Tag: burg

“Those accursed brigands took Thistleway’s daughter?” Lofar bellowed in disbelief before shaking his head. “This is bad.” He motioned toward his forge with a large hand. “This sword isn’t ready yet! And I know these types of fellows. They won’t take “no” for an answer.” In more ways than one, I bet, I mused darkly. “They’ll kill that girl!”

“If she’s lucky,” I agreed with a grim nod. He shot an equally dark look at me as if he fully understood the unspoken meaning behind my words. I rested one booted heel against the edge of the steps and leaned down onto my knee with my forearm. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do about it, though. This is a job for some champion or warden or guardian, not me.”

Lofar grunted at me. “You’re a bloody Mumak of a Man. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the violence?”

I choked as I snorted and laughed, all at once, and then coughed with a shake of my head. “Not in the least,” I chuckled softly. “I may not go hunting the innocent for amusement, but I’m not one to shy from that sort of trouble.”

He nodded at me. “You’ll have to mount a rescue and free Kenton’s daughter, then!” He shooed at me. “Hurry now! And I’d gather friends, if I were you. I fear you’ll need them to face Blake.”

I pulled my foot down from the step and straightened. “I don’t have any friends,” I replied curtly. “I move around too frequently.” And it hurts when they betray me and I have to end them, I thought immediately before pushing the thought aside. Admitting it did me no good. A weakness was a weakness.

“I would borrow some, then,” the dwarf retorted. “I can’t very well go with you and Grimbriar’s off doing his duty to Bree. Make due with yourself if you must, but you know they’ll kill her and send pieces of her back to her father even if he does find another sword for them at this point, just out of spite for their lieutenant being killed.” He spread his hands and turned back to his work. “Maybe you can convince this Blake not to harm her.”

I snorted as I moved back to Neeker. “I doubt that. I’ll figure something out.” How much easier would all of this be if I knew other people would come with me? If I did have friends? If someone were there to watch my back so that it didn’t get stabbed?

On the other hand, if I started relying on them, how would it be when they were gone? I knew they would be, sooner rather than later.

He pointed toward the northwest. “That camp is out that way in the Bree-fields, from what Grimbriar has heard. Brigand’s Watch, it’s called, and it’s up on that hill you can see from here. If worse comes to worst, this sword should be done soon, and we can make that trade.”

If it comes to worst, I thought as I rode away, we won’t have any need of that sword at all.

As I urged Neeker into a slow gallop, I took stock of the way the land was laid out under the late afternoon sun. The Everclear Lakes were to my right, and the way I was riding in, I wouldn’t have to go through or around the biggest sections of them. Small blessings, I conceded. A stone bridge or two seemed to span the smaller arms of the lake nearest the fortification. I didn’t like that the brigands could see people coming from where they were. It would make it difficult to approach without being seen, at best. At worst, it would make it impossible to sneak in at all.

I paused under a copse of trees, one of several dotting the landscape of hills, to plan my entry. I could see a well-worn road leading up an ascending portion of the plateau ahead of me, if the way the spiked wooden barricades and walls were any indication. It was a fairly sizeable place, I had to admit, and a good setup for keeping watch on the East Road and Greenway. I rode north to go around and up the craggy, grassy hill as far as possible while searching for another entry point that wasn’t as heavily guarded but didn’t find one.

At least, not until I had passed completely around to the western side. I could see the major entry point from there with another beaten road leading into the wooden walls and found it less populated. It was also less open, overall, and I could better get in and out if needed. Stands of trees and other cover gave me enough places to watch from and to keep Neeker hidden until I needed him. I found a good place he wouldn’t easily be found, secured his reins, and let him crop grass nearby while I went forward on foot.

I waited and observed how the outlaws moved and the paths they took doing it. I didn’t want them surprising me. Once I had what seemed to be a good idea of who went where and when they did so, I slipped up the road and then into the fortified encampment. I couldn’t do anything to these people yet. The route into the camp didn’t allow for much hiding of bodies. Or hiding at all, for that matter. I had to sneak quickly and work the same, dodging a sentry by following them far too closely and then moving around them when they turned, more than once. To say that I was sweating by the time I got into the camp would be an understatement, even as the oncoming early evening helped draw some longer shadows for me to obscure myself within.

It was only there that I could reasonably find hiding places and deal with the brigands standing around their fires or moving through the area. I came from behind the women and men as they paused to rest near tents or other large objects, silenced them, and snapped their necks or left them unconscious rather than slit their throats. Too much blood would be a sure alarm. It might be more believable that they were trying to sneak in a nap somewhere out of sight if I positioned them properly and they were somehow found before I managed to get out again.

I didn’t see Maribell Thistleway in the main section. Off to my left, after I had moved further within, stood a wooden arch leading into another, and what seemed to be smaller, set of cul-de-sacs. Waiting for the latest set of guards to move past, I stole forward, peered just inside the entrance, and then moved around to use the large cage inside as a shield. I knew the woman inside had to be who I needed to rescue.

Waiting another few minutes to make sure that it was safe, I finally crept around until the woman could see my mask and I could see her as much as possible. “Are you bound?” I asked in a bare whisper, my attention still on our surroundings.

She didn’t speak loudly in return, for which I was grateful, when she answered, “No. Are you from my father?”

“I am.”

Her tone was breathy and relieved. “Thank you, thank you!”

I fell silent and so did she as a guard came closer to the entrance. I pulled back to become part of the scenery once again as the brigand man paused to speak with a woman holding a bow who passed nearby. They didn’t seem in any hurry, yet their conversation lasted perhaps five minutes before they parted, laughing, to continue on their ways. Only then did I ease forth so that she could see me. I regarded the door and narrowed my eyes at the lock. It would take me a while to pick the thing. “Have you seen who has the key to this?” I asked her almost hopefully. “I’ll find them and retrieve it.”

 “No need,” she said and produced it so that she could slip it toward me through the bars. “I filched the key a while ago, but I was too scared to use it. Now, with you here, I can use it, and we can escape.”

I took the key and found myself smirking. “Clever girl.” I found myself almost rumbling it in appreciation. “You might just have a career as a burglar if you get some training. Let me know if you do.” I palmed the thing and withdrew again to let another set of figures pass by. I only returned and unlocked her cage door once it was safe to do so again.

She stared up at me wide-eyed, startled as many were by my height and the mask, before I told her, “To the west. I have a horse.” I pointed in the direction I wanted her to go. “Let’s hur–“

I didn’t get to finish before she paled and hurried back toward one corner of the walled enclosure. “Oh no!” she cried. “They’ve heard us!”

I cursed as I didn’t have time to do more than draw my blades before two brigands charged in from the adjoining room. Nobody in the main one had come in or noticed just yet, thankfully. “Then we fight,” I growled and engaged the duo of outlaws as they tried to get to Maribell. They were tough opponents, more so than others of their kind I had faced in the last few days, but the last one fell as his blood slid from the edge of my long blade. I nodded at her. “Move,” I hissed.

“Hopefully we can get away before Blake notices!” she said as she began to hurry toward the arch leading out.

“Stop them!” a man bellowed from inside. Another pair of them rushed forward with weapons drawn. Maribell gave a little scream and covered her eyes as she cowered in the corner once again. The taller of the duo had a better class of armor and clothing than the other one racing ahead to get to me first. “Afternoon, Blake,” I taunted as they closed with me. “I’ll be stealing this pretty little thing from you, now.”

“You’ll die like a dog,” he corrected as I ducked and dodged their strikes. A dagger planted itself in his subordinate’s throat to even the odds slightly.

“Only if you catch this hound to do it,” I replied smugly. A slash; a stab. I ducked, rolled, and came up behind him to land a sharp thrust into his lower back below his ribs before moving away again. He staggered toward Maribell with a muffled cry and, upon noticing her in reach, snarled at her with the intent to attack her instead.

He knew he was mortally wounded. He had no last words to his actions yet had made it obvious that she was going to die with him. I went in and dropped, sweeping his legs out from under him so that he fell backward, and ended his life with a knife in the throat even as his own weapon lifted to block it. I pulled the knife from him, cleaned it on his thigh, and returned both of my long knives to their sheaths. I moved to reclaim my throwing dagger from one of the others, did the same, and tucked it away as I moved for the exit.

Maribell said, as she passed me, “Quick! Follow me! With Blake dead, we can make our escape!”

“I’m right behind you.”

It took approximately five seconds before some of the figures in the large, open space spotted us running for the exit. My pruning of their numbers earlier helped keep the attacking brigands from overwhelming me as I defended and protected the young woman. Once we had raced down the slope leading out, I led her to where I’d hidden Neeker earlier. I didn’t need to tell her to or help her mount the saddle, much to my pleasure. Getting up behind her would be difficult if it weren’t for the nearby tree leaning over. I used it as a means of leverage to leap onto Neeker behind her before snugging her against me and kicking him into a fast gallop to the south and east. Sharp cries followed our path as we were discovered.

Maribell’s smaller form pressed warm and tight against my front felt uncomfortable for some reason I couldn’t define as we rode for Bree. I kept one arm wrapped around her waist just in case of trouble and the other hand on the reins while shielding her from potential archers with my own form. Neeker definitely had a bit of speed to him, for which I was grateful, and we didn’t slow until I had the gates in sight. She pointed out where she lived, and I let the gelding walk there to cool off from his sprint. I loosened my hold on her as soon as it was safe to do so since I didn’t want her to think the wrong thing.

