That noon, the house of Elrond echoed with calls and unusual preparations. In addition to the premises of the spring fair, a group of Dwarves was expected in the afternoon. Glorfindel, an Elf lord from Gondolin the lost city, was sent to meet and guide them. He led them by winding and hidden paths into the secret valley of Rivendell. They would never be able to find the same path to come back here. But the Dwarves went well aware of that treatment they considered discriminatory and offensive. Harassed and irascible, Thráin their lord showed himself haughty and brittle upon his arrival. The warmth and charm of the master of Imladris probably avoided an unfortunate skirmish.
Since the Dwarves had confirmed the reason for their presence with rather claimant a tone, Elrond convened a high council for the next day, as Gandalf had expected. Thereafter Erestor had deployed all his diplomacy and all the resources the guest house of Rivendell could deploy. The bad mood of the troops having barely softened, grumpy Dwarves joined the large banquet hall in the evening.
Meanwhile Arathorn's closest rangers had prepared to override or anticipate the conclusions of the council. The Lord of the Dùnedain did not accept that their right to follow their own path would be restrained. Rangers spent a few hours searching and copying maps from the vast library of Rivendell, under Perfendur's disapproving monitoring.
Arathorn sent his four best men as fast scouts, the team whom he usually entrusted the care of his family. Their mission was to find the mysterious destination and propose a route as secure and discreet as possible for a large group, with horses and equipment. They went immediately to the North, one to the West and the other to the East side of the Misty Mountains. Since his family's shelter was no longer guarded, Arathorn had called his wife Luinloth and his grandson Arafin, who was still in infancy, to dwell in Rivendell under the protection of Master Elrond.
The lady of the Dúnedain was careful not to show it, but she was troubled. She had dreamed several times during the trip, that a danger was lurking on her husband's road to the revival of Arnor. The meeting with Gerry had reminded her of some details of her dream:
« Renewed the splendor dispersed
Wilderness re-peopled kingdom.
On the long road winding back,
Of cardinal virtues, courage and sacrifice,
A faithful shire-squire to restore sovereign
Honor in the house of Valandil. »
Luinloth feared the sacrifice evoked in her prophetic dreams would prove too big for her, however the presence of a halfling squire, brought her hope. So she insisted on her husband to recruit the little Hobbit for his expedition. She would not admit that, but she also hoped that the Hobbit's presence would induce Gandalf's going, whose judgment and strength would be invaluable for safe-guarding her husband.
Reassured by the concessions she had obtained from Arathorn, the lady of the Dùnedain confided his grand-son Arafin to a small, lively and smiling Elven Woman, and attended to her toilet for the spring festival.
Luinloth and Arathorn stepped into the large banquet hall arm in arm. The lady wore a high elaborate headdress and a silver tiara extolling her royal port. A dark gray mesh belt emphasized her slender and high waist on her silver chiffon dress. She smiled around to the upturned faces, as in the days of celebration in the northern kingdom. The lady had an evening of entertainment but the mind of her husband was already elsewhere, alongside his scouts or his aides who prepared the expedition. Dressed in a crimson velvet tunic and black breeches, his mind seemed already arguing at the council to come.
Gandalf was wearing his usual gray dress, but rid of the journey's tears and stains, thanks to the skilled hands of Elven seamstresses. The wizard was talking with Elrond, Glorfindel and Erestor. The graceful chandeliers diffused a soft light that clung to the gold and silver hair of most Elves, but the faces of the great lords gleamed almost by themselves.
Rúmil had brought Gerry earlier in the room; the Hobbit had admired its diaphanous drapes, soft lighting and lavish feast tables. The young Elf was busy now for the festivities that would follow the meal. The Hobbit felt a little lonely and rather incongruous, even if the high and elegant silhouettes and beautiful and solemn faces of the Elves fascinated him. At the entrance of the Dùnadan couple, many Elves bowed. Gerry also went to the lady and lord, in search of a smile or a company. He left the tight groups that were gossiping between the tables and found himself alone, right before the couple who was moving to the master table at the center of the room. His eyes met the lady's gaze, bright and deep; he thought for a moment that the high Queen of the Elves was invited to the party. He was speechless as they came up to him, smiling. Both leaned, extending their hands to greet him. Seized by a sudden need for expressing his gratitude, Gerry kissed their hands and knelt on the ground. Raising his head, he said to the lady:
-« You saved me yesterday as your husband rescued me a few days ago. I offer my service to both, if the recognition, loyalty and meager talents of a small Hobbit can be useful to your lordships. »
Elven attendies had silently circled around this unexpected scene between mortals. The couple looked each other for a moment - the man hesitantly, the woman with a pleading air. Arathorn, his face serious now, sternly said to the Hobbit:
-« This not about a walk, Gerontius Took. You will need to harden to the existence of rangers, disciplined, dangerous and frugal.
- To this I am resolved! », said the Hobbit who hesitated about which requirement would prove more restrictive for him: anonymity or frugality?
Then the lady bowed to meet it. She planted her hypnotic gaze in Gerry's and said:
-« We shall foster you to instruct you and serve us. You will be the squire of my husband. Repeat his words after him! »
Arathorn looked for Gandalf's approval and obtained a resigned nod. Then the Dùnadan lord spoke sternly:
-« I pledge allegiance to the lord and the lady of the Dùnedain of Arnor. I promise to serve by life or death, in time of peace or war, until my lord absolves me as his liege. », which the trembling Hobbit repeated. Then the lady continued:
- « We hear you and shall certainly employ you according to your skills and reward you up to your services. »
Then the lady added in a more confidential and motherly tone:
- « I commend you now to the ward of one another for your deeds in the north. »
This token of fidelity had restored the Dùnadan's smile. Gandalf admired the political skill of the lady who came to say without being challenged, that her husband intended to conduct his own plans to fruition. Master Elrond watched the scene without showing any emotion, trying to assess the sincerity of the Hobbit.
