"For though Sauron had passed, the hatreds and evil that he had bred had not died, and the King of the West had many enemies to subdue before the White Tree could grow in peace." The Return of the King, Appendix A: The Kings of the Mark, J.R.R. Tolkien
Chapter 1
The sighing of the wind in the branches of the trees above him woke Eldarion from his sleep. "The wind is coming up," the young prince sleepily told Máel Dúin, the chief of his body guards."Aye," murmured Máel absently mindedly. He was listening intently to the voices in the wind that were just out of his hearing. The young prince had wanted to spend a few nights in the Druadan Forest and was fascinated by the beacon hills that were to be found there, especially the Tower of Eilenach. And, if truth be told, Eldarion was always hopeful that he would see one of the Druedain who lived there. Eladarion loved to hear stories of the battles with Sauron and how the Rohirrim came to the rescue of Gondor by these little-known pathways. At 15, he was now becoming somewhat headstrong when it came to taking these forays into sites of battles long since ended even though his guards were not always delighted to spend this much time so far away from the safety of Minas Tirith. As these thoughts chased each other through Máel's mind, the wind grew stronger, causing the branches of the pine trees above to creak in protest. The voices on the wind became clearer as well. Máel sprang from his sentry position grabbing his long sword as he rose. Those were not voices that had been heard in Gondor for many a year. To his ears, they had the harsh sounds of orc speech. But how could that be? The orcs had been vanquished long ago. They fell as their master fell in the great battle before the Black Gates of Mordor. "Arrgghhh!!" A hideous screech rent the air from right behind Máel in the dense forest. As he twisted around to face the sound and started to raise his sword, the other two guards, Danuph and Dyskel were hewn down by giant orc blades wielded by the largest orcs that Máel had ever seen. "It cannot be!" The words were torn from Máel's mouth as the hideous scene played out before his eyes. As he raised his sword he saw from the corner of his eyes, the young prince being forced headfirst into a large sack by four large orcs. Dimly aware Máel was pleased to see the fight that Eldarion was putting up. He would not be taken without the orcs surrendering some body parts to Eldarion's short dagger. Suddenly Máel's world exploded with a flash of light and pain. He knew no more.
Rough voices made their way through Máel's pain-muddled brain. What was being said he could not quite make out. The language was not one that he could easily make sense of in his confused state of mind. Not with the splitting headache that he had.
As he became more conscious of his surroundings, he realized that he had been trussed up as a fowl before roasting with rough cords tightly binding his hands and feet. These had been tied together behind his back which left him powerless to move. Not that movement was on his mind at the moment. Each small movement caused a spasm of pain to shoot through his skull as a hot knife through butter not to mention that his muscles were cramping painfully from being trussed up so tightly.
Máel became aware that his cheek was pressed to the ground, the pebbles, sticks, and dirt rough against his skin. He tried to open his swollen eyes, but was unable to see more than a few inches from his face. The mindless noise that had surrounded him began to slowly form into coherent speech. Máel decided that it would best serve him to feign unconsciousness until he could better understand what had happened and his next course of action.
A large roughly shod foot came down with a thud in front of Máel's face. A none too gentle nudge followed as an orc tried to see if Máel was conscious. "Huh. Weakling man," a guttural voice above him spoke. "Out a day and still he sleeps. Kull! Bring the bag of drink for our guest. It's time he visited with us."
A smaller orc scurried over with a half-filled skin and handed it to his larger fellow orc who pulled the stopper out with his yellow fanged teeth. He grasped Máel by the back of his long hair, pulled his head back, and poured the thick red liquid down Máel's throat. Máel strangled and coughed as the bitter burning liquid made its way down this throat and an unhealthy warmth spread throughout his body. Coughing and choking, he looked up at the large bow-legged orc towering over him.
"Well, well, little human, it's nice to see you decided to finally wake up. I cannot see that you are worth bothering with, but the general seems to think you're worth the trouble." Grabbing him roughly by the arms, he yanked Máel to his feet. Máel's muscles screamed in protest and his knees buckled.
"Garn, stand you worthless bag of filth!" roared the orc. He pulled out a wickedly long knife with a jagged edge and drew it near to Máel's face. He brought it down and cut the bonds that tied Máel's feet. "Now you'd better walk, little human. Walk or you will feel the prick of my blade against your neck. I don't value your life as much as some others here might."
He shoved Máel before him though the camp to a tent on its edge. The orc shoved Máel though the tent opening and into the dimly lit interior. "Down!" barked the orc striking Máel against the back of his knees causing him to drop down to the floor of the tent. The orc then backed away to the opening of the tent.
