(*) = Quoted from J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit
When Bofur shook him awake at the break of dawn, his friendly hatted dwarf-friend told him that they were leaving, and Bilbo felt dread and disbelief settle in his bones.
What––Leaving? Now? Bilbo thought as he hastily but quietly packed his belongings. What happened to the next few days of their stay? Why sneak away like thieves in the dark?
Yes, the hobbit was aware of the irony of that thought.
"Wait, wait," he said suddenly, causing all the dwarves to pause at the threshold of their room. "Maia and the children––what about them? If we're leaving now, then shouldn't we go wake them up?"
"Time is precious little of what we have," said Balin, shaking his head. "The rest of this journey will be more uncertain than before. It may be for the best that they remain here."
Bilbo wasn't so sure. A few the dwarves shared uncertain glances. As the Company walked together down the hall, he spoke again, "But the reason they came along was because they––"
"The agreement was that they were traveling with the wizard, not the Company," said Thorin sternly. He didn't look back at Bilbo as he spoke, not pausing once as they followed him. "Nothing in the contract requires those three to be our responsibility."
"But––" Bilbo had been ready to complain, but Gloin suddenly spoke up, "Wait! Fili and Kili aren't here yet!"
Thorin stopped, and everyone halted with him. The Dwarf leader turned around, eyes darting around for his nephews. "They're gone? How long? Did anyone see them leave?"
The Dwarves muttered among them, but Nori raised a hand. "I saw 'em earlier when we just started packing up," he said. "They were the first to finish. Disappeared 'round the doorway earlier. I just assumed you told 'em to stand watch for the elves, like Mister Dwalin here."
"They must be finding the Dainsons as we speak," Dwalin told him with a deepest frown. "Letting them in the know."
Thorin pinched his brow with a groan. "We don't have time for this," he muttered.
"Here! We're here!" Fili and Kili suddenly appeared, practically flying down the nearby steps with their coats and gear already secure. Close on their heels were Kyle and Maia, the latter carrying a dozing Lori as she struggled with both her and her own bag. The boy carried his own and his little sister's, juggling with the two as he too seemed to run half-blindly from exhaustion. Their hair was a bed-mess, and their attire half-dressed in a rumbled state of what they were sleeping in for the night. Black rings practically formed under their eyes, as though the did not catch up on enough sleep.
Out of breath, they looked far from happy.
The Company all stared at them, as though they were at a loss at what to say. Bilbo himself was not sure what to say himself. Good-bye? Good to see you here? Why are you up so early? Why aren't you staying behind?
"Fili, Kili, I will not demand an explanation, but I won't tolerate any more delays," Thorin said firmly, with a glare. Then he turned to the Dainsons. "You three, however––"
""Were y'all seriously about to leave without us?!" Kyle growled, cutting him off. He glared at all of them, looking absolutely livid in his half-dressed state. "Didn't even bother warning us about it?"
"Keep yer voice down, lad!" hissed Dwalin.
"Or what?"
Kyle was about to argue further, when Balin said more calmly, "There's still plenty of sharp elf-hearing about, and the longer we stand around and speak, the more chances there are of them overhearing."
Maia, who didn't refute her brother, huffed as she hoisted her half-asleep sister on her hip, looking angry herself. "Whether it's about trusting the elves or not, that doesn't mean you should sneak off without telling us first," she snapped. Then she looked at Bilbo, who flinched back from the hurt in her demanding gaze. "Did you know about this, Bilbo?"
The hobbit held his hands up defensively. "No! I only just found out the moment I was woken up," he promised. "I'm sorry, I––"
"We are wasting time," Thorin interrupted, cutting all arguments short. "If you have something to say, it will have to wait until we are well over the bridge and well up the mountain," he softly told the siblings, his conviction strong and unyielding. "Until then, keep your voices down. Either you follow us up to the hidden trail and decide from there, or head back to your rooms, I care not which! We leave now," He turns back around and continues, gesturing the dwarves to follow, "or our only chance slips us by! Your choice!"
As there Company marched froward, Maia and Kyle exchanged a dismayed glance, before wordlessly following them. It was obvious that the two had more to say on the matter, but they kept their mouths closed together, lips pressed in silent frustration in an effort not to make too much commotion.
