Our Hobbit cried a little - for relief to be back home, and for sadness, to see his protectress leaving. Blocking the sun, large fingered wings beat powerfully the air for a few seconds that would remain in his mind. Gerry stared at Celegwelwen rising away and flying eastwards, until she disappeared behind a wood-covered hill.
Regret and hope disputed Gerry's heart. His comrades' dreams of glory and peace, even belatedly adopted then sorely disappointed, had pushed him forward. Discoveries, encounters and even suffering had made him grow. A part of himself regretted excitement, chance and hope experienced during the trip, the other aspired to the crackling fire in the familiar hearth and the aroma of sourdough bread out of his mother's oven in Tuckborrough. But if adventures had to end up by the death of those inspired leaders you had come to love, it was better for you to return home, said our hero. Most of his companions had fallen on the road. Bera and Ingold laid under an avalanche, far to the East in the Misty Mountains, where Arathorn's remains guarded the eagle's pass. Even Gandalf had abandoned him, hoping to save Thràin.
Gerry searched his resources - the Eagles had provided him with dried meat and berries. His sling wrapped around his waist, he checked the pockets of his torn and stained clothing. Despite missing buttons on his vest, he kept secure his ring and the Dwarves' necklace in his inside pocket. He had lost his purse a long time ago. He would probably have to hunt or gather his meal before joining the first cottage. He reached into his bag - he left the pieces of the beautiful pipe the Dwarves had offered him but he fetched the orc's dagger he had taken in the eagle's aerie, and put it on his belt.
As heat rose with the sun, he removed his jacket and put his hat on, battered, stained and discolored by the weather. He sighed and was about to set out. But to where? The steep valleys around showed a rich and varied vegetation where hardwoods dominated. The dense undergrowth rustled with birdsongs. Gerry did not know the time, but he presumed, according to temperature, that the sun would indicate the Southeast. Based on his knowledge, accumulated over many escapades in the Shire, our Hobbit considered only two places in his beloved country could match the surrounding topography. Woody End, east of Tuckborrough, showed steep and lush enough valleys, and took strange turns even for the familiar visitor. Similarly the extreme Northwest of North Farthing, could also match, as a pretty wild area next to the moors beyond the Bindbole forest. Judging from the variety of species around him, he leaned more in favor of Woody End. Hence his route should have led him northward, to reach the valley of the Water and its inns, or West through the green hills country. But if he was wrong and he stood in the Hills Estrange, going North or West would take him in desolate countries, full of potholes, which had sinister reputation. And also Celegwelwen had mentioned houses due South. Gerry went therefore in that right direction with a steep step. In the worst case he would come out of Woody End toward Hollow Willows, whence Ford's Comitia would not be very far away...
Striding on these hills, where many roots and shrubs tangled, was particularly challenging for him. As he struggled to climb a slope covered with dead wood, low branches and brambles, a feeling of sustained attention on his person insinuated and made him straigthen up the spine. He turned, stared and listened several times. A curious thing happened then: when Gerry fixed his attention, the breeze seemed to calm down, the forest seemed to freeze, lay low without producing any sound. On the contrary, when he resumed his march, his temples beating a staccato rhythm, leaves rustling, branches creaking, whispering melodies of insects and birds, resumed carelessly.
The impenetrable forest seemed to densify its twigs throughout his progression. When he reached the hilltop, Gerry paused and took a breath. The downslope in front of him announced difficult too. His instinct as well as Dúnedain lore, led him to lift somehow - he climbed the branches of an oak. At the top of the tree, he had to hold on tight, for the wind proved stronger than expected. Somewhat tossed down the flexible trunk, he realized with horror that high mountains hemmed the valley where these woods grew. Crushed by the weight of this revelation - which ruled he could not be in the Shire - he nearly fell. But survival instinct, pinned to any Hobbit's body, was now enhanced with skills taught by the best, and a magic ring. Wishing with all his soul to come back home, he hardened his will, made a broad overview to detail the terrain and climbed down the tree.
Back on the ground, he scratched his occiput, under his hat. Where was he? Examining the issue from every possible angle, he supposed he had not left the Misty Mountains.
« What a pity I cannot stand up high fly!, he said. Had I been aware, I could have guided Celegwelwen and I would now indulge a beer in warm Prancing Pony inn at Bree, my feet on a soft cushion and a clay pipe in my mouth. »
He wondered why Celegwelwen had told him that a small person lived nearby. No Hobbit lived, to his knowledge, in the Misty Mountains, at least the address was unknown to the Shire postal service. But the Eagles do not lie, he was sure of it. So our Hobbit decided to head South, hoping to meet someone.
He went down the gently sloping hill, climbing over roots and crawling under brambles. Gradually, mulberry trees gave way to blooming wild roses. Then branches laden with roses wrapped in graceful arches. Old trees finally became less frequent, alternating flowery ceilings and foliage skylights. Gerry hardly wondered this spring anthology in the month of Urui. He ended up not being able to move forward without following the aisles, amazingly well drawn, which widened as he traveled South. Without any clear break marking the boundary, the Hobbit had walked from a wild hawthorne grove to a cleverly designed rose garden. Hedges did not seem to be really cut with instruments, yet bent to the whims of the gardener. Gerry lost no time to pick up here and there, some ripe berries, green edible shoots or young roots. Further away, elegant shrubs and young ash trees lined the walkways, which evoked the elven hedge mazes, Gandalf had spoken of in Eregion. Occasionally meanders wrapped around miniature gardens, where succulents abounded. Gerry had never seen any before and they rivaled with vivid colors and bold shapes. Heady fragrances, constantly renewed, quickly passed in the breeze that animated the branches. His heart delighted but surprised by such luxuriance, our Hobbit found and followed a tamed brook, that gurgled over a bed of neat pebbles.
