Snuffling Insight

"I don't mean to complain, but the last time we entered one your towns we were basically thrown out. I think they disapproved of Chewie."

"I'm afraid the people around here are rather distrusting, Han," replied Gandalf as they walked along a well-trodden trail. "This area is close to the Ettenmoors. Thankfully, most of the evils of that place don't surface here often, but every once in a while an orc party will come down from the hills or wolves will get hungry and ravage a few farms. One just has to be cautious."

Fenheath pipped up. "There have been a few recent events that have made many wary. You just happened to appear at a bad moment."

Han smirked, "Let's hope I don't make that a habit."

The wind was chilly as they walked along. Thankfully they had all come from Hoth and were bundled up for the weather. Gandalf seemed perfectly at ease in his grey robes. His silver scarf whipped around his neck as he held his pointed hat against the wind. It was late morning and everyone was hungry. Chewbacca rumbled.

Han nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I was kinda thinking that too, Chewie. Where are we going exactly?"

"I'm going to introduce you to some friends of mine. Some call them rangers. They have been keeping watch around this area for a long time. I have much to look after, but they will help you and your situation. You won't find them living in a palace but they are loyal friends to have."

"Don't worry," said Leia. "We weren't expecting Naboo-style furnishings. But how will they help us?"

"A way will be found. When you fall from the sky, help can come in interesting ways."

They deviated from the path at this point as Fenheath led them through the brush and lifeless trees of the countryside. Han tried to ask the Wizard how long it would be until they arrived, but Gandalf either would not say or truly didn't know. That evening they came upon a town that stood out in the bleak landscape like a sore thumb. At least Han thought so, but he was in no mood to be charitable.

"This is Old Newstock," explained Fenheath. "So named because it used to be a grazing place for cows. It eventually became a village, and now it is one of the bigger towns in the area. As big as towns get north of the Weather Hills. Some compare it to Bree but it doesn't have the same reputation."

Han smiled condescendingly but said nothing. He wished Fenheath would go jump in a river and they would be rid of his untiring optimism. Leia patted Han on the shoulder firmly indicating he should cut the snide looks and sarcastic comments. He smiled at her more genuinely but, again, said nothing.

Old Newstock was your stereotypical backwards town as far as Han could tell. However, Leia, with her experience as a diplomat who interacted with various cultures, could tell that Old Newstock was the center of activity for miles around if not further. It wasn't a big town but there probably was not a great deal of people living in these parts. What it did have was a wall surrounding it even if it was falling apart in places. Small villages usually did not have such a luxury. As they came closer to the gate, a lamplighter could be seen lighting the few aged lamps that stood like pointed fingers amidst the squat buildings. He started to wave as soon as he saw Fenheath come through the gate, frowned when Gandalf entered, and nearly fell off his ladder when Chewbacca strode through. The Wookie rumbled as people gasped and ran inside their houses as they passed. A few gripped swords but did not came close. Fenheath led them to the inn. The Golden Hive was a much nicer tavern than The Finch at Brickfeld was. It looked like quite a bit of money passed through this place of business. Han was impressed but hardly intimidated. The tavern-goers blanched as Chewbacca entered the large open room, and Han smirked. People usually had that reaction to Wookies, but these people on this planet had obviously never seen anything like Chewbacca. Gandalf stepped out from behind the Wookie, leaned on his staff, and smiled.

"Ah, Jacks. How is business," he inquired. The bartender, a sturdy man of about forty, squinted his eyes at the old man.

"It appears the Grey Wanderer has returned. With a trophy." He gave the Wookie a long glance. He was obviously shaken by its appearance but was quite good at hiding it. "What is this thing? Did you find it in the Trollshaws?"

Before Gandalf could answer Han came up beside the Wizard. "He's mine actually. Don't worry about him. He's tame. At least tame enough to not hurt anyone who doesn't hurt him. He's part of a species from the Far East. Great hunters."

Gandalf went from a tired traveler to a tired old man. He looked at Han out of the corner of his eye and gave him an exasperated stare. "Yes," he said slowly. "All we need are a few rooms for the night. I hope you can oblige us."

The bartender contemplated this for a few minutes. Finally, he nodded his head. "I think we can find room for all of you. He glanced up at Chewbacca. "Most of you."

Snuffling. And more snuffling. Dirt smelt the same most of the time. Other smells didn't mix with it. They just stood out. There was always the dirt smell, and he had begun to hate it.

"Narsock, over here!" He turned his nose up from the ground and sniffed the air. Something. Something strange. His eyes glinted with curiosity and fear. "Narsock!" Blasted frumbler. All of the big lads were so loud. They had no inkling how much noise they made.

"Get over here snuffler!" Narsock shuffled over to the warrrior and snarled.

"Quiet you big oaf. Something's wrong."

"Of course there is something wrong," the big one practically yelled. Not that any of the West-men could hear a lick. "There's a man out there."

"A man? Narsock whispered. "I don't smell him. How do you know?"

The big orc sneered, "I saw him, snuffler. I don't have to stick my head in the ground to scout."

