In An Age Before – Part 162
Now following their admittance to Khazad-dûm, Dalâl reported to the captain of the gate company that he bore tidings from the council at Imladris, and that Beinvír had come on behalf of herself and Helluin, to offer counsel to the king. The captain dispatched a messenger to convey these details and thereafter he bid them wait in his chamber of the guard on such responses as would be forthcoming.
It soon became obvious to Beinvír and Dalâl that the captain was loath to let them leave. He provided a very welcome meal of hearty dark bread, butter and honey, sliced ham, cold chicken, sharp cheese, and plentiful ale. They ate their fill, whilst the captain peppered them with questions, for though he saw all who came and went whilst standing his post at the gate, seldom did he hear 'aught of what came to pass during those visits to the realm, or of the missions sent from it. That they had come from Imladris was cause enough to bring his curiosity to bloom. Though known by name to all, none he knew of had ere set foot there.
"'Tis a strange land, though it appears normal enough to the eye," Dalâl told the captain. "I know such a claim may sound odd, but whilst all goes by day to day as it does anywhere else, o'erall one feels the whetting of their senses, as when hunger is met with the scent of a particularly savory meal, or the eyes behold a treasure of gems and gold. Though my stay was of but a few days, I felt at once that 'twas longer and shorter than the sun and moon would tell."
He shrugged in apology for lacking the words to describe his sensations more clearly.
"Imladris has stood long in the outer world, and whilst that is but a fraction of the Ages of Khazad-dûm, by some enchantment, time seems to pass the Hidden Valley by," Beinvír said. "Thither the stars shine brighter, as they did in Ages past, and upon the land lies no stain from the fleeting years. Plants grow in shapely fashion and reflect not the ravages of rot or time. Creatures there fear none, as if their kinds had ne'er been hunted. The air itself confers peace of mind, whilst the water invigorates the body. Foods eaten there seem more wholesome, and I deem their flavors more pleasing than the same foods eaten beyond the borders, or so it hath e'er seemed to me."
The captain sat silent, trying to imagine what they claimed. Passions or appetites incited by experiences, that he understood well enough, but the things the Green Elf had claimed seemed…unlikely. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. His guests were relaxing following their feast, and tending to the final draining of their cups. He reckoned that he had still a bit of time.
"Did ye see 'aught of battle upon your journey hither?" He asked. "Two companies went forth when we heard tidings of Yrch coming o'er the Pass of Barazinbar, may Mahal peen them flat upon his anvil."
"Aye, we did, captain," Dalâl said, "and with our allies they had been halted. Many of their accursed kind had fallen already, and as we watched, many more fell."
"Whilst thy companies embattled the enemy's front, my people fired upon them from both flanks," Beinvír added, "and upon the final furlong of the pass, a fourth part of their count already lay slain."
They continued to relate the details of the fighting a while longer. The desperation of the Yrch was revealed in their willingness to cross the pass and fight in daylight. At last, the lieutenant presented their conclusions.
"We deem they sought to join their strength to the Witch King's assault upon Fornost, but none of them shall live to walk the lands of Eriador," Dalâl declared.
The captain stamped his feet in applause, and then a knock came on the door.
"Enter," the captain called.
'Twas a guard, who ushered in a pair of messengers, one a military adjutant, the other wearing the robes of a civil servant attendant to the royal court.
"Guard Captain of the Gate, Corporal Sharb¹ is here to accompany Lieutenant Dalâl to his debriefing with the Captain of the Third Black Company," the guard reported. Then, gesturing to the robed Dwarf, he said, "Deputy Assistant Counselor Khufshkarl² has arrived to convey Beinvír Laiquende to offer counsel to His Highness King Durin VI, may he live long and prosper." ¹(Sharb, Bald Neo-Khuzdul) ²(Khufshkarl, Bat Sausage The traditional Grey Mountain sausage made of bat meat. Neo-Khuzdul)
The captain sighed, his guests were to take their leave and his respite from the relative boredom of his post was at an end. He rose and bowed to Beinvír, saying, "it hath been my privilege to greet thee and hear thy tidings, friend and ally of the Ages."
"My thanks for thy gracious welcome and the hospitality of thy board, noble captain," the Green Elf said, dipping her head to the captain in respect.
