Chapter Nine
A Most Gracious Host
January 2891 - Rivendell
"Is it more than you expected, Margaret?"
"You are jesting, wizard. How does anyone expect this?" The homestead was downright cozy, even as they looked down from so high up on the entrance hill. The roofs were tinted an earthy shade of sand and dirt, with trees that rose up in between the junctions. The craftsmen work of the structure was something even her untrained eye could appreciate.
The pair of them made the descent into the valley where the home rested, surrounded by a river and hill peaks. The snow glittered over whatever edges it could find to cover and it gave the whole area a very surreal feeling. Maggie nearly lost her footing once or twice as they crossed over and came along under the entranceway of the main gate.
"Do all elves live in homes such as these?" Maggie looked at Gandalf with curiosity.
The wizard shook his head. "No. There are other realms of elven territory. Lothlórien, a kingdom over the Misty Mountains, is home to Silvan Elves and they are housed among the high canopies. Another, Mirkwood near Dol Guldur, is home to Sindar Elves and they live in the dense forest roots."
"Wait, what?" Maggie blinked, her mind reeling. "There is… they're different?"
"Why, of course!" He laughed. "The ones here are Silvan, wood elves. Sindar are grey elves."
"Are dwarves different, too?" Maggie followed Gandalf up the steps, but his gaze was elsewhere before them. Maggie glanced up and felt her ankles lock at the sight before her. The man was long and tall, his handsome face softened by a greeting smile and his dark hair appeared smooth as silk.
Like a zipper, her back tightened and her shoulders squared. This man was definitely different than the other elves they had met just a few days before, and it came through in his smile and dark eyes. The elf stepped down and Gandalf rose up on heavy feet to hug the other. 'Odd, he doesn't seem the type to hug.' Then again, most of the elves seemed too unreal to touch in her mind.
A slew of words flew between them and Maggie was lost to the language they spoke. They laughed together and she felt decidedly ignored. Her gaze shifted from the men in front of her to the paths that led up into the homestead. Another elf stood just off into the shadow of a pillar and the creature smiled at her when their gazes met.
'Noooope.' She immediately dropped her gaze and shuffled her feet. She felt horribly dirty under the scrutiny of the unknown elf and she wished for a hot shower to scrub away the grime that had collected on her person over her long travel.
"Margaret!" Gandalf called.
"What, yes!" She snapped to attention. "I apologize. Lost in thought."
"Indeed." Gandalf huffed with a tap of his staff. "Step up here and introduce yourself. This is Lord Elrond, Master of Imladris." The dark elf next to Gandalf bowed his head lightly to Maggie and for some odd reason; she felt her skin flush hotly around her collar.
"Margaret, lonely dwarf of The Shire." She answered. Gandalf rolled her eyes at the introduction, but she was pleased to see that Elrond took to her humor and grinned lightly.
"Gandalf's letters have mentioned you, Margaret. It is good to meet you. Come, we shall not allow you to be travel weary much longer." Elrond raised his hand to her and stepped aside. Maggie swallowed and scurried up the rest of the stairs to get past him, Gandalf grumbling the whole while about her manners.
She would have to tell him it was incredibly hard to keep to manners when angels walked among the mortals. The elf that had hidden away in the shadows ghosted forward with another at his left, a female. Maggie felt her shoulders sag, 'Oh this is just fuckin' unfair. I should've expected the women to be stupidly beautiful, too.' The woman was just as lengthy as the men, but contrasted sharply with her auburn hair and bright blue eyes.
The she-elf had an easy, if wary, smile on her face and greeted Maggie with a graceful curtsy that slowed time. "Greetings, I am Enelya. I was asked to escort you to your rooms, my lady."
"I am Lindir, my lady." The male bowed his head and then turned to Gandalf behind Maggie. "I hope there was no trouble in your journey?"
Gandalf waved a hand and nudged Maggie into Enelya's awaiting presence with the tip of his staff, "No, none at all, Lindir. We met Elladan and Elrohir along the path. They were patrolling, were they not?" Maggie shot a look over her shoulder at the old wizard and briefly wondered if he had a census book hidden under all those robes. How else could it be possible that he seemed to know everyone and their mother?
