Dragonfly: Ah, but in the end Thranduil does worm the truth out of Gandalf, so there is a limit to even a wizard's wit.
Andi-Black: Goodness! Good thing you and Dragonfly were drinking soda rather than eating pretzels! I don't want to be responsible for choking anyone!
Kelly Kragen: Yes, I guess the previous chapter was inevitable. Couldn't tantalize people repeatedly without 'delivering'. You are right about Aragorn singing: In the book version of the FOTR, he sings when he, Gimli, and Legolas send the body of Boromir off in the boat over the falls of Rauros. In the extended edition of the movie FOTR, he sings a song about a Man and his elven beloved when he and the Hobbits camp one night in the Midgewater Marshes. In the movie ROTK, he of course sings at his coronation. Mortensen's singing voice is OK, but I think Billy Boyd's is much better. Pippin's song was stunning, especially the way it was intercut with Faramir's doomed cavalry charge. If Oscars were given to individual scenes in movies, that scene deserves one. Oh, yes, and you are welcome for the info. about 'jumpers', and etc.
Legosgurl: Someday I will have to write a chapter in which Thranduil reacts to the news that Elrond has appointed Legolas to the Fellowship as the representative of the Elves.
Joee: Thanks! Here's your update.
Grumpy: I will have to write a chapter or a story in which Aragorn sings to Arwen.
Beta Reader: Dragonfly.
Chapter 44: Sleeping Arrangements
Legolas and Aragorn stood at the margin of the Old Forest, staring beneath its mossy branches into the dense, tangled undergrowth.
"So Gandalf insists that we should approach the Hobbits' domain through the Old Forest," said Aragorn doubtfully. "Do spiders lurk within it?"
"Only little ones," Legolas assured him.
"Non-poisonous?"
"I cannot testify to that, having never been bitten by an Old Forest spider. I think, though, that the perils of these woods are more akin to those that one encounters in Fangorn Forest."
"Wonderful," groaned Aragorn. "Fangorn Forest, home of the worst-tempered trees in Middle Earth."
"I am not so sure of that," said Legolas thoughtfully. "There is one willow in the Old Forest who is at least the match of any tree in Fangorn Forest."
"Oh, thank you very much, Legolas. I feel soooo much better!"
Legolas grinned.
"Always glad to do what I can, Estel."
"Very well! If that is the case, you may lead the way."
"Certainly. Before we set foot in the forest, though, I must warn you: do not stray so much as a step from the path! If you do, you will never regain it."
Aragorn looked at him skeptically.
"Legolas, I am not a child to be frightened by the tales of old wives."
"Truly, Aragorn, I do not jest. Given the least opportunity, the path will flee from you, leaving you standing in the middle of a trackless forest. I know whereof I speak, for I became lost in these woods when I was an elfling and accompanied Mithrandir to Buckland."
Aragorn looked interested.
"You and Gandalf were lost in the Old Forest?"
"No, only I was lost. I wandered away from Mithrandir and could not find my way back to him."
"How did he recover you?"
"He sent a friend in search of me, one who dwells hereabouts and over whom the forest has no power. I wonder if we shall encounter him," Legolas mused. "He was a most singular individual. I think Elrond would delight in his company. I know Mithrandir did."
"What is his name?"
"He called himself Tom Bombadil, but Mithrandir told me that he is known by many names—like you, Estel!"
As they had been talking, they had been making their way down the path, and Aragorn looked about with increasing interest.
"I am no Elf, Legolas, but almost I feel as if I can hear these trees murmuring."
Legolas nodded.
"You are right, Aragorn. They are wide awake and watchful."
"But not unfriendly."
"No, not unfriendly. Not those near us, at any rate. I sense some disquiet further on, closer to Buckland."
Legolas suddenly froze.
"Someone approaches—no! do not draw your sword!"
The two friends stood quite still, breathing shallowly and listening intently. At last Legolas relaxed.
"Ah, now I know why the trees hereabouts are in a genial mood. Tom Bombadil is near, and his good humor has rubbed off upon them."
"How do you know?" asked Aragorn, puzzled.
