As they sat in front of the hearth, eating through a small box of deer jerky, Sif spoke with Rágn casually. Enough time had passed that he had put their last disagreement, large as it was, from his mind.

" Don't you think that the paper girl fancies you?" Sif asked. During preparations for Relnsif's festival, he had often seen her looking at Rágn longingly; and she was one of the oldest girls in the village unmarried. Did this not mean she held out for someone?

" Lord Hélna, since when have you been perceptive about this topic?" Rágn complained. " She's just as likely to have seen a fly land in my hair."

Sif bit into another piece of dried meat.

" Does it not bother you to go so long unmarried?" he asked. " And with someone who likes you around, at that! Should a mortal man not have a family?"

Rágn looked a little irritated.

" If she really liked me so, should her mother not come say something?" he asked pointedly.

Sif understood something.

" Ah, perhaps she's shy, or thinks our Rágn already has someone he likes," he said. " I'll go to speak with them, then!"

" You don't have to," Rágn said. " Ever since you started to speak, you've begun to meddle."

" It's fun to meddle," Sif said flippantly. " You've served by me for so long. You deserve your own happiness. It would be of comfort to me."

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