Arathorn smiled to Gerry:
- « My first order is for you to enjoy the festivities. Burnish your manners and try to win the heart of our hosts and their guests! »
Gerry bowed. Erestor took the Hobbit by the hand to lead him to his place. Thràin and his entourage was to arrive at the entrance to the room in an instant, and the butler insisted that the reception Elrond wished, had the entire room as witness, without further disturbance or Hobbit joke. Gandalf and the Dùnadan couple sat at the high table.
Then a clear voice announced the arrival of the Dwarves, who advanced to the threshold in a compact mass, and halted, hands on their belts. Most had withdrawn their chainmail and wore only a leather hauberk or a brightly colored tunic. Though all their weapons were hanging at the racks of their rooms, the group nevertheless gave the impression to prepare for a fierce battle. Shaggy beards and wigs, brown, red, blond or white, once freed from the weight of heavy helmets, were domesticated by matting and ointments with amazing visual effects. A great Dwarf, looking fierce under his brown braids, kept his arms folded, taller by a half-head than his two neighbors with white beards.
Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel advanced to meet the Dwarves. They bowed and held out their palms to their hosts, greeting them with kind words:
- « Welcome to this haven of all free people, noble heirs of the house of Dùrin. Let your beard grow ever longer!
- Let your treasure room fill with wealth out of your labor! » Thràin said half under his breath.
- « Be this day twice blessed as spring heyday and especially the first ever visit of the people of the Longbeards in Imladris. »
The three Dwarves, characters of high rank, followed the master of the house up to the high table.
Then the Elves came to invite Thráin's followers to join the guests who assembled around the other tables. All, however, were standing in front of their chair. Then Elven dancers entered the room, hopping merrily and laden with garlands of flowers. They offered one to each guest. The Dwarves, imitating Elves near them, put the flowered necklace around their necks or on their heads, which accentuated the comic effect of some hair. The master of the house and the guests at all tables, congratulated by wishing a year of sweetness and discovery. The Dwarves and the Hobbit were explained the meaning of the rite of renewal.
Everyone then sat down in his place, while the girls returned with baskets of colored eggs. Their size ranged from thrush egg to pumpkin, the majority around the size of a beautiful apple. Painted with art and attention to detail, they displayed a wide variety despite an outstanding style unity. Some were pale, veined, reminding of marble. Other shone with thousand tiny lights. Sometimes a simple and delicate design showed a plant or animal. Several flared with rare but oddly hypnotic chromatic alliances. Some eggs gave the impression of a dark glass, crossed with flashes or fleeting flames. All evolved, changed their dress over time, at very slow pace.
The guests obviously chose at random, except the promised who got similar eggs in pairs. The Dwarves, very surprised and circumspect, each chose an egg with sober colors and graceful geometric patterns. One could see the skill of Master Elrond or a mysterious predestination; actually all the Dwarves imitated the choice of their captain, who, as en advised leader, opted for a medium sized egg, with classical and reassuring ornaments.
Elrond stood and spoke again:
- « Dear guests! This probably deserves an explanation. On the threshold of the new Elven year, the people of the Great Journey have always fostered this ritual since our immemorial awakening at lake Cuiviénen. Formerly it was performed by the lady of Rivendell, with sensitivity and love. But marred Celebrian joined the immortal lands and I continue this tradition in her memory, waiting to see her again in another age of the world. The eggs that you have chosen are a promise of renewal and grace offered through the intercession of Valier. Some are alive, and they will hatch in their time. All will help you, but sometimes you would not be aware of it. All will fit your needs and your personality, often unexpectedly. The promise of some will remain uncertain for many years. Even I can not tell you for sure what would come out even if I had the right to. It has been observed that the longer the egg's hatch, the more useful the egg's content. But these eggs should especially remember us that each of us has a part to play in achieving the song of creation, keeping hope and patience, but without delaying what needs to be tried. »
The Dwarves showed a frightened and skeptical face: what should be thought about these Elven gifts, obviously magic, that had certainly to know you in order to help you? After his confrontation with Master Elrond, Gerry also harbored doubts about the innocence and true altruism of his gift. But the shocked and awed Dwarven faces, not to mention their exotic hairdressing and their flowering bearded, painted a wonderful picture that overcame his reluctance and uplifted the Hobbit.
Gerry entered into conversation with his neighbor, a short but wide Dwarf whose size promised an outstanding eater. His frightened eyes, surmounted by one single blond and profuse eyebrow, could not detach from his egg, but quite quickly they took a confident and grateful expression, after a few glasses of mead, flavored with raspberry juice. The formal greetings taught Gerry that Barin was a grand-cousin of Thràin, who himself was a direct descendant of the eldest of the seven fathers of the Dwarves. Since this prestigious lineage suggested great wealth, the Hobbit politely asked the cheerful fat Dwarf about the kingdoms of his people. Gerry expected enthusiastic musings depicting the rich mines of the Blue Mountains.
It did not happen. Barin described a pretty miserable existence of hawker, manufacturer and seller of weapons or tools in Eriador. The troupe of Dwarves, which was not strictly speaking "followers" of the King, but his relatives, had only recently returned to a barely decent level of prosperity.
Barin politely asked the Hobbit in return. Gerry was smart enough to admit only what might seem familiar and comforting to the ears of the good Dwarf:
- « My family lives in the Shire, where I attend to my father's business, along with mine. Sometimes I meet foreigners –and even Dwarves - at the inn of crossbow bridge or the Green Dragon at Bywater. More recently, I have met other Dwarves in Thalion, who were in business with Dunland.
- How exciting! exclamed Barin, whose ambitions often stopped at the inn's threshold.
