Chapter Two: The Company of Mixed Bloods

The following morning, the siblings woke early and packed for the journey in haste. Elena kept hurrying her brother at the breakfast table, insisting they would be late. It seemed like ages. Elena had hardly slept at all that night, she had been so exited, planning for the journey, making a mental list of things to pack and things to remind her brother to pack, wondering what the Eastern road was like these days, and would they actually go to Rivendell, and what would wait them at the end of the journey. How could they defeat the monsters? What was there in a company of seven people, all young, one yet to be found, that would prevail against creatures that destroyed entire villages? Elena would have been afraid had not Niphredil been coming with them. She was a wizard, and Elena's hero. Since childhood she had heard stories about her and read the letters she had written again and again. Niphredil had been a knight of Gondor, she was an archer better than even Prince Legolas, she had been a commander in the War of Khand, defeated the enemy leader in a duel of swords – but most importantly, she had outwitted Meriadoc Brandybuck and helped Elena's parents to marry…

Gilliam had slept well. He had dreamed of slaying dragons, woken hungry enough to eat one, and his only worry was that Niphredil would shoot the dragon before he got to it with his new sword…

Finally they were ready. Their parents walked with them to the inn, curious to meet the people their children would travel with. Outside they saw horses being fastened to a cart – the horses were good, strongly built workhorses, two of them. The stable boys of the inn were accompanied by a young man clad in black.

'Excuse me,' Elena inquired, 'is this the cart of Niphredil the Green and her company?'

'Yes, it is. How can I help you? My name is Mircal.'

Elena and Eowyn curtsied, Marron and Gilliam bowed deep.

'This is an honor…' Marron began.

'Please, no titles. I serve the Green Lady, and I presume one of you soon will too, since you know of us. Which of you is the Morningstar?'

'We are.' Gilliam said, taking Elena's hand.

'Oh. So that is the surprise she promised us – the Morningstar is two instead of one! Marvellous – that means we only have one unknown to find. The others will be here any moment. Ah, here are the women. Niphredil you know, let me introduce Gala, daughter of Gimli.'

The dwarf-woman was not as they expected, although none of them could be quite sure what, precicely, they had expected. She had no beard. She had very beautiful golden-brown hair. Her face was broad and roundish, yet somehow very handsome – perhaps it was her shining sapphire-blue eyes, her small, round mouth and a sincere expression of interest towards the hobbits. She resembled a hobbit herself in the size and structure of her body. When she extended her hand in greeting, Gilliam noticed that there was something strange about her fingernails. Gala saw his puzzlement, and explained:

'I inherit a hardness of bones from my mother. She is a spirit of stone, although not very great or powerful. But my hair is so strong I could be lifted up by it without a single hair breaking, my teeth can break a steel spoon if I'm not careful, and I use the nails of my right hand as tools – only diamond can cut them. Look, I have a knife, a pick, a drill, a saw, and a screw-driver always in my hand. Of course, most of them are only useful in my small jewellery-works.' Indeed, her fingernails were of the shape of the tools she had named, each long and shining like diamonds.

The cart was given a tent-canvas roof that made it a wagon, and soon it was packed with baggage, bedding and supplies. Only the last member of the company was still missing. Yet Gala took the reins and Niphredil the seat beside her, and the rest of them decided to walk.

'Aren't we going to wait for Neldohír?' Elena asked.

'He is waiting for us at the gates. He dislikes villages and crowds, and chose to spend the night in the woods.'

So the Brandybuck family said their farewells, and the company set forth.

Outside the gate, a tall young man stood by the road. When they looked closer, Elena and Gilliam saw he was indeed a half-ent. His skin was dark brown, his hair looked far too tangled and shineless to belong to an elf, and there was something very strange in his greyish-brown eyes. Even more strange was that he had six fingers in his left hand.

'We are indeed a mixed company, no offence meant!' Gilliam exclaimed.

'None taken. Indeed, we all bear something of our mixed blood in our appearance. I might pass for a strange elf were it not for a branch among my fingers, the lady Gala also has an unique hand, I hear from Niphredil that you consider your feet a hindrance, and your sister has the eyes the prophecy mentions – but it doesn't mention they are shaped like an Easterling's. As for my friend the prince, he does look like a handsome young man, but he tells me his brother already had a beard at his age, but he has not a hair on his skin and never will, thanks to his elven blood.'