Fili and Kili seemed to share Bilbo's sympathy towards them, as the two young dwarves flanked Maia and Kyle for support in case if they stumbled in their deprived state, especially with Maia still carrying Lori.
Bilbo also hung back, clutching his walking stick in a tight grip.
"Once we reach the foot of the mountain," he heard Fili whisper to Maia, "it's going to be a steep climb. I can carry Miss Lori if it gets too hard."
"You don't have to––"
Fili shook his head. "It's no trouble at all. Kili and I warned you, so that makes us partially responsible. You, Kyle, and Lori are going to need all of your strength for this climb. The Misty Mountains are not going to be like the wilderlands. The hike to going to be long and hard, I am told."
Maia hesitated, biting her lip. Then, she conceded with a nod. "Thanks, Fee," she whispered. "For everything." He smiled softly in reply.
Then she turned to Bilbo. "Sorry for snapping at you earlier," Maia whispered to the hobbit. "You really didn't know, did you?"
"I was just as taken by surprise as you were," Bilbo said, giving her a comforting pat on the elbow. He sighed. "It really is quite unfortunate. I was prepared to enjoy our time here with a few more well-thought out conversations with the elves, and enjoy a few more days of sight-seeing."
It was true. *He would have liked to have a few more private words with these people that seemed to know his names and all about him, although he had never seen them before now. He thought their opinion of his adventure might be interesting. From what he had learned of elves––from wise and well-meaning people like Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel––they know a lot and are wondrous folk for news, and know what is going on among the peoples of the land, as quick as waters flows, or quicker.*
"You're telling me," agreed Maia, sighing with him.
As the Company continued to tread quietly out the exit, down the stairs and across the courtyard at the darkness of dawn, Bilbo recalled the conversation he overheard last night––with Thorin standing right behind him––and wondered if the exchange between Gandalf and Lord Elrond had anything to do with the sudden decision, with little time for him to consider his own brief conversation with the latter of the two. But no. It had turned out earlier today, the morning after they discovered the secrets of the map, Gandalf and Thorin had already set this plan in motion, even as it had been decided aloud that they would been staying a while longer.
With Lord Elrond within hearing range, the elves would assume the dwarves were planning to stay a few more days to rest from their journey; therefore, it would give them more time to "persuade" the Company from continuing their quest, decreasing both the risk of awakening the dragon and this sickness Elrond had mysteriously brought up. Bilbo thought about asking Balin, who had always been the most knowledgable in regard to sharing the history of Durin's folk, but decided to put it off when he eventually drifted off to sleep.
The words of Lord Elrond, however, never left him. The way the Elf Lord had treated him, gave him his full attention, and generously offered for him to stay for as long as he liked made the hobbit feel lighter in his heart than he had felt in a long time. Like he was actually welcomed, like he was no one's burden. Since the death of his parents, if he was being honest.
They were nothing at all like what the dwarves, Thorin especially, had described them.
Tired as he was, he couldn't deny that a strong part of himself hoped that they would all stay a while, to enjoy the peaceful beauty that the Hidden Valley had to offer. With little to no regrets on both sides, and where someone truly gave a thought for his well-being, or did not expect him to be more than what he was, and treated him like he was valued. He had even overheard from Glorfindel earlier that today––or rather, yesterday––was a Midsummer's Day, or "Tarnin Austa" in his tongue, the first out of a long-held celebration of "the passage into summer" that was supposed to last three days and three nights of merry feasting and songs of the ancient past. In the old days of Gondolin, Lord Glorfindel had said, not one soul in the city would utter a word from midnight until the break of day before they would break into song once more. An old tradition that passed on to the Númenoreans in the Second Age, and sometimes continued its practice here in Imladris, in Lórien, in the Greenwood, and the people of both Arnor and Gondor, the latter two referring to this holiday instead as "Loëndë."
It reminded Bilbo even more strongly of home, of which his people in Hobbiton also celebrated the Lithedays around this time––a three-day holiday that he was now missing this year. He would have even liked to have stayed forever, gladly––*even supposing a wish would have taken him right back to his hobbit-hole without trouble.*
But he should have known even that wouldn't have lasted. That he wouldn't even have the time to give it enough consideration, for it was also because of the celebration for this holiday that the elves were currently occupied to with this celebration, and therefore are less focused on the dwarves than they would likely be the next day after Gandalf finished wrapping up an important meeting of his own with Lord Elrond, whatever it was about.
