A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 8

Sleep for me that night became fitful despite my bath and food. I kept dreaming of vaguely threatening things that I couldn’t remember upon waking yet kept waking me all the same. The next morning, I found a note waiting for me from Gandalf when I went down to breakfast. It read, simply,

I frowned down at it as I had my porridge and fruit. The wizard had said all that he needed to say the night before, I thought? I scraped every last bit of the bowl clean before I made my way upstairs with his note in a pocket. I knocked, opened the door at his call, and stepped inside warily. “I didn’t expect you to still be here after our conversation last night,” I greeted him.

He motioned for me to close the door and I did so. “Morchandir,” he said with a nod. “I realized I had been hasty in my dismissal of you. I have little time left before I must leave and so must you. I needed to give you some information that will aid you with your next steps. What will they be?” He motioned slightly. “Will you travel to the north or to the east, now?”

I made a sound of thought. I hadn’t slept well partially because of how that question had weighed on my mind. “East,” I decided uncertainly. “Though I’m not sure who to speak to or where to begin. This isn’t my strong suit, heroism. I’m more comfortable sneaking and stabbing and stealing.”

“Those can be honorable enough pursuits when turned to the proper causes,” he informed me. “If it’s to the east that you’ve set your mind, then here is what I will say to you.” He moved through the room almost restlessly for a few moments of silence as he gathered his thoughts. “You have done much good for the people of Bree-land, but the Shadow out of Angmar spreads far and wide,” he began. “I have learned from Gwaihir the Windlord that another of my order has found corruption in the Lone-lands, east of Bree. It may even be related to the dangers you encountered in the Great Barrow.”

I lifted my head slightly. I didn’t know who Gwaihir might have been but I knew the Lone-lands were where I had to head if I traveled to the east. “Lone-lands,” I echoed. “So, is that where the name Eriador came from?”

He seemed amused. “I was under the impression you had little education.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been a place or two,” I replied brusquely. “You mentioned your order, though. Another wizard? How can I find him?”

He chuckled somewhat grimly. “Unfortunately, Radagast is given to wandering and will be difficult to find.” Not at all like yourself, I wanted to point out but held my tongue. “I would ask that you enlist the assistance of the Rangers in finding his location. There is one here in Bree-land, Saeradan, who will be able to aid you.”

“You mean one left after Amdir went on his killing spree.” I then shook my head at his scowl. “I can’t be that unkind. Lenglinn still remains to the west of Bree recuperating, I’m sure.”

He seemed to soften slightly at my verbal step back. “Head out of Bree through the West-gate and turn north along the Greenway. Seek Saeradan at his cabin on the east side of the Greenway across from Thornley’s Work Site,” he instructed. “Saerdan is not a young green Ranger, which means he’s capable and wiser than you may believe. Rangers don’t live to old age without incurring that sort of knowledge, much as elves and other races.”

“Maybe not dwarves or hobbits,” I muttered.

“Indeed,” Gandalf acknowledged. “Their wisdom is oft hidden or disguised. We far too often expect it in the form of elvish parables and the thoughts of wizards such as myself.” He motioned away the train of conversation. “However, back to the matter at hand. Having enlisted the aid of Strider, the continued defense of Bree-land and its borders falls to Saeradan. I think he will be amenable to helping you, Morchandir. Ask him for aid in this matter.”

“Saerdan,” I noted. “And Radagast the Brown.” I heaved a sigh. “Are you really certain it has to be me?”

Gandalf shook his head. “I would rather a more willing participant aid us, but the times are dire, and you are capable. There is nobody else I can ask. Though you may find yourself reluctant now, rest assured you will come to want this with time.”

“If you say so,” I replied, eyes rolling.

“Go, young Morchandir. Time is of the essence and I must be gone to aid Strider and the hobbits.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I turned with a goodbye that I knew to be more final this time and exited his quarters. I waved to Butterbur on the way out of the Pony and counted out my remaining coin in the hopes I might afford even a cheap horse. I found I couldn’t if I wanted to keep money for my next meal, wherever that might be, or a bed that didn’t have lice or manure in the straw.

