Under the care of the Michel Delving residents, Cutch and his horse found comfort and hospitality, blessings not often rendered to Big Folk, as the hobbits called them, but Halros had a local reputation that could open many low, round doors of the halfling’s homes. The only introduction Cutch needed was Limlobor, the ranger’s horse upon which Cutch rode to be reunited with his own steed. Limlobor was well-known for his obedience to the Dunedain’s will, and thus Cutch was certainly carried where he was supposed to be.
The Bird and Baby Inn in Michel Delving was chosen, after long debate amongst the most notable of the village residents, as the most suitable place to house the recovering young Man and his horse, as its ceilings were marginally higher, its larder significantly larger, and its grounds most suitable for grazing. Just as the innkeeper tended to Cutch’s injury and meals, so did the neighbors tend to his horse, a mount monstrously greater than the ponies most often found in the Shires. No one begrudged the unexpected visitors; they became yet one more source of popular speculation and gossip, two highly valued pastimes in those parts.
After a few days, the dwarf caravan arrived in Michel Delving and Cutch hobbled out to greet them. The dwarves were both surprised and concerned, as the hobbits had insisted Cutch use a walking staff whenever he ventured outside. The reunion was a happy one for only a moment, for when Cutch relayed the events in the Rushock Bog, the dwarves insisted on immediately continuing north to seek news and offer aid. They told Cutch to stay with the hobbits and complete his recovery; they promised to send for him and keep him abreast of events as well as they could.
During his stay with the hobbits, Cutch learned a great deal about the mysteries of their kitchens, which were marvelously simple and elegant insights passed down by many hobbit generations who had learned that good food not only fed the body, but also the heart and soul. They appreciated his sincere interest and eagerly shared their knowledge with him, gossiping about this aspect of him as well.
True to their word, the dwarves eventually sent a small company to retrieve Cutch and accompanied him back to Needlehole. Along the way, they told the tale of the Battle of the Pinglade, where Dunedain Rangers allied with Needlehole dwarves to wrest the stolen artifact from the ‘Elf-witch Gilmorwen’ and her ‘vile Dourhand horde’. Their victory was assured with the rune-caster from Thorin’s Hall, whose magical fury met that of the evil Elf and drove her and her band of brigands away. Skithi Blackhand unfortunately escaped, but the dwarves vowed that one day they would find him.
Upon reaching Needlehole, the company found Halros waiting for them. They all greeted the ranger with loud cheers and every hand was shook and every back slapped. After they feasted and sat fat and happy around the bonfires with ale, Halros pulled the young man aside. “You have done much in these lands, Cutch. Do you not sometimes wonder what is in the greater world?”
Something in the ranger’s manner tickled Cutch’s suspicions, an old feeling he often had when conversing with the Dunedain, as if there was something they would not, or perhaps could not, tell him. Still, Halros had probably saved his life, so as if on cue, Cutch nodded as if it was expected. It would be many years until he would learn of the Vow, and how at this moment of his life, the ranger was protecting him from Gilmorwen’s proximity and certain wrath. Halros was relieved with Cutch’s easy acquiescence, and the next day they took road into Ered Luin, stopping for the night at Thrasi’s Hunting lodge.
Another young man sat at a table, rolling dice with dwarves, and seemed to be winning more than losing. He looked up at Halros and Cutch as they entered the smoke-filled lodge, the aromas of roasted game and spilled ale mixing with the pungency of those used to hard toil. He and the ranger recognized each other, and the two approached, leaving the table of dice players complaining about their losses.
“This is him, then?” the strangely clad young fellow asked, thrusting a hand in Cutch’s direction.
Halros nodded as Cutch took the fellow’s hand. “Aye. Cutch Crane, this is Corwine Camberstone.”
Corwine’s smile was broad and steely, his gaze piercing through slitted eyes, but the handshake was firm and sincere.
And here Cutch’s path would unexpectedly take another tangential turn, leading him to ships and pirates and far-away cities.
