Although Arven was capable of empathising with all manner of people when he put his mind to it, he could not even begin to understand why anyone — lady or otherwise — would forsake a walk through the woods just because there weren't crowds of people to compliment their dress and their eyes.

"For what it's worth, I can see your dress", he quipped as she gently took his arm. "And you have beautiful eyes."

He looked at them now, all but lost in the swirls of grey and green, like a still lake in summer. They looked so very familiar...

Just then, there was a loud rustle in the trees and Arven turned to see his damn ferret, little Virgil, up there in a tree with something peculiar between his jaws.