'And Niphredil? She looks like any hobbit woman to me.'

Gilliam was not used to talking to anyone as tall as Neldohír, indeed many of the Bree humans were only a head taller than he. Therefore he couldn't see his companion's eyes as he replied:

'She does? A sixty-three years old hobbit woman? About the same age as your mother, I'd fathom.'

'Gosh! I hadn't thought of that – she looks more the age of Elena!' Gilliam exclaimed.

'Indeed. And she will live long, unless she chooses mortality.' Neldohir said, and then fell silent.

Meanwhile, Elena had found she had trouble keeping up with the men – her legs were the shortest, after all. Niphredil invited her to join them on the wagon:

'The horses have a light load, they can manage one more passenger. In fact we ecpected you to join us sooner, but it seems you have developed some stamina keeping up with your brother.'

'Thank you. I just hope Gilliam won't make a joke about us feeble women.' Elena said, as she climbed on the cart.

'You mean the way we sit here and he has to trod on foot? If he does, you just remind him he used up all the leg faculty in your family and didn't leave enough for you!' Gala suggested.

'Good point. We aren't here because of our gender, but because of our size.' Niphredil said,

'Not that I couldn't keep up with a marching army in my best days, but I've become accustomed to a more peaceful gait, walking in the woods with Radagast.' Niphredil said, a hint of her old bragging habit in her voice.

'It's so strange to think that you are really you. I mean, that you did everything you wrote in your letters and probably more. I expected you would look older, at least. Is it magic?' Elena asked, then blushed.

'No – at least nothing that I'm doing to myself conciously. It is dangerous to attempt lenghtening one's youth or life artificially – that was part of the tragedy of Númenor. I inherit a long life from my mother. I could let go of it, like Lúthien did, and Mircal's mother the Queen, if I chose to marry a mortal.' Niphredil explained.

'Why aren't you married, by the way? I don't mean to be impolite, for I know you are no old maid – I've heard you had suitors aplenty. Everyone knows you said no to the heir of Bag End.' Elena was intrigued.

'I did, for a good reason. I realized the life I would have with him was not the one I wanted. I was, and still am, too wild for the Shire. Besides, Frodo Gardner got over me well enough. He was so young at the time, younger than you.' the wizard-woman said. Indeed, Frodo Gardner was happily married now, and a father of nine.

'Well, most boys and girls have had a sweetheart or two by my age. I'm worried that I'll become an old maid – no boy has ever liked me at all, I mean if brothers don't count.' Elena confessed.

'You – an old maid? But you are so pretty!' Miss Baggins was aghast.

'You really thinks so, lady Niphredil?'

'No need to call me lady, and yes, I think you are as pretty as Elanor the Fair was when she was your age.' Niphredil assured her.

'Oh, but I have these monster eyes. Evil eyes, they call me. And my hair is not like proper hobbit hair – I've tried to curl it, but all I get is waves that straighten out before the day is through.' Elena touched her hair, a look of dissappointment in her eyes.

'Your eyes are not monster eyes. What does it matter if the one is coffee and the other is tea – you'll have both those who love tea and those who love coffee falling in love with your eyes!' Niphredil tried to cheer her up.

'Tea and coffee – what do you mean?' Gala asked.

'Oh, that's how Gilliam calls my eyes. He's always thinking about food. If he could have a wish, he'd probably wish for knife and fork to be grown into his hands like those jewel-tool nails you have. But I wasn't talking about the colour of my eyes – I meant the shape.' Elena explained, and blushed again. She had a lovely blush that bloomed on her cheeks like summer roses.

'I've been to Khand. Everyone there has eyes like you do, good people and bad people alike. It's just because your people met only the fighters and outlaws of the eastern nations here during the War that they connect your eyes with evil. When we'll get to Rhûn, you'll see every human there has narrow eyes, and they will look at the rest of us and call us staring-round-eyes and stupid-eyes. And they will say you are the only beautiful one among us.' declared the Green Wizard.

'You must be joking.' Elena looked down. She could not believe such a thing could ever happen.