Which was why, according to Thorin and Balin, that this was their only chance to sneak out.
Reasoning aside, the dwarves still held the elves with stubborn contempt. But more importantly, the days until Durin's Day evidently had a time limit, and Bilbo was still held under contract as the Company's burglar.
Also, if Maia, Kyle, and Lori were not able to find the answers they were hoping for in order to find their way home, then he could imagine that, in their minds, there was little more reason for them to stay. Whether disappointed or relieved that they were still coming, all the hobbit could hope was that they continue this quest as smoothly and uneventfully as possible. They were only children, after all.
After crossing the bridge, *the pine trees changed to beech and oak as they trailed through the forest, and there was comfortable feeling in the brisk morning air. They crossed where the last of the green faded out from the grass, where they came at length to an open glade not far above the banks of the stream.
Much like *the way they slithered and slipped down the steep zig-zag path into the secret valley of Rivendell on the day of their arrival, when the air grew warmer as they got lower, and the smell of the pine trees made one drowsy*, it seemed to be somewhat the reverse of that feeling as they now ascended a different path from their previous, which led up to another hidden trail leading straight toward the rest of great mountains. Even on their way out, *they came upon unexpected valleys, narrow with steep sides, that opened suddenly at their feet.
With the traces of golden sunlight breaking between of the snow-capped mountains, allowing the first breath of morning to across the valley, many of the residents of Rivendell would likely be leaving their beds by now, if they hadn't already.
Bilbo stuck close to Maia, who had passed Lori to Fili when they were forced to climb the steeper slopes of the pass around twenty minutes ago. The dark circles under the young woman's eyes were prominent, the strain of carrying both her sister and the bags becoming more apparent as they started walking up the mountain path. Kyle was no different, except he was angrier. Little Lori was still fast sleep with her head pillowed in the crook of the blond dwarf's neck and shoulder, using his braided hair as her headrest.
Kyle was still fuming. He didn't shout yet, thankfully as to not alert any sharp-hearing elves (who would likely stop them before they would reach the mountain pass), but the boy never stopped seething evening as they were half-way up the mountain leading to straight in the direction of the Misty Mountains.
"Be on your guard," Thorin announced, as the company continued treading up the cliff-side. "We're about to step over the edge of the wild. Balin, you know these paths. Lead on."
In his hesitation, the hobbit turned around, feeling the weight of longing fill in his heart.
The majestic pattern of the Last Homely House nestled between the many streams of white, wide waterfalls streaming through the dell. Full of radiant colors and light, safe and hospitable. The first place he stopped at that felt close to home...and they were leaving it behind.
You are welcome to stay here if that is your wish.
"Master Baggins," Thorin's hard voice broke through his thoughts like a knock between the ears, "I suggest you keep up."
Bilbo sighed heavily. Thumping his walking stick on the ground, he turned back around and continued to tread up with the Company.
They had a long way to go.
To say that most of the White Council were displeased with the disappearance of Thorin and Company was an understatement. But even more so the reason behind such a state of upset was the disappearance of the children of Aravír Ragnórion.
"Gone?!" Saruman stood, facing Lindir with disbelief. "How can this be? Where are the guards? Who was on duty?"
"No one," Elrond spoke gravely, closing his eyes with a furrowed brow betraying his exasperation. He shook his head to himself. "It is Austalendë.* All would be attending the feast in the Hall of Fire, or spread out under the trees of the valley." The Lord of Imladris moved up to his head servant, whose eyes remained wide with alarm. "Lindir, are you certain they have gone? The children included?"
"I checked their rooms, the gardens, and even the Hall of Fire, my lord," said Lindir. "Their belongings were not their chambers, nor were there any sign of the dwarves', save for the remains of some of our furniture used for kindling. Forgive me, my lord, but I know not when they left. It must have been sometime before the break of dawn."
It was already past seven o'clock in the morning now. According to Lindir's estimation, that would have made it at least two hours ago. Perhaps more.
