A subdued, hungover bunch of hobbits assembled for late lunch the day after the wedding. It had all gone rather splendidly, they felt, and the decision to return instead of seeking treasure had been the right one. It was just a shame that it would be several months before they could all meet to try again. This morose mood melted when a postcard arrived for ‘The Kings Worthy Hiking Club’ from the honeymooning couple which hinted that they were awaiting company and indicated a direction of travel. Pausing only to gather a cart, tents, a couple of pregnant wives, one fiancée, some hangover remedies, much wedding cake and other essential supplies, the party ambled on their way by teatime and managed to reach the inn at Toft Bridge before sunset. Their ‘essential supplies’ did not include Tobold Arkwright, who was nowhere to be found. Edgar airily asserted that his cousin could catch up when sober.
Tobold, meanwhile, was catching up with their dwarven friends Bufin and Bufog in a quiet back room of his family smial. They explained that the first team of dwarven engineers had recently been deployed to secure ‘a certain sacred place’ from further collapse and hide it again. However, they had hit a little local difficulty: protocol required certain permissions which seem to have devolved to Anjelica. Unfortunately, the dwarven contingent had been unable to reach her without revealing themselves and possibly causing a diplomatic incident. Their dad requested Tobold’s presence as an intermediary. Tobold agreed and made ready to accompany them north. The Arkwright family gave him a fine but anxious send-off.
The hiking party proceeded at a leisurely pace following a trail of postcards. After a few days they eventually caught up with the honeymooning couple at The Shoulder of Mutton Tavern in Hagg End, right on the edge of the Shire. This sleepy little village was not used to so many visitors. The party spun yarns about their very respectable hiking club and beer guide and distributed wedding cake freely. Tavern host Arnold Uttley, noisily assisted by his regular local customers, adding helpful comments and recommended various local places for a scenic hike ― he even mentioned the ‘Nag’s Head’ rocks as an invigorating viewpoint to climb to. Picnics were ordered for the following day while locals argued about the best route. Mungo annotated his map.
Elsewhere Tobold and the dwarves had made their way north using back lanes and quiet footpaths as much as possible. The dwarves were confident that they hadn’t been noticed but Tobold wasn’t so sure. Hobbits had a knack for remaining undetected if they so wished, but dwarven boots were harder to disguise. Following the Wan upstream for part of a week they came to their dwarven camp. This was set up for both comfort and concealment within an unusually large cavern; its wide, flat floor paved with hexagons and a soaring arched roof supported by hexagonal columns of all different sizes. It looked sculpted but it was, Bufin assured him, entirely natural although not exactly usual. Tobold greeted Master Bifur with great respect and waited to learn how he could help out. “Just fetch yon Anjelica away, laddie, without feshin about.”
From Hagg End the hobbits made an early start after breakfast to hike deep into the moors without a good path but with the help of a good strong compass. They slogged up hill and down dale helping the ladies carefully across any scrambles or uneven footing. Coming down into the second dale they were curious to note a gnarly old hawthorn tree festooned with pastel-coloured silky threads, wafting in the wind. It reminded them of sugar floss strands, but their curiosity was tempered by a great deal of caution. Isenbold sneaked closer to the tree but could not spot anything dangerous nor anything which might have created this. Other hawthorns in sight were not so decorated. Mungo and Lily were fairly sure that this was something to do with the fae. They left offerings of wedding cake and honey just in case but gave the tree a wide berth and moved on.
After another scramble down and up a narrow dale they climbed at last to the high scars and the peculiar rock formation which, from one particular direction, looked a bit like a winged horse head. After a restorative picnic and admiring the fine vistas from these rocks, they began a hunt for anything which might be a clue. Marroc was the first to find a crude skull scratched into the side of boulder; a small hole in the boulder formed the mouth of the skull. They pondered the various objects collected from their treasure hunt and decided to try the golden key. The moth-winged key fitted perfectly. A mechanical click was heard and the entire top half of the boulder swung up to reveal a carved cavity. Inside the hollow were four neatly stacked oak chests. Isenbold dived in to retrieve them while Marroc wedged stones and sticks to avoid it closing again. Once the chests were removed a folded note of parchment could be seen underneath everything. It read simply:
‘I am sorry to have left this for you.
I am sorry for everything.
