Chapter Text
There are few things in this world better than an old book, and the leather bound volume that sat upon the large stump was quite old indeed. Its cover was embossed with leaves and scrolling vines twining about in no particular pattern, weaving in and out of the gilded inscription that announced what could be found inside.
Elvish Poetry. Whether or not the book had truly been written by elves was questionable, but at least the language was authentic. It now shared the stump with a basket filled with fresh mushrooms and a young, bright-eyed hobbit who stared dreamily into the nearby woods. He listened intently to every sound he heard; the insects and birds, the wind in the trees, and the playful babbling of a nearby stream. He hesitated for a moment more, then pulled a wooden recorder from his waistcoat pocket and began to play.
He was so absorbed in the moment that he didn't notice the two mischievous lads who were sneaking up behind him on silent feet, carefully avoiding snapping twigs or shuffling leaves. In an instant, the mushrooms were gone and the stealthy little thieves were on their way.
They dashed down the trail back toward the village, giggling as they went. "He didn't even notice!"' The older of the two pranksters said as they paused to sit on a large stone and enjoy their loot. "He's lucky we aren't goblins! We would have gobbled him up by now!"
"I think I'd rather eat mushrooms." His little brother dug greedily in the basket and pulled out an odd looking, bright yellow one and proceeded to eat it.
The older child joined in, and in less than five minutes the basket was empty. "Those were delicious." He closed his eyes for a second, then yawned loudly. “The best mushrooms that I’ve…ever…eaten. I'm getting sleepy."
The other replied with a nod and a yawn, then stretched out in the crispy fallen leaves on the ground beside the rock. "I'm sleepy too. Good night. Or good day. I don't know..." His words trailed off as he and his brother fell into a deep sleep.
Down the trail and at the edge of the woods, the owner of the stolen mushrooms had returned to his book, unaware they were missing until a chattering squirrel in a nearby tree caught his attention and distracted him from his reading. He then noticed the basket was gone, and immediately identified a tiny footprint in some mud near the stump.
"Oh dear," he muttered softly to himself. "Whomever took those won't be getting far." He re-examined the footprint and determined it was that of a small child. Little ones stealing mushrooms was cause for concern, especially when they were of a rare variety used medicinally to induce sleep.
Finn brushed a stray tendril of dark brown curls out of his face and tucked it behind one ear, then picked up his book and started back down the trail. It didn’t take long to find the mushroom thieves snoozing peacefully beside a big rock. An empty basket lay on the ground nearby and the younger brother still held a half eaten cap in his tiny hand.
"Those rascals." He mused silently as he crouched down beside them and gently shook the shoulder of the little one. "Hey, wake up."
The snoring child didn't budge, so he tried once more and was again unsuccessful. After trying several times to wake them both, he concluded that drastic measures were called for. He took a deep breath, raised his recorder to his mouth, and...
"TWEEEEET!"
"Aaaagh!" The older boy screamed loudly and jumped up, stumbling about as if disoriented, while his little brother swatted at nothing and went back to sleep. A second sharp noise from the instrument forced him to finally open his eyes and scramble to his feet beside his still yawning brother.
"You know it isn't nice to take things that don't belong to you.” Finn said. “Why did you steal my mushrooms?"
They both shuffled their woolly feet nervously in the dry leaves as they faced their accuser. The little one spoke first. "We didn't know they were yours?"
Finn put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Well, I have to say, you’re much better thieves than liars. I'm going to have to tell your mum that you've been up to mischief again. Or maybe I'll forget to. That is, if you admit you stole them on purpose and give me a proper apology."
"We're sorry," The children said in unison, "For stealing your mushrooms."
"Very well then. Apology accepted. Now be on your way home and try to stay out of trouble."
He smiled to himself as they scampered away and down the trail, narrowly avoiding a scolding and whatever other unpleasant consequences their mother could have come up with. Hopefully they had learned their lesson.
With his book still clutched tightly in his arms he returned to his spot, once again climbing onto the old oak stump and spreading open the pages. He held it up to his face and inhaled deeply, the enchanting aroma of old parchment, ink, and leather filling his nose. Who needs adventures after all, when you have books?
It had only been a short moment after returning to his reading that he was once again distracted.
“Oi! Finn!" A vaguely familiar voice called out. "Am I glad to see you! I need your help…or anyone's help for that matter.”
It was Tomkin Took, the tailor's apprentice. He was young, just barely of age, and he appeared disheveled with messy blonde curls hanging in his face. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, his feet were dusty, and an overstuffed haversack was slung over one shoulder. It was not at all a look befitting one who spent his time learning how to dress fashionable gentlemen.
