Gwyll picked up a stick. "Once, there was a great big tree."
Nimrodel waited.
Aeron picked up a pebble. "And in it, lived a mighty king."
"In the tree?" replied Nimrodel.
"Oh, yes. High up in the tree. But nearby, next to a singing stream, lived a lovely girl. "
"I love streams, " sighed Nimrodel.
"You can be the stream, " said Gwyll mischievously.
Nimrodel brightened. "All right. What does the stream do?"
"Sometimes it's cold, " said Aeron.
Nimrodel's eyes frosted.
"That's helpful, " Gwyll hrumphed. "It sings. The stream sings."
"Of course it does, " replied Nimrodel. "All streams sing. But what does this stream sing?"
Gwyll and Aeron glanced at each other, eyes widening. Aeron wavered. "Ah, a song of, ah, running downhill."
Gwyll's eyes rolled.
Erebemlin leaned forward. "Perhaps the king who lives in the tree, knows."
"How would he know?" said Nimrodel impatiently. "The girl who lived by it, would know, because the stream is her friend. We need to ask the girl, not the king."
"Ah, " said Amroth, "but the king loved the girl."
"Maybe, " said Nimrodel. "But if the king loved the girl, does he also love the stream? Or why would he live afar off in a tree?"
Erebemlin caught his breath. "Again, she heard you, my lord."
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