‘There’s trouble, Falco, just north of the Shire. What have you heard, and what can you find out?’ The big man from Gondor leaned over the table, glowering at him, watching for his reaction after reading the note. This was big news by anyone's standards. Three Gondorians gone missing, and now this Eodwine of the Rohirrim, all in the area of the Lake up north.
"Well now," said Falco, to gain time. He wasn't ready to admit that the whole thing was beyond him, though he thought it most like to be. Maybe this was business for the War Heroes. It didn't rightly seem to be Shire business, as it were. This was a concern of the big people. He supposed he was going to have to admit that he had nothing to offer within the limited scope of his travels about the Shire.
One of the working lasses came by to pick up after the finished meals, looking so fine and big eyed. Buttercup, it was. Falco smiled and winked at her, and she blushed something fierce, smiling herself to rival the sun before she moved on.
"Well now, friend Derufin, this surely makes it seriouser. And me being a shirrif, if there was anything I could tell you from my dealings within the Shire borders, you can be sure I'd gladly tell you. But this traveler who come to us with the satchel and its broken harp, now, he might know a thing or two. He's being brought over by a patrol from Michel Delving. I was with 'em but once we got word from you they sent me on ahead by pony. And don't you be takin' it hardlike that I stabled 'im up at the shirrif house instead o' here. We still got some rules amongst us, an' not of Sharkey's making neither."
Derufin frowned and rubbed his chin, and eyed Falco. "Are you sure you haven't heard the least bit of word about anything up north?"
"Not even the wee tiniest, leastways other than what I overheard from the Mayor hisself the other day, as sayin' now that the Rangers is all gone the shirriffs'll have to do their part to watch the borders a might better than before, which we all knowed anyways, and that meant keepin' word flowin' from Bree to the Towers an' back an' up an' down the north an' south o' the Shire for word of Ruffians an' goblins an' pockets o' the shadow that still need stampin' out since the King's sway still needs growin' an' ain't altogether here yet."
The Gondorian's eyes widened at something Falco had said, only he wasn't sure what in all that rattle it had been, but not being one to clap his trap he kept on talking away about what the Mayor had been saying until Derufin held up a hand, and he stopped.
"So what you're telling me," the tall big person said with his eyes needle sharp, "is that the Mayor knows that there's something up north that used to be an ally of the Shadow. And King Elessar's plans to rebuild Annúminas depend on finding out who or what is up there and clearing it out."
"You might say that's the gist of it," Falco allowed, "though it's strictly hearsay."
Ruby came by and wiped up the very same spot Buttercup had cleaned spotless moments before. Falco smiled and winked at her and she blushed and smiled back as pretty as you please, not without giving her cohort a meaningful look before she moved on.
"Is there any word what kind of something it is? Goblins? Ruffians? Something else?"
"I can't rightly say, but I heard the Mayor use a foreign sounding word, begging your pardon, black and somethin' like numerous, or nominal, or some such. I couldnt' make head or tail, but it stuck in my memory. What do you make of it?"
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