Belzoond.

Many a song he sang, telling to spacious and exotic Yann the little tales
and trifles of his city of Durl. And the songs welled up over the black
jungle and came into the clear cold air above, and the great bands of
stars that look on Yann began to know the affairs of Durl and Duz, and of
the shepherds that dwelt in the fields between, and the flocks that they
had, and the loves that they had loved, and all the little things that
they had hoped to do. And as I lay wrapped up in skins and blankets,
listening to those songs, and watching the fantastic shapes of the great
trees like to black giants stalking through the night, I suddenly fell
asleep.

When I awoke great mists were trailing away from the Yann. And the flow of
the river was tumbling now tumultuously, and little waves appeared; for
Yann had scented from afar the ancient crags of Glorm, and knew that their
ravines lay cool before him wherein he should meet the merry wild Irillion
rejoicing from fields of snow. So he shook off from him the torpid sleep
that had come upon him in the hot and scented jungle, and forgot its
orchids and its butterflies, and swept on turbulent, expectant, strong;
and soon the snowy peaks of the Hills of Glorm came glittering into view.
And now the sailors were waking up from sleep. Soon we all ate, and then
the helmsman laid him down to sleep while a comrade took his place, and
they all spread over him their choicest furs.

And in a while we heard the sound that the Irillion made as she came down
dancing from the fields of snow.

And then we saw the ravine in the Hills of Glorm lying precipitous and
smooth before us, into which we were carried by the leaps of Yann. And now