We hadn’t had time to chat during the rescue. She remained very quiet for several minutes before offering, “Thank you. I don’t know your name.”

“Morchandir,” I replied politely.

She frowned and turned her head to look over one shoulder at me. “Is that… Elvish? I didn’t think you were an Elf.” She then added, “Or at least, I didn’t see any ears like theirs and I don’t know of any that are as tall as you are, not even in stories.” She hesitated. “I’m Maribell.”

I smirked behind my mask. “My ears are covered, but no, I’m not an Elf. I’m a Man.”

She faced forward once again. “Thank you, Morchandir,” she repeated decisively, emphasizing my name as if rectifying the lack of it earlier.

I made a low sound of acknowledgement. “Don’t worry about it. Your father sent me, and I admit, I’ve never felt guilty about fighting and killing someone that so obviously needed it as that Blake fellow.” A thought occurred to me then. “You don’t need to see a healer, do you? You don’t look hurt, but if you are…”

She shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Only bruises and scrapes, really. Nothing that a hot bath, a little balm, and a couple of days won’t fix. Thank you for asking, though.” I kept my free hand at my side or on my thigh rather than on her. “I know this wouldn’t have happened had my father not run afoul of those brigands. I’m sorry that you were pulled into this mess.”

I chuckled slightly. “To be honest, it seems like problems I shouldn’t feasibly have any interest in or involvement with keep being thrown at me so that I have to sort them out. This ending has been much better, and far easier, than the last thing I had to handle a day or so back, trust me. I may not be used to the idea of rescuing kidnapped daughters and fighting evil Men and dwarves, but I do know that it’s preferrable to slinking through the Barrows killing wights.” I added as an afterthought, “And constantly finding myself wet from water.” And getting one silver fifty copper for my pains.

She twitched at my words. “The Barrows?” she asked in a hushed tone. “What were you doing there, Morchandir?”

“Stealing things and killing people,” I replied drolly. “It’s my usual method of making a living, you understand.” My tone moderated. “Though that particular instance wasn’t for personal gain.” And I’m finding the lack of guilt afterward to be a refreshing change, I finished mentally.

She fell silent again and her slight tension against me spoke of her uncertainty. I couldn’t see her features to know what, exactly, had her feeling that way. That she didn’t seem afraid of me, towering and masked and black-garbed, told me more about her than any words she might have spoken. Then again, I reasoned, she was just in a bandit camp full of people wanting her dead and ready to make good on that promise at any given moment. Better the savior with a strange appearance than the known death awaiting her.

She finally offered to me, “Why were you stealing things from the graves? I don’t think that’s a very good thing to do. Plenty of folks try it and get killed out there. I don’t know that I feel completely awful about it. It’s not theirs to take and the legitimate owners have every right to defend it.” Her voice faltered. “Even if they’ve been dead for a hundred years.”

“It was one grave,” I replied with an odd surge of defensiveness. “And the wight inside had stolen what was there from its rightful owner. He asked me to return it.”

She again turned her head to look at me over her shoulder. “He… did? How?”

I gestured with my free hand. “Taking it is what set him wandering. And his brother, here in Bree. I had to get it back from the evil wight hiding out inside his tomb so that I could bring it back to his brother and they could both rest again.” I amended after, “Well, after I had put down what was forcing them to all walk around again, at least. Bombadil helped at the end out in the Great Barrow…”

She made a small sound and shook her head frantically. “No, no, that’s enough! I believe you!” Her hands flailed in frightened, frantic gestures. “I think I would’ve preferred to be in the cage at the camp instead of there, honestly!”

I grunted in agreement. “If I see another dead thing walking around, I may just break down,” I told her with vague amusement. “You don’t know how happy I am that your captors aren’t sorcerers or fell spirits or hiding in tombs at this point. Or dwarves. Though there is a dwarf involved in this whole thing. Lofar Ironband. Do you know him? He’s that Chief Watcher Grimbriar’s friend.”

“Ahhh. Right.” Her voice dropped. “One dwarf looks similar to another, to me. I’m rather ashamed to say so. Elves, too.”

“What about hobbits?”

She snorted slightly in a small laugh. “They don’t let you see them all as the same. You may not even see them at all, tiny as they are, unless they show you how much personality they really have.”

Thinking on the hobbits that I had met thus far, I had to agree. “Mm. True. Right, so, which way now?” A split in the cobbled street approached just ahead of us. She pointed and I picked up the pace a little with Neeker.

When we arrived at her family’s home, I slid from the saddle first and offered my hands up to her to help her down. “Will you let me see your face?” she asked as she turned toward me. “Wearing that mask all the time must be itchy and terrible, Morchandir. But I do want to see who really rescued me.”

“I wear it so that I don’t offend people,” I told her. “I’m not the best-looking chap and definitely not a hero.”

She hmphed and glowered at me. “All the same, it’s all that I ask before you go. Well, almost.”

Women. I grimaced as I removed it, knowing very well that I would ruin her romantic dreams when I did. She was probably expecting some strong-jawed, cleft-chinned man like in the stories rather than the tall, hatchet-nosed ogre who really saved her – under duress, no less. Holding the mask in one hand, I used the other to ruffle through my dark hair. “Better?” I grated out while trying to not roll my eyes. I definitely refused to look at her to see the disappointment I knew would be there.

“Better.” Her voice was faint. After a moment, Maribell moved to dismount and I had to look up at her. Tucking the mask into my waist momentarily, I reached up again to help her as politely as I could given the situation. She glanced at my hands, paused, and leaned down without warning to press a kiss against one of my cheeks. She then grabbed my shoulders firmly, slid off Neeker without my help, and slipped off toward the opening door. I blinked and then stared after her as color rushed to my face. It was just a thanks, I argued silently. Don’t read into it!

Clearing my throat, I secured the mask where it needed to be around my features as Maribell and her mother hugged and wept at her return. As I remounted, I heard her mother call, “Thank you, sir! Thank you for bringing her home! Eru bless you!”

He hasn’t so far; why start now? I wanted to reply and didn’t. I merely nodded, saluted at them flippantly, and then turned Neeker around to head back out to where Lofar remained. “I probably shouldn’t be blushing when I tell her father she’s safe,” I muttered to Neeker as he trotted through Bree. Killing him for trying to kill me for flirting with his daughter might not be the romantic end to things that anyone hoped for.

When I pulled to a halt at Grimbriar’s cabin, Lofar was already aware of my return. The area outside of Bree was spacious enough that he could see me coming from quite a distance – and see me rushing through along the main road earlier with Maribell, too.

He hailed me and I responded, “Blake’s dead and the girl’s safe at home. Things should be quiet, now.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “I suppose you won’t need the new sword, then!” He then continued with a hearty, “Aye, good tidings!” The expression he wore seemed satisfied. “Glad no harm came to the lass.” He bustled over to a bucket and took a bit of time to visit the nearby well and draw out some cool water. When he returned, he offered it to Neeker after pulling a ladle full for himself and me. I declined and let the gelding only have a little while he rested.

Lofar set the bucket aside and continued. “While you were away, I went over and collected the work from Kenton, and I must say that I think that Man has the hands of a dwarf.” That would be unfortunate, given the size difference, I nearly said. I bit my tongue and smirked all the same. “The work was excellent quality, so much so that I think I’ll get double for it. I told him he could expect more work from me in the future.” He smacked his lips from within his beard and tucked his thumbs behind his belt. The self-satisfaction on display had my eyes rolling in truth. “Seems my kind heart led me to a good find.” He then added quickly, “Thanks to you, that is.”

“Oh, I’m a regular treasure-hunter, I am,” I drawled lazily. “Take care, Lofar. I’m off to let Thistleway know he doesn’t have to worry any longer.”

The ride seemed shorter than before, for some reason, but Kenton immediately cheered and waved an arm at me as he spotted my approach. “Morchandir!” he hailed me joyously. “Oh, bless you!” He reached out for my hand as soon as I dismounted, took it in both of his own, and shook it desperately. “You’ve returned my daughter safe to me! I can’t thank you enough!”

I regarded him in confused amusement as he released my hand. “How did you find out so quickly? I just left your daughter with her mother in Bree not long ago, talked to Lofar, and didn’t see anyone pass by on the Greenway.”

“You’re here, without anything of hers, without her body, hale and hearty…” He motioned. “And no brigands have come looking for me to threaten me or taunt me with her dead form. I know you’ve succeeded even without seeing her for myself!”

I nodded. “She’s well and unharmed, as far as I could see.” I turned after a moment. “No need to thank me. It’s getting late, though, and I’m thinking we’ll have to head back to Bree soon to be safe.”

“Nonsense,” he stated firmly. “You’ve done so much for me, in more ways than you know!” I paused to look back at him, confused, and he continued. “While you were away, I busied myself with Lofar’s work.” He grimaced. “I had to do something to keep from being overcome with worry. No sooner had I finished the work, than Lofar came over to collect it. He seemed pleased with it — even admitted that it came close to dwarf-work! He promised to send me more work in the future!” He beamed at me. “Morchandir, you’ve saved my family and given me a hope for a brighter future. I can’t thank you enough!”

He fished out some money from one of his pouches and offered it to me. “Here, this is what I have on me for now. A silver and eighty copper isn’t much, but I know what else could be.” He set it forcibly into my palm and closed my fingers over it when I made to reject his offer. “Lofar and I discussed the matter while he was here. He has some light armor he meant to sell soon.” He nodded up at me. “On the way back to Bree, we’ll stop by and speak with him so that he can give it to you. I don’t suppose he wanted to do so until I told you what we’d planned, since I don’t see it with you right now.”