"Can you not hear—oh, I had forgot: I have the better hearing. But listen a minute and soon you shall hear as well."
Aragorn concentrated intently, willing his ears to gather in the slightest sound, and soon he heard it, too—a merry song swooping between the tree trunks and floating above the branches.
Hey dol derry dol down!
No need for Hope to frown!
No spiders in these trees,
Let young Hope be at ease!
Hey dol derry dol down!
Hey dol derry dol down a'day!
Welcome to folk who come this way!
Greenleaf and Hope, put aside fear,
A welcoming hearth you'll find near!
Hey dol derry dol down a'day!
"He knows who we are," marveled Aragorn. "Has he a magic mirror, like Galadriel?"
"The trees speak to him, I think. Also, no doubt Mithrandir sent him word of our coming. I believe he and Mithrandir are great friends."
The bushes rustled, and out stepped a lively and quaint individual, all blues and browns, his face wrinkled yet ageless, his ruddy cheeks o'erspread with a cheerful smile that reached to the crinkles in the corners of his bright eyes.
"Oh ho! Legolas Thranduilion, have you come to renew your acquaintance with Old Man Willow? Methinks he would be very glad to see you!"
"Has he improved in temper these past centuries?"
"Improved? If you mean, has his temper developed and grown, why, then, yes, he has improved his temper!"
"In that case, I think I shall pass on renewing my acquaintance with the irascible old fellow!"
"Shall I introduce your friend to him, then—after you have introduced him to me first, of course."
"Ah, my pardon. Master Tom Bombadil, may I present to you Aragorn son of Arathorn, foster-son of Elrond, Lord of Imladris. Aragorn, to you I present Master Tom Bombadil, Oldest and Fatherless, Iarwain Ben-adar to the Eldar, Orald to your kin, the Men of the North."
Aragorn bowed gravely to Orald the Oldest, but Tom Bombadil waved off his bow, his eyes twinkling.
"So, Estel, you have a mind to see the lands of the Periannath."
"I will travel as far as Buckland, Master Bombadil, but only Legolas will cross the Baranduin into the Shire proper."
"On the advice of Mithrandir, no doubt."
"Yes, Master Bombadil."
"Tom will do. I am a Master, but I am the master of no one, as no one is the master of me. But say on!"
"Legolas," Aragorn continued, "has an errand to a friend of Gandalf who dwells in Hobbiton. If I accompany him, I may attract undue attention to this friend. Legolas can be more—discreet."
"Yes. Ranger though you be, our Greenleaf here will still slip in and out of Hobbiton more quietly than ever you could. But do not fret, Estel. There will come a time when you will walk openly before the eyes of all. And now, would you like to make the acquaintance of Old Man Willow?"
"Should I?" asked Aragorn cautiously.
"Yes," Tom Bombadil said cheerfully but firmly. "No doubt but that you will be slipping in and out of the Old Forest frequently in the future, and Tom will not always be on hand to guide you. I would introduce you not only to old grey Willow-man but to many other of the trees. You should know whom to avoid and whom to go to for aid."
The remainder of that day, Tom Bombadil led Aragorn and Legolas on a meandering outing through the Old Forest. They stopped to greet some trees, Tom fondly patting their bark and singing his greetings; others they gazed at from a respectful distance as Tom shared his tales of the mischievous or even malicious exploits of said trees.
"Now this oak here," he said, pointing to a particularly gnarled and ancient specimen, "I have known him since he was not much more than an acorn. He was good-tempered as a sapling. 'Tis true he did like to flick acorns at passersby, but no more than most young oaks do. His heart began to go rotten when, proud of his height and strength, he began to grudge sharing his acorns with the squirrels—odd considering that only a few years earlier he had been tossing the nuts away for amusement! Pride is truly a most peculiar thing! The squirrels of course resented his parsimony and took delight in stripping his leaves to pay him back for it. The quarrel has grown worse and worse over the centuries, and now Old Man Oak is as bitter a tree as any in the Old Forest save Old Man Willow himself. So I bid you to remember that you must never, ever take shelter in Old Man Oak's hollow trunk. It looks welcoming, as large and well-sheltered as it is, but Old Man Oak has a nasty habit of closing his trunk up tight as soon as the traveler has comfortably settled himself. Then he pelts his unfortunate prisoner with acorns for as long as it takes for a squirrel or a bird to bring me word that someone wants rescuing. Many a traveler has come out from within that trunk all covered with knots and bruises! Heed me well!"