He had not been able to walk in pure and fresh water for ages. The limpid stream cleared his mind. On second thought, these enchanting places looked more like an elven pleasure park, than a Hobbit vegetable garden! Gerry was reassured, since such an inspired and competent gardener, would certainly not give him an unwelcome reception. He disturbed a small red squirrel, finishing the daily inspection of its acorns and hazelnuts hiding places. The animal appeared angry, climbed down a walnut tree and stood in front of Gerry, looking quite indignant. The Hobbit approached, moving his hand to attract the small animal that tended its sniffing muzzle. Seeming to drape into its proven dignity, the squirrel wrapped its tail around him, sneezed and turned away in disgust, let out a low whistle of scorn and went trotting down an alley.
Gerry was stunned and brought his sleeve to his nose. His own smell terrified him! What happened to the young dandy, sure of his charm and freshness? No doubt he had sown his vanity to the winds of adventures. But now it mattered to find the right measure of pride. Therefore our stinking Hobbit found downstream, an area paved with large flat stones, at the confluence with another rivulet. Once installed, he realized he was surrounded by soapwort. Remembering fondly Arathorn's lessons, Gerry went to work - he rubbed rhizomes on the stone and got a rich lather that he used for rubbing himself. He realized that a significant down now covered his chin. As heat was still rising, our Hobbit decided to make a big laundry and washed his clothes. After this burst of safety, our tired Hobbit afforded the luxury of a nap in the shade, while the sun dried his clean clothes.
The Hobbit was off again, not without collecting, at every opportunity, berries and tubers for the event - almost certain – of future less pomp days. The driveway, covered with sand and sometimes shingle, headed now toward the Southwest, bending occasionally westward. He followed it with his furtive Hobbit step.
The driveway led to a large forest, well cleaned and free of lower branches, which promoted proliferation of beautiful ferns of several species, duly confined to their small diamond, bordered by white stones. In the fading light, Gerry recognized species of a variety that usually did not cohabit. No fallen trunk, no pop roots, no potholes impeded his progress. All around, the natural vivacity of trees and plants was under control with kindness. The spirit of order of the gardener was reflected in the docile growth of each species. Gerry noticed a family of mice making their reserves in small piles at the foot of a gnarled oak, among the roots of which they lived. Even small animals seemed to help preserve this domesticated harmony! A volley of acute protests had sanctioned his attempt to capture a bunch of nuts, so he retreated, a little ashamed, and went on his way in growing darkness. In the middle of the night, he finally found shelter under a fir tree, which lower branches formed a tent. He had some difficulties in gathering leaves to make a blanket, they were so few! Finally, he curled as he could and tried to sleep.
The full moon cast caring shadows in the calm and collected undergrowth. But soon a strange noise interrupted the peaceful silence of night. A bird of prey, posted in high branches, punctuated the slow trajectory of the moon. From time to time, a howl sounded, longer or shorter. Gerry was unable to sleep a wink. Exasperated, he finally noticed the bird respected a particular sequence. A "Hoo!", followed fifteen minutes later by two, then another fifteen minutes, by three others. The following hooting was longer. But then the cycle resumed. After the third hour of sleep, our Hobbit completely woke up: the owl was singing time! These impromptu cries mimicked the periodic manifestations of the great clock of Tuckborrough... Worn out, our Hobbit rebelled at a late hour of the night:
-« May not an honest Hobbit have a well deserved rest, he cried, It's time to stop! Besides, you are not on time, it will soon be broad daylight! »
Anger and fatigue render irrational and unfair. Not only did Gerry complain to a respectable owl which was merely performing its office, but he made a false allegation: the bird was perfectly on time!
- « Hou? », Said the old owl, torn between outrage and disbelief. After deep reflection, the venerable provider for the night account flew, ulcerated.
Gerry, that fatigue had made inaccessible to respect for elders, sighed and began his descent to sleep. But moments later, a large bird settled in the branches of the fir tree:
-« Cuckoo? »
And the inexorable counting resumed, much to the dismay of our poor Hobbit, who could testify that the regularity of the "Cuckoos" was worth the precision of the "Hous"... In retrospect, he scolded himself for having chased the night sentry bird, to call the day sentinel. But at the time, he cursed them with equal fervor.
Annoyed and irritable, Gerry got up the next day in a very bad mood. But it must be assumed that this little corner of the world had some unknown secret power, a mysterious propensity to erase sorrows and frustrations, to bring things to a serene and natural order. Our Hobbit joined the stream, took a refreshing swim and did not remember his horrible night. Considering his frayed clothes spread on the rollers, he was seized by an uncontrollable urge to mend his belongings, to bring them in a firm but deft hand to the cozy atmosphere of a neat home, a domesticated garden, a harmonious thought. Reclaiming the appearance of a sophisticated Hobbit, seemed like a normal counterpoint to the unpleasant and chaotic adventures he had experienced recently. So he took advantage of the first sunrays, after a frugal but slowly savored breakfast, for a bit of sewing and embroidery. Deploring the lack of assorted colors threads, he was nevertheless satisfied with his putting, which had lost luster to gain care. His satchel slung over a refreshed jacket, our dapper Hobbit adjusted his eagle feather hat and resumed his journey to the South.
What a pleasant walk in what a strange land! Deep woods succeeded orchards, rose tree glades followed hawthorn labyrinths, and leafy lanes led to colorful gardens. Without forgetting to pick up some snacks, our Hobbit corrected lost antlers, clarified driveways, removed parched bits. This valley was talking to his unconscious as a grand-mother's retreat to a child's heart. Was that the immemorial past of Hobbits, a golden age, forgotten or to come? He only missed a great river, lined with reeds and iris...