Remember always that family is your greatest treasure.’
The hobbits were concerned. But not concerned enough to put the chests back.
One by one the chests were given a close inspection. They were untrapped and easily opened. Each was found to contain a small fortune in coinage: mostly silver castars and tharins, a smattering of Shire shillings and copper pennies, plus a few tiny gold discs from more distant lands. On top of each hoard was a single, carefully wrapped item. The first item was an intricately-carved ivory handle suitable for the top part of a walking stick or something similar. The second item was an exquisite sapphire, diamond and pearl ring in the shape of a swan protecting an egg. Third was a shimmering mithril goblet with a stem shaped of vine leaves and grapes, on its underside was an engraving: 
The fourth and last item to be unwrapped was something which the hobbits instantly recognized as an epic cheese knife. It was still very sharp and would certainly make an effective sword for anyone of hobbit size. Isenbold instantly claimed it with a solemn vow to improve his cheese cleaving game.
Tobold had returned southwards to intercept their local postie with a letter for Angelica. This announced his intention to call on her and was full of news about the Baxter wedding and their highly respectable friends and connections, as well as an encrypted message on the need for a speedy departure. After a suitable delay of about half a day, Tobold strolled into Gurndell to see how Anjelica was getting on. He found the place in an uproar with armed patrols about, rumours about boggarts on the moors and sheep rustling, a visiting delegation from Cawland arguing about peat, and the Swayle household in turmoil over the threat of a dwarven abduction. It took some time for Tobold to calm things down and help Anjelica to explain the importance of their mission to the Blue Mountains. It was no use, the Swayles and their neighbours were insistent that ‘their’ smith stayed put for the good of the village and her own safety.
Into this wildly promising situation, and perhaps goaded by her family’s attitude, Tobold dropped to one knee and loudly proposed to “the greatest hobbit smith of the Age.” Anjelica promptly accepted and announced their immediate enlopement, that very night, to just about anywhere else. For a minute it looked like they might have to fight their way out. Happily, hobbit good sense prevailed as Goodwife Swayle realised that marriage to a respectable hobbit from town was a great deal better than her lass running away with a bunch of wilderness tinkers. The family agreed to a Yuletide wedding. Anjelica and Tobold started packing up anyway. Finally, after a few more hours of wrangling, an extremely hurried Handfasting was made in the presence of family and neighbours and the wedding entry recorded in Gurndell’s books.
The treasure hunters’ discussion on sharing all their loot out was, in true hobbit fashion, very brief and amiable. The silver was enough to make each of the eight hobbit couples comfortably prosperous and the most scholarly hobbits were able to warn against inflation stress and price revolution. Aside from the cheese sword (which could be put to immediate use for bounder patrols) the special items were to remain hidden, with Otto’s grandchildren having the final say on their use. Halfred was keen these should be kept as a sort of insurance and not evaluated with the coinage. They returned the bottom third only of Otto’s note to the hollow and closed up the fake boulder. They set up camp for the night and watched autumn mists rise off the Brandywine river far below.
Over in Gurndell the newly married couple fled away on their honeymoon without bothering to explain further. They rejoined their dwarven friends just after midnight at the great cave, or ‘Hen Hole’ as Anjelica knew this local landmark. Master Bifur was caught up on the local situation and agreed that it would be best to move on as soon as possible. The dwarves hurriedly packed up and gathered at the rear of the cave, ushering the hobbits forward as ‘resident worthies’. Despite prompting neither hobbit, even Anjelica who had visited the cave all her life, knew what might be required. Bifur placed his hand on a waist high pillar “Sullu zatâti gilkhal” he declared, and two huge gates swung open to reveal a wide road leading down into the dark. “It’s the old Kingsway,” he explained, “which gets a wee bit hairy further down but is still passable to the lake. I hope.” They marched in, with the two hobbits wondering what “a wee bit hairy” might mean.
To keep the hoard as secret as possible the hikers opted to return cross country to Gogglegard with their treasure. Falco, Marigold and Bella offered to head back to Hagg End to collect the wagon and reassure the villagers that the rest of the hiking club were coming back another way. The rest of them set off westward with the intention of camping out and hunting along the way. Since they were up in the highest and most remote part of the moors they moved along cautiously. One solitary dell was memorable for a still, circular pool which they stumbled across. Despite the brisk wind the water of the tarn was completely still and dark. Peering in they could see a perfect reflection of each of them, but after a moment the images changed slightly. Initially they thought they were seeing themselves as they were when younger, but that was not quite correct. What it showed was different combinations of their features on young hobbits; a bit like each of them but none quite the same. It made them unexpectedly happy.
