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A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 23

I set the bundle of pelts in front of Arinora knowing my blue eyes inside the mask weren’t particularly kind at the moment. She wasted no time in offering the scant payment for my services with a soft, “Thank you, Morchandir.”

It had been three days of hard work running to and from Minas Eriol and its environs, helping both Gadaric, his brother, Hunulf, and a crew of others with several tasks. Dandelion and I had split up to work on them under the idea of many hands making light work; however, once we had collected necessities from the local flora and fauna, things became more difficult. These tasks sent us right into the heart of Minas Eriol, the remaining orc camps, Ost Laden, and Barad Iachiant. By the time the Eglain greeted us with smiles, I was sick to death of goblins, wargs, and especially entirely too-big spiders.

My first sight of one of the leggy, brightly colored arachnids remained fresh in my memory. We had been tasked by Hunulf to burn the bodies of the dead Eglain slain by the spiders beneath Minas Eriol as they fled from the sudden appearance of the goblins that roamed the area in force. “Goblins and wargs sweeping in,” Dandelion had sighed with a sad shake of her head. “Then these creatures…”

I had frowned at her. “What about them? There were spiders infesting the East Path in Archet before it was razed to the ground. I had to get through them there to help as much as I could before the battle.” I had felt the barest of chills creep upon me at the memory of the Black Rider who had shown up in the doomed town.

Dandelion had noticed. She had set a hand on my own with a gentle, “Morchandir. Something terrible happened there. News reached us in Bree fairly quickly even if the tales were all chaotic and confused. I had no idea you’d been involved.”

I’d nodded once. “Maybe I can tell you after we’ve finished here.” I had pulled in a deep breath to release it slowly. “But spiders, Gammer. The ones at Archet were fairly large. Are these any different?”

She hadn’t been the one to answer, however. Instead, it had been one of the Eglain. “The ones in those ruins are nasty sorts. The dark ones, they’re not too bad unless they come in groups. It’s the yellow ones you have to watch for. Might be yellow and red, but it’s that yellow you can see from far off. Those are big as you are.” He had paused as he eyed me up and down. “Well, maybe not you,” he’d then amended. “But normal sized folks.”

Gammer had lifted her brows at him. “I’m normal sized for a hobbit, young ‘un!”

I’d looked away before she’d seen my expression. Height was the only thing normal about the Guardian but even that had to be taken with a large grain of salt. A grain the size a horse or cow would lick in a paddock, I’d added privately. “She does have a point,” I’d told the Eglain aloud. “Normal for Men, I would think?” At his nod, I’d moved the conversation along until Dandelion and I had set out for Minas Eriol with another stack of things to do.

I could still see the bodies, wrapped in webbing or laid on the open ground, guarded by monstrously large spiders looking to feed the babies that would hatch from egg sacs. The Eglain hadn’t been overexaggerating, and even now that I had long been away from Minas Eriol, I still shuddered at the sound their legs made against the stones and ground. I found myself wondering if that was how Grabbo Dogfart — or whatever his name was, given how many idiots I’d met in the last fortnight — felt whenever he heard the tiny turtles scuttling around in his shed and had a new appreciation for his fear. I wasn’t petrified of spiders, mind, but I had a healthy respect for them the bigger they seemed to get.

Seven silver is what Arinora offered me, and I almost told her to keep it. The Eglain had so very little, after all, and this was from her own purse. I knew what it felt like to do without, critically so, and how it could wear down your mind. I accepted it in the end knowing that refusing it would’ve been worse than accepting it, and the Eglain woman hadn’t done anything to incur my sarcasm or my disdain enough to offend her. I couldn’t afford it, anyway, given I needed them to help me get to Radagast.

Gadaric motioned me over to him as I walked away. “You have toiled long, and we are grateful for all you have done. You appear to have the best intentions towards our people.” He nodded at me. “For this, we will grant you the request you ask.”

Dandelion finished trading with Lieva for the rest of our items and came over to where I stood waiting. “Oh? We’ve done enough?” she asked a touch too hopefully to miss hearing. I tried to warn her with a look that she ignored or didn’t see behind my mask.

Gadaric nodded with a quick, “mm” of agreement. When he spoke, however, he aimed his response at me. “Morchandir, you have proven over and again the sincerity of your claims. It is only fair then that we honour our request and provide you the information that you require.” Too right, I answered silently. I don’t want to have to stab people in a blind rage after all of this trouble. He continued. “Radagast is ever a friend to our people. He comes to us now as a favour to our leader who called him when the wildlife in Agamaur turned foul.”

I blinked at him. “It has?”

Dandelion frowned. “If evil has spread so deep that even the creatures are affected, we should waste no more time. The Lone-lands may have precious little of it, as it is!”

Gadaric looked between us. “He is in private study in the last tower in the back of the ruins of Ost Guruth, the place where we make our home. Seek him out. Perhaps there is a way that both of you can aide the other.”

Ost Guruth? I wondered. “So close?” Dandelion asked, surprise filling her features. “It’s on the other side of Weathertop. I wonder why Candaith couldn’t track him there?”

“I don’t know,” I replied to her. Probably because of some agreement with these Eglain, I wanted to say. I held my tongue, though, and offered a hand to Gadaric. He took my forearm as I did his and we bid one another farewell.

Dandelion had procured a pony from the stables nearby. “If we must head past Weathertop,” she told me as she mounted up, “then perhaps we can stop to see if Candaith is well and bring him some supplies?”

I set my jaw slightly. “That sounds like an idea,” I said as nonchalantly as possible. “It’s a little out of the way, but I’m sure that he knows a shortcut to Ost Guruth from his camp.” I mean to find out why he couldn’t offer us this easily found information, I added. Or why he couldn’t tell us what he might have guessed so that we weren’t wasting time here.

We rode out and passed along the Great East Road until we found a bridge had been destroyed, though by enemies or the greatest enemy, Time, I couldn’t say. We had to use the dry river bed running beneath it to move past. I could recall some of the landmarks between the inn and Candaith’s encampment well enough once we had started on the path so that, after a few hours of climbing and descending the hills, we once more found him by his fire with his tent and horse. That he hadn’t been hiding from us this time might be explained easily by the fact he recognized us from afar. Regardless, we halted and got off our mounts to unload the supplies that we had brought to him.

“I thought you might need these if you had yet to fully heal,” Dandelion explained as I hefted the bound fur blankets and foodstuffs within. “The Eglain traded with us quite readily when they found out they were also for you. Your injuries had them worried, Candaith.”

I lowered the goods to the ground near his tent without comment. My silence, for once, took both of their attentions even as Dandelion continued to speak. “We’ve curried their favor, now, and they’ve told us that Radagast is in Ost Guruth, their home. We’re on our way there, now.”

“I’m pleased at your concern, though you needn’t have worried, Gammer Digweed,” he said warmly. “I’ve healed nicely in the last little while. I won’t refuse your kindness, however. It’s not often that we Rangers get such niceties. I consider it a gift from the Valar when it comes.”