Gerry's musings floated melancholicaly on a hull, alongside an old gnarled gnome, when a red flame crossed his field of vision. When he came back to present time, the flame had passed, not without leaving a curious little tune in his ear:
- « Spring blooms wane.
My Beloved of me was never tired.
Summer prolix came.
Her beauty lionized our embrace.
Fall is blowing. My burrow
with a new room is adorned... »
Affecting not to be surprised by anything strange, our Hobbit had no trouble finding the slightest trace which crossed the orchard. He followed the footprints and soon the red flame pranced before him through gardens and forests. At the foot of a hazel trees slope, Gerry sang the chorus in unison and drew his last biscuit to coax the animal, which immediately stopped his singing. When they reached the top, a fox glared on him suspiciously. Standing on its hind legs and leaning against an ash, he wore a green velvet breastplate with the most beautiful effect. A monocle, hung at the second button by a small silver chain, gave him a very distinguished but somewhat haughty look. Gerry stepped forward, holding out his biscuit awkwardly:
-« Mmm, that's good! Want some? »
The fox looked like a Hobbit gourmet would consider a worm in the middle of an apple, and whispered in a bittersweet tone:
- « Do not expect me to swallow any rustic food, stirred by the first bumpkin who passes by! You are not addressing a partridge of the year! »
Although Gerry expected some fancy, he remained stunned for a moment. But the conceit of this dandy with a mustache, soon gave him back his eloquence:
-« I beg your pardon! Probably I behaved awkwardly, trying to coax you with a biscuit. Maybe I am the first of my kind who came in this strange valley. But there is certainly no reason to suppose that my hardiness, inherited from my ancestors, deserved me to be called a bumpkin! »
The fox raised a snide eyebrow - so this creature with hairy feet proved able, if not of distinction, at least of a sustained argument...
-« I am afraid that was somehow rash of me to suppose you were a bumpkin...
- No doubt I was absent-minded to try to appease you in such a trivial way...
- Since we lack common acquaintance, shall we make the presentations on our own... »
Noting that the strange creature did not seem to obey its own injunction, Gerry figured he had better take the lead, as a foreigner:
-« Gerontius, son of Fortimbras Took, Thain of the Shire, to serve you! », he bowed low.
The natural and distinguished courtesy of the Hobbit, and even more, the mention of the Thain, the fox did not know but that seemed to be a title for good, finished to cheer up the fox:
-« Master Corruscin1, Prince of Foxes and master of the woods beyond! » He whispered with an affable air of confidence, as if this revelation was an exceptional favor.
Gerry did not feel in a position to be choosy. He was lost, felt very much alone and was eager to go home. He had just met a being endowed with intelligence and speech, who seemed local - so he decided to take advantage of this presence without stopping to strange circumstances and the peculiar twist of the interview:
-«Would you mind telling me how to get back to the Shire?
- How would I know better than the Prince of this country?
- But I am lost...
- Let us see... Here it is! Just follow down the path you took to come hitherto! », Yelped the fox brightly.
-«Unfortunately, that is impossible, objected the Hobbit, I came through the air ...
- How regrettable! » remarked the fox who revolved around the Hobbit to inspect his back suspiciously. « I am sincerely afraid I am not able to guide you. I have so much to do here that the outside world has not yet had the benefit of my visit... »
Actually the fox suffered from an uncontrollable fear - of large raptors. It happened, as a fox-lad, he narrowly escaped capture by a Great Eagle that had mistaken him with a rabbit. Since he convinced Gerry was not a bird, he noticed the beautiful eagle's feather stuck in his hat and asked:
-«Have you trained an eagle?
- Absolutely! He dropped me off here as a price for the life of his offspring! »
The fox, reassured and impressed, looked at his watch and continued:
- « But perhaps would you agree to have a cup of tea?
- Certainly, assured the Hobbit who had not indulged with the most civilized ritual Hobbits knew, for several months. And perhaps will you agree to share my biscuit to accompany this tea? »
The fox laughed politely with the Hobbit's banter but did not answer as to the biscuit:
- This way please... »
The fox took the lead, trotting, swinging his red plume gracefully. Master Corruscin harangued about "His" lands, housing shortage for small game, and damages of last summer's rains, when the companions arrived in front of wooden steps under the stump of a huge oak tree felled by lightning. A weasel strove there on the small round window. The lady, slender and supple, stopped and issued warning treble trills and a short whistled barking, showing her small fangs. The fox turned up his lips:
- « We beg you, Mustela, please stop fussing and go your own way. My household remains to its first member, here to serve you. "
The lady with nose so sharp and brown and white striped dress, jumped flexibly and returned to the woods, not without casting a long dismissive cry. Corruscin retorted:
- « You had better not rely on that old sly. Raminagrobis2, although lazy, knows a single law, the rule of the strongest! »
Once lady Mustela was gone, the fox grabbed a twisted key under a large ivy and had Gerry inside. The enormous stump was hollow and arranged with cunning and taste. A Hobbit felt there immediately at ease and safe.
Then only, Gerry suspected what was really going on: he had to be dreaming. He had fainted in Celegwelwen's talons and was dreaming on their way to the Shire. Corruscin was busy before the fire and soon the kettle whistled, which recalled nothing so much as Mother Plump's cottage. For sure he was dreaming. There was therefore no need to worry, nothing bad could happen... Hence Gerry casually smiled and asked:
-« How comes lady Weasel does not talk like you and me?
- Come on, do not be ridiculous!, said the fox with a sharp air, while stirring his tea with a silver spoon. Weasels do not speak! »
Our Hobbit swallowed a sweet and fragrant brew, which reminded of the fragrance of fruit trees laden with spring flowers.
