Chapter 7: Gift of Ilúvatar, the Curses of the Elves, and the Foolishness of the Naugrim
Author's note: I wrote this after downing and entire cup of coffee after not having drunk coffee for years. Also this deals with off screen character, and very brief the off screen death of family members.
The party rode in relative quiet after Ithilel's song ended. Ithilel had been regaling Bilbo and the dwarves with tales from her childhood with Elenath, her brother and future king, Gil-Galad, and their best friend Faevel. Eventually, as is the nature of things, the rain came to an end, and so did the trees. Soon they were riding through rolling grassy fields, between rocky canyons, and then into more trees, and out again. The dwarves talked among themselves and with Bilbo and Gandalf, although they mostly avoided speaking with the elves. Elenath and Ithilel had lowered their guard somewhat and rode in companionable silence, a comfort that spoke of much experience with this kind of travel. On occasion, Bilbo would ask questions about their own adventures or their familiarity with the area. Both elves admitted that while they often traveled to the Havens to visit Círdan the Shipwright and remember those who had fallen—Faevel and their brother, High King Gil-Galad in Lindon—they had not taken this exact path in almost a decade. When Bilbo wondered if much had changed, both elves laughed.
"Rocks and trees do not change like mortals, nor even like elves, Master Baggins," explained Elenath. "The grasses and earth of this land have been here much longer than even us. They do not change in a mere ten years."
"It is only the people who would be different," added Ithilel, before turning her head at the sound of a bird calling and mimicking it back with near-perfect cadence.
"People live here?" questioned Bilbo, looking around. While the land seemed healthy and peaceful, it was completely barren of the touch of man—not a farm or village in sight. Nor, for that matter, an inn or tavern.
"Not many. Some Northmen come from the mountains, and some Bree-men who wish to try their fortunes away from Bree come to farm, but it is mostly Dúnedain who do not wish to be rangers their whole lives. They settle down in this land and provide provisions to other rangers who pass by," explained Ithilel.
"The Dúnedain—the descendants of the Númenóreans?!" exclaimed Bilbo excitedly. He remembered reading about them in some very obscure history books and hearing of them in elvish stories by the fireside.
"Indeed, even the great Dúnedain need food other than what they hunt. I would have thought that you, of all people, would have thought of that, little Hobbit," responded Ithilel with a snort of laughter that sounded like a pig that had just found a potato.
"One farmer lives not far from here—Abrazîr and his wife, Loriena, and their three little daughters and boisterous eldest son, who always loved chasing us around with wooden swords and toy bows," added Elenath.
"Do not pretend that you did not teach Elowen and Lúthiel how to make their own bows and arrows," Ithilel chastised with a smile.
"Ah, but was it not you who taught Mirandë to use her size to her advantage and hide in the tall grass to surprise us with arrows in the back while we were fending off her sisters? Do not pretend to be innocent in this, Ithilel," retorted Elenath with a raised eyebrow and smirk, as her friend muttered something in Elvish that Bilbo did not catch.
"They must be fine young rangers now, probably being trained by their older brother on how to hunt orcs," added Ithilel.
"You did not teach the son as well?" questioned Bilbo, curiosity piqued, interested to know what other mortal friends the two elves had watched grow up like he had.
"Oh, of course we did. A talented little ranger he will make."
"That is why we were here when we last passed through—to escort young Halbarad to Bree to train under some of the best rangers of the North," added Elenath, with a contemplative look in her eyes.
Once again, the group fell into a comfortable silence as they rode for another hour or so, until suddenly Ithilel stood up in her stirrups and called out,
"Muinthel, edra! Nad faeg athan bâd, dúr ú-dharthar channad vîn!"
With that cry, both elves called to their horses in Elvish, who responded by immediately breaking into a gallop, racing around the ponies in front of them, up the steep, grassy, and rocky slope toward the top of the hill and the copse of trees.
Bilbo strained to see what had brought such distress to his friends, but without their height or elven eyes, he could not understand what they were after.
The dwarves were also bothered, some placing their hands on their weapons and urging their ponies to go faster. Even Thorin seemed to catch the feeling of urgency and suspense, and he increased the speed of the company.
When they reached the top of the hill, Bilbo saw what had caused his elven friends such distress. On the hilltop were the wooden bones of what had once been a farmhouse. All that remained were some support beams, the mostly collapsed roof, and the stone fireplace. Moss and ivy covered the roof and what was left of the walls. But when Bilbo got closer, he noticed that while it looked like it had been in ruins for decades from a distance, the damage was probably not more than four years old. In fact, it looked more like something very large had stripped the house of most of its wood and smashed its fists into the roof.
Elenath and Ithilel had both dismounted. Elenath had drawn her longsword, the eight-pointed star on the pommel shining in the light of the setting sun. Ithilel was bent low to the ground, short bow drawn, and an arrow notched as she swept the grounds around the collapsed house.
