Butterbur just looked at me when I returned that evening and paid for another night at the inn. It wasn’t until the next morning, long after I had seen off the others and satisfied my curiosity about my new piece of armor, that I came down for a bite of food and he finally spoke to me. “You’re sure you’re leaving this time?” he asked in dubious amusement. “No coming back unexpectedly again?”
“I’m very sure,” I replied as I leaned against his counter. “I had to make a little extra coin before I could set off with any reasonable assurance of success.”
He gestured with the rag he used to dry off his mugs and glassware. “You seem to have spent it all here regardless, Morchandir.” He laughed a little. “Which is the way of it, from what I’ve seen.”
I nodded at him as I straightened. “I’ll find a bit more on the way. I had nothing when I arrived here, though, and I have what I need now to ride out to Saeradan and hopefully beyond.”
He grunted. “Saeradan, is it?” He paused. “He might be one of them Rangers, but he doesn’t act like them. Heard he even smiles. He lives out on the Greenway somewhere as you ride toward Thornley’s.”
It was my turn to nod. “That was how I got distracted last time. I rode out there and found the Chief-Watcher and his dwarf friend in need of help.” I knocked on the armored jacket I now sported beneath my tunic. Leather, nicely made, lined with bronze metal, I didn’t want it getting in my way or showing to the enemy before they realized I had more protection on my upper body. It would help me keep from being seriously injured for the most part. I knew I couldn’t withstand a direct shot from a strong bow or a thrust from a blade yet without it piercing that armor, but at least I might survive were it to hit me. “I got a little reward worth keeping for a while, though, for rescuing Kenton Thistleway’s daughter from the brigands out that way.”
“Aye, I heard you all discussing that when you were in last night,” Barliman replied. “You’ve been a right hero around here lately, helping Bree. If I didn’t know Gandalf had given you some pressing business, I would say stick around here and help us out another while before you head off again.”
I glanced at him sharply from beneath my mask. “How did you know that?” I snapped.
He must have noticed my tension since he flapped the rag at me again dismissively as he worked. “You haven’t been shy about announcing it while in your cups, big man. Mostly to the ladies.”
I choked slightly. “Lies. I would never use that as—”
He snorted out a laugh. “Now, how did you get hit, you ask? Well, if I recall,” he drawled with glittering mischief in his eyes, “Daisy took your fancy. You got her attention with some claim that you were off on a grand mission to save the world courtesy of Gandalf the Grey himself and you danced on my table before falling off. She still wasn’t after the kiss you gave her, though, once you got back to your feet.”
I groaned and looked away. “Nnngh… that was what I said? I don’t even remember!”
“I didn’t figure as much.” He smacked his lips a moment as he regarded me. “I don’t know that she recalls it much, either, but you didn’t give away any pertinent details. Rest easy.”
I sighed. “I’ll have something to eat and drink and be on my way, then.”
Less than an hour later, I had my things back on Neeker, secured for a long journey, and pointed his head back toward the West Gate. I swore I wouldn’t stop for anything short of an emergency right in front of me, however, so that I could finally get this charge of mine started. I knew that Saeradan’s cabin sat off the Greenway somewhere without knowing exactly where. I passed Grimbriar’s home to the right as I went past it and kept my eyes open as to where a second one might be. I hadn’t spotted another one as I rode back and forth between the work site and Lofar or off toward the outlaws perch up on the hill past the farmstead and out near the lakes. I cursed myself for not thinking ahead long enough to spot it while heading up the hill to save Maribell despite knowing I hadn’t been focused on the Ranger at that point. Distractions would lead to death.
I rode past the work site and almost to where a sign pointed off to the turn toward Hengstacer Farms on the right before halting Neeker. I had to turn back and ride the way I came, frustration mounting as I did. Where in Mordor’s pits was this Ranger, anyway? I grumbled to myself silently. Does he not want to be found?
As I spotted Thornley’s work site in the distance to my right, I had almost decided I’d somehow missed it again, regardless, when I caught sight of a chimney through the trees and hedges back off from the road a little way to the left. Turning my horse toward it, and ever conscious of the bears and wolves in the area, I slowed my horse to a canter and then a walk as I came closer. “Who goes?” growled a rough male voice from just ahead.
I halted the gelding and lifted a hand to show that I didn’t mean harm. “Morchandir,” I replied. “Gandalf sent me to you for help, if you’re Saeradan the Ranger.”
An older man, balding, yet still hale materialized from the surrounding trees near the cabin to look me over. He took his time in silence, wary yet polite, while doing it and I did the same. If this was Saeradan, as I thought it might be, then he seemed taller than most average men. “Gandalf, you say?” he finally replied, focusing on my eyes through the mask. “What help can I offer him or you?”
