[Fordim Hedgethistle]

The night air came over Snaveling like a clean blanket, fresh and cool from having just been laid on the bed. The sounds of the party drifted out to him through the open windows, but out here the raucous outcry of joy was much reduced and more manageable. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, smelling the cleanliness of the yard with its small copses of trees, and the well-tilled earth of the Shire. There was a stiff breeze from the West this night, and for a moment the Man fancied that he could almost smell the Sea, but he knew that was impossible. He had grown up on the shores of the Sea, and his first skills had been learnt on it. But it had been many years since he had seen her shining like gems in the morning light, and burning with her watery lights of infinite colours in the evening.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the stars. The Mariner was almost directly overhead, and so brightly did he shine that even without a moon Snaveling could see his own form lightly shadowed on the neatly trimmed grass of the yard. “Flammifer of Westernesse,” he muttered under his breath, remembering an old tale, long forgotten. “How long has it been, I wonder since I last looked on your cold beauty and did not curse it? So long have I walked in the dark, but now I feel the need for light.” He slid his hand into his pocket and fingered the coin that he had taken from Toby’s pouch. He felt an odd twinge at the back of his mind, but he shook it away. “Besides,” he said aloud, as though speaking with another, “Toby would not mind loaning me the coin!”

A small voice spoke out to him from the shadows, asking “Who’s there?” Snaveling spun about but the voice came from a small hobbit lad whom he’d seen loitering about the yard the past few days.

“It’s nobody,” replied Snaveling. “And who might you be? And what are you doing out here so late at night?”

The hobbit stepped forward into the light of the Star and replied eagerly. “Begging your pardon, sir, but please don’t tell my father on me. Or Miss Aman, either sir, if you please. She’s been told not to let me hang about here in the dark. My name’s Pimpernel Brandybuck, and I’ve just come by to have a look at the party.” He turned back toward one of the windows. “There’s such an awful lot of odd folk in there. From all over Middle-Earth and all! Why, there’s even Elves in there Sir. Elves!”

Snaveling could not prevent a smile. “I know, lad, I know. One of those Elves is even my friend.” The lad’s eyes grew wide and he demanded to know which one. Snaveling carefully pointed out Galadel and Pimpernel let out a low whistle. “Why I’ve seen her. She’s one of those Noble elves, or I’m a dragon.”

“Well, you’re not a dragon, but she’s not a Noble elf, either. She’s of great nobility, but if she’s anything she’s one of the Noldor.”

Pimpernel’s tone when he spoke next was full of admiration. “Why, Sir, you’re a regular Wizard for what you know.”

“Far from it,” Snaveling answered, suddenly bitter. “I know nothing.” His eyes had fallen on Roa once more. With a sudden determination he turned to the lad, holding out the gold coin that he had taken from Toby. “Here lad, take this and do me an errand. There must be a tailor hereabouts?” Pimpernel nodded dumbly as he took the money. “Well, good,” Snaveling continued. “I want you to run and fetch him as quick as you can. I know how late it is, but I daresay he’ll be willing to come out for that kind of money. Tell him that there’s a Man who wants a new set of clothes. They need to be handsome, but not too fine. Have him bring along some samples. When he arrives, tell him to wait for me in the stable and run into the Inn to let me know. Do you understand all that?” The boy nodded. “Good. Then off you go. If this works out, then I might have something for you, too!”

Pimpernel looked at the gold in his hand and just like that, was off running down the lane. Snaveling watched him disappear around the bend in the road before heading back inside to the light and roar of the party. He quickly settled himself down in the chair next to Toby’s and reached for his snifter once more. “Well Toby,” he roared out, loud enough to break through the gentlehobbit’s snores and bring him back to wakefulness. “You’re being a right bore, sleeping the night away. Let us talk about the joys of the simple life: food, smoke and friendship!”