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Old 02-21-2004, 07:15 AM   #348
Fordim Hedgethistle
Gibbering Gibbet
 
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Join Date: Feb 2004
Location: Beyond cloud nine
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Fordim Hedgethistle has been trapped in the Barrow!
Snaveling winced at Toby’s question. Had he wanted to cause the Man pain, the hobbit could have done nothing more pernicious than this. What am I doing here? What am I after? The purse of gold appeared before his waking eye and his skin was suddenly aflame as in his dream. It was only with a monumental effort of self-control that he did not drop his breakfast in pain. Even in the daylight is there no escape or ease for me? He pulled his mind’s eye from the gold but there was no comfort in that, for all he could see was a grey haze where a house – or was it a lodge? – had once stood. Whose lodge was it? And why could he not stop thinking about it?

Tormented by these visions of his shattered dreams, Snaveling took refuge in his past. Fingering the amulet about his neck, he began to speak, quietly and slowly, as though he were relating a story long forgotten, and which was only just now returning to his memory. “I’ve already told you that my people come from the land between the western end of the White Mountains and the Sea. We have lived there quietly, keeping to ourselves for an Age. Much like the folk around here we avoid contact with all other people. We are hunters and trackers, and we used to range unchecked through all the lands between the White Mountains and the River Angren. We used to travel as far as the Misty Mountains and sometimes even beyond them into the rich plains beyond, but when the horsemen of the North came, they harassed us and we have not gone that way for a long time.

“We lived this way for generations, but during the War, Saruman roused the Dunlendings who live to the North of us. They raided the lands south of the Angren and we were forced to abandon those lands. We decided to go south, into Gondor. For a while the hunting was good, but when the War was over and the Men of Gondor returned from Mordor they chased us out. They sent emissaries to us, suing for peace, but their terms were not to our liking – we were to swear never to attack the Men of Gondor or any of their allies, and to keep ourselves within the bounds of our land.” Snaveling spat in disgust. “They know nothing of the hunt. What do hart and hind, wolf and bear know of borders and the lands of Men? When we are in pursuit of our quarry, we do not stop to ask permission of the folk who claim to own the land over which our prey flees!

“My people are few and scattered, but we like our privacy and shun large groups. Even with all the land ‘generously’ allotted us by the noble Men of Rohan and Gondor,” Snaveling’s bitterness was unconcealed and venomous, “we are too many for the game of that land. So I, along with some companions, left, to seek a new land far from meddling folk. Over the years I have lost my companions: some to disease and hardship in the wild, some to the spear of the horsemen and the club of the Dunlendings. Some turned back in despair. But I kept on. Last year, word came to me of this land of Shire, where there were no Men, only a small people who did not like to become involved with the affairs and wars of Men and Elves and Wizards – and it sounded like a place where I could. . .” Snaveling faltered and stopped. Where I could what? he shouted into the darkness of his mind. What had he wanted in this land?

To distract himself from his torment, he turned to Toby. “But what do you make of my strange tale, Mister Hornblower? If you even believe it – for as you know, I am regarded in these parts as a thief and a liar. Is this land as pleasant as I have heard? Do you have a life here of ease and comfort, or do you chafe against it and wish to leave it for the wider world beyond your narrow borders? And you,” he said to a surprised Roa, without even moving his eyes to where she had stood throughout his tale, “what brings you to this land? Surely you seek more than a cup of ale and some weed for your pipe? Speaking of which,” he fumbled with his tobacco pouch and pipe, “I think it’s time for my smoke!”

Last edited by Fordim Hedgethistle; 02-21-2004 at 07:27 AM.
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