Ędegard
Little by little as the day passed, Ędegard had moved from the back of the group to the middle, so that he rode ahead of Leafa, Bellyn, and Liornung, and behind the Easterline and the Elves. His thoughts still raged, circling around the many things that had been said. He was not sure how he had gotten ahead of the other three, for he was consumed by his thoughts. You were the first to choose ill. Those words of Leafa were the ones that stayed him longest of all.
Liornung started fiddling and singing. It was a relief, for until then the party had traveled in unremitting silence. He let the words wash over him; then his attention was caught by a line or two.
"Tears and groans and angry words
are naught but trouble borrowed."
Indeed. Ędegard did not want all the trouble. He felt cut off from his friends, and hated it.
Leafa was riding abreast of him, though not close. She did not look toward him, but held her head high, and her hands clung to her reins as if they did more than keep her in the saddle.
Ędegard wanted to speak to her, some word, something to break through the silence. I am sorry. Were those words true? Yes, but could he say them? He could not bring himself to. He sighed and felt his face sag and his shoulders droop. He did not deserve her.
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