Then he offered Dalâl a salute with his right fist o'er his heart. The lieutenant stood to attention and returned the salute with military precision, holding it 'til the captain lowered his arm.
"Carry on, lieutenant. I thank thee for thy service," the captain said.
"Here we part, my friend," Dalâl said to Beinvír. "It hath been an honor to share thy road for a short time. Pray convey my respects to thy beloved. I bid thee good fortune in all things. May we meet again in better times."
"My thanks for thy good wishes, my friend. It hath been my pleasure to enjoy thy company upon our road. Thou hast my best wishes for the future, that it be brighter than today. May we indeed meet again."
Dalâl strode off down a hall with Corporal Sharb, and Beinvír had no idea how far he would have to walk ere he could report to his captain. She turned to her guide and said, "Deputy Assistant Counselor, I am most grateful for thy aid, for so vast art the Halls of Durin that I should soon lose my way."
Counselor Khufshkarl chuckled and said, "I know not all the ways of Khazad-dûm, and I doubt if anyone does. I would guess it much the same in any large city, that most go about their business frequenting only those places known to them by need."
The Green Elf looked to him in surprise. Her people abode not in cities of any size, and now that she gave thought to it, his claim made sense. Yet, "I know of no city so large as Khazad-dûm, for has not thy home been increased throughout the Ages with the building continuing still?"
"Indeed it hath always been so, starting with Durin the Deathless. Each following generation has delved deeper, built higher, and excavated further. We believe that our realm has been almost 10,000 years abuilding."
'Twas a shocking length of time, even to one of the Elder Children. 10,000 years was 4,000 years ere the rising of Ithil and Anor. The first Durin had explored the Misty Mountains in the twilit Age of the Trees, wandering from his awakening 'neath Mt. Gundabad, south to Azanulbizar where he had discovered Kheled-zâram and the entrance to a system of natural caves that had eventually become Khazad-dûm. 10,000 years ago had been close to the time when the Elves passed through the Vale of Anduin on their Westward March to Aman. The Green Elf wondered by how many centuries Helluin had missed meeting Durin the Deathless.
Now Beinvír and Khufshkarl spoke of much else as they made their way east, but that way was many miles and it could not be completed in the remaining hours of the 27th. The halls and passages they traveled were for the most part familiar to the Green Elf, though she marked some added construction since her last stay in 1551. She recalled her visit in Narwain of S.A. 2995, when she and Helluin had come to repatriate Ishkabibúl, the Dwarf of Nogrod, whom they had liberated from the House of Iarwain Ben-adar. At that time, Gotli, then Captain of the Guard of the West Gate, had personally escorted them to meet the then current lord of Khazad-dûm, Khráin son of Kûrin. That audience had taken place in the Sixth Hall of the Third Level, which they had reached after a march of roughly thirteen hours. Having walked the same route 'til suppertime, Beinvír was only mildly surprised to find herself offered a meal and lodgings in the same area that she and Helluin had visited 2,300 years aforetime.
O'er their meal, Beinvír inquired of their destination.
"Aforetime, I came to a council before the Lord of Khazad-dûm that was held in the Sixth Hall of the Third Level, yet Helluin spoke also of the Great Hall of Durin, another day's march east. I am curious as to our destination, for I had the impression that such counsel as His Highness seeks would be of a more private nature."
The Deputy Assistant Counselor nodded, but finished chewing a mouthful of roasted pork ere he answered. "Indeed thy impression is correct, my most esteemed guest, for King Durin VI deems your speech together a privy matter to be conducted…in private. I am to convey thee to a privy chamber on the Eighth Level, which will be reached by a partial ascension of the Endless Stair. I reckon we shall be there in the late afternoon of the morrow." As an afterthought, he added, "the Sixth Hall is not so far from the stair."
"I deem we shall spend some of our time in the ascension then, for the West Gate lies two levels lower than the East Gate, yet we must come eight levels above that."
"Indeed, 'tis just so, and the odd numbered levels are quite lofty," he said with a grimace, ere taking a swig of ale. "I am in no hurry to climb so many stairs."
