3rd of Summer, 512 AV Geothryn, with nothing better to do but practice his lute, took a stroll to the Windward Boardwalk. He sat on a stone bench off to the side of the Snowsong portion of the park, and stared at the lute long and hard. His eyes followed each string as they went from soundboard to fret, tracing their path along the neck of the stout wooden instrument. He knew what noise each string would make when he plucked it, and what noises they would make when he held the frets down, and what noises they would make when he strummed them. It wasn't just noise, though, it was more than that; it was music. He picked up the lute and held it neck facing left. Gently resting his right hand over the body, he positioned his left and pressed down on the strings, plucking them now and again to hear the different notes. Geo knew some music theory from his father, but he preferred to do things by ear. He didn't need a circle of fifths to tell him which notes were dissonant and which were harmonious. He often played like this for hours, plucking one string and then the other, testing different chords and different progressions. It was like this that he composed his greatest songs, notes and chords flying from his hands like water pouring from a pitcher. And when he was done he took a towel and mopped his forehead, then the floor, soaking up all the music and squeezing it back into his head so he could remember it. At least, that's how he fancied he did it. The song he played wasn't too quick, but he set a medium tempo with his tapping foot. On a wooden stage the foot would be as good as a drum, but out here on the snow covered ground they were just simple thuds. Plucking and strumming when required, he blended the notes together into a melodious composition. When he played he felt a pang of loss for his dead grandfather, but mostly because he would have enjoyed this song he was cooking up. It was a delicious song indeed. |