Máel looked at his surroundings. It was a comfortably furnished tent. Almost luxurious. A small movement to his left caught Máel's attention. A tall man came into the dim light of the brazier and looked down at Máel, a wicked smile playing around the corners of his thin lips.
"You!" A strangled cry was all that Máel could force from his parched throat. This nightmare was getting worse and worse. But worst of all, Máel knew that there would be no waking from this dream.
Máel's mind reeled as he watched the familiar tall, thin man bend down to look at Máel. "Well-met, Máel of the Tower Guard," said the man. His voice was almost a purr as the man coldly looked over Máel.
"Meldirion! What are you doing here? In the company of orcs! I cannot believe this of you!" said Máel in a shocked voice. But even as he said it, a glimmer of understanding began to come to Máel.
Máel had never particularly liked this one of the King's counselors. He had never been able to put a finger on it, but Meldirion had always caused the hairs on the back of Máel's neck to raise and his skin to crawl slightly. Máel had put it down to just differences in personalities. Máel had little use for politicians of which Meldirion was consummate. Well, at least politicians of the sleazier sort he had to amend.
Struggling to his feet, Máel slowly straightened to his full six foot four frame. Meldirion was tall, but not nearly as tall as Máel. Máel was grimly pleased to see Meldirion unconsciously step back a pace at Máel's glare. He recovered his composure soon enough and the sneer reappeared on his face.
"Do not bother to play the righteous Tower Guard, Máel. I have not the time for it.
"You are here as my guest, and I would that you break fast with me. You have been...ah...sleeping for a good while and I'm sure you feel the need to eat."
Máel's traitorous stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Meldirion smiled as he heard the rumblings. Curiously, the smile never reached his grey eyes. "Please, sit," said Meldirion motioning to the table set with the food of a traveling army.
Máel stood his ground even though his legs were weak with hunger and thirst. "Not until I get some answers," he growled at Meldirion.
"Oh, if you must," and Meldirion waved an unconcerned hand in the air. "It's quite simple really. An exchange is in order. The brat's life in exchange for the throne of Gondor. I think it's a fair exchange, do you not?" A cold laugh escaped Meldirion's lips as he idly cut meat from the roasted bird on the table and placed it delicately into his mouth.
"Prince Eldarion, he lives?" Relief and hope were unmistakable in Máel's voice. But almost at once, his voice hardened into the steel that his soldiers knew best. "Meldirion, if you have harmed one hair on the boy's head, it will be your head in repayment that I will personally take to the King and his lady."
At this threat, Meldirion threw back his head and laughed a genuine laugh this time. "Oh, you amuse me, you self-satisfied Tower Guard. Just what do you think you can do about what I have or have not done? You seem to forget that you are my…ahem…guest here. Not the other way around." He again gestured to Máel to sit at the table.
Máel's legs would no longer support his weight. He sank to the chair proffered him while his aching head fell into his hands as he succumbed to despair.
Chapter 2
A shaft of sunlight streamed through the long window of the large hall as the King paced back and forth in front of the large fireplace. His brow was furrowed as he tapped one hand against the other behind his back.
"Estel," murmured the soft voice of Queen Arwen, "nin tiro (look at me)."
Aragorn turned his head and smiled gently at the familiar name used between himself and Arwen in their private moments.
"Nin lasto (Listen to me)," Arwen continued, as she sat by the window admiring her needlework. "Avo 'osto nad (Do not fear a thing)."
"Do not fear!" retorted Aragorn. "How can I not fear when Eldarion has not returned from his wanderings. The boy is incorrigible."
Arwen laughed, her laugh like sparkles on a still lake. "And who does he remind me of, I wonder?"
She moved her skirt to reveal two small girls who were playing around her feet. They looked up at their mother and grinned impishly.
"Where is he!" Aragorn said impatiently. "I hope that Breomir has reached the Shire and is on his way back with those that I have asked him to seek."
"I do not quite understand how you think that Hobbits, a Dwarf, an Elf and …." Her voice dwindled as she saw the raised eyebrow of Aragorn.
"How they could help, was perhaps your question. Arwen, really!!"
"I spoke before I thought, my love," Arwen replied, a soft blush rising in her cheeks.
Aragorn moved to Arwen's side and sat down. "It is my idea that perhaps my friends can assist in more of an inconspicuous way than could a troop of guards."
Arwen nodded in agreement. "But is there anything that they should be inconspicuous about? Eldarion will return shortly, I am sure." She patted Aragorn's hand. "You worry far too much."
There was a tap at the door and it opened slowly. Meldirion's head appeared through the opened. "May I interrupt, my Lord?" he asked, his voice unctuous.