Only three options remained to me, then: steal a horse, burgle coin, or come by the money everything in a legitimate fashion. I didn’t really have a desire to run through Bree avoiding the constables and their men – and, to be honest, the little fame that I’d received by putting the old spirit to bed in his tomb again felt strangely satisfying enough that I didn’t want to ruin it by becoming a wanted criminal in the town.

Pocketing my coins once more, I turned to the left and made my way through the Market Gate toward the Boar Fountain a bit further on. Horses clopped by on shod hooves, sometimes pulling wagons full of goods, and I easily avoided them. My destination was the task board with its many requests for various items. I could get good money for filling these orders. The work might not be as terrible as mining or looting tombs in the Barrow-Downs, either.

A posted paper on a nearby column of wood grabbed my attention before I reached the board, however. When I took a closer look out of curiosity, I found the following written on the bill:

“Greetings to you, friend! Have the delicious smells emanating on a hungry day from Mandrake’s Finest Stews and Sauces caused you to desire that meal-time was nearer? If so, you know the high quality of Sig Mandrake’s preparations and know what is at stake, should they be hindered.

“Sig Mandrake has a need for interested parties to help him with the preparation of such a stew. Speak with him at his shop here in Bree, east of the Mud-gate, for the details.”

My nose wrinkled, but the truth remained plain: I could very easily make some coin by catching this man’s turtles for his soup. I might even be able to get a free meal from it as well. I had very little time to waste; however, I wouldn’t be able to ride far without a horse and some gear at this point, if I truly did mean to take up Gandalf’s offer of heroism. The idea called to me with a whisper at the back of my mind. Maybe I wasn’t the best choice; to be honest, I was the least suitable for the job, given my proclivities and background. Yet, there in my mind stood my son and my erstwhile foster parents proudly welcoming me home with the entirety of Lake-town taking notice. My ex-wife and her new lover would never best the stories told about me or the reputation I had carved out for myself helping to save the world. If she came back, I could turn her away from our son and myself.

It was a beautiful future. The most important part of it, for me, would be giving Leith the ability to walk without shame and taunts thrown at him for his father’s line of work. His father bloody well saved you all, I would growl at them and their guardians. How dare you repay him by treating his son this way?

I snatched off one of the posted bills and smirked behind my mask as I turned from the task board. There would be time for that, once I collected these turtles. First, however, I would need to speak to this man and find out what I would be getting in return for my efforts.

The Mud Gate was a familiar enough name for me, but I was no native of Bree to know where it might be from this side of the town. I had been there once already to attend Albra Lowbanks after the hobbit requested for me to come to her for training, after all. A few queries as to its location, and finally a flash of the bill, had one of the natives of the town offering me an amused expression. “Oh, Mandrake’s Finest Stews and Sauces is where you’re headed. Thought about doing that, myself, but it’s a bit too dangerous out there for the likes of me these days.” He pointed down the cobbled street to one side that curved off to the right. “You’ll be wanting to go that way. Just follow the street. It’s right smack in the middle of the Mud Gate, Ironmonger’s Gate, and inside the Stone Quarter. High Bridge and High Stair are nearby too, in case you’re interested. Look for the hedge fencing.”

I set off and followed the bend of the road until it passed beneath a stone bridge. The High Bridge, I realized as I looked upward at it. Things began to seem oddly familiar to me, as if I had seen this area before…

My gaze floated from the bridge to the hedge fencing so common in Bree and I halted abruptly. Beyond the fence stood another one that I had been through once already. Within stood the Lowbanks’ Estate. Part of me suddenly wanted to wander in and surprise the hobbit with my presence, uncalled for, but I shook my head and studied the buildings instead. One of these was where I needed to go right now. At least I knew for certain I had come to the right place.

A woman dressed in bits of armor exited from a multi-story home while I stood there watching. I glanced at the sack she carried to the rest of her and then finally to the door from where she’d emerged. It seemed to be the right place, unless murder and mayhem had become commonplace here, so I headed to the door. I knocked before opening it and stepping within just in case. It wasn’t locked, which was a good sign, and nobody screamed at me to get out of their house – also quite heartening.

A brown-haired man stood sweeping the floor of the main room near the hearth. A large bed stood nearby, and a rug stretched over the floor. My feet stuttered to a halt in the archway as uncertainty overtook me. “Ummm…” I began, shuffling slightly to back out once more.

