Faramir and Oddberry's Misguided Adventure

Boromir frowned as he heard what Oddberry told the Queen of Khand. There was much about this that he personally did not like at all, and that was a very bad thing for the halfling. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You used fire ant venom on one of my men!" His tone was not so friendly after hearing this.
He'd heard of that stuff, and now everything made a lot more sense when it came to Faramir's actions.

Berilorn frowned as well, looking at the lady. "I'll go find a healer, if you like."

Oddberry ignored Boromir’s outburst, there was little more she could say in response, aside from a snipe that would only make things worse. She was merely thankful that he didn't lunge across the room and strangle her.

Oddbery winced a little as Faramir was sick, while at the same time feeling a little more relieved. Being sick was good. The more he was sick, the faster he would recover. She knew Faramir's mother offered no offence but she could not help the brief anger that flashed behind her eyes at the prospect of her knife having another substance on it. "I would not be so careless. To do so would invite my own death." She took a breath and settled herself. "Besides, both knives were treated together, and I have nothing that could be so easily mistaken for fire ant venom, and nothing that replicates this. He has eaten nothing, as far as I know, and drunk only water from my waterskin.” She replied to the woman’s earlier question, then considered her next for a moment.

“As for how long," Oddberry shrugged helplessly, "two hours, give or take? We sat in the street for a good while." She had lost track of how many songs she had hummed, or how many times she had gone through each one.

"I used the last of my alcohol to scare off some attackers, and there was no guarantee my water was clean enough to wash a wound. I had nothing else to clean it with, though I would be surprised if infection had set in this fast.” The hobbit shrugged again. “I couldn’t be too fussy, had to stop the bleeding.”

Faramir’s mother nodded when Berilorn offered to get a healer.

“Thank you”, she said. “They will be more likely to help someone like you... more reputable.” Gently she caressed her son’s forehead before looking back at Oddberry.

“I meant no offense”, she said, smiling sadly at the hobbit’s anger, dark eyes watching her for a moment unreadable. “His reactions to such things have always been strange. Perhaps that is the reason. Usually this meant that we had to worry less. His wounds healed quickly, poisons did not harm him and sickness passed him by. I just fear that this time our luck may have run out.”

She looked towards Boromir again. “I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience, my lord”, she said. “You do not have to stay. Surely there are more pressing matters for you to attend to ... If Faramir knew, he would be deeply sorry for wasting your time.”

To Oddberry she said: “Am I right to assume that your business with that wizard has yet to be concluded? Would you mind terribly if I sent one of my girls to fetch him and bring him here? I have ..." Her voice, so sweet and warm before, dropped to a whisper as cold and dangerous as an iron blade: "... some choice words just for him.”

At the woman’s words Oddberry’s mind began to wonder, just a little and she put it aside for a moment. At the mention of Gandalf she realised she had forgotten all about him, despite the wizard being the catalyst for all this trouble. “I too would like to have a few words with Gandalf” she murmured to herself, mind half lost down a rabbit hole of possibilities. Although she suspected her words would be less feared than Faramir’s mother’s.

There was silence for a moment as Oddberry pondered a question she couldn’t quite solve. “Perhaps it isn’t luck? This,” she waved a hand a Faramir, “isn’t just him not being affected, not a natural immunity to such substances, this is an entirely different reaction. I’ve seen similar, with different substances, and I know of some plants which will kill some animals, and not others...” Her words trailed off. There was a train of thought in her mind that she couldn’t quite pin down, or work out how it related to all that had happened that night.

Boromir glared at the hobbit again. He was not pleased at all about what had happened, though he refrained, with some effort, as Berilorn hurried off, to not speak his mind.

She has no idea how important to Minas Tirith Faramir is.

Nor did she have any clue how bad her actions were when it came to that poisoned knife that she'd used. Such things were very harshly dealt with.

"It is a good thing you are a visitor," he said, and said no more.

"Splendid", Faramir's mother replied. "I will have him brought here at once."

Gently she untangled herself from her son, opened the door and called for one of the girls, instructing her what to do. Only a few words were needed, including those of “please” and “thank you”, even if actually finding the wizard would likely take a little more time.

She smiled when captain Boromir simply ignored her words and remained where he was instead of using the opportunity to leave. He truly cared for his soldiers, she had often heard talk about that. He was just and steadfast, brave, commanding and occasionally jovial at the same time. Not to mention that he had remembered a childhood friend after so many years. Those were impressive features and she found that she liked him. He was a good man and would one day be a great steward. Perhaps that was why she dared to speak up in favor the little lady who had attacked her son.

“She was scared and felt threatened”, she said. “That fool of a wizard did not send a soldier, in uniform and company, but just a young man from a lower circle. One who does, as you know, my lord, not do well when it comes to approaching strangers. How could she have known that he was a friend? She defended herself and had no intention to kill him. Other poisons could have accomplished that.”

Turning back towards her bed she scowled when one of his dogs finally took the opportunity to jump on it and take her place. Yet, this once she tolerated it, seeing how the great beast patiently allowed Faramir to bury his face in its soft fur and how both creatures sighed happily once they had snuggled close to each other. Obviously the animal did comfort Faramir enough that he did not miss her warmth and she was not surprised. It had always been that way, even when he had been but a babe. She had never been the best of mothers, she had to admit, especially when she had been younger, barely no longer a child herself. There had been little time to look after him for all of them, even though they had agreed to share that responsibility. Little time for closeness and caresses. From the beginning, however, the dogs had gladly offered their help and the little boy had thrived under their care. The women’s initial reservations had changed to gratefulness. It was certainly unconventional and they would not have trusted those feral beasts from the street around even any other older child under normal circumstances, but this one they almost seemed to accept as one of their own. They had been the ones who had first spotted him and protected him from the cold and the dangers of the street, after all. They never hurt him and he never got sick. Instead he received the love and warmth that he would otherwise have lacked, as did those abandoned creatures. Those had turned from malnourished shaggy creatures into proud beats worthy of any king. She could have sworn that they had grown up to be not just healthier and bigger but also much more intelligent than any other dog in the vicinity, even those owned and cared for. The latter had often in the past years caused her as much anger as amusement. Sometimes they were too smart for anyone’s good.