"They couldn't have gotten too far...not on foot" murmured Elrond. "The path they would have taken would have been…" Here, he paused, realization dawning his features. Then he turned around to face Gandalf, who still sat calmly in his seat with his hands folded on the table. "The Misty Mountains," he finished, his gray eyes glaring in accusation at the gray wizard. "This was already set in motion, was it not, Gandalf? From the moment I read those moon runes, this had been your plan from the beginning."
Saruman's black eyes shot towards the gray wizard in outrage, while Galadriel showed no emotional reaction other than the slight twitching on her mouth.
Gandalf forced himself to unfold his hands and move them in his lap, straightening his back in resolve. The gesture was confirmation enough.
Since the Midsummer's Eve, when the moon runes had been translated, after Elrond made his disapproval of their intentions known, the wizard knew there was little time to make a plan. He had met with Thorin and Balin secretly the next day to relay the steps they were going to make while taking their leave of Rivendell without stirring up a fuss. The elves believed they were staying a while longer, to enjoy the weekly festivities of Tarnin Austa*, the ancient summer tradition celebrated by the Eldar since the Years of the Trees.
Even Bilbo and the Dainsons believed the story.
But knowing that there was a specific hour of the early morn when the Elves will be holding a silent vigil in either the Hall of Fire or the forest near the Bruinen, and with no order given to stand watch over the dwarves before a decision can be made, Gandalf told Thorin to wait until three hours before the breaking of day, before the sun would rise.
"Take the narrow path leading straight towards the high peaks of the Misty Mountains," he told them. "In weeks time, on one of the high cliffs of the gulley, find the first dwelling you can and wait for me there."
He did not expect the Dainsons to go with them. But then, he was not too surprised either, though it concern him.
"You would deceive us with false rumors and deny the will of the Council?" Saruman said sharply, looming over his fellow Istar.
"My 'rumors' are not false, Saruman, no matter how much evidence you require that I lack," said Gandalf calmly, but determinedly. "If the dagger is not proof enough, then I may be forced to take extended measures in order to solidify my claim. As for Thorin Oakenshield and his companions, I stand by what I am referring. I do not and will not control the comings and goings of the Dwarvish Company if it defers them from their quest. A quest that has my full support."
"A quest that you arranged, no doubt," scoffed Saruman.
"It is true," Gandalf admitted with a nod. "This quest has been arranged long before this meeting. Regardless, Thorin's decisions remain his own, and he would not take kindly to our interference, no matter what the outcome would be. I truly believe that this quest will not only benefit them, but benefit the tidings of a future yet to come for all of Middle-earth." He glanced at Galadriel when he said this, who was still listening without expression but showed no sign of denial to his claim. "The chances of defeating the dragon are slim, but it is a chance I am willing to bet…and a chance I will take full responsibility for should they fail," he added more solemnly.
"Indeed," said Saruman, before pulling away. "That does not, however, excuse the question of letting a young underaged woman and two children disappear so idly, or how these dwarves would so easily allow them on such a quest."
"I must agree with Saruman on this, Gandalf," Elrond spoke up, tone laced with anger, turning fully toward the wizard now. "I cannot in good conscience agree with you letting three underaged children head straight into peril unsupervised. Children who are the last of a dying noble bloodline. Elros' bloodline."
The wizard frowned. "They are not unsupervised, Lord Elrond," he insisted. "They are surrounded by thirteen dwarves who have proven to be more than capable of defending themselves and each other, not to mention one very attentive hobbit, who is more clever and cautious than he looks."
Elrond raised an eyebrow skeptically, and Gandalf sighed in frustration. "I share your concerns, mellon-nin, believe me." The wizard stood up from his chair at last to meet his old friend's eyes seriously. "The three of them were technically traveling with me, and I was traveling with the dwarves. They should not have felt any pressure or obligation to leave with them, even if Thorin himself did make the request. But if they decided to leave on their own, I can assure you it was not because I encouraged it to be so. Those three have already been set on reaching the Lonely Mountain long before they even knew of Rivendell, long before they even knew of their connections here."
"They could have stayed here, where it was safe. They could have waited, let us help them find the answers. Why not stop them?" demanded Elrond. "You already know of my opinion on this quest, Gandalf, but to pull children into it? Tell me why I should not send my general to lead a search party to bring them back? Why let them leave without at least sending some of my own personal guard?"