"Yes, they are due back in a fortnight." Lindir answered. Maggie skirted around them and smiled up at Enelya, unsure of where she was to go.
"Come, my lady, your room is waiting." Enelya led them away down the tiled hall and toward the center of the homestead. Maggie's eyes were glued to the whispering canopy overhead and the stalwart trunks of the trees. Everything glittered in her gaze, even the leaves, and she thought for sure she may have stepped into a dream.
"Is it always like this?" Maggie ventured into the silence between them. Enelya blinked, perhaps surprised, and turned her blue-corn gaze down to Maggie.
"My pardon, Lady Margaret?" Enelya glanced to follow Maggie's gaze. "Ah, do you inquire as to the state of Imladris? It changes with the seasons, as do all things, but it maintains healthy warmth from within."
"I can feel it." Maggie said wondrously. She stumbled a little ways ahead of her elven escort and found that the hallway broke into different winding paths further into the homestead. Maggie paused at the dividing line and spoke over her shoulder. "Would it be impolite to walk around? To look?"
Enelya frowned prettily at her words, "I… do not understand, my lady. Do you wish for a tour?"
"What?" Maggie took her turn to frown at Enelya. It struck her, then, that the dialect she may have learned from the hobbits, along with her butchering work of the language, probably confused her companion. "Ah, I apologize. Westron is not my first language, and I am still learning. Some words escape me. What is it that you said?"
"Oh. Oh! I see," Enelya's face sweetened with a smile. "Do forgive me for my assumptions. What I had said was if you would like a tour, a journey around Imladris?"
Maggie grinned. "Yes! I would enjoy that very much. Thank you for your patience." Something else softened in Enelya at Maggie's words and the she-elf bowed her head to Maggie with a chuckle.
"Of course, my lady, I will be happy to escort you wherever you wish. It is not often that we find… oh, forgive me once again." With a blush of embarrassment, Enelya's face colored and the simple change made her appear much more human. Maggie tilted her head, confused.
"Find what?" Maggie asked. "Am I strange?" She could recall the number of times Gandalf (and Belladonna) had mentioned some sort of spilt blood between the factions of elves and dwarves, but Maggie had done nothing to insult the other woman. Or had she? 'Damn it.'
"Not strange, my lady." Enelya's reply was soft and shame took her features. "Dwarves are so very wary of the world around them. I must admit, your personality is not what I expected."
"I must be funnier." Maggie joked. The unexpected jest did exactly as Maggie planned and Enelya laughed and her shoulders eased. The rest of the walk to the room was gentle and easy; Enelya was more forthcoming with answers once she was made aware of Maggie's curiosity and wonder.
The room she was given was huge. Maggie entered with Enelya behind her and the room spread out before her feet. Large arched windows lined the farthest wall from the door and the bed stood between her and the billowing curtains. Off to her left was a wooden separator and hidden in its shadow was a low tub and a few bars of hard soap.
"Oh, this is so awesome." Maggie's English slipped out.
"Lady Margaret?" The she-elf stepped toward the divider and peered over to the tub. "Is something wrong?"
Maggie pinched her own cheek, "No, Lady Enelya, I forget myself at times." She laughed and released her skin, then turned toward the bed and the chest near it. "Is this all for me? Is it not too big?"
Enelya gave her a funny look with a flare of her nose, "We may be mistaken, but we were informed that dwarves have a love of architecture that is open and wide. We found the room best suited to previously known tastes."
"Oh, I see." Maggie gently tucked her traveling bag under her bed frame. "Then I thank you for the consideration. I am accustomed to the homes of shirelings, small and cozy."
"If the room is uncomfortable for you, we may yet find another." Enelya smiled nervously at Maggie's strange habits. "I could inform my lord in the evening."
"No, this is fine, truly. I will not appear ungrateful, it is only unexpected. Thank you." Maggie was proud of herself, Belladonna and Bungo would have cheered at her manners. Elf or not, the ones she had met so far gave her very little reason to be irritable. She would really have to find out what had happened, if all elves were going to treat her like a walking bomb.
