[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Snaveling was moved by Aman’s gesture of allegiance with him and he reached up to place his hand over hers by token of appreciation. He felt her fingers tighten on his shoulder and with that gesture he knew that she was content to have the truth of her parentage be told. Once more, Snaveling had to quell the sudden petty joy he would have in once more triumphing over Valthalion with the extent of his sudden good fortune – not just a King, but one with a beautiful heir of his own who respected him, and was not ashamed of her lineage.

He smiled at the young Ranger and answered the look of surprise on his face. “Aman is gracious, my young friend, in allowing me to reveal to you that my line is not doomed to fade. As Aman and I have only just discovered, she is my grand-daughter, child of my son who was lost as a babe and raised by a noble man of Rohan to think he was of that land. You should be honoured! For you are only the second person to learn of this, and the first among Men; not even the King Elessar himself is yet aware that the noble line of Numenor shall be preserved. Perhaps your coming here at this time is more than the working of chance, for it seems to me appropriate that one of Elessar’s own house should arrive to do my grand-daughter the courtesies that are her due!”

Aman pulled slightly at Snaveling’s shoulder, pulling him back somewhat from his boasting. “Nay nay, sir, do not demand that of the young man! I am still but a maid of Rohan and the Innkeeper of the Green Dragon, these are honours enough. I would not have you make me a princess, or have you force others to acknowledge me as one!”

“But you are one, my girl, no matter how you may feel about it. You are the last heir of Vanished Numenor and when my time comes to join my ancestors that is a burden that you must take up.”

“Still,” she said, and her tone was more stern now, “I will not have this man or any other treat me like royalty. Sit Valthalion!” she said, seeing him rise to his feet as though in preparation for a bow or some other courtly nonsense. “Do not listen to…my grandfather. He is, I fear, having some fun with you in the excess of his own pleasure at our having found one another.” She looked at Snaveling and smiled, but there was a familiar glint of iron in her eye. Snaveling looked to Valthalion.

“Aman is right, sir, I am but lighthearted, perhaps even lightheaded, in my joy. You well remember how I was before: to find myself so utterly changed…! But come, tell me of your own travels. It has been long since we last took a drink together at the Inn. Where have you been and what sorts of trouble have you been getting into?”