[Noinkling]

‘A messenger for the King, eh? What was he like, if you don’t mind me asking?’

Neither Tolly nor any of his family had ever seen the High King from Gondor. And what stories they had heard of him had filtered down to them from their relations in Tuckburrough. He remembered hearing the King lived in a great tall building atop a high mountain of sorts and that his wife was one of the Fair Folk. And that many people came there to see him. It was told, he recalled, that the King was a fair man and just; one to be trusted to keep to his word.

Before Keleth could answer, he asked one more question. ‘Now I heard a story,’ he said, scratching the back of his head, ‘that the King used to be one of them Rangers. Is that true? My gaffer told me about the few he met, wandering about the countryside . . . almost like ghosts, they blended in so well, he said. I remember he used to get a sort of shiver when he’d talk about their grey eyes and how a certain light seemed to shine behind them. Almost like they’d look right through you, he’d say in a low voice.’

Taking a warm muffin one of the servers had just brought out, Tolly pulled it in two and slathered it with butter. Now wouldn’t that be something he thought to himself as he helped himself to a little jam, too . . . if the King and his fair lady would visit the Shire, and even better his family’s Inn! Chewing on the welcome treat, he waited patiently for Keleth to tell him about the King.