Stars above, that was a dark day.
Archet, usually a quiet place, was a ruin. Smouldering timbers, folk with soot-streaked faces, a right mess. Jon Brackenbrook, poor fellow, looked like he'd aged ten years in a night.
"Ride to Combe," he says to me, "tell them we need help, quick as you can."
I went straight to the inn to tell Lizbeth. Mayhap had a Beakbreaker or two to clear the smoke from me throat.
After telling Lizbeth in Combe, I thought I'd best get to Bree and let them know the troubles. Barliman Butterbur, a good friend and always a listening ear, needed to know what happened in Archet, and he'd be able to get the word out to thems what needs to hear it. Brigand trouble spreads like wildfire, and Bree-folk'd be glad o' the warning.
I had a pint or two o' Blind Troll while I told me story, just to steady me nerves.
I were hopin' to strike out earlier, but it were quite late when I left the Pony, so I decided to head out and kip at Adso's. Hard to find liquid refreshment there, but between wossname Larkspur and old Buckley I knew I'd be able to get a meal inside me.
Hard not to wake up in the foredawn at Adso's so I got going up and early. Made sense to take a shortcut through the Old Forest, I knows a few paths there. Bloody great spiders but like most things if you don't bother them they won't bother you.
Made it to Newbury in Buckland, stopped off to tell Saradoc Brandybuck 'bout the troubles up East. Someone lost a sheep as I remember, wandering past the smials like it owned the place.
Saradoc agreed to spread the word and I headed to Stock on the Great East Road to tell Gunderic Grubb - he runs the Golden Perch in the Marish - just in time for lunch it were so I had a bite to eat and a nip of Brandy Wine on the Brandywine, just a nip mind you.
They say it's as deep as the river and as likely to drag you under... I couldn't stop long if was to make Michel Delving afore gloaming.
After a nice bit o' fish from the river, I continued westwise to pass the news to Ponto at the Log, I'd never hear the end of it if wee Grubb knew something he didn't.
Ponto made sure I tasted his Toad's Tongue ale, he thinks it'll win the Four Farthings but it's an acquired taste, not my cup of toad if you know what I mean.
Seemed silly not to stop at the Green Dragon on the way to Hobbiton, so I did. Barmy Rootknot was getting set for afternoon teatime so I filled him in, and he thanked me with a cup of Ruby Wine, 1404 I think was the vintage.
It's only polite to take a drink when offered. Suitably refreshed, I went on my way.
Hop, skip, and a jump and I were in Hobbiton.
Headed to the Bush where I knew Hereward would be the right person to pass the news from Archet.
It were nigh close to dinner time so a spot of Thistlebelly fortified me for the final leg of the journey to Michel Delving.
None the worse for wear, I took the short route through Waymeet, chickens scuttling this way and that, and made it back here in time for tea.
Master Boffin could see I were parched and pulled a pint of Blagrove's, which hit like a right treat after such a hike, I can tell you.
That were a long two days but getting the word out about Archet was more important than my sore feet and dry throat.
Now, that's me story and if you want me to be tellin' it again, well you'd best be asking Carlo for a pint o' Brown - I can't be talkin' dry.
Ah, cheers to you!
So I were in Archet the morn after the brigands struck...
Brenin Crus