[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling rushed into the kitchen, desperate to help Mithalwen in taking care of the lass Marigold for he felt responsible for what had happened. Feralof, though no longer his horse, had been his mount for many a week and thus he should have been able to better judge what might happen with him. He also accused himself bitterly for not properly watching the girl more closely, but quick at the heels of this accusation he felt an angry justification rise up. I did not even ask to be made her caretaker! I was just landed with the lass; how could it be my fault if she goes and gets herself hurt by doing something so foolish as mounting a strange horse? There is…no-one who could blame me. Oddly enough, he realised that there was only one person he was particularly afraid of condemning him: the Innkeeper.

He reached the Kitchen and all other thoughts left his mind. There was no sign of Cook but Buttercup was there, busying herself with the cleaning up from lunch. “There’s been an accident,” he began, carefully, deciding that for his own sake it might be best if he were to leave the precise details a bit vague for the time being. “The lass Marigold has had a fall and is quite overcome. The Elven lady Mithalwen has sent me to fetch hot water and something called yarrow, that she believes will help the girl. Do you have any?”