.

***

When I started down the street last Sunday
Feelin\' mighty low and kinda mean
Suddenly a voice said \"Go forth neighbor!
Spread the picture on a wider screen!
Spread the religion of the rhythm of life!\"


The Rhythm of Life
Cy Coleman/Dorothy Fields

***

Lupin found her t-shirt amusing.

\"Feeling belligerent today?\" He noticed Severus mocking him behind his newspaper.

\"Heh!\" Bronwyn snorted. She was humming along to the music that she was creating, enunciating the words, ‘And kinda mean!\' She nodded towards Severus. Amadeus sounded as if he were snoring under her chair.

\"What did he do?\" Remus leaned over and conspiratorly whispered in her ear.

\"Pissed me off!\"

Snape made an obscene noise from behind his paper, burying his nose deeper.

\"What are your plans today?\"

Bronwyn looked at the angry, cloudy sky through the enchanted ceiling and then took in the tense set of Snape\'s shoulders. \"I was planning to go to the library. I haven\'t seen it yet and I am hoping the Zoo Keeper -\" she gestured towards Snape, \"- might allow me out of my cage in order to do so!\"

Snape turned the page with a snap and looked at her over the Daily Prophet. \"I have no problem with you going to the library.\" The paper slid back up in front of his face.

Lupin had a confused look on his face. \"Am I missing something here?\"

Bronwyn leaned over and whispered in his ear. \"I escaped last night.\"

\"You did what?\" Lupin hissed loudly and as a result, all heads turned in their direction. Rumil, sitting on the opposite side of her, glanced up from his conversation with Professor McGonagal, his look, anxious. \"You escaped? Bronwyn! By the Gods, how did you manage to undo the wards?\"

She turned her knees to him, her back to Severus. \"Remus, keep your voice down, please.\" She placed a hand on his knees, placating. \" I didn\'t undo the wards. I used my knives and climbed through the roof of my patio.\"

\"You did not!\" Rumil\'s voice was nothing short of a bellow. Everyone was listening now.

\"She most certainly did!\" Snape\'s voice growled. \"I had to go out and hunt her down, because she could not get back in! And...\" he turned a page, with a crack, \"she cannot comprehend why I am so angry!\"

Lupin\'s look was incredulous. \"Bronwyn, tithen air... air..

\"Aras, Lupin. Tithen Aras.\" She had turned back to the last of her oatmeal. She took one bite and looked back him, seeing the worry in his eyes. \"Remus, please. I realize it was not the brightest move I have probably ever made...\" More rude noises erupted from behind Snape\'s paper, and she snarled in response. \"... I just couldn\'t stand being cooped up anymore.\" She took a deep breath.

\"Bronwyn, the grounds are very dangerous at night. You could be injured, kidnapped, killed... \"

\"So I was told.\" Snape noted she sounded like a petulant child. Her fingers tapped on the table in an irritating drumbeat and his hand whipped out, gently pinning her fingers to the table.

\"Madam, I have no qualms with you going to the library. I just ask you do it at a decent hour.\"

She got up from the table, jerking her hand from beneath his and throwing her napkin in the plate. As she came around Severus, she leaned, putting both hands on his shoulders. She bent over, her breath caressing his cheek.

\"Define decent hour.\" He turned to glare at her, his lips almost touching hers. She squeezed gently and patted. \"I didn\'t think you could. I\'m going to the library. In case you want to... find me.\"

***

She\'s got to be strong
\'Cause so many things getting out of control Should drive her away
So why does she stay?
It\'s all about soul

All About Soul
Billy Joel
***

Bronwyn wandered about Albus Dumbledore\'s office, feeling churlish, feeling childish. She knew why she was here, knew why he had summoned her. She was getting used to owls flying up with things tied to their legs for her. Notes from Lord Celeborn, Lord Elrond. She had even gotten a rather nice, if stilted letter from Erestor, Elrond\'s advisor and secretary the previous week, which included a very naughty limerick written at the bottom in Lord Glorfindel\'s hand. She had not expected to be dive bombed by the large bird as she slowly wandered the halls after breakfast with a summons, a gently worded demand to present herself at Dumbledore\'s office. She perused pictures that looked back at her. One in particular captured her attention and she peered closer...

