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Middle-earth Adventure Journal! - 11
🕑 Added 2025-09-20 14:59:28 +0000 UTCChapter 11: The Song That Brings Hallucinations
Aedric sheathed Mithreleth with a swift motion. His anger hadn't subsided—he simply had pressing duties and couldn't court trouble.
Moreover, he couldn't draw sword against others in broad daylight over mere conflict, especially when his opponents had yielded. Such violent acts, once spread abroad, might land his face on every Shire village's blacklist, even without pursuit or judgment.
He'd be refused entry to towns. Let it pass—his side had suffered no loss anyway. Future opportunities would allow him to teach these rogues a lesson.
Aedric stepped slightly aside, revealing his companion behind, quietly indicating: "Go ahead with your inquiry."
"Have you seen two Hobbit children?" Bilbo spoke directly, raising his arm to demonstrate: "About this tall—the boy wore a light green shirt with brown curls like mine, the girl a pink floral blouse with wine-red curls..."
"Yes." The proprietress nodded decisively, speaking in friendly tones: "The two youngsters lodged here last night, departing by boat at first light. Said they were bound for the Barrow-downs on adventure."
"Indeed, I saw them too." A bread-bearing customer looked uneasy, saying with lingering fear: "First time I've encountered Hobbits so bold. The Barrow-downs are terrifying enough, and folk have spotted shadows wandering nearby."
"Moreover, the Withywindle valley along the route's hardly peaceful. Last time departing Buckland for Bree, seeking merely a shortcut, I was beaten senseless by an old willow and had my entire cart overturned. Had I not fled swiftly, I might never have escaped."
"That was your problem." The pipe-smoking dwarf stepped forward with mocking laughter: "You grain-peddling profiteer, buying low and selling high—surely your reputation in Buckland's poor indeed. Otherwise you wouldn't have suffered such treatment."
The bread-bearing customer flushed red, falling silent and slipping back into the crowd.
Two years ago, a harsh winter hit the entire Shire, especially Buckland. The poor harvests left people desperate for food. He took advantage of the situation to make huge profits, which earned him a terrible reputation.
Naturally, having employed similar tactics in the Blue Mountains, the dwarf felt free to mock him as a profiteer.
The dwarf blew a smoke ring, looking at Aedric and Bilbo while adding: "Walking the banks invites certain disaster, but sailing down the Withywindle's center poses few problems—all Buckland's elders know this truth."
Aedric and Bilbo exchanged glances and nodded. Had only the proprietress spoken thus, they might harbor doubts given their recent conflict. But with passing merchants bearing witness, their direction proved correct.
Moreover, lagging only half a day behind, hastening might truly overtake the children before they reach the downs.
"By the way, we'd like to borrow your oars."
"Oars?" The proprietress looked at the Hobbit, pausing several seconds before comprehension dawned. "No trouble at all."
She called loudly: "Gruel! Come find something for our esteemed guests."
As her words fell, the recently kicked Hobbit clambered up nearby. For minor bumps and scrapes, they recovered remarkably quickly—Hobbit racial gift.
Only now did Aedric see clearly—the fellow wore an apron stained with flour and grease, appearing to be a cook.
Gruel approached trembling, looking up to find the proprietress and other hands watching him. He shrank his neck, opening his mouth with a mosquito-soft voice: "What... what shall I find?"
The proprietress pointed at Bilbo, saying irritably: "Fetch oars for this guest!"
"Oh, oh, in the storeroom—please follow me."
"Go then." Aedric watched the cook called Gruel, signaling Bilbo to retrieve the oars while he gripped his sword hilt, continuing to watch that group of hands.
Something seemed off about this place.
Before long, Bilbo returned bearing oars, while Aedric, watching the fawning hands and proprietress, slowly retreated with sword-grip in hand. Only upon boarding their boat did he truly relax.
"Aedric, something's wrong with this place." Bilbo looked back at the increasingly distant inn, unable to contain himself: "I recall the Golden Wheat Sheaf being family property—both proprietor and proprietress were Hobbits, with their children as servants."
"How'd it become such a gang of fierce rogues?"
"I noticed." Aedric nodded.
What proprietress wouldn't know where her own goods were stored, requiring the cook's aid in finding them? Moreover, the cook was bullied by the doorman. How could this be proper? It was completely wrong indeed.
Either bandits had seized the place, or it was a den of thieves.
However... "Bilbo, we lack time." Aedric shook his head, rowing vigorously: "Right now what's most important is overtaking those children. Whatever happened to that inn has already occurred. Once we settle current matters, I'll return."
"Yes." Bilbo nodded forcefully. He knew this was right, rowing faster.
The boat turned from the Brandywine onto the Withywindle, the journey changing from downstream to upstream. Fortunately the Withywindle wasn't swift, its brownish waters flowing quite gently. Thus, their rowing proved not overly strenuous.
The boat advanced at considerable speed while terrain on both sides gradually rose, forming two mountain ridges. Steep slopes bore countless trees—all green to the eye, yet lacking vigorous life. Instead they appeared gloomy and dim.
The sun moved from east to west, yet its radiance was blocked by dense canopy. Like groups of hostile green giants overlooking the lonely boat upon the stream.
The banks grew thick with ancient willows of unknowable age, their slender branches hanging like curtains in the water, constantly swaying with the current.
At some unknown moment, sweet singing arose, like a maiden's seductive voice.
Aedric instantly grew alert, looking about. According to records he'd read, the Old Forest housed creatures between trees and Ents. Called Huorns, they were temperamental and extremely vengeful—devilishly troublesome.
