Welcome dear readers!
This story follows the book's storyline and sometimes refers to the pre-Hobbit timeline. However everyone can clearly understand what is going on thanks to the narrator.
At some point there is a paragraph or two in italics: it means that I used a quote from the book itself.
Elleth and ellon both means elf woman and elf man in Sindarin.
That's all I had to say! Enjoy your reading!
Glamdring - a Twist of Fate
Chapter one: A Queer Stranger
Bilbo Baggins spied silently the hooded stranger who, for the third time already, entered one of the barns at the far end of the garden, near the stables. He had been breaking his fast in the veranda when the interloper -whose svelte frame could not be mistaken with that of Beorn- first appeared, followed by a flow of prancing ponies. And that, dear reader, was weird.
Biblo waited for him to disappear once again inside one of the barns, slowly put his napkin down, rose very carefully, then retreated towards the door silently. Once out of sight, he hurried up to find Thorin.
A few minutes later, four dwarves and a hobbit were in the courtyard, near the old oak, cautiously making their way to the stables. They hid themselves behind a tree as soon as they saw the intruder. A strikingly tall person left the barn Bilbo talked about, hay in his arms, making its way to the entrance of the stables. Ponies gathered around him, prancing in such a happy manner it made the stranger laugh. It was a clear laugh. The person put his charge in an outdoor manger. A large steed still travel-dressed came to him and nudged his shoulder. The visitor patted its head affectuously, then undid the hooded coat which covered his head and body. He laid it on a nearby ladder.
Our companions silently approached the stable to have a better view. In the meantime, the stranger started humming a joyful tune while the happy creatures ate to their hearts' content, sharing with the stallion once it was undressed. He then began brushing their manes and robes with great care, crooning softly to the animals in the most elven of style. It then became painfully obvious to all this person was an elf, though they could not see his ears and features. They exchanged silent looks. It seemed that individual was a familiar of the house, given his behaviour. A servant maybe? Or a friend, though that would be strange, very strange, for their host did not really struck them as the friendly type.
"Do you think…" whispered Fili. The four of them gave him a stern look, before worriedly turning their attention to the intruder.
The elf was looking towards them.
"You, there, show yourself." He requested while brushing one of the ponies' mane.
In a flash, it was decided -without his consent- that Bilbo should face the elf… who apparently was an elf woman. He was shoved unceremoniously though not unkindly out their hidden place.
"My, what a strange dwarf!" the elleth matter-of-factly observed.
"My…lady" answered a very flustered Bilbo, before bowing his head politely, remembering his manners.
"Well…er… you see… actually I'm not a dwarf, but a hobbit… a hobbit from the Shire…"
"My, my, do excuse me, master…hobbit, is that is?"
"Yes" answered Bilbo, who was slowly regaining his composure. "My name is Bilbo Baggins, at your service".
"A star shines upon our meeting, then. Well met!" she said in a courteous enough tone. Though as you may have noticed, she did not offer him her services.
He proceeded to answer in Sindarin.
"My, how pleasant!" she answered with a small bow of her head, as dictated by the Westronian custom. She said something more in elvish that the could not quite catch, as his first lesson of Sindarin was most recent.
"Pray tell, little fellow, where did you learn such fine Sindarin?" She was smiling. A very dazzling smile, if you would ask him. "But first… I would have sworn it was not your voice I heard." She glanced at the tree behind Bilbo. Then she waited in front of our embarrassed hobbit.
The dwarves, discovered, went out. It seemed safe enough anyway. They bowed their heads. Thorin did not, potential king that he was, though he did acknowledge her politely.
"Oh, dwarves it is then," her pleasant tone turning suspicious. "What would four dwarven masters and a…hobbit be doing in the garden of one such as Beorn?"
"And pray tell, lady, what would a she-elf like yourself be doing in Beorn's garden? Thorin answered sharply.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm one of his acquaintance. I do happen to spend some of my time here, helping with this and that depending on the time of the year.