He looked up, blinked at my masked features, and seemed confused. “Are you well?” he greeted me worriedly. “Whyever do you have on that mask, sir?” He then looked even more confused. “It IS sir, isn’t it?”

“How many women have you met who are this height and have a voice as deep as mine?” I countered instantly, hands moving to my hips. I towered over the majority of Men and even Elves. “I should be asking if you’re the one who’s well!”

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and leaned the broom against the wall nearby. “You are here about the turtle soup, I presume?” he asked as politely as he could given how awkward things had become. At my nod, he continued. “I have had callers all day! Perhaps I prepared too many of those notices. My hobbit-friend has been very eager about posting them, I must say.”

“Hobbits seem to be very eager by nature when it comes to food-based items,” I agreed. “The name’s Morchandir. I was told your shop was here, but this… doesn’t really look like a shop?” People have come in all day, I thought with less enthusiasm. Will there even be a single turtle in a five-league radius of this place? Is that where all those wights came from? People trying to catch turtles in the Barrow-downs’ swamps?

“Not yet,” he agreed. “I have hopes that it will, though!” He brightened considerably at the thought. “I have come into possession of an order for a large batch of turtle soup. Normally this would not be a problem, but the desired recipe is most specific about the sort of turtles that can be used.”

“There’s a difference?” I asked, bewildered. “What-“

“Not just any turtle will do,” Sig continued as if by rote. I wondered how many times he had said this exact thing over the course of the day. “They must be tiny turtles, and these are found only at very specific locations.”

I lifted a hand to rub at the back of my neck as I rolled my head around. “Tiny turtles,” I echoed dubiously. “Baby turtles?”

He shook his head. “No, tiny ones. They don’t grow terribly large.” He motioned at me. “You wish to join the ranks of the many, many adventurers who have agreed to help me with this?” I sighed and nodded, otherwise silent. It was fast and easy money. He seemed to notice the tone of that sigh. “Good, I suppose. Tiny turtles, like those I need, can be found south of Bree, along the northern bank of Halecatch Lake.” He chuckled. “You will see many other folk trying to catch turtles for me, I expect, so good luck trying to find any of the small creatures I need!”

I grimaced despite the fact he couldn’t see it. “I think I might surprise you. Do you have a bag?” I hooked a thumb back over my shoulder at the door. “I noticed the last person left with one. I don’t suppose I can carry an armload of baby-“

“Tiny,” he corrected.

“TINY,” I emphasized, “turtles back here without losing them all.”

He took up a burlap sack from a dwindled pile and offered it to me. “Or getting bitten repeatedly,” he agreed with such cheer that I had to rethink my urgent need for money for a few moments. I wound up taking the sack and turned to leave. “Halecatch Lake?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll return shortly.” There was no way in Eriador that I would let anyone clean out that lake of tiny turtles if it wasn’t me. This bag won’t be big enough, I vowed privately. I had half a mind to stop and ask for a second sack but felt it might be too cocky. I might have an ego about some things; however, this wasn’t one of them.

It took me a bit of time to get back to the Boar Fountain and head south to the gate some distance away. When I set out on the road, I passed a large camp full of armored individuals and merchants who seemed intent on staying exactly where they were rather than moving into the town proper. Tents, a campfire, goods in crates – surely, I thought as I kept moving past, it might be more comfortable in a building?

The sight of a large lake sparkling in the sunlight to the southwest drew my attention and sent me over hill and dale toward it. How many lakes surround Bree? I wondered as I traveled. Surely none to the south but this one? I heard the sound of hoofbeats passing me a little way to the right heading in the same direction. This is going to get ugly, I realized. I am not about to kill people over tiny turtles. I then had to amend, At least not if they don’t try to kill me first.

I found myself looking at the lake from a higher elevation shortly thereafter. Horses dotted the landscape here and there. People did, too. Some of them had already begun the ride back with full sacks of what had to be tiny turtles. A pair of dwarves wrestled on the ground near a pony as the turtles they had caught in their sacks fled slowly back toward the solace of the water. “Note to self,” I muttered under my breath as I began my descent, “stay away from angry little men.”

