He took the path as one who needs must, and
went his ways as it led. In sooth it was well-nigh blind, but he was
a deft woodsman, and by means of it skirted many a close thicket that
had otherwise stayed him. So on he went, and though the boughs were
close enough overhead, and the sun came through but in flecks, he
judged that it was growing towards noon, and he wotted well that he
was growing aweary. For he had been long afoot, and the more part of
the time on a rough way, or breasting a slope which was at whiles
steep enough.
At last the track led him skirting about an exceeding close thicket
into a small clearing, through which ran a little woodland rill
amidst rushes and dead leaves: there was a low mound near the
eastern side of this wood-lawn, as though there had been once a
dwelling of man there, but no other sign or slot of man was there.
So Face-of-god made stay in that place, casting himself down beside
the rill to rest him and eat and drink somewhat. Whatever thoughts
had been with him through the wood (and they been many) concerning
his House and his name, and his father, and the journey he might make
to the cities of the Westland, and what was to befall him when he was
wedded, and what war or trouble should be on his hands--all this was
now mingled together and confused by this rest amidst his weariness.
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