Things swirled around in my head as if I had fallen deep underwater. I could barely hear voices and had no real sense of up and down. Everything seemed as if it had slowed down somehow. I felt burning and pain at my throat but no pressure any longer. My surroundings were deep and dark as a cavern, and much like one, I couldn’t find my way out. For that matter, I had no idea where I was nor what it was that I’d been doing. It must have been something important, though. Was I stealing something important? Was it an assassination?
The impression of a child flitted through my head and left sparks in its wake. My son, I realized. Something about my son! I felt galvanized by the realization; had something happened to him? Had I been on my way to help him? No, I soothed myself. But something about him…
The little sparks, however, had begun igniting the rest of my brain. I wasn’t in a cave. I was unconscious. The fact I could reason this well meant that I wouldn’t be for much longer, either. Why had I fallen into this state? A mental fire erupted from somewhere and sent me memories without warning: orcs, lots of them, and a helmed one raging as his remaining hand tightened itself around my throat…
“Oh, baby, wake up! Gammer is so worried!” I heard a woman plead from somewhere.
Gammer? I wondered, the vision of the orc replaced by utter confusion. Oh, right. I don’t have a grandmother. I don’t even have a mother and father. I had to have heard this woman wrong or it was my own mind playing with me.
“That bad ol’ orc won’t hurt you again, don’t be afraid,” she continued.
She was real. I felt as if I were surfacing. The darkness lightened, browned, and my eyes rolled open woozily. It hurt to breathe. My throat felt as if it had caught fire. I coughed once, then again, and the explosive pain had me grimacing and lifting a hand toward my neck.
“Ah, thank Eru!” said a woman’s voice from close by. “I thought I’d come too late, my little sweetmeat.” I felt a hard opening press against my lips. I grabbed at it and felt the soft exterior of a water pouch. “Drink slowly. Here, let me help you.” Hands lifted my head to help me as I took a mouthful. And then choked, coughed, and tried again. “Tut! Slowly, my love, slowly,” she cooed, and I felt a worn hand clasp mine to help me steady the skin. The next swallow went much smoother.
Once I was done, I cleared my throat with another cough and tried to focus on the world around me once again. “What happened?” I rasped out. “I was… I was…” I stopped. “What was I doing, again?”
She patted my cheek and then I heard the water skin being capped once more. “You were fighting a large orc, my dear. It’s a good thing your Gammer Dandelion got here when she did!” She chuckled. “What were you doing up here all this way from Bree, anyway, silly boy?”
I finally squinted up toward her face. Orc. Fighting. He strangled me. Away from Bree… It hit me without warning, and I grimaced as the weight of responsibility resettled on my chest and shoulders once more. Then I had another good look at Gammer Dandelion. She had on piecemeal armor that had seen better days and looked to be older. Grey hair flitted from beneath her slightly oversized helm but so did a subtly lined face and a warm, generous smile from cherubic cheeks. I stared at her for a long moment, uncomprehending, before asking, “Who are you, again?”
She clucked her tongue and brushed my hair from my forehead. Only then did I realize that my mask had been pulled free. “I see your memory isn’t the best,” she chided me mildly. “Probably because you got strangled near to death! I’m your grandmother, Dandelion Digweed.” She patted my cheek lightly. “You’ll remember. Now, let’s get you up again.”
I blinked at her as she began to push my head and then my shoulders up. I finally set my hands on the ground to help without response and took a moment or two to look around at Bleakrift. It was eerily quiet, now, as if nothing but nature itself had finally decided to settle in its crevices and cracks. I looked around for my mask, took it in hand, and then carefully got to my feet. Only then did I tell her, “Miss Dandelion, my name is Morchandir. I can’t be your grandson. I don’t even have parents.” I dusted the mask off on my thigh before patting the dirt and such off of my bottom and back as best I could.
She helped me with my back and legs and replied in outrage, “You have parents! My daughter is your mother!” She calmed as I turned to face her at last. “Though I don’t think you remember her, either, at this point.”
I opened my mouth as I shifted, only to find nobody behind me. It was still open when I looked down and found myself facing a hobbit woman. So that’s where I remember that name from, I told myself. Gammer. Gaffer. The hobbits used them. I had to carefully close my mouth at that point for fear it would stay hanging open in surprise. Clearing my throat again, I offered, “No offense, Dandelion-“
“Gammer,” she corrected, crossing her arms at her chest and glaring up at me. “You may have grown up tall, but you’re not too tall to switch, young man!”
My brows lifted. This hobbit was well and truly demented. “… Gammer,” I corrected slowly. “No offense, Gammer, but I can’t be your grandson. You’re a hobbit. I’m not.”
