It was Morgan. At some unknown point, he'd taken position nearby.
He now held a brown long pipe filled with Old Toby. Seeing Aedric awaken, he lit the pipe and offered it over.
"Have a smoke—you'll feel better."
"The pipe's new." Aedric had just awakened and remained somewhat dazed, but seeing such courtesy, he accepted it.
Then he took a deep draw, feeling his mind clear somewhat. In his previous life, he'd occasionally smoked—not much, no addiction.
"Is Daisy alright?" Aedric exhaled a smoke ring, asking with concern.
"She's well—fell asleep after taking medicine." Speaking thus, Morgan produced an old pipe from his pocket, asking: "May I have a smoke?"
"Certainly." Aedric smiled: "We eliminated those bandits together—naturally the spoils are shared. Help yourself."
Morgan's eyes moved slightly, thinking unknown thoughts, as he nodded: "Good."
Soon he too joined the smoke-ring-blowing ranks. In the Shire, most male Hobbits enjoyed smoking pipe-weed. This had become wildly popular throughout the Shire and Bree-land.
A certain wizard bearing staff and sword had once said that when vexed, he'd smoke a few puffs to soothe his spirit. When encountering troubles, he'd also smoke, helping him think more clearly.
As for harmful effects—none had yet been discovered.
"Master Aedric." Morgan turned to ask: "I heard from Bilbo that you're a bounty hunter, earning fees by completing tasks. Is this correct?"
"You could say that." Aedric scratched his head. This was his first completed task since arriving in Middle-earth. Though the process proved extremely dangerous—truly licking blood from knife-edges—the rewards were decent.
Two hundred silver coins could buy dozens of ponies.
Upon hearing this, Morgan spoke seriously: "Master Aedric, from my experience, if you wish to continue completing tasks in the wilderness, one person certainly won't suffice. You need to recruit more companions."
"Companions?" Aedric was puzzled.
"Yes." Morgan nodded: "I've discovered you're unfamiliar with the Shire's surrounding environment—a quite fatal flaw for a bounty hunter."
"Moreover, your combat style favors direct confrontation, using that elven sword and decent skills to defeat enemies. You're strong, but this is far from sufficient."
"Therefore, in upcoming journeys, you'll need other companions—scouts for intelligence gathering, cooks for logistics management."
Aedric pondered briefly before replying: "What you've said, I've also considered, but there aren't any good candidates!"
He truly had considered this. When returning by boat from the Barrow-downs, he'd even thought of persuading Bilbo Baggins to become his teammate.
He was quite suitable in all aspects. Could cook, was clever enough, and possessed Hobbits' unique hiding abilities. Even without that ring, he'd make an excellent scout.
Only the persuasion results weren't ideal. Partly because he lacked Gandalf's eloquence.
On the other hand, Master Baggins was a respectable figure in the Shire. If you spoke of adventuring in great wildernesses and seeing dragons and lost dwarven kingdoms, he might show some interest.
But earning bounties in the Shire and Bree? Sorry—Bilbo expressed little need for this, instead inviting Aedric to live with him at Bag End. He had plenty of rooms.
Why suffer such hardships?
"What d'you think of me?" Morgan suddenly asked, turning to look at Aedric with some nervousness in his expression.
"You?" Aedric understood suddenly. Having said so much, you're planning to recommend yourself.
Yet his mind reconsidered. Actually, he seemed quite suitable!
A former border guard—naturally familiar with terrain. After nearly ten years as a cook, his killing and tracking skills hadn't grown rusty, able to eliminate several bandits quickly.
Most importantly, his character was excellent. To repay life-saving grace, he could serve at the Golden Wheat Sheaf for ten years. After the attack, he could endure humiliation while ultimately rescuing Daisy.
Aedric certainly couldn't do this—with his temper, he'd definitely draw sword and fight them. Kill one to break even, kill two for profit!
However, why would he want to follow him?
Aedric pondered briefly before asking: "Won't you stay in the village to continue caring for Daisy? She's not yet an adult."
"No need." Morgan shook his head: "Mina will care for her better than I could. They're relatives—you should've met her this morning."
"Oh, the aunt willing to mend my clothes?" Aedric suddenly remembered.
Then asked strangely: "Won't you continue running a shop? You could take over the Golden Wheat Sheaf—you've been a cook for nearly ten years."
"It can't continue." Morgan's right hand gripping the pipe stem suddenly tensed, veins faintly visible.