The northern bank, Mandrake had said, but people had fanned out all around the lake in their fierce, competitive needs to catch the most turtles. I tapped one index finger against my thigh as I contemplated where to go for my own search when a woman’s voice spoke nearby. “If I were you, I would try a little farther to the northeast.”

I shifted my attention to the left. Shapely, dark haired, and dressed in leathers, she had a bow, quiver full of arrows, and a sword at her side as well as a hunting knife. A Hunter, I thought warily. “Have you come to claim some to take in?” I asked her after a moment.

She smirked and I saw that a scar pulled at her lips. “No, actually. I’m just here to watch them and laugh at how they flounder around until they get lucky.” She jerked her chin toward the general lake area. “There’s no challenge in this for me.” She turned her bemused gaze to me. “Why? Are you afraid I’ll help you and then whack you over the head with a sack of turtles to take your loot?”

“Never been whacked with a sack of turtles,” I replied drolly. “Remind me to get into trouble that way some day.”

She laughed lightly and nodded slightly toward the northeast. “Come this way. I doubt there are many left out there. I’ll help you find them.” She turned and made her way off, saying over her shoulder, “Unless you want to flounder around like the rest of them all day and come out of it wet and miserable.”

I strode after her. “I got enough of that in the Barrow-downs and wading the Withywindle,” I replied with a roll of my eyes. “I might like to stay dry at least for a full day, if possible.”

I followed her around the northern edge of the lakeshore for a little bit before she spoke once again. “They like to rest and catch the sun on the shore. All of this flailing and splashing around drives them into the deeper waters.” She paused and sank into a crouch to point at marks along the muddy bank. “See these? They don’t move too far up. That way when predators come for them, they just push off into the water again. They’re much faster there than on land. It’s why you have to wait for them to sun themselves.” She looked up at the other people around the lake with disdain. “And why you should find a place to have a nap for a while until the activity dies down and they feel safe again.”

I frowned. “But we just got here,” I tried to argue. She lifted her hand to stop me. “Listen, Longshanks, I’ve been out here since dawn. It’s almost the heat of the day right now. There are fewer people than an hour ago and the quarry won’t be coming out anytime soon due to the heat being too much for them. Give it another hour, maybe two, and the ranks of people will thin out. They won’t catch anything. They’ll think there isn’t anything left to catch. It will be too hot for their tempers and they’ll be too hungry to work through it. Too wet, too. Tempers and a shortage of prey items will have most of them calling it quits. The ones you have to worry about then are the Hunters, like me, who want to keep going.” She examined the shoreline for a long moment. “But I’m not seeing anyone who acts like they know anything out here at this point, so you’re safe.” She turned her attention to me again, head tipped up to meet my gaze with her own. “It gets quiet, it gets a bit cooler, and the turtles show back up where the activity is NOT.”

I looked at the lakeshore again. “Noted,” I said in slight distraction. She waved for my attention and received it. “What?”

“You’re going to want some of that shade over there,” she told me. “Don’t get too close to the cones there.” She pointed them out. “Neekers live in them and they get territorial around their nests.”

I squinted at them. “Can their shells be valuable?”

She gave me a flat look. “Maybe. It depends on if anyone needs them. Didn’t you check the board before coming out here?” She shook her head. “Nevermind that. Get set up in the shade over there and wait it out. I don’t know how many of these turtles are left out here, but you’ll get to take some of them in if you do what I’ve told you.” She flipped her hand in a lazy wave as she began to walk off. “Good luck.”

“Mm. You as well.” I watched her leaving, aware we hadn’t even exchanged names, and then headed toward the patch of shade she had pointed out to me. My innate wariness told me to expect some kind of betrayal. The rest of me countered that she had no reason to do so and that I would be far more likely to betray her instead. I settled down with my back against the trunk of the tree, lifted my hood to cover my head above the mask, and got as comfortable as I could to nap while sitting on my burlap sack. A thief might lift it from my sleeping form were I to carry it, but they most certainly couldn’t take it from beneath me without tearing it apart first.

Time passed in a slightly hazy fashion in the way of the dozing. I could hear the clattering and splashing of the others as if in a dream that grew fainter and fainter. Soon, I did awaken fully with only the sounds of crickets and buzzing insects to welcome me. The angle of light and the shadow the tree cast told me that some time had passed. The heat had lessened. Waves lapped the shoreline in gentle ways. I casually, quietly, leaned up and twisted around to have a look at Halecatch Lake to make sure that I had heard things properly.