I loosened my feet from the stirrups to swing down off the gelding and took his words to confirm his identity. “He said I needed to find Radagast the Brown.” I paused and then added, “Strider has taken his wards to the east and Gandalf had to follow them. He’s charged me to help Bree and the other lands against Angmar to the north and whatever fell spirit has taken Agamaur.”
Any other man, perhaps a lesser one, might rock back on his heels at the news but not Saeradan. He took it as if I had just asked him about the weather that day. With a nod at my word, the Ranger frowned in thought for a long moment before pursing his lips. “Come with me a bit further,” he offered with a beckoning motion from one of his hands. “It’s best if we discuss this at my home rather than standing in the open.” He turned to pace back toward the lodge I could barely see behind the line of trees, and I immediately followed him while leading Neeker.
When we arrived, I noticed there was a hobbit nearby whittling a piece of wood while leaned back comfortably in a chair and smoking his pipe. A pair of horses, one normal and one pony, stood in a paddock at the back in the shade of the ridge running behind them. “Grimey, we have a visitor. Do we have any tea left?”
The hobbit pulled his large, hairy feet down from where he had them crossed on the stone stoop of the lodge. Popping up to stand, he grinned widely and chirped, “Why, I think we do, Saeradan. We might just have a bit of treacle and bread from my baking this morning, too!”
The Ranger smiled briefly back at his associate, but I felt the need to interject before he could respond, “I’ve had a nice breakfast this morning, Master hobbit, so you don’t need to go to that point.”
He made a pffft sound and waved off my words. “Nonsense!” He moved up the stairs. “I came to make sure the Man has his cupboards full again, today! He can’t watch the road and do his duty to the other Rangers without a full belly and the strength to do so.” He stopped at the stoop and turned back to us. “You’re much larger than most Men.” He squinted at me and seemed on the verge of asking me something before subsiding at a sharper look from Saeradan. “Well, you’ll need food now or later to get that oliphaunt body of yours going,” he said a touch awkwardly. “And if you’re here, you have business that probably means you’re a Ranger even if you’re… not. So, you’ll just have to—”
“Grimey,” Saeradan interrupted him gently yet firmly. “The tea?”
“Quite!” The hobbit opened the door and vanished inside with a little too much haste. I wondered what it was he was going to ask.
I glanced down at the Ranger. He was taller than the average Man even if he didn’t have my height. “Is he always this way?” I asked with mild amusement.
“Most hobbits seem to be but yes, he is.” He motioned for me to take a seat if I wanted to. “Grimey Proudfoot was here when I arrived many years ago, some thirty at this point. He was considered a teen back then, but he took his obligation to me seriously as the first one I met and befriended me. He’s become a craftsmaster and takes on several apprentices these days for many different crafts. In fact, he’s one of the Master of Apprentices.”
He also has an unfortunate name, I wanted to point out. I held my tongue, though. “So, you haven’t been able to get rid of him for three decades?” I mused aloud.
A chuckle erupted from Saeradan. He might have been a Ranger who wasn’t as grim as the others, according to Barliman Butterbur, but the action did seem a little out of character for him just the same. The other Rangers I had met seemed far more serious. “No, and to be honest, I have no desire to do so. Some may think they’re a little naïve and irritating with their relentless need to befriend and care for others, overall, but their loyalty is something to cherish once offered. They don’t give it up easily, either, even when you’re not at your best. Other races may forsake you for hurting them, even if it’s necessary at the time, and may never trust you afterward, but a hobbit will always see the good in you despite it and return.”
I looked back at the cabin door and frowned. It put a few things into perspective for me, given the hobbits I had met thus far and the other races as well. Especially my burglar trainer, if they even had them, back in Bree. “I see,” I managed to reply softly. Were Fastred and Albra helping me, and others like me, because they felt it was their duty to do so? Or was it something else entirely?
My reverie broke when Saeradan continued. “Your reason for coming, though, Morchandir. Gandalf and the others may say that time is of the essence, but a wizard’s time is like that of the Elves’ and not those of Men, dwarves, and hobbits. Not even those Men of Númenor like my Chieftain.”
“Aragorn,” I murmured with a slight nod of recognition. “He’s from Númenor, though? The stories say that it fell long ago.”
“And it did,” Saeradan agreed as he had a seat on one of the steps of his home. “I’m not a student of history like others of my brethren, Morchandir, but I will say that our Chieftains are descended from the men of Númenor more strongly and directly than others of us who are Men of the North.” He smiled faintly. “You may hear us named the Dúnedain. We are the same as most others of the race of Men, outside of our longevity in comparison, by this point.” He continued after a moment, “Though the Númenóreans lived some four hundred years in their peak and could withstand most diseases, it has been a very long time since then. Most of the bloodline has mixed in with the non-Númenórean Men. The Dúnedain still retain their hardiness to a greater degree.” He motioned at me, “The taller heights, and the keen senses and minds of our forebears, but our Chieftain has the blood strongly – far more than any of us who still follow him. He’s of a great height not unlike your own, in fact.” He seemed sadly wistful. “Not every Ranger is one of the Dúnedain by birth these days.” He shook his head. “We have grown few in number, Morchandir, much like the elves. I fear our fates may be tied to their own here in the West.”
