[Nurumaiel]

"Ancient fool!" Mae cried, shaking her head in a most vigorous fashion. "Sir, those words could never fit you. When does one become ancient? When one's hair begins to whiten? Nay, if you have lived many years that is one thing but you will only become old if you succumb to it in your heart. In spirit one can be as young as ever they were." She put her head to one side, her mild curls falling to one side of her face and her eyes twinkling playfully. "Come now, can you imagine me ever being old? Yet age will come to me. I hope I will remain a child in heart."

"You always will," Liornung replied. "You don't seem to me any older than when you were three years old singing I'll Tell My Ma."

She blushed and said, "I hope I am a bit older than that, uncle. But you are only teasing me, I see it in your eyes. And as for fools, Master Osric," she continued, returning her gaze to the man, "are we not all fools? Would wisemen sit as we sit now, singing and laughing and dancing? To be wise seems to me a dreary life. Would a wiseman live as my uncle, barely surviving on what money he makes in his wanders? To me it seems that one who was wise would find some work more profitable, yet..."

"Yet I work as a fool," Liornung said quite seriously. "I enjoy being a fool at times. But how did you, little Mae, know that I was as poor as I am? In truth the people of the inns are not so kind as those here and have no ears for music, or perhaps they have no money to spend and seek the fault of my song as an excuse. Yes, I am poor and often go without a meal, though how the money disappears so quickly I don't know..."

"I know," said a new voice. "You spend it all on ale for those who enjoy your music so you might all laugh and sing through the night, and if your music is ill-taken you spend your money on ale to drown your sorrows."

Liornung stood and set aside his fiddle. Striding across the room a look of boyish delight and admiration came to his features as he embraced the man who stood before him. "Dear brother Leofan," he said. "It has been many a month since I've seen you and you remind me to think not only to my nieces and nephews but my brothers and sisters, and my mother and father. Two years it has been since I have seen them. But you... ah, long was our parting in olden days until I chanced to meet your distressed wife, who was after fearing you had been killed in that stable fire. It was because of me that she found you again, for I was so successful in helping her dodge through those swarming crowds. But what a rambler I am, both on the road and in speech! Sit yourself, dear brother, and fill your glass with me." He paused, looked at Hearpwine and Osric and, a little flush coming to his cheeks, amended himself. "Us, I do mean. Fill your glass with us."

"I fear it cannot be," said Leofan, "though I would wish it. There is much work to do in the stable, as there always it, even if the work be but doing what the horses bid. I took this brief moment to come see you once again, for I heard your singing. Fine singing it was, as well."

"Yes, at that of Master Hearpwine, soon to be Bard of the King," Maercwen spoke up.

Liornung introduced Hearpwine and Leofan most properly, likewise to Osric, and Leofan addressed them, saying, "Do not believe what I say about my brother, sirs. His purse is opened more often for works of charity than to indulge in drink himself. In all truth he barely ever drinks, save grand festivities. Yet by his money many a hungry child in Rohan has been filled."

Liornung turned quite red and occupied himself with tuning his fiddle, pretending he had not heard. "Where, Leofan, is your lovely wife? I have not seen her nor heard of her."

"She is most likely in the kitchens helping to prepare for the night's fesitivites," Leofan replied. "I myself must go now, but tonight I will join in the dancing and merry-making." His eyes wandered over the room and fixed on Gomen and a little smile came to his face. "Are you enjoying yourself, lad? I thought you would. And, you, Mae, need not tell me for it is written on your face. But do not let your eager dancing get in the way of your lessons. Bethberry is waiting quite patiently for you, as are your slates. Else you shan't be able to dance with your uncle, or with me, or even with good Hearpwine. Perhaps Osric would also like to dance with. I will not deny you are quite charming, but you are your mother's daughter and so it could not be helped." He smiled fondly at her and then, with a polite nod to all in the room and a fond slap of the shoulder to his younger brother, he left the room.