An Escape Attempted

            Angrapain, formerly of Umbar but now (by the order of the King Returned) the thrall of Lynonië, a healer and midwife of the Dúnedain of Arnor, sat up slowly, listening carefully to assure himself that all within the small cottage indeed slept, and particularly his mistress.  Usually she was a markedly light sleeper, but the birth she’d been attending had been long and arduous for all concerned, having lasted only slightly less than two entire days.  Then much of the third day had been spent assuring that both mother and child would indeed survive the extended ordeal.  Now Mistress Lynonië knew the sleep of the exhausted, as did the child, its parents, and its older brother.

            Angrapain, however, did not intend to sleep this night, for he had determined he would finally leave this life to which the mighty King Elessar had condemned him.  Nor would he be leaving alone--he would have a companion, and perhaps two if the one he’d met the day ere yesterday had been successful in convincing his comrade to leave their loose imprisonment.  This Bill Ferny knew the region around these so-called Breelands, after all, and would know the best places to hide from the local authorities, whatever they were.  They’d met at the village well, where Angrapain had been sent to fetch water for the birthing and Ferny had been sent by his overseer to bring water back to his fellows on the road gang.  “Been set to this by them Rangers,” he’d said with disgust.  “Them in Bree named me a thief, and here I sit now.  Who’d of thought the Rangers’d have ties to the new King?”

            Who indeed? thought Angrapain as he rose from the rough pallet granted him by the fire.  Almost he wished to slip his hand into Lynonië’s healer’s bag, bring out one of her healer’s blades, and slash her wrinkled throat for her.  If he were to do that, however, it was more likely he would be hunted down quickly, and returned to face the judgment of either the King Elessar once more, or perhaps his lieutenant who remained here in the northlands.  That was not a prospect he felt equal to facing, for he was certain he would not come off well from the situation.

            “Carry your own healer’s bag and goods, and collect and prepare your own herbs, witch!” he hissed softly between his teeth.  Having relieved himself of that wish, he found the bag of food he’d prepared the previous day hidden behind the corner stool, retrieved the small bundle of his own goods and the knife he’d stolen from the kitchen here, and softly stole out of the cottage, glad the family had kept cats and no dogs.

            He saw no one as he approached the village well, and cursed under his breath.  “I can’t linger long here!” he muttered to himself.  “If I am seen this time of night they will know something is wrong and will come and take me again!”

            A deeper shadow moved behind a nearby pillar, and he went still in fear, but it proved itself but a cat.  It had to be well over a mark before he heard a hiss.  “You!  Thrall!  Here!”

            It was the Man’s voice, and it was with relief that the Umbari moved in its direction.  Halfway down the lane to his right waited this Bill Ferny and another, older Man.  “Took you long enough!” grunted Ferny.

            “I had to wait until all were asleep, or they would only have raised the alarm.”

            “Like them care about the likes of you,” Ferny said.  “Let’s off to the smithy--want this chain off my leg!”

            But when they reached the smithy it was locked closed, with no way to enter to find files or hammers with which to remove the single shackle about the ankle of either of the others.  “Won’t do to break in,” the second, older Man said, “and this smith has too many in his place to force him out to free us.  Nah, we’ll have to get away as we can.  But where can we get to as they’re not likely to just catch us agin and bring us back?”

            “There’s a place, few hours north and west, near the Brandywine, it is.  Was old ruins there when I was a boy.  We can hide there, I’m thinkin’,” Ferny suggested.  “C’mon.”  So saying he led them out of the village, then northwest down a little-used track, away from the outlying farmsteads.

            “Ain’t fair,” he commented as they paused by the smokehouse for a farm where he’d fetched out a ham and some jerked meat.  “Was doin’ well, there in the Shire, I was.  Hobbits jumpin’ when I said ‘frog,’ plenty of beer and vittles for the takin’.”

            “Then why’d you come away?” asked the older Man.

            “Them four as come through Bree--come back and broke in, they did, and chased me out.  And if that blasted pony of theirs as I sold ’em didn’t kick me enough to break my leg!  Should of cut its throat, the ungrateful wretch!  Well, we’d best be off afore Thornapple wakes up and hears us.  Thornapple’s never kept a dog, but we’ll not be so lucky with most of the rest around these parts.”

            He led them a long and, for Angrapain, a weary road.  It was near dawn when they paused to rest in a copse just off the track.  Angrapain could hear the swirl of water of an unseen watercourse of some size, not far to the west of them.  “We’re not too far now,” Ferny said.  “Good place we’re headin’ for--partly treed, partly not.  Good place to set snares--me dad an’ me, we used to get a good number of pheasants and quail, back when I was a boy.  And conies?  Lots of rabbits there!  Some deer, too, not as we was set to butcher one of them, though.”

            “How come no one lives there?” asked the older Man as he tore off a piece of the ham as best he could with his hands and teeth.

            “The Rangers won’t allow nobody to live there.  Chased me’n me dad off there a time or two.  Said as someone held title to it, and it’s not for just any to settle on.  Could be good farmland, though, I’m thinkin’.  Me dad had his eyes on it, him did.  But we can hide in the tower, I’m thinkin’.  Those few what know about it think as it’s haunted or somethin’.”