"We are the skin-changer Beorn's personal guests, do not fret, fair lady", interrupted the oldest-looking dwarves. He then introduced each of his friends and offered their services on their behalf.
"Strange that Beorn would… Anyway, were you not guests, the little fellows here would have chased you out. Well met, friends of Beorn, a star shines upon our meeting."
"Well met," they answered.
"It is settled then. You should go back to your businesses while I attend mine." Suggested the elf.
Though the dwarves remained suspicious of the elven lady, the day went on in a peaceful manner. She came back from a great travel at the Western border of Rhûn, in the East, to visit her good friend Beorn, she had said while unpacking several intriguing goods in the great hall. "I will make a good price out of it, she had affirmed approvingly while holding a golden carafe in front of her eyes. Some dwarves studied her possessions with interest. It is, dear reader, a well-known fact that dwarves love well-crafted goods, as you yourself surely know. Out of her loot, she had selected an exquisite comb to hold back her dark mane. Seeing their interested glances, she had smiled: "Watch all you want, good masters, though I don't think you could afford any of those treasures." She hadn't meant it as an insult, rather as a fact, though it did sting. Damn those elven jerks and their superior attitude, had thought the dwarves.
Anyway, the day had gone without further incident. No sign of Gandalf had been seen for the entire day. Of Beorn they had seen and heard nothing since the night before. Because of that, the dwarves were getting puzzled. The elven lady had been quite puzzled herself when she discovered the mansion not only housed four dwarves and a hobbit, but nine others! How uncanny, how bizarre… She could not wait for her host to come back to get the full story!
Gandalf eventually came back just before sunset. He walked into the hall, where the hobbit, the elf and the dwarves were having supper.
"Where is our host, and where have you been all day yourself?" the whole fellowship cried.
"One question at a time -and none till after supper! I haven't had a bite since breakfast." Answered he.
"Well met, guest of Beorn."
A Noldorin lady was sitting at the table, eating her supper together with his companions.
"A star shines upon the hour of our meeting." Answered Gandalf, not quite bothered by the weird situation. She replied with a polite nod. Dinner was then brought to the old wizard by Beorn's animals. The elleth came back to her own meal, waiting graciously for Gandalf to finish his plate.
At last Gandalf pushed away his plate and jug—he had eaten two whole loaves (with masses of butter and honey and clotted cream) and drunk at least a quart of mead—and he took out his pipe. "I will answer the second question first," he said, "—but bless me! this is a splendid place for smoke rings!" Indeed for a long time they could get nothing more out of him, he was so busy sending smoke rings dodging round the pillars of the hall, changing them into all sorts of different shapes and colours, and setting them at last chasing one another out of the hole in the roof.
When at last he spoke, he explained how he had been picking out bear-tracks and what he discovered when he followed them. The Noldor listened to his report attentively. She looked thoughtful.
"Who are you?" Asked she once he was finished and had sent Bilbo to bed. She shot a meaningful glance to the whole fellowship. "Who are you, all of you. There must be some sort of intriguing story behind all this."
Gandalf chuckled. "Your kind calls me Mithrandir, though others call me Gandalf the Grey, and those are my companions, led by Thorin Oakenshield whom you have met. Thorin nodded.
One of her eyebrows rose. "A fitting name, it seems…" said she, glancing at his grey mantle. In fact, Mithrandir means Grey Pilgrim in Sindarin. "As for me… you can call me Harthadî. I'm a wandering Noldo who comes and goes, offering my services whenever it pleases me. I'm also a friend and occasional guest of Beorn, in case you wondered.
The old man nodded. "I see… good, good! Truth be told, there is a long story behind our Company, though I'm not sure I should tell you about it. You might find it boring."
"No need to worry, I'm interested in all kind of stories, especially the incongruous one. You see, I also like to think myself as a bard whenever I feel like it!"
Gandalf smiled. "Is that so? Are you perchance of Gildor Inglorion's people?" The dwarves weren't listening very intently anymore, speaking with each other. Some even left the table to sit by the fireplace and sing songs.