-« But still... »
Gerry did not finish his objection. Obviously, the fox could not stand to be treated as an animal. His dream proved stubborn... He wondered if it would not be better for him to make the necessary efforts to return to the Shire, even in a dream. So he continued:
-« I mean, I would like to meet someone who can show my way home! »
The fox sipped his tea for an moment, then hung his gesture with a meditative air, his little finger in the air:
-« I shall take you to Avacuna. She is the mother of us all, she may help you out. »
Thus our Hobbit was taught the customs of this strange land, chatting about this or that with his host. Indeed he hesitated about what to do, not knowing how deep he lived in a dream or in reality. He spent a very pleasant night in a very cozy sofa. In the morning, he imagined a moment in the room of a young Hobbit girl. When he saw Corruscin's muzzle and mustache exceed the quilt, the memory flowed back to him. If dream there was, it was not done yet! The dandy master of the house felt great difficulty waking. When Gerry compelled him by the irresistible means of a bacon and mushrooms fricassee in the manner of the Burroughs, the fox unfolded his old boy ritual, arguing that since his tranquility was sentenced at short term, he made a point of honor to enjoy the last pleasures of independence. Gerry could not agree more! Thus, after a very full breakfast, a careful toilet and an endless fitting, master Corruscin opted for a blue coat and went out sniffing the fresh morning air. He armed himself with a cane with silver knob and carefully locked his house, not without a prior inspection turn around.
X-X-X
It was not far from noon when Master Fox and his Hobbit friend went out, arm in arm below, to visit an acquaintance. A pale sun struggled to dispel the mists which flooded the valley. Master Corruscin harangued more than usual, boasting Avacuna's scholarship, wisdom and strength of character. Responding to the innocent questions of the Hobbit, however, the fox let see, along with a deep attachment, some anxiety that Gerry visualized by imagining Avacuna as a matron with huge fist, mocking, motherly and demanding - exactly the kind of person he was strong to coax with a glance and a well tucked compliment.
- « Do you know she taught me my letters, against the advice of my father? How many things mother Avacuna did for me! She is free during this time of year, clarified the fox with a phlegmatic air. Therefore she should be attentive to your requests. »
Gerry rubbed his hands. He was going home.
Master Corruscin took him by dales and roads under congested skies. Summer heat, though held in check by the altitude and clouds, opened flowers and foliage. The companions reached a large river, lined with reeds and willow trees. The river meandered through the bottom of a small depression, descending from the Northeast, where bogs gave life to numerous streams. As Gerry pretended to bathe his feet in there, Corruscin caught him by the elbow:
-«Do not get too close to these old grumpies. They are versatile and often brood a very bad mood! ».
The fox drew his companion on a pretty logs bridge, that spanned the river on two graceful arches. They stopped in the middle to watch the stream that widened toward the southwest in a marsh of reeds and cattails. Immediately after the bridge, the friends halted at the foot of a high grassy mound. A gathering of small animals frolicked there. Lady weasel, who seemed to conspire with some stone marten, with a forbidding and guilty air, fled away when the fox appeared. A respectful concert of playful greetings, sometimes gently mocking, rose in the assembly of small woodland hunters. The chorus of rabbits, servile and readily obsequious, was never tired of bows and demonstrations of deference to his majesty of the burrows. Master Corruscin pontificated to the attention of his companion:
-« You see, my dear Gerontius, this valley houses the reign of harmonious civility of speech and right. Outside, well, woe to those plump rodents, fearful and helpless! Their speed rarely saves them from my race... Apart from our dale of order, where everyone knows his place and wisely takes pleasure from it, predation enforces the right of the powerful!
- However, I found that order also reigns beyond. Everyone finds there the place that his qualities spare him. Only the Free People, endowed with thought, are to rise above the fray for survival. To be honest, I may not catch and eat a speaking being, be it a rabbit. I would feel as low as a troll or a goblin!
- Both species – loath them! - are endowed with understanding - in very different proportions indeed. Especially as they indulge in baseness and evil! Should I consider them much the same rank as you and me?
- Trolls and goblins are mockeries of the Free People. Their crimes make them hateful and insane to us and denies them the rank of beings of thought. You detain indeed, dear Corruscin, the right and the duty to treat them as enemies. But never did you have, I am sure, the idea of eating them!
- I agree. But back to rabbits, rest assured. Our speech-talented fellow do not venture their long ears beyond the limits of our valley. Their capacity for thought, although often confined to eating, is used at least to this aim! »
Satisfied with this philosophical compromise, the duo engaged in the slope, fraught with oaks and heather. A huge flat stone crowned the summit, supported by five megaliths. Gerry advised that only the Powerful of the Earth, or giants, had been able to assemble the monument to the first age of the world. A shaggy and dense forest of gnarled oaks and low hawthorn covered it. Between the giant pillars of raw rock, thousand years old roots entangled with stone walls assembled with art, interlacing old fabrics, and patterns of wicker. Perennials and exotic flowers proliferated on the walls and ceiling, and reinforced the feeling of a natural cave with multiple ramifications.
In these disparate mosaic's alcoves, blended the most diverse ornaments, as variegated as would have been, in the mind of a Hobbit, the troubled history of Eriador. Dunland hillmen tartans hung alongside with rare dyes silk sold on the banks of ancient Tharbad, nostalgic heraldry of the Arnor Dúnedain, and some eternal elven tulle. Gerry recognized antiques that reminded him of the mysterious retreat of his grandfather. A boxwood sculpture representing an ibex from the Misty Mountains, polished by the years, seemed to come out of the mists of time beyond memory. A mural reminded him of his worst Hobbit child nightmares. One of the niches seemed to house the death chamber of a warrior of old - the spear and steel sword raised before a reverent but derisory stack of armor, helmet and bronze greaves, bedecked with egrets and faded purple plumes. Further a rock, a strangely colored stone, an unexpected concretion reminded him the objects collected during his childhood wanderings. In the next alcove, a collection of carved ivory spears stood among musical instruments, forgotten by men. Avacuna's refuge lounged memory of lost tales, abandoned on the moss of years in the fog of memory.
