Chapter Text
That strange wild dark long winter came with the howls of wolves and wargs roaming along the river banks, and rumors of trolls - and worse - coming across the frozen parts of the river. The shriek of the wind made people nervous, the creaking, groaning branches of the pines towering over the camp and the long, leafless branches of the trees became terrifying as they reached out, twisting and swaying in the wind for the unwary out at night. Rumors came of Black Riders patrolling the far side of the Mitheithel, of Black Riders who slithered on the ground like snakes. Of unholy shrieks that made the meanest hound hide under the bed and cower and sent the geese screaming and honking in mad fright.
Those already in the River Camp became suspicious of those arriving, giving them long hard looks and closing doors to lock them tight and shutter windows against anything unusual. But one night when the wind was howling around the trees, knocking loose snow to send great swirls of it down the streets, into doorways and into whirlwinds that sent snow up and up above the roofs, a strange sight came through the huge heavy gates of the camp. A sight that had even hardened Rangers sitting and giving a gimlet gaze as first one, then another and another wagon came through. Brightly painted, big yellow wheels and feather-footed black and white horses with manes and tails flowing in the wind as they snorted and pulled, fifteen wagons came rolling in, the second to last one the strangest ever seen by any of those guarding the gates that night. Black where the others had been bright, wide wheels red and shining like blood, and the four horses pulling that wagon so alike it was uncanny. Dark blue and purple ribbons adorned their flowing manes and they moved slowly, the wagon leaving deeper marks that the rest as it moved ponderously past.
The group was sent to a field on the farther side of camp nearer the Bruinen, a field the camp children dared one another to cross and where the Breelanders, who lived nearby, made the sign of the evil eye as they hurried past. Long ago, it was said, there was a battle there. A battle of Men and Vile Creatures sent from Angmar where valiant men perished in terrible ways and Vile Creatures ate their bones before they were driven north again. There were remnants of stone walls and several mounded cairns and the children swore they saw ghostly figures walk the ruins at nights when the moon was full. That field was where the wagons were directed, not far from where the elves lived, up a hill and in the dark forest. Let the strange folk be near one another, some whispered and gathered their children up to hurry them home.
Rumors swirled before many days had passed. Rumors of fell creatures in the black wagon. Creatures that would wreck havoc if loosed. Creatures that had the Breelanders barring doors and shuttering windows tight, their children pulled inside well before twilight.
But others were curious, and when it began to be spread about that there were fantastic things in those wagons, exotic things from far, far away, Barty Brandybuck felt that if he didn’t go see he must burst of curiosity.
He’d just grabbed his hat, jammed one arm in his coat and was all set to run out the door when his mam called for him to come and help. Barty started to run, but his scarf, trailing from the coat rack, caught his foot and he had to stop to yank it free. In those five extra seconds, she’d found him.
“Bartholomew Brandybuck!”
“Ow! Mam!” Ear caught firm in her pinching fingers, Barty was pulled to the kitchen, divested of his coat, hat confiscated, and handed a broom.
“Your sister is sick in bed and I can’t do it all, young man!” Arms crossed, she waited with an expectant look. “You clean this kitchen and if you don’t check with me before you leave, you’ll be eating water and bread for a month!”
He gave the broom a grudging swish. “Pad don’t have to do nothing around here.”
“Your brother works at the mill all day, Barty.” The baby started to cry. Again. Barty thought all his baby brother did was cry, poop and spit up. With a weary look, his mother turned and hurried down the hall.
He could have left then, but mam was dead serious about the bread and water. Her sense of humor had left when his father had gone to fight on the front. He hadn’t come home yet. It was winter and they were supposed to come home. Barty took the rugs out and put them on the line, beating them more vigorously than was called for. He shivered and hustled back inside, standing at the kitchen stove for a moment.
Poppy was coughing again, hacking like a lung was going to squelch out any second. Pad had said whatever it was, it was going around the camp like wildfire. Said the line at the clinic was longer than he’d ever seen and rumor was some folk had died from the sick. Poppy might be a pain but Barty didn’t want her to die.
“Barty!”
His mother sounded scared. Barty set the broom aside and hurried back to where she stood, his baby brother in her arms. “What’s wrong?”