I frowned down at him. “Why would that be?” Strider my height, though? I wondered privately. It was only then that I remembered him always half-shadowed or otherwise sitting, leaning, crouching, and moving so that I couldn’t tell for sure. Shorter than I was, that was what I had thought. I had no ill-conceived notions to pretend I might be of the same stock as this ancient-blooded Chieftain, though. I was simply a freak of nature.
“There are some relations in the past,” Saeradan admitted. “But,” he continued, once more turning the conversation back to where it should have been, “that is neither here nor there. You were sent to me by the Grey Pilgrim, were you?”
I nodded once. “Indeed. Gandalf told me that he had received information from someone he called Gwaihir that corruption was spreading through Agamaur and the Lone-lands. He fears it may be connected to some recent activities from Mordor and Angmar that I helped discover in the Barrow-downs.” At his sharp look at me, I offered, “The dead walk there, stirred by some ancient evil, and I saw with my own eyes the Captain of the Black Riders speaking with a dwarf lord named Skorgrím and a gaunt-lord named Ivar Blood-hand.” His expression became grim indeed at the news. “They spoke of Ivar’s ward in Agamaur to the east and of a creature named Mordirith in Angmar waiting the dwarf and the gaunt-lord. That Saruman was of no concern to them now. That the Nazgûl had a champion working for it whose work hadn’t come to fruition yet.”
Something akin to a growl rasped out of Saeradan’s throat. “And this is why Gandalf travels to join my Chieftain and his companions.” It wasn’t a question. He knew as much.
“It is. But the Nazgûl knew the… very important thing that Aragorn travels with, and for, is headed to somewhere called Imladris. I spent a lot of energy and time trying to keep that information and more from reaching them and it did anyway, somehow.” I crossed my arms at my chest. “Gandalf charged me with going either north or east to stop Angmar’s plans to rise once again after all this time. He needs me to speak with Radagast for some purpose.”
The Ranger ran a hand over his pate and sighed at length. “More than likely because the wizard roams in areas where Rangers are aware of him. He has ties to me and mine, too.” He then hesitates and finishes with, “And he is one of the few wizards left in this Middle Earth other than Gandalf himself and Saruman, neither of whom can aid you here in any good way.”
Grimey bustled out of the door with a tray of teacups just then. “Ah, here we go!” the hobbit exclaimed. He carefully stepped down the stairs and offered the Ranger one of the three steaming cups and then lifted it so that I could choose mine. “If you need honey or cream, I can fetch it. It’s a nice hawthorn mixture I brought for Master Saeradan when he grows too tense from his worries.” He set the tray aside after taking up his cup.
I loosened my hood to pull it off and set it aside to drink the blasted stuff. Ruffling my dark hair, I sipped it delicately and winced at how hot it was. I felt awkward with the ceramic thing in my gloved hands, as if it hardly belonged to them. Proper people drank from such fine containers even if everyone drank some version of tea on occasion. It had a distinct flavor to it I hadn’t tasted in long enough that I felt a bit surprised, but the brewing had been done skillfully.
Saeradan watched me with an intent expression on his face after I removed my mask. He held the cup with far more ease than I could manage. He didn’t comment on the mask like others had done, though I could see that Grimey wanted to with all the innocent curiosity of a child, and I smiled faintly toward him. “You make this well. I heard you were a Master of Apprentices?”
He brightened, flashed a huge grin, and puffed up instantly. “I am! One of the youngest hobbits of the Guilds to make that rank, too! You should see how my old Gaffer and Gammer go on about it even now!” He laughed. “It tickles them to no end to have a grandson as handy as I am. I visit them in Stock as much as I can manage.”
The Ranger finally took his gaze from me to settle it on his hobbit friend. “Grimey,” he said seriously, “young Morchandir has been tasked to find Master Radagast.”
Grimey lost a little of his cheer. “Bother,” he replied. Turning to me, he then stated, “You missed him by perhaps a few hours. He left for the Lone-lands last evening in a hurry. He seemed worried about something.” He clucked his tongue. “I should have packed him some hawthorn tea, come to think, but he was in such an all-fired hurry…”
Saeradan nodded in a curt fashion. “I must confess that I do not know where Radagast was bound when he left here, other than eastward into the Lone-lands.” He blew across the top of his tea in much the same fashion as I did.
