|
Of all the questions Mithalwen could have asked him, Snaveling could think of none that would have been less to his liking. He was caught between two very difficult facts. First, he well knew the impossibility of lying outright to an Elf of her many years. He could keep things from her, but his secrecy would cast a shadow upon her mind that she would easily descry, as storm clouds upon a sunny day. The other fact was that he had as yet to speak with Aman, and he knew in his heart that it would be wrong to discuss such a matter in full with someone else before he had a chance to be alone with the Innkeeper. Mithalwen saw his hesitation and spoke again to relieve him of his discomfort. “I would not have you speak of matters that give you pain, nor would I want you to betray a trust that you feel honour bound to keep.”
Snaveling smiled with gratitude. “There is no bond or oath that seals my lips, if that is what you mean, but there are…considerations that I must take into account if we are to speak of Aman.”
“Perhaps it would be best then if we did not?” But even as she spoke Mithalwen’s eyes glittered with ill-concealed curiosity. Again the Man smiled.
“Nay, I know too well the manner of your kind. Already you have sensed much of the truth about me and Aman, and I would not have you pretend otherwise.” And as he spoke he lifted somewhat the shadows that he had cast upon the storehouse of his mind and he could see her react with surprise at his skill. Aloud he continued. “Indeed I know Aman of old, for it was she who played a part in my redemption. She was not alone in that mighty and bewildering act of kindness, but of all the others she is the only one who remains. Roa, the woman I seek, was another, and there was the Elf Galadel Vinorel of whom I have already spoken. There was a fourth, but of him I shall not speak, for I fear that he may be in danger and I would not deepen that by loose words.” Toby, you old fool, where are you and how much trouble have you got yourself into this time? “What I will say is this: your suspicions about this horse, which you would hide from me, are true: it is I who brought it to Aman and presented it to her as a gift of thanks for her many kindnesses to me.”
He saw the light come on in Marigold’s eye as she heard this, and for the first time the Man and Elf noticed that the lass had somehow managed to clamber up to the back of the mighty beast by scaling the stall’s gate. She looked like nothing more than a human babe atop Felarof, last of the mearas, but at the same time strangely at her ease as she rubbed her face into the great mane. Snaveling moved to take the bridle at the same moment as the girl spoke. She was excited, and her words came at a high-pitched rush. “I knew it!” she cried in triumph, “I knew it! You are a Ranger and you have had adventures! Just like the King Elessar you’ve fallen in love with a Rohan woman, except this time you really have fallen in love with her and given her a horse!”
Snaveling shook his head and reached for the bridle as she spoke, but before he could explain to the lass that she had the situation all wrong – he was not the lover of the Shire’s imaginations – Marigold clapped her hands and kicked her heels with delight. The great horse, though well trained, was still a free spirited beast, bred for combat and action and the sudden movement and sound at his back drove him forward. With a single blow of his hooves the stall flung open and Snaveling was thrown back into the straw. There was a mighty whinny and a rush of hooves as the horse flew from the stables and cantered about the yard with Marigold clinging to his back for dear life. Suddenly freed, Felarof turned and galloped around to the back of the Inn, where his nostrils had found out the delicious scents of the kitchen garden…
|