Gandalf opened his mouth, trying to find an answer to Elrond's reasonable concerns without sounding too careless or callous...
"They leave because they must." It was Galadriel that finally spoke, the softness of her voice overcoming all argument.
When all the male members of the White Council turned to her, the Lady of Light gazed beyond the valley, where the white-capped peaks of the Misty Mountains towered from the east. "Because what they seek will not be found in Imladris."
"What do your eyes see then, my lady?" asked Saruman.
"...Possibilities," Galadriel answered. "Visions webbed with of light and shadows. A future full of shifting connections where truths remain hidden. The heirs of Melduin may very well play a part in what is to come."
"You agree with Gandalf," said Elrond, disbelief darkening his expression as he looked toward his mother-law. "Despite all the dangers they may yet come to face, the danger that now chases after them, you would still let them go!"
Gandalf had told the Council earlier of the Hunter's possible resurfacing, due to him and Radagast having spotted the falcon. Elrond remembered all too well the assassination attempt on himself and his sons a little more than a century ago, on one the few times they had been out hunting together in the wilds alone without Glorfindel. It had happened all so fast, for the Hunter had proven to have a hand in sorcery, like some of the Black Númenoreans in ages past.
If it were not for the sudden arrival and powerful interference of his father of heart, Maglor, who had been on his way to visit them at the time, Elrond and his twins likely would have been slain, far away from home, where Arwen had been placed in charge alongside Erestor. And Vilya, one of the Elven rings, would have likely been taken.
Galadriel turned around, eyes flashing. "If they had sought our blessing first, I would have considered it." Her jibe was Gandalf, though her eyes never left Elrond's. "But do not mistake my acceptance for callousness," she told the Elf-lord, firmly. "I too have strong reservations for their involvement, but we must ask ourselves if there is more to their appearance in this world than mere chance. I have glimpsed into their thoughts when they have glimpsed into mine: a dark cloud haunts their footsteps, their hearts shadowed with fear and loss, but filled with a nameless purpose that could change the course of the future."
She looked him in the eye. "All three have the gift of dream-sight, Elrond...as your brother once had." Elrond flinched, and turned away. "As some of his descendants had inherited. The ability to see alternate paths to futures that may yet unfold."
"Another Gift of Foresight," mused Saruman. Elrond shook his head, facing away from the White Council.
"Nothing is ever certain with foresight," he said. "For six thousand years, I have lived with its comings and goings. It shifts and changes with every choice that is made. It does not guarantee safety or assurance; it only shows glimpses of what can be or what might be. It can inspire fear or hope, but it does not promise details of what happens in between the present and the future. There are those who overthink such warnings, only end up giving into fear, inadvertently causing the worst of the visions to pass."
"And there are those who do not heed them at all, growing soft in their complacency, inadvertently letting the doom sneak upon them and those that surround them," Galadriel returned with steel in her voice. Her eyes grew distant with memory. "Such is the burden of those who were granted the Gift...yet too many times in the First Age have there been they would misused their Gift, or have failed to persuade others to listen. There had been too much distrust, too much ambition, too much hatred, and far too much denial due to fear...and far too many of our people have paid the price for it. Including you and I.
"A shadow indeed follows the steps of Melduin's heirs, yet they have not the cloud of doom that has shrouded their ancestors. There is a boldness in their hearts that grows with the passings of time. A strength that follows wherever their companions are meant to face. If they feel in their hearts that their visions lead to the Lonely Mountain, then we must let be the will of the higher Powers lead them to fulfill their task."
"The higher Powers, you say. And what of Miss Lori? She is a child of five! Far too young to face the dangers of this quest," protested Elrond.
"Their father was even younger when Ragnór had begun to teach his son to fight with blades, like Egnór did before him," Gandalf pointed out, "and in a few years, young Aravír was a natural swordsman by the age of seven, the best of his generation. So far, I have sensed the same potential expressed in young Master Kyle, and his sisters may very well be the same.
"And were you and your brother not children of six when introduced to the darkness of the world? With the sons of Fëanor, you were both trained to fight with blades before you reached your first decade!"
