DISCLAIMER:
See chapter six
Series:
None.
Spoilers:
See chapter one
A/N: All right, first off, thank you for those who reviewed and took the time to help me about with my research…I just have a couple of things to mention…
I have an idea how old Elrond might be, though I've pretty much given up ever figuring out exactly how old he is, because of the conflicting accounts and difficulty at guess time during the First Age. Because his brother was born 58 years before the end of the first age, and I think I read somewhere that he and his brother were born twins, then he'd be roughly six thousand years old. :-)
I feel terribly stupid. I forgot that Green elves were Silvan, and had Nandorin for their language. Sindarin is the elvish for, surprise-surprise, the Sindar—but it is also the daily use language of the elves during the time that I am writing. Quenya was more of an arcane and ancient form of elvish. The analogy I use to show the differences is Sindarin is modern day English and Quenya is Elizabethan English. You can use either, but Sindarin is more understood.
Also, check out the Question and Answer section at www.theonering.net. They have several articles about the Sindar and the Silvan elves.
If you want to read more about the languages of the elves, check out The Peoples of Middle-Earth from the library. I read an article in The Peoples of Middle-Earth that of the elves under Celeborn and Galadriel's rule (since Celeborn himself was a Grey-elf) the majority were Silvan. Same with Thranduil, though perhaps there were more Sindarin in Mirkwood since Thranduil and his son were both Sindarin lords. And while Sindarin was the daily use-language, other languages such as Nandorin and Quenya were also used in Middle-Earth.
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Three Rings for the Elven-Kings
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Chapter Eight
The Beginning
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Legolas sighed and shifted under the weight of his pack. They had been traveling slightly more than a fortnight, south along the path of the Misty Mountains, the mountains to their left. Gandalf hoped to follow the line of the mountains until they came to an old and rarely used pass that would take them near to Lothlórien and the Anduin River. He did not say why it was rarely used, and no one asked.
Hantor was, in the elves opinion, disgustingly cheerful. Their opinion of him, however, could also in part be due to the fact that the dwarves had taken a liking to him. Hantor's uncle had been a smith, and the dwarves were enjoying critiquing the way human smith work was done.
Aragorn was quiet, staying close to Legolas and Endara, neither of whom said much. Legolas seemed almost perpetually weary, and Endara was obviously concerned about him. However, despite Gandalf's fear that they might be spotted early on, the first few weeks of travel were surprisingly pleasant. It was not as cold as it might be, and during the evening the stars were clear and bright. Sometimes one or two of the elves would sing—usually Endara or Legolas, since Sealbeth was rather quiet and aloof, and wished little to do with the dwarven companions. Since the dwarves didn't like Sealbeth any more than Sealbeth liked them, this wasn't much of a problem.
Legolas stumbled wearily in the dark; it wasn't that he was tired, or even that it was dark—but the Ring dragged on his neck, weighing him down. Legolas, it whispered. Come to me, Legolas…I can give you all you desire…the power can be returned from the hands of Men into the hands of Elves…where it belongs… Legolas shut his mind to the temptation. At first he ran through his linage, tracing it back through his father, and then his mother, as far as he knew; after that he ran every song and chant through his head that he had learned through the long years of his life. But as the days wore on he was running out of poems and songs, things to keep his mind busy as the Ring whispered to him, taunting him.
"Let us camp here tonight," Gandalf declared. It was pitch-black; even the stars were gone tonight. The only light came from the crystal in Gandalf's staff.
Legolas sat down at the edge of camp and shivered. He had been cold an awful lot lately, and he wasn't sure if something was wrong with him or if it was just the Ring.
All you could desire…
Legolas jerked; he must have dozed off slightly. A fire was burning merrily in the middle of the camp. Thanks to a handful of herbs and wood chips Sealbeth carried, their fire had absolutely no smoke, a blessing for which they were all thankful. A fire meant hot foot and warmth for tired bodies.
Sealbeth was cooking this evening; the elf wouldn't let either dwarf anywhere near the food storages after their first, disastrous attempt at dinner. Hantor had laughed so hard he'd bent double at the expression on the fussy elf's face, and even Gandalf and Aragorn had been inclined to laugh at the disaster.
Aragorn knelt down by the elf, holding a bowl of stew in each hand. "Legolas? Are you awake?"
Legolas, who had been staring straight ahead without moving, blinked suddenly and smiled.
"Can you still not tell when we rest, Aragorn?" he teased. "Raised among elves, and you cannot even tell when one is awake!"
"Yes, another reason I enjoy my kindred more than yours," Aragorn returned lightly. Legolas laughed out-loud at that, surprising the rest of the Company. Aragorn's smile widened. Legolas had not laughed in too long.
"Eat. Before Sealbeth has a fit."
"I am afraid I might be too late."
Aragorn laughed and sat down next to the elf. Neither spoke as they ate, and while Aragorn went for seconds when it was clear the elves were only going to have one serving each, Legolas put down his bowl and sighed.
"Gimli, do you know any good tales you might tell?" Hantor asked lightly, licking his lips. He was eyeing the half-filled pot with the hunger only a young man can have. Aragorn noticed and offered him another serving, which he accepted gratefully.
"Well, there is the tale of the 'Drunken Dwarf-Maid'," Gimli rumbled. Sealbeth let out a long suffering sigh.
