A Burg’s (Yule Fest) Tale – Part 2

Previously:

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.

———————–

Tinendail’s excited face said it all, but he still blankly replied, “What? How do you steal a festival?”

Trennil chimed in with, “I imagine you take all the decorations.”

The elf frowned. “Oh. And the food?”

The dwarf’s nod turned enthusiastic. “And the kegs!” he answered with a gleam in his eyes.

I lifted my brows at them. “Just the gold, actually.” I waved my hand slightly. “Where would we hide enough food and decorations to fill several wagons to sneak it out of here? And the snowmen. And the kegs.” I stopped. “Though the fancy horses we saw on the way in…”

“Morchandir,” Gammer interrupted me with a glare. “Theft for a good cause, not personal gain.”

I spread my hands with as innocent a look at her as I could produce. “How do you know I wasn’t going to sell them for more money to spread around or give them to the poor here?”

She jabbed me in the stomach with a finger, and I flinched at the feeling. “Because I know you, grandson. Besides, who are you going to sell them to here that has the money to buy them all? Now, do you have a plan to get down to the fort or not?”

Both Gareth and Daley looked from the hobbit to me and back again with expressions of confusion at her title for me. Obviously figuring it was a private joke of some form, they shrugged at one another and let it go. “I would wait for Frostway to take the latest papers and gold down tonight. He usually comes at the twenty-first hour and leaves within a half hour afterward.”

Dandelion nodded slightly. “So, nine in the evening,” she offered to the two Men. At their nods, she glanced back at us. “Do you think you can get there and back, Morchandir? Or should we go with you? You know we have little skill in stealth, but we might prove useful as a distraction for you.”

I shook my head. “No. I can handle it. You should all stay here and see what else you can do to help the poor while I’m gone. If I’m not back in a couple of hours, or you hear a commotion, best high tail it out of Frostbluff before they come looking to question you.”

“Absolutely not,” Dandelion stated with finality. “We’ll come and get you.”

I lifted my hands. “I didn’t say that I would stay captured for long. It’s the alternative you’d need to worry about.”

Gareth made a little sound. “I doubt they’d kill you. Or at least, kill you right away. They’d want to know what you were up to, first. Rough you up and make an example of you to uphold their charitable spirit and dedication to protecting the money-bearing guests in Winter-home.”

“Or use you as a reason to get rid of us poor folks much easier,” Daley added from nearby. “Don’t get caught, would you?”

I nodded with narrowing eyes and rubbed my gloved hands together. “So, it’s going to be murder,” I said with no small amount of grim delight.

“No!” the entire group answered at once in varying degrees of exasperation, horror, and surprise depending on how well they knew me. They looked at one another for a long moment after the outburst.

“No killing people, Morchandir,” Dandelion ordered with a pointed finger up at me.  “It’s Yule, for pity’s sake!”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine,” I replied, elongating the vowel sound. “I won’t take the easy way.”

Dandelion nodded, satisfied, but Gareth lofted a dubious brow. “Perhaps someone should go with you to keep Frostway alive…?”

Trennil grunted softly. “Eh. If longshanks here says he won’t, he won’t. He keeps his word remarkably well for a burglar.”

“If you say so.” Gareth didn’t look particularly convinced. On the other hand, murdering someone intent on directly or indirectly killing him and others like him slowly with exposure to the deep cold of Winter-home seemed to be low on his list of concerns. I could see as that very idea sank in given how his expression relaxed. “You may find Banker Archbluff down there, too. Someone has to count that filthy lucre.”

I set off in my formal festival garments, since I had nothing else to wear for proper sneaking, after spotting the guard entering the settlement. I decided to lie in wait for Frostway’s return just around the corner of the fort. If one could call the tiny little wooden structure a true fort. It wouldn’t last more than a minute in a true fight. The frost grims on the frozen lake nearby would be a far better deterrent to anyone looking to attack.