I tugged my gloves on a bit tighter and made a sound of dismay. He glanced at me, as did Dandelion, but it was the Ranger who spoke after a moment. “I can’t see your face beneath that mask, Morchandir, but I can tell that you aren’t pleased about something. Out with it.”

I turned to glare at him through the mask. “Ost Guruth is on the other side of Weathertop,” I reminded him. “You spent scads of time out in the wilderness searching for signs of his passing, didn’t you?”

“Of course he did, grandson,” Dandelion huffed at me. “What are you saying?”

I shook my head. “I’m saying I feel used, Gammer.” I pointed at Candaith even though my focus went to the hobbit. “Are you entertaining the idea that a Ranger who lives his life by his tracking skills couldn’t find Radagast’s trail and let us know so that we could go to Ost Guruth first and then gain the trust of the Eglain?”

She waved me off. “Poppycock, Morchandir. Not even a Ranger is foolproof.”

“No, but he can play us for fools,” I retorted. Focusing my ire on Candaith, I demanded, “When exactly did you find out where Radagast was? When you left just before we went up Weathertop to clear out the enemy there, or was it when you sent off the letter?”

“Morchandir!” Dandelion began angrily.

Candaith held up a hand. “Peace, Gammer. He’s right. There’s no other place I might go to have sent that letter to Mincham, and I had already been told about your search for Radagast.” He dropped his hand. “I didn’t mean to deceive you both. The Eglain required more proof of your intentions, and I needed your help. Even after bringing them what they had asked for, they wanted you to come to them directly.” He shook his head. “I have to continue working with them and protecting them if I mean to protect this land they call home, too. Should I have betrayed them, I couldn’t do so.”

“But it’s been days since we started looking for him!” I argued. “I’ve wasted so much time on these little errands after being told by Gandalf that time was short. That I had to get to the bottom of these problems in this land.” I waved my hand wildly. “That the r….” I stopped short of telling him and took in a breath.

The Ranger lifted both hands to gesture placatingly at me. “I understand, Morchandir,” he answered solemnly. “I owe you as much of an apology as I can give in this situation. It had no easy answer and no simple choice. By betraying the Eglain, I would have doomed your quest from the outset. If they couldn’t trust me, they most certainly wouldn’t trust you, who I was bringing to them in search of someone they respected.”

Dandelion finally spoke up. She didn’t sound as upset as I thought she might. “The time hasn’t been wasted, grandson. Not if it means we’re putting things to right in the wake of those Riders. Not if it means we’re helping people who desperately need it.” She dusted her mailed and gloved hands as her tone turned brusque. “And not if we cleared out a good many of these goblins and other ill-intentioned sorts from this land for the Eglain. That’s fewer of them who remain to support whatever foul plans are in motion.”

Candaith spread his hands a little. “We are not here to write the story of Sauron’s ultimate defeat, my friend. Other pens are at work on that tale. No, we’re here to make sure that story has a happy ending by helping kick out the legs of those who support the Enemy so the people meant to be the heroes can succeed at the end of the day.”

I could feel the anger leaving me, but the frustration remained. “Then what is it I’m supposed to do when it feels like I’m being pressed to hurry along and yet can’t? There are a hundred little things in the way like caltrops, but I still have to get through them if I want to reach my goal.”

Candaith smiled faintly at me. “Wear boots.”

“Ones with metal in the soles,” Dandelion agreed. “That way they don’t sap you as you go, but you still deal with them.”

I set my fists on my hips. “I’m wearing a bird mask, dressing in black, and burgle things for a living. What part of any of that lends itself to mailed shoes?”

The hobbit wagged her finger up at me. “We still need to have a chat about your life choices, grandson. It’s that Tookish blood in you that got you stealing pies and mushrooms and turned you to a life of crime.”

Candaith rubbed the side of his nose in amusement. “I doubt that pie theft has led to murder in this case, Gammy Digweed.”

I rolled my shoulders. “The pies were too good. What can I say? I’d kill for one.” I rubbed my hands together lightly. “So, Ost Guruth?”

Dandelion nodded and offered a hand to the Ranger. He took it and kissed it gallantly, causing her to blush, and she hurriedly said, “Yes, well, come along grandson. If we don’t reach it by nightfall, we’ll need to camp along the way, and I don’t know that I like the looks of the wilds if it had goblins and orcs infesting it.” She turned with a quick, “Stay safe, Candaith,” and moved back to her pony.

I snorted softly. “Here I thought I’m the burglar, but you’re the one stealing hearts, Ranger.” He stood, and we parted amicably with a clasp of our forearms. “Take care, Candaith,” I offered.

“As much as I’m able. And before I forget again, ask Radagast about the runes you found,” he replied. “If anyone knows what they are or mean, it should be him. I would bet they’re from his Order.”

I mounted Neeker once again, and we set off to the southeast to get around Weathertop’s foot and back to the Great East Road. It would be a good while before the crumbling fortifications came into view for us, and we had a finite amount of daylight left before we needed to stop. As we rode, Dandelion finally said, “Now, about this burgling business, young man…”

I sped Neeker up slightly. “We should set a good pace for Ost Guruth if we want to make it there,” I said quickly.

“Morchandir, don’t you run from me!” she called. I could hear the sound of her pony’s hooves speeding up. “You come back here and talk to me about this!”

“I can’t hear you!” I called back with a wave of one gloved hand. “Did you say we should run and stop talking about this? Excellent suggestion!” I booted the horse into a lope immediately and heard the hobbit’s cry of frustration behind me. No, thank you, I said privately. We’ll not be talking about this anytime soon. At least not when I don’t remember where you put that switch.

A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 22

Once off Weathertop, Candaith instructed us in what to find to make healing poultices for his wounds and how best to bind them up after so that he could function more normally. Dandelion chose to do most of the nursing work while I fetched and carried and then cooked. She made the tea for him and demanded I check myself to make sure that my throat and limbs were still healthy. “What about you?” I countered, setting my hands on my hips and glowering down at her from high above. “If you’re wounded, too, then you’ll be right next to him, Gammer.” Half of me hoped she’d taken a knock or two that would keep her here while I moved on. The other half was exhausted and probably hallucinating everything since it felt that Dandelion’s care and attention was nice. Maybe you took one too many blows to the head, too, I chided myself as we finally settled down for the night to rest. None of us were going to have it in us to stand guard for long. Dandelion and I took turns in four hour shifts in order to snatch a bit of sleep where we could and tend to the admittedly half-conscious Ranger.

By morning, Candaith had stabilized enough to sit up by the fire rather than sleep in his tent alongside whichever of us wasn’t on watch. Only then did we feel safe enough to sleep more fully, with Candaith keeping an eye on things while we both rested as if dead. It wasn’t until closer to evening that I finally stirred awake to stay, though Dandelion had been awake and helping Candaith for a few hours by that point. We ate our meal before he finally got down to business.

“You should prepare to leave tomorrow,” he offered to us in a most solemn manner.

