Tag: morch

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.

Things swirled around in my head as if I had fallen deep underwater. I could barely hear voices and had no real sense of up and down. Everything seemed as if it had slowed down somehow. I felt burning and pain at my throat but no pressure any longer. My surroundings were deep and dark as a cavern, and much like one, I couldn’t find my way out. For that matter, I had no idea where I was nor what it was that I’d been doing. It must have been something important, though. Was I stealing something important? Was it an assassination?

The impression of a child flitted through my head and left sparks in its wake. My son, I realized. Something about my son! I felt galvanized by the realization; had something happened to him? Had I been on my way to help him? No, I soothed myself. But something about him…

The little sparks, however, had begun igniting the rest of my brain. I wasn’t in a cave. I was unconscious. The fact I could reason this well meant that I wouldn’t be for much longer, either. Why had I fallen into this state? A mental fire erupted from somewhere and sent me memories without warning: orcs, lots of them, and a helmed one raging as his remaining hand tightened itself around my throat…

“Oh, baby, wake up! Gammer is so worried!” I heard a woman plead from somewhere.

Gammer? I wondered, the vision of the orc replaced by utter confusion. Oh, right. I don’t have a grandmother. I don’t even have a mother and father. I had to have heard this woman wrong or it was my own mind playing with me.

“That bad ol’ orc won’t hurt you again, don’t be afraid,” she continued.

She was real. I felt as if I were surfacing. The darkness lightened, browned, and my eyes rolled open woozily. It hurt to breathe. My throat felt as if it had caught fire. I coughed once, then again, and the explosive pain had me grimacing and lifting a hand toward my neck.

“Ah, thank Eru!” said a woman’s voice from close by. “I thought I’d come too late, my little sweetmeat.” I felt a hard opening press against my lips. I grabbed at it and felt the soft exterior of a water pouch. “Drink slowly. Here, let me help you.” Hands lifted my head to help me as I took a mouthful. And then choked, coughed, and tried again. “Tut! Slowly, my love, slowly,” she cooed, and I felt a worn hand clasp mine to help me steady the skin. The next swallow went much smoother.

Once I was done, I cleared my throat with another cough and tried to focus on the world around me once again. “What happened?” I rasped out. “I was… I was…” I stopped. “What was I doing, again?”

She patted my cheek and then I heard the water skin being capped once more. “You were fighting a large orc, my dear. It’s a good thing your Gammer Dandelion got here when she did!” She chuckled. “What were you doing up here all this way from Bree, anyway, silly boy?”

I finally squinted up toward her face. Orc. Fighting. He strangled me. Away from Bree… It hit me without warning, and I grimaced as the weight of responsibility resettled on my chest and shoulders once more. Then I had another good look at Gammer Dandelion. She had on piecemeal armor that had seen better days and looked to be older. Grey hair flitted from beneath her slightly oversized helm but so did a subtly lined face and a warm, generous smile from cherubic cheeks. I stared at her for a long moment, uncomprehending, before asking, “Who are you, again?”

She clucked her tongue and brushed my hair from my forehead. Only then did I realize that my mask had been pulled free. “I see your memory isn’t the best,” she chided me mildly. “Probably because you got strangled near to death! I’m your grandmother, Dandelion Digweed.” She patted my cheek lightly. “You’ll remember. Now, let’s get you up again.”

I blinked at her as she began to push my head and then my shoulders up. I finally set my hands on the ground to help without response and took a moment or two to look around at Bleakrift. It was eerily quiet, now, as if nothing but nature itself had finally decided to settle in its crevices and cracks. I looked around for my mask, took it in hand, and then carefully got to my feet. Only then did I tell her, “Miss Dandelion, my name is Morchandir. I can’t be your grandson. I don’t even have parents.” I dusted the mask off on my thigh before patting the dirt and such off of my bottom and back as best I could.

She helped me with my back and legs and replied in outrage, “You have parents! My daughter is your mother!” She calmed as I turned to face her at last. “Though I don’t think you remember her, either, at this point.”

I opened my mouth as I shifted, only to find nobody behind me. It was still open when I looked down and found myself facing a hobbit woman. So that’s where I remember that name from, I told myself. Gammer. Gaffer. The hobbits used them. I had to carefully close my mouth at that point for fear it would stay hanging open in surprise. Clearing my throat again, I offered, “No offense, Dandelion-“

“Gammer,” she corrected, crossing her arms at her chest and glaring up at me. “You may have grown up tall, but you’re not too tall to switch, young man!”

My brows lifted. This hobbit was well and truly demented. “… Gammer,” I corrected slowly. “No offense, Gammer, but I can’t be your grandson. You’re a hobbit. I’m not.”

