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“That is very kind of you,” Liornung was the first of the group to speak. “I would love to stay for a while, to visit and talk.”
“So would I,” added Argeleafa, who smiled. Bellyn liked to see her friends happy; it had been a long journey and now they could rest for a while. “There are many of us, though. Will it be trouble to feed everyone?”
“Of course not,” said Mellondu’s mother, earning a look of dismay from her son.
“It is settled then!” Mellonin looked happier than all of them. “Come, sit. Leafa and Bella, over here…Ædegard…”
Mellonin and Mellondu were finally home. Bellyn wondered why she did not feel more at home. Though she had been born in Minas Tirith, she had not been back to the city in over six years. Bellyn had thought she would be fine returning to the city, but as soon as the company had entered the walls, memories had begun to flood back. She remembered so many things. She remembered the day she fell and scraped her knee, and her mother carried her home. On her third birthday it had been raining, and her brothers took her outside to dance in the puddles. Ever since she had been tall enough, Bellyn helped her mother every day to make dinner. Her father spent most of her youth traveling. Sometime when she was twelve, her mother and oldest brother grew ill. When her father finally came home, it was too late.
The memories made Bellyn sick to her stomach. She forced a smile. Mellondu’s parents searched for more chairs, and the visitors made themselves comfortable in their home. Bellyn and Argeleafa stood to help Mellonin and her mother prepare something to eat.
“No, no, sit,” Mellondu’s mother insisted, “I would love to hear of your travels.”
“I do not know the whole story myself,” Bellyn replied with a wry grin. “Let me help, and someone can tell the story from the beginning.”
“Or we could let Liornung sing us a song!” Mellonin suggested.
“Yes, he is very good at that,” Ædegard mused.
Sing something from some distant place, Bellyn hoped inwardly. She could not wait to leave Gondor in three days.
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