'She isn't. I've met Easterling merchants and bought raw jewels from them. There are no more cheaters among them than among merchants in general, although they do have different customs of trade. If they ask for an impossibly high price it's not because they try to cheat but because they expect you to haggle it down at least by half. And if they are in their own home or tent or wagon they offer tea to the customer, and sweets, and talk like friends. And the most expensive work I ever did went to a chieftain somewhere in far Rhûn – a helmet-shaped crown encrusted with jewels.' Gala assured Elena.

'I can hardly wait to get there! It sound so different, and so interesting, and there are people there with eyes like mine, people that the Bree villagers would call evil-eyes if I brought them home with me, and the monsters kill these people and I want to stop the monsters. I wanted before but now I wish I could be there right now.' Elena spoke fiercely, and Niphredil was reminded that she had the blood of Easterling humans as well as that of Shire warriors in her veins.

'And yet we will not travel faster, for although terrible things are happening, it is nothing like an emergency. The events described in the plea for help occured during the span of ten years. By now, most the humans have left the area and the elves have constructed undersea caves between the islands. The monsters only attack one island at a time and had not found the lairs the time the messages were sent. The most danger is that the dragon finds some human town with a lot of gold – so far it has only satisfied its hunger of blood. In a treasury, the dragon would make a dwelling and perhaps lay eggs. Killing a dragon protecting its lair is a hard job, as you remember if Bilbo's adventure is familiar to you. It will take us all winter to get there, but spring is soon enough, for in winter all crawling creatures slumber and move slowly. The winter at the Sea of Rhûn is cold, the winds are too harsh for a small dragon to fly, the waters too chill for a serpent to swim, and the spiders wrap themselves in their own web for warmth.' Niphredil explained, making it all sound very simple.

'Wouldn't it be easiest, then, to kill the monsters in the winter? Stab the sleeping spider, catch the down-bound dragon, slay the frozen serpent?' Gala asked.

'The elves of Rhûn have tried, but they cannot find their hiding-places. The serpent is likely to be in deep waters, too far for anyone to dive. The dragon may hide in a place that can only be reached on wings, and who knows where the spider is – it has been seen in many different areas but not often in any.' Niphredil answered, gripping her staff tighter.

'Could you find them by magic?' Elena asked.

'No, nor could I defeat them by it. I could shape myself wings and fly, or turn into a fish, but I could take no shape big or strong enough to defeat any one of the monsters. I am no Gandalf, and yet even Gandalf met his match in the Balrog. You and your brother, however, might be able to do something about the spider; you bear the very Phial and blade that were Shelob's bane.' Niphredil looked at Elena, a mysterious shine in her green eyes.

'Shelob is dead? I thought – she might be the spider-monster.' Elena was surprised.

'She is dead. I went up the Nameless Vale – for that is how it is called until it recovers from the Morgul curse – and down the tunnels, in that selfsame armour you wear, and with Sting and the Phial in my hands, fully expecting to meet the monster at every corner, but all I found were dusty bones, and the dried-up corpse of the monster. I could see she had died from the wounds Sam Gamgee gave her. I did find some bundles of web that I thought were her victims, so I opened them carefully, but instead of captives I found spider fetae inside. Helpless, soft-husked, blind, wriggling things the size of a dog. I killed these, for they would grow into monsters. The mother had put corpses inside the egg-covers to nourish the creatures – perhaps it was Shelob's last act before she died – laying eggs and putting all the food she had in store to feed the young. Even the most evil of creatures usually care for their offspring in some twisted way. The unborn things already knew the taste of blood; orc blood, horse blood, human blood. If things had happened a bit different, long ago at Cirith Ungol, perhaps one of the creatures would have known the taste of hobbit blood, and no Niphredil Baggins would ever have come to cut it in pieces.' Her voice was calm, but her eyes looked far ahead, and seemed to be looking at sights invisible to others.

'Heavens! And no Niphredil Baggins would have helped a couple in trouble, and no Gilliam and Elena Brandybuck would ever have been born…' Elena answered, little realizing that if Frodo Baggins had been killed by Shelob, the consequences would have been much worse and affected the whole world.

