[Saurreg]

Loudewater was still badly shaken by his “ordeal” at what was Whittleworth Farm as well as what he thought had come to pass at the part of the Great East Road where a huge beech had fallen. Chancing upon two places that have seen gruesome death on the same day was proving to be too traumatizing for the farmer. His shaking hands were clutching the leather reins of the mule so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his face was paler than usual. Large black mosquitoes that had followed Killer as they passed the marshes where the tree fell buzzed around them still, but Loudewater was impervious to them all. Too shocked to think coherently, he was in a semi-dazed state of numbness.

It was only when killer halted abruptly in his steps and nearly threw the in-alert farmer onto the road before him, did Loudewater break out from his daze and capture what was before him. Killer was reluctant to proceed further and the wide-eyed animal was thrashing this way and that in great argitating, snorting loudly and whinning in alarm and tension.

“Woooh! Wooh boy!” Commanded loudewater in what was the deepest and most reassuring voice he could master. But the frightened animal refused to budge and continued to shake its head in furious agitation.

Finally Loudewater brought the nervous beast into control by bibery with an apple he had taken along. He surveyed his surroundings to get his bearings right and it was only then did he realize that to his left, rising above the emerald green grass covered hill was the old fortress that people called “Weathertop”

The derelict ruin had been abandoned long before Bree was settled but that have not stopped tales of haunting spirits or some other demonic entities from adding to its already sinister reputation. The latest offering from gossipers and yarn-weavers was that Weathertop was now the bastion where brigands and other undesirable riffrafts resided.

Weathertop was supposed to be abandoned, but Loudewater could hear the clanging of metals and hideous cries from throats that do not sound human. Fear rose again from the dark recesses of the farmer’s being and engulfed him, but this time the Imp of Perversion that had visited him the night at the Prancing Pony’s returned with a new side-kick ; the Fairy of Unreasonable Curiosity. The combined influence of the said two overwhelmed the fear in Loudewater and the farmer felt an irresistible urge to see for himself what was happening up there in the ruins.

He looked around and judging what was the least steep of the hill slope, he nudged Killer onto it. But panic gripped the beast again and it refused to budge any further even when Loudewater continued to press at its girth with his boots. Frustrated, the farmer got off clumsily and tied the reins to the branch of a fallen log and made his way up by foot, head giddy with excitement and heart pounding nervously.