A Burg’s (Yule Fest) Tale – Part 1

Neeker’s coat had grown shaggy with the onset of winter. It made him look slightly unkempt, but I had to admit that it kept him warmer as he plodded over the hard-packed, frozen path leading through the bare forest toward the lights of Winter-home. The snows had grown deep in some of the mountain passes; here, though, they remained manageable. The invitations and flyers that pointed me here for the festival had also lured in enough people to keep the road clear.

They called it Winter-home, but it was in an area that had been named Frostbluff. I hadn’t wanted to come here for Yule. I hadn’t been the one to make that decision, though. That dubious honor had gone to Trennil, who had taken one look at the flyer that had been posted and happily announced, “Aye! A bit of drink and merriment while out and about would suit us well! If we can’t be with our families for this holiday, then we should at least be where we can celebrate with others.”

Not to be outdone, Tinendail had cheerily added, “We can bring gifts for the less fortunate. Especially the little ones.” He had rubbed his hands together at the thought. “What do the children of Men like to play with, I wonder? Do you think they’ll explain to me what the purpose of hobby-horses are if I ask?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll want you to practice on one with them,” Trennil had replied with a slight roll of his eyes.

The elf’s eyes had lit up instantly. “Do you really think so?” I had known right then we wouldn’t need to gift him anything ourselves.

It hadn’t ended there, though. Dandelion had stubbornly forced us into properly festive and formal clothing when we had awakened the morning we meant to ride into Winter-home. I’d found myself in a heavy, fur-lined cloak of burgundy and gold with a matching robe and boots beneath. I even had the gloves. She’d made sure that I kept my mask hidden away and that no hair was out of place despite the wintry winds blowing past us. I had sourly used my golden scarf to half cover my features to keep the nipping cold from stinging my skin too badly. The others had been decked out much the same by the hobbit. I had only felt a little commiseration for our predicament from Trennil; apparently, Tinendail had leaped at the chance to leave his armor behind for a time and don “appropriate” clothing instead.

He had then decorated our mounts. Poor Neeker had received a bridle complete with candle-laden antlers and an elaborate caparison to go with it. The elf had somehow laid hands on fur for the beast’s lower legs like that of a draft horse, too. “There, now you match,” he had chirped at me with a final pat to Neeker’s rump over the gold-stitched cloth. When I had realized he was right, I’d narrowed my eyes at his retreating figure. He and Dandelion had been suspiciously coordinated.

As we approached the outer gates of Winter-home, I found one of the stablemasters nearby nodding in appreciation for Neeker’s appearance. Considering he stood next to a huge white stag with black antlers, though, I chose not to take his opinion to heart.

“Oh, Morchandir,” Dandelion fussed at me from her pony. “Stop scowling. This is the one time of year when you shouldn’t need to!”

I snorted. “If you’d let me wear my mask, you wouldn’t see it and neither would anyone else,” I reminded her.

She swiped at my scarf and came up short by some distance. “And pull that down, grandson! We’re out of the wind, now.”

Trennil grunted from slightly behind and to the right of me. “Aye, lad, she’s right for once. Try to have a little fun.” He then added, “And not the kind that comes from watching how confused everyone is when a plague-mask wearing giant rides in through the front gates.”

I grinned far more sharply than I probably should’ve at the idea. “Oh, that’s a brilliant image. I’ll have to do that later.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dandelion growled at me. “I’ll have your hide, young man!” Tinnendail giggled from the other side of me, behind the Guardian’s pony.

“Yes, Gammer,” I responded automatically, sulking. At least when I used that reply, I seemed to appease her ire. It worked yet again. I tugged down the scarf unwillingly as we came to a halt where the guest mounts would be sheltered out of the cold. At least the horses would be warm while we explored the place. We took up the small satchels of gifts to bring along with us as we walked across the snow-limned cobblestones of the road.

Trennil moved closer to me and dropped his voice once I had let Gammer and the elf surge ahead. “Maybe you’ll find a pretty girl to dance with this way,” he pointed out quietly. “Just don’t let the Gammer notice, or you’ll come out of this festival married.”

Again, I wanted to add. I didn’t. “That doesn’t work well as support for keeping a mask off my face, you know.”

He pointed ahead at Tinendail. “You brought a pretty elf Champion along. Use him as a shield.” He chuckled. “It’s better than a plague mask. Just imagine the girls fawning over him trying to flirt and the elf not realizing it in the least.”

I glanced over at him. “Are you saying I’ll be invisible?”

He waved one large hand vaguely. “So long as you’re… sitting, somewhere. Not looming and drawing attention to yourself in all that finery.” He added, “You’re a burglar. It shouldn’t be hard. Just enjoy the festival, Morchandir. It’s the one time you won’t have to hide who you are around others.”

You mean an unfortunate pawn of fate? I wanted to ask but didn’t get the chance. “Hoy!” a voice called out from near a large fire by the entrance. I blinked and looked that way at the same moment as my companions. My reply to Trennil vanished as I noticed a hobbit woman warmly dressed in red and white. “I thought I was the one giving out gifts here?”

