[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Jinniver’s vague tales of a red-haired Ranger were not much to pin his hopes on, but they were all that he’d found in the weeks he’d spent in search of Roa, so he clung to them as a drowning man to wood. Her question, however, knocked him from his calm triumph at the small victory. Who is this woman to me indeed? he wondered. He had spent many a long night pacing restlessly about the mountain paths in pursuit of just such a question. On the whole journey back to Minas Tirith they had hardly spoken a word to one another, so full of judgement and anger was she, and so ashamed was he. And upon their return, Roa had seemed to seek to avoid him, even as the others at Elessar’s court took him into their welcome, if not their hearts. At the first possibility she had taken another assignment to the north and disappeared early one morning without so much as a leave taking. That had hurt him deeply, and he had cursed her at first, bitterly and at great length. The King, seeing his distress had merely said, "I know what it is to be denied the heart’s desire. I cannot offer counsel, but perhaps there is some comfort in knowing that yours is not an uncommon tale." Snaveling had thanked the King as prettily as he could, and for the only time since he had met him, cursed the name of Elessar under his breath as the sign of a fool.

"Oh," he replied to Jinniver’s question airily, "she is a friend and a companion. I was in her debt for a time, and even though the debt is repaid, I find that I wish to make some greater…recompense." He fell silent, and the woman knew that he would say no more on the matter. Shifting her tack somewhat, she inquired into the comings and goings of the south. In his time at the court of Gondor, Snaveling had learned much of the ways of the noble Men who were thriving there and he was able to satisfy her curiosity on many fronts. She was particularly interested in the renewed interest in herb lore and husbandry that had flourished in the lands to the south of the White Mountains. "Indeed," Snaveling said as he took a careful sip of ale, "with the renewed trade in the south, and the comings and goings between Eryn Lasgelan and Ithilien there are so many new plants coming to Gondor that the farmers are having trouble knowing where to plant them all. I’ve heard that there are some among the Rohirrim who are trying to cultivate pipeweed!"

Jinniver laughed, "Oh dear, that will upset the hobbits so – to know that someone other than a halfling is growing their pride and joy!"

"I doubt they have much to worry about. I have tried wine made from the grapes of Rohan, and while they are unexcelled warriors and bards, there are not farmers in Rohan who can match the folk of these parts!"

At that moment a serving maid arrived with two more pints of ale, sent, she explained with a withering and knowing look cast directly at Snaveling, by the stablemaster. Hiding his surprise, Snaveling turned to where Durefin sat, his eyes still upon Snaveling, and raised the mug in token of thanks. The men smile at one another thinly, and Snaveling knew that there would be a reckoning of some sort between them. He wondered what Aman was to this man – according to Jinniver, he was soon to be married…had Snaveling not known this he would have been sure what was going on.

No sooner had Jinniver and he expressed their mutual delight at the gift than Aman herself appeared at the table, bearing yet more drink. She dropped them in front of the pair and then moved off before Snaveling could say a word to her – although what he hoped to express was beyond him. The light touch that she gave him, accompanied by the surprisingly intimate whisper, sent a chill of apprehension through him. He moved to stay her, to ask her to join them, but like some spirit of the place she was gone again and Snaveling was left grasping at air.

Jinniver’s eyebrows shot up at all this as she buried her already flushed face in the tankard of sent over by Derufin. She did not make any comment on what had transpired, but Snaveling knew that she was bursting with curiosity to find out the full tale. Once more putting on a smile, Snaveling turned to the woman saying, “Even if you’ve not been here long, you will have already – I am sure – made the acquaintance of my friend Aman. I say ‘my friend’ for it is the only word I can find for her, although she is far more dear to me than is usually meant by that word.” Seeing the look in Jinniver’s eye he decided to complete the sentence. “I had…difficulties…when I was here last, and almost alone among the people of the Inn, Aman was willing to extend a hand to me rather than spurn me from the door as I deserved.” Even as he spoke his mind was working along a parallel track. Aman’s manner had been conciliatory and friendly, for which he was glad, but there had been something in it that unsettled him. That touch, the feel of her lips so close to his ear – it had all been…meaningful…in a way that Snaveling feared meant trouble ahead for them both. His mind turned to the gift he had thought to present Aman, but he began to wonder if that would be such a good idea. To shower her with such a lavish token might be taken the wrong way…

Jinniver’s head nodded. “Well, you’re right Mister Snaveling, I’ve not known Aman long but she is s remarkable woman, remarkable indeed! Your past here sounds as though it was troubled. Was Aman really the only friend you had here? Surely there were others who you want to see again now that you are back?” She was fishing for more information, Snaveling could see that, but as she was no longer plumbing the waters in which he sought to hide his feelings for Roa, he did not mind.

“Well, yes, there is one other rogue I would dearly like to see again,” he said, polishing off his ale and beginning with the cider. “An elderly Halfling gentleman of the Southfarthing. When I knew him he was a scoundrel and a crafty, sharp nosed cheat. But his heart was…I almost said ‘made of gold’ but that’s not right, for if his heart were made of such stuff he’d have it out and smithed into coins to buy beer and pipeweed in a moment!” Snaveling laughed and threw his head back. His chair moved with the force of his hilarty and bumped the chair behind him.

“Watch where you’re crashing about, Man!” a rough and weary voice croaked at him. Snaveling froze, and for a moment Jinniver thought that he was having some kind of a seizure. Her surprise was multiplied tenfold when the Man leapt to his feet and whirled upon the Halfling who had grumped at him. So purposeful and focused was he, that she feared he meant some harm to the old hobbit, but bending down Snaveling embraced the Halfling instead. “Toby!” he cried out with a joy so pure and total that it made Jinniver smile, even though she had no idea what was going on. “Tobias Hornblower you old villain! Why seeing you is more than I had hoped for this night!” Letting down the hobbit once more, Snaveling looked into the elderly gentleman’s face and immediately the Man’s whole demeanour altered from one of joy to shock. “But by friend, whatever is wrong? Come come, join Miss Jinniver and myself. I will buy you a pot of ale and you shall tell me what weighs upon you so heavily!”