But a Day from Home – Part 10

Once the whole of the tale had been told, and the Rangers realized that they had come out looking rather badly in it from Brassica’s perspective, they became extremely gracious towards their diminutive guest. It had taken a rather stern lecture on the hobbit’s part to make it clear to the Dunedain that it was bad form to assume that their guests were spies, and especially bad form to keep them waiting when they’d been kidnapped by bandits. After that, she was privy to all manner of courtesies, and her next few days on the shore of the lake were filled with a variety of occupations at the hands of the gruff, but strangely decorous men of the North.

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But a Day from Home – Part 9

Beldrieth’s business in the Eavespires had not been of a serious nature. Truly it had been more of a social call, made on behalf of the Lord Glorfindel of Rivendell, who had inquired after an old comrade who he had believed to have passed into the West. And so Beldrieth had sought Erchiel on the other side of the lake, and found her in the company of her husband. Though she had declined to return to Rivendell, declaring herself weary of war, and well-deserving of the peace she had sought at the edge of the wild, Erchiel had been glad of the company of another Elf in her small glade. So with Llythne’s consent, Beldrieth had sent the Ranger had accompanied them back across the lake on his own, in favour of returning to Tinnudir in the morning, and spent the night speaking of old battles and friends long lost to time.

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But a Day from Home – Part 8

Brassica had tried. She had really tried, as Percy had dragged her up the stairs of the ruin, to where his gang of robbers had assembled, six or seven abreast, three rows deep, to keep from breaking down into sobs of fear. She had thought him fierce when he had roared at her at his own little camp. It was nothing compared to what he became, a raving, raging figure, stalking before his men, his great cloak billowing behind him. He snarled and growled and when one of the women flinched away when he came too close, he had slapped her sharply across the face, and bellowed all the louder when she wept, wretched and wailing on her knees.

Then he had seized Brassica and dragged her to the first of the men on the forward corner of the assembly. He had glowered down at her, “Is this the spy?”

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But a Day from Home – Part 7

When the prow of their boat crunched against the gravel of Rantost’s shore, Celebarad had been the first over the gunwale, splashing in the shallows and helping haul the vessel onto solid purchase. The shield he had brought with him, but after some debate had left it in the boat. He had never before carried a shield, and worried it would slow him and make him clumsy when he most needed speed.

They had put to shore at the southernmost tip of the island, far from the ruin, which glowed in the distance, lit from the inside by the fires of the robbers. There had been only one man standing guard on the shore, and he had not seen them approach. One of the rangers had stood in the rocking boat, steadied by the hands of his fellows, as he  put arrow to string, drew, and let fly. The man on the shore had fallen almost silently, and the rest of the Rangers in the boat had heaved-to on their oars, and now they had landed.

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But a Day from Home – Part 6

The night was bright and clear, the stars like points of white fire and the moon a full, bright disk. The day had passed slowly, and Brassica had spent it napping in the dirt, hungry and lonely, feeling as though she’d been forgotten, both by her friends and by her captors. She had strained her eyes staring across the lake, hoping for some sign of rescue, but there had been nothing. The woman who had paced the bank earlier in the day was gone. But for the first time, Brassica heard voices approaching, and huddled closer to the chunk of rubble to which she was chained.

“How’s the little hobbit keeping?” growled a rough voice, and a dirty-faced, raggedly dressed man peered out from behind the remnants of the wall, with an evil grin. “Been a good little hobbit, not hollerin’ cross the water, or rattlin’ her chains.”

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