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Hallien went to the table, her stomach growling loudly. She loaded a plate with potatoes and other delicious-looking fare, filled a mug, and returned to her seat.
After a few moments of eating, she opened the book she had been carrying. Her fingers traveled down the page, down rows and rows of wavering script. She flipped a few pages, searching.
"Mmph!" she said, swallowing a mouthful of hot potato. " 'Ere we are." She took a long drink and studied the text.
After a moment, she picked up the lute she had leaned against the table and began to tune it softly.
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"Wide ne bith wel," cwaeth se the geheirde on helle hriman.
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