Hazel, elder and blackthorn encircled the top where no one dared to venture, except Corruscin and his host. For the terrible cries that rose from the cave, refrained any curiosity. The screams recalled Gerry of the terror protests of a pig led to the slaughter.
-« I am being slained; that tears me from myself! Who will have pity on a poor badger fur?
- Will you hold your tongue, you ugly wolverine! Is not your lust responsible for your pain?
- Is it my fault, if my partner Grimberthe took refuge under prickly gorse? »
A character leaned solicitously but firmly to the patient, who claimed to suffer martyrdom and complained incessantly. Maintaining the raucous Badger with a strong grip, the woman withdrew one by one, with energy and dexterity, thorns broom planted in the back of the patient. Auburn curls framed an oval face of Elven grace, whose pallor heightened with thousand freckles that sparkled like brown fireflies by a clear summer evening. Her almond feline eyes, deep and hypnotic azure, rested on Gerry, who, frozen by the charm, hardly noticed the long, pointed and mobile ears of the girl. Bold and sophisticated braids domesticated her long rebel mane.
The young woman and the Hobbit contemplated each other, transfixed for a long time. Gerry heard the Dorthonion3 lynx's growl when the world was young, singing the freedom of snowy mountainous or lurking in deep forests. The Call of the Wild rose, compelling and vital, but the Hobbit could not guess if the injunction urged him to kill to feed the cubs or unite with the female to produce new ones. Avacuna contemplated the man-child with a predator lust, blended with the instinct of the female in heat. But she did not let the badger. Master Corruscin, who watched carefully, nodded with an air of reserve. He was about to speak when the patient proved vehemently impatient:
-« Will you let a poor badger suffer a hundred deaths before relieving him? »
Avacuna, as whipped by this selfish ingratitude, turned surly to the patient, immobilized by her heavy grip:
-« Have you any idea of the lady badger's sufferings when she gives birth as the fruit of your attentions? Therefore do suffer for a while, since you did not hesitate to chase after her into a gorse bush! »
The young woman continued her work once again, bringing out at the same time cries of pain and long spines that were the cause of them. When she finished, she put a poultice of leaves coated with a sticky balm, on the back of the animal. Her magnetic eyes fell again on Gerry, who had regained control of his senses and Hobbit rhetoric mastery:
-« Learned a lot who suffered much!4
- What do you know about suffering, you plump and young son of man? Humans inflict more often than they undergo the suffering of the world!
- Do not be deceived, O fairy saving the burrows people! A hobbit is standing before you, not a juvenile representative of the Big Folk!
- A holbytla, son of the river! Your kind seems tailored to enjoy earthly pleasures!
- My people have learned the painful way, that work and helping each other wards scarcity off. Grimbert our friend, who seems to suffer martyrdom, will now be wary of thorns!
- But will he acknowledge he pesters his female companion?
- Each day has enough pain and lesson... Maybe it will take him other biting! »
The Hobbit's moderation favorably surprised Avacuna. The subtle pleasures of high talk had been denied to her for quite a long time - and for ages also had no Hobbit crossed the Misty Mountains. She decided to provoke her interlocutor:
-« Suffering too much makes sour, not enough, silly5. What is your suffering?
- Most Hobbits suffer from silliness as well as sour stomach. May you deduce we have suffered too much to overlook pleasures, but not enough to fear a lack for them. »
The girl raised a delighted eyebrow - this young Hobbit brilliantly handled paradoxes! The spark of beasty desire that Gerry glimpsed in that look somewhat tied his stomach. But Avacuna grabbed him by the elbow, smiled kindly and walked away with him, adopting the playful tone of the Hobbit. Master Corruscin adjusted his monocle with a philosopher air and retired with dignity, knowing when he is redundant.
Avacuna barely exceeded Gerry by the size, but when she scanned the Hobbit, her every move irresistibly evoked the limpid grace and suple force of the marauding feline. She moved silently, permanently perched on the tip of her long barefoot, covered with beige fur. Only her muscular toes, that bore sharp claws, adhered to the soil, without leaving a trace. Her bright linen tunic seemed to reflect lights and colors around, harmonizing with the tawny tones of Avacuna's hair when she warmed up, or blending with forest shades when she ran nonchalantly. Her alert face betrayed at every moment the predator, particularly when her long dark hair plumed ears quivered, or her short mustache thrilled.
They walked a long time among willows, chatting about this and that. Avacuna's memories seemed to go very far, she knew many things Hobbits had forgotten. In some ways, the woman reminded him of Gandalf, his intransigence and his gentleness. But she appeared ignorant and remote about events, as if mortals posturing seemed derisory, next to the high tides of that age. At times, the savage violence of her character flushed in her feline muscles or her fawn look - the Hobbit then redoubled scholarly figures of styles and subtle metaphors, which charmed the civilized part of the girl.
X-X-X
Thus, they two learned to know each other and lived isolated from the world for more than a moon, dreaming at dusk or lazing in furs in the lair of Avacuna. And for the first time in his life, Gerry asked his partner not to cut corners. Indeed his girlfriend's leering feline glow sometimes bewildered or even scared him. Despite her impulses, assumed by Avacuna, her attitude remained ambiguous. The presence of a Hobbit with a juvenile goodwill, plunged her in her own carefree and hopeful years. Yet this merry company could not completely erase the past misfortunes and dangers that haunt the outside world. Gerry's bright and sharp mind, exquisite politeness, respectful irony, taste for good things and exotic fashion dress brought her entertainment, she realized now she had sorely missed. This Hobbit appreciated females of his species - Avacuna instinctively felt that, which displeased her not at all - but she also sensed that deep wounds had recently revealed. Finally something essential and deeply new came from this new companion - his unselfishness, his absolute lack of desire for power and supremacy, she had never detected in any of her previous consorts.
