Chapter 7 – Shards of a Sword
Slowly his eyes fluttered open, feeling the warm rays of the sun hitting his face. He awoke to find himself sprawled over top a pair of very comfortable velvet cushions, upon bench over looking the falls from high upon the balcony. He felt peaceful and at ease as the soft rumblings of the waterfall slowly brought him back to consciousness.
Bringing his hands up to rub his eyes Bilbo realized someone had kindly placed a soft blanked over him. He was warm, comfortable and very much quite alone. His stomach grumbled. Not a hobbit to ignore his hunger, Bilbo's stomach made his next decision for him as he sat up, stretching out from his comfortable position. He looked up and noted the sun was already high in the sky. He judged it must have been nearing noon. No wonder he was famished, he had missed both breakfast and second breakfast!
Carefully, he slid down from the bench and realized he had not a clue as to where in Imladris he was. For last night his mind had been warmed by good drink and filled with the welcome haze of a good batch of pipe weed. He remembered he had spent a good long while in the presence of the sons of Elrond, whom Bilbo had grown to like and felt most comfortable around; they had the appearance of elven-kind, but reminded Bilbo of men. They were old, having lived hundreds and hundreds of years, but there was still youthfulness to them that Bilbo enjoyed, though there was a great deep sadness in their eyes.
Bilbo shook his head, as fascinated as he was by Elrohir and Elladan; he currently had more important things to worry about. Like how to get back. If only he could remember the way to the main halls.
Standing before the hallway, Bilbo was faced with a choice. Which direction to choose, left or right, east or west. He decided on east, for that was the direction to Erebor and the direction he should choose.
As Bilbo walked he made his way down the bright and airy halls of the Last Homely House. He had never been in a castle before, but he was sure this was what one would like. For surely Elrond had created a palace. A secret sanctuary nestled tightly between the valley of glistening waterfalls. The Tookish part of him was eager to see more of Imladris. To explore its depths, discover its secrets. He hadn't a clue as to where he was going, but continued on, and found himself walking alone for quite some time, during which his stomach continuously reminded him of his hunger.
He walked for a while until he found himself upon the entrance of a very large stone room. He could not help but to feel it was purposefully different from the rest of Imladris. This room was darker than the others; a foreboding feeling lingered in the air. Bilbo shivered at the change in atmosphere, feeling this was not a place he should be. He was about to turn back towards the sunlight when his eyes caught a flicker of light from in the depths of the room.
Curiosity overtaking any rational thought, he looked around to make sure he was not being watched before he entered. Though he knew there was no place in Imladris that was unsafe, he was sure there were places he was not supposed to lightly enter, this room being one of them.
Like everything else of elven creation this room was something to behold. A great many paintings of a battle old hung upon the wall, paintings of elves and men, standing side-by-side fighting a great many of foul looking beasts. Beast of nightmare and shadow, and hopefully imagination, for Bilbo did not think anything so horrid and evil could exist in this peaceful world.
Bilbo gazed around the room; it was as though he were trapped in a portrait of war. Such a fierce looking battle, it sent shivers down his spine. Towards the back of the room, in the very centre stood a large stone dais, upon the dais lay shards of a sword, broken in a great many pieces, laid together like a puzzle waiting to be linked together. Bilbo thought it odd that the sword lay broken and unmade. For surely the elves had the skill to remake a broken sword.
Standing before the dais, Bilbo curiously reached out his hand to touch one of the pieces -
"What are you doing?" a curious voice asked, breaking the silence of the room.
Bilbo yelped in fright.
Gathering his senses he looked for the owner of the voice, when his eyes spied a boy with unruly dark hair and curious grey eyes. He appeared to be nearing the age of ten in human years, and was competing with Bilbo in height.
Bilbo's heart warmed. An elf-child! It truly was a lucky day. If Bilbo knew anything about Elves it was that elflings were quite rare. No hobbit before him, and few men ever were gifted with the sight of such young, innocent and wise beings.
The child stood before Bilbo, sizing him up. "You are as tall as me!" The child exclaimed. "Yet you are no boy. Are you a dwarf? Glorfindel had told me your folk had arrived, but I was not to meet any of you."
"A dwarf!" Bilbo exclaimed. "I am no dwarf. I am a hobbit! Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, at your service," he said with a slight bow.
The child giggled. "A hobbit! I have never seen a hobbit before! I am called Estel," the child said, stepping into the light.
