Daffodil and the Goblins

Got a song, a tale, some news of far off places or Orcs gathering? Step up and loose your word hoard.

Moderator: Greg

User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

(Translator's Note- Another tale from The Leavings of Daffodil Underhill recounting her recollection of the first time she had dealings with the goblins. A story in some parts, please be patient as translating can be a slow process. :) )

It had been a hard winter in the Bree-land. Snow had come early, but the fertile fields had been plentiful, and as hobbits are wont to do, most had enough to eat and stored to while away the cold days and nights. In the best hole in Staddle, Josie was preparing the evening meal when Otto Underhill came through the round door, hung up his coat and scarf in the hallway, and then bellowed into the kitchen,

"What bother in Bree today!"

Sitting in the kitchen was his wife, Marigold and his seven children, including the remarkable Daffodil Underhill, who looked up from their bowls of stew to see their father walk in and then plop in his (for a hobbit) oversized chair and motion to Josie to fill his bowl.

"What on earth are you going on about, my dear?" asked Marigold as her husband tucked a delicate napkin to his chin and began to eat.

"Why, the whole town is turned upside down", he said, "those vagabonds are everywhere!" Daffodil perked up at this, knowing that vagabonds was her father's more polite description for the...

"Rangers? Rangers are in Bree?" she asked, excited. Otto gave his daughter a stern look over his stew and then continued,

"Yes, those folks. The Pony is full of them, some hysterical unfortunate has everyone in an uproar."

Marigold rolled her eyes as she sipped her tea.

"Well, go on then, what is the uproar?"

"Well, the Greenfield's claim", he said, as he buttered a bit of roll, "that their farm was attacked and their children abducted."

Marigold and the rest of the family gasped.

"Otto!", she exclaimed, "how can you sit there and talk calmly about such things!"

"Abducted by who?" asked Daffodil.

Otto laughed and then popped the roll in his mouth, jowls a-flutter.

"The best part, my dear", he said, "by goblins, of all things! Can you believe that? Violet Greenfield is at the Pony right now, blabbering to anyone who will listen about it. Preposterous!"

"Then where are her children?" asked Marigold, "surely they didn't just up and disappear on their own?"

"Bah, perhaps they just decided to go out and lost their way home", he said, waving a fat hand dismissively, "but goblins? Really! Anyway, let's have some of those taters!"

"Goblins", Daffodil repeated to herself, as he father continued to talk over the din of his wife and children, each asking questions and commenting on his story. But to the young hobbit girl, she knew that this couldn't be some made-up story if the Rangers were gathering in Bree.

"I...I am really tired, please excuse me", she said, getting up from the table.

"Oh, good night m'dear", said her father as Daffodil kissed him on the forehead, "pleasant dreams." She left the kitchen as calmly as she could, and then bolted down the hallway to her bedroom, where she quickly shut the door and then threw open her closet. There she pulled out a small wooden chest and opened it. Inside lay a leather jerkin, a faded green woolen dress, a worn leather belt and pouch, and a neatly folded weather-stained dark cloak. Quickly she dressed, putting on her least fancy shearling coat over the jerkin, and threw the cloak about her slim shoulders. Like a crown over her thick dark tresses went the hood, and then she opened the round window, and stole out into the cold night.
------------------------------------------
She made good time to Bree in the fading light, even through the snow. She knew shortcuts around the Hill, and presently was through the wooden gate before it closed for the night. Around the walls torches were already lit, and in the muddy streets there was a bustle of Men, Dwarves and hobbits, each heading to home and hearth, or as she was, to the Prancing Pony. There she made her way up the wide steps and through the open great door, stepping inside to the warmth of the Pony's main room.

The walls were painted with shadows from the fire that roared in the great stone hearth at the end of the room, and by the multitudes of candles and pipeglow from Men who sat with mugs of ale on well-worn oak benches, the smoke of their pipeweed over their heads like storm clouds. There was much noise and music, but in the center of the room Daffodil saw a small hobbit mother, Violet Greenfield it was, a blanket over her shoulders, her hands shaking as she held a mug, a small group of Bree-men and hobbits hanging on her every word.

"Terrible it was, my Eddie swinging his axe to and fro! And those...those things, the goblins, low and arms too long, howling and screaming...my babies, my Lily and little Roddy! Oh, why did they have to take them?"

Violet broke down into sobs as some of the hobbits tried to comfort her. Above her Men talked and wagged their beards, but Daffodil knew their talk was little more than the excitement of a new story to be repeated later when the cups ran low. She turned and went to the ale-stained desk where old Butterbur cleaned mugs with a dirty rag.