Yet his expression remained extremely calm as he answered: "When that woman Barbara fled, she took everything valuable from the inn. Her subordinates also consumed all food and drink, leaving only an empty shell."
"Moreover, I don't want Daisy continuing the inn business—today's world is too dangerous. I hope she can remain in the village learning medicine. Granny Anna told me training an apprentice requires much money—just purchasing various materials and instruments costs at least fifty silver coins."
"Future expenses will be even greater, so..." Morgan didn't finish, but Aedric understood.
However, what instruments and materials were so expensive? This could buy ten ponies! Then reconsidering—in this era, besides Isengard, basically no industrialization existed. Perhaps things truly were expensive.
"So you think following me to earn money's a good choice?"
"Yes." Morgan spoke sincerely: "On one hand, I owe you favors—at least seven lives."
Seven? Bakus, triangle-eyes, fatty, jug-ears, plus those two idiots in the warehouse. Aedric began counting on his fingers. Six!
Oh, he must be counting Daisy too, making seven.
"On the other hand, Bilbo told me you'll soon receive a large sum of silver coins—at least two hundred. Perhaps you could advance me some..."
He and Bilbo were distant relatives, both bearing Took blood, naturally able to converse.
My goodness! Before I even receive it, you're already eyeing it?!
Aedric's mouth twitched as he helplessly slapped his forehead: "Fine, when Old Took delivers the money, I'll share some with you—consider it thanks. Without your warning last night, I might not have deflected that crossbow bolt."
When chatting with Village Chief Harleth earlier, he'd asked the man to report their safety to Tookland. In this era, this was no easy task. Yet the chief readily agreed.
If nothing unexpected occurred, in eight to ten days, Old Took and the children's parents should arrive.
"No—it's a loan!" Morgan insisted.
"Fine, fine, loan to you, loan to you." Aedric said helplessly, which amounted to agreeing with him.
Only then did the Hobbit relent, showing the fawning smile from the inn as he poured a full cup of wine and respectfully presented it to Aedric: "Captain, when does our next task begin?"
"Next task?" Aedric rolled his eyes, looking at the distant setting sun: "The next task is rest—a very, very long rest. We'll discuss it after my injuries heal."
[Note]
[In Thornfield village, you gained your first companion in Middle-earth. From past deeds, he appears clever, loyal, kind, and capable—just somewhat theatrical.]
This rest lasted two months.
To expel the evil power the Barrow-wight had left in his arm, Aedric daily had to pinch his nose and down a large bowl of multicolored liquid. The moment of drinking was truly worse than death!
Originally he thought drinking it repeatedly would create habituation, but habituation proved completely impossible!
Fortunately, both "Gruel" and Bilbo possessed excellent culinary skills, taking turns creating various Shire delicacies to comfort Aedric's repeatedly ravaged sense of smell and taste. Like how Mother would stuff candy in one's mouth after taking medicine as a child.
Plus the villagers' enthusiasm never diminished—they often made delicious food and invited Aedric to their homes. During his recovery period, except for those few minutes of medicine-drinking, he lived very comfortably.
He'd even gained some weight.
In between, Old Took also brought people to Thornfield village, not only delivering Aedric's earned reward in full but also earnestly inviting him to visit Tookland after recovery. Aedric expressed that after healing, he would certainly honor the appointment.
Naturally, the more friends one knew, the better.
Saradoc's parents also rushed over. Seeing their unharmed son, they expressed willingness to pay an additional reward as thanks. Aedric refused—after all, he'd already taken that golden belt, receiving Saradoc's portion of the reward.
Days passed one by one. When his injuries had mostly healed, Aedric took up his sword and began practicing that Celorn technique.
He wouldn't slack on matters that could enhance his strength. Otherwise, how could he venture to other parts of Middle-earth in the future?
This day, sunlight was covered by dark clouds, seemingly brewing a great storm. Aedric wielded Mithreleth in the temporarily occupied courtyard, practicing with absorption.
Sword-light flowed freely like rolling river waters, wandering through the green-grassed, flower-blooming courtyard.
Morgan sat nearby watching very seriously, not returning to his senses even when it ended.
Hmm? Aedric noticed this, his heart jolting. After sheathing his sword, he asked curiously: "Did you see something?"
If his teammate could also practice Celorn, he would certainly not be stingy. It could both increase physical attributes and grant various miraculous abilities—Rivendell wouldn't mind either.
Why not embrace such benefits?
"Me?" Morgan returned to awareness, passing over a clean towel while asking back: "What should I see?"
