IN THE SHIRE-RECKONING by Diane Finnis-Robb  

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Part One; Chapter Eleven "Ambassador to the West"

   Twoody and Gondo had spent the whole three days of Lithe, the celebration of summer solstice, in the company of one dozen Elves of the Western Lands. “Noldor” they had called themselves and a few had hair as golden and bright as flowers in a meadow. The elves had escorted them to a place for their meeting in a quiet glade down a path of tall elm trees. They came to the center of the glade where Twoody saw a great black tree of a kind he was unfamiliar with. Though old and bare its limbs were vast and filled the whole of the clearing around it. In the wide hollow of this tree beds had been prepared for the hobbits and sumptuous foods were laden on a small table. Nob, their pony, was given oats and grasses and even an early summer apple.

   In no documents of the Shire are any of the names of these elves recorded or is there any account of what was discussed. But for many years Twoody would say that the gracious courtesies of the Elves, even in such a rustic setting, surpassed even that of the King in his high court at Fornost.

   The sun had gone behind the mountains on the last of the SummerDays as Gondolpho Boldbuck and Theudebald Swiftalk were to have their last conversation as friends at the western edge of the Shire. They stood for a moment together watching the stars quietly awaken. Gondo’s eye was caught by a bright red twinkling of light in the northeast as the sky darkened around them all.

   ‘“Carnil”,1 she had called it,’ Gondo said softly to his friend. ‘I have not heard them named before. Have you? Not that one nor any other. Do we have names for the stars, Twoody, or am I just too thick and have never learned them?’

   ‘I don’t know much about the stars and such,’ Twoody replied. ‘Maybe we do have names for them, or maybe we had once. Our folk were travelers for many long generations before we came together you know, and travelers always have a need for stars to guide them. And the king had names for them, if you remember. “The Swordsman of the Sky” he showed us that one night, Gondo, and, oh, but it blazed above our heads the whole time he spoke. Do you remember that? Maybe he could tell us more about the stars.’

   ‘Not as much as these fair folk, I think,’ Gondo said as he turned his eyes west to the small party of tall and pale travelers who were standing in the open air and preparing to leave. Only seven now remained of them, each more than twice the height of Gondo or Twoody or any other hobbit that they had ever known. As the sun’s light failed and the stars were growing brighter these wandering folk seemed to shine against the night all the more. Twoody could see that from the distance Gondo watched her, their leader, transfixed he seemed, as her golden hair became like silver in the night.2

   ‘We have done well in this meeting,’ Twoody said cautiously, hoping to draw his friend’s attention away from the visitors, ‘for they are a powerful ally to have on our far western border. Very queer folk of course, as all the legends say, but clearly very mighty, very wise and, if quite mysterious in their ways, very willing to leave us be about on ways of our own. Yes. Quite a successful if unexpected meeting, I should say.’

   More stars were brightening behind them now, Gondo thought that he could feel them, and, as his eyes were focused upon the tall Elf-queen he believed he saw all of the light of these dawning stars surround her; her hair and her face and her raiments, and he knew that in her there was knowledge to be found that was deeper than any adventure had yet revealed to him. He had stopped listening to Twoody’s talking and somewhere, either behind or before him, he imagined that he heard a nightingale softly singing.

   And so, as Twoody would tell others later, Gondolpho Boldbuck became enchanted.

   ‘I will go with them, Twoody,’ he said, ‘and learn more about the stars and the West and all of their songs. I will follow them on their trek to the Great Waters.’

   ‘Gondo, no!’ Twoody said to his friend, grasping his arm as if to pull him out of his dream. ‘What are you saying? We have done well here, my dear friend, and have no need to go further. We have mapped much of our western lands and made good agreements with our gracious but very queer neighbors. But here our work ends. They need no ambassadors and we need no further trade. What, tell me, can such an adventure provide? Why go further west when we have a home to build here in our own lands?’

   And the whole of this time Gondolpho’s eyes were looking to the elves and seemed to pay no attention to Twoody’s argument. At least not until the very end.

   '“Ambassador,” you call it?’ Gondo asked. ‘Yes, that is the word indeed, Twoody. I see them and I see the light of stars fall about them and I think we will always need an emissary, some intercessor between their folk and our own. And, seeing them now, all of my heart bends me to this task. Twoody, there is so much we might learn! I will follow them for a time as our Ambassador to the West.’

   And here Gondolpho shrugged off his friend’s arm and hastily began to pack up all that he might need to follow the elves west into their lands. Twoody waited for a moment, watching his friend, and collecting his thoughts to offer any argument he might imagine against this enchantment. It took long minutes as the skies continued to darken and the stars began to shine and the Fair Folk who they had met began to depart. They had drawn together near the side of the Great Road and the hobbits could hear them as they began to sing. Gondo and Twoody could not understand the meaning of their song of course, but the sweet syllables fell like clear jewels of blended word and melody.3

   ‘A Elbereth Gilthoniel’4

   ‘What shall I tell Alaura?’ Twoody asked, feeling as if he could do or say nothing else that might stop his friend.

   ‘Oh, I’ll be back before too long,’ Gondo said, though he stopped his packing for a moment and looked back away to the east. ‘And she’s certainly put up with my leaving many times before,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘You’ll watch out for her until I return.’

