Tolkien Never Met These Elves . . .
Note: I do not own anything by Tolkien (great author), or The Vision of Escaflowne or anything else in here that we all know doesn't belong to me.
Also, for those of you (practically everyone) who have not read any of my stories, this little background will be really helpful.
Ok, in one story, there are humans and four different races of elves. The main characters consist of a human (Ganma), an east elf (Ajika, Ganma's ward), a half-human, half-south elf (Ganamo, the star, and older half-brother of Ganma), a half-north elf, half-human (Sachima, Ganamo's first cousin), and a north elf (Sorunka, Sachima's younger half-brother). Sachima (as he appears here) has been crowned emperor for . . . a while, so he's a lot mellower than he is in most of my other stories. Also, since Sachima is more temperate in this one, he is no longer an elf demon (meaning he can turn into a dragon). The Ganamo that appears here is actually from after he's been in cryo-sleep for 300 or so years. To let you know, Sachima used to really hate Ganamo for reasons that are way to hard to explain here. I should also mention that the elves from this story can sprout wings, and so can Sachima and Ganamo.
Oh yeah, Ganamo and Sachima have been in other fan fictions. This is the second one that I've stuck them in. The first one (which is mentioned in passing here) is when they were stuck in The Vision of Escaflowne, an anime. In the last one they "took over" characters from the actual series (Ganamo became Dryden and Sachima became Folken . . .)
This fan fic is also before The Matrix one, even though the Sachima in that one is much younger. Anyway, if you guys are still confused after reading this, please let me and I'll try to clarify, ok? Hope I haven't bored you too much, enjoy, ok? ^_^'
Chapter 1 A Not So Long-Expected Arrival in Middle-Earth . . .
'Are you alright?'
'What?'
'Are you hurt?'
'No . . .' Sachima looked around. Either he was dreaming . . . or it had happened again.
'Where am I?' he asked. The person speaking to him had pointy ears and long blonde hair, which was tied back and bright eyes. 'Am I in the West Elf Kingdom?' Sachima asked. Wherever he was, it was very pretty and seemed to be located in a valley or perhaps it had been carved out of the steep slopes of the rocks and dirt surrounding it. Sachima rather liked it, though he would never admit that to anyone.
The (obviously) elf frowned, confused.
'West Elves?' he asked. Yes, either it had happened again, or he was dreaming. Except, if he were dreaming, he would have awakened by then because he suspected it of being so, that meant that it must have happened again. He sighed heavily, which hurt, strangely enough. He decided to play along this time, maybe he would get further, and learn about the 'Nariya's and 'Eriya's of this world. He was beginning to wish that the Lameikai's palace looked like this, instead of being shut up and dark all the time, with large windows overlooking fog and mist.
'Nothing,' he said, 'where am I?' he repeated. He had at first admitted to not being hurt, but now his throat was burning . . .
'You are in Imladris, Rivendell, the house of Elrond. Do you remember what happened?' the elf asked, concerned, as if he were talking to his friend, which, as far as Sachima was concerned, he very well could be.
'No,' he admitted.
'We received word that you had left Lothlorien with urgent news regarding the threat of Mordor. It was believed that you had seen The Nine crossing the Fords of Isen.'
Sachima had hoped to gather more information, but was at a loss, and said nothing.
'What was the news?' the elf asked.
Four years ago, Sachima might have just threatened the life of this elf to obtain information, but times had changed, times had changed a great deal . . .
'I . . . don't remember,' Sachima finally answered.
The elf frowned, more worried.
'Is that all you do not remember? . . . Or is there more?'
'I remember nothing.'
Now that Sachima really thought about it, this elf reminded him of . . . himself . . . only with smaller ears, no white irises and long blonde hair. The elf looked distressed.
'Nothing?' he repeated, making sure.
'Nothing.'
The elf swallowed and his jaw tightened.
'But . . .I don't see how, after Elrond healed you . . .'
That brought back Sachima's throat.
'Was I sick?'
'No! Don't you remember? You nearly drowned; your horse was nowhere to be found. You had been attacked; you were stabbed multiple times with knives . . .'
'All right, thank you. Who am I supposed-who am I?'
'You are Eneduial, son of Brilyaveion. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, who is the king of Northern Mirkwood. You left your home, Lothlorien, I've been told, on the 27th of August. An elf named Belegdulin found you severely wounded and half-dead in the Greyflood River. Your horse, Telumehtar' (Orion) 'was gone, though the saddle was salvaged.'
Sachima nodded, hoping he'd eventually sort this out, and find a way back . . .
Ganamo was coughing. And he was soaking wet. Some people were scolding him and others were joking.
'Not again!' he thought. He rolled over onto his stomach and coughed up water. Someone tapped on his shoulder.
'Foolish! That's what you are, Bingo!' I almost mistook you for Merry by your prank! Ha, not this time! What, falling into—'
'Where am I?'
'Trying to wriggle out trouble? Not this time!'
Ganamo turned and looked at who was talking to him. There was a man with funny-looking clothing, reddish brown hair, a vest and . . . were those his feet? Not to mention he was overweight and had pointy ears.
Ganamo checked his own ears. They were also pointed, but he was used to having pointy ears, and it didn't bother him. However . . . his feet were also large and hairy and he was also overweight, but not as much as the older man. There were other 'people' fishing their companions out of what might have been a river and laughing at them.
'Bingo Tighfield! I'll wring your ugly neck for that! My reflection indeed!'
A blonde-haired, muddy and wet, pointy-eared woman marched towards him.
'I'll have your hide before the night's through! You hear me?'
Some of the other 'people' held her back.
'Calm down, Eglantine! Bingo didn't mean no harm by it! He meant nothing by it!'
'When I get my hands on you! . . .' Eglantine shrieked. Someone grabbed Ganamo's hand and pulled him to his feet. It was a young man, accompanied by another one, about his age or younger.
'We've some mischief to play yet, come on you too!' The young man started dragging him off. His companion lingered for some reason.
'Pippin! What's keeping you? Come on!'
'Where are we going?' Ganamo asked.
The young man laughed and turned towards him.
'To have fun! We're going to the long expected party of Bilbo Baggins! What, did getting wet make your brain soggy? Where are we going indeed! Bingo, you have some sense of humor!'
It was a big party. Really big. Even though he had figured out by now he was really short, there were a lot of people big.
'Happy Birthday Bilbo Baggins. Right, as if I knew he was.'
There was festive music and dancing and eating and drinking going on.
'Must be some rich guy to throw a party like this.'
The young man and his companion, Pippin, had already begun attacking the food, and shoved some into his chest, then also forced a mug of ale into his hand. He was overweight already . . . eating? Were they out of their minds? The older of the two companions and the one in charge (Pippin seemed to just follow his lead) gave him a funny look.
'What's the matter? Not eating? At a party? Are you feeling all right?'
'Um . . .
Another young man walked up. Pippin noticed him and immediately greeted him. His name was Frodo. Ganamo was wondering what was up with all the strange names in this place anyway. By lying low, he managed to learn a lot, and stay out of trouble. After a while, his stomach won out, and he figured, since he was going to be getting back home one of these days and getting back to his old body, eating was all right. Drinking was something else, he wasn't sure, that, as a former alcoholic, it would be such a good idea, and left the mug on a table. While wandering around, he bumped into somebody huge.
'Oops! Sorry! Uh . . . didn't . . . see . . . you . . . huge person . . . heh, heh . . .'
The man he had bumped into was very old, and wore all grey, but had a large pointed, blue hat (his eyebrows stuck out under the brim of it) and a long beard and a staff. Ganamo was wondering what kind of a nut job dressed like that. He started slinking off.
'And where are you going, Bingo Tighfield of Buckland?'
'Nowhere . . . in particular . . .'
'Is it true?'
'What?'
'You pushed Eglantine Proudfoot into the River again on the way here?'
'Uh . . . I guess.'
The old man frowned.
'Are you feeling all right? You don't seem yourself.'
'Uh . . . I know . . . I guess I just got water in my brain or something . . . heh, heh . . . Okojai!' he kicked himself. Using elf? Here? If he was trying to gather enough information to leave . . . he had just blown it, judging from the disaster that had occurred last time. Something dawned on him. Was Sachima one of these short, stocky, and overly happy and pleasant creatures? He'd kill somebody!
'Okojai?'
'Huh? Nothing! I'll just be leaving . . . bye . . . sir . . .'
Ganamo turned and hurried off before the old man could inquire further. After a quite some time of confusion, Ganamo sat down near a giant cart and sighed heavily. He hoped that either Sachima showed up soon so he'd have someone to talk to, or he'd just get out of this crazy place. He heard whispering, and perked up. He walked around the cart to find Merry (he had finally learned his name) and Pippin. Pippin was in the cart though.
'No! The big one, the big one!' Merry hissed.
'Hey!'
Merry jumped, and there was a clamor inside the cart. Merry saw it was Ganamo and placed a hand over his chest.
'Bingo! Don't do that. Yes! That one! Come on!' Merry looked around, and Pippin emerged, carrying a giant firecracker that looked like a South Dragon. Ganamo couldn't resist . . .he could . . .get in a lot of trouble . . .now he could resist . . .but . . .fire, explosions . . .fun . . .he followed Merry and Pippin to see what they were going to do with it.
Merry and Pippin entered a tent that was set up for some reason, and they were going to light the firecracker. Oo . . . Except . ... Pippin wasn't so smart, or maybe he was just immature, because he lit it before they had set it up right.
'You were supposed to stick it in the ground!' Merry scolded, pushing it towards Pippin.
'It is in the ground!' Pippin protested, pushing it back. 'Outside!' Merry clarified, agitated. 'It was your idea!' Pippin countered. Ganamo sighed and stepped forward, the put out the fuse. Except, it must have been a fast fuse, because it exploded in a shower of sparks about two seconds later, partially frying him, Pippin and Merry. They all fell on their backs and watched the firecracker fly into the sky. They were going to be in quite a lot of trouble . . . Oh dear. (This is directly from the book, so I have quotes, OK?)
'The lights went out. A great smoke went up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow at the summit. It spouted green and scarlet flames. Out flew a red-golden dragon-not life- size, but terribly life-like: fire came from its jaws, his eyes glared down; there was a roar, and he whizzed three times over the heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and many fell flat on their faces. The dragon passed like an express train, turned a somersault, and burst over Bywater with a deafening explosion.'
'That was good.' 'Let's get another one.' 'Let's get out of here.' Merry, Pippin, and Ganamo had stood by and watched the chain of events with devilish glee, though Ganamo was sure they were going to get into a lot of trouble, their clothes were burnt and they had soot on their faces and—
'Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took, I might have known. And don't you think of going anywhere, Bingo Tighfield.'
And that was it, they were in trouble, the old man had caught them, the fun was over. And they got punished; they had to wash dishes while the old man looked on. Eventually Merry muttered something about the Speech, and 'filling up the corners'. It was then that Ganamo noticed that another of these 'people' had been droning on for some time, and now began to really grab his guest's attention. He looked closer, and discovered it was the one named Bilbo, the one turning one-hundred and eleven. He shrugged. The 'people' 'cheered at every full stop.' (More from book)
'My dear people,' began Bilbo, rising in his place. 'Hear! Hear! Hear!' they shouted, and kept repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice. Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated tree. The light of the lanterns fell on his beaming face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could all seem him standing; waving one hand in the air, the other was in his trouser pocket.