I plucked several of the winterberries from a nearby snow-covered shrub to pocket and take in with me later. Or eat them. I knew they would come in handy somewhere and somehow, either way. Peering through one of the half-fogged windows, I could see a lantern and a figure at the table inside. Only one, I noted, and no more. Retreating, I examined the structure more in depth, wondering if it would be better to climb up and enter through one of the upper windows. I swear I heard Tinendail’s voice lifted in a cheer and Yule song at one point along with an accompanying, if long-suffering, grunt from a snow-beast. All remained silent after the distant ruckus until the tell-tale noise of approaching boots on ice and snow echoed through the icy air. I crept to the corner of the fort to watch Guard Frostway draw nearer before pulling back to remain unseen. The door creaked open on its hinges and shut with a heavy thump after.

I moved around to the front of the fort and had another good look at it. Kicking in the door was impossible: it may not have been much of a fort, but the building materials still held true. They could bar it from within. They would definitely hear me were I to attempt to scale the wooden walls. I was about to make another circuit to see if I’d missed anything when the door hauled open to reveal Frostway.

The man stepped out, half-closing the door behind him, and demanded, “’You nosey patrons should mind your own business and stay in the Festival area! You’re out of bounds, Man, and out of your depth!”

I blinked at him and held up both hands. “Whoa, sir. I wanted to knock on the door to see if anyone was within who might help me get back to the Festival area. All you need do is point me in the right direction. Why are you being so aggressive?” I squinted at him as my hands dropped. “It’s nearly suspicious, if you ask me. Aren’t you supposed to help us patrons?”

He stabbed a finger along the path leading over the stone bridge. “Back that way, and don’t let me catch you out here again!”

I leveled a stare down at him. “Now, I know something is going on.” I craned my neck to attempt to see around him into the darkness of the fort. “Maybe I should go inside and make sure nobody in there is being hurt.” I stepped forward with intent and found myself staring at his upheld hand almost to my chest and the other at his club.

“So you’re intent on sticking your nose where it don’t belong?” Frostway growled in what he must have thought was a threatening manner. “The mayor pays me good money to make sure folks like you don’t dig up any unwanted dirt!”

I lifted my hand and pushed at his with a single index finger. “You should work on your deception skills,” I sneered. “If I wasn’t sure something bad was happening here and the mayor was involved, you just confirmed it. Hope he finds smarter people soon.”

His club fumbled up from his belt. “You should learn to mind your own business!” he cried as he lunged for me.

He missed as I sidestepped the blow. “I promised no killing, but you’re making it really difficult for me, right now,” I growled. When he came for me again, I grabbed one of his wrists, twisted, and elbowed him in the face before slipping away. He stumbled, hand lifting to touch his nose and cheek, and made an unpleasant noise of pain.

I still hadn’t drawn my weapons, though, and the realization seemed to rattle him just a bit. “Y-you best clear off!” he stammered with as much bravado as he could muster. “There’s no proof of anything!”

“Not until I get my hands on whatever is inside the fort,” I acknowledged, only to find him charging at me again with a desperately angry cry. This time, I swept his legs from beneath him and let his forward motion plant him face-first into both the snow and the side of the fort. I could hear the timbers rattle slightly at the impact.

“You’re strong! Too strong….” he whimpered. Getting to his feet unsteadily, he left his club where it had fallen to half-stagger his way back toward the bridge and Winter-home. I watched him go and heard the door open again behind me as Frostway lamented, “I’ve had enough of this job! The mayor has caused me nothing but trouble.”

“I dare you to tell him to his face that you quit and why!” I called after him smugly.

“Insufferable,” a new voice scoffed from the fort. I turned back to face the speaker and beheld a balding man in a dark robe of rich materials. “You insult the mayor by coming here unbidden!”

“Archbluff, I presume,” I drawled. “Why would I let any man, elf, dwarf, or hobbit tell me where I can and can’t go in a festival?” I looked over his shoulder past the open door. “Besides, you’re up to something rather horrible here, I think, and it’s my duty as a patron of this festival to protect the townsfolk from it.”

The fat man visibly bristled up at my words. “I’ll not let you smear the mayor’s reputation, or the reputation of this town… Not after all the sacrifices we’ve made.”