\"What the hell are you looking at?\"

She leapt backwards, knocking the table behind her over, gee-gahs flying everywhere. \"My God! You spoke!\" Her breath came in short pants and she quickly began to replace the fallen objects.

\"Well, of course I spoke! What did you expect me to do? Hold still, like those silly Muggle photographs?\" The Wizard in the frame looked disgusted and carried on as if she had done something. \"Today\'s generation. So rude!\" he spat.

\"I\'m rude? I\'m rude?\" Bronwyn was indignant in her fury, poking herself firmly in the chest. She looked closely at the name plate. Phineas Nigellus. \"Mr. Nigellus, I assure you that I was looking at nothing!\"

\"I beg your pardon, miss! You were looking at me!\"

\"Like I said,\" Bronwyn\'s hands had settled on her hips and her shoulders rocked with attitude. \"I was looking at nothing!\" The woman and the figure in the painting sized each other up.

\"Bronwyn.\" She turned at the sound of the gentle Wizard\'s voice. He came to her quickly, taking her hands in his. \"I am sorry I have not had time to speak with you before now. A Headmaster\'s work is never done, it seems.\" He led her over to a small settee with a tea set and a jar of jelly beans. \"Please sit.\" The two sat down and she watched in fascination of the tea pot that poured her tea, by itself. \"Sugar?\" Bronwyn nodded and watched as lumps of the sweetener plop by themselves into her cup until she raised her hand.

\"I am sorry, Professor Dumbledore. All this magic... pictures that move and hold conversations with you... \" she motioned to the pictures on the wall that were now listening intently to her conversation, \"This morning, my mirror spoke to me. Out of the blue, it told me I needed to put on some makeup, because I looked like total... er... shit! My mirror said that! I do not know if I will ever get used to it.\"

\"It is Albus, my dear.\" He stirred his tea and took a sip. \"I imagine it is quite disturbing. I would be equally lost in the Muggle World.\" He set the cup down and looked at her over half- moon glasses. \"You are settling in? Your accommodations are satisfactory?

\"They are lovely. I cannot thank you enough.\" She took several sips of her tea. \"You did not have to take me in this way. I do own a cottage in Wales.\"

Albus chuckled and picked up the jar of jelly beans, passing them to her. \"It was either take you in or lose our Potions Master. Taking you in seemed the logical choice. You know very well, your home is not safe and will not be for some time.\" He watched in silent amusement as she took her time picking and choosing over the assortment, finally settling on a pink, speckled one. Her eyes lit up as she bit in.

\"Peppermint!\" She reached in for a few more. \"These are wonderful! Do you mind?\"

\"Go right ahead.\" Albus waved her on. \"You are getting on with the professors?\"

Bronwyn held up a jellybean, squinting at it. \"For the most part. Minerva has been wonderful, as has Anne-Marie Hooch and Russ. Russ has said she will let me help her in her greenhouses next week.\" She popped a bean in her mouth. \"Buttered Popcorn?\" she shrugged and examined another one. \"I like Remus, too. He has been awesome. Absolutely da Bomb!\"

\"And Severus?\"

Her eyes slid sideways to the elderly wizard. \"And here I thought this was going to be a nice conversation.\" She popped the green jellybean into her mouth and made a face. \"What the... \" she swallowed slowly. \"Yrch! That one tasted like grass. Must have been a dud!\"

Albus shrugged with a smile. \"And Severus?\" he persisted. \"He has been helpful?\"

\"He has been a butt!\" Bronwyn spat, picking up another jellybean, eyebrow arched gracefully. \"He talks to me like I am a child. I cannot converse with him and I have no idea how the two of us are supposed to work together.\" Bronwyn finally popped the bean into her mouth.