Both Legolas and Aragorn assured him that they would, and Tom Bombadil led them on. At length they came to the famous Old Man Willow himself, who appeared to be drowsing in the warm afternoon sun, his drooping branches soughing in the breeze. The ancient willow was a clever one, however, and he was actually wide awake, hoping that his quiescence would lure the unwary into coming near. In part he succeeded, for Aragorn, curious, took a step closer to the tree of which he had heard so much. The wily willow instantly shot out one of its branches, which wrapped itself like a tentacle around Aragorn's ankle. The young Man found himself yanked off his feet and dragged toward the willow. Legolas gave a yell and leaped after him, but he was knocked backward by another one of the willow's powerful limbs. Only at the command of Tom Bombadil did the willow release Aragorn, albeit by dropping him abruptly onto his head. Dazed, he arose and staggered away from the tree, which could not resist swatting him on the bottom as he retreated. "Hey!" shouted Aragorn indignantly, but Tom Bombadil only laughed.
"That'll serve you, young sir. Do not underestimate the power of a tree!"
"I will never make the same mistake," swore Aragorn, ruefully rubbing his head.
Their tour of the Old Forest at an end for the day, Tom Bombadil led his guests to his cottage, where his spouse Goldberry awaited with a smile and good cheer. That evening Tom and Goldberry presided over a merry feast of such foods as the forest and its meadows furnished: fruits and berries, herbs and roots, washed down with water as sweet and heady as the finest wine.
The next day they resumed their tour of the Old Forest. The morning after, satisfied that his guests would be able to safely navigate the Old Forest upon their return, Tom Bombadil led Elf and Ranger to a tunnel that led under the tall, thick hedge, the High Hay, that separated the Old Forest from the Hobbits' Buckland. He had no key for the gate, but he spoke words of command, which he taught to Legolas and Aragorn.
"I'll warrant Mithrandir himself does not know this spell," Tom chortled, "for I understand that he uses a key that a Took or a Brandybuck gifted him."
Legolas knew this to be so, for he had seen the very key. The Elf was not surprised that Tom Bombadil, Oldest and Fatherless, had magic of his own, but he wondered whether the words of command would work when uttered by a Man or even an Elf. Tom read his mind.
"Fear not, young Prince. The power of these words comes from the deep magic of the earth itself. Clutch a handful of soil in your fist as you utter them, and they will surely cause the gate to spring open."
Reassured, Legolas and Aragorn thanked Tom Bombadil and bade him farewell. Slipping out on the Buckland side of the hedge, the two friends looked about for shelter. As Aragorn had told Tom Bombadil, he was to remain behind in Buckland, whose borders he would scout while Legolas went on to Hobbiton. Gandalf had asked the Elf to convey his greetings to Bilbo Baggins. He had also asked Legolas to take careful stock of Bilbo's health and well-being, although he had been rather cagey about why he was so concerned about the Hobbit.
"Bilbo is after all getting on in years," the wizard had told Legolas. "He is quite old for a Perian."
Legolas thought that Gandalf was not telling him all that he could. Why, the Elf wondered, was it necessary to be so secret if all the wizard wanted was news of the Hobbit's health? For Gandalf had been quite insistent on the need for secrecy.
"Don't draw any attention to yourself, Legolas. Don't let it be known that you are visiting Bilbo. Travel at night, and keep to the cover of the trees whenever possible. Whilst at Bag End, stay within during the day."
Yet Legolas forbore pressing the wizard for any explanations. Over the centuries he had learned to trust Gandalf implicitly. He knew the Istar must have his reasons, and that was enough for the Elf.
Now Elf and Man scouted about until they found a good campsite, one that was well hidden and close to a spring. They rested there until nightfall, when Legolas bade Aragorn farewell and set off for Hobbiton.