"Why, it's Miss Daffy!", he exclaimed, a wide smile on his face, ruddy cheeks glowing. "A mite late for a visit, but you are always welcome here at the Pony! Some sweet-milk, is it?"

Daffodil blushed, knowing the tired joke had been going around all year ( translator's note: recalling the events in 'A Rainy Night at the Pony') then said,

"No thank you, Master Butterbur, I wonder if you would direct me to where the Rangers might be gathering. I reckon I am late for the meeting."

Butterbur's bushy eyebrows shot up.

"Rangers? Meeting? Oh, Miss Daffy, I don't know if your father would want you to get messed up with that bunch, again."

"My dear Butterbur", she said, staring up at the fat man, "would I be here if my father didn't know where I was? Really! Or do you take me for some disreputable?"

"Oh, why no, Miss Daffy..."

"Then please direct me to my meeting, if you please", she said, "time is of the essence!"

"Down the hall, the small room at the corner", said Butterbur, "they hold their secret meetings there. Yet", he said, a hand going to his stubbled chin even as Daffodil slipped down the hallway, "I never seem to see them leave."

Daffodil made her way down the hall, noting that the candles toward the corner had been put out. She came to the door, dark-stained and scuffed, and put her ear against it.

She could hear low voices inside, and then she stepped back.

"A secret meeting, is it?" she said to herself. Her keen eyes looked at the door, and at what would have been the height for a Man were two sets of scuffed and dented marks, almost as if years of knocking with pommels and staves.

"Well, let's try", she said. She knocked hard twice, then moved her fist and knocked twice more. Suddenly a gruff voice boomed from the other side, as if in challenge.

"Lacho calad", said the voice. Daffodil paused for a moment, then lowered her voice and responded,

"Drego morn."

There was the clack of an iron lock being unlatched, then the door opened, spilling the light of a small fire into the hallway. She stepped through, and behind her the door shut tight. Around her stood several tall men, ragged as they were, in cloaks and hoods. Two tall figures sat in the corner, masked in shadows, and incredibly Daffodil recognized the tinker as well, not in his leather apron, but in a shirt of dwarven scales and leaning on a heavy axe. In the center of the room was a table and a single candle which illuminated a parchment map.

Two men were hunched over the table, almost arguing in low voices when they looked up from the map and saw her.

"Daffodil Underhill, whatever are you doing here?" said the first, who despite his tone smiled at her.

"Why, my dear Mirimaran", she said, smiling back at her friend, "my invitation to the meeting seems to have been misplaced."

The other at the table, his dark hood not quite containing his great mane of white hair, asked gruffly,

"'Invitation'? How did you know to come here?" He shot a glance at Mirimaran.

"You told her the password? The secret knock?"

Mirimaran shrugged his shoulders but then Daffodil interjected,

"He told me nothing of the sort! It wasn't that hard to figure out. Perhaps you need a new door, or a new password. Butterbur directed me here, and then plain hobbit sense did the rest. Now that I am here, we can plan the rescue of the Greenfield children. What do you reckon?"

The white-haired Ranger, the legendary Fox, stood from the table, towering over even his kin.

"I do not think we need your help", he said, then turned to Mirimaran.

"This is your doing, encouraging this. We have problems enough."

Daffodil stepped forward.

"Now see here, sir", she said, anger flushing her cheeks. "I have done Ranger business for almost a year now, and even met in the wilderness with your people, under the moon in June. I see many here, even the tinker! but we hobbits can't be bothered? Who else is involved? The Elves? Is there an Eagle waiting on the roof?"

The Fox stared at her, and then one of the figures in the corner spoke, and it was the first time that Daffodil had ever heard the Elvish tongue, and it seemed to her the most beautiful thing to ever grace her ears. Like leaves floating in a gentle stream came the words, and whatever they meant, Mirimaran and the Fox stepped away, and the two figures rose from the shadows.

"Daffodil, might I present to you the Brothers", said Mirimaran, "the twin sons of Lord Elrond."

Into the firelight stepped the two elves, and Daffodil's eyes went wide. Dressed in green, their cloaks like wings around them, ebon hair gleaning, the brothers stared at her with eyes as dark as the night. She stumbled for words.

"Daffodil Underhill, at your service", she managed.

They nodded, and then spoke to each other again in their tongue. One stepped forward and said,

"Welcome, Daffodil Underhill. You have a great light about you, curious as it is. We think you will be of much use on this hunt."

He reached into his belt and withdrew a dagger.

"A blade of our kind, it will glow blue when orcs and goblins approach. May it serve you well." Daffodil's brown eyes were wide as she took it, and stuck it in her own belt.

