[Ealasaide]

Barrold Ferny

Barrold Ferny had never been troubled by such a thing as conscience. Nonetheless, as he rode away from Rivendell, seated in the bounty hunter’s travel-worn saddle, astride the bounty hunter’s gray horse, and on his way southward to claim the bounty hunter’s woman as his reward for services rendered, Ferny found himself casting a nervous glance backward over his shoulder more often than he would ever admit to anyone, half-expecting to see the bounty hunter looming toward him out of the thin mountain air, his pale blue eyes burning like coals from the shadows of his disfigured face, his hand reaching out for the back of Ferny’s neck. Instinctively, Ferny shivered and cast another glance behind him, seeing nothing but the back end of the horse and a steep, narrow mountain trail that lengthened behind him as he put more and more distance between himself and what he believed to be the now dead bounty hunter.

He flinched as a soft breath of cold air touched the back of his neck. “Go away,” he muttered, flicking his collar up with one hand. The horse, or Hay-jaws, as Ferny had taken to calling him, suddenly whinnied and swished his tail, pricking his ears back as though he, too, had felt a cool breath and perhaps heard a word or two in his master’s voice. Ferny reined the horse to a halt and scratched his nose.

Gladden Fields. By garn, that was a long distance away and he’d have to cross the Misty Mountains to get there, unless he managed to catch Naiore up before she reached whatever pass she intended to take. As far as he knew, there were only a few ways to get through the Misty Mountains: one was the High Pass that lay to the north, the other two were far to the south of Gladden fields, being the Redhorn Pass just north of Moria or there was the possibility of going through Moria itself. Now that was a scary thought, but it would be, oh, so like Naiore to choose that route. But surely even she would not risk passing through Moria. Or would she? Ferny shuddered in spite of himself. Rumor still said that Moria was an evil place. If the bounty hunter’s ghost was ever going to grab him, it would be in Moria. He would never make it to Gladden Fields.

“Woulda been nice if she’d said how she planned to get there...” he muttered, dismounting to study the trail. He was not much of a tracker, but even Ferny could see that two females had passed that way recently. If he kept up his pace, he figured he could overtake them by nightfall. The trail that Naiore had taken out of the campsite on the ridge had led south only briefly before taking an abrupt turn to the north. Squinting up at the late afternoon sky, Ferny realized that he had been riding north for over an hour.

“She’s making for the High Pass,” he said with finality. “Eh, Jaws?”

The horse merely snorted and turned his great head to look back down the path toward Rivendell.

“Stop that,” growled Ferny, pulling himself back into the saddle. “He ain’t comin’ after you and we ain’t goin’ back. Yer givin’ me the creeps.” With that, he flapped the reins and chupped to the horse, who started forward again with a slight jump. Ferny again thought he felt the brush of cold fingers against his neck and, with a sharp bark of revulsion, kicked the horse into a trot as the path temporarily leveled ahead of them.

“Ain’t no such thing as ghosts and you’re dead,” he grumbled to the air. “So go away, confound ye.” He had killed plenty of men in his lifetime, Ferny had, and never lost a wink of sleep or a moment’s peace over it. Why the bounty hunter was hanging around, he couldn’t quite figure out unless it had something to do with what Naiore had done to him. Ferny remembered again the blank look that had come into the man’s eyes as he walked away from the Ravenner, sword in hand and blood dripping from his nose. He cast another look behind him.

“Mind games,” he muttered. “Bounty hunter ain’t here. It’s mind games playin’ by that evil elf. That’s what it is. Messin' with me 'ead. Makin’ me think ’e’s ’ere.”

He reined the horse to a stop and looked back over his shoulder. “YOU’RE DEAD!” he shouted. He felt his heart skip a beat as echoes floated back to him from the distant mountains, a soft voice repeating, “You’re dead.” For a moment, he almost thought he heard his name added to the end. With a cold sweat breaking out all over his body, Ferny kicked the horse forward. He had to catch Naiore, get his reward and get back to Bree. Now. Barrold Ferny was not going to spend a night alone in the woods. Wasn’t it true that ghosts could only get you if you were alone? He thought he had heard that somewhere. Well, come flood or lightning, he was not going to spend a night alone.

The trail remained level for some distance, lined by brush and the occasional overhanging tree. Riding fast, Ferny saw the tiny figures of Naiore and the southern woman at last come into view, mounting the higher ground in the distance ahead of him. An oily grin touched his face as the horse, of his own accord, suddenly surged forward. Ferny’s grin vanished quickly as the animal abruptly veered off the path and gained speed, heading directly for the low-hanging branches of a gnarled old oak. Before he could react, the lowest branch caught Ferny across the midsection, scraping him as cleanly from the saddle as bacon from a pan. He landed on the ground in a sputtering heap.

The gray horse stopped several yards away and turned back, baring his large teeth and swishing his tail. Ferny had finally had enough. He struggled to his feet and drew his sword, so angry that he could not even find words. Instead, he uttered a guttural growl and, raising his sword, charged full at the gray horse. The horse whinnied and gracefully side-stepped the man’s wild-eyed attack. Then, with a flick of his long tail, the horse turned and trotted away, back up the path toward Rivendell.

Still holding his sword limply in his hand, Ferny watched as his erstwhile mount disappeared into the distance. Then, finally, he managed to find words... curse words and a lot of them. Belching a litany of profanity, he sheathed his sword and began to jog in the direction of Naiore and Benia Nightshade. If he hurried he could still catch them by nightfall.