Chapter 6 – Many Meetings
Bilbo felt Gandalf's hand on his shoulder, guiding him through the room as Elrond lead them on. He was thankful for it. Gandalf was his anchor, holding him down to reality as Bilbo walked spellbound, breathless at the sight of so many fair faces. No age was upon them, except for in the depths of their eyes, all flawless and beautiful.
As Elrond walked through the great hall, heads turned down in respect, behaving very much like he was their King. He led them on to a small group of elves, seated off to the side. They stopped before them just as the fog lifted from Bilbo's mind, as the enchantment of the song ended, relinquishing its hold on him.
"Master Baggins, may I introduce to you, my family," Elrond proudly said, as two identical looking elves in the likeness of Elrond, stood catching the lord off guard in a very informal hug. "These are my two sons, Elladan and Elrohir," Elrond said, recovering his composure.
"This is Glorfindel," Elrond said, referring to a very fair, golden haired elf. "And Lindir, you've met. May I introduce-"
"My Lady Galadriel," Gandalf beamed, interrupting Elrond, as he took her hand within his, kissing it lightly. She was the fairest in the room, clad in a gown of white, her hair was of a deep gold.
She said no word but looked upon his face. Their eyes met and Bilbo felt his heart pierced with a bright light. For a fair light shone in her eyes, brighter and older than both the sun and the moon, telling of an age older than the day and night itself.
He was trapped within her gaze. Her eyes, he felt as though she was searching him, looking far into his soul, his mind, into the depths of his very being. He couldn't tell how long he was caught, for time seemed to both slow down and speed up. Until she released him, turning away with a wry smile.
Gandalf took her hand and lead her away, speaking softly to her in that musical language. Bilbo's respect for Gandalf grew to new lengths, for he could endure the presence of such a being.
The golden elf, Glorfindel offered Bilbo glass of wine, as Elrond claimed the empty spot beside his sons for his own.
Bilbo found that conversation flowed smoothly with the elves. They spoke to him in the common tongue, asking him a great many questions of his home and the woods around The Shire. They seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, for few elves rarely ventured deep into that part of the world these days.
In like, they told Bilbo of Rivendell, answering his many curious questions. Bilbo drank it all in, like a wide-eyed child, willing to believe anything, taking their word as gold.
"If you'd excuse me," Lindir said after a while, looking slightly flushed. "I need some air, I seem to have a bottomless wine glass."
Elrond raised an eyebrow as Lindir made his way out the doors towards the balcony. Elrond looked towards Glorfindel suspiciously. Glorfindel fiend innocence and conveniently avoided eye contact, then sighed.
"I borrowed a few bottles from Círdan and only wish to consume all the evidence before he arrives," Glorfindel admitted.
"I have always thought you to be fearless, my friend," Elrond jested.
Glorfindel only responded with a small smile.
"Who is Círdan?" Bilbo asked.
"He is the oldest of us left in Middle Earth," Elrond replied.
"He's around eleven thousand years old or so, give or take a few," one of the twins added.
"He is one of the wisest and most respected of our kind," the other twin said.
Bilbo was surprised by this news. Eleven thousand years old! And he thought he was getting old, having reached his fifties. He wondered if Círdan was as fair and beautiful as these faces around him. To rest eyes upon the oldest being in Middle Earth.
"He is also the only one of our kind with a beard," one of the twins said. "Elladan, remember when we were elflings on our first visit to see him. We had found Círdan asleep and put hundreds of tiny braids into his beard."
Elladan nodded as Elrond released as small laugh at the memory. "I remember it well," Elrond said. "The look on his face."
"Was he angry?" Bilbo asked.
"Oh no, he took it all in good humor. He's been around a few elflings in his day. Besides they were just young children at the time," Elrond said, looking towards his smiling sons.
The elves around Bilbo all smiled fondly at the memory. Bilbo watched Elrond laugh and joke freely with his family. He always thought the elves to be serious and mysterious. The hobbit found he rather enjoyed their sense of humor. To be so old and to have seen so much, yet still able to find joy in the rather small simple things in life, the splendor of the elves was far greater than Bilbo had expected.