Dandelion moved closer with a confused expression. “What do you mean? We brought these to hand out to any less fortunate Folk here in Winter-home.”

The other hobbit blinked, and a smile split her face. “Oh! Well, I suppose that’s just fine, then. I give gifts to the festival-goers if they enjoy themselves enough.” She stuck out a mittened hand. “I’m Mara Sandydowns. Pleased to meet another hobbit!” Dandelion shook her hand. “I thought there’d been a mix-up somewhere. Oh!” She pointed toward the middle of the town. “There are some others of us at the theatre just over that way led by Mr. Shakesburrow.” She nodded at Dandelion. “I highly recommend catching one of their shows!”

Tinendail clapped slightly. “Oh, that sounds delightful!” he told her.

Mara turned and pointed to the sacks of gifts that she had lying nearby. “Participate in any Yule Festival activity today and earn a sack of presents!” She then added, “If you want to leave yours here, I’ll set them aside for when you come back. I promise I won’t give them away if you’d rather do so yourselves.”

Dandelion nodded. “We can in a little while. Thank you.” She set her small sack down and we followed suit. Our young elf seemed to become a child in front of us when the gifts left his hands. Not a very young one, perhaps, but it was easy to see why his own kind hadn’t considered him old enough to be out on his own just yet. “Gammer Digweed! Let’s go to the theatre! I’ve never seen a play before. I’ve only ever read about them!” His eyes danced in the firelight. Dandelion couldn’t help herself: she took his hand and led him away, laughing lightly, looking a little bit younger, too.

I could feel my own lips tugging up at the sight. Perhaps, if everything remained good, I could bring my son here next year and enjoy it the way that I truly wanted. All of this cheer and warmth felt wasted on me without my family there. I felt the tremble that moved through my innards and shivered around my heart as it squeezed slightly. I couldn’t give them anything. The disappointment felt sharp as it bit me. I glanced toward the sacks of presents once again. At first, the idea of stealing something came to me. A moment later, I pushed out the idea – if all it took was engaging in some of the festival activities, then I would do so and see what I might receive. Something that I could take to my son if I were lucky. If I wasn’t lucky, then I could at least see if I could barter it somewhere for something he might enjoy.

My gaze caught on movement beyond the firelight in the shadows and the snow. Someone sat in the lee of the wall as close to the fire as they dared. Why they didn’t come closer, I wasn’t sure. Every town had beggars; it was far too cold for them to lurk in the shadows here, however.

Trennil clapped me on the back. “I’ll be going to find something to do. You coming, mumak?” he asked me with another chuckle.

Mara rubbed her gloved hands together. “Oh, you can find an eating competition nearby. You can go and ask Basil if he needs help with his kegs, too.”

The dwarf perked up instantly. “Kegs, you say?”

Mara nodded quickly. “Or Mabel. She should be near him. I think she’s looking for help gathering things to make foodstuffs. Oh, and getting to the Grumpwood to collect firewood.” She paused. “Unwilling firewood.”

The Hunter blinked. “Unwilling firewood?” he asked blankly.

She nodded again. “Something about angry trees and flailing limbs.” I watched the dwarf twitch violently at the words and fought back the urge to snort laughing.

“Keg it is,” Trennil stated as he turned and moved off quickly. “Not Mabel,” I heard him muttering as he left. “Ignore Mabel…”

Mara frowned after him with much the same look of confusion that the dwarf had just worn. “You have strange friends,” she told me.

“You have no idea,” I agreed. “Thank you for your help, Mara.” I moved off in Trennil’s wake when I heard someone clear his throat close by and offer a polite, “Hello there! New to the Frostbluff, are you?”

Looking toward the man, I found myself facing a guard. The instant tension I felt was almost instinctive. I hadn’t even stolen anything yet even if I’d considered it. “One of many,” I replied.

“Well, you’ve come at the finest time of year. I just hope you behave yourself, or else you’ll be hearing from me!”

He didn’t sound at all convincing to me given how jovial he made it, and I felt myself relax. “Can I help you?”

“Funny you should ask that,” he replied. “I’m Kember. Guard Kember. I couldn’t help overhearing about you and yours wanting something to do.” He fidgeted with the hilt of his sword. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. The mayor employs me to see to it that everyone keeps the peace so that you patrons can have the best possible experience during Yule.”

I stared down at him. “That’s usually what a guard is meant to do, yes,” I agreed dispassionately.

He shrugged at me. “You should begin by speaking to Ona Kay who runs the Eating Contest. All good celebrations should start with a full belly of delicious food!” He turned and pointed in the direction that Trennil and the others had gone. “Come back here after you’ve had a tour of the place. I could use a hand with one or two things someone like you might be good at.”

