The noisy public house grows silent as her fingers gently stroke the strings of her lap dulcimer, fondling each fret to create every note. The music reaches its fingers out to grab and caress the listeners as they sit, entranced eyes gazing up at her face. Once in a while, they they flicker to her hands in a vain attempt to understand her magic. She smiles inwardly as she watches the audience and the first words of the song are tasted upon her tongue, escaping passed her moving lips. She closes her eyes as the hungry words transport her back to burned out castles long since ground to dust. She can smell the blood of murders centuries old, the smoke of battlefields now overgrown, and the sweat of lovers whose names have long been forgotten. Her words fall faint, her fingers slowly grow still, and she hears the thunder as the gathered multitude roars in adoration. Her eyes open and finds she is on the stage once more.