"What is it?" Finn asked as he closed his book and hopped down from the stump. "You seem upset."
Tomkin was indeed upset, waving his hands about wildly as he spoke. "It's my sister, Lavender! She's gone missing and nobody wants to help me search for her. I haven't seen her since morning and I'm afraid she's in terrible danger!” He stopped to catch his breath before continuing. "Nobody believes me, but I saw two men near the edge of Hobbiton this morning. I think they took her!"
"Men? As in big folk?"
"Yes! They were hairy like dwarves but as tall as elves! They were laughing and using crude language, but I don't think they saw me watching them. I've never seen big people before, except for that old wizard that comes around sometimes.”
Finn looked pensive. "Well, I believe you. But what do you think they were up to? It's odd that they would venture this far west." He didn't seem alarmed, as if he hadn't heard the part about the missing girl.
Tomkin was becoming agitated. ”They're up to no good, I tell you! I already said, I think they kidnapped my sister! Why won't anyone listen to me?"
He paced back and forth with his hands in his pockets, continuing to rant as Finn thought things over and pondered the odds of the mysterious men being responsible for Lavender's disappearance. If Tomkin had been searching for her all day and most of his neighbors already knew she was missing, then it was safe to assume a local search would soon be underway. But if there was any chance that he was right about her being kidnapped, she was indeed in danger and there was no time to spare.
"Alright then." Finn said, interrupting Tomkin’s anxious chatter. "We need to approach this logically and come up with a plan. You think the men stole your sister away, but where would they have taken her? Big folk venturing into the Shire could possibly be coming from Bree, but If the men are bandits, I’d guess they’d be traveling through the Old Forest for stealth rather than sticking to the main road. So, what do you say?"
Tomkin's eyes widened suddenly. “The Old Forest! Are you daft? Those woods are full of wild creatures of all kinds; we'll be eaten for sure! And what about orcs and killer trees? Oh no, we'd never make it out alive!"
"You make a good point, but that’s likely where the men came from. If we at least get as far as Buckland, we can assemble a search party when we get there." Finn began walking down the trail toward the village.
"Where are you going?" Tomkin scampered down the trail behind him.
"Home. To gather provisions and make plans. What all do you have stuffed in that bag of yours anyhow, might I ask?"
Tomkin dug in his haversack producing three large apples, a raspberry scone wrapped in waxed paper, a pipe and tobacco pouch, and a pair of woolen socks.
"That's not going to get you very far." An expression of amused bewilderment came upon Finn's face as he took a second look at the odd assortment of items. "Socks? What do you need those for?"
There was no answer as Tomkin awkwardly put his belongings back in the bag and continued to follow. He had no idea what to pack for an adventure, nor had he given much consideration to what he would need to take on a quest to begin with.
“Hurry along." Finn's soft voice intruded into the young tailor’s thoughts. "We need to leave before the hour so we can make it to the Brandywine before dark. We can stay over at my uncle's inn in Buckland, then head out first thing in the morning."
Upon arriving home, he found a large pack basket and emptied out all the scraps of paper and leather that had accumulated there. Finn was a a bookbinder by trade and his modest yet cozy home reflected both his profession and his love of nature. Tidy stacks of books were on every shelf, his kitchen table held both his tools and a rather large teapot, and herbs of all kinds hung from exposed wooden rafters. He reached up over his head and carefully removed a small bundle of aromatic dried leaves, which he set on the table.
"What's that?" Tomkin asked as he looked up at all the drying herbs.
"Smell it. Midges and just about everything else that bites will leave you alone if you have it on you. Just rub the broken leaves on your skin and it lasts for hours." He retrieved a small amount of another herb, which he wrapped in a piece of black fabric and placed in in the pouch that hung on his belt. "And this will ward off malevolent spirits if we have the unfortunate opportunity to meet any. We may have to pass through the barrow downs, and that place is spooky even during the day. I wouldn't dare travel that way by night."
He spoke calmly as he prepared a second amulet which he tucked into a tiny leather bag on a cord, along with a clear crystal from his own pocket. He gave it to Tomkin, who hesitantly placed it around his neck.
"You don't actually believe in magic, do you?" Tomkin asked as he examined the little pouch.
"Sure I do." Finn was already packing more sensible items in his basket like bread, nuts, and dried mushrooms. "You don't have to be an elf to see the magic in nature. It's everywhere, you know. Most folk around here are either afraid of it or they just don't know where to look. But to be honest with you, I can't say I've ever met anyone who doesn’t believe in magic."
"What I meant was, are you a sorcerer? Can you cast spells? Because I thought only wizards could do that."