That doesn’t sound questionable at all, I mused as my lips twitched up again. “Fine.” I moved past him toward the square and the sound of a woman’s voice announcing when an eating contest would begin once more. When I was close enough, I asked, “Are you Ona Kay?”

She turned her smile toward me, froze a moment, and let her gaze travel up from where a normal man’s head would be to where mine sat. She blinked before catching herself and becoming warm once more. “Good day to you! Yes, I’m Ona, the Announcer for the first station at the Eating Contest.” She motioned to her left and behind her. “There are many more stations, of course, and I hope you will be able to visit all of them before you get too full.” She spread her hands slightly as if helpless. “What is a festival without wonderfully excessive amounts of food? I doubt you will find a bigger feast anywhere in Middle-Earth than here in Winter-home.”

I chuckled. “I think I know some hobbits who might take up that challenge. Have you ever seen one of them eat?” I shook my head. “Anyway, the guard said to come see you as I got familiar with the town and everything going on in it.”

Something moved behind her eyes. “Ah, Guard Kember. Well, if you’re speaking with people…” She nodded at the stairs leading down into the square itself. “You should speak next to the mayor, Winston Goodnough. The Festival is here thanks to his efforts, and he wishes to greet all of his guests personally.”

I wasn’t sure what I’d seen. She’d seemed on the verge of saying something about Kember before thinking better of it. Shrugging it off, I made my escape to meet with the mayor. It was probably my imagination.

The mayor, a grey-haired man in finery, greeted me and sent me to look around the festival. Something about him reminded me of my usual marks enough that I could feel my fingers itching in my gloves to pick his pocket. I would most likely come up with something good. His wife, Carolyn, stood nearby with her arms crossed at her chest and a smile on her face. She, too, welcomed me and then moved me on to the festival. I knew their kind, though. I’d robbed enough of them. I had half a mind to do it before I left the festival just on principle alone.

I didn’t know where to go next, though. A pair of people, servants by their dress, stood near the bottom of a set of stairs. Music skirled through the air so that patrons danced individually or in pairs near the food and drink laden tables and benches in the square. Mara’s words came back to me about the woman’s identity before the man’s, and I couldn’t help the grin that split my face when I noticed Trennil’s lack of presence anywhere nearby. As I approached her, I nodded a greeting. She looked up and up at me with a soft, “Oh, my goodness!” and a little more color touched her already pink cheeks.

“Are you Mabel?” I asked in vague amusement. “I just came from the mayor. I was wondering if you had any suggestions for where to go to tour the town?”

She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, I’m only a servant. The Mayor surely doesn’t need you to talk to me.”

I shook my head. “No. I wanted to, though. Mara mentioned you, actually.” She brightened immediately at the hobbit’s name. “I’ll try to return and help you out once my tour is done.”

“Well, if it’s Mara who’s sent you…” Mabel said, trailing off. “I’ll not take up any more of your time; but perhaps you’d like to see the games we have to offer? It’s a bit of a walk, but you should go talk to Cecil Voller, the host of the Snowball Fight. Cecil is a ways north of the town, but I’ve heard that the snowball fights are well worth the trip.” She shifted and pointed. “Just go around the corner, here, and then make a right to go through the gate. You’ll see the lights and the snowmen from there and can direct your steps. The snowball field is beyond that, right by Cluckland.”

I frowned at her. “Cluck… land?”

She nodded happily. “It’s where we raise our chickens. They’re almost as pampered as our tent of mushrooms.”

So, that was the tent we passed on the way into the town, I realized. “I won’t tell my hobbit friend. You may wind up with an empty tent if they’re anything like Farmer Maggot’s.”

She grimaced. “That’s an unfortunate name.” She waved at me. “I’ll see you in a bit, then!”

I bowed my head and moved off around the corner as she explained. I passed another series of tables with celebrants before finding the arched exit. The hike out through the snow was cold but uneventful. I could hear chickens clucking on the crisp air from not too distant before heading back inside. Tinendail would want to make a snowman, and Dandelion would enable him. Reconciling the elf’s two images in my head, that of a child building a snowman and a fully plated Champion hewing through enemies, felt almost impossible. It was like trying to think of my son doing the same, if my son happened to already have the physical form of an adult.

But Cecil had sent me back inside to the Theatre, speaking of Tinendail and Dandelion, and I wondered if I would see them there. I went in and up the stairs near the ovens, followed the feasting path around to the second set of steps where Mabel and Basil still remained, and on to where a hobbit stood outside the theatre door. “Oh, hello! Are you interested in theater?” the announcer asked brightly. “We have quite a show that we’re putting on this Yule, and we’ve travelled all the way from the Shire!”

“Have you?” I asked with a little grin. “That seems a touch unusual, hobbits traveling out of the Shire.”

She shrugged helplessly. “We love theatre too much to keep it to ourselves. Besides, Mr. Shakesburrow did very well. We’ve been quite safe and happy for the most part. Well fed, too!” She clapped her hands together. “Speaking of which! Make sure you come back and see the show when you’re finished with your tour of town. I know you won’t be disappointed.” Her hands dropped to her waist. “Well, I am the last stop on your tour. You should return to the mayor. Do come back to see our wonderful show!”