"We tarry too long here", said the elf, "the trail will grow cold. Goblins rarely raid this far south. My brother and I will go ahead."

The brothers bowed to Daffodil and then melted to the back of the room. The Fox and Mirimaran came to Daffodil.

"I do not approve of this", said the Fox, his arms crossed, "but I will not doubt the wisdom of the Twins. Miri, she is your charge." Then he nodded and said,

"Keep up, Mistress Underhill. I don't want to have to look for three hobbit children."

Daffodil began to protest at being called a child, but Mirimaran stepped in front of her.

"She will, you have my word, Brother Fox", he said, "now we must be on our way."

Daffodil looked around her Ranger friend to see that the twins were gone, and for that matter, the others that had been in the room, despite the fact that the door remained locked.

"Where did everyone go?" she exclaimed, "is it Elvish magic?"

The Fox looked at her and said,

"Hobbit sense, indeed."

He stepped to the shadows at the back of the room, and then disappeared.

"Old Butterbur doesn't know the place quite like we do", said Mirimaran as he gathered up the map and then put out the small fire.

"What do you mean?" asked Daffodil.

He took her hand and led her to the back.

"A secret passage", he said, pushing a bit of paneling back, "the Pony keeps her secrets, and now you must as well." Daffodil nodded as she and the Ranger stepped into the darkness.
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Eric C
Vendor
Posts: 2127
Joined: Sat Feb 23, 2008 3:02 am
Location: Central NC, USA
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Eric C »

Very good! So Daffy's on an adventure again. I look forward to reading more of this.
Ichthean Forge (pronounced Ick thee an). Maker of knives, and primitive camping gear.
User avatar
Greg
Urush bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb
Posts: 4496
Joined: Tue Dec 02, 2008 8:50 pm
Location: Eriador; Central Indiana

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Greg »

I've eagerly awaited more of Daffodil...ever since she got a cloak, in fact. Much appreciated, Ken! Keep it coming!
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

Many thanks, and now more of Daffodil and her cloak lol

The old Ranger moved quickly, and Daffodil hurried behind him, going down the secret passage, lit only by the single candle he carried. The slated floor was worn, and in the fleeting light she could see the old stone walls and oak beams above her. Presently the floor sloped upwards and to the left, and they exited in the stables connected to the Prancing Pony.

The Fox was already mounted, as were the young Rangers around him.

"We press on to the North", he said to Mirimaran, "and will swing 'round the Marshes to Weathertop. I leave it to you and your friend to go by the South Downs, and then meet up with us as quickly as you can." He pulled up on his reins and parted with,

"This business must be ended quickly."

With a swing of his arm, the troops of Rangers sped out of the stables. Mirimaran went to his own horse, and swung into the saddle. He held a gloved hand out for the hobbit girl.

"Come on now, time's a-wasting."

"Oh, um, a horse it is", she said, swinging her arms, "well, I, as a hobbit, you must understand; we are more used to walking, or riding in wagons pulled by horses, mind you, not ridden by, hobbits. Perhaps I can keep up with you, been practicing, you know."

Mirimaran gave her a smile, and then quicker than she could blink grabbed her arm and pulled her up in the saddle.

"Though I prefer a good walk myself, my dear Daffodil, every moment we waste is another that the goblin's gain. You'll have time enough on the ground, if we have any chance of tracking those creatures. Now, noro lim!" In the elven tongue he spoke, patting the horse's neck and like a shot they flew from the stables, the hooves clackering against the cobbled streets. In no time Daffodil saw the great wooden gate of Bree looming, and it was still shut!

"The gate!" she cried, trying to point and hold onto the saddle-horn, "slow down!" The old Ranger, his hood thrown back, laughed as the horse spun the corner and just before heading headlong into it, the gate flew open as horse and riders leapt through, and then it closed behind them with a great bang. Daffodil turned to the the lights of Bree grow dim in the winter night.

"No worries", said the Ranger, holding the girl's arm, "we have many friends. No gate or door in Bree stay closed to us, if they know what is good for them."

They flew across the Greenway, now mostly mud and snow, and then rode over rolling country south of Bree. Daffodil had been here many times, in the summer mostly. Now in the dark, everything seemed strange and foreign, and she wondered how the horse could keep his footing in the night.

"We will go by the farm, I spoke to the hobbit mother earlier", he said, leaning down to speak against her ear, "to see for ourselves about this goblin raid. Most minds have already been made up, but I feel that something else is going on here."

"What?" she cried over the rushing air, "you don't believe in goblins?"