Dandelion had none of it, though. “Pish-posh,” she fired back. “Leaving you here injured for the other orcs to fall upon and tear to bits? I think not!”

“She has a point, Candaith,” I added. “You’re in no shape to defend yourself should they find you here, and I would bet hiding away isn’t going to be an option yet.”

He waved one hand. “I am well enough,” he began, but the hobbit growled at him to interrupt. “We carried you down that hill not a night ago because you couldn’t walk on your own for those wounds,” she told him. “Until you can move without tearing them open and bleeding all over the place, we can stay right here. In fact, I would much rather we find somewhere with better lodgings for you to recover in.”

“Gammer Digweed,” Candaith said, “I appreciate your concern, but by the time we reached the Forsaken Inn, I would be well enough to move around on my own once more. If I can slip away from orcs on my own, I can be on my own completely.”

I grimaced. “Orcs can smell Men. I’m sure they know the scent of Men’s blood, too. They’d be able to track you.”

He graced us with a bemused look. “Do you think Rangers have survived this long fighting our enemies without considering that very thing? You should worry less, Morchandir. I know what to do to protect myself until I’m fully healed again.” He sighed. “Besides, I should be in relatively safe surroundings now.” At my confused expression, he elaborated. “Do not concern yourself with the Orcs that remain. This far removed from the Southlands, they will dwindle and become only a small danger to travelers through the Lone-lands.” He spread his hands briefly. “Travelers and lamed Rangers, both, really.”

He grew more serious. “But to the bigger issue at hand. We have won a pivotal battle, my friend. You have earned some rest, I think, for the great threat posed by these orcs is now finished! Now, let me aide you in your endeavor to find Radagast the Brown.”

In the great push to help the Ranger, I had completely forgotten that the entire reason we’d had to was so that he would give us the information he had on Radagast. The reminder narrowed my eyes in irritation at him. I should’ve stabbed him once, too, for all of this trouble, I told myself. “Good of you to fulfill your part of the bargain after we did,” I said instead. “All considered.”

“I take pride in keeping my oaths,” he replied a touch drolly. “It’s almost a family trait, you see.” He took in a breath and then continued. “I managed to track Radagast south and there met friends, the Eglain, who make some ruins here in the Lone-lands their home.” He leaned back on one hand with a wince and Dandelion moved to find the poultices that would help numb his pain. “They are a solitary and quiet people, having shunned societal obligation for a simple life eked out here. The few that do venture towards the more civilized areas of the world are still different than most you will ever meet.”

I looked over at Dandelion and then back at Candaith again in a very obvious manner and he looked down with a barely contained smile. Different, I said with my look. “Oh, I’m sure they’re just fine,” I drawled. “I’ve met far stranger.”

He shook his head and didn’t comment on what I’d said. “Because of this nature, they are truly wary of anyone who wishes to traffic with them or their allies, and it seems that Radagast has enlisted their aid, not only now, but at some time in the distant past.” Not surprising, I noted internally. Radagast may as well be the Brown Pilgrim from the way he travels. But Candaith hesitated, and as he offered me an apologetic face, I knew I wasn’t going to like what he would say. “I fear that you will need to earn the right to speak with Radagast.”

I groaned. “What? No…” I rubbed at my temples as I felt my head start pounding slightly. “Did he hire them as his guard dogs? Can you even do that? Hire an entire society of people as guards? What does that take?”

“Not money,” Dandelion chimed in gruffly from where she prepared a poultice. “The Eglain struggle to survive out here. If Radagast had wealth enough to pay them, they wouldn’t need to live so poorly. You would see one now and then in Bree, sometimes just passing through and other times bringing wares in to sell from the Forsaken Inn.”

Candaith shrugged gently. “I have done what part I can. My horse will take you south and east to The Forsaken Inn. There, you should seek an audience with Gadaric Munce. He will know your name. Be safe, Morchandir.” He tipped his head. “When you go, that is.”

“How will this Munce fellow help me find Radagast if you couldn’t even track him?” I asked him with growing frustration. “If they wouldn’t even talk to you and you KNOW them?”

He shook his head. “I know them well enough to get the information from them, but because I know them that well, I know that I can’t ask them to tell me when I’ll be offering that same information to someone they’ve never met. I spoke well of you, friend, but Gadaric wants to speak with you himself. They protect Radagast and want to know that you have good intentions. Can you blame them when so much in this world is given out for nothing, and often, that knowledge hurts people unintentionally?”

I suddenly recalled the words of the orcs of Weathertop. Saruman, I noted. I had looked away when it struck me, but looked back at Candaith immediately. I opened my mouth to ask Candaith who Saruman was and if that might be the orc leader in the south at the head of things, but Dandelion interrupted me. “We’ll go once you’re fit enough.”

The Ranger shook his head. “If Gandalf has tasked Morchandir with finding Radagast, you need to hurry along and do so. The Eglain will have you working to earn their trust. That will take time that you may not have.”

“So says the man who bartered time for aid, himself,” I growled while pushing the question away. “You should switch him for that, Gammer. It’s highly disrespectful.”

She leveled a look at me. “I’ve half a mind, but he’s had his punishment with his injury. No need to compound it.”

I felt my jaw gape open. “Wh… you…” I sputtered. “My throat hadn’t even healed when you switched me for even less!”

She pointed at me. “And I’ll do it again if you don’t hush, grandson. He’s not my family and most certainly hasn’t chosen a life of crime and villainy on top of the disrespect. I may have no call to curb his bad habits, but it’s my duty to do so for yours!”

I shot Candaith a black look that he merely smirked at in return. “Fine. We leave tomorrow morning, then,” I agreed with him grudgingly.

“Morch…” began Dandelion, but it was my turn to interrupt her. “No, Gammer. Candaith is right. We need to hurry along and even if he could come with us, he’ll be in no shape to fight and will only slow us down.”

The Ranger nodded. “My duties lie here in the Lone-lands, Gammer Digweed. I chose to protect this place with my knowledge and skills or I would never have discovered these orcs’ plans. Rest and take your leave tomorrow. You may use my horse. I’ll collect it from the inn as soon as I’ve healed enough to travel.”

I frowned at Dandelion. “We’ll need to find a mount for you,” I pointed out. “Neeker carries me and anything I have to pack along with me.”

“You may find one for sale at the inn or in Ost Guruth,” Candaith said. “The Eglain may not have much, but they do sometimes have horses and ponies for sale just as they trade in other goods.”

Dandelion sighed. I could see by her expression that she knew she was outnumbered. “Very well. Let’s eat and get you settled, young man. That way we can rest up overnight, make sure you’re comfortable tomorrow, and make it to the inn before nightfall.” She paused. “Though, are you sure that we can’t take you with us…?”

“Very,” the Ranger said. “In fact, I should be mobile enough to change my dressing and do what’s necessary without help thanks to your nursing skills today.” He flashed her a smile and she looked mildly flustered. I found myself reminded once more of her comment only a few days past about how handsome she found the Ranger. It was almost cute in a strange, disturbing fashion, much like the Guardian herself.