"I'm not, though we often do business together. They are reliable people. Good clients too." Replied Harthadî. "Pray tell, you know an awful number of things for an old man. Why is that?"
"Old men have their secrets." Said Gandalf as he undid his mantle, feeling too warm. The elven lady's eyes fell on his sword pommel. Surprise shone in her eyes.
"You have quite a sword by your side!" The pommel was decorated with gems of the most precious kind, while the hilt was exquisitely jewelled.
Gandalf's grinned. "It certainly serves me well, fair lady."
Harthadî was one of those the elves called lachinn, "flame-eyed", by the Sindar and the Silvan elves, which meant that she was an elf who had lived in the Blessed Realm beyond the Sea. A light indeed shone in her grey eyes. At that time, there remained some as old as she in Middle-Earth, though most had died and more and more of those who remained sailed. Many a lachenn lived in Rivendell or resided in the Grey Haven. Others wandered the World with Gildor's company. That's perhaps why Gandalf asked her such a thing.
It's not that surprising therefore that she would know of Glamdring, the Hidden King's sword. All the more so if she was of bardic profession.
"May I take a closer look at your weapon, Mithrandir? It seems most familiar."
Gandalf nodded and gave her the sword. Looking quite stunned, she unsheathed the sword. Her breath hitched. "It is as I though then!" "Old man… have you any idea what sword you have in your care?"
He now was a bit intrigued. "Yes, yes, of course. Do not fret lady-fair. I value Glamdring quite a lot!"
"Yes… Glamdring… It is Glamdring. Turgon's sword. Fascinating." She was looking at it with soft eyes. "How come it came between your aged hands?" She seemed strangely subdued.
"So… you know which sword it is."
"Of course," she now seemed more poised, "any decent Noldo would recognize it. It's King Turgon's sword. It was lost during the Fall. How come I find it at your belt thousands of years later?!"
"That's a long story worthy of many a tale. To make it short we found it in a troll-hoard along with other treasures."
"In a troll-hoard? Eru, how distasteful!" exclaimed she indignantly, clearly displeased, while inspecting Glamdring with careful hands.
His eyes twinkled.
"I would reclaim it."
One of his eyebrows rose. "Reclaim it?" "on which grounds?"
She folded her hands on the wooden table: "It's mine by law and blood."
He stared at her. "Lord Elrond would be its rightful heir. Either him or one of Tar Elros' line. But the Lord of the Last Homely House never asked for it. No need to lie to me.
"Aw, you seem to know quite a lot for an old man. Are you one of those children of Numenorean origins?"
"No. As I said your kind calls me Mithrandir, though men call me Gandalf the Grey. I have many other names if those doesn't appeal to you enough."
"Those names satisfy me plenty enough. I, too, gathered quite a lot of names along the road of my existence."
"A long road I assume." Said Gandalf. "For, no matter what you said, few are the elves who know still about the elven king's sword."
She smiled. "And fewer are the old men who know about it and speak fluent Sindarin. Pray tell, are you one of those they call Istari in the South, and wizards in the North?"
"I am."
"Oh. I wondered who they might be."
"You still don't know a thing about us, though, don't you?" Said the wizard. "What about you? Who are you to claim "ownership" of my sword when it clearly cannot be?"
"That is none of your concern." She then changed her strategy altogether. "You know what? I can pay. Name your price and I will oblige."
Gandalf looked at her in disbelief. "Pay? What makes you think I would sell it?
Harthadî smiled. "Surely an old man such as you has little use of a sword? Besides this is a First Age relic. It should be returned to the Noldor."
"Watch your words, lady of the fair folk." Snapped Gandalf dryly. He wasn't amused at all. I dare say he was angry. "Watch your words …"
He did not need to threaten her more to make her quiet for she now stared at him wide-eyed.
Older elves were usually very perceptive. It had been very faint, very small, but she had felt it. She had felt it, the greater spirit that was Gandalf.
