return

1088 the return of the king
arrows, it is said, and they are woodcrafty beyond compare.
But they have offered their services to Théoden. Even now
one of their headmen is being taken to the king. Yonder go
the lights. So much I have heard but no more. And now I
must busy myself with my lord’s commands. Pack yourself
up, Master Bag!’ He vanished into the shadows.
Merry did not like this talk of wild men and poisoned
darts, but quite apart from that a great weight of dread was
on him. Waiting was unbearable. He longed to know what
was going to happen. He got up and soon was walking warily
in pursuit of the last lantern before it disappeared among the
trees.
Presently he came to an open space where a small tent had
been set up for the king under a great tree. A large lantern,
covered above, was hanging from a bough and cast a pale
circle of light below. There sat Théoden and Éomer, and
before them on the ground sat a strange squat shape of a
man, gnarled as an old stone, and the hairs of his scanty
beard straggled on his lumpy chin like dry moss. He was
short-legged and fat-armed, thick and stumpy, and clad
only with grass about his waist. Merry felt that he had seen
him before somewhere, and suddenly he remembered the
Púkel-men of Dunharrow. Here was one of those old images
brought to life, or maybe a creature descended in true line
through endless years from the models used by the forgotten
craftsmen long ago.
There was a silence as Merry crept nearer, and then the
Wild Man began to speak, in answer to some question, it
seemed. His voice was deep and guttural, yet to Merry’s
surprise he spoke the Common Speech, though in a halting
fashion, and uncouth words were mingled with it.
‘No, father of Horse-men,’ he said, ‘we fight not. Hunt
only. Kill gorgûn in woods, hate orc-folk. You hate gorgûn
too. We help as we can. Wild Men have long ears and long
eyes; know all paths. Wild Men live here before Stone-houses;
before Tall Men come up out of Water.’