[Child of the 7th Age]

Olorin had returned to the household of Nienna and, with her consent, approached her brother Irmo, or Lorien, who, as master of visions and dreams, dwells in the gardens of repose. Within those gardens stands Lake Lorellin where the grey-clad Este, wife to Lorien, sleeps on an isle in the midst of its clear waters.

These gardens are the most beautiful in all of Arda. They contain flowers of delicate colors and hues, and sweet-flowing fountains whose waters are said to carry healing. Sometimes, silver mists rise up from the ground and drape all in mystery and loveliness, acting like a curtain that descends over the eyes of Men and Elves when they wander through the land of dreams.

It was here that Olorin came to inquire if anything could be done to grant the hobbit's request before it was his time to pass beyond the circles of Arda. Because Bilbo had been a faithful Ringbearer, Lorien listened carefully to the words Olorin spoke. And he looked deep into the eyes of the Maia and saw great wisdom and compassion reflected there.

Then Lorien turned and sighed. "I have known for some time you would bring this matter before me, so I went to my wife and spoke with her. For when she sleeps, she sees many things, and watches those who wander nightly searching for others whom they love. In truth, the hobbits whom you describe, Camelia and Maura, are known to her. Though separated by untold years, they search for each other in sleep and dreaming, seeking to pierce the veil of time and come into each other's arms. By night, they pass within a finger's breadth of each other, yet, being mortals, lack the eyes to see."

The image Lorien called up tugged hard at Olorin's heart, as the Grey Pilgrim thought back to his days in Beleriand, and to the two hobbits who had led their people from the prison camp of Ladros to the freedom of Tol Fuin. "Can nothing be done to aid them?"

Lorien replied, "The portal of time has closed, and may not be opened again to those on the Star. Manwe has spoken to me concerning this matter, and his dictates are not to be denied. And yet, ...." Lorien's voice trailed off for a moment, before he continued.

"There is another way, and that is the path of visions and dreams. Since these two already seek each other, it may be possible to open their eyes and grant them wisdom that is normally withheld from the Children of Men and Hobbits. In this way they may watch over one another through all their years in dream, although their bodies remain far apart. But, for this to come about, they must first journey to a timeless place where vision and reality blend so that, for a brief instant of time, their minds and bodies join."

"Lorien, or the Blessed Lands?" Gandalf interrupted. "Do you speak of these? But such places are meant for Elves."

"Olorin, there are more wonders in Middle-earth than even you have imagined. This garden stands at the center of a hub. Its silver tendrils reach out to the free folk, and, for each of them, one or more chambers have been set aside, that which best suits their nature, where dream and reality walk hand-in-hand, and limitations of time or space mean but little."

Olorin's eyes went wide with wonder, as he considered this possibility, "But where are there such places for hobbits like Maura and Cami?"

Lorien smiled, then laughed, "I can not reveal all my secrets to you. But know that every people has its own true place. For hobbits, there is one spot filled with companionship, and another that mirrors the goodness of the land. For these things speak to their people most deeply."

"I will say no more, since I will act as the hobbits' guide and watch over them. For there are dangers in what they would attempt. Both they, and those about them, must remain alert."

Then the two spoke at length about what Olorin would say to Bilbo once he returned to the isle of Tol Eressea.

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A small vessel skirted the isle of Tol Fuin, searching for a protected cove amid the innumerable boulders and cliffs that spanned the length of the shore. At the tiller stood a solitary figure in grey robes. His eyes scanned the coastline, as he carefully maneuvered his craft through jagged rocks and shallows. When a fresh gust of wind filled the sail, tilting the skiff towards the west, Ancalimon finally spotted the half-hidden sandy beach and dropped anchor close to shore.

It had been over a year since he'd last seen the hobbits. At that time, they had just arrived on the island and were struggling to find shelter and food to withstand the depths of winter. Now, much had changed. The hot sun of late summer beat down on a small but well ordered community that had grown up near the coast. Ancalimon could see burrows dug neatly on an overhead ridge, as well as outlines of fields rich with crops and a surprising variety of animals. A number of small fishing vessels were drawn up on the sand while their owners, who looked to be Stoors, worked to mend and strengthen the nets.