I stared at him in silence for several long moments. “Give me…?” I finally echoed, stunned. I hadn’t been gifted with something of that much worth in… years, to be honest. I rocked back onto my heels slightly as my heart did a funny little twisting beat in my chest. “You don’t have to, Thistleway. You or the dwarf. I’m hardly worth—”

He clapped me on the upper arm. “You helped everyone in this work site by getting rid of those bandits. You helped me correct my mistake with Lofar and saved my daughter’s life. You helped him find a new smith to help him with his work. That armor is the least we can do to repay you.” He nodded slightly. “Let me bank these fires so we have something to work with tomorrow morning and I’ll ride into town with you to go see him. The foreman is already signaling for us to wrap up for the evening as it is.” I watched him work for a few moments before the question sat itself in my head and refused to leave before I uttered it. “It’s not… shiny armor… is it?” I finally asked with a twitch up of my lips, knowing it almost certainly wasn’t – but bemused at the idea all the same.

“Look, you should go ask the other blacksmiths in town,” the foreman argued with me from where he stood atop the gazebo at Thornley’s work site. “My men wouldn’t—”

“And neither would the town smiths,” I interrupted him. “So, if I don’t find anything out here, I’ll go talk to them next. You can rest easy on that.” He looked as if he might want to continue to complain but I rolled my eyes and turned Neeker away. “The sooner I get this done, the sooner I stop bothering your men.”

I nudged the horse into a plodding walk toward one of the forges set up on the work site. The man standing beside it glanced up at me with curiosity before going back to his work. I decided to move past him and talk to the farthest smith first. Something about the man I passed on the way made my intuition rustle.

The smith looked confused and nodded at his work. “I work on tools and nails, ” he explained with a slight shake of his head. “I’ve never been good with weapons. I wouldn’t know what to do with one other than accidentally cut off a limb.”

I wanted to point out how that didn’t mean he didn’t steal anything to sell it later, but I relented. He honestly looked like he had little to no idea what I was talking about and that settled it for me. After all, I could always come back if it turned out I was wrong. I had other ways of getting information out of people.

I finally circled back around toward the first smith I had passed on my way inside. I had felt his gaze on me as I spoke with the others. Now, he tried to play off my presence as if I hadn’t been doing so and he hadn’t been growing more anxious about it. “Good…” I squinted up at the sky and grunted softly. “Afternoon, it looks like,” I said as I realized the time. My stomach growled against my will so that he looked up at me, and up a bit farther given I still sat astride Neeker, at the sound. “Who am I speaking with?”

“Good afternoon,” he replied with a baffled expression that he attempted to hide. Apparently, the growl was much louder than I expected. “My… my name is Kenton. Kenton Thistleway.”

I cleared my throat. “My name is Morchandir. Let me get straight to the point. A dwarf friend of Chief Watcher Grimbriar has had a sword stolen.” I motioned around. “You haven’t seen anyone here with a weapon they didn’t have before, have you?”

I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a man break into a cold sweat and want to physically crawl into a hole to hide, before. “What? A stolen sword?” he replied quickly. “Stolen from a Dwarf?” He shifted his gaze away with a little laugh that sounded too high-pitched and forced. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned back to his forge. “Please, go away, I don’t know anything about it,” he finished desperately.

I watched him lift his tools and narrowed my eyes behind the mask. Leaning down onto the pommel of the saddle with my forearms, I regarded him with a slow smirk. “Really? Because it sounds to me like maybe you do and don’t want to tell me.” He straightened noticeably and my smile grew wider and sharper. I knew I had him. “I think maybe you know who took it,” I continued with a hint of glee for his discomfort. I might have been a burglar but at least I knew how to burgle things and not get caught at it – and how to make sure the ones who did weren’t able to alert anyone, after. “Was it that man?” I asked, pointing to a random worker. “Or the overseer?” I asked, pointing to the man in the gazebo currently yelling at another worker.

The man tugged out a kerchief and wiped at his brow. “Absolutely not,” he muttered. “Run along, very scary tall man.”

Relentlessly, I told him, “Or perhaps you were the one who took it?” I made sure to point my gloved finger right at him as I said it as he took a peek up at me again. Startled, he swallowed heavily, and I saw his eyes widen.

He broke. “Yes, yes, I admit it! I took it.” He set his tools down near the forge again and turned to stare up at me. “Please, don’t tell the constable! Please!” he begged, hands clasped in front of his chest.

I remained in my leisurely position leaning against the saddle horn. “Depends on what I’m offered.”

He shook his head at me. “I did it to save my family!” he protested. “See, a brigand named Nate, he told me that he would hurt my family, unless I made a sword for their captain, Blake.” He flailed his hands around wildly. “But I didn’t have the iron to forge one, and I was desperate to save my family, so I took the dwarf’s sword!” I frowned, and he must have sensed it or seen it from his lower vantage point from beneath my mask. “Nate said that before he gave the sword to Blake, he was going to test the blade against the workers at the site of Thornley’s silo, just before the graveyard and the boar-hollow.” It was my turn to straighten sharply. I might not like getting involved for the most part – there but for the grace of Eru go I and all – but I knew if Grimbriar found out I hadn’t stopped it from happening, I would be in deep trouble. The idea that some man wanted to blood his blade on a bunch of innocent people didn’t sit well with me. At least I wasn’t depraved enough to go hunting innocents just to kill them. “Now, I want to set matters right.” He seemed to think I might not believe him. “I do!” he insisted. “And maybe you can help do that? If you find him there, maybe you can convince him to return Lofar’s sword and leave my family alone,” Kenton hurriedly added. “What do you say?” He sounded hopeful.

I wanted to tell him he was disgusting for being so worried about himself rather than these people who might get murdered, but I knew I would be lying. I’d met plenty of people like him, before. I was a person like him, in the end. “The silo near the cemetery and boar-hollow. Where is it?” I growled.

Kenton pointed southeast with a shaking hand at my tone. “If you don’t tell the foreman about this, I will,” I informed him before kicking Neeker into a gallop out of the work site. I had to get to the silo and hope the nearby graveyard wasn’t already packed with new inhabitants.

I followed the road back toward Bree until a path ran east from it and I saw the beginning of a silo or other construction in the near distance. Something felt off as soon as I laid eyes on the area, however. I slowed my gelding to a halt. Neeker pranced nervously and I knew why: I could smell the scent of boar from where I sat on him. The silo loomed ahead without any sign of the workers Nate had said he would murder. This isn’t good, I told myself with the first stirrings of frustration. I didn’t see corpses strewn around, but I also didn’t see Nate.

Or at least, not at first. My gaze fell to a dark mass on the ground near one of the wooden supports at the entry to the site. Already knowing what I would find, but not knowing who it might be, I swung down from Neeker and led him to the body. Turning it over, I found myself staring into the cold, dead eyes of a dark-dressed man who didn’t look at all like the workers at the other site. Nate, then, I decided. The amount of blood on the ground matched his wounds and I could see a trail of it leading away toward the hollow beyond along with hoof tracks. He had been dead for some time.

I had to pry the hilt of a broken sword out of his hand. The weapon looked too fine to be affordable to a brigand. That said, it seemed to be shattered beyond repair and I had no idea where the blade might be. Probably still stuck inside the boar that killed him, I mused. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow,” I assured him as I stood up – after rifling through his clothes for his belongings, of course. He didn’t need them any longer, after all.

Kenton didn’t seem as happy about the situation as I would have thought. “What?” he nearly shrieked, his face going white. “The blade broke, and Nate is dead?” He shook his head rapidly and paced a little. “Oh this is bad… very, very bad.” He halted and turned back to me. “What if Blake comes looking for his sword? I won’t have one to give him, and they’ll do something terrible to my family!”

“I thought Nate was giving him the sword?” I asked with confusion. “Won’t he just think Nate took it for himself instead?”

Kenton shook his head and I knew a moment later that it wouldn’t work. Blake, whoever he was, would only demand another one to replace it. “I need a sword to give him! If only I had another blade to give them.” He wailed the last, hands flying toward the sky, as he turned back to me. Slowly, though, they came to rest on top of his head. I could see he had thought of something. This should be hilarious, I told myself, dreading what was about to come out of this man’s mouth. “Wait, do you think Lofar would make another, if you explained the situation to him?”

I snorted and nearly swallowed my tongue at the shock I felt. “You’re a bold one,” I replied with a cough. “You steal his sword and now ask him to make another one for you that you basically mean to steal with his approval this time?”

He pleaded with me again. “My family is in danger! Could you please ask him?” He then added, “It’s the only thing left I can think of, Morchandir.”

I sighed. “Are you sure you even want another weapon from this dwarf? I mean, the first one broke in its first fight. I don’t trust the craftsmanship.”

Kenton shrugged at me with a helpless expression. “If it saves my family, I’ll do whatever I have to.”

“Fine, fine,” I relented. “Let me go ask him. If this Blake person shows up, keep him occupied, though. I doubt Lofar can forge another in a few minutes.” I rode off as Kenton called out his thanks over the sound of Neeker’s retreating hoofbeats.

Lofar looked excited as I returned. “Have you found my sword yet?” he asked before I’d even brought my gelding to a complete stop. “It was one of the workers there, wasn’t it?”

I fished out the broken hilt and offered it to the dwarf after dismounting. I doubted he would appreciate bad news on top of having to stand on something just to retrieve what I needed to hand over. He took it and stared at it, turning it over and over in his hands in obvious disbelief. “B… this… this is preposterous!” he blustered at last with every red hair on his thick beard standing on end.