She snorted and waved that away. “You’ve taken one too many knocks on the noggin, my boy,” she told me as she moved to collect a shield that had been placed nearby. “You’re as much of a hobbit as me, even if I did manage to birth some tall ones.” She sighed wistfully. “Been such a long time since your Gaffer died, though. I bet you’d know him from anywhere!”

I had no idea how to respond. Tucking my mask into my belt for the moment, I had another look around. “Errr. Sure.” I then checked my pockets and found the orc letters were still safe and sound. Relaxing, I asked her, “Dan… Gammer.” No sense in riling her up until she does try to switch me with a branch, I reasoned. “How did you manage to get up here? There were so many orcs.”

“Were,” she replied proudly. “All those stories about your Gammer were true, my boy!” She settled the shield on her arm. “I might not be as spry as I used to be, but I’m still more than a match for these dark things. But you never did tell me why you were all the way out here.”

I ran my fingers back through my hair to straighten it and get any lingering twigs and dirt out of the back. “I was helping a Ranger,” I said after a moment. She thought I was a tall hobbit; how much would it hurt to actually tell her what I was doing, anyway? “Candaith is his name. He’s looking for where Radagast the Brown traveled through here so that I can find him and speak with him. Gandalf asked me to do so in Bree before he left. I’m supposed to help him, and help Radagast, with some troubles out this way. I just have no idea where Radagast went, so I’ve been sent to Candaith to help me find him.”

She peered up at me with a wrinkled brow and concern in her eyes. “Oh, love. So much on your shoulders,” she said as she reached for one of my hands to clasp it tightly. “So young!  Why didn’t you come talk to your ol’ Gammer before you left Bree, eh? I could have come with you.”

I blinked down at her slowly. “Um. I thought I could handle it on my own,” I replied. It wasn’t a lie. I actually did think I could do it alone. And I didn’t even know you, I added mentally. “Sorry, Gammer.” I had to play along. This hobbit might kill me in my sleep if she got angry and I went from her extra-tall grandson to an extra-small troll.

She sighed heavily and tugged me along down the path. “Well, there’s no fixing it now,” she counseled. “Come on with me and let’s get out of here. I doubt I bashed all of these orcs round here and some will undoubtedly come back. No need to fret, my love, Gammer’s going to help you from here on out.”

That’s what I was afraid of, I told myself as I walked with her. I had to keep my strides short given her much, much smaller height. We made it out of Bleakrift and back to Candaith’s camp by evening, however, and found the Ranger waiting for us.

He halted when he spotted the small being walking alongside me. “Morchandir?” he asked me warily. “Who is this?”

I opened my mouth to reply when Dandelion beat me to it. “Dangerous Dandelion Digweed, at your service!” she announced with a little bow. “You must be the Ranger that my grandson mentioned. Candle-eye, was it?”

“Candaith,” I sighed with a pleading look toward him. His brows lifted in such a way that I knew I would get no help from that quarter. “This is my… grandmother, yes.”

I could tell from how he looked from her tiny form to my overly-tall one and bit the inside of his cheek that he had barely controlled his laughter. He nodded once and told the hobbit, “Indeed. I’m Candaith. This is my encampment here.” He motioned. “Would you like to have a seat? I might just have a little tea to share.”

She made a happy sound and trundled over to one of the logs by the fire. “Oh, quite! Do you have anything for throats?” She motioned at me as I followed her. “My poor grandson got choked near to death by that horrible orc up there! He’s all bruised up and hoarse from it.” She put her shield down beside her and then grumbled, “Terrible things, those orcs. How they’ve come so far into the Lone-Lands is a travesty!”

Candaith’s gaze moved to my neck and grew sharp. “I can see,” he agreed with her. “Morchandir, are you sure you’re well?”

“You should see the other guy,” I growled with a smirk.

Dandelion hmphed softly. “I’ll have to have my shield hammered out in the next place we go. Orc heads are hard.”

I pointed at the hobbit as I looked at Candaith. “She saved me. Fought her way up there and then…. Well, I’m not sure, actually, because by that point I was being killed slowly.”

“I yelled at him and hit him with my shield repeatedly,” she sniffed at me. “Just like with the others. I have skills they weren’t prepared for.”

Candaith moved to some of his gear and rifled through it while we spoke. “A Guardian, then.” He nodded and pulled forth a small jar. “You’re in a little luck, my burglar friend. Your… grandmother… can help protect you and distract your targets while you come in from another place to attack them.” He rose and moved to me so that I could take the small jar from him. “Use this on your throat. It should help with the bruising and healing. I would bandage it just to keep it from smearing all over, but I don’t happen to have any on hand.”