Beinvír sat recalling what Helluin had told her of the layout of Khazad-dûm. Tomorrow they would march due east rather than northeast, (towards Azanulbizar Gate), and she wagered that the way would be unfamiliar. 'Twas said the Endless Stair ascended from the lowest inhabited level, the Eighth Deep, to the summit of Zirakzigil, which the Elves call Celebdil, and Men know as Silvertine. That peak stood to a height of 1,500 fathoms…9,000 feet. The Green Elf recalled the distant ceiling of the Sixth Hall, which had risen a good eighteen fathoms above the floor. She groaned, thinking they would climb the height of that hall five times o'er, plus the heights of the four levels 'twixt them. She cast a glance up at the ceiling. Sure enough, the height of the Second Deep which led from the West Gate was some forty feet. She wondered what thickness of rock separated the floors in Khazad-dûm.
As if reading her mind, Khufshkarl said, "I believe we are some thousand feet 'neath the Eighth Level. At least we needn't climb to the tower's viewing deck." He groaned at the thought of that and shook his head.
Now the next morn, following a night in which Beinvír had reviewed her memories of what Lieutenant Dalâl had said in Imladris regarding Durin's concerns, and Khufshkarl had slept off the abundant ale he'd consumed with dinner, the Green Elf and the Deputy Assistant Counselor broke their fasts and then continued on their way. Sure enough, they took a side branch leading due east early in the morning, and thereafter the passages were unfamiliar.
They stopped for lunch 'round what Beinvír's senses and Khufshkarl's belly told them was 'nigh noon. The Green Elf ate slices of black bread with sharp cheese, the drumstick of a chicken, and a bowl of onion soup. She watched in amazement as the Dwarf downed a sandwich containing a slab of beef an inch thick, with several slices of melted cheese, and a heap of grilled onions, all on a long roll. This he followed with a bowl of stew, two baked potatoes, and a scone slathered with melted butter. He washed it down with more ale.
"One must be properly fortified for the climb that lies ahead, and a healthy lunch shall stand me in good stead," he told her, completely serious. She recalled that he'd begun his fortification at breakfast with a half-dozen fried eggs, melted cheese, buttered toast, and an equal number of thick slices of bacon.
After another hour's walk they reached the entrance to the Endless Stair. There, a broad opening led through a short tunnel onto a landing on the west side of a square, vertical shaft. Whereas Beinvír had imagined a circular staircase spiraling up to the summit of Celebdil, they were met with what appeared to be a normal stairwell. Each straight run of sixteen steps ascended some ten feet and ended at a landing, with the next set perpendicular to the one below. Four sets of stairs with a rise of forty feet made a complete circuit of the stairwell's interior sides. She asked about this.
"A continuous spiral might have been more economical to build, but imagine one losing their step and tumbling endlessly round and round in their fall," the counselor said, shivering at the possibility.
She simply stared at him, but found him completely serious. The idea of someone losing their balance and tumbling down stairs was alien to an Elf, but apparently a real concern to mortals. When she thought about it though, it made sense. She'd certainly witnessed the clumsiness of Yrch and Men on occasion, and now she assumed Dwarves would be the same, especially after feasting and drinking all night.
Affright they would be to climb the tower of Elostirion, she thought, recalling the single, unbroken spiral ascending five hundred feet to the Chamber of the Palantír.
"The landings give access to the halls on each level far more easily than access from a spiral staircase could," he added, "and you will mark that those entrances always open onto a landing."
Thereafter Beinvír kept a running count of the steps in each staircase, and the staircases 'twixt each landing with exits to various levels, and sure enough, the civil engineering of the Naugrim was impeccable in its regularity, at least where the Endless Stair was concerned. Elsewhere, she had seen places where levels dropped or rose a few steps, or branched off up or down ramps. Still, 'twas no denying that the stair was a marvel of the builder's art and she esteemed it as such.
The outer margins of the stairs and the landings had a safety rail of steel, (also unnecessary in the Elf's estimation), and Khufshkarl visibly cringed when Beinvír leant well out o'er the railings to glimpse the drop at the center of the staircase. Because of the multitude of lamps on the interior walls, the whole of the stairwell was quite amply lit, allowing her a good view down to the bottom, far, far below. Likewise, a look upwards revealed the continuation of the staircases into a distance which perspective reduced to a point.
They climbed for what the Green Elf reckoned to be six hours, at which time her guide directed her to an exit opening eastward off a landing, (the ninety-eighth by her count), with a certh carved in the lintel signifying the ordinal number '8th'.
The Deputy Assistant Counselor sighed with relief and said, "ahhhh, we have arrived at last. Come, I will lead you to the antechamber and announce your presence to the Under Secretary for Privy Affairs."
