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Ceolwyn glanced at her husband but he smiled teasingly, shaking his head. He would let her answer for herself this time. The light in her eyes faded; she gazed imploringly at him and he almost gave in, but steeled himself and again shook his head. She looked to Calentathar and blushed slightly when she realized her reluctance to speak might have been regarded as impolite. "I thank you," she said, her voice quiet, "but I am not hungry at the moment." She stopped and seemed relieved that she need not speak more, but became decidedly uneasy when she realize courtesy prompted her to continue. "And I thank you for your congratulations," she said. "I... I am glad you have guessed what my condition is, for it is a difficult subject to speak of... being... being with child, I mean." The color in her cheeks mounted. "One doesn't like to speak of it merely because it might not be considered proper, though the joy is great."
Nardon smiled at her before addressing their 'guests.' "Consider yourselves flattered, my friends," he said. "It is not often my wife will speak in such length to those she just barely knows. Indeed, it is not often she will speak, not even to me, her husband." He could not say why. She had always been so quiet and there had never been too much need for her to talk. He had always understood the little gestures of her hands, the way she smiled, the expression in her eyes. She spoke through those things and rarely through her words. When she did speak to him she would say beautiful things, and he had little doubt that that was way she hardly ever did speak. Her thoughts were beautiful and to speak interrupted them. He knew what she dreamed of every day. The child. She had wept for days with joy when she had learned she was to bear a child, though she had spoken hardly at all. What tender smiles had lingered on her face as she had sewn the little clothes the child would wear, and what fondness was in her voice when he heard her murmuring the names she liked best for the child. 'The joy was great.' She had spoken her heart in those simple words.
"Ah, friends," he said, pulling himself from his reverie, "I lose myself to you in my thoughts. You have graciously offered my wife something to eat and she has denied. Perhaps I might offer to buy you a meal, or at least a drink. I would not lack in the generosity that you possess. It is my delight to give something to you. What would you have?"
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