"Of course I do", he cried, "I have even been to their town, deep in the heart of the Misty Mountains. Terrible things they are to behold, but they are very far from home to be raiding south of Bree, and to escape our nets. Hold!"

He yanked the reins sharply and the dark horse skidded to a stop, then pranced. Above them silver rays broke from the veil of clouds, and before them rose in the glittering moonlight of snow small round hills.

"The South Downs", said Mirimaran, "bandit country for sure, and the farm is close. Come down."

He dismounted and helped Daffodil to her feet. She stepped gingerly on each foot, thankful to have earth beneath them (even if it covered with snow.)

"It is hard enough to read signs in the light of day", said the Ranger, "much less by moonlight, but the Fox and his hounds came through earlier, right after the Greenfields had fled to Bree." He bent to the ground, and pointed out hoof-prints in the snow.

"See, still here, undisturbed", he said, pointing to them as Daffodil bent down to inspect, "see the impressions? Bad job that, the farrier in Bree used some shoes that have small file-marks." He bent closer, and Daffodil couldn't believe that he could see in such light.

"Three scratches, deliberate, to be sure", he said, looking up at her.

"Well, what does that mean?" she asked.

"Many things", he said, "for as many friends that we have in Bree, we can count foes, and some seem to profit from us and to let others know of our wanderings. Anyone who knew what to look for would know that was the hoof-print of a Ranger's horse, and could follow."

"For what purpose?" she asked, feeling a shiver go through her.

"It's a dangerous business, Rangering", said Mirimaran, "more often than not you wake up dead."
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Greg
Urush bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb
Posts: 4496
Joined: Tue Dec 02, 2008 8:50 pm
Location: Eriador; Central Indiana

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Greg »

It has come to my attention, dearest Mirimaran, that there are still two Hobbit children missing, as well as a few other Shenanigans Daffodil has gotten herself tangled into...is there yet more to come?
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

Greg wrote:It has come to my attention, dearest Mirimaran, that there are still two Hobbit children missing, as well as a few other Shenanigans Daffodil has gotten herself tangled into...is there yet more to come?
Oh! Um yes, you have no idea how hard it is to translate those books! LOL I am getting back to that, yes. Thanks for the reminder, Greg!

:)


Ken
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

They walked in silence for a while, the Ranger leading his horse, staying low to the ground, looking for signs, as Daffodil pulled her coat and cloak closer around her. It was the dead of night now, the moon slowly passing in the West, the wind coming in small bursts, each colder than the last. The sky above them slowly became dimmer as the moon passed into clouds, and even the stars seemed to draw away.

"Stay close, Daffodil", said Mirimaran quietly, as he slowly drew up. They had come to the farmhouse, the homestead of the Greenfields, and saw the aftermath of the goblin attack. Before them they could see there had been a struggle in the snow, an axe lay in the mud, the front door of the small cabin broken in, personal effects strewn across the yard. The Ranger looked in the black windows, and then around at the small barn and stalls.

"All the animals are gone as well", he said, "hungry they must be to want to drive livestock across these lands. Still, why the children?"

"Surely they won't", Daffodil stopped and then struggled, "they wouldn't do that, would they?"

The old Ranger answered her with a look, and then as he peered inside suddenly threw himself against the wall, his hand pushing the hobbit girl back!

"I hear you in there!" he called into the darkness, his right hand on the worn hilt of his sword. "Come out now!"

"No no", came a voice from within, but it sounded much further inside than the small cabin could be, "come to me, Dunadan, you and the hobbit maid-child! Cold it is, and hungry I am!"

"Goblins?" asked Daffodil, shaking now but not from the cold, drawing her elven dagger, but surprised that it was not glowing.

"No", said the Ranger, " a wight, I fear. Something is setting its will against us, what evil there must be to allow such things."

The Ranger pushed Daffodil behind him, and backed away from the doorway.

Red eyes peered from the darkness.

"It..it calls to me, wants us to enter" she hissed behind the Ranger.

"That and more, I fear", replied Mirimaran as he looked to the sky.

"Dawn comes, but we must hold the door." With a flash he pulled his sword and beat the flat of the blade against the doorway.

"You trap yourself, foul thing, for when the sun rises you will be driven out into nothingness, and before that, if you dare you will meet a Man of Westernesse."

"Talk, talk", came the hiss in the darkness, "Dunedain bragging! I was there when the great Witch-King laid your armies low, when Fornost fell to flames, when the Men of the West were scattered and became beggars. What talk do you have for me, wretch?"

"Only that you are a coward and a servant of darkness, as then, as now. Come out! Show yourself so that the girl would know what evil looks like!"