By the time morning came, I found my old set of clothing had been mended, though not yet cleaned, and my mask had dried out enough to wear once more. We had covered my packs by putting them in Candaith’s tent while we’d been gone, and afterward, we used the tarp we’d carried him down upon to cover them further in case of more rain. Neeker didn’t seem to mind being wet, but all the same, I had removed his tack and used some of the brush to curry him before and after he had dried. It wasn’t the best solution, but we had little choice in the matter. I slipped the mask through my belt once Neeker was ready to ride once again, and I had mounted. Candaith offered a reminder to us in his last words: “The Forsaken Inn is located south-west from here on the border of the Midgewater March and the Lone-lands along the Great East Road.” He had risen to his feet by then and pointed in the direction we needed to go. It was the same way that he had vanished when we needed a translation of the Black Speech in the message I’d brought back for him, I noted.

We rode for most of the day over the hills of the Lone-lands in Weathertop’s shadow before spotting a rundown building near the road in the late afternoon distance. “That must be it,” Dandelion said as he pulled our steeds to a temporary halt.

“Gadaric Munce,” I murmured as a reminder. I had to blink as something about the inn struck me. “Is… that a giant hole in the roof?”

Dandelion leaned forward on the horse, which was honestly much too big for her, and squinted ahead. “It is,” she determined. “You’re not seeing things.”

“How in the blazes is it an inn if it floods whenever the rains come?”

“And the snows,” she added. “It’s impossible to keep warm at night. It’s open to travelers, though. Or it used to be.”

I shook my head. “Has it always had that hole?” I asked as I started Neeker trotting ahead once more.

She bounced on the oversized saddle as she caught up to me. “It didn’t when I passed through ages ago when I returned to Bree to settle down.” She chuckled breathlessly. “You can offer to fix it for them. Maybe that will help them trust you.”

A small group of people stood outside of the inn as we made our way across the East Road from the stable set off several paces away. I didn’t stop to ask them anything, and they didn’t stop us to talk to us, but I had settled my mask over my face once more and that may have kept their curiosity at bay. I noticed that the Forsaken Inn had a mail area just off the steps leading to its front veranda. Next to it stood a board not unlike the one in Bree, and as I had a better look at the sodden postings on it, I saw they were generally some forms of task or bounty. They would need reposting now that the rains had marred them all. A man in a rocking chair sat whittling as we moved through the creaking front door into the darkness beyond.

The only lights inside came from the fireplace and the hole in the roof above, but the sun was headed for the horizon at this point, and it left the interior gloomy. A single barmaid roamed around and, as I surmised, the central area sat mildewed, warped, and generally uninhabitable. I peered up at the roof regardless and Dandelion commented, “I wonder how that happened?”

“Small dragon, I’m sure,” I replied with a snort. Turning my attention to the room once more, I found a barefoot dwarf with his feet on a table leaned back off to one side along with a few Eglain. More of them dotted the area here and there with the innkeeper at the bar in the far right side from the doorway. The closest man to use glanced away from where he stood speaking with his partner and then turned back to him.

Bold of them to assume I won’t just march up and say something, I mused as I did just that. “Pardon me, but I’m looking for a man named Gadaric Munce.”

Both men stopped to eye me with more than a little hostile wariness. Like a ripple effect, others in the area went quiet and studied me with the same suspicion. “Nobody here by that name,” the first man’s companion snapped at us. “You should move along, now.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, sure, cleared orcs off of Weathertop and got sent here to find Munce, and now I’ll just hop right back out the door based on your word.”

Dandelion tugged at my sleeve gently. “Grandson,” she murmured, causing the two men to frown at her in confusion, “perhaps you should remove your mask if you mean to earn their trust as Candaith warned.”

The second man seemed to perk up his ears at mention of the Ranger. “Candaith, you said?” he asked as I sighed and removed the mask. He flickered a look up and up at me, held it for a moment, and then looked back at Dandelion as if trying to piece together some puzzle.

I smirked at him and ran a hand back through my dark hair. “You won’t figure her out. Trust me.”

He blinked and looked up at me again as his eyes narrowed. He was on the defensive again. “You must be the one the Ranger spoke of. I’m Gadaric Munce.”

I lofted a brow at him. “You just said he wasn’t here, though. Now, which of those is the lie? I can’t very well trust you enough to earn your trust if you start out like that, can I?”

The hobbit sighed. “Morchandir,” she said firmly before turning back to Gadaric. “I’m Dandelion Digweed, a Guardian. This is my grandson, Morchandir. Candaith sent us to you saying you know where Radagast the Brown might be. We’re searching for him urgently on a mission.”

Gadaric’s mouth twisted up slightly. When he finally answered, it was to say, “Candaith is a good man who has taken a chance by giving us his word that you can be trusted.” He crossed his arms at his chest and glowered at Dandelion. He attempted to do so for me but our difference in height made it as ludicrous as it felt for me. “For his sake and our continued friendship with him, I hope that you are worth the risk.”

“For his sake and everyone’s continued safety, I hope we can find Radagast quickly,” I growled. “I don’t make it a habit to go traipsing around after wizards on missions from other wizards, trust me.”

Gadaric’s frown deepened. “You mentioned orcs on Weathertop and now two wizards. What madness have you….” He shook his head. “No matter. It’s not for us to say or get involved in, though we might help you on your way. We are simple people who wish to remain apart from society, but there are efforts that all must undertake to survive, and we will ask you for assistance to prove that you are worthy.”

There’s that “worthy” bit again, I noted internally with growing irritation. “Everyone is worthy of helping,” Dandelion said with a curtness that meant business. “Your reasons for remaining apart from society are your own, but we wouldn’t be here bothering you if it weren’t important, just as my grandson stated.”

“Then you’ll have no reason not to help us in order to earn our trust,” Gadaric’s friend interjected with a single nod. “And from the sounds of it, if you managed to clear out orcs from Weathertop…”

“A mountain troll, too,” I remarked distantly. “Some wargs. Bloody big one.” I looked back at the men. “Do you have a pail for washing clothes, by the way? Mine are still… filthy with warg guts.”

Dandelion rolled her eyes. “Morchandir…”

The man speaking faltered at the additional information before recovering. “If that’s the case, then helping us with the goblins and wargs and spiders in Minas Eriol should be no trouble for you. But it will show us that you mean us no harm while aiding us in our survival. If it’s important that you find Radagast the Brown, then it’s important that you help the Eglain in their struggles.”

“Fine,” I replied stiffly. “But we’ll be staying here at the inn until you’re satisfied. Hopefully not before whatever evil is east of here spreads to us and makes it a moot point.”

“Good luck,” Gadaric replied as he dropped his arms back to his sides. “You’ll need it, long-shanks.”

A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 21

After fighting a few other orcs and goblins along the path, Dandelion and I found Candaith once again. The hobbit rushed to his side upon seeing how he looked. Even I had to say that the Ranger had me worried as to his health and safety. I moved to his other side and helped Dandelion support him, given his larger size made it awkward at best for her, and asked, “Candaith, what happened?”

