The Morningstar

Chapter One: The Green Wizard

Bree Village, September 12, Shire year 1486

It was a peaceful evening in the home of Marron and Eowyn Brandybuck. They were having supper with their two children, Gilliam and Elena. As always, Elena said she wasn't hungry and gave her share of mushrooms to her brother. As always, Gilliam ate them all and asked for more. And his mother made him a sandwich, for Gilliam was a growing boy. He was as tall as his mother, not likely to get more height at the age of thirty-four, but growing more muscular and stocky all the time. One might suppose it was the Stoorish blood of his Maggot lineage, since his father was short and slim. But although he could thank her mother for his stature, it was not her hobbit half that manifested in the son as much as her human half. Eowyn's father had been a human. An enemy. The story was common gossip in Bree - Lily Maggot had been abused by a human, and died giving birth to a daughter. This daughter, Eowyn, had been adopted by Lily's childhood sweetheart, Meriadoc Brandybuck.

From his father Gilliam inherited his handsome features and thick brown curls. His sister Elena was quite his opposite; not only was the girl as small as a stoorish-born hobbit can be, but her hair was golden and not curly at all, only slightly wavy. This and her curious, narrow eyes were how her human part revealed itself. No hobbit youth in Bree had shown any interest in the girl who would be of age the following year, but her family, who saw past her strange features, who noticed her radiant smiles and her bold gait, were sure she was the prettiest girl in the world. Elena and Gilliam were close as twins and each other's best friends. Gilliam, in turn, cared nothing for the girls who admired him or the youths who envied him, choosing instead the company of his unpopular sister.

Just as Eowyn was going to start cleaning the table and Marron was filling his pipe, as Gilliam picked the leftovers from his parents' plates and Elena yawned and declared she was thinking of going to bed early, there was a knock on the door.

Eowyn, on her way to the front door, wondered who it could be. It was a strange time to come calling – she hoped nothing bad had happened in the neighbourhood. Eowyn had taken up the profession of a midwife among the Bree hobbits, but no child was due this Autumn. Her Bolger grandmother had taught her since her childhood, but it was the tradition that a midwife only started the work properly after having given birth to children of her own. She knew a lot of healing too, and friends often asked her help fer someone was hurt or ill, trusting a hobbit rather than the human healer of the village. Women in particular sought her help in ailments that only bother women.

The person on the doorstep did not appear to be in need of any kind of help, however. He was shorter than Eowyn and wore a large brown hat, so that Eowyn found she only saw the top and brim of the hat, not the stranger's face at all. She noted he had a loose green robe and a staff.

The stranger removed the hat and bowed politely. The hat had hid a beardless hobbit face and a wealth of black curls.

'Greetings, madam, and good health to you and your household.' The visitor stood up.

Eowyn recognised her.

'Niphredil! Niphredil Baggins, is that really you?'

'It is me, Eowyn dear, although I now answer to the name of Niphredil the Green. For with this staff I bear a burden of mastership of magic. I have finished my studies with Radagast the Brown, and he has made me his successor, for he is weary of the duty and unnaccustomed to war. This piece of pinewood, Eowyn dear, was the staff of Radagast before it became mine.'

'Come in! Good heavens, you haven't changed a bit! You still look as young as when you disappeared from this selfsame doorstep that Yule night so long ago!'

'Did you get my letters?'

'We did. The strange one just one week after your departure, bought by a royal messenger, the three long letters after it and the gifts and the scary letter telling you are going to war, and the one telling you were back safe and sound, and we heard news of you from the Gamgee family too, and then the bird-borne note from Radagast's dwelling, ten years ago. We told it all to our children. They will be glad to meet you.'

Niphredil hung her hat on a peg, lifted her baggage from the doorstep and took it in, then picked up the bow and quiver that she had leaned against the wall, hung them on pegs as well, and followed Eowyn to the kitchen.

Marron was dumbfounded seeing his friend and helper return so unexpectedly.

'…and look, Marron, she hasn't aged a day! I have grey in my hair, although I'm only five years older than she is.'

Marron shook his head.

'No, Eowyn. Don't you see it? She has aged. She has matured, I should say. The Niphredil I remember was a mischievous girl. She didn't smile serenely like this woman in our midst, her smiles were wild grins. This is not the adventuress, the knight, the halfling princess. This is a wizard in truth. There is a stern power on her features, and a steady fire in her eyes. Niphredil the Green, I am honoured to meet you. Here are my children, Gilliam and Elena.' He gestured at the young ones.

The youngsters stepped forth from behind the table. Gilliam bowed and Elena curtsied.

'I am glad to be here and pleased to meet you, more pleased than you know. I have much to tell, so perhaps we could light a fire in the fireplace and sit in your parlour.' Niphredil suggested.

'Of course.'

'You have read my letters so I need not tell you about my adventures. Of my studies I can say little. I am the first living soul ever to take up pure, untainted magic by studying it, but I suspect and hope I am not the last. It is true one needs to have the Song in one's blood to reshape the world by words - but I am not the only one walking Middle-Earth with Maiarin blood in my veins.