“Oh, well,” Dandelion said cheerfully as she tore off a strip from her cloak. We both looked over at her in surprise as she handed it over to me. “Use this, dear. Gammer’s got you.”

I took the strip of cloth from her, bewildered, and nodded at her. “Thank you,” I replied. Only when she turned away happily did a throw a quick look at Candaith.

He shook his head as he moved back to his tent and other items to collect them for tea. “Gammer Digweed,” he said to her, “these hills are full of orcs. They’ve come from the south and mean trouble.”

She nodded hurriedly as she pulled off her helm at last. A mess of grey and blonde curls sat slightly flattened beneath. “Morchandir explained it a little on the way down. You don’t know what tribe they’re from?”

“No ma’am.” The Ranger shook his head. He had a small pot for water that he filled up and set on the small fire he had going already. “In all my wanderings, I’ve never seen that sigil before. A white hand.”

Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “That’s worrisome,” she agreed. “In my youth, I had a few adventures and ran through some orcs. I don’t remember seeing that symbol, either.”

It reminded me. I finished my application of the balm with a small noise and resealed it. Setting the jar down on the ground, I then gingerly pulled out the letter that I had gone to fetch from Uzorr’s camp. “Candaith,” I said, offering it to him when he looked my way. “Here. I found this outside of Uzorr’s tent.”

Dandelion made a little sound of dismay. “Was that his name?” She watched the Ranger rise and return to me to collect both jar and paper with a look of complete curiosity. A hobbit, no matter their age, was still a hobbit. “What are orcs doing with letters? I didn’t know they could read.” When I picked up the strip of cloak, she moved to me immediately and gently flapped her hands at mine. “You let me do it. I can make it comfortable. I’ve had all the practice,” she told me firmly.

I let her have her way and looked toward Candaith as he set his balm aside and opened the letter to look at it. “It’s a fair question,” I admitted aloud. “I mean, I know they can speak because they’ve learned how to use our language. But read? Write?” I motioned at Candaith. “We’ve found one letter in something that isn’t what we speak. I suppose they can read well enough to suit their purposes.” I smirked. “Probably better than I can.”

The hobbit woman made a disgruntled sound. “None of that,” she said with a tweak to my nose that I jerked away from slightly. Not that my nose wasn’t a huge target, mind, but I hadn’t even expected it in the least. “I didn’t raise idiot Tooks, and I’m sure my children haven’t raised worse!”

I frowned. “Gammer,” I began to argue, knowing very well that I couldn’t read very well and didn’t have a stellar education, but Candaith made an equally notable sound of frustration that interrupted me. “What is it?” I asked him.

“Another letter written in the Black Speech, Morchandir, and its meaning evades me as did that of its fellow.” Dandelion secured the cloth around my neck as he spoke. “This one, however, bears the mark of the White Hand.”

I frowned, too. “The other didn’t?”

“No. Only the messenger himself, on the armor you brought back,” he reminded me with a nod toward Neeker. He folded the paper up and tapped it on his fingertips in thought. “We must know what message this letter bears.”

“And the other,” I said with a nod as Dandelion moved away. “But who do I need to find to translate them? Does anyone know this Black Speech that I can take them to?”

The Ranger chuckled softly. “This is not a task for you, Morchandir.” I opened my mouth to disagree, but he held up a hand to stall me. “I have finally discovered information on the whereabouts of Radagast, but there is something that you should see first.”

I closed my mouth again. “What is it?”

He grimaced. “Rather, I think it’s something that I want you to see about for me, first.” He tucked the note away and looked between the two of us as he prepared Dandelion’s cup of tea for the addition of hot water. “I know that you’ve heard something about this already, Morchandir, but let me give it more meat now that Gammer Digweed has joined you.” Don’t say it like that, I wanted to reply and refrained. The crazy little Guardian needed to go back to Bree. Or needed a good, solid knock to the head to make her remember that she didn’t have a 6’6″ hobbit grandson.

But Candaith continued. “As I was returning from the lands to the east, the night sky over Weathertop was lit by bright flashes of white light, akin to lightning, yet no clouds darkened the sky and of thunder there was no sound.”

I nodded and looked at Dandelion. “I think it’s what got Radagast moving,” I added. “He spoke with Saeradan about it.”

“Oh?” she replied and perked up. “I know that Ranger! He’s quite serious, but I’ve wandered a bit with him after I retired in Bree.” She set her hands in her lap with a bright smile at me. “How is he, these days? Is that young Grimey Proudfoot still hanging about hoping to be of service to him?”