- The Shire may seem far removed from the big news of the wider world...
- But your fellows are reliable people, and that is much nowadays!
- I'll concede that. But can you tell me more about your work? », clumsily tried the Hobbit.
The Dwarf did not understand that Gerry was trying to have him talk about his own work. Barin had never done anything really remarkable, except at table, thus he extended spontaneously the question to the deeds of the House of Dùrin and applied himself to describe the past splendor of the kingdom under the Mountain.
-« Can you imagine a lonely and gigantic mountain, traversed by miles of tunnels, provided with many cellars, abundantly supplied with victuals and equipment of all kinds… Weapons and tools supplying all the lands around... Allies in all the surrounding countries… Chests filled with gold and gems, veins rich in iron ore, silver and gold! Hundreds of Dwarves working hard! Trinkets beautifully wrought, of unsurpassed beauty! And the halls of our fathers, immense, lit by eternal magic lamps...
But this splendor reached the ears of the dragon Smaug, cursed be his name! In his den of the Gray Mountains, the winged worm heard the wonders of Thrór and his people were boasted all over the North. One evening he flew to the Lonely Mountain and entered by surprise, killing many Dwarves and looting our underground kingdom... »
Gerry served to drink and eat again to the poor weeping Dwarf, sincerely sorry for the pain he caused him. No doubt his Hobbit instinct naturally accorded with this homebody and gourmand- Dwarf and even more surely, Erestor had them eat together knowingly. Barin went painfully:
- « Most Dwarf survivors fled to the Iron Mountains, while the King Thrór and his son Thràin escaped narrowly, all scorched. With a few parents and faithful servants they could muster, they wandered to the South and West, and eventually reached Dunland where they settled for a time, reopening old abandoned mines. »
The Dwarf sighed and continued:
- « But our troubles were just beginning. King Thrór was desperate because of the precarious situation of the group. He behaved like he sensed death and seemed resigned. Wishing ardently to admire the kingdom of his forefathers, Khazad-dum, Thrór went northward with a single companion, Nàr. The western gate was closed, so they crossed the Redhorn pass and found the eastern gate of Moria open. There, Nàr was to witness the death of Thrór. »
A new bout of sobs interrupted the big Dwarf.
- « I am really sorry to inflict such a distress to you...
- Do not, Barin said. The misfortunes of the house of Dùrin are unknown. But you do not realize how Nàr was downcast: the orc Azog disfigured Thrór and scattered his body to the crows. My uncle Nàr nearly killed himself in shame. But resentment was stronger. He managed to reach Thràin and told him the odious end of his father. »
A fire was smoldering in the pupils of the Dwarf. He raised his glass, emptied it and went on:
- « Warned by Nàr, Thráin called the seven houses of the Dwarves to the vengeance of their elder branch, the Longbeards. Thus we exterminated orcs and goblins from the Misty Mountains to the Gray Mountains!
- Wonderful! », interrupted Gerry.
- « I see you do not know this story, which is nevertheless a feat of arms! », protested Barin.
- « I am pleased and honored to inform myself with a witness and participant, » politely evaded the Hobbit.
- « But we sufferred heavy losses. At the battle of Azalnubizar, Thráin avenged the death of Thrór, killing Azog but we could not take Moria... the Dwarven armies dispersed. Later Thráin was able to reopen a small coal mine in the southern Blue Mountains, and establish trade with human communities of the rivers Lhûn and Baranduin, as well as in the Shire... As you can see, we are far from the kingdom under the Mountain... »
Gerry let the fire go out in the eyes of his neighbor, who smiled when he heard the Hobbit was so concerned:
- « Perhaps will you have another opportunity?
- May that be true! A token recently told us, that a stronghold of our people has been found! And we'll get there soon! It may not be very far from here in the north!
- How exciting this is!
- Is it not? But the problem is that we do not know exactly where. But I should not bother you with our old Dwarven stories... »
The big Dwarf had suddenly realized that he was probably talking too much. But the meal was over. Master Elrond, who had placed Gandalf to his right and Thràin to his left, stood with his hosts of the high table and walked to an adjoining room.
Suddenly a booming noise startled everyone. Barin had had a last glass of mead before leaving the table. The alcohol vapors accumulated throughout the meal had made him less agile than he expected. Without meaning to, he pushed his egg while placing the empty bottle. The egg rolled slowly to the edge of the table, swinging. When Barin noticed that, he only had time to throw wildly his hand in the void to stop the fall. He missed the egg, giving it an extra boost that sent it crashing just a few steps from Elrond.
The room stood frozen with anxiety. The insult was big. Thráin reddened with shame, Barin became purple with confusion, a shade reminding of the raspberry ingested. Elrond knelt smiling to the egg:
-« It is a tradition among us to have the "hat of impatience" worn by the one of our young Elves, who first breaks his spring egg out of curiosity! But you will be excused because this subtlety was not revealed to you. Let's see what fate reserved you... Do not worry, dear guest, you have not broken any innocent life! »
In the fragmengts of the egg, Elrond picked up two small items he gave to Barin, who had approached, trembling. The Dwarves surrounded Elrond and Thràin, while Barin was playing the mechanism of the trinkets. He soon held three folding pieces of cutlery – knife, fork and spoon of a magnificent silver and pearl work. Barin apologized and thanked profusely. Elrond asked him knowingly:
- « Will this travel cutlery, thwarted in its growth, now suffice your appetite, Master Dwarf? »
A Dwarf bearing white beard and hair said aloud what the other Dwarves thought to themselves:
- « Barin's cutlery is never big or solid enough for him. This gift was perfect, and maybe still is – this cutlery may remind him of more temperance and moderation... »
The younger Dwarves, that the mere thought of Barin being restricted on food and drink, could hardly retain their laughter. Soon all the Dwarves guffawed loudly, accompanied by Thràin and Barin who laughed nervously under the benevolent gaze of Elrond.
