Chapter Two
January 27th
Late afternoon/Evening
Burping Troll Inn
Darkness had fallen outside after another gloomy, wet day. Milo and Camellia were sitting together by the fire, making the most of the quiet room and warmth. Soon the hobbit lass would be helping cook the evening meal, but that should not take long; there were few travelers at this time of year, and the incessant rain meant that they had even less guests than expected. Milo could not recall the inn being so empty. There were just a couple of grumpy old men who spent most of their time bickering in their shared room. Even the residents seemed sparse. The balrog had gone on one of his occasional visits to Mount Doom, leaving Bob in charge of the bar. Warg was away playing with her orc friend Nik at Russ the Beorning's farm. Their rangers Halbarad and Elros were still in Henneth Annûn, though Sevilodorf had returned home early in the afternoon. Milo and Camellia shared one final cuddle then, as they rose to go their separate ways, the front door opened and three strangers stepped in.
It took a moment for the men to adjust their vision to the dim light of the room, and a little longer to accept what they saw there. Darien was the first to find his voice.
"Halflings!"
"Well, I never," Landis exclaimed.
Grady simply stood openmouthed.
"Welcome, good sirs," Milo smiled. He was used to receiving such reactions from strangers. "We actually call ourselves hobbits. Let me introduce Camellia," he gestured proudly to his betrothed, "and myself, Milo."
The three men smiled widely and warmly. Darien inclined his head, first to Camellia then to Milo. He briefly introduced himself and his two companions who could do no more than grin foolishly at the sight of these small people.
A cry of 'Camellia' heralded the arrival of two more hobbit lasses; Meri and Erin scurried from the kitchen in search of assistance. They stopped short as they noticed the new arrivals. Erin clapped her hands, "Oh hello. Good, more guests." and Meri asked, "Is it dinner and a room, sirs?"
The tall man was now almost laughing, "Yes please, three dinners, one room, three beds, and stalls for our horses, if all that is possible."
"It certainly is," Meri affirmed cheerfully. "Milo, will you help our guests settle their horses while we prepare their room?"
The aroma of cooking drifted from the open kitchen door and followed them as Milo led the men back outside. Landis inhaled deeply.
"That smells absolutely delicious."
Milo grinned up at him, "If you have never met a hobbit, you will not have sampled our cooking. I promise you that you're in for a treat."
Grady's stomach rumbled loudly, "I hope we get man-sized portions."
Suppressing laughter, Milo remarked wryly, "You will get hobbit-sized portions, and if you can eat those, I'll eat my hat."
xxxxxx
Sev climbed the stairs from the cellar slowly, grimacing as Aerio raced to the top and bowing low with an excess of courtesy pushed open the outer doors.
Sev frowned up at the blonde elf and shook her head. "Silly elf. I fail to understand why you find everything a laughing matter."
Assuming a suitably solemn expression, Aerio replied, "And it is completely outside my understanding why you would prefer to contemplate everything so seriously." Then his face broke into a wide smile. "Especially given the fact that we are now in possession of three crates of pickled peppers, and two of Aunt Saphron's All Purpose Vinegar. And that nowhere in that order we just spent two hours checking and rechecking was there a single bottle of Cherry-B or Barliman's Better Beer."
"Don't remind me," Sev moaned, and stopped beside him at the top of the stairs. "Celebsul is going to be extremely upset." As Aerio lifted an eyebrow, Sev said, "Well, as upset as he ever gets. Actually I will find his patient forbearance harder to accept than if he was upset."
"Now, there is another point I fail to grasp. Why would you prefer to have someone angry at you rather than understanding of the situation?" Aerio peered down in open amusement at the woman who barely reached to his shoulders.
"I know it's ridiculous. I just would." Sev shrugged. "The worst of the whole thing is I can't possibly get back to Henneth Annûn and fix the problem until the day after tomorrow. I promised Gubbitch to haul an order of stones for him and that will take up most of my space." Sev paused and stared at the cellar door in thought. "Perhaps I can squeeze in the vinegar. Oh well, I can at least bring back the correct supplies on my way home. That would mean that you and Celebsul would have to do without for two more days. Think you can manage?"
