- Chapter 12 -
The night went by uninterrupted, thankfully, and as dawn crested the horizon it slowly lit up Shyloh's dark room. The inn was still quiet as Shyloh's bare feet hit the worn wooden floor. She eyed the bathtub again, and thought maybe she would take another bath but then suddenly there was an unexpected knock on her door. It was a quiet knock, meant for only the person inside the room to hear. She crossed the threshold silently, her fingers tracing the hilt of her sword as she passed and before she second guessed herself, she grabbed it before reaching the door.
"Whose there?" she asked without raising her voice too loud.
"Tis I, mellon nin," the deep familiar voice said.
Gandalf's face beamed at her a little hesitantly when she opened the door to allow him in. He eyed the sword she held suspiciously but said nothing about it. He looked as he always did, wearing the same gray robes but without his hat.
"We should leave early, before the town wakes up too much. I have already told Barliman of our early departure, and they are preparing breakfast before we leave. A woman downstairs was going to bring you these," he discarded her neatly folded clothes onto her bed. "But I saved her the trip."
"Thank you," she said, and began tucking them back into her travel bag.
"Did you have a quiet night?" he asked casually and she eyed him suspiciously.
"Yes," she said. "How about you? Did you get your business taken care of?"
He looked like he might avoid her question but then he lowered his voice.
"Yes," he said quietly, stepping a little closer to her. "But here is not a place to discuss it. We will talk more freely on the road."
Taking the hint, she pulled on her boots and then grabbed the rest of her items as he held the door open for her. She led the way down the hall and down the stairs into the empty barroom. Chairs were upturned on the tables and she marveled at the change of atmosphere compared to the previous night's bustling crowd.
"Ah, here we are," Gandalf motioned to a chair and table along the wall closest to the kitchen but it was only set for one. Seeing her question before it was spoken, he explained. "If you will excuse me, I have already eaten. This is for you. Our horses are being saddled and I have a couple more errands to make and then I'll be back to collect you shortly."
"What about restocking provisions?" she asked, taking a seat at the table alone.
"Already taken care of. I'll be back shortly." He gave her a slightly over exaggerated smile before sweeping from the room just as Fern came out of the kitchen carrying her breakfast.
Even though she didn't feel very hungry, she scarfed down what she could before thanking Fern quickly for her help and hurried outside, longing to be free from the inn and the smell of stale ale. The cool air hit her with a blast but she wasn't met with the refreshing taste of wilderness. Instead, mud filled streets and the lingering smell of livestock met her and she scrunched her nose up. It wasn't hard to find the stables two buildings down, and as her light footsteps splashed in the puddles her lips formed a thin line. She was anxious to be away from the town.
The gray mare looked well rested and much cleaner than she had the night before and Shyloh rubbed her forehead. The stable hand stood there with an awkward look on his face, his eyes staring at Shyloh as she strapped her gear on the back of the saddle. He continued to stare until Gandalf cleared his throat, breaking the silence of the early morning and making the young fellow jump.
Clearly, he'd never seen an elf either because his face was filled with awe. Gandalf smiled to himself as he prepared his own horse. Yes, Shyloh was really a sight to see so he could not blame the boy for staring; although, it was quite rude.
"Thank you for your help young master, but we can take it from here." Gandalf's voice made the boy jump again and he tore his eyes away from the beautiful woman. Shyloh shot Gandalf an annoyed look behind the boys back but the wizard was already mounting his horse. Those that had known there was an elf in town came to see them off. Fern, Barliman, the stable boy, and a couple of others from the inn watched the two strangers leave, marveling at how the she-elf's white hair glowed in the early morning hours of sunlight.
Fern waved goodbye, although no one saw, and she was positive that no one fairer looking had ever been in the Prancing Pony than the woman that rode away just now.
They made it through the North gates without incident, the keepers almost seemed glad to see them go, and they let their horses make their own pace as they headed west. A full day away from the confines of Bree, Shyloh hadn't asked anymore questions about Gandalf's strange behavior. She waited patiently for him to approach the subject until the gnawing curiosity became too much for her to bare. He must have been reading her mind though, because they slowed the horses to a steady walk and even though they were far away from any people that they could see, he kept his voice down low.
"I trust by now you have discovered that I may have an ulterior motive for asking you along on this little trip," he said, his eyes casting her a knowing look.
"I figured that out a while ago, I just haven't figured out why." Her reply didn't come as a complete surprise to him because he smiled knowingly.
"Well my dear, it just so happens that this turn of events couldn't have happened at a better time. There is someone in particular I wish for you to meet, although, he might not be quite as eager to meet you. Our company will no doubt grow substantially over the next week if all goes well, and if you are willing, I would very much like you to accompany us. I have no doubt your skills will come in handy, in more ways than one."