I had. The nearest people were halfway around the lake. I might not have a lot of time before the next wave of would-be Hunters came swarming the shores again. I finally got to my feet, dusted off my trousers, and took up my sack once again. Only then did I pad silently toward the banks as if sneaking up on someone – because I was. I spotted several turtles lying along the shoreline, spaced out here and there, resting just as the unknown Hunter had said they would. I could even see their tiny eyes were closed, though “tiny turtles” was not what I would call them. I had expected turtles the size of coins or even a small ball of twine. These turtles were the size of pumpkins and full of spikes. You aren’t turtles, I told them silently as I approached and opened my bag. You’re a really large morningstar.

I had no idea how to grab the thing and put it in the sack. I decided to take the mouth of the bag in both hands, plunge the thing over the turtle, and scoop it, mud and all, into the burlap. It worked, thankfully, but the thing hissed and struggled inside so that I frowned at it. It occurred to me only then that I wouldn’t be able to repeat the gesture with the next turtle given the first weighed down the sack too much. Looking at the next one sunning itself a bit down from me, I wondered how in Mordor I’d be able to grab it and keep the first turtle inside the bag.

The idea I had sounded idiotic at best, but it was the best I could come up with at this point. I retreated to the tree and searched for a fallen branch sturdy enough to use as leverage. This time, when I approached my next turtle victim, I slowly extended my stick to its tail end and gave it a quick flick. It didn’t fly farther up the bank like I’d thought and hoped; however, it did land on its back as a shell alone. I stared at it for a long moment before opening the bag. Checking on the one inside, which had remained silent the whole time, I found that it, too, had pulled itself within its shell. They slid into the water when startled, but if they couldn’t do so, they hid within their hard exteriors. The Hunter had neglected to tell me that part.

I picked up the turtle and put it into the bag with the first. I then proceeded to creep stealthily up to the others that had settled along the shoreline during my nap. With a flip of the stick, they pulled their soft bits inside their shells, and I captured them. Six of them filled the sack with just enough room for me to tie it off and I knew I was done.

I was halfway back to Bree’s south gate when I heard a familiar voice say, “Congratulations, Longshanks. You figured it out.” I looked up into the lower branches of a tree to find the Hunter waiting for me there with a look of amusement on her face.

“No thanks to you,” I replied gruffly. “You could’ve told me about them protecting themselves in such an easy way.”

“And ruin my entertainment? Pssh.” She lounged on the branch in a feline manner. “How many did you fit in your bag? Four?”

“Six.” I couldn’t keep the hint of pride from entering my voice.

She slapped her thigh a couple of times to applaud me, given her other hand stayed beneath her chin. “Very good! A mighty haul!”

I rolled my eyes. “Mockery doesn’t suit you.”

She snorted. “Who said I mocked you? You have a full sack when others only caught one if they were fortunate.” She grinned toothily down at me. “Though, I admit watching you flipping them over with a stick made my day. You do know you could have just picked them up and they would have tucked in, don’t you?”

I felt my brief pride vanish as I stared up at her. “No, actually. I was told they bit, and they’re covered in spines, besides. Why would I think I could just sneak up on them and pick them up?” I hefted the sack slightly. “If only a Hunter had been around to inform me of how to catch them properly.”

“Hey, you still caught them,” she retorted. “Go get them to their buyer before they overheat and die. You won’t get paid much for them, then, Longshanks.”

“Morchandir,” I corrected her.

She paused and peered down at me a little more. “Oh? Banisher of the lost spirit in Bree? Pleased to meet you.” She made a little salute with one hand near her forehead that was so lazy I knew she hardly meant it. “Sorsha is my name.”

“Never heard of it.” I lifted my shoulders in a little shrug. “Though I don’t know of too many Hunters that are world-renowned, to be fair.”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t bother me. If I wanted to be famous, I would do things that would make me famous. But you?” She smirked. “You are going to be very famous if you don’t watch out. I can already tell.”

I set the bag of turtles over my shoulder. “And how is that? Magic?” I scoffed.