"What is it, Meldirion?" asked Aragorn sharply. "Come in, come in."
Meldirion sidled through the opening, twisting his hands suppliantly in front of him as he bowed low before Aragorn.
"My Lady," he said turning and bowing to the Queen.
She shuddered slightly. This Counsellor was not one of her favourites. His demeanour and pallor reminding her of some creature that might slither along the ground, finding a resting place amongst the rocks. She inclined her head.
"Meldirion," she replied.
"Well, what is it that you want?" Aragorn asked again.
"My Lord, 'tis merely that there is still no sign of the Prince. He has been gone a day or so now. Do you wish any course of action to be taken? Tis to be hoped nothing untoward has occurred" Meldirion purred.
"I am aware of how long my son has been gone!" retorted Aragorn, "and I am sure he is fine. Thank you for your concern. I will deal with matters as and when I feel necessary and give you my instructions."
"As you wish, my Lord, as you wish," acquiesced Meldirion. "I will take my leave of you, and await any such instructions."
"Sir, my Lady." He bowed low and backed towards the door, then turned and moved out into the corridor. As he closed the door, his eyes glinted and he licked his lips. "Fool!!" he muttered as he swept down the hallway, a cold smile crossing his face.
"I hope Breomir and my friends arrive soon!" Aragorn said, moving back to the fireplace, resting his hand on the great mantelpiece and staring into the empty grate, his mind producing images that he did not care for, as he thought about Prince Eldarion and where he might be.
Chapter 3
An explosion of light and pain awakened Elfstan from the nightmare that had plagued him for the past fortnight. The hobbit found himself upright in his comfortable bed drenched in sweat and shaking as a leaf that surrenders to the winds of autumn. He drew a shaking hand across his sweaty brow as Flora stirred beside him. She raised herself upon her elbow and peered anxiously at Elfstan. "Did it come again?" she asked softly. "Is it the same as before?" "Yes," answered Elfstan. "It is always the same." He rubbed his face with both hands trying to erase the vestiges of the nightmare. "I do not know why I am having this dream. I see the Prince being kidnapped and his guards slain, but this cannot be. If this would be a dream that is true, then we would have had word of it. Something like this would not be kept silent." Elfstan settled down again into the comfort of his bed and Flora's arms. It must just be all the work he had been doing the past months catching up to him at last. With that comforting thought, he drifted off to walk in more pleasant dreams.
Chapter 4
Káin puffed on his pipe and stretched out his legs, warming his feet in the heat from the fire in the grate. The glow from the flames highlighted the silver that now flecked his red hair. He closed his eyes and a smile crossed his face as he relaxed. He had been busy today, cleaning the house and his weapons.
He had been thinking for some time now that he was ready for a journey. It had been some 16 years since he had left the Iron Hills and he had a yearning to visit friends, not that there were too many of those left now, at least not in Middle-earth.
He recalled Rían and Belle who had gone into the West. Janell, who had returned to Minas Tirith. Whether she was still there was another matter. One never knew where Janell might end up, but at least she had found her father and was content, he was sure.
But there was Elfstan, Tanzy and Gabby, those three stalwart Hobbits.
'Yes', Káin had decided, it was time to move his old bones and go visit the Shire.
There were no dangers now in Middle-earth, or at least few that were mentioned. He had heard that King Elessar and Queen Arwen had a son and he seemed to recall mention of a daughter or was it two? He frowned a little; it concerned him sometimes that in the onset of old age, he was forgetful.
He did recall, however, that in the year 6 of the Fourth Age, King Elessar had pronounced that the Shire was a free land, under the protection of the Northern Sceptre and had forbidden men from entering it which would mean that Bree would be inhabited by just hobbits, he presumed.
In the year 15 of the Fourth Age, the King and Queen had moved north to live in Annuminas and had met up with Pippin, Merry and Sam at the Brandywine Bridge.
Káin wondered whether Elfstan had been present at that!
The old Dwarf began to nod. A piece of ember popped and sparks flew up the chimney and out into the room, one landing on Káin's foot. "Ouch!!", he muttered, leaning forward and banging his head on the large mantelpiece. "Rats' teeth," he muttered as he heard a loud banging on the door. Káin stood up, tripped over the mat and galloped across the floor trying not to fall over.
The banging resumed.
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold your horses, for goodness sake," he called.
Regaining his balance, Káin straightened his jerkin, smoothed back his hair, wincing as he touch the bump on his forehead and lifted out his braids that had become tucked down inside his undershirt. He opened the door and harrumphed, eyeing a young Dwarf standing outside.
