“You are destroying a beautiful song,” the music master testily informed Eowyn. “Singing is like making a speech - you must breathe properly, so that your voice carries. You are bellowing.”
Eowyn bit back a sharp reply. Why must she learn how to sing? How often would she be called upon to sing alone in public? And such a dreary song as this?
“All right,” sighed the master, “try it again. And this time, breathe from here.”
He placed his hands low on his on torso.
She hid her boredom, took a deep breath and sang the ancient dirge.