When Bajeed’s season of plenty rolls around, there is always a great deal of celebration. Drinks are poured and feasts are prepared, as the whole of El-Rah prepares to receive this divine gift. Bajeed would often walk the world herself in those times, revelling in the happiness that could be felt throughout the land.
Yet after many years, Bajeed grew tired of joining the celebrations. They were fun for the mortals who performed them, but an immortal such as herself had been to every ceremony many times over, and the novelty had started to wear. She felt like there was something missing, but she could not figure out what.
One day as she was viewing the world from above, detached and distant, she heard a strange sound. She perked up, curious, as the unusual, wonderful sound drifted towards her. Entranced, she slowly floated down to where the sound was coming from: a small village named Westholme.
As she drew near, she could see a crowd gathered around a young man, who appeared to be the source of the sound. He was holding something in his hand, a wooden box with a hole in it and strings running across the hole. When he plucked the strings, the sound she had been hearing came out, almost like magic. She continued to watch as the man played his instrument, singing words praising the season of plenty for its gifts to them. As the song finished, the crowd of peasants cheered and clapped, which is when Bajeed herself stepped through the crowd and up to the young man.
The crowd murmured in shock and the man looked up in awe, before throwing himself down on his knees. Bajeed smiles sweetly at him and helped him up, asking him about his invention and if he would demonstrate it to her again. This time, he played a sad song, mourning the loss of something precious that might never be returned. Bajeed herself wept at this song, as she caught one of her tears in the palm of her hand. She realised that this music was a magic into itself, and this young man had invented it.
As the song finished, she placed the tear on his brow, where it began to glow with a blinding orange light. When it faded, the young man had been changed. His clothes were no longer ragged, but a fine performer’s outfit. His instrument had also changed, becoming an illustrious silver harp. Bajeed explained to him that she had made him a god, the god of Music, and that he must travel around El-Rah and share his gift with everyone. The young man, who’s name was Frulmar, was overjoyed, and vowed that he would teach whoever would listen about his music.
When Bajeed’s season of plenty rolls around, there is always a great deal of celebration. Drinks are poured and feasts are prepared, as the whole of El-Rah prepares to receive this divine gift. Music fills the air, instruments and voices sounding loud enough to shake the whole of El-Rah, and Bajeed once again walks the world again, as she knows that somewhere in the world, Frulmar is playing a melody just for her.