So Face-of-god made stay in that place, casting himself down beside
the rill to rest him and eat and drink somewhat. Whatever thoughts
had been with him through the wood (and they been many) concerning
his House and his name, and his father, and the journey he might make
to the cities of the Westland, and what was to befall him when he was
wedded, and what war or trouble should be on his hands--all this was
now mingled together and confused by this rest amidst his weariness.
He laid down his scrip, and drew his meat from it and ate what he
would, and dipping his gilded beaker into the brook, drank water
smacking of the damp musty savour of the woodland; and then his head
sank back on a little mound in the short turf, and he fell asleep at
once. A long dream he had in short space; and therein were blent his
thoughts of the morning with the deeds of yesterday; and other
matters long forgotten in his waking hours came back to his slumber
in unordered confusion: all which made up for him pictures clear,
but of little meaning, save that, as oft befalls in dreams, whatever
he was a-doing he felt himself belated.

When he awoke, smiling at something strange in his gone-by dream, he
looked up to the heavens, thinking to see signs of the even at hand,
for he seemed to have been dreaming so long. The sky was thinly
overcast by now, but by his wonted woodcraft he knew the whereabouts
of the sun, and that it was scant an hour after noon. He sat there
till he was wholly awake, and then drank once more of the woodland
water; and he said to himself, but out loud, for he was fain of the
sound of a man's voice, though it were but his own:

'What is mine errand hither? Whither wend I? What shall I have done
to-morrow that I have hitherto left undone? Or what manner of man
shall I be then other than I am now?'