THE LINDEN TREE
Chapter 5
The lady Helmwyn ordered food to be brought to the Dwarves, and bade them take their ease in the great hall, and rest awhile; and she repaired to her chamber, took off her heavy mantle and her golden circlet, and sat down to think.
So this was the legendary Thorin Oakenshield. To think that of all the Dwarves that roamed Eriador, Amleth would chance upon him. Indeed, she began to wonder if this were truly the work of chance, or whether it were not some design of Gandalf's. However that may be, she was glad of his coming. Not only did she now have the aid of the skilled dwarven craftsmen she so desperately needed; here was also a mighty warrior and a great captain, whose name struck fear into the black hearts of the Orcs. Their presence, and his, certainly filled her heart with quite a few axemen's worth of courage.
Helmwyn had need of it. She worried about the cold spring, and the rain, and whether the crops would be blighted; she worried about proud lords keeping the price of timber high and not paying their taxes; she worried about the Mark's trade with Gondor; but most of all she worried about the Orcs. She could see no end to their depredations. However many were slain, there always seemed to be more, and yet more of them. Her people might be strong, but they were weary; and she had wondered how to speak of hope and courage to them, when her own hope and courage were failing.
But now courage was rekindled in her, for it seemed that something decisive, something lasting could be done for the Mark, and it was within reach. She only hoped that she could persuade the Dwarves to stay, for they had yet to agree on terms. And so she set to work, and searched through her books and scrolls, gathering all she could find concerning the Hornburg.
The Dwarves sat around one of the long tables near the fire, and a (to them) light meal was brought. It was plain but good fare, such as was usual in the Mark: cured meats, strong yellow cheese, black bread, and golden ale; and Dwalin belched appreciatively, and seemed content.
They spoke quietly, and in their own tongue; for, although they had been treated as honoured guests, and were beginning to feel better at ease, the Dwarves were still keenly aware that they were in a strange land, very far from their home and kin.
"So, lads, what d'you make of it so far?" Thorin asked his companions.
Balin eyed the bronze sconces, and the tapestries, and the gilded carvings that adorned the hall, as indeed did the others. "I like it well enough," he said. "Let's hope these people are as straight in their business dealings as they are courteous."
"Aye, they can try to soften us up all they like," said Hogni darkly; "I'll trust them when I've got gold in my hand."
Balin thought that was a rather blunt way of putting it, but it wasn't so far removed from his own opinion. He glanced at Thorin, but Thorin merely smiled.
After a while the lady Helmwyn came to them, with books and maps under one arm, and joined them at the table. Her manner was friendly, and much less formal than it had been earlier; and the Dwarves moved along the bench to make room for her. She asked whether they had everything they required, and Dwalin nodded in assent, for he had discovered a plate of oat and honey biscuits, and his mouth was full.
"Before we begin, might I ask you to tell me your names again?" said the lady. "Forgive me, Masters, but I fear they sound strange to our ears, and I would not mistake them."
She spoke to them all, and learned their names, and asked them about themselves, and their crafts. And though they gave her no details, she guessed that every single one of them had suffered great losses when the dragon came, or during their exile, or in the war with the Orcs.
She learned that Andvari came from a family of miners, but that his younger brother Regin had had to learn carpentry for the simple reason that there was little enough mining to be done after the Mountain had been taken. Those two had a strong bond, forged in hardship, but it was not one of kindness.
She was surprised to learn that Dwalin, the huge warrior, was the brother of Balin, the small, shrewd-looking one with the iron-grey beard; and judging by their speech and their garments, she guessed that they were nobly born, and had once been wealthy.
Black Hogni was a bitter and cantankerous one, and the days were long past where he hewed the likenesses of kings out of the living rock of Erebor; but whether this was the cause of that remained unclear.
Snorri had been spared from the fighting by his short-sightedness, and his shock of fair hair and his wispy beard gave him a genial air. But he was also a little odd, and doodled in his notebook, and muttered to himself; and Helmwyn wondered whether he had always been thus.