A group of hobbit children chasing minnows through the waves were the first to greet their new visitor. As the Grey Pilgrim slipped over the side of his boat, he was instantly engulfed by welcoming arms. They begged to see what he had brought them, pointing to the heavy brown sack which was slung about his back.

"Later, I promise," he laughed. "But first take me to Loremaster."

One of the younger boys proudly announced. "Now, we have two Loremasters. Maura who teaches and Lindo who sings. Which one do you want? I am one of Lindo's boys. He is my father."

Ancalimon smiled, reached out a hand to grip the lad's shoulder, "I'm sure I'll be speaking to Lindo as well, since I intend to stay for a while. But, right now, could you take me to Maura?"

The childen responded by tugging on the edge of Ancalimon's cloak and beckoning him on with their hands. They guided their guest up the beach to the row of burrows set highest on the ridge. At the far end of the settlement, under the shade of a stately beech tree, there was a tidy burrow with a round door and a surrounding garden crowded with a tangle of sweet flowers and herbs and vines.

As Ancalimon stooped to smell the heady fragrance of the blossoms, his eyes fell on a stubborn patch of athelas, blooming sturdily where no athelas should bloom. For one instant, but only an instant, he questioned why the plant was growing in such an unlikely spot, so far from the lands and age that had given it life. Yet, who was he to say whether a miracle should or should not be? For athelas, like love, is a habinger of hope for folk whose hearts and bodies ache. And, in matters such as these, differences of time and place often appear very unimportant.

With that wistful reminder, he lifted up his staff to pound against the door, waiting for someone to let him inside. It was on his third try that a tall hobbit emerged from behind the house, cradling a crying infant in a sling at his chest, and carrying a hoe in his left hand.

The hobbit's reaction was instantaneous. A smile wreathed his face, as he threw down the hoe and rushed to embrace Ancalimon.

The peddler responded with genuine affection. "Maura Took, you rascal. It is good to see you. When I got no answer at your door, I thought you'd decided that I was more trouble than I was worth."

"No, no, that's not true. Zira's little one was singing so loudly with all her complaints that I was lucky to hear you at all."

"This is your new niece then?"

Maura beamed with pride, "Yes, this is Azra, named in remembrance of a dear friend. She was born just six months ago. My sister Zira is on her rounds as a healer, and Ban is working in the fields, so Uncle Maura was delegated to tend the babe."

"And Abar?" Gandalf ask, referring to Zira and Ban's eldest son.

"He is at Lindo's playing with some of the Snowhobbits. He has become quite the young lad, since you last saw him."

Maura invited Ancalimon inside and set some food and drink between them to share. They sat down together and began to speak in earnest. They talked at length of what had happened to the hobbits since the fall of Beleriand, and how fine a place Tol Fuin had turned out to be. Ancalimon gave Maura two books of lore, one Elvish and one Mannish, so that it would be easier for him to pass on knowledge to the younger ones. The hobbit set these volumes on the shelf beside the few others that he had managed to bring with him to the isle, including the journal of the wise-woman Andreth, which Cami had discovered in Ladros.

Maura wistfully fingered the old leather binding of Andreth's journal and gazed over towards Ancalimon. There was silence between them for a full minute. Then Maura spoke in softer tones, "Can you tell me anything, anything at all about her?"

"Only this. That she works diligently to bring goodness and healing to her people in Greenwood, especially the little ones who have come to rely on her. That her promises to you stand at the center of her life, even now. And that she has found much joy, but it is always tinged with sorrow and longing."

Maura answered simply, "It is little different for me." Then he looked away, and went to gather up the plates, steering the conversation towards other subjects.

By mid-afternoon, Ancalimon excused himself, and inquired about the way to Lindo's burrow, as there were other matters he wished to discuss with him. And, to Maura's delight, the Grey Pilgrim promised to return for the family's evening meal and to stay with the hobbits for a good number of days.

[ February 01, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]