There was a rush of cold air, and then in the twilight of dawn there came to the door a shadow of a man, or what pretended to be a memory of a man. Red orbs flamed as Mirimaran's blade was raised, and then behind him came the first rays of the morning, swift and bright. The wight screamed, and tried to push past the Ranger, but his blade was clean and forged many generations before by a smith of old Westernesse, and the world knew one less evil thing.

Daffodil's eyes were wide as she saw the thing, and then it was rent and torn, and reminded her of the thing in the Pony, and she trembled.

"No need for fear", said the Ranger, lowering his blade but leaning on the doorway, "it is beyond the circles of the World now."

The hobbit clung at his cloak, feeling as small as she did as a child.

"How...how can you stand to hear that thing speak? Its words were like ice in my heart!"

"I am a Ranger of the North", he said, "if I cannot stand before evil, then who will?"

Daylight finally crept over the hills, the pale sun doing little to warm Daffodil as the Ranger walked inside the small cabin. He scanned the rooms, finding nothing but broken furniture, plates, the trappings of a life now scattered. He stepped out, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"I cannot understand this. Goblins raiding, a wight infesting this place, what can it mean? Do you know the Greenfields?"

"They came last summer, I think" said Daffodil, the wind whipping her thick dark curls."This was mostly just a rocky field then, you see how many stones they used in the cabin."

Mirimaran studied the stones in the growing light and then looked at Daffodil.

"Just stones? These are worked, dressed. They must have scavenged them, from somewhere..."

He looked to the low, rolling hills.

"Quickly, Daffodil! We must find where these stones came from!"


The two rode to the Downs, from which the small cabin faded into the distance. The Ranger could make out faint tracks in the grass, where a wagon with a heavy load came out of the jutted valley beyond.

Even in the early morning mist, it seemed a foreboding place. Daffodil clutched at the Ranger's hand on the saddle horn.

"Do you think they disturbed a cairn?"

Mirimaran nodded.

"They moved the stones, to which the wight was attached, they just gave him a way out of the valley."

"But what about the goblins?"

"I do not know. Perhaps the wight called them, wanting them, but for what purpose?"
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Greg
Urush bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb
Posts: 4496
Joined: Tue Dec 02, 2008 8:50 pm
Location: Eriador; Central Indiana

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Greg »

Surely you didn't just spit that out? This gets better all the time, and I scarcely had time to ask before it was here!
Mirimaran wrote:"I am a Ranger of the North", he said, "if I cannot stand before evil, then who will?"
Any more forum signature-worthy quotes you plan to bless us with?
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

Greg wrote:Surely you didn't just spit that out? This gets better all the time, and I scarcely had time to ask before it was here!
Mirimaran wrote:"I am a Ranger of the North", he said, "if I cannot stand before evil, then who will?"
Any more forum signature-worthy quotes you plan to bless us with?

Um, yes I had one waiting :) I will have to translate more tomorrow :) Very happy that Daffy's adventures are being enjoyed!

Ken
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

Despite herself, Daffodil let out a great yawn.

"I see that I've kept you from that feather-bed of yours", said the Ranger.
"Best we get you home."

"No", said Daffodil, "I am a Ranger, and in this to the end. Those children aren't in their beds, they are in the clutches of those foul goblins. What are we waiting for? Let us go!"

The Ranger sighed and lifted Daffodil to the saddle, and then he swung up himself. Holding her, he urged his horse onward, and passed the deserted farmhouse and headed north. As they rode, he passed over the Greenway, and then skirting Bree and the great East Road, he kept the Hill to his left. The air was crisp and clear, but not much snow had melted. Daffodil, despite herself, slumbered as the Ranger held her in the saddle, his old but keen eyes following the tracks of his brothers as they rode further into the round hills towards Weathertop.

Above them the sun rose in the blue sky, cold as it was. Then, the hoary hills began to gain some height, until one loomed higher than the rest, and on its top like a broken crown was the remains of a great tower, now not much more than scattered stones which glistened like adamant with frost in the pale sunlight. Mirimaran softly shook the young hobbit girl.

"Daffodil", he said, "behold Weathertop!"

Daffodil wiped the sleep from her eyes as she took in the sight of the ruins in the distance.

"I have never seen this! Was it build by your people?" she asked.

"Oh yes, the great Watch-Tower of Amon Sûl, it was called in ancient times. Weathertop to anyone who drives sheep or wagon by it nowadays. Raised by the High-King Elendil himself, and once home to one of the seven palantíri, the seeing-stones, saved from the wreck of Númenor."

"Oh, and me without my book and quill!" lamented Daffodil. "All of this history, and now I will have to remember every word!"