"That was a different time, Gandalf! A different era! Countless children were forced too soon to grow up in order to defend their homes and families. We were at war with Morgoth, and at the same time, the kingdoms of Elves, Men, and Dwarves were at war with each other. But even while he trained us, Maedhros would not permit us to fight until we were at least well in our twenties. Even when we reached our thirties, Maglor still had trouble letting us fight at all! You cannot expect me to think any differently than I would have felt best for my own children!"
Even then, the Peredhel twins were protected for as long as possible, until they were forced to leave Amon Ereb. With them were the surviving Men of Brethil, who had resided with the Fëanaorians for the most part after their home was burned to the ground, which had been years after Doriath's downfall and even longer after Turin Turambar and his family's.
The Fëanorianath had eventually met up with the forces of High King Gil-Galad and High King Finarfin. The leaders themselves were not allowed to join with the Alliance, much to the outrage of many who have fought, bled, and sacrificed in the war for centuries before the Valar finally came, but before they were turned away, Maedhros and Maglor both agreed to beg the High King to at least take in Elrond and Elros, the sons of Eärendil and Elwing, under their protection, much to the Peredhel twins' dismay.
It had been a terrible time, being forced to stay good-bye to them against their will. For a long time, Elrond and Elros resented everyone for making the decision for them, especially their foster-fathers...but in the end, to an extent, they understood their reasons and eventually came to accept that their foster-father's decision had been the right one, if not the only one, if it meant preventing the Peredhel twins from falling into the same path of Doom of they had.
Now, Elrond knew he likely would have done the same for his children if he were in his fathers' place, no matter how old they were. Anything to keep them safe...
"No, you are right," said Gandalf solemnly, seeming to pick up on the Elf Lord's thoughts. "I cannot expect it of you, nor do I. All I am asking is that you do not rend reinforcements after them, not now, for an elven host will for certain draw the attention of any suspicious eyes seeking the ruin and end of Durin's Folk. Let the dwarves complete the quest, let me continue to investigate the origins of the black blade in the meantime...and Maia, Kyle, and Lori Dainson, children of Aravír, last of the noble House of Laurenárë, will receive the protection of Thorin Oakenshield and Gandalf the Grey."
"Assuming that this quest can be allowed to continue," Saruman said, stepping between them. "How long must it take to open your eyes to this absurdity, Gandalf? Erebor, Dol Guldor...to chase one fool's errand for the other, you would still believe the wild ramblings of a wood hermit over the eyes and wisdom of the White Council? You would still look into a threat that is simply not there?"
Gandalf shrugged. "If Radagast's recall of the ruined fortress truly is a fool's errand, Saruman, then what is the harm in looking?" When the White Wizard did not reply to that, mouth pressed in a thin line, Gandalf continued, "But if it is not, then all the more reason to not turn away from Erebor. Consequences or no, we cannot ignore the threat that Smaug poses beyond the shadow of the mountain. The Dwarves may yet reclaim their kingdom, and the Dainsons find their way home, if their visions prove to be true, but we cannot know if we do not try." He looked at Elrond.
The Lord of Imladris listened, staring long and hard at the wizard. Yet something in his demeanor seemed to be easing...So Gandalf made one last attempt to persuade him, easing into a more soothing yet determined tone that dropped a hint of power in his voice. "You must trust me when I say that the dwarves will shield any of whom they consider their own, be they dwarf, human, or hobbit," he said quietly. "The journey will not be without its perils…but none will let anything happen to the children of Aravír, or may Manwë's lightning strike me where I stand."
"...You come deadly close to swearing an Oath you may not be able to keep," Elrond said, sounding almost amused.
Gandalf shook his head with a solemn smile. "I believe we have all learned our lesson on making Oaths in the name of the divine," he replied, giving Elrond a knowing look, "but you must know by now that I do not make promises lightly."
Elrond nodded, pressing his mouth into a firm line that he seemed to turn over the wizard's words in his mind. After a long minute had passed, he finally said, "Very well. You have my support...for now." Saruman looked at Elrond in disbelief, for a third vote in the White Council meant even the leader's was overridden. "But if it turns out that Maia, Kyle, and Lori do not find what they are looking for in the Lonely Mountain, if they have nowhere else to go, Imladris will await their return, should they wish to have a home among distant kin."