\"Bronwyn, I...\"

\"YRCH!!!!\" Her face scrunched up and her hands waved, reaching for a napkin. Not finding one, she spat the partially chewed bean into her hand. \"EEW! That thing tastes like....vomit!\" She glared at Dumbledore. \"What are those things?\" Albus handed her a napkin and she wiped her hand into it, scowling.

\"Bernie Botts Every Flavored Beans. They are not kidding. They are every flavor.\" He smiled, shaking his head gently. \"They are a huge hit with the younger years. I have yet to figure out why.\" He watched her face for several moments. \"About Severus...\"

She waved her hand for him to continue.

\"I heard about your... adventure... last night. I must ask you not to do that again. These grounds are not safe. I realize you feel... cooped up... but it is for your own safety. If I know Severus, he is outside now, in the elements, warding your roof. If you can get out, then someone, or something, could get in.\" He watched as Bronwyn stood up and resettled herself on the step, resting her chin in her hands. He set his teacup down lightly and followed her, slowly following her lead on his floor. She turned deep, smoldering eyes to him.

\"I\'m sorry. I didn\'t think about that. I just wanted to...\"

\"You just wanted to wander and to explore and your chambers are not big enough for that.\" Albus\' smile was genuine. \" We have an amazing library and your palms are itching to get your hands on new reading material.\" Her grin was answer enough. \"Perhaps, you and Severus\' can bridge this impasse the two of you have come to and can come up with a way to ward your doors without you being trapped. Perhaps a password. Severus is quite good at things like that.\"

\"He is difficult. He is a condescending, belligerent, bullying, anti-social...\"

\"Ah. And Haldir was none of those things?\" The kindly wizard\'s eyes twinkled in merriment.

\"No! No he was not!\" She was aghast that gentleman next to her would ask such a question.

\"Haldir was not arrogant? Pugnacious? Strong-willed? Careful in choosing his friends? \"

\"Well, yes he was that, but...\" Bronwyn snapped her mouth shut when she made the connection. \"I could talk to Haldir! I cannot have a civil conversation with your Potions Master! Snape is a thoroughly disagreeable man!\" she insisted.

\"Yes, he is. But he has had a difficult life. His childhood was horrific and his time here as a student was not much better.\" The Wizard\'s voice got very quiet. \"I am afraid I failed him then. I almost failed him later. I will not fail him again.\" He realized his hand was held by hers and the heat emanating from it enveloped his body. He looked up into her eyes and saw understanding and pity. \"Do not allow him to see that! He is...\"

\"Encased in a hard shell. I know.\" Bronwyn gave a grim smile. \"He is quite the puzzle, isn\'t he?\" She patted Dumbledore\'s hand. \"And the more I discover about him, the more complex he becomes.\" She inhaled deeply. \"He has a horrific headache and he will not allow me to help him.\"

\"Perhaps you should put your foot down with him.\" He slid a hand over hers and patted back. \"Ah, I must cut this short. I have interviews to conduct for the Arithmancy and History of Magic positions.\" He placed both hands on his knees. \"Can you help an old man up?\"

Bronwyn bounced up and helped him to his feet. \"Thank you.\" She hugged him impulsively. \"You remind me much of Gandalf.\"

Albus\' mouth made a funny moue. \"I will consider that a compliment.\" He looked down at the Bard. \"Bronwyn. No one envies your position. You have dealt with all that has been handed to you with great aplomb.\" He smiled sadly at the single tear that threatened to fall. \"Your loss was great, but you will gain much.\"

\"I miss him. I miss him so much.\"

\"Of course you do. No one expects you NOT to miss him. But while he waits, you have living to get on with. And you must do that. You have a lot of life left to explore.\" He nodded to the door. \"The library is down the hall, on your left. I expect to hear your scream of joy when you go in. Tell Madame Pince if you need anything.\"

***

For three days it rained; poured torrential buckets and Bronwyn spent all three days lying on a table with a pillow, one toe-nail lacquered foot propped on her knee, book over her head. Amadeus slept under the table.

Johann Sebastian Bach\'s music soared through out the room.

Jesu, Joy of Man\'s Desiring
Holy Wisdom, Love most bright...

