***The 'Snowed' Inn ***

[mark12_30]

Between dreams, he rolled over and sat up for a moment. He still felt weak, but he had heard a horse enter the courtyard of the Inn. He reached out with his mind, but did not find anyone he knew.

The common room was busy with children happily drinking eggnog. There were shieldmaidens here and there. Hamanullas and Fellwyne and Eruvalde...

He frowned. He didn't remember ever being introduced to the small mannish girls. And why did he think of them as shieldmaidens? They were mere children. He raised one hand and rubbed his temple. He was weary still, and strangely warm in the chilly room.

Baranin's voice rang out in lilting laughter, and Ædegard was telling a funny story, and Silwen and Felly were laughing. Bethberry was giving orders that the horses' child-rider be taken care of.

Rest. Why could he not simply rest in his memories, as he always had? But his body was still very weak. He hesitantly lay back down, rolled over and was soon asleep. But now the voices form the common room wove themselves echoing in and out of his dreams.