Day XXX: Treachery
We rounded a bend by the lake’s shore to find
What appeared by the roadside to be
A bundle of clothes, but then a low groan
Revealed to the others and me
That this was a dwarf in need of our care
For he had been struck by an arrow.
When we turned the lad over I gave out a gasp
For all of us knew this poor dwarrow.
‘By Mahal! ’Tis Midarin,’ the dwarves they all cried.
And Kandral, he rushed to the spot.
The arrow lay deep, its black feathers showed
From an Orc-bow, this had been shot.
‘I’m sorry, Lord Kandral,’ Midarin muttered.
‘I hope you can see I’d no choice.’
‘Hush now Midarin,’ the Gaffer said gently,
Concealing a sob in his voice.
I opened my pack but I’d no more Kingsfoil,
And all I could offer was bark.
So Bob rubbed his stones to reduce the lad’s pain,
‘Nay, listen,’ said Midarin, ‘Hark…’
A dribble of blood left a trail in his beard,
And he sobbed as he told us his tale.
‘Before it’s too late… you all must be told,’
‘For surely your quest it will fail.’
Hroskold touched the tip of his finger
To the shaft of the arrow and said,
‘This arrow was poisoned. Unless we act swiftly,’
‘I’m afraid this poor brother is dead.’
‘Then listen!’ said Midarin, his voice now fading.
‘They’d taken my sister, you see.’
‘To win back her life I had to betray you.’
‘It was I who planted the key.’
‘The clues that you found, the scroll in the chest…’
‘Were designed to bring Kandral here.’
‘In return for you they would give me my sister,’
Kandral rose and choked back a tear.
‘Why me? What for? I don’t understand…’
‘They know you have ties to the King.’
Said Midarin, ‘They’d use you to strike up a bargain,’
‘With Dain, a surrender to bring.’
‘It was foolish of me; I should have known,’
‘That their words would turn out to be lies.’
‘Now my sister lies dead, her throat it was cut,’
‘And they did it before my own eyes!.’
Midarin sobbed, ‘I attacked in a fury,’
‘But they were too many, you see.’
‘And now I lay dying. Don’t go to the Spire!’
‘You all have to listen to me!’
He coughed up more blood, Halgrun cradled his head
As I heated up the blade
Of my fishing knife, knowing what we had to do
For Midarin’s life to be saved.
Hroskold took hold of the foul Orc-arrow
And I passed my knife to Thorlaen.
When the arrow was pulled, poor Midarin gasped
And almost passed out with the pain.
The wound was infected and gave off a reek
And Thorlaen held out the knife;
He pressed down the blade and the flesh smoked and sizzled
It was this that saved the dwarf’s life.
Then Halgrun burnt herbs to make Midarin drowsy
While Hroskold dipped a small cloth in ale
To clean out the wound, while I made a bandage
Poor Midarin looked drawn and right pale.
With his wound tightly bound, we carried the dwarrow
Back to the camp down the hill.
And I ran on ahead to alert Firitharu
Hoping he’d cure our lad’s ills.
We redressed the bandage, applying a salve
Made from Milkthistle and Rue.
We were lucky the elves were able to help
As none of us knew what to do.
So, with Midarin setlled, we talked of the quest
And how we’d been led astray.
And we realised now that the Axe was a myth;
There would be no glory this day.
But Kandral was all for attacking the orcs
And taking the fiends by surprise.
As he talked I could see he wanted revenge
By the fearsome glint in his eyes.
Well, the lads were for fighting and started to plot
And deciding which armour to wear.
It was then that I noticed the Gafffer was silent.
In his eyes, a faraway stare.
Then a smile spread across his broad features, that widened
And he let out a chuckle of glee.
The others stopped talking and looked at their leader
And Kandral was looking at me!
It was that kind of look I’d seen oft before
When he thought that I’d said somet clever.
And, as usual, I hadn’t a clue what I’d done.
‘Master Ponso,’ said he, ‘Well, I never!’
‘I wonder, dear hobbit if you have in your bag,’
‘The scroll accidentally found?’
‘I do,’ said I, and I picked up my pack
From where it lay on the ground.
‘Ignore the poem I’ve scrawled on the back,’
I said, handing Kandral the sheet.
He looked at the writing, held it up to the light,
And then he climbed to his feet.
‘It’s just as I thought! This scroll is no fake!’
‘For it’s writ in an ancient hand!’
‘We’ll make sure the orcs get just what they deserve.’
‘And not the ending they planned!’
For the full poem seek here
