They rode and they rode till they came to the hall,
So loudly she twirled at the pin
And none so ready as Lord Thomas himself
To let Fair Ellender in.
Lady Freya’s voice mesmerized Aaran, as easily as it did the others in the room. He had never heard the song done so well and with so much passion.
He took her by her lily-white hand
When leading her through the hall
Saying, “Fifty gay ladies are here today
But here is the flower of them all.”
“Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?” she said.
“She looks most wonderfully brown
You might have had as fair a woman
As ever trod Scotland’s ground.”
How might I ever be able to take another to my bed, when my heart has claimed this woman?Despite Aaran’s misery, Lady Freya sang on. She appeared to know desolation equal to his own.
“Despise her not, Fair Ellender,” he cried.
“Despise her not to me.
For I love the end of your little finger
More than her whole body.”
The Brown Girl, she was standing by
With knife ground keen and sharp,
Between the long ribs and the short,
She pierced Fair Ellender’s heart.
Lady Freya’s voice cracked with emotions, but no one in the room let out the breath he or she held, including him. Aaran knew sending her away to marry Sir Patrick was like piercing both her heart and his.
“Oh, what the matter?” Lord Thomas said.
“You look so pale and wan;
You used to have so fair a color
As ever the sun shone on.”
“Oh, you are blind, Lord Thomas!” she said.
“Or can’t you very well see?
Oh, can’t you see my own heart’s blood
