In ages past, when the world was young and songs flowed like rivers through the lands, there dwelt a people who knew the true value of music. They cared not for the names and deeds of those who crafted melodies, but for the notes themselves that danced upon the air.
How far we have strayed from those wiser days! Now men and elves alike clamor to know every detail of a bard's life, as if such knowledge could enhance the beauty of a ballad or the power of a hymn. But I say to you, dear reader, that this obsession with the creator obscures the creation.
When you stand before a tapestry woven with threads of gold and silver, do you first ask after the weaver's childhood? Nay, you marvel at the artistry before your eyes. So too should it be with music.
Let the song speak for itself, unencumbered by tales of its origin. For in the purest melodies can be found echoes of the Music of the Ainur, which brought forth all creation. To seek the mundane details of a composer's life is to willfully ignore the divine spark that truly gives life to great works of art.

Therefore I implore you: when next a haunting tune reaches your ears, close your eyes. Let the music wash over you like the waters of the Bruinen. Seek not the hand that plucks the strings, but the emotions stirred in your very soul. For therein lies the true power and purpose of all art - to move the spirit, to awaken the imagination, to connect us to something greater than ourselves.

The deeds of musicians will fade like autumn leaves, but their melodies may echo through the ages. It is the song, not the singer, that deserves our reverence.