He offered a faint smile to us. “You have done well, Morchandir, better than I, it appears. Uruk-hai and Orcs nearly bested me and my wounds run deep.” Dandelion began to protest when he waved her to silence. The top of the hill lay just in front of us, gated at the path’s end, and the sounds of orcs and worse could be discerned behind it. “But you must not concern yourself with me now. Beyond that gate is the Uruk who leads this force. Pass through the gate and defeat him. We cannot allow these Orcs to have a hold in the north.”

I didn’t recognize the term. “Uruk?”

“Orc. Goblin. Another name for them,” Candaith offered quickly. “The strongest of the Dark Lord’s soldiers.”

I snorted. “Great. As if the ones up to now haven’t been hard enough to kill.”

He smiled faintly again, but Dandelion shook her head. “Young man, we have to get you help. I can’t let you die of your wounds while we faff about with these orcs.”

“No, Gammer,” Candaith replied somberly. “Even if my injuries were mortal, I would ask you to finish this. I would die in service protecting these lands, just as my forebears have since the fall of Numenor when we first came to these shores.” He looked toward the gate. “We press on. I’m in no danger of death at this point, and we have a duty to uphold. These creatures should not be here in the Lone-lands.” He stood on his own and loosened his grip on us so that we could walk forward, and we let him do so.

We didn’t get far before the Ranger wobbled and collapsed to one knee, clutching his side. “I fear my injuries are greater than I expected, friends.” His mouth thinned into a line. “I had meant to help you fight.” He struggled back up to his unsteady feet. “I will open the gate and hold the rear guard. I will remain here to stop the enemy, should they decide to flee.” He laid hands on the latch to the gate and looked toward us. “Be prepared for anything.”

“You keep saying that like we’ll forget,” I replied with an arch of one brow.

We didn’t move right away. The voices beyond the gate increased in volume as Candaith eased the latch free. A deep, harsh voice ordered, “Pick up the pace, you sluggards!”

A much less harsh one answered him. “What’s the hurry, Rigûl? The hill’s ours….”

The first voice, most likely the uruk Rigûl, answered, “That’s the half of it, toad! We’ll not keep Sharkû waiting!” There it is, again, I noted, startled. Even Candaith hesitated for a moment in his actions when he heard the name. Rigûl then demanded, “Get down the hill and bring up the logs. We’ve a pyre to build.”

The second orc snarled back, “Get them logs up with what? You talk too big, Rigûl.” Just like a commander, I thought with a slight smirk. As long as they aren’t doing the heavy lifting, they don’t care how it’s done so long as it is.

But I was in for a shock. We all were. Rigûl said, “Use your head. you worthless slug!” Candaith freed the latch and stepped aside as he pulled the gate loose with a whispered, “Be cautious!” We stepped through even as Rigûl finished by saying, “Get Olog-snaga down there and put him to work!”

Candaith suddenly hissed from behind us, “No, wait! Abort the mission!”

Too late, one of the orcs had spotted us in the opened entrance. He drew his weapon and that, in turn, drew the uruk’s attention toward us. A sharp-toothed smile cut across his features beneath his helm as he lifted his head to sniff. “Man-flesh? Let’s take a look, boys!” His weapon, a hammer, matched the shield he lifted from the ground as he paced toward us. “And a little bite-sized creature, too. A pet?”

Dandelion bristled. “I am no pet. He’s just very tall. And he’s a Hobbit, not a Man.”

That seemed to amuse the uruk if his sudden guffaw was any indication. “Saruman will reward me for your heart! I’ll skin you both alive.”

They attacked immediately, the two orcs coming in from the sides and Rigûl charging toward us from the center. “Feel the might of the Uruk-hai!” he bellowed as he swung his hammer toward us. He meant to split us apart so that his lesser orcs could face us directly, but Dandelion stood resolutely and blocked the hammer-blow with her own shield. I ducked slightly aside, scored a hit on his hammer-arm, and whirled to slash at the White Hand orc moving in from my side of the fray. The uruk’s roar of pain masked Dandelion’s grunt from the force of the hammer landing on her shield, but it gave her time to block the second orc’s attack on her as well.

I had to keep an eye on the uruk over the orc. Both lesser minions had axes, one double-handed and the other single, but I could let my armor take a blade over a hammer’s force. Leather armor wasn’t meant to soften that kind of blow. My bones would crush just as readily even if it took a bit more than not having armor at all. I grunted with a wince as I avoided another of Rigûl’s swipes and came into contact with an axe across my back. It staggered me forward and I used the momentum to my advantage. I turned it into a rolling dodge that left me behind the uruk, who had found himself beset by a tiny little terror in armor.

Dandelion had disarmed her opponent and left him sprawling, half-conscious, so that she could body-check the uruk. It looked hilarious, actually, and seemed to confuse the leader that she could get him to step backward with the strength of her impact. I took that moment to stick a knife in the back of one of his knees to help bring him down and slow him so that the Guardian could get in a few more shots. In, then out again, the blade bloodied, and I twisted away from the axe-wielding orc’s blow after. I had learned, given my size compared to others, that my knees and other joints were my weakness with smaller opponents. Bring the stronger, taller, faster enemy down to the ground, though, and things went in your favor. I’d had it used on me enough in training to use it against others, even if they were smaller than I was, because the theory worked regardless of their size. I kicked out at his closest knee as a result to get him crippled just like the uruk who led them.

With Rigûl distracted by Dandelion, I focused on the White Hand orc instead. He couldn’t use his broken knee; that didn’t mean he wasn’t ignoring the pain and trying to do so regardless. Orcs, I saw, seemed impervious to things of that nature and somehow used it to their advantage to fuel their rage. Even if it meant their death, an orc would lean into a mortal blow if it would allow them to kill their opponent. I got to my feet just in time to avoid a close call from the uruk, who was still upright despite my knife to the tendons and had sent Dandelion flying backward several feet. With the second orc stirring from his hobbit-induced stupor, I knew I needed to thin the playing field fast. Thankfully, with one orc down to one leg, baiting Rigûl to charge and swing was easy – and so was moving so that his minion missed me with his axe, but Rigûl bashed in his orc’s head instead.

The movement did have Rigûl’s leg crumpling beneath him, though, so I got out of his range to focus on the other orc. Dandelion was getting back to her feet at that point, too, and I knew we would win. “Get him, Gammer!” I called to her as she shook her head and squinted at the enemy. I rushed past her to deal with the minion, who was slowly getting to his feet, in a fast and lethal way. The Guardian took only another moment to do as I’d said and dashed for Rigûl.

The uruk seemed to realize his perilous position. “I’ll not be beaten by you!” he defied us. “I’ve a little surprise!”

We hadn’t spotted the large cage off to one side in the chaos of battle beginning, but we most surely heard when one of the orcs still not in the fight threw it open and the mountain troll inside howled out its rage. Swinging its fists, it sent its captors flying and stormed toward us. “Now you die!” Rigûl crowed and swiped at Dandelion with his hammer.