And then there was the lord Thorin. He was…not aloof exactly, for his manner to his companions was brotherly; but withdrawn somehow, as though he were older than his years, or carried a great burden. He sat quietly, and watched, and listened, smoking his pipe; and Helmwyn was amused to see that he shared this habit with Gandalf.
It seemed Balin was reading her thoughts, for he asked her: "I am curious, my lady, as to how you came to know so much about the history and ways of our people; for we dwell far to the north, and Men care not to know about us, no more that we care to tell them about ourselves."
"All that I know, I learned from Gandalf," answered she. "Perhaps you know him?"
Balin shook his head. "I have not heard that name before."
"Then perhaps you know him by another name, for he travels far and wide bearing news and counsel to those who would hear it – and I daresay to those who would not. He is clad in grey, and wears a pointed hat, and carries a staff. I would say he is an old man, but some say he has been an old man for so long that there must be more to him than meets the eye, and I am inclined to believe that; though what he truly may be, I do not know. Some say that he is a wizard, and are wary of him; but I trust him, and have ever profited from his advice."
"I think I know of him, or of someone like him," said Thorin, "though he is called by other names in the north. A grey wanderer with a staff, you say, who meddles in the affairs of the mighty, and then disappears and is not seen again for an age?"
"Aye, that would be him."
"I believe my grandfather mentioned him. But Thrór was ever suspicious of meddlers, and did not remember him kindly. But he advised you to send for my people?"
"Not as such. But he planted the idea in my mind, and waited for it to unfold by itself, for that it his way."
"Then perhaps his advice is not altogether bad. I should like to meet him."
"I am surprised you have not. He speaks well of your people," said Helmwyn with a smile; and though this was true, she did not add that Gandalf had also warned her about the stiff necks, short tempers and acquisitiveness of the Dwarves.
They pushed the plates and dishes aside to make room for the maps; and Helmwyn unfolded a sheet of parchment, and pulled up the sleeves of her gown, and pointed to Edoras, and the Westfold, and the Hornburg. She then opened a leatherbound volume containing songs and histories of the Mark, and showed them a miniature of Helm's Deep; and the Dwarves huddled over the book to have a better look at the drawing.
"This is but a crude rendering," said Helmwyn, "and the proportions are not right; but it might give you an idea of how the fortress is laid out."
"What are we talking about here?" asked Hogni. "Limestone?"
"Aye, grey limestone, such as is found in our mountains," answered the lady.
"And how far away's your quarry?"
"The stones of the Hornburg were quarried from the Deep behind it. This served a double purpose, as it made the walls of the chasm steeper, guarding it from any attack from the mountains."
"I wouldn't count on that, lady," said Dwalin. "I've seen Orcs scuttle down sheer cliffs."
"At least we won't have to haul blocks of stone halfway across the plains," muttered Hogni. "Snorri, how about hoists?"
Snorri looked up from the notebook where he had been scribbling. "Hmm? Oh, yes. Well, I've got this design for an ox-hoist, but I can adapt it for horses if you like."
"That is a wondrous machine, Master Snorri," said the lady, "but I fear we cannot bring any beasts beyond the Deeping-Wall; for if a causeway leads to the Hornburg, there are only narrow stairs that lead thence down into the Deep."
"Really? Well in that case, why not make a device to lower horses from the castle?"
He began drawing at once, and Helmwyn was impressed, although she seriously doubted whether any horse would allow itself to be hoisted thus.
She was about to tell the Dwarves about the system of caves that lay behind Helm's Deep, when there was a commotion at the door, and a gruff voice called "Let me through, you halfwits! I've come to see the King!". A stout, red-faced man strode into the hall, followed closely by a flurry of guards who were unsure whether to stop him or no.
"Oh no, not now," sighed Helmwyn, and braced herself. "Lord Wulfhere!" she called. "How kind of you to come at last."