"As a good Ranger should", said Mirimaran with a smile.
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

The Ranger urged his mount on, and the horse found the narrow trail that slowly wound its way up the hill, until they reached the top. Mirimaran helped Daffodil down; she was glad to have the earth, if frozen, under her hobbit feet. She looked around the ruins, thrown down blasted stones of the tower, and then walked to the edge of the cliff. She could see a great distance. It seemed to her that the whole of the world was before her. To the east and north rose the distant peaks of the Misty Mountains. Her shadow threatened to leap off the cliff as the weak sun was now on its downward trek behind her.

"You can see so much from here, no wonder there was a tower!" She then turned and saw the old Ranger bent, taking the tack and saddle from the horse.

"What are you doing? Won't we lose the trail?"

Mirimaran looked up at her, his hood pushed back.

"The others camped here late, and left early. They have headed north, probably hours ahead of us now. We rode a great distance in little time, a dead horse will not do those children or us any good. He has to rest, even if we don't." He tied the horse out a ways from them and then began to break out his meager camp gear.

"That is why I prefer to walk. I can cover a great many miles, not as fast as a horse, but I can track better. I have seen more of the marks in the tracks, that is what I followed here. Easy to see from the saddle, but I hope my brothers have been on the right track."

Daffodil walked over and sat on a worn stone. Before her was the remains of a fire, over which the Ranger laid small sticks and then brought out his fire kit, striking sparks over the kindling until a flame erupted. He tended it gently, as the late afternoon wind picked up, until there was a small but cheery fire.

"You are worried about something", she said.

Mirimaran nodded as he tended the fire and built it a little higher.

"Goblins are uncouth things, but..."

The hobbit girl leaned closer, framed by the warm fire.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

"I feel as if this is a trap. Fox and his troop, he is a fine Ranger but he can be brash. He missed the file marks on his own mount's shoes. Even I had to ask you about the Greenbriars, who may have been dominated by the wight. I watch over these lands, as do my brothers, yet my eyes to the South seem dim. How can I be sure of anything? Are the children captives, or compatriots?"

Daffodil warmed her hands over the fire.

"Oh, fiddle and faddle, my dear Ranger! I cannot believe that any hobbit would be", she searched for a word, "possessed like that! Most hobbits I know are as plain as can be. What evil could they do? Not churn butter?"

Mirimaran laughed as he broke out his rations.

"Even a small evil might do great harm, at the right time and by the right hands. The one we know, that someone is tracking us, us!" He looked to the fading sky.

"We have been wardens of this land since Elendil landed upon these shores, watched and defended it, bled for it, watched as peaceful folks made homes here, while we wandered. There are few of us now, and I fear that the wolves, they are closing in on us, and our enemies, my dear Daffodil, are very cunning."

She nodded, and slid down on the stone to sit before the fire, and pulled her cloak close. Her eyes fluttered, and then she nodded, the sounds of supper being prepared giving way to sleep.

She dreamt of the big kitchen at home, the best hole in Staddle, smelling good food as Josie milled about, the din of children almost deafening. She smiled, knowing it was a good dream, and then there was a knock at the round back door. She rose to answer, and opened it, and there was a wolf, black as night, eyes red as coal, teeth yellow and sharp.

"I am coming for you, hobbit", it said, its voice like that of the wight, and then it leapt...
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

Daffodil awoke with a start. She looked around, confused, and then felt the cold, as the bitter night had come and the fire was dowsed, a single tendril of smoke drifting up into the moonlit sky. She stood and shook off the cold as best she could, and was about to call for the Ranger when a hand cuffed her mouth!

"Quiet!", he hissed into her ear, bent over her, his cloak wrapped around the both of them like wings, "look at your dagger!"

Daffodil looked at her belt, where the elvish dagger hung, and she could see a faint blue aura dancing along the blade.

"Goblins!" she thought, her brown eyes wide. She nodded nervously, her heart pounding. Mirimaran pulled her to the largest of the ruined stones and knelt, taking his hand from her mouth. The horse was behind them, his tether loose but the tack and saddle still on the ground. The Ranger had his sword unsheathed; Daffodil saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped the hilt.

Daffodil could hear crude talk, hoarse, in the Common Tongue, and then the hobnail steps of heavy boots on the half-buried stones of the path leading up to the camp. Shapes appeared in the soft light of the Moon, which looked up at his silver face and cursed. They walked into the clearing, blocking the single exit, low, hulking, arms too long, teeth like fangs gleaming, wet with saliva, eyes small and close set, flashing red as they searched, and their squat noses sniffing. Goblins, dressed for war and raiding in pilfered armor and rotting furs, their weapons little more than sharp pieces of leather wrapped iron, wicked and cruel.