Later, while hunting for dinner, Isenbold spotted a magnificent flight of swans gliding down towards a ridge to the north. Edgar enthusiastically charged towards the crest but Marroc managed to pull him down for a more stealthy approach. Peering over the top the hobbits were startled to see a large freshwater mere, not marked on any map, which seemed to be a gathering place for all sorts of migrating birds. The air was noisy with their whooping calls and gabblings. The hunters snared a couple of ducks and retreated to hike another few miles before stopping for camp and a cookfire. Roast duck with wild blackberries and yet more wedding cake made a fine supper. Edgar started to work on a new song about swans in the twilight. Mungo and Lily snuggled. Gorboduc pined for Primula. Isenbold gathered stray feathers. Marroc and Estella wandered off “to enjoy the sunset”.
After a night’s camp under autumn drizzle, the next day was clear enough to continue on. They made good progress but Isenbold was unable to catch any game. He was, however, greatly bothered by the faint tinkling of a thousand tiny bells which appeared to be coming from a nearby boulder. He circled it and poked underneath and the others came over to join him thinking he’d found mushrooms. Isenbold pointed at the boulder and asked for help locating the bells. The other hobbits could hear nothing. Some mild teasing ensued. Marroc refused to help him free whatever mystical nonsense was under the big boulder and Gorboduc moved them onwards. Their afternoon hunt was more successful with several pheasants falling to arrows. They finally came in sight of a few landmarks familiar to Gorboduc but the group couldn’t quite get down off the high moors before becoming benighted. While the others set up camp, Marroc and Estella wandered away again. Alas, Marroc was plagued by the sound of a thousand tiny bells jingling from a nearby outcrop, which quite spoiled his mood.
The final day of hiking brought them down into the dale which they had explored two years back. They spotted a pair of ravens and a red kite tumbling in the northerly wind, fighting each other. Another mile brought them to a gushing little beck where Halfred was bothered by the sound of a myriad tiny bells chiming somewhere underground. But Gorboduc had spotted the high tower of his home in the distance and was not to be stopped; onward they went and reached Gogglegard in time for a hearty dinner. Primula was especially pleased to introduce everyone to their new baby Peredur, and to a much-grown toddler Iris.
There was a bit of conversational confusion that evening over whether the group had arrived in response to Prim’s urgent letter, but no such letter had caught up with them. The family had sent for help. Grandad Saradas had disappeared in the night a little over a week ago. He was hale but rather deaf. All the doors were locked as normal but he often got up in the night, so he might have gone out. Local bounders and searchers were busy further south where hobbits had been complaining about boggarts in the hills and sheep rustling. The group interrogated the elders about unusual happenings around the smial and it became apparent that the family were hiding some other concern.
Marroc pressed for the ‘unsafe’ tower to be opened and Gorboduc agreed. He appeared decidedly uneasy. Edgar and Mungo pressed him for local lore and eventually he gave in and told them about a family tragedy which had affected his family many years ago.
“My Great Uncle Sadoc was a keen astronomer and spent many nights in the tower. He knew the night skies and local landscape well. One starlit night at the tail end of autumn he observed a dark shadow moving across the high ridge and watched it with interest through the telescopic lenses until it vanished. Unfortunately, it also saw him. It reappeared close by and attacked. The shade fled when the noise of the fight woke the family who ran up the tower to rescue my uncle. Sadoc was found unconscious and had lost a lot of blood. When he awoke some days later, he raved about a devouring shadow and fell darkness and could not be easily restrained. The wound went bad and Sadoc became less and less coherent, eventually attacking all around him.
“After some weeks he escaped and got back up the tower, where he was a snarling but surprisingly strong mess. The family are ashamed that in the ensuing skirmish he was driven off the roof and smashed on the rocks below. He should have died. Grandpa Saradas maintains that Sadoc did die. But when they went down to collect the body it was still moving. Grandpa gave a mercy cut but still the body did not die. Eventually they took him inside and down to an even more secure hold in the deepest part of the old wine cellar, where he remains to this day. He cannot be killed or even wounded for long but has become a pitiable creature, pale and shrunken and hissing. In recent years this thing has become disturbingly transparent.”
