The Hobbit and any pre-existing works or characters associated with it are not mine, and belong to the Tolkien Estate. Unfortunately, I am not a Tolkein, just a huge fan.
Raucous laughter erupted from the pub's occupants, and Cael grinned as her skirts twirled about her knees. Arms outstretched, she swapped between partners, this time a lass with obsidian hair.
The dark haired beauty was the daughter of this hamlet's blacksmith, the tiny habitation not even a named dot on a map. Cael was delighted to add it to her own, for the people were friendly and the food was good. She had been wandering the wilds for some time prior to stumbling on the hamlet of Mosshharrow which lay just east of the Riddermark. She was commissioned by a Gondorian lord to locate and obtain a Númenorean artefact- a spyglass belonging to some captain during the Armament that now lay within her satchel. For every week she was on the road her pay hiked up two gold on top of her commission rate- as the wilds were getting more dangerous, a darkness spreading, Cael had insisted solemnly- so now Cáel was taking a much more relaxed journey back to Minas Tirith.
The music came to an end, and the Eorlingas beauty slumped against Cael's shoulder with an airy laugh. A shiver rattled the tall woman's spine as the girl traced the patterns adorning her bare arms with a giggle.
"I have never seen anything like this before," she mumbled, eyeing the dots and curls. Cael's chest swelled with pride.
"I have many more, I can show them to you if you wish?" Cael laughed, a smile stretching her painted mouth wide.
"May I cut in?"
A rumbling voice interrupted their laughter as the music began to swell again, as lively a jig as there was beforehand, and the pair was swept away from each other. A gnarled hand had grasped Cael's gloved one, leading her into the dance, and the woman was almost knocked over by the vibrations of the man's presence. His spirit thrummed around them, his power coiling and springing along with the music. Grey robes surrounded her forest green dress, and a hoot of laughter ripped from her throat as she recognised those glittering eyes.
"Gandalf!" She exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms and pulling him close. "Oh it is so swell to see you! What are you doing here?"
Time seemed to have stood still for Gandalf the Grey, the lines engraving his face were the same as ten summers ago, the robes adorning his spindly figure just the same as she remembered. An aroma of pine and smoke curled about him gently.
Despite his age, of which he was likely more ancient than she could ever imagine, he was an adept dance partner, and had all the grace of an Elven Lord.
"Fate was not what threw us together on this occasion, my dear," his voice rumbled deep in his belly, eyes darting about his surroundings, "In fact, I have a proposition for you."
Her eyes narrowed. "Come, I have a room here, we can talk more privately."
She led him through the pub, to one of the rooms on the second floor of the building. She had been given it free of charge after dealing with the rat problems of Mossharrow. The door locked behind them without the touch of a key, and Gandalf chuckled at the subtle display of power.
Two cups of wine were poured.
"It was not easy to find you, my dear, you have been like a whisper on the wind these past years."
"I enjoy staying on the road," she shrugged. "It has been difficult to integrate myself into any township long term, so I stay moving."
"Well, I can offer you a rather thrilling adventure, if you would so wish to join me on it." He smacked his lips after taking a long sip, nodding his approval as she topped up his cup. The Druid woman had been wrangled into the Istari's schemes many a time before, it was better to let him rabbit on with his lecture with minimal interruptions, otherwise he would become irritable. An irate Grey Wizard was not good company to keep.
"Arda is growing cold, a darkness has awakened. It is reaching out and will soon engulf everything. There have been some very concerning rumours on the wind. I fear I may not be able to stay with my Company for the entirety of the journey, so they will need a guide and protector."He paused, gaze growing colder behind his glass.
"I will also need you to destroy something, but I cannot tell you yet what."
To her own irritation, a flicker of excitement curled deep in her belly. Gandalf always brought a challenge packaged with a neat bow, and her head churned with ideas. Perhaps it was a cursed tablet? A bewitched crown? Or perhaps a person fallen ill with a foreign sickness? A Steward or Prince had fallen ill and needs an escort while healing? That would explain the secrecy.