I brought my knife up from where I’d put it into my victim’s throat and stared at the monstrosity they’d unleashed. I got up from where I’d been kneeling on the orc’s chest and skittered backward. I had heard legends of trolls even if I’d never seen one. Terrifying, strong, able to rip apart a man with their bare hands, and frozen into stone by the sun. Too bad it’s night and stormy, I noted with fatalistic shock. I could only savagely curse before moving to help Dandelion with Rigûl.

Calling for Candaith wouldn’t help. He was too wounded to be of any use, even if he could work on cleaning up any orcs who might still be trying to escape. The troll reached down as it came to the end of the chain binding its legs to its prison and began to wrench himself free of his bindings. We only had a few moments.

Rigûl knew it too. Even as he struggled to get back onto his feet, I feinted at him and Dandelion crashed her shield into the back of his good leg to put him back on the ground. “Saruman will find you!” he snarled just before my blade took out his throat.

I had no time to feel anything from his words. Saruman the White? Why would an uruk care if he found me? I wondered as the squealing noise of chains being torn off their hinges interrupted my thoughts. Dandelion looked at the troll, too. We were both panting and sweating; rain-drowned and bloodied. “What do we do?” I asked her.

“Grab that one-handed axe just in case,” she explained. “I’ll keep its attention. Bleed it and harry it. Bring it down bit by bit.” She flashed me a quick, sharp grin. “Like eating an oliphaunt.”

I rolled my eyes. “Leave it to a hobbit to make it about food,” I replied. I did nod after, though. “Fine. I’ll be after its legs and attack from behind while you keep it facing forward.”

“Watch the arms,” she told me as she moved forward. “It has a long reach, especially with that weapon it’s picked up. And use the fire, if you can.” Sun, fire, light, it made sense to me.

I nodded and darted toward the campfire they had going, searching for a torch, while the hobbit moved in with a yell. “Hey, ugly!” Dandelion taunted the troll. “Your face makes an onion cry!” I blinked at her insult attempt. An onion? I asked silently as I poked a large branch meant for tinder into the fire to get it alight.

The troll just looked at her with its mouth slightly agape, not quite understanding the taunt. Dandelion tried again. “You can eat apples through a fence!” That made it growl at her and lift its large axe, but it still seemed perplexed by her words rather than full of rage.

She grew frustrated. “Oi! You look like you were drawn with my left hand!” It stepped toward her, and I mentally hurried the branch to catch on fire already. “You’ve the brains of a waterlogged sack of taters!” I pulled it from the fire and started to move to my right as the troll moved left and up, following Dandelion’s path as she backed away. She had to turn its back to me for this to work. “Your mother was a turtle and your father was a slug!” I hurriedly moved in to set its loincloth on fire with the burning end of my branch. As it smouldered into life, Dandelion paused, pointed at the troll, and then declared triumphantly, “You serve Eru Ilúvatar!”

That did it. The creature bellowed and charged in, swinging its weapon at the Guardian. The fetid cloth it wore around its waist would burn rapidly enough. Dandelion ducked away from the swing to keep its attention while I looked for a bow. I wasn’t the greatest of shots, but I had an idea that would help us. Spotting one leaned against a raised plinth of stone, I ran and snatched it up as well as the quiver beside it. From my position, I nocked an arrow, aimed for where the fire had begun burning the troll’s underside, up to its waist, and let fly with the first missile. It ended up in the heavy behemoth’s behind, where the flames could start burning it. The wood would burn longer than the cloth, for sure. It snarled and reached back to swipe at whatever had stung it, breaking some of the shaft, but Dandelion bashed it on the knee so that it once again turned toward her.

I let fly with two more arrows before I moved in again. Bleed it, the Guardian had instructed, and I meant to do just that. It swung its weapon overhand to crash the end into the place where Dandelion had been standing a moment before. I took the chance to hack at one of the mighty thews in an attempt to hamstring it on that side to only partial success. It had very thick skin that required quite a bit of force to penetrate. Even so, blood spilled from the gash, and I had to dive for cover as it swung around to try and backhand me.

This became our dance routine, with Gammer taunting and bashing the troll so that it would strike out at her, then I would come in and stab or slice its legs and knees and calves so it would turn to me, and Gammer would wound it with her own weapon or her shield. Once, I took its attention for long enough that Dandelion could take up the bow that I’d abandoned — and she proved a most accurate shot with it as she set several arrows in its chest and shoulders. She was no elf, though, and her accuracy was simply better than my own as a result. The fire had begun to die off of the troll when I finally spotted my chance: the creature sagged in exhaustion at last, its motions grown slower, and I used one of the great stone plinths to my advantage. Bouncing off of it, I swung the two-handed axe I’d taken from one of the dead orcs and planted it into the back of the troll’s head from behind. For a moment, it grasped wildly at the large weapon’s haft, tugging at it, and I feared that not even a battle-axe could find its way through the thing’s flesh or that it actually had no brain to speak of in its skull. Slowly, though, Olog-snaga released it, stepped forward, and fell bonelessly to the ground, dead.

Only silence reigned in the orc camp crowning Weathertop. I, who had landed on my feet and rolled away, lay on my side just breathing while Dandelion did the same a short distance away. The storm had passed while we fought. The rain had lightened and stopped while the lightning had grown distant. Finally, Candaith limped in from outside the gate.

Dandelion was the first to move, again, but I wasn’t far behind. “You should sit by the fire a moment,” she instructed him. “We have the time, now, and I can bind up the damage they’ve done.”

He shook his head. “I’ve taken care of that already. My wounds are grievous, but I shall recover.” He motioned for us. “Come, we shall return to my camp.” As we approached him, he said, his voice abruptly wavering and then fading, “You did very well, friends.” By the end, he had collapsed with a gentle, “Unh….” that left him mostly unconscious.

Dandelion checked him quickly and then noted where he had been hurt. “Morchandir, we need to get him down the path, and he’s not in the proper shape to help us help him.”

I made a noise. “Better and faster if I go down to where the warg-keeper was and break down those tarps they had up. I can bring those and the ropes back up here to make a sledge for him. It’s easier for me to pull him down than carry him and much easier for you to help if we need it, that way.”

She nodded. “Hurry, grandson. We don’t know if we’ve killed all of the orcs, wargs, and goblins on this hillside. I’d rather not find out the hard way that we’ve not.”

I left her to guard Candaith’s prone form and headed back down to fetch our needed materials. I’d be more than ready for some hot tea and an equally hot bite of food to eat from the stores by the time we arrived. You’ll regret being alive tomorrow morning after the beatings you’ve taken tonight, I mused privately, knowing I was lying to myself. Mostly. At least, I would be alive to regret being alive.

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.

A Burg’s Tale: Chapter 19

I stared at the rubbing in my hands without comprehension of its meaning. “Dan… mm, Gammer,” I asked her as she looked over her shield with a frown, “this is runic, isn’t it?”