Still, Oddberry's suggestion and where it seemed to be heading alarmed her. Too often had she overheard similar comments, dangerous insinuations. Whispers that claimed that the boy was different, a strange creature, not human, not to be trusted.

"He is not a different animal", she replied with the same sudden anger with which the hobbit had defended her poisons. "He is my son. And a loyal son of Gondor."

Oddberry’s reaction was far less indignant than it could have been had she not been weary from her long travels and the late hour. She put her hands up, half in apology, half in a frustrated defence. A nerve had evidently been touched, and it appeared she would be better off not voicing any further thoughts down those lines. Although it did lend some credibility to her train of thought. She would let that one fester in the privacy of her own mind, for now.

Silence fell for a short time and as she watched him hug his hound Oddberry realised that Faramir was younger than she had first thought. She hadn’t caught a good look at him before now, and had assumed he was older. He had shown greater patience, maturity, and a quiet confidence in his movements than most Men of his age Oddberry had previously met; they were usually full of arrogance and cocksure confidence. She realised now that his reluctance to volunteer information may also have been an awkwardness and once again she felt a stab of guilt.

She sighed and looked at the floor, biting the corner of her lip and tapping a foot slightly as she brooded. The slight scrape of wood and stone disturbed her and Oddberry looked up to see a familiar craggy face under it’s blue hat.

His eyes first alit on the hobbit and the wizard smiled at her. “My dear Oddberry. This is not where I had expected to find you, but find you I have, and in one piece as well. I am glad of that.” He looked as if he were about to say more on the subject, but first his eyes roamed the room.

He found both the Captain of Gondor and Faramir’s mother and gave them friendly nods, “Boromir, Barathī”. He saw how tense the room's occupants were and began to wonder what had passed. Then he saw Faramir behind Barathī and his smile changed to concern, his original question dying on his lips. “What happened here?” Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir, for that was who he was, moved towards the bedside and ran a critical eye over the young man.

“I stabbed him,” Oddbery replied, the words not coming any easier than the first time, “with fire ant venom.” She did not need to explain to the wizard how abnormal the reaction was.

Mithrandir carefully checked Faramir’s pulse, and then his pupils, before regarding the young man. Mithrandir had first met him as a small child and he had been glad to meet him again, years later. Faramir was a most uncommon individual, and one the wizard suspected was capable of things beyond the scope of Men, though he may not know it himself, and the wizard had his own suspicions why.

A small smile crossed his face as he remembered where he had seen this reaction to that particular substance before. His smile became a small rumbling chuckle and he turned to the tense women with a reassuring smile.

“He will be fine. It’s like those mushrooms you are so fond of my dear hobbit, if you were to take too many. Not entirely the same, but similar.” The wizard’s eyes twinkled at her before he turned to Barathī. “You have nothing to fear. I have seen this before. He will live, and be fine come morning.”

“He better be!“, replied Faramir’s mother and as she stepped forward she seemed about ready to grab the wizard by the collar and shake him.

“You foolish bearded fool!” The fact that her usual eloquence gave way to such a clumsy insult left no doubt as to how angry she was. She even ignored the fact that he called her by her given name, one she rarely used and did not like hearing.

“What have you been thinking? Have you been thinking at all?! He is no longer a lowly street urchin you can send on one of your stupid errands whenever it pleases you! He is a soldier now, a real soldier with an income and responsibilities! You go through his commanding officer and pay for his service. You make sure that people know where he is going and what he is doing, so he does not end up dead in one of those shadowy alleyways in the lowest circle! You know what they do to soldiers there, even worse if they used to be criminals like them! Traitors! You know what they do to traitors! Not only did you endanger him and her”, she pointed at the hobbit. “This could have cost him everything even now that he is safe!”

She smiled at Boromir and her angry eyes grew soft for a moment. “With a less caring, understanding and just commander he would be a soldier no longer ... If only the lord Steward never hears of it.”

She shook her head and something very much like a low growl could be heard, not from one of the dogs, but from her.

“I swear, when Faramir back then told me that an elf became his friend, I expected someone wise and young looking, but here you are, old and stupid, shriveled inside and out, and even more irresponsible than the most self-centered and blind among my girls ... and you are not even an elf. You aren’t even a friend!”

Barathī crossed her arms in front of her, less angry now, more sad and disappointed. “There is a better friend than you”, she said and pointed out Oddberry once again. “At least she tried to take care of him and bring him to safety. Where were you? Do you even care? You laugh about it all! Very funny when someone who has almost nothing comes this close to losing that as well.”

A long moment of growing silence later she took a step backwards and gently placed one hand against Boromir’s arm. “I apologize, my lord”, she said to him. “For making you witness this. I –“

Faramir who had barely moved, even when the wizard had touched him, suddenly opened his eyes, wide awake, and tried to sit up. Confused he looked around him, as if for a moment uncertain where he was or how he had gotten there, who all of these people were and what had happened. His gaze eventually came to rest on Boromir and it was his commander he addressed first: “My lord? My apologies...”

Even though he clearly did not know what he even apologized for, some part of him seemed to understand that something bad had happened and that he was, at least in part, to blame. Clumsily he tried to stand up, place a hand over his heart and bow, but only lost his balance in the process when the leg that Oddberry had stabbed failed to support him.

“What ...?”

Oddberry almost smiled as Gandalf declared Faramir would be ok, letting out the breath she had been holding in relief. Then Barathī exploded and the hobbitess settled in to watch the grilling the wizard received, more than half-convinced he deserved it. Although ‘foolish bearded fool’ was not the greatest insult she had heard.

