112 SEVENTH AIR WAYS

"At least this problem has an obvious solution," Susan had said, trying for flippancy but straying into despair. "I can't say I like it, though."

"I'm not all that keen on cuddling up with a mortal, either," Makalaurë had replied, "but needs must, I suppose."

Technically, it hadn't been absolutely necessary - there was bound to be enough to cover both of them if Susan spent long enough looking - but that comment had stung her pride. If Makalaurë didn't want to be anywhere near her, that was reason enough to ensure she was sitting right in his lap.

Or, as it turned out, vice versa. The third problem they faced was that when Makalaurë tried to lie down, his face turned pale and his breath hissed between his teeth. "This isn't going to work," he said.

"You could lean against the stump," Susan suggested, and looked back over the ten yards they'd covered to reach the bonfire. "All right, not the stump - but a log or something."