They shared the stories of their lives. The Hobbit, for the first time, did not feel the need to tone down this or that dared passage, to disguise this or that treason or enhance this or that twaddle. Avacuna saw him as a reckless and foraging bumblebee, who had barely reached the age of reason at a forced march. On her side, she had difficulty in translating into words, her nebulous memories before she mastered language. It was a happy coincidence that prevented the Hobbit to mistake about the savage side of his companion.
Each of Avacuna's many trinkets, that tinkled when she did not heed, held a story or a memory. To learn more, Gerry was exclaimed about the extravagant variety of ornaments of the young woman, who rivaled her den's splendors. Avacuna reluctantly explained the hopes and disappointments she had experienced. Gerry went slowly to realize that his friend had suffered so many trials and had so many enemies, that her confidence in the human race remained permanently shaken. Many times her desire to unite a man of worth had led to uncover herself, to risk in adventure, to force her own nature by leaving her forests. But in Man, it seemed, greatness was associated with ambition. The flames devoured the human at the expense of the natural order. And always excess hastened his demise. On several occasions Avacuna underwent Men's cruel sting of betrayal, disappointment and shame, ultimately rejected for her appearance and aspirations. She had returned to live quiet days, caring for wildlife, having given up on finding a soul mate but filling her days with her children and the people of the valley who alone, had accepted her for who she was.
-« And you, little holbytla, which battle are you fighting? Which grandiose design fits in your young male's mind? », Asked Avacuna, guessing the trouble her story had thrown the Hobbit into.
Our Hobbit felt somehow dizzy, listening to the young woman telling her past. He ventured, sounding a little complacent, to claim that hobbits' customs proved much more civilized than Big Folk or inhabitants of wilderness. The term "civilized" crumpled the girl and she asked in an offended tone:
« Would you dare to claim that you never committed meanness? »
Gerry feared the penetrating mind and the animal intuition of his companion. He had already noted that half-truths invariably elicited her knee-jerk reaction, as if she feared her credulity would be abused. Was it by cowardice to forstall when his meannesses would be discovered despite himself, or rather by an honest spirit in honor of his girlfriend? Our Hobbit never knew exactly but the fact remains that in a low voice he told her of his greatest shame - how he came into possession of a ring of power and how the object had slowly taken, despite himself, a ascendancy over him, causing him to surpass in circumstances when he should have been devoured. Never intimacy of this kind had united him with a Hobbit girl. And he feared his confession might lose his singular companion for him.
Avacuna listened attentively, as one expects the end of a nightmare, dreamed many times. When he finished, he felt relieved - not for long! She was swallowing her tears of anger.
-« Therefore Hobbits share mortal Men's fate. Hopefully you have not exactly stolen this item! But you have deceived the intentions of your young friend by pure selfishness! Hear my words, Gerontius of the Hobbits! Redemption barely remains for now at your fingertips, only since your achievements were made for the benefit of your friends. »
The tearful and confident young girl had turned strikingly into a fury hal-bobcat, half woman, wielding curses. She now dominated him with double her usual size, ready to rip his head with a clawed paw. Gerry, terrorized, defended himself by adding bad faith on awkwardness:
-« I had no intention to deceive her! I have only been somehow coward! But that was before this whole trip... I see more clearly now. And I intend to get rid of the ring... unless you want it? Take the ring! And I shall be saved, I can go home and I will marry Priscilla Hornblower to repair my wrongs! And everyone will be happy and I will not have fooled anyone! »
Then for the first time in her long life, Avacuna experienced an unknown feeling, cold and implacable serpent, inflaming the heart with pangs of bitterness, and embracing the spirit with the torments of doubt - jealousy. At the height of rage, she drew herself up to her powerful feline stature and growled angerly:
-« Tell me what might prevent me from robbing you of your manhood? »
Gerry, in his haste, was hardly inspired:
-« Your conscience? The most basic precepts of civilization?... The sweet moments we just shared?... A pleasant and relaxing occupation... A riddle contest! I know you really like that kind of thing! »
The incongruity of the Hobbit's proposals had the effect of a cold shower on Avacuna. What she wanted was an honorable and frank companion. Even for such a moment he could not stop pretending. She regained control of her nerves at the thought of a duel. This cockerel was to be disillusioned! She sketched a smirk:
-« All right! I take your manhood if I win! What do you want if you win? »
Gerry hesitated. His heart cried out to him "make peace with you!". But peace may not be made with a furious beast, no more than with a scorned woman who swallowed her resentment.
- « Go home! » He said firmly and defiantly.
- « Let it be! » Avacuna launched shortly. After a moment of reflection, she enunciated:
-« Passenger without luggage.
Heir without purse.
His legacy will not bequeath.
Knows how to do,
But may not do so.6. »
The answer occupied Gerry's whole mind for a few moments. Even its formulation ached in advance. Sweating profusely, he said shakily:
- « A Hobbit deprived of his faculty for an offspring... like a capon!
- That is right! You are viewing the important issues. Ask your riddle... »
Riddles are a very old game. Tales report that even the vilest creatures hesitate to evade or to cheat. A sentenced person may not be denied the right to try his last chance at riddles. Avacuna had even not considered refusing the offer, that sounded like a challenge. Since some well-turned riddles had toured the Northern lands for ages, many variations could be heard at the taverns all over Eriador. Thus it could be thought an inns connoisseur as keen as Gerry would stand in a privileged position. But imagine yourself struggling with a terrifying opponent and a fatal outcome in case of failure. In addition, when one runs out of the classics, inventing riddles on the spot and within the rules, requires an uncommon presence and agility of mind.