I motioned. “You do know that sacrificing lives for gold is generally frowned upon by most law-abiding and decent races, don’t you?” I countered. “Those are the only sacrifices I’ve heard you’ve made. Certainly nothing of your own.”

He laughed. “You fool. By challenging this fort, you are challenging the mayor. I think he will send you to the stocks for this, once I knock you out.” He balled up his fists as if he were a brawler. “And he’ll find out whoever sent you here, stranger.”

“The name,” I said as I stood straighter, “is Morchandir. Don’t be an idiot with your arrogance, Archbluff. We both know you can’t fight, let alone fight off your natural predator.” Burglars and bankers, I mused. The great circle of life.

He chose to be an idiot, however. Rushing me, he swung for my face with a bellowed, “I’ll make you wish you never grew so bold!” The problem was that he had to swing up and, from the slight hop he had to do along with his absolutely atrocious form, I revised my impression of his brawler stance. He’d simply been lucky enough to hit on it.

I jerked up and back to avoid it. “Try harder,” I sneered. “Though I doubt it will do you any good.”

He huffed and wildly flailed for my midsection with a growl. He missed by a league. “Why are you here?” he demanded. “Do you think any good will come of exposing us?” He wanted to try a different tactic, I saw. I appreciated the mouth he had on him. It was more than I usually received in a fight.

“I do, actually. It’s almost as if stopping your predatory ways on the poor,” I paused to slap away another slow, heavy strike from him, “of Winter-home is the right thing to do.” I jabbed quickly at his gut and felt it sink into the fleshy mass as if I’d just kneaded dough.

Archbluff doubled over with a cry of dismayed discomfort. “Do you think you have not also profited at the expense of the poor?” he wheezed at me. The words forced my hesitation. “You think you are helping them by coming here…” He laughed breathlessly. “But think! How many coins have you reaped at their expense?”

“Too many.” I slapped his face lightly. “Which means I’m here to make it up to them now that I know what I’ve done. Stand up straight, already!” I snorted. “You wanted this fight. Finish it, then.” I added, “Or actually start it, come to think.”

“Ah!” His cry at the slap bordered on girlish. He valiantly attempted an uppercut, landed it, but I didn’t have a glass jaw while he didn’t have the strength to make it count. It rattled my teeth slightly at most.

Dancing aside at his follow-up blow, I caught his arm, twisted it behind him, and held him at my mercy. While I had him there, I made sure to rifle through his pouches and pockets as he whimpered from the sharp pains in his joints at the positioning. “At least when this news breaks out, you won’t have to worry about the mayor silencing you for your failure.”

When I released him, I shoved him ahead of me toward the stone bridge. He thrashed forward two steps, tripped, and went into the nearby snowbank much like Frostway had done. Pulling up his snow-covered face and beard, he panted, “I… I am not strong enough to stop you.” Glad you came to that same conclusion I did at the start, I told him silently. I wish you’d have done it then, too. “You may do as you like. Just leave me out of it!” he cried as he got unsteadily to his feet to hastily depart.

“Your name and Frostway’s will be on everyone’s tongues before nightfall!” I called after him. “Shame! Shame on your house! On your family!” On your cow? I wondered. What else would there be to shame? I glanced at the hole he’d left in the snow and found a scrap of paper had come from one of his pockets as I’d rifled through them. I bent to retrieve it before looking up at his departing figure.

I made sure he was out of sight down the trail before going into the dimly lit and admittedly barely warm interior of the so-called fort. Unfolding the paper, I read it through. My brows lifted. “Mayor Goodnough, you’ve been a naughty boy,” I said, vaguely impressed at the evidence of wrongdoing I now held in my hand. Misappropriation of funds was the tip of the iceberg – the paper gave specific details of where the money was going, and none of it was for the Festival or the town. Some of it looked to even be of a Shadowy nature.

I ransacked the fort for anything valuable and for backing up the information on the paper I had taken off the banker. Both the former and the latter went into a rug I folded up to make into a makeshift sack, tied off with some rope, and hefted over my shoulder. “Should’ve brought Neeker,” I grumbled mostly to myself as I left the fort, closed the door behind me on its dark interior, and trudged back toward the settlement on the hill above.

