A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 20

Thunder rolled across the landscape without warning as the breeze, which had picked up in the gloom to bring the scent of rain, dropped to silence once more. Lightning sparkled over the clouds overhead at a distance just yet as I watched. “Is it safe to go up Weathertop in this weather?” Dandelion asked Candaith with a wrinkled brow.

I looked down at her from behind my mask. I knew she couldn’t see the lofted brow I had at her question, but I knew that she could see my gesture at the path. “We’re already halfway to the top, Gammer,” I answered. “It’s a bit too late to back down now.”

Candaith nodded at me in agreement. “It’s also of the utmost importance that we do this tonight, before they have time to really dig in at the peak and the way up to it. So long as they’re unstable, we’ll have a much easier time for breaking their hold and sending them fleeing.” Lightning flickered a little closer, followed by thunder, and we all glanced toward it uneasily. “Just keep your eyes open. When it starts raining, the stones underfoot will grow slippery and there may be areas of runoff to unbalance you should you encounter them.”

We soldiered on. Solitary orcs and goblins fell quickly to our blades and Dandelion’s shield when we found them until the Ranger lifted a hand to halt our progression. “Wait here,” he told us softly. “In this nook, here, between these large stones. I’ll return shortly.” He set off into the gloom, vanishing immediately, and I gently pulled the hobbit into the darkness that would be our hiding place. The first drops of rain began to fall at last as we settled in. Aware of Dandelion’s armor and age, I loosed my cloak from around my neck to lift it over my head. Spreading my arms wide while holding the black fabric, I covered the both of us as best I could as the storm finally made it to our position. We might be dampened by it but not, for the moment, drenched. The hobbit Guardian didn’t seem to notice. Her attention remained on the path crossing us, complete with a distracted expression, for quite some time.

“Do you think that young man is staying safe?” she finally whispered to me through the sound of the rainfall.

A flash and a rumble of thunder kept me from answering immediately. “I believe so,” I replied at last. “He’s far better suited to this type of weather than either of us, as a Ranger.” I wasn’t entirely sure of his age, either; given Rangers were longer-lived than the rest of us, Gammer’s “young man” might be as old as she was and not look a day past twenty-five. I supposed it might be a little older than that, but I wasn’t about to nitpick over something that didn’t matter.

She said nothing. A moment after, she tipped her head up to regard me looming over her and frowned slightly. “I won’t melt if I get wet, Morchandir,” she stated firmly. “Save the strength in your arms for the orcs. Their armor is tough.”

“Which is why I don’t punch through it,” I said with a smirk. “I go around it. Besides, if you catch a chill, your adventuring days with me are done while you recover. By then, I’ll be leagues away fulfilling my duties to that bloody wizard.”

“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “We hobbits are far too hardy a folk to catch a silly sniffle by mere rain alone. Pull your arms down, now, and let’s wait for Candaith to return with news.”

There was no arguing with her. Not that it stopped me from trying in a low tone, mind, but the futility of the action made itself known quickly when she reached up and pulled them down for me. I shifted the cloak again so that I could wear it properly before crouching near her.

“Are you two at it, again?” Candaith asked quietly from nearby just after I’d resettled. I simply rolled my eyes in the dark as he chuckled. His amusement faded quickly. “We must make haste, friends. We have the leaders of these Uruk-hai cornered like rats upon the slopes of Weathertop.” He motioned with one hand. “If we can defeat them, we may yet break the will of this war-band and drive them whimpering to their masters in the South. Be prepared for anything.’

We rose in the ceaseless wet. “Why have they come so far north? How have they managed it without anyone noticing?” Dandelion asked in frustration.

“Maybe the ones who did weren’t allowed to sound an alarm.” To Candaith, I asked, “And what masters in the South might have sent them up here?”

He shook his head. “You’re asking questions I have no answers for other than Sauron’s lieutenants,” he told the both of us. “But if he has the power to turn the eyes of those who might see his armies, then all may already be lost. The mystery may have an answer above us, or it may require more time than we currently have. We must ascend and quickly.”