As the laughter subsided Bilbo found himself mesmerized by the sight of elvish dancing. Though calling it merely dancing would not do what he saw justice, for it looked as though they were gliding through the air. The fabric of their gowns flowed around them as soft streams of light, as they gracefully moved to the harmonious tune of harps playing in the background.
Bilbo turned to ask Elrond a question, noting Glorfindel was gone, but stopped before he opened his mouth. Elrond's eyes sparkled, dancing off the light as he softly spoke to his sons. Bilbo did not understand the words of what they spoke of. He watched them for a moment. By action alone he could tell Elrond had a great love for his sons.
Oh, to be a father, Bilbo thought. No, not a father but maybe perhaps an Uncle.
Bilbo had no siblings but he had a few cousins running about. He always rather enjoyed the little ones, their minds and imaginations untainted by adulthood. He could see the relationship blossoming between his cousin Drogo and the beautiful Primula, he suspected there were to be announcements of their betrothal soon. It was a shame he may never see them again, this journey with Thorin could be he last.
Feeling somewhat emotional, perhaps an effect of the wine, Bilbo slipped out from the Hall of Fire unnoticed, hoping a few moments under the night sky would help to clear his mind. Elrond seemed so happy speaking with his sons; Bilbo did not wish to disturb them.
He made his way onto the balcony, deeply breathing in the fresh air. When he heard it, once again finding himself entwined within that beautiful sound. Bilbo surreptitiously followed, his ears leading the way.
The sight before him stole his breath.
The fairness of the elves has no bounds, he thought, for Lindir was gracefully sitting upon a railing, the vast tumbling of waterfalls lay behind him, the crescent moon high in the night sky above him, surrounded by thousands of stars. Lindir glowed, sitting there under the moonlight, with his eyes closed, singing softly to himself.
Bilbo hid behind a column, not wanting to disturb this beautiful creature, ruining the purity of the scene before him.
The song ended, but Lindir sat there, unmoving.
"You do not have to hide behind that column, you can come out Master Baggins," he said.
Bilbo jumped at the sudden noise. For though he hand been quiet.
"I mean not to intrude," Bilbo replied, stepping out from behind his hiding place.
"Tis no intrusion, you are free to come and go as you wish."
"That song you were just singing, what was it about? I found it quite, well I don't know if it is proper to say, but rather beautiful, as if I were caught in an enchantment," Bilbo stammered, earning a smile from Lindir.
"Tis a sad song, The Fall of Gil-galad," Lindir said. "I wrote for Lord Elrond, when I first came here."
"You are not from Rivendell?" Bilbo asked, surprised.
"Nay, I was raised in the Grey Havens. My parents were great friends to Lord Círdan."
"Could you teach it to me? That song I mean," Bilbo asked, not liking the solemn expression on Lindir's face. It seemed so out of place amongst the merriment he had just witnessed in the Hall of Fire.
"It is a long song, mayhap only a few verses tonight," Lindir agreed, with a smile. "But I shall have to translate it for you first. There is little reason to sing, if you do not understand the meaning behind the words. Song is meant to open the mind and touch the soul."
So they sat there together under the light of the moon. Bilbo upon a cushioned bench, Lindir on the balcony railing, as Lindir softly and patiently taught Bilbo his song. Bilbo was a quick of the mind, learning, vowing never to forget the words Lindir spoke of, for they seemed to speak to Bilbo's own heart.
Lindir was halfway through the third verse when he stopped, mid sentence, looking up from Bilbo. "We are not alone," he said.
Bilbo turned around, for he had not heard anyone approaching. The twin sons of Elrond stood before them.
"May we join you?" one of them asked.
Lindir silently motioned towards a bench.
"So, Master Baggins, how are you liking Imladris?" one of the twins asked.
"Your home is extraordinary, so warm and welcoming. For once I do not miss my own," Bilbo said thoughtfully. "Lord Elrond's kindness, to share everything so openly."
"Aye, the only place father does not share is his bed," the twin stated, casually pulling out an elegant pipe from within the depths of his robe.
