[littlemanpoet]

The sun rose above the many crests and vales below them and to the east, and little by little the darkness of night gave way to the dimness of the tall evergreens that overshadowed the house of Saethryd.

Ædegard stirred. Bella had just come back into the cottage with a fresh bucket of water. Saethryd was speaking to him in Eorling, in her high, raspy unused voice, trying to get him to show Bella where to put the bucket. Bella figured it out from Saethryd's pointing, and so it was done. Saethryd settled back down, looking nervously from one to the next of her unwelcome guests. Leafa still slept curled up against the far wall; surely the earthen floor must be just as uncomfortable sleeping for her as it was for him.

Today was the day. It was time for Leafa and him to go back to the land of the Eorlings. He had overheard snatches of the words that had passed between Liornung and Bella. He would do his part to help Liornung convince Bella to come with them. The first reason was that that evil elf seemed to have a taste for using the quest party's women against the men. They needed to remove that threat from the great number that still hung over all their heads.

But it occurred, for the first time to Ædegard, sitting in the darkness of the hut, that he was poor protection for Leafa and Bella once they left. There were other threats in the wilds, up here in the unknown slopes, beyond the protection of the king. He sighed. If only Nethwador was still with them. When had he left? Had he gone into Minas Tirith with the others? Ædegard remembered Nethwador in the inn with the rest of them, but he did not remember him coming with the men out of Minas Tirith. He was supposed to have, but he must have slunk away somehow, and for what reason?

Bella!

Of course. Ædegard looked over at Bella, who was pouring water and wondered where Nethwador was right then. Was he out searching some vale in these mountains, looking for her?

If so, he hoped that the easterling would stumble upon them at some point. At least he had the use of all his limbs.

Ædegard smiled ruefully, thinking back to how he had first treated Nethwador. And here he was, wishing for him. How things change. How life changes. How people change. Ædegard shook his head in wonder, then got up and stretched and greeted Bella. Jorje's head came up suddenly and his tongue came out in a big expectant grin.

"Come, Jorje," he whispered. The two went outside into the cold, crisp and misty air of early morning, passing by Mellonin's horse, Jorje sniffing his way along the dewy grass.