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Convergence of Bards College Maestros
Solitude, 2E 580
First Loredas of Hearthfire
In Attendance:
~ Headmaestro Catrelle Georick
~ Maestro Hrofgen Well-Tuned, Professor of Percussion
~ Maestro Thaezara Halftail, Professor of Southern Strings
~ Maestro Taenival Llendu, Professor of Small Winds
~ Maestro Efnort, Master of Bells and Horns
~ Maestro Viatrix Umbranox, Professor of Vocals
~ Maestro Leiborn, Professor of Northern Strings
~ Honorable Yngmaer Raven-Quill, Historian Royal
~ Honorable Helgreir Lute-Voice, Bard Royal of Windhelm, representing Jorunn the Skald-King
~ Adjunct Professor Twains-the-Night, Professor of Argonian Music Theory
~ Master Maestro Alumnus Nel Farsong
~ Assistant to the Headmaster and Scribe, Hartlin Treg (Me)
<Meeting called to order.>
Catrelle: Hear ye, honorable master bards! My thanks for your attendance. We call this meeting together to determine the proper care and—
<Maestro Taenival stands abruptly.>
Taenival: Care and imprisonment? Not on my life! You ruin an instrument's vitality by locking it in a box!
Catrelle: Good Maestro Taenival! I'll quarter no outbursts at this meeting! Make your winds smaller for a time, sir!
Taenival: You'll not change my mind on this subject.
Catrelle: So noted. Please be at ease, Maestro.
<Taenival sits, looking angry.>
Catrelle: As I was saying, we gather to discuss our intentions for these legendary, storied, and exquisite instruments before us. Those the college has collected over the course of centuries and maintained. Some of the bards outside this room, and indeed within, have used them extensively to teach with and compose upon. Due to complaints by others, also within and without ….
<Many grumbles and side-glances.>
Catrelle: … there is concern that this could have undue negative impact upon the instruments. Most recently, we have had to perform extensive repair on the Tom of Shilsk when someone—
Hrofgen: That was not my fault, and I was NOT drunk, as it was implied!
Viatrix: I SAW you refilling your brandy flask right before the Tom was broken!
Hrofgen: I do not deny this, but I was not drunk. It slipped and fell when a student tripped over me. While I napped. On top of the drum.
Viatrix: Sloven—
Catrelle: Enough! We're not here to litigate your passions. We need solutions. Maestro Efnort has a prepared statement. Efnort?
<Efnort stands.>
Efnort: For the record, I've seen Hrofgen refill his brandy flask before delivering a wandering soliloquy on drums that stunned everyone in the room. I count this as no excuse for the damage to the Tom, and therefore advocate for the preservation of our artifacts.
<Efnort clears his throat, looks sternly at Hrofgen.>
Efnort: These instruments represent a legacy of musical history. The Bards College should want to preserve them for as long as possible, to show students, tourists, luthiers, and other crafters these masterworks and pieces of cultural history.
<Thaezara stands.>
Thaezara: Efnort, you must admit that an instrument is like a lover. Is it not at its most beauteous when plucked, strummed, and played until singing joyously? Caged, they are left silent and lonesome, no?
<Efnort shifts uncomfortably. Maybe the rumors about he and Thaezara are true?>
Efnort: Thaezara, esteemed one. Though you make a passionate plea, I am more inclined to be delicate with such an instrument. Revered. It having given so much to Nirn already. Does it not deserve reverence? It simply cannot be played forever.
Thaezara: You should be so lucky to have an instrument in such fine condition that it begs to ring out its song!
<Thaezara is near shouting. Efnort sits down timidly.>
Viatrix: However fine the condition of the instrument, Thaezara, it won't matter if every student at the college is pawing it and noodling every terrible sonnet they can imagine upon it.
Thaezara: How dare you—
<Thaezara jumps at Viatrix and tries to claw her face!>
Catrelle: Enough! Sit down, the both of you!
<Catrelle breaks up a minor fight between Viatrix and Thaezara. Efnort looks away.>
Catrelle: Stop being so dramatic! Tamriel's bards look to us to make mature decisions for the culture of bards as a whole. Act like you deserve the honor!
Twains-the-Night: If you truly mean all bards, then let me be the Argonian representative to express my dismay in your needs to preserve everything in a world where all things eventually return to Nirn. In our land, nothing survives time or the marsh. We make use of everything, and if something has no use, we commit it again to the swamp.
Hrofgen: Exactly! I think what the scaleback means, in regular words, is that we should make use of these great instruments while we have them. Eventually they will be stolen, or burned, or have something spilled on them, you know?
Twains: Scaleback?
Catrelle: Order!
<Continued in Volume 2.>