We started off without further explanation. I felt that one of two things might be true at that moment: either Candaith knew or suspected something he didn’t want to share or our pertinent questions had no ready answers just yet. I wanted to believe the latter of him even if my innate distrust felt ruffled. My foot slipped on the wet stones a time or two before I caught myself. We pushed through a gate and moved onward. As we rounded yet another bend, the Ranger fell back to us to say, with a gesture further up the path, “Their leaders have all gathered on the hill.”

I was about to answer him when a reedy, harsh voice proclaimed, “Keep a close watch. We don’t want no surprises.”

Goblins, I thought even as Candaith pulled us aside into more cover. “Wait! Let the patrol move out of sight,” he commanded in a low hiss.

Another goblin came into view moments after. “Anything comes this way, and it’ll be sorry,” the creature promised with a mad little laugh.

An abrupt, if small and decidedly female, roaring bellow came from Dandelion as she rushed toward the enemy. Candaith cursed at the same time as I did. “Kill ‘em!” shrieked the first goblin. Then, spotting us behind her, it added, pointing, “Kill ‘em all!”

“Are you sure she’s not a very tiny dwarf?” the Ranger asked as he stepped forward in the Guardian’s wake.

“No,” I replied, unsheathing my long knives. “She thinks I’m her hobbit grandson, remember?”

Dandelion’s shield crashed into the skull of one of the goblins as Candaith grunted softly. “Good point.” He dodged the second creature’s swipe at him with its weapon, and I left him to it to focus on the hobbit… even though she didn’t seem to need my aid. A shield was really no match for an armed opponent, surely? Remembering Dandelion’s singular reaping of the orcs in Bleakrift, however, I then wondered if I was even necessary in this fight what with the hobbit’s and Ranger’s skills. Given the fight was done moments later with two dead White Hand conscripts before I could even engage, I had my answer and sheathed my knives.

“You shouldn’t charge in like that,” I told her sternly. “Candaith was giving us a plan of attack.”

She narrowed her eyes up at me. “Don’t you sass me, young man,” she warned. “I’ve been doing this longer than you’ve been alive.”

I snorted. “If you’ve never listened to someone’s orders, that is a true wonder,” I retorted perhaps a bit sharply.

Candaith cleared his throat. “Besides, you only have a shield, Gammer,” he pointed out in a bid to save me from another switching, most likely. “The offensive capabilities are limited.” He paused. “Though you do wield it with greater strength than I thought possible.” For a hobbit, I knew he wanted to say.

The deflection seemed to work. Dandelion made a grumpy noise and shouldered her battered buckler as she turned away. “I’m a Guardian. If I hit you with my shield, I want it to work.”

“Fair enough,” the Ranger agreed. “Just try not to rush in. I know you feel the need to protect your grandson,” to which I shot him an evil glare, “but remember I’ve scouted ahead.”

She fell silent as we walked in the rain before finally sighing. “Very well,” she relented. I had to admire her bloodthirstiness. That much, we could agree on. I hadn’t met many hobbits in my time, but the ones I had weren’t as prone to finding violence that satisfying. To be honest, Dandelion didn’t seem to enjoy it, either, except in the defense of others. I had to commend her commitment to the idea that I was her flesh and blood and worth killing for even if it was still ludicrous.

We moved on until a rickety-looking wooden gate started to materialize from the gloom. Candaith waved us toward one of the lighted half-covered torches sizzling in the rain. “What do you think?” he asked us as we kept out of sight of the two goblin groups to each side of the barrier, left and right, milling around.

I turned my attention to the lighting. “Oil-based,” I pointed out to them after a moment. The scent of its burning and the rain’s attempts to kill it produced an acrid bite to the damp air that tickled my nose. “Wood won’t light easily in this rain and there isn’t enough wood to spare in the Lone-Lands to use it on open fires.” My eyes moved to a nearby pyre of unlit wood. “They came prepared.”