   ‘silivren penna míriel’

   ‘Of course I will,’ Twoody said, seeing now a familiar sureness in his friend’s eyes which made him certain that any hope of argument was lost. ‘But when will you return? How far will you travel?’

   ‘Not more than a year, I promise.’

   ‘A year! Gondo, that’s-’

   ‘It will be Mid-summer again, yes,’ Gondo interrupted, ‘and a special day for their people and ours. I will tell them that I vowed to return and I must meet you here on Mid-summer. But I must go now, Twoody, or I will not catch them up.’ With this he threw his pack on his shoulder and took up his walking stick at a very great pace.

   ‘Wait!’ Twoody said. ‘Wait, just one moment then, you impetuous and bull-headed vagabond, for if you must go then you’ll certainly need some person of intelligence to go with you! Let me just gather these few things and douse this fire...’ and, quite against his better judgement and certainly against all his better plans, Theudebald Swiftalk, found himself hastily breaking camp and leaving much of their gear behind to follow his friend on yet another adventure.

   ‘o menel aglar elenath!’

   He quickly poured out good clean water from good clean pots and kicked up loose dirt over the fire, all the time reaching for important items to throw into their saddle packs. He then ran forward to their little pony, their fellow traveller for many years, and began to fit him for the journey. ‘We can’t leave old Nob behind us, Gondo,’ he said sharply as he worked, ‘for that would surely be the most unkind treatment to such a respected old friend. Much like, I must say, you were planning to do to me!’ At this he expected to hear his friend laugh but, looking about their small camp, he discovered that he was alone; Gondo was far in the distance, running down the Great Road trying to catch up to the elves without waiting for Twoody or Nob or any reasonable argument.

   ‘Na-chaered palan-díriel

   ‘O galadhremmin ennorath,’

   ‘Dear, oh dear,’ Twoody said aloud (preferring not to curse at friends). ‘He has gone on without even a goodbye! Well, we shall have to catch him up and redress him for this insult, won’t we, Nob?’ If the pony had any wisdom to offer, Twoody could not hear it. Softer and softer the elvish song became, though it rang in Twoody’s mind for many years after.

‘Fanuilos, le linnathon ‘Nef aear, sí nef aearon!

‘A Elbereth Gilthoniel

‘O menel palan-diriel,

‘Le nallon sí di'nguruthos! ‘A tiro nin, Fanuilos!’

 

*****

 

   ‘Not one quarter of an hour!’ Twoody thought to himself now as he and old Nob walked west along the Great Road out of the Shire in search of their friend. ‘He could not wait for us that long, Nob?’

   The Road forward took many turnings and around him the land was becoming thickly wooded. It was dark now, and the shadows from these woods made it difficult to track. He knew that Gondo and the Elves must have left the Road to follow their own mysterious paths and that soon, unwillingly, he must give up his search and turn back towards home. He would return to the settlements they had built together and that his friend (who Twoody was so greatly disappointed in!) had now abandoned. He would have to see Alaura and explain how he had let their friend run incautiously off into the west alone and without aid. He would have to explain the power of the Elves and, if he was to help his own people in developing and exploring their new land, he must also explain how dangerous contact with the Elves might be.

   Twoody paused in the middle of the Road, listening. He heard Nob swishing his tail. He heard the chittering of insects and the soft rustling of leaves in the low wind. He tried to shut all these sounds out and listen only for the Elven-folk singing, joyful and alluring and dangerous as he knew it to be. He listened carefully, hoping to hear a song which might point some way forward to where he might still find his friend. But the song had passed from his concerned ears.

   At length in the moment he turned his eyes skyward and, unlooked for, a star rose glittering and bright in the northwest. But Twoody had no name for the star and felt the loss of his friend all the greater. In that moment, gazing at that far off star, he thought he heard the call of a nightingale, but it came from behind him and back in the direction of lands which he knew.

   So with great sadness and frustration he turned himself and the pony Nob around, deciding against hope that they must leave their incautious friend behind and return to the Shire. It was the sixteen hundred and fourth year of the king’s calendar, the Third Year of the Shire-reckoning, and Theudebald Swiftalk knew that he had a responsibility to his people, to his friends and, above all, to Alaura, his friend’s wife.

   Gondolpho Boldbuck had become enchanted on Mid-summer’s eve and things between the two prominent families of the Shire would never be the same.

 

end of chapter eleven

Chapter End Notes

Notes

1)  “Carnil” is the Quenya name for the planet Mars, seen as a star by the Elves and all the people of Middle-earth. It is one of the early stars created by Varda and shines at early hours of night in the middle of summer.

2)  This is the first indication within the story that the leader of this group may have been Galadriel.

3)  This phrase is quite directly lifted from LoTR of course, but this is exactly the kind of Easter eggs I enjoy strewing about for fans like myself to enjoy.

4)  Translations for this prayer to Varda (Kindler of the Stars) can be found easily online, but my wife suggested I should place it here as well: white) glittering slants down / sparkling like jewels / from [the] firmament [the] glory [of] the star-host! / To-remote distance far-having gazed / from [the] tree-tangled middle-lands, / Fanuilos, to thee I will chant / on this side of ocean, here on this side of the Great Ocean!

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