And it came to pass, that while they the companions were inside the mine, certain orcs had found and stolen their horses. When they emerged once more upon the hillside, they espied the monsters leading their animals away across the moor. They reacted with dismay, and with dispatch set out after the creatures, following then across the moor. The orcs took no special care in their movements, and so the companions remained on their trail without disclosing their presence.
At least they came to a place where the winding track led through the bogs and scrub of the moors, and a small, ruined house rose from the ground. There, they discovered one of their horses, being led about by one of the orcs. The companions, remaining unseen by the orc, did creep forward so to spring upon him unawares, in which they were successful, but they roused the others of his band. One in the ruins let off a blast of a horn; another, brandishing a large staff carved with the foul and cruel face of the orcs abominable god, charged, howling, from the ruins, to attack them. As they closed with these orcs to give them battle, a third monster commenced loosing arrows from another small ruined outbouse. And as the battle was joined, more orcs, including their captain and champion, came charging across the moors, roaring their hatred as they swung their great swords and axes above their heads.
A terrible fight ensued. The orc shaman brought down curses, and flying magical weapons that rained blows upon the companions, but Sister Clair confounded the monster by summoning a magical quarterstaff of her own with which to belabor him. Inky, Bono and Angus came to blows with the monsters, with their captain and champion, and the two sides rained blows upon one another most terribly. But the companions had grown in strength, and their magical powers and martial skills told in the end, and they wore the orcs down, slowly bringing them to defeat. The creatures, bred for war and murder, would never surrender - they fought on with desperate redoubled efforts, but to no avail. The companions did triumph, and held the field.
And so did their mission end. They found and retrieved their horses, with some difficulty, and after resting in a secure place, they set out once more back to Whelker’s Deep in the morning. At the Gypsy Arms they were received with great rejoicing. The regulars at the tavern had taken them as their own, and were bragging about their exploits as thought hey had shared in the companions’ dangers themselves. The next day, they rode on and spoke with the McGuffin family. They brought to them the relics of Black Bart, and the proofs of his identity provided by the mysterious half-elf Quarrel, and the family thanked them most effusively for their service. “We know,” they said, “that our beloved son has been avenged; would that the cruel killers could have come to meet their end at the hands of a judge and hangman, but knowing they have been destroyed is, itself, a small comfort.” Thus they provided the 500 pounds they had promised, and after examining the other relics of the adventure the companions had brought, told them to keep them for themselves. The wand in particular, they said they could not take: “Young Trevor studied the magical arts against our wishes and advice; the trappings of that magical life he led can only cause us pain, for had he not chosen such a disreputable path, he would not have met the terrible end he met. You will find uses for them that we cannot, and so we grant them to you, and ask only that you continue to serve the cause of justice, in your small way, as you have served the cause of Trevor’s justice.”
But when the companions did seek the reward offered by the town for the capture or death of Black Bart, they were rudely rebuffed. They met with the steward Hamish the Gray, who looked over the proofs of Black Bart’s identity and refused to accept them. “This leg could belong to anyone,” he said, and though Bono and Milo (who were the companion’s spokesmen) showed tghe signs the half-elf had revealed to them, the steward refused to be persuaded. “Where is this half-elf?” he asked. “How did he know so much about Black Bertrand? No - this is hardly proof that you have found Black Bart himself - this could be anyone’s leg; you could have gotten these other signs from the man himself. No, I cannot pay you based on this.”
And so they were rebuffed in their attempt to gain the other half of their expected reward, and retreated to the Gypsy Arms, to consider their next actions. And there, they heard most disturbing talk. Their friends there (Young Davy, Joe, Cap’n Will, Shelf the dwarf) told them that there were stories circulating in town, that they had defrauded the McGuffin family with the leg of some unknown unfortunate. There were whispers that they had let associates of Black Bart go in exchange for information. There was even one particularly noisome tale that they had conspired with the outlaw chief himself to pass off the leg of an unfortunate underling as his own, so that he could collect the reward for himself. And as they listened to these tales, the companions grew more and mor
[Manuscript ends here]