As for Mithrandir, well, he was not overly taken aback by Barathī’s anger, indeed he had expected it, and he stood patient and silent until she had finished. He was about to speak when Faramir rose and tried to bow, wobbling as he lost his balance.

Oddberry was faster than the wizard and straightened, pushing herself away from the wall and moving in front of the young man with a challenge in her eyes. “Sit. And stay.” She pointed at the bed.

Faramir hopefully under control, the wizard turned his attention back to the fuming woman and assumed his trademark bemused but kindly smile. “I am sorry my dear, for causing you such worry. I laugh in surprise, and relief, for your son here is...” He trailed off, and considered that perhaps his suspicions were best kept to himself for now. Mithrandir looked into Barathī’s eyes and his voice was sincere. “He is special, and I am fond of him. I am glad he is alive and will recover fully, for his loss would aggrieve many, and be a great blow to Gondor.”

“I did not think he would come to any harm on this errand, indeed, I rather thought Oddberry could be good for him, though it appears he forgot my advice to smile.” Mithrandir's own bemused smile had returned and he leant a little more heavily on his staff. “It is my error, for not asking the Captain for the borrowing of his man. It must have slipped my mind, my friend here was later than expected and I was concerned.”

Mithrandir's face became mournful, yet also a little hopeful. “I am an old man, and my mind isn’t what it was. I have done you and your son a great disservice, but can you find it in your heart to forgive an old fool his frailty?”

Utterly confused Faramir sat and Faramir stayed, Faramir blinked and Faramir stared at the small human-like creature that somehow, somehow seemed so very familiar. Her voice, her demeanor, the look on her face. She was no child, that he knew. But who or what was she? Somewhere in the back of his mind he liked her and at the same time did not like her, feared her even, if just a little.

Just when he wanted to ask her who she was, his clouded brain reminded him of why his commander was with them and he all but jumped to his feet again, only to realize that he could not stand and sit back down again, guilt now clearly visible not only on his features and in his voice but in the way he sat and held his shoulders.

“We were to meet”, he realized, looking up at Boromir. “You expect me ... expected me ... I am late ... was late ... how ...” He did not know, he could not remember, but it seemed quite clear to him that he had made a mistake and disappointed his commander, his friend if he dared to call him that. “I let you wait”, he whispered miserably.

Meanwhile Barathi shook her head at the wizards display. “You are no old frail man”, she said. “Just an old fool.” After a moment, however, she added: “But honest for now, at least. I know men who lie. Best of all men who pretend to care.” And much more quietly, tinged with just a hint of sadness: “This is his only chance, you know it. He will have seen eighteen winters soon and he might just be able to settle down and start a family, a normal family, with a sweet innocent little wife that he can love and who never visits these parts of the city, and decent, honorable work that makes him happy and where they treat him well. For people like us ... you know that there aren’t many options and this doesn’t usually happen. Please ... do not ruin it. Please allow him this one chance. He has made it so far against all odds.”

When Berilorn returned with a healer in tow she nodded briefly, recognizing his face.

“Let us leave them to it”, she told Oddberry, offering her a hand. “I do not have the stomach to hear his idea of treatment right now and I feel that this room is getting crowded ... Let us have a drink. You look like you can use one, too.” With one last glance at Mithrandir she added: “The old fool will make sure that my son is not being bled dry for the sake of healing." As, she assumed, would Captain Boromir who, as far as she knew, had never trusted healers and their preferred and most dubious methods. Together they would get the healer, who was no longer needed, to leave, without her having to make an enemy out of him herself. She further suspected that it would be best to leave the captain and her son a moment to talk. They had never done well doing so in front of an audience, but they seemed to do just fine when given a little privacy. Besides, she was curious as far as their poison-loving guest was concerned.

Mithrandir took one of Barathi’s hands in his own. “I will do my utmost to ensure I do not ruin the chance of that life for him.” He meant every word, though his gut told him that would not be Faramir’s fate. To destroy the hope of it would be cruel though, and a part of Mithrandir hoped he was wrong. There was little else to say and the wizard’s attention soon turned to Berilorn and the healer he had brought. A frown crept across the wizard’s face as he noted Barathi’s words. He would not allow this healer to perform any misguided treatments, whether or not they were in good faith.

---

Oddberry had refrained from airing her grievances with Gandalf; they seemed somewhat petty now, and any talk of business could wait until morning, preferably once she’d had a nice nap. Here is not the place to sleep the hobbit noted as the arrival of two more bodies began to crowd the room.

She gladly took the hand Barathi offered with a small grin. “Only if you’re buying.” In truth, the hobbit would have happily paid fifty gold coins for a pint of mead at that particular moment. “I definitely need a pint. Or two.” As the woman led her down the stairs, towards the taproom, Oddberry could not help but look about her in curiosity. Everything in this building was somehow unashamed of the purpose of the place, from the petals on the floors, to the colours of the walls and even the lanterns. Yet somehow, it was also not overstated, not overpowering. It was a delicate balance, and one that was obviously maintained to the finest of details. It was rather different from its counterpart in Bree, or any of the other places Oddberry had been. Though none had quite been like this city of Men.

The taproom was no different and her mead collected Oddberry settled in a soft comfy armchair in a corner. She groaned slightly as she settled into it, even more pleased by the table, which while on the low side for Men, was at the perfect height for a four feet tall hobbit. She took a long sip of her drink before setting down the heavy tankard and running both hands through tangled hair. “Holy Crabapples, it’s been a long day.”