"Who are you? Not a mortal, with dead certainty!" She had gotten up and stared at him defiantly.
"Peace, Harthadî of the Noldor," said Gandalf, inviting her to sit again, "I'm no enemy.
The dwarves were now looking at them oddly.
"Do you need help, Gandalf?" Asked one of them who was sitting near the fire.
Gandalf shook his head, thanked him and said: "It would be wise to speak of it elsewhere."
To his relief, the elleth agreed. She left, Glamdring in her hands. He followed her to the veranda.
She sat herself at the table. "Now, spirit, tell me who you are and why you walk in such a cloak.
"You ask much and in a very demanding manner, though I will humour you." Replied he, sitting himself in front of her. The garden was beautiful under the moon.
"Go on then." She added with a courteous gesture.
"I'm Olorin of the West. I was sent by the lord Manwë as an emissary, along several others."
She looked nervous, as well as a little fearful.
"What of you, Harthadî of the Noldor? Surely you have an interesting story to tell?"
"You say you are an emissary of the Valar. Another said the same not so long ago: Celebrimbor fell for it and the price was high. Many a kingdom was turned to ashes and barren lands." Her tone was suspicious but not devoid of respect.
Celebrimbor, son of Curufin, was once a powerful Noldorin lord of Middle-Earth. Sauron, under the guise of Annatar, did trick him.
"Well you see, contrary to Annatar, I do happen to entertain good relationships with Elrond of Imladris, Galadriel of the Golden Woods and many other lords. As an example, we stayed sometime in the Last Homely House to seek Elrond's counsel before coming here. You can ask my companions. Is that proof enough?"
"I thought the Valar had forsaken our lands, and us with it?"
"Nay, they have not, as you can see."
"I should probably rejoice then…"
They remained silent after that, both contemplating the sky thoughtfully. After a while, an idea seemed to cross Gandalf's mind. He smiled.
"Fair Lady, didn't you say you were a bit of a mercenary?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you know how to fight?"
"I have many abilities, yes."
"It's settled then".
"Wait, what? Don't make deals by yourself!"
"Well you see, you seem to want Glamdring very much…"
"You would bargain it?" She was suddenly more interested.
His eyes twinkled, as they often did. "Well you see, I have some pressing business away south. Therefore, I need to leave my companions before they enter Mirkwood."
"What would you request of me? To accompany them to the entrance?"
"I would like you to accompany them across the forest. And further if you feel brave enough."
She stared at him. "No sane traveler would agree. Haven't you heard of the Woods' darkening?"
"I thought you would not cower from the prospect of danger since traveling in these lands is already seen as most dangerous." Countered Gandalf. "Besides as an elf you could…"
"I'm not sure my elvishness would do your companions any good. They are too great a number and I never ever venture in Mirkwood those days. It's King Thranduil's territory. I've heard he rarely takes kindly the clandestine breaching of his frontier. You should send word of their crossing lest something bad happens to those dwarves. Besides, what business do this Thorin even have beyond Mirkwood? Is that related to the whole dragon affair I hear about sometimes?"
"I won't tell you more if you don't agree. Also, there is no time to send Thranduil any word. However, you could carry one for me, in case the elves find the Company: a bard would be well received in any kingdom."
"First of all, it depends on the bard, though that much is true. Second of all, I doubt a bard guiding a large group of dwarves in the King's forest would receive a warm welcome, trust me."
"Who said it was an easy job?" Replied Gandalf. "I think the prize is worth the deal. It's a high king's sword after all. A First Age relic, you said it yourself. He smirked. She was clearly hesitating. "Besides, though I know nothing of your past, maybe there are some things you would like the Valar to forgive?" That was dirty.
"Tch, that is dirty. But fine, I will help your dwarves cross the forest. Though I shan't go an inch further. I really want that sword, you see."
"Thank you", smiled he. "Oh, one last thing. You cannot have the sword until you feel you did enough, that's my only condition. After all, the yielder of such a sword should be worthy of it."