It took most of that hour or so I had mentioned to my group to return to the back entrance. Trennil stood nearby looking for me with a mittened hand shielding his squinted eyes from above. “There you are, laddie,” he greeted me with no small amount of relief. “I spotted a battered guard and a huffing banker come this way a bit ago and worried a little for you. I’ve not heard a ruckus from anyone inside yet, and if the mayor had been warned I suppose he’d have either sent people down or been out of here like the Witch-king himself dogged his heels.” He patted my upper arm. “What do you have, there?”

“Evidence,” I replied. “And possibly things to give to the needful from the fort. Plenty of money they had stored down there, but also some goods, too. Some of it goes with our written evidence, but to be honest?” I shook my head. “I don’t think we’ll need much of it once I face down the mayor with what we’ve discovered.”

Trennil grunted. “It probably belongs to someone in Winter-home anyway.” He motioned up the stairs. “Want me to carry that to Rust while you do the honors with the shady ringleader of this mess?”

I hefted the rug off my shoulder and passed it to the dwarf. “Delighted. I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”

I walked past the filthy tables and massive kegs along the side path at the ground level as the scent of freshly baked good wafted along the cold air from the kitchens behind and above me. Revelers laughed and danced in the courtyard just ahead of me as a bard played festive tunes. I prowled past them to where the mayor stood looking around and occasionally waving and chatting with some visitor who passed by. Upon spotting me, his expression brightened noticeably.

“What did you find out from Gareth Rust? Anything I can use against him?” Winston Goodnough asked eagerly. “I’ve been waiting for quite some time to rid myself of him!”

I fished out the paper from my pocket without answering him. Opening it, I thrust it out so that he could read its contents. It was so close to him that he had to step back slightly with a frown. “What’s that you have there?” he asked as he refocused on the receipt. As he read it, he paled until he nearly matched the color of the snow around us. “W- what are you going to do with that?!” he stammered in fright. “Surely you don’t mean to tell our innocent visitors of this… do you?” He stared at me in horror, eyes wide. “Please… I will do anything you ask if you just put that paper back where it belongs, hidden away…” He clasped his hands in front of him.

“Anything?” I echoed coldly, staring down at him without blinking or expression.

“What do you want?” he asked eagerly. “What share of the profit will appease you?”

I folded the paper up and tucked it into my pocket once again, safe and sound. “I have demands,” I replied softly, my gaze never leaving his face. “First, you’ll give back everyone’s jobs. Second, you’ll pay them a wage that is proper for the work they do. Third, you stop abusing the people of Winter-home to line your pockets.”

He whined. “But… but that will bankrupt me! Surely, there must be something…”

“Then you deserve to be destitute,” I interrupted him. “Perhaps living as you make these people live will help you see the error of your ways.” I folded my arms at my chest. “You do that, and I won’t reveal any of this to the festival-goers or the other Winter-home folk so they boot you from your position as mayor.”

He rubbed his face with both hands. “Fine,” he finally agreed. “All of it. I’ll do it.”

“Starting immediately,” I added. “I’ll go and let the beggars know they have their jobs back and won’t be hassled to move along any longer. They can stay warm and enjoy the same food as everyone else in this place, do work, and care for their families.” I dropped my hands to my sides and moved off.

I decided to start with the stairs behind the mayor and headed for where I knew one of the beggars I’d told to shove off still lurked. I’d seen him there, having sneaked back to the warmth to save his life, and couldn’t blame him for risking Guard Kember’s wrath given the circumstances. Barrett Nowell flinched as he saw me approaching. “It’s just too cold, I had to come back. Please, don’t make me move again…” he begged.

I crouched near his supine form. “I won’t. Nobody will.” With a smile, I told him, “I was told to bring news to you and others that you have your job back. Proper wages, too.”