She took great delight in the library. It was huge, one of the largest she had ever been in and more enjoyable was it was full of books she had never read, had never been aware of. She inhaled them like air, relishing knowledge she never knew existed.

Severus watched from the doorway in disgruntled enchantment as Remus or Rumil moved back and forth, replacing and bringing the next book as she finished the one she had. She forgot to come eat once; after that, Severus retrieved her for all meals. This time was different from when she first came; she wasn\'t refusing, she simply... forgot.

For the first time in months, Severus\' headache diminished to almost nothing. Bronwyn was at peace, therefore, the turmoil she created was nonexistent.

She did pepper him with questions in the evenings, however. Bronwyn made it a habit, after dinner, to invade his room, his sanctuary, normally carrying several books and would pester him with questions ranging from the incredibly inane to the amazingly deep. She was more curious than any Ravenclaw he could remember.

Tonight, she sat on a stool, opposite of him, peering into simmering cauldrons, the wolf curled at her feet.

\"That one is beautiful. What is it?\"

\"What is a bezoar?\"

\"Do they actually PAY someone to taste test Bernie Bott\'s Every Flavor Beans?\"

\"Can I get a stick thingy like yours? You know, the kind that shoots green sparks?\"

\"What if you aren\'t the seeker and you catch the snitch? Is the game over or do you keep playing until a SEEKER catches it?\"

\"What\'s so precious about dragon\'s blood?\"

\"How do you do that WHOOSH thing? Can you teach me? Where can I get a robe that does that? Did you buy them that way?\"

\"I KNOW that is what it says, Severus. I still don\'t understand why!\"

\"Why do you stir the Amrodil Potion exactly 24 times clockwise and 11 times counter- clockwise?\"

Snape looked up quickly. \"Where did you read that? That is incorrect!\" he snapped at her, stirring Lupin\'s potion.

\"Spells and Potions for the Classroom by Mildred Creakly, Hawkes and Bookers, publishers, edition 4, September of 1977. Page 82, paragraph 3.\" she rattled off.

He turned to his bookshelf, perusing the bindings. With a soft, ‘ah-ha\', he pulled a book from the shelf. Flipping through it, he came to the potion in question. \"Yes, I was correct. Twenty seven times clockwise and twelve times counter clockwise. And it is on page 189, paragraph two!\" Snape thrust the book at her.

Bronwyn took one look at the book and turned to the first page. \"Ah. Hate to piss in your potion, Professor, but this is the Sixth Edition, June, 1993.\" Snape yanked the book back and looked at the title page. \"I am sure when I reach this edition, I will find several errors. It happens.\"

Realization at what he just witnessed, sank into Snape\'s astonished mind. Ordering her to stay put, he strode to her chambers, up the stairs, into her room. Grabbing three random books from her shelf, he hurried back to his classroom. He slid back behind his caldron and picked up the first one, reading the cover.

\"Iris Johansen. The Killing Game. Page 193. Third paragraph.\"

Bronwyn blinked once.

\"Eve leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. How Dom must have enjoyed throwing out lies and deceptive hints. You made it hard enough, but I\'ve found her, Dom, you son of a bitch...\"

Severus looked it up. She was right. Word for word. He picked up the next one.

\"The Tangle Box. Terry Brooks. Page 108. Second paragraph.\" He immediately began flipping through the book.

Again, she blinked once.

\"She let her mother speak to her then through the dance, let her share in turn the joy she was feeling. Once Willow had found that joy exhilarating. Now she found it lacking, oddly empty, circumscribed happiness..\"

\"Enough.\" Again. Word for word. He picked up the third and final book. \"Julie Garwood, The Prize, page 243, paragraph three.\"

Blink. Smile.

\"His thumb rubbed against her most sensitive spot. She arched up against him and moaned into his mouth. White-hot desire claimed her. She kissed him with a passion that left him shaken...\"

\"Silence!\" Severus quickly found the erotic passage and looked. He had stopped her just in time. \"What is this tripe you read?\" he queried angrily, flipping the book back and forth, checking cover and back.

