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Hearpwine watched Mae return to Gomen with the good news that he had not forgotten his offer in the time it had taken him to walk from the stables. He smiled at the boy, wondering why he was standing about so anxiously, and then it came to him Oh dear, Gomen thinks that I meant to go walking immediately, and not after a few hours of much needed rest! His heart fell at the realisation, but his aspect showed only friendly warmth to the lad. “Gomen,” he called out as heartily as he could, “be a good lad and fetch me my walking stave from my room. We’ll have need of it if we are to tackle the eastern hills!” The boy’s eyes sparkled and he ran off to seek what Hearpwine had asked. Mae was moving away as Hearpwine spoke to her brother, so he had to raise his voice to be heard. He affected as much nonchalance as he could as he asked the maid if she wished to join he and her brother in their walk. She paused in her step and looked at him with that maddeningly pretty expression of mild shock and embarrassment and his heart warmed to her all the more. She is comely he admitted, comely and merry, but she is too young at heart to know the full feeling of admiration for a man – she is concerned with boys still. He smiled at her, silently wishing for her a boy who would suit her – and be worthy of her.
Mae made a non-committal noise and quickly left for the kitchen. Whether she intended to join him and Gomen or not he did not know. Shrugging, and laughing slightly under his breath, Hearpwine turned back to Hanasían who was looking a little better for the tea he was drinking. Hearpwine drank off another quaff of the brew himself and then poured out another mug, being sure to add a great quantity of honey to sweeten it. As he sipped this more slowly he returned to his conversation with the Ranger. “Ay, I have been – what did you call it? – ‘burning the candle at both ends’.” He laughed heartily at the image. “An apt expression, and one that I’ve not heard before. Is it from your land in the North?”
Hanasían smiled weakly through his headache. “No,” he replied. “Well, not precisely. It is from the north, and it is from a land that I consider as dear as any other. For many years did my folk protect the land of the Halflings, and while we may have received little recognition or thanks, we were able to add to our own language many items from the great storehouse of words of the little folk!”
“So you are familiar with the land of Shire?” Hearpwine asked eagerly. “I have never been there myself, and I have only met a Halfling once, and that was all too briefly. Still, if I could have chosen to meet only one Halfing it would have been the very one whose hand I had the honour to shake: Samwise Gamgee himself. Samwise the Stouthearted, who bore his master and friend Frodo of the Nine Fingers up the very slopes of Mount Doom to the dismay and downfall of the Enemy. Long have I desired to fit that tale to music, but I have never yet found words worthy of their deed! But tell me, do you know much of the Shire? And have you met any of the Halflings who came from the north to disturb the counsels of the great?”
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