I chuckled as I moved away. The L-shaped pathway in front of the theatre led back out to the feasting path back the way he came, but the rest returned to the thoroughfare to the west and south – an area he hadn’t been to just yet and that remained darker and less frequented by the festival goers. He had seen enough places like it, had immersed himself in them, to know it was the area for the less fortunate. That the “tour” I had been on avoided it only made me want to go there more. Enough wealth flowed through Winter-home that I didn’t expect many of the poor to remain poor, or unemployed, for at least this bit of time.

I passed a man near the entrance to that part of town and frowned at the sight of children, people, and a lack of warmth and consideration there despite the festivities a short distance away. A red-headed man leaning against a support pole of a rundown building sneered at me. “What do you want, O Revered Patron? Have you come to show off your silver and gold and your fat belly?” He waved a hand while I glanced down dubious at my very not-fat belly. “Well, show away. We earn our meager bread while you stuff your faces and play in the snow.”

I looked back up at him. “I haven’t done either of those, thanks.”

His tone continued to pull up my hackles. I didn’t like the challenge in it. It sounded too much like the way I’d been spoken down to most of my life, never mind that this man had decided to assume so much about me. “You are not welcome in Winter-home, not to all of its residents,” he continued. “We slave so that the Mayor can be rich, and so that he can throw marvelous parties for you all. Begone! We are not welcome among you, and you are not welcome among us!”

I opened my mouth to respond when a man near the red-head beckoned to me and said a touch sharply, “Gareth. Enough.” I stepped toward him. “My name is Daley Utteridge.” He sighed. “Please, pardon my friend. It is a hard winter, and there is less money and bread to go around than usual. But that is no cause to be uncivil to the guests of this town.”

I felt myself relax slightly through my shoulders as I nodded slightly. “He’s assuming too much about me. I’m neither rich nor unaware of how things are for the poor.”

Daley nodded. “Life can be cruel here, as you can plainly see, but I count myself among the lucky. Those who cannot work go even colder and hungrier than we.” I frowned at that. He offered a smile to me that seemed weary. “I am sure you are more welcome among us than Gareth implied; we are a friendly folk. You are welcome to visit any time you wish. I hope you enjoy your time in our little town!”

I puffed out a little sigh of my own that left a cloud in the air. “My friends and I brought gifts for everyone in this part of town. We’ll bring them by soon, especially for the children.”

The other man’s features softened. “Bless you, then. Perhaps, there is hope yet for this town and its poorest folk.” He offered a hand to me that I clasped. “You had best take this road straight to the festival once again. I doubt that the mayor wanted you to see us here, let alone speak to us.”

He was right. No mayor wanted the high-class money-spenders lining his pockets to see the poor and indigent. As I walked back to Winston Goodnough and his wife, I noticed that several of those unfortunates had taken up positions near the warmth and light of the fires as close as they dared. After I spoke with the mayor and his wife, who gave me copper and the festival tokens they used, I returned to where Mara remained, intent on getting the sacks of presents we had brought so we could deliver them. Kember stopped me before I could reach her.

“Oh, we can’t have this. No indeed, the mayor’s instructions were incredibly clear,” he was telling himself as I approached. “Oh! Hello, again.” He squinted at me in thought. “Maybe you can help…”

I glanced around myself in case the watchman meant someone else. He didn’t. “What seems to be the issue?” I asked a touch warily.

He scowled and pointed as he looked back toward where I had seen the figure in the shadows earlier while speaking with Mara. “Those beggars need to move off. I don’t care where they go, but we can’t have good patrons and patronesses seeing them like this.”

I had a feeling that was coming. Tension pulled my shoulders back once again. “What’s wrong with letting them find warmth and coin from the better off gathered here?” I asked a touch sharper than I probably should have.

He didn’t seem to notice. “The mayor wants this town to look pristine and happy and clean as long as the Yule Festivities go on. These beggars must get off the streets at once and clear out.” His expression cleared. “Are you looking for something to do between festival games? I’ll give you a nice reward if you clear out those beggars. I have my hands full with my other guard duties right now.”

“Where should I tell them to go?” I asked after a moment. “They shouldn’t be sent off to die in the cold or anything.”

Kember shrugged. “I don’t care. They just can’t be where people can see them.” He moved off afterward without looking the least remorseful, and I stared after him with a clenched jaw. So, you do want them dying in the cold, you and the mayor, just so long as they stop inconveniencing you and the patrons, I thought in frustration.

I found myself gritting my teeth while I approached the first man nearby. He gave me a weary look from where he had settled in a clear, dry patch away from the snow and within the circle of warmth from a nearby fire. “Listen,” I told him. “You have to go somewhere else.”

