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Nethwador had shared his bread with Bella, but still eaten all he could hold. He smiled at Bella, and then gazed fondly at Marigold, and thought about the sudden turn of events.
Amroth had been kind to him, and a lord and master. And Bella-- well, he could talk all day about that. But Marigold-- she made him comfortable. Peaceful. On the edge of a wild swamp he felt safe. After being hungry and cold, he was warm and fed. After wandering, he was secure.
They had only just arrived, and yet, he almost felt that he never wanted to leave.
Would Bella stay here with him? Could they live together with Marigold, safe and secure and warm and happy? The Merlocks were nearby, but Marigold knew about them. Tharonwe was nearby too, but Marigold did not fear him. Was there a safer place in the world? Certainly there was no safer place in all the swamp.
How to care for his horse here? And Bella's horse? Would they be happy? There were fields to the south; he knew, from pictures in the minds of his friends. Perhaps the horses could roam there during the day. He wondered how far the fields were.
His full stomach made him sleepy. He wanted to go to the fire, and lie down. But he wanted to stay with Bella. And he wanted to talk to Marigold, to sit near her, too. All of them together by the fire would be nice. But Mellondu's sister and her dead friend were by the fire. And there was the boy, sulking. THe boy was sad about Mellondu's sister's friend.
Taking a deep breath, he took a meal-sized chunk of bread, got up, walked to the sulking boy, and pushed the bread into his hands. The boy glared at him, and then at the bread. Nethwador walked toward an empty corner of the hearth; he could sit with his back against the warm stones of the chimney. Perhaps Bella would come sit with him. He stood by the fireplace, and turned to her, and spoke. "Bella?"
She looked sleepy too. She stood, and drawing her cloak about herself despite the warmth, she came to the chimney. He sat down with his back to the stones. She sat nearby, not too close for modesty but not too far for friendship. Nethwador was content.
A green shadow rustled hearby, and they looked up. Marigold gave them each a cup. Inside was a dark, thick drink. They looked up at her, wondering.
Her eyes twinkled. "Blueberry. You'll both have purple teeth, but pay that no heed. Drink, and rest."
They leaned back against the chimney again. They sipped at the cups, and smiled at each other; it was true. They drank and giggled their way to the bottom of the cups, and then with Marigold nearby, leaned back against the warm stones, and drifted into a sweet, dreamless sleep.
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