The incident was over. The Elves also relaxed and all the guests went into the hall of fire. Gerry, walking next to Arathorn, said to him discretely:
- « The reception has come rather close to a disaster...
- Young Hobbit, may you learn that stones do not build the house, but guests do. You would be well advised to get inspired by that. »
A dance entertained the guests. Soon the Dwarves were divided into small pensive groups, seated on cushions, lulled by the Elven charms of dances and songs. Rúmil sang a lay of Beleriand to the delight of his bride, and the two conversed for a long time. Gerry found himself next to his lady. Seeing his vacant air, she questioned:
- « My squire, you ought to behave a more cordial and joyful way at the threshold of the new Elven year. What is your concern?
- The egg that I got intrigues me greatly. Do you think Master Elrond has a special thought for all of us?
- I am not sure and that is the charm of these gifts. Do not let curiosity or impatience spoil its worth. Trust him. Some years ago, Gandalf and my husband received the same egg. I was consumed with spite for several weeks. But in the middle of summer, two pretty little twin thrushes came to light. Arathorn and Gandalf raised them; they are very clever and able to speak in their own way. They are now the best messengers their masters can find. So I forgave his joke to master Elrond, since these thrushes protect my husband from some of the many looming dangers and give me news of him. »
Luinloth was still speaking to the Hobbit about the elvish customs of this beautiful house, when Gandalf, smoking his pipe, came to take him away, along with Thràin. The great Dwarf leader was keenly interested in the smokes exploits, so Gerry and Gandalf made a brilliant demonstration for him, mixing geometric and animal figures. The Dwarf was much amused by these little tricks and the curious harmony between a wily old wizard and an innocent little Hobbit.
Thràin spoke a little about his travels and his whereabouts through the Shire, asking Gerry how the custom of smoking had come to halflings. The Hobbit told the story of old Tobold Hornblower in melancholic terms that stirred up the great Dwarf. Gerry admitted that so many beautiful and wonderful things, even here in Rivendell, could not overshadow the sweet feeling of "home."
-« As a mother, a native land can not be replaced!1, said Thraïn in a dreaming mood.
- I left the Shire several weeks ago, and I still miss its inhabitants, along with their small hopes, little problems and petty foibles. Now the least anecdote, even the most derisory, makes them more endearing to my heart. »
Then the Hobbit told one of his memories, all full of innocence and humor of the Shire:
- « The mayor of the Shire, Gilles Proudfoot, inaugurated a new smial to serve as town hall at Michel Delving He had pressed the construction to allow the inauguration, the very day of the great fair at mid-year. The weather was hot, and he ate and drank so much that after his speech, he fell asleep under the cool arch. His legendary snoring drove away his hilarious fellows one by one. And misfortune would have it, that the vault, too quickly consolidated, collapsed on him. He got off without a scratch, barely awake. Now it is told throughout the Shire that his snoring had the room collapse!
- I was there when that happened, Gandalf intervened laughing. We have laughed only after clearing him out of the rubble, as bleached as his baker father used to be! He blinked owl eyes and immediately got angry against the rascal band who had botched the job. »
The companions talked late into the night, sharing anecdotes. Gerry realized that Gandalf deeply loved the Shire and its inhabitants, speaking as a father, kind to all and stern with each. The wizard reminded that Hobbits had not always known this carefree serenity.
- « It's probably from past troubled times that this little people retain a surprising endurance.
- I still have to prove my endurance, Gerry said doubtfully. I can not imagine the hardships suffered by the house of Dùrin... Barin told me your terrible ordeal. I admire your tenacity, he added to the address of Thràin who replied:
- At the end of the war against goblins, we were not able to push our advantage and continue the legacy of our fathers. Yet the need for vengeance has rooted in us. We gave it to our sons, as a curse, the only honor and the only wealth they have left.
- Do your sons come along with you?
- My son Thorin remained in the Blue Mountains, much against his will. But he must foster an offspring before rising for a quest. Maybe I should have given the attributes of our lineage to him... »
At these words the eyes of Gandalf lit up. Thus the great Dwarf had a premonition that transmission of the treasures of his house would soon be necessary ... He said nothing but long pondered this omen.
X-X-X
Long after dawn, a bright sunshine pointed above the eastern falls of the Elven valley. The Dwarves were snoring in the wing of the building that was assigned to them. The concert of humming bass interspersed with sharper ringing modulated on all rhythms, reached the hallway, having the little eagle-eyed rascals rock with laughter.
Gerry was not snoring, but he would certainly have extended his morning in bed without the arrival of Rúmil, smart and playful. He opened the doors in a bang:
-« The Lord Dùnadan, your master now, has asked me to shake you, Master Dormouse! Your place is by his side and not into the fluff. You are to accompany him to the council. But first he wants to give you your first lesson!
- Without eating? Without taking time for a morning wash?
- Without eating, definitely! Without taking time, definitely! But without washing, certainly not!, » Rúmil exclaimed laughing.
Our Hobbit went topless on the veranda, splashed water from the basin and rubbed his head and face thoroughly. He donned quickly, girded his belt with his dagger and ran behind the young Elf to join the Dúnedain who had already gathered.
A large oval terrace paved with white marble shone in the sun, surrounded by bleachers skillfully carved into the rock, and overgrown with roots of tall pines. A building of porphyry, rather low, which housed a multitude of training weapons and stage sets, formed the foundation of the terrace. Pink colonnades prolonged natural basalt columns that lined up near the falls. Below, gardens terraces and orchards slopes ranged down to the river that roared its morning song.
Lady Luinloth casually played with her grand-son, sitting in the bleachers. Some young men were given a lesson in archery under the supervision of a tall Elf Gerry had met the night before. His silver hair was held back by an elaborate and graceful metal headdress. He handled the bow with a precision and speed that seemed supernatural.