"A cruel fate it is that requires us to do without that magic elixir." Aerio posed dramatically as Sev snorted.
"There are moments I truly regret ever asking Bolger the actor to come to the Burping Troll last summer. You, for one, dear elf, have not been the same since." Sev slapped at the elf as he grabbed her arm and attempted to swing her around as if dancing. "Stop that you silly fool. I've got chores to do in the barn and you, if I remember correctly, are supposed to be in the workshop finishing that project for Brillammen. Doesn't he leave tomorrow to return to the eastern reforestation camp?"
"Yes. Your memory, as always, is correct. And I must hasten to the workshop so that I might finish before dinner." Aerio sketched another low bow and darted away.
"Silly elf," Sev muttered again before heading for the barn. If Milo showed up as promised they would be done in time for her to clean up before dinner. If not, Meri would just have to accept her at the table in her mud and grime. 'Nmad, how had that order gotten mixed up?' she wondered. Then chastising herself, 'And why didn't you check it before leaving Henneth Annûn?'
That she knew the answer. She had gotten flustered by that strange bald-headed, bitten-eared man in the courtyard of the Whistling Dog, and rushed away rather than taking the time to check the order. She should be used to dealing with such men, as his attitude toward orcs was common enough. Nor could he be faulted, for she herself had known the terror and grief that the armies of Isengard and Mordor had spread. Anywhere else in Middle Earth, an orc was little more than a brute predator who was slain where they were found. It had taken quite some time for her to become accustomed to their small local band of "rehabilitated" orcs when she first came to the Troll. The intervention and compassion of Aerio's wise master Celebsul had probably been instrumental in her lesson in tolerance. But now, almost a year later, she seldom thought of them as orcs, but as individuals.
Approaching the barn, Sev could hear Milo whistling. Perhaps she would have time for a bath after all.
The hobbit turned from the horse he was brushing with a smile as she entered. "I was beginning to wonder where you were, Sev. It's not often I beat you out here."
"No, not often. Whose horses are these?" Sev reached out a hand and rubbed it along the back of the bay Milo was brushing. "This one, especially, is a fine animal."
Milo hopped down from the box he had been using to reach the animal's back and replied, "They belong to the three men who just arrived. Meri's seeing to their room."
"Well, this one's from Rohan or I'm not," Sev said fingering the brand on the gelding's rump. "I don't recognize the family, but I'm sure of it."
"They seemed nice enough fellows. I'm sure you can ask them at dinner, Sev." Milo moved his box to the next horse. "I'm almost finished with them. You want to do the feed or the mucking out."
Sev stared down at her grimy clothing. There was nothing she could do that could possible make them worse. "I'll get the wheelbarrow. But let's be quick. If I don't get a bath, Meri won't let me in the common room, much less sit at the same table with guests."
Milo nodded. "Quick it is then, Sev."
xxxxxx
After piping hot baths, the men were in their room readying themselves for dinner. Darien sighed, and Landis looked at him with concern. The tall man was stroking a soft white towel that he had used to dry his hair.
"Given that the food tastes as good as it smells, this has to be the best accommodation we have known in recent years. The room is spotless and the sheets remind me of those of home."
"Aye," Landis replied. "It's a fine inn with a merry crew of hobbits, bless them. I wonder how many of the tales of this place are true. It's certainly unusual, but I didn't see a warg nor a balrog."
Grady snorted with contempt. "And you won't. I've never heard such rot."
"Well, everything else Sira said seems to be true," Landis retorted, and a gleam of mischief appeared in the older man's eyes. "How about we have a bet on it?"
"You're on," Grady nodded. "My gold chain against your bone-handled dagger?"
"It's a deal."
Darien interrupted, "How do you propose to settle the bet? Just because there is no balrog or warg to see does not mean they do not exist."
"I'll ask Milo, of course," Landis replied. "I'd take the word of any one of these hobbit folk."