She set the large, metal circle down and rose to join me at my place by the fire. Tipping the page down, she made a soft grunting noise of agreement before releasing it. “Seems like, though I’ve no knowledge of such matters,” she replied. “That young Ranger should know. He seems to be well-traveled and clever.” She sounded pleased and even blushed slightly as she placed a hand on one cheek. “Why, if I were a younger hobbit…!”

I looked up at her with mild dismay, reminded abruptly of Lily Underhill in Staddle and her quiet fancy for one of the constables of the hamlet. “Right. I think he’d be pleased to know you consider him so… intelligent,” I told her as diplomatically as possible. For someone who comes up to his kneecaps, I suppose, I added privately. It wasn’t true, of course. I was taller than Candaith and Gammy Digweed didn’t come up to my knees, either. My hips, at most. In boots and on her toes. How she had plowed through a camp of orcs, I don’t know, but I had seen her at work on the way up Weathertop. I found her impressive, even if she assured me that she’d slowed down in her old age.

Candaith had parted from us before we slept, and upon waking, Dandelion and I had secured the camp, retrieved her horse to secure it as well, and had then set off up the winding path to the summit of Weathertop. The going hadn’t been smooth and, in fact, had taken us most of the day after discovering we’d made a wrong turn once or twice. Upon reaching the top, we had cleared it of several crebain spying for something before coming across the runic symbol on the stone. I’d made a rubbing before we’d started our way back down, thankfully finding the path as evening came and our ability to see dwindled. Candaith hadn’t returned by then.

We now sat, waiting, while thinking of what the rubbing we had taken could possibly mean.

“It’s elf or wizard business,” she finished with a firm nod of her head. “That Radagast or Gandalf! I think we would know if it were orc mischief. Especially with what Candaith said about the lightning that night.”

I hadn’t told her everything just yet regarding my mission in the Lone-lands. It hadn’t seemed critical at the time, nor did it seem so at the moment. All the same, I realized that telling her everything wouldn’t hurt; she was, after all, delusional and not prone to be believed by anyone. “Gammer,” I said slowly as I gingerly folded the page up again, “I think you should know everything that’s happened and what I’m doing running around here helping strange Rangers with wizard business.”

She crossed her arms at her chest with a hard look at me. “What trouble have you gotten yourself into? I haven’t seen you since you were a baby and now this?”

I gave her an odd look for a moment for the baby comment before clearing my throat. Just play along, I reminded myself. “It all started,” I said, “when I tried to break into an old cottage I found in the Chetwood maybe… a week back?” Only a week? I suddenly demanded. Not even a fortnight ago? Why does it feel like it’s already been months?

“Break in?” she asked me as her hands came down to her hips. Her glare stopped my story for a moment. “Young man, why are you burglarizing people’s homes?”

“Uhhh…” I waved my hands. “One thing at a time, please? Just keep up with me, Gammer.”

“Ooh, this isn’t over, Morchandir!” she growled, returning to her seat by her shield. “I did not raise your mother to raise you to be a thief! A switching! Mark me!” She hmphed in outrage and glowered at me. “Go on, then.”

I nodded with a long sigh. At least I could count on having some long conversations until Candaith returned so it wouldn’t be boring. I told her about my travels and experiences thus far. She seemingly ran the gamut of emotions from fear to anger to happiness at the tale. I found myself remembering how others like her had often loved a good story or song, even in a tavern like the Pony. It took a while, especially with her interjections and occasional questions, like, “Oh! What then?” By the time I had finished, I felt more or less relieved that she had seemingly forgotten about my earlier mention of burglary. I had, of course, left out the times I had met with other burglars regarding my profession and how I actually got enough money to buy Neeker and my gear. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt me, I decided, recalling her threat to switch me – twice, now.

“You shouldn’t be out alone doing this,” she finally told me. “You need help, Morchandir. I can help, but you need at least another one or two if you want to be successful. Perhaps you can ask the Ranger when he returns?”

I sighed softly. “I don’t think Candaith means to leave this place.” I looked around the darkness beyond our small campfire. “He protects it and seems bound to it, Gammer. I think it’s a Ranger way of life.” I rubbed my hands over the tops of my thighs. I wasn’t wearing my mask around Dandelion after she’d requested me to keep from it when we weren’t out and about. To see your handsome face, my boy, I remembered her telling me and patting my cheek.

She made a little sound. “Well, we’ll just have to find someone, then. Perhaps a Champion or a Hunter will help us whenever we get to the next settlement. I doubt Radagast will join us any more than Gandalf or the other wizards would.”

I snorted. “That would be too easy.” I rose and made my way toward Neeker. “I should have some rations for supper, if you would like some. I would say we could hunt, but it’s far too dark, and there are far too many orcs roaming out there who see better than we do at night to make it a good idea.”

Dandelion smiled at me and patted her greying hair back into place. “Thank you, dear. We can hunt tomorrow and pare down some of the orcs still in the area while we’re at it.”

We had a modest bite to eat before Dandelion once again ordered me to bed while she took the first watch. I slept well enough before taking my turn and letting her nap for a while, hoping that Candaith might show up at any moment. Too soon, I counseled myself. Even if he made it to a bird in half a day, the other half would still be spent with it traveling to its destination, and the translation will most likely take a while. Tomorrow, if we’re lucky. If not, we’ll find out soon enough.

The night passed without incident as I let the fire burn down to almost nothing. We couldn’t risk being seen by the orcs in their camps, which we had spotted while climbing Weathertop, nor could we risk leaving everything completely dark with so many wolves around. By the time morning had come, Candaith had not returned. Dandelion stayed behind while I went in search of a rabbit or other small game to bring back with me. I made sure that any craban I met died swiftly to counter their spying ways and finally used one of my throwing daggers to bring down a coney. Dandelion made short work of the cleaning and skinning involved while I cared for Neeker, and after I settled down for a short cat nap, I woke to find the rabbit had been roasted for eating. “It’s not much,” the Guardian told me with mild disappointment. “I did find some herbs in the area to help liven up the taste, though.”

“You know how to cook game?” I asked in surprise. “I’ve always just eaten whatever was offered to me.”

She chuckled and handed me one of the back haunches. “I spent many a year on the road, and I’m a hobbit, dear. It was life or death to have decent food while adventuring.” She settled back with her own leg and tore off some of the meat with a little sound of approval. “Good enough. Least it’s not boring,” she said around the mouthful.

We cleaned up and checked the perimeter before setting out to gather wood and kindling for the campfire, water for the horses, and whatever we could loot off the orcs we meant to remove from existence. This was how we spent our day before hunting for a boar and stocking up a few things that Candaith could use upon his return.

It was later that evening when we noticed the strange lights that had begun to crop up around Weathertop along the path to the summit. We stood facing the craggy rise as the sun went down behind us, toward Bree, peering hard at the glimmering lights as they appeared slowly but surely. “What do you think it is?” I asked Dandelion quietly.

