It was a fine spring afternoon when the stranger came to Hobbiton. Clouds danced across the wide sky of blue, the grass over every hill was green and strewn with early flowers, and the Water was chattering pleasantly with the wind as it ran down to the Brandywine.
Bilbo was out in the Bywater market that day, clad in his favorite blue jacket, with a basket under his arm. The market was a busy place, for the spring harvest was in, and several farmers were trying to sell the first of their carrots and cabbages. Aside from that, there were always the butchers and cheese mongers and bakers who had their goods nearly all year round. The crowd of Hobbits around him, buying or selling, was chattering away at its normal volume. Now and then, Bilbo was given a "how do you do, Mr. Baggins?" or a "lovely afternoon, Mr Baggins." Bilbo returned these greetings with smiles, nods, and the few words required in response to such pleasantries. By now, Bilbo had grown used to being a Hobbit of importance in society. He was in his fiftieth year, which was still the prime of life. His mother had died six years previously, leaving him to inherit Bag End and what remained of the family fortune. Bilbo was quite the bachelor now, enjoying his solitary, peaceful, and rather normal life as a wealthy, respectable Hobbit. He was very proud of his name and reputation; almost as much as he was of his garden or his armchair.
Yes, these sounds were familiar to Bilbo at market time, and it was only when the lively chattering hushed significantly and whispers replaced the racket did Bilbo notice something was amiss.
He looked around the stalls for the cause of the disturbance, and saw something he had not been expecting. Or rather, someone. Not too far away from him, a stranger had crossed the bridge to Bywater and entered the market square. One of the big folk, Bilbo thought to himself, his nose wrinkled. The other Hobbits around him seemed to share his disapproval, and the words "stranger" and "unwelcome" rustled through the crowd like a soft breeze over cornfields. The stranger, however, remained unaffected by the mood of the gossiping Hobbits around him and silently walked along the pathway, inspecting the goods presented in the market stalls for sale.
Bilbo decided to completely ignore the stranger and turned his attention to a butcher's stall, though the Tookish side of him kept prodding him and making him sneak glances at the person. Hood up over his head, the stranger's face was masked in shadow, and a cloak obscured his figure. He was tall, as most big folk, but Bilbo wondered why he hadn't initially heard the stranger approaching. Hobbits had magnificent hearing, and humans were so clumsy it was easy to hear them from a distance.
While Bilbo was mulling over this, the stranger turned and glanced in his direction. Bilbo quickly looked away, turning his attention back to the veal cutlet he was thinking of purchasing for tomorrow's dinner. The crowd had resumed some of its usual chatter as the other Hobbits also tried to ignore the stranger. The butcher− a portly, dark-haired hobbit by the name of Jungo Proudfoot− leaned over the counter.
"I don't like it, Mr. Baggins, sir," he said, eyeing the stranger with a look of concern, "not one bit, I don't. Strangers don't belong 'ere in the Shire."
"I completely agree," Bilbo said, making sure to keep his voice down. "What on earth can he want, coming here?"
"Who knows?" Jungo said. "Heavens me, everyone knows that there's nothing we have here in the Shire that the Big Folk can't get out there, except for maybe the Longbottom Leaf. And old Hardy Bracegirdle has just got in a new supply from the South Farthing. Why, if that no-good stranger is here to buy up all our pipeweed, I-" Mr. Proudfoot's eyes flickered somewhere beyond Bilbo, then widened as he abruptly fell silent.
Bilbo glanced over his shoulder, following Jungo's stare, and jumped. The stranger was standing before a stall not four feet across from Bilbo. Bilbo was surprised- this was no ordinary big-folk, the way he could silently sneak around the market. Now that he was closer, Bilbo was able to better see the stranger, though it vexed him that all he could see was the stranger's back. Bilbo could perceive now that the stranger's coat was smattered with dust and worn in places. This stranger, Bilbo guessed, must have come from a faraway place. It both delighted him and made him nervous- a common experience, the Tookish side clashing with the Baggins side, though the Baggins side of him was always prominent.
That is, almost always.
The hushed chatter of the marketplace was suddenly broken by the sound of screaming Hobbit children, running up the path from the Water. At the forefront was young Paladin Took, a boy only eight years old. "Help!" he was screaming, eyes wide with fear, "it's Esmeralda! She's fallen in the Water, someone help!"
Bilbo heard them and turned pale at the news, the stranger temporarily forgotten. He dropped his market basket as he glanced from the petrified faces of the children up towards the bridge where they had been playing. Hobbits couldn't swim, not in these parts. The child would surely drown.
"Didn't I tell you to watch over your sister?!" Adalgrim Took bellowed, running down to meet his son with anger and fear all over his face.
Little Paladin was crying now. "She just fell off the banks," he was sobbing, "it wasn't my fault…"
Adalgrim, followed by a large group of Hobbits, broke out of the market square at a run, headed for the Water. Bilbo began to sprint after the group, his market basket forgotten behind him.
