THE LINDEN TREE
Chapter 3
Though Dwalin could ride well enough, he liked it not, and was saddle-sore; and he very much hoped there would be no more riding for a long while when they had reached Rohan. The Dwarves were hardy folk, but they were no great horsemen; and when they used mounts at all, these tended to be sturdy little ponies that were good on mountainous terrain, but seldom made great speed. But ponies were a luxury for Dwarves in these straitened times, and were reserved for tradesmen with goods to carry. In any case, ponies could not have kept the pace, and there was nothing for it but to cling on.
Never had the Dwarves thought that riding could be such tiring work, and soon became heartily sick of it; but they thought of the gold and gritted their teeth. The Riders though were strong and tireless, and so were their horses, though they had been on the road for weeks; and indeed they made better time on the way back than on the journey out, for then they had wandered long, but now their course was clear, and the Mountains drew nearer day by day.
They rode south for many days, and forded many rivers; and they rode through fen, and scrubland, and woodland, and barren hills, and past the homesteads of Men; and not all of them were friendly, for there had long been an enmity between the Rohirrim and the people of Dunland. But the Riders were tall, and had shining spears, and kept watch, and none dared attack them.
They came at last to the southernmost tip of the Misty Mountains, where they reached across a narrow plain to the northernmost peaks of the White Mountains. This was the furthest south that the Dwarves had ever been.
"Behold the Gap of Rohan!" said Amleth. "I should be glad to set eyes on it again, but the last part of our journey might yet be the most dangerous; for it is here, where the plain narrows, that the Orcs choose to cross. They never do it but under the cover or darkness, for the grasslands offer them no shelter. We shall ride no further tonight, and light no fires; but tomorrow we shall leave before dawn, and by evening we may reach the King's hall in Edoras."
The next morning, they set out in the grey light before dawn; and as the sky lightened, they saw the feet of the Last Mountain draw near, and march past. The sun rose in the East, bright and golden, in a clear sky; and they saw at last before them the rolling grasslands of Rohan, and away to the south the White Mountains, whose snow-capped peaks were edged in golden light. Rider and horse were glad to be home again, and filled their lungs with the cool morning hair, and rode on through the rich, dew-wet grass.
They forded a swift river, and passed onto the plains, and shouldered some low round hills. Amleth pointed to another hill, higher than the others, and the Dwarves saw that into the hillside was carved the image of a great white horse, running on the green grass. The hill must have been limestone, and the white horse gleamed in the morning light; and the riders sounded their horns to greet it.
They rode due south-east. The clear dawn turned into a bright, blustery day. The wind that blew down from the White Mountains chased ragged clouds across the sky. The Dwarves felt a chill, though the sun was shining; and the Riders lent them their leather capes against the wind, and against the frequent but brief showers of rain that swept over them.
They came at last within sight of Edoras. The city was built upon a green hill at the foot of the White Mountains, and at its summit stood a great hall; and it seemed to the Dwarves that its roof glinted golden in the afternoon sun.
Gold. That was an encouraging prospect for Thorin and his travel-weary companions.
The Riders sounded their horns as they approached the gates of Edoras, and shortly after they heard more horns answering them from the city watchers. The gate swung open for them, and as they rode in, the Dwarves saw that the gateposts were carved in the likeness of horses' heads.
The guards greeted Amleth and his éored, and rejoiced to see them again after so long an absence; but they marvelled at the Dwarves' strange appearance. The Riders made their way up the path that wound around the green hill and led to the great hall; and as they passed wooden houses, they saw that tall strong women and yellow-haired children were coming out to look at them. Their faces were guarded, but bespoke wonder rather than hostility, for none in the Mark had ever seen a Dwarf, and took them to be the stuff of old legends out of the North.
