Lyra watched as Finrod returned to the camp with firewood, a small smile playing on her lips at his chuckle. Despite the uncertainty of their situation, there was a strange comfort in their shared laughter.

As Finrod mentioned the temple again, Lyra noticed the pained expression that flickered across his face, and she felt a pang of sympathy. She wanted to reach out, to comfort him somehow, but she hesitated, unsure if it was her place.

The warmth of the fire and the cool night air created a soothing atmosphere, and Lyra found herself drawn to the flames, lost in her own thoughts. She glanced up as Finrod spoke her name, her curiosity piqued by the hint of hesitation in his voice.

But before she could respond, he suggested they rest, and she nodded in agreement. "Oh. Yeah, you're right," she said softly, a note of weariness in her voice. "We'll need all the energy we can get for tomorrow."

At the mention of mead, Lyra's eyes brightened, and she nodded eagerly. "That sounds perfect," she said, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I can't think of anything better right now."