Legolas' first task was to cross the Baranduin.
"There is a ferry," Gandalf had told the Elf, "but of course it wouldn't do for you to stroll up and ask the ferryman to take you across. The Hobbits have an excellent post, and within the day it would be all over the Shire that one of the Fair Folk was in their midst. No, you must cross the Brandywine Bridge. I am sure that you can slip across surreptitiously sometime during the night."
"If I cannot, then I am no Elf," declared Legolas warmly.
Gandalf had told Legolas that the bridge was about twenty miles north of their entry point into Buckland, and Legolas covered the distance quickly and easily. As he had anticipated, he encountered no difficulties. It was a good night for a surreptitious journey. There was no moon; moreover, thick clouds obscured even the stars. When the Elf drew near the bridge, he found that two Hobbits were minding it. Legolas smiled when he saw this to be so. One Hobbit might watch the bridge; two would watch each other! The Hobbits sat off to one side, leaning against a stanchion, their backs to the bridge. They were smoking companionably and gossiping about the small doings of friends and family. Keeping to the shadows, Legolas circled around them, until their backs were to him as well. Then he simply stepped quietly onto the bridge and crossed into the Shire proper. The Hobbits never so much as glanced over their shoulders.
Keeping to the shelter of hedges and trees, Legolas traveled several more miles before dawn caused him to seek shelter in a copse. There he slept until dusk, when he resumed his journey after nibbling on a wafer of lembas and sipping from his water bladder. An hour before dawn, he slipped into Hobbiton and sought out Bilbo's dwelling, whose situation and appearance had been carefully described to him by Gandalf. Spying it, he crept up and hid in the shrubbery alongside it. Gently he tapped upon one of the windows. After waiting patiently for a time, he rapped a little louder. From within he heard a bed frame creak and then a thump and a muffled exclamation, as if someone had arisen and bumped into a piece of furniture. Sure enough, he heard someone say, "Drat that chair—I do believe it's gone and moved itself!"
Legolas grinned. Footsteps shuffled toward the casement, and he heard the latch lifted. The frame was pushed outward, and a curly head poked out the window and peered about.
"Wizard, Dwarf, or Elf?" said the Hobbit. "Whichever you be, show yourself, if you please. 'Tis a cold night!"
"Elf," said Legolas, arising from his hiding place in the bushes.
"Ah, of course. A Dwarf would have been noisier, and had it been Gandalf, I'd 'a smelled the pipeweed on his garments—he smokes more than any Dwarf! I'll just go round and unlock the front door."
Legolas crept to the front of the house, careful to stay in the shadows. Bilbo unlocked the round door, cracked it open a bit, and Legolas slipped in.
"Hungry, Master Elf?" said Bilbo, without any other preliminaries. Legolas was not surprised. Gandalf had told him that any exchange with the Hobbit was sure to be accompanied by a 'bite', more or less.
"A little thirsty, Master Baggins, if you please."
"Some wine, then? I'll not offer you beer, for no doubt it is not your cup of tea, if you will pardon the expression. And no doubt tea is not your cup of tea, neither!"
"I would greatly appreciate a cup of wine," said Legolas, smiling.
"And will you have a biscuit with that?"
"Indeed, I would be glad of a biscuit."
The two had entered the kitchen, and Legolas took a chair, his legs pressed against his chest, as the chair was, of course, sized for a Hobbit rather than a tall Elf. Bilbo poured a glass of wine for Legolas and disappeared briefly into the cellar, returning with a mug of beer for himself. Placing a plate of biscuits on the table, the Hobbit then seated himself at the table opposite from Legolas.
"You know my name, else you wouldn't be here. Now who might you be?"
"My name is Legolas."
"Legolas, eh. That means Greenleaf, does it not?"
"Mithrandir told me that you were learnéd in the elven tongues. I see that he spoke the truth."
"'Learnéd' would be stretching matters a bit, I think, but I do know a few phrases. Certainly it takes no scholar to know that Legolas means Greenleaf. It comes from Laiqualässe, does it not?"
Legolas was impressed.
"Truly, Master Baggins, you are a scholar, although you would deny it."