Candaith motioned toward the wooden formation. “Those are for emergency signals, I’m sure. They’ll have their campfires protected somehow, like mine usually is. You build it a certain way and use tinder that lights no matter what.” He brightened. “That’s an idea…”

“What is?” Dandelion asked, blinking rain from her eyes as she looked up at him. I gently moved my cloak to cover her slightly again, and she reached out to poke me in the thigh. “I’m an old woman and your Gammer, not a young hobbit lass to be courted.” Her roughened voice softened. “But thank you, Morchandir.”

The Ranger half-smiled as he motioned to the burning light. “This torch may prove useful. One of you take it.” He nodded at the pyre. “Perhaps we can light a fire to draw the goblins’ attention. We might split their forces. Be prepared for anything.”

Dandelion nodded slowly. “It would be much easier to fight three of them than six or more all at once. Do you think that wet wood will light?”

He made a noise. “On its own? No. It would work too slowly, as wet as it is. But as Morchandir said, these torches have oil in them. Water and oil do not mingle. Oil remains above if you put them into a glass container together. The water rolls away when placed atop it. The rain should not hinder it much if we can get it started. We need it to light and burn quickly.”

“Or quick-ER than wet wood might,” I added, pulling off the torch from its stave.

“Careful,” Dandelion cautioned. “You’ll burn yourself.”

The signal pyre had a strange construction to it that I recognized from my travels and from Candaith’s own firepit. I could only hope the tinder left inside would be enough as I tipped some of the oil onto the wood before pushing the flaming end within to light it ablaze. It steamed slightly before fulfilling my wish. I didn’t bother pulling the torch out; instead, I left it within to help with the combustion. We retreated to a place just out of the way to set up our ambush once the flames had begun to truly build strength.

Sure enough, one of the goblin groups rushed toward the pyre with weapons brandished as they looked around for their companions. It made killing them much faster. The ones left near the gate put up slightly less of a fight given they hadn’t expected the enemy to leap from the shadows. We stayed hidden for a few minutes after in order to make sure their deaths hadn’t brought more of them down upon us. Only then did we emerge and Candaith threw open the gate.

Shortly after passing through it, we again halted. The Ranger pointed ahead. “The road diverges ahead,” he explained to us. “We will need to split up.”

“Are you sure about this?” Dandelion asked worriedly.

He nodded. “I shall follow the trail to the right, you follow the path to the left. If all goes well, we will meet again upon the peak of Weathertop. Wait until I have passed from sight before you proceed.” He turned to us. “Remember the torches. We may avoid a skirmish or two.”

I shook my head. “I don’t like this, Candaith,” I growled. The unease in me was growing. “You alone? I would rather you take Gammer with you. I have my stealth to hide me.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but Dandelion beat him to it. “Absolutely not, grandson! The last time I left you alone, one of those filthy orcs nearly throttled you to death! I’ll not have it!”

“You’ll need her to help defend you,” Candaith finished with a little smirk. “We need to be swift. These Orcs must be driven out of the Lone-lands. I have no time to explain why we have to part here and meet again at the top of Weathertop.”

Dandelion made an irritated sound. “You young whelps, always thinking you know better than your elders.”

He chuckled. “I will travel to the right. You take the path to the left. Use the torches you find on the unlit pyres along the path. They may draw the attention of the nearby Orcs.”

I frowned. “We understood the first time,” I replied.

He looked at Dandelion for a long moment before he returned his gaze to mine, and I understood the unspoken intent. The stubborn hobbit couldn’t pretend not to have heard him if he repeated it. “If you come across Bûb-hosh or Muz, the Warg-keeper, defeat them. They’re some of this group’s leaders.” He turned away and began to walk off to the right side path. Dandelion moved as if to start down the left at the same moment, but I reached out to pull her back by the shoulder. She was being incredibly bull-headed about listening to others at the moment, and I had no idea why.

“After he’s out of sight,” I reminded her. My hand was big enough to cover her shoulder and part of her upper arm, small as she was.

