Dedication: For Kate, my fellow closet fanfic-writer, whom I swore would be the first one to read my stuff. As she hadn't read LOTR at the time, she couldn't read any of the pieces I would normally have written. Thus, we have this short little tableau, spoiler-scarce for the uninitiated, and a lot lighter in tone than my usual scribblings.
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Though much decried in song and story, darkness could be quite pleasant, when the night was warm and the stars were bright as flame-lit jewels. The wind was in the west, and perhaps it was his imagination, but it seemed to carry just the faintest hint of salt, as of the distant sea.Strange, to put sea and salt together, when I have never seen the shores of Middle-earth! The small figure sighed contentedly, turning away from the wind to resume its course. It strode through the glades of Green Hill County, humming softly as it came. Otherwise, the apparition made no noise, which was enough to tell the knowledgeable that he was a hobbit, though a rather peculiar one to be out so late. Most of the countryside was asleep, and if not asleep, at least snug indoors. But it was too fine a night to remain inside, however comfortable one's chair and pipe; tonight was a Wander-bout Night, and Bilbo Baggins did not intend to waste the opportunity.
On such a night, Gildor and his folk surely would be about, he thought. Perhaps I'll catch sight or sound of them. But even if the elven folk failed to appear, Bilbo would enjoy his walk, his bit of rebellion against the chronic, cloying propriety of Shire custom and habit, and he smiled at the thought. My poor, dear, ridiculous hobbits, with no knowledge of the Outside and no desire for it either. A pity, really, but then I suppose everything has its price, and this is the price of the Shire. He sighed again, this time feeling a touch melancholic. As always, when he was alone and his thoughts went back to his own Grand Adventure, he wondered what folk would say if they knew about the great mountains and Mirkwood and the broad plains that he had glimpsed far south. What would they make of the great delvings of Erebor, or the Halls of the Wood-Elves? And what about the great, high cities of Men? Bree hardly counted when one had seen Esgaroth and Lake Town, and he knew that there were cities even more magnificent built in the far land of Gondor.
What I would not give to see them! Bilbo thought, and felt the familiar tug of wanderlust. But as usual, he resisted it, held back by the responsibility he had for his nephew, Frodo, who daily begged for tales. Then there were the Sackville-Bagginses, to whom Bilbo refused to leave either Bag End or the Shire. And really, hadn't he had enough adventures for one life? Travel could be such an uncomfortable bother, truly, especially in so far a land as Gondor. The mosquitoes, for one thing, were apt to kill one, and then there were the crowds in cities, the horses that might trample one… best to remain at home for now, surely. If there was an element of defensiveness, of fear, even, Bilbo dismissed it as his Settled-side, perceiving no deeper cause than plain hobbit staidness. But his hand in his pocket fingered the Ring, clutching it tightly as if to claim it, 'til all thought of travel faded. Later, perhaps, he would see the wide world again, but not now. Now was taken up by… other things.
In the mean time, walking was invigorating, and the trees were full of sighs, gusting lightly in the breeze. Bilbo inhaled deeply and gazed up at the tree tops, delighted by the sight of them bending their grasping branches against the sky, as if to sweep the stars to the earth. A beautiful, restful ni—
A coughing growl sounded close at hand, and Bilbo whirled, surprised and alarmed. Out of the bushes leapt a great, dog-like shape, but the hobbit knew it was no dog. That's a Warg if ever I saw one! What in the name of heavens is it doing here? Bilbo fell back to the trunk of a large tree, groping for the Ring automatically but his fingers seemed stiff, and he could not get a hold of it. At the same time, he glanced wildly about for a stick or a stone, anything that he could put between himself and the slavering beast. The yellow-eyed silhouette paused, and the hair on its back stood up in coarse spikes as its tail lashed menacingly. But then, amazingly, it turned and fled, heading south out of the Shire, bound for who knew where. Bilbo put a hand over his heart, panting, and waited for the blood to stop pounding in his ears. So much for adventures! One always forgets how terrifying they are when they are right in front of you, he thought, steadying himself against the tree.
Just at that moment, a slight rustle alerted him to another presence. Not another Warg! Bilbo thought. His hand, fumbling in its coat pocket, finally found the Ring and he slipped it onto his finger. There were more stealthy noises, and then a cloaked shadow emerged swiftly from the darkened glade. Its momentum carried it a few yards past Bilbo, and then it paused, glancing about, and the hobbit saw the gleam of steel where starlight glinted off a drawn dagger. With what sounded like a soft curse, the knife disappeared under the cloak, and the hunter shook his head.
"Who goes there?" Bilbo demanded, and marveled at his own boldness. Perhaps I have been in the Shire too long, to address an armed man like that, with not even a handy rock about! But he was drawn by a strange curiosity. The shadowed figure whirled about sharply at the sound of his voice, and then halted facing him dead on. Just in time, Bilbo removed the Ring, not wishing to let his secret out, but that meant that the Man could see him now, if he'd good night eyes. For Man he had to be. He certainly wasn't an Elf, but the hobbit could hardly guess what one of the Big Folk was doing in the Shire at this hour. Whatever his errand, and however legitimate (or not) it might be, the Man stood still, staring at the hobbit. Bilbo for his part gazed up in astonishment… quite a ways up, and he thought that even for one of the Big Folk, this one was rather tall.