Barathi smiled sadly when the wizard took her hands and nodded slowly. Mouthing a silent: "Thank you." she gave his hands a little squeeze, finally making peace with him. And she meant it. Her son loved that old man, had done so since he had first met him, and trusted him like only a few others, namely herself and captain Boromir. In a way he had built his own family that way, with her, the other women and those flea-ridden dogs as his mother, cousins and younger siblings, the captain as his beloved older brother and Mithrandir ... perhaps as a father or grand-father. To have his one chance at happiness in life undermined by him, wittingly or not, would be terribly cruel. But Mithrandir’s words seemed sincere and his hands were warm and surprisingly strong for those of a man his age. Perhaps, no certainly, Faramir was right and something about him was not quite as human as it looked. But Barathi was not one to pry, not usually and not when it came to these kinds of things. She merely observed and waited. Preferably in good company.

“This house is mine by now and you are my and my son’s guest”, she could tell Oddberry. “Food and drink are free. Company, other than mine, is not. Not until after hours when curiosity might bring them to our table ... They need the coin.”

With that she lead the way and watched her uncommon guest and her reactions until they had both settled down in a quiet corner.

“It is different from what you know”, she observed. “It is different from most places like it in this city, too. Many of our patrons belong to noble families. Even prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth comes to visit us when he stays in the city.” She paused and smiled. “Though, to be honest, he comes because he got lost on a hot day and Faramir brought him in so he could cool off. He swears that our wine is better than that the lord Steward offers him, but I believe that he just dislikes his brother-in-law’s company and likes to show off his harp play where people do not expect to hear it. He is quite an impressive musician and quite a stunning man, to be frank.” She leaned back a little herself and sighed. “But ... in many ways it also is the same as those other places. We remain outcasts, dirty, dangerous ... Few treat us with the respect that the prince, captain Boromir or Mithrandir offer. Even that healer you saw, I do not think that he would have come had it not been Berilorn who went to get him. My son ... the way I know him, he was afraid that you would react like anyone else once you knew. Even acting with too much politeness has proven to cause ... difficulties ... misunderstandings, if you will. So he learned quickly to imitate our guards and they are ...” she took a sip of her drink and grimaced. “Well, not talkative, to say the least.”

She leaned over and after assuring that the hobbit did not flinch from her, began to untangle her locks with careful fingers.

“I am deeply sorry for what happened”, she said. “But you acted with more nobility than most inhabitants of this great city would have. I would assume that it is a common trait among your people, but I have never before met one of them. Therefore ... they appear to not travel much, which already makes you stand out among them.”

"I must admit I haven't heard a lot that is complimentary about the steward so far this night, so it is no wonder someone would choose here over him. You are lucky, to at least have some who know and respect you as you should be, even if not everyone can see it.” Oddberry shot Barathi a sly look. “And it sounds like you are quite the fan of this Imrahil."  

The hobbitess had been a little surprised at first by Barathi's gentle attack on her head but swiftly succumbed to the woman’s efforts with a contented smile. It was far more pleasurable than attempting to drag a comb through the tangled mop in the morning.

“I am sorry too. I... I had to at least try and rectify my mistake. I could not leave, not with him under attack and trying to convince me to run. Not after what I had done. It would not have been right. I do hope he can forgive me.” Not to mention that she rarely backed down from a fight if there was a sliver of hope of victory. The corner of her mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Perhaps then I could teach him how to act less like a stony-faced kidnapper. Without giving the wrong impression.”

“As for what another of my people would have done...” Oddberry’s mood changed swiftly at the thought of her kin and she let out a short bitter laugh and took another long sip of her drink. “No other hobbit will find themselves in a situation for us to find out.” She shrugged. “You have never seen another because only one other has journeyed to this side of the Misty Mountains in the last two thousand years. Adventures are nasty, troublesome things you see. Even the Brandybucks, who Shire hobbits regard as positively outlandish living across the water so close to the Old Forest, cover up any adventures their offspring might have and expect them to settle down for good upon return.” Oddberry stared into her mead but it was not mead she saw. Instead she saw rolling hills and small footpaths, round doors and bright flowers under round windows. “The Shire… it is another world. A world of sunshine, of farming and good food, and drink. It is peace and pipeweed and…” the hobbitess trailed off with a sigh and a slight shake of her head. “Nothing ever happens, and when it does it is the talk of the Shire for years to come. Gandalf has not yet been forgiven for whisking old Bilbo away on an adventure and that must have been fifty-odd years ago now. And Bilbo has not been forgiven for going. Mad Old Baggins they call him, and most only pretend to like him because he brought treasure back with him.” There had been many tales of that treasure, each wilder than the last, but it had only been one small chest in truth, and very little of it had ever been used.

“I love The Shire, but the longer I stay away…” Oddberry closed her eyes just briefly, in regret and sadness. This was not the first time she had thought of her home, and felt the intense pang of loneliness as each time it felt a little less like it. “Every time I return I am regarded less like a hobbit and more like one of the Big Folk, should they ever pass through our borders. Even in Buckland, which isn’t part of the Shire proper, or in Bree even, other hobbits stop their conversations and stare, or pretend they aren’t gossiping and coming up with new tales to tell of my travels. There may be a few who don’t… but I am rambling, and I am sure you would rather not listen to the ramblings of a melancholy hobbit.” She sipped her rapidly disappearing mead and mustered a smile. “I am usually far better company I assure you.”

“Ask Faramir”, his mother said with a sad smile. “He will find something admirable about anyone, even if he has to dig through the darkest soul and into the blackest heart. It seems to be his eternal mission.” She shook her head. “No, he would be right. The lord Steward is a strong and capable ruler, despite everything. He is just when he can be, stern because he must be. His biggest flaw is to not be happy, but who would be in his place? More than just the fate of Gondor rests on his shoulders, and that would be a heavy burden all by itself. We are the most direct and perhaps the only true line of defense to the East ... You can see the fires at night and during some days you will see them but not the sun, when the wind carries ash and poisonous fumes. It is said that the lord Steward’s wife died because of that, too. Too soft and gentle for the rough stone of our city, longing for the ocean, afraid of the lightless days and of fire.”