I had little time to marvel about it before she patted my gloved hand. “I’m feeling impatient to end this task,” she explained softly. “We need to be moving on. The faster you complete your mission for Gandalf, the faster you can come back home and settle down. I want great-grandchildren, and I have the perfect lass to introduce to you…”

I pulled my hand back as if I’d been burned. “Let’s move on,” I growled, stalking ahead before Candaith had really vanished. Dandelion might take that as agreement with her words, but I had no energy at the moment to correct her. I had given up my son to keep him from the truth of his criminal father’s life and his cruel mother’s apathy. Dandelion didn’t need to know her erstwhile grandchild murdered and thieved like a brigand for a living and enjoyed doing so. She could think of me as a hero just like everyone else, my son included. A lie for a lie. Even if her lie was unintentional in delusionally thinking I was her kin.

It wasn’t long before I realized why Candaith had sent Dandelion along with me. There was no way that I could have sneaked past the number of orcs and goblins along the left path; the right had to be less populated. Given Gammer’s refusal to leave my side, I could see why he would send us this way when we had to separate. Dandelion and I used the torches to our advantage and split the enemy’s forces up for easier defeating. By the time we made it to another gate along the path, we had our system down. She bashed and shoved while I stabbed and pounced from the darkness. The thing that took the most time was lighting the pyres enough for them to catch and burn without the rain extinguishing them too quickly.

The second gate crashed open unexpectedly as we fought a set of orcs. The armored figure, taller and heavier than the others, bellowed, “What’s all this ruckus, you curs?!”

I slammed a dagger home in my opponent’s heart and called to Dandelion, “I think we found Bûb-hosh, Gammer!”

I kept a weather eye on him as I faced down another orc. He didn’t charge in immediately. Instead, Bûb-hosh snarled at his forces, “Ungrateful worms! Sharkû will hear about this!” Only then did he seem to realize that his horde of underlings wasn’t fighting one another but an actual enemy. I filed away the name Sharkû in my head for later. Something about it sounded familiar. Perhaps that’s the mysterious leader sending these creatures north? I wondered briefly.

The orc obviously didn’t spot Dandelion in the fighting, only me, given he howled, “Your life ends now, Man!”

“Come and have a go, Booby!” I taunted him, causing him to run in with a roar of rage. I didn’t know what he was so angry about. Candaith had pronounced it for us and whatever the orc’s mother had been, she had named him.

He apparently didn’t expect Dandelion’s shield to crash into his kneecaps from behind ten seconds into our fight, though. His loss of balance gave me a chance to strike a non-lethal, yet quite deep, blow around his polearm that seemed to rattle him. Staggering back, his weapon falling from his grip as Dandelion snapped her shield up to break his arm with the item, the orc leader turned to run from us. “Fly, fly from here! We are defeated!” As he passed back through the gates he had broken down to come out to us, he ordered the goblins within, “Avenge me, worms!”

“He’s not getting away that easily,” Dandelion stated resolutely. The goblins came for us and we met them at the gate. After dispatching them quickly, we continued inside once I had retrieved my weapons. I would need them in our pursuit of Bûb-hosh.

We found him in a covered area at the end of a dead-end path along Weathertop and dispatched him. What should have been an epic fight ended without true hardship for us or our weapons. I knew there was no sense in cleaning them yet given the top still loomed above us and the enemy filled the path to it. We backtracked toward the gate and found a split from it leading to another wooden barrier. There sat another pyre and torches waiting. We would have to get through the gate to continue, but we saw no sign of other enemies waiting for us. “I suppose we don’t need this one,” I told Dandelion.

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure, Morchandir. Light it regardless.” I began to protest before following her wishes. Whatever stood on the other side, we could defeat it. We had done well thus far on our own.

Nothing happened for almost a minute. The span was long enough that I had started toward the gate with the intent to open it myself when a soft commotion came from the other side. Just before I reached it, the entrance flew open, and I heard a goblin screech before I saw it. By then, I barely had the time to dive sideways out of range as I saw it throw something at me. “Move, Gammer!” I shouted to warn her, hoping it wasn’t too late. Whatever it was, I knew it wasn’t a knife or a pillow, which left any number of dangerous options in between.