She shifted her load of looted weapons and armor and didn’t reply, at first. Finally, she offered in a dark tone, “Orcs. It must be. All of these camps here, I’m surprised they hadn’t taken up the hill yet. It was a lookout point in the past. They can see for miles from up there, the same as we do.”

Something occurred to me at that moment. “The craban we killed up there.” My eyes narrowed behind my mask. “They were trying to find what we did, an answer to what happened with the lightning that night. But they were also helping scout the whole thing for the orcs before they claimed it.” If Frodo and Gandalf were up there, I realized, then I’m glad they’ve moved on by this point. “Can they see our campfire or us where we are?”

“With so many other fires just over the hill from us? Even if they did, it would be tiny, and they would consider it one of their own. They’re not the brightest creatures, grandson. It was hard enough to see much detail from there while we were climbing it. They won’t be much better, even at night. They don’t have eagle’s eyes.”

We shouldered our loot and returned to the camp to attach it to our mounts and add padding between the metallic portions to muffle them. She began to parcel out our earlier cooked boar meat for a small evening meal as we chatted. Faint sounds echoed off Weathertop now and then that baffled us, sounding like hammers or even muted roars of rage. The hammering, we could understand: after all, they had to put posts in the ground or sharpen wooden logs for barricades. “Fortifications,” Dandelion told me grimly as we ate our food. “They’ll be a while getting those fitted and finished. Tomorrow, if they work fast and have a slave-driver leading them.”

I took first watch after settling the horses down with water and food for the night and slept when it was Dandelion’s time to take my place. The next day wore on the same as the last, but the morning after, when Gammer Digweed and I returned from foraging for breakfast, we discovered a welcome sight. “Candaith!” I hailed him quietly as we arrived.

He broke into a relieved smile to see us. “Morchandir, Gammer Digweed, you’ve not been taken or killed. Very good! I had worried when I didn’t see you still here.”

“You said to give you two days at most,” I reminded him as I moved to clasp his forearm. “It’s only the morning of, so you’re back in plenty of time.”

Dandelion beamed up at him as she unloaded her waterskin and cheerily stated, “We supplied your camp for you a bit while you were off. I hope you don’t mind. I know you Rangers tend to wander, but I didn’t know how long you’d be here and felt you should have some time to rest before moving on without worrying about hunting and such.”

“You’re a boon companion,” Candaith assured her warmly as he sat once again, making her blush slightly. He sighed and stretched out his legs near the banked fire. “The walk isn’t a long one, but the hills make it exhausting when done in quick succession, there and back again.”

I pulled the rubbing from one of my pockets, unfolded it, and looked at it once again in the growing light of day. Candaith noticed me doing so. “Ah, you have found something?”

“A rock rubbing from the summit,” I replied, offering it to him. “The craban we had to kill all the way up tell me someone else wanted to know about the lightning, too.”

“Let me see this rock-rubbing you have made,” he commented as he brought it up and examined it closely. He turned it one way and then another before making a little grunt of frustration. Don’t you dare say it, I warned him silently. “The runes are common, but I do not know what they signify,” he said anyway.

“You mean we went all the way up there to fetch down proof for no reason?” I asked drily. “Shocking. I could never have seen this one coming.” I threw my hands up and turned away in disgust.

Dandelion glowered at me. “Dear, you need to be mindful of your tone,” she growled at me. “The Ranger can’t know everything, especially if it’s wizard’s mischief.”

Candaith waved off her words. “I don’t blame him, Gammer Digweed. It could have been anything up there, and I do have great knowledge of certain things. This, however, isn’t one of them.” He turned to me, then, as Dandelion sighed. “I am afraid this does not tell me much of the lightning, Morchandir, but it tells me something of the source. Likely the same person responsible for sending you to me.”

“Saeradan?” I retorted peevishly, crossing my arms at my chest.

Candaith smirked. “I did walk into that ambush, didn’t I? No, the one who sent you to him, first.” He shook his head. “I have news of Radagast, but I must ask you once again for assistance here.”

I rolled my eyes behind the mask I had yet to remove. “Of course.” Why must everything come with a price when it shouldn’t? I wondered. How much have I done for him here just to know where Radagast has gone, and he wants me to do yet another deed before he’ll tell me?

I found the Ranger staring openly before I felt the first blow on my upper thighs from behind. It felt very like the roots in the Old Forest. I jumped and turned with a hiss only to find Dandelion there with a supple branch, one meant to be dried for starting kindling, in one hand. “What did I tell you, Morchandir?” she stated firmly with fire in her eyes. “Behave yourself! That is not the attitude to offer him when he’s been doing all that he can for us!” Each phrase found itself punctuated with another swat from the switch so that I had to try to avoid it. She moved with me, too.

“Crazy… bloody…. hobbit…. Stop!” I demanded in frustration as she chased me around and spanked me.

“Burglary, disrespect! I’ll not have it!” she declared. It was only when Candaith motioned at her that she finally stopped switching me. Harrumphing, she sat back down with a glare sent my way that promised she would do it again if she needed to.

I surreptitiously rubbed at my bottom and legs as I eyed her warily. Candaith continued speaking. “Err. If I may continue?” He looked between us to make sure before doing so. “The letter you recovered from Bleakrift speaks of the Orcs’ true goals: taking control of Amon Sûl under cover of night and moving in a large group, establishing small units along the paths from that larger force.”

My attention shifted back to him. “They’ve already done that much.” Waving a hand toward the behemoth rising above us, I said, “Yesterday evening and during the night we could hear sounds of hammering and such. Even a roar of some form, or what sounded like one, now and then. The lights came first, though.” Good Eru, Dandelion had an arm on her. “We had thought they were simply taking up residence there, but now…”

Candaith nodded at us. “We cannot stand against the force when they are assembled, but we can once they are splintered. They wish to establish a base that will allow them a vantage over the entirety of the Lone-lands.”

Dandelion nodded with thinned lips. “That’s as much as I thought. I did say as much, didn’t I, Morchandir?”

Candaith’s words cut me off from replying. “We must foil their plans.” He sounded firm in his decision. “I don’t know what foul mischief this heralds, but we must break them for the good of the Lone-lands.”

I sighed and dropped my arms to my sides. “It’s what I’m here for,” I acknowledged in defeat. “If this helps with the troubles that the Pilgrim claimed were east of here, then there’s nothing more for it.”

The Ranger motioned at the campfire. “Sit and rest. We’ll need our strength, but we’ll also need to go under cover of darkness to help retain our element of surprise. The three of us can hopefully scale Amon Sûl and defeat Rigûl, their leader, before he can carry out his master’s will!”

I took my seat, if gingerly, at the barely-living fireside while Dandelion rose to parcel out more of the boar that we had brought back and cooked. My confused expression at receiving food, rather than being punished by going without like a naughty child, received no answer from her. Probably because it may be one of your last meals, and she wants you to have a full stomach when they stab you, I chided myself internally. Don’t question it. Just eat and stop being so irritable.