"Yes!," Káin grumped. "What can I do for you?" He was not used to visitors, least of all young Dwarves and this one looked particularly cocky.
The young Dwarf gave a wry grin. "Seems my father did not exaggerate when he told me of how grumpy you could be .... Uncle!"
Káin straightened, then leant forward and peered out at the visitor's face. There was something familiar about the features.
"Well, are you going to keep me stood here all evening, or are you going to invite me in ... Uncle!" the young Dwarf asked, moving to step inside the house.
"Not so fast, young 'un, " Káin said, stretching his arm across the doorway. "You are telling me that you are my nephew, that meaning you are my brother's son ....."
"Bright, aren't you," grinned the young Dwarf. "Yes, I am your nephew. The name is Orlin .... pleased to meet you."
"Well, well, well, well, well..." Káin uttered, taking a step back which gave Orlin the opportunity to move past the old Dwarf and into the room.
Káin was flabbergasted. He had not heard from his brother, Dorin, for more years than he cared to remember. He had even surmised that Dorin was dead and here, now, in his very front room, stood his brother's son!
Coming to terms with this revelation, Káin pointed to a chair by the fire. "Sit ye down, laddie," he said. "We have much to catch up on."
The evening passed quickly. Orlin relating where his father had been, what he had done, how he had heard of Káin's adventures and the sad fact that Dorin had passed away. He gave Káin a small pouch that contained a runic amulet ... identical to the one that Káin had, which their father had made and given to his two sons. The two Dwarves talked and ate and drank until late into the early hours.
The fire was low and Káin stretched, stifling a yawn. "I am tired, laddie and I have a long journey ahead of me on the morrow. I am off to visit ...." He stopped momentarily and leaned towards Orlin. "Would you be game to come along?"
Orlin scratched his chin. "A journey to where?" he asked.
"The Shire, to see old friends," Káin answered.
"Why yes, uncle, I would indeed be interested. Seems you and your friends, by all accounts, have had some adventures and I would dearly love to be a part of such an event, should one occur." Orlin grinned and patted his axe. "My friend and I would be delighted to accompany you."
And so, in the year 16 of the Fourth Age, Káin and Orlin set off to the Shire.
Chapter 5
A bright spring sun shone through the brightly patterned curtains of Elfstan's and Flora's bedroom. The vestiges of the previous night's dreams were slipping away leaving a vague feeling of disquiet in the back of Elfstan's mind.
Flora was up and dressed as Elfstan rolled over and out of the soft bed. He longed to spend just a few more minutes snuggled in its warmth but knew that the work in the herb garden would not wait.
"Morning, m'dear," murmured Elfstan as he nuzzled Flora's hair as he drew her close to him for his morning embrace. "Ummm, your hair smells like flowers this fine morning."
"This was the last of that soap until the new plantings are ready to pick," Flora told her husband. "I'm hoping that the new plant starts that we received from Gondor will thrive here and make for new scents for soaps and such. 'Twill be lovely to have something new to put away this year."
"Aye," replied Elfstan, "And I take that as a reminder that I've laid abed long enough and should get to work planting said plants. Am I right?" He dodged the pillow that Flora threw at his head as he scooted out the door to begin a little work before his first breakfast.
Elfstan clattered down the hall as he called to his sons, Jolly, Tom, and Nib to meet him in the greenhouse behind the barn. As he padded his way to his favorite part of the Shire, he thought of all the new plants that Aravir, gardener to King Elessar, had sent him just a fortnight ago that were still in their moist wrappings awaiting their planting. It was time to get them into the earth so they could begin to grow. Elfstan's garden was one to rival Sam Gamgee's away in Hobbiton although Elfstan would never presume to put himself in Sam's class of gardening. Nonetheless, Elfstan was proud of his bit of garden and spent a great deal of time teaching his sons to follow in his footsteps.
Thinking of his sons, Elfstan shook his head a bit. Jolly, at almost 10, was the oldest of his brood. He was a quiet hobbit-lad who was entirely too serious for his age. Elfstan had a hard time understanding him at times because at his age Elfstan was known as one of the more rascally boys in the neighborhood. Elfstan was quiet by nature himself, but he sometimes worried that Jolly took the ills of the world upon his own shoulders. "He is too young to worry so," thought Elfstan.
