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"Ah, well," said Falco, after due reflection upon the age of Snaveling's father, "the Old Took did live to be one hundred and thirty." It would have given him immense satisfaction to be able to boast that some hobbit had lived longer than this Big Folk fellow's father, but it was well enough that he could name a hobbit who fell only a little short of that mark. "But you won't be telling me not to call you young," he added, with a little bit of a scowl. "I'll call you young if I want. You're young enough in your personality. Nobody old and responsible would be as poor as you are." No matter that this Big Folk fellow said he had money back at his home. Who was to say it was true? And Falco would never, never admit that he happened to be a few years younger than the Big Folk fellow.
"Now," said Falco, standing up, "I must be running along to buy a few things for pretty Miss Marigold. Will you be all right alone?"
"Oh, I'm not alone," said Marigold. "Mr. Snaveling is here."
Falco cast Mr. Snaveling a dubious look, as if wondering if it would not be better for Marigold to be alone. Big Folk fellows were always kidnapping children, he'd heard. But, no... this was a good Inn and a kidnapper wouldn't get far. He had nothing to fear.
"Well, just don't be wandering too far from the building," said Falco, and he bid the Big Folk fellow and Marigold good day. As he left the Inn he saw Caity stooping in the garden and greeted her curtly, though his tone was not quite as gruff as before. "I hope you'll bring out that whistle of yours and play another tune," he said. She glanced up at him with a smile and an answer on her lips, but he moved on.
Little Marigold perched on the edge of her seat, her eyes fixed upon the Man, and set down her fork and spoon. There was silence between them for a time, and she looked him up and down. It was absurd that a Man could be so very old (why, seventy-seven was positively ancient!) and look so young... but it was thrillingly interesting. She had heard a little about the Rangers from her father, who had known of many of the peoples beyond the borders of the Shire. Didn't Rangers travel around all the time? She was quite confident that they did.
"Oh, Mr. Snaveling," she said, with a hint of breathlessness in her voice, "if you're a Ranger you must have had the most exciting adventures. You do have adventures, don't you? I've never met anyone who has real adventures. My papa used to have exciting times, but they weren't real adventures. Oh, Mr. Snaveling, would you..." She hesitated. Dare she ask him? Weren't Rangers very important people? Maybe he would be offended by her boldness in asking. But... "Would you tell me about your adventures, Mr. Snaveling?"
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