"Such as seas, rivers, or lakes." The weather wasn't particularly hot, but practice always brought heavy sweating. Aedric naturally accepted the towel.
This wasn't the first time. "Or a towering, obviously powerful figure." He spoke of the Vala, Ulmo.
"Captain." Morgan spread his hands, smiling: "I admit you're fully twice my height, but praising yourself as towering and obviously powerful seems a bit... a bit..."
Before his eyes were no seas or rivers. Just one person indeed.
"What, want to say I'm thick-skinned?" Aedric irritably tossed the towel back.
He understood this was a misunderstanding. He didn't mind the teasing in those words. After half a month together, their relationship had grown much closer, and they'd become much more familiar.
"Gruel" was someone who kept strangers at distance when unfamiliar—taciturn and quiet—but when familiar became very talkative and fond of joking.
"What were you thinking just now?"
"Naturally what to eat for lunch." Morgan jumped onto a long bench to enhance his persuasiveness: "I heard Mina's family has a sheep with broken ribs that must be slaughtered. Should we buy two legs?"
"Two legs!"
"You fellow, not tall but eating more than me, an invalid!" Aedric complained verbally while unhesitatingly producing copper coins from his pocket.
He'd only recently learned that besides silver coins, the Shire also circulated lower-value copper coins. The exchange rate with silver remained between 24:1 and 30:1.
High or low depended on copper production in northern Bree regions, plus whether dwarves and elves suddenly increased copper demand. Recently, purchasing two sheep legs cost less than one silver coin—about ten copper coins should suffice.
Actually, no purchase was needed.
"Aunt Mina will surely invite us—she always does this, and it's hard to refuse. Uncle Sam will certainly be there too. He'll bring white wine—for mutton, he prefers white wine."
"We can't go empty-handed either. You go to Little Jack's to buy fruit juice for the children, and I'll get honey cakes from Mary's for dessert..."
"Help! Help!" As both chatted, urgent shouting came from below the hill, growing ever closer.
An underage Hobbit appeared at the courtyard entrance. Harleth's nephew—"Little Shepherd."
From this name, one understood his occupation, and village folk called him thus. This had made Aedric start calling him so too.
"Aed... Master Aedric!" He gasped heavily: "Master Baggins sent me to find you. He says he discovered many evil, terrifying things called Sn... Sn... Sn-something."
Aedric's expression tightened as he said gravely: "Snaga?!"
During recent days, he and Bilbo had discussed Bakus's transformed appearance, also telling him about Snaga and Uruk appearances and habits. Consider it advance homework.
Little Shepherd nodded with sudden understanding: "Right, right, that name!"
"Go, take me there immediately!" Aedric couldn't understand why orcs would appear near Thornfield village for no reason.
As far as he knew, until the War of the Ring began, the Shire region experienced no significant battles. Because it had the Rangers' protection!
"Yes... yes." Two figures—one tall, one short—ran urgently toward the village entrance along the road.
Morgan turned and rushed into the house. Dozens of seconds later, his waist bore two short weapons.
On the left was his old partner of over ten years, custom-made by Blue Mountains dwarves. Even today it remained as sharp as new, cutting meat like cutting paper.
On the right was a willow-leaf-shaped short sword, its hilt decorated with red and gold serpentine patterns. According to Bilbo, orcs dared not touch this weapon. Just one stab could even kill mighty Nazgûl.
It was the captain's gift for joining the team, from the Barrow-downs. It might see use today.
Fully armed, Morgan quickly pursued. His leg injury had mostly healed under Granny Anna's treatment.
Before long, he saw Aedric and Little Shepherd's figures while hearing their conversation.
"I searched for so long without seeing Snowball's shadow. She's the whitest one, produces the most milk, and just had a litter a month ago."
Little Shepherd spoke while running, his words clearly carrying tears: "Later... later I met Master Baggins. He said he'd watch for her while gathering herbs, so he went to that forest in the valley."
"When... when I encountered him again, he said Snowball was caught by Snaga, wuu... killed, roasted, and eaten. He told me to immediately return and find you—he'd watch those bastards who ate Snowball."
"Wuu..." Finishing, the half-grown boy who'd lost his sheep broke into complete tears.
"Gruel." Aedric looked at his pursuing companion: "Prepare for battle. Times grow increasingly unsettled—groups of orcs have actually appeared in these parts."
Morgan, a former border guard, nodded. He knew what this meant, gripping his sword hilt ever tighter.