Randir heard her curse, try as she might to disguise it. He realized it was directed toward herself, in irritation, rather than toward him. 'Probably for letting me get away' he thought, as he brushed her aside with a light greeting and did his best to escape.
"Oh, no you don't!" Randir sighed; caught again. Megilien wasn't finished with him, it seemed. "You don't get away from me so easily. I want to know your business, and I won't stop until I find out!" Randir frowned at her and touched his sword hilt, hoping she could be frightened into leaving him alone. She wasn't, choosing rather to rattle off several more sharp phrases in that Quenya of hers. Though he didn't speak Quenya, Randir knew the Grey-Elven speech well enough, and decided it would serve to frame his comments. He was agreeing, if not politely, with her, genially adding something about stubborn elves. Megilien reverted to Westron, furious with him.
"Stubborn?" she asked, her voice quiet and horribly cold. "I have asked you your business and you will not tell me the truth. Again and again I ask, and still you avoid me. Stubborn? Yes. And I will remain so."
Randir glared at her, hardly able to keep his voice down. "But why must you ask? Is it of such importance to you that no traveler walk between the wilderlands and the sea unless you know why he walks? Or," he asked, his voice dropping to match hers, "Is it that you fears to return to Ithilen empty-handed, knowing you have failed your quest?"
Megilien's face, already elven-pale, went white. She said nothing, and Randir, hoping she was momentarily shocked into stillness, ducked around her and left the inn. As soon as he had cleared the doors he began to run, reaching the stables just as Megilien appeared in the doorway. He was pleased to have surprised her so, but, he realized, it was more that she had not expected him to admit the truth than not knowing at all. That she knew, he had no doubts. It was what she knew that worried him.
Ducking into the stable, Randir made straight for his horse. He threw open the gate to Hara's stall and began wrestling with her saddle blanket, knowing he would do better not to hurry, but unable to slow himself. He had just finished saddling his horse when Megilien caught up, standing in the doorway looking perfectly calm and not as if he had done anything unexpected. Randir winced, loooked up, and with a failing attempt tried to match her expression. Warily he asked "What do you want?"
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