By the way, nothing forbade the players, as Avacuna just had, to remind the horrible issue in the guise of a riddle. But Gerry found this particularly unfair and failed to concentrate to find a worthy riddle. After a long time, he opted for one of the clichés of travelers, most hackneyed in the Shire inns:
- « Ten companions who never stride the roads together? »
Avacuna felt offended by this lack of imagination. She gave the answer with disdain:
- « Toes! » and went on to a childish riddle, very close to the lattest, to mark her contempt:
- « Two squads of swashbucklers sorted by size,
Winner and loser in turn,
Vassals of the same headman. »
Gerry threw the response of a triumphant air:
-« Feet! », without understanding Avacuna unconsciously tried to establish communication through the game. It reminded him of a riddle he had forged himself a few years ago at the Scarry inn. He enunciated without delay:
- « Steward opposes any,
Captain shows the way,
Sergeant lies lasciviously,
Loving Corporal clothes his golden armor,
Petty soldier listens silently. »
Gerry remained in spite of himself in the register of limbs. Therefore Avacuna had no trouble giving the answer - the fingers! - Disappointed by the poor difficulty of the game but enjoying the lively style of the last puzzle. Returning to herself, she found an old spicier riddle:
« Patient sequence,
Winding line unrolled too quickly,
I may not be forced to stop,
But I stop for each of us. »
Gerry remained silent for a long time, mired in speculation around counting along milestoned winding roads. The woman long and patiently patted her fingers on the table.
- « Your time is up! », finally chanted Avacuna smiling with a relentless and bad air.
- «Time, time! » roared Gerry on the verge of apoplexy.
This time Avacuna lost her means. Thoughtlessly giving the answer to her own riddle was a novice mistake! She shook her head, waving her red mane, which inspired to Gerry the matter of his riddle:
« Flies without wings,
Grows landless,
Worries as wisdom decimate,
Age governs its color.»
The young Woman recovered. Using all her faculties, she found the answer: "Hair!". Then she struck a blow, she thought was hard:
« Comes friends closer,
Opens onto the unknown,
Yards between the yards,
Ribbon on the dress in the world».
But Gerry had been traveling on the answer for months. After removing the "journey", he replied "the road!". Naturally enough, the image of the road led home. Then he improvised:
« Neither empty nor full,
Of air, it is not.
Dark or bright according to ease,
Away from the nest, but cozy by reputation,
Fragrant volutes sometimes escape»
The secret and homebody nature of Hobbits accorded well with Avacuna. Reflection had brought the young woman to a less worrisome stature. Hence, when she submitted "Home", our hero gallantly acepted her answer, although it was actually a Hobbit hole. This breach in the spirit of competition troubled Avacuna more than she wanted to admit. Her vindictive ardor blunted; she thought of Men, their strenght, their weaknesses and the ambiguous gift of death. No doubt their scores deserved caring. A refrain of Men from a distant time came then to her mind. She gave the riddle:
« Intermediate link
In a chain that multiplies
At each step or dwindles
Without which would be less
As a tree root, proud and vigorous »
Hobbits have a passion for genealogy. This is the main reason that pushes them to acquire some letters. They document the family ties they know, to be permanently able to assess with no mistake, the degree of kinship with people they encounter all week long. Besides, multiple kinship ties often provide material for discussion between two neighbors. Inspired by the Took family tree that fell over dozens of pages in the archives of Tuckborough, Gerry replied quickly:
« This is an ancestor!»
The face of Avacuna brightened. This old game had calmed her wrath. Riddles were the mark of a civilized being. Maybe this game was born once, invented by the wise heads of two clans to prevent them from tearing each other apart? In riddles, words played with the sense like the mind flattered the senses. Gerry knew that and had gradually understood Avacuna's envy to renew trust. Remembering a classic riddle, he perfected his statement:
« Chrysophile inextinguishable
Selfish arrogance
Bane of the greedy,
Curse of his winner. »
Avacuna savored the balanced rhythm and concise erudition of the riddle. Indeed the first word of the riddle gave the solution immediately. But impenetrability was not essential to a good riddle - it is essential the revealed answer appears obvious the losing candidate. Of course the lexical or rhetorical veil with which the author hides his statement should serve its purpose to win the contest, but in this game winning without panache is worse than succumb without merit. By the way, the issue was hardly fatal in this particular competition, since elegance now prevailed for both competitors. In any case Avacuna seemed quite abandoned to the pleasure of verbal jousting - Gerry for his part spurred his imagination, as much for the declared attraction he felt for his companion, as by the apprehension of a still possible new savagery crisis. Avacuna sang the answer: "The dragon! ", then proceeded to revisit a classic:
« My many parents are slender than me,
Pettier than my child.
I have a gorge but can only sing,
I flow but do not drown,
I have a bed but never sleep there.»
Gerry recognized the elegant and clever variant of a riddle well known in the Shire. He had the gallantry to present the answer as if it were a question - "the river?"- His companion was not fooled but appreciated the attention. Then Gerry launched a vigorous statement, prepared when Avacuna thought about her previous riddle:
« More powerful than the dragon,
More vulnerable than the newborn,
The blind man sees me,
The deaf hears me.
Who eats me dies. »
It was a novelty of his own. Avacuna thought, frowned, changed position, motivated herself by a variety of approaches. Curiously, Gerry who held his victory, formulated prayers for the game not to stop immediately. Avacuna would admit that she thought nothing could match, when she realized she had the answer:
- « Nothing! The answer is nothing! »
Gerry clapped his hands, positively thrilled. Avacuna blushed like a young girl receiving her first gallant compliment, but she was not to be intoxicated by success. After an inspired searching, she continued:
« When you discover me, I disappear.
