[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling looked at the Halfling lass and tried to decide how to feel. He was not one for children, never having raised one of his own nor even been left in charge of one for any length of time. He felt that he should be…older…somehow, toward her. He remembered his own father and how distant he had seemed: a lordly figure, but not in the manner of the King Elessar, not someone to be loved and obeyed, but a figure of fear. Snaveling had been feared in the past and he did not relish eliciting that response again. Not knowing how to act toward the lass, then, he elected not to act in any particular way at all. So when he responded to her question it was not as an adult to a child, but as one person to another.

“Adventures?” he echoed thoughtfully, “I am afraid that I haven’t had any of those. At least, not what people usually mean when they speak of adventures. I’ve never fought a battle or defeated a monster; I’ve never gone off on a wizard’s quest, and if I’d been asked to, I daresay I would have refused the wizard outright! I’ve had more than my fair share of hard and lonely roads, and I’ve been many places that other people shun. I’ve been beset by storms and orcs and wolves, but each time I escaped by keeping my head low and running for the shadows. I suspect, lass, that when you ask me for adventures what you are really asking is, ‘Are you a hero?’. Well, I’m not.”

Marigold’s face fell, clearly disappointed with the answer. “But you’re a Ranger!” she almost wailed. “Everyone knows that the Rangers are all heroes!”

“Ah, now I begin to see your confusion,” the Man replied. “I am kin to the Rangers but I am not a Ranger myself. I am of the race of Black Numenoreans.”

“The who?” she asked, her face innocently curious.

“The Black Numenoreans are the last of those Men from the West who came to these shores in conquest and with a desire for rule. We are considered by many to be evil and cruel, but I must say that I do not share that opinion. My people are like any other I have met: we are neither demons nor divine. But I have said enough of myself, and I fear that it has been little to your liking, lass. What of you? I had assumed that Mr Headstrong was your father or grandfather, but I see now that I misunderstood your relation. Where are your parents?”