Finn was silent as he wrapped a brown woolen cloak around his shoulders and hoisted his basket onto his back. Finally he spoke as he handed Tomkin another bundle, this time a generous batch of freshly cured tobacco leaves. "Spells, no. I just let the elementals take care of things."
Distracted by the gift, Tomkin quickly forgot about magic and ceased his questions. Finn had a knack for horticulture, and the tobacco that grew among the rest of his herbs had a reputation for being some of the finest around. He also grew wonderful peaches, two of which he also handed to his new friend.
“Thank you!” Tomkin said with a sincere grin. “Is it time to go now?"
"Indeed. Let's be on our way, shall we?"
It took a few hours to make it to the Brandywine bridge, and most of the peaches, nuts, and dried mushrooms had already been devoured. Finn knew that the food wouldn't last long, and despite his own lack of experience with adventures(he had only ever read about them in books, after all) he had made sure to pack as much as he could comfortably carry. He planned on replenishing as soon as they made it to his uncle's inn, which soon came into view.
It was a well built but obviously old structure with whitewashed wattle and daub construction and a thatched roof. Hanging above the door was a sign bearing the image of a squawking black bird with ruffled feathers and the words THE DUSTY CROW. From within, the sounds of fiddle and spoons rang out over the rumbling of the patrons, and the subtle smells of food and drink wafted from the building.
"Ah, here we are! Come along now, this is where we shall assemble your search party. That is, after we have a drink or two." Finn shot a wink over his shoulder as they entered the pub.
It was a raucous place indeed; noisy, smoky, and filled with a lively crowd that packed the establishment on any given night. Near the bar a fiddler played an exuberant tune while a fat old hobbit with balding grey locks accompanied her on the spoons. Both Finn and Tomkin were mesmerized as she suddenly climbed up onto the bar and proceeded to bow her instrument wildly as the crowd hooted and clapped to cheer her on.
Tomkin gawked at the fiddler as she played on with unselfconscious abandon. Her appearance was striking; at least four feet tall with long auburn curls that cascaded over her shoulders. ”Wow.” Tomkin said. “She really is something."
“Indeed,” answered Finn. “I was thinking the same thing. I've never seen such masterful technique in a setting like this."
Tomkin shook his head as he continued to stare. "That's not what I was talking about.”
The musician wrapped up her performance and hopped down from the bar to accept a tankard of ale offered to her by one of the patrons.
"Thank you, kind sir!" She took a swig without hesitation, then sat herself down at a nearby table where she enjoyed her drink and examined her instrument. It was an old fiddle, its emerald green stain well worn and showing the signs of many years of use. She suddenly looked up and made eye contact with Finn as he approached her table.
"Pardon me for being a bother," he asked, "But have you seen the innkeeper tonight? I'm his nephew and I need to talk to him about something."
"Not a bother at all.” The fiddler said with a warm smile. “As a matter of fact, I just saw him. He should be about."
They exchanged introductions and Finn told her what they were up to, all while Tomkin watched from the bar. She motioned for him to join them at the table, which he was more than happy to do. Just as Tomkin was opening his mouth to speak, he was cut off by the booming voice of the innkeeper.
"Finn, old chap! I've not seen you in ages! What brings you to the Dusty Crow on this fine night? He slapped his nephew's back so hard it stung, then put one chubby arm around his shoulders. "Lookin' for a lass, are ya? Well, take my advice, you'd best leave Verbena here alone. She'd be more inclined to beat you to death with her fiddle than give you her heart."
"Actually," Finn said as he awkwardly shimmied out from under his uncle's arm, "I'm here to help a friend put together a search party. His sister's missing and he suspects she's been kidnapped. I figured the Old Forest would be a good place to look. I'm sure your sons might be up to it?"
The innkeeper shook his head. "I'm afraid not. The whole house has taken ill with the fever, save me and my wife. You're on your own."
Finn sighed heavily. "Thank you anyway. May we at least stay the night so we can start off fresh in the morning? That is, if you have any rooms available."
"Of course I have rooms! And all drinks for you and your friend on the house! Because if you plan on heading through the Old Forest, tonight may be your last. So you might as well enjoy it!”
It was hard to tell if he was jesting or not, but free beer didn't sound bad. Tomkin perked up at the mention and smiled brightly.
"What's that? I accept!"
Verbena chuckled and took a sip of her own drink. "I'll tell you what. I'll join your search party. I couldn't help but notice you're both unarmed, which is a bad idea. I’ll bring what I have, including my bow and arrows. I’ve been hunting in the Old Forest many times, and despite what your uncle may say, a violin isn't exactly a deadly weapon. But for now, we drink."
She raised her tankard. "To friendship and folly.”