Enelya bowed her head with a full smile, "Of course. If you require anything, the Sun Room is down the hall and to your right from there. There is someone there to help you find your way, in most cases."
Maggie returned the bow and grinned, "I will be sure to put them to good use."
0 o 0
The rest of the day was spent with her gallivanting through Rivendell. Honestly, she must have been such a hilarious sight for the elves that inhabited the area. Once her things had been left in her room and she found the Sun Room mentioned by Enelya, she bolted for the open air (as if she hadn't spent a month surrounded by nature already).
The elves she passed were so startled by her enthusiasm for the beauty of their home that they would stop and stare as she inspected artwork, stonework, and the craftsmanship of the wood. Hell, even the gardens were a testament to patience and beauty, despite being empty for the winter. Where the hobbits enjoyed freedom and did very little to keep the plants in personal gardens in order, the elves went to every measure to insure that every plant had its place.
Maggie was mindful of where her hefty feet would land when she meandered through the gardens. It was astonishing to see some of the elves knelt along the muddy rows, tending to the barren dirt for the next tillage. She remained briefly at the side of a nearby elf and asked an uncomfortable amount of questions concerning the gardening.
After the elf realized she wasn't belittling his methods and instead comparing them to Belladonna's, the lesson flew out of her hands and into the control of the surrounding gardeners. They listened intently to some of the tricks she had seen the Gamgees use, and a few Belladonna wouldn't mind if she shared.
Unbeknownst to Maggie, by the end of the day half of the homestead was talking about her. Lord Elrond and Mithrandir received updates periodically through Lindir or another who had spotted her. The elf-lord and wizard conversed in the main office, away from the main living space of the domicile, the late afternoon sun scintillating over the floor and furniture.
"Curious creature," Elrond murmured, pouring Mithrandir a glass of wine. "Your letters mentioned she suffered from a head injury, memory loss. Others with the same ailments are not so…"
"Lively? Spirited?" Mithrandir's mirth was lost in his drink. "She certainly has a way, but not all dwarves are sharp around the edges. She has also spent nearly a year relearning how to exist."
"Though, her recovery was not with her kin." Elrond pointed a look to the wizard. "You left her in the care of hobbits."
Mithrandir ignored the look. "Belladonna and Bungo Baggins had found her, and she had been with them for more than a week or two before I arrived. She had settled into a routine and with no way to communicate, Belladonna had suggested against moving her."
"I suppose that was best. Avoiding any disorientation with such a condition is sound advice." Elrond sighed. "And you wish that I examine her? What do you expect me to find?"
"I do not know, my friend." Mithrandir was grave and his brow lowered. "She claims to have no memory of her life before being found on the side of the road, yet she says things, mentions things…"
"You do not think she has forgotten all." Elrond concluded. Mithrandir gave a small, sharp nod. Elrond rested his cheek against the bend of his fingers and was silent for a moment. "Very well," he said quietly, "I shall see to her and any aid that I may be able to offer to her, I will."
Mithrandir beamed. "Good, and if these murmurs of her wanderings through your home are anything to her character, she will be much more receptive to help than her fellows."
"One can only hope." Elrond smiled. The elf-lord stood from behind his desk and within a few strides, he was at his door. Lindir sat at a chair in the adjoining room, a book on his lap and the sun through a window behind him. He looked up at the door's movement and stood at the sight of Elrond.
"My Lord?" Lindir placed away his book, a leaflet between the pages.
"Send for the young dwarf and ask that dinner be brought to us in my study." Elrond requested. With a short bow, Lindir turned and was away before Elrond could close his door. There was a twinkle in Mithrandir's eye that Elrond could not decipher, but he was hopeful it was no more mischief than he was accustomed to with his children.
It was a quarter of an hour more before the young dwarfling had appeared in his office doorway. The creature was small in the terms of Men and Elves, but she was appropriately sized for her kind and age. Her brow was not as heavy as those of the male variety and her body sloped gently under her leather and cloth. Margaret's brown eyes smiled along with her lips and despite the scar that lined her face, she was pleasantly sweet-faced.
