A trance that seemed to spread, affecting others differently. One to play. One to clean. What else would it make them all do? It had yet to bother Ecthelion. Music was one aspect to his life.

The tune continued, unending, yet shifted gradually. Bit by bit. He'd heard a voice join in for a time, and then it fell off. Quiet. Far off. Carried to his ears to mingle with his own music.

He'd just not quite expected to see an elf with a broom. Ecthelion kept playing, though, studying the unfamiliar elf. But there was something about him that tickled memory of others.