In the morning, the dwarf walked with the young couple as they headed west up into the mountains. It was a clear day, and the green Dalelands spread out behind them as they went up the rolling hills toward the Thunder Gap. All was peaceful. A lone black falcon soared high above in the clear blue air, and the day passed on with no attack or hurling of spellfire. Delg told Narm fierce tales of Shandril's daring with the company, and Narm, recovering, told Delg of the struggle in Myth Drannor and Rauglothgor's lair, and how she blasted apart the mountaintop. The dwarf looked at Shandril with new respect, and chuckled, and said, "I won't ask you to hold my axe, next time!"
Near sunset, on the heights of Thunder Gap, they turned at last and looked back over the marching trees, and the road dwindling down, down, down from where they stood to Highmoon, hazy in the distance.
"Who could know, looking at it, that this beautiful land could be so dangerous?" Narm asked quietly. Delg looked, and smiled, and said nothing.
"Never mind," Shandril replied, putting a hand on his arm. "We found each other, and that is worth it all."
They walked off into the evening together, and thought on many mornings ahead as the soft stars came out above them, and were very happy.