My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again; and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots. 'Proudfeet!' shouted an elderly hobbit from the back of the pavilion. His name, of course, was Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table.
Proudfoots, repeated Bilbo. Also my good Sackville-Baginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday; I am eleventy-one today! 'Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns!' they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing splendidly. This was the kind of stuff they liked; short and obvious.
I hope that you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening cheers. Cries of Yes (and No). . . .
I shall not keep you long, he cried. Cheers from all the assembly. I have called you all together for a purpose. Something in the way that he said this made an impression. There was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather difficult.'
Ganamo wondered what this guy was getting at, and why he continued to keep his hand in his pocket. What it possible he had something in there? Like what? A note, and small object . . . a ring? That made him wonder . . . he made sure the old man wasn't looking and sneaked away, weaving through the crowd of 144 hobbits. He noticed Merry and Pippin protesting that he was gone, and the old man scanning the crowd for him, but he remained hidden, and sat near the place where Bilbo was delivering his speech.
'. . . and finally, he said, I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. He spoke this last word so loudly that suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. I regret to announce that-though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to spend among you-this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!
He stepped down and vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and the guests all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. 144 flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless.' None the least was Ganamo, as he wondered how Bilbo had pulled that off, unless he had a magic Ring of sorts. 'Old Odo Proudfoot removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then there was a dead silence, until suddenly, after several deep breaths, every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower and Proudfoot began to talk all at once. It was generally agreed that the joke was in very bad taste, and more food and drink were needed to cure the guests of shock and annoyance.'
Ganamo noticed something. Feet prints in the grass, stealing away from the commotion, as well as a faint shadow cast by what little light there was. Ganamo checked again to see if anyone was watching him, and followed the shadow and feet as close as he dared. They led down a dirt path, which he, had he been himself, would have probably needed shoes to walk on, but as he was, was all right barefoot. After some time, they, the footprints that is, led up to a green hill, with an oak tree situated at the top. There was a large, circular wooden porthole-like 'door' with a gold handle right in the center apparently going into the hill. A little in front of it was a gate, and Ganamo hid himself some distance away when the shadow stopped and the feet stayed motionless. They then continued on their journey, and the gate swung open then closed on its own, just barely creaking loudly enough to be heard over the commotion back at the party. Then the large green door also swung open, then shut. Ganamo checked quickly to see if he had been followed, and ran forward, then hid himself in the plants beneath the windows. He heard the man chuckling to himself, and moving about inside the hill. He was about to try and take a look inside when presently, the old man came hurrying up, and he swung open the gate, passed through it, then also opened the door, stooped over some, and . . .paused. He looked straight at the place where Ganamo was hiding.
'Oh man . . . this guy gives me the creeps. . !' Ganamo couldn't help but whisper to the plants, as though they could understand him.
'I suggest you come out from hiding now,' the old man called, 'go back to the party. Once I am finished here, Bingo, I'm going to check on you, and if I find you anything but drunk and full—'
Ganamo jumped up and ran back towards the other people as the old man finally entered the door.
* * *
'Off the mark again.'
Sachima sighed. He had kept quiet and played along, but what he wouldn't give for an HPG! He turned to Legolas, shook his head, pulled another arrow from his quiver and notched it on the bowstring. He eyed the distant target, still amazed at how well he could see—he had grown used to using glasses. He released the arrow, and watched as it whizzed forward and . . . stuck in the ground near the target. He shook his head, he was never going to get the hang of this, maybe a few thousand years ago, his ancestors had used these primitive weapons, but he was used to plasma guns, though he had used a few projectile weapons in his time as well. He tried once more, and actually hit the target this time, though he was still off the center, and had probably hit the target by luck. Legolas shook his head this time, smiling slightly.
'An elf who can't use a bow, I'm so terribly sorry, Eneduial, I'll make sure that no one makes too much light of your predicament.'
'Funny, ha, I'm laughing, really,' he hit himself mentally; he hadn't seen Ganma in over . . . well, four years, wasn't it? Why was he talking like that annoying human anyway?
'I think we should stop for the day, you look exasperated.'
'I think I am.'
Legolas took his bow and quiver back, then walked towards the spent arrows and gathered them up. Sachima waited for him, but Legolas had other business, apparently, and waved to him and left. Sachima thought a few moments, and decided not to follow, and instead to explore. He was certain the instant he returned home he was going to demand that they redesign the whole palace, or move it further south, where it was warmer and not so dreary, since they still owned the land that had formally belonged to Pontan. He wandered for only a short while, when he could see the waterfall he almost always heard, no matter where he was. He stared at it for quite some time, and he was only vaguely aware of someone approaching. He heard a slight 'ah!', and then the person retreating. He turned. It was an elf maiden with pitch dark hair and eyes that were an unearthly blue. She seemed, also, somewhat familiar.
'Hello?' he ventured, trying to place her face. She smiled and shook her head, then began to leave.
'Wait! Stay awhile, was there a reason you came?'
She turned to him, then gazed at the waterfall, and sighed. He finally could place her.
'Why, she looks, a little bit like . . . Yemei! If Sorunka were here, he'd . . . but I've lost my train of thought . . .'
'I,' she looked down at her hands, 'have heard of your plight, Eneduial, I'm very sorry for you. I'm sure that you will regain your memories, however.'
She stepped forward and leaned heavily on the banister, continuing to stare at the falls. The wind was blowing her hair back, and her blue eyes were lost in thought, she seemed hardly aware of his presence.
'Have we met, before?'
'Yes,' she said, nodding slightly and smiling, 'When I was much younger, I lived in Lorien, we met there. I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond.' She gazed into space again, though somewhat worried now.
'Is . . . something troubling you?' Sachima ventured.
'It's . . .'tis a trifle, it is not worth discussing.'
'If it's all the same to you, I wouldn't mind, if it is a load you would like off of your chest.'
She looked at him somewhat strangely, probably because he didn't speak like the others.
'When I returned form Lorien, I found that my father had been raising a human boy. We . . . met . . . and . . .'
Sachima nodded, already catching her meaning.
'. . . He has been gone, for some time, I think he was summoned by Gandalf to go somewhere, he shall return, but . . .'
'You are still worried. I understand, however, I'd like to say something.'
'Yes?'
'Um, look, I don't know how to put this, but . . . inter-species relationships, from what I've seen, are not good. Like . . . I knew a guy . . . he was my cousin, actually . . . and . . . well, his mother was an elf, and his father was a human, and . . . well, his lifespan was shortened. Now, that could be because he was an alcoholic in his younger years, and he destroyed his liver, but . . .there are other examples . . .I knew someone else,' he felt uncomfortable, talking about his own history in third person, though he hated his own history regardless, 'and . . .his father . . .he was an elf . . .the mother was a human . . .and . . .' he omitted a great deal of information, 'anyway, they had a son . . .but, he . . .aged, faster than either a human or an elf. At twenty-two he felt nearly twice as old . . .'
Arwen nodded, but had a look of not believing a word of what he was saying.
'And you remember all this, even though you've lost your memory, that is quite interesting,' she said, smiling.
'Well . . . you see. .. Uh . . .'
* * *
'Oww . . .'
Ganamo groaned. How in the world could he have a hangover? He . . . didn't remember much, he must have drunk a lot . . . except . . . he knew better . . . He shaded his eyes carefully and rubbed them. Wherever he was, it was very bright. He waited for some time, simply lying on his back, and then opened an eye and looked around. He was in a smallish room, with a curved ceiling, and a window on the wall nearest his feet, and opposite the doorway. There was a chest made of wood, and the floor was carpeted. He slowly crawled out of the bed he was in.
'How'd I get here?' he wondered. He stood up and painfully looked out the deep-set window. Outside was the brightest, cheeriest, sunniest day he had ever seen since he met Ranme in Yemeti. There were green hills, and roads, and people walking about and riding on small ponies. He shook his head, then turned and headed for the round door. He opened it carefully, and stepped through it.
He was in a long hallway, at the far end, to his right, was a round door like a porthole. The hallway itself was 'like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with paneled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats. . .The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight. . .' There were 'many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side, and then on the other. No going upstairs.'
He turned towards the door, then heard sniggering behind him. Before he could turn, many children's voices shouted out, 'Uncle Bingo! Uncle Bingo!' Suddenly several small bodies latched themselves to his back, and he fell forward onto his face. He heard shrieking and giggling and chatter and even the pattering of little feet. Soon two were directly in his sight. He looked up. They belonged to a girl of about eight; she had bright eyes and curly, flaxen hair. She wore a simple green dress, and was carrying a small hat in her right hand. She beamed so sweetly and contagiously that, despite the hangover, Ganamo smiled back. She threw her arms out, then around his neck.
'Uncle Bingo!' she cried into his ear.
'Uh . . . hi . . .'
'Pearl! Let him up!'
The girl released her grip on Ganamo and wrinkled her nose at the boy who had spoken to her. He was older, and dressed very smartly, like a perfect miniature of the adult hobbits, with a waist coat and shining buttons and everything. He had the same color hair and eyes as his probable sister.
Ganamo slowly got to his feet. He was surrounded by perhaps seven children, all with the same hair and eyes as Pearl, save the smallest girl, who had reddish brown hair and eyes. They were all chattering excitedly, and making an awful din. Ganamo rubbed his temples in anguish. He loved children, certainly, but not when he was in this state. Someone tugged on his coat. He looked down. It was the youngest girl, maybe five years old.
'You didn't change from last night!' she observed. He looked at himself. Well, he had probably slept in these clothes, judging from their disarray. He nodded in agreement with her.
'You came back late last night.'
'Did I? Did I come back with anyone?'
'Yes, mum and dad. You could barely walk. Mum was scolding you, and we heard her coming up the road a long way off,' piped up a little boy maybe a year older than she.
'You were bad, Uncle Bingo, very bad!' they chastened.
'You don't have to tell me. Say, where are your parents?'
'They left, mum said she'd come back though.'
At that instant the large porthole door swung open, and a young woman, though somewhat heavily built, entered, carrying a basket full of something. She, unlike the children, save the smallest girl, had reddish brown hair and brown eyes. The children rushed over to her and shrieked joyously.
'Ah! My head . . !'
'Bingo Tighfield!' the woman said, very cross with him.
'Yes?'
The woman set the basket down, but out of the reach of the children, who eyed it greedily. She marched resolutely over to him.
'In all the years that I've been nice enough to let you stay in my hole . . !' she shook her head and let out her anger in a small, womanly form of a growl, 'After last night! And look at you! You haven't changed, or washed, or done anything! What a brother you are! You've slept half the morning away, and haven't even washed or properly dressed yet . . !'
'Uh . . . I'm . . . sorry?'
'Bingo, I'm not in the mood just now, please, go in there and get washed up, and for heaven's sake get a proper change of clothes on!' she scolded, returning to her basket. Ganamo looked behind him. Wash . . . where? He wasn't sure where to go. He opened the first door on his right, and discovered a pantry.
'Oh! Bingo Tighfield! Now's not the time for fooling around! After what you put me through last night! With you and your friends, and a, a Took, on top of it all! Very questionable family, if you want my opinion.'
