In the Fortress of the Trees, Parnard stood before Captain Lomdognir to give report. He was overdue at camp by several days, and when he returned, he was covered in mud and had the shaft of an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.
“Sir, it was near the shore of the Great River, during the Late-Watches, when I heard a creaking and the sound of uncouth voices, so I hid myself in a shrub beside a bend in the road. It was not long before a heavily-laden wagon lurched around the curve, and on it were many picks and sacks, all stacked up neatly, and filled with who-knows-what -” Parnard thought for a moment before narrowing his eyes and adding darkly, "Probably military stores! And around the wagon was a group of naugrim plodding, and the wagon was drawn by a fat spotted pony that had a very long and shining tail, and at the reins was an aged naugol with a white beard. Oh, he was a cruel master to that poor beast, and did flick the reins smartly against its shaggy flank! The poor burdened creature was having trouble pulling the cart, because it had rained very hard, and the roads were muddy and nigh impassable. It slipped, and the wagon tumbled into the ditch. The driver rolled off his seat and fell splat into the mud, and the rest of the naugrim set to cursing. I could tell it was cursing, sir, from the tone of their voices and the rude gestures they made as they uttered their coarse language. They were cursing at the pony, or it may be that they were cursing at the foul weather – I suppose it does not matter, sir. Eventually, several of them left off from this activity, seeming to realize that cursing would not help matters any, so they went ‘round and pushed the wagon out of the ditch with a mighty heave-ho, while the others pulled and pushed the pony, and so it was brought back onto the road.”
The Captain made no sign or gesture that he was listening, and kept his eyes lowered on the stack of maps and papers in front of him. He seemed bored. Undaunted, Parnard continued with his report. “Then, they took the harness off the pony Long-Tail and strapped on its feed-bag. And then...” Parnard trailed off in speech and looked very mysterious.
“Yes? What happened then?” asked Captain Lomdognir, glancing up, his interest a little piqued, despite himself.
“Then – Sir, they built a fire!”
“Is that all!” snapped the Captain. He glared around at his snickering guards, feeling foolish for letting his curiosity get the better of him.
“Yes, Sir, very quick about it they were, too! I have never seen a fire built so quickly in the middle of a rainy and windy night, and it seemed to spring into a bright blaze from nothing but a few bits of fluff: dwarven-mischief, no doubt! Sir, this Private considered it his solemn duty to spy on them and report whatever it was they were doing. I crept up closer. They were now standing around the old wagon-driver, shaking their heads and wagging their beards. I heard the driver mutter out something which sounded like, 'Grank shun-vfskey, grank shun-vfskey,’ and then they all burst out into a horrible growling laughter that sent a chill down my spine; these naugrim were up to no good, sir, it was plain as the daylight! So I stole up even closer to their bivouac, near creeping on my belly, almost crawling through the squelching mud, but I startled a pair of birds which flew up in my face - little black grebes. It seems I crushed their nest of eggs, and I am very sorry for it.”
“Get to the point, Private,” the Captain said wearily, a phrase he found himself speaking often since Parnard's assignment to Ost Galadh.
“Sir, yes, Sir! Well, I could not see what the naugrim did," continued Parnard, "as I had to fling my arms over my face, to keep my eyes from being pecked out. But I heard a sudden hasty growling, which sounded as if one of them was shouting orders, and then it seemed that panic broke out in their camp. I shooed away the angry grebes, and saw the naugrim kick out their fire, and all was plunged into darkness. I heard metal scraping against metal, and then a score of arrows plunged into the mud all around me. They must have mistaken me for a bear in the dark. So I ran off, not wishing to explain their error to them, or give them a chance to reload their crossbows. And by it, I peacefully ended what had threatened to become a very ugly piece of business. We might have had another war with the Naugrim! But I did not escape unscathed from my ordeal, no, Sir! One lucky arrow found its mark.” Parnard rubbed his sore shoulder ruefully. “Oh, if only I had been ready, and not had foolish birds flapping in my face, then things might have been different!”
“Perhaps, Private Parnard wishes to seek revenge for his hurt,” suggested the Captain’s second-in-command. “We can send him out again to find it –“
“No, no - Sir!” Parnard interjected. “Captain, my wrath has cooled, much time has passed -”
“But it was, at the most, only a week ago,” another guard helpfully reminded, grinning at Parnard.
“They are beneath my contempt.” Parnard sneered and made a dismissive wave of his hand, pretending not to have heard him. “But if I ever see those Naugrim again, they shall receive swift retribution - you shall count on it!”
"It is a ludicrous account,” the Captain said abruptly, and looked annoyed. “I do not believe you.”
Parnard started and blanched. “Sir -?” he said in a feeble voice. He was too shocked to say anything more.
“Your geography is weak,” said Captain Lomdognir, “because there is no way possible that you could have traveled, on foot, from this fortress, to the river, and back again in three days, wounded as you were, no less.”
“But Sir, I know that I traveled to the river, because I came up to a marshy inlet. And there, I heard many thousands upon thousands of frogs croaking, so many that I thought I would be deafened by the sound. And I saw strange little brown fishes, walking backward on the sand. If I was not beside the shores of the Anduin, then where was I?”
“Fish do not walk backwards,” said the Captain, his voice edged with exasperation. “Fish do not even walk! What you saw, Private, were shell-fish. Crabs are common by the streams leading to the River. Now, you do not mean to tell me that you have never seen fresh-water crabs before?”
“Of course I have – Sir.” said Parnard, his face coloring. “But, crabs are bright red. These were not.”
“They only turn red after you cook them,” growled the Captain.
“I admit I am no fishy authority or a cook,” said Parnard, "but -"
“A crab is not a fish!” barked Lomdognir.
“Sir, you just called a crab a shell-fish. When is a shell-fish not a fish?” Parnard asked, confused. The Captain’s guards covered their faces and coughed to smother their laughter.
“It matters not! Only a fool would confuse a stream for the Great River!” Captain Lomdognir roared, his face now flushed a deep purple.
Well, if he wishes to laud his own knowledge by ridiculing mine, I have nothing more to say, thought Parnard, realizing that he had made a huge mistake, and hung his head in shame.
“Get out of my sight!” yelled Captain Lomdognir.
Parnard saluted meekly and went back to his barracks, worrying about the Captain’s anger, and wondering what would become of him. He gave me orders, and I carried them out, though my efforts may not have been adequate, nor to his liking. But I will not be blamed for a fault that I do not own.