"Alright Gandalf, what is going on?" She halted her horse and frowned. "You've always struck me as the 'beat around the bush until it's dead' type, but I prefer to get right down to it. Where are we going, and why?"
Gandalf let out a laugh, his eyes twinkling. "You are very perceptive my dear elf, so to answer your first question, we are still headed to the Shire in fact, as we always have been. To answer your other question, I believe it would be best to keep moving as we speak. It does not do well to linger on roads such as this."
Gritting her teeth, she let her horse walk on and the riders fell into step with each other. That was when she spent the next few hours learning about the history of Erebor; the greatest dwarf kingdom in Middle Earth. She'd studied histories and maps surrounding Middle Earth but she had no recollection of the story Gandalf was telling her now. King Thror had been the last king under the mountain until the dragon Smaug, a great fire breathing drake from the north, swept in and destroyed the neighboring city of Dale and claimed the treasure filled halls of Erebor for his own, forcing the dwarves to flee and seek refuge in other areas of the world.
Shyloh did her best to imagine what a real live dragon looked like. All the make believe stories from her childhood of princesses, knights, and dragons seemed almost silly now that she knew dragons really existed. Disney sure did put a wild spin on their imaginations.
"The dwarves will be reclaiming their homeland," he said after summarizing the last sixty years for her and bringing her up to speed on the current task at hand. "And I will need your help."
The Shire was more than she could have imagined. Rolling hills of green met their eyes when they crossed the Brandywine River. When she tried to picture Hobbit homes, she had obviously failed miserably. They were indeed, holes in the ground, but far more spectacular than she realized. Hobbits themselves, were very short and a bit thick around their middles. They peered out of their round little windows or round little doors to glance at the passing riders and Shyloh stared back at them, as equally perplexed as they were.
The east road led them straight through the rolling hills and Shyloh had to admit, aside from Rivendell, the lands around them had a sense of peace and tranquility, as if the outside world never touched the borders of the land that surrounded them now.
Gandalf pointed out Frogmorton and the Bywater, and after what seemed like ages and days they came to Hobbiton; a quaint little town. The early morning sun peaked out from behind fluffy white clouds that had hung over the travelers since their departure from Bree for the last few days. The golden rays illuminated the green hills and Shyloh couldn't help but think that their long trip had been totally worth it, if only to see the small round doors and bustling market place.
They were the only two 'big' people that she could see, but the Hobbits apparently knew Gandalf well because a handful of curly haired Hobbit children raced through the streets, begging for fireworks while some of the older Hobbits narrowed their eyes and cast the newcomers irritated looks. She wondered just what kind of reputation Gandalf had here...
Once they saw she was an elf though, whispers and stares started to follow them as they walked the length of the marketplace. Gandalf gave her a hearty smile as they stared at her with wide eyes, for it was a rare sight indeed to see an elf in the Shire.
The marketplace was filled with all sorts of goods from fish to baskets to fresh baked breads. Hobbits hurried in every direction, pulling wagons, leading animals, chasing after children, greeting friends, delivering ordered goods, and the list went on. She watched in fascination until they came to a stop at a house type of building on the end of the road. Its peaked roof was very different from that of the Hobbit holes they passed earlier.
A slightly faded wooden sign above the door told her that this was the Green Dragon.
"We don't need to go in just yet," Gandalf told her as they dismounted and she gazed at the door of the pub.
A rather portly looking Hobbit walked out from the stables to their right, though, his blond curly hair catching the rays of the sun as he walked. He looked up at the two of them with curious, wide blue eyes. They followed him back to the stables to put their horses up, unsaddling them for the stable master and settling them in stalls while he began forking them hay.
They thanked him before turning back to the marketplace but Gandalf's path didn't lead back through the crowd. Instead, he led her up another path, twisting and turning around Hobbit holes, passing gardens so well kept she marveled at them. Hobbits stepped out of their way, shooting them wary looks as they passed. They stared at Shyloh curiously. She was certainly unlike any elf they had ever seen before.
"Where are we going Gandalf?" she asked after the silence lapsed between them for so long that she couldn't take the suspense anymore.
"To meet an old acquaintance of mine; a dear fellow by the name of Bilbo Baggins. He's an odd little Hobbit, but if I remember correctly he used to have quite the appetite for adventure. I hope that has not changed..."
They crested a hill and came to stop outside of a short, white picket gate surrounded by tall, flowering bushes and green vines. A large, round, green door sat up a short flight of stone steps speckled with moss, tucked under the eves of the hill it was built into. Small round windows were cut into the hillside, making the entire home look quite charming and inviting.