\"Pretty good tripe, late at night.\" He could hear the laughter in her voice.\"Shall I continue? Royce slooooowly forced his fingers inside her slick, tight open...\"

\"Cease immediately!\"

His mind reeled from the enormity of her memory. If she could remember paragraphs, passages word for word, small wonder she had been determined to get to the library for new reading material.

She was starving for reading material. For knowledge.

Of any kind.

And he thought Hermione Granger was a know-it-all. What a clash the upcoming Head Girl and new Muggles Studies Professor - the Muggle who wasn\'t a Muggle - was going to make. And he was in a unique position to observe it all.

***

Come to my window
Crawl inside, Wait by the light of the moon
Come to my window
I\'ll be home soon.

Melissa Etheridge,
Come to my Window

***

She was out, roaming the halls. Severus sat in front of his fireplace, brandy snifter in hand, comparing the out-of-date edition of ‘Spells and Potions\' with the newer, corrected edition. He was seeing why so many students over the years had had difficulties; if they had been using the Fourth, there were blatant errors everywhere. He inhaled deeply, and draining the dregs from his glass, he set it and the book down. He looked at his clock.

12:52 A.M. Most definitely not a decent hour. Donning his trailing robes, he exited the dungeons and headed up the stairs, following the beacon in his head.

Filch was at the bottom of the second floor flights. \"She\'s on the third floor. East wing.\"

Snape grunted in acknowledgment. He didn\'t wanted to talk to the man; he knew where she was, but it seemed to be the fastest way past him.

\"Weird one, she is. Mark my words. Very weird.\"

Oh, like you\'re not! Snape thought to himself. That would be like the cauldron calling the Sorting Hat black. Severus made his way up the steps, past sleeping portraits.

\"Thy hand, Belinda...\"

If he hadn\'t been able to figure out where she was at, the music would have led him straight to her.

\"Darkness shades me;
On thy bosom let me rest
More I would, but death invades me...\"

She wasn\'t just creating this music, she was singing...

\"Death is now welcome guest...\"

Purcell? She was singing... Purcell? His mind raced to place the opera, the recitative.. her voice, a deep, rich alto...

\"When I am laid, am laid in earth
May my wrongs create, no trouble, no trouble in thy breast...\"

Dido\'s Lament. Of course. She was mourning still. She lived to mourn. It was her reason for waking, her reason to be. She gloried in her bereavement. He moved silently down the corridor towards the stairwell to the third floor.

\"Remember me, but ah! Forget my fate.\"

He came to the landing and looked up. At first he thought he beheld a ghost, but quickly put that thought aside as she was not transparent.

Bronwyn was clothed in an Elvish gown of white; its beaded sleeves and long train spilled behind her like a silver waterfall that pooled on the steps. She wore a white shawl over her abundant waves and he saw no skin except fingertips, resting on the edge of the railing. The other hand came gracefully from her side, held out, palm up. Her very posture demanded ‘attend me\'.

\"Severus,\" His name slid sweetly from her whispered voice. She had never looked back, never gazed his way, so how she knew he was there, was beyond him. \"Do not skulk in the dark. People will think you are up to something... untoward.\" She beckoned with her finger tips. Severus found himself, up the stairs, taking her hand and tucking the dainty tip in his elbow.

Her magic is different from ours, Severus.

Slowly they moved down the hallway. She took in the pictures, people, dogs, at peaceful slumber. The music changed.

\"I die, alas! From my pain
And who can give me life.
Alas, kills me and...\"

\"Bronwyn, please. Something a little less fatal.\"

She smiled. Queen\'s wailing guitars and pounding drums startled the sleeping subjects in the paintings.

\"All Dead, all dead
All the dreams we had
And I wonder why I still live on...\"

\"Less fatal, Bronwyn. The key word here is less.\"

She smiled again. Mozart\'s Requiem swelled in all its beauty. Severus stopped, holding tightly to her hand, still warmly tucked in his arm.

