[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling was on his feet in an instant and reaching for Roa’s hand to steady her, even though his head was spinning from the revelations of his luck. It was as his grandmother had always counselled: Treasure your luck, not your gold, for your gold can be stolen. He had never much liked his grandmother – her quickness with the switch had been matched only by the meanness of her temper – but she had been a fount of such wisdom, and now he was glad for it as it gave him hope once more. Roa put a hand to her forehead, and let out an exhausted sigh. “Wait just one minute, my lady,” he said. Snaveling rushed off to the pump to fetch Roa some water. As he neared the pump, he made out the form of the young Man doing, of all things, the dishes. Snaveling had to fight hard to prevent a smile from creasing his face at that sight, and to resist taunting the boy.

After he had filled a cup with water, though, he had an idea. As he passed by the youth, he muttered -- just loud enough for Valthalion to hear -- “I’m glad to see you’ve found some work more suited to you…boy”. Valthalion bristled at that and rose up, his youthful wrath once more kindled. Snaveling pretended fear but inwardly rejoiced at the ease with which he could play on the child’s nature. “At least I am doing something to help these people” Valthalion snapped. “Unlike some, I am not using this tragedy to thieve.”

“Oh no?” Snaveling asked, still speaking low so that his voice would not carry. “Then where has my purse gone, eh? When I awoke, it was gone and only yourself and Roa were about me; I am willing to bet my life on her honour – but what of yours? Once today already you have threatened me, and were it not for Roa’s kinswoman, I daresay you would have spilled blood. Roa tells me that she was trapped in the cellar by some foul device, and were you not the first to find her? As to the fires amongst the trees, you know my beliefs about that already. Prove to me that you do not have my gold, and perhaps I will have a better opinion of you in future. But for now, I think it is best if you remain here with the washing.” He turned his back on the youth and moved toward Roa with the water.

This was too much for Valthalion, as Snaveling knew it would be. The youth threw his dripping washcloth to the earth and sprang at Snaveling, spinning him about. Snaveling cried out in mock-terror, “Ah me! Help! Help!” At the instant, there were a dozen pairs of ready hands restraining the youth. A sturdy hobbit with a feather in his cap approached, demanding to know what was going on. Snaveling was the first to speak, “I came to fetch water for one of the wounded, a noble Woman who has saved my life this day, and this boy attacked me!” Valthalion tried to speak, but the hobbit bid him hold his tongue. He narrowed his eyes at the both of them.

“I have been told that you two have been seen arguing and accusing one another while the Inn needed hands to save it. I have no time now to settle these petty disputes, but mark my words – as soon as we have restored some order, we are going to get to the bottom of this.” He turned to those holding Valthalion and ordered them to let him go. To Snaveling he said, “Take your water to the wounded, but do not stray far from the Inn until we have looked into this matter further.”

Snaveling had no intention of leaving the Inn, not until he had recovered his gold from Valthalion. He quickly returned to Roa, who had seen the altercation but not been able to hear a word of it. “What has happened between you and Valthalion?” she asked. Snaveling handed her the water and sat down beside her on the grass.

“I’m afraid I forgot myself with him my Lady. He hates me so – why I know not! – but to refuse to return my gold to me…” he shook his head sadly, like a man all too familiar with enduring the wickedness of the world.

“Your gold…?” Roa began.

“Yes, my Lady. A small purse holding all of my worldly treasures. I sold all of my belongings before leaving the South and I had hoped to use the small sum here to build a new life for myself. I had the gold when I went to the second floor to seek survivors, but when I awoke, it was gone. I know by looking at you that you did not take it – the air of lost Numenor is fair about you” (he remembered this from an ancient tale he’d heard at an Inn in Bree) “but that youth is impetuous and, as you saw, eager to do me harm.” Snaveling stopped suddenly, as though a thought had just occurred to him. “My Lady, something just occurs to me – I had not thought of it before but…when we went into the Inn to save the ale – yes, I was with you, but you bid me to the upper floors as we thought we heard cries for help. As I left you, though, I saw that youth running into the cellar. At the time, I thought nothing of it, but now…do you really have no memory of how you came to be trapped there?”