[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling had spent most of the day moving tables and avoiding Aman. The former task had left him with little more than sore arms and a sweaty back, while the latter had left him jumpy. He knew that he had to confront the girl soon, and to tell her that there was simply no hope of their ever being together, but now was not the time. He caught sight of her from time to time, seeing to the preparations and dealing with the many thousand details that attended all such gatherings. At the moment she was fending off a cat and speaking with Master Samwise. Snaveling recognised the Mayor easily from the many likenesses of him that adorned the newer buildings of Minas Tirith, as well as from the careful description of him given by the Lord Elessar. It had been at his last meeting with the King before he rode north that Elessar had told Snaveling that if his travels should bring him to the Shire he should bear to the Great Ones (as he had called them) the King’s personal greeting and love. Snaveling had wondered at the charge, and – seeing this – the King had suggested that speaking with those who had done such deeds despite their relative unimportance would be of benefit to him. Snaveling had not understood then what the King meant, and he did not know, but he suspected that it had something to do with the humility that the King felt lacking in his distant kinsman.

Snaveling decided that any greeting to the Mayor could wait – in particular until he was no longer speaking with Aman. Instead, he turned to find the Elven woman he had seen about the place. He had immediately noticed her, prodded on in part by his memories of his old friend Galadel, who had been of such importance in his transformation at his first visit. But the primary reason he had for seeking the Elven woman out was the hope of news – news of Roa. She had undoubtedly travelled on paths and by ways that were closed or hidden to such as him, or so secretly contrived that very few could find them, and had perhaps founds news of Roa that had escaped him. All the same, he doubted that the Ranger would have used any such paths, if indeed such existed, for there would be no need to do so. Unless he admitted to himself Roa were hiding from something – or from someone. From me. Shaking the thought from his mind he sought about for the Elf.

She was not hard to find, for her voice rose high and clear above those of the lesser folk who had gathered about her. Snaveling was conscious of his appearance as he approached her. He had taken some care in his clothes and now looked much better than he had this morning. His hair was now brushed and lustrous in the sun, and the rubbish had been removed from his clothes. He had removed his ragged cloak and replaced it with a relatively new on of Kendal green that matched the rest of his black raiment. His face still bore the scraggly beard of his travels, but he had done his best to smooth out the tangles. As he got closer to where the Elven woman sat talking with a hobbit lass he was happy to see another Elf nearby. He wondered that he had not noticed her earlier, but then quickly recognised her from the earlier performance. The taller of the two looked at him as he approached and smiled questioningly. Snaveling bowed to the three, saying. “I am sorry if I interrupt your conversation, ladies.”

“Not at all,” the tall Elf reassured him. Then she added, penetratingly, “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Perceptive are the eyes of the Fair folk,” Snaveling replied. “I might reply quite honestly that the company of such folk would be enough for me to intrude, but I must admit I have a particular matter that I wish to pursue with you. But time enough for that in a moment. First, allow me to introduce myself. I am a Man of the South, and kinsman to the King Elessar. I am Tar-Corondir in the realm of Gondor, but in these parts I am known as Snaveling.” And then he added, in the manner taught to him by the King, “Elen
sila lumenn' omentielvo” and hoped that he got the pronunciation correct.

The Elf woman smiled at him and her eyes twinkled like the stars that Snaveling had hoped for. Rising she greeted him in return, saying “You do us honour with the tongue of the Eldar, Tar-Corondir. I am called Mithalwen, and these my friends are Caity and Rasputina. We were taking a brief rest and I, for my part, am learning the ways of handfasting in this land.”

Snaveling bowed to each of the ladies in turn then said, “I do not wish to intrude. If you wish I can return later and ask you my questions then.”