“Your brother is sick and Poppy is getting worse.”
Sure enough, his brother’s cheeks were bright red and his cry was a weak croak against her shoulder. “You want me to go get Pad?”
“I want you to go to the clinic and see if you can get medicine.”
“I ain’t done with the kitch-”
“Forget the kitchen! Barty, go.” She turned him and pushed to get him going. “Get your elf friend if that gets it faster. Those healers are his family, aren’t they?”
“Ki? Yeah, maybe.” Trotting to the door, he grabbed his coat and wrapped the scarf around his neck and up to his ears and hurried out of their warm home towards the clinic.
Ki wasn’t there, but then he wasn’t usually hanging out at the clinic. The line was just as long as Pad had said if not longer. Hopping in impatience, Barty raced around to the back and went up the stairs to beat a rapid knock on it. Tits on a pig it was cold! Hopping in place, Barty raised his hand to knock again when the door opened and he darted to the side to avoid get swept off the step.
An elven woman stood looking down at him, brows drawn together in a firm frown. “Master hobbit, the entrance is around front.”
He got his foot in the door before she could close it and darted past before she could grab at his coat. Barty didn’t know where the room was his brother had the rock pulled out of his nose, but looked into each as he scurried along, barely avoiding being grabbed as the woman chased after him. “Elrohir, sir! Please, help!” Just starting up another corridor, he was nabbed and stopped abruptly. “Sir, help!”
“Go around front, young hobbit, and we will help you.” Hands firmly guiding him by the shoulders, the elf was marching him back towards the door. “You cannot just burst in.”
“Elrohir!” She had him at the door and was pushing him through when he heard an amused voice ask.
“What’s going on, Cal? Do we have an intruder?”
“He’s just leaving.”
“Hey! Stop, let me go!” Barty squirmed, trying to get free, only half out the door.
Elrohir shook his head and gestured for Barty to come to him. “Let ‘em go, Cal. He’s one of Ki’s friends.”
“He should still have to wait in line.” Back straight, she marched past them and up the corridor.
“She’s right. This better be urgent, bub.” Kneeling, Elrohir looked the boy over. “What hurts?”
“Not me, sir! My sister and baby brother. They’re coughing and mam says they got fevers. She’s worried sick about my baby brother.” A slight exaggeration, but Barty sold it with all the hobbit sincerity he could muster.
“She send you here to get something?”
“Medicine, I reckon.”
Elrohir held his gaze another moment then stood. “Come with me.”
Trotting at his heels, Barty followed him to an office and he stood in the door looking at the papers and books scattered all over the desk. There was even a meal, half-eaten. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your supper, sir.”
“Don’t worry about it, bub.” Digging in a black bag, Elrohir pulled out a bottle. “How old are your brother and sister.”
“Poppy’s fourteen and the baby is goin’ on two.”
“Right, he had a rock in his nose.” Shaking out pills, he poured them into a separate container and quickly wrote out a label before sticking it on the bottle. “Here’s the deal, bub. You take this to your mother, and make sure she reads the label, got it? If they’re not better in two days, have her bring them in.” Elrohir handed Barty the bottle. “Sooner if they get worse.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you!”
Elrohir showed him the route out and laughed softly as the boy hustled for home. He turned to find Cal shaking her head.
“You shouldn’t indulge him just because he knows your wife’s brother.”
“Ah, he just needed a little help. C’mon, who’s my next victim?”
Two days later and Barty was ready to run away and join the army. Or go ask them Traveller folk if they needed a hobbit to do something. Anything. Sitting on the fence out front of the hole, he watched his brother come whistling down the lane, and glared at him. “What’re you so happy about?”
Laughing, Pad ruffled his curls and laughed again as Barty swatted at his hand. “Why so glum?”
“Ma! She’s driving me crazy with, Barty, hold your brother. Barty, go change your brother’s nappy. Barty, go pluck the chicken. Barty, go see if your sister needs anything. Barty, Barty, Barty!”
It was a fair imitation of their mother’s voice. “Yeah, she’s been a bit shrill, Squirt, but she’s worn to a frazzle.”
“So am I!” Barty glared harder. “And where were you last night? Coulda used an extra hand.”