Tom and Nib, the twin hobbit-boys, were just under 9 years of age. They were a pair to be reckoned with at the very least. Elfstan and Flora had been discussing how to expand their hole as to give each boy a room of their own. They thought up way too much mischief after the lights had been put out for the night. "They're good boys though," thought Elfstan. "They have a true love of things that grow and will be a great help to me. That is if they ever get over their love of mischief making." A soft snort made its way from Elfstan and he recalled his own youth and quiet form of mischief making that he had perfected. He thought that it may be his payment for his behavior and driving his father Togo and mother Peony to distraction for all of his quiet mischief.
These thoughts were what chased each other through his mind as he arrived at the greenhouses. Elfstan inhaled the scent of new growth that enveloped him as he walked into the greenhouse. He made his way to the packages of plants that he had carefully kept moistened.
As he was opening the first of the rough burlap bags, Tom and Nob burst through the front door setting the pots to tumbling and bags of seeds and roots tipping over into the aisles between the planting tables.
"Poppa! Poppa!" the twins screeched in unison. "There's c'mpany at the front door! Two dwarves! Two, Poppa! Did you hear us?"
"I heard you," laughed Elfstan. "How could I have not heard you? Now what is this about dwarves at our front door? Are you sure? I can't imagine that there would be dwarves at our front door. Is Meliot having a jest at your expense?" Elfstan's elder of his two daughters was the female rival of the twins.
"NO!" shouted the boys again in high dudgeon. "We knows what we seen. They's taller than us, big boots and axes, Poppa." At the mention of axes their large brown eyes went wide with ill-repressed excitement.
"The bigger one has red hair with braids in his beard," said Tom in obvious awe.
"And they's askin' for you, Poppa," said Nib. "Why would dwarves want you?"
Elfstan could not imagine why dwarves would be in search of him, but the mention of braids in the beard drew his mind to his old friend Káin. In fact, the last time he had seen Káin was when they had accompanied Ríanor on his final trip through the Shire to the Gray Havens. He had not told his children much about his adventures with Káin and the others. He didn't want his children thinking that their father was adventurous. Those days seemed to be gone as he had settled himself down with a wonderful hobbit lass and was raising a fine family of his own. But even as these thoughts were going through his mind, he realized just how much he missed his friend, adventures or no.
"It couldn't be Káin," he thought. "He would have sent messages that he was on his way. I wonder who could be at my front door." Elfstan made his way back through the gardens to the front of his hobbit hole.
Before even rounding the corner of his hobbit hole, Elfstan could hear the great booming voice of his friend Káin. Not believing what his ears were telling him, the hobbit ran around the corner and into the outstretched arms of his dear dwarf friend.
"Káin!" shouted Elfstan in glee. "My dear old friend! How long it has been! I am so pleased to see you; you have no idea. Please, please, come in and join my family in a bite of breakfast." Only after turning toward the door did Elfstan notice the younger dwarf that accompanied Káin.
"Welcome to you as well, my good dwarf," said Elfstan and opened the bright yellow door to receive his guests into his house.
Káin followed Elfstan through the door and into the house. He smiled at the three young hobbit-lads who were stood, jaws agape. "Seems I have caused a disturbance, laddie," he said to Elfstan as he and Orlin were led through the hall and into the kitchen.
The smell of bacon sizzling in a pan on the stove, caused the old dwarf's stomach to rumble. "I think a bite of breakfast would be most welcome and I would be more than thankful to rest my old bones. I know now, after the journey we have made, why I gave up travelling a long time ago. I feel as though a thousand Orcs have trampled over me," he laughed heartily.
There was a clearing of a throat from Orlin. "Do you not think that you should introduce me?" the young dwarf suggested.
"Why, I forget my manners. Of course. Elfstan this is Orlin .... my nephew."
Káin nodded as he saw the question in Elfstan's eyes. "Yes, laddie, I was surprised too, to find I had a nephew. Did I tell you I had a brother? Perhaps not, my memory is not what it used to be, my old friend."
Having introduced Orlin to Elfstan, Káin raised his eyebrows towards the hobbit lass who was tending the bacon. He took the comely female to be Elfstan's wife but could not resist a bit of fun.
"Afore we partake in breakfasting, you did not tell me you had a daughter, Elfstan!
Káin grinned as he heard a giggle.
"Oooh, your Dwarf friend is a teaser, Elfstan, an' that be the truth! I am Flora, Elfstan's wife. I have heard many a tale bout you and Tanzy," she said, giving Káin a wry look.
Káin settled himself at the table and nudged a chair, indicating for Orlin to sit down. The old dwarf felt that given the friendship between he and Elfstan, there was little requirement for formalities. He sniffed the air, the smell of warm bread assailing his nostrils.
"I am fair famished, Mistress Flora and the aroma of yon bacon and bread stir my gastric juices."