A little apart, Arathorn was training with a vigorous Elven swordsman with black hair. Gerry for a moment thought he recognized Master Elrond, in a younger form. But his features were harder and his gaze stauncher.
The Hobbit was late. He was received rudely and began by performing two dozen bleachers, up and down at a run. Then his duties were listed to him, under the amused and compassionate look of the young archers, who remembered their beginnings. There was talk about punctuality, discipline, self-transcendence, deprivation, in short, the opposite of the philosophy and habits of a gentle-Hobbit pampered by life.
After that, his abilities were carefully explored, by the expert gaze of Arathorn. The captain of the rangers decided to let him handle his slingshot, an art in which Gerry had developed a respectable skill. Anyway the great bows of Elves and Men were not adapted to his morphology. But the most pressing issue was to teach the Hobbit the basics of fencing, so he could survive in melee. Ironically his primary asset was his small size, which brought the attackers to underestimate the danger of a sharp attack after an unexpected parade.
Under the keen eye of the raven-haired elf, Gerry bravely sustained the repeated assaults of Arathorn, who reproduced endlessly the same basic movements, until the Hobbit could not lift his arms any more.
-« You may run, bath and restore, Gerry! », Arathorn said finally while smiling at his wife.
Gerry was moving with tired steps towards the home of Elrond, when a melodious but authoritarian voice called him out from the breaches:
- « Gerontius Took! We are not finished for today!... This afternoon you will study with me! I think we can dispense with etiquette lessons, but your reading is poor, I was told! But for now, obey your master and do not be late at the council. »
Gerry would never kneel lightly any more. He complied in a half sleep and went to the boardroom, in front of which he waited for his lord.
X-X-X
Gandalf and Arathorn arrived together, already quite annoyed:
- These topics are not yet within his reach! Why exactly do you want to drag him into this risky adventure?, asked the wizard .
- I intend to draw upon him when I am there!
- You'd rather say your wife has asked you to!
- And so what? Is that not because of Elrond's demand that you wish not to take your eyes off him?
- Enough! This argument is sterile. If you uphold your decision, I will go with you and the Hobbit, whether you like it or not!
The Hobbit that was all about, judged frankly incorrect to speak of him in his presence, as of a negligible amount. Arathorn waved him, entering the hall. Gerry followed him and spent the whole council standing a few steps behind the seat of Arathorn.
Some Elves, with a serious and thoughtful face, were already present. Lady Luinloth sat alongside Arathorn, her face careful and stern. Thràin came on, dressed in his coat of mail, armed for war and flanked by his two uncles, burly balding Dwarves bearing a long and proud white beard.
The council hall was actually a platform overlooking the river. Graceful stone arches joined in the center, bearing vines that, jumping from one arch to another, built a roof of green and red leaves. The air was still and only the chirping of a nightingale disturbed the quiet echo of the waterfall.
All stood up or joined their places when Elrond appeared. He begged them to sit down and spoke:
« You came by your own ways, by chance, it seems, and you are gathered at my table without having planned to submit your thoughts to a council. Let all of you be thanked for consenting to it, because allies must pay the mutual respect of consultation, to decide what to do, for fear of being beaten separately. »
Elrond paused after this introduction, to emphasize the vital importance of a combined action. Having obtained this approval in principle, but without illusions about the challenges ahead, he continued:
« So you are sitting along each other because an ancient Dwarven Mine resurfaced from our memories off centuries of mist... Thràin, lord of the House of Longbeards, the heir of Dùrin the eldest of the seven Dwarves fathers, could you tell us what led you among us? »
The great Dwarf raised, resting his hands on the heads of the two war axes fastened at his belt.
« For decades, the house of Dùrin has been brooding its resentment. We started the war of the Dwarves and orcs to avenge my father Thrór. The bitter victory deprived us of the friendship of the other clans, who lost the flower of their war strength without compensation. Our existence is that of outcasts, satisfying with the place that is merely left to us as unwanted guests. My relatives live in a small coal mine in the Blue Mountains, as vassals of the Wide-Torsos clan.
That's enough. We want to recover our properties, our kingdom, our dignity. We want more than anything to conquer a rallying point for the Dwarves of Dùrin, grow and reclaim Erebor. This is the desire that has grown in our hearts all these years of expedients. We were waiting for a sign. And here it is!
Nàr, my uncle who stands next to me, paid a pilgrimage visit this winter to the kingdom of his late wife in the North of the Blue Mountains. Warm and sacred sources of Nogrod revealed him the awakening of the Life Stone in Barum-Nahal! »
The great Dwarf watched the effect of his revelation on the audience. Nobody seemed to understand his excitement or even recognize the name.
Lady Luinloth asked, in a collected tone:
- « This omen seems capital boding for your lineage, but it is mute for who knows less. Can you please, noble Thràin, explain who or what is Barum-Nahal?
-It is the name of the major mines near Mount Gundabad where our ancestor trod the stone for the first time. It is the primary name that we do not teach. We reveal it to you here and now, so that you realize the importance of this site for the Dwarven kind. At Barum-Nahal, Dùrin coined gold for the first time. At Barum-Nahal stone came alive for Dùrin to shape his wife. This place is the well-spring of our family. »
A heavy silence fell over the meeting. Never did any in the assembly receive so precious and so moving a Dwarf confession. Master Elrond said, the spokesman for all:
- « We fully measure, dear Thràin, the critical importance of Barum-Nahal for the Dwarven kind. Thank you for your trust. »
But Arathorn would not let the board be moved. He asked slyly:
- « What are your plans, noble Thràin? Will you invest Barum-Nahal and rally there the people of Dùrin? »
Luinloth put her hand on her husband's forearm. The great Dwarf clenched his teeth to answer while both his parents approached for support:
- « Today Barum-Nahal has become a legend. The revered site stands at some distance from Gundabad, its location is approximate at best, at worst a hazardous guess. The place is certainly infested with goblins for long. It was recaptured in second age by our cousins the Stiffbeards, for a brief period. But our rivalry did not allow to keep it. Tradition warns that a great worm inhabits it for ages. The people of Dùrin has not sought for it for generations. We do not know how to get there, although Dwarven lore suggests that it is South of Gundabad, on the eastern slopes of the Misty Mountains. However we do have one certainty: the Stone of Barum-Nahal can give life again! »
After another pause, Thráin confessed:
- « We came to see Elrond half-Elf for advice to find Barum-Nahal. We will fight it back or die trying!
