[Nurumaiel]

Yes, the son of Durelin had certainly been lost, but he had also been found... though not by his mother. Three boys, one about ten and the other two about six years old, had been sitting under a table engaged in a whisper conversation when Loar had scrambled between the chairs and nearly collided with them. The eldest of the boys, called Giefu son of Leofan, drew himself up as far as he could without bumping his head on the table 'ceiling' and looked sternly down at the imposer. "I do beg your pardon," he said, "but we are in the midst of a very secret conversation here."

"A very secret conversation," replied one of the younger boys, who was in fact Deman. He had his arm draped about Fierlan's shoulders but Giefu knew it would not be long before the two began to fight with each other. Fierlan nodded also in agreement with the two statements already made and regarded Loar gravely, attempting to imitate Giefu's stern look.

"What is this secret conversation about?" the new boy questioned.

Giefu studied this newcomer. The boy was tall with Rohirric features, and that meant he was not a foreigner. Giefu personally had nothing against foreigners, but the fact that the boy was Rohirric was a point in his favor. Giefu would never tell what the secret conversation was about to a foreigner, kind though the foreigner may be. It was odd the way this boy had asked about the secret conversation outright, and it was very bold. He obviously expected to be told. Giefu had a sneaking suspicion deep inside of him that the boy was going to be told. He already felt friendly towards him.

"First you must tell me your name," he said gravely.

"Yes," said Deman, "first you must tell us your name." Fierlan felt very contented at the fact that his twin brother had changed 'me' to 'us.' They were all in the secret conversation and there could be no individual assuming the role of leader though they would allow Giefu to play it for awhile as he was the eldest.

"I'm called Loar," the boy replied. "What is your name?"

"I am Giefu son of Leofan," said Giefu, "and these are my brothers, Deman and Fierlan sons of Leofan. They are also twins." This official ceremony of introduction being done, Giefu grasped firmly onto Loar's sleeve and pulled him closer. "Now you must swear never to tell anyone," he said. "You can only tell your Papa and Mamma, but if they don't swear to tell nobody then you can't tell them either. Today my papa let my older brother and sister go out riding and he wouldn't let us go."

"Yes, he wouldn't let us go," said Deman, a look of deep injury appearing on his face.

"So now we are engaged in secret conversation to make a plan to convince him to let us go next time. But we must whisper... there is someone sitting right above us."

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"Fiddle-dee-dee, la-la-lay,
ride up and down this cheery day.
And round the bend what will be seen?
Maybe Edoras' king and queen!"

Maercwen and Gomen laughed as they finished their song, but there was a little sigh from both of them. They glanced at each other in deep understanding. Both were passionately attached to their fiddler uncle and they had missed him terribly since he had left in the early spring. Every time they sang a song that he had taught them their thoughts turned woefully towards him. Yet Gomen was a naturally cheerful lad and soon brightened up, laughing in jest and saying, "But Mae, if we ride upon this road we'll never see the King. Why don't we turn around and go that way? Perhaps we will see Master Eorcyn, Bard of the King."

"He will most likely be within the Hall, though in truth on such a fine day as this no man should be indoors," replied Maercwen. "I hope you will not take it amiss, Gomen, but I would rather continue along this road. It is a sweet road and fair with the summer flowers, though I must say none of them are so fine as the flowers in the garden of our sisters!"

Gomen nodded his consent and they continued on, silent but knowing the thoughts of each other and the bliss of riding out on such a fair day. The sun was warm in the sky and shone brightly against the deep, rich blue of the sky, a blue that should have been made to garments for the fair Maercwen and her fair-faced young brother Gomen, for the blue was the same color as their eyes. The grass swayed in the wind beneath the feet of their horses, and the leaves rustled softly in a mysterious musical response. Keeping rythmn with the singing of the birds was the sound of the horses' hoofs hitting the road as they pranced energetically along, a wholly pleasing note to the ears of the two riders. People passing by called out their greetings, whether they knew the two youths or not. When children emerged from the doors of their houses Gomen would wave cheerily to the boys and blow kisses to the girls, and each would laugh and shout merry hellos. All the children about the Inn knew Gomen, for he was generous with the sweets he always carried in his pockets.

He was becoming quite a young man, Maercwen reflected. He was nearly ten and three years of age now, and soon he would be as tall as she would, and then he would grow taller than she. His face was slightly tanned by the sun and his hands calloused from working in the stables, but there was a certain delicacy in his features that would seem to imply good upbringing and a nobility of personality. His blue-grey eyes were clear and cheery, but with a degree of thoughtfulness and dreaminess in them, very much like his uncle Liornung's eyes. He was skilled with musical instruments of any kind and knew many old songs and tales. Maercwen had no doubt that someday he would leave the Inn to travel the road as his uncle did.

They rode on in silence for a time, and at last Gomen turned his steed, saying, "Let us return to the Inn, Mae." He smiled sympathetically at the downcast expression that came to hsi sister's face. "I know you would like to continue riding, and I fancy Mihtig could go on forever, but Mamma and Papa need us back at the Inn to help them with the work. In these warmer days there will most likely be many travellers upon the road who will seek the hospitable shelter of The White Horse and that will cause for work for those employed in the service of Miss Aylwen."

"I wonder why she never married..." Maercwen murmured, her voice barely audible, as she turned the unwilling Mihtig to follow her brother.

"Romantic as usual, dear sister."

"Uncle Liornung has ever been one to sing love songs," replied she, "and I do think Aylwen would be an excellent wife and mother."

"It is not too late for her," said he. "She is still very young, if you consider properly. As for you, how many lads in Edoras are seeking your attention?"

She blushed slightly and shook her head, saying contrary to her gesture, "One young man, the son of the farmer down the road, calls quite frequently and asks me to go riding with him and such, but it may mean nothing."

"Well, Papa thought that Master Hearpwine was quite smitten with you. He still does think so."

"Oh dear brother, he surely is not," she said, laughing. "If he felt any love for me at all he would pay more attention to me rather than spend such a great deal of time with Eorcyn."

"He does pay very much attention to you, but perhaps you are right that they are not 'courting attentions.' Ah, but I see no blush upon your cheeks, sister. Could it be that you are not in love with him?"

"He is almost dear enough to me to be a brother, but no more," she replied quietly. "Indeed he could almost be as a brother to me now. I do not know." And then she tossed her gold hair and laughed again. "Never, Gomen, never as dear a brother as you." He smiled and leaned over to kiss her cheek.

They arrived at the Inn again in not too long a time, for both their steeds were very speedy and could walk at a brisk pace. The youths unsaddled their horses and Gomen led them away, regretting that he could not go into the Inn. His father needed him to work in the stable. Maercwen bid him farewell and took up her apron from where she had left it hanging on the stable door and tied it about her waist. Casting one last mournful glance at the blue sky, she entered the Inn, but all woeful thoughts disappeared when she saw the old man who had just arrived. She went as speedily as she could while still retaining dignity and grace as befitted a young man, and stopping before him said, "Master Osric," and curtsied. Then, gazing merrily into his face with sparkling eyes, she said earnestly, "It is good to see you once again."