"A friend," came the reply after somewhat of a pause. A moment longer they both stood rooted in place, but then the Man turned and walked a few paces further into the star-lit glade, where the grass grew soft and new. There, he stopped and knelt down. With one hand he fumbled for something in his belt, and the other he placed on the ground, gently running his fingers over an object that Bilbo, from his vantage point near the tree bole, could not see. A pinpoint of light flared in the darkness as the resin-coated wick of a dwarven tinderbox caught, and Bilbo, creeping forward to stand at his shoulder, realized that the Man was examining prints: large, clawed wolf-tracks.
"I say, what is your business? And your name?"
"My business just escaped southward, I fear," the stranger said, rocking back on his heels and gazing in that direction. The light from the tinderbox cast deep shadows on the Man's face and lit the depths of pale eyes eerily. His mouth tightened, and his jaw clenched as he looked after the Warg's tracks, giving him a rather grim look. But after a long, fulminating moment, he let out a short, explosive sigh, running his fingers through his dark hair to get it out of his face, and he smiled, if only ruefully. "Well, there will be other nights, and at least no one lives in that direction, I think."
"No, no one does," Bilbo confirmed. "Now, then, sir, who are you, and how do you come to hunt Wargs in the Shire?"
"I know not of Wargs, but a rabid wolf is a danger to anyone. As for my name, call me Estel," he replied and flipped the lid on the tinderbox shut. Bilbo blinked his eyes, trying to clear the residual bright spots from his vision. And he frowned.
"Estel, Estel… a Sindarin name? You're no Bree-lander," he declared, and seeing that Estel cocked his head as if to say And what of it? continued, "But you're no Elf either. Estel… that means Hope, does it not?"
"I had not thought to find a scholar in strange tongues wandering at night in these parts," said he, and gave the hobbit a piercing look that even darkness could not conceal.
But Bilbo was not paying attention, he was trying to remember. Many years ago it had been, when he had set out with the Dwarves and Gandalf for Rivendell. "There were Elves in the valley that night," he said slowly, "and afterwards, in the Hall, just before we retired, there was a boy…." Bilbo gazed up, astonished, and even with Estel kneeling, he couldn't see him eye to eye without getting a crick in his neck.
"Perhaps I ought to ask your name, my friend," Estel said in a queer tone of voice.
"Let me see your face again first!" replied the hobbit. "Then I will say my name." He half expected the Man to refuse, but Estel struck the pad and the light flared again. They stared at each other, and Bilbo's eyes narrowed as he searched the other's stern, hard-planed face for a trace of the boy he remembered. Perhaps in the mouth, and there, just about the eyes…. Very little remained in the man to tell of the child, but there was now a sparkle in those eyes that recalled a young lad he had met once, a long time ago. "Estel… of the House of Elrond? Do you remember Bilbo Baggins?"
"Bilbo of Hobbiton, of course! I wonder I did not guess it," said the Man with a laugh. "And I marvel that you remember a mere child."
"Well, you did run smack into me… meaning no offense to you now," Bilbo added hastily.
"I did indeed. And nearly lit your coat on fire with the candle," Estel replied, seeming quite amused. "That was long ago, and I did not think to see you ever again in this world. And now I find Bilbo Baggins wandering the country side at night all alone. You came here seeking Gildor, perhaps?"
"You know Gildor?" Bilbo demanded, delighted.
"I do. To think, I turned down his offer of help this evening," Estel said, sounding somewhat chagrined. "He might have spared us the guessing game. Well, Bilbo Baggins, of all hobbits most renowned, I fear I must leave you to your business, and have one last try at my own ere the sun rises. And if you would, perhaps you will keep this to yourself. I would not want to alarm anyone about wolves or strange Men in the Shire at night." He stood and extinguished the flame once more, slipping the box back into the pouch at his belt.
"Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo," said he, and bowed before he turned and began to follow the wolf's trail again.
"But wait! I still do not understand. What are you doing here?" Bilbo called after him.
Estel paused mid-stride, and said over his shoulder, "That is a long tale my friend, one I cannot tell you here. If ever you come to Rivendell, inquire there, and you shall learn all that you could wish." And with that, Estel was gone in a twinkling, disappearing into the darkness as swiftly as a hobbit, which was no small feat considering his height.
Bilbo stared after him, amazed. Then he laughed, turning his face to the stars, and cried out, "And may you shine on him wherever he goes, too!" Bilbo paused then, and stood bemused, thinking. Inquire at Rivendell, is it? he said to himself, and felt the pull of foreign places once more. Perhaps I will… perhaps I will indeed. Someday.