[Kransha]

If Toby had not already been circumspect in his every movement, and wary in the extreme, the sock of seeing Snaveling materialize before him might’ve killed him with the shock of it. The look, fresh and warm, of his old comrade’s face brought light to his own, and a ready smile with it. Snaveling looked strangely different, in his garb and merry gait. He looked stately, well-off, and regal in his own way, which brought a newfound happiness to Tobias Hornblower. His eyes gleamed momentarily as he returned the look of his friend, embracing him in a rush of confusion, happiness, and relief. Of all people who might sympathize with him now, of all the people in the land of Eriador, he was the one who Toby had most desired to see. Almost eagerly, forgetting his terrible position, Toby, half with the assistance of a boisterous Snaveling, was escorted to another, more brightly lit and central table. He flung himself, almost weary but still in a festive mood, into an open chair, thanking his lucky stars about the happenstance. As his mouth ran uncontrolled, he at last formed a structured sentence, though it was still garbled in excitement.

“Snaveling…” he paused, looking up and down the length of the man, “Snaveling, you devil! I thought you were in Gondor?”

He would’ve said more, but just then the hobbit, awestruck, was interrupted by the worst possible thing imaginable: the ale-bearing innkeeper. The only thing that would’ve been worse would be the local Shirriff, or maybe his sister Opal (he really, truly, disliked that woman). It was not, though, that he disliked Aman. On the contrary, he was very happy to see her, he just wasn’t happy about her seeing him. He masked his ill looks well, not successfully, but well. Snaveling certainly noticed, but it was impossible to tell what Aman with thinking. That was one of her many talents, being able to look one thing and look something completely different. Even Snaveling, who’d led a shaded life since he stepped in the Dragon, could not accomplish such a feat. But, none of this mattered. Toby couldn’t think; his mind was a whirling blank, which was much more confusing than a simple, motionless blank, or a whirling something. He’d been found out, at least to some extent, but he had to again remind himself that he was still among friends here, still with companions. At last his mental faculties settled long enough for the Halfling to hear Aman question him about supper. Moving involuntarily, as if he were blinking an eye, he responded without thought or hesitation.

“No,” he said, politely, fitting a smile to his features carefully, a master at work, “no food, thank you. I’m really not hungry right now.”

He was starving. Toby hadn’t eaten in a day and a half, the longest he had ever gone without victuals. He couldn’t conceal the speed at which he guzzled the ample mug of ale Aman place before him. Whatever residue dribbled down his fuzzy chin was promptly slurped up in a very crude manner. Taking a number of exhausted breaths, Toby nearly slumped forward, catching himself on the table, and then sunk below the rim again, his fervent attitude shrinking and evaporating in the presence of the merry innkeeper. As soon as he’d seen Snaveling, he’d immediately been struck by the urge to confess all, but now he certainly could not. He had to wait until she left, then he could tell Snaveling. He would know, he would understand. As much as he trusted the innkeeper, this was a biting secret she would surely be averse to hearing. She’d find out in less than a week anyway, but until then, Toby preferred to keep his friends his friends, and be as honest with them as he could. Unfortunately, he had thus concluded that his need for lies, and for petty thievery, was nearly pathological, but he’d get past that. There was no crime he could commit now that would be villainous to outmatch that done already, but no one knew this…no one here, certainly.

“What brings you again to the Green Dragon, Mister Hornblower. No doubt you have an interesting tale in store.”

She’d boxed him in, he was trapped like a rat. He couldn’t tell her the truth, but he had sworn not to lie. He fumbled about verbally for a second, his tongue twisting from side to side in his mouth wordlessly. He raised a shivering forefinger, with a verbose look on his face, but stuttered incoherently instead of speaking. Aman smiled politely, hovering nearby, a mixture of a tranquil dove and a watchful hawk. He had to think of something, neither a lie nor truth, but could not. His usually sharp mind failed him. He looked around, nervous eyes flitting back and forth madly, from Aman, to a contented Snaveling, to a relatively unfamiliar woman who Toby had never met. She seemed genuinely intriguing, though somewhat simple, but her hair color and well-framed face brought back a second familiarity. He was reminded of someone, especially by that hair, but could not place the image. He did not let his eyes linger too long on her, as did not wish to rudely stare. Instead, the murky eyes nestled in his wizened face wriggled around uncomfortably, avoiding contact. At last, something came, pathetic as it was. “I was…” he paused, thinking furiously, “was…just walking about and decided to drop by…

It was a terrible lie and he knew he could do better. So he did.

“I mean, I was in the area…because I’m on my way to visit my cousin in the Northfarting. My cousin, Petunia Proudfoot, is a mighty fine Hobbit lass, a wee bit older than me, but she’s gotten sick. The physician sent us a note that she detracted a very rare disease after a picnic this winter with some relatives. They fear she’ll be abed for a few weeks, and thought she could use a younger fellow around the house to help her. She’s not all there in the head, you see, and the sickness doesn’t help. As one of her most prosperous relatives, I was delegated to go, get her affairs in order for her, straighten up the place, and use some funds to hire a helping hand. She’d do well with a helper around, she would, so I’ve come up from Longbottom and am headed north, though I don’t have a mandatory arrival time. Since it’s a very long trip, it is, and since I don’t need to be there for a few days more, I up and decided I’d stop off here and rest for a day…or four…Yes, that’s it.”

The whole speech sounded ridiculously contrived, and Aman knew, even though Toby had poured every last ounce of his habitual skill into it. Her smile remained gentle and calm, though Toby could tell that her mind’s wheels were at work. He smiled haphazardly, and fell back, defeated by the situation, into his chair. Aman nodded, at least trying to look understanding. Toby could only hope that she didn’t press the matter, or that she’d be distracted by something. Though Toby made himself look comfortable and content, he was on the edge of his seat, and, beneath the table, grubby fingernails scratched anxiously at old wood, making an irksome sound that was probably audible to all at the table. There was nothing that Toby could do but hope that the innkeeper, who he really wished he could speak to honestly, would leave the premises.