When you share me, I weaken. »
This time our Hobbit failed miserably. Nothing he knew could approach this paradox. After sweating and a commendable perseverance, he had to admit defeat. Avacuna raised an eyebrow in a lustful smirk:
-« Well? should I give you three chances?
- I would prefer another sign! Your riddle has only two!
- Here it is :
When you discover me, I disappear.
When you share me, I weaken.
I win eternity in the death of my jailer.»
Gerry analized the last clue with method, but he could not conclude. Finally, the ideas of death and eternity led to the grave, hence the notion emerged "take his secret to the grave for eternity." The Hobbit gave up a triumphalism he found not appropriate. He gave the answer, "The secret!" and thanked the girl for her courtesy. Avacuna's charming smile spoke for her, relieved that the Hobbit would meet her expectations on the occasion. Hence Gerry emboldened to keep on playing, an unconventional way:
- « Soft and implacable master,
Whimsical and lascivious slave
I brighten dark skies
I darken judgment.
Blind who never cheats,
Instigator of major revolts
And loose dropouts.
I burst the sleeping heart
But calms the wounded mind. »
The young woman was not lulled long by the petty poem before Gerry moved accents betraied him. Her soul was full of the answer before she should give it. But suddenly she hesitated - love? It is not suitable for mortals to unite with ages-born creatures. Yet her fate was already sealed - she gave the answer in a whisper. But she wanted to fathom the intentions of the gallant. She carefully composed her riddle:
- «It is mine to the exclusion of any others.
I head forward to meet it every morning without yet knowing it.
It will catch me and impose itself one evening. »
And the miracle happened. The little Hobbit, beyond ages that separated him from Avacuna, was able to read and understand her fears. He answered, quite moved:
- « Destiny. But for me the only destiny I seek is to live with my family, with the wife who has chosen me. »
X-X-X
The days that followed were golden. Ending summer threw its last heat and vegetation renewed the annual miracle of its wealth. Gerry learned to know the animals of the valley. Only Master Corruscin showed provisions for rewarding conversation. Although some animals spoke quite properly, the talking invariably revolved around food and cubs. Gerry confessed to Avacuna that, to this regard, the local people hardly differed from those of the Shire. This casual remark, although humorous, deeply struck the young woman, who took a close interest in the home of her companion. Gerry described the peaceful and agreed life of his family, not without enlighting his painting with glazing picturesque portraits. He painted the Shire, leaving a large part to forests and wilderness, and emphasizing the Hobbits' long intimacy with the land.
Avacuna devoted herself to the simple and busy life of the season. She harvested honey, milked her goats, loved and cared for a whole string of little fur balls. Her favorite, a mischievous goat-kid, capered around her when the young woman ventured on hillsides.
Gerry realized pretty quickly that his companion avoided eating meat. He inquired about it and was very surprised by her answer:
- « I respect Legolothië's pact since I live in the valley.
- What is Legolothië?
- She is the Mistress of these places.
- Must you obey her?
- No. But I respect her wishes. She founded this place and inspires its rules. Legolothië really helped me once when I was wild. She... moderated my enthusiasms.
- One of the rules is not to eat meat. What are the other rules? », inquired Gerry, who wondered whether himself had regularly transgressed any rule.
Avacuna was surprised with her companion's formulation:
-«There are no really rules - rather principles of benevolence and motherhood. I do not hunt any animal in the valley because I can not track down those that I consider my children. I only use the natural resources that are available. The plants are grown, but with moderation, promoting harmony in variety. »
One morning, Gerry took out blankets and stepped out of Avacuna's cave, feeling under his feet the cracking of the twigs, frozen by the first frost of the season. A thrush emerged from the bushes covering the roof of the house and went down to hop before Gerry.
-«Is that you? How happy I am to see you! » He said happily, reaching out his hand. The bird jumped on the finger and cackled like a little salt mill.
Avacuna, coming out of her cave, surprised the bird's moving sign. Her kid came up and sniffed the bird curiously.
-« This young thrush was raised by the elves! You are full of surprises, Master Gerontius. »
A moment the bird turned to Avacuna and was silent. Then she started up again in the direction of the young woman who smiled while translating:
-« The small thrush feels very alone. She has been searching for you you for many days. She almost got eaten by a large eagle and went into hiding. She is happy she has found you. She urges you to follow her. His master gave her the mission to escort you to Rivendell. She is worried but she does not know why. She urges you to leave this… dangerous place! »
Avacuna no longer smiled! The small thrush posed as a rival and treated her home as a dangerous place, and she was eager to remove her companion. She dismissed the animal who flew and landed not far in the high branches of a birch tree.
-« Naughty little thrush! I see that you are caught in the councils and plans of the powerful! I wonder if you'll get out of it... But now I think maybe it is time to go and see... »
As a matter of fact, Avacuna too felt a slight tightness, throbbing and growing, that had been veiled by novelty and bliss of the Hobbit being with her. A sense of urgency had gained in recent days, without her being able to determine its origin. A flight of geese descending from the north passed away on their left.
-« Usually geese from the Ettenmoors do not leave so early! Winter looks early and rigorous... », she said thoughtfully.
This unusual event ended to convince her. She had to make an important step, perhaps decisive for her, and she set off within the hour. Along with Gerry and her kid, Avacuna trotted over hill and dale to a mysterious destination.
1 Probably derived from sindarin : Cor – red - and Rusc – Fox.
2 Character from a fable of La Fontaine, in which a weasel and a rabbit come before him to expose a property dispute.
3 Montains North of Beleriand, covered with fir tree forests, at first age of Middle Earth.
4 La chanson de Roland
5 Félix Leclerc
6 Inspired by Sacha Guitry, about literary critics: « They are like eunuchs. They know how we do it, but they cannot do it! »