“The man who took it, Kenton Thistleway, did so because his family is being threatened by brigands,” I explained to Lofar quickly. “The man he gave it to worked for someone called Blake, who wanted the sword in the first place. Unfortunately, that lieutenant decided to blood it on some innocent workers at another part of the site and wound up mauled to death by the boars in the area.” I nodded at the hilt. “That was in his hand.”

Lofar looked ready to throw the hilt in his rage. “It gets better,” I continued. He looked back at me and I said, “The worker who stole it is still in danger. Blake is still coming for his weapon.”

“And?” the dwarf responded gruffly, still seething, as he tossed the remnants of his weapon aside. “I hope he gets his teeth knocked in!” He crossed his arms at his chest.

I took a slow breath in. “And,” I finished, “he wants you to forge another sword for him to give to Blake so that he can save his family.”

I worried for a moment that the dwarf would burst something internally and fall over instantly dead. “Another blade,” he spluttered. “He cannot be serious!”

“That’s what I said,” I agreed with a vehement nod.

Lofar violently waved both hands around. “I am already behind on other work, and now I must forge a new blade in time to fill the order this broken sword was meant for.”

“Might have been a good idea to test it before giving it to the buyer, all considered,” I muttered.

He didn’t hear me. “‘Time is precious, don’t give it away for nothing,’ my father used to say….” He trailed off abruptly and then looked at the hilt on the ground. His furious expression eased and a curiously sad one took its place for a few long, silent moments. He stirred again with a grunt. “Actually lost my father to brigands a few years back,” he said. “Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

I didn’t know what to say in response. For all intents and purposes, I was a brigand, too, or had behaved as one. I felt awkward standing there unable to say anything that might help him. I had never been good with sympathetic overtures. Sympathy would get you killed, where and how I grew up, even with guardians to balance out that ruthlessness.

He rolled his eyes and moved forward. Bending down, he swept up the hilt with a rough, “Bah! Give me that hilt!” He ran one thick thumb over it as he brooded over it. “I must be going soft. I’ll do it to keep his family safe, but he’s going to have to do something in exchange!” He shook the hilt at me as if I were the one asking him to make it instead of Kenton. “I have two conditions!”

I lifted my hands. “I’ll let him know. Just tell me.” And don’t stab me with the broken blade, I added as I warily kept my eye on the frustrated dwarf.

He nodded at me. “First one is that if that brigand don’t come around, looking for the sword, I get it back.”

“I don’t think he’ll have a problem with that one,” I agreed as I lowered my hands.

He made a growling noise. “Second, Thistleway gives me a hand and does some of the simpler work I’ve got piling up around here, while I forge the new blade.” Lofar turned and began to gather up several items as he spoke.

I shrugged slightly. “Well, he does need to make up for that first theft and for your time helping him…”

He turned back to me with both arms cradling things in need of repair so that I had to accept them. “Here, take these things over to him to work on,” he instructed. Once I had them, he pointed at each one and told me what needed to be done so that I could pass on the information appropriately. “The axe needs a new haft, the bellows need new leather, and the helm needs to be reshaped and reinforced.” I moved back to Neeker’s saddle to secure them to it for travel. “Take that over to Kenton and tell him if he gets it done, and I’m happy with the work, we’ll call it even on the cost of the two swords. My assistance comes with a price.” He flapped his hands at me. “Now off with you, I’ve got to get to work on this new blade.”

I tightened some of the leather I had used to secure the helm to the saddle. “Aren’t you afraid a rushed job will produce something terrible in quality?”

He spat to the side of the cabin. “Do we have any choice at this point? If he’d waited to steal it after it had cooled, it wouldn’t have broken in the first place!”

I’m sure, I replied silently. I bade him farewell as he moved off to get to work and rode back toward the work site. All the riding to and fro had begun to grate on my nerves. Why are you doing this? I asked myself. Why are you helping these people so much? This isn’t like you.

“Morchandir!” Kenton called out excitedly as I reined in Neeker. “You’re back so quickly! With good tidings, I hope?”

I slipped from the saddle and landed softly on the ground. “Lofar is willing to help on the condition you help him,” I said without preamble. “He’s sent along some things for you to work on while he’s forging another sword.” I turned to the saddle to loosen the helm, bellows, and axe haft.

He nodded quickly. “Of course I’ll do this work for the dwarf. Here, let me see what he has sent…” He moved toward me and I tensed unconsciously as he walked up from behind to stand at my side. He had no idea how dangerous it was to do that and I wasn’t going to tell him. You never walked behind a horse or a trained killer without warning them. The reason was the same in either case.

I handed Kenton each of the three items for his examination. It didn’t take long for him to make his verdict. “All of these can be easily repaired, but I don’t have the materials to do it.” He looked up at me and I knew what he was about to ask. I was already sighing as he did it. “I hate to ask this, but could you help me gather what I need?”

“I’ve come this far,” I conceded. “Why not?”

He smiled at me uncertainly before telling me what he needed: iron straps from the foreman, flawless boar hides, and trinkets from what was probably the graveyard just a bit away. “Why can’t you ask your foreman for the straps?” I asked with a frown.

I watched his eyes shift slightly. “He… might… be tired of me asking for things.”

I shook my head. “Fine, but why flawless boar hides? How am I supposed to kill them without putting holes and cuts in them?”

“The leather I can make from them needs to be as smooth and intact as possible,” he explained avidly. “Otherwise, the air will escape from inside through the mended areas and make the bellows worthless.”

I climbed up onto Neeker. “And the bloody grave-robbing?” I growled. Not again, I said to myself. I’d rather dive into the lake headfirst.

He shrugged slightly. “It may not be. It may be an old trash heap area. It’s in the boar hollow and not the graveyard, and the mounds are small. Everything I’ve found there has had little jewels on them, but the trinkets are never expensive looking.”

I eyed him just the same. “Have you ever seen anything dead walking around there?” I asked warily. Please say no. Please say no…

His frown accompanied rapid blinks. Baffled, he replied, “Why would dead things go walking? They’re dead.”

My relief must have confused him even further. “You sweet summer child.” I turned Neeker back toward the general area where the silo and Nate’s corpse still lay.

“Sir, I was born in the spring,” he protested as I rode off once again.

I rode past the foreman to save him for last when I returned. I found Nate’s body had vanished as I approached the silo site again and moved on. I had seen plenty of bear and wolves in the area who would be interested in the scent of blood. Down into the hollow I went to get that errand done first, knowing the second might well happen too given the stench of wild pigs I could make out.

I kept my eyes open for the boars while I found each small mound of debris to rummage through. Pulling out several small trinkets, I wondered why so many were buried in this one place if it wasn’t a cemetery. Then why have the bodies not risen as they have in the Barrow-downs? I contemplated as I moved as silently and invisibly as possible through the area. Perhaps it’s still too far away for the dark power that’s affected it to reach? It comforted me at least a little, although I had lost my taste for robbing graves after my escapades to the southwest finding Andraste.

Enough, I decided as I secured the last trinket in my carrying pouch and turned my attention to the surroundings. I could hear the squeal of young piglets somewhere close by. I didn’t want to tangle with a mother boar defending them. That was probably how Nate met his end, if I had to guess. Instead, I made my way cautiously up to where I had left Neeker hidden at the rim of the hollow. A nice, big male would probably do the trick, provided I could kill it without ruining its hide.

I wasn’t a Hunter. That was almost certainly why the boar screamed at me from where it burst from its hiding place in some bushes in an aggressive, threatening manner without me realizing it. The sound had me jerking back and pulling my long knives free instantly. The thing was huge and angry. It had to be the biggest boar I had seen in my life. “You’ll make a fine set of bellows and dinner,” I told it as I stood my ground.

With another roaring sound, the boar charged me. I had to avoid its long tusks by diving to the side. It was faster than I thought, though: unlike a bull, who had to skid to a halt and turn around, the boar wheeled back with a slash of its head to keep going. I had to keep jumping around to avoid getting gored to death by the thing. This won’t work, I realized. It will wear you down long before you get a death blow on its throat. It was the only way I knew I could kill it without ruining the hide. If it stayed still for long enough, I might could put a throwing knife into its chest or neck from the side…

Legs, I decided. If you want to slow it down, you have to cripple it at its legs. Hamstring it.

I set a nearby tree in my range of sight. I needed to get behind the pig. It might take a bit of agility, but surely I had that after years of burglary? I took off running toward the large oak with the sound of the boar’s hooves beating the ground behind me. It would overtake me quickly, as fast as it was – far faster than any human, at least – which was why I had gotten as close to the oak as I could before darting for it. I didn’t know how much pain I was about to put myself through by attempting this move, but I wanted to risk it. Pulling a muscle would be better than dying out here thanks to a bloodthirsty holiday meal on the hoof.

When I came up to the trunk, I jumped, full speed, toward it and pushed off of it with one foot. I wanted to flip backward over the boar, land, and hopefully cause it to have to stop or ram the tree. Meanwhile, I could take out its back legs. It seemed like a good idea at the time to my fevered, frantic brain, given I had no plan in place. Place a trap, dispose of the boar – that was what I had meant to do before the thing showed up out of nowhere.

Instead, I found myself woefully unable to flip enough to master the move I had begun. Instead, I pushed up and off of the trunk, flailed, twisted my body instinctively….

… and landed on the back of the boar with my head near its terrible, horrifically dirty haunches.

