From Leggetto

Inspired (and slightly challenged) by Arowe's prose from the previous evening, Rifkin waits until everyone's eaten their fill of the day's catch and settled by the fire before gently strumming his mandolin.

His sweet voice perfectly complimenting the wine in their goblets...

'And the time flies
On a warm and green Scar Burrow evening
A callow half-elf thinks back on his life
From Leggetto.

How his mother cried
When her beautiful man went up and died
Knifed in the back when she begged him to hide
In Leggetto.

Her people didn't understand
Their child would need his guiding hand
Or he'd grow to be a bitter young man some day
They looked down upon me
But they left his widow be
Her family simply turned their heads and looked the other way.

Well the world turned
And that hungry little boy with the runny nose
Played in the street and learned to compose
In Leggetto.

But his hunger burned
He started to roam the streets at night
And he studied how to charm and prepared to recite
In Leggetto.

Then one night in grief and anger
The young man broke away
He took some gold
Stole a horse
Heart grown cold
He left of course
When his mother died.

From Leggetto.'