Derufin was quite amused by the tiny Hobbit who rode before him. ‘You should have your own personal chronicler.’ he told her. ‘The entire history of this section of the Shire is stored like a great treasure within that head of yours, and here I am, lucky enough to have it parceled out to me, gem by gem.’ Amaranthas chuckled at this image of herself being followed about by a handsome, in her imaginings, young Hobbit with a sizable inkwell, a large blank book, and numerous quills poking out from his pockets, and stuck behind his ears.
It wasn’t until they approached her house, that she turned to the subject she had been wanting to explore since they left the Inn. But, now that they had ridden together for some time, she felt more comfortable in broaching it. She looked down at his hands as they grasped the reins before her. ‘I notice you don’t wear a wedding band of any sort, Derufin. Have you never been married?’
The man grew quiet, and did not answer the question. He only urged the horse on with a tap from his heels, and kept his eyes to the road . . .
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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