- Baruk! exclaimed both old Dwarves in chorus with a fierce accent in their voice.
- And we shall give you the help and advice you need. », concluded Elrond soothingly.
Arathorn was seized by a cold sweat, but he controlled himself. How could his parent, brother of his forefather, stand up for his opponents in a race to recover sovereignty? Elrond in his wisdom, had anticipated this feeling and cast an intense glance at the ranger. He went back to the beginning of the tale of years:
- « A long time ago, a little less than a thousand years, the tribes of riders southeast of Rhovanion were allied to Gondor. They were defeated by a powerful confederation of peoples from the East. Survivors fled and founded a small kingdom in the upper valley of the Anduin, between the mountains and the northern reaches of Greenwood-the-Great. Frumgar the Beautiful managed to unite the Éothéod and strengthen their defenses, pushing back the orcs of Gundabad.
His son Fram managed to defeat the mighty lady-dragon Scatha, that nested in the caves of the former Ettencaras volcano, located in the heart of the Misty Mountains. The legend of Fram's wealth spread through the North, as well as rumors of strange abominations from the dragon's nest. The Dwarves of the Stiffbeards nation, who were in possession of the mine for a time in the second age, claimed for Fram's treasure. He answered to them by sending one of Scatha's teeth. « So, did his messenger say, the Dwarves' claim was served, though undue, because no Dwarf would ever own such a rare treasure. » The anger of the Stiffbeards was beyond imagination.
The curse of Scatha's wealth had begun, even though these treasures have perhaps never existed! The mortified Dwarves tried to reinvest the Ettencaras mine. So did the Éothéod. Parties sent by either kings, disappeared into the mines or even before reaching them. The two factions, Dwarves and Éothéod, ready to fight, accusing each other, were finaly more concerned to counter the movements of their opponent, gradually losing sight of the volcano. An argument about a fortress commanding the path to the mines went wrong and Fram was killed in suspicious circumstances.
Dùring several years, several expeditions were organised by Éothéod and groups of Dwarves, without success. Few survivors, whose health seemed deeply altered, spoke of unrelenting guards, sharp tongues of fire and betrayals among their expeditions. Tombs lined the valley leading to the volcano and mine, it is said. They have a reputation for being haunted.
Over time, the primary reason for the fighting and the reality of the treasure faded before the renewed need for revenge. Six hundred years after the killings, the Éothéod left the valley of the Anduin. The location of Scatha's den became obscure, even for us who sit in this fortress since the second age of the world... Since then, large eruptions have been occurring repeatedly in these parts. Nobody went to claim the hypothetical treasure for ages. »
Thràin, who had sat down to listen to Elrond, interrupted angrily:
- « Why have you told this story? Could it be that...
- We believe here at Rivendell, that the Ettencaras volcano is none other than the sacred site of Barum-Nahal. Of course the mine entry is impossible to pinpoint because many secondary chimneys were reported. Lava - the tongues of fire of the legend - probably buried any wealth that could be there. But if you are confident in your Dwarven hearts that the Stone of Barum-Nahal is back to life, you must make sure. Maybe Aule lets there, for the last time, rebound the life of the old volcano that was thought as too old.2…»
Arathorn and Luinloth had heard enough. The revelations of Elrond convinced them that only death would prevent the Dwarves from trying to regain their sacred site. They quickly convened together. Luinloth decided her husband: descendant of Kings, he lordly dismissed any hint of competition and opted for a proposing an alliance. Gandalf was watching, waiting for the ranger to display a position for all to see. The Dùnadan stood up majestically:
- « Now I must share with you the news that our people have brought from wilderness. Three moons ago, the Dúnedain in charge of overseeing the mountain range that borders the southern boundary of the lost kingdom of Angmar, surprised a strange ride: a squad of orcs hanging around a heavily loaded cart, regardless of daylight. It seems they tried to rally Mount Gram, which is yet occupied sporadically by goblin tribes at war with each other. We have intercepted and destroyed them. But our men discovered many strange things. »
The Dùnadan paused to enjoy the effect of suspense on his audience. Gandalf alone let perceive a slight annoyance.
-« First of all, the cart was a chariot with arms, as Dwarves use in their mines, but an old kind, entirely of iron. Its cargo was gems and gold coins. My rangers brought a few. Here they are... »
Arathorn passed a purse containing a few gold coins, with disparate sizes, thickness and gold content. Elrond and the Dwarves agreed that some came from a Dwarf mine of the Stiffbeards because they wore their effigy, a three-pointed beard topped by a helmet. Some were stamped with Dùrin's hammer hitting an anvil, under a star. Other pieces came from various but ancient origins, such as Gondor during kinstrife. Finally the oldest coins bore a patina and a symbol that had the Dwarves thrill.
Luinloth, as a shrewd diplomat, offered one to each of the Dwarves.