Pad reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a postcard sized flyer. “Heard ‘bout this, I reckon?”
Taking it, Barty scanned it and his mouth fell open. “This is where you were?”
“Pretty amazing, I tell you, Bartholomew, my lad.”
Handing it back, Barty gave a sullen look at his feet. “I hate this. Da being gone and Mam is half-crazy most the time and the baby is just plain stupid.”
“Hey.” Pad sat next to his brother on the fence and bumped his shoulder. “C’mon, it’s not all that bad.” The snorted reply said it all. “Wanna hear about the Travellers? They’ve got a mermaid and-”
“Do not!” A snort and Barty slugged his brother’s arm. “Liar!”
“Settle down, Squirt.”
Barty sniffed and looked away. “What else?”
“Got a real Uruk head!” Pad put a hand to his heart. “Swear it, they do.”
“How’d you get in?” They’d lost all they had when they fled Buckland.
“Won tickets. At work. They drew my name.” Pad smirked at his little brother. “Guess I’m just lucky.”
Hopping off the fence, Barty shrugged. “Whatever.” He gave a shove as he walked past and then bolted inside and slammed the door shut in Pad’s angry face. Ha, he thought. So much for luck.
Poppy was better and Barty was finally off baby-watch. Curiosity, only made worse by Pad strutting around hinting about what other wonders the Travellers had, drove Barty out to stand on the road, watching the wagons. Was that a bear? It was! A man had a stool and the bear was lumbering around, capering at times as the man threw him food, then he sat on the stool. Sat! Like a real person and all. There was nowhere to hide but Barty was caught up in watching the bear and didn’t see the man until he was almost right next to him.
“Hey! You think you get a free show, huh?”
Barty looked up at the man, staring as he’d never seen someone who looked so exotic. He wore black around his eyes and his shirt was some shiny blue fabric tied around his waist with a yellow sash, and his pants were a dark green and tucked into boots. His black hair was curly and long and…was that an earring?
“Hey, raklo!”
He blinked as the man snapped his fingers in his face. “No.” His gaze was drawn back to the bear and Barty shook his head. “I’ve never seen a bear.”
“Yeah? Well, come back tonight with money and you can see everything.”
He had a gold tooth. Barty felt as though a new world was opening up before him. “How much?” Gaping at the amount, his shoulders fell. One last look at the bear, and Barty turned to head home.
“Wait, raklo, wait.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“What do you have, huh?”
Not much. Once upon a time, he’d been part of a huge family that had owned so much stuff they had rooms full of treasures they didn’t even know about. Now. Mournful look and Barty gave a shrug. “I have a cat’s eye marble.” All the boys coveted that marble. Dark blue with a gold eye, it was his most treasured possession.
The man gave him a pitying look. “Nah, raklo. No deal.” Turning, the man started back towards his camp.
From one of the wagons, Barty heard a familiar croupy cough and wondered. He bit his lip and ran to cut the man off. “Um…sir, is someone sick? I heard a cough and well, my sister and baby brother were sick too and coughed like that and they got really bad and if it wasn’t for the elvish magic potion they gave us…” Barty shook his head and widened his eyes. “My baby brother would be dead.”
“Magic potion.” The man snorted. “Raklo, we sell those.”
“But not elvish potions.” Barty pointed to the trees and the hill where Kiernan’s family lived. “You’ve probably seen them, right? The elves? I know them. My best friend is an elf.”
“Yeah?”
A quick nod. “His mother is a healer. So is his sister’s husband.”
The man had turned to face the hobbit boy now and suddenly knelt to stare at him. “If you lie to me, raklo, I will find you and cut your heart out. So be very careful to be honest.”
Barty gulped, eyes round. “I swear! Ki’s mother is a healer!”
“And they have a potion.”
“Lots of ‘em.” A grimace for the one time he’d had to swallow one of those potions after falling into the frozen lake. “Taste awful but I swear my baby brother is fine now.”
The man stood and gestured. “Come with me.”
Barty looked back towards the Breelander’s homes, and past that, where his cozy hole was up in the hillside. He turned and saw the man was waiting for him. Chin raised, Barty nodded and caught up to the man and walked with him. Barty was going to see those wonders.
And Pad was going to eat his words.