"Call me Bilbo, and, yes, I will deny it. But enough bantering. I see that you have drained your cup and eaten three biscuits. Would you like me to show you to your room?"
"Yes, Bilbo, if you please."
"I do please," said Bilbo briskly, leaping up and leading Legolas down a corridor to a room whose door was a little larger than the other doors in the Hobbit hole. Bilbo flung it open and gestured inside.
"That bed is a little longer than the beds in the other rooms. Gandalf stays in here when he visits. He complains that the bed is still too short for his frame, but I tell him he ought to be more flexible about things. 'Can't you bend?' I ask him. 'Doesn't do to be too rigid!'"
Bilbo chuckled at his own humor, and Legolas assured him that he was quite flexible enough to sleep upon the bed.
"Good night, then," said Bilbo cheerfully. "Or good day, actually, as the sun is just coming up!" With a wave and a smile, the hobbit shut the door, leaving Legolas to sort himself out. The bedstead was indeed shorter than Legolas was used to, but it was wide enough and well furnished with bolster and feather mattress and soft, warm quilts. Legolas had no trouble making himself comfortable, and as he drifted off to sleep, he felt momentarily guilty at being so well sheltered when Aragorn no doubt had spent the night curled up in his bedroll at the base of some tree.
Legolas could have spared himself the guilt. At this moment Aragorn was waking up in a most comfortable setting. He was, in fact, exceptionally well housed, even if his bed was shorter than Legolas's. It seems that Aragorn's skill at hiding his tracks had been no match for the sharp eyes of two observant Hobbits who had been out in search of mushrooms. Perhaps, assuming that the Hobbits had no woodcraft—Gandalf had described them as quite domesticated!—Aragorn had not been as careful as he should have been.
"I do believe those are man-tracks," exclaimed Saradoc Brandybuck—'Scattergold' to his friends for his habit of wasting his farthings on trifles for all lasses in general, but Esmeralda Took in particular.
His friend Paladin Took (who was, incidentally, Esmeralda's brother) looked carefully at the prints in the soft soil by a spring.
"Right you are, Scat'gold. They are booted and much too large to be anything but the tracks of one of the Big Folk."
"Wonder what he is doing wandering about here. What say we follow him, Pal'in?"
"Yes, let's!"
A Took or a Brandybuck was of course much more likely to do that sort of thing than the Bolgers, Boffins, and Bracegirdles who clustered in the tame environs of Hobbiton and Bywater. Thus, with the zeal both of their blood and their youth, Scat'gold and Pal'in enthusiastically set out to follow the trail, growing quiet when they realized they were catching up to the stranger. As Gandalf and certain Dwarves knew, Hobbits can move very quietly indeed if they need or wish to. In fact, in his stealth Bilbo Baggins came near rivaling an Elf. (Oddly, Gandalf was made uneasy by Bilbo's ability to move about without being seen. He had gravely warned Legolas that he would have to keep a sharp eye on Bilbo if he did not want the Hobbit to give him the slip. 'Unnatural', Legolas had heard the wizard mutter.)
Now Pal'in and Scat'gold carefully peered through ferns at the human stranger, who had crouched down and was gathering—mushrooms!
"Hey, you!" shouted Pal'in and Scat'gold simultaneously as they leaped as one from their hiding place. "That's our mushroom patch!"
Aragorn froze, not because he was afraid but because he did not wish to alarm the Periannath by suddenly arising to his full height. Perhaps, though, he shouldn't have worried, for Pal'in and Scat'gold were so indignant that they were unlikely to have been intimidated by even the tallest of Men. The two were excessively fond of mushrooms and resented nothing so much as a fungus-poacher. Their indignation was ironic, however, for they were not above poaching mushrooms themselves, as certain farmers in the Shire proper had reason to know.
"Your pardon, sirs," said Aragorn politely. "I did not know that this was your patch. I am sure I should have asked permission if I had." He gestured toward a cloth upon which lay several mushrooms. "These are of course yours, and you are welcome to them." He sat back upon his heels, his hands upon his knees where the Hobbits could see them.