Whatever it was, it slammed into the ground and exploded into a burst of fire that scorched the earth and caught the plants alight that had poked through Weathertop’s craggy exterior. It seemed indifferent toward rock and stone, too, burning obstinately on them despite their presence. It has to be something flammable like oil, then, I thought as I stared at it. But why did it explode so aggressively? Oil doesn’t do so.

I had no time for further contemplation on the matter as the goblins came for us. For me, first, since I was closest. I hadn’t had a chance to see if Dandelion had made it out of the fire weapon’s range and could only hope she wasn’t injured too severely.

I need not have worried as the hobbit Guardian came bouncing off a boulder nearby with her shield ready. She flew through the air toward the goblins with a shriek of “Raaaahh!” that halted them in their tracks with wide eyes. One small bomb for another, I mused, springing from a crouch to tackle one of the terrified goblins to the ground near the blazing fire. I lost my grip on him so that he tumbled back alone while I landed with a grunt just short of the border of the fires while one of his feet scuffed beyond them. With a pained, shocked screech, the creature leaped forward again, flames already catching along his scant clothing all the way up his body despite not touching the ground, and I stared yet again at the potency of whatever the weapon had been. It could set things ablaze without effort or contact? “Stay out of the fire!” I shouted to Dandelion as I pushed myself back to my feet.

“As opposed to?” she called back as her shield spikes hammered home on the goblin.

It fell and I replied, “Stepping into it accidentally, Gammer. I didn’t mean you’d do it intentionally.” I pointed at the burning goblin. “It barely touched inside it with one foot and now look. I don’t know what it is that they’re using in those things they’re throwing, but I don’t suggest we find out the hard way.”

We put the thrashing, maddened goblin out of its misery before moving past and up the twisting path. Not too much farther, we both halted at the sight of a large wolf-like creature sniffing the ground and rocks near more goblins. Gammer grabbed my wrist tightly and pulled me to the side. When she spoke, her grit teeth and the hiss in her tone told me she wasn’t a fan of these beasts. “Wargs. Small enough but still lethal. Wherever there are goblins, you can bet there are wargs somewhere nearby.”

I peered toward them with a thoughtful frown. “That’s what they are? They look like big wolves,” I admitted. “We’ve killed wolves. What makes these different?” I hadn’t come across any in my travels, even as a guard, though I’d heard of them.

“They get much, much larger than these. Uglier, too.” Her grip on me loosened slowly. “They run in packs. Some can speak — they’re far smarter than simple wolves. The Dark Lord twisted them like he did so many other things and many of them have evil powers. They have stealth that can rival an elf Hunter’s or best it.” She turned her gaze up to me with concern. “Grandson, I’ve met few other hobbits out and about in the world. I do know this, though: wargs and hobbits are seemingly mortal enemies. We can sense their presence the best, and they seem to delight in hunting us for sport over other races. I even heard several tried to attack Shire hobbits not long ago! Can you just imagine…”

I hadn’t seen her fret quite so much about anything, before. Orcs and goblins enraged her so that she assaulted them fearlessly. Spying crebain held no thrall over her. Wargs, though… I looked back at the monstrous things and pressed my lips together. “Well, then, this should prove interesting for me,” I finally told her as lightly as possible. “My skills against their own.”

“Morchandir,” she growled, but I shook my head. “Gammer,” I interrupted her, “we don’t have a choice. I’m not about to walk into this dreading it so that I seal my fate. I understand your concerns. I just think we’re better than they are, and they won’t best us.” I flashed her a smile beneath my mask that she couldn’t see and patted her hand. “Let’s get this over with. We’re almost there.” I sighed. “Which is good, because this constant fighting is exhausting.”

