The Harrowing Case of the Horrible Harfoot
(Being an entry in Lancogard North-took’s life-book)
Wending Way Burrow, Dunfurlong in the Shire, this being the 14th of April:
It has been an absolutely frustrating fortnight, and no mistake! I had received a letter back on the first of April via Applecider’s clever little Maddie, telling of a grand party that would be held – a baby shower, no less! – for the wee lass Bainiel, who was to bless my friends with her impending birth.
I had already begun packing for a brief visit to Her Ladyship’s Lair, when another letter arrived via Shire-post, this one being from Primstone of the Watch, he what is my immediate superior in the Bounders. Sure enough, it was official business: my presence was needed in the Southfarthing to investigate an odd report from the concerned citizens of Longbottom. Seems that persons unknown were disrupting the latest shipments of Longbottom Leaf from the busiest leaf plantation near Raindalf.
Well, that started the investigation. After a ride from Overhill though Hobbiton and then south via Waymeet, I arrived in Longbottom and looked up my opposite numbers in the Southfarthing Watch. Shirriff Brockhouse showed me the report and, armed with what information I had, I made my way to Raindalf and spoke with Master Sancho Sandheaver. Sancho gave me a brief tour of the plantation hub, as he called it, where the harvested leaf was stored, dried and prepped for shipment.
Sancho explained the last two large wain-loads of leaf were bound for Pincup in the Green Hills, there to be used to make Southern Star, my favorite leaf-brand. In both cases, the wains never reached their destination. Seems that in both incidents, the wains were flagged down by a hobbit, asking for help with a cart and a broken axle that blocked the road. The drovers were then suddenly waylaid, sacks popped over their heads from behind and their hands bound. They were tossed onto the road, and when they freed themselves, the leaf-wains – and the hobbit – were gone.
I interviewed the drovers who were attacked, and they all said the same thing: they felt terrible strong hands lift them off the buckboards and toss them about like sacks, and could hear the hobbit’s voice shouting, “They’re not to be hurt, them’s your Boss’s orders!” So now, we had hobbits working alongside organized ruffians? What did this remind me of?
I quickly concocted a plan with Sancho’s aid. The third attempt at shipping leaf to Pincup would set out, with me riding along as a guard. We set out at first light the next day (this was on the 6th, as the report states), Sancho himself as lead drover on the wain with me riding along on my little Pony keeping up. We had just made the turn onto the north road to Pincup when Sancho signaled to me and I quickly dismounted, tied Pony to the rear of the wain and hopped into the bed, my crossbow at the ready.
Sure enough, a hobbit was waving for us to stop, the road ahead blocked by a disabled cart. While the drovers were speaking to the cart-hobbit, I had my eyes all around the spot and, sure enough, two Big Folk were creeping out of the weeds on the side of the road, sacks and cords in their hands.
I rose up and shouted, “Stand, in the name of the Watch!” The Big Folk froze in their tracks, clearly not expecting this; one of them kept his head, though, and hurled the sack straight at me and rushed the wain. I was obliged to shoot him, my bolt piercing his throat and felling him. His mate bolted and ran as I reloaded but was gone before I could draw a bead. I turned to see the others had leapt from the wain and wrestled the hobbit to the ground, holding him for me to question.
“Aye, this one’s know ‘round these parts, Deputy,” Sancho growled, “this here’s Mayron Harfoot, known round here as ‘Cringey’!” True to his moniker, Harfoot was cowering in fear, thinking that my crossbow would touch him next.
“Hold him there, lads, whilst I look at things here!” I called. I moved over to the fallen ruffian and searched about. The dead Man was still holding the cords and was armed with a dagger and what looked like a small club on his hip. His clothes were shabby and torn, as if he’d been in the Wild for some time. But his face I’d seen before, or like to it: the strange brigands I met in Woodhall once upon a case. In growing anger I turned back to the others, Sancho and his mate still holding Cringey Harfoot at bay.
“And pray tell us, Master Cringe, why a hobbit would take up with ruffians and Big Folk for thieving and highway-robbing? We shant wait for the Shirriffs, you’ll tell me now!” And Harfoot poured out his tale, telling of being forced into a life of crime by the ruffians who gave him a share of the leaf.
“And why would they ‘force’ you, and then pay you in leaf?” Sancho said. “One lie after another, is it? Now, should I let Deputy North-took here deal with you, or better still, take your lumps from me!” And he raised his drover’s switch to strike, Harfoot cowering even more.
“Hold up, Sancho!” I cried. “No need for that, not now. We’ll deal with Master Cringe here, right and proper. The two of you go on with the leaf to Pincup and get that done. Master Harfoot comes with me.”
After dragging both the dead ruffian and the disabled cart off the road we parted, the drovers bound for Pincup and me riding Pony all the way back to Longbottom driving Harfoot walking before me, my crossbow keeping him honest. Upon arriving, I turned him over to Shirriff Brockhouse for holding and questioning, after giving my report of the event.
And there we have it, we solved the Harrowing Case of the Horrible Harfoot. By the time I got back to Brockenborings, the Quick Post had delivered an update to Primstone. Seems that the Bounders had formed up to watch the road twixt Longbottom and Pincup with greater effort, and another Bounding formed to drive out the ruffians in Narrowcleave for good and all. Master Cringey was now a long-term guest at the Southfarthing Shirriff House, held for questioning regarding these ruffians.
As I made my way to the Plough and Stars, now being the thirteenth of April and having had enough of the road for a while, a small commotion began as hobbits along the road pointed to the trees – and I had a most welcome sight, for the eagle Windwalker was circling above, bearing tidings of great joy out of Falalthlorn, which sent me back to my burrow to pack…