Gandalf inspected the ruined house before explaining to the dwarves, "A farmer and his family used to live here."
Thorin surveyed the cottage and the area around it before dismounting and calling out, "We'll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them. Óin, Glóin, get the fire going."
"Right you are," answered Óin in a chipper voice, unbothered by the ruined house around them.
"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley," interjected Gandalf, glancing around with unease on his face.
"I've told you already. I will not go near that place," growled Thorin, his face darkening at the suggestion.
"Have your wits left you entirely, dwarf, or is gold all you can comprehend?" snapped Ithilel, a cold anger in her face and voice. "Do you not understand what has happened here?"
"This was done by a troll, you foolish Naugrim!" exclaimed Elenath. "Do you have no respect for the dead or your own life that you wish to linger here?"
"The wizard is right—you must move on from this place. We do not know how far the trolls have gone, nor what other creatures may have followed in their trail. You must make for Imladris if you wish to live to the end of your quest!"
"Elenath and Ithilel are right. The elves of Imladris could help us. We could get food, rest, and advice. We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us," added Gandalf, more annoyed with Thorin than before.
"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, and what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, and the Elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father," cried out Thorin, his face full of self-righteous anger.
"That is your reason for risking the lives of everyone here?! Before, King Thranduil would not lead his people to a massacre on behalf of the dwarves who had stolen his dead wife's jewels, just like in Doriath?" questioned Ithilel, her voice cold as she stared down at the dwarf, mockery on her face as Elenath added,
"Did you expect the elves, without even asking for aid, to help you in your foolish bid to take Moria without even considering the Valarauko, the Balrog?"
"The elves owed your family no loyalty and no oath. How did we betray you? The Woodland Elves would not help you because they knew what you brought with your greed and ambition, and they knew what you would demand of us. Even if my people had failed you, you made no petition to, nor were wronged by the people of Imladris," stated Ithilel, cold as the Fell Winter.
"My friends are right, Thorin. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past," added Gandalf.
"I did not know they were yours to keep," answered Thorin sullenly, before turning to the elves. "If you, Elenath, do not like the way I lead this company, you are free to leave, considering you were never invited on this quest in the first place. As for you, Wood Elf, if you do not leave this place and my presence, I will be sure to put you in the ground."
Here's a revised version of the passage you shared, with some edits for clarity and flow:
"I will not have my father, grandfather, and people slandered by a traitorous Wood Elf who cannot move past her own past, and who can never stop telling tales of long-dead Elven kings and warriors whose absence from this world is a blessing!"
The silence that followed Thorin's words felt like the moment after lightning strikes next to you.
Crack!
Thorin crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Ithilel shook her fist once, while Elenath closed her eyes and whispered something in Elvish to the Valar.
No one else moved—dwarf, wizard, or Hobbit. All were paralyzed by what had just happened, unsure what to do next.
Suddenly, Dwalin leaped into action, brandishing his axes and charging. The rest of the dwarves followed his lead, drawing their weapons to defend their king, though some seemed unsure if it was the right course of action. Both Elves answered in turn, drawing their swords with ease and preparing for the fight.
Suddenly, a bright flash of light blinded both groups, and the thunderous voice of Gandalf rang out:
"Cease this folly at once! There is enough evil in this world without you adding to it!"
Both sides halted in their tracks, as Gandalf towered over them all, a fierce scowl on his face. At his request, the Elves sheathed their weapons, prompting the dwarves to lower theirs as well.
Turning on his heel, Gandalf stomped toward his horse.
"Gandalf, where are you going?" cried Bilbo in distress, not liking being caught in the middle.
"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense—myself. I've had enough of dwarves and Elves for one day."
Elenath and Ithilel said nothing to the dwarves. They merely turned towards the ruined house and kneeled in the dirt, saying in unison:
"No guren sír in Ilúvatar na anui i thand hen, a no den govannen vaer na i sîdh i Fain o Mandos."
Both bowed their heads for a moment, placing their hands on the earth, then stood, turned to face West, and bowed once more.
With that done, the Elves mounted their horses.
"Bilbo, you should accompany us. It is not safe here," Ithilel advised.
"No, thank you," replied Bilbo. "I have committed to this quest, and I am far too sore to ride any more today."
"Then I wish you the best of luck, and may the blessing of the Valar be upon you," Ithilel returned as she and Elenath urged their horses into a gallop.
Bilbo watched them disappear into the dusk, riding separately from Gandalf, before turning to Balin.
"Is he coming back?"
The dwarf did not answer, but the look of worry on his face was enough of an answer for Bilbo as he joined Óin in tending to Thorin, reviving him from his unconscious state.
*A bad Sinadrin translation for: "Sister, beware something foul has transpired, evil has found our friends!"
* Quenya version of Belrog.
*"May the eternal rest of Ilúvatar, be upon this family and may they be welcomed warmly into rest of the Halls of Mandos."