"I know many sellswords much better than myself if you need recommendations," she laughed uncomfortably at the intensity of his gaze. She gulped, her mouth filled with cotton, she had only aided the Istar as protection once before, and she had vowed to never do so again. If this Company of travellers ended up like the prior one…. "Gandalf… I am happy to help with acquisitions, but I cannot guarantee anyone's safety." She said softly.
"I do not ask for promises, I only ask that you try." His gnarled hand encased her own. "You have been blowing in the breeze for too long, all dandelions must root somewhere, this journey may just give you what you crave." He patted her gloved hand with a smile.
The wizard heaved himself to his feet, the world itself seeming to sway to allow him to right himself. Cáel deftly caught the bottle as it teetered towards the edge, the wine splashing onto her gloves gently.
"Come to the Shire on the 27th evening of May. Seven sharp, bring an appetite."
"Evening of the 27th. Yes, that sounds doable- wait, Gandalf-." The door clicked behind him and a long suffering sigh erupted from her brightly painted lips. She could not feel his roguish spirit- as soon as the door had shut it was gone. It would matter little if she rushed down the hallways, she would be unable to locate him. That was just the way of the Grey Wizard.
"Where in the Shirewill I meet you?"
This was a question that plagued her for the coming months, and she made haste to Minas Tirith so that she would arrive to the Shire with days to spare, her journey only taking four weeks rather than the seven weeks she had intended. She had rode hard for some weeks, only slowing upon passing Bree.
She had only had the pleasure of going through the home of the Hobbits once before, and it was beautiful. The greenery was more vivid than Elvish silks, the wheat fields softer to the touch than the finest furs. Hobbits were a quaint folk, and the curiosity tickling her gut mounted at why Gandalf chose the Shire as his meeting place. Hobbits were known for their homeliness, and disliked leaving their smial's which Cáel could understand- their homes were the cutest things she had ever seen. If they weren't so tiny she would be delighted to live in one herself.
The morning of the 27th rolled around, and Cáel was still scratching her head over the location of this private meeting.
"Excuse me, have you seen a Wizard lately?"
The hobbits she asked would often scurry away, fearful of big folk, she assumed. Soon enough however, she came across a talkative old hobbit who was hunched over his cane.
"Well, I did see him pass through here this morning- you see I was out in the market and was making my way home from the Green Dragon, you will never believe it, there are dwarves staying there. Eru knows what business they could possibly have here!"
Cael's brow twitched at this new information, and gently redirected the old hobbit to her original query.
"Oh of course! My apologies, dear! I believe he was turning onto Bagshot Row, which is one of the lanes with the finest smials in all the Shire! Well, it's built into Hobbiton hill, so you can't miss it. Oh I do wonder who the Wizard was visiting up there! For we have the Gaffer and his new wife, and then there's-"
Cáel extracted herself from the old hobbit as politely as possible, thanking him graciously as she followed his directions to Bagshot Row. By the time she had located the lane way, the sun had long since dipped below the rolling hills, she walked up and down the steep incline, scrutinising the rounded doors she passed. One was a bright red, another a yellow, even more a woody brown. One stood out as particularly luxurious, a bright emerald green, which seemed to be freshly painted.
She admired the rather expansive hobbit hole this green door led to, its garden and porch a rather quaint feature, with wildflowers and bushels lovingly tended, a comfortable ornate bench placed amongst the shrubbery. As dark eyes swept the smial's exterior, a slight tugging plucked at her brain. A smile exposed gleaming teeth as that odd feeling dragged her gaze to an etching in the green wood, a rune shimmering softly in the darkening evening.
Leaping up the winding steps towards the porch, the Druid cocked her head, keen ears twitching at the bustling from within. It seems she was late, for the sound of low voices greeted her, a far cry from the high, rather smart dialect of the hobbits.
She knocked firmly, and the muttering quietened before resuming, and she jolted as the doorway swung open, having not heard the master of the house approach.
Cael grinned toothily at the hobbit standing in the doorway. He looked totally frazzled, clutching the edge of the round green door like a lifeline in his elegantly embroidered casual clothes, obviously ready for bed before they all arrived. She dropped into a deep curtesy, lifting her cloak as she would a dress "Cael, of the wilds, at your service." She straightened, quick as a whip, before cocking her head, knocking lightly on the painted panelled door. "Would you call that colour an emerald or a fern? It's quite lovely!"