"What about you?" Darien turned to Grady.
"Aye, I suppose their word will do." The bet was not a critical one; blade and chain had exchanged owner many times in the past.
Their leader looked hard at them both, "Whatever you do, don't let it distract you from our purpose. If either of those creatures belongs to this inn, it is not our concern at this time. Later, maybe, but not now."
By the time the three men had finished their meal - or as near to finishing, as hobbit-sized portions would allow merely mortal appetites - none of them knew quite what to think. Certainly all four of the hobbits were earnest as could be in their tale telling, and responded readily to Landis' cheerful banter and frankly disbelieving laughter. Nor did any of the men suppose the hobbits would deliberately tell an untruth, for duplicity was simply not in their nature. However, the more fantastic the tales became and the larger the adventures described, it soon became apparent that the Burping Troll self-perpetuated its own legend.
"Why in Eru's name would an entire army of mercenaries come here after some mysterious stranger?" chuckled Landis.
"Strangers from lands not even on our maps, mind," said Grady, and snickered into his ale.
Dinner was cleared and they now sat in comfortable satiation, the blizzard of hobbit information at last abated as the little folk retreated to their evening chores. The cheerful clatter of voices and crockery continued to echo from the kitchen. More voices briefly caught their attention, female laughter, and they looked up to see two women passing into the kitchen, one small, dark haired and lovely, the other tall and very pregnant. They heard the names "Elanna" and "Anoriath" sung out by the hobbits as the door closed again; a strange assortment of folk here, indeed.
Landis shook his head. "The more we hear, the more exotic it becomes."
"Aye, and next the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood will come strolling through for tea."
Darien joined in his men's muted laughter and then sighed. The one truth they could be certain of, and the one truth that mattered, was that orcs did indeed lurk in the local hills. Gubbitch, that had been the name given to the orcs' leader, the one with whom the trader woman organized her peculiar transactions. A wry smile twisted Darien's lips as Grady and Landis continued to compare the more outlandish points of the various stories told them. It was disarmingly easy to get halflings to gossip, and he rather supposed he could have learned everything up to what Gubbitch was last seen wearing, if they had pressed that far. Yet the one piece of intelligence needed still eluded them; the whereabouts of these orcs. Even under the guise of concern for their safety, Darien and Landis had been unable to charm anything but a vague response that the orcs lived "out there somewhere." It would seem the trader woman remained their only link to finding them.
A back door somewhere banged, and voices rang from a hallway beside the kitchen, one of the hobbit lasses and a Man's voice.
"Bob, there you are! Goodness, your supper is going to be ice cold!"
"Sorry, Meri, my perimeter check took longer than I planned. Confounded rain. What do you have that's warm?"
"Oh, get in here, quick, you'll catch your death. Here, I'll get you some tea and we'll have your supper in just a minute."
The voices receded into the kitchen without the speakers being seen, but then the near door opened into the common room. Darien smiled to see the halflings Milo and Camellia coming back to join them.
"Say," exclaimed Milo brightly. "We didn't tell you about the tunnels, did we? Or how the Dwarves blew them up and accidentally made a geyser and now we've got hot water?"
Landis' grin threatened to dislodge his ears as he held a chair for Camellia. "No, but I believe we're about to hear."
xxxxxx
Sev froze in the doorway to the common room. It couldn't be. It shouldn't be. But nmad, it was. That same shave-headed brutish man who had confronted her this morning was sitting right there, at the very same table as Milo and Camellia and being served pie by Erin. Thank goodness Gubbitch and his boys were busy hauling stones or there would be problems. Sitting with them were two other men Sev recognized from the common room of the Whistling Dog, a stocky smiling fellow with a grey-streaked brown beard and a tall, handsome man with grey at his temples.
Waving from his seat between them, Milo called cheerily, "Sev, over here."
