There was little to do when all had been done. So Aurgil, daughter of Eleidir sat on a small stool in the corner of the kitchen, embracing the rare moment of idle silence.
Nenuial had been generous that dawn, granting her shimmering gifts of lake trout and perch. All of which she had smoked and some of which she had salted. The soil of Tol Calen had been equally generous, granting her gifts wrapped in earth, ripe golden potatoes and copper carrots. All of which she had mashed into a mixture of butter and milk. She had minced dill to crown the meal. The meal that had soon been over as the forever hungry men and women ate fast. She had scrubbed a tower of plates clean. For the eve and for the departing she had baked bread of the flour Luinor and his friend had brought to the island.
She was grateful they had brought flour instead of grains, even though flour was more difficult to store. However there was no need to store it, as every bread she baked vanished swiftly.
After a busy day, silence always felt somehow more silent. The night was near, but she did not feel tired. Her thoughts traveled with her father Eleidir, her brother Caldaer and her uncle Erenos. Wherever they roamed, her thoughts roamed as well. And at times, in those rare moments of lonesome silence, questions filled her mind. Questions she ought not to ponder.