            He pulled out a small folding knife from the inside of his boot.  “Here--let me cut that for you.”

            As the older Man handed over the ham he asked, “And how come you got a knife on you?”

            “Found it a few weeks back.”

            “Where’d you find it?”

            Ferny gave him a level gaze.  “In the pocket of a Hobbit farmer was passin’ by too close.  Never realized as it was gone.”

            The older Man laughed as he accepted back the slices shared out to him by Ferny.  “Well, you’ve proved yourself what you was pressed about, then.”  He looked at Angrapain.  “How about you?  Don’t seem to be from hereabouts.  How’d you end up a thrall?”

            Angrapain shrugged as he brought out his own food and shared some of it around.  “I was--accused--of----”  He tried to think how to characterize how it was he’d come to his current estate.  At last he said, “I was accused of indiscretion.”

            The other two exchanged amused glances.  “Indi-what?” demanded Ferny.

            “Indiscretion.”  Angrapain was annoyed.

            “And that’s an offense fit to make you a thrall?” demanded the other one.

            “It is when it has managed to offend the new King’s--companion.”

            “This new King they’ve been on about--he likes boy, then?” Ferny asked, intrigued.

            “So, at least, it might appear,” Angrapain answered.  Certainly he had found himself drawn to two of the King’s smaller friends, although he’d only approached the one.  And although that one had insisted he was not so drawn himself, Angrapain had his doubts.  The solicitation offered that one by the Lord King Elessar and the openly expressed affection returned by the alleged Halfling spoke of other things in Angrapain’s experience.  Although it was more likely that one was drawn to the burlier figure of the companion by whom he’d sat at the King’s Coronation Feast, the one known as Sam.  But it was time to draw attention away from himself.  He looked at the third.  “And you?  How is it you found yourself on the road gang?”

            “Got me for highway robbery, they did.  Good thing as they didn’t check more where they found us--I ever get away clean, got a good bit of gold set by--could take it to Dunland and set myself up right fine, I could.  Dunland or mayhaps Rohan.  Yes--get me one of them fancy horses they raise there--could pass then for some’un of breedin’, or so I’m thinkin’.  Not one what was under suspicion o’ murder like now.”

            Angrapain’s insides twisted.  “Murder?  And are you indeed guilty of murder as well as highway robbery?”

            The Man shrugged negligently.  “Only offed two or three--not what I’m keepin’ score, mind.”

            Both frightened and strangely attracted, Angrapain found himself strongly tempted to ask more, but paused as he received his share of the ham from Ferny.  A sneak thief and thug, a highway robber and murderer--and himself--a former lord in Umbar and now a runaway thrall assigned to a mere midwife!  They made quite the company, he realized.

 *******

            It was some time later they approached a small track down off the larger way into a parcel of land lying between the track and what he was told was the Brandywine River.  “We can’t cross it,” Ferny said.  “As much as our lives are worth, we’re found over that side.  Still Hobbit land there, and word is that their Thain’s give the Bounders and Shiriffs there the right to shoot trespassers first and ask questions afterwards.  And small as their bows are, their archers are still good with ’em.  One of my mates when we was there got took out with one arrow.  Never found the one what shot him, or we’d of strung him up quick as quick.  That was afore them four come back from wherever it was them went with that Strider.  Never thought to see any of ’em come back, not with Strider as their guide.

            “Funny customer, that Strider.  One of them Southerners was after me to find out about Strider and the rest of them Rangers.  I followed ’em for months, but never learned about  ’em proper.  They know the Wilds, them Rangers, and Strider knows ’em best, I’m thinkin’.  Somehow he always knew when I was followin’ him, and would give me the slip--until one mornin’ I woke up with his knife at my throat.”  He rubbed at the bulge in his gullet thoughtfully, almost as if he still felt the prick of the point of it at the place.  “Told me if’n he was to find me followin’ him again he’d kill me hisself.  Did try to follow him when him left with the four Shirefolk, but he lost me again, and Hobbits don’t leave much of a track to begin with.”

            “Funny how you Men got run out of the Shire like that,” commented the older Man between swallows of meat.  “These Hobbits hardly look enough to face down grown Men with weapons.”

            Ferny spat disgustedly.  “You never saw four armed with swords, and all of ’em intent on runnin’ you through with ’em.  Funny, that--Hobbits don’t take to weapons, nor for usual, at least.  Oh, there’s some what’ll hunt what’ll use a bow; but mostly they’re all for thrown stones and such.  Although I suppose as a proper-thrown stone can kill you as much as a thrown knife.  But these as went off with Strider--they come back changed.  Got the feel as they’d kill me as gladly as look at me.  And get enough of anyone after you--it can get a good deal dangerous--even with Hobbits!  And with all their talk about the new King and such--I’m not the only one what found ’em uncanny.”