They must be together Sev reasoned and threaded her way to the table with a sinking heart. Best to get this over with quickly. Maybe Meri would let her eat in the kitchen. But to her confusion, the bald man said nothing. As a matter of fact, he very pointedly refused to meet her eyes when Milo made introductions. For an instant, this behavior brought the hobbit to a confused silence.
The obvious leader of three, Darien, quickly broke the silence by smiling and saying, "Milo tells me you are Rohirrim."
"Aye, sir. I was once of the Riddermark," Sev said quietly. "But the Burping Troll is my home now."
Darien met Sev's eyes with a look of understanding. "Yes, many lives were changed by the War."
Sev glanced at the grim man who had been introduced as Grady. He seemed willing enough to let matters lie for the time, therefore Sev would as well. "So they were. What brings you gentlemen to the Troll?"
"We are headed north to the mines of the Ash Mountains. We have some business with the dwarves there," Darien replied.
"Oh, and what sort of business?" Sev asked. There was an edge to her voice that made Milo stare at her in astonished confusion.
Darien simply smiled and said, "I deal in gemstones and the dwarves have reportedly found quite a few."
"Really, I hadn't heard that," Sev said, a faint look of disbelief crept over her face.
"Oh yes, news reached Henneth Annûn a day or two ago. I'm surprised you didn't hear it when you were there. It was you last night at the Whistling Dog?" Darien peered at her intently.
"Yes, it was me. And considering the company you were keeping last night, I'm certain you heard a lot about me." Sev raised her eyebrow, daring the man to deny it.
Landis snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "As if we'd listen to the tales of an obviously jealous woman."
"Jealous?" Sev raised her eyebrows in amusement.
"Woman?" Milo repeated. "You mean Sira?" At the nods from the men, Milo jumped up and said sternly, "Nothing that woman says can be trusted. And if she said anything bad about Sevi you would do well to forget it."
Camellia's face paled and Milo reached over to clasp her hand tightly.
"Sira?" Erin cried. "Just let me tell you about Sira!" Waving the knife she had used to serve up the pie, Erin launched into a diatribe fairly bristling with exclamation points.
"Why, that woman has not one scruple in her whole body! I shudder to think what meanness she would do for a bit of silver! She lied to make Camellia think Milo was unfaithful and she conspired with an absolutely despicable hobbit named Nathaniel to drug poor Camellia so he could carry her away. And then she told Nathaniel who he could hire to knock Milo in the head - Ooh!"
Taken aback by the hobbit's reaction, Darien held up his hands in a gesture of peace and Landis feigned ducking under the table in fear.
And still Erin railed on: "Sevi gave Sira a potion that turned her hair all colors, but I think she should have made it fall entirely out! In fact I think she should have made her head fall off - or maybe taken it off, swish! And then do you know that Sira -."
"Enough, Erin." With a look of fond amusement, Sevilodorf leaned over and carefully removed the knife from Erin's hand. "You're upsetting Camellia and our guests with your bloodthirstiness."
Erin halted in mid-word and turned to wrap Camellia in a tight hug. "Oh, Cami, I'm sorry, but every time I think of that woman I just want to …" Unable to think of a suitable non-bloody action, Erin settled for giving Camellia another squeeze. "Though it is funny to think of her with pink hair."
"Pink hair?" Landis queried as the hobbits settled back into their seats with cheerful expressions.
"Oh, yes. Sevi turned her hair pink," Camellia smiled at the Rohirrim woman.
"And green and blue," added Milo with a wide grin. He took the knife from Sev's hand and sliced off a large portion of pie. Setting it before Sev with a flourish, he added, "And I think purple."
Darien looked thoughtful. This would certainly explain Sira's dislike of the woman. Yet personal differences aside, nothing the girl had told them had been proven untrue; instead, every word from the hobbits and the woman herself served to confirm Sira's statements.
The door opened to admit three tall figures, and Darien, Landis and Grady found themselves gaping at yet another confirmation of the Burping Troll's strange tales. As the newcomers removed their damp cloaks the light seemed to find an echoing glint in their eyes, which with the grace of their movements and the cool masculine beauty of their faces could be but one thing; these were undeniably elves. Conversation paused briefly as the men stared at the new arrivals.