Barathi took a much larger sip, but only had to clear her throat a little when Oddberry noticed her slight infatuation with the prince.

“He is a very handsome man”, she admitted. “And kind without being weak. Much like the captain. But his features are finer, his coloring lighter and his manner of speech is so carefree yet elegant. Almost everyone enjoys his company, perhaps because he so openly enjoys theirs. He and his nephew are loved, even among those in this city who should fear them." Quite the opposite of her son. "It is said that his family has elvish blood in their veins. Have you ever met an elf? People seem to admire it when highborn lords point out their evlish blood and speak in that strange language of theirs, but otherwise... I don’t think anyone really wants to meet one. They seem to be quite untrustworthy and dangerous, practicing vile enchantments, luring people to terrible fates ... a little like our bearded old friend, just ... just without the beard. I have heard that they don't grow one.”

She fell silent for a moment, when Oddberry began to tell her about the Shire and her troubles there. Slowly but steadily her lips curled into a sympathetic smile.

“People are the same everywhere”, she said. “No matter how poor or rich or where they live, how tall or short.” She chuckled. “We, too. Even you and me. I am quite certain”, she said. “We fear what we do not know when it threatens what we do know and love, or even if we do not truly love it, just knowing it should suffice.” She paused. “Especially me. When that damn dog brought home a human infant ... Children is not something we want around her, something we go through great lengths to avoid. And I thought, the first thing I thought was: let her eat it and be done with it ... But then he ... he just grabbed my hair, just like that, just a strand of my hair. His hand was so tiny and exhausted and I could easily have ... but I ... could not.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, hoping that her guest had not noticed the moment of sentimentality.

“It sounds so peaceful, your home”, she said instead. “I think ... if it were mine, I would be weary of everything, too. Such peace rarely lasts and ...” She ruffled the hobbit’s hair. “You are trouble, anyone can see that.” More quietly she added: “You are good company, much better than most. Brave and honest, a much greater lady than most of greater height ... Do not be disheartened. I believe ... for everyone there is a place somewhere in this song. And even a peaceful melody needs some high and wild notes every now and then. Otherwise people would just fall asleep, now, wouldn’t they?”

Oddberry had merely listened to Barathi’s description of the steward for there was little insight she could offer, and she filed away the information for later.

“He sounds like a wonderful man, this Imrahil does. I think I would quite like to meet him.” The hobbit then let out a joyous little giggle at the woman’s description of elves. “I’ve met the odd band, they journey through The Shire to the Grey Havens… and one usually remembers very little aside from good food and song all night long. Bilbo could tell you more, he has been to both Rivendell and the halls of Thranduil in Mirkwood. He never mentioned enchantments or terrible fates, though Thranduil did lock all his dwarvish friends in a dungeon.” The hobbitess shrugged. Barathi could make of that what she will.

“The world is full of judgmental, gossiping fools.” Oddberry declared, then more quietly. “I see now why Faramir is so fond of his hounds.” She looked at Barathi, and pretended she had not noticed her little moment. “You did a wonderful thing in saving him, and I bet baby Faramir was very adorable. Despite our little mix-up... I think you have raised him to be someone to be proud of.” Faramir had shown great bravery in telling her to run, to leave him to face their attackers alone and injured, and the love and respect his captain had shown him, indeed the love Barathi so clearly displayed, led Oddberry to believe those actions were no exception, but the norm.
 
She accepted the hair-ruffle, though she was not a child, and flashed Barathi a cheeky grin. “Me? Trouble? I am a very upstanding lady-hobbit I’ll have you know.” Her grin then softened to a smile. “You are far too kind to someone who came very close to causing you great pain.” She sat in silence for a moment, even after her companion’s voice had faded.

“I think The Shire would quite like to sleep forever.” She chuckled. “I remember something Bilbo always said. There is only one Road, and it is like a great river, its springs are every doorstep, every path a tributary. He would always tell us as children that it was a dangerous business going out your door, and if you didn’t keep your feet there was no knowing where you might be swept off to.” Oddberry smiled fondly at the memory. “I always used to think he was talking about his walks, but as the years have gone on…” she shrugged, “I don’t know. I feel as if I am being swept along, with no control over my fate; I often wish for nothing more than to be able to settle down, to wake up in a soft feather bed and look out over the hills and quiet streams, but every time I try... I feel a pull, right down to my bones. It is like I am searching for something, but even I do not know what I am searching for…” Oddberry trailed off, then looked up at Barathi.

“I am beginning to ramble again… It is good to talk though, to really talk. Not to just trade insults with the latest ass in a tavern who wants to make jokes about where my parents are.” Oddberry’s smile was warm as she rolled her eyes. “I cannot remember the last time I had a proper conversation with anyone, let alone another woman. So thank you.” She drained the last of her mead from her tankard and set it down gently.

“Enough about me and my small woes, have you always lived here, in Minas Tirith?” Oddberry truly wanted to know more about this woman, who she was fast becoming fond of.

“Being locked in a dungeon does sound like a terrible fate”, Barathi pointed out with a lopsided smile. “I do not think that I would want to meet elves. They seem ... conflicting. Besides, if you spent time with them and afterwards remember very little, this certainly does not sound like something a friend would do”, she decided.