He slumped. “You want me to leave, but… Guard Kember just told me to leave a few hours ago, so I did, and this is where I ended up. Where should I go now?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I asked him the same thing, but he didn’t give me an answer. He just told me to say that you had to move.” Guilt wriggled in me. “I would let you stay if it were up to me.”

He slowly climbed to his feet. “All right, then. I suppose I’ll just have to amble along somewhere else.” He laughed without humor. “And then Guard Kember or you or the Mayor or someone will tell me that’s no good either,” he continued bitterly. “Then I’ll amble elsewhere. I’m sure we beggars make a good sport for the rich folk.” He slogged through the snow in threadbare shoes and clothing, leaving me smarting.

“This isn’t right,” I told myself roughly. I had been one of them more than once. It didn’t sit well with me in the least. Just do it. Kember will make your life miserable here if you don’t. There has to be something you can do for them to make up for it.

As I moved toward the poor area of town, I found another man to one side. He was too close to the festival area where Ona began her eating contest, and I knew that he’d be hassled if I left him there. Steeling myself, I told him, “I’m sorry. You have to move.”

He didn’t fight. He did, however, give me a disappointed look that pricked my conscience all over again. “I’ll go, I’ll go. Though I think it’s abominable bad the way you rich folks treat us beggars. Just who do you think made us this way? The world ain’t made of coins, you know. When one class gets all the coins, another gets none.”

“I know,” I agreed somberly. “Trust me, I understand.” I only continued around the corner once I’d made sure he was on his way elsewhere. I encountered a woman next who wailed in frustration, “There’s nowhere for me to go! If they want me to leave, they should tell me where to go….” Her brother stood near the theatre entry. The hobbit announcer I had spoken to didn’t mind in the least; all the same, the patrons gave him such suspicious looks that I knew it was only a matter of time before someone came looking for him. He seemed ashamed of having to beg for bread and was truly appalled at having disturbed anyone by doing so. The last man, near the back exit out to the snow fields, just wanted some warmth. I had to harden myself to tell him to move on, unwilling to do it otherwise, and he did so still reddened from the cold.

By the time I marched back to Kember, I felt like stabbing him. “It’s done,” I growled. They needed warmth and food, money for it, and nobody was allowing them to ask for help.

He must have taken my growl for annoyance about the beggars being there to begin with. “I don’t see any beggars loitering about now. Whatever you said to them seemed to do the trick!” Reaching into his belt, he fished out some coins. I almost didn’t take them before thinking better of it. “As promised, there’s a reward for the favor you did me. Now the mayor will be pleased, which means that I will be pleased, and that is always just how I want it!”

I nearly punched him with the fist I’d made over my ill-gotten reward. Ninety copper and four festival tokens. I’d have rather slipped a knife between someone’s ribs. It would’ve been less cruel and dirty. I settled them into my money pouch, tucked it away safely, and stalked away from Kember without another word.

I slowed a few moments later. So far, I had done as the mayor and the guard had asked. My reward had been the festival tokens, but it had also been ninety copper as well. I now had a silver and twenty copper, total, and I knew that bread didn’t cost too much. I would need help, though, if I meant to right some of the wrongs that this town had decided to commit. That I had decided to commit already. I would have to do it like a burglar, though, if I didn’t want us tossed out for causing trouble.

I started off toward Daley Utteridge once again. I already knew Mabel needed help. Let’s see what else I can do, I decided internally. And then I’ll go find the others.

* * *

Daley wanted me to give everyone I’d chased off a festival coin. They could use it to get something for themselves as a result. He also asked for me to clear off the frost grims making it dangerously cold in the area. “Guard Kember and the watchmen have been making an effort to keep those less fortunate from the festivities, but I never thought that some of our own patrons would drive them out!” he declared with a look at me that said he knew what I’d done.

“Unwillingly in at least one case,” I’d growled back at him. But he’d made a good point and had asked for my help with something I knew I could do to help make it up to the people I had wronged.

Basil Wyndham asked me to tidy up the tables from the eating contest since he “couldn’t.” The lazy git. I’d take his money and then some. He also wanted me to do his job with the kegs. Mabel asked me to get firewood, as Mara had said she would, but also to collect ingredients for making foodstuffs for the festival. By that point, Dandelion and Tinendail had rejoined me and could help me remember everything I needed. I returned to Kember to see if he had anything other than chasing off beggars for me and was surprised to find him needing help with snowbeasts in the area. Driving them off, which I could see the wisdom of since so many people were out there, by “bringing them some cheer.” I snorted at the idea.

We then separated with ulterior motives in mind. Trennil went on keg duty and cleanup detail. Tinendail went off to hack at living trees for firewood and to gather some of the ingredients for food while he was out. He would also bring back enough of those for the beggars to use. Dandelion went off to cheer at the snowbeasts, collect the rest of the ingredients, and destroy the frost grims.

