Adso Haybank was a hobbit with no shortage of ambition. A half-day’s ride west of Bree, he’d decided to build a hunting lodge. Running parallel to the East Road, a long stretch of stone wall, ancient and in ruins, bound the northern edge of the Old Forest. A wide break in the wall accommodated a little-used path from the road into the forest, and in this gap, Adso had cleared enough land to begin the building of his lodge. The ground was well shaded beneath the large and cheerier trees at the Forest’s edge. To the north of the road, the rolling land was open and rich, and was the grassy western edge of the Bree-land farms. As daylight dimmed into dusk, Millaray Boggs, member of the Staddle company of the Bree Watch, led her "squad”, Torrance Greenlake, off the East Road and into what would one day be the courtyard of the Adso Hunting Lodge. The lodge itself was yet only a stone foundation layered atop by a flagstone floor. Thick timbers thrusting up from the foundation formed the skeletal frame for walls and roof. Rising from the center of the imagined southern wall, a stack of smaller stones shaped the large fireplace, hinting at a great room folding around an excellent hobbit kitchen.
The work-site was already attracting travelers. Amongst the tents and cookfires of the work crew, visitors bound both east and west were setting up their own camps. Days end for workers and passers-by converged. Evening meals were interweaving their aromas, introductions were being made, and all were being subtly cheered by the music of an Elf couple sitting before their lovely tent plucking and strumming a small harp and a lute.
“Millie Boggs!”, Adso called out from his covered wagon across the road. As she and Torry dismounted, Millie turned to the happily approaching hobbit entrepreneur, smiling at his eagerness to see her. “Good evening, Mister Haybank. It appears your lodge is coming along quite nicely”, she replied, removing her gloves. She interrupted Adso’s excited descriptions of new details to introduce Torry and set him the task of setting up their camp. Greenlake looked between the two, attempting to delve their relationship. He was quite interested in her, it seemed, but her mien was reservedly cordial and polite. They disappeared around the corner of the lodge foundation, his voice a cascade of construction minutia while she nodded with polite interest.
Torry surveyed the open area around the foundation for a suitable spot to stand up a simple lean-to and lay out a circle of stones for a fire. The Elves caught his eye since they were looking at him with interest. The Elf-maid beckoned him with an elegant hand wave. Her companion, an Elf gentleman, said, “You are most welcome to share our fire and pitch your tent next to ours.” Torry smiled as he approached and offered a polite bow. “Watcher Torrance Greenlake”, he announced, realizing it was the first time he had identified himself as member of the Bree Watch, and rather liked the sound of it. The Elf-maid stood and curtsied, her musical voice replying, “I am Lindetari, and this is Faramaenas.” The Elf gentleman also stood, giving Torry a friendly nod, and asked, “Are you patrolling the Road, Watcher Greenlake, you and your hobbit companion?”
Torry looked around for Millie, hoping to get some cue from her how to answer that, but she was nowhere to be seen, and so he answered vaguely, “Among other things. Errands and such.” He shrugged, attempting to imply mundane and boring work. “And what brings you to the Bree-lands?” Lindetari spoke up, “We are wanderers and minstrels, touring the lands of the Free Peoples.” She neglected to mention their eventual plan to sail to the West to be wed, not wanting to assume this Mortal would understand. “We have wandered through the Shire and seen many beautiful places, and now continue east. From the Bree-lands, we have not decided where to travel next.” As Millaray returned, Torry introduced her.
All turned as, thundering in from the west, a lone rider reined up at the site of the future lodge. Throwing back his hood, the rider was revealed as Elf, and dismounted to lead his horse to a watering trough. Lindetari called out to him, “Captain Teahesto! Never have I know you to be in such a hurry.” She and Faramaenas beckoned him to their tent, and he approached with polite nods, but with a distracted look upon his face. “I’m on urgent business to Imladris, My Lady....” he said, pausing to glance at the man and hobbit in Bree Watcher red.