She slapped the groping hand of a child as it reached the basket. Ganamo opened the next door, and found . . . what one could, though they would be stretching, a bathroom. He shook his head and entered it. He found a pitcher of water, and a basin, and poured the water out of the pitcher into the basin, and splashed some on his face. When he had finished, or assumed he had, there wasn't a shower after all, he exited the bathroom and returned to his own room. He didn't seem to have many, no; he had no clothes in the room.
'Would they be somewhere else, perhaps?' he thought. He left this room, and explored, finally finding a room dedicated to clothes, but they were women's clothes. He shrugged, and continued, until he found another one, which seemed to have what might be this, Bingo Tighfield's clothes. Of course, he had no idea how to work with this style, he was used to just throwing a shirt on himself in the course of about three seconds. Now he was totally lost. There were all kinds, some more fancy than others, though many of the clothes were fairly simple. The woman, she had not been dressed terribly fancily, so he tried to pick something that would probably match hers. After quite some time he emerged, the hallway was strangely quiet. The children had all gone, and the basket was not hanging from a hat peg as it had been when he left. He walked down the hall, and heard muffled voices behind a door. He opened it. He had found the kitchen, apparently. All the children were in here, and the woman, whom he was now going to assume was their 'mum' was distributing bread amongst them. She saw him enter, and handed Pearl an extra piece, which she gave to Ganamo.
'Mum's punishing you; you're not going to get so much food now, not until you've done some work.'
'Oh,' He said, taking the bread with a smile to match hers, 'Work? What kind of work? There surely can't be any computers around . . . no stores . . . no job I know how to perform.'
He heard the porthole door open. Someone walked down the hallway towards the room, and opened the door. It was a man, older than the woman, and also more heavily built than she or Ganamo for that matter. Ganamo felt sure now, more than ever, that he never wanted to gain weight. The newcomer had the same color hair and eyes that the children did, and was obviously their father. He was somewhat dirty, but stepped inside anyway.
'I was just making our second-breakfast,' the woman said. The man smiled pleasantly. Ganamo refrained from gagging. He only had 'second- breakfast' if he was very hungry, and not often. But . . . these people, couldn't they see that they didn't need a second-breakfast?
'Oi! Bingo! Help me please,' the woman said, tying an apron about her. He nodded. At least he knew how to cook, he should be all right. She walked over to her basket, and took out several items, including a form of 'snack' that the children kept trying to snatch, and kept getting sore hands that they had to blow on. She handed him the basket itself. It was full of eggs, some were brown. He had never seen a brown egg in his life, only heard of them. He was surprised.
'Mum!' one of the children began. She listened as the child told her about something, and Ganamo tried to figure out how to cook the eggs. To buy some time, he rather lamely said,
'Um, how do you want your eggs?'
Everyone turned to look at him, and the children sniggered.
'Bingo, are you feeling all right? The same as every morning, Rosie and Pearl both like theirs scrambled, Dudo and Meriadoc over-easy, Goldilocks and Wilibald sunny-side up, and Isembold likes to have three-one minute eggs, and I like one three-minute egg.'
Ganamo winced. He counted that up. There was one girl left out.
'What about her?' he asked, just as lamely. The woman and Isembold (her husband) looked at him in utter confusion. The woman shook her head. Someone tugged on his coat. It was the same eight-year-old girl as before, Pearl.
'Psst!' she said. He leaned over slightly to listen to her.
'Yes?'
'That's Daisy!' she giggled. The other children seemed quite entertained by him. He shrugged, maybe if he kept up the stupid act the children would think he was playing and tell him what he wanted to know. He put on a smile.
'How about Daisy, does she like her eggs scrambled?'
'N-no!' the girl giggled, shaking her head. Daisy seemed to be enjoying his little act as well.
'Over-easy?'
'No!' more children piped up, grinning at this game.
'How about three one-minute eggs? Or one three-minute egg?'
'No!' they all cried.
'Then how does she like them?'
'I don't!' she told him. He pretended to nearly drop the basket from surprise. The children shrieked, having a grand time. The woman shook her head.
'That brother of mine . . !' she murmured.
Ganamo smiled, and quickly tried to remember everyone's names. Isembold suddenly spoke up.
'Mad Baggins has gone.'
His wife suddenly turned to him.
'He has? Well, I shouldn't be surprised, not after what he did last night. That was a very ill-humored trick if you ask my opinion.'
'Mad Baggins?'
Isembold and his wife stared at Ganamo again, who tried to appear to be joking. Pearl tugged on his coat again.
'You went to his party last night!'
'Oh! That Baggins, of course, see, it could have been,' he looked around, as if about to divulge a secret, 'the other Baggins, if you get my meaning.'
'Oh! Mum says he's mad too, or at least going mad, like Mr. Bilbo.'
'That a fact?'
'Yup!'
'Bingo.'
'Yes?' he answered quickly, looking up at the woman.
'Would you mind, terribly, making those before half the day is spent by your . . . antics?'
'Sure thing,' he said, saluting. He received rather confused looks from everyone present. He turned away quickly and set about finding what he needed. Isembold cleared his throat noisily.
'And there is a large crowd outside of Bag End,' he stated, continuing on his thought, as though nothing had been said since then.
'What do you mean?' his wife asked suddenly, frowning at him.
'They say that the whole household is being distributed free. I just spoke to Milo Burrows; he got a gold pen and ink-bottle. There were many others, of course, and if he truly is giving it away . . .'
'Isembold, Bag End is a good half mile from here, and we have better things to do than scavenge for items we want.'
'Ruby, I was under the impression you had your eyes on Old Baggins' Old Winyards, if you like, I can send Bingo to go and get it for you, he hardly does any work, so what's the harm?'
Ganamo moaned quietly.
'Please don't send me, go yourself, you're her husband, I'll do some work, I have no idea where Bag End is, and I haven't the foggiest idea what the heck this Old Winyards is, go yourself!'
Ruby seemed to be thinking, and Ganamo set to cooking the eggs as fast as he could, to show how much he was working.
'Well, I suppose it wouldn't do any harm, just as long as when you come back, Bingo, you help me in the garden, or Isembold. I already know you've had your eye on some of his maps, so go on. Only hurry back, all right?'
'Uh . . .' Ganamo turned around. He couldn't think of a way to wriggle out of this.
'Come on, I'll let you ride Mossfoot, if you like, I won't be needing her today.'
'Ride something? A what? I don't even know how to drive!'
Ganamo followed Isembold out the port-hole door, and hoped Ruby would notice before the eggs got terribly burnt. He and Isembold made their way down a few steps and through a gate to a small hobbit-pony, which was latched to an equally small cart. Isembold unhitched the pony and then handed the reins to Ganamo, and walked back up the steps and through the port-hole door. Ganamo swallowed hard, he had no idea how to ride a horse, he had never seen a live one in his life, only pictures, and heard stories about them from Ajika and Sachima and his family. He looked at the small, brown pony. He stood there a few moments, and then ran up the steps and entered through the door and made his way to the kitchen. Both Ruby and her husband were surprised by his sudden entry.
'I'll just walk, thank you; you can hitch her up again.'
He ran outside again, to avoid being pinned with the responsibility of hitching the pony up himself. He walked through the gate onto a small path, and looked either way. He turned right and began walking. He turned quickly to see what kind of structure he had been in, and discovered it to be a large hill. He shook his head.
'All right,' he said to himself, 'if this "Bag End" is half a mile away, and has a crowd of people out front, it shouldn't be too difficult to find, after all, if I'm going the wrong direction, I can just turn around and go the other way, assuming of course that the road is straight and doesn't have any forks in it . . .'
'Bingo Tighfield!'
Ganamo jumped. He recognized that voice. He turned around. Coming up behind him was none other than the woman from last night, Eglantine Proudfoot, and another young woman, who had dark brown curly hair. Ganamo wasn't sure whether to run, or assume she had forgiven him. Both of the women had umbrellas, and he decided it would be better for him to try and escape while he had the chance. He began to hurry off down the road.
'Bingo!' she called again, she sounded irritated. Ganamo gave in and just stopped and waited for her to come near, bracing for anything. Eglantine and the other woman approached, and stopped nearby. They were both apparently well-dressed, more so than he was, though he did not seem poor, simply not dressed up. Eglantine regarded him a moment, as if deciding what to do with him.
'I still don't forgive you, for last night, you know,' she informed him, 'however, I will be sociable, and if you agree to stop pushing me into the River.'
Ganamo nodded, not even sure where the River was. Eglantine was silent a few more moments, then, strangely, she extended her arm. He was at a loss.
'Oh come on, aren't you even going to walk with us to Bag End? I heard that it was being given away, not to mention I'd like to know what caused Mad Baggins to pull a rotten stunt like that. Disappearing! I knew that old Gandalf was up to something, he's the one who sent Mr. Baggins on his first . . . "journey" and hasn't been a good influence since, if you ask me. Well don't just stand there, come on!'
Ganamo, a little confused, hooked his arm in hers. The other woman was suddenly at his other side.
'What is with them? I throw . . . Bingo pushes one in . . . a river, and suddenly she likes him. . ?' he pushed the last thought out of his mind, hoping that wasn't true. Still, how else could he explain the fact that he had a hobbit-girl on either arm? He hoped that he got back soon, and, judging from the last incident; that should not be so long. After only a few paces, Eglantine struck up a conversation with him, talking about . . . he wasn't sure most of the time, but like most guys, that didn't cause a problem, because they don't understand girls most of the time either, and he made a good show of responding somewhat intelligently, but with just enough tone and smile that if what he said was utterly ridiculous, she would think he was joking.
After a while, though, he was beginning to wish she would move on, instead of sticking incessantly to one subject in great length and detail as she had been delving. He began wondering why he was the only one to turn up yet, it seemed that he would always be the first to appear, like last time, however, Sachima had been the second, and then the others soon followed, so why hadn't he seen them yet? He was so busy thinking about this, that he didn't notice when they began crossing a bridge. That is, he didn't notice until suddenly both women stopped walking. Then he noticed.
'Uh oh.'
The girl on his right suddenly stepped away, and Eglantine gave him a hard shove. Shortly thereafter he found himself swimming like a rat towards the bank of the river he had been pushed into, while both Eglantine and her companion ran off, laughing joyously. (*Technically, this place does not exist, however, I wrote it in there, so unless you want to stretch and say there's a bridge over Bywater Pool, and Ganamo mistook it for a river, you're not going to find this place on the map of the Shire.*)
Still, Ganamo wasn't hurt, and he did find it rather humorous that he had been tricked like that. He chuckled a little, then followed after the girls quickly, thinking up a strategy to make sure he'd find his way to Bag End. He soon overtook them, since they were wearing dresses, and such, still giggling and enjoying themselves tremendously. They heard him coming, and tried to escape him, but he was faster then they and he soon caught up with both. He grabbed each of them by the hand, and then linked arms again. They shrieked and told him to stop because he was wet and muddy, but did not seem so upset about it, probably thinking he was simply joking around as apparently Bingo often did. He insisted on seeing them to their destination, and told both he refused to let either go until he saw them safely on their way, just in case someone else wanted to push them into the River (like another, poor, hapless chap he knew who had just suffered that fate) and would protect them. They seemed amused, and, though it hadn't seemed so last night, Eglantine was probably a good friend of Bingo's judging from her attitude.
