[Huan]

Anyopâ drew back in his chair as Derufin sat down. ‘You have a gracious wife, Master Derufin. And to my delight I find that she bears one of the old names – from Westernesse. A name dear to my heart. Zimzirân; beloved jewel.’ He pushed the chapbook that he and Zimzi had been looking at, across the table to Derufin. He had already given her a very brief tale of where he hailed from, saying that he, too, lived near the sea. In Lond Daer Enedh, still a small harbor for ships.

‘I grew up on the old tales of those who came east from Westernesse. Tales of the men of Númenor and their landing at Vinyalondë. Aldarion and his guild of mariners, the Uinendili. The River Gwathló runs not too far a distance from my family’s home.’ A far away look shone in his eyes. ‘The forests have grown back since they built their harbor there, those Kings of Men. There would be timber aplenty once again for the great ships they built.’ His gaze softened as he recalled himself to the snug warmth of the Common Room. ‘Now only the small merchant vessels who ply their trade up and down the coast stop in at our harbor. And we, that is, I should say my family, have put their hands to other crafts. Fine metal and jewel work.’ He leaned forward, pointing to some of the sketches he had made. ‘Like these . . .’