Candaith looked from her to me in slight bemusement. “Ah, Gammer, he’s Master of Apprentices, now,” I hurriedly informed her. “But we shouldn’t get sidetracked. Candaith was telling us a story.”

She fluttered her hands again. “Oh, deary me! I’m so sorry. Continue.”

He took a breath and let it out again in a soft sigh, but his faint smile told me that he wasn’t upset. “I think that no ordinary storm visited Amon Sûl that night,” Candaith told us both after a moment. “I want to know what it might have been.” He set his forearms on his knees as he crouched by the fire. “I ask you to search the ruins atop Weathertop tomorrow and see if there is anything to find, my friends. If you do find anything out of the ordinary, return to me immediately.” He motioned. “In the meantime, I’ll have the letters looked at so we know what to expect. I would have you both go right now, but you need to recover a little tonight, and by the time you got up to the summit and started back down again, the darkness would make it treacherous.” He added after, “Well, more treacherous, at least. There seem to be orcs wandering up to it from the base, here, and I’m uncertain as to why.”

I watched him pour a bit of hot water into the herbs already in the cup waiting. It would need to steep for a bit, but Dandelion didn’t seem to mind. I listened in the silence to the insects chirping and making noises in the growing dusk. “How do you mean to get the letters translated?” I finally asked. “I don’t know of anyone nearby, do you?”

Candaith hesitated before speaking. “It would take far too long for me to travel to the person I know and then come back, even by horse. I can send a message to him and an answer should arrive in a day, two at most. Crows and ravens fly much faster than I could walk or either of our horses could run.” His mouth formed a firm line. “Which means I have to leave now to save time. I hope by the time you both can make it to the summit of Weathertop and then back down again, I should have the answers that we need from these letters.”

He picked up the tin cup to bring it to Dandelion, who thanked him politely, and then she said, “It should most likely take a day up and then another one down even if we go by the roads left on it. Travelers use the lower areas for camping purposes, I’ve heard, but they don’t go to the top unless they mean to stay more than a single day. The going is rough and rocky when you don’t know the area.”

The Ranger nodded with a quick smile for the hobbit. “The lady is correct,” he agreed.

She chuckled. “Oh, dosh. I’m no Lady. I’ve cracked far too many skulls in my time for that nonsense!”

Candaith laughed as he returned to his things to gather what he needed. He moved with the quick assurance of one who had been used to doing so for most of his life. “I would expect no less from Morchandir’s grandmother.”

I shot him a baleful glare. “Don’t encourage her,” I growled. I’d be parting from the crazy hobbit as soon as I could slip away from her.

He shook his waterskin with a grunt at the sound before strapping it around his body and smirking at me. “If she can keep you alive and out of trouble, friend, I will encourage her to the stars and back.” He stood before them for another moment after checking for his weapons and a few other items. “Where I’m heading should take me no longer than a few hours to arrive, but I mean to stay there until the response is returned. If you come to the camp and don’t see me, wait another day or two. I should be back by then, at the very latest. My brethren will know my urgency is great.” He stepped toward me, and I rose from my seated position near Dandelion to clasp his forearm. She received a nod. “Take care until my return,” he said in farewell before setting off into the gloaming.

I watched him until he vanished. Only then did I return to my seat with Dandelion. “I’ll take first watch,” she said lightly. “You can sleep for a while, my dear.  What will we have for supper?” She set her cup of tea down and moved her own pack to be closer to her. Rummaging through it, she commented, “I have some nice, crusty bread, some cheeses, fruit, oh! A bit of ham and roast left from lunch, too!” She sounded infinitely pleased.

Is her whole satchel full of foodstuffs? I wondered in growing surprise. She kept pulling things out of it like it had been enchanted by Gandalf himself. “Grandm… err, Gammer?”

“Yes, pumpkin?” She didn’t stop when she answered.

“Gammer, why did you only bring food?” I asked after a moment. “You must have needed other supplies, too?” And then I realized it: “And how did you follow me from Bree if you had no horse?”

“Pish-posh,” Dandelion replied with a wave of her hand. “The pony is hidden safely away, and I’ll collect it later.”

“But… the wolves—”

“And you’re a growing boy,” she continued, brooking no argument. “Between the two of us, I know we’ll need quite a bit of food. Hobbits and their kin do love to eat!” She almost twinkled as she said it. “Now, come get something to nosh upon and then look to settling in for bed. I’ll tuck you in.” Part of me wanted to disagree. The rest almost did before realizing I could eat my fill and then sleep a good while after she took watch. It promptly bludgeoned my complaints to death and agreed with what she said. Maybe this arrangement isn’t as bad as I first thought, I told myself as I began to eat.