He was doing all right, until they came to a fork in the road. Ganamo thought he could feel them turning right, and began to do so. Then they both pulled him back and told him to get the water out of his brains already and try and go the right way. Eventually they made it to the mysterious 'Bag End', which was another hill with windows and a door. And there was a large crowd out front; some people had even brought wheelbarrows. Ganamo and the two girls managed to weave through the crowd and make it in through the door. Merry was there, and walked up to him.
"Hallo! If it isn't Eglantine, Angelica and Bingo. No, we're not giving this place away like you're probably heard, but you all have some items addressed to you, if you'd like them. Come on, they're over here, at least, they were last I saw them, but it's been an awful mess here all morning, with people coming in and taking things, and bartering in the hall and such. Here! Your things are untouched, how fortunate!"
Merry handed Angelica a mirror with a small label that read,
'For ANGELICA'S use, from uncle Bilbo.'
Angelica seemed irritated by it, and Ganamo noticed the mirror was convex. He shrugged. Eglantine was given a small item that was neatly wrapped in paper, and Merry thrust another, wrapped item at him. Shrugging, he read the label.
'For BINGO TIGHFIELD, knowing it will be helpful.'
He unwrapped the thing, and discovered several towels. Merry chuckled, apparently amused.
'You could certainly use that!' he said, pointing at Ganamo's still wet hair, 'And you better give one to Eglantine, too, she'll be needing it.'
'I guess this Bingo likes pushing Elgantine into water all the time.'
Merry shook his head, and Ganamo decided to leave.
'Hold on,' Merry told him, 'there were some things here for Ruby, Isembold, and the children, if I could only find them. Come on, you help me look, too.'
Just then two hobbits walked up. The man, much older than either Merry or Ganamo, suddenly blurted out,
'Where's that Frodo Baggins? We wish to speak with him.'
'Merry bowed politely.
"He is indisposed," he said, "he is resting."
"Hiding, you mean," ' said the woman. "Anyway, we want to see him and we mean to see him. Just go and tell him so!" '
Merry nodded, and disappeared. He was a while in returning, and the couple took to looking through the items that were labeled, and discovered a case of silver spoons. They seemed in rather a dark mood, and the label had not helped to improve it. Merry returned and then led them down the hall. Ganamo shrugged, and began to look for things labeled for Ruby, Isembold, Rosie, Pearl, Dudo, Meriadoc, Goldilocks or Wilibald.
* * *
Well, he had been wrong. Considerably wrong. So wrong, in fact, that he had managed to learn how to blow smoke rings. And no one else had shown up.
'How is it that I'm still here? I should be gone by now . . .'
'Did you say something?'
'Hmm? No, I was just talking to myself . . .'
Ganamo would have groaned, except that he had learned that made people stare at him strangely. At that moment, he was walking 'home' with Pearl, who was now seventeen. They were just returning from The Green Dragon, to see her older brother, Wilibald, though he was called 'Will' by almost everyone except his mother, who insisted on saying his full and proper name, for some obscure purpose. He had recently gotten engaged, and was enjoying himself with his friends.
'Walking trees!' Pearl suddenly exclaimed. Ganamo looked at her skeptically.
'You believe what Master Samwise said? After all, Ted's right, Hal is always seeing things.'
'I was just saying that because . . . well, how ridiculous it sounds, a walking elm tree in the Northfarthing! And his talk of elves and such. I quite agree with Ted, Frodo's cracked to talk to them, but I feel sorry for poor Master Samwise, he really loves those tales of dragons and adventures and such—and you know better than that!'
'What?'
'You're supposed to wait until you're sitting somewhere nice, maybe with friends, then you pull out your pipe and pipe weed and smoke.'
'No rule says I can't while I'm walking,' he told her, 'if I had any more willpower, and knew for certain what I'm doing here I might be able to quit, though,' he added under his breath.
'Oh! And you asked me to remind you, what's tomorrow?'
'The twelfth of April, yes, I remembered. Your mother's birthday, and yes, I'll see if I can't get Frodo to give me some of that wine, if he still has it, and yes, I will help you bake the cake, just so long as I don't have to eat it.'
'Uncle Bingo!' she scolded, giving him a half-hearted whack on the head with her umbrella.
'Oi! I'm unarmed! Please! Stop! I'd have a wife and three kids, if I were married.'
'You can be so funny, sometimes,' she chastened again, 'stabbing' him in the side with her umbrella. There ensued a very overdone death scene, ending with Ganamo sprawled on the ground, trying not to laugh.
'Well, here we go again.'
Ganamo walked down the path towards Bag End. Ruby was always sending him to go get things from Frodo, and Frodo was showing signs of becoming tired of it. And, assuming he still had some Old Winyards left, his request might be the last straw. He approached, and saw Sam outside a window, poised with his shears to cut the grass, but he wasn't cutting. Ganamo frowned, and walked up behind him. He was about to ask him what he was doing, when he heard voices in the window.
'Well I'll be! He's eavesdropping!' Ganamo thought to himself, amused at the idea. 'Should I reveal him, or let him be? Or should I just go and knock on the door as if this had never happened?'
He headed for the large, green door. He heard Sam squawk suddenly, and someone yelling.
'Sounds like he's been found out.'
He crept back to see how things were turning out. Sam was talking to someone inside the window.
"'Bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!' said Sam. 'Nothing! Leastways I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me.' He picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence.
'I don't,' " replied a familiar voice that Ganamo couldn't quite place, "'It is some time since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eaves-dropping?'
'Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, begging your pardon. There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.'
'Don't be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?' . . .
'Mr. Frodo, sir!' cried Sam quaking. 'Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honour, sir!'
'He won't hurt you,' " said Frodo's amused voice," 'He knows, as well as I do, that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight away!'
'Well, sir,' said Sam, dithering a little," 'I didn't hear anything . . . important. Only something about a Ring, and a Dark Lord, and something about the end of the world, but only please don't hurt me, Mr. Gandalf, sir!'
"'Come inside!' " the familiar voice shouted. Sam started and looked over at Ganamo quickly as two long arms suddenly reached out the window and lifted him in through it. Sam managed to say something in his surprise, but Ganamo didn't catch it. Suddenly the old man from the party stuck his head out the window.
'Bingo Tighfield!' he exclaimed, eyes flashing. Ganamo was suddenly overcome with unreasonable fear.
'And how long have you been eavesdropping? And how many other visitors have we?'
'None, sir! Just me! No time, sir! I only just arrived, sir, and—'
'Never mind, come inside, we can have a decent conversation that way.'
'Yes, sir! If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather use the door!'
The old man smiled briefly and chuckled.
'Very well, only just come straight in!'
'Yes, sir!'
The old man suddenly regarded him suspiciously, which made Ganamo nervous. He walked to the green door and opened it. He closed it behind him, and turned to find Sam, Frodo, and the old man, but he walked into him first. The old man suddenly took hold of his ear.
'My dear Bingo,' he said, 'I must say that you have just surprised me more than Frodo.'
'I'm terribly sorry; I can just go home and forget everything I heard—'
'Not about you overhearing us, my dear hobbit, but rather, that you've lost weight since I've seen you last.'
'Oh! Yes, well, I, uh . . .* ahem! * About that . . .'
'That is most peculiar for a hobbit, wouldn't you agree?'
'Well, sir, you see—'
'Who are you, really?'
'Me, sir? I don't think I rightly follow you, see I'm—'
'You're not fooling me; I've suspected that you were other than you appeared when I saw you at Bilbo's party.'
'Well, uh . . . see . . .'
Just then Frodo and Sam appeared. The old man released his grip on Ganamo's ear, and he rubbed it. The old man suddenly smiled at Sam.
""Take you to see the Elves, eh?" he said, eyeing Sam closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. "So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?"
'He is?' Ganamo suddenly asked. The old man turned his attention to him once again, and his eyes flashed. Ganamo resolved not to speak, and stood in a corner.
""I did, sir. And that's why I choked: which you heard seemingly. I tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset."
"It can't be helped, Sam," Frodo said sadly . . . I shall halve to go. But"—and here he looked hard at Sam—"if you really care about me, you will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of what you've heard her, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes."
Sam fell on his knees, trembling. "Get up, Sam!" said Gandalf. "I have thought of something better than that. Something to shut your mouth, and punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!"
"Me, sir!" cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. "Me go and see the Elves and all! Hooray!" he shouted, and then burst into tears."
Frodo finally recalled the person in the corner.
'I suppose that means that poor Bingo will have to come along as well,' he said. Ganamo winced, go where? How long? For what? Gandalf regarded Ganamo thoughtfully.
'Perhaps,' he said at length, then he approached Ganamo, rising to his full height. Ganamo pressed his back into the wall, and looked around quickly, but saw no avenue for escape.
'Bingo, how much did you hear?'
'Only what I told you, and what you just said here, sir!'
'And who are you, really?'
Both hobbits were surprised by this statement.
'Gandalf, what you do mean by that?' Frodo asked.
'Well?' Gandalf asked. Ganamo thought hard.
'Well . . . I'm Bingo; at least, that's what everyone calls me, sir . . .'
'I will not put up with this kind of nonsense! Answer my question!'
'Well, you see, sir, it's . . . a very long story . . . sir . . .'
Gandalf nodded. Ganamo shrugged inwardly, telling him couldn't be as disastrous as last time.
'I'm . . .Ganamo, sir, Ganamo Martin Miaston. Not as if you knew me, of course. To be honest, I've never heard of any of you before, either. See—'
'And where did you come from, "Ganamo"?' Gandalf asked.
'Well, see, here's how it is, all right? One day, I'm minding my own business, and suddenly, I wake up in this strange place, not here, though, I'm getting around to here. So I'm suddenly someone else, someone named Dryden. Anyway, later, my friend appears as someone else, and a few more people I know. Well, then I wake up, as if from a dream, if you follow me,' he grinned nervously, 'I've been here so long I speak like you guys. Anyway, so a while later, I'm minding my own business again, and bam! I wake up all soaking wet and . . . well, what you see before you, basically. I decided to play along, this time, because last time was . . . well, it got interesting. I don't mean to come! And I didn't mean any harm! Ruby, she just sent me here to get something, you can ask Frodo, I've been here lots of times asking for things. I have! And then I see Master Samwise here, listening 'neath the window there, and I was going to ask him what he was doing when you noticed him, sir! That's all I did!'
Gandalf continued to eye him for a while. After some time, while both hobbits stared at one another in confusion, Gandalf bent down to Ganamo's eye level.
'All right,' he said, 'I believe you, your story sounds too outlandish to be a story that a spy of Sauron could think up. Did you hear about Frodo's ring?'
'I heard Sam mention it, sir.'
Gandalf studied his face.
'You seem fairly interested by rings, Ganamo, isn't that why you followed Bilbo here, after his party?'
'It's not what you think! Whatever . . .that is . . .see, my world, we also have magic rings, and I was just wondering to see if maybe I could . . .I don't know, somehow get a friend of mine here to use it, and maybe bring us back to our own world. That's all!'
Note: I do not own anything by Tolkien (great author), or The Vision of Escaflowne or anything else in here that we all know doesn't belong to me.