An oddity to her kind, to be sure, and the beard that filled in sparingly along her jaw gave away to her coming age. The dam claimed to be only twenty or so, according to Mithrandir's letters, but she spoke and acted much like someone who had lived twice her years. She stood before them and bowed haltingly at the waist and Elrond knew that his presence unnerved her slightly.
"Good evening, Lady Margaret." He greeted her kindly. The dam relaxed her shoulders and smiled for him. "I hope that Rivendell has given you a much needed reprieve, though… I hear you did little in the way of resting."
The female's face reddened considerably and for a moment Elrond believed to have offended her. Oft it would happen with the males of her kind, as the smallest slight from an elf, physical or spoken, set them ablaze in their tempers. The little creature surprised him, though, and laughed deeply from her chest.
"I have a difficult time to sit still." She answered with a grin. Mithrandir chortled from Elrond's right.
"Margaret, 'I have a difficult time sitting still.' Try, my girl. Remember your adjectives." Mithrandir corrected her softly. The dam nodded and repeated her sentence, correctly this time, until the wizard was satisfied. Elrond smiled into his glass and thought that perhaps she would not be as obstinate as others.
"You sent for me, my lord?" She asked unsteadily, her words strong in bones but lacking grace.
"Yes," he replied and gestured to a chair opposite of him. She sat with no more prompting and tucked her knees together with her hands upon her lap. She was a curious creature, indeed, to have the manners of an Elf and the mirth of a Halfling. "Mithrandir has told me of your predicament, and he has suggested that I may be of some assistance to you."
Then, curiously still, her face hardened. Gone was the laughter in her cheeks and instead a cold stone took her features. Elrond narrowed his eyes and wondered, no, this creature may not be as ailed as they believed. She clenched her jaw tightly and the muscles jumped under her tan skin, but her words were measured.
"I am not so sure, my lord. I came because I wish to know – I am more…" She stuttered to a stop and Elrond waited patiently for her. Dwarves, he had learned, were not to be pushed in any matter. The path must first be found by them and only then may they speak on it. She gripped her chin and scratched at it harshly.
"I do not know how to say it." She murmured to them. He spared a glance at the wizard but found nothing in Mithrandir's face. Margaret continued, unknowing. "I know, but I do not. I am… aware, but I cannot say."
"You speak in tongues, my dear dwarrow-dam." Mithrandir reprimanded her gently. "We are here to help you, not solve endless riddles." The dam's face faltered and Elrond could spy a strike of fear that shot through her eyes and twitched in her cheeks and neck.
"I believe you speak as plainly as you are able, Margaret." Elrond interjected with patience. "If I am to understand you – you are aware of whom you are, that is, your origins?" The dam gave him the smallest of nods and Elrond pressed further. "You do not forget yourself, only you cannot tell us who you are?"
Another damning nod and he could see her lip tremble.
Mithrandir shifted hotly in his chair, "Why only do you mention this now, Margaret? What of your family? If you knew who –"
"They are not here." The dwarf interrupted fearfully. "I am afraid to say because I do not wish to be found… seen… I am stable. I am not – what is the word? For this?" She pointed to her temple and her fingers fluttered in a tight circle around the spot she had marked.
Elrond was stunned, "… you do not wish to be seen as senseless? Deranged. You are frightened that we shall mistrust your word."
"Yes." Margaret sighed in relief. "I am stable; there is nothing wrong with my mind. I am only frightened that the truth may be bad."
"At the very least, you have not killed anyone, have you?" Mithrandir murmured angrily, but when the dam did not respond, the wizard shot her a withering look. "You have not, have you?"
"No. Only…" Margaret's gaze dropped into her hands in her lap. "I should be dead. When I was found by Bella and Bungo, I was – I had an accident. Very bad. I should not have lived. I should be dead." The last of her words were softly spoken and disbelief rang in them that Elrond was pained to hear it. She believed it, heartily, that she now lived on borrowed time.
"Will you tell us now of what happened to you?" Elrond prodded gently. "Will you trust us with your story, my lady?" The look that she pinned him with was dry and broken. She had long shed all her tears. She straightened her back and he could see her throat swallow.
Then, she told them everything.
Notes: Annnnd I'm a bad person, but at least you haven't waited months on end for this chapter! Let me know what you think.