"I smells 'em, Man and horse and hill rat", grunted one, his eyes staring at the big stone.

"The horse, yes, good eatin' but not as good as Men or rats", said another, ending with a harsh laugh that made Daffodil's skin crawl.

"Come out, we'll make it quick" said a third, tapping his blade against a stone.

Mirimaran stood, his hood hiding his face in shadows. Daffodil looked up at him. He seemed...more, in that moment than in all the time that she had known him, and his stories. She had seen him in battle with the wight, in anger with Men, and with his kin under the moon in June, but now, in her heart she knew this was different. He towered, if there was a better word she did not know it, the goblins stepped back for a moment, the smaller ones bending their squat faces down. Daffodil rose slowly, her glowing elvish blade tight in her fist, now fully understanding what it meant to be a Ranger.

A Ranger of the North.

"Lacho calad", said Mirimaran, under his breath.

"Drego morn", whispered Daffodil Underhill of Staddle.

There was a tense silence, and then it was broken by the Ranger.

"Well, come on now, who dies first?" he asked, "or does the girl have to choose?"

Daffodil stared up at Mirimaran with wide eyes as the goblins hissed, and the Ranger looked at Daffodil for a moment and smiled. Then he grabbed her and threw her on the bare back of the horse.

"Hang on, girl! Don't let go and don't stop! Find the others!"

"No!" Daffodil screamed as the Ranger swatted the horse with the flat of his blade, sending him in a gallop that scattered the goblins. Daffodil tried to look back as the horse sped down the narrow spiral of a path, his shoes striking sparks against the stones. Her face felt like it was freezing as the air rushed past her. She wrapped her fingers in the horse's mane, gripping tightly as he found open ground. She heard a buzzing, and of all things she thought of bees, and then realized that arrows were raining down at her. She rushed past Weathertop now, heading north, past the range of the goblin's crude bows, stealing a look back. She could see the summit lit now by the moon like a theater, and a battle, the Ranger on one of the stones, armed with sword and eket, blades flashing in the glow as the dark figures swarmed him, and then dragged him down.

Daffodil buried her face in the horse's mane and wept, her cries muffed as they rode north.
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Greg
Urush bithî 'nKi ya-nam bawâb
Posts: 4496
Joined: Tue Dec 02, 2008 8:50 pm
Location: Eriador; Central Indiana

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Greg »

Don't you dare stop mow.
Now the sword shall come from under the cloak.
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

Greg wrote:Don't you dare stop now.
Not stopping, I promise! :) Read on....

Overhead the stars passed in a blur as the big horse ran, Daffodil holding on tight, the only light the full moon above them. To her it seemed like hours, speeding far from Weathertop and past anything that resembled all that she had known in her short 17 years. Around her were round, aged hills, like the spine of some ancient beast, barely covered in faint grasses brittle with frost. She rode northward, the cold wind billowing her cloak. To the west the Midgewater marshes spread out, the moonlight dancing on frozen water. Finally the horse began to slow, then walk, and finally stopped, covered with foam. Daffodil slid off of him, falling exhausted to the unfamilar ground. She didn't have much with her except a small pouch on her belt with her fire kit and perhaps a biscuit or two. Luckily she still had her cloak, weatherworn as it was getting, wrapping it close as she forced herself to her feet and checked on the horse. He was big, and strong, but she knew he was done for the night, at least. She looked around her, desperate to find the tracks of the Rangers who had sped north hours before. She wanted to go back to Weathertop, help Mirimaran, but she knew she was miles away now, safe as he intended. Tears blurred her eyes as she remembered seeing him fall. She gripped her elven dagger and swore to herself that someone would pay.

As she scanned the earth, thoughts crept to her. Children missing, a Ranger now lost, she herself in the middle of nowhere on a freezing night. Could it get any worse?

She stopped suddenly, and then fell to the ground, trying to conceal herself as the Ranger had told her now and again.

'Keep down', she heard him say, in her mind, as she rolled into a small ditch. Her eyes darted to the horse, which neighed at an unfamiliar smell. Then came the muffled voices of Men, and she dared to look up to see...

"Rangers! Oh, bless me!" she exclaimed to herself.

Three hooded men stood around the horse while a fourth scanned the ground. He followed her tracks to the ditch and then stood over her, framed by the moon, as he pushed his hood back to reveal his white hair, gleaming in the pale light.

"Well, are you hurt? Where is Mirimaran?" asked the Fox.

Daffodil looked up meekly, and then stood.

