Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there. The heart and shape of the story are my own, but I realise it is important to be transparent about my use of AI support in producing it ultimately.
“If the Boot Fits”
|The following story addition has been written in collaboration with the author of Flent, who features therein.|
Featuring: Vratni, Flent
Location: On the edge of the Chetwood, Near Coomb, Bree-lands
Vratni had heard enough stories about the marshes to know that the last thing he wanted was to venture into them without a guide. But a guide with a hefty price tag? That was a different story. Word on the streets of Bree had it that a man named 'Boots'... some sort of fowler, they said, who knew the marshes better than anyone, and he could get you through alive if you had the coin.
Vratni wasn’t interested in paying the going rate. He wasn’t even sure what the going rate was. He had heard it was a small fortune, which made him think... well, perhaps he could negotiate the price, or, better yet, find a way to convince the man to come along for free. Vratni’s favourite price to pay. If he did have a price, Vratni had plenty of “assets” he could offer, though none of them were particularly useful or valuable.
After a bit of asking around, Vratni found himself standing at the edge of the Chetwood, out past Bree, and just beyond Coomb … a bit of a trek Vratni thought… this Boots had better be the ‘real deal’.
He found himself near a small stone and wooden hut, that smelled faintly of wet feathers and moss, even from a distance. The windows were a bit grimy, but overall, the hut was well-maintained. He could just about make out a figure inside; tall, with a coat of dull brown fabric that might have once been a fine piece of clothing but now seemed more like a shield against the weather. Boots, no doubt.
Vratni rapped once on the door. It creaked open, and a pair of eyes peered out from the shadow.
“Yeah?” the voice was gruff, carrying a hint of suspicion. The eyes were sharp, but they didn’t seem interested in Vratni’s face just yet. Instead, they were aimed at the crumpled map that Vratni was holding; as close as it gets to a treasure map in Vratni’s mind.
“I hear you’re the man to talk to about the Midgewater Marshes,” Vratni said, leaning against the doorframe as though he were already in charge. “I need a guide. A good guide. Someone who knows their way around. And I’ve got, ” He looked over his shoulder, “some things I can offer. Trinkets. Fine things. And a bit of coin, if it’s necessary.”
Boots didn’t blink. His eyes remained steady on Vratni’s face for a long moment, and the silence hung between them like a thick fog.
“No need for a guide,” Boots said eventually, his voice low and measured. “Midgewater’s no place for a man who don’t know it.”
Vratni’s mind began to race. “I’ll pay well,” he insisted, leaning in just a little closer. “I’ve got... well, I’ve got this!” He reached into his pack and pulled out a small assortment of seemingly ancient trinkets; nothing of real value, but surely they’d be enough to sweeten the deal. “Look at these. An old pendant, some elvish-looking beads... these are surely of worth to a well travelled man such as yourself.” He was starting to see that they wouldn't be - at all.
Boots glanced at the items with a half-smile. “Ain’t worth the trouble of crossing the marsh,” he muttered, clearly unimpressed. “You’re better off finding another fool to get lost out there.”
Vratni, unfazed by the refusal, pushed forward. “I’ve heard you’ve been out there a lot. The marshes, I mean. You know them, don’t you? And you don't strike me as someone what would see a good Dwarf perish on his own…. Plus those ruins I’m going to find could be worth more than all the trinkets in Bree. I might even find a thing or two worth your while.”
Boots didn’t flinch, but his brow furrowed slightly. “Ruins, eh? I’ve heard of treasure hunters sniffin’ around. Not much good comes of it. The marsh has its way of dealin’ with men like you.”
Vratni, sensing that he wasn’t getting anywhere, tried another angle. “I’m no fool,” he said, a grin creeping into his voice. “I know the marshes are dangerous, but, well, I’m sure you could use the help of someone... let’s say, resourceful like me.”
Boots’ eyes narrowed, and for the first time, a flicker of interest passed over his face. He opened the door a little wider, the smell of damp earth and wet feathers wafting from inside the hut. “Resourceful, huh?” He stepped aside, motioning for Vratni to come in. “Let’s talk about this ‘help.’”
Inside, the hut was sparse. Nothing fancy, just the bare necessities. Boots had a table cluttered with maps, old weapons, dried herbs, and various different piles of coloured feathers. There were perches for what must have been hunting birds by the window, though unoccupied. Vratni couldn’t help but notice the air of quiet precision that permeated the space; everything was calculated, organized, but in a way that suggested a deep, solitary nature.
“I heard the poachers have been active out there,” Boots said, sitting down at the table and eyeing Vratni carefully. “They’ve been makin’ a mess of things. If you’re headin’ into the marsh, I might be inclined to help you. But if you’re out there chasin’ treasure, you’re better off takin’ the road instead. Poachers don’t care for treasure hunters. They care for anything they can sell. And some of this new lot, might soon’r run you through than risk you fetchin’ the Watch on them.”
Vratni, undeterred, pressed on. “Listen, I’ve got the supplies, and I know me way around a map. I just need someone who knows the marsh better than I do. I’ll pay... fairly, of course.” He grinned, painfully.
Boots didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and gave Vratni a long, searching look. “Poaching’s been getting worse,” he said, his voice rough with concern. “I’ve been tracking them for weeks. If you’re going to go out there, you might as well make yourself useful and help me catch them.”
Vratni nodded eagerly. “Exactly!” he said without thinking… “Maybe we could get them off the marshes together!?... I could help you take care of them, and you, well, you’d get a cut of whatever I find while out on expedition.” Vratni thought this sounded fair, though he had absolutely no intention of upholding any deal that would seem him go toe-to-toe with a poacher!
Boots didn’t seem convinced. He sat in silence for a long moment, staring out the window, where the sky was growing dim and the first signs of evening were settling over Bree. Finally, he spoke.
“Poachers are a problem. But you...” He looked Vratni up and down, his eyes unreadable. “You’re a bigger one. You don’t belong out there. But I’ll tell you what… I’ll take you, but only if you promise not to get yourself killed. You’ll listen to me, and you’ll stay out of the way. I don’t need anyone complicating things.”
Vratni grinned, shaking the tension from his shoulders. "Deal! I'll be on me best behaviour, Boots. Promise."
The man known as Boots, but really named Flent, gave him a long, skeptical look but said nothing more. After a long moment, he turned back to his own maps and began gathering a few supplies from around the room. Vratni stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching him work. The silence in the hut felt strangely heavy. Boots wasn’t a man for conversation. He seemed more like a man who would get things done without needing to explain why or how.
Finally, Boots looked up. “We leave tomorrow. Be ready. And keep your eyes open. The marshes don’t forgive easily.”
Vratni’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t quite the warm reception he’d been hoping for, but it was a start. Maybe this fowler wasn’t so bad after all.
Or maybe he was just the kind of guide who didn’t need any distractions. Vratni could work with that. The adventure was about to begin, and the poachers would have to watch their backs if Boots had any say in it…
Vratni nodded, too relieved to argue. “Of course! You lead, I follow. Tomorrow it is.”
The deal was struck, though Vratni couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking into something much bigger than he’d anticipated. The marshes were not a place to be taken lightly it seemed, and now he wasn’t just looking for treasure, he was also going to have to deal with poachers and whatever else the wilds threw at him…. But he’d let Boots handle all of those particular details!
For now, he had a guide. And that was the last piece of the jigsaw that he needed in order to set out, with a hope of ever returning…
