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Snaveling moved away from the scene of his confrontation with Bredan with something like victory in his eye. He was glad that it had not come to blows with the young man, for he had come to value the good opinion of Aman and would have…regretted doing anything that could earn him her approbation. As he came into the Common Room he saw Toby at his usual table, leaning his head back against the wall and smoking his long and elaborate pipe. The old fellow’s eyes were closed but Snaveling could tell from where he stood that he was not asleep. For the first time since he was a child, Snaveling felt something stir in his breast that was akin to genuine affection. Of all those who had given so much to the Man in his time at the Inn, it was the friendship and good humour of the gentlehobbit that had perhaps done the most good. With Galadel and even Aman, he had been the recipient of good will and wishes from those who stood above him in some way. As for Roa, his feelings toward her – as different as they were now than when they had first met – continued as the feelings that one gives to one’s better. But with Toby there had been genuine comradeship from the beginning. Rogues and thieves they had been when they met, and rogues and thieves they remained, perhaps, but they had learned much together, and from each other.
Snaveling smiled to look upon his friend, but a gentle touch on his shoulder called his attention. He turned to find Roa standing before him, dressed once more in her travelling clothes. Her red hair was bound back into a braid and her pack was strapped securely beneath her cloak. Her eyes were hard and business-like as she spoke. “Snaveling,” she began formally, “I have received word from my King that I am to return to Minas Tirith immediately. I have been looking for you all morning to say that you must be ready to depart ere the evening, and now that time is almost upon us. If we do not leave now we will not have a chance to reach Bree before night and will be forced to spend a night upon the cold ground.”
Snaveling looked at Roa with a mixture of longing and despair. His heart beat out its indecision in his chest, torn between the desire to leap upward at the prospect of weeks spent in the close company of the Woman, and the need to fall for the loss of the Inn where it would ever be home. He stared at Roa in silence for a time, searching for the words he needed. “Snaveling,” she prompted him, “Did you hear what I’ve said? We must leave, now. I have obtained a horse for myself from the Thain but I have yet to find you a mount. I’m afraid that your reputation has spread through these parts and there are few who are willing to loan you their animal, even on the assurance of a Ranger! I am off just now to speak with the Thain – I am sure he will lend me another horse on the surety of King Elessar, on whose authority I can speak. I will be back within this half hour – you must be ready to depart by then.”
Snaveling nodded dumbly, trying to take in the flood of information. Roa moved away, but paused for a moment and looked back at him, “I know you are loath to leave this place. I am too. But I am bound by my duty to heed my King, and you are bound by your oath to accompany me before him, where you shall receive justice at his hand. Justice, but also mercy, I think.” She looked at him for a moment more and then left the Inn.
Snaveling’s mind swam as he rushed to the stables. He quickly removed his rich new cloak and gently folded it into his pack. He threw over his clothes the only sturdy piece of clothing that he had upon him when he arrived: his ragged, travel-stained cloak. The rest of his rags he left where they lay. It did not take him long to pack up his few belongings and put them into his pack. With one last look around at the stall that had become his home, he left the stables and went back to the Inn to make his farewells.
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