Ędegard
"You were the first to choose ill." Leafa believed this, it was clear. But even the way she spoke it was so much like Leafa that he could let it pass. Yes, it would be a great trouble to help her, make her see things the Rohirric way, but he was willing to take on that burden for love of her. There was such sorrow in her eyes! It wrung his heart.
"I am sorry," she said softly, "I have disappointed you in some manner. I did not mean to cause you any pain or grief." He opened his mouth to reply, but she moved away. "Let us go to Amroth now so you might speak with him."
Ędegard shrugged. She did not want to speak any more of it, for now. That suited him. He rubbed carefully at his eye and went to Amroth and the Elves, following Leafa. He looked at Amroth's face.
"Hullo, Ędegard." Amroth's face was leached by weariness, but his eyes were full of good will and a pleasant humor. And he sounded nothing like Amroth. Mellon had returned!
"Mellon! You are back!" Ędegard found himself on his knees before his friend, peering into his now widened eyes. "Where have you been!"
"Whoa, friend! I know not. But it is good to see you again."
"Give him room, Ędegard," said Erebemlin, "he is feverish and needs to rest."
"Aye, no doubt of it!" He rose to his feet and reached for Leafa. She took his hand and came to him. "Mellon, meet my betrothed, Argeleafa! Leafa, this is Mellon."
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