Flora soon had full plates on the table and between mouthfuls of food, Káin conversed with Elfstan, with a watchful eye on the three young hobbit-lads who were showing a great interest in the large axe resting against Káin's chair.
"So, my friend, what news if any have you to stir the interest of this old brain of mine. Are you going to tell me that you were present at the Brandywine Bridge when the illustrious Sam, Merry and Pippin met up with Aragorn and Arwen?" he asked, noting a raising of an eyebrow from Flora at his informal use of the King's name.
A dribble of bacon juice running down his chin, momentarily took Káin's attention. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and inclined his head towards Flora. "Excuse my manners, lassie, I have been alone for a long while and there has been little need for etiquette."
He turned his attention back to Elfstan and leaned forward a little. "I have heard via the odd visiting dwarves who wander Middle-earth a little more than I have, that the young Prince is a bit of an adventurer like his father."
"He'd be about my age, would he not, Uncle?" interjected Orlin, giving a smile to Flora. "This bread is delicious. You are very lucky, Elfstan."
Elfstan glanced at Flora who gave him one of her brilliant smiles. He smiled back colouring slightly when he turned to see his visitors eyeing him closely.
"Yes," he said, "I am very lucky. I have been fortunate indeed. My Flora is a wonder, and my children keep me on my toes.
"No, I was not at the meeting at the bridge, nor the last parting of Frodo. Sad it was, sad indeed though. I thought that Sam's heart, as well as Pippin and Merry's were like to break. I understood though. Poor Frodo had been through so much. It was time he had his rest. He's earned it indeed. As for the Prince, I have heard nothing as of late. Adventurous is one word that would describe the lad. I've heard others such as reckless and obstinate to name a few. But those words would describe most of us at his age would they not? But what have you been hearing? I've not left the Shire for quite a few years, and as of late, news has been scarce."
"Well, little news that it is, it seems that Eldarion makes life hard for his father, always foraying out into the wild. He'll find himself in trouble one of these days, I am sure. Tis a pity that Arwen and Aragorn did not make their son travel with them to Annuminas," Káin stated, taking pleasure in the expressions again of Flora and the young hobbits, as he casually used the informality of the King and Queen's names.
"For the great Aule's sake, Uncle. The prince is young, like me, and I'm sure that the boredom of living in Minas Tirith must make him restless. Think of the stories he must have heard about the War of the Rings," Orlin said. "I for one would welcome some excitement, an adventure or two." The young dwarf fingered the edge of his axe and attempted a scary look at the young hobbits, whose eyes opened wide as they shifted away from Orlin.
"Yes, but the Prince is still the Prince, not like one of us," said Flora as she lifted small Violet into her ample lap. The youngest Fairbairn child nuzzled her head into her mother's shoulder and popped a chubby finger into her mouth, all the while staring with wide blue eyes at the unusual company in her parents' kitchen.
"He must take more care in his daily life. I'm sure it is a burden, not to be able to travel and do what you want, but still, that is his life. But I am also sure that King Elessar and Queen Arwen," Flora gave Orlin and Káin a stern look as a reminder to give their rulers the proper respect they deserved, "have raised the Prince to understand his life and all its restrictions."
Elfstan laughed, "Yes, my dear, I'm sure that Aragorn has done so. Also, I am sure that the young prince will be giving his father quite the time as well. I've heard stories of the King that would make any mother's hair curl. I am also to understand that the boy is like to his father as birds of a feather.
Káin pushed his plate away from him and covered his mouth as he belched, apologizing again to Flora for his manners. He rocked back on his chair and picked a piece of bacon from between his teeth. "I was wondering, laddie," he began, casually dropping back onto the four legs of the chair, having felt a little unsteady, and not wanting to lose his fearsome demeanour. "What say you to a journey. I have a hankering to see King Elessar again and he did say that we would always be welcome in his Court."
As he waited for Elfstan's reply, there could be heard a commotion outside. Orlin was out of his chair, followed by the young hobbit children. The sound of a horse whinnying and people shouting had the whole company in the Kitchen gathered at the window.
There were several Hobbits, waving sticks and complaining loudly at the intruder. The man sat his horse, not unbewildered at the reaction of the Hobbits as he was a man and it had been ordained by King Elessar that men were not allowed within the boundaries of the shire.
"Hello there, in the house" the horseman called. "Some assistance here, if you will good Elfstan!"
Elfstan made his way to the door having to elbow his way through his children to make a path. Closely behind him came Káin and Orlin followed closely by Flora.
