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> After a brief moment of solemn silence, at last, Gildor asked:
>
> "This is it!, what do you think?"
>
> Hindrun
> "Pfrfrfrfrfrfrfrfr!..."
>
> Gildor
> "You're never happy!... What a company!"
>
> Hindrun
> "Eeeeeenrhrh!"
>
> Gildor looks back, and ahead.
>
> "O, I see... You're right, mate: we're going to have rain, I see...
> Better hurry up! Let's go, and find shelter before it falls."



Gildor got a rainy afternoon and night. He stopped, and hoped that
rain was leaving him, but it didn't. On the 29th morning, he talked
with Hindrun, who reminded him that if they waited long, there would
be no way of them winning the bet.

Therefore, Gildor went on the way with the horse on the 29th. Under
the rain.

"All right", said Gildor, "the song of Faroth and Wen actually is a
bit sad in itself... And the melody too. I'll think about another
one."

Gildor did not tell Hindrun, but he missed his lute really much, back
there, in his room, at Imladris.

"O, Imladris!", he thought, loud voice. "Why do I make these things,
right, mate?"

(Hindrun was quiet)

"Right. Things will be different when we get to Lorien..."

In seven weeks and a half.... Thought Gildor. Eru was merciful to the
horses: they can't count their own age, and time for them is simply a
day after another.

:^