"Oh, Celly!" Erin exclaimed, and hopped from her chair. "We have supper waiting for you."
The hobbits quickly excused themselves muttering in lieu of explanation, "Celebsul and his apprentices." The lasses went to find them supper, Milo to tend the bar for which the elves were heading.
Darien inwardly pinched himself then wrenched his attention back to the discussion with Sevilodorf. Smiling so that merry crows' feet crimped the corners of his eyes, he asked, "Multicolored hair? You thought that a suitable punishment for Sira's transgressions?"
Sevilodorf looked up from her pie and frowned. "No, personally I was more in agreement with Erin's desires; but I knew Camellia wouldn't like it." Sev shrugged. "Besides, Sira's young. There might be hope for her yet."
"And do you hold the same belief for the orcs you deal with?" Darien's voice dropped away as Grady's head snapped up to look directly at the woman for the first time that evening.
Sevilodorf's eyes blazed in a face suddenly gone blank. Snatching up her plate, she said through gritted teeth, "Excuse me, sir. I already know your companion's opinions on this matter and I would prefer not to have to listen to them again."
With that the woman marched from the room and nearly collided with the tall man emerging from the kitchen with a plate heaped with food. "Move, Bob, I'm having the rest of my supper in the kitchen."
Darien gave Grady a hard look. "And how does she know your opinions, Grady? I warned you to leave her be."
Grady snarled, "I didn't tell her nothing she ain't already heard, and I'll do it again if I get the chance."
"No." Darien's voice was cold. "You will leave the woman alone. Is that understood?"
Grady returned Darien's gaze, then shrugged. "You'll see. There won't be any other way." From his pocket, Grady pulled his gold chain and tossed it to the table before Landis. "Here, you won. The hobbits' words verify the tales. And you'll both see that I'm right as well."
With that, he left the table and walked away to stand at the bar. He thought he would prefer the company of the hobbit lad to that of his comrades for a while.
Darien closed his eyes in exasperation. When he opened them again, he saw that two of the elves were now seated at a nearby table, tankards in hand. The third, the tallest elf, was standing looking at him with an unreadable expression. Then just at the point Darien thought his brain would start to twitch under that opaque stare, the silver-haired being spoke softly.
"We do not need hope for our orcs. They are already more than worthy of our friendship. I 'hope' that you are also."
Not waiting for a reply, the elf went to join his fellows, while Darien and Landis exchanged perplexed looks. One had to wonder if a close proximity to elves always left a man with the disorienting sense that the ordinary and the extraordinary were blurring at points not expected. For the moment, the safest retreat seemed to be in finishing their most excellent hobbit-baked pie.
"What's up with Sev?" Bob asked as he reached the elves' table. Nodding thanks to Milo as the hobbit set a large indigo mug filled with ale at his elbow; Bob forked a steaming piece of potato in his mouth and looked at the elves expectantly.
"Possibly it could be the circumstance of now being the proud possessor of three crates of unwanted pickled peppers." Aerio smirked and reached out to grab one of Bob's slices of bread.
Bob slapped at the elf's hand, then snorted. "Someday she's going to have to learn to write so that other people can read it. Is that all that's bothering her?"
"That and the fact that for the next three days there will not be a single bottle of Cherry- B in the Troll," Celebsul replied with a small smile.
"Three days?" Bob exclaimed. "Why … oh that's right. Tomorrow she meets with Gubbitch."
Bob frowned. He knew that Halbarad's attempts to restrict Sev's trading with the orcs had met with little success, partly because of Sev's independent nature, but also because of Celebsul's trust in Gubbitch and his cohorts. Bob shrugged, since his Captain had been unable to make headway with Sev or the elf, his own chance for success was nonexistent.
"She won't be going alone, will she?"
Celebsul glanced toward the bald man glowering into a tankard at the bar before saying, "No. Aerio will be accompanying her."
