The woods were thick, dense, and immeasurably old. Seemingly with no paths, I could not work out how I had made my way into the clearing in the small depression in the side of the winding valley. I had followed the music: Strange, ethereal music…
I sat on the edge of the circle. Figures clad in rough woollen cloaks sat around a small fire: Some with drums; some with rough horns or wooden flutes; one with a lyre and one a tagelharpa.
I thought I'd packed my auto-harp in my rucksack, but I couldn't find it – only a small skin drum. So I took it out and joined in.
The music became more intense. I was so tired, but I couldn't stop. The mists were rising and the air grew thick. Suddenly realising that I hadn’t a clue how to leave if I wanted to, I knew that this wouldn't end well. The fire was dying down, and a chill was descending, but the music wouldn't stop. I seemed to be drowning in the music, and then…
I woke up! Oh, but hang on, what’s that! I’ve brought the music back from the netherworld with me! I get up, turn on my computer and transcribe the sound in my head the best I can. Some how it seems to lack the filtered bass reverb of the surrounding ancient trees. No matter: I know just the thing I can use this piece of music for!