"He...he has fallen", she managed, determined not to break down in front of the Fox, "at Weathertop. We found your tracks and made for there, and then we were ambushed by goblins. He put me on the horse and bade me find you."

"Fallen?" asked Fox, his tone now much softer, as he lent a hand to help Dafffodil up. The other Men, hearing this, lowered their heads. Daffodil looked at the ragged Men and then counted. Many were missing.

"Where are the others?" asked Daffodil, fear creeping into her voice.

The Rangers looked to each other, and then to Fox, who answered.

"Fallen. We too, met trouble, soon after Weathertop we caught sign of goblins, and headed deep into the hills to pursue them. But it was a trap, a clever one, that we managed to escape, but the lose of our brothers and mounts was high."

"I am sorry for both", said Daffodil, "I wanted to ask to return to Weathertop, but now I see we are in the same boat, as it were. But, the loss of your horses might have been for the best, good Ranger."

She then told him of the discovery by Mirimaran of the horseshoes being marked, and thus easy to track the Rangers. At this the Fox grew angry, and distanced himself for a few moments, kneeling in the night, his head in his hands.

"So much has gone wrong", said one of the Rangers to her, as she felt helpless to do anything.

"In all my days never has so much been set against us for so small a task", said another.

"Will he be alright?" she asked, "the children, they still need our help."

"He will have to be", came the simple answer of the third, "there is no other choice for a Ranger."
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
User avatar
Mirimaran
Thangailhir
Posts: 2110
Joined: Tue Jul 01, 2008 5:38 pm
Location: North Carolina
Contact:

Re: Daffodil and the Goblins

Post by Mirimaran »

They made a poor camp for the rest of the night, the Rangers on their guard while Daffodil did her best to try and sleep, clutching her cloak tight against the chill. But sleep eluded her; every time she closed her eyes all that she could think of was the old Ranger, Mirimaran, and the last time she saw him, falling to the goblins at Weathertop. Her eyes watered, the wind stealing her tears away as the sun finally rose.

She sat up as the rays of the sun, weak as they were, reached over the low hills like a slender hand and tried to warm her bones. Around her the Rangers were busy, breaking camp quickly. The Fox walked over to her and offered a small biscuit.

"Poor fare, even for Rangers", he said as she took it, and despite herself tore at with fervor. It seemed like forever since she had eaten (in fact almost two days, which is forever for hobbits) and she chewed the tough fare like it was a sweetmeat pie.

"So, what do you reckon?" she asked, washing down her breakfast with water from her flask.

"We saw to our brothers when dawn broke, and now the trail is fresh, so we do what we came here to do, find those children, and then..."

He stopped and looked at the rising sun, his cold demeanor betrayed by his clenched fists.

Daffodil rose and went to him, standing at his side.

"Lacho Calad", she said.

"Drego Morn", he replied.

-------------------

A few minutes later she was on the horse, led by Fox as the others walked ahead, fading into the brittle grass. She could see five mounds of fresh earth near the path, and lowered her head in respect. It must have been hard to dig up the frozen ground, but she knew that no Ranger would leave his fellow lying in the open, for any scavenger to bother. A sudden thought struck her and she asked,

"The Twins! Where are they?"

Fox called back over his shoulder.

"They are ahead, I am sure. Once they catch a scent, they will never leave a trail."

They walked a great part of the day, mostly in silence. The Fox wasn't much for conversation. As the day wore on, even Daffodil could see the fresh footprints of the goblins now, and the heavy prints of large mounts.

"Do goblins ride horses?" she asked.

Fox smiled grimly.

"I see you paid attention to Mirimaran. No, they do not, and they are not the prints of the Twins. Men are helping these goblins."

"The South-men!" she exclaimed.

"I am sure, or Men in their employ. Thieves and bandits, in our lands, and the smell of something queer about them. I have my suspicions, as did Mirimaran."

"He died bravely", she said, suddenly, surprising even herself.

The Fox looked over his shoulder at her, and then stopped. The horse stood still. Fox put his hand on the neck of the horse, his eyes of storm gray staring into her.

"Oh, well perhaps he did. Rangers die in the worst ways, Mistress Underhill. It is usually quick, and messy, and no one to know. Perhaps we will make it back to Bree, back to our people and tell of how our brothers fell. Who is to say? But this I know, he is dead, as are the others. I know no other way but to be plain. I am no harper, or bard. Songs and lays are best left to winter nights and warm fires far from danger. Our friend, he was best with words, but the dead will be honored in the way I know best, by blood."
"Well, what are you waiting for? I am an old man, and have no time for your falter! Come at me, if you will, for I do not sing songs of dastards!"
Post Reply