Chapter 6 – Part 2 Chapter 6 – Part 1
Chapter 5 – Part 4 Chapter 5 – Part 3
Chapter 5 – Part 2 Chapter 5 – Part 1
Chapter 4 – Part 2 Chapter 4 – Part 1
Chapter 3 – Part 2 Chapter 3 – Part 1
Chapter 2 – Part 3 Chapter 2 – Part 2
Chapter 2 – Part 1 Chapter 1
by Silent Draco
Chapter 7, Part 1 – The Joys of a Simple Garden
The Eldar prepared a modest cottage for the hobbits, not far from the main road leading from Tuna through the Calacirya. They consulted with Olorin on the proper construction materials and colors to use, and were pleased with the modest structure grown for this use. Many Teleri and Eldar made it a point to come and observe or assist the forming, and no few of the Maiar were curious to see such a sight. One of Manwe’s great hawks had made a casual wheel and pass over the house out of curiosity, and a desire to see if something tasty bolted from underfoot.
Even in the Blessed Realm, time passed; the King’s great feast was early in the third month. Two weeks later, after Sting was cleansed and properly Named by Elven-Smiths, Noldanorie came to the door of their apartments and asked permission to enter. Greeted and brought inside, he spoke, flashing a radiant smile. “Young Ones, behold! Spring is nearly upon us. His Majesty is pleased,” he spoke, unrolling a scroll and map, “to grant you an abode in His lands, of a quiet and restful form. We know that Mortals may not abide long in these lands, and that you have grace to depart when you are ready.” His face showed regret, sorrow, and acceptance. “Such are the ways of Arda; while you abide with us, we wish to provide a more comfortable and comforting dwelling, one more suited for your lives and joys. Behold,” he spread out the map. “This is the house; note that we left many trees about it, for delight, shade, and food. There are a small meadow and some places suitable for flowers, while birds and bees dwell farther in the woods.” Bilbo looked at the plot and nodded. “Please inform His Majesty that we accept his gift with joy and thanks. If it is possible, may we move in a few days?’
A few days as transposed by elenveses and early tea became a week. It was just shy of the Spring Feast that two carriages stopped outside the house containing their apartments. One was driven by the King, to their surprise; the other was driven by Gandalf. “Well met, my friends; a wizard is neither early, nor late, …”
“… but arrives just when he is needed,” finished Frodo with a laugh. The king dismounted and nodded to the Halflings. “It is only right that We convey you to the site of Our gift, and observe you settled therein. Mithrandir had a hand in this,” he continued, with a sideways glance, “and asked leave to accompany his young friends. It is only fitting that he explains some of the construction and features.” A half hour’s packing sufficed to move clothing, accoutrements, and some contents of the larder to the cart drawn by Mithrandir’s carriage. “Well, we couldn’t very well leave the mushrooms there, or the bacon, and some of the butter, and …” stammered Bilbo, as Gandalf controlled a laugh. “Nor the seed-cake or tin of tea, I imagine,” finished Gandalf with a very droll tone. Urging the hobbits up, he set out after the king’s carriage at a sedate rate.
Some hours and many questions later (Sam and Bilbo chattered endlessly about new flowers now springing awake), they came to a small copse of trees and one of the King’s Guards. He bowed and gestured up a small lane. Mithrandir turned in, drove up through clusters of young and middle-aged birches, and halted briefly. The Halflings gazed in wonder; what lay ahead was an open meadow with pretty wildflowers; some beds and gathers of flowers and flowering shrubs, flowing south from a hill covered in old trees; and what appeared to be an old smial with some extended rooms, resembling both Brandy Hall and the lesser extensions of the Great Smial of the Tooks. They stopped behind the other carriage on the trail loop; dismounting, they saw the king speaking with four Elves in earth-dappled robes of gold, grey, green, and ochre. Silence fell as they walked to the garden gate. The Elves bowed deeply as they entered, and the king sang:
To Bilbo, Frodo Baggins, and to the
Esteemed Samwise Gamgee, by Shore of Sea
We greeted, hailed, saluted noble thee,
O valiant, humble heroes, come as three!
Abide now, rest, and comforted now be,
In humble home, Our gift by stream and tree;
Thy journey done, and thy actions now free,
A home to tarry in, west of the Sea.
“We find our desires were carried out to the desired tastes, but with some Elvish accents, we may say. Mithrandir was most eloquent on Halflings, their living spaces, a love of fields and ordered places, and fondness for, ah, certain delicacies. Enter, please, my guests, and see if Our gift is amenable to your tastes.” Unsure of the proper ceremony, the hobbits also bowed deeply and replied: “We thank Your Majesty for this wonder. Let us explore as you request.” Sam looked intently at the eastern side, as the approached the round door. He grabbed Frodo’s sleeve and pulled him back, calling “We dursen’t! ‘Tis him! The willow, th’ evil look!” Frodo whispered back in alarm and surprise, “Sam! Sam! Come to your senses; we are in Elven-Home and not on the Withywindle. Sam, look again!” Sam stopped shivering; now he saw the mottled clouds pass over the hillcrest and trees, leaving stray patterns. The willow was now one more sleepy tree, praising sun, earth, and water.
The king’s eyes grew hard, and began to almost glow a golden-green as the hobbits stepped back. Mithrandir hastily stepped forward, “Apologies, Your Majesty! I believe Master Samwise may be in further need of healing. I had instructed Frodo and Sam to leave …” and Olori continued in a poetic and highly alliterative form of Quenyan that exceeded the power of the speaking stones. The Halfings could only watch in trepidation. The king looked sharply, nodded in thought, and considered a long moment, nodding again as Olorin gestured and spoke. “Ah, we could not have known, and like the feast, an unwelcome surprise … dear Young Ones, please forgive My lack of understanding. Master Samwise, may we ask a Healer from Lorien to come and sing with you?” “Your Majesty, I know but the rustic and merry song o’ me own people, an’ … oh! Your pardon; aye, Your Majesty, it would be another blessing.”
At the king’s glance, Olorin spoke again in the high dialect: “Thy plea is sent, and now answered. A peace-singer will come on the morrow, at the second hour of day, one who had labored long to recall the injured warriors of Beleriand.” The king looked grave; his face shadowed. “Aye. The glory of harrying a foe of the first magnitude, overturned in a moment of time by sorrows and pain, were too much for some of the First-Born. A Young One, afflicted alike across much of his few years in Arda: perishing from grief and pain, passing beyond without solace? Let us see if the final shadows can be washed away by light and peace.”
To Be Continued…