Also, for those of you (practically everyone) who have not read any of my stories, this little background will be really helpful.
Ok, in one story, there are humans and four different races of elves. The main characters consist of a human (Ganma), an east elf (Ajika, Ganma's ward), a half-human, half-south elf (Ganamo, the star, and older half-brother of Ganma), a half-north elf, half-human (Sachima, Ganamo's first cousin), and a north elf (Sorunka, Sachima's younger half-brother). Sachima (as he appears here) has been crowned emperor for . . . a while, so he's a lot mellower than he is in most of my other stories. Also, since Sachima is more temperate in this one, he is no longer an elf demon (meaning he can turn into a dragon). The Ganamo that appears here is actually from after he's been in cryo-sleep for 300 or so years. To let you know, Sachima used to really hate Ganamo for reasons that are way to hard to explain here. I should also mention that the elves from this story can sprout wings, and so can Sachima and Ganamo.
Oh yeah, Ganamo and Sachima have been in other fan fictions. This is the second one that I've stuck them in. The first one (which is mentioned in passing here) is when they were stuck in The Vision of Escaflowne, an anime. In the last one they "took over" characters from the actual series (Ganamo became Dryden and Sachima became Folken . . .)
This fan fic is also before The Matrix one, even though the Sachima in that one is much younger. Anyway, if you guys are still confused after reading this, please let me and I'll try to clarify, ok? Hope I haven't bored you too much, enjoy, ok? ^_^'
Chapter 1 A Not So Long-Expected Arrival in Middle-Earth . . .
'Are you alright?'
'What?'
'Are you hurt?'
'No . . .' Sachima looked around. Either he was dreaming . . . or it had happened again.
'Where am I?' he asked. The person speaking to him had pointy ears and long blonde hair, which was tied back and bright eyes. 'Am I in the West Elf Kingdom?' Sachima asked. Wherever he was, it was very pretty and seemed to be located in a valley or perhaps it had been carved out of the steep slopes of the rocks and dirt surrounding it. Sachima rather liked it, though he would never admit that to anyone.
The (obviously) elf frowned, confused.
'West Elves?' he asked. Yes, either it had happened again, or he was dreaming. Except, if he were dreaming, he would have awakened by then because he suspected it of being so, that meant that it must have happened again. He sighed heavily, which hurt, strangely enough. He decided to play along this time, maybe he would get further, and learn about the 'Nariya's and 'Eriya's of this world. He was beginning to wish that the Lameikai's palace looked like this, instead of being shut up and dark all the time, with large windows overlooking fog and mist.
'Nothing,' he said, 'where am I?' he repeated. He had at first admitted to not being hurt, but now his throat was burning . . .
'You are in Imladris, Rivendell, the house of Elrond. Do you remember what happened?' the elf asked, concerned, as if he were talking to his friend, which, as far as Sachima was concerned, he very well could be.
'No,' he admitted.
'We received word that you had left Lothlorien with urgent news regarding the threat of Mordor. It was believed that you had seen The Nine crossing the Fords of Isen.'
Sachima had hoped to gather more information, but was at a loss, and said nothing.
'What was the news?' the elf asked.
Four years ago, Sachima might have just threatened the life of this elf to obtain information, but times had changed, times had changed a great deal . . .
'I . . . don't remember,' Sachima finally answered.
The elf frowned, more worried.
'Is that all you do not remember? . . . Or is there more?'
'I remember nothing.'
Now that Sachima really thought about it, this elf reminded him of . . . himself . . . only with smaller ears, no white irises and long blonde hair. The elf looked distressed.
'Nothing?' he repeated, making sure.
'Nothing.'
The elf swallowed and his jaw tightened.
'But . . .I don't see how, after Elrond healed you . . .'
That brought back Sachima's throat.
'Was I sick?'
'No! Don't you remember? You nearly drowned; your horse was nowhere to be found. You had been attacked; you were stabbed multiple times with knives . . .'
'All right, thank you. Who am I supposed-who am I?'
'You are Eneduial, son of Brilyaveion. I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, who is the king of Northern Mirkwood. You left your home, Lothlorien, I've been told, on the 27th of August. An elf named Belegdulin found you severely wounded and half-dead in the Greyflood River. Your horse, Telumehtar' (Orion) 'was gone, though the saddle was salvaged.'
Sachima nodded, hoping he'd eventually sort this out, and find a way back . . .
Ganamo was coughing. And he was soaking wet. Some people were scolding him and others were joking.
'Not again!' he thought. He rolled over onto his stomach and coughed up water. Someone tapped on his shoulder.
'Foolish! That's what you are, Bingo!' I almost mistook you for Merry by your prank! Ha, not this time! What, falling into—'
'Where am I?'
'Trying to wriggle out trouble? Not this time!'
Ganamo turned and looked at who was talking to him. There was a man with funny-looking clothing, reddish brown hair, a vest and . . . were those his feet? Not to mention he was overweight and had pointy ears.
Ganamo checked his own ears. They were also pointed, but he was used to having pointy ears, and it didn't bother him. However . . . his feet were also large and hairy and he was also overweight, but not as much as the older man. There were other 'people' fishing their companions out of what might have been a river and laughing at them.
'Bingo Tighfield! I'll wring your ugly neck for that! My reflection indeed!'
A blonde-haired, muddy and wet, pointy-eared woman marched towards him.
'I'll have your hide before the night's through! You hear me?'
Some of the other 'people' held her back.
'Calm down, Eglantine! Bingo didn't mean no harm by it! He meant nothing by it!'
'When I get my hands on you! . . .' Eglantine shrieked. Someone grabbed Ganamo's hand and pulled him to his feet. It was a young man, accompanied by another one, about his age or younger.
'We've some mischief to play yet, come on you too!' The young man started dragging him off. His companion lingered for some reason.
'Pippin! What's keeping you? Come on!'
'Where are we going?' Ganamo asked.
The young man laughed and turned towards him.
'To have fun! We're going to the long expected party of Bilbo Baggins! What, did getting wet make your brain soggy? Where are we going indeed! Bingo, you have some sense of humor!'
It was a big party. Really big. Even though he had figured out by now he was really short, there were a lot of people big.
'Happy Birthday Bilbo Baggins. Right, as if I knew he was.'
There was festive music and dancing and eating and drinking going on.
'Must be some rich guy to throw a party like this.'
The young man and his companion, Pippin, had already begun attacking the food, and shoved some into his chest, then also forced a mug of ale into his hand. He was overweight already . . . eating? Were they out of their minds? The older of the two companions and the one in charge (Pippin seemed to just follow his lead) gave him a funny look.
'What's the matter? Not eating? At a party? Are you feeling all right?'
'Um . . .
Another young man walked up. Pippin noticed him and immediately greeted him. His name was Frodo. Ganamo was wondering what was up with all the strange names in this place anyway. By lying low, he managed to learn a lot, and stay out of trouble. After a while, his stomach won out, and he figured, since he was going to be getting back home one of these days and getting back to his old body, eating was all right. Drinking was something else, he wasn't sure, that, as a former alcoholic, it would be such a good idea, and left the mug on a table. While wandering around, he bumped into somebody huge.
'Oops! Sorry! Uh . . . didn't . . . see . . . you . . . huge person . . . heh, heh . . .'
The man he had bumped into was very old, and wore all grey, but had a large pointed, blue hat (his eyebrows stuck out under the brim of it) and a long beard and a staff. Ganamo was wondering what kind of a nut job dressed like that. He started slinking off.
'And where are you going, Bingo Tighfield of Buckland?'
'Nowhere . . . in particular . . .'
'Is it true?'
'What?'
'You pushed Eglantine Proudfoot into the River again on the way here?'
'Uh . . . I guess.'
The old man frowned.
'Are you feeling all right? You don't seem yourself.'
'Uh . . . I know . . . I guess I just got water in my brain or something . . . heh, heh . . . Okojai!' he kicked himself. Using elf? Here? If he was trying to gather enough information to leave . . . he had just blown it, judging from the disaster that had occurred last time. Something dawned on him. Was Sachima one of these short, stocky, and overly happy and pleasant creatures? He'd kill somebody!
'Okojai?'
'Huh? Nothing! I'll just be leaving . . . bye . . . sir . . .'
Ganamo turned and hurried off before the old man could inquire further. After a quite some time of confusion, Ganamo sat down near a giant cart and sighed heavily. He hoped that either Sachima showed up soon so he'd have someone to talk to, or he'd just get out of this crazy place. He heard whispering, and perked up. He walked around the cart to find Merry (he had finally learned his name) and Pippin. Pippin was in the cart though.
'No! The big one, the big one!' Merry hissed.
'Hey!'
Merry jumped, and there was a clamor inside the cart. Merry saw it was Ganamo and placed a hand over his chest.
'Bingo! Don't do that. Yes! That one! Come on!' Merry looked around, and Pippin emerged, carrying a giant firecracker that looked like a South Dragon. Ganamo couldn't resist . . .he could . . .get in a lot of trouble . . .now he could resist . . .but . . .fire, explosions . . .fun . . .he followed Merry and Pippin to see what they were going to do with it.
Merry and Pippin entered a tent that was set up for some reason, and they were going to light the firecracker. Oo . . . Except . ... Pippin wasn't so smart, or maybe he was just immature, because he lit it before they had set it up right.
'You were supposed to stick it in the ground!' Merry scolded, pushing it towards Pippin.
'It is in the ground!' Pippin protested, pushing it back. 'Outside!' Merry clarified, agitated. 'It was your idea!' Pippin countered. Ganamo sighed and stepped forward, the put out the fuse. Except, it must have been a fast fuse, because it exploded in a shower of sparks about two seconds later, partially frying him, Pippin and Merry. They all fell on their backs and watched the firecracker fly into the sky. They were going to be in quite a lot of trouble . . . Oh dear. (This is directly from the book, so I have quotes, OK?)
'The lights went out. A great smoke went up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow at the summit. It spouted green and scarlet flames. Out flew a red-golden dragon-not life- size, but terribly life-like: fire came from its jaws, his eyes glared down; there was a roar, and he whizzed three times over the heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and many fell flat on their faces. The dragon passed like an express train, turned a somersault, and burst over Bywater with a deafening explosion.'
'That was good.' 'Let's get another one.' 'Let's get out of here.' Merry, Pippin, and Ganamo had stood by and watched the chain of events with devilish glee, though Ganamo was sure they were going to get into a lot of trouble, their clothes were burnt and they had soot on their faces and—
'Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took, I might have known. And don't you think of going anywhere, Bingo Tighfield.'
And that was it, they were in trouble, the old man had caught them, the fun was over. And they got punished; they had to wash dishes while the old man looked on. Eventually Merry muttered something about the Speech, and 'filling up the corners'. It was then that Ganamo noticed that another of these 'people' had been droning on for some time, and now began to really grab his guest's attention. He looked closer, and discovered it was the one named Bilbo, the one turning one-hundred and eleven. He shrugged. The 'people' 'cheered at every full stop.' (More from book)
'My dear people,' began Bilbo, rising in his place. 'Hear! Hear! Hear!' they shouted, and kept repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice. Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated tree. The light of the lanterns fell on his beaming face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could all seem him standing; waving one hand in the air, the other was in his trouser pocket.
