7. Many Meetings, Part 1
- Spring, early April 2958 -
Edoras was in celebratory mood that Spring. The deeds in West Mark had spread throughout Rohan. Fastred and his men were welcomed home as heroes. The streets were strewn with flowers and buntings hung on eaves and doors. Thorongil was rather overwhelmed and embarrassed by the attention. Especially when several ladies paid him more interest than he was accustomed to. He had never wished so hard that he did not stand out so much, a dark head in a sea of flowing yellow manes.
How different it was from the taciturn Dunedain. Of course, this would have been little more than a minor skirmish to the Rangers, long used to dealing with orcs and their ilk, trolls, wraiths and other darksome creatures. At most, he would have been given a pat in the back, told that he had done well and maybe treated to several rounds of beer. On second thought, Elemir might not be too pleased with him at the moment. One whole year wasted and he still had not accomplished what he set out to do in Rohan, among other things. Perhaps it was a good thing he was in Rohan at the moment.
There was a great feast that night. The Rohirrim were as fond of feasts as the elves, it seems. Bread, meat and ale flowed freely. A drinking cup of mead was passed from rider to rider, in a pledge of brotherhood. There was much poetry and story telling, extolling the deeds of old and new. Even the deeds of Fastred and the West Muster had been cast to song. As his wont in such rowdy gatherings, Thorongil choose a comfortable section of wall space to lean on and faded away.
While his presence had been forgotten, he did not forget his old habits. The sounds, movements and moods of the entire hall filled his senses. There was a boisterous drinking game in progress involving knucklebones and a lot of shouting. Nearer the fire, several games of dice were set up. He noticed Fastred did not join in, but watched from the sides, alternately encouraging and taunting the contestants. He also noted that Fastred had been carrying his goblet three quarters full all night. A quiet word here or there kept his men from brawling in the presence of the King and his court.
Thengel looked aged by care in fire-lit hall. There were dark shadows under his eyes and grey in his hair. He seemed stern and forbidding. Thorongil thought it strange, for Thengel had spoken kindly and warmly to the returned eored earlier. He did lighten up a little later in the evening. Thorongil was not sure if it was the presence of his wife, Morwen, or the absence of some of the lords and ladies who had left early.
To his left, a little later after Morwen returned to the hall, a fugitive crouched behind the door used by the servants. Occasionally, a tousled head poked out. Then, embolden by his success, he inched closer to Thorongil. Finally, he settled by Thorongil's side, shadowed by a great pillar. He was dressed for bed and barefoot. When he tugged on Thorongil's sleeves, his hands were cold.
Thorongil removed his cloak from the back of his chair and wrapped it around Théoden. Then he picked the child up and set him in his lap away from the cold flag stones. Théoden immediately burrowed into the warmth, his head pillowed on Thorongil's shoulder. Once settled in, Théoden pulled out a pouch from his pocket.
"Look!" he whispered conspiratorially. "Fastred gave me a warg fang." He pulled out a canine tooth of a warg, four inches long.
"It looks wicked," Thorongil replied. The fang gleamed impressively in his small hands. Now he knew why Fastred's squire had scrubbed, boiled and polished that gruesome trophy for two days. He could make a good guess where its twin went.
"I'm going to hunt wargs when I grow up." Théoden made ferocious growling sounds and brandished the fang. Thorongil wondered what would Elrond had said if the twins brought him such a gift when he was ten. His ears burned just thinking about his mother's reaction.
While Théoden was preoccupied with his own game, Thorongil wondered vaguely if he should have sent Théoden to bed. Théoden might get into trouble the next day for staying up late. Besides, it might not be a good idea to undermine the discipline of a child. Then he wondered how he should go about doing so. Perhaps Théoden would grow tired and returned to bed on his own. He hoped so. He had no idea how he would get off the chair otherwise.
Bored of his game, Théoden started whispering bits of news. His father had finally relented and he was allowed to start sword training. Could he hunt wargs with sword? When he was told that they hunt wargs with spears and arrows, he wondered if he could start training on those immediately.
His mother had also insisted he started on dancing lessons. He vowed he would never make any of his children take dancing lessons. And they didn't have to dance with their giggly sisters if they didn't want to. Their hair and ribbons tickled whenever they turned their heads.
There was also an old man that came last night. He had a big magic sword. He wondered if it really was magic. The old man said it would turn blue when there was something dangerous nearby. Why blue? Why not red or gold or bright yellow? Maybe it wasn't a real magic sword. It didn't turn blue at all for Théoden. He was going to have magic sword when he grew up. Only it would not be a silly magic like changing colour to blue. It will be bright and shiny like the sun and scare away the enemies. But not all of them. Or else there would not be anyone to fight with.
The old man also needed a walking stick just to move around. Can he really use a sword if he had to walk with the help of a stick? He was a funny old man and he smells funny too. But he told interesting stories. More exciting than his boring tutors.
Thorongil perked up at this news. Not many old man carry magic swords, especially magic elven blades. He asked Théoden if the old man was still in Edoras. He was told the old man was housed in the West Wing. And maybe the old man would show Thorongil his sword. Thorongil can be dangerous and make it turn blue. After all, he was bigger than Théoden. And if Thorongil made it blue, he must show it to Théoden at once. Whimsically, Thorongil wondered if Théoden's new trinket might actually do the trick. After all, he had never seen a blue sword either.
Having discussed the funny old man and magic swords thoroughly, Théoden nestled deeper into Thorongil's cloak and drifted off. Thorongil looked about in some vague hope for help. Then, realising the absurdity of his situation, he cradled Théoden firmly against him. It was going to be a long night.
Fortunately for Thorongil, Morwen, with a mother's instinct, realised Théoden had sneaked out. Before Thorongil lost all sensations to his legs, Thengel found them and claimed the sleeping child, cloak and all.
It was late, but still before midnight. The carousing would go on for several more hours. Thorongil quietly slipped out and made his way to the West Wing. Only one door showed a lighted room. He knocked and received a gruff "Enter" in reply. The room revealed a coat rack arrayed with a long staff, a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak and a silver scarf. Finally, it revealed an old man with a long white beard that hung down below his waist and long bushy eyebrows poring over a scroll.
"Gandalf."
"Estel! You're alive."
TBC ...
Author's notes:
Made a silly mistake in earlier story. Gandalf's beard is actually white, not grey.
It seems Théoden had stolen the show or should I say the keyboard. Quite unintentional. Next, Gandalf and Aragorn's reunion.
Footnotes:
In 2958, the canon characters are :
Age - Name
10 - Théoden, son of Thengel
27 - Aragorn, son of Arathorn
37 - Morwen of Lossarnach, mother of Théoden
54 - Thengel, son of Fengel, King of Rohan
1. (TH - He (Gandalf) took out his sword again, and again it flashed in the dark by itself. It burned with a rage that made it gleam if goblins were about; now it was bright as blue flame ...)
2. Thorongil made the same mistaken assumption about the properties of Glamdring, as Théoden.
3. (TH - He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which a white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.)
4. (FOTR - He (Gandalf) wore a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond the brim of his hat.)