The sound of its high-pitched screech of terrified rage mimicked my own, much lower one as I realized what had happened. Though it wasn’t so big that I could have saddled it as a mount, it wasn’t small enough for me to simply crush it into the ground with my size. I didn’t even have time to plunge my knives into it or cut its tendons before it spun in a circle and took off with me on its back. All I could do is wrap my arms around and under its body and try not to let it bite and slash at my booted legs. If I survived the encounter, I would almost certainly hurt tomorrow morning.

The boar’s hips and back repeatedly punched my face and jaw as I loudly, at the top of my lungs, cursed it in every manner that I had picked up in my life as a soldier, guard, and scoundrel. Finally getting hold of myself, I pulled one arm up and used the knife in it to sever the tendons and muscles as best I could on the hind leg matching that side. The beast’s sound of pain bordered on ear-splitting as it once again tried vainly to wheel in circles to get at me. It took me a moment before I could risk pulling the other arm up to do the same for its other leg. Once I had them cut amidst a spray of blood, the boar’s legs gave out under my weight. I fell off of it and rolled to the side, but had to keep rolling a ways in a dizzy scramble to keep the enraged creature from dragging itself over to me even then.

I finally managed to dispatch it, blood it, and looked around for Neeker. The boar hadn’t run far, at least, with me on its back to weigh it down. I cleaned and sheathed my blades before hefting the creatures back legs up to pull it behind me toward my gelding. I heard another low, threatening grunt from a smaller version of the one I had with me and simply snarled at it, “Don’t even think about it or you’re next, hamhock.”

I secured the heavy creature across Neeker, who seemed none too pleased by the proceedings, and walked him back to Thornley’s work site. Along the way, I stopped at the gazebo where the foreman stood and asked him for what Kenton still needed.

“Bah, he wants iron straps?” the man sneered. “Kenton always needs something. He is straining the cost of this project. We have no straps in our stores.”

I leveled a look at him. “That sounds like a personal problem to me. One man can’t run your costs up. Brigands do, though, I’m sure.”

Rosethorn eyed me for the comment. Turning away from me, he rummaged through a pile of odds and ends that looked to be scrap metal, trimmings, and other discarded pieces of larger projects. “Here, take this old iron pot. He can make some straps out of that.”

Flies buzzed around the boar’s corpse on Neeker’s back just behind me as I took the pot. “And I brought you all this fine boar for dinner. Now, you have nothing to cook the meat in. Whatever shall you do?” I led the gelding away and waved the pot around, calling out in as heraldic a voice as I could manage, “Oye, oye! The foreman has given away his last pot to make iron straps! Prepare yourselves for certain doom and starvation!”

Kenton just stared at me as I halted at his forge with Neeker in tow. “Are you always this way?” he asked with concern.

I lifted my shoulders in a brief shrug. “I’m being more polite than usual right now. I’m too tired and hurt to really give it my best.” I offered the pot to him.

He brushed it off hurriedly. “It’s good you’ve returned! Here, give me those things!” He took the pot from me and I freed the pouch with the trinkets inside. “While you were away, something terrible happened!”

“You’re telling me,” I grunted as I moved to work at getting the boar off Neeker’s back.

“Please, I need your help!” Kenton pleaded. “It’s terrible! Blake came and told me he knew Nate was dead and that he knew I had something to do with it!” I hefted the boar across my shoulders and settled it there.

“Yes, horrible. Tell me where to put this thing,” I grunted in exertion. Turn about is fair play, I mused privately. You were just on it and now it’s taking its revenge ride on you.

Kenton stared and shook himself as he hustled over to a stone structure about waist high. He motioned at it and continued as I followed him. “I tried to tell him I didn’t, that I would have another sword for him soon, but he wouldn’t listen.” I dumped the boar off of my shoulders and straightened with a deep breath in and a heavy sigh out. I would need another bath tonight and a good wash of my clothes to handle the stench left behind. “He said he’s taken my daughter, Maribell! If I don’t give him another sword, and soon, he’ll kill her!”

I swiveled around to regard him. “He… did what, now?” I asked slowly. Did this just turn into a rescue mission?

“You must save her! Please! Get the sword from Lofar, then go to Blake’s camp. It’s in the Bree-fields, up north of Bree. I’m sure he’ll release my daughter when he has the sword.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Do I really look like the type who goes around saving innocent young girls from evil villains?”

Kenton shook his head. “Morchandir! Please hurry! I don’t know what I’ll do if they harm her…” He squeezed his hands together. “You’re the only hope I have left.”

“Yes, yes…” I grumbled as I walked back toward Neeker. I could say that I had been mistaken for a hero because of the people who caught me returning the shade’s ring to his brother and letting them rest again. This, however, would be a direct act of heroism that no amount of explanations would deflect. I mounted my horse and rode out toward Lofar for what I hoped was the last time, uncertain of how I felt about being suddenly thrust into the role of champion, but also wondering if Kenton’s daughter was pretty at the same time.

“Idiot,” I muttered to myself aloud. “Don’t get any fool ideas. You don’t even own any shining armor.”

“I can’t believe it, Morchandir! This has been the best birthday ever, and now I have so many new friends to share this home with! Look at all the little fellows!” Artie crowed gleefully as he spread his hands wide.

I stared at the huge pit in the middle of the man’s floor in his home. It had dirt, rocks, and plants in it – and, now, dozens of tiny turtles. “Why did you have this in your home to begin with, Artie?” I asked, flabbergasted. “That’s not normal.”

“Oh, I wanted a small vivarium,” he explained with a wide smile.

I narrowed my eyes. “A… what, now?”

“Vivarium,” he repeated. “Like an indoor garden. Anyway, they aren’t well known outside of the elves’ homes, and even then, I’ve only ever heard of noble elves having them. I figured I would try to cultivate one here, and I’m so happy that I did!” He grinned at me. “That party was such a terrific surprise and must have taken so much planning! Thank you for being a part of it, my new friend!”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d gone there for the express purpose of slitting throats and shanking spleens to foil a potential murder and assault on members of the town. I just smiled as best I could beneath my mask, awkward as I felt, and tried to play it off. “It was nothing, trust me.”

He peered at me for a long moment, head canting to one side, and made a little sound in his throat. “Why do you wear that mask, anyway, Morchandir? Isn’t it stuffy and uncomfortable?”

“Extremely so,” I agreed. “But it protects my identity when I have to do things that… I can’t chat about at this point.”

He looked disappointed; however, it wasn’t at my lack of information or my mask itself. “You shouldn’t be doing those things,” he scolded me. “You could get into serious trouble for them and then what would you do?”

“Be hanged, most likely.” I lifted my shoulders in a shrug helplessly. “If I’m lucky.”

He waved his hands at me ferociously. “That’s the point, though! You shouldn’t be doing anything that might get you a one-way trip to the gallows. Nothing could be worth that.”

My son’s face flashed through my mind and I shook my head. “There are plenty of things that are worth dying for,” I protested firmly.

“Dying for,” he agreed. “But not recklessly and stupidly so. Not when you have people who need you and count on you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

I pointed at the turtles. “They take after you,” I replied drolly. “You should see the bites I have on my new boots from these little monsters.”

He brightened up. “Oh, they’re nothing! Just wait until you find one that’s regular-sized!”

I blinked. “Regular… sized?” My hands came up to gesture in a vaguely gourd-shaped way. “Like… a pumpkin?”

He sucked on his teeth a moment. “Well…” he drawled, “if you take legends and stories to heart, they’re bigger than horses.”

I frowned and looked down at the turtles in their little home. “These things?” I asked in disbelief.

“Some types are prone to getting large, I’m told.” He shook his head. “But that hardly matters. I doubt you’ll find any around Bree! Even up in Nen Harn or the Midgewater Marsh. Plenty of giant spiders and goblins, though, that much I do know.” He beamed. “And walking trees, if you believe that!”

“Oh, I’d believe it,” I muttered, recalling the sting of roots slapping at me through my trousers. “I’ve had to… kill? Destroy? A few? I don’t know if that’s murder or just aggressive gardening.” I stirred. “I hate to cut this short,” I lied, “but I have to get going, Artie. It’s gotten late and I would like to get a room at the Pony before they’re taken.”

He nodded quickly. “Sure, sure! I should see about finding something for my new little friends to eat, anyway. Don’t want them nibbling at my sleeping toes in the night.”

I hesitated again. “They eat people?”

He laughed. “These little ones, no. Bugs and other things. But those big ones? There’s no telling. They’re big enough to eat whatever they feel like eating.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Visions of turtles big enough for giants to ride on filled my head momentarily before I shoved the images away. I could see why Grobo might be terrified of them even at their tiniest. I had to wonder if perhaps he’d been threatened by a giant one at some point, though I also had to admit that giant to a hobbit might not be giant to a Man or Elf. “Happy birthday, again, Artie. I’ll hopefully see you again before your next one.” So long as I didn’t have to infiltrate his friend group and stab them all to death as a present.

By the time I returned to the Pony, evening had fallen over Bree once again. I paid for my room and care for Neeker overnight before settling in with my things. I decided on a nice, hot dinner and listening to one of the minstrels playing in the commons before heading to bed would probably help me relax.

It was the stupid “Leland’s Lunch” song again and I rolled my eyes. Fishing out some coin, I flagged down one of the servers and ordered a pint of Barliman’s Best, given I had never had it. I had the urge to drink something after the day that I’d had. To be honest, I had the urge to drink a copious amount of something after the day that I’d had.