I ducked out and behind the stones one way while Dandelion gave me a count of thirty. The rain held scents close to the ground or whipped them away when the wind picked up. One of the large wargs lifted its head to sniff the air as it caught a scent and growled in confusion as that scent almost immediately escaped it. Another warg lying on the ground nearby lifted its head lazily to look at its companion but otherwise remained still. It had just flopped its head down again with a sigh when Dandelion’s cry echoed in the air. She charged in while the warg scrambled to its paws with a snarl mirrored by the startled second beast.

That one was my target, though. Dandelion’s shield cracked against the lazy warg’s head to daze it while I leaped from my boulder to stab the other through its ribs. I vaguely knew the location of its heart and lungs; after all, it was as much a four-footed brute as a deer or other game animal. The Guardian might not have had enough reach to get around the beast’s barrel, small as she was, but I could hug the bloody thing, lift it, throw it, with far less effort. Not a lack of effort, of course, given wargs looked quite stoutly built. My knives slid through flesh, glanced off the ribs, and into organs. Heart and lungs, lacerated or punctured — I didn’t care which it was, so long as it crippled and killed the beast. It staggered beneath my weight as the force of my forward motion carried me past it and toward Dandelion, tearing my knives along with it. I wasn’t fussed with the neatness of the kill.

Another swipe of her shield and Dandelion had her warg victim on the ground. Her killing blow to its neck seemed a little more vicious than those she used on the goblins and orcs. I refused to fault her for the venom and aggression; after all, if what she’d said was true, they would’ve played with her messily if they’d caught her, denying her even that level of mercy before death took her. All the same, I slit its throat to make sure it wouldn’t fool us and come from behind.

“More up ahead,” she grunted toward me with a nod further up the slope. Figures moved in the dark and rain, briefly lit by lightning, and we moved on. I had a feeling, as more wargs attacked and fell to our combined tactics, that Muz might be a warg or goblin. Surely, he’s here somewhere? I worried privately as we rested, hidden, for a few minutes.

When I spotted two wargs and a goblin figure just beyond underneath a shelter, I knew I had my answer. “Wargs first,” Dandelion instructed near my ear. “No torches to draw them out, here, though.”

“He’ll join in as soon as we attack the beasts,” I reminded her. “Let’s pull them down a little from him. Maybe we can separate them just long enough to even things up before he decides to make it his business.”

She hesitated and nodded at me in agreement. “Find me a set of stones,” she instructed. “I’ll bring them to us.” I needed no further permission to steal forward in the night while fumbling around for three rocks the size of Dandelion’s palm. I brought them to her and pressed them into her hand one after another before she motioned at me to move to another spot. Once I was ready, I watched her take aim and fire first one and then another of the rocks at the wargs, striking them in their side and haunches so that their attention diverted our way. She then turned and threw the final stone slightly up the incline to our right as they got to their feet. The rattling of the rock as it fell down drew them neatly into our presence to investigate, and we had them.

Their snarls as we attacked did draw Muz’s focus, however, though he didn’t call out right away. By the time the wargs were down, he had shuffled forward slightly as if to pierce the rainy night with his gaze. Finally spotting us approaching, he cried out, “I’ll feed you to the Wargs!”

“Bit too late for that,” I replied with a flick back toward their corpses. “We seem to have killed them all.”

The goblin didn’t react how I expected. Instead of screeching furiously and attacking at the loss of his precious minions, Muz laughed. “Careful,” Dandelion warned, shifting her weight uneasily at my side. She felt the strangeness of the situation, too.

“I’ve a surprise for you!” he said instead. “Throk-goth!” I had approximately one second to wonder if he had cursed at us or yelled for someone when the boulder beside him uncoiled. The latter, I realized. The warg whose eyes glittered in the flashing lightning bared fangs nearly as long as a woman’s index finger as he stalked forward. I wasn’t sure if it was thunder or his growling I heard.

“You really shouldn’t have,” I answered without missing a beat. “And I mean that honestly.”