Gandalf nodded. Elrond started to turn, still looking grave, which meant that he wasn't done. "If we are to allow this, then there is something about the heirs of Melduin you must know." He met Galadriel's look, who suddenly went tense.
There seemed to a moment of mental exchange between them, before the lady sighed and nodded, furrowing her brow slightly before looking away.
"I will have a word with Mithrandir first," she said aloud.
"Very well," said Elrond. "Meet us at the archives." He gave Saruman a glance before leaving the pavilion with Lindir. Less than pleased, but curious, the white wizard glowered at Gandalf, then Galadriel with suspicion, before following the elf lord with a swirl of his robes.
Gandalf watched them leave for a moment, before joining Galadriel at the edge of the pavilion, which overlooked the divine waterfalls of the Ford running through the valley.
"You will follow them," said Galadriel, in more of a statement than a question.
"Yes," he said, wondering about his old friend's intentions.
"You are right to help Thorin Oakenshield," she murmured, finally looking at him. "But I fear this quest will set in motion forces we do not yet understand. The riddle of the Morgul Blade must be answered. Some thing moves in the shadows unseen, hidden from our sight. It will not show itself. Not yet. But everyday it grows in strength. You must be careful."
Ah. Gandalf understood now the nature of this discussion. If Saruman did not allow an investigation in Dol Guldor, then the decision that Galadriel supported on Gandalf's behalf must be done quietly. The Finarfiniel's judgement was seldom misplaced, even on her worst days, because she more than anyone else on this earth knew better than to willfully ignore any signs of the enemy's existence, even in the shadows of of a peaceful time. She knew better than to repeat a mistake made not once, not twice, but thrice in the Ages she lived in the living presence of a Dark Ainur.
It did not make the thought less wearisome, Gandalf thought as he stepped away with a sigh.
"Mithrandir?" He turned around to meet Galadriel's genuine curiosity. "Why the halfling?" she asked.
Gandalf paused, thinking of Bilbo Baggins with both fondness and his own share of curiosity. "I do not know," he said finally, still thinking of his answer. "Saruman believes that it is only great power that can hold evil in check. But that is not what I found." He smiled to himself, gaze becoming distant with memories, old and new, of his time spent among the hobbits of the Shire. Recalled the old families that he befriended over the years. Recalled Bilbo's mother, Belladonna Took, who had been a kind and uncommon spirit among her brethren, like her ancestors before her.
He knew that Bilbo was more like his mother than even he himself cared to remember. And in time, he hoped that this adventure, for better or worse, would bring out the adventurous side of the hobbit that he had long thought smothered and forgotten.
But even so, Gandalf's time among the hobbits, from the beginning to the end, had always been his most cherished moments.
"I have found that it is..." He shrugged lightly, "the small things. Everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins?" His smiled fade slightly. "Perhaps it is because I am afraid," he admitted. "And he gives me courage."
A smooth, creamy hand with the ring of water covered his fumbling hands, pulling them gently. Gandalf looked up to meet Galadriel's gentle, encouraging smile. "Do not be afraid, Mithrandir," she said softly. With two fingers, he brush a loose gray strand hanging over the wizard face. "You are not alone."
Gandalf felt comforted by her words, which washed over his hröa with the strength he needed to fulfill his great mission. A smile matched her's.
Then Galadriel said to him, "Ae boe i le eliathon...im tulithon."*
Then her hand vanished.
When Gandalf finally looked up, his burden lightened with purpose, she had already gone ahead.
To Be Continued...
*"And now at great length is that great fest of Tarnin Austa or the Gates of Summer near at hand. For know that on that night it was their custom to begin a solemn ceremony at midnight, continuing it even until the dawn of Tarnin Austa broke, and no voice was uttered in the city from midnight until the break of day, but the dawn they hailed with ancient songs." (Book of Lost Tales, 172)
*Austalendë is the Quenya name for Midsummer's Day. This holiday is briefly mentioned as 'Tarnin Austa' in the Book of Lost Tales and celebrated by the Noldor in Gondolin during the First Age, the eve before its fall.
*Loendë= Midsummer's Day in the Númenorean calendar (passed down to Gondor and Arnor); also called Erulaitale, "Praise of Eru".
Translations:
*Tarnin Austa = 'passage into summer', or the Summer Solstice
*If you should ever need my help...I will come.