\"Bronwyn, please. Something... happy. Or at the very least, peaceful.\"

She removed her hand from his elbow and looked up at him. He could see the moonlight glinting in her eyes, where it came through the windows. Slowly, she removed the shawl from her head, laying it about her shoulders and neck. Her smile... her smile was mesmerizing.

\"You called me by my name.\" She tilted her head, engagingly. \"Not once. But three times.\" She tucked her hand back into his elbow. \"That deserves something special.\"

Severus\'s attention reverted back to the long hallway. \"Oh. Whoopie.\" His voice was droll, but as Bronwyn glanced at him sideways, she thought she detected a small, albeit humorless smile.

\"Pick a song. Any song you like.\" He looked at her in perplexity. \"I am serious, Severus. You called me by my name. I have waited so long to hear it from your lips. It sounds almost sinful to hear you say it.\" Despite the fact that it was summer, he could see her breath, misting in the air. Dust in the disturbed haze. \"Any piece of music you like, Severus. Just tell me.\"

Oh, play along. She isn\'t railing at you. She isn\'t outside, playing with herself, masturbating with the gargoyles .

\"Bartok. Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta.\"

Immediately, the hauntingly soft sounds of violins oozed from the rising dust fog sparkling in the moonlight.

\"Funny,\" she whispered, leaning in towards him, tucking her hand back into his black- clad elbow, \"I had you pegged for a Wagner fan.\"

\"Wagner.\" he sniffed, disdainfully. \"Self-absorbed, sanctimonious twit.\"

Bronwyn stopped in amused wonderment, her jaw dropped, her eyes alight with laughter. \"Self-absorbed? Sanctimonious? Severus Snape! My opinion and respect for you has just risen ten-fold!\"

\"Hmmm. And ten times nothing is...?\" She smacked his arm playfully, enjoying his dry humor for a change. They strolled quietly, listening to the music, the quiet whisper of her gown following them. Her footfalls padded quietly; she was barefoot and occasionally, he saw the hint of pale painted toenails peek from under her gown. The pearly train of her dress and the dark trails of his robe intertwined gently behind them. When Bartok finished, she melded into Debussy, Afternoon of a Faun. She questioned him on his likes and dislikes, amazed that while he had not read Muggle books, he had listened to Muggle music and was quite the expert on Classical Music. He was difficult to stump.

\"J.S. Bach had two wives, madam and seventeen children. Do not play games.\"

Debussy fused into Teleman.

\"Bronwyn! Rachmaninoff was not classical composer. He was late-Romantic, almost 20th Century! Do you mean to tell me, you actually received DEGREES in this and they allowed you out of your conservatory sprouting such nonsense?\"

Bronwyn giggled wickedly and pumped her free hand in the air. \"YesYesYes! No foolin\' you, professor!\"

It dawned on him that he was almost enjoying this time with her; no fighting, no one- upmanship, no flinging innuendos at each other. She was almost... not almost... was... pleasant company.

Teleman faded into St. Saens.

He began to gently pump her for information, information she had read from centuries ago, read in the library. She repeated books, scrolls verbatim. Things she had taken interest in, she could go on and on, in her zeal for the subject. Her knowledge of history, of the Races, of the Ages was amazing. She talked of the beauty of Lothlórien, of Imladris, the intelligence of Elrond, Erestor, the bravery and wicked humor of Glorfindel, the sexual ruthlessness of Thranduil, of Rohan, of Gondor. Then there were other things...

\"It is quite frightening, Bronwyn.\" He stated at one point. \"You could tell someone how to clinically open one\'s head and remove the tumor that lies within. I would not want you do to it to me, however.\"

She shook her head negatively and slowly made her way to a deep window sill, staring into the moonlit night. \"You realize we have made this circle countless times.\"

\"I had not noticed.\"

\"It is four in the morning. I will be to tired for breakfast.\" Her voice was far away. He had lost track of the time, enjoying the conversation.

\"I will let you sleep.\" He stood behind her, feeling her thoughts, sensing them move away from her, into a distant time. She was open. She was... temporarily untied from all gravity of her pain.

