When my visitor neared, I supplied my trademark sarcasm. "You seem oddly familiar."

He smiled. "As do you. It's been a long time."

"Am I required to bow? Or will a tip of the hat suffice?"

Moot point. My hat, being an impediment to the hard labor I had recently undertaken, had been removed.

He chuckled. "I wonder if it should be I that bows to you, dear friend."

I waved the suggestion away. "The mere thought of being a king chafes me."

"I thought it might."

I returned my hat to my head. "What brings you down to this gods forsaken country backwater? Getting an itch to sample the local flavor?"

"The ale, perhaps?" Nob suggested.

Aragorn sighed. "Alas, I would give my crown to be traveling here under such idle pretenses."

I frowned, stroking my beard. "I suspected you might."

He stared at the swelling bonfire, grimacing at the unpleasant smells of singed fur, Orc, and Dwarven flesh.

"Do you have any incense?" Nob moaned. "This odor is most foul!"

"I imagine you would need a considerable quantity," Aragorn coughed.

I offered him a small vial of myrrh. "Dab some of this around each of your nostrils."

He did so, and immediately set to coughing. "This is horrid!"

I smirked. "Still, tis better than the smells of burning flesh, is it not?"

He just shook his head.

Aragorn frowned at a dead Orc. "What's all this, then?"

I waved at a blackening grizzly. "The product of some unholy demon from the sky, that's what this is. The gods appear to have loaded boats full of dead bodies and these face graspers' and thrown them down on Middle Earth like so much refuse."

The king seated himself on a log, shaken by the revelation.

I gave him a grim smile. "I take it Gondor has been struck by something similar."

"Indeed. A boat was found in the Pelennor Fields, housing bodies, just as you described." The man swallowed. "Ben Sharkey and his Orc friend, they brought the eggs in a wagon. The fools!"

I shook my head. "I fail to see why you allowed Orcs to do business in the White City to begin with. Their mere presence should set off warning bells."

"Ah, Gandalf...Much has changed. The moment I opened up the society to a form of democracy, the people began to get strange ideas, like equal rights for Orcs. They have families, you know."

Nob's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "You're mad!"

It made even less sense to me. "You'd think, after such a bloody, violent war, with so much loss of life..."

"They say war is a catharsis, and in its wake, a nation can be brought together in harmonious unity. And even in the most violent of wars, one can find acts of mercy, and, dare I say it, acts of love. Have you heard the story of the widow that took in the wounded Orc general?"

Nob's jaw dropped in surprise. "What about the wounded...?"

"Spare me," I groaned.

"Their children, to put it politely, have an unusual appearance."

Nob suddenly looked sick to his stomach.

"I should say so."

The man winced, offended by my lack of racial sensitivity. "By the by, I would advise against describing Minas Tirith as the White City. It tends to make one extremely unpopular."

I hardly cared what anyone thought of me, so I replied with a disinterested "Ah."

"I have an Orc as an adviser. His name is Skalg."

I found this most foolhardy, but I held my tongue, staring sullenly into the fire.

"Tragic waste of bear meat," Aragorn muttered as he eyed the carcass.

"You're welcome to it. It's good to see that your newfound nobility has not yet left you detached from the cares of the common man.

He gave me a small smile, and we were silent again.

"Gandalf, surely you must know something about how to stop these...Graspers.'"

Nob shook his head. "We've just spent the last hour prodding them with swords. They appear to have no vulnerabilities."

I frowned, prepared to dispute his claims of involvement in my experiment, but Aragorn responded forthwith. "Did you just say we'?"

Nob shrugged.

The young king gave me an incredulous stare. "Has the great wizard at last taken on an apprentice?"

I burst out laughing. "Hardly!"

But then, as I met eyes with Mr. Appledore, I began to wonder.

The question: Would this strange, randomly selected Hobbit be trusted with even a portion of a wizard's incredible power?

The answer, I gave myself: A resounding no.

Not yet. "Our previous Hobbit companions have intentions of settling down. Mr. Appledore here, however, appears to be in need of constructive activity, as were his unfortunate friends."

We again regarded the fire in silence.

"No solutions then," Aragorn muttered.

"None so far. There's a lobe on their front end, but it makes no difference. Our every attempt results in a fatality."

Nob cast me a look that bespoke hurt pride and resentment. "We need to find the chest rupturing serpents that have fled us. Lest they kill again."

I nodded. "The abominations have escaped. Even now they roam the countryside, inflicting death. If only I had a magical device with which to detect motion."

"How many escaped?"

I confess that I didn't know, due to being otherwise occupied.

"Six," Nob supplied.

I clapped my hands. "Nob, you wonderful Hobbit! You are just full of surprises! Pray tell, how did you arrive at that number?"

He shrugged. "I thought if I couldn't do anything else, I might as well make myself useful."