Bilbo gasped, for this was no elf-child, but a child of men. Bilbo thought it peculiar that a human child would be raised as one of the elves, he marveled to himself, for there were many secrets hidden in Imladris!
The child stood near the doorframe, careful not to step into the room. "So what are you doing in here?" he asked. "Elrond says I am not to enter this room alone."
"I was on my way back to my friends when I stumbled upon this room. This sword is quite fascinating," Bilbo replied, heading towards the light.
"The Shards of Narsil?" the child asked. "You do not know of them?"
" I do not."
"Oh, Elrond will not tell me very much of them. Only that this sword was last wield by Isildur in the defeat if Sauron the Deceiver in the Battle of Dagorlad, and broken in victory!"
"Fascinating," Bilbo said scratching his chin. The history and world outside of The Shire was immense. He would have to ask Gandalf more of it when he had the time.
"You are travelling with the Dwarves?" the child asked, changing the subject. "I can show you back to your friends! I am not to talk to them but I know where they are."
"Thank you," said Bilbo. "Come, let us go then, for my stomach is eager to return."
Bilbo quite enjoyed the company of young Estel. For the child was intelligent and curious. He listened to many of the child's stories of his favourite places in Imladris. The child led him down a labyrinth of balconies and marble pillars. With the growing hunger is his stomach it seemed like a long walk.
It was a sign of relief when from a distance Bilbo could make out the rising sound of gruff grumbling dwarf.
"Argh, drat, just great," the voice growled in frustration.
Bilbo and the boy turned the corner to find an exasperated Glóin leaning against the balcony edge, with a long pipe in hand.
Bilbo cleared his throat, drawing Glóin's attention.
"Master Baggins!" Glóin bellowed looking up from his pipe. "We were wondering where you had gone off too!"
"I spent the night with the elves and seem to have found myself a bit lost," Bilbo confessed. "Their prowess and mastery of drink is something I have never seen before. I suspect their aptitude for capacity would be a challenge of even your own," Bilbo said with a slight smile.
"Ha," Glóin huffed. " An elf could never defeat a dwarf in a battle of drink!"
Glóin reached into his pocket and produced a tiny velvet sack; he peered into it, swearing profusely into the language of the dwarves.
"What seems to be the problem Master Glóin?" Bilbo asked.
"I am nearly out of pipe weed. I should have listened to Dwalin and stocked up when we were in The Shire."
"Help yourself to some of mine," Bilbo offered, producing his own velvet sack. "I still have plenty. Grew it myself in my garden."
"My thanks, Master Baggins," Glóin said, filling his pipe, and lighting it. "Ah that is delightful," he said after a few puffs.
"May I try?" a small voice asked.
Bilbo and Glóin turned towards the sound. In the excitement of seeing Glóin, Bilbo had nearly forgotten about little Estel.
"And who have we here?" Glóin asked.
Estel nervously looked around before stepping forward. "I am called Estel," he said.
"What a pleasure it is to meet you Estel," Glóin bellowed. "Though I wonder what business a human child has amongst the house of elves?"
The child eyed Gloin suspiciously, before standing tall, "My business is my own," he said, in as large as a voice he could muster. "Though I could ask the same of a dwarf!"
Glóin looked over the child before bursting into a low fit of laughter, his eyes sparkled in approval. "Aye, what an amusing young one you are, come stand by me," he offered. "But that is all you shall do, for a child would not yet appreciate pipeweed. Mayhap when you are older."
Estel smiled brightly, "You promise!"
"Aye," Glóin replied.
"I shall hold you to it," the child challenged. "I never forget a promise."
"And I am a Dwarf of honor and of my word."
Bilbo smiled to himself at the thought. He wondered when exactly this future meeting would happen, for a dwarf would not freely go to Imladris without reason. And he could not imagine why a child, raised amongst elves would have any reason to leave. For he would not choose to leave Imladris if he did not already have reason to, like Glóin, Bilbo Baggins kept his word.
Their ease was cut short when a stern looking elf appeared. After a few short words in the language of the elves, a language Bilbo could not yet understand, the child was led off. Bilbo wondered at this, for the elf had looked angry and perhaps a bit worried while lightly scolding the child, who obediently followed.
"That was strange," Bilbo muttered in disapproval, for the child had done nothing wrong.
"The business of the elves is none of my concern," Glóin replied, topping off is pipe with more of Bilbo's pipeweed. "I owe you," he said.
Bilbo nodded in approval, for at this rate his stashes would quickly be depleted.
TBC