"Hey!" Bilbo heard Jungo Proudfoot behind him shout, "get away, this isn't your concern!"
Bilbo shot him a confused glance as he ran, then realized that Jungo hadn't been addressing him. Following Jungo's gaze, Bilbo was shocked to see the stranger was running with them towards the bridge. In fact, the stranger was outpacing the entire group of Hobbits, and had soon disappeared ahead of them, over a grassy knoll. The stranger's hood had slipped off; Bilbo still couldn't see the stranger's face, but the stranger's long brown hair was flying in the wind as he ran. Bilbo was more worried about Esmeralda, however, and stifled the Tookish side of him, giving little heed to the stranger.
Soon Bilbo was in sight of the Water, and he could see three little Hobbits running along the banks, screaming. A small shape was in the center of the river, being swept by the cold, spring current, and the sight of it caused Bilbo to run even faster. Little Esmeralda was only five. She had already been swept under the bridge, and the shadow of it seemed to swallow her up.
The stranger had reached the banks of the Water by now, had overtaken the children, and was on the other side of the bridge. Bilbo knew the stranger would be running alongside the banks, following the current and the small child in it. Over the sound of the shouting Hobbits and screaming children, Bilbo soon heard a loud splash as the stranger jumped in the water and struck out after the girl, who he could now see was floating face-down as the stream carried her away.
The Hobbit party ran down the banks after the stranger, and finally came around the edge of the old stone bridge. The children along the bank were snatched up by their respective Hobbit parents, and Adalgrim remained pale in fear and worry. Bilbo noticed the stranger's cloak lying nearby on the bank where it had been thrown off.
There was nothing else anybody could do, since no one else could swim and the child was beyond the bridge. They all watched, tense with fear and worry, as the stranger reached the child and carefully swam ashore with her, two heads bobbing in the water. Once the stranger had swum ashore and was climbing up the bank with the child in his arms, Adalgrim broke from the crowd and ran to meet them. But Bilbo saw the girl's arms swinging limply, and knew deep inside what had happened. Part of him wanted to be sick, and he looked away.
"Is she alright?" he heard Adalgrim ask, his voice heavy with worry.
"She's drowned," the stranger said, laying the child's body on the grass, "stand back."
It took a few moments for the word drowned to sink in. "Stand back?" Adalgrim spluttered, once he comprehended what had happened. "Stand back?! She's my child! And she's drowned! Dead! There's nothing you can do. Oh, my Esmeralda, my dearest Esmeralda," Adalgrim wailed, "what will your mother say?" He threw himself to the ground in grief, wringing his hands. The stranger, meanwhile, bent over Esmeralda's cold body and began pushing rhythmically on the dead girl's chest, ignoring the grieving father.
Bilbo, however, was moved to compassion at Adalgrim's cry. He pushed through the crowd until he was standing behind Adalgrim's crouching form. The remaining Hobbits of the party kept a respectful distance. Some slowly began to walk away.
"I'm s-sorry." Bilbo said, voice shaky, as he put a hand on Adalgrim's shoulder. Death was a tragic thing, and the girl was so young. Adalgrim didn't seem to register Bilbo, lost in his own grief.
Bilbo averted his eyes from the pale, blue-lipped girl on the ground, turning his eyes instead to the stranger. Now able to finally get a good look at him, the first thing Bilbo noticed was that the stranger wasn't a he at all. He was a she. Her long brown hair hung in damp tendrils around her face, which was fair and solemn. Her blue-gray eyes were staring intently down at the child, and as she pressed down on the child's chest she whispered under her breath. Every now and then she would put her lips to Esmeralda's blue ones and blow a breath into her mouth. It made Esmeralda's chest rise, and Bilbo began to watch as if spellbound.
Esmeralda's cheeks slowly started regaining their color as the stranger pushed on her chest. Then all at once Esmeralda gasped in a breath and started vomiting water.
The stranger reacted quickly, rolling the girl onto her side so she didn't choke on what came up. Adalgrim looked up from his stupor of grief in utter surprise, and Bilbo simply stared. The stranger had somehow made the girl alive again.
"Esmeralda!" Adalgrim started to move forward, but the stranger waved him off. "She needs space," the stranger said gently, "let her breathe for a moment."
"I am her father," Adalgrim spluttered.
"And I have saved the lives of drowned children before," the stranger countered. She raised her eyes, a strange blend of blue and gray, to meet Adalgrim's indignant brown ones. Adalgrim swallowed before looking away.
Esmeralda finished coughing up water and bile, and soon resorted to crying and shivering instead. The stranger retrieved her big cloak and wrapped the girl in it. Then she began to gently rub the life and warmth back into the child's skin. In a few minutes, the child had stopped crying and was looking up at the stranger with wide, incredulous eyes. Then she looked beyond the stranger to the tear-stained face of her father. "Daddy!" she cried, reaching a chubby arm towards him.
"I'm here, Emmy," Adalgrim said, kneeling beside his girl and gathering her in his protective arms. "Daddy's here."