That left me. The last thing that I had done, before setting off from Daley, had been to speak with Gareth Rust. “Back again?” he’d asked. He had paused and then offered, “Maybe I spoke unjustly the first time we met. Mayor Goodnough’s wish to please the folk like you is the reason folk like me go hungry this winter. But you don’t seem like a bad sort, despite the Mayor seeming to like you.”

“I don’t know that he will once I’m done here,” I had drawled back.

That had apparently piqued Gareth’s interest. “If you want to earn yet more favor with me and my fellows here, you surely won’t object to playing a little prank on the Mayor for the sport of the real townsfolk.”

I had canted my head slightly. “You have my attention.”

He had smirked. “The mayor has some fireworks stored near the festival area, and he’s intent on saving them for just the right moment. If you set off where they are, you’ll ruin the show (at least for him).” He had rubbed his hands together. “While the patrons are distracted, you should pinch Frostbluff Coins from their pockets! I can think of better uses for those coins….” He had nodded slightly. “Money is wasted on folk like them.”

It was like the world had grown lighter. I straightened and knew my grin had gone wolfish. “Finally, something I don’t mind doing and that I’m good at,” I had announced with more than a bit of glee.

That was why I had stayed behind in the end. I had work to do that I didn’t want Dandelion to see. My Yule gift from her would be a switching if she caught me doing this before I could explain to her why I was doing it. I knew the explanation might mitigate the doing of it.

I didn’t want to take that chance, though. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, I reminded myself. She had quite the arm on her with a switching branch and, despite my certainty of her delusional nature, I had to wonder if, at some point, Gammer Digweed hadn’t actually had children.

I casually wandered down the snow-lined street, turned right, and stood pondering the theatre as one of the watchmen passed by. Once he had done so, I continued on toward the short line of tables currently bare of contestants. An announcer, who I’d come to know as Mabel’s husband, Jack, stood nearby speaking with a patron between contests. I need a small distraction, I realized as I casually took a look around and spotted the box of fireworks near the low wall next to the stairs leading down to the square.

I needn’t have worried. Before the thought had fully formed and gone in my mind, the first set of contestants from the next wave of Ona’s contest hustled toward the food-laden tables. Jack stopped talking to take his position and the patron moved to watch the group as they straggled in. Others did as well and, with the air of someone who knows his height makes for an annoyance in an audience, I stepped back toward the rear of the gathering crowd of onlookers. I just happened to move toward the fireworks when I did so. Easing back, I leaned against the low wall as nonchalantly as possible as they began to cheer. I had a way to light the fireworks and enough tinder. I just needed the few moments it would take to get more than one of the ends burning so that the rest would be triggered. Unfortunately, that would require enough space for me to get away from them before they started exploding. Timing was everything.

The first contestant moved off, accompanied by cheers. Then a second one followed, and then a third. The next table of food awaited. With the eaters went their supporters, and it quickly became active as bodies began to shift and move away. I slowly sank into a crouch behind the large, snow-blanketed tree near the box of explosives and pulled out my tinderbox. Placing the dry tinder inside in two places, I hurriedly struck off some sparks from the flint and firesteel until a small flame flickered to life in each site. Rising, I hoped that it was enough as I made my way down the steps toward the dancing people and minstrels playing for them below.

I had only just come even with Mabel and her lazy partner, Basil, when the first firework went off with a loud whine and crackle of light. The dancers immediately stopped. “Ooh, so nice!” a woman cooed, clapping her hands in delight. I turned to look up as well with as much surprise as I could manage. Another firework went off; a third; a fourth. A servant came running up to the box above, yelling, “Blasted fireworks!”

My nimble fingers, gloved or otherwise, went to work. As the crowd clapped for the show, distracted, I plucked whatever I could from each of their pockets with the ease of one who had done it his entire life. I silently thanked Dandelion for putting the long, heavy robe on me given it had deep pockets well-suited for carrying extra weight without giving anything away. The patrons were too enthralled to notice their festival coins were vanishing.

The poor servant above us could do nothing but stand, stare, and flap his hands wildly as he bewailed his luck. “The mayor will never forgive me for letting these go off early!” he cried. I glanced at the other set of stairs to find the mayor livid and steaming while trying to hide it. “Stop, stop!” the servant wailed to no avail. “Noooo… I have the worst luck!” Smirking, I tucked the last few coins away in my clothing as the fireworks finally died back down and the man above us began to cry. With a final explosion that consumed the entire box in an impressive display, the fireworks went silent, and the servant stared from between his fingers at where the box had been just before turning and fleeing. I felt a little bad for him, but I felt worse for the people I had decided to help.

I regrouped with the others near Gareth. Trennil, Tinendail, and Dandelion seemed oddly subdued as they saw the squalor and misery in the poor area compared to the rest. Trennil had retrieved our sacks of gifts for us on his way back. “Daley, Gareth,” I greeted them both. “I have plenty of things for everyone back here.” Gareth straightened from his pole while Daley came forward to take our satchels. “Most of it is for the children,” I admitted. “But not everything.” I started fishing out everything I’d pilfered from the crowd and grinned at Gareth. “I hope you enjoyed the fireworks.”

