CHAPTER EIGHT
Durin's Day
Gandalf had demanded her presence when Elrond read the map; even when Thorin had given him the coldest glare he could muster, even when Bilbo made to speak against his decision.
"Farren has every right to read it," the wizard said calmly but with fiery eyes, "And, once she studies the map; she will remember every crease and ink line on it and she may know something about it we do not,"
Thorin opened his mouth to retort angrily but Farren had already floated out from within the shadows, her face pale and her gaze averted to the floor. She would not look at Bilbo nor Thorin as they proceeded into a moonlit courtyard where the High Elf stood, staring out upon his kingdom. He looked magnificent against the white rays; his shadow was long and curled around their feet,
"What is it you wish for me to see?" the elf said airily and Thorin took out the map, but did not show Elrond,
"Our business is no concern of Elves," he said simply, his stubbornness showing as his shoulders squared and Farren's lip curled,
"For goodness sake Thorin," she hissed dangerously, "Show him the map,"
"It is the legacy of my people," he replied, slightly surprised at her tone of voice, "It is mine to protect, as are its secrets," And the Gandalf made a noise of frustration,
"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves," he demanded, "Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond,"
There was a pause for Gandalf to regain his composure, glaring holes in the side of Thorin's head and the Dwarf king seemed to draw the map back into his cloak for a second, before holding it out for Elrond to take. He studied it for a moment,
"Erebor," he turned towards the group, "What is your interest in the map?" and Thorin opened his mouth again, intending to foolishly tell the Elf about their quest -,
"It's mainly academic," Gandalf interrupted with a side glance at the dwarf, "As you know, this sort of artefact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?"
And the moon shone on the yellowing parchment, causing Farren's lips to open in shock,
"Lunaimbuit," she whispered and the males standing before her parted to allow her through, "Moon Runes,"
"Of course," Gandalf smiled, "An easy thing to miss."
"These runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written." She explained quietly, taking the map from Elrond carefully as if she were handling a new born child.
"Can you read them?" she almost laughed at Thorin's question and nodded, not smiling at him.
Bilbo could not believe the beauty that had suddenly been thrust upon him as he exited the long tunnel that Elrond had been leading them through, so Farren could read the Runes. He had heard snippets of their conversation, but not enough to make out what they were properly discussing.
But he did not dwell on them, staring around him with awe struck eyes. They had emerged behind two waterfalls that fell apart so there was a gap for the moon to shine through on a clear night. There was a walkway leading towards a table that stood atop a magnificently carved rock, where all the rest were gathered around. The table itself was something of his imagination, Bilbo thought as he caught up, a round structure made of pure crystal that was a perfect height for Farren as she smoothed the map on top of it.
"These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve," she explained mistily, "by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago; the same moon shines upon us tonight," and they lifted their heads to look at the sky as one, watching as the grey clouds moved like ghosts to let the moon shine down upon them.
The white rays hit the table and it immediately started to glow, several lines of ancient text appearing in the bottom right hand corner. Farren ran her calloused fingers over the runes delicately before clearing her throat,
"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole,"
Her voice was not gritty and plain as it had been; Bilbo thought she sounded like a pure Elven Princess who was reading a sacred text; Gandalf saw her eyes flash gold once more and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end; and Thorin hardly heard what she was saying, staring at her illuminated figure and watching her fingers brush each rune as she said it.
"What is Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked suddenly, his curiosity getting the better of him and Gandalf leaned on his staff with a smile,
"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together," he told the Hobbit and Thorin's eyes were cast downwards,
"This is ill news," the king said kneading his eyes with his palms, "summer is passing and Durin's Day will soon be upon us,"
"We still have time," Farren reasoned desperately, refolding the map and handing it gently to Thorin, who hastily stuffed it in his pocket. Her brows furrowed, "To find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time," she answered Bilbo's questioning looks, "Then, and only then, can the door be opened,"
"So this is your purpose, to enter the Lonely Mountain?" Elrond said, his voice low and cautious,
"What of it?" Thorin muttered gruffly, looking up at the careful elf who sighed,
"There are some who would not deem it wise," he looked over at the Grey wizard who had not said anything for a while,
"Who do you mean?" he nearly spat and Elrond began to walk away, back along the tunnel,
"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-Earth," and he was gone, leaving Farren and Bilbo to connect equally confused gazes; Thorin to watch his retreating robes with thinning lips and Gandalf to look up at the sky in deep thought.