[Nurumaiel]

As the evening shadows fell, Lily left the stable and left Blanco alone. He stared blankly at the door, and he then he promptly sat down on the ground. Oh, he had known it, surely he had known it, and he had known it for some time. But he had always dared hope that perhaps she did not love him yet, for maybe then there would be a chance. There was no chance now, for she loved him. And when a lass loved a lad, she did not change her heart. Love did not change. Was it not so? Yet... at one time, had he not loved the brown-eyed lassie, the sweet little Marigold Hilldweller, who loved him well? No, but he just had a fickle heart, and as the realization came to him that very heart sunk. He was fickle. Maybe he would love another girl tomorrow, and forget Lily. He could never be happy in marriage. He would love a girl and marry her, and then he would one day stop...

Oh, oh, oh! but hadn't Lily been the sweetest, kindest, gentlest little thing he had ever seen? But Marigold was sweet, and kind, and gentle as well, and he had brought her flowers, and she had lifted her large brown eyes up to him, with the golden-brown curls falling on her rosy cheeks, and his heart had beat fiercely, fiercely! Flittings of a song came to his mind then, a song he had sung of Marigold as he sat in the moonlight by the Brandywine dreaming of her, and they pained him....

Dear are her charms to me,
dearer her laughter free,
dearest her constancy...

Her constancy! Marigold was the very soul of constancy! She had loved him for so long, and had more than likely always trusted that he loved her, and small blame to her for that. He had gone off before, and she had always been there to see him off and wish him well, and the first to run out to greet him at his return. Would the most charming hobbit lad in the land come to sweep her off her feet, she would continue to gaze unwaveringly at him, at Blanco Brandybuck, loving him as much as ever.

When, like the dawning day....
Love sends his early ray....

What makes his dawning glow
changeless through joy and woe?
Only the constant know...

Only the constant know. Oh, he would never know, for he was not constant. At this time he should be thinking of Marigold, and Marigold alone, even though Lily was beautiful and kind. Marigold was probably thinking of him this very moment, with all trust, and he was weeping that Lily loved his brother!

Truth is a fixed star...

Yes, but what was the truth? Did he love Lily? Oh, yes, yes, he did! Did he love Marigold? He had loved her, yes, but he did not any longer. Then why, why did she keep coming to his mind? Constant Marigold! Oh, would not everyone be happy if he could find it to be true that he loved Marigold? Lily could marry Posco, and he could marry Marigold, and all would be well. But he did not love her, not any longer. And as he thought of this another song came to his head, and it said:

In constancy to her I love -
the girl I've left behind me.

'Would that I did,' he moaned, 'would that I did love her!' And he bowed his head and sat in silent misery.