I lifted the mug of ale for my first sip and blinked in surprise. It was frothy and had a slightly sweet, toasted undertone. I could feel myself relax immediately at the taste. It really was one of the better beers that I’d had in my travels thus far. I was suddenly glad that I had some extra money to spare. “Mandrake shorted me,” I growled into the mug. “Three silver doesn’t even buy me a good beer at the Prancing Pony. I should’ve picked his pockets too while I was at it.”

I wasn’t much for wine or cider. My second round consisted of a Blind Troll Stout simply because of the name. It wasn’t as good as the first drink but for a stout, it was bloody brilliant. By the time I’d finished it, the minstrel had begun to sound good and my head had begun bobbing without my knowledge. It didn’t actually take long for the world to start shifting around me and sounds to blur, and that was before I’d finished my second Barliman’s Best.

I have no idea what I told one of the women in the room, but I do remember pulling off my mask at one point and perhaps dancing on a table with her. I staggered back to my room mostly unable to function and slept before I could even shift my position to get comfortable.

When morning arrived, I woke with a splitting headache. My mask had fallen to the floor from my extended hand. I felt as if a wagon full of stones had run me down and when I went to wash my face, I hissed at the pain. Touching my cheek, I felt it swollen and found a mirror. I hadn’t been punched, but I also had no idea who had managed to reach so far up to hit me. I went for breakfast and encountered a surprise. “Morchandir,” Butterbur called to me as I moved for an empty table. I knew from the sound of it that he wasn’t simply hailing me in a passing fashion.

I halted, turned, and made my way to him with curiosity bubbling within me. “Butterbur,” I greeted in turn with a gentle nod and a quiet voice. “Do you need something?”

“Mm. This came for you just a bit ago. One of the Mayor’s men delivered it.” He offered a small, rolled scroll as a message. “Need some water in you, by the looks of things.” He chuckled. “Daisy gave you quite the slap when you kissed her. Fell right off the table, got up, kissed her while she was up there, and she whacked you a good one!”

I stared at him for a long moment before replying, “I think I’ll have that water, sure.” That explains the swollen face this morning, I noted privately. I took the small rolled note and broke the seal as I turned and made my way back to the table I had chosen. I knew the innkeeper would want to know what was inside, but I didn’t want him to find me potentially having a hard time reading the words. Within, the note read, short and sweet:

Morchandir,

I ask, at your convenience, that you visit me in the Bree Town Hall. I wish to thank you personally for attending to an issue that has long plagued the folk of Bree. I hear that it was by your hand that the haunting of our town is ended, and I wish to see the hero of Bree for myself.

Graeme Tenderlarch, Mayor

It took me a few moments to read through the handwriting. Once I did, I blinked and frowned at the message. “I guess the mayor really did hear about it,” I muttered to myself. Straightening slightly, I rolled the parchment back up and tucked it away so that I could order my food and drink. I would have to stop by before I left Bree to find Saeradan and Radagast. Who knows? I told myself as I hurriedly ate. Maybe he means to reward you somehow. More money was never a bad thing.

Eggs, however, seemed to be. I sipped my water slowly and fought the urge to be sick for a good half hour before I finally visited Polly Leafcutter, the healer, for something to soothe my ills.

I headed out to the town hall after tucking away my laundered clothing and saddling up Neeker. Just a short meeting here and I’ll be on my way, I promised Gandalf mentally. I don’t think the world is ending anytime in the next hour, at least. If it was that crucial, Gandalf himself would have taken care of things. To be honest, though, while my head pounded and my stomach flipped and flopped now and then, I rather hoped it would end in the next hour and put me out of my misery. I would need to avoid Barliman’s Best as if it were a plague-bearing wight from here on out. Delicious yet devastating.

By the time I was shown upstairs in the town hall, I was ready to be gone on my mission. The short, dark haired man with a trimmed and neat moustache looked up from his ledger as I halted uncertainly near him. “Ah, there you are,” he said as he set his quill aside and rose to his feet. I didn’t ask how he knew who I was. The mask said it all. “However did you manage to drive out the spirit, Morchandir? I’m dying to know.”

“Not too far with that dying bit or I might need to put you back into your tomb as well,” I replied smugly. At his avid expression, however, I realized he was serious about wanting to know. “Well, it began when I had to travel into the Barrow-downs for a completely different purpose,” I offered politely. I knew this would take a little while and that I couldn’t tell him everything.

He seemed shocked. “You went there alone? What manner of mischief sent you in there?”

I grimaced slightly. “Nothing that I can reveal at this time, I’m afraid.” He didn’t seem willing to push the issue, and so I continued. “I came in from the west, through the Old Forest, and traveled the Old Barrows Road up over the ridge on that side…”

“The Old Forest, too?” he demanded, sitting back on his heels. “No, no, I won’t ask. I’m sorry, continue, please.”

I explained to him how I had met a wandering shade near the Dead Spire who had asked for my aid, which I had given, and how it had led me from one thing to another in the barrows before I managed to return to Bree. “The ring I returned to his wandering brother allowed the spirit haunting the alleys in the town know that all was well and he could again rest,” I concluded. “Which is what he did, as did the other shade.”

“Arthedain,” the Mayor marveled. “Such a long time ago in our history, but Bree existed back then even when the kingdoms around it shifted and changed.” He fell silent for a moment before continuing. “I had thought the reports of the haunting were drunken ramblings,” he admitted. “Imagine my surprise when I was approached by the gate Watchers at the South-gate. They told me it was you, Morchandir, that quelled the spirit once wandering the alleys of Bree.

“For that I am in your debt, as is this town. Please, accept this as a payment for your deeds, which until now had gone unnoticed.” He held out a small pouch to me. I brightened considerably as I took it from him. “Eight silver and 80 copper. I wish it could be more,” he finished. “I hope that you’ll forgive me for that.”

“Considering I spent most of yesterday catching and hauling turtles for Sig Mandrake for no reason and made three silver, I’ll take it,” I said as I secreted the little satchel away. Plus the whole night spending that silver and then some to get drunk, I added. I wouldn’t let the Mayor know that part.

He bid me farewell, and I exited the town hall. I took Neeker around and up toward the west gate before riding out of it and to the right down a dirt road that stretched forever, it seemed. I didn’t know how far I would need to ride to find the man; however, a cabin appeared just by the road. Not hidden enough, I remarked to myself as I rode past. The one I wanted wouldn’t be easy to spot, I was sure. Not impossible, but not openly sitting and inviting people to approach, either.

I searched and rode up and down the road for at least two hours before giving up and heading back toward Bree itself. As I passed the cabin again, I found not one but two people outside: a Man and a dwarf. Slowing Neeker to a halt nearby, I hailed them. Instead of a polite response, the taller man growled, “I am short of officers, newcomer. If you are here to aid me in my fight against the outlaws in the Bree-fields I welcome you without reservation. My friend Lofar may have need for you as well.” He nodded to the dwarf nearby in introduction. “If not, you’d be wise to move on to the town or be on your way.”

“Are you always so hospitable,” I drawled, “or are you making an exception for me?” I glanced from him to his dwarf companion. “I wonder if you’ve seen Radagast around lately?”

“Who?” grunted the dwarf, Lofar. That answered my question immediately.

I sighed. “Never mind. I’m searching for him.” I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “Why should I be moving on? Is it the brigands that are out here? I’ve encountered some already, actually.”

“Those men may have taken your friend, Radagast,” Lofar informed me with a jerk of his bearded chin toward the area behind me across the stream. “I wouldn’t put it past the blighters! Chief Watcher Grimbriar, here, has been doing everything he can.”

“Except patrol, it seems.” I knew I was being difficult. I couldn’t help it. They were law enforcement officials.

Grimbriar made a sound very close to a true growl at my words. “My job is to guard Bree. I don’t have the men to waste patrolling the countryside, but of late I’ve had reports of brigand-raids near and around the town. I need someone to look into these rumors, and I’ve coin to spare for anyone willing to help.”

Don’t do it, I warned my avarice. You have enough money to last you a bit. Don’t fall for the trap.

“There’ve always been a few outlaws in the hills and dales north of town, but it seems that recently they’ve grown both more numerous and more bold. If you can find out what is going on, it would be appreciated.” Don’t you dare! I thought with slowly grinding teeth. “Careful though. Once these outlaws would flee any armed man, but now they are more prone to attack without warning.” If you don’t tell him you’ll pass on this and move on, I began to think, only for Grimbriar to finish speaking. “The farm across the road seems to be overrun by the brigands…you could start your investigation there,” he stated with a point toward it, as if I had already agreed.

I turned and looked the direction of the farm for a long moment. “Pay, you said?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “Just to have a look there? Do you want me to count the number of them? Bring one back to you? What is it you’re after?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure what to tell you to look for,” Grimbriar admitted. “If you encounter and defeat any brigands, or if you can search Dogwood’s Farm nearby, maybe you can discover something that will tell us why they’ve become more hostile. That would be a start.” He smirked up at me as I turned back to him. “You mentioned already having met a few of them. It shouldn’t prove terribly difficult, surely?”

I snorted. “Right,” I replied. “Neither was catching turtles, and yet…” He gave me a strange look and I shook my head. “There were a few leaders that I had to take care of for Adso at his camp a day or two ago. Are you sure that the brigands are still a threat today?”

Grimbriar hesitated and then shook his head slightly. “I haven’t received complaints in the last two or so days, it’s true,” he said. “Have you, Lofar?”