My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again; and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots. 'Proudfeet!' shouted an elderly hobbit from the back of the pavilion. His name, of course, was Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table.
Proudfoots, repeated Bilbo. Also my good Sackville-Baginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday; I am eleventy-one today! 'Hurray! Hurray! Many Happy Returns!' they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing splendidly. This was the kind of stuff they liked; short and obvious.
I hope that you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening cheers. Cries of Yes (and No). . . .
I shall not keep you long, he cried. Cheers from all the assembly. I have called you all together for a purpose. Something in the way that he said this made an impression. There was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather difficult.'
Ganamo wondered what this guy was getting at, and why he continued to keep his hand in his pocket. What it possible he had something in there? Like what? A note, and small object . . . a ring? That made him wonder . . . he made sure the old man wasn't looking and sneaked away, weaving through the crowd of 144 hobbits. He noticed Merry and Pippin protesting that he was gone, and the old man scanning the crowd for him, but he remained hidden, and sat near the place where Bilbo was delivering his speech.
'. . . and finally, he said, I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. He spoke this last word so loudly that suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. I regret to announce that-though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to spend among you-this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!
He stepped down and vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and the guests all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. 144 flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless.' None the least was Ganamo, as he wondered how Bilbo had pulled that off, unless he had a magic Ring of sorts. 'Old Odo Proudfoot removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then there was a dead silence, until suddenly, after several deep breaths, every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower and Proudfoot began to talk all at once. It was generally agreed that the joke was in very bad taste, and more food and drink were needed to cure the guests of shock and annoyance.'
Ganamo noticed something. Feet prints in the grass, stealing away from the commotion, as well as a faint shadow cast by what little light there was. Ganamo checked again to see if anyone was watching him, and followed the shadow and feet as close as he dared. They led down a dirt path, which he, had he been himself, would have probably needed shoes to walk on, but as he was, was all right barefoot. After some time, they, the footprints that is, led up to a green hill, with an oak tree situated at the top. There was a large, circular wooden porthole-like 'door' with a gold handle right in the center apparently going into the hill. A little in front of it was a gate, and Ganamo hid himself some distance away when the shadow stopped and the feet stayed motionless. They then continued on their journey, and the gate swung open then closed on its own, just barely creaking loudly enough to be heard over the commotion back at the party. Then the large green door also swung open, then shut. Ganamo checked quickly to see if he had been followed, and ran forward, then hid himself in the plants beneath the windows. He heard the man chuckling to himself, and moving about inside the hill. He was about to try and take a look inside when presently, the old man came hurrying up, and he swung open the gate, passed through it, then also opened the door, stooped over some, and . . .paused. He looked straight at the place where Ganamo was hiding.
'Oh man . . . this guy gives me the creeps. . !' Ganamo couldn't help but whisper to the plants, as though they could understand him.
'I suggest you come out from hiding now,' the old man called, 'go back to the party. Once I am finished here, Bingo, I'm going to check on you, and if I find you anything but drunk and full—'
Ganamo jumped up and ran back towards the other people as the old man finally entered the door.
* * *
'Off the mark again.'
Sachima sighed. He had kept quiet and played along, but what he wouldn't give for an HPG! He turned to Legolas, shook his head, pulled another arrow from his quiver and notched it on the bowstring. He eyed the distant target, still amazed at how well he could see—he had grown used to using glasses. He released the arrow, and watched as it whizzed forward and . . . stuck in the ground near the target. He shook his head, he was never going to get the hang of this, maybe a few thousand years ago, his ancestors had used these primitive weapons, but he was used to plasma guns, though he had used a few projectile weapons in his time as well. He tried once more, and actually hit the target this time, though he was still off the center, and had probably hit the target by luck. Legolas shook his head this time, smiling slightly.
'An elf who can't use a bow, I'm so terribly sorry, Eneduial, I'll make sure that no one makes too much light of your predicament.'
'Funny, ha, I'm laughing, really,' he hit himself mentally; he hadn't seen Ganma in over . . . well, four years, wasn't it? Why was he talking like that annoying human anyway?
'I think we should stop for the day, you look exasperated.'
'I think I am.'
Legolas took his bow and quiver back, then walked towards the spent arrows and gathered them up. Sachima waited for him, but Legolas had other business, apparently, and waved to him and left. Sachima thought a few moments, and decided not to follow, and instead to explore. He was certain the instant he returned home he was going to demand that they redesign the whole palace, or move it further south, where it was warmer and not so dreary, since they still owned the land that had formally belonged to Pontan. He wandered for only a short while, when he could see the waterfall he almost always heard, no matter where he was. He stared at it for quite some time, and he was only vaguely aware of someone approaching. He heard a slight 'ah!', and then the person retreating. He turned. It was an elf maiden with pitch dark hair and eyes that were an unearthly blue. She seemed, also, somewhat familiar.
'Hello?' he ventured, trying to place her face. She smiled and shook her head, then began to leave.
'Wait! Stay awhile, was there a reason you came?'
She turned to him, then gazed at the waterfall, and sighed. He finally could place her.
'Why, she looks, a little bit like . . . Yemei! If Sorunka were here, he'd . . . but I've lost my train of thought . . .'
'I,' she looked down at her hands, 'have heard of your plight, Eneduial, I'm very sorry for you. I'm sure that you will regain your memories, however.'
She stepped forward and leaned heavily on the banister, continuing to stare at the falls. The wind was blowing her hair back, and her blue eyes were lost in thought, she seemed hardly aware of his presence.
'Have we met, before?'
'Yes,' she said, nodding slightly and smiling, 'When I was much younger, I lived in Lorien, we met there. I am Arwen, daughter of Elrond.' She gazed into space again, though somewhat worried now.
'Is . . . something troubling you?' Sachima ventured.
'It's . . .'tis a trifle, it is not worth discussing.'
'If it's all the same to you, I wouldn't mind, if it is a load you would like off of your chest.'
She looked at him somewhat strangely, probably because he didn't speak like the others.
'When I returned form Lorien, I found that my father had been raising a human boy. We . . . met . . . and . . .'
Sachima nodded, already catching her meaning.
'. . . He has been gone, for some time, I think he was summoned by Gandalf to go somewhere, he shall return, but . . .'
'You are still worried. I understand, however, I'd like to say something.'
'Yes?'
'Um, look, I don't know how to put this, but . . . inter-species relationships, from what I've seen, are not good. Like . . . I knew a guy . . . he was my cousin, actually . . . and . . . well, his mother was an elf, and his father was a human, and . . . well, his lifespan was shortened. Now, that could be because he was an alcoholic in his younger years, and he destroyed his liver, but . . .there are other examples . . .I knew someone else,' he felt uncomfortable, talking about his own history in third person, though he hated his own history regardless, 'and . . .his father . . .he was an elf . . .the mother was a human . . .and . . .' he omitted a great deal of information, 'anyway, they had a son . . .but, he . . .aged, faster than either a human or an elf. At twenty-two he felt nearly twice as old . . .'
Arwen nodded, but had a look of not believing a word of what he was saying.
'And you remember all this, even though you've lost your memory, that is quite interesting,' she said, smiling.
'Well . . . you see. .. Uh . . .'
* * *
'Oww . . .'
Ganamo groaned. How in the world could he have a hangover? He . . . didn't remember much, he must have drunk a lot . . . except . . . he knew better . . . He shaded his eyes carefully and rubbed them. Wherever he was, it was very bright. He waited for some time, simply lying on his back, and then opened an eye and looked around. He was in a smallish room, with a curved ceiling, and a window on the wall nearest his feet, and opposite the doorway. There was a chest made of wood, and the floor was carpeted. He slowly crawled out of the bed he was in.
'How'd I get here?' he wondered. He stood up and painfully looked out the deep-set window. Outside was the brightest, cheeriest, sunniest day he had ever seen since he met Ranme in Yemeti. There were green hills, and roads, and people walking about and riding on small ponies. He shook his head, then turned and headed for the round door. He opened it carefully, and stepped through it.
He was in a long hallway, at the far end, to his right, was a round door like a porthole. The hallway itself was 'like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with paneled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats. . .The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight. . .' There were 'many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side, and then on the other. No going upstairs.'
He turned towards the door, then heard sniggering behind him. Before he could turn, many children's voices shouted out, 'Uncle Bingo! Uncle Bingo!' Suddenly several small bodies latched themselves to his back, and he fell forward onto his face. He heard shrieking and giggling and chatter and even the pattering of little feet. Soon two were directly in his sight. He looked up. They belonged to a girl of about eight; she had bright eyes and curly, flaxen hair. She wore a simple green dress, and was carrying a small hat in her right hand. She beamed so sweetly and contagiously that, despite the hangover, Ganamo smiled back. She threw her arms out, then around his neck.
'Uncle Bingo!' she cried into his ear.
'Uh . . . hi . . .'
'Pearl! Let him up!'
The girl released her grip on Ganamo and wrinkled her nose at the boy who had spoken to her. He was older, and dressed very smartly, like a perfect miniature of the adult hobbits, with a waist coat and shining buttons and everything. He had the same color hair and eyes as his probable sister.
Ganamo slowly got to his feet. He was surrounded by perhaps seven children, all with the same hair and eyes as Pearl, save the smallest girl, who had reddish brown hair and eyes. They were all chattering excitedly, and making an awful din. Ganamo rubbed his temples in anguish. He loved children, certainly, but not when he was in this state. Someone tugged on his coat. He looked down. It was the youngest girl, maybe five years old.
'You didn't change from last night!' she observed. He looked at himself. Well, he had probably slept in these clothes, judging from their disarray. He nodded in agreement with her.
'You came back late last night.'
'Did I? Did I come back with anyone?'
'Yes, mum and dad. You could barely walk. Mum was scolding you, and we heard her coming up the road a long way off,' piped up a little boy maybe a year older than she.
'You were bad, Uncle Bingo, very bad!' they chastened.
'You don't have to tell me. Say, where are your parents?'
'They left, mum said she'd come back though.'
At that instant the large porthole door swung open, and a young woman, though somewhat heavily built, entered, carrying a basket full of something. She, unlike the children, save the smallest girl, had reddish brown hair and brown eyes. The children rushed over to her and shrieked joyously.
'Ah! My head . . !'
'Bingo Tighfield!' the woman said, very cross with him.
'Yes?'
The woman set the basket down, but out of the reach of the children, who eyed it greedily. She marched resolutely over to him.
'In all the years that I've been nice enough to let you stay in my hole . . !' she shook her head and let out her anger in a small, womanly form of a growl, 'After last night! And look at you! You haven't changed, or washed, or done anything! What a brother you are! You've slept half the morning away, and haven't even washed or properly dressed yet . . !'
'Uh . . . I'm . . . sorry?'
'Bingo, I'm not in the mood just now, please, go in there and get washed up, and for heaven's sake get a proper change of clothes on!' she scolded, returning to her basket. Ganamo looked behind him. Wash . . . where? He wasn't sure where to go. He opened the first door on his right, and discovered a pantry.
'Oh! Bingo Tighfield! Now's not the time for fooling around! After what you put me through last night! With you and your friends, and a, a Took, on top of it all! Very questionable family, if you want my opinion.'
