The Household of Bar-en-Acharn was encamped at Woodhall in the Shire, the afternoon slipping into the evening, when the sound of a pony’s hooves came clattering up the nearby road and turned towards the encampment. All there rose as the rider reined up just near the fire circle, and a halfling sprang from the saddle, sporting a broad-brimmed leather hat, a crossbow amongst his gear.
“Lancogard! Well met, dear friend!” Seregrían called. Others echoed her greeting as Lancogard North-took approached the campfire.
“Oi, Lancey-boy, you got me letters then,” Applecider said.
“Hullo, everybody! Aye, Cider, an’ just in the nick o’ time, too,” Lancogard said, “an’ I have a satchel of news to bring, beggin’ Your Ladyship’s pardon.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Seregrían said, “it’s been nearly a week without any news from anyone.”
“Your Ladyship, I think I saw Windwalker on the wing" Lancogard began, "or well, somewhat close to him and all! As I rode south from Budgeford, there were eagles - or some big birds - circling over the Stone Bridge.”
“What? Over th’ Brandywine?” Applecider asked.
Lancogard nodded, “Now, I was thinking, if one was an eagle, the Bridge could be seen from on high, so if’n I were an eagle, I’d aim for it. And if we keep our eyes peeled, we might lay sight of something or other.”
“Sensible deduction, my sleuthing friend,” Seregrían said. “Let’s put it to the test.” She walked away from the fire, looked eastward and let out a high shrill whistle, and stood silently for a time.
Applecider quipped, “Did ye try whistling "The Drunken Doctor of Delving?" He almost always come fer that…”
It was not long before a chittering shriek came as if in reply, from the high airs to the east. Presently, a bird could be seen, growing larger as it approached.
“It’s your eagle, milady!” Emlinor cried as Sûlpadron alighted on the ground near Seregrían. Applecider approached and offered to stroke the bird’s head, to which the great bird assented.
“A Sûlpadron, mellon nin!“ Seregrían said. “What tidings do you bear? What news from the Wood?”
Lancogard pointed, “Your Ladyship, his pouch is filled! There’s a message!”
“Here, you read it whilst I gets him a little tidbit ter eat,” Applecider said, fishing into the packs for a morsel. “Here yeh be, then. Yeh been working hard, luv!” Applecider patted Sûlpadron as the bird gladly ate.
Seregrían knelt to the talon pouch on the eagle’s leg and upon opening the pouch, stared silently at her hand. She looked around at everyone one by one and held out her hand, showing a bottle of dark dye.
Applecider looked up, "What do then?" Kortheod watched silently, trying to understand.
“Uh, Your Ladyship?” Lancogard said.
“Can anyone tell what color one gets when you mix red and blue?” Seregrían asked quietly.
“Be this a trick question?? Violet. Natch,” Applecider said.
Kortheod agreed, “Yeah, purple.”
Seregrían held up the bottle - a deep violet. “I sent Windwalker with two bottles of dye: one red, one blue. He returns, with the bottles - joined...”
Applecider grinned at the eagle. "EXCELLENTLY done, luv!"
But Seregrian began weeping, tears of joy long held back. “HE’S ALIVE! Only Cutch would have known the meaning of that riddle! Oh friends, my dear one is alive!”
Applecider wrapped her arms round Seregrían in a big hug; Seregrían clasped the hobbit tight, weeping still. Lancogard, all grin, laid his hands on Seregrían’s shoulders – which were not shaking from grief, but from joy.
Emlinor said, “It’s good news, at last!” Kortheod was all smiles, for he couldn’t find the words.
Applecider looked toward Sûlpadron, “You gets a really lovely fish once we all gets home again -- ye done most excellently!”
“Cutch lives - so now we go and help him, do we?” Kortheod said.
Seregrían collected herself, but still all smiles, “Yes. But where he might be, Windwalker shall tell us. Where can I find him, O Sûlpadron?”
“Aye, what do then, luv? Where were ‘e?” Applecider said. And to the surprise of none there, the great eagle spoke.
“I give thee joy, LadyRedElf, that I might bring unto thee news of thy beloved at last! Ye shall find him on the shores of the lake called Starmere, north of the camp known as Adso’s, nigh west of the town of Bree. Indeed, the camp is where he makes for, but his strength fades - he might not last the trip.”