He sat up with a little difficulty. “Surely… surely you are joking.” At my slow headshake, he continued with more wonder, “How can this be? Has the mayor grown a heart?” He struggled to get up, and I offered my hand to him. “I’ll not count my blessings — I will go to work at once!” We stood together, and he held my forearms tightly. “This is wonderful news…!”

“Make sure to eat and drink something warm to gain strength,” I urged him. “You won’t be able to work long if you’re too weak to do so.”

He nodded enthusiastically before he hurried off. “I am so happy!” I could hear him exclaim as he went.

I moved down the nearby street where I had found Ted Ives earlier. He hadn’t moved far from the place I’d shooed him. “What do you want?” he asked with dread in his tone. “Come to move me along once again?”

“Peace, Ted,” I told him. “The mayor has given you your job back, effective immediately. I’ve been sent with the message.”

The other man stared at me as if he’d just spotted a mumak in the center of town. “What sorrow and what joy this winter has brought me! I can hardly believe my ears, Morchandir. By what providence has the mayor decided to give me another chance at life?”

I lifted my shoulders innocently. “Perhaps, someone convinced him of the error of his ways. It is Yule, after all.”

A wide smile split his features. “You are so good to deliver this message to me. My outlook does not seem so bleak now.” He sighed as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. “I can’t believe it!” he crowed as he hurried off.

I passed my group along with Rust and Utteridge as I turned down another street. I waved to them without stopping and fielded their confused looks with a call of, “I’ll be back soon. I’m delivering messages.” I could see their expressions grow even more perplexed at the words, but I focused on my task at hand. I could explain it later.

Regina Judson found the news of her rehiring joyful, but she tempered it with more wisdom than the others had seen. “I can feel it,” she told me. “You have had a great part in this gift that you now bring me from Mayor Goodnough.” She set a chilled hand against my cheek and smiled with slightly watering eyes. “Such wonderful news! I’ll go to the worksite now.” Her husband, Jack, actively cheered when I told him. “I cannot believe it! I’ve been hoping every moment that some luck would come my way, and it has at last!” he crowed. “You are the bearer of such marvelous news! I can hardly believe my ears…”

“Just so long as you stop lurking outside the Globe looking suspicious,” I warned him. “What is this position that you keep taking? Are you about to jump on someone and eat them like a warg?”

He laughed as he left with a wave. His strangeness had me convinced, for a brief moment, that I would wind up with him as a companion. My final recipient, Bill Hyde, almost collapsed. Clutching my arms and staring up at me, he said gratefully, “You… you give me my life back with your news.” With a shake of his head and the slow strengthening of his knees, he continued. “I don’t know what to say. Can it really be true, Morchandir? Can the mayor have grown a heart?”

“You’re the second person who’s used that turn of phrase today,” I replied. “I can’t say he’s grown a heart. I think, though, he’s developed a very nasty conscience.”

Bill laughed. “What a wonderful day. Things are turning around for this town; I can feel it.” He added, “Heart or conscience. I cannot cry foul with it since it means I will survive to see another year, and a year after, and another after that at the very least!” He sucked in a great draught of the crisp air and said, eyes closed, “I’m so happy!”

By the time I found myself approaching my companions once more, I felt tired. “Messages, was it?” Gareth prodded me. “What happened out there, Morchandir?”

I pulled out the paper from my pocket and handed it to him. “This is the evidence you need to oust the mayor for his crimes,” I explained. “I used it to give people back their jobs at a proper wage and wring some protection for them out of Goodnough.”

Rust took the paper and unfolded it. He read through the receipt and grunted. “Good stuff, this.” He looked up at me. “So, why have you given it to me?”

“Because I promised the mayor I wouldn’t out him,” I replied innocently. “I’ll keep that promise. You, though? You can either hold that over his head to keep him in line or get rid of him entirely. It’s up to you and yours as to what to do with that information.” I waved my hand around at the buildings. “This is your home and not mine, Rust. It’s not right that I have the power over its fate like that.”

Dandelion grasped my free hand in both of hers with a proud smile up at me. “Oh, grandson,” she sighed as she squeezed it. “This is the best gift you could’ve given an old Gammer like me this Yule.”