He knew exactly what it was I meant and chuckled in return. “That was quite a display, Morchandir! And judging from how close they were, I’ll warrant you sent the mayor into a fit and disrupted things rather nicely!”

Dandelion shot a dark look up at me. “What did you do?” she asked immediately.

“Helped out with a request,” I replied blandly. “Nothing violent.” I offered what I had in my hand to Gareth and pulled out the rest, much to his startlement. He seemed to see me in another light by the time he had secured most of it.

“Well done, well done.” He handed back some of the coins. “Here, you should keep half of what you managed to collect. These coins,” he patted his pocket, “will be enough to spread out among my friends so that they won’t go hungry tonight!”

“Morchandir…” Dandelion growled dangerously low.

I stuffed my gloved hands into my robe’s outer pockets. “Gammer, it was for a good cause,” I told her. “You heard the man: people won’t go hungry tonight who would’ve otherwise.”

Trennil made a sound and hooked a thumb toward a dark corner. “I hid a small barrel of their ale there for you lot,” he told Daley and the ginger. “It’s not much, but I hope that it helps.”

Dandelion made a grumpy noise, but she dropped the issue of my burglaries. “Tinendail and I brought in enough ingredients that we made some bread and whatnot to bring for you that won’t be missed by the main festival. They got theirs. And I destroyed several of the frost grims that were making it colder.” She said this last to Daley, given it had been his request she fulfilled.

The elf offered the second sack to Gareth directly. It was much smaller but smelled heavenly enough that I was reminded of how I hadn’t eaten in all of my running around. The sound of my stomach rumbling turned their amused eyes toward me. I shrugged helplessly. “I’ve been too busy to eat anything,” I explained. “It’s not the longest I’ve gone without food. I’m fine.”

Tinendail motioned at Daley. “If you have a moment, could you bring over some of the firewood I bundled?” He clapped Trennil’s shoulder with a cheery look. “Be glad you weren’t there,” he told the dwarf. “Those wood-trolls were throwing heavy stones.”

The dwarf shuddered. “Bad enough they were alive, but using them for fires… it feels off, somehow.”

“Any port in a storm,” Gareth pointed out. Daley moved off with the elf, and we watched them depart in silence for a few moments before he spoke again. Turning back to me, he said, “Morchandir, we should talk.”

His serious tone immediately brought the Gammer out in Dandelion. “Are you well, young man?” she asked worriedly. “Do I need to fetch something else for you?”

Gareth shook his head. “No, I am well, as you see.” He nodded his head in thanks to her offer. “Better than well!” he continued, his attention returning to me. “I have a plan that might just fix everything that’s wrong with this town, and I need your help.” He crossed his arms at his chest. “Something big is stirring. This festival has pushed a lot of folk right to the edge, if you know what I mean. I’m going to pull them back.”

Trennil grunted. “That’s well and good, lad, but I think we need to know a little more before jumping in.” He then added, mostly because Dandelion had begun to glare at him, “We’ve given them quite a bit already. And besides, you know like I do that it’s better to have the full story before going in headlong.”

She sighed and relented. “I don’t want you to be right.” Even if he is, I agreed. She agreed, too, even if her need to do good and help warred with her desire to do it safely.

Gareth nodded at us. “That’s why I need you to speak to Mara. Let her know that I sent you. She has the information you need, but I’m not the only one who spoke to her. It’s up to you to decide if you want to help us or not.” He spread his hands. “Not much I can do about that other than ask. All of these families without money and food didn’t just happen accidentally, I do know that much.”

I frowned. “We’ll go speak to Mara Sandydowns.” I gestured at the sacks. “Make good use of these. Oh, and send the elf to Mara when he gets back with the firewood, would you?” At Gareth’s nod, I lifted my hand and waved to him as I turned to make my way down the road toward the front entrance of Winter-home. Dandelion and Trennil followed closely.

“I don’t like it,” the dwarf announced. “I knew something felt wrong. I didn’t know what it was until I saw how bad off these people were. The guards were telling them to leave.”

“Patrons, too,” I added. I hesitated and then said, “I was one of them. Though, in my defense, I was roped into it and didn’t really want to.” I pointed toward Kember, who still stood near the entrance. “He caught me and asked me to do it just after you all had left.”

“Morchandir!” Dandelion gasped, horrified.

“I didn’t want him making trouble for us, so I did it.” I said it with finality. “I regretted it and went off to collect as many things as I could to offset it. That’s where you all came in, too. I knew you wouldn’t want them going hungry and cold.” I sighed and we sidestepped several revelers who were a bit too far into their drinks. “So, if there is something else going on here, and my instincts are telling me there is, I want to put an end to it.”

Dandelion turned a pair of troubled eyes up to me. “You don’t usually care this much about other people, grandson.” I wasn’t sure if she sounded pleased or unnerved.