"Bilbo Baggins of… Bag End… it's more of a shamrock green… thank you?" He stammered our, bulging eyes the size of dinner plates as this young lady danced past him into his home. She quickly unbuttoned her cloak and jacket, depositing them neatly on a peg, and propping her lute against the wall. Bilbo hadn't ever seen anyone as tall as her in his life, let alone in his own home- her jacket and cloak were pooled on the ground!. "Shamrock… of course!" She clapped his shoulder far too amicably for people that had only just met.
She ducked around ornate chandeliers and whistled appreciatively. She simply adored smials. They were always so warm and cozy, and utterly homely. As someone who More often than not slept beneath the stars, a smial was a breathtaking novelty, with its deep winding corridors and rounded architecture- oh she could already hear the kettle screeching and wood fire crackling; how domestic!. She clapped her hands in glee, then waving her fingers in greeting once finally catching sight of the Grey Wizard.
"How was your journey, child? Are you well?" The Istar asked, mouth twitching around his pipe in a grin as she shrugged. "As well as I could be, considering I've travelled weeks for a mysterious secretive meeting which, apparently, has to do with dwarves. Odd meeting place however, Hobbits are fairly reserved. I'm surprised you've wrangled this one into it."
"Well, I haven't exactly…" he huffed sheepishly, eyeing up the Hobbit. Cael's jaw dropped, and they both watched as he tried wrestling a doily from another dwarf. Suddenly, his less than stellar greeting made sense.
"Oh you utter bastard." She hooted, clapping the wizard on the arm with a grin and shake of her head. She peered through the rounded doorway, at the company of dwarves who were now all crowded about a table.
"Let's introduce you to the leader of our company. You're just in time, he only arrived moments before yourself." Gandalf offered his arm. She had never had a personality suited for crowds, she much preferred being alone, or with one or two people at most. This was entirely new territory, but she had never turned her nose up to a challenge. "Wish me luck old friend," she said with a playful wink, adjusting her sleeves in a busy manner before looping her arm through his.
The chattering of the dwarves stopped when she stepped through the doorway. Thirteen pairs of Eyes burned into her, and with a smile she ducked into a deep bow. "Cael, at your service." The leader of the group stood from the table, and Cael had to school her features coolly, stopping her brows from raising appreciatively. He was taller than other dwarrow, jet black hair highlighted with silver strands, making him look even more distinguished. A strong, angular face, seemingly sculpted by the Goddess herself, with steely blue eyes which… were glaring at her in suspicion.
"What is the meaning of this Gandalf?" Oh, that voice!
"Cael is an old friend of mine, one I trust deeply. I've asked her to aid us on our journey." Gandalf patted her hand as it tightened on his arm. The leader scoffed, which encouraged mutterings of displeasure from the rest of the company. Caels goofy grin faltered.
"How exactly would a daughter of Man be helpful to our cause? What have you told her of our quest?"
Caels brows raised- a quest? Oh, how exciting! From their talk months earlier, she had just expected to break the curse of a tablet some traders had stumbled upon, then lead them back home through the mountains- that sort of thing. But a quest meant excitement, adventure, camaraderie. If she wasn't interested before, she certainly was now.
"With all due respect, master dwarf, I'm not just a daughter of Man. I come from a Druid tribe, and am skilled in the healing arts and magick." Gandalf closed his eyes as the room exploded, however Cael just shrugged at him. It would be better to lay everything out completely on the table, no? And she was never one for deceit.
"My dear, could you give us a moment?" Gandalf nudged her towards the hallway. Taking the hint, she nodded, exiting with a respectful bow.
Once out of sight, she fell against a wall with a sigh. She could already hear Gandalf defending her, vouching for her. Whatever quest they were intending to undertake, it's serious enough to warrant extreme secrecy. She suddenly wondered if her agreement to a journey with the wizard was a mistake.
She shook her head, there was no point in turning back now . She was already here, and she had nothing else particularly interesting to do.
"I'd recommend the red on the top shelf, it had a woody aroma and wasn't too heavy."
Cael beamed at the dwarf, the first one she had ever spoken to really! He had a long silver beard and a kind smile. He wore scarlet and gold garments which were very expensive, she noticed, eying the stitch work and detailing.
