The mercenaries arrived in Dwaling late in the afternoon, when the sun was already hanging quite low and and the northern wind was beginning to blow coldly. On the west the sun was shining above Emyn Uial, casting it’s gold on the forested peaks. The sky was ominous in color, blue-gray in the north, pale and cold in the south and flaming hot in the east. Hellrien let her horse jog as it wished. She had allowed Half-pint to dictate the pace since they had left Oatbarton early in the morning. Suddenly they arrived to a crossing marked by an enormous tree. There was a young hobbit sitting down and leaning his back on the tree-trunk, and a few ponies grazing nearby. The road forked to the northeast, leading into a sheltered valley where Hellrien could see the familiar-shapes of hobbit-holes. That had to be the town of Dwaling.
Askelin sat upright and proud on his steed. He drew to a halt upon spotting the halfling. The horse whinnied nervously at the ponies but calmed down quickly as Meeko accompanied him. Ealstan leaned on the neck of his horse. ”Really think a dwarf would run to a place like this?” he wondered aloud. Askelin raised his head to view Ealstan, holding the reins in one hand.
”No idea, but we need leads or else we'll be going nowhere fast”, he shrugged. ”Though I wouldn't mind finding this bastard, and soon! The quicker we get this done, the better, don't you agree?”
”Quicker we get paid, you mean.”
Arindiis followed the company quietly, leaving her head turned to her right to view the landscape rather than the people. Her eyes were relaxed and narrow. She seemed almost tired, simply trusting Meeko to carry her. She glanced at Askelin as he spoke and watched him, then seemingly dozed off again. Her hair was pulled back, and in the gentle breeze it sat still in an odd manner. Hellrien rode her horse towards the hobbit, who quickly got up, eyeing the company with suspicion and unfriendliness uncharacteristic to a hobbit.
”Hello there, sir”, said Hellrien. ”Is that the town of Dwaling that I see down there?”
”This used to be our town, you know!” the hobbit muttered under his breath, sounding meekly defiant.
”Oh, I'm sorry. I heard you had some troubles up here. We're looking for Hillbrow, Hob Hillbrow. Do you know where we can find him?”
”Hob?” the hobbit repeated, a little surprised. ”I thought you were looking to join your friends in Dwaling. What do you want from Hob?”
Cutwil quirked his brow at the hobbit’s unfriendliness. Arindiis looked over to Askelin again, having eventually parted from his side as the company approached the hobbit. Suddenly perking up she looked at the hobbit, almost threatened by him. Biting her lip she looked down to Meeko's mane and stroked the coarse hairs of the stallion. Meeko responded by moving on the spot restlessly.
”Why does he speak to us scornfully?” Askelin wondered. ”We have no quarrel with him. We were given generous hospitality at Oatbarton. Do you suppose folk are less welcoming the further north one goes?”
”Do you remember the hobbit who was murdered by a dwarf?” Hellrien asked. ”We are here to investigate what happened, and get the dwarf if possible.”
The hobbit’s eyes widened with sudden realization. ”Oh yeah! I knew the Proudfoots wouldn't let that matter slide! My mistake, we've grown a little mistrustful of the big folk here lately. You can find Hob right over there.” The hobbit pointed towards southeast. Hellrien turned to look and only now saw the small path that led into a small encampment on the southern side of the valley. She touched the brim of her hat.
”Much obliged, sir. Have a good day.”
Hellrien turned her back to the hobbit and rode towards the site. The others followed. Askelin glared at the hobbit for a brief moment before he set off, not too happy with the cold reception.
There was a small hobbit-hole on a fairly flat plain above the valley of Dwaling, nestled against a steep but low hillside on the southern side and partially blocked from view by humongous trees. A makeshift camp had been set up around the house, littered with crates, sacks and broken carts. A small group of hobbits were standing around a campfire in front of the house, roasting apples on sticks. In the red light of the setting sun the hobbits appeared unnaturally tall, casting long shadows on the wall of the house behind them.
”This place is a mess,” Askelin muttered. ”You'd think for such tidy sounding folk they'd keep their worksites in good nick too...”
Hellrien spurred her horse lightly and approached the hobbits slowly to avoid frightening them. They heard the sound of hoofs and turned to look at the riders.
”Hob Hillbrow?” asked Hellrien.
”That would be me”, answered one of the hobbits gruffly.
Hellrien rode at him and remained sitting and watching down at his freckled face, protruding ears and blue eyes. His jaw was angular and unyielding, his shoulders wide for a hobbit, his arms bulky and strong. Hellrien looked at his hands. They were brown and sturdy, knotted and callous from many years of hard labor, and while she detected a hint of fear deep in his eyes, none of it showed in his proud pose and defiantly protruding chin. The other hobbits seemed to take a step back and cower behind his back. Hob Hillbrow was a natural-born leader and the strongman of this small hobbit camp.