-« And above all, a strange and disgusting being was hindered in the cart, half-orc, half-man. He was dying and his tales those of a madman. He spoke of terror from the tombs, of fire tongues pursuing him and... of a pulsating life source. »
At these words the Dwarves advanced, trembling with indignation: orcs contemplating the sacred stone of Barum-Nahal! Arathorn continued:
- « Yet in his delirium, some corroborating evidences suggest that this being fled westward for several days with his companions, before falling into an enemy clan's ambush. We believe we have destroyed their assailant gang.
- What makes you think that this horror of yours came from Barum-Nahal? », Interrupted Thráin in an offended tone.
-« I can only say that the cart came from a Dwarf mine; it was carrying a Dwarf treasure and the ramblings of that half-orc, half-man being remind of your own tales. Moreover the premonition your parent Nàr came shortly before we captured the cart. I think, noble Thràin, these facts should give you, if not hope, at least doubt! »
The great Dwarf replied, trembling with indignation:
-« We do not accept these signs may have been sent to you, and not to the heir of Dùrin! Where is the Dwarf treasure you say you have captured, of which you returned only a ridiculous sample! »
Arathorn raged, abandoning any politeness:
-« Try to maintain some kind of consistency in your speach, Lord Thràin. Criticism is a tax that envy collects on worth! 3 You can not both call into question the good faith with which we report our findings, and suggest that we steal your treasure. Our rangers followed down the trail of this heavy cart. It came from the Misty Mountains. My men went their separate ways at the foot of the mountains. One came back here to bring this purse and the strange news I told you. The other followed the trail in the mountains. But before my men split, they buried the captured treasure. You will admit that they could not safely carry it! I will not tolerate any more that doubt should be cast on my word! You have been warned. »
Then the lady spoke with a soft but firm voice:
- « I ask each of you to return to his senses. Here are two Kings in exile! Two forces of nature struggling to restore the dignity of their lineage and the greatness of their people! Will they make a covenant, or will they rise up against one another for reasons of personal pride? »
Gandalf narrowed his eyes and hid his smile, pretending to smooth his mustache. Arathorn sat. Thráin bowed respectfully to the lady and sat back, saying:
-« The treasure the Dúnedain conquered, was hard-won from the enemy and is rightfully theirs. We will hold these coins in memory of the wisdom of the lady. Only time will tell if they come from Barum-Nahal indeed. »
Arathorn slowly spoke:
-« Noble Thràin, I wish our alliance. You have the undoubted right to seek to conquer this place. Only you have the power to bring your people there to make it a stronghold. I also aim to rebuild my kingdom. We started there for years to revitalize some areas, to secure our roads. To go further I need allies and neighbors. A road between Eriador and Rhovanion, held by reliable allies, would be a blessing. Comings and goings between the Blue Mountains and the Misty Mountains, a secure trade route to Rhovanion would be, for Arthedain, the triggering of a recovery. A flourishing trade route through the Misty Mountains, protected and justly taxed by a free kingdom, would be a guarantee of prosperity for your people, Dùrin. An alliance between the powerful kingdom of Arnor and Barum-Nahal would guarantee future. That's what I want to succeed with you, King Thràin. I offer our help and our swords to recover your property and build a lasting alliance. »
Thràin had regained all his wits and distinguished perfectly, behind the noble speech, where his own interest stood:
- « Why could not the people of Dùrin recover its property by itself, alone? »
Arathorn turned a moment to Luinloth and smiled: the real negotiations were just beginning.
- « The Dùnedain have a thorough knowledge of the mountains that border former Rhudaur. Our Men are watching for the Ettenmoors permanently. We know the habits and forces of the orcs clans. We consolidated the cards we had or we found here in Rivendell, and the valuable information gleaned by our hunters. I sent two scouting teams. We located the Ettencaras or Barum-Nahal if you prefer. We are exploring, this very moment, the approaches from West and East. But most of all, it is clear that we must act quickly, because we are not the only ones who that there is a treasure. I must say that for three days, we have had no news from the ranger who was sent on the trail of the cart in the mountains. »
The tall Dwarf long pondered this argument.
- « And what part of the treasure of Barum-Nahal will you claim for, once our victory is achieved? »
- « For the price of this alliance, the Dúnedain ask one quarter of the treasure we will find together. »
Thràin had made his decision, but he still negotiated:
- « And who will provide material and equipment for this expedition?
- My rangers are hard at work for several days to collect mounts, food and equipment. »
Elrond intervened:
- « This question seems secondary to me. My house will supply for your trip, if you maintain this project. »
Gandalf stood up and raised his strong bass voice:
- « If you maintain this project! What a beautiful tale will be sung in Eriador's cottages and the Blue Mountains halls in a few years! Two Kings rebuild the heart of their kingdoms! A dozen Dwarves and half a dozen men respond to mysterious signs and recover, unopposed, a fabulous wealth! Barely should they take into account the dangers of the journey, the arid and inhospitable mountain slopes, swarming orcs tribes in these regions, haunted surroundings of the valley and unpredictable eruptions of a volcano. »
The good-natured tone had gradually veered to a fiery harangue:
- « But in these calculations other creatures are involved, proud and independent, unpredictable as April showers but more mobile than a volcano! Thràin, you stubbornly omit this threat as if you had not suffered its calamity! Yes, I'm talking about dragons, which are neither blind nor deaf. Because it would be wrong to imagine that reviving the rumor of such a treasure would not arouse the lust of your new neighbors. We know of at least two major worms - Corlagon and Scorba - that nest in the mountains encircling old Angmar.
Do you shudder at this name of Angmar, Arathorn? As I have repeatedly explained, we must eradicate this threat. Only the security of your borders will enable a new Arthedain growth. Tell me how you could escape an invasion comparable to that of the year nineteen seventy four of this age, except by secrecy? If you raise the kingdom again and ensure prosperity, dragons will rise up and destroy you!