"There's also the tale of the 'Aggravating Elf Boy'," snapped his slightly-less-tactful brother. Sealbeth shot him an iron glare.
"What about the tale of 'The Elflet's Bow and the Dwarfsies' Bow'?" Hantor said in a sudden burst of inspiration.
Everyone stopped talking and stared at him. "The what?" Aragorn exclaimed, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.
Without responding, Hantor began to sing.
"There was an elf, a very blond elf
"Who lived with his very blond bow
"Who killed all blonde-elf's foes
"So Blond Elf put it on a shelf
"There was a dwarf, a very brown dwarf
"Who lived with his very dwarf-bow
"He bowed to anyone who asked how
"Why did he live with a bow on a wharf.
"So one day the dwarf was away from his wharf
"And ran into the Blond Elf
"Who just wasn't himself
"Because he'd just met a dwarf."
For the life of him, Legolas was amazed at the skill of Hantor. He and the rest of the Company (barring Sealbeth, who refused to be amused) were laughing so hard by now that they could hardly contain themselves. Yet Hantor kept on singing, ignoring the laughter around him.
"There was the elf who wasn't himself
"And there was the dwarf who lived on a wharf
"And there was the bow and bow and the elf and the dwarf
"And said the very Blond Elf:
" 'Hey ho! Hey ha! Who are you Bowing Dwarfsie?'
" 'Hey ha! Hey ho! Who are you Elflet's Bow?'
" 'Are those ears just for show?'
" 'Argh! Must you know?'"
"And so the very Blond Elflet's Bow
"And the very brown Dwarfsies' Bow
"Was hidden until just now
"But hey nonny, you know!"
Legolas clapped heartedly, smiling. Endara put his fingers to his lips and whistled; a very human gesture, but if the blood rushing to the young Ranger's ears was any indication, the complements were well received.
"You call that a tale?" Sealbeth asked in disbelief.
"Oh, come, Sealbeth," Legolas said, his tone holding a hint of warning. "It was a good tale!"
"I will never be friends with a dwarf," Sealbeth said coldly, and walked out of sight into the distant trees.
Hantor hesitated, and then took off after him. "Where are you going?" Aragorn asked.
"To mend a very blond elf's pride!"
Gandalf chuckled. "That one will be a good Ranger, when he grows older," he said softly to Aragorn. The Ranger nodded.
"Yes. I know."
* * * *
Hantor struggled to keep up with the elf's rapid pace. His foot was beginning to ache and sweat broke out on his face. "Sealbeth, doro!"
"Avon! Ego edain!"
"Tarlanc edhel!"
"Glenna dan edain."
"Teli meldir. Ped an nin."
Sealbeth finally stopped and glared at the limping human. His eyes softened, however, when Hantor tripped and nearly fell. The elf caught him with surprising gentleness and eased him to the ground. Hantor was white as paper and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face.
"You shouldn't be out alone," Hantor said, struggling for breath. "None of us should."
Sealbeth stared at him. "I have been taking care of myself longer than you have been alive, human."
"I have a name, Sealbeth. Hantor. Please use it."
Sealbeth stood and began to move away again. "Sealbeth."
The elf stopped and looked back.
"May I ask a favor?"
"What?" he asked warily.
"When I am gone, go to my parents and tell them I'm sorry."
Sealbeth's face held puzzlement. "What are you talking about? Are you so sure you will die on this quest?"
Hantor smiled gently. "It's not that. I'm dying."
Sealbeth rocked onto his heels. "What?"
"You heard me."
"Why do you not ask another to do this?" he demanded. "I hardly know you!"
"It is my death-wish, Sealbeth," he said steadily. "Please."
At last Sealbeth nodded, though his face and heart were weary. He started to turn away again, and flinched when Hantor spoke. "You do not befriend humans, do you?"
"No. Not if I can help it."
"Why?"
Sealbeth didn't answer.
"Is it because we die so soon?"
Still he was silent.
"Or is it because you see us as worthless?"
Sealbeth turned to stare at Hantor. "Why did you follow me out here, human? Why do you ask me to carry you death-wish?"
Hantor was quiet for a moment. "Because I remember you."
"What?"
"As a little boy, you came to my farm once. A very long time ago. Do you remember? I was about four years old. You were hurt—you were bleeding on your side. Father and our neighbor carried you in unconscious. But by the time they returned with the healer you'd gone."
Sealbeth stood amazed. He did indeed remember the little boy who had watched without speaking as he left the house. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Hantor stood and limped back towards camp.
"Why do you choose me?" Sealbeth cried.
The only answer was the wind fluttering in the breeze, and the smell of dampness on the air. The leaves shifted by Sealbeth's feet, but the elf did not move or speak until long into the evening.
*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*?*
All of the following words are Sindarin.
doro=halt, stop!
Avon = I won't
Ego = Be off!
Edain=human, see below
Tarlanc = stubborn, stiff-necked
Edhel = elf.
Glenna = go
Dan = back
Edain = human, Man, but it came to be primarily associated with Men of the Three Houses.
Teli = come
Meldir = male friend
Ped = speak
An = to
Nin = me, my
Any comments? Not much action, but I wanted to get into Hantor's character a little more…I like him. :-) Please note, in the song, the elf has a "bow" in the form of a weapon, and the dwarf has a "bow" in the form of bending over at the waist. I just realized that they're spelled exactly the same. :-)