Dandelion charged for Muz, who was in front of me, and I took her cue to go after Throk-goth. The confusion would work to our advantage. I would have to move fast to avoid the claws and teeth of the massive warg in front of me and had no time to worry about Dandelion. Dodging a snap of Throk-goth’s powerful jaws, I slashed at his shoulder in retaliation and scored first blood. Candaith hadn’t mentioned the warg. I doubted he had known Throk-goth existed, given he would’ve warned us about him, too.

The beast was fast. Too fast; he had whirled around and lashed out with a paw before I could fully regroup, and the swipe caught me a glancing blow on my shin. I snarled, myself, and feinted to the wounded side as if I might be off-balance. The trick worked: I plunged one knife into the warg’s muscled upper shoulder down to the hilt. It hadn’t gotten deep enough to hit a lung, most likely, but that hadn’t been my intention. No, I continued with my forward motion and hung onto the grip so that I could swing up and over the creature’s back. I had heard legends of goblins riding wargs, but I hadn’t figured the ones leading up to this point on Weathertop had been large enough. As I came to rest over his back, I drove my other dagger into an approximately similar place on the opposite side. Throk-goth released a higher-pitched noise of pain and surprise before bucking and spinning in place like an unbroken horse. He threw back his head to howl for aid from other wargs under his command while I held on for dear life. Grabbing a wildcat by the tail generally means you can’t let go, I reminded myself too late.

Throk-goth was stronger than he looked, given my size compared to his warg-keeper companion, but he stumbled rapidly as his adrenaline wore thin and he attempted to leap forward in order to shake me free. One hand lost its hold on the weapon in the warg’s shoulder because of the impact of the beast’s jaw with the ground. It was stout enough to travel straight up his spine so that I fell onto my back, still grasping the second dagger, parallel to the briefly stunned warg. The quiet scream from the creature alerted me as to how close its jaws were to my head at that point (while showing me, when I looked over, that he had nearly bitten his own tongue in half), and I took that moment to drag out a third knife from its sheath. As Throk-goth began to rise, I put the blade into his abdomen and tore upward, eviscerating him.

I definitely had no intention of letting go as hot blood rushed over my legs and the big warg’s agonized howls rang through the air. He still had enough energy, now that he was dying and knew it, to snap my head from my body with little effort. Instead, I sank the bloody knife back into him near the other one as he began to thrash, pulling myself as close to the stinking, furred form as possible so he couldn’t get the space to do any damage. So, that’s how you solve the problem of grabbing the saber-toothed cat by the tail, I mused as he dragged me around. You gut it and hang on for dear life near its head. Which, given the person had grabbed the tail, made no sense to the logical portion of my mind; thankfully, that bit was currently drowned out by the panicked screaming of the rest.

Dandelion’s shield spikes helped dispatch the frothing warg from out of nowhere. The first blow sent Throk-goth reeling to the ground and, in the process, loosened my hold on both knife hilts. Her second blow ended the creature’s life with a sickening crunch at his head. I lay there on my back, panting, as my limbs twitched. Her bruised face appeared over me and shielded me from the rain. “Grandson, are you hurt?” she asked.

“No… no, Gammer, I’m fine,” I replied after a moment. “I’m pretty sure I’ll have to throw out these clothes, though. I have warg guts all over my trousers.”

She tsked softly. “I’ll have them like new soon enough. You can bear with them a few hours, I think.” She offered her hand to me, and I accepted her help in sitting up. Only then did she let me have it. “Why in Eru’s name did you jump on its back?” she demanded in a slightly high-pitched voice. “Have you lost your mind, Morchandir? Whatever possessed you to do something so… so….” She flailed. “I blame your Took grandfather! That must be where you got that foolishness!”

I blinked at her without comprehension. “I… suppose?” Getting to my feet, I grimaced as I collected my daggers once more. In doing so, I found Muz had been killed rather than escaping. I nodded when I saw him and slid my daggers back into their homes. “Let’s move on,” I told the Guardian. “Candaith may need our help further above.”

Shifting the focus to our companion seemed to distract the hobbit from her ire with me. I admitted privately that she had a point about my idiocy even if her reason for being angry with me might be ridiculous. I wasn’t even sure what a Took was, to be honest.