Beinvír nodded to her guide, wondering how privy any business could be when 'twas attended by a bureaucracy. If an undersecretary existed, it implied there was a secretary o'er him and more functionaries subordinate to him. Then again, 'twas easy to imagine that Durin could not simply slip away from the affairs of state to conduct private business. Too many depended on his leadership, and too much rested on his well-being. Beinvír came to realize that in government, when freedom of personal action was constrained, the most sensible option was to formalize the necessity for that liberty with a mechanism to o'ersee and legitimize it.
The Deputy Assistant Counselor led the Green Elf down a short passage and into a relatively narrow rectangular hall whose long axis was oriented north south. They had entered on the western side 'nigh the northern end, whilst 'cross from them on the eastern side was an identical exit. The hall was easily two furlongs in length, but only fifty feet in breadth. It featured a ceiling of moderate height, (for 'twas on an even numbered Level), a central row of square columns heavily carved with geometric designs, and at the distant southern end, a horizontal slit window, high up on the wall, glazed with opal glass, and set in a deep, stepped embrasure. The counselor led her 'cross that hall, towards the opening on the eastern side. Beinvír followed him into a duplicate hall, and then a succession of two more, all identical to her eyes, lying parallel to one another in a row, and each ending in a wall pierced by windows that looked out of the south face of Zirakzigil. All four of those halls were completely deserted. Obviously, the Naugrim were not lacking for space.
"They are a wonder to see when lit by the setting sun," Khufshkarl said. "Alas, we are expected and cannot stay to see it."
Beinvír nodded in agreement, imagining their warm tones of yellow-orange grading to red and then violet ere they darkened with the fall of night.
The exit from the fourth hall delivered them to a moderate sized hall, roughly square in shape, with many entrances and exits 'round its walls. The ceiling was supported by a three rows of square columns similar to those seen in the narrow halls they'd passed through, but unlike those halls, this one was filled with desks, chairs, tables, cabinets, and several hundred Dwarves busily reading, writing, and filing documents. An undercurrent of soft muttering and restrained conversations filled the air.
"This is the Ministry of Privy Affairs," the counselor said, sweeping his arm to encompass the space. "These clerks transcribe and file all privy matters using a code of euphemisms and oblique references that preserve the confidentiality of 'aught that is spoken or heard."
That explanation left the Green Elf wide-eyed in astonishment.
"Let us proceed to the office of the undersecretary," Khufshkarl said.
They crossed the space 'neath the veiled scrutiny of many eyes, hearing muttered speculation, and marking the turning of all the clerks' heads to follow their progress. Notes were scribbled and clocks consulted as they passed. Beinvír imagined many files being whelped by her visit, to be filled in later with reports of all she said and did. Upon reaching the far side of the hall, the Deputy Assistant Counselor rapped on a wooden door embellished with a relief carving of three Dwarves, one covering his eyes, the next covering his ears, and the last covering his mouth.
From inside, a muffled voice called, "enter."
Khufshkarl opened the door and he and Beinvír went inside. After the crowded hall, the undersecretary's office was an oasis of calm and gentility. Comfortable furnishings populated the space. Plush carpets covered the floor and wainscoting of dark wood paneled the lower walls. A fireplace occupied one wall, a merry blaze flickering on the grate, and the Green Elf wondered where its chimney led. An o'erstuffed sofa and armchairs were set before it. Along the wall to their left, bookcases bracketed a desk, whilst on the wall opposite them was another door. Lamps lit the room with a warm light.
The Under Secretary for Privy Affairs was seated at his desk, but rose to greet them.
"Good to see you, Khufshkarl," he said with warmth and familiarity. The two Dwarves clasped forearms in greeting. Then he offered the Green Elf a smile and a bow, and said, "welcome, Beinvír Laiquende, friend and ally of old. Please call me Tergel¹, as I know my full title soon becomes cumbersome." ¹(Tergel, Beard of all beards Neo-Khuzdul)
"'Tis my pleasure to meet you, Tergel, and my great honor to come before thy king with such counsel as I can offer," she said.