Kortheod said, “Aye, I know that place.”
“When last I beheld him,” Sûlpadron continued, “he was by the edge of the lake, at a hasty camp by the water’s edge. I parted with him in the night, three nights past, and the CaptainElf was with him. He falls more ill each day, but the CaptainElf might essay to move him. If thou wish’t to save or aid him, make haste!”
“Teahesto has him… but Starmere...” Seregrían said, “near that old ruin called Ost Barandor. Are any of you familiar with it? I know the name from my research, but the exact paths to get there are beyond my lore.”
“Bit rural there,” Applecider said. “I passed a night there oft enough when I makes teh runs ter Bree. Quiet spot ter keep outta the elements. Thar be why Adso be buildin’ a tavern there, there’s no roadside accommodation.”
“Sûlpadron! Find the Elf called Teahesto once more,” Seregrían said, “and bring him news that we are riding to Ost Barandor, then Starmere, to find Cutch before he cannot reach the camp.”
“I shall find him, LadyRedElf,” Sûlpadron said. “Take joy in my news, I bid thee!”
“I take great joy beyond hope in thy tidings, O Windwalker,” Seregrían smiled. “Ego I Teahesto! Gwilo!!” And the eagle sprang to the air and winged his way eastward, swiftly flying out of sight.
“Go on then, luv,” Applecider waved to Sûlpadron, “you’ll have yer tasty trout yet!”
Kortheod was lost in thought, but then spoke slowly, “Ost Barandor, is it? Maybe that means the largest of ruins on the hills? Because there are many smaller forts all through there. I don’t know where we should start searching, but accessible is the wood from south or east. If we start at Adso’s and go north, we can find the way.”
“If my lore is correct, Barandor was the name of the chief tower in the Brandy Hills,” Seregrían said. “The place known as the Hillshire Ruins was the town that sprang up at its feet.”
Kortheod nodded, “Should be it, then. If so, I know the way into those hills."
“Not a bad view, not a bad shelter, if ye keep yer wits about ye,” Applecider said. “It be rural an’ unpoliced by th’ Watch.”
“And beyond the Bounds!” Lancogard said. “Your Ladyship, I’m happy as punch to see you with news of Master Cutch - but this is wild country you want to travel to. I hope you aren’t going to entertain any notion of going alone?”
Applecider opened up Halros’ map, Kortheod looking over her shoulder. “Here,” she said, “this be a crude sketch o’ th’ Wood; Ost Barn’s barely on it, but it’d be here in this corner.”
Kortheod followed the drawing. "Down from the river, here."
“That is our destination - ours,” Seregrían said, “if anyone wishes to come with me?”
Kortheod looked up to Seregrían with a serious smile; "That’s why we here, m’lady."
“Everyone comes THIS far with ye, Miss Sergie, what makes you think everyone turns back now, aye?” Applecider said.
“I’m coming with you, Seregrían, you can count on me,” Emlinor said. Lancogard nodded as well.
Seregrían smiled, “So now, we have a map, we have a name – but we are losing the light.”
"But first, Your Ladyship,” Lancogard offered, “let me mention that we are still in the Shire. Might we allow ourselves one more night of comfort and provision before launching ourselves abroad? We’re naught but an arrow’s reach from Stock, an’ the Golden Perch has rooms for Big Folk as well. An’ I can find my opposite numbers in the Eastfarthing Watch; there might be fresh news to help our passage.”
“That’s plain sense, Miss Sergie,” Applecider joined in, “an’ then we can all have a ‘brain-box’, as Lance an’ I ‘ave done on many occasion. Ye said yerself we need news, aye?”
Seregrían stared off eastward, the light fading into the dimness of twilight. Somewhere beyond the woods at the edge of sight was her betrothed, wounded, perhaps dying. She held a council with her own voice.
Three nights past… the night of the vision in the fire… but Teahesto was not there, unless… but Sûlpadron would not speak false… decide, you must decide!!
After a silent moment more, Seregrían turned back to her friends, her face set in decision. “Lance and Cider are right. We need more tidings, and if the Shire-folk can help, then we must accept it. Gather yourselves, my friends, we shall make for Stock. Lance, Cider, ride ahead to the Golden Perch and make any arrangements as needed. At dawn, we ride on.”
Sidenote: What the Hobbits Found
