[Fordim Hedgethistle]

“Do not believe, my lady, that I am anything more than I appear: a lone wanderer. What rank I have is due only to the kindness of the King. I am, in truth, a king as well, but my kingdom and people were lost long ago. As to your being an artisan, I lived in Minas Tirith long enough to see many works of Elvish art, brought there by the Fair Folk in homage to the Queen, and allow me to say that the honour due to Elvish artisans is greater than the status enjoyed by many a rich lord of Gondor!”

Mithalwen smiled at the compliment. “You seem strange to me, Man of Gondor. A king without a kingdom? One who has dwelt at Minas Tirith with the King and Queen, and yet claims to be a humble wanderer? I deem that there is a tale about you…”

“As there is about everyone, my lady. Mine is, perhaps, a strange one but it is not singular. The world is full of people who have enjoyed or suffered from changes of fortune and the coming of fate. Or doom. But the story is a long one, which I will tell you should you wish, when there is time for it. For now, I would be grateful if you – or your companions – could give me news of someone.”

His auditors perked up at this, for they could tell that Snaveling had finally come round to his point. He masked his fierce eagerness, but not well. To the Elves, at least, there was a fire in his eyes and voice that betrayed his manner. Even the Halfling could see that there was more to his query than he wanted to reveal. “I am looking for a woman,” he began. “Her name is Roa, of the Dunedain. She came north from Minas Tirith some weeks ago, and the last news I had of her places her upon the Greenway not far south of here. She is just below my own height with long red hair and sea-green eyes. She is fair and slender, and of a mirthful humour. She was fond of the Shire folk and would probably have come through here on her way.”

“Well, I haven’t seen anyone like the woman you describe,” Caity replied. “Are you sure she came through the Shire?”

“I am not sure of anything about her journeys past the Greenway,” Snaveling replied. “I have already sought for her here, and throughout the country hereabouts, but no sign nor tale can I find of her. I had hoped that perhaps you, my ladies,” he said to Mithalwen and Rasputina, “being of Elven kind, might have heard of her from other of your folk. Or, perhaps, you have met her or seen her pass upon some hidden way in the Wild, unknown to most Men? She was a Ranger in these lands for many years with the Lord Elessar and knows its paths much better than I. It is possible that she has traveled along roads that are hidden to me.”

It occurred to Mithalwen that perhaps the Ranger had a good reason for seeking paths unknown to this Man, but she said only, “I am afraid that I have seen no such woman, Tar-Corondir.” Then, after a brief pause she added innocently, “Why do you seek her?”

None of the women could fail to see the slight flush that ran along Snaveling’s brow at the question, nor mistake his faintly awkward manner as he replied to it. “She and I were traveling companions for a time, and I would like to see her again,” was all that he said.