The undersecretary came from behind his desk and he gestured them to seats before the fire. Beinvír was truly impressed that in a realm where beards were a distinguishing feature, Tergel lived up to his name. His beard was thick, plaited with complex braids in which were woven strands of precious metals and gem beads, and yet it still fell to the hem of his robe, just shy of the tops of his slippers. A system of golden cables attached to the bottom edge led through epaulettes and then down his back, to lift his beard when he bowed so that it ne'er touched the floor.
The trio sat before the fire and Tergel rang a bell that he took from an end table. After a few moments, a servant appeared.
"As I know you have traveled far since this past noon, I would be honored to provide you with refreshments," he said. "I will take the liberty to join you since I feel the need for supper."
"Shall we not be delaying His Highness?" Beinvír asked. By her reckoning 'twas already 'nigh twilight.
"He is enduring a working dinner with his council and shall not be available to meet with thee 'til after that is done," Tergel said. Marking the worry on Beinvír's face, he reassured her, claiming, "fear not, my esteemed guest, the business of the realm can occupy our lord at any hour. This is the city that never sleeps."
He certainly seemed to be in no hurry, and the Green Elf knew from long experience how involved a dinner could become amongst the Naugrim. She was trying to think of what to order, but could only come up with Elf Stew, which she and Helluin had enjoyed at a tavern called The Spitted Orch, in an Age before. It struck her as a bit rustic for the occasion. The undersecretary saved her the trouble of choosing fare from a menu she'd ne'er seen by ordering for them all.
"Pray bring us a Privy Feast for three," he told the servant, who bowed and hurried off. "'Tis a reliable selection which should be wholly satisfying," he told his guest, adding, "and at this hour, we should not have long to wait."
Indeed they did not have long to wait. The servant returned straight away with a cart and two porters. They set a table before the diners, complete with a silken tablecloth, an ornate candelabra, finger bowls, and warm hand towels. When Tergel and his guests were properly prepared to dine, they presented the dishes with grand flourishes and much commentary explaining the finer features of the cuisine.
"We begin with a soup course," the servant said, as a porter ladled out a cup for each from a tureen into shallow porcelain bowls. "Today's offering is a delectable cream of spring fiddlehead ferns, with green onion, leek whites, and sliced stone mushrooms, sautéed in butter and then simmered in chicken stock and heavy cream."
The soup proved delicious, and after their bowls were cleared away, clean plates were set before them and a covered roasting dish was presented. The lid was lifted away to reveal an entire duck, roasted with sliced oranges and a honey glaze. One of the porters stropped a carving knife and served them ample portions, whilst the other ladled out tiny roasted golden potatoes flecked with herbs.
The meal continued thus o'er many courses, each inaugurated with fresh porcelain and silverware. Finally, after what Beinvír reckoned had been two hours, they were given portions of frozen, sweetened cream topped with honey and chopped nuts, which one of the porters had created at tableside in a hand-cranked mill filled with rock salt and ice. This dessert was wholly unfamiliar to the Green Elf, and she found it utterly enchanting.
In short order the servant and the two porters cleared all away, poured them cordials of black raspberry liqueur, and withdrew with their cart and folded table. Left alone, Tergel, Khufshkarl, and Beinvír sat back in silence, enjoying the warmth of the fire and their full bellies.
I am now so stuffed that I fear I shall babble nonsense to King Durin…ahhh well, the Green Elf thought. Pray delay a while longer that I may recover somewhat.
Yet she was not given a respite, for at that moment a knock came at the door. The Under Secretary for Privy Affairs groaned and opened one eye, then called out, "enter."
This time 'twas the inner door that opened and an important looking Dwarf stepped into the room, surveyed the occupants, and chuckled. Tergel and Khufshkarl struggled to their feet and bowed, (no doubt with effort, Beinvír thought), ere she too rose and bowed to the newcomer.
"Tergel, Khufshkarl, I trust ye have provided our guest with ample hospitality?" He said, giving them a nod of acknowledgement. "Pray remain. There is new business and I would share words with you after I convey our noble guest to His Highness."
He then bowed to the Green Elf and said, "Lady Beinvír, noble friend and ally of our realm, I am Secretary Oryit¹. 'Tis my privilege to convey thee to offer counsel to His Highness Durin VI. Pray walk with me, most honored guest." ¹(Oryit, Able Advisor, lit. Art (Skill or ability) of Advice. Neo-Khuzdul)
Beinvír returned the secretary's bow and said, "'tis my honor to meet thee, most distinguished Secretary Oryit, and my privilege to offer whatsoe'er counsel I can to His Highness. I also offer the regrets of my beloved, Helluin Mórgolodh, for her absence due to war. Were the need of Arthedain not so pressing, she would gladly come to her old friend, King Durin."