The dwarf grunted. “I have not, Grimbriar. I do have my own problem I’m willing to pay someone to help me with, however.” He peered up at me. “It seems that no sooner did I set my latest blade out to cool, than someone stole it!”

“However will I sleep at night?” I asked as I leaned down to rest my forearm against the horn of my saddle.

He scowled. “I didn’t see who made off with the sword, but I suspect it was one of those Man-smiths working out at Thornley’s. Their craft is nothing like dwarf-craft, and likely their jealousy of my workmanship moved one of them to steal my blade.” At my silence, he continued. “If I were to ask them about my blade, they would just ignore me.” He wagged a thick finger at me. “You though, by the look of you, are a great warrior.”

I looked down at myself from behind my mask. “Are you serious?” I demanded as I looked back up at him.

Lofar seemed to acknowledge I had a point from how his head canted to one side a fraction and his eyes narrowed. He was in for a copper, in for a gold, though. “Mm. All the same. If you were to ask them about my blade, they’ll be honest with you. You’re one of them. How about it, can you find my stolen blade?”

“Look, not all Men are very trusting of other Men.” I gestured toward Grimbriar as an example.

“They’ll still listen to you before they will me,” he said stubbornly.

I sighed and straightened. “Fine, why not? I had to be in this area anyway. Thornley’s site, you said?” At his nod, I turned Neeker around once more. “Left or right side of the stream?”

“Right,” Lofar explained. “It turns off to the left before it reaches the work site and meets the Everclear Lakes.”

I slowly turned back to look at him. “What?” he asked after a moment, looking confused. “Nothing,” I answered as I set off down the Greenway. If I wind up wet one more time… I swore silently.

Benegar stared at me for a long moment and seemed to realize how dire my expression was. He looked chagrined and offered, “‘Well, maybe not murder, but they sounded very serious, and I’m afraid it won’t be long before their plans come to fruition!”

I straightened and sucked in a long breath through my nose. Releasing it slowly, I then asked him, “Why do you think that if you didn’t hear them actually say they were killing someone?”

The hobbit made a face. “‘I was crouching down in the mud here, looking for turtles, when two shabbily-dressed Men came wading out to the island!” He then offered, with barely contained mirth, “Much better than you managed, might I add.”

“There could still be a murder out here,” I growled at him.

He waved his hands placatingly. “Okay, okay.” Clearing his throat, he continued. “They looked like they didn’t want to be seen and kept peering over their shoulders back in the direction of Bree.” I glanced back that way, myself. When I turned back to him, Benegar had a brief look of outrage. “I thought at first they were here to look for turtles at my prime turtle-catching spot,” he declared, his features morphing into something more serious as he kept going, “but then they started talking. And their words!” He widened his eyes. “Oh my!”

Did they say they’d stolen a hobbit’s lunch? I wanted to snipe at him. I held my tongue, though. I’d heard a song while in Bree about some stupid hobbit asking a minstrel for help in a so-called dire mission to force some brigands to return stolen goods – that turned out to be the hobbit’s lunch. “I’m braced for the shock,” I told him instead.

He didn’t seem to notice. “They spoke of a group that has infiltrated Bree and is gathering strength, watching and waiting. And when they are ready, they are planning a surprise for the village, one the Bree-folk will not soon forget!” he exclaimed in worry.

I frowned. “What exactly did they say?” I didn’t want to jump too quickly on something a hobbit might have said. They weren’t exactly the folk known for keeping a level head over the same matters that Men and Elves did. Remembering the fighting dwarves at the lake, I also had to admit hobbits had better tempers than they did, by far.

Benegar fretted for a moment and looked toward the ground as he gathered his thoughts. “Let’s see… ‘Quick-wit Culver’s sharpening his blade,’ the seediest looking Man said, ‘and Twisted Garret has all the rope we’ll need.’ They left after that, but not before discussing the password the infiltrators use to get into their hideout.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line as he looked up at me.

“You’re right,” I replied. “That… doesn’t sound good. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with a nickname like “Twisted Garret” who wasn’t a violent murderer.” Pot, kettle, black, my own inner voice scolded me. You associate with some fine people. I knew as soon as I’d said it that I had outed myself, but Benegar’s expression never changed to show that he’d caught on. “By the way, Benegar, I’m Morchandir.” I didn’t offer my hand, though. It was still damp and the hobbit’s was covered in muck. “What did they say the password was?” If anyone could infiltrate these men, it would be me. Wasn’t I virtually one of them already?

“It’s ‘Another infiltrator is here!’ and if you say it to their door-man, you can get inside and stop this before they are ready!” the hobbit told me enthusiastically. “Their hideout is in Bree, south of the High Stair, and their door-man stands out front. Stop them, Morchandir!”

I sighed. “What is so popular about that area of Bree?” I shook my head. “Look, your uncle wants you home right now. I’d find a pair of armored trousers, while you’re at it.”

He blinked up at me with a blank look. “What? Why?” he asked.

“Because he’s probably going to switch your bottom for leaving the turtles in his shed, knowing how afraid of them he is, and not mentioning you’d done so.” I tried to sound dismayed instead of amused and somehow managed it. I had a son, after all. “They escaped and scared him witless.”

Benegar grinned widely. “Oh, that’s fabulo… I mean,” he said, composing his features into a contrite expression, “terrible! Simply terrible! I had no idea they would do that and only meant to keep them there for a little while. I swear I meant to tell him before I left! He was sleeping, though.”

“Well, Mandrake would’ve only given you a silver and fifty copper for all of them, regardless,” I informed him. “It seems to be the flat rate.”

The young hobbit’s brows crunched together as he frowned. “It took me hours to get them! Only a silver and fifty copper, you said?” At my nod, he threw up his hands. “Nevermind this turtle business, then. I won’t stay out here where murderers come to plot any longer just for a silver and some change!”

I jerked my thumb back toward Bree. “You’ll need to work on that sorry look before you get to your uncle’s place if you want to avoid his mighty wrath.” I then added, “Though if you tell him about the dangerous people you met and how they frightened you back to his home, he might forgive you.”

“Good thinking.” He pointed. “Don’t walk back the way you came. There actually is a shallower path you can wade across, big as you are, that goes around just over here. That way you won’t dunk yourself again.” He then squinted up at me. “Did you know, I’ve heard that hobbits in the Shire can’t even swim? How d’you like that business?”

I moved past him to start wading through the water. “Neither one way or the other. None of my concern.” I stopped and turned around to face him. “You want a lift?” I asked politely with a motion to my shoulders.

He eyed them and shook his head. “Best not. I’m already muddy as a pig in a sty. The swim will do me good.”

I breathed a little easier and nodded at him. “Hurry home, young m… hobbit. There are men out here like the ones you overheard who would take great pleasure in harming someone like you for sport.” I sloshed through the water a step, two steps, and then felt around with a foot to keep from repeating my earlier drop.

Benegar rolled his eyes slightly. “Yes, father,” he replied sarcastically. Looking back, he then muttered, “Just one more pass. Just in case the turtles are here…”

His words drove a little spike of longing through me. My own son hadn’t said those two words to me in that tone yet. He was still too young to try. Gloomily, pouting, grudging, those I had heard, and happily as well, but not with the same edge as I used for others. Or that Benegar had used on me, just then. All the same, it reminded me of Leith and why I was doing all of this. I didn’t want my son becoming me.

The ride back to Bree was long enough, but I had to go back to the Pony to change and ask for someone to launder my clothing for me while I had gone. I washed myself as best I could to rid myself of the lake water’s stink before dressing once again and heading once more toward the southern parts of Bree. As I approached the area of the High Stair, I realized it was just down and around the corner from Sig Mandrake. My brief concern vanished as I stopped, tied my horse securely, and walked toward a rough-looking man near a doorway.

His gaze sharpened as I approached. “State your business or move along,” he growled.

Something about me must have spooked him slightly since he shifted backward when I moved in close enough to whisper to him. I loomed over him when I did so. “Another infiltrator is here,” I stated gruffly to him.

He leaned back after I’d spoken. “What’s that? ‘Another infiltrator is here?'” He frowned at me suspiciously and then shrugged. “Okay. I don’t recognize you, but our group is pretty large by now, so that doesn’t surprise me. As many as it takes, am I right?” He laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

“Right,” I answered. I tried not to give anything away and I most certainly didn’t stop looming as much as I already was.

“We might have chosen a better password, I suppose,” he said thoughtfully, “but at least it’s easy to remember.” He motioned at the door. “Lots of people are already inside. I let in Quick-wit Culver, and Twisted Garrett, and a few of the others. I will escort you inside, then return to my post.” He turned, opened the door, and let me take it from him so that I could shut it behind us. He waited for me on the other side, dark as it was, and then moved on. I should start with him, right here, I thought to myself grimly. Nice and silent, before he can warn the others inside. I could hear them talking and moving around through the entrance just beyond. I had my knife out halfway from its sheath before I slid it back in place. No, I told myself. Find out what’s happening first. How many there are. How much danger the town is in.

As we passed through a doorway into the lit area beyond, one of the men, with a knife in his hand, spotted the door guard and asked, “Otis! What are you doing? Get back to your post! It’s almost time!”

I ducked slightly as I came from behind the man. Activity in the room ceased as they all looked at me in confusion, the speaker included. Otis motioned at me and said, “He knew the password, Culver. He’s here to help us.” He nodded me forward before leaving once again.

The sounds of various preparations began to start up again slowly as the leader stepped toward me. “I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you sure you’re one of us?” he asked warily, eyeing me up and down. “This has been a long time coming, and I don’t want some outsider spoiling it.”