'Who knows. Well, bygones are bygones and we are all here safe and sound. Let's hope it will be so on our return voyage as well. I have not Quetondo's gift of foresight but I think I may stand a chance against the dragon – at least if it has not heard of Smaug and his armoured chest. Bard of the Lake had but an ordinary bow, I have Cúlind and skill to use it. So unless our little flamer has figured out a way to protect herself with no diamond armour, I will not fear to shoot it the first chance I get. I'm not as vulnerable to the fire either, for under Radagast's tutelage I have learned to master some of my mother's fire-magic. I think we will find a way to beat the sea-serpent as well – I know you all are young, but Gala is armed even when she isn't, at least if she lets her fingernails grow a bit, no offence meant, and if I am "the Green", Neldohír is even greener, and I don't even understand the things he does. I talk to animals, he talks to plants – and they answer! Trees hate fire so we might get the whereabouts of the dragon from them. You may think Mircal has no special skills, him being the youngest and all, but he is the child of remarkable parents. He gets a skill of healing, not from his father, but from his elven-born mother. I mean healing by mental powers, by word and touch. Not that he doesn't use athelas now and then – he carries our supply. I'm know better than trust myself with it – I was once as dependent of it as hobbits of their pipes, and misused it, not worrying how I might hurt myself or others, when there was athelas to heal it all afterwards.' Niphredil's brow furrowed deep in a frown.

'You mean when you were a knight, and went to tournament?' Elena asked.

'No. When I was a woman of bad reputation, and went to have a drink at the inn. I drank too much, got a headache, and rid myself of it with the herb, and so it took me a long time to learn how much is too much. But I wasn't going to talk about myself, I was telling you about Mircal. You may have noticed how he behaves more like a servant than a prince. That is because three years ago, his father the King made him the squire of his elder brother, who was made knight some time before it. Before that, Eldarion too had served as a squire – to king Elessar himself. It is not the Gondorian way to spoil and pamper princes, but rather to teach them early on that their duty is to serve and protect the people. The hands of the king are the hands of a healer… Mircal is a fine young man, and more; he has true courage and honour. He would die for anyone that was under his protection, no matter how insignificant the person were in the eyes of others. His father actually made him swear that he would serve me and those who travel with me, for in Gondor I still have a knighthood and a squire is a squire to all knights. I think it was unnecessary, because I would rather lead a company of equals, myself equal among them. To protect and to serve – is that not a wizard's duty as well?' Niphredil asked, quoting the motto of Gondorian city guards.

'Perhaps. Yet you are the eldest among us, although you appear the youngest! Let us at least by our behaviour show this, or else we'll be forgetting it, and there is no telling what that might lead into!' Gala declared.

'What do you mean?' Niphredil asked.

'I'd rather not say.' Gala pursed her lips.

'You may speak your mind freely. We are family friends and you were the first to follow me. Please tell me what you were thinking, Gala. It might be helpful to my leadership.' Niphredil coaxed her.

'Right. Um. I say this only beacuse you as my elder ask me to. I know a lot about your past. My father has told me, only things he has your permission to tell, you know, and mostly because I too have Maiarin blood and he fears I might do the same mistakes as you did when you were younger. And some of your mistakes wouldn't have happened if you hadn't been what you are. You are wiser now, but we others are still young, and young people fall easily to their temptations. If you were not the leader but one of a group of youngsters, it would be very hard for some.' Gala was actually blushing up to the roots of her golden hair. She looked down at the reins she was holding.

'Oh. I see. Thank you. I had quite forgotten that point.' Niphredil didn't blush, but a shadow seemed to fall over the green light in her eyes.

'I don't understand. Are you talking secrets?' Elena asked.

'Well, not exactly. I might as well tell you, for it may be that you too have to learn something you haven't had the opportunity to learn at Bree. My early youth was quite the opposite to yours – most men I met found me beautiful. They still might, but I try to hide my feminity in the clothes of a wizard. And I was a girl of bad reputation in more ways than one. Some men had the sense and honour to deny the temptation that I offered – these I can mention with pride of having known them and shame of having suspected them to be on my lowly level; Eönwë the Herald of Manwë, Prince Legolas, Lord Elrohír of Rivendell, Frodo Gardner of Bag End, and your father Marron. Noble men each of them in more ways than one. Others, those who share my shame, I will not mention, but there were several. I sincerely hope none of my young companions sees me as a pretty woman, but as a wizard. Wizards do not marry, and besides, my soul is too rugged for the likes of our noble princes - and your brother Gilliam. I would rather they give their attentions to the two of you, and that in a honoured and brotherly manner, at least until our duty is done. I also warn you, Elena, if you suddenly find yourself the beauty of all Rhûn and get proposals from foreign princes, be careful. Not all proposals are marriage proposals, if you get my meaning. Our companions are honest men you need not fear, but in the East you may meet a nice young man who has three women already at home that he calls his wives.' Niphredil smiled a dangerous smile, all teeth.