She snorted and waved that away. “You’ve taken one too many knocks on the noggin, my boy,” she told me as she moved to collect a shield that had been placed nearby. “You’re as much of a hobbit as me, even if I did manage to birth some tall ones.” She sighed wistfully. “Been such a long time since your Gaffer died, though. I bet you’d know him from anywhere!”
I had no idea how to respond. Tucking my mask into my belt for the moment, I had another look around. “Errr. Sure.” I then checked my pockets and found the orc letters were still safe and sound. Relaxing, I asked her, “Dan… Gammer.” No sense in riling her up until she does try to switch me with a branch, I reasoned. “How did you manage to get up here? There were so many orcs.”
“Were,” she replied proudly. “All those stories about your Gammer were true, my boy!” She settled the shield on her arm. “I might not be as spry as I used to be, but I’m still more than a match for these dark things. But you never did tell me why you were all the way out here.”
I ran my fingers back through my hair to straighten it and get any lingering twigs and dirt out of the back. “I was helping a Ranger,” I said after a moment. She thought I was a tall hobbit; how much would it hurt to actually tell her what I was doing, anyway? “Candaith is his name. He’s looking for where Radagast the Brown traveled through here so that I can find him and speak with him. Gandalf asked me to do so in Bree before he left. I’m supposed to help him, and help Radagast, with some troubles out this way. I just have no idea where Radagast went, so I’ve been sent to Candaith to help me find him.”
She peered up at me with a wrinkled brow and concern in her eyes. “Oh, love. So much on your shoulders,” she said as she reached for one of my hands to clasp it tightly. “So young! Why didn’t you come talk to your ol’ Gammer before you left Bree, eh? I could have come with you.”
I blinked down at her slowly. “Um. I thought I could handle it on my own,” I replied. It wasn’t a lie. I actually did think I could do it alone. And I didn’t even know you, I added mentally. “Sorry, Gammer.” I had to play along. This hobbit might kill me in my sleep if she got angry and I went from her extra-tall grandson to an extra-small troll.
She sighed heavily and tugged me along down the path. “Well, there’s no fixing it now,” she counseled. “Come on with me and let’s get out of here. I doubt I bashed all of these orcs round here and some will undoubtedly come back. No need to fret, my love, Gammer’s going to help you from here on out.”
That’s what I was afraid of, I told myself as I walked with her. I had to keep my strides short given her much, much smaller height. We made it out of Bleakrift and back to Candaith’s camp by evening, however, and found the Ranger waiting for us.
He halted when he spotted the small being walking alongside me. “Morchandir?” he asked me warily. “Who is this?”
I opened my mouth to reply when Dandelion beat me to it. “Dangerous Dandelion Digweed, at your service!” she announced with a little bow. “You must be the Ranger that my grandson mentioned. Candle-eye, was it?”
“Candaith,” I sighed with a pleading look toward him. His brows lifted in such a way that I knew I would get no help from that quarter. “This is my… grandmother, yes.”
I could tell from how he looked from her tiny form to my overly-tall one and bit the inside of his cheek that he had barely controlled his laughter. He nodded once and told the hobbit, “Indeed. I’m Candaith. This is my encampment here.” He motioned. “Would you like to have a seat? I might just have a little tea to share.”
She made a happy sound and trundled over to one of the logs by the fire. “Oh, quite! Do you have anything for throats?” She motioned at me as I followed her. “My poor grandson got choked near to death by that horrible orc up there! He’s all bruised up and hoarse from it.” She put her shield down beside her and then grumbled, “Terrible things, those orcs. How they’ve come so far into the Lone-Lands is a travesty!”
Candaith’s gaze moved to my neck and grew sharp. “I can see,” he agreed with her. “Morchandir, are you sure you’re well?”
“You should see the other guy,” I growled with a smirk.
Dandelion hmphed softly. “I’ll have to have my shield hammered out in the next place we go. Orc heads are hard.”
I pointed at the hobbit as I looked at Candaith. “She saved me. Fought her way up there and then…. Well, I’m not sure, actually, because by that point I was being killed slowly.”
“I yelled at him and hit him with my shield repeatedly,” she sniffed at me. “Just like with the others. I have skills they weren’t prepared for.”
Candaith moved to some of his gear and rifled through it while we spoke. “A Guardian, then.” He nodded and pulled forth a small jar. “You’re in a little luck, my burglar friend. Your… grandmother… can help protect you and distract your targets while you come in from another place to attack them.” He rose and moved to me so that I could take the small jar from him. “Use this on your throat. It should help with the bruising and healing. I would bandage it just to keep it from smearing all over, but I don’t happen to have any on hand.”