Hellrien nodded towards the row of apples on sticks.
”Supper time?”
”Who are you people?” Hillbrow asked bluntly. ”I don’t like trouble-makers.”
The other mercenaries kept their distance, sitting on their horses around Hellrien further away from the campfire. Arindiis watched the events attentively, idly patting her horse Meeko. Askelin rolled his eyes at the distrusting and cold reception. His horse was growing restless too, champing on the bit and shuffling.
”I am Hellrien, from The Bloody Dawn, and these are my companions. We are here for the Proudfoots, to avenge what happened to poor Filiburt”, said Hellrien.
”Avenge... do justice... don't matter how you name it, we're to track down this dwarf and swiftly”, Askelin added.
”Gosh, ma'am... sorry for my barking”, said Hillbrow, reaching his hand upwards. Hellrien shook it and found his grip to be dry and firm. Hillbrow’s teeth shone white.
Askelin shook his head slowly, having finally settled his steed. He raised his head at Cutwil's direction and called out calmly, ”Hunter. Come here, I would speak with you a moment...”
Hellrien tossed the reins on the back of her horse and jumped down. She began loading her pipe.
”Did you know Filiburt?” she asked in a friendly tone.
”No. I barely got to meet him. He arrived one evening and was dead the next day. Would you like to join us for supper?”
Hellrien turned to look at her companions. Askelin and Cutwil sat close to each other and were having some kind of private conversation in hushed tones. Arindiis’s pale, gaunt eyes watched the two men, their expression unreadable.
”Hellrien”, she said. ”If we're to have supper... I may have to pass...” Her voice sounded a little shaky and awkward for some reason. Hellrien nodded and looked at the others.
”Anyone feeling hungry?”
Askelin raised his head and politely shook his head and raised a hand. ”I thank them for their sudden hospitality but I shall not sup' tonight.”
Cutwil shook his head. ”Nay, their... hospitality is commendable, but I'll pass upon supper.”
”Same with me as with the lads”, said Ealstan, leaning on the neck of his horse. ”Cheers but no thanks.”
Hellrien nodded and turned back to Hillbrow. ”I thank you kindly for the offer, but we have already just eaten. Tell me about this dwarf”, Hellrien said, stepping by the campfire and warming her palms by the flames.
Hillbrow crossed his arms. ”I noticed him at once”, he began. ”There was something... very odd about him. By my estimation he was taller than five feet, and heavy, even compared to you. Fifteen stones, I'd say. But not actually fat - just wide! His shoulders were like barn doors!" Hillbrow spread his hands like a fisherman bragging about their latest catch. ”Dark hair and beard. Eyes brown, as far as I could tell.”
”Taller than five feet?” Ealstan interrupted. ”You sure he isn't just an angry short bloke who got tired of being called a dwarf all the time?”
”Aye…” Askelin chimed in. ”That's large for a dwarf... though surely anything over four foot is a giant to a halfling! You must understand that surely these people were in shock as this happened, any descriptions of our quarry may be... well... over-dramatic.”
”To be fair, hobbits think everything taller than them quite tall”, Cutwil chuckled.
Hillbrow stared into the fire, unfazed by the sellswords’s remarks. His impressions came slowly, but surely.
”He was wearing black leather. He had lots of weapons, but I don't recall them very well anymore. An axe and blades for sure. He didn't talk to anyone, he just camped nearby and spent a night here. He didn't bother anyone, and nobody bothered him. Not until the morning, when poor Filiburt went to ask him something. No idea what he said, but the dwarf exploded! And commenced to pound poor Filiburt to death with his bare hands!”
”By the Valar!” Askelin stuttered. ”Mayhaps there was no motive at all and this... dwarf... is surely a mad killer! All the more reason to find him and put an end to this.”
”We're dealing with one of these sots”, Ealstan sighed. ”Why do they always have to wear black?”
”Black doesn't suit anybody anyways”, Arindiis mused.
”There has to be a motive”, Cutwil pondered out loud. ”A dwarf, even a dishonorable one doesn't just kill a hobbit for nothing. Surely! There must be a motive…”
”Was there anyone else with the dwarf? Or any other suspicious people or creatures near this camp that night?” Hellrien asked.
”No”, Hillbrow shook his head. ”He was on his own. Nobody other than Filiburt even went near him, and he didn't try to approach anyone.”
”And you’re sure it was a dwarf?”