"Quiet, I tell you! He could hear us." Narsock was sniffing the air. There was definitely something out there. Now he could tell that there was a West-man. But also something else…

"Hear us? Fat lot he can hear. He's dead."

Dead? Then what was that he smelled? It smelt like fire but in a weird oily smell.

"Come on snuffler, let's go see." The big orc lumbered off towards the body. Narsock followed slowly, hoping Grinn would come back soon. Othgark always had a bit of respect for the archer ever since Grinn killed two of the big lads without a weapon. Even Yelcknach would be a welcome change. But when they split up he had to go with Othgark. He gritted his teeth. The large orc was now looking at the body. The man looked like he had been torn apart by claws but Narsock could see he had died of some sort of burn. A deep burn in the chest.

"Probably a bear or wolf," said Othgark has he looked up at the dark sky. Narsock put his nose to the ground and sniffed around the body. That smell was strong here. It exuded a sort of blackness that he had only felt the time the Terror came to Mount Gram. He tried to block his memory of that incident. He scanned the area. He could see the man had set up camp here. A tent stood carefully concealed within some bushes. The remains of a fire lay nearby. Othgark had already wandered over to it and kicked it like an idiot. Narsock quickly ran over to see how long it had been since it was burning. If he had to guess it had been in the early morning hours. Right as the sun rose. Right before the darkest part of the night. Othgark was rummaging through the tent now. He came out with a well-made knife, a few pans, some clothes, and a sword. He threw a bag down in between them that seemed to hold some rations.

"He's been here for a while it appears," Othgark remarked. He was eating some food that he must have found in the tent. He slashed the tent down with his sword. "Probably one of those sneaky rangers. They've been sneaking around more since those rocks began to fall. They need gutting." He grinned evilly as he handled his serrated blade. Narsock sniffed the air once again casually. However, this time he stiffened. He sniffed again. He snarled as he stepped back.

"There's another one. He's out there. He's coming. Hide!" The two orcs scrambled into some bushes as quick as they could. Othgark had his knee in Narsock's side but the smaller orc dared not move. He had been trained for stealth as had Othgark (although to a lesser degree). Yet these rangers were uncannily sneaky and could come upon an orc party unawares and kill them all. The best thing to do was watch first. It didn't take long for the ranger to appear. He came out into the clearing slowly fingering his bow. Narsock practically stopped breathing. He could feel Othgark twitch slightly beside him. The ranger looked at the ripped tent and the body of the other ranger. He knelt down beside the body and stared at it. But then he went rigid. In a flash he turned around, drew an arrow and fired his bow up into the trees behind him. There was a grunt, and a body came tumbling down from a branch. As this happened Othgark was sprinting toward the ranger with his knife out. Narsock paused and then followed. The larger orc threw himself at the ranger and barreled into him. There was a grunt as the man felt the weight of Othgark slam into him. But the ranger was quick. He was out of the orc's grasp and kicking at Othgark's face. He missed but hit the shoulder. Othgark punched the man in the face, and the ranger fell back with a broken nose. Narsock ran past at this point and attempted to cut the man's legs out from under him with his short-sword. His sword hit the ground instead and Narsock tumbled to the side. But this gave Othgark his chance, and he drove his dagger hard as the man gasped and fell.

Narsock stood up dazed and looked at the outcome. Othgark had finished the ranger and had done more than was necessary to accomplish that. Narsock's efficient mind was constantly irritated at the larger orc's ways of killing but he never complained. Othgark always did the job. Narsock quickly made it to the body that had fallen from the tree. It was Yelcknach, and he was dead.

"Yelcknach got it," he said. Othgark made his way over. He glanced at the body and then kicked hard at the dead orc.

"Finally. The ranger saved me the trouble. The freak was a bolter."

Narsock nodded in agreement. "We had better get out of here though. There could be more. Grinn! Come on, Yelcknach is dead."

A minute later Grinn appeared through the bushes. Narsock winced at how ugly the orc appeared, but he was slowly getting used to it. The archer came up to them hissing. "There's one more," he said in that unnerving voice. "Somewhere. We almost had him."

Narsock sniffed again and he stiffened again. At that moment he heard the whizz of an arrow and Othgark yelled as it hit his leg. Grinn let fly an answering arrow, and Narsock heard the satisfying grunt as it hit home. Yet, as he turned around he could see a ranger fall but another one loomed behind him. At this point, however, the remaining ranger yelped as he clutched his throat. There was a blur behind the man but Narsock could see nothing. The ranger was struggling against some unseen enemy as he whipped around. The orcs just stood there in awe. The ranger seemed to get a hold of something and threw it to the side. There was a 'clump' as something hit a tree and Narsock could see fur as the invisible being quickly got up. But he didn't wait. "Rangers and invisible fur means run," he yelled to his comrades. The orcs beat a path through the bushes and the last Narsock saw of the conflict was blood coming from the ranger as he still grappled with the unseen menace. Narsock guessed that the doom was the ranger's.