“We all have raised him”, Barathi said when they came to talk about Faramir. “But, yes, it was easier when he was small and adorable. Things only became truly difficult later.” Her eyes seemed warmer for a moment. “He had those tiny, pointed ears, just like you, and the biggest, bluest eyes.” Now they were grey, as if clouds had covered a perfectly clear sky. “I always wondered who his parents were and why they had abandoned him. I cannot imagine anyone giving away a child like that, pretty and perfectly healthy, a boy even. And the linens they had wrapped him in seemed expensive, too. Yet, no one ever came to search for him and people were more busy with other rumors ...” She paused, thinking. “There was a symbol embroidered on the rim of one of the sheets. It looked like a harp to me, but prince Imrahil said that it can’t be. No man could possibly play a harp if it looked like that and strings would be missing, too ... They got along so well, for a moment I hoped that perhaps the child had belonged to one of his followers. But prince Imrahil said no. Still paid for quite a few things, though, and always asks about him whenever he visits.” Either he had not been as certain as he had claimed, Barathi thought, or he just was that kind of man, truly honorable and kind. Liking him as much as she did, Barathi opted to believe the latter. Besides, the prince often did point out how much Faramir had helped him that day and how he enjoyed talking with him, which was rare enough. He even had offered to teach him how to swim or play the harp, but there had never been time.

“I like your rambling”, she told the hobbit. “And am I not guilty of the same? Oh, you would be surprised how many people visit us just to ramble. Few are as pleasant to talk to as you ... You defended yourself and meant no harm. I would have done the same, likely worse. How can I be angry when I know that my son, who is the wounded party here, would not be?”

She nodded slowly. “Will you know what you are searching for when you find it?”, she asked. “What do you think? Perhaps it truly is that important. Or it is really tiny and seems insignificant at first ...”

When Oddberry asked if she had always lived in Minas Tirith she caught her breath and bit her lip, ever so slightly, easy to overlook. She had expected many questions, but not one so simple and yet so difficult to answer.

“Even Faramir does not call me by my name”, she said. “Whoever told the wizard about it, I do not know. Here I am known as the Queen of Khand.” Again a short smile, sweet, but hiding bitterness and the question how much she should tell. “It sounds exotic and people like that. Despite news that many tribes have allied themselves with Mordor, or perhaps even because of it.”

She swirled the wine in her cup back and forth, watching it intently for a moment. Her nose twitched. It sometimes did, when she had do weigh difficult options or when she was deep in thought. Faramir had once made a lantern with a rabbit on it for her because of it. She still kept it. Somewhere.

“I was born in Khand, true”, she eventually told Oddberry. “But raised in Umbar, for a time. They called me Mahin Khandri first. The great or noble woman from Khand ... I was a little girl, so what did I know?” That they had treated her well, for one. Though, something like that was best not said out loud in Gondor. “I was on a ship when it was attacked and soldiers ... freed ... me, brought me to Gondor. I ran away as soon as I could, had to fend for myself for a while.” She chuckled. “I pretended to be blind, just a little blind beggar, and when people where moved by it, they gave me food or money or shelter for the night. When they thought that they could steal from me because of it or abuse me, I took their things instead. People underestimate you, when they think that they know your weakness. It is quite telling how much people say in front of you when they believe you to be deaf or unable to understand their language ... And here I am.” Next time she would tell someone a different story.

Oddberry had started, just a little, at the mention of pointed ears, though she pressed it no further remembering Barathi’s earlier adverse reaction. It was certainly narrowing down the possibilities. And that blasted wizard knew something Oddberry was sure. He had been so sure, so fast to declare Faramir alright, so careful with his words after.

“Perhaps it is not a question of whether they wanted him, but whether they could keep him. Or some terrible accident befell his parents, and he were not meant to be abandoned at all.” The hobbit suggested quietly. Then, “Does it even matter, truly. He has grown up happy and healthy, surrounded by people who love him…” For a second she was not quite sure if she was just talking about Faramir, or also trying to convince herself that it did not matter, for had asked the same question of herself may times.

Oddberry blocked that train of thought from her head and instead smiled warmly at Barathi’s ramblings about Imrahil. It was clear that she was very fond of the man.

“It is unlike me to ramble though. It feels wrong!” The hobbit grinned self-deprecatingly, and made a vow to herself to at least try to stop apologising for rambling. She tilted her head a little, looking at Barathi quizzically. “I would still be angry. But then, in the words of my elders ‘You are becoming quite the vengeful horror little one, you must learn to forgive. Your anger is like a hot pie, if you do not let it cool, it will only burn you.’” Oddberry laughed at the memory. She had whirled out of the kitchen and sworn vengeance upon anyone who tried to stop her from enacting her revenge. Her revenge had ended up with her in a ditch, covered in mud and sporting a black eye, planning more revenge. "It is, truth be told, a lesson that still hasn't fully sunk in."

“I do not know. Perhaps I will always be searching. Maybe I’ve already found it and I haven’t realised it yet.” The hobbit shrugged and tried not to think about it too much. It would only hurt her brain.

“I like ‘Barathi’. It is a beautiful name, and it reminds me a little of something in elvish, though I can’t think what. The Queen of Khand is rather a mouthful though, and quite hard to yell across a noisy bar.” the hobbit had a brief period of mirth, before allowing herself to become more serious again. “They like the illusion of control it gives them over what goes on outside the walls of this place.” Oddberry’s answer was simple, her view rather pessimistic for her. “And it does make you sound very mysterious.” Her smile returned slowly.

Oddberry sat quiet and still as Barathi described her past, and while only a few years ago she would have believed her without question, there was a slight niggle of something that didn’t ring true. Not because of her words, but her actions, her speech. But the hobbit was tired, and she dismissed it as an after-effect of the evening and her long travels, constantly looking over her shoulder with an inescapable feeling of being watched. She had spent too much time being suspicious. Instead she indulged her curiosity.

“Do you remember much of Khand or Umbar?” The hobbit’s eyes shone. “I have not yet had the chance to journey East.”

Barathi smiled warmly at Oddberry's words.

"This is something that he might say", she said. "That it does not matter since he grew up loved. But I keep thinking ... with fabric like this, perhaps he should have been some noble lord's son, never lacking anything, never experiencing the same violence, the same helplessness and ..." she laughed. "Oh, but court intrigue and false smiles. Is it so much better after all? Perhaps it truly is best the way it is now. Perhaps in some way it was meant to be."

