[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fury with the Halfling for his blundering, awestruck horror at Roa’s display of ruthless cunning, and a deep-seated terror – like a mouse in eagle’s talons – at the Elven woman’s presence, all fought for possession of Snaveling’s spirit. The purse of gold had been within a finger’s breadth of his hand. The young fool Valthalion had handed it over without hesitation, having failed entirely to see the lie in Snaveling’s mind…but Roa had prevented it. Snaveling knew, without even having to look her in the face, that she had seen through his performance. And now there was this Elvish woman, reaching into their minds – oh yes, he had felt her presence, but unlike Roa he had known better than to show it. He had never met one of the Elder race, but he was familiar enough with their tricks. Snaveling’s people had long told the stories of the Elves from over the Sea, and of the Men of the West who had allied with them in the Dark Years to combat Sauron – and to seize all the land East of the Sea from those who had held it from the dawn of time.

His experience of Elves was not wholly through story and song, though. Several years ago he had stumbled across a large party of the folk, heading through the wild toward the seacoast where, if the tales were true, they were bound for the ships that would take them from Middle Earth. He had tracked them for days – hoping to pilfer something of value from them before they departed forever – and even though they could sense his presence behind them, ever had he eluded their hunters. A lifetime spent tracking and hunting game had made him as crafty a woodsman as any among Men; only the Dunedain Rangers surpassed him in his ability to track and hide in the wooded places of the earth. But even they could not surpass his skill with trap and line.

His mind was whirling with dismay at the loss of his gold – again! – and anger at Tobias’ blundering attempt to lie, when of all the things that could have happened, the most surprising did. Valthalion addressed him in terms of kindness, asking him of his homeland. So shocked was Snaveling by the frankness of the request, that before he could think of anything else to say the truth slipped from his lips. “My land lies at the western end of the White Mountains, between them and the Sea. We are not of Gondor,” he said, seeing Roa’s look of surprise, “but are free Men who take their living from the land beyond the control of the King at Minas Tirith.”

Galadel said, “So you are one of the Dunlendings.”

“No,” Snaveling said. This time, the truth came out of him in a different manner, as though it were being drawn forth by the Elven woman herself. He struggled against it, but it was useless, and he continued, “We are not of the Dunlendings. Some amongst my people say that we are the final descendants of the Numenoreans who remained loyal to the King during the rebellion of Elendil and his heirs.”

Galadel and Roa both gasped and looked at him with horror. The pull of the Elven woman was snapped. Tobias and Valthalion looked at each other in ignorance, not knowing why this information should have caused such a reaction. Roa spoke first, “Then you are one of the Black Numenoreans!”

“My ancestors may have been,” Snaveling replied. That was the great danger of the truth, once it had been uttered, it could never be taken back, and he was left only to explain it away. “But it has been long years since then, and those Men have become mixed with the lesser folk who live amongst the bays and vales of that land.”

Roa and Galadel lapsed into silence but Snaveling could tell that the subject was not over, not for them. Once more he felt the pressure of Galadel’s mind upon his own, but he hid his thoughts where she could not see them. Instead, he focused on the image of the hunting lodge that he would build. It would have four rooms – no, wait, it was not four it was five – five rooms, and there would be a porch out the back where he could sit and…and do what? Ah yes, smoke – smoke his pipe of an evening. And there would be somebody else there as well…but who was she…and what was her purpose…?

Snaveling became frantic. What was happening? Why could he not remember? Why could he not see it anymore? For some reason his mind went back to the cellar, when he had abandoned Roa to the flames, and he recalled her words as he fled: “A curse upon you and all your kin…”