Aerio sighed, "Yes, and she wanted to depart at the crack of dawn. But I conveyed to her my need to deliver the final group of seedlings to Brillammen and she graciously agreed to delay her departure until after breakfast."
"That late? My, my," said Bob with a laugh. "Next thing you know she'll be sleeping past sunrise."
"I sincerely doubt that circumstance will ever come to pass, Bob," Aerio said with a grin.
Bob spun the mug in his hand making the swirling patterns of pyrite and mica dance in the lamplight. "True, bad habits like early rising are hard to break."
Erin and Camellia pushed through the door from the kitchen with three filled plates and deposited them on the table before the elves.
"How many elves are going with Brillammen to the reforestation camp tomorrow?" Erin asked climbing onto the bench beside Gambesul. "Meri needs to know how many will be home for meals."
"The three of us are staying behind to prepare the next set of seedlings." Gambesul offered Erin one of his apple muffins, which she accepted with a grin. "Firnelin and Anbarad will also remain to assist us."
Camellia began counting on her fingers, "And of course, Azaelia and baby Tigerlily stay behind for now. I make that four hobbits, seven elves, and four Big Folk."
Her brow furrowed as she counted off people, and Erin replied, "I think you're right, Camellia. Unless Elros and Hal come home tomorrow?"
Erin's speculative look in Bob's direction brought only a slight shrug of the shoulders. "Elros might be home," Bob said. "But I'm afraid our good captain is probably going to be delayed in council another day, from the sound of the summons he got."
Nodding, Erin continued her summary. "Plus, there has to be enough for guests. Although Azaelia has been making a lot of her meals at their new house."
Aerio smirked at Erin. "How is it, Erin, that everyday Meri cooks up enough food for a small city, but there are never any leftovers?"
"Leftovers?" Erin's eyes opened wide. "With Bob around?"
Bob made a face while the others laughed, and then Erin gave his shaggy dark hair a playful tug before she and Camellia left them to their supper. Not far away, Darien and Landis arose casually, for the thought of a little mulled wine before sleep was suddenly enticing. Yet thanks to a little creative eavesdropping they held in their minds a few more pieces to their puzzle. One, the vaguely familiar dark-haired, grey-eyed look of the man "Bob" suddenly had a name, ranger, and while his captain would remain absent tomorrow, a comrade might be due home. Two, although there were an unknown number of elves apparently living in the vicinity, most would also be gone tomorrow. Three, the woman Sevilodorf would be rising very early for her trading venture, and she would have for company a single elf. Perhaps, if they were very clever, all these pieces could be put to their benefit.
xxx
TBC ...
A Note On Bob And The Balrog:
1) Bob the ranger ... is so-called as a nickname. His given name is something far more tongue-tangling, and undoubtedly he early seized on the simplest name he could find to replace it. It's entirely possible he got the idea from some chap in Bree, where we know Bills and Bobs and Toms are not unusual. Anyhow, so Bob he remains and his real name is offered to few.
2) The Balrog ... This is admittedly our most controversial character. We know this. But we haven't found a way to dispense with him. Plus he's sort of fun. So he stays. On a more serious note, however, bear in mind that Balrogs were truly Maiar. They were spirit beings, created by Eru, but then they went into the service of Melkor and were corrupted into demons. They were truly terrible creatures of great and formidable power, and we do run the risk of "cutes-ifying" one of Shadow's most powerful minions. However ... this is the Fourth Age, a time of change, a day where Shadow is finally banished from the world. In our hypothesis, perhaps, just perhaps, one single, rather undersized, vastly misplaced balrog found himself master-less, and thus sought the light from long ago. After all, were they created evil? Or was evil part of their corruption? As the Maiar were creations of Eru, would all Melkor's servants be totally beyond redemption?
Anyone interested in a short exploration of our balrog's emergence from Shadow may find his tale, "Remnants of Discord", at www burpingtroll . com / ShortStories . htm . If we have offended anyone with our balrog, that was not our intention. We hope you will find our stories as pleasurable to read, as we took pleasure in writing them.