'You don't say!' Elena exclaimed in obvious alarm.

'That was the situation in southern Khand at least. But not all eastern women are so unfortunate; the enemy commander I defeated was a woman. Ravenna*. She begged me to let her live, but she was a dangerous swordswoman. I asked why she would live – for revenge? She said she would live for her husband and two children. She was clearly wealthy; she wore a lot of gold. So I cut her feet and let her live.' Niphredil told this casually, as if she had said she'd cut someone's hair.

'You what?' Elena was shocked.

'I cut her feet. It's what soldiers call "Morgoth's mercy". The enemy will be disabled and hardly a theat, but gets to stay alive. I defeated Ravenna in a fair duel, as fair as duels can be on a battlefield, and if she had won she would have killed me. And if she had won, I wonder wether I would have begged mercy. I offered her the choice between a swift death and a painful life. She chose life, and I promised to restore her to her children, and her husband if he lived. When she asked if it was likely her children lived, naming her hometown as one we had already conquered, I assured her we had come to liberate the slaves, not to harm children and other unarmed citizens. So I put my sword and hers on her legs above the knees and cut her feet with all my weight upon the blades. Then I bandaged Ravenna's wounds and carried her through a raging battle to our healers. She was my captive and I bound her, and after victory was ours she found all her family safe and sound. She thanked me so I don't think she wanted revenge at all. I did threaten that her arms would be cut if she came for my life, and then how could she hug her little ones?' Niphredil smiled wryly. She missed Ravenna - sometimes a formidable enemy could become closer than a friend.

'But if she can't walk, how could she attack anyone?' Elena asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

'Well, if she were stupid, she might tie herself astride a horse. But she wouldn't be able to mount or dismount without help, so it would be dangerous. It is, however, possible for such a rich woman with a caring family to live in all comfort – she could be carried on a palanquin and the passers-by in the street wouldn't even know she has no feet under her billowing skirts. She could do any chore or pastime that can be done in a seated position – read or paint, write or sing, learn to play an instrument, even ride when helped by husband or servant. I think Ravenna will have a good life, perhaps better than a warrior's. Most my companions accepted my judgement. Frodo Gardner didn't, however.'

'So that's what it was! He told my parents there was a disagreement between you.' Elena exclaimed, fascinated to hear all this gossip about her elders and betters.

'Yes. He insisted I should have let Ravenna go unscathed. Her gratitude might have been enough to restrain her need of revenge. I disagreed, for I know the code of honour of the swordsmen of Khand. They may not live at peace if someone who has humiliated them lives, and mercy would have been a humiliation, as was the conquest of her homeland and the death of her king. Would I live at peace if I was healthy and Elessar had died on that battlefield, and if his killer also lived and was healthy? My heart at least would know no peace, and Ravenna's heart was not far from her sword-arm – I mean that literally, too, for she is left-handed. She was no knight, she was member of an order far more passionate than that of our noble system. Legolas said Ravenna had even more courage than I did, choosing as she did. I asked Frodo whether I should have let the commander live if she were a man, and he told me 'Of course not.' And that was the moment my heart grew cold to his, if it had remained lukewarm until that moment. I could not understand such division by gender. I still don't, and I think it's better in the long run if we women don't cluster among ourselves too much. In fact, I think we must stop for a meal soon, and after that I may join the men on foot and leave you girls to care for the wagon. Gilliam will probably eat himself tired, so ask him to sit up there with you.' Niphredil suggested.

*Note on the name: the woman was named Ravenna for her long, black hair. It is a Westron name (=English), and Westron is spoken by the leaders and nobles even far in the east. Know your enemy…