[Envinyatar]

‘Perhaps we should move along toward the Inn.’ Derufin’s suggestion fell into the thick silence that had fallen momentarily over the group. Zimzi’s mother and father voiced their agreement, Abar flicking the reins lightly on the backs of the horses which drew the wagon. Zamin called out to her sons, telling them to come along. ‘Stop acting as if you’ve never seen a pretty woman,’ she chided. ‘Your father and I didn’t raise you to be such louts!’ The two young men apologized, turning red at their mother’s public words. They took their leave of the Innkeeper and made their way back to the wagon.

Derufin put his arm about Zimzi’s waist, her own cheeks suddenly reddened by her brothers’ behavior and her mother’s remarks. ‘Oh, what Aman must think of my family!’ she said low to him.

‘Aman has a good sense of humor, Zimzi. I wouldn’t be worried about her.’ He grinned up at the Innkeeper, on whose face he had thought he’d seen a small, pleased smile. ‘Aman, lead on to the Inn, if you will.’ Derufin grasped the cheek piece of Felarof’s bridle and turned him about, heading him toward the Dragon. He looked back to where Zamin was talking in a low voice to her sons; their heads nodding at her words. ‘Perhaps by the time we all reach the Inn, they will have learned some manners, eh?’ He slapped the horse lightly on his hindquarters, calling up to Aman just before Felarof carried her off. ‘Though, I must admit,’ he said winking as she glanced down, ‘I have always thought you quite fetching in your riding outfit.’

This final comment was followed by a loud Oof!! as Zimzi nudged him hard in the ribs . . .