\"Bronwyn, where are you?\"

Her response was so quiet, he almost missed it. He leaned closely, hands on her shoulders, to hear.

\"The Gardens of Isengard. They were so beautiful after the Ents replanted it. So beautiful...\" Her eyes had glazed over.

Severus\' agile mind took in all he had witnessed in the past few hours, days, witnessed in the library, witnessed in his classroom, witnessed here in this hallway. Full realization of who and what she was slammed his senses.

Historian of the Ages - she had lived 38,000 years, had seen all that Man could muster. Had spent time with those who could remember back to the First Age, had spoken to them, knew their stories. Remembered all.

The Storyteller of the Races - The Teacher of Teachers. She who had taught the Elflings the lore, the Ainur, she who would teach these children of that world they hid from, of their common ancestor. She who knew all.

The Protector and Seer of the Future - She had risked all to protect the sanctity of Man. She had watched it unfold from afar and had protected Elrond\'s hidden children when they had been threatened with annihilation; out of love for Elrond, for them, she had stepped forward to save them, costing her...

The Musician of the All - she who played every instrument, was a master of all of them. Bronwyn had told him that when Iluvatar, God, if one was bold, created the Valar, they didn\'t speak. They had sung the very world into existence... When the Elves went anywhere, they sang. Music, that was so important...

The Voice of the Unheard - the Wizards were unheard, secreted. She had been their voice...

The Keeper of the Truth and of the Innocent - She had showed Man what would happen if... protecting those who were guiltless...

I am the Founder and Mother of the Celtic Bards. I am the Bard of the Earth...

The Bard. Not any bard.

The Bard.

Tel\' Lindar.

This woman\'s very hand had stayed the keel of the Earth; The Elf had been her Guardian and Shield. And now He was... The Shield...

I am.

The full force of it struck Severus. This petulant child, who raged at the world in one breath and then just as quickly swung to playfulness, protected them; Man, Wizards. Had lost what was most precious to her for them. Why? For what?

He spun her around and lifting her easily onto the wide window sill, he braced his fists on either side of her. He looked deep into brown eyes and at the same time, delved with his mind, attempting to find, to capture her wandering one.

\"Who are you? What are you?\" he whispered.

Her voice was distant. \"I am Bronwyn Morgan ap Powell, the Bard of all the Earth, the last Empty Vessel. I am the beloved of Haldir of Lothlórien.\"

\"And who is Haldir of Lothlórien?\"

\"He is Heru en Cormmin, Lord of my heart, my husband. My lover. The father of my children, my Guardian, my Shield. He was a gift to me.\"


\"Why him?\" Snape\'s voice continued its hypnotic whisper.

\"Because he was the best. The best of that Age. He was what I was not.\" She stared deep into his eyes, unaware of his interrogation.

\"Who am I?\"

\"Severus Snape. Potions Master of Hogwarts. Former Death Eater. Now also, Shield of the Bard of the Earth.\"

\"Why me?\" His question pained him, wretched from his soul.

\"Because you are the best this world has to offer. You are everything we are not. I am your gift. I am to teach you what you never knew.\"

He paused for a moment, taking in what she said. He leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching hers.

\"Teach me what?\"

Her gaze never broke from his. Her fingers left the window sill and cupped his face, gently, a lover\'s touch, her look full of sorrow.

\"I do not know.\"

***
TBC
***


Here is a link to some beautiful artwork done of TL 07. Please visit the site and drool over Snapey goodness!

http://alanrickman.electric-chi.com/ARimages/VesselSheild.jpg

Dido\'s Lament from the Opera, Dido and Aeneas ( 1st performance 1689)
Words by Nahum Tate -1652 - 1715
Music by Henry Purcell -1658/9 -1695

Moro Lasso/I die
Carlo Gesualdo © 1560-1613)

All Dead, All Dead
Brian May - 1977
Queen - News of the World album -

\"Well done my good and faithful Servant.\"
If I need to tell you who said that, then.....


Lirimaer - lovely one
Tithen Aras - Little Deer.