The Greeting Song

As the liquid notes faded into the air, Lótë sighed and twisted on the uncomfortably soft bench. "I don't like that one either."

"You don't have to like it," Garth answered. "It's for the stunted folk. And that Halfling.

Lótë rolled her eyes. He always got peevish when she didn't just gush over his music. "They're so dreary. Can't you sing something happier?"

Garth frowned.

"What about the one you wrote for the Dúnadan when he was a child?"

Garth's frown deepened.

"The Tra-la-la-lally one," Lótë continued. "He was just about their height at the time and he loved it."