On the bench in front of them, unknown to him yet, sat a sandy haired, barefooted Hobbit. A round ring of pipe smoke came from his mouth and his eyes were closed towards the sky as if he were soaking up the peacefulness of the warm morning sun.
Without a word, Gandalf flicked his hand in the air, making the smoke ring suddenly spark and dart back to the one who puffed it; sending it straight up the Hobbits nose. Startled, the Hobbits eyes opened and he scrunched his face, wrinkling his nose as if he were about to sneeze. His startled eyes came to rest on the odd looking pair before him and he blinked in surprise.
He shifted awkwardly in his seat and then looked around, silently wondering to himself where these two strangers had come from.
"Good morning," Bilbo Baggins said then, giving them a hesitant smile and licking his lips.
"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good on this particular morning; or that simply it is a morning to be good on?" asked Gandalf and Shyloh tilted her head, clearly feeling as puzzled as the poor little Hobbit in front of them.
"All of them at once, I suppose," said Bilbo slowly, a frown creasing his small forehead. "Can I help you?"
"That remains to be seen. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."
Bilbo's eyes darted between Shyloh and Gandalf, as if he were completely unsure of what to say and his eyes blinked again in surprise.
"An adventure? No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree having any interest in an adventure. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Might make you late for supper." Bilbo stood and walked the couple of feet to his mailbox which was situated right in front of Shyloh. As he flipped through his mail, his eyes flicked to her on and off, all while puffing on his long pipe.
She stared back, as equally interested in the little Hobbit before her, unable to help it. But, obviously the Hobbit had had enough strangeness for one morning because he stepped back towards his house and took his pipe out of his mouth.
"Good morning," he said again and then turned quickly as if to head back inside his hole.
"To think that I lived to be good morning'd by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door."
"Beg your pardon?" the Hobbit asked, turning back to them once more.
"You've changed, Bilbo Baggins, and not entirely for the better."
"I'm sorry, have we met?" Bilbo's eyes grew wide, obviously startled that this stranger knew his name and Shyloh felt a little sorry for him.
"Well you know my name although you don't remember I belong to it. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means...me."
The Hobbits eyes grew even wider as recognition crossed his face and suddenly she thought he looked like a little boy as the excitement flooded the corners of his eyes.
"You're the wizard that used to have all those wonderful fireworks that Old Took used to have," Bilbo exclaimed and then his face fell quickly, the excitement leaving his eyes. "Had no idea you were still in business."
"And where else should I be?" the wizard asked, leaning on his long wooden staff. "Well I am pleased to see you remember my name, if only for my fireworks. Yes, well this will be good for you then, and most amusing for me. It's decided. I shall inform the others."
"Others? No, no wait! We do not want any adventures here, thank you very much," the Hobbit cried suddenly. "Perhaps you should try elsewhere, maybe over the hill. Good morning!" Then, he dashed up the last couple of steps and disappeared inside his round green door, leaving the two of them standing in the road.
Shyloh frowned and looked at Gandalf but the wizard was already making his way through the little wooden picket gate and up the stone steps of the Hobbits house. She thought for a moment that he would knock and call the Hobbit back outside again but instead, he stood there in front of the door for only a couple of seconds before turning back to her.
"Well, that didn't go as bad as I expected," he mused, and she raised her eyebrows.
"He's not going to help you on your adventure, is he?" she asked as they turned back down the path from which they came.
"Not to worry, he will be in for a nice surprise this evening."
Shyloh still had no idea what it was she was supposed to be doing. She paced one of the rooms of the Green Dragon impatiently while Gandalf was off again doing God knows what. All she knew, was that dwarves would be marching towards Erebor to reclaim their homeland. From her readings and from what her kin had told her, dwarves and elves didn't get along. She had only a small understanding from what she could grasp from the tales she'd heard and even they were incomplete stories. It didn't make much sense so she wondered briefly if the dwarves would be welcoming to her or not and she couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into.
She didn't have much time to wonder though, because Gandalf's knock came on her door a few seconds later. She crossed the small room and opened the door for him.
"You remember how to get up to Bilbo's house, yes?" he asked, not bothering to come inside the room.
"I think so," she said with a frown. "Why?"
"Because I will need you to come separately," he said, and he looked at her under his bushy eyebrows.
She didn't take the hint though. "Why?" she asked again and his brow furrowed, making his eyebrows look like one long line of scraggly gray hairs.
"I feel it would be best if you arrive after the others, that way I can be sure they are ready to meet you."
Raising one eyebrow, she tilted her head just a little. "You mean so they can't escape when they see me."
A light laugh escaped him suddenly and his face broke out into a small smile. "You are perceptive."
Sighing, she agreed. "When should I arrive?"