'I have, however, an urgent mission here and it concerns you all. Some time ago Radagast received word that a new evil is about in Rhûn. There are elves, wild elves there who have remained hidden on islands in the Sea of Rhûn until our days, but they have now revealed themselves because of a danger that threatens them. And they have sent a message to Radagast, because they have heard of him from Alatar and Pallando who once went among them but are now long gone.

'This is part of the message:

"Three monsters have joined forces in a way that suggests a mastermind of darkness ruling them. The first is our ancient foe, the Sea-Serpent Gornein*. The second is his winged cousin, a dragon who with a malicious voice names herself Sivara*. She is smaller than Gornein but breathes fire. The third is a hidden terron in the forest, a spider of gigantic size. There may be more than one such, but only one has been seen at a time. We call it Ugaliante*. And all now seek to attack fortresses and villages, elf and human alike, although only Gornein used to prey on us and it has always before preferred lonely victims and small boats. One we might defeat, but not all three together. Already Sivara burned part of our fairest town while Gornein trashed amok in its harbour, so that our defense was divided. And we have seen Ugaliante ride Sivara to attack a human village. Our help arrived too late; all the people and their cattle had been slaughtered and devoured by the monsters." Niphredil recired the words from memory, her eyes glinting darkly.

'As I said, Radagast is no warrior. This is why he gave me his power and his duty, and I accepted it. I went first to my friends in the south; and most of all to Quetondo who lives with Gimli. You remember how I wrote that Gimli has found a way to release Quetondo, my friend the jewel-spirit, from the stone that she had lived inside much like a tortoise in a shell. Outside the stone, Quetondo has none of her powers, yet she is ethereal even in the flesh. Her hair is not like your hair or mine, but like a halo of misty light around her head, intangible as a cloud. Her eyes shine like jewels, her skin sparkles, and her teeth are diamonds. And she has become wife to Gimli and borne him a child.

'I asked her to return into the stone for a while and prophesy to me.

These are the words she spoke:

"To fight this evil, all free peoples of Middle-Earth must unite in a Company Of Mixed Bloods.

The Green Wizard must fnd them and lead them, and in all they number seven.

Two princes there will be, the sons of Elessar and Bregalad.

Also, the Morningstar must join you.

The Morningstar you shall know by two hairless feet and two unmatching eyes.

The Morningstar must bear and wear the Heritage of Bilbo and the Gifts of Galadriel.

One more I see of the seven, the daughter of my flesh. The rest may fate lead to you."

'I was surprised:

'Gala**? But she is only twenty!'

But Gimli told me:

'Twenty is a woman's age for a dwarf. Already she is a journeyman jewelsmith with skill to rival her masters!'

And I asked Legolas, who has been to Fangorn more often than I:

'Does Bregalad have a son? I thought he never had an entwife.'

'He didn't. But he does have a son. The Company is of Mixed Bloods, remember? His son, Neldohír**, is half ent and half elf.'

'Neldohír – 'of the Beeches?' You don't mean…' I asked, knowing Legolas has a sister named Neldoren of the Beeches.

'Yes. Neldoren's son. The reason my sister lost the title of 'Lady of the Wood'. Motherhood and loss of position has actually improved her character, and Neldohír is my favourite nephew.'

'So I must go to Thranduil's halls once more?' I was afraid of this prospect - me and King Thranduil did not part as friends.

'Not necessarily. They live more outdoors than indoors, on a Lórien-style flet. Neldohír is twenty-five, very young. Take good care of him.'

'I will. But I wonder if Aragorn will allow his son to go with us?' This was my next worry - Eldarion was surely too important to go off gallivanting in Rhün.

'I think my prophecy considers the younger son,' Quetondo said, 'not the heir to the throne. The younger son is named Mircal**, and he is eighteen.'

'So young!'

'He is human, at least to all appearances. And as a human, he is of age.' Legolas reminded me.

'But who is this Morningstar?' he then asked.

'Quetondo has spoken of this once before. She greeted my friend Eowyn Brandybuck as 'Daughter of sorrow, mother of the Morningstar. Eowyn was no mother then, but she got married and must have children by now.'

'And so I took Gala, daughter of Gimli, and Mircal, prince of Gondor, with me and went to The Wood of Green Leaves. We met Neldoren and her son, and set forth for Bree to meet you. The others are waiting at the Prancing Pony. Now all that remains is to figure out which one of you is the Morningstar – Elena or Gilliam. By the way, I note you both have an elven word for 'star' in your names**.'

'You mean only one of us can come?' Gilliam was shocked.

'Well, that's what the prophecy says.'

'It also says 'the rest may fate lead to you! If Gilliam goes, I will follow, and if I go, he will come with me! That is fate!' Elena stamped her foot.

'No, that is love. But we shall see. Elena, I notice your left eye is light brown, the right one almost black. Is this so or am I imagining it?'

