Dûmba dabun dabundu bâbinda
Dabun dabundu bâbinda dûmbâ
Dabundu bâbinda dûmbâ dabun
Bâbinda dûmbâ dabun dabundu
or was it
Dûmba dabun dibandu bâbinda
Dabun dibandu bâbinda dûmbâ
Dibandu bâbinda dûmbâ dabun
Bâbinda dûmbâ dabun dibandu
The notation was not very clear. Dabundu or dibandu? For several days, Hirgul had practised both. He had found a hollow piece of wood that made shift as a drum, but as he became more and more practised, his fingers itched to beat out the fingerplay on Brandubur. He had practised the rune, too, over and over. But before he used the two together with the Drum of the Deep, it was imperative to find out the correct fingerplay, and to do that he would have to return to Tarûig and ask Sûwikka. He could wait till the appointed time, just before Moondeath, now only two nights away. But surely it would be better to get it right now, and practise it until then? He was impatient to settle the matter.
Having made up his mind, he next hid Brandubur in a high recess at the back of the cave, and closed up its opening with rocks. As far as he could, he concealed the traces of his occupancy of the cave. Then he set out for Tarûig, not using the track but following a deep wooded gulley through which ran one of the many streams that issued from Dreykahnôl. As he descended into the valley, he heard what sounded like riders clattering up the track on the ridge above him. His choice had been more fortunate than he could have guessed: they might be going to search the caves, and if he had stayed there he might well have been caught.
Now warned of the search, he approached Sûwikka’s cottage with extra caution. And that proved wise too, for as he came quietly through the wood behind the house he could see a group of people looking towards Tarûig, but obviously keeping out of sight behind the trees. He moved to the shelter of a bush that gave him a clear view of the front of the cottage. Now he could see someone walking to and fro. It was Nyaula, the servant woman. He could hear her too. She seemed to be crying out in distress. Hirgul listened attentively.
‘Alas, my mistress is dead and buried! Now what shall I do? How shall I live?’
Could this be so? Could Sûwikka really be dead? But now he noticed the pile of newly dug earth, round which Nyaula was walking half bent over, as if in actual pain. And over and over she repeated the lament.
With the search party watching the house it was impossible to go and make sure of the facts. But anyway they seemed quite certain: Sûwikka had died. That was her newly made grave. Only the ûthéga’s death could provoke such distraught behaviour in the servant: she was alone in the world with no work by which to live and no companion. Sûwikka, who had seemed very frail at their meeting, had died, leaving Hirgul to carry out the purposes of the Lord Ungubith alone. His resolve stiffened. He would return to the caves as soon as the searchers had gone and he would summon the monster Hugturágis. He would follow the instructions he had been given. He felt confident he could master and ride this monster. And as for Murnag, she was his grandame: she would be sure to help him.
He made his way back through the woods and up the gulley. As he reached the upper end, he heard voices. The search party were standing by their horses, conversing. He heard snatches: ‘the caves are all empty...’ ‘it looks as if someone has been using the upper cave lately, but they have packed up and gone…’ ‘best take up the search elsewhere…’
Then they all mounted and he heard them ride away. Hirgul returned to his cave. He went to the cavity where Brandubur was hidden. The searchers had not touched it. He pulled away the rocks and brought out the drum. In his excited state, he decided to start the summons straight away. What did the new moon, or Moondeath, really matter? But there was still the question of the correct fingering. He got out the scroll and peered at it intently. Surely it read dibandu? He convinced himself that it did.
But he was mistaken.
He seated himself with Brandubur before him and the scroll with the words of the rune next to him. He placed his hands on the flat surface of Brandubur. The sensation was delicious. He read the rune again, though he had it by heart, closed his eyes, and began to chant.
Gibakzûl gunshâmik bulbangith dûn
Gunshâmik bulbangith dûn gibakzûl
Bulbangith dûn gibakzûl gunshâmik
Dûn gibakzûl gunshâmik bulbangith
Then he began the fingerplay on the stretched dragonhide surface of Brandubur:
Dûmba dabun dibandu bâbinda
Dabun dibandu bâbinda dûmbâ
Dibandu bâbinda dûmbâ dabun
Bâbinda dûmbâ dabun dibandu
It was instantly intoxicating. It was like a slow draught of some smooth strong drink. It went to his head. All other thoughts vanished. It was as if he was descending, riding the drum, into a deep dark shaft with no floor, just an endless plunge downwards through unknown regions.
It grew dark. The stars came out. A thin sliver of moon appeared and set. Still his drumming continued, as if done by some hand not his own, as he sat back in ecstasy. As midnight passed, a small reddish point appeared in the southern skies, growing gradually greater. But, blind to all but the Deep, Hirgul did not observe it.
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