“This is Millaray Boggs, and Torrance Greenlake, Watchers from Bree”, Lindetari announced, indicating the two in turn. Teahesto started at the name Greenlake, but for only a moment before offering them both a polite bow. “Greenlake?” Teahesto asked. “Related to Caladna Greenlake, perchance?” It was Torry’s turn to be taken aback. “Why yes, she is my sister, Master Elf. How would you know of her?” Teahesto paused for a moment before replying with lowered voice. “I accompanied her and Clay Cob to Trestlebridge recently, looking for Cutch Crane, before we heard of his...death.” The swelling moment of silence was broken by Millaray, who stepped closer to Teahesto, her own voice lowered, saying, “Watcher Greenlake and I are on our way to Michel Delving. Mayor Tenderlarch is asking for a report on Crane’s death.” Teahesto’s mind raced along a speculative path attempting to glean the significance of that. “Why would your mayor be interested? Crane was certainly not a very important fellow, I understand”, Teahesto said, quietly. Torry, sensing a growing intrigue, joined them in close conversation, and muttered, “You are right, Master Elf, he was not. So, why were you interested in him?”
Lindetari and Faramaenas, seeing the three wishing not to be heard, glanced and nodded at each other, and began playing harp and lute, stepping between the trio and the others camping around future lodge. Teahesto tossed a sly grin over his shoulder toward the minstrels, then leaned in as close as he could to the Watchers. The little group tightened together and the Elf continued. “After returning from Trestlebridge, I have taken on some errantry concerning Crane’s....disappearance. I do have some news for the Greenlakes, so would you please excuse us Watcher Boggs?”
Millaray looked up into the Elf’s face, searching it intently for several moments before slowly nodding and moving away to the playing minstrels. As the hobbit began clapping her hands to the beat of the music, Teahesto turned back to Torry and whispered, “Crane is not dead. He has hidden himself to deal with a threat from the Wildwood towards him and those he loves. I am now travelling from Falathlorn, where I’ve informed his betrothed of all this, and onward towards Imladris, to seek counsel on Crane’s behalf.” Torry blinked from a disbelieving face, but the Elf pressed on. “Your task to get a copy of the report of his death could raise dust and draw attention to him. Please, if the report should raise any suspicions in your mind, ignore them, complete your task, and let the dust settle again.” Resolve shaped Torry’s face as he thought of his sister, Cally, knowing that she would do exactly what the Elf requested. With a whisper, he replied, “I cannot vouch the same for Millaray, but you have my word, Master Elf.” Teahesto shook his head, but said, “Do what you can short of revealing that Crane lives. I’m riding on to Bree as soon as my horse is ready, and I will be seeking out Cob and your sister to tell them all this as well, and then on to Imladris.”
“I have no doubt they will be well pleased”, Torry murmured. “They knew him far better than I … by the way, as you have just ridden in from the west, and we are told there has been some brigand activity near Buckland. Have you seen anything suspicious?”
“Smoke, from a campfire I believe, rising out of the Ost Barandor ruins well north of the road and near the Wildwood southern border. I did not investigate, for I wished to avoid unintentionally creating any bad consequences for Crane’s efforts. I suggest you be ready when you pass that way, but do not stray from your task. Raise no more dust for his sake, and for the sake of those he is trying to protect.”
Torry nodded silently, sure that one of those Crane loved was Cally, who was also as a sister to the Little Man.
For the rest of the evening, Torry sat silently on the edge of the camp’s activities, reflecting on this unexpected news. His opinion of Crane improved, for the fellow he once saw as a sniveling whiner now was taking desperate risks to fight for his loved ones. Most assuredly, Crane’s boyhood wanderings had grown him, Torry surmised with a faint grin. Teahesto said his goodbyes once his horse was rested enough to press on, and soon after that Millaray approached Torry, sitting next to him. “Are you all right, Watcher Greenlake?” Torry looked at her for a moment before replying, pleasantly surprised at her concern, personal in nature, yet expressed as a fellow Watcher. “I am as well as I should expect, Watcher Boggs, and getting wiser each day.”