I half-smiled down at her. “You want me to stop? I can stop.”

“What? No!” she hurriedly yelped. “I just don’t know where this is coming from, that’s all. It’s a change that I don’t mind witnessing.”

I glanced away from her and stopped walking. “We’re here, Mara,” I announced, not answering the hobbit’s curiosity. “I heard you were looking to speak with me.”

Her expression this time was far less jovial than the first time we had met. “Well, well. You have made yourself right at home here. You have participated, just as the mayor wished, and you have also gone against his wishes by speaking with those he considers an unsavory influence on his great Festival.” She lifted her chin in a way I recognized from Dandelion’s more stubborn moments. “But now you must choose. One cannot have things both ways in life, not where it matters. Who will you choose to ally yourself with?”

My brows lifted. “That’s going to depend on what you tell me,” I replied. “What are my options and why do I even need to make an alliance in the first place?”

She made a thoughtful sound. “You must help either the workers and beggars or the mayor. You will be rewarded according to the financial abilities of each.”

I shook my head. “I need more information than that, Mara. I don’t jump in blindly. It’s a way to get myself killed.” Or at least, I don’t jump in blindly when I can manage it, I amended privately.

She rubbed her hands together near the flames of her campfire. “I’ll give you the short of it: the mayor is feeling a little suspicious of the workers and wants someone to spy on them to see what’s afoot. What you make of this is for you to decide, but I would talk to the mayor if I were you. See if what he has to say is to your liking.”

“Or?” Trennil prompted almost immediately, as if the idea of aiding the mayor had left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Or,” Mara continued. “You use that information to help the poor of Winter-home, whatever that information might be. Gareth Rust would be the one to speak with after the mayor, in that case.” She looked over at us. “So, make your decision and follow it through. The mayor will almost certainly reward you handsomely for your services. The poor? Not so much.”

I grimaced. She’d said something about wealth. It had my innate avarice flaring up. Dandelion knew me well enough by this point to guess – I received an elbow to the ribs and a glower. She then told her fellow hobbit, “We’ll speak with the mayor. Thank you, Mara.”

For what? I wanted to ask. Telling us to go talk to someone else and make a decision based on no information whatsoever? All the same, I muttered my thanks and we moved off toward the stairs. As I stepped off the last one, the mayor turned and recognized me. His smirk made me want to walk into a dark alley with him and emerge alone. “Ah, just the Man I wanted to see. You look quite a useful sort, so I have no qualms asking you to do a bit of dirty work for me.”

I snorted. “Useful.” I smirked at him. “Go on. Start talking.” I could play the heartless monster easily enough. I often was that monster in truth, after all.

“You see, the workers here have never been fond of my policies.” He made a flippant gesture. “They can feel however they wish, but if I hear of them stirring up any trouble or complaining to folks, that will mean trouble for them.” Too late, I told him mentally. “Gareth Rust is the one who seems to be the most upstart among his peers.”

“It goes with his red hair, you know,” I drawled.

“You must go spy on him and convince him to talk to you. If he says anything out of place, the rascal won’t have a job!” Goodnough promised.

“So, you want me to trick him into saying something so that you can take his job from him?” I asked.

The mayor squinted slightly. “Yes,” he finally agreed. “I think that might be for the best.”

I nodded. “Consider it done.” I motioned to the hobbit and the dwarf as I ascended the stone stairs. Only when I was at the top did I quietly offer to them, “I’m fairly sure that’s not at all legal of him.”

Dandelion shook her head. “I don’t know anything about laws. I just know it’s not right to do to someone, especially not in the middle of winter when everyone needs as much help as they can get.”

We made it back to Gareth, who seemed to have expected us. I told him the mayor’s plan and he laughed. “The mayor is right to send a spy. But you are a friend to us workers, and that is a great boon.” Insofar as I’m a friend to anyone, I agreed. He didn’t need to know that, though. “I have reason to believe that the mayor uses the extra funds from our lowered wages and over-time for unsavory transactions and doesn’t invest it in making our town better.”

Trennil set his hands on his hips. “You couldn’t have mentioned that before we went to Mara and the mayor?”

I patted the air at the dwarf. “Settle, Trennil. If we hadn’t decided to help them, telling us that would’ve been a disaster, especially for Gareth himself. The mayor’s targeted him.” I looked back at the Man. “Go on.”

He nodded in thanks to me. “I have seen Guard Frostway coming to town at night to collect money and forms to bring to the fort down by the lake. Will you go investigate down there? The mayor will fire me on sight if I leave my post.” He said the last while pointedly looking at Trennil.

Dandelion pursed her lips. “Money and forms. I bet they would show for sure where the money is going. If it’s not going where it should, the townsfolk can take action against him.” She looked up at me. “More theft?”

Tinendail finally jogged up to us with a happy, “What did I miss?” His bright features and youthful enthusiasm almost lit up the cold night.

“We’re going to steal the Yule Festival,” I replied quietly, eyes narrowed.