"Elrohir! How could you even say that?" Lindir said, looking very much offended. "You have been riding out with those Dúnedain for far too long, they are a bad influence on your tongue." He jumped down from the railing and started walking away.
"Aww Lindir, don't go," Elrohir called after him, as Lindir turned the corner disappearing from sight.
Bilbo sadly watched. He'd have to find Lindir later and thank him.
"I hope I did not offend him. He idolizes father. Rarely does he concern himself with mortals," Elrohir explained.
"Tis all right Elrohir, he leaves because you pulled out your pipe," Elladan said, pulling out his own identical one.
Bilbo raised an eyebrow in disbelief, the twins seeing this explained, "Like Lindir said, we've been around the Dúnedain for far too long, bound to pick up a few bad habits."
"Still, I was under the impression elves did not care for pipe weed," Bilbo said, surprised, as he too reached for his own pipe. He always kept is close, within the front pocket of his vest.
"We are not elves or rather not fully. We are Peredhil, half-elven, because of this, there are a few small differences."
"Your mother was a human?" Bilbo asked surprised.
"Oh no, our mother was is an elf. Galadriel's daughter actually."
"But Lord Elrond?"
"He is a Peredhil. Father made his choice to be counted amongst the elves. Since he is half-elven we inherited the characteristic from him."
"Does he smoke pipe weed too?" Bilbo asked.
"Nay, he does not care for it. At first we didn't either, but soon became accustomed to it, having travelled many years with the second-born."
The other twin agreed, "Tis not so bad, I understand why Mithrandir has taken such a liking to it."
Bilbo, looked at the twins in awe as they lit his pipe for him. He had thought there had been something different about them, something he couldn't quite place. Now he had his answers.
"Father tells us that you mean to journey to Erebor."
"What route will you take? To you plan to go through Mirkwood? I suspect that would be the most efficient path, though not the safest. Be weary and stay on guard, foul creatures roam those woods," said one of the twins, through puffs of his pipe.
"I've heard ill words about its King," Bilbo said.
Both twins were quick to defend. "Thranduil is a kindly King. Both wise and just. A dark shadow grows, looming over his realm. He has the safety of his people to protect. As long as you mean his people no harm, then he will show you none. Mirkwood is one of the most dangerous places to live and travel."
Bilbo could only nod in response, taking in these words, so different from what he had been told by Thorin. Bilbo could not understand Thorin's hatred for such creatures. They were not cruel or malicious, they were quite the opposite, welcoming and caring, showing endless kindness, expecting nothing in return. Perhaps it was because dwarves and elves were just too different from each other. Bilbo wondered; could a dwarf and an elf truly ever be friends?
"We have a friend in Mirkwood," one of twins explained. "If you go through there, say hi to him for us. He shouldn't be hard to miss, golden hair and his eyes are a cold grey they appear blue."
"And he is most impressive with the bow," the other twin added. "One of the best."
Elrond and Galadriel stood atop the highest balcony, watching the light of the stars together.
"You looked into the Hobbit, what did you see?" Elrond inquired.
Galadriel turned towards him. "I saw shadow, but hidden deep within, a flicker of light."
TBC
A/N: I went back and slightly edited the first five chapters. Nothing major, you don't have to go back and reread them. It's just minor grammatical stuff. I think they flow a bit smoother. Every time I reread them, I catch little mistakes. Oh well.
Whenever Tolkien wrote about Elladan and Elrohir, he was always careful to mention them separately from the elves. So I liked to think that they are slightly different, hence the pipeweed. Plus Gandalf smokes and he's an Maia… and lets not forget about dear old Radagast and those shrooms…. so yeah, that's my justification.
I am also strongly against portraying Elladan and Elrohir as pranksters. But I couldn't help adding the part with Círdan's beard. I can just clearly picture two bored little elflings smothering their laughter as they mischievously put tiny braids into an old elf's beard. This was the first and last time I ever mention a 'prank' between them.
The next chapter will be Chapter 7 – Shards of a Sword. You can probably guess what that will be about, but I'll add some delightful little surprises.