Amdir's Request
Roborn looked around the dusty town. After spending the night in the spare room of the town’s grocer, Roborn felt much better. His headache had dissipated, and the dread he had felt in the presence of the Black Rider had faded to a memory, like a nightmare that dims in the light of day. Taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smells of the small border town, he spied Mundo standing under a small tent close by, looking very upset.
He walked over and greeted Mundo. Instead of being grateful for his rescue, Mundo groused "Gracious, just look where they want me to stay! This is nothing like home. And they say I can’t go home until those Blackwold fellows are dealt with. This is outrageous!"
Before Roborn could comment, Mundo continued. "Well, I don’t need you hanging about now, bothering me. Go talk to that Amdir fellow. He’s sitting just south of here. I’ve no interest in sharing my troubles with the likes of you. Now leave me be!" Mundo turned his attention to his pack, pointedly ignoring Roborn.
Shaking his head, and deciding that it would probably be better to leave Mundo to his stewing, Roborn heading south, hoping to find Amdir.
He found Amdir leaning against a post, apparently resting, and being fretted over by Celandine, the other hobbit they had rescued. Roborn knelt down, and he could see that Amdir was still in some pain from his injuries the night before. Amdir looked up.
"Ah, Roborn. It is good to see you whole and hale. You proved yourself quite the hero, leading the hobbits and me here to Archet last evening. I must confess that I do not recall much of the journey."
Roborn reached for the Ranger’s bandaged shoulder, to take a closer look, but Amdir shook his head.
"Nay, do not concern yourself with my injuries; though they appear grave, I have taken worse. My only fear is that the blade may have been poisoned, but young Celandine is seeing to my needs."
Amdir sighed, and shifted position, grimacing slightly. "There is a matter that does need immediate attention, one that I cannot undertake. Captain Brackenbrook, the founder of the garrison here in Archet, suffers my presence only because of my injuries. Few in Bree-land trust Rangers."
Roborn sat down in the dirt next to Amdir. He sensed that he was to hear a tale, one that would not get better with the retelling. He was right.
"As I believe I mentioned to you before, I came to Archet to learn what connexion the Blackwolds had to the Nazgul. Here, I met Jon, Captain Brackenbrook’s son. It was from him that I learned of the Blackwolds’ camp and of Celandine and Mundo’s capture.