"I'm Balin, son of Fundin, at your service." He dipped his head in a bow and she responded in kind.
"Thank you for the recommendation, Master Balin." She poured the drink, offering Balin a glass she had collected from the kitchen. He thanked her, and they clinked their glasses together.
"Gandalf is quite adamant on you accompanying us." Balin said casually, swirling his glass as he examined her closely.
"Ahhh you're the interrogator, are you?" She chuckled, throwing the old dwarrow a smile. " I believe Gandalf intends for me to be a guide, I'm experienced in travelling through all of Middle-Earths terrains, and you know how wizards are, they have their own agendas. He won't be with you for all of the journey, so I'll be taking his place as guide and protector while he is…otherwise occupied." She replies candidly, staring at the bearded dwarrow over the rim of her glass. He hummed softly, sipping from his glass.
"And what of your… descent?"
"A girl has to keep some sort of mystery Master Balin," she responded with a wink. "However, I was adopted by the Druids when I was but a youngin, and I showed an aptitude for their traditional crafts. I've worked closely with both Gandalf and other Istar before."
"The Druids are a secretive people…"
"As are the Dwarves, even your language is kept under wraps," To that, Balin nodded with a laugh. From his robes, he produced a long scroll, Placing it in her hands with a soft smile. "Have a read through that and sign when you're ready, lass." He offered an arm, stating that she must be hungry. She agreed enthusiastically and he led her back into the chaos of the dining room.
Bilbo enjoyed parties just as much as the next hobbit, but this was utterly absurd. On another night, in a different setting, he may have been able to enjoy himself. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity, he had a wizard, thirteen dwarves and a Druid in his home! This should have been a wonderful time! He had so many questions to ask. Instead it just sounded like a bad joke. He stood at the edge of the dining room, lighting more candles whilst listening intently to Thorin.
The Druid woman, Cael, stood to his left, leaning in the corner against the wall, too tall to sit. She had shorter hair than any woman he'd seen, but it was a vibrant orange colour. It almost took his attention away from the tattoos delicately adorning her face. Either way, she commanded attention, but not in the way Thorin did. Wait…
"Uh… I'm sorry, what beast?."
"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the terrible," Bofur quipped, and Cael raised a brow "Chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals."
"I know what a dragon is." Bilbo snapped back, however his face was losing its pallor.
Caels other eyebrow rose as a young dwarf jumped from his seat, exclaiming how he'd take on the dragon himself. Brave lad, or stupid. The other dwarves seemed to think so too, as they cheered him on, hooting in glee before he was yanked back to his seat. Balin leaned forward, cutting through the chaos.
"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us, but we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."
Cael bit into her gloved knuckle, hiding a wide smile behind her fist and choking back a laugh as the room, once again, erupted in shouts and hollers. A young, fair haired dwarrow shot forward with a cry "We may be few in number. But we're fighters, all of us! To the last dwarf!" He punched the air, and a round of cheers responded.
For a moment, Cael watched them all with a renewed wonder. They were so determined, so courageous and passionate. This admiration fled however, as the bare faced dwarrow beside him added his two cents.
"And you forget we have a wizard in our company, Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" Another round of shouts sounded as the Wizard choked on his pipe, descending into a fit of coughs.
With a headache mounting, Cael took this moment of madness to slip from the room. She fled the smial, stepping into the crisp night air. Her head tipped upwards as she collapsed on the lovingly crafted bench. From the heel of her boot she produced a pipe, stuffing the bowl with tobacco from a pouch pinned to her belt.
She didn't know how long she smoked for, the rumblings of the company inside fluctuating every few moments, but with every pull from the pipe, she felt her anxiety lessening. Eventually, she tuned out the chattering coming from the smial, focusing on her breathing, the rushing of wind, leaves brushing against each other. Beneath her feet she felt grass clinging to her boots, and oh how she wished to walk barefoot again, to dig her feet into the cool soil. Inhale…
"Axe or sword, What's your weapon of choice?"
And exhale…
"Neither, I prefer the quarterstaff. However I am adept with a bow and daggers." Her eyes fluttered open, and she blew a smoke ring as the leader appraised her with those steely, judgemental eyes of his. Her face fell, however, as he scoffed "A stick, is hardly a suitable weapon in combat."