She slapped the groping hand of a child as it reached the basket. Ganamo opened the next door, and found . . . what one could, though they would be stretching, a bathroom. He shook his head and entered it. He found a pitcher of water, and a basin, and poured the water out of the pitcher into the basin, and splashed some on his face. When he had finished, or assumed he had, there wasn't a shower after all, he exited the bathroom and returned to his own room. He didn't seem to have many, no; he had no clothes in the room.
'Would they be somewhere else, perhaps?' he thought. He left this room, and explored, finally finding a room dedicated to clothes, but they were women's clothes. He shrugged, and continued, until he found another one, which seemed to have what might be this, Bingo Tighfield's clothes. Of course, he had no idea how to work with this style, he was used to just throwing a shirt on himself in the course of about three seconds. Now he was totally lost. There were all kinds, some more fancy than others, though many of the clothes were fairly simple. The woman, she had not been dressed terribly fancily, so he tried to pick something that would probably match hers. After quite some time he emerged, the hallway was strangely quiet. The children had all gone, and the basket was not hanging from a hat peg as it had been when he left. He walked down the hall, and heard muffled voices behind a door. He opened it. He had found the kitchen, apparently. All the children were in here, and the woman, whom he was now going to assume was their 'mum' was distributing bread amongst them. She saw him enter, and handed Pearl an extra piece, which she gave to Ganamo.
'Mum's punishing you; you're not going to get so much food now, not until you've done some work.'
'Oh,' He said, taking the bread with a smile to match hers, 'Work? What kind of work? There surely can't be any computers around . . . no stores . . . no job I know how to perform.'
He heard the porthole door open. Someone walked down the hallway towards the room, and opened the door. It was a man, older than the woman, and also more heavily built than she or Ganamo for that matter. Ganamo felt sure now, more than ever, that he never wanted to gain weight. The newcomer had the same color hair and eyes that the children did, and was obviously their father. He was somewhat dirty, but stepped inside anyway.
'I was just making our second-breakfast,' the woman said. The man smiled pleasantly. Ganamo refrained from gagging. He only had 'second- breakfast' if he was very hungry, and not often. But . . . these people, couldn't they see that they didn't need a second-breakfast?
'Oi! Bingo! Help me please,' the woman said, tying an apron about her. He nodded. At least he knew how to cook, he should be all right. She walked over to her basket, and took out several items, including a form of 'snack' that the children kept trying to snatch, and kept getting sore hands that they had to blow on. She handed him the basket itself. It was full of eggs, some were brown. He had never seen a brown egg in his life, only heard of them. He was surprised.
'Mum!' one of the children began. She listened as the child told her about something, and Ganamo tried to figure out how to cook the eggs. To buy some time, he rather lamely said,
'Um, how do you want your eggs?'
Everyone turned to look at him, and the children sniggered.
'Bingo, are you feeling all right? The same as every morning, Rosie and Pearl both like theirs scrambled, Dudo and Meriadoc over-easy, Goldilocks and Wilibald sunny-side up, and Isembold likes to have three-one minute eggs, and I like one three-minute egg.'
Ganamo winced. He counted that up. There was one girl left out.
'What about her?' he asked, just as lamely. The woman and Isembold (her husband) looked at him in utter confusion. The woman shook her head. Someone tugged on his coat. It was the same eight-year-old girl as before, Pearl.
'Psst!' she said. He leaned over slightly to listen to her.
'Yes?'
'That's Daisy!' she giggled. The other children seemed quite entertained by him. He shrugged, maybe if he kept up the stupid act the children would think he was playing and tell him what he wanted to know. He put on a smile.
'How about Daisy, does she like her eggs scrambled?'
'N-no!' the girl giggled, shaking her head. Daisy seemed to be enjoying his little act as well.
'Over-easy?'
'No!' more children piped up, grinning at this game.
'How about three one-minute eggs? Or one three-minute egg?'
'No!' they all cried.
'Then how does she like them?'
'I don't!' she told him. He pretended to nearly drop the basket from surprise. The children shrieked, having a grand time. The woman shook her head.
'That brother of mine . . !' she murmured.
Ganamo smiled, and quickly tried to remember everyone's names. Isembold suddenly spoke up.
'Mad Baggins has gone.'
His wife suddenly turned to him.
'He has? Well, I shouldn't be surprised, not after what he did last night. That was a very ill-humored trick if you ask my opinion.'
'Mad Baggins?'
Isembold and his wife stared at Ganamo again, who tried to appear to be joking. Pearl tugged on his coat again.
'You went to his party last night!'
'Oh! That Baggins, of course, see, it could have been,' he looked around, as if about to divulge a secret, 'the other Baggins, if you get my meaning.'
'Oh! Mum says he's mad too, or at least going mad, like Mr. Bilbo.'
'That a fact?'
'Yup!'
'Bingo.'
'Yes?' he answered quickly, looking up at the woman.
'Would you mind, terribly, making those before half the day is spent by your . . . antics?'
'Sure thing,' he said, saluting. He received rather confused looks from everyone present. He turned away quickly and set about finding what he needed. Isembold cleared his throat noisily.
'And there is a large crowd outside of Bag End,' he stated, continuing on his thought, as though nothing had been said since then.
'What do you mean?' his wife asked suddenly, frowning at him.
'They say that the whole household is being distributed free. I just spoke to Milo Burrows; he got a gold pen and ink-bottle. There were many others, of course, and if he truly is giving it away . . .'
'Isembold, Bag End is a good half mile from here, and we have better things to do than scavenge for items we want.'
'Ruby, I was under the impression you had your eyes on Old Baggins' Old Winyards, if you like, I can send Bingo to go and get it for you, he hardly does any work, so what's the harm?'
Ganamo moaned quietly.
'Please don't send me, go yourself, you're her husband, I'll do some work, I have no idea where Bag End is, and I haven't the foggiest idea what the heck this Old Winyards is, go yourself!'
Ruby seemed to be thinking, and Ganamo set to cooking the eggs as fast as he could, to show how much he was working.
'Well, I suppose it wouldn't do any harm, just as long as when you come back, Bingo, you help me in the garden, or Isembold. I already know you've had your eye on some of his maps, so go on. Only hurry back, all right?'
'Uh . . .' Ganamo turned around. He couldn't think of a way to wriggle out of this.
'Come on, I'll let you ride Mossfoot, if you like, I won't be needing her today.'
'Ride something? A what? I don't even know how to drive!'
Ganamo followed Isembold out the port-hole door, and hoped Ruby would notice before the eggs got terribly burnt. He and Isembold made their way down a few steps and through a gate to a small hobbit-pony, which was latched to an equally small cart. Isembold unhitched the pony and then handed the reins to Ganamo, and walked back up the steps and through the port-hole door. Ganamo swallowed hard, he had no idea how to ride a horse, he had never seen a live one in his life, only pictures, and heard stories about them from Ajika and Sachima and his family. He looked at the small, brown pony. He stood there a few moments, and then ran up the steps and entered through the door and made his way to the kitchen. Both Ruby and her husband were surprised by his sudden entry.
'I'll just walk, thank you; you can hitch her up again.'
He ran outside again, to avoid being pinned with the responsibility of hitching the pony up himself. He walked through the gate onto a small path, and looked either way. He turned right and began walking. He turned quickly to see what kind of structure he had been in, and discovered it to be a large hill. He shook his head.
'All right,' he said to himself, 'if this "Bag End" is half a mile away, and has a crowd of people out front, it shouldn't be too difficult to find, after all, if I'm going the wrong direction, I can just turn around and go the other way, assuming of course that the road is straight and doesn't have any forks in it . . .'
'Bingo Tighfield!'
Ganamo jumped. He recognized that voice. He turned around. Coming up behind him was none other than the woman from last night, Eglantine Proudfoot, and another young woman, who had dark brown curly hair. Ganamo wasn't sure whether to run, or assume she had forgiven him. Both of the women had umbrellas, and he decided it would be better for him to try and escape while he had the chance. He began to hurry off down the road.
'Bingo!' she called again, she sounded irritated. Ganamo gave in and just stopped and waited for her to come near, bracing for anything. Eglantine and the other woman approached, and stopped nearby. They were both apparently well-dressed, more so than he was, though he did not seem poor, simply not dressed up. Eglantine regarded him a moment, as if deciding what to do with him.
'I still don't forgive you, for last night, you know,' she informed him, 'however, I will be sociable, and if you agree to stop pushing me into the River.'
Ganamo nodded, not even sure where the River was. Eglantine was silent a few more moments, then, strangely, she extended her arm. He was at a loss.
'Oh come on, aren't you even going to walk with us to Bag End? I heard that it was being given away, not to mention I'd like to know what caused Mad Baggins to pull a rotten stunt like that. Disappearing! I knew that old Gandalf was up to something, he's the one who sent Mr. Baggins on his first . . . "journey" and hasn't been a good influence since, if you ask me. Well don't just stand there, come on!'
Ganamo, a little confused, hooked his arm in hers. The other woman was suddenly at his other side.
'What is with them? I throw . . . Bingo pushes one in . . . a river, and suddenly she likes him. . ?' he pushed the last thought out of his mind, hoping that wasn't true. Still, how else could he explain the fact that he had a hobbit-girl on either arm? He hoped that he got back soon, and, judging from the last incident; that should not be so long. After only a few paces, Eglantine struck up a conversation with him, talking about . . . he wasn't sure most of the time, but like most guys, that didn't cause a problem, because they don't understand girls most of the time either, and he made a good show of responding somewhat intelligently, but with just enough tone and smile that if what he said was utterly ridiculous, she would think he was joking.
After a while, though, he was beginning to wish she would move on, instead of sticking incessantly to one subject in great length and detail as she had been delving. He began wondering why he was the only one to turn up yet, it seemed that he would always be the first to appear, like last time, however, Sachima had been the second, and then the others soon followed, so why hadn't he seen them yet? He was so busy thinking about this, that he didn't notice when they began crossing a bridge. That is, he didn't notice until suddenly both women stopped walking. Then he noticed.
'Uh oh.'
The girl on his right suddenly stepped away, and Eglantine gave him a hard shove. Shortly thereafter he found himself swimming like a rat towards the bank of the river he had been pushed into, while both Eglantine and her companion ran off, laughing joyously. (*Technically, this place does not exist, however, I wrote it in there, so unless you want to stretch and say there's a bridge over Bywater Pool, and Ganamo mistook it for a river, you're not going to find this place on the map of the Shire.*)
Still, Ganamo wasn't hurt, and he did find it rather humorous that he had been tricked like that. He chuckled a little, then followed after the girls quickly, thinking up a strategy to make sure he'd find his way to Bag End. He soon overtook them, since they were wearing dresses, and such, still giggling and enjoying themselves tremendously. They heard him coming, and tried to escape him, but he was faster then they and he soon caught up with both. He grabbed each of them by the hand, and then linked arms again. They shrieked and told him to stop because he was wet and muddy, but did not seem so upset about it, probably thinking he was simply joking around as apparently Bingo often did. He insisted on seeing them to their destination, and told both he refused to let either go until he saw them safely on their way, just in case someone else wanted to push them into the River (like another, poor, hapless chap he knew who had just suffered that fate) and would protect them. They seemed amused, and, though it hadn't seemed so last night, Eglantine was probably a good friend of Bingo's judging from her attitude.
