Then: "Are ye not—"
"Yes, fair one?" he muttered through his drowsiness.
"Are ye not ... well, I am here and ye are here and—"
"Fear not," he said. "I laid my sword between us. Sleep in peace."
"I ... would be glad—ye have come to deliver—"
"No, fair lady. No man of gentle breeding could so abuse his power. Goodnight." He leaned over, brushing his lips gently across hers, and lay down again.
"Ye are ... I never thought man could be so noble," she whispered.
Cappen mumbled something. As his soul spun into sleep, he chuckled. Those unresting days and nights on the sea had not left him fit for that kind of exercise. But, of course, if she wanted to think he was being magnanimous, it could be useful later—
He woke with a start and looked into the sputtering glare of a torch. Its light wove across the crags and gullies of the troll-wife's face and shimmered wetly off the great tusks in her mouth.