[Nurumaiel]

The company had grown more silent as time wore on, and Liornung felt this keenly. Perhaps it was because of the lands that they travelled. He could not say, but he missed the cheerful songs they had traded and the words that had spoken to each other. Once again his mind drifted towards the Inn at Edoras, and, disturbed, he tried to push the thoughts away. Why did his mind consistently travel to wander through the bright halls of the Inn, to seat itself by the blazing fire and bask in its glow, speaking words of comradeship to Good Secgrof and making pretty Blostma laugh by his ridiculous little tunes? Why, when his life had ever been on the road? He loved the road still and he did not want to abandon it... why did he feel urged to?

"It is the weariness of this long journey, nothing more," he murmured to himself. "Ever before in my travels have I stopped in a lighted inn to sing the night away, and here I have travelled day and night without sight of a home, and ever on and on with no seeming end, and no one in sight save my own companions." It was not that he did not enjoy the company of his friends, but they were too few faces. He wanted an inn full of the faces of friends, not a barren wasteland with only a few familiar faces. He wanted to see little children hanging onto his every word and gazing in awe at the way he played his fiddle.

He chuckled slightly and he remembered the fiddle lesson. Bellyn and Nethwador were children, and Argeleafa was also a child. The way Bellyn and Argeleafa had sat at his feet to hear his songs, and the way Nethwador had played the fiddle with unsure but eager hands... it was what Liornung had grown to love. Well then, he would satisfy himself with what he had. It was, he thought better to have but a few faces of friends than faces of many he did not know.

Bellyn sat not too far from him, and Nethwador had wandered towards them, gazing at Bellyn with hope. It warmed Liornung's heart and his dark thoughts vanished. He held out a hand to the young lad, a friendly, offering hand. "Come, Nethwador," he said, his voice encouraging. "Come sit by me, and sit by the lady Bellyn."

Argeleafa lay awake, huddled in her cloak and gazing up at the stars, her golden tresses spread about her head. She was not sleepy but there seemed nothing else to do. She considered the words that Ædegard had spoken the previous night, and blushed warmly again at the remembrance of them. But she was not now, as she had not been then, displeased by those words. Rather she thrilled in them and was pleased.

She heard Liornung speaking from where he sat with Bellyn, and she propped herself on her elbows and gazed in that direction. Perhaps she would find company there. She stood and pulled her cloak tightly about her shoulders, seeking warmth from it and the fire. Softly she went to Liornung and sat down beside him. He smiled at her. Feeling that she had been in some way welcomed, she sat easily in their company though she said nothing. Ædegard was not too far off, and he was looking at her. She met his eyes and smiled a shy little smile, contemplating the way the firelight flickered across his features.

Nethwador had hesitated and Liornung gestured again. "Come, Nethwador," he said. "I fear it is too late for a fiddle lesson, but we would not grudge you to sit in our company."