This statement made me raise an eyebrow. "You certainly appear to be doing just that."

I did not expand on this praise. No use giving him a swelled head.

Seeing that it already approached dusk, I jumped to my feet. "I fear we have dallied too long before this blaze. We must hurry and search the woods for signs of these foul creatures. It is likely they have killed while we have been otherwise occupied. Perhaps we can use the bloodshed as a way to track their progress."

Aragorn also rose to his feet. "I enjoy a good hunt. In fact, if you don't mind..."

He blew on a ram's horn. "Skalg! Come forward, dear sir! I have need of your services!"

During our little fireside chat, I had examined the king's party as they tended their horses and talked amongst themselves. Two white men, one man of a dark color, and a tan woman with unusually thick lower eyelids.

Only a cursory examination, for I now discovered there had been a fifth individual in this party: Aburly figure with midnight black skin, horns and a lopsided pig's face.

He appeared in our midst without a sound, clad in a fine dark tunic and leggings, with a crossbow strapped on his back. With the cape, gloves and the elegant boots, he had the appearance of a dandy, though I felt uncertain who should be impressed.

The thing's voice reminded me of a goat choking on gravel. "How can I assist you, O king?"

"Skalg, my good man. There are Face Graspers and chest rupturing snakes loose in these woods. If you can help us locate and destroy all six, we would be most appreciative."

The creature pounded its arms across its muscular chest. "It is an honor to serve you, my Lordship."

Having an Orc in our party proved advantageous. After performing a song of mourning for the fallen kin he spotted in the blaze (to ensure its soul's release from its body), a couple sniffs, a nibble of tree bark and a search of the ground yielded immediate results.

Skalg pointed to a thicket. "The things go here." He pointed to a tree. "And there." He located three other spots.

"The wounded one will be simple to spot unaided." He aimed a claw at some bushes. "My king, you are clever, so I suggest you go after the one which traveled thus."

The Orc directed my Hobbit friend to the tree. "Perhaps you and the wizard can make an attempt on the wounded one, but I do not have much confidence in either of you. I suspect a blind child will do better."

I frowned. "You did not hire him for his manners, did you, Aragorn?"

His Lordship' shook his head. "Still, one could not ask for a better bodyguard."

Aragorn summoned his aides to search the other areas.

As the sun was rapidly descending, I decided it time to work on my tracking skills. "A blind child." The arrogance of the beast!

As I studied the ground, I thought, have I really gotten that soft? And why had Aragorn not informed his unsavory ally of all the times my tracking abilities were a lifesaving benefit to countless Hobbits, dwarves, elves and humans alike?

I searched a bush, partially destroyed by acid, still fuming over this.

Skalg was just a dumb beast after all.

Perhaps it's best that they don't know. The most dangerous foe is the one you least suspect.

Remembering the place from which the tail-less Face Grasper had leapt, I traced the melted snow and acid damaged twigs through snowy branches, icicle laden bushes, and weeds enclosed in sleeves of ice.

We tracked it through a log and down a slanting hill. Along the way, Nob cursed about stubbing his toe. Apparently tough Hobbit feet weren't always the best thing in the world. When would they ever learn how to wear shoes?

Whilst searching the ground, pondering how such a clumsy Hobbit could possibly succeed as a burglar, he waved a glistening black, hollowed out staff in of my face. "Gandalf! What do you make of this?"

In all my travels, I had never seen such an object: Upper portion was cylindrical and as long as my arm, encased in a square housing, lined with ribs. Below, a pull mechanism, similar to a crossbow.

As an experiment, I peered between a pair of posts atop the cylinder, tugging back on the small handle.

Damned lucky that I had the sense to point the open end of the tube away from my person, and Nob, for the infernal rod let out a tremendous bark, causing a portion of a nearby tree to split in half like a bolt of lightning had struck it.

"Great gods, Gandalf!" Nob cried. "What in the world is that thing?"

I scratched my head, peering in the open end, which now smoked like a discarded pipe. "It appears to be a magically enhanced crossbow."

"Why would someone discard such a thing in the middle of the woods?"

I made no reply as I examined the device, sliding the box attachment back and forth on the crossbow shaft.

I picked up a pair of little golden arrowheads that had fallen out of the device during my experimentation. The device had created a small pile of these things.

Deciding I might need them again, I stuffed them and the others in my pocket, then set about searching along the way we came.

A span behind us, I discovered the body of a man with a shaven head, clad in soft textured green raiment and boots molded from a material I could not easily identify. Around his neck he wore a beaded necklace with a pair of engraved silver talismans hanging from it. His chest had been ruptured.

I would have continued my investigations, but at that particular moment, my eyes beheld a dark man sized shape leaping at my companion from the trees.

He screamed and tumbled out of view.

I jiggled the box attached to the automatic crossbow weapon, then gripped its release lever portion, marching off to the Hobbit's aid.