My father was quite a good craftsman, and when I was young he would let me play the instruments before he delivered them to his customers. I remember one time, though, when he would not let me touch the instrument he had crafted. It was bright blue, carved on the sides with small daisies, and inset with bardic sapphires. It was the most beautiful instrument I'd ever laid my eyes on. I stood by the window of his workshop and watched him finish it, until my mother called me to bed. As I slept, I dreamed I was a famed bard, and that everywhere I went people would ask me to play my syrinx for them.

I woke from my dream to find it was still nighttime outside. All I could think about was the syrinx. I snuck outside, to my father's workshop. I carefully opened to door so that it wouldn't creak and crept inside. There it was, on top of the workbench, shining slightly in the moonlight from the window. I reached up with my hands to grab it.

"Derivan, whut in Faenella's name are ye doing?!" my fathers voiced boomed. "It's way past yer bedtime!"

"I'm sorry, Papa, I was just... just..." I stammered, looking right into his eyes.

"That syrinx there is not tae be played by just anyone. I have made it specially for a famed bard who will travel all of Elanthia soon," he said and gave me a stern look.

"Papa, it is so beautiful, I just wanted to see how it sounds."

As I said this a great smile broke out upon his face. "Well sure ye kin, son, I have made it fer you!" He winked at me and took the syrinx into his hands. "But ye should nay be playin' it at this hour of the night, with the wolves about!"

I was so overjoyed. It was the first instrument I ever owned, and I still have it to this day. When my father passed on, I swore that I would fulfill the dream of becoming a famed bard and traveling Elanthia with my syrinx in hand.

-by my hand, Derivan Hariar