She poked her tongue out at me. “Hardly. Anyone who puts a spirit to rest without magic and is said to have helped Rangers out before that? Who shows up right around the time terrifying riders on black horses sweep through the town? Attack the Pony?”

I sighed. “I see your point.” I shifted the weight of the bag slightly. “I would love to stay and chat, but you were right – I need to get these things to their new owner if I want any kind of payment.” I started moving off. “Stay out of trouble.”

“Farewell, Longshanks!” she called after me too-sweetly.

Sorsha, I repeated to myself. “What kind of name is that? Elvish? Dwarvish? Did her parents even know how to speak properly when she was born?” I grumbled under my breath the entire way back to the gate.

It was late afternoon by the time I made it to Sig Mandrake’s so-called shop once more. I didn’t bother knocking this time, entirely aware that it wasn’t supposed to be a private home if he thought of it as a place of business, and strolled into the living area as if I owned the building itself. He sat at a table and looked up as I entered, brightening at the sight of the bag. “Ah! So, you’ve returned, Mor…” He faltered. “Mordir? Moridir?”

“Morchandir. And, yes, here are the turtles you wanted, though they aren’t very tiny,” I replied irritably as I set them down on the floor in front of me.

He rose from his seat and moved to the bag. He didn’t open it, but instead nudged it with one boot. “How many are there?”

I smirked. “Six.” When he glanced up at me sharply, I smirked even wider. “I don’t do anything by halves. You said I’d need luck to find any. I don’t like being challenged.”

His brows lifted. “It seems not.” He turned to go back to his table. These will do, these will do, Morchandir. I am waiting for more people to bring in turtles.”

My eyes went from him to the sack and then back to him again behind the mask. “How big is this soup pot going to be, anyway?”

He looked back at me as he got out a small pouch. “This is a very large order of turtle soup, and it will take many more turtles than I have received so far.” He opened the pouch. “Fortunately, it seems as if everyone in Bree is pitching in! It is a wonder there are still turtles to find!” He fished out some coins and sounded distracted as he did so. “I have not yet begun to prepare the soup. I am waiting until I have enough turtles for it.”

I pressed my lips together briefly. “So, you mentioned.” Quit stalling, I wanted to tell him impatiently. Did you not expect anyone to even bring you what you wanted? Not enough money to pay us all? I could feel my inner senses flaring up the longer that he took to pull his coins out to pay me. If you try to cheat me, I swear I’m taking these turtles right back to that bloody lake! I swore to myself as I waited.

He finally moved to me and I lifted my hand to receive his coins. I stared at what he gave me: one silver and 50 copper. “You have to be fooling me,” I murmured to myself.

Mandrake didn’t hear me as he walked away talking. “Actually….” He turned back to me with a bright smile. “You did good work out there, Morchandir. You made it back more quickly than a lot of these so-called adventurers. Perhaps you would be willing to help me with something else?”

I pocketed the money with the mask hiding my disgust in how little I had gotten for my efforts. “It depends on the payment,” I grated out.

“More of the same, I assure you!” he said confidently. “One of the Little Folk who lives up Staddle way sent word that he was eager to help me gather turtles for the turtle soup. Benegar Longbottom, he said his name was, and he’s been keeping the turtles he gathered for me in his uncle’s shed.”

I blinked slightly. Did I get overheated out there? I asked myself. Is this a hallucination? “He’s keeping them… where? In his uncle’s shed?”

He waved it off as if it were of no consequence. “Go to the village of Staddle and ask Grobo Dogwort if you can collect the turtles his nephew has gathered for me. Be sure to ask him in his house first; don’t just barge into his shed without asking.”

I sat back on my heels. “Did you just…” I began, meaning to call him out on the whole “barging in without asking” part given I had done exactly that to bring him his accursed turtles, but I decided to let it go. Shaking my head, I simply told him, “Fine. It may take me a bit, though. I don’t have a horse.”

“Oh. Well.” He paused a moment and then offered me another coin, this one gold. “See if that will get you a ride to Staddle. I’m sure Grobo or his nephew will give you something for taking the turtles off their hands as well.” All I responded with was a grunt, and I left the turtles with him when I exited his home. Let’s hope so, Mandrake, I told him mentally. You don’t know how tempted I am to just take this money and run.