And you, Thràin, does not your Dwarven heart shudder at the idea that a Human defeated the great Scatha alone? Let away this mine rumor for now. You would not enjoy it. Rather war against Scorba as he is not on guard! We must eradicate the dragons! »
- « Baruk ! », excaimed the chorus of three Dwarves, standing up and brandishing their war-axes.
Arathorn, feeling his influence weakened among the audience, advocated a phased approach:
- « We are not yet strong enough to wage war against major worms. Let us lead a preliminary, safer and more lucrative expedition. Let us take a stronghold, from which the successful attack will be launched. Let us prepare this revenge by putting the odds on our side. »
The shortcomings of this reasonable argument did not escape Thràin. Arathorn associated himself too much with the Dwarven revenge. Once the treasure recovered, he had obviously no intention to accompany an expedition to destroy the Mountains Misty dragons. But the lure of gold and renewed prestige proved the strongest. Thráin cherished the dream to fortify Barum-Nahal against major worms, after conquering it...
The Dwarf leader stood up. His majestic face remained closed but he pronounced emphatically:
- « I Thràin, son Thrór, accept the proposal of Arathorn Dùnadan. Let us join our forces to find and invest Barum-Nahal. A quarter of the revenue of this expedition will return to the Dúnedain. We will therefore be allies and conclude an advantageous trade agreement. »
As Elrond did not clearly opposed the agreement, Gandalf sat down and finished ulcerated:
- « I think I'll join this madness. Nothing is worse than a dreamy idealist, but two. It takes a sharp mind in this expedition. »
Arathorn and Thráin solemnly shook hands, surrounded by their family as witnesses. Elrond raised his hand and said:
- « I may not disagree with an alliance between two free peoples. But I am warning you up twice! Against your divergence first, because the goal you are pursuing is distant; you may need to make major concessions to one another in this business. Against the signs of your destiny, then, because my heart tells me that the road to renewal of your lineages will be long. »
Arathorn could not hear that speech. He replied:
- « Each of us has a part to play in achieving the song of creation, keeping hope and patience, but without delaying what needs to be tried! »
Elrond sighed:
- « The fate of mortals is veiled in uncertainty. May your will and courage lead to the success you are yearning for! Finally I urge you both not to risk everything in this adventure: your two heirs Argonui and Thorin should be kept safe. That is my judgment and obligation for both, if you care for my blessing. My heart is troubled since once again, the councils of the great and the wise ignore the oldest creatures in these mountains. Well ... maybe will they bring you some unexpected help. »
The council was ended, the audience dispersed. Thoughtful, the wizard mumbled into his white beard as he left the boardroom. Elrond joined him, taking him by the arm:
- « Let us back up what we cannot prevent, Gandalf! These two characters, though noble they may be, lose easily their temper. They will need your wisdom and your ability to gather, before the end of this hazardous tale. You should advise on the spot about what you will deem appropriate...
- If only they had listened to me now! »
The Hobbit was walking not far from Gandalf:
- « What do you think of all this, my dear Gerry? »
The Hobbit felt torn between loyalty to the ideals of his lord and the deep aspirations of his own people:
- « The affairs of dragons are a bit above my opinion. But I respect the need for a home, a quiet smial, the satisfaction of a well cultivated land, inherited from my ancestors. My people did not understand what others have done for their safety and well-being. I want to stand among the brave who strengthen a home for those who protect mine. I will help Arathorn rebuild his kingdom and Thràin to find a home, if they think the services of a Hobbit can be useful, which I doubt somehow. »
Gandalf watched Elrond knowingly, as to conclude a debate they started long ago. Elrond, smiling, told the Hobbit:
-« So you Hobbit-liege will accompany Arathorn in his expedition! Enjoy his lessons during the journey. »
X-X-X
The following days left a vague memory to the Hobbit. In Rivendell, time passed on without smothering the mortals' flame, nor wearying the immortals existence. Gerry could only remember small talk with Elves of the hidden valley, or his hours of dreamy contemplation. Of course he fulfilled his service and pursued his education, supervised by his lady and his Lord. He practiced his fencing and his reading without much zeal, as Dwarves and Dùnedain were actively preparing.
News came from the parties sent to either side of the Misty Mountains. The eastern team quite easily tracked a long, winding valley leading to the large volcano Ettencaras. The western team met with an unusual activity of the orc clans of northern Rhudaur. On the advice of Elladan, Arathorn decided to take the Anduin valley path to reach Ettencaras. Elrond backed the advice of his son: he worked with the rangers to dispose a curtain of spotters, in order to rescue the expedition from the West side if needed. The chosen route crossed the Misty Mountains and the Anduin, after which the company would follow the edge of Greenwood the Great northbound, in greatest secrecy. Finally they would re-cross the Anduin to cruise along the river Eithelang4, that met the Mithlin5 near the ruins of a city of men.
In addition to his daily lessons, Gerry attended a council of the Dúnedain. There he learned that the expedition was leaving the next day. Only Arathorn, three rangers and Gerry would embark on the expedition while the others would strengthen the fight against the orcs by the western slopes of the Misty Mountains. This secret strategy would allow the company to get to the mines through the valley of the Anduin, with a reasonable chance of confidentiality, and that military pressure was maintained by the West, promoting the return.
Realizing suddenly that his lord left Rivendell the next day, Gerry finally busied for some preparation on his own account. He asked for his pony, he found cavorting with thoroughbreds in the western prairie of the valley. Giles was perked up, but Gerry had to struggle to take him to the stable, because his mount was much more interested in some mare. The hobbit got busy all day in a waking dream, as if his mind was contemplating his body achieving all these preparations without the help of his will.
1 Albert Memmi
2 Jacques Brel
3 « La critique est un impôt que l'envie perçoit sur le mérite. » Duc de Lévis
4 The river Langwell, contraction of "langflood welling"
5 The « Grey Song », the river Greylin