[Nurumaiel]

Culoth frowned and struggled to fight her disappointment, glaring angrily at Firramer, who returned her gaze calmly. "Firramer, I wanted you to tell me a story but now I have to go!" she cried. "You promised me you would."

Firramer sighed and shifted his weight, not letting his eyes stray from Culoth's own. He knew he had disappointed her, but it was his intention. He had been planning on telling her a tale, but she now she had to go back to her home earlier than he had expected. He didn't know what to tell her now. It was no good making excuses. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I promise I'll tell you a tale first thing when I see you again."

"I suppose that will have to do," said Culoth, turning away. "You must think me hopeless, Firramer, being so horribly eager and impatient to hear a story, but I haven't heard one in a long while." She paused, and then with a little smile added, "And you know what type of person I am."

Firramer laughed but didn't reply. He turned his gaze to the door of the inn, looking expectantly and eagerly at it. Culoth happened to glance over her shoulder and saw the expression on his face. He was waiting for something, or someone… someone he couldn't wait to see. "Firramer, who are you waiting for?" she asked.

"Just a friend," he replied, not looking at her. Culoth accepted that explanation and left the inn. Firramer leaned back in his chair, his eyes closing. He could see himself dancing across the floor with a slender girl, her head of red hair resting against his shoulder. The different feelings that shot through him.

She would be here soon. He would wait for her as long as he must. She would come. He had asked her to come. She would come. . .