“Oh, well,” Dandelion said cheerfully as she tore off a strip from her cloak. We both looked over at her in surprise as she handed it over to me. “Use this, dear. Gammer’s got you.”
I took the strip of cloth from her, bewildered, and nodded at her. “Thank you,” I replied. Only when she turned away happily did a throw a quick look at Candaith.
He shook his head as he moved back to his tent and other items to collect them for tea. “Gammer Digweed,” he said to her, “these hills are full of orcs. They’ve come from the south and mean trouble.”
She nodded hurriedly as she pulled off her helm at last. A mess of grey and blonde curls sat slightly flattened beneath. “Morchandir explained it a little on the way down. You don’t know what tribe they’re from?”
“No ma’am.” The Ranger shook his head. He had a small pot for water that he filled up and set on the small fire he had going already. “In all my wanderings, I’ve never seen that sigil before. A white hand.”
Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “That’s worrisome,” she agreed. “In my youth, I had a few adventures and ran through some orcs. I don’t remember seeing that symbol, either.”
It reminded me. I finished my application of the balm with a small noise and resealed it. Setting the jar down on the ground, I then gingerly pulled out the letter that I had gone to fetch from Uzorr’s camp. “Candaith,” I said, offering it to him when he looked my way. “Here. I found this outside of Uzorr’s tent.”
Dandelion made a little sound of dismay. “Was that his name?” She watched the Ranger rise and return to me to collect both jar and paper with a look of complete curiosity. A hobbit, no matter their age, was still a hobbit. “What are orcs doing with letters? I didn’t know they could read.” When I picked up the strip of cloak, she moved to me immediately and gently flapped her hands at mine. “You let me do it. I can make it comfortable. I’ve had all the practice,” she told me firmly.
I let her have her way and looked toward Candaith as he set his balm aside and opened the letter to look at it. “It’s a fair question,” I admitted aloud. “I mean, I know they can speak because they’ve learned how to use our language. But read? Write?” I motioned at Candaith. “We’ve found one letter in something that isn’t what we speak. I suppose they can read well enough to suit their purposes.” I smirked. “Probably better than I can.”
The hobbit woman made a disgruntled sound. “None of that,” she said with a tweak to my nose that I jerked away from slightly. Not that my nose wasn’t a huge target, mind, but I hadn’t even expected it in the least. “I didn’t raise idiot Tooks, and I’m sure my children haven’t raised worse!”
I frowned. “Gammer,” I began to argue, knowing very well that I couldn’t read very well and didn’t have a stellar education, but Candaith made an equally notable sound of frustration that interrupted me. “What is it?” I asked him.
“Another letter written in the Black Speech, Morchandir, and its meaning evades me as did that of its fellow.” Dandelion secured the cloth around my neck as he spoke. “This one, however, bears the mark of the White Hand.”
I frowned, too. “The other didn’t?”
“No. Only the messenger himself, on the armor you brought back,” he reminded me with a nod toward Neeker. He folded the paper up and tapped it on his fingertips in thought. “We must know what message this letter bears.”
“And the other,” I said with a nod as Dandelion moved away. “But who do I need to find to translate them? Does anyone know this Black Speech that I can take them to?”
The Ranger chuckled softly. “This is not a task for you, Morchandir.” I opened my mouth to disagree, but he held up a hand to stall me. “I have finally discovered information on the whereabouts of Radagast, but there is something that you should see first.”
I closed my mouth again. “What is it?”
He grimaced. “Rather, I think it’s something that I want you to see about for me, first.” He tucked the note away and looked between the two of us as he prepared Dandelion’s cup of tea for the addition of hot water. “I know that you’ve heard something about this already, Morchandir, but let me give it more meat now that Gammer Digweed has joined you.” Don’t say it like that, I wanted to reply and refrained. The crazy little Guardian needed to go back to Bree. Or needed a good, solid knock to the head to make her remember that she didn’t have a 6’6″ hobbit grandson.
But Candaith continued. “As I was returning from the lands to the east, the night sky over Weathertop was lit by bright flashes of white light, akin to lightning, yet no clouds darkened the sky and of thunder there was no sound.”
I nodded and looked at Dandelion. “I think it’s what got Radagast moving,” I added. “He spoke with Saeradan about it.”
“Oh?” she replied and perked up. “I know that Ranger! He’s quite serious, but I’ve wandered a bit with him after I retired in Bree.” She set her hands in her lap with a bright smile at me. “How is he, these days? Is that young Grimey Proudfoot still hanging about hoping to be of service to him?”
