When Aethelrien finally left...

...a week later, Pechel came. Lithuiele almost cried then--not only at the sight of another dear friend, but also at the several jugs of wine Pechel had brought along to replenish the elf-witch's stores.
    She invited her inside for dinner and Pechel insisted on cooking. Lithuiele was exhausted from lack of sleep--due to both her newborn and her fear of the mysterious chanter from her dreams--and let her have her way.
    "So I'll be looking for an elf-sire with golden hair to castrate," Pechel said in place of a compliment, as soon as she saw Varne. "Where is this husband of yours?"
    "Don't concern yourself with it," Lithuiele said as she cradled her sleeping daughter. "Tell me of Mirkwood."
    Pechel shrugged and took a sip of wine.
    "...any suitors?" Lithuiele ventured.
    Pechel cast a suspicious glance at Lithuiele, then said, "None." She took another swig of wine. "I am reckoned among the elves now. There are humans in Mirkwood who fall in love with me on hunts.
    "It's nothing special," Pechel continued, but in a tone that implied it certainly was.
    Pechel stayed the night, seeming unbothered by Varne's waking up every few hours to nurse, though the baby didn't cry very much. When her friend left, Lithuiele took to sitting outside, with Varne in a sling on her chest, and keeping a lookout for her husband.