Capo entered the cozy den where firelight played on the faces of the several Traddits who sat, various instruments in their hands, in a half-circle around the hearth. "Capo! We though you had lost yourself in the Forest of BarKord!" Capo grinned and said "stop your fretting, Slam Bangbee. I merely stopped to admire a beautiful sunset over Tuningpeg Peak." Slam laughed and replied "more likely you stopped to chat up Cindy Fiddleplucker." Capo playfully scuffed Slam's cap down over his eyes, then turned and unsapped his bouzouki case. Removing the instrument, he seated himself on a three-legged stool, took a pull on a crockery jug that Noodle handed him, and pronounced "I have written a song."

"Let's hear it!" shouted Gimlet, and Capo said "in G. Of course." He played a short intro and sang

Oh the ladies of the Shire
Are a fair and friendly lot
singing sweetly in the choir
or stirring chicken in a pot
But there's one thing I require
if I may be so smug
'tis there company by the fire
swapping kisses on the rug

The laughter that came from the group of Traddits was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door and the appearance of the wizard Zimmerdalf, who stomped his feet, removed the hood of his cloak, and said "Christ, Capo. Don't quit yer day job." The assembly of Traddits clambered to their feet. "Welcome Zimmerdalf!" shouted Capo. "Don't go gettin yer undies in a twist, shortie. I've got maybe 5 minutes, then I have to split for a gig in Dunderdale." Zimmerdalf scratched his pencil-thin moustache and gazed abstractedly at the fire for several seconds until jarred from his reverie by Slam, who said "what errand brings you to the Shire and my Traddit Hole, Zimmerdalf?" The wizard looked at Slam and said "do you have any liverwurst? Can you make me a sandwich?"

As Slam departed for the kitchen, the wizard sat down and produced a leather pouch from his robe, and from the pouch he brought a parchment scroll. "This," he said, "is an ancient document of the Folkies." As he spoke, the parchment took on a sullen orange glow, as if it were aflame. Slowly, he unrolled it and began to read

" One string to wake them, and one to forsake them. One string to call them, one string to appall them. One string..."

He was interrupted by Slam yelling from the kitchen "you want mustard!?" to which Zimmerdalf answered "mayonnaise and horseradish!" Then he continued

"One string to tease them, one string to please them..."Gimlet began to giggle, but a harsh look from Zimmerdalf silenced him. "One string to hold them, one string to scold them. One string to show them, one string to know them. One string to find them. One string to bind them all."

Zimmerdalf re-rolled the scroll, and stared at Capo. "Eleven of the Twelve Power Strings are in the hands of Lord PopWhore," said the wizard, and a cold draft seemed to filter through the room with the sound of his name. "All but the twelfth, the binding string. That string was brought from the wasted lands of Markdown, beyond the Mountains of Commerce, many years ago. It was possessed by Leadbelly the Bold, and later by McGuinn of the Spectacles, before it was taken from him when he fell under the sway of Lord PopWhore. And now, another has it." The Traddits followed Zimmerdalf's eyes to a single glowing golden string on Capo's bouzouki which suddenly, inexplicably rang with a note of clearest E. In a quick motion, Zimmerdalf leaned forward and muted the string, gazing around him in the growing murk of the room. "Silence!" whispered Zimmerdalf. "Lord PopWhore's ears are far-ranging, and even now are focussed on the Shire!"

He slowly raised his hand away, and said "Capo. The String is yours, and you alone can return it to Markdown, where it must be cast into the fires of Martin the Maker. Without it, PopWhore can never rule FiddleEarth!" He paused, taking a huge bite of his liverwurst sandwich. "Umm. Good," he mumbled. Speaking though a wad of sandwich, Zimmerdalf said "you must travel to Rockindale. There, at Hardrog's Cafe, you will meet the one who will lead you to Markdown." The wizard stood, dusting some rye bread crumbs off of his robe, and said "I'd go with you, but I've got this DunderDale gig. "I'll try to catch up later. You guys wouldn't have a road beer?" Then, clutching a frosty can of brew, he was gone.

The Traddits slowly sank back onto their stools, each one staring at Capo, who looked at the String of Power, looked at the door through which Zimmerdalf had made his exit, and said "I am SO not looking forward to this!"