company of
those whom he loved most and by whom he was best beloved; and whiles they
talked, and whiles they sang to the harp up and down that long house; and
the moon risen high shone in at the windows, and there was much laughter
and merriment, and talk of deeds of arms of the old days on the eve of
that departure: till little by little weariness fell on them, and they
went their ways to slumber, and the hall was fallen silent.

CHAPTER III--THIODOLF TALKETH WITH THE WOOD-SUN

But yet sat Thiodolf under the Hall-Sun for a while as one in deep
thought; till at last as he stirred, his sword clattered on him; and then
he lifted up his eyes and looked down the hall and saw no man stirring,
so he stood up and settled his raiment on him, and went forth, and so
took his ways through the hall-door, as one who hath an errand.

The moonlight lay in a great flood on the grass without, and the dew was
falling in the coldest hour of the night, and the earth smelled sweetly:
the whole habitation was asleep now, and there was no sound to be known
as the sound of any creature, save that from the distant meadow came the
lowing of a cow that had lost her calf, and that a white owl was flitting
about near the eaves of the Roof with her wild cry that sounded like the
mocking of merriment now silent.

Thiodolf turned toward the wood, and walked steadily through the
scattered hazel-trees, and thereby into the thick of the beech-trees,
whose boles grew smooth and silver-grey, high and close-set: and so on
and on he went as one going by a well-known path, though there was no
path, till all the moonlight was quenched under the close roof of the
beech-leaves, though yet for all the darkness, no man could go there and
not feel that the roof was green above him. Still he went on in despite
of the darkness, till at last there was a glimmer before him, that grew
greater till he came unto a small wood-lawn whereon the turf grew again,
though the grass was but thin, because little sunlight got to it, so
close and thick were the tall trees round about it. In the heavens above
it by now there was a light that was not all of the moon, though it might
scarce be told whether that light were the memory of yesterday or the
promise of to-morrow, since little of the heavens could be seen thence,
save the crown of them, because of the tall tree-tops.

Nought looked Thiodolf either at the heavens above, or the trees, as he
strode from off the hu