Can You Help Me Find My Uncle?
(This is the plea for help I made to the good folk assembled at the Green Dragon on Friday 5th January)
Good evening to you.
Well, my name is Oisean (when you say it, it sounds a bit like ‘ocean’) and I’m from Mossward, which is far from here.
I grew up there with my mother who, it may surprise you to learn, came from here, in the Shire. My father, who I never knew, was a bit of an adventurer, so they say. He found his way here as a young hobbit, met my mammy, and whisked her off back to Swanfleet, where they were wed.
Soon after I was born he set off on his travels once more and we never saw him again. So, my mammy brought me up on her own. Even though she says I was a bit of a handful, she always tried to do her best by me.
Now I don’t want to say much about what happened just before this last Yule. I’ll just say that me ma told me it’d be best for everyone if I made meself scarce for a bit…and that I should forget all about the girl!
Well, I never understood what all the fuss was about – it was only a kiss!
So, what she did, she sent me to spend Yule with my uncle, who I’d never met, here in the Shire. Well, I must say he’s a nice enough old feller, and he did what he could to make a young buck like me feel at home.
But he’s a bachelor feller, you know, and he spent a lot of time on his own in his study with his books. Me mam told me he was a bit of a writer and he liked to find out about all the old tales and suchlike. What she actually said was…
“And you might actually learn something from him, instead of wasting yer time with girls!”
He did show me some fairly decent fishing spots near his home, so I spent a lot of me time there and just walking around the neighbourhood, but it seems a lot of families had moved out and the houses were empty. So, I hardly met a soul all Yule and I did miss the company of young folk like meself!
Well, it all started.the day after the Yule feast that the two of us shared - it was a very fine feast, by the way – Uncle surely knew how to put it away!
On that night after Yule I went early to my bed – maybe I’d had one pie too many, if that’s even a thing! In the middle of the night, I was woken by a sound outside my window. When I went to look, I saw Uncle standing in the yard outside the hole, lit by the little lamp that hangs in his porch.
And he wasn’t alone!
Standing there before him stood one of the strangest figures I’ve ever set eyes on. It was the size of a large hobbit, it had two arms and two legs for sure, and it was clothed from head to foot in black. The face I couldn’t discern properly in that light – maybe it were covered or maybe I just didn’t want to see, for that creature, whatever it was, was a thing of terror to be sure!
It looked like Uncle was rooted to the spot as it pointed a black finger repeatedly in his direction, as if emphasising the words it spoke, which I was too far away to make out properly. All I could hear was a deep, throaty resonance, such as might have emanated from the very depths of the Dark Pit itself.
I should have spoken to Uncle about what I saw the next morning …but in the light of day I was thinking to myself maybe it were just a dream!
And to tell the truth Uncle hardly spoke a word to me that day. He spent most of the time alone in his study and when he did emerge his face was pale and drawn and, most unlike him, he scarcely ate a bite. I won’t lie, I did start to worry about the old feller.
So that night I stayed awake in my room, just in case something happened again. Sure enough, sometime after midnight I heard him stir and when I crept from my room, I saw him move stiffly to the door and pass into the yard.
There I saw that same terrible figure sitting astride a black pony, beckoning to my uncle with its bony black finger. Without a sound he moved across the yard and mounted the pony behind the dark rider whereupon they rode off into the night at speed.
I knew I had to act fast - quickly, I called and mounted my own pony, and rode in the direction they had taken. When I heard the distant beat of hooves I followed, not knowing where they may lead me, but knowing that I must try to keep Uncle from any danger.
That was a terrible ride through the darkness, for there was no moon and we rode through marsh and across meadows, through woods where my face was scratched by branches, and up hills where the cries and howls of night creatures threatened.
At last, as we seemed to be climbing a small rise, the hooves ahead slowed and finally came to a halt before what seemed to be an old stone ruin which stood bathed in an eerie light.
Scarcely daring to breathe, I dismounted and crept forward, keeping enough distance between myself and the black ghoul to ensure that I was not seen.
Suddenly there emerged from a door at the base of the building a group of white-robed figures around whom shimmered the same ghastly light which played about the old stone walls.
My uncle, seemingly still in a trance, was led through the door by his captors. As the door closed behind them, they disappeared from view, the light about the walls faded and all was dark once more.
Friends, I am ashamed to say it, but I fled!
And had it not been for my faithful pony, which seemed to remember the way back to my uncle’s hole, who knows where I should have ended up?
My uncle has not returned for days now, though I have waited at his home so that I might be there for his return.
Now I have come here to ask you good folk can you help me?
If any here knows aught of what might have happened to Uncle, please let me know so that I might tell my ma what has become of her dear brother.
Now I'll say thank you all for hearing my tale.
Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you my uncle’s name – he is called Wybert Diggings.
