The Redundant Case of the Roaming Rowan
(Being a report by Deputy-Shirriff Lancogard North-took, filed at the Watch Office in Brockenborings, with personal notes attached)
OFFICE OF THE WATCH, BROCKENBORINGS, Northfarthing in the Shire, on this the 24th day of Winterfilth:
After a whirlwind time over the summer as the officiate of a beautiful wedding, I returned to duty at the Watch Office in Brockenborings only to discover that a case load had stacked up in my absence. The case file marked "Most Urgent" by Bounder Primstone had a brief note attached:
LANCE:
Fun time is over, there's work to be done - this report from northaway by the Bindbole Wood is sent to me from Shirriff Smallburrow in Hobbiton - he still thinks you're assigned to him, by some unnatural reasoning. Please investigate post-haste!
ROLIMAN
PS: Send Cock-robin your report by that eagle, that'll get a rise out of him...
A short ride found me in Overhill, and up to the lumber yards, found me interviewing old Bosco Bolger who made the initial complaint. Seems his laborers were carrying tall tales to him (so he said) of "walking trees" and "spiders the size of ponies", and they were refusing to work anywhere north of the old Post Road.
Well, that started the investigation. My first thought was "spiders, again!?" Hadn't I been involved enough with spiders in my last case? Knowing Master Bolger's laborers hereabout, anything can be seen as bigger when looked through the bottom of a glass of ale...
...or so I hoped.
I left my Pony at Overhill and proceeded on foot, having armed myself with my crossbow and plenty of Ironfold Oils - and fortified myself with a good portion of stout, just in case there were spiders again. But where this talk of the walking tree came in, I had no idea!
Just as I got into the area locally called Lob's Grove, I sobered up rather abruptly - the place was festooned with webs as thick as curtains, hanging in tatters and waving in the light breeze. All along the path leading into the grove were the carcasses of spiders - and yes, some were the size of Pony! - it looked like there was a fair battle taken place. I knocked my crossbow, pulled my hat down low, and began to stalk through the entrance...
... only to find walking towards me was a tree!
Walking on its roots came a lumbering bloody great tree, a rowan by the look of it - covered in webbing and marks like cuts and hacks by sharp tools (or spider jaws). And walking alongside, as if escorting the tree along, walked one of the Big Folk - a Ranger of mine and Applecider's acquaintance, Adanion by name.
"Hullo dere, Master Adanion," I hailed him, "fancy th' chance o' meetin' you once more!"
"Well met, Master Shirriff," he haled back. "I see the Shire-folk sent you to spy out this nest and this situation."
"So, another tall tale walks out of legend - and really walks, I see," I said. "I'm guessin' all these dead spiders are your hand-o-work?"
"Indeed, little Shirriff. As if we haven't had enough of spiders in these past few months, eh?"
"I'm done with spiders, thank you very much! Give me a year's worth of sheep breaking loose or misbehavin' tweens, an' I'll call meself happy. But this! A shambling rowan! That's goin' to be a queer entry in my report, no mistake!"
"Simply tell them the truth, as you always do, master. You and that ginger shadow of yours have seen and done many an unusual thing this past year, if the tales be true. You've traveled in the company of Rangers, and of Elves - are you not yet used to the strange and unusual by now?" I had to shrug in agreement on that point: traveling in the company of House Bar-en-Acharn has certainly made me a bolder and more worldly hobbit.
But my first duty is to the Shire, so I bade Adanion farewell, and I made off for Overhill. My last look back saw the crown of the rowan moving west towards Rushock; the Ranger was nowhere to be seen. And THAT was my mistake. For as I turned around to watch where I was going, I ran face-first into an oak, and fair knocked myself flat!
When I came to my senses, it was dark with no moon, my head sporting a massive lump, and I had not a clue as to where I was! I laid flat on my back, the tree limbs spinning above me from dizziness, until the night began to pass and the dawn's light peeked into the wood. Even with the light, I couldn't tell where I was and was having trouble remembering how I even got there. The day was turning colder, as autumn was coming on, so I made myself a small campfire to ward off the damp.
I took stock of my situation and realized I was mortally hungry, and didn't have much in the way of food or water on me (just a jam tart in wrapping, a bacon sandwich, a few apples, a tin of salted nuts, and a half-dozen slips of cured pork - barely enough for one day's ration!). I supposed I could hunt for coneys, but my head protested harshly at any sudden movement. So for a day, I simply sat by my fire and moaned quietly into my hat.
The next day, I began to feel up for walking, but I needn't have tried. For coming up from Overhill was a bushel of Bounders, led by Rolo himself, a full-out search party looking for me! They insisted on carrying me out of the wood - can you imagine! - and got me to Gammer Boffin and her home remedies for almost any ailment under the sun. While laid up in my own bed, I took ink to paper and made my report, and sent it off to Rolo.
So ends the Redundant Case of the Roaming Rowan - so named because it's all happened before, to me and others. And I am reminded of a tale that Her Ladyship related about when she was injured in a fall, where she firmly said:
"I did NOT fall off my horse, the tree BIT ME!!"
