Dec 16: The Flet
Ędegard studied Wild Mellon with a look of surprise.
"He's so calm. And what did you call him, sir?"
"Nethwador. It means Young Brother."
"Better than Pig," nodded Ędegard. "And less confusing than Mellon. Nethador it is."
Erebemlin sang one verse over the food, and Liornung held his breath wishing he would sing more. He hoped there would be time for song. Many songs.
They ate; Liornung and Ędegard both remarked how calm Nethwador had become.
"I am not certain it will last beyond the borders of the forest. I believe lord Amroth assured him he was safe here in Lorien," said Erebemlin.
Ędegard handed Nethwador a peice of fruit. "Nethador, here, take this."
It was received calmly, and devoured quickly.
Ędegard shook his head. "It's as if you cast a spell on him."
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