She leaned back a little, more elegantly than someone who talked so casually and had drunken quite a bit in a few seemingly careful sips should be able to.

"Let us be honest, the finery would have killed him before any poison plot could have. Or can you imagine him in silks and velvets? If you stay in the city for a few days you might see for yourself. There will be a great wedding soon, two noble houses, enemies for years, now to become one, and the lord Steward wants some of his soldiers to attend, mingle with the crowd, just to be certain. He requested my son by name, likely because captain Boromir takes such an interest in him." She watched Oddberry from the corner of her eyes. "There will be free food and drink, of course, music and, quite likely, poison. Would you care to attend?"

She still despised her name, but that the hobbit liked it made her smile and bow her head slightly. "Thank you", she said quietly.

"I remember oceans", she then told her about Umbar and Khand. "One of salty water and one of cutting grass. Both places are quite different and both will treat a traveler like you differently. Is there anything in particular that you would like to know?"

Oddberry's eyes sparkled at the thought of Faramir in finery. "That in itself is reason to stay, and I do like a good party. And poison, so long as I'm not the one being poisoned."

She was beginning to feel the buzz from her mead and her smile continued to grow. "I want to know everything." She laughed, eyes shining. "Though that is not overly helpful or specific of me. There is little information about either back home, I don't even know where to start." She paused for a second and made a decision. "I think I would like to know about Khand more. I don't like swimming!"

The hobbit reached for her mead, only to remember it was empty. "Another?" She indicated Barathi's glass and stood slowly, avoiding the wobble that would have ensued had she not allowed for the immediate increase in drunkenness standing usually prompted.

"I sure hope not", Barathi replied. "What I do hope is that you might lend your knowledge about poisons to my son, so that he does not get poisoned either... and neither do bride and groom. I have taught him what little I know, but you appear to be quite well versed on the matter. Or am I mistaken?"

Her dark eyes watched Oddberry with subtle curiosity, but a small spark of amusement remained.

"Besides, you are confident and quite charming and I suppose that he will not be allowed to interact with his captain during the celebration in order to not reveal the true purpose of his being there. Neither should he be seen as too familiar with me. He barely knows anyone else who will be there ..." She did not have to finish her line of thought, it was quite obvious.

As far as Khand was concerned she shrugged. "Once I have told you about how the dry grass on its plains grows higher than you and each blade cuts like one made from iron you might prefer swimming. It is a harsh place. While trusting its people too easily will lead any traveler to ruin, not trusting at all will do the same. At best, convince them that you are poor so they do not rob you. Then convince them that you know where you are going so they do not mislead you. Share with them so they share with you. Be respectful but do not flatter... In short, convince them that you are better company than your purse without you. It is quite similar to the unwritten law of this city's lower circles."

When Oddberry stood she gently laid one hand on her arm. "Please", she said. "Sit. You are my guest." A thought seemed to cross her mind in that very moment: "Do you have a decent place to stay during your visit?"

Oddberry considered for a moment before speaking. “You would be correct. I have some knowledge. Plants and berries are my speciality, they are far more common in these parts. I have made a point of learning the properties of poisons from further afield, though they are… difficult to get hold of. Many I have never seen in person.” She did consider that it may not be wise to voice exactly what she did and didn’t have in her bags for she did possess some small samples of the more exotic options and it would be unfortunate if word of them fell into the wrong ears. “There are few antidotes to most, unfortunately.” The hobbit shook her head. “Sometimes I think you are more likely to survive because someone was careless with the dose.” She bit her lip as she thought. “Safest option is to not eat or drink anything… but that’s a surefire way to cause suspicion at a wedding.”

Oddberry did not doubt that this had been at least part of Barathi's motive for the whole conversation.

“And you think I have more experience with nobility?” Oddberry chuckled. “I have no doubt that in such company I shall be viewed as a curiosity and little more. Most tend to treat me as an overgrown child… I could probably get away with murder if I so desired. They shall be so enamoured with me they will barely notice Faramir.” The hobbit giggled. “That does make me sound rather self-absorbed.” A moment of silence then a peal of laughter.

“This is the first time I’ll have a date to take to a wedding!” Oddberry loved a good bit of drama, and despite the danger of poisoning, she was already looking forwards to this wedding. Not to mention that she did quite like being the centre of attention. “I suppose I shall need a dress.”

“You haven’t seen me swim.” Oddberry chuckled again, increasingly merry as her mind turned away from the earlier events of the evening. “In it’s own way it is much like the rest of this world then. I should like to go there, one day, even if the grass is as likely to murder me as the inhabitants. I warrant it has its own beauty, though something tells me I will never see it. Nor Umbar I fear.” This thought saddened her, for it was the darkening of times that made her feel like to travel further East was an impossibility. Suspicions amongst all travellers were growing year on year, and even in the relatively short time Oddberry had been travelling she had noticed the amount of traders decrease steadily. She doubted a strange traveller from the west would be much welcomed.

Oddberry collapsed back into her chair without complaint at Barathi’s bidding. “I haven’t yet. I was going to find a more permanent place to stay in the morning, once my business with Gandalf was concluded. I thought I would stay a while, it has taken me long enough to get here, and my pony needs a rest.”

"Perhaps I can help you find the one or other sample", Barathi suggested almost as an afterthought. "I am the Queen of Khand, after all." She smiled and bowed briefly before leaving her guest for a moment. When she returned she carried a precious looking pitcher from which she elegantly refilled both their glasses.

"Not touching food or drink might save you or kill you all the same", she said after she had sat down again. "I once heard of a case where all guests had been poisoned. The only intended victim was known to be very careful, almost to the point of paranoia. Everyone ate and drank, consuming enough of the antidote to survive. Only the victim did not, out of fear of being poisoned and not knowing that it had already happend by different means."

