There was a sound coming from the central square. A sound they’d never heard before, so smooth and soft, so beautiful. There was something in the tones, between the tones that made the world seem like a better place, the sky a bit bluer, the problems lighter to carry.
There was a man sitting there. He had a strange widget in his hand, a box with many strings and a bow, but it was not for hunting. They all stood and watched, listened, paralysed by the calm beauty in his melody. After a long time he stopped.
The world came back. The bad harvest, the accident last week. All the problems.
More! Said the blacksmith. Please, play more!
Yes, the others agreed. Please!
I’ll be back tomorrow, the man said. He disappeared around the corner and into the forest.
The next day they heard the music again, this time from…
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