The hobbits decided to search for Grandad down in Uncle Sadoc’s prison cell. Concealed underneath the tower were the old cellars, small and dark with one section barred off. Some untouched food and drink was visible on the other side of the bars. They shone lanterns all around and quizzed the family on the ‘pale and transparent’ prisoner who was presumably hiding in the debris at the back of the cell. Their description reminded Mungo of old lore about barrow wights and the fall of Cardolan. In those days, long ago, the shadow that came out of Angmar had a weapon called the Black Breath which poisoned those who fell. Many died but some did not; they became a malevolent wight under the control of the shadow. After trying a few lures they reluctantly gathered their blades and lanterns and wit and opened the cell door. With great trepidation they crept in and poked about, but the cell was entirely empty. There were no vents or drains in the cell although there was, they noticed, a drain in the outer part of the cellar. They lifted it to discover a dark and dank passage.
After a delay to fetch more rope and lantern oil and to brief Gorboduc’s concerned family, the hobbits descended into the tunnels under Gogglegard. These were partially carved out but mostly natural limestone passages worn by water and full of drops, splits, collapsed sections and unexpected potholes. Their exploration was not fast but Halfred’s expertise with a compass allowed them to be methodical. It took several hours, often with a feeling of being watched, hearing the echoes of wordless cries and brushing away sticky webs. Moving generally downwards the group gradually became spooked, with some of the rearward hobbits increasingly sure that they saw something lurking in the darkness nearby. Their trackers found no trace of anything in the damp and dirt. Eventually they came across a smear of blood and a recently gnawed dog bone. Moving very quietly they were alerted by Edgar’s exclamation to an unexpected cold breeze from a side passage. Creeping a little way down this they came across the sad remains of Grandad Saradas. They solemnly gathered up the pieces.
Lookouts noticed a flicker of torchlight up ahead. They investigated and emerged onto an arched gallery looking down onto a wide, high hallway ― easily big enough to take two wagons abreast. The ancient dwarven stonework was decaying but still sound. Epic stone doors closed each end but to the south, one was slightly ajar and through this they could see brighter lights and hear hammering sounds. Halfred had a suspicion that they were very close to the amber tomb. Lowering their ropes they climbed down and marched up this great hall to hail whoever was on the other die of the door. The dwarven guards were on high alert but, of all the creatures they anticipated emerging from the dark, half a dozen notorious hobbits were the most unexpected. Gorboduc introduced them all and the guards relaxed somewhat. “Tobold!” the captain yelled up, “Your mates have arrived. Even though they weren’t invited.”
A pleased reunion took place whereby the hobbits learned that this first batch of engineers were busy stabilising the collapsed limestone cavern, and concealing any access points from above. The artisans would come later. Bifur was supervising and both Tobold and Anjelica were acting as his note-takers before starting their journey to the Blue Mountains. The dwarves were aware that local stone was soft, permeable and riddled with dangerous tunnels. But the Kingsway was still good, sound dwarven work and lined with granite; only the lowest levels needed care. That was the road they intended to take when their task here was done. After a hasty (by hobbit standards) picnic it was time for the two groups to bid a solemn farewell. They climbed back up Gogglegard with their unhappy burden.
In the days that followed they thoroughly blocked the cellar drain, and instigated new bounder patrols and precautions across the high moors. Disappearances were reported to Gorboduc and investigated so that any nearby potholes could be blocked up, but the wight or boggart remained a feared shadow of the high moors. The hiking club dispersed to their smials. At Yuletide Marigold gave birth to a baby girl who was named Marigold but often called Goldie to distinguish her from her mum. Bella also gave birth to a little girl who they called Rowan after her aunt. Both babies thrived. Estella returned home having been scandelously unescorted for an extended journey, so her parents’ insistence on a long engagement no longer made any sense at all. Marroc and Estella were happily married in an elegant wedding at Springtide amid the flower meadows of Dumblebee gloriously in bloom with the new pink and white Cosmos daisies and swarmed by many very happy honeybees.