He was doing all right, until they came to a fork in the road. Ganamo thought he could feel them turning right, and began to do so. Then they both pulled him back and told him to get the water out of his brains already and try and go the right way. Eventually they made it to the mysterious 'Bag End', which was another hill with windows and a door. And there was a large crowd out front; some people had even brought wheelbarrows. Ganamo and the two girls managed to weave through the crowd and make it in through the door. Merry was there, and walked up to him.
"Hallo! If it isn't Eglantine, Angelica and Bingo. No, we're not giving this place away like you're probably heard, but you all have some items addressed to you, if you'd like them. Come on, they're over here, at least, they were last I saw them, but it's been an awful mess here all morning, with people coming in and taking things, and bartering in the hall and such. Here! Your things are untouched, how fortunate!"
Merry handed Angelica a mirror with a small label that read,
'For ANGELICA'S use, from uncle Bilbo.'
Angelica seemed irritated by it, and Ganamo noticed the mirror was convex. He shrugged. Eglantine was given a small item that was neatly wrapped in paper, and Merry thrust another, wrapped item at him. Shrugging, he read the label.
'For BINGO TIGHFIELD, knowing it will be helpful.'
He unwrapped the thing, and discovered several towels. Merry chuckled, apparently amused.
'You could certainly use that!' he said, pointing at Ganamo's still wet hair, 'And you better give one to Eglantine, too, she'll be needing it.'
'I guess this Bingo likes pushing Elgantine into water all the time.'
Merry shook his head, and Ganamo decided to leave.
'Hold on,' Merry told him, 'there were some things here for Ruby, Isembold, and the children, if I could only find them. Come on, you help me look, too.'
Just then two hobbits walked up. The man, much older than either Merry or Ganamo, suddenly blurted out,
'Where's that Frodo Baggins? We wish to speak with him.'
'Merry bowed politely.
"He is indisposed," he said, "he is resting."
"Hiding, you mean," ' said the woman. "Anyway, we want to see him and we mean to see him. Just go and tell him so!" '
Merry nodded, and disappeared. He was a while in returning, and the couple took to looking through the items that were labeled, and discovered a case of silver spoons. They seemed in rather a dark mood, and the label had not helped to improve it. Merry returned and then led them down the hall. Ganamo shrugged, and began to look for things labeled for Ruby, Isembold, Rosie, Pearl, Dudo, Meriadoc, Goldilocks or Wilibald.
* * *
Well, he had been wrong. Considerably wrong. So wrong, in fact, that he had managed to learn how to blow smoke rings. And no one else had shown up.
'How is it that I'm still here? I should be gone by now . . .'
'Did you say something?'
'Hmm? No, I was just talking to myself . . .'
Ganamo would have groaned, except that he had learned that made people stare at him strangely. At that moment, he was walking 'home' with Pearl, who was now seventeen. They were just returning from The Green Dragon, to see her older brother, Wilibald, though he was called 'Will' by almost everyone except his mother, who insisted on saying his full and proper name, for some obscure purpose. He had recently gotten engaged, and was enjoying himself with his friends.
'Walking trees!' Pearl suddenly exclaimed. Ganamo looked at her skeptically.
'You believe what Master Samwise said? After all, Ted's right, Hal is always seeing things.'
'I was just saying that because . . . well, how ridiculous it sounds, a walking elm tree in the Northfarthing! And his talk of elves and such. I quite agree with Ted, Frodo's cracked to talk to them, but I feel sorry for poor Master Samwise, he really loves those tales of dragons and adventures and such—and you know better than that!'
'What?'
'You're supposed to wait until you're sitting somewhere nice, maybe with friends, then you pull out your pipe and pipe weed and smoke.'
'No rule says I can't while I'm walking,' he told her, 'if I had any more willpower, and knew for certain what I'm doing here I might be able to quit, though,' he added under his breath.
'Oh! And you asked me to remind you, what's tomorrow?'
'The twelfth of April, yes, I remembered. Your mother's birthday, and yes, I'll see if I can't get Frodo to give me some of that wine, if he still has it, and yes, I will help you bake the cake, just so long as I don't have to eat it.'
'Uncle Bingo!' she scolded, giving him a half-hearted whack on the head with her umbrella.
'Oi! I'm unarmed! Please! Stop! I'd have a wife and three kids, if I were married.'
'You can be so funny, sometimes,' she chastened again, 'stabbing' him in the side with her umbrella. There ensued a very overdone death scene, ending with Ganamo sprawled on the ground, trying not to laugh.
'Well, here we go again.'
Ganamo walked down the path towards Bag End. Ruby was always sending him to go get things from Frodo, and Frodo was showing signs of becoming tired of it. And, assuming he still had some Old Winyards left, his request might be the last straw. He approached, and saw Sam outside a window, poised with his shears to cut the grass, but he wasn't cutting. Ganamo frowned, and walked up behind him. He was about to ask him what he was doing, when he heard voices in the window.
'Well I'll be! He's eavesdropping!' Ganamo thought to himself, amused at the idea. 'Should I reveal him, or let him be? Or should I just go and knock on the door as if this had never happened?'
He headed for the large, green door. He heard Sam squawk suddenly, and someone yelling.
'Sounds like he's been found out.'
He crept back to see how things were turning out. Sam was talking to someone inside the window.
"'Bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!' said Sam. 'Nothing! Leastways I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me.' He picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence.
'I don't,' " replied a familiar voice that Ganamo couldn't quite place, "'It is some time since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eaves-dropping?'
'Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, begging your pardon. There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.'
'Don't be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?' . . .
'Mr. Frodo, sir!' cried Sam quaking. 'Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't let him turn me into anything unnatural! My old dad would take on so. I meant no harm, on my honour, sir!'
'He won't hurt you,' " said Frodo's amused voice," 'He knows, as well as I do, that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight away!'
'Well, sir,' said Sam, dithering a little," 'I didn't hear anything . . . important. Only something about a Ring, and a Dark Lord, and something about the end of the world, but only please don't hurt me, Mr. Gandalf, sir!'
"'Come inside!' " the familiar voice shouted. Sam started and looked over at Ganamo quickly as two long arms suddenly reached out the window and lifted him in through it. Sam managed to say something in his surprise, but Ganamo didn't catch it. Suddenly the old man from the party stuck his head out the window.
'Bingo Tighfield!' he exclaimed, eyes flashing. Ganamo was suddenly overcome with unreasonable fear.
'And how long have you been eavesdropping? And how many other visitors have we?'
'None, sir! Just me! No time, sir! I only just arrived, sir, and—'
'Never mind, come inside, we can have a decent conversation that way.'
'Yes, sir! If it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather use the door!'
The old man smiled briefly and chuckled.
'Very well, only just come straight in!'
'Yes, sir!'
The old man suddenly regarded him suspiciously, which made Ganamo nervous. He walked to the green door and opened it. He closed it behind him, and turned to find Sam, Frodo, and the old man, but he walked into him first. The old man suddenly took hold of his ear.
'My dear Bingo,' he said, 'I must say that you have just surprised me more than Frodo.'
'I'm terribly sorry; I can just go home and forget everything I heard—'
'Not about you overhearing us, my dear hobbit, but rather, that you've lost weight since I've seen you last.'
'Oh! Yes, well, I, uh . . .* ahem! * About that . . .'
'That is most peculiar for a hobbit, wouldn't you agree?'
'Well, sir, you see—'
'Who are you, really?'
'Me, sir? I don't think I rightly follow you, see I'm—'
'You're not fooling me; I've suspected that you were other than you appeared when I saw you at Bilbo's party.'
'Well, uh . . . see . . .'
Just then Frodo and Sam appeared. The old man released his grip on Ganamo's ear, and he rubbed it. The old man suddenly smiled at Sam.
""Take you to see the Elves, eh?" he said, eyeing Sam closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. "So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?"
'He is?' Ganamo suddenly asked. The old man turned his attention to him once again, and his eyes flashed. Ganamo resolved not to speak, and stood in a corner.
""I did, sir. And that's why I choked: which you heard seemingly. I tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset."
"It can't be helped, Sam," Frodo said sadly . . . I shall halve to go. But"—and here he looked hard at Sam—"if you really care about me, you will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of what you've heard her, then I hope Gandalf will turn you into a spotted toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes."
Sam fell on his knees, trembling. "Get up, Sam!" said Gandalf. "I have thought of something better than that. Something to shut your mouth, and punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!"
"Me, sir!" cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk. "Me go and see the Elves and all! Hooray!" he shouted, and then burst into tears."
Frodo finally recalled the person in the corner.
'I suppose that means that poor Bingo will have to come along as well,' he said. Ganamo winced, go where? How long? For what? Gandalf regarded Ganamo thoughtfully.
'Perhaps,' he said at length, then he approached Ganamo, rising to his full height. Ganamo pressed his back into the wall, and looked around quickly, but saw no avenue for escape.
'Bingo, how much did you hear?'
'Only what I told you, and what you just said here, sir!'
'And who are you, really?'
Both hobbits were surprised by this statement.
'Gandalf, what you do mean by that?' Frodo asked.
'Well?' Gandalf asked. Ganamo thought hard.
'Well . . . I'm Bingo; at least, that's what everyone calls me, sir . . .'
'I will not put up with this kind of nonsense! Answer my question!'
'Well, you see, sir, it's . . . a very long story . . . sir . . .'
Gandalf nodded. Ganamo shrugged inwardly, telling him couldn't be as disastrous as last time.
'I'm . . .Ganamo, sir, Ganamo Martin Miaston. Not as if you knew me, of course. To be honest, I've never heard of any of you before, either. See—'
'And where did you come from, "Ganamo"?' Gandalf asked.
'Well, see, here's how it is, all right? One day, I'm minding my own business, and suddenly, I wake up in this strange place, not here, though, I'm getting around to here. So I'm suddenly someone else, someone named Dryden. Anyway, later, my friend appears as someone else, and a few more people I know. Well, then I wake up, as if from a dream, if you follow me,' he grinned nervously, 'I've been here so long I speak like you guys. Anyway, so a while later, I'm minding my own business again, and bam! I wake up all soaking wet and . . . well, what you see before you, basically. I decided to play along, this time, because last time was . . . well, it got interesting. I don't mean to come! And I didn't mean any harm! Ruby, she just sent me here to get something, you can ask Frodo, I've been here lots of times asking for things. I have! And then I see Master Samwise here, listening 'neath the window there, and I was going to ask him what he was doing when you noticed him, sir! That's all I did!'
Gandalf continued to eye him for a while. After some time, while both hobbits stared at one another in confusion, Gandalf bent down to Ganamo's eye level.
'All right,' he said, 'I believe you, your story sounds too outlandish to be a story that a spy of Sauron could think up. Did you hear about Frodo's ring?'
'I heard Sam mention it, sir.'
Gandalf studied his face.
'You seem fairly interested by rings, Ganamo, isn't that why you followed Bilbo here, after his party?'
'It's not what you think! Whatever . . .that is . . .see, my world, we also have magic rings, and I was just wondering to see if maybe I could . . .I don't know, somehow get a friend of mine here to use it, and maybe bring us back to our own world. That's all!'