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Snaveling was saved the embarrassment of accepting Falco’s offer of money – so clearly presented to display his own wealth – by the sudden arrival of a large plate of food and steaming mug of tea. Ruby laid it upon the table explaining that it had been paid for by an unknown benefactor, but Snaveling knew with the instinct of his kind that it was the Elf Mithalwen who had paid for his fare. Ruby leaned toward him slightly and Snaveling lowered his head to her ear so that she could softly explain that his other debts had been discharged as well. The Man restrained himself from looking toward his new friend where she sat with another Elf and a strange looking Man, and he shrouded his gratitude within his thoughts. If she wanted to have it as a secret, then let it remain as such, he thought. There was also a certain pleasure in realising that despite his revelations to her, Mithalwen still did not fully comprehend his nature. That she could think her intent was so easily hidden from him was an interesting point to note…
The lass Marigold was now speaking to him. “Interesting?” he echoed, a slight smile breaking out across his face. “Why now, I have been called many things in my time, but never quite that, my lass! Thank you. And may I say that I find you a most intriguing creature in your own right. Here I am, a great clumsy Big Man who nearly ruined your day and your frock, and you are apologising to me! I do not blame you for your hard words to me. Indeed, as I have said, I have been called by many names in my life and many of them much harder than awful. In fact, I hate to admit that at times I have been quite awful, but I hope that those days are at last behind me.” He spoke this last thought more to Falco than to the lass. The little fellow’s manner had grated upon Snaveling, and he could not restrain himself from putting the Halfling right in a couple of matters. “I thank you for your offer, Master Falco, but as you can see the present need has been met. As for my future requirements I assure you that as soon as I can speak with the Innkeeper I will have no trouble reacquiring my credit, for I am myself of some worth in the lands I come from.” His mind flashed to the Vale of Arlanduian, rich green lands upon the south-western flanks of the White Mountains: uninhabited save by a few of the hunting folk, Snaveling’s kin, and now his own estate by gift of the King Elessar. Of old, it was said, the vale had been blessed with the finest grapes of Gondor, and the wine made there was prized throughout the West, and even beyond, for the clarity and shine of its flavour. In time, he thought, the vale would again produce such fruit.
Falco scowled somewhat at the gentle rebuff, and the insinuation that his own wealth was not perhaps as great as the Man’s. He settled in his seat and poked at his now cold breakfast while Snaveling gratefully dug into his own. “Well,” the Halfling began slowly, “I’m happy for your sake that things have turned out. It’s a crime and a shame when a young fellow such as yourself has to made do without provender.”
Snaveling smiled back at Falco, but there was a certain lack of sincerity in the expression. He took a sip of tea to clear his throat. “You have called me ‘young’ twice now Mr. Headstrong, and I am afraid that I must correct you. While I know that among your people my age may not seem overly great, among my own folk I am considered something of a rarity, for I have seen seventy-seven winters.”
“No!” Marigold cried out in disbelief. “You cannot ever be so old Mister Snaveling! I know that the Big Folk age faster than Hobbits, but you cannot be any more than forty or maybe fifty!”
The Man smiled down at the lass. “I am quite sure of my own age, Mistress Marigold. My folk are long-lived. My own father lived to be nearly one hundred and fifty. I am sure that you have heard that the Dunedain, the Rangers who once guarded this land, were blessed with long life. I am kin to those folk, in a fashion.” Marigold merely looked at Snaveling in disbelief, while Falco’s eyes narrowed somewhat as though trying to decide if Snaveling were deluded or merely a bad liar.
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