Tove lay on her bed and stared up at the gilded ceiling. Randulfr had gotten quite disgusted with her and sprawled across her chest. He would periodically lick her chin.

There were a couple of things that might make her feel better. Going out for a good prowl. Cap’s company. But both of those things involved getting up, and she couldn’t be bothered even if she could shift the wolf.

There was song. There was always song, but she was tired of music to suit the charr, and sad besides, and nothing was a better release for that than a miserable old sea shanty. She took as deep a breath as she could–thanks Rand–and sang:

We were one week out from Lion’s Arch

With our journey near its end

And our hold was full of gold and trade

And we had our coin to spend

 

Oh we’re homeward bound to our last port o’ call

And our time on the sea is done

Soon we’ll be on a green and pleasant shore

With the rest we’ve sorely won

 

We were five days out from Lion’s Arch

And the wind was at our back

And our ship was sailin’ hard and fast

And the sky was turning black

 

Oh we’re homeward bound to our last port o’ call

But this squall’s got our sails stretched tight

And those black hungry clouds and that indigo sea

Won’t let go without a fight

 

We were three days out from Lion’s Arch

When we had to lower our sails

For the sea was a rough and wanton bitch

And the wind’s a banshee’s wail

 

Oh we’re homeward bound to our last port o’ call

And the waves how high they crash

Washin’ clean our deck of all they find

And the salt spray’s like a lash

 

We were two days out from Lion’s Arch

And our Captain was no more

Now he has his post beneath the sea

On the ocean bottom’s floor

 

Oh we’re homeward bound to our last port o’ call

And the hold’s taking water fast

This cold sea storm has taken its due

As it’s shatterin’ our mast

 

Oh we’re one day out from Lion’s Arch

And the sea is smooth as glass

Not a soul on the waves

Not a cloud in the sky

Nothing marking where we’d passed

 

Oh we’re homeward bound to our last port o’ call

And our time on the sea is done

Soon we’ll be on a green and pleasant shore

With the rest we’ve sorely won

 

Tove let the gilded walls eat her song and then closed her eyes and napped. 

 

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5k8VHTDfWTE&list=ULahAKt6yJpxc&index=861)

Author Ambrosine
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