"I want to go home," she whined.
"I know, my flower. We will." Adalgrim looked up at the stranger for a moment, who had stepped back to allow their reunion.
The stranger seemed to read the question in his eyes. "Make sure she gets plenty of rest," she said, "and make sure she stays hydrated and has something to eat."
Adalgrim nodded slowly. "What is your name, stranger?" he asked.
"You may call me Andrethiril," she said softly. The stranger seemed older without her cloak on. She had been wearing a green-brown traveler's gown beneath it, and Bilbo could see the tall brown boots that came almost up to her knees. He had never seen clothes of the like before.
"Andrethiril," Adalgrim said, "you brought my daughter back to me. You have the heartfelt thanks of myself and of all the Took family. Should you ask any favor from us, we will be more than happy to grant it, if it is in our power to do so."
"Your thanks is all I could ask for, Master Hobbit," she replied.
He nodded to her in acknowledgement, then stood to his feet and picked up his little daughter, who was still wrapped in the stranger's cloak. While the crowd cheered for joy, Adalgrim carried his little daughter home, with little Paladin tagging along behind. Once Adalgrim and his children were out of sight, the crowd turned to Andrethiril and surrounded her, peppering her with questions. But Bilbo perceived that he had had quite enough excitement for one day, and remembering his forgotten basket he began to climb back up the grassy hill.
That evening, safely in his house with his basket and groceries, Bilbo sat down in his armchair to relax and think things over. What an adventure, he thought to himself. I'm glad no harm came to little Esmeralda.
While he was sitting and wondering who the stranger was exactly (though he believed he would hear all about her in the morning from the Hobbits who had swarmed round her), he heard a ring on his little doorbell. Who could that be? he asked himself, rising leisurely from his chair and striding to the front door. When he opened it, the stranger herself was standing before him, her cloak once again swallowing her figure, having been returned to her by Adalgrim's family.
"Good evening. Are you Mr. Bilbo Baggins?" she asked, dipping a graceful curtsy.
"Yes," he said, hesitantly but not impolitely. She was still a stranger, he reminded himself, as their eyes met− blue on a deeper, more contemplative blue. "What can I do for you?"
"I came to ask you, sir… would you be at all in need of a household servant?"
This was the last thing Bilbo had expected. "Come again?" he asked, wondering if he had heard her correctly.
"Could you use an extra hand about the place?" she repeated. "With the cleaning or the cooking, or anything in between? I'd do anything you asked me to, from arranging flowers to building fires."
Bilbo leaned against the door and regarded her. Her long brown hair hung, still damp, over her shoulders, and her large blue eyes made her look not even the least bit dangerous or untrustworthy. He remembered how she had run to save little Esmeralda. This stranger had a compassionate heart and a gentle soul, from what he could tell.
But strangers, the Baggins side warned, bring nasty, uncomfortable adventures. Her background and upbringing could be questionable at the very least.
"Why should I hire you?" Bilbo asked eventually. "And how do you know my name?"
"I am looking for work, and I asked around in the market," she replied. "I was told you were one of the most respectable and well-to-do hobbits in the Shire." Bilbo puffed out his chest with pride, pleased with the compliments, as she added: "Mr. Proudfoot said you had, by far, the grandest and most beautiful hobbit hole this side of the Water, and so I reasoned that you could use, and afford, a hired hand. I won't ask for much, sir, just room and board."
"I'm sorry, but I don't hire strangers," Bilbo said at last. But he could feel his initial resolve wavering. He had always been curious about the outside world, no matter what the Baggins side tried to make him think, and he figured this stranger had many stories to tell.
"Please, Mr. Baggins," she asked softly, her voice hardly above a whisper. "I can't afford to stay longer at the Inn; I've nowhere else to go, and the springtime is underway. Surely in your magnificent Hobbit hole there is room and plenty of work for one servant." Her voice was low and gentle, and surprisingly earnest.
"Well…" Bilbo considered for a moment. The Tookish side was still prodding him with unasked questions, and the idea of hiring a strange traveler seemed more and more appealing. "Alright," he said at last, his mind made up, "you can work for me, for now, on a trial period. I suppose no harm can come of it. It would be nice to have someone else to manage the household affairs."
Her smile, which spread like a gentle sunrise over her face, removed the last of his doubts. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins," she said, "it's most generous of you."
"What is your name?" Bilbo asked, "I've forgotten."
"Andrethiril."
"And you may call me Bilbo." He adjusted the cuffs of his coat. "Well then, your first task, Miss Andrethiril," he said, "will be to make me my supper. All of this excitement today has gotten me extra hungry. And I assure you," he added, "if you can cook well, we'll get along just fine."
And thus it begins! (I couldn't resist putting in Merry's mother Esmeralda, and Pippin's father Paladin. Oh, those adventurous Took children had better learn to be more cautious!) I expect I'll have new chapters out every other week or so. Please review if you liked it! Any feedback would be appreciated.