Not quite believing his eyes, Elfstan saw a tall black horse with the King's insignia upon its leathers with an even taller man arrayed in the livery of the Tower Guard. Why on Middle Earth would a messenger of the King, as this obviously was, be on his front doorstep? A small, cold knot of fear began to form in Elfstan's belly. Men were not allowed in the Shire. Truly, if this was a messenger from the King, things were seriously amiss. King Elessar would not lightly break his own decree.
"I am Elfstan," he said as he tried to keep his feet with all the others pressing from behind. "Get back, all of you! Except Káin," he added. This last missive came as he saw his friend's face darken.
"Go back to your homes, all of you!" Elfstan shouted to the gathering crowd. "I will take care of this. Please, go now."
After he was sure that the crow was dispersing, Elfstan looked up at the tall man. Elfstan said, "Like I said, I am Elfstan Fairbairn. This is Káin, a good friend of the King. Who are you and what business do you have in the Shire?"
"Káin?" asked the man, looking intently at both Elfstan and Káin. "Is this the same Káin that lives in the Iron Hills?"
"Aye, that would be me, laddie," growled Káin as he pointedly placed his gloved hand upon the hilt of his broad axe.
"That is well," said the man shortly. "That eases my trip as I was told to find you two as soon as may be. I have a message for you from the King. Please may we go inside where I can give you the message in private?" He eyed Elfstan's family and Orlin behind the two he was addressing.
Elfstan turned back once more to his family, and with a nod of his head that Flora well understood, she took the children and chivvied them off to the greenhouse all the while shushing the loud complaints that came echoing from the twins. Káin glanced at Orlin who was beginning to look mutinous, but was silenced at one glare from his uncle. Grumbling ungraciously, Orlin then followed the path the others took before him.
"Please," motioned Elfstan to the messenger to dismount and tether his mount to the sturdy post in front of the Fairbairn hole, "I am at your service." He then led Káin and the young man back into the hole. The King's man had to bend down almost in half to enter the Hobbit hole, and even then knocked his helm upon the beams and lights suspended from the ceiling.
Elfstan motioned to the right for Káin and the messenger to enter the formal parlor. Early morning sun streamed through the windows, dust motes floating lazily through the beams of light. He indicated a chair for Káin and a sturdy couch for the tall man.
"Now, what can we do for you?" asked Elfstan. For the life of him he could not imagine a reason why a messenger of the King would be seeking Káin and him out. "Nothing good I'll warrant," he thought to himself.
The man settled himself and removed his gloves and helm, placing them beside his feet. "I have been sent to request that you travel to Annuminas with me," he began. "King Elessar wishes to discuss the matter of his son and he has some concerns. The King also requested that, if it be possible, we should find your other companions.
Káin glanced at Elfstan and then back at the King's messenger. "I'm afraid that may not be possible as our friends went their own way," he said quietly, "but needless to say that if the King needs us, that being Elfstan and I, we are ready and able. I'm sure you agree, Elfstan."
"I am, as always, at the service of my King," said Elfstan proudly, straightening to his full three foot six inches. What Flora would say of his leaving he did not like to think of at this moment.
"As for the others of our company, I can only speak to one who is not here. Ríanor has left these lands for Elvenhome. I was there as he took the ship from the Gray Havens." Sadness passed over Elfstan's face as he remembered his elf friend leaving Middle Earth's shores for good, his tall form silhouetted in the setting sun on the stern of the graceful elven ship, his hand raised in farewell. He hoped he found his family and the peace he sought in leaving Middle Earth.
He thought of his dear friends Gabby and Tansy. "Gabby and Tansy have moved to the far side of the Shire and have many obligations there. I do not know if they would be able to travel even if they were willing. Of Janell and Belle I have no knowledge," ended Elfstan.
"I believe that Janell and her father went to stay in Minas Tirith but whether they stayed there, I am unsure," commented Káin. "As far as Belle is concerned, I think she went into the West." The old Dwarf sighed as he fondly remembered both of his friends.
"I suppose I should introduce myself," the man said, leaning up. "I am Breomir of the King's Guard."
"Well met, sir," replied Káin.
The door to the parlour opened and Orlin put his head through the opening. "Is it permissible for me to come in?" he asked.
Káin nodded and gestured for his nephew to enter, pointing to a chair. "Sit down laddie."
Orlin made himself comfortable. "Do I sense the beginning of something interesting?" he queried.
Breomir looked at Káin and Elfstan. "Is this young person to accompany us?"
"Aye," nodded Káin. "When do you intend that we start our journey to Annuminas? We need to prepare."
"Of course, of course," agreed Breomir. "Perhaps on the morrow, or if there is a spare place for me to rest, we could set off on the following day."
