What was the
hall, thou sayest, wherein ye feasted? I know not if it were on the
earth or under it, or if we rode the clouds that even. But on the
morrow what was there but the stark wood and the drift of the snow,
and the iron wind howling through the branches, and a lonely man, a
wanderer rising from the ground. A wanderer through the wood and up
the fell, and up the high mountain, and up and up to the edges of the
ice-river and the green caves of the ice-hills. A wanderer in
spring, in summer, autumn and winter, with an empty heart and a
burning never-satisfied desire; who hath seen in the uncouth places
many an evil unmanly shape, many a foul hag and changing ugly
semblance; who hath suffered hunger and thirst and wounding and
fever, and hath seen many things, but hath never again seen that fair
woman, or that lovely feast-hall.
'All praise and honour to the House of the Face, and the bounteous
valiant men thereof! and the like praise and honour to the fair women
whom they wed of the valiant and goodly House of the Steer!'
'Even so say I,' quoth Gold-mane calmly; 'but now wend we aback to
the House, for it is morning indeed, and folk will be stirring
there.
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