Oh sweet girl, here come the courting men
Gentle mother oh, send the reels to me
Yellowfin seaweed, Faerieland seaweed
Seaweed, the best in all of Faerie

The Fossegrim stopped his harp, looking down from the cart with a raised eyebrow as the prince approached. "What, old Sandy here? Why, Sandy wouldn't hurt a fly, now would you Sandy?" The humanoid head of the creature lolled to one side, red eyes unfocused, as the horse head snorted and gave a quick shake, glaring back at the man who sat astride the cart.

Closer, Hulwen can see the Fossegrim dressed in simple leather breeches and an open leather vest. A large straw hat lay beside him on the driving bench of the cart, and in general the faerie looked unkempt. Not dirty, but the scraggily beard and long blond hair gave the impression of a person who did not make effort to keep up his personal appearance. Even his wagon had obviously been through a great deal - cloth roof more patch than cloth, wheels of three different colors, the bench leaning ever so slightly to one side. The harp he played, by contrast, was pristine - and appeared to be made of bone and sinew. The Fossegrim set the harp down on top of his hat, and leaned down, looking Hulwen up and down carefully. "Well, you'll be the new Prince of Shining Noon. Been a sight since the title was filled, if I reckon rightly. What's your name, little prince?"