”Yes! A giant dwarf! The biggest damn dwarf I have ever seen!”
”What told you he was a dwarf and not just a short man?” Ealstan asked.
”I know the difference between a dwarf and the big folk! He was too wide, too broad-shouldered to be a Man!”
”Did you see where he went?” Hellrien asked.
Hillbrow nodded enthusiastically. ”Yes! We followed him a little ways down the road! He was going towards Oatbarton!”
”You notice what color hair the idiot had?” Ealstan said. ”How long his beard was and whatnot?”
”Dark hair... probably black. His beard was thick, like a dwarf's beard... I don't remember how long it was. A normal dwarf beard.”
”So a dwarf dressed in black, with a black beard and black hair. Unimaginative one this one. Should be easy enough to find. Not much black out in the greenery of the Shire”, Ealstan said.
”Lest it is nightfall”, Askelin pointed out. ”Then I reckon he'd be able to hide someplace in the shadows... Nevertheless, we need a trail. Once we have a trail we shall set upon him like hounds to a hare!”
”What do you think?” Hellrien asked. ”Where should we go next?”
”Hmm”, Cutwil pondered. ”I feel like we’re chasing nothing.”
”Hrm”, Askelin grumbled. ”Honestly I would say we continue northwards if that is where he has gone. Are there any more settlements from here to Ost Forod?”
”Back south by the sounds of it”, Ealstan countered. ”Unless he doubled back and headed north. In which case he's the problem of the bloody rangers.”
”Well if he did head north then he likely went to Ost Forod in particular for it has a reputation for housing less than decent folk. If there was any hideout a criminal could sneak among in it would be there.”
”I have some information I received in Oatbarton I forgot to mention. A pipe-weed seller told me something”, Hellrien said.
”Hm?” said Askelin. ”Do go on... we seem to be at an unsurity in our decision here.”
”She had seen this same dwarf in Oatbarton last autumn. He bought supplies to last through the winter and then traveled up here somewhere. So, he rides up to Evendim, spends the winter there somewhere, reappears here, kills a hobbit for no reason and then heads back towards Oatbarton. But nobody has seen him going there, so he must have circled around town.”
Arindiis pulled Meeko’s reins slightly and rode a short distance to the path, looking around curiously. ”Shouldn't we maybe look around?” she called back.
”Don’t stray too far, my dear!” Askelin warned her.
”I have a hunch where he might be going”, Hellrien continued. ”Ered Luin, to his own kind. If he's heading that way, we should be able to find tracks or hobbits who have seen him going through the Shire.”
”Errd Leeun?” Ealstan said. ”Where the bloody hell is that?”
”Ered Luin, the Blue Mountains right?” said Askelin. ”If we are certain that this dwarf resides there then we ought to catch up. It is a long journey to reach those mountains and more so to travel up to any settlements.”
”There are plenty of Dourhand hideouts in that region”, Hellrien cut in.
”And if this dwarf is of the Dourhands as Cutwil here suggested, he is going to have friends among them...”
”He will, aye”, said Cutwil. ”Dourhands are... well, you could say they go in packs.”
”Blue Mountains?” Ealstan asked. ”Oh... that place those dwarf traders who pass through come from.”
”Aye, that'll be it”, Askelin said. ”And it's highly likely he headed back among his own kind. I say we take the offensive and hound him down with haste... we may be able to catch up to him ere he reaches the Tower Hills. Ah, but then again he probably wouldn't be taking conventional roads after what he did...”
”Most likely, but why go up here, murder someone, and go back down?” Cutwil asked.
”For safety? As you said, these Dourhands work in… packs.”
”He spent the winter here, so probably the killing of the hobbit wasn't in the plans”, Hellrien speculated.
”True”, said Cutwil.
”He was doing something else here, but we have no way to find out what.”
”Sounds like an idiot to me”, said Ealstan. ”Hobbit comes over to say hello and he murders the poor lad. Dropped as a dwarfling maybe?”
”Perhaps.”
Askelin looked between Ealstan, Hellrien and Cutwil, grunted impatiently and with a light kick steered his horse around and made his way to Arindiis’s side.
”We head west, I suppose”, said Ealstan.
”I suggest we make haste back to Brockenborings and ask around, look for tracks... if we're right, somebody's bound to have seen something in the Shire”, said Hellrien.
”It'll be a long journey to the Blue Mountains. We should stock up and all before we head that way.”
”Brockenborings is a good place to stock up.”
Ealstan nodded slightly. ”Shall we be heading off then?”
”We can ride a few miles before it gets dark”, Hellrien said. ”Camp by the side of the road.”
”Sounds good to me”, Ealstan agreed.