'It is so. One eye the colour of tea and the other the colour of coffee, that's what Gilliam says. But I have hairy feet.' Elena looked at her feet, sadly.

'Oh, so you do! I didn't notice at first because the hair is so pale. It cannot be you then. Gilliam, let me look at your eyes.' Niphredil instructed.

The young hobbit had to bend down a bit.

'Both your eyes are the same brown. I thought it would be you, you certainly have no hair on your feet.' Niphredil was confused.

'No. Wish I had. I have to wear boots in winter like a human.'

'You don't have other children, do you, my friends? Little ones already fast asleep? Tweenagers having a late night out?' The wizard-woman inquired in despair.

'No. Only Elena and Gilliam. And I'm not likely to give birth at my age.'

'Hmm. Quetondo's prophecies are usually accurate.' Niphredil looked into the fire, deep in thought.

'I get it!' Marron suddenly exclaimed, 'You would see it has to be so if you knew my children better!'

'What do you mean?' Niphredil asked.

'They are both the Morningstar. The Morningstar is Elena and Gilliam. They are as close as siblings can be. Two hairless feet and two unmatched eyes.'

'Why, of course!' Eowyn clapped her hands in delight. Then her smile vanished.

'But I see I will have to give them up for this adventure. I shall miss them, but I am glad they will have each other and you, Niphredil.'

Elena and Gilliam hugged and danced around in circles.

'When shall we leave?' Elena asked.

'Tomorrow, if you can make it. Come to the inn after breakfast. Take only as much as you can carry; we have a horse-drawn cart but we will go on ponies after Rivendell, and maybe later on foot. You needn't worry about money or food; with the Prince of Gondor in our company we have aplently. On second thoughts, I would appreciate some dried mushrooms to add to our supplies…' Niphredil winked mischievously.

Eowyn laughed:

'Call yourself what you like, in some matters you will always be a Baggins!'

'Maybe. This reminds me of another detail of the prophecy: The Heritage of Bilbo and the Gifts of Galadriel.'

Niphredil fetched her bag and took out two bundles. The larger one turned out to contain a mailshirt and a sword. The mithril armour of the Baggins family, and Sting.

'This is too small for Gilliam, so Elena will wear it.' She said, handing the mithril shirt to Elena.

Then she opened the small bundle; it was a fine cloak with a mallorn-leaf brooch.

'This one has been twice to Mordor, beyond the West and far in the East, and it is still as perfect as the day it was woven. May its magic protect you, Gilliam. And of Galadriel's gifts, there is also this. A light in dark places.'

She took out the Phial.

'One of you shall take the Phial, the other takes the sword. How do you choose?'

'I would feel safe with the sword. But so would Elena. You decide, sister.' Gilliam offered.

'I will also feel safe with the protection of Eärendil. And the phial fascinates me.' She took it in her hand. A spark flared inside it.

'Eärendil has chosen you, Elena. So be it. Sting is yours, Gilliam.'

'Mine? I thought you only lent us these things!'

'Return it later if you wish. These are too grand posessions to hoard and hide. I have my staff, and the best bow this side of the ocean. It is only just that you are provided for the journey by past generations. Gimli gave his elven cloak to Gala, and I guess Neldohír and Mircal have received gifts from their parents as well. Oh, at least Legolas lent his cloak to his favourite nephew, and Elessar to his son. Such cloaks are not made anymore, nowhere that I know of. Tomorrow, after breakfast – and I mean first breakfast, Gilliam – be at the Prancing Pony.' Niphredil's voice was stern now, like that of a schoolteacher.

'How did you know what I was going to ask?' Gilliam demanded.

Elena laughed;

'Brother dear, it doesn't take a wizard to notice the pile of dishes before your seat! I wonder how long those supplies will last us – Gilliam eats more than the rest of the family put together.'

'Only because you eat like a little bird, sister dear! I'm a growing man.'

'Oh yes, especially in your stomach!' Elena punched him playfully in the mentioned region.

*Note on the names of the monsters: Gornein is Rhûn-elvish, my invention, derived from Sindarin 'gor' = 'terror' and 'nen' = 'water'. 'Sivara' means nothing as far as I know. Ugaliante is a Rhûn variant of the name of the terrible Ungoliant.

**Note on the names of the heroes: Gimli has named his daughter after Galadriel. The name is shortened to sound more dwarven. Like all dwarves, Gala has a secret true name too in the Khuzdul tongue. 'Mircal' is Quenya, meaning 'Jewelshine'. 'Neldohír' means 'lord of beeches' in Sindarin. Elena and Gilliam have ordinary-sounding hobbit names, but they begin with the Quenyan and Sindarin words for star: 'elen' and 'gil'. And unless I am much mistaken, the real Morningstar, the one we call planet Venus, is none other than Eärendil…

(If you have forgotten: niphredil is the flower that grows with elanor in Lórien and is the heraldic symbol of Lúthien Tinúviel.)