Aedric suspected the branch at his waist came from some willow that had gained sentience. If it had followed and joined more of its kind, his and Bilbo's situation would prove most dire.
Regrettably, everywhere he looked showed only willows upon willows—no abnormalities detectable.
The singing grew sweeter, like golden honey poured straight into his brain. Soon Aedric's thoughts grew confused, his keen gaze loosening to become hazy and heavy.
Alertness was cast aside amid the cloying song, his hands gripping the paddle unconsciously rowing toward shore. Those trailing branches swayed and danced as if welcoming visitors, several glowing emerald green as if life flowed within them.
Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!
Like raging waves crashing against cliffs, a thunderous sound suddenly exploded beside Aedric's ears, jolting him awake.
Aedric immediately realized he'd unknowingly fallen into a trap. Yet the singing continued still.
Frowning deeply, he hastily cupped river water to splash his face—the icy sensation instantly cleared his mind.
"Whew." Aedric exhaled lengthily, his expression uncertain.
He knew that thunderous roar pulling him from confusion likely came from Ulmo's protection. Or rather, his diligent practice of Celorn had proved crucial at this moment.
"Truly troublesome creatures!" Aedric cursed inwardly.
They were sailing mid-river, where influence should theoretically prove minimal. Had they passed beneath those branches, Aedric didn't dare imagine whether he could've awakened!
Once his spirit steadied somewhat, he turned to check. Bilbo's face showed great anxiety, muttering words like "Christina" and "I'll rescue you immediately," his arms working vigorously to drive the boat toward shore.
Clearly the Hobbit heard different sounds.
Splash. Aedric again cupped river water, splashing Master Baggins thoroughly and pulling him from anxious rescue thoughts.
"Aedric?" Bilbo wiped river water from his face, saying urgently: "I seemed to hear Christina's cries for help—she's on the south bank; we must..."
"No, it was an illusion, Bilbo—an illusion." Aedric continued splashing water on his face, explaining: "The Old Forest houses one called Old Man Willow, extremely skilled at weaving mazes with song. We both just fell into his maze, hearing false voices."
"That wasn't Christina—it was a trap! We need to immediately row back to mid-river."
"Not Christina?" Bilbo shook his head somewhat regretfully. Having experienced all this, his heart burned with anxiety to recover his niece.
"Trust me—it certainly wasn't." Aedric denied loudly, wielding his paddle as he and Bilbo drove the boat away from the south bank.
Returning to mid-river. Then commotion arose from shore like giants moving within, the sweet singing vanishing to become unwilling, loud roars.
Aedric knew this was Old Man Willow and his companions—apparently they'd abandoned pursuing him and Bilbo. At least, this time they had.
He raised his head, pointing ahead: "Bilbo, are we nearly there?"
The river valley continued forward to vast hills shrouded in mist, with terrain on both sides growing taller and narrower, forming a straight pass. Sunlight fell like a sacred white spear touched by gray, piercing the mountain's heart.
"Yes." Bilbo nodded. Though he'd never visited this place, maps recorded the Barrow-downs' northern entrance lay there. That straight pass was their destination.
Both continued rowing until they discovered an abandoned boat in the shallows. Besides this, two clear sets of footprints led forward, vanishing into the boundless sea of mist.
Obviously, this was Christina and Saradoc's boat. They'd already departed for the Barrow-downs.
One must admit, young folk truly feared nothing—even such eerie places failed to deter them!
"Let's go." Bilbo seized his well-prepared pack, leaping from the boat to rush headlong into the misty sea.
Aedric caught him, looking at the dense white mist mixed with gray darkness: "Let me lead—grip this and follow behind."
Without allowing refusal, he pressed the emerald branch into Bilbo's hands and strode ahead. Now approaching the Barrow-downs, none knew whether Barrow-wights might suddenly emerge from the mist.
The present Master Burglar had barely left home one day, experiencing no proper battles. He couldn't let a Hobbit walk in front.
The recovered Bilbo clearly understood this reasoning, obediently following behind.
Initially both moved extremely slowly, surrounding mist constantly rolling and churning around them. Aedric groped forward constantly, eyes scanning about, right hand gripping his sword hilt, always prepared for sudden developments.
Several times he considered returning for the rope bundle to tie to trees, lest he and Bilbo lose their way in this dangerous place.
However, Aedric soon found other methods, and the mist seemed not particularly inclined to trouble him. Though vision remained hazy with visibility barely five meters, looking up revealed a red glowing orb hanging in the western sky.
It was the directional sun—the golden fruit left by Laurelin before its withering. Most worldly evil feared its radiance.
Contrarily, Bilbo seemed to have become a blind man, seeing nothing, clutching the branch tightly while stumbling behind. From time to time he'd nervously inquire: "Aedric, are you ahead?"
"I'm here." Aedric responded loudly, trying to reassure his companion while feeling quite puzzled inwardly.
After all, the distance between them was less than a meter.
"Could it be because mist is itself a form of flowing water, thus my vision's somewhat better?" Aedric couldn't fathom it.
When Elrohir taught him, he'd only said continued practice would bring increasing strength. But specific effects varied by individual. Without sufficiently clear guidance, he could only gradually comprehend.
Though thinking such thoughts, Aedric's steps never ceased. He kept the sun to his left while constantly advancing northward.
First they crossed a depression, then climbed a ridge, and suddenly the view opened wide. Thick white mist drifted below, surrounding tombstones and barrows standing upon hilltops. Aedric halted, advancing no further.
Not far ahead, two upright megaliths towered before them like doors guarding a vast tomb filled with dark shadows.
Suddenly, a small flame leaped forth, dispelling darkness to reveal a tiny figure.