Secretary Oryit found it odd, talking to one who knew his king as her old friend. He had read their files and knew that Helluin and Beinvír had met and dined with Durin IV in S.A. 3410…almost 1,900 years ago. The Mórgolodh had met Durin III in S.A. 992, 4,300 years ago, and both ellith had known the legendary craftsman Narvi. Walking at his side, the Green Elf was little taller than he and perhaps half his weight. Though she bore a bow and paired long knives, she projected none of the menace of a warrior, and yet she had survived in the outside world for o'er 5,000 years. If old tales spoke true, she had slain hundreds if not thousands, far more than even their most formidable soldiers. Elves were strange people and it boggled his mind to think of it.
In a couple of minutes they had passed down a short hallway, past the door of his own office and then a guard chamber, to a more ornate door at the end of the hall where guards were posted to either side. At his nod, one of the sentries knocked on the door, and at the call of "enter", opened it and stood aside.
The secretary took two steps into the room, and bowed deeply to his king, who was just rising from his chair at the head of a long table.
"My lord, King Durin, sixth of that illustrious name, may I present thy friend and ally of old, Beinvír Laiquende, come hither at thy request from the Council of Imladris, for to offer counsel," Oryit said. He then stepped to the side, allowing the Green Elf to enter the chamber.
She bowed low to the Lord of Khazad-dûm, scarcely able to hide her amazement. He was in all respects identical to the Dwarf she and Helluin had met in S.A. 3410.
"Your Highness, King Durin. I come in friendship at thy request, to offer such counsel as thou would have, and offer the regrets of my beloved, Helluin Maeg-mórmenel, who is engaged in the defense of Fornost Erain."
A broad smile graced the face of the king and he beckoned her forward, returning her bow with a dip of his head. He walked to the end of the table closest to the door and pulled out a chair, gesturing the Green Elf to take the seat.
"Come, my old friend. 'Tis a joy to see thee again after so long. Oft of late has my thought turned to thee and thy beloved. I shall pray to Mahal for Helluin's safety and victory. Please, join me now, for I have much to discuss."
He turned then to the secretary and said, "my thanks for thy conveyance of our esteemed guest hither, Secretary Oryit. Thou may leave us to attend to that business of which we spoke earlier. Pray tell the guards that none are to disturb us."
When Oryit took his leave and the door closed behind him, Durin came 'nigh, and as a gentleman, held the back of Beinvír's chair and slid it in behind her as she seated herself. 'Twas a small act of courtesy, but given their standings, 'twas a demonstration of grace from a most confident lord who had no concern for the trappings of the nobility 'twixt friends. He was comfortable with her, but more importantly, he was comfortable with himself. That simple act set him above such pretenders and petty nobles as stood rigidly upon protocol, most notably to Beinvír, the insecure and grasping lesser lords of Gondor, and the Lady Nimrodel.
Durin took the chair next to her, not the one at the head of the table, the better to keep closer their counsels. Then he surprised her yet again.
"My friend, such matters in which I seek thy counsel are known to few, even in Khazad-dûm, and they are recalled by fewer still beyond our halls. I deem them graver than our normal understanding of 'privy', and would keep such as passes 'twixt us for our ears alone. Of course, I would that thou share all with Helluin, for I deeply esteem her wisdom in these matters, as she too knows all the parties involved.
To that end, I pray thee, employ that gift with which I have heard that the One has blessed his Elder Children, and speak with me in silence, mind to mind."
Though shocked for a moment by his request, Beinvír could easily understand the wisdom in it. With a nod, she agreed to his request, and then said, "thou need only look deeply into my eyes and I shall do the rest. We shall speak together in silence, sharing our thoughts as we would with our voices, and we may also share such memories and images as we should choose. Art thou ready, my friend?"
The King of Khazad-dûm took a breath and then nodded 'yea' and he looked into the Green Elf's eyes, quickly becoming mesmerized by the flecks and striations of gold, and the subtle Light that enlivened her grey eyes.
So beautiful, he thought, and saw her smile at the compliment.
To Be Continued