“Speaking of gifts,” Tinendail chirped happily, “much of what you had Trennil bring has found its way to needful hands. Money, goods, all of it.” He laughed lightly and patted the dwarf’s shoulder. “You should’ve seen him as he approached with that rug slung onto his back! The children swarmed him.”

He scruffed a hand through his beard self-consciously. “I think they thought I was Aulë the Maker,” he grumbled with a blush. “I rather hope he doesn’t mind as I find it a compliment.”

Gareth cleared his throat. “You have done a wonderful thing, Morchandir.”

“Without murdering anyone in cold blood,” Tinendail added with a little cheer afterward.

“Ah. Right.” Rust rubbed the side of his nose before motioning for Daley to come over with a small package. “We workers don’t have much, but we scraped together what we could.”

“Oh, no, I…” I began.

“Please, accept these gifts as tokens of our gratitude,” Gareth said firmly as it was pressed into my hands. “But know that we will not forget you, or the great deeds done this day. If we ever have the opportunity to give you proper thanks, you can rest assured that we will.”

I felt awkward. The outpouring of affection and gratitude made me squirmy, to say the least, but knowing that the workers had all pooled their meager resources together to get me a gift made it worse. I opened it while Tinendail looked on with all the excitement of a half-grown elf in a happy situation. I found a silver and seventy copper as well as shabby clothing and a handful of Yule Festival tokens. I felt slightly cheated and guilty for feeling that way all at once. Dandelion nudged me – I could almost hear her in my head telling me to be gracious – and I smiled at the workers. “Thank you.”

We parted soon after to enjoy the festival for ourselves. I had already begun plotting how to pickpocket several drunk people and, perhaps, make off with a fancy horse for sale near the front entrance when Dandelion halted. We all followed suit to see what she had to say.

“I would like to make a snowman,” she declared. “What would the rest of you like to do, now that we have the leeway to do so?”

“Snowball fights,” Tinendail responded without hesitation. “That looked entertaining when I saw the children doing so earlier. Do you think they might come out again if I asked?”

I set a hand on my hip. “You really think it would be fair for you to use your Elvish reflexes and speed against a pack of slower and weaker children?” I paused and gave him a thumbs up. “Go ask. Challenge them if you have to. They’re ruthless little goblins, though, be prepared.” I had seen my own son playing with other children in the winter snows of the Dale-lands. I knew what the elf was up against. He darted off the way we’d come to find the gaggle of littles skulking about.

“I believe I’d like to sit and drink and watch the fireworks they’ll have,” Trennil said with satisfaction. “Perhaps dance a little, too. How about you, Morchandir?”

I smiled. “I’m going to go pickpocket the mayor, his wife, and then find their house and loot it of whatever I can carry.”

“Morchandir!” Dandelion hissed. A moment later, she subsided with a thoughtful expression. “Very well, just this once. Only because the man deserves it, and I can’t see his wife not knowing about his foul actions with this town. At best, she’s ignorant, and at worst, complicit.” She waved a hand at me as she turned to walk away. “Have fun, grandson.”

We stared at her for a long moment. “That sort of removes the fun from doing it,” Trennil remarked. “It’s so much better when she’s antagonized by your thefts.”

“I’m telling her you said that.” Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I casually remarked, “I’m taking her permission this time as a Yule gift. Don’t look too far into it, my dwarf friend.” I swiveled around as I kept walking. “And take a drink to watch Tinendail at the snowball field. He’ll need all the help he can get, trust me.”

Trennil seemed resistant to the idea, at first, but the obvious images of an elf being bombarded from all sides by expert snowball hurlers cackling madly from behind snow blockades had him brightening instantly. Traveling companions or not, dwarf and elf rivalries needed stoking now and then. It would only be a matter of time before one of the elf’s snowballs found its way into Trennil’s face and the true battle would then begin.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Yuletide,” I sang under my breath as I made my way toward a sprawled-out hobbit dead to the world from too much drink. Maybe I would swing past the field, too, after I’d made my holiday a bit brighter. I couldn’t be good all the time.