[He is no reading man, but for her... well, over a thousand years, he can almost see himself becoming one, and there's something pleasant in her reading to him nonetheless, the way the words roll off her tongue.]

I miss the way you have herbs drying all around. Miss you coming in and telling me about some child or dog you aided.

[Hard, heavy kisses now.]

And I miss you being there in the night. Any time, in the night. I reach for you, you reach for me, doesn't matter who starts it. I never thought to find that in my life.