I watched the surface ripple as I did so and then asked the two, “Did he say why he was worried or heading in that direction?” Glancing up at the duo, I discovered Saeradan watching me closely yet again. “You seemed surprised when you heard my reason for coming to find you and the wizard. I don’t suppose he told you any of what I did.”
Saeradan shook his head. “I do know that he was concerned with lightning which he saw upon the peak of Weathertop.”
“Lightning?” I echoed, baffled. The tea in my hands stood forgotten for the moment. “I didn’t see clouds last night in any direction, though. Or during the day, come to think of it.”
The Ranger’s nod of agreement looked somber. “Neither did he or I. Lightning from a clear sky? I can see why it might grab the attention of a wizard like Radagast.” He pressed his lips together. “One of my kinsmen, Candaith, has already journeyed to Weathertop to investigate. Perhaps Radagast has joined him there. We saw the lightning before the wizard’s arrival and Candaith left quickly.” He half-smiled. “Wizards aren’t known for their forthcoming manners or desire to share what they know, as my kinsman is well aware.”
Thinking of Gandalf’s attitude, I had to agree. “No, they can be downright rude and aggressively presumptuous of someone’s nature and submission to them.”
Grimey followed our conversation with his gaze, back and forth, before interjecting, “Candaith usually camps in the same little hidden place near Weathertop when he’s in the area. Saeradan visited him there once.”
The Ranger motioned toward the back of his lodge. “If you wish, my horse would bear you to Candaith’s camp.”
“I was unaware that the animal had the sense to go there like a messenger bird,” I replied drolly. “I do have my own mount, though.”
“Tie it to Saeradan’s until you arrive,” Grimey instructed. “It’s Candaith’s mount and one of Hengstacer’s, anyway. They have a set of horses that know the route back and forward, you know. Ride one to and Candaith will bring it back or send someone back with it. I imagine you’ll have to come back at some point and can bring it with you if he doesn’t.”
I lofted a brow at the hobbit. “You are awfully free with other people’s property, you realize that?”
A chuckle sounded from the Ranger. “He is speaking the truth, though. I rarely need my mount. I walk most of the time. If I need anything, I tend to visit another kinsman in the area, Andreg, or walk to Thornley’s just down the way and borrow a mount from them. He’s gotten to trust me enough over the years that he isn’t afraid I’ll lose his investments. I even lend a hand to them now and again in exchange.”
“I like to stop in now and then, too,” Grimey said. “I have some apprentices there who rotate in when the regulars have to take a leave.”
I smirked as I sipped my tea again. “You’ll probably get word that Kenton Thistleway is on leave for a time. Even if he’s not one of yours, I just rescued his daughter from the brigands nearby. I imagine he’ll want to take a few days off to settle her back in and spend time with his family before returning to work. He’s going to be helping Lofar Ironband from now on.”
Grimey perked up immediately. “The dwarf friend of Chief-Watcher Grimbriar?” At my agreement, I watched the hobbit wiggle slightly in happiness. “Oh, that’s wonderful news! Lofar isn’t any apprentice but we’ve worked together before and know one another. I’m very glad that he found someone to help him. He’s as stubborn a dwarf as they come, though, and didn’t want to ask for an apprentice with his new load of work – kept insisting they didn’t have the expertise for what his customers needed.”
Saeradan seemed faintly exasperated in his good humor at how Grimey had taken off with his conversation. He cleared his throat and the hobbit quietened down with a quiet, “Oh! Sorry, Master Saeradan.” The Man then turned back to me. “Finish your tea and then take my horse. She will lead you through the northern stretches of Bree and through the Midgewater Pass to Candaith’s Camp.” He paused and then looked over at Grimey again. “I need some parchment and a quill. Can you fetch it for me?” He turned back to me as the hobbit set his teacup down and took the tray inside to do exactly as he’d been asked. “I’ll draw you a map of the route as much as I can just in case you lose my mare to one of the wolves or orcs between here and there. I would suggest riding without stopping as much as possible. It’s a wild area that has seen quite a bit of invasion lately from dangerous things. You may not want to face them down just yet if you’re on your own.” “I am,” I told him after a moment. “I’m always on my own.” I wanted to ask him what was wrong with my face that he felt the need to regard me as much as he seemed inclined to do. Has he never seen someone as ugly as I am before? I wondered with a general lack of amusement. I wonder what it would be like to be a Ranger or some heroic Númenórean or Dúnedain like what he mentioned? I doubt any of them have ever been to the south, though. He said Men of the North, earlier. For better or worse, my bloodlines are in Gondor even if I know next to nothing about them. I lifted my tea to sip it and settled down on Grimey’s chair as delicately as possible to enjoy my drink and the company for another short time. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to again for a while.
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