"Orzammar?" Sam repeats, looking confused. Then his expression brightens. "Oh! That must be where the dwarves live, mustn't it? But no, I'm not from there at all; nor am I a dwarf." He smiles, in a good enough mood between the promise of a meal and the (potential at least) new friend that he doesn't even mind explaining again. "I'm a hobbit, and I'm from the Shire in Middle-earth, though it's probably faster just to say that I'm from far away, and - well." He holds up his left hand, letting her see the mark that all Rifters bear.