“Why would I want to spoil anything?” I countered. “You need all the help you can get, don’t you?”

He grunted and nodded once. “Folk won’t soon forget what we do here today, not if my name’s Quick-wit Culver. Which it is! ” He laughed and I couldn’t help but think it sounded a little stupid. Hur-hur-hur. I resisted the urge to mock him, especially when he flashed his little knife so proudly. “You see this blade?” he asked with a smirk, eyes fastened on it as he set his fingertip on the point. “I can slide clean through anything I set my mind to, that’s how sharp both edges are: the blade and my mind!”

“Fascinating,” I grated. I could have you dead before you even knew it if I wanted.

“I’ve been cutting things all morning, and I’ll cut more before the day is through! See if I don’t!” he promised with a wag of it toward me. I had to fight the urge to retaliate with it so close to me. “Go into the main room and see if Garrett is all set up. There isn’t much time left.”

Main room? I wondered as I looked toward the only other exit besides how I had entered. I took a last look at Culver and strode away. Entering the much larger second room, I noticed far more of the infiltrators had collected within. Garrett, I noted. Which one is Garrett?

A man, not as ruddy haired and with it falling across his forehead besides, stood by an open crate. He seemed more worried than I would have expected a murderous brigand to be. “I have not yet unpacked my ropes! They will hold, I am certain, but I need more time! There are a lot of things we still need to hoist!” Twisted Garrett, I noted. I moved to the crate and spotted the ropes within. “Oh, after all this planning, to be undone at the last for a lack of time! I saw how sharp Culver’s knife has become! If I don’t hurry he might use it on me next!”

“He sent me to help you,” I greeted him. He looked up and over, then up further, at me and his eyes widened slightly. “What is it we’re hoisting? I might have the advantage in that respect.”

He blinked at me. “You… whoo… Yes, I think you have the advantage,” he agreed. He pointed toward the crate. “These should be laid out and ready so that we can hang-” he began.

He was interrupted by Culver’s frantic voice. “We’re out of time! He’s here!” he cried, and the whole room seemed to go berserk. Brigands started tossing things into crates and trying to clear up the area or finish what they’d started. Garrett wailed, “Oh no! All is for naught!” and slapped the lid of the crate back on top of it.

I looked from one place to another in bewilderment. “Who….?” I tried to ask Garrett, but he scurried to Culver’s side. Someone from the Watch, I realized with horror. It must be! I’m about to be taken in by the guards here and charged with something I had no part of! I looked around for an escape route – a window, a back door, a cellar, anything – but had only gone two steps when a figure appeared through the doorway.

Blonde and average in every way, he looked around at everyone inside, who had frozen in place, and asked with great curiosity, “What is going on, friends?”

As if on cue, the other infiltrators all called out, “Surprise!” and “Surprise, Artie!” and “Happy birthday!”

I felt a wash of relief pulse through me that was then followed by a flare of indignant anger. How dare these brigands and ruffians not intend on murdering people in Bree? Rope? Knives? All for a birthday party? I refused to believe it, even as Artie declared, “Will you look at this? All of my friends have gathered to surprise me with a birthday celebration! I cannot believe it! Thank you, everyone, thank you!”

Culver appeared with a tray of bread to offer it to Artie. “I have been cutting thick slices of crusty bread all morning! Help yourself, Artie!”

“What?” I couldn’t help letting the word slip out as I stared at the platter. “That’s what you’ve been cutting and…”

It got worse. Twisted Garrett came up to Artie’s other side with an apologetic and frustrated clenching of his hands. “I was going to hang up some decorations with my ropes, but I ran out of time!”

I immediately looked over at the crate haphazardly covered by its top. I had the very real, very violent urge to take the rope and hang them all from the rafters before storming out. “Hoisting,” I growled in disgust.

“Do not trouble yourself, Garrett!” Artie assured him happily. “I need no decorations. I just need my friends about me!”

I had to take a hard, close look at this Artie fellow, then. I wasn’t sure how a man who looked so average knew such obviously vile characters as the brigands around him. I wanted to know what he had been doing to make their acquaintances, let alone befriend them, but I didn’t have the chance to ask. “I almost forgot the main course, Artie!” Culver announced. “What good are thick slices of crusty bread without anything to dip them into?” I looked over at him and felt my head start pounding so that I heard my heartbeat in my ears. Don’t you dare say it, I thought to myself. I could already feel a headache starting. “We all chipped in some coins to purchase a large order of turtle soup from Sig Mandrake’s well-known shop,” Culver said with a wide smile. “He should be here with the soup any moment now!”

My hands flew up as I turned away. “This is… ridiculous…” I said, much to their confusion.

“Well, I suppose it should have been here before now,” Garrett agreed after seeing my reaction. “But there’s no need to be hostile about it.”

“What is taking him so long with the soup?” Culver asked with a frown, turning to look toward the door. “Do you think he’s been held up by the size of the pot? We did ask for a large amount, and people have been bringing him turtles since yesterday.”

Artie shook his head. “Maybe he’s had trouble finding someone to help him bring it here, or he’s had to make two batches and can’t carry them both?”

I rested my hands on the edge of the nearby table as I struggled to regain my temper. “Three silver,” I said under my breath. “Three bloody silver, ruining my new clothes, chasing turtles and hobbits in the mud, for a birthday party…?”

The sound of hurried boots on the floor heralded the arrival of the last person I wanted to see, as if conjured up by my words and thoughts of mayhem. “I am so sorry, everyone! I couldn’t do it!” Mandrake said as he came in.

I straightened and slowly turned around to face him. He seemed surprised to see me there. “Couldn’t do what?” I asked in a deceptively level voice.

He flailed his hands around. “It, Morchandir!” he replied desperately. ” After seeing all of those little turtles, with their tiny shells and their little snapping beaks, I just could not bring myself to turn them into soup!”

“Oh, you should’ve called me,” I answered through clenched teeth. “I could’ve done it.” Really thinking of twisting off some heads right now, as it is, I wanted to say.

I couldn’t, however, because Mandrake wasn’t done ruining my day. “I brought them here, tied up in a sack given to be my Grobo’s nephew. I left them over by the door.”

I looked back at him so fast I thought my neck might snap. “Hold on, Benegar? When did he do that?” I demanded.

“Oh, it was after you left yesterday,” Mandrake assured me. “Before you went to fetch him for Grobo today at the Everclear Lakes.”

“Oh no,” I groaned. He knew they weren’t murderers, I realized with growing frustration. They were throwing a party! He knew all along!

Sig pressed onward. “Perhaps we can return them to the wild, and my customers will forgive me for not making good on our deal.” He looked toward the brigands hopefully even as he spoke to me. “I will refund their coin, of course!” he added hastily.

No, no you won’t, I wanted to say to him, knowing that he had probably paid me and every other turtle-catcher out of the money he’d received for services not rendered. I didn’t, though, because I could hear the faint yet growing sounds I had been dreading I would hear for the last few moments. Hollow clacking. Scratching. Scraping. Almost a rumbling noise, like stones being jostled together in a bag. Sig picked up on it as well and screwed up his face. “Hmmm… do you hear something?” he asked the room, uncomprehending.

Turtles, dozens and dozens of them, spilled out of the storage room to pour into the one where we stood. The infiltrators danced around shrieking as the wild, frightened creatures snapped and lashed out, trying to find somewhere to escape to, before ducking into their spiked shells. One or two of the women hopped up onto the tables to get away from them while Mandrake looked miserable.

“Benegar,” I told him in a matter of fact way, “has a tendency to play pranks on people using turtles. I’m very sure that he made the hole in the bag at Grobo’s, and if he gave you a bag to carry them in, he made one in that one, too. Or them.” Turning to look down at him, I asked Mandrake, “Would you like to make hobbit soup instead? I happen to know a good place to get one.”

“Disappointed?” I heard Artie exclaim with a laugh. When I turned my attention that way, I noticed that he seemed to be talking to Garrett. I could guess what he’d just been asked that I’d missed. “Absolutely not! I don’t care much for turtle soup, in the first place. And look at all those little fellows, running around like they own the place!”

Artie turned more serious. “Perhaps they should! I have a spacious home not far from here, and I understand that the mayor has been known to turn a blind eye to the keeping of numerous pets within homes in Bree. I could give these little snapping gentle-turtles a fine home!”

“Gentle my ar—hey!” I replied, dancing back as one of the accursed beasts yet again tried to nip at me through my boots. I cocked back my foot to launch it across the room with a kick before thinking better of it.

But Artie was nodding slowly, as if the idea he’d had was the answer to the world’s problems. “They will stay with me! It’s settled!” He slung an arm around Culver’s shoulders and beamed. “This is the finest birthday of all! I have been surprised by my old friends, and have acquired numerous new friends! Man and turtle alike!”

I gave him a long-suffering look from behind my mask. “You’re mad,” I said, shaking my head.

The blonde man laughed and came to me. “What’s your name? I will show you to my home. You can help carry some of my new, beaked friends!”

“Joy,” I responded with a hint of a whine. “Just what I always wanted. Friends with beaks and insanity.” When Artie looked as if he might reply, I noted, “Joy isn’t my name. Morchandir is my name.”

He laughed. “I was about to ask why your parents disliked you that much.”

I snorted but couldn’t help the slight smile that crossed my face at his riposte. On the other hand, I had to admit privately, only the lunatic members of society, beaked or otherwise, might be able to accept me as their friends, given everything.