"I think that would be ideal," replied Káin. "Do you agree, Elfstan?"
The Hobbit nodded in agreement. "That should be sufficient time for Flora to sort out some provisions for the journey and for her to become used to the idea of my absence."
Flora entered the room, carrying a tray of drinks and food, followed by curious young hobbits who were wide-eyed at the presence of a man in their home. This, together with two Dwarves was more excitement than they had experienced in their young lives. They scurried to a window seat.
The conversation turned to the welfare of the King and Queen, Breomir's journey, what he had seen, how his journey had gone, whether he had encountered anything.
They talked into the night until Flora re-appeared and shepherded the Hobbit children out of the room and up to their beds.
Káin stretched. "I think it is time for me to retire," he said, tapping out his pipe on the side of the fire grate.
After he had seen to the accommodations of his guests, the King's guard not the least of these, Elfstan made his way down the hall toward the room that he and Flora had shared these many years. It was not without some trepidation that he approached the door. He had not missed the looks that Flora has shot in his direction when it became apparent that he was going off on another adventure. The Hobbit was absolutely certain that Flora would not be happy about that prospect although their children would be a great help to her with the gardens and greenhouses in his absence. Jolly especially. He was such an old soul for such a young Hobbit lad, unlike himself Elfstan chuckled. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself against the angry tirade that would possibly meet him as soon as he opened the chamber door, Elfstan went into the darkened room.
What he met there relieved him although if he had thought clearly to himself he should have known it would be like this. The bright moon cast shadows across the comfortable room. Flora's silhouette was to be seen as she sat in the window seat that overlooked her favorite garden, her arms wrapped around her drawn up knees with her chin cradled there, eyes unseeing. In the moonlit night, Elfstan could make out the small tremors of suppressed tears. He walked softly over to her and put his sturdy arms about her shoulders and drew her into his embrace.
Flora turned to him and buried her face in his shoulder and cried quietly for a moment or two. She then pushed herself back, wiped her tears and said, "What must you be thinking? Here I am carrying on like a child with a skinned knee." She took a deep breath and looked up at Elfstan. Placing her palms on either side of his face, she gave him a small kiss upon his lips.
"I know you must go. The King holds bonds to you that you are unable to break; those bonds were forged before we married and I cannot in good conscience have you break them." She looked at him and her face took on that steely look that Elfstan had grown familiar with over the years said sternly, "Not that I have to like it one bit, mind you."
Elfstan drew her back into his arms again chuckling all the while. "I know, my dear lass, I know. But the King has need of me, and I cannot do anything but obey. You would not have me do otherwise now would you?" he queried.
"No, as you well know," Flora replied sighing and settling deeper into Elfstan's arms. "I know the King would not send for you unless it was in the direst of needs. I don't know that we've seen one of the Big People in the Shire since the King decreed that they were not to be here. Can you tell me what the King desires of you?"
Frowning into the moonlit garden Elfstan said,"I know not for certain myself. The messenger Breomir said very little of what concerned Aragorn. The only thing for certain is that it involves Eldarion."
"Eldarion? The King's son? Why? What has happened?" concern was evident in Flora's voice even though Elfstan could only dimly see her upturned face in the moonlight.
"Breomir did not elaborate," replied Elfstan. "I think that his orders are to escort us to Annuminas where we will learn the full truth of the situation. Of that, more I cannot say."
"Ooh, poor Aragorn. Poor Arwen." Flora's tender heart ached at the unknown dilemma that faced the King and Queen. Worry and fear about one's children Flora could understand. "Of course you must go, my love. When do you plan on leaving? Pray that it not be for a day or two so that I can help provision you. Also, you will need to explain to Jolly, Tom, Nib and the girls what needs to be done in your stead. I am sure my mother and father will help out as well as my brothers. They will be proud that you are on an errand for the King….as soon as the shock of another adventurous Hobbit has worn off," Flora added as an afterthought.
She smiled her beautiful Hobbit-lass smiled that never failed to make Elfstan's knees a bit wobbly. Taking her by the hand and gently pulling her to her feet, Elfstan led her to their comfortable bed for what remained of the night. This is where their goodbyes would be said.
The day for their departure broke with lowering clouds as the company prepared their horses and ponies for the journey.
After a good sized Hobbit breakfast, Káin, Orlin, Elfstan and Breomir took their leave of Flora and the young Fairbairn offspring and set off on their way.
Anticipation of what their meeting with Aragorn would hold had Káin's moustaches bristling. He began to whistle a Dwarvish tune, which was picked up by Orlin and soon Elfstan and Breomir joined in as they trotted along the road and out of the village.