Mollified by the young human's conciliatory speech and behavior, Pal'in and Scat'gold immediately abandoned all resentment. Besides, they were inquisitive, as are all Hobbits. They would rather pepper someone with questions than fight with him.
"We don't see many Big People hereabouts," said Pal'in frankly. "Even our wizard hasn't been about much these last few years."
"Your wizard? You must mean Gandalf."
"You know Gandalf?"
"Oh, yes," exclaimed Aragorn. He drew forth a long-stemmed pipe from his pack.
"See the rune for 'G' on this pipe. That's Gandalf's sign."
"How came you by his pipe?" said Scat'gold a trifle suspiciously. "Happen you took it without his leave?"
"No! No! I broke my pipe, and he gave me his. He was setting off for Erebor and told me to never mind, that he would be able to get two or three new pipes from the Dwarves there. He gets along famously with the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain."
"That's true," acknowledged Scat'gold. "I've heard him say that himself."
"How is it that you met with Gandalf in the first place?" asked Pal'in, who really did think that the Istar was 'their' wizard and was surprised at anyone else knowing him.
"I met him at Rivendell, the home of Lord Elrond. One of my fondest memories of Imladris is of seeing Gandalf blowing smoke creatures out the end of his pipe."
"Oh, so you have seen his smoke creatures," exclaimed Pal'in, delighted. "They are very clever."
"I much prefer his fireworks," said Scat'gold.
"I have never seen a display of his fireworks," said Aragorn honestly, "but I have been told that they are very impressive."
"Who told you so?" said Scat'gold curiously. "Was it a Hobbit?"
"No, an Elf I met in Rivendell," replied Aragorn. He wondered whether he ought to mention Legolas' name and then decided against it. Just then, the Hobbits decided that it was time for some introductions of their own.
"I," said Pal'in proudly, "am Paladin Took—Paladin the Second, to be pre-cise."
"And I," announced Scat'gold with equal pride, "am Saradoc Brandybuck, of Brandy Hall."
"But you can call me Scat'gold," added the same.
"And me Pal'in," chimed in his companion.
The two looked at Aragorn expectantly. He decided it would be wise to be circumspect even in the company of Halflings.
"I am Thorongil," he declared.
"That would make you 'Gil," proclaimed Scat'gold.
The future heir to the throne of Gondor was not at all certain that he wanted to be a 'Gil, but, as he was in Hobbit territory, he wisely decided to acquiesce. This turned out to be a prudent choice, as his hosts were to prove extraordinarily accommodating. They commenced to look about the mushroom patch.
"Say, Scat'gold," said Pal'in, "as we are here, what say we gather ourselves a mess of mushrooms. And then let's take 'em and our friend here to Brandy Hall and get your Gamma to cook 'em for we three."
"Yes, but not mushrooms only," rejoined Scat'gold.
"Oh, to be sure! I wasn't thinking that we'd sup on mushrooms alone!"
Pal'in proceeded to reel off a list of at least a dozen dishes, each of which would be fair accompaniment for mushrooms. Listening, Aragorn grew hungry, and suddenly his stomach rumbled mightily. The two Hobbits giggled.
"Well," chortled Pal'in, "methinks 'Gil approves of the plan."
"His stomach does, anyway," agreed Scat'gold, grinning and winking at Aragorn, who grinned back.
The two Hobbits and the young Man set to gathering mushrooms with a will. Pal'in and Scat'gold laid their jackets upon the ground and heaped them high with the fungal treats, and Aragorn filled every spare corner of his pack. Then they shouldered their winnings and set out for Brandy Hall, where Aragorn was received most graciously, the Brandybucks not sharing the prejudices of most of the Hobbits who dwelt in the Shire proper, who would have looked askance at any Man, let alone one dressed as a Ranger. After a most excellent dinner, at which it rained ale and snowed mushrooms, Aragorn was shown to a comfortable (if small) bed, and curling up upon it, he slept contentedly—although it must be confessed that, after all that ale, he snored like a Bree-lander!
So it was that Legolas, although he knew it not, had no cause to worry about the welfare of his friend—not for that night, at any rate.