[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The soup smelled delicious, but Snaveling’s stomach was still full with the stolen bread and meat of his breakfast. It had been many years since he had enjoyed more than one hearty meal in a day, so it was without any hardship that he passed his bowl of soup to Roa, saying “You should have this, my lady. From the sounds of it, you need it a good deal more than I.” At that Roa smiled, and thanked him with an expression that Snaveling recognised as kind. He regarded this Woman for a moment in a new light, kindled by this look and by the echo of the easy laugh that had filled her frame just moments before. Snaveling was capable of laughter, but only at the expense of others – her laugh had been different, and it had rekindled memories that he had thought long forgotten. Roa attacked this second bowl with vigour, giving Snaveling a moment to think in silence. He had been taken aback by Roa’s blunt assertion of her suspicions, and he could see that it was not going to be an easy thing to turn her against Valthalion. Not that this surprised him in the least: as far as he was concerned, these self-proclaimed Men of the West were all the same in their arrogant presumption to rule the lands they had taken from Snaveling’s ancestors in ages past. Still, it could not hurt to try and win Roa to him in whatever measure he could. “You appear to be enjoying your soup, my lady,” he said.

She looked at him over the rim of her bowl. “Yes, thank you. The Halflings are renowned for their cooking and I see now that this reputation is not undeserved.”

“Are you familiar with these people?”

“Only what I have heard of them from my lord.” She saw the searching expression in Snaveling’s eye. For a moment, Roa hesitated, but then she explained, “I serve the King Elessar.” Snaveling could barely control his reaction of distaste, and Roa could see this. She sat forward. Her eye became hard, but her voice was even as she said, “I know that many Men such as you feel you have cause against my lord and King, but he is wise and just. He will give you justice, should you seek it of him.”

Snaveling readied a spiteful retort, but something in the eye of this Woman stopped it in his throat. Perhaps he was afraid of what she might do should he insult her King. Perhaps, just perhaps, Snaveling really did, for a moment, feel the air of lost Numenor about them – he himself would have been hard pressed to explain his sudden mood. Roa’s words came back to him: You do have redeeming qualities in you, she had said. Long may you think so, to your detriment Snaveling chuckled inwardly…and yet, even as he did so, something that he had not felt in a long time began to squirm at the back of his mind. It was a nameless feeling, more an instinct of Men than an idea, an instinct that was not dissimilar to conscience.

But then his eye fell on Valthalion helping with the dishes and the food, and all such feelings were driven back. Keep your mind on your business, he warned himself. There was still the matter of his gold to see to, not to mention keeping out of the lockups and avoiding a nasty confrontation with either Valthalion or – Oromwe forbid – Roa herself, should her memory return. He returned his gaze to Roa and saw the searching look with which she was regarding him. He hid his thoughts.