Candaith looked from her to me in slight bemusement. “Ah, Gammer, he’s Master of Apprentices, now,” I hurriedly informed her. “But we shouldn’t get sidetracked. Candaith was telling us a story.”
She fluttered her hands again. “Oh, deary me! I’m so sorry. Continue.”
He took a breath and let it out again in a soft sigh, but his faint smile told me that he wasn’t upset. “I think that no ordinary storm visited Amon Sûl that night,” Candaith told us both after a moment. “I want to know what it might have been.” He set his forearms on his knees as he crouched by the fire. “I ask you to search the ruins atop Weathertop tomorrow and see if there is anything to find, my friends. If you do find anything out of the ordinary, return to me immediately.” He motioned. “In the meantime, I’ll have the letters looked at so we know what to expect. I would have you both go right now, but you need to recover a little tonight, and by the time you got up to the summit and started back down again, the darkness would make it treacherous.” He added after, “Well, more treacherous, at least. There seem to be orcs wandering up to it from the base, here, and I’m uncertain as to why.”
I watched him pour a bit of hot water into the herbs already in the cup waiting. It would need to steep for a bit, but Dandelion didn’t seem to mind. I listened in the silence to the insects chirping and making noises in the growing dusk. “How do you mean to get the letters translated?” I finally asked. “I don’t know of anyone nearby, do you?”
Candaith hesitated before speaking. “It would take far too long for me to travel to the person I know and then come back, even by horse. I can send a message to him and an answer should arrive in a day, two at most. Crows and ravens fly much faster than I could walk or either of our horses could run.” His mouth formed a firm line. “Which means I have to leave now to save time. I hope by the time you both can make it to the summit of Weathertop and then back down again, I should have the answers that we need from these letters.”
He picked up the tin cup to bring it to Dandelion, who thanked him politely, and then she said, “It should most likely take a day up and then another one down even if we go by the roads left on it. Travelers use the lower areas for camping purposes, I’ve heard, but they don’t go to the top unless they mean to stay more than a single day. The going is rough and rocky when you don’t know the area.”
The Ranger nodded with a quick smile for the hobbit. “The lady is correct,” he agreed.
She chuckled. “Oh, dosh. I’m no Lady. I’ve cracked far too many skulls in my time for that nonsense!”
Candaith laughed as he returned to his things to gather what he needed. He moved with the quick assurance of one who had been used to doing so for most of his life. “I would expect no less from Morchandir’s grandmother.”
I shot him a baleful glare. “Don’t encourage her,” I growled. I’d be parting from the crazy hobbit as soon as I could slip away from her.
He shook his waterskin with a grunt at the sound before strapping it around his body and smirking at me. “If she can keep you alive and out of trouble, friend, I will encourage her to the stars and back.” He stood before them for another moment after checking for his weapons and a few other items. “Where I’m heading should take me no longer than a few hours to arrive, but I mean to stay there until the response is returned. If you come to the camp and don’t see me, wait another day or two. I should be back by then, at the very latest. My brethren will know my urgency is great.” He stepped toward me, and I rose from my seated position near Dandelion to clasp his forearm. She received a nod. “Take care until my return,” he said in farewell before setting off into the gloaming.
I watched him until he vanished. Only then did I return to my seat with Dandelion. “I’ll take first watch,” she said lightly. “You can sleep for a while, my dear. What will we have for supper?” She set her cup of tea down and moved her own pack to be closer to her. Rummaging through it, she commented, “I have some nice, crusty bread, some cheeses, fruit, oh! A bit of ham and roast left from lunch, too!” She sounded infinitely pleased.
Is her whole satchel full of foodstuffs? I wondered in growing surprise. She kept pulling things out of it like it had been enchanted by Gandalf himself. “Grandm… err, Gammer?”
“Yes, pumpkin?” She didn’t stop when she answered.
“Gammer, why did you only bring food?” I asked after a moment. “You must have needed other supplies, too?” And then I realized it: “And how did you follow me from Bree if you had no horse?”
“Pish-posh,” Dandelion replied with a wave of her hand. “The pony is hidden safely away, and I’ll collect it later.”
“But… the wolves—”
“And you’re a growing boy,” she continued, brooking no argument. “Between the two of us, I know we’ll need quite a bit of food. Hobbits and their kin do love to eat!” She almost twinkled as she said it. “Now, come get something to nosh upon and then look to settling in for bed. I’ll tuck you in.” Part of me wanted to disagree. The rest almost did before realizing I could eat my fill and then sleep a good while after she took watch. It promptly bludgeoned my complaints to death and agreed with what she said. Maybe this arrangement isn’t as bad as I first thought, I told myself as I began to eat.
Loading ...
Recent Comments