She took a sip from her glass and watched Oddberry over the rim.

"I once poisoned a woman's dress", she said, almost too camly. "When she broke into sweat the powder in its fabric began to slowly seep into her skin ..."

She paused and chuckled. "Oh, nobility expects many things. They do not expect someone who thinks ... differently than they do. And, you are quite right, they will see many things in you, but not someone who could possibly foil their best laid plans."

As far as everything else was concerned, Barathi offered with a small glint in her eyes, just after having told Oddberry about how she had likely killed a woman with one: "You will have a dress to your liking."

Something else she offered as well. She detached a small pendant from her belt and gently placed it in the hobbit's hand.

"If you ever meet someone from Umbar, whether as peaceful traveler or in the course of a fate much worse, show them this and let them know that it was given to you in friendship. If it cannot protect you or secure you whatever help you may need, nothing else can", she said.

"For tonight you may stay here, if you like. We have spare rooms in our living quarters. In the days to come you can stay here or I can arrange for something somewhere else. This is not the most reputable place, after all."

"Thank you." It was dawning on Oddberry that Barathi was far more than she appeared to be at first glance. Either that or this city was full of poisoners.

She took a long draught of her newly-replenished drink as Barathi sat and Oddberry listened to her tales of poisons. Things were far more complicated here; the most imaginative anyone had ever got further west was trying to pass off nightshade berry juice as blackcurrant. But then again the hobbitess had not experienced much political intrigue, and herself had only used her poisons in a more battle or survival centric manner.

"Something in the air I would assume…” Oddberry mused before reminding herself that it was unlikely anyone could tell her the answer. “Anyone can be poisoned if one tries hard enough, and from my experience, to pull off something like that takes far more skill and imagination than most possess. I doubt many would think about poisoning everyone in such a way." The hobbit shrugged and had another glug of her mead. There was little point in ruminating over such things, it would only cause one to never leave their home again.

She almost clapped in delight at Barathi's dress poisoning, despite the mildly unsettling way the woman had looked at her over her glass. "Now that I like. I shall have to remember that.” Already her mind was racing through the possibilities and methods of adapting Barathi’s idea. “What on this earth did someone do to make you want to do that to them?”

Once again Oddberry found herself thanking her host with a wide smile. “You are very generous. I once had to improvise with a dress for a child. The chest region was a little… tight.” She laughed. “I don’t know whether I got more disapproving looks before or after I slit some of the seams so I could breathe.”

The hobbit was totally unprepared for what the mysterious woman handed her next. “This is far too precious a gift to give to someone you barely know.” Oddberry sensed that to refuse it would give offence as she weighed the small, beautiful thing in her hand. “I shall treasure it.” She tucked it into a breast pocket for safe-keeping before giving Barathi a small hug in thanks, though it could not convey how thankful she truly was.

“I would be honoured to stay here tonight certainly, and longer if you’ll have me. I have found more kindness here than in most of my travels. If you could however recommend a stable for Biter I would be most grateful.” Oddberry’s mouth quirked sideways and her eyes glittered with mischief. “Besides, I am not the most reputable of hobbits at the best of times. And the mead here is very fine.” She raised her tankard and nodded at Barathi. The she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes briefly.

"No need for a bed, this chair is comfortable enough."

"True", Barathi said when Oddberry suggested that anyone could be poisoned if another tried hard enough. "The trick is to find out who and how before it happens. This is what we will have to try."

The 'we' indicated that Denethor's soldiers were not the only ones who had been ordered to prevent such an incident. Though, whether the Queen of Khand took her orders from the Steward as well remained unclear.

"Any beast is more dangerous when its young are being threatened", she also only hinted at her motive for poisoning a woman's dress.

As for the pendant she just smiled. "I give it to someone who will need it eventually", she said. "I am no soothsayer, but one does not need to be one to see the obvious."

The hobbit's compliment broadened her smile and she nodded. "We will find a suitable stable for your mount", she said. "And a dress for you in which you can breathe and catch some attention ... and you will need a mask. Even if you are easily recognizable by your height, it is what bride and groom have requested of their guests."

When Oddberry closed her eyes Barathi chuckled. "Please, do not. Others have slept in those chairs before and it cannot be recommended. Your bed is not far and one of my girls has prepared everything for you."

The plot was thickening. It was however a mystery for the morning Oddberry figured as she stifled a yawn. She wondered exactly why and how Barathi had come to be involved and what it was rather a coincidence that Oddberry herself was in this city at such a time. No doubt the wizard was involved.

Even as she found herself thanking Barathi once again the hobbitess was beginning to think that it would not be wise to make an enemy of this woman.

The concept of the masked occasion both delighted and confused the hobbit, considering the circumstances."Seems silly to ask everyone to wear masks when there appears to be motivation for someone to cause trouble." Then she shrugged, "I'm sure we could find a way around it, if it came to it.".

“It’s far better than a tree root.” She grinned. Her original comment about the chair had been in jest, though she would not have turned her nose up at it if it were all that was on offer. “I will take my leave of you then, if you do not mind. It has been a long day and my detective skills will be greatly improved by some beauty sleep.” Now the possibility of a good night’s sleep was on the cards it was apparently rather necessary and the hobbit found herself stifling a second yawn.

---

The morning dawned bright and Oddberry spent some time snoozing with the curtains open, basking in the sunlight before she finally roused herself. After all she could not afford to spend all day in bed. There was a wizard to shout at, a pony to retrieve, and a man to both apologise to and ask for directions. She doubted she would find her way back to that tavern without some indication of where she was in the first place. But more importantly, her stomach demanded breakfast.

It took a little while to identify which items of clothing were least travel-stained and ripped and the hobbitess decided that the second order of business was to find where she could do some laundry.

She returned to the taproom to hunt down some food, and soon contentedly settled down with a full plate and half-pint of mead.