Hobbits are early risers, especially when trading caravans camp near their villages the night before. Some of the good folk hardly sleep at all, imagining all sorts of treasures awaiting beneath wagon covers. Although only in his eighteenth year, Cutch still had enough experience riding with the dwarf traders to expect impatient early hobbit shoppers, and even earlier breakfasts for the dwarf vendors. He was careful this morning, however, to start his cookfires away from the little, donkey-drawn wagon in the hopes of keeping curious hobbits away from it and it’s hidden real treasure. To a grumbling Skithi, this earned the young cook some respect, but still he complained to Cutch, “Now I have that much further to fetch my breakfast!”. Cutch soothed him, somewhat, by delivering the dwarf’s morning meal to his wagon once the other dwarves had risen, eaten, and begun exchanging pleasantries with the early browsers.
By mid-morning, a fidgety Skithi began beckoning Ulfar to him with frantic hand waving and shrill whistles. With a muttering sigh, the caravan leader stepped away from the bustling little crowd of haggling dwarves and hobbits and strode to Skithi’s wagon, already knowing how the conversation would unfold.
“We can’t spend all day here, Ulfar”, Skithi insisted with a fierce but quiet tone. “We still have all the Shire to cross till we get to Needlehole…”
Ulfar thrust a finger to Skithi’s face, just beneath his nose, and Skithi’s surprised eyes crossed to focus on the fingertip as Ulfar interrupted. “I command this caravan, and this … other task. WE will break camp by mid-day and make Brockenborings by nightfall. WE will conduct business here as normally as possible to keep rumor to a minimum. You test my patience, Skithi. Dwalin accepted your self-exile from the Dourhands on the condition that you would not be trouble. Keep to YOUR duty and stop fussing at MINE.”
Skithi’s gaze focused sharply on Ulfar’s face. “Very well, Longbeard. Have it YOUR way, but if anything happens to our cargo, it’ll be on YOUR head, and it’ll be a Dourhand that warned you.”
True to his word, and to some hobbit disappointment, Ulfar concluded the trading by noon, instructed Cutch to break out a cold mid-day meal for the dwarves to eat as they rode, and formed up the caravan to press on south. Moving down the Northway, the train of wains and wagon trundled through the Greenfields, an expansive meadow of long grasses, wildflowers, and buzzing or fluttering insects. They encountered no other travelers along the road as the day wound down, but Cutch was sure he saw a rider paralleling their course just inside the ridged tree line to the west. However, after he mentioned it to Ulfar, there was no further glimpse of the rider, and it was soon dismissed as happenstance.
As the gloaming ushered in the day’s waning, the caravan found itself just outside of Brockenborings and circled near the memorial to a local hero carved from a massive tree trunk.
The townsfolk came out to welcome them and would have begun shopping immediately had Ulfar not politely explained that it had been a long day of travel for the dwarves, and they needed food, drink, and rest.
“You should go up to the Plough and Stars!’, called out a young hobbit voice from the gathered hobbits. The rest of the crowd turned to the youth, Halson Tobwort, who would one day be the tavern’s keep, and after a silent moment they all eagerly agreed. The crowd of hobbits and dwarves began to wander toward the tavern, chatting happily and hungrily. Cutch, who realized he would have no one to prepare a meal for, offered to stay behind with the caravan. Before Skithi could object, Ulfar consented, but Skithi quickly promised to bring Cutch’s supper back to him. The young man settled into the little wagon, content to have a quite evening to himself.
Once inside the tavern, the hobbit hospitality and wonderful victuals raised everyone’s mood, including Skithi and Ulfar, who managed to smooth things over from their earlier discord. While dwarf and hobbit feasted, drank, and sang, Skithi took the opportunity to fill a basket with roasted chicken, hearty bread, cider, and fruit preserves and take it all back to Cutch, who received it eagerly. Skithi bid him farewell and promised the dwarves would return within a few hours. Cutch thanked him for his thoughtfulness and began to spread out the contents of the basket. As he started eating his meal, he noticed Skithi divert from his course back to the tavern, instead veering east and up toward a wooded ridge. There, he once again saw a shadowy rider barely discernable in the night shadows.
Cutch was sure it was the same rider as from earlier in the day, and now it seemed to be a lady. She and Skithi spoke at some length before she disappeared into the woods and the dwarf pressed on to the tavern. An unspecific suspicion welled up in the back of Cutch’s mind. He would have to ask Skithi and Ulfar about this when the dwarves returned from their hobbit-hosted revelries.