The children appeared particularly impressed by Dwalin, with his crest of hair, his tattoos and his two great battle-axes. He grinned at some of them, but if he hoped to frighten them, he failed, for these were children of the Mark, and loved nothing better than fierce warriors. As for Thorin, he noticed that there were few men, and these were old, or lame; and he saw on the women's faces the air of a proud people harassed by war and hardship. He knew that look, for the womenfolk of the Dwarves had worn it always during the time of their exile. His sister had that look.
They came to the foot of the stair that led to the hall, and dismounted; and Amleth led them up the broad stone stair, past tall guards in shining scale armour, to the platform before the hall.
The Dwarves did not care for wooden buildings, for to them wood was a lesser material, suitable only for barns or temporary structures; but they had to admit that the Golden Hall was of handsome proportion, and richly ornamented. Now that they stood before it, they saw that its great posts were intricately carved, and that the roof seemed to be made out of gilded shields. Though the carvings were strange, they were covered in a goodly amount of gold leaf, giving it in their eyes a sort of primitive majesty. It was certainly more impressive that any dwelling of Men they had seen in many years.
The doorward stepped forward and raised his hand in greeting.
"Amleth! You are returned at last from your wild errand in the North?"
"Aye, Gunnwald, I am! And hither have I also brought long-expected guests."
The doorward eyed the strangers warily, but he had learned from his brush with the grey wanderer and addressed them courteously:
"Hail, strangers from a far land! You have come to Meduseld, the hall of Brytta, King of the Mark. Lay aside your weapons, and enter!"
The doorward had meant this as a welcome, but he saw the Dwarves bristle. Thorin glared at him from under his stormy brows.
"You would have us do what?"
Gunnwald wondered what he had done wrong this time. "Er. Lay aside your weapons and enter. That is a standard greeting in the Mark," he added helpfully.
Thorin turned to Amleth, exasperated. "What was the point in making us come all this way, only to turn us away at the doorstep? Come on, lads, we're leaving." The Dwarves turned around and made to stomp off down the stair.
Oh no, thought Amleth. "Masters, please!" he called after them. "Do not leave, I beg you. We did not mean to give offence." The Dwarves turned their glare on him. "It is the custom of the Mark to leave one's weapons at the door, as a token of peace and goodwill", explained Amleth as diplomatically as he could.
"A Dwarf does not part willingly with his weapons, Captain," growled Thorin.
"And in most cases, I should deem that wise. But no danger awaits you in Meduseld. And indeed, were I a guest in the halls of your king, I should willingly leave my arms at the door."
Thorin gave Amleth a long, hard look. "Very well. Here I shall set my weapons. I do this for your sake, Amleth, for the courtesy you have shown us. But if any man touch these weapons, he shall learn that even an unarmed Dwarf can make him rue the day."
He scowled as he set his axe, sword and bow against the wall, and also his oakenshield; and the others followed suit, grumbling. Gunnwald grew pale as he saw a veritable arsenal pile up at the foot of the hall.
"I thought your errand was to bring back craftsmen, Amleth," said Gunnwald nervously.
"Oh, but we are" said Dwalin, unstrapping his battle-axes. "We have many skills".
"Don't look so worried, laddie," said Balin, wandering up to the poor doorward. "What you've got to understand is - well, Dwarves and weapons, it's like you people and horses. It's cultural." He smiled genially, and went to set something extremely spiky against the wall.
Dwalin was still pulling out miscellaneous sharp items from the recesses of his clothes.
"So, er, were you expecting any particular perils on the road?" said Gunnwald, making a spirited attempt at polite conversation.
Dwalin looked up. "What? Oh no. This is the stuff I always carry around. For everyday use, you might say." He gave Gunnwald a grin. "You should see me on special occasions."
The disarmed Dwarves assembled before the gate, feeling a little naked and, in Thorin's case, rather hard done by. Think of the gold, he kept telling himself. Stay calm, just think of the gold. Judging by the amount of gold on the gable, these people might still make their journey worth their while.
Gunnwald gave a nervous nod to the other guards, and the doors of the great hall were opened.