"It's kept me alive well enough." She responded stiffly, lips pursed and eyes narrowed at the dwarrow. Rather sheepishly, she added. "It has a bladed end too…"
"You're a child, a woman, you've seen nothing of combat." Cael could hardly believe her ears, who was this man to throw such generalisations at her? Her permanent smile twitched into a snarl. "Now you look here, Master Dwarf," The dwarrows eyes widened at her sudden shift in tone. "I can safely assume that I have more combat experience than some of your company. And quite frankly, I don't need to explain myself to you, you don't know me whatsoever. I'm here because Gandalf asked for my help. And you need all the help you can possibly get on this suicide mission." She didn't realise she had stood, advancing towards the dwarf until the end of her spiel, and despite him only being as tall as her heaving chest, she was still slightly intimidated by his intense glare.
He stepped back, eyes narrowed and arms crossed against his broad chest. "I do not think myself proud enough to discard aid recommended specifically by the wizard, but you're wrong, you will prove yourself as a valuable member to this journey. Otherwise you will be left behind."
Cael's mouth pursed into a thin line as the dwarf stepped through the doorway."You haven't introduced yourself." She called snidely, never one to not have the last word. He paused, glancing back with a hard, guarded look.
"Thorin, son is Thrain, son of Thror." The door shut and The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She had heard stories of the line of Durin, of the rulers of a solitary mountain kingdom, lost to greed. She had never thought she would meet the heir to the throne of Erebor. She would be starstruck, if not for the fact that at that very moment, she decided she did not at all like Thorin Oakenshield, legendary or not.
"Thorin is an interesting dwarrow, but try not to begrudge him his scepticism. He has been dealt an unfortunate hand." Gandalf had reappeared at her side, settling himself into the tiny bench that creaked beneath him, puffing away at his long wooden pipe.
"You misled me, Gandalf."
"I apologise for withholding the truth, Cáel, but I had to encourage you to come somehow, I knew that curiosity would drive you right into my hands." He chuckled before his face darkened. "The world is not as it once was, the age of peace is over. Smaug must be eliminated before the darkness grasps him. I entrust you to ensure he does not enter next year breathing."
She nodded. She had felt the shift. There were more raiders on the roads, more orcs and goblins coming forth from their caves. She used it to her advantage when cutting deals, but it was true. It was no longer safe for common folk, and she had made many a coin protecting various towns. Still, it just stoked the terror at the opponent that awaited her in that mountain.
She was left to admire the rolling hills of the Shire beneath the moonlight, the grass soft and air quiet, more peaceful than anywhere Cáel had ever been. Her heart tugged painfully, and she lay a hand over her chest.
Cáel was gobsmacked, quite frankly. Retaking Erebor and driving Smaug the Terrible from the mountain was a suicide mission at best, and a
foolish bid for power at worst. Still, the favour of the journey by an Istari had caused a spark in her gut. He was right, the land was changing. She dearly hoped that that terror never reached this little slice of utopia.
If this is what needs to be done, then so be it.
Hi all, to readers old and new- A Blanket Of Stars is a prequel story to my ongoing story Under the Pale Moonlight. I found that I was enjoying writing about the Company era more than I was the storyline I was originally trying to write: thus we have this. It will indulge in backstory and Company interactions, and both this and Under the Pale Moonlight can be read together or as stand-alone pieces.
I hope you enjoy it, as Cáel has been a huge comfort to me the last few years. She is far from a perfect character- she's selfish, calculating, and a bit of a coward who lives a life of debauchery- and I love her so much for it- I hope you come to like her too.
I intend for this to have two updates a month, and Under the Pale Moonlight will likely have an update once a month or once every two months, depending on editing times. Also, the following chapters will likely be shorter than this one.
I tend to make playlists for all of my stories, so here is Cáel's, but I'll just have you all know that songs do tend to get added every now and again!
playlist/0xFglsiJ7W9nVOCY1UpYfu?si=J11FcTQxQqeFhf_m2p8B6Q
Anywho! I wish all you lovely people health and happiness in the coming future.