            They finally started off again, and soon found themselves at a point where the land dipped down into a hollow into which a lane led, thickly screened by young trees.  “This lane’s new,” Ferny said thoughtfully.  “But I’d swear as it leads to the tower.”  He pointed at where the trees appeared to be growing taller, across the hollow.  “It ought t’ be there, behind them trees where the hill rises.”

            “How long since you was in these parts?” asked the highwayman.

            Ferny shrugged.  “Not more’n five years, although I suppose as some trees can grow powerful big in that time.”  He gnawed at his lip.  “Wonder what made them Rangers let someone cut a lane in, then?” he finally said.  “Made it plain enough t’me and me dad they wasn’t lettin’ folks just settle there.”

            “Sounds as if that was long ago, though,” the older Man noted.

            “Could be.”  The thief shook himself.  “Well, let’s see just what’s doin’ there, then.”  So saying, he led the way down the lane, then up the other side of the hollow through the screening trees.

            “I’ll be blest,” he said as they came into the open space before the place.  “That’s a Hobbit hole, or I’m a wizard!”

            Angrapain examined the ridge before them, and saw how round windows and doors had been cut into it, in some places the stone and earth reinforced with brick or stonework before the circular window frames and wooden shutters had been set into place.  The wood had been painted a bright, cheerful red.  “But why would someone dig a house into the ridge?” he asked.

            “Not someone--these is Hobbits,” hissed Ferny.  “Now, be quiet--Hobbits got good hearin’, and we don’t want to rouse those what lives here.”  He gestured them back behind the screening trees. and peered at the place between the trunks.  “This ain’t quite normal for Hobbits--they like livin’ near other folks.  Not given to bein’ off alone, they aren’t.”

            “You are certain this wasn’t done for children, then?” asked the Umbari.  “Everything appears so low.”

            “I told you--it’s a Hobbit hole, and Hobbit’s ain’t exactly the tallest of folks,” Ferny said impatiently.  But then his expression went from concerned to--well, it went from concerned to outright cruel.  “And just mebbe us will be able to get somethin’ back on some Hobbits.  Chase me out of the Shire, will they?”  So saying, he led the way to the door.

 *******

            As he approached the back door to the smial as he returned from the early morning milking, Holdfast Hedges saw a moving shadow against the light from the window of the kitchen.  “They’re back!” he began, then paused.  “No,” he amended his first thought.  “That’s not my dad.  And none of the Rangers, neither, not movin’ like that.  But who?”

            He took the milk into the stone well-house they’d built over the old well they’d recently uncovered in what had once been a rear courtyard, and set the pail there with the cover still over it to protect it and allow it to cool.  How he would manage to creep up on these unseen he wasn’t certain; but he must make the attempt.  He then slipped out of the well-house and studied on the challenge of getting into the smial undetected.

  *******

            It was early in the afternoon that the party that had attended the wedding in Bree the previous day arrived at the upper end of the lane down to the smial being dug in on the Queen’s Dower Lands.  Boboli Hedges drove the wagon that contained the three younger children who’d traveled into Bree with him, while about them rode a contingent of Men and their wives, including Steward Halladan.  Faradir was leading a cow and calf that Bob had purchased while in Bree, and Anemone cradled a new kitten given her by the Blackroot children.

            “You’ll be stayin’ with us the night?” Bob asked Lord Halladan and Lady Mirieth.

            “We’d be most honored, Master Hedges,” agreed the latter, “if you will allow us to add our supplies to yours.”

            With Boboli’s cheerful agreement they started down the lane, Eregiel and Halladan riding before the wagon, until----

            Eregiel held out his hand in warning, and all stopped, Poppet appearing confused as to why she should not take another step forward.  The young Ranger pointed to something on the ground, and immediately several other Rangers dismounted, their faces now all grim, and crowded around, examining and discussing it in whispers.  Halladan nodded and returned to the wagon.  “Footprints,” he warned the Hobbit in low tones.  “Men’s footprints.  Going toward the smial.”

            Lady Mirieth searched her husband’s face.  “Not ours, then?” she asked.

            He gave the slightest of shakes to his head.  “No--not ours.”  What else had been learned from the examination of the print he did not say, but it was obvious all the Rangers were concerned.

            Another consultation was held, and three Men nodded, then melted into the trees.  “They’ll head for the area behind the main smial, into the courtyards that used to be there between the wings,” Halladan advised the Hobbit.  “They will seek whatever intelligence might be gained, and watch for any who might seek to flee in that direction.  Perhaps it might be best to have you turn about and leave....”

            But Boboli shook his head.  “If’n there’s anyone there, then they probably already heard as somebody’s comin’ down the track.  And my other lad--my Holdfast, he’s in there.  I have to know as what’s happened to my son.”

            Halladan gave him an approving nod.  “But let us take the younger children to keep them safe.  We can set them with our wives, who are also skilled in defense.”

            The Hobbit thought, then nodded.  “Don’t want them in any danger,” he agreed.  And in minutes the three children were sitting each with one of the women, who drew out of the drive and across the road into the copse there, accompanied by Teregion.  Certain now that his children were indeed well out of it, Boboli nodded to the Men, and giving the reins a shake headed the cart down into the yard before the door to the smial.