"And you call that a fair deal?"
After that, Gandalf explained the elleth all there was to know about their Quest and who her new companions were. When she had no more questions, they went they separate way.
Next morning, everyone was wakened by Beorn himself. "So here you all are still!" he said. He picked up the hobbit and laughed: "Not eaten up by Wargs or goblins or wicked bears yet I see"; and he poked Mr. Baggins' waistcoat most disrespectfully. "Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey," he chuckled. "Come and have some more!". Beorn was most jolly for a change. He then spotted Harthadî: "Little elf friend, I saw your stallion in the stable! Why did you come to my house this time?". He could indeed call her "little" since though she was taller than anyone else here, he was taller still.
She smiled: "Beorn, my friend! Nice to meet you! I was going back from the East and thought I could make a detour and stop off here to meet you. I brought you some rare gifts from Rhûn to thanks you for your help last time!"
"Ah, great, perfect, I'm even more happy then! What a day my friends! You shall show me those precious goods later! For now, we should all go break our fast!
So they all went to breakfast with him. He seemed to be in a splendidly good humour and set them all laughing with his funny stories; nor did they have to wonder long where he had been or why he was so nice to them, for he told them himself.
He had been over the river and right back up into the mountains—from which you can guess that he could travel quickly, in bear's shape at any rate. From the burnt wolfglade he had soon found out that part of their story was true; but he had found more than that: he had caught a Warg and a goblin wandering in the woods. From these he had got news: the goblin patrols were still hunting with Wargs for the dwarves, and they were fiercely angry because of the death of the Great Goblin, and also because of the burning of the chief wolf's nose and the death from the wizard's fire of many of his chief servants. So much they told him when he forced them, but he guessed there was more wickedness than this afoot, and that a great raid of the whole goblin army with their wolf-allies into the lands shadowed by the mountains might soon be made to find the dwarves, or to take vengeance on the men and creatures that lived there, and who they thought must be sheltering them.
"It was a good story, that of yours," said Beorn, "but I like it still better now I am sure it is true. You must forgive my not taking your word. If you lived near the edge of Mirkwood, you would take the word of no one that you did not know as well as your brother or better. As it is, I can only say that I have hurried home as fast as I could to see that you were safe, and to offer you any help that I can. I shall think more kindly of dwarves after this. Killed the Great Goblin, killed the Great Goblin!" he chuckled fiercely to himself.
"What did you do with the goblin and the Warg?" asked Bilbo suddenly.
"Come and see!" said Beorn, and they followed round the house. A goblin's head was stuck outside the gate and a warg-skin was nailed to a tree just beyond. Beorn was a fierce enemy. But now he was their friend, and Gandalf thought it wise to tell him their whole story and the reason of their journey, so that they could get the most help he could offer.
Meanwhile, the elleth Harthadî was eyeing silently both head and skin. She was thinking about the deal she made with Gandalf during the evening. Should she really commit herself to such a mad task? Those dwarves had few chances to kill Smaug, and fewer still to remain alive doing so. After all she redeemed herself well enough in her own time… Was it that much true? How could she be so sure? What if the Valar deemed it unworthy of absolution? And even if that was the case, should she turn over one of their emissaries? Both options seemed unwise…
She decided she would ride with the Company until they reached Mirkwood's borders and make her real choice there.
To be continued…
I hope you enjoyed that first chapter! Thanks for reading, I would love feedbacks. :D
English isn't my maternal language so there may be some mistakes. Please excuse me if that's the case.
I'm so happy to finally start the publication of Harthadî's life! The serie "Second Child, Restless Child" means so much to me.
I made the choice to write its first story during the Hobbit even though the protagonist was born during the Silmarillion for several narrative reasons, one of which is to introduce the character in a fun and dynamic setting.
I choose the title "A Queer Stranger" to make a parallel with the book's chapter during which those events happen ("Queer Lodgings") and also to avoid the ugly "a strange stranger" (Just saying).
See you in the next chapter !
Haneshiro