The Hobbits by Gilthalion

[Mithadan]

Chapter XIX

HIDE AND SEEK

The afternoon was grey and the sky had become blustery. Madrigal rode ahead, with Geniwel seated behind her, and with Cider impatient to run still farther and faster. But Maddie checked the spirited mare's pace, to give the elf girl riding with her a chance to use her sharp clear sight to spy out any further pages dropped from Elediriel's notebook. Turry and Furry also rode less swiftly than Thunder and Lightning could, hoping to see any sign or trace of Ellie or the precious baby or the wicked wizard who had stolen him away.

Hours ago, they had ridden from the hidden northern way out of the valley of Rivendell. Sentries let them pass with little challenge, since Queen Arwen held the hobbits in such high esteem. Not only that, but Madrigal was at her most charming, Geniwel was a fair young elvish girl, and the lonely sentries, charged with keeping folk out of the valley, were not prone to be overly cautions to keep folk in. "Come back ere nightfall," they said. "Or ere the weather grows worse. There has been enough grief today! We will have a merry meeting when you return!"

Only once had they been rewarded in their northern search. Geniwel saw a page of the journal on the green meadow almost due north of Rivendell and the hobbits and youngsters now felt sure that Ellie was heading north indeed. Cairmir, youngest son of the ranger Cairduin, muttered to Furry, with whom he rode on the Took's black stallion, that there were no tracks and perhaps his brother Cairdur was right and the page meant nothing. Of course, Cairdur had actually said no such thing, but little brothers are prone sometimes to think like that. Still, there was little else to do except turn back and no one wanted to do this. So they pressed on until the glow of the sun above the grey cover of clouds began to pass into the west.

Madrigal brought Cider to a halt and waited for the others to catch up.

"If we turn back now, we will still not get back to Rivendell until long after dark," she said.

"I do not think I can find the secret paths at night," said Cairmir.

"Then we should keep going north until we find Ellie," said Turry. "I didn't set out just to return having seen and done nothing."

"That's what I say," Furry agreed.

"Look a great eagle!" cried Geniwel.

The elf girl pointed into the northern sky with a slender finger. Cairmir thought he could see something but none of the hobbits could tell what Geniwel saw. But soon they could all see a black speck flying below the grey clouds. Then they could see that it flew lower and lower. Finally, it became the shape of a great bird, flying erratically, and then even the hobbits could tell just before the eagle landed clumsily in the meadow before them, that the noble bird was injured.

It was Rondramehir, who had flown, bleeding and injured, with the last of his strength, until he saw the hobbits and the children of Rivendell in the meadowlands north of the hidden valley. They rushed forward on the hobbit ponies and dismounted, hurrying to the side of the great bird.

The elf child Geniwel was already weeping at the sight, for she was tender-hearted as well as brave, as were so many of those fair folk in that day when the world was greener and life more precious. She lifted his head and stroked the feathers of his neck. "Give him some water," she said.

Madrigal held her hands cupped and Furry poured water into them. Rondramehir dipped his great beak and drank. After a time, he had strength to speak.

"You seek your friend," said the noble lord of the eagles. "You may find her north of here. Ride hard, and when the Moon is high you will see a rocky hill not too far distant. From that hill I have flown and fallen and rested and flown and fallen here. I fear I have flown my last. Upon its summit, my wing mates and I did battle with the old man and the vulture he rode. I left Elediriel there and I do not know what became of her or of the child the old man stole. The carrion eater we slew. The wizard was too great a foe. He killed my brothers and my cousins who flew with me this evil day. And now, I shall perish, too."

Rondramehir's eyes closed, and the great bird said no more. Madrigal wept aloud, and the boys tried not to weep as well, for they were angry and wanted to ride. But Geniwel said, "I will stay and comfort him as I am able, and perhaps he will not die."

"But you can't stay here alone!" said Madrigal. "I won't let you!"

"Then stay here with her and with the eagle," said Furry. "We will ride hard and find this place, leaving the marks of our passage and leading help that way."

"That's good thinking," said Turry. "No doubt many others will come this way from Rivendell. You can speed them to us! I fear we may need their help before all is done. It has already been too long since Ellie was left alone with that wicked wizard!"

"Then let us go!" said Cairmir. "And may your ponies run as fast as an eagle flies!"

The Took Twins mounted Thunder and Lightning, with the Dunedain boy. They rode north as fast as the black ponies ever had run, to find the infant and their friend, and perhaps to face the evil wizard who had nearly slain Good King Strider, who had cast all of Rivendell into slumber, and who had killed so many of the mighty Eagles of the Misty Mountains.

Their fear for themselves was exceeded only by their dread for Elediriel and the newborn Heir, alone in the wilderness, facing an enemy as terrible as any that could be found in all the wide world.

***

Evening came to Rivendell, finding not a population still in haunted slumber, but instead a cavalry and a host that would be ready to ride and to march with the next sunrise. Celeborn, Lord of Rivendell, oversaw every detail, making certain the troops were well equipped and well provisioned and knew especially to shoot first and look later, should they see the wizard again! Their best plan in haste, should the wizard be found, was to trust that in a storm of quickly released darts and arrows, surely one would find its mark. But this was a plan of last recourse, for it might result as easily in the unintended death of the Heir, rather than the doom of their wizardly foe. It was hoped that the cavalry might make such a tactic unnecessary. But an evil wizard at large was a matter of the gravest concern to Lord Celeborn, who knew too much of such matters, and well understood what destruction such a living foe could eventually bring. He armed his troops hoping they would not be needed.

Elladan and Elrohir saw to the equipping of the cavalry. With the dawn they would ride to the north and if they found the wizard, the speed of their assault might prevent the utterance of another spell of sleep. The host would follow afoot, to bring such force of arms that even a wizard might be vanquished should the cavalry fail. All was made ready in Rivendell, and messengers were sent that day far and wide, by bird and by beast, upon the roads and in the skies, calling for the help of all good peoples and warning them of the danger the wizard represented.

In the Last Homely House, the handmaidens of Arwen Undomiel tended the king and queen, guarding their rest, and bringing them health and strength. Such was the virtue of their ministrations that Aragorn opened his eyes again in the evening, stood, and took nourishment. Later that evening, the hobbits Merry and Pippin, his companions of old in the days of the War of the Ring, came to see him.

The king looked much improved to their eyes, for when they last saw him in the red light of dawn, he was pale and weak, indeed was unconscious and they had feared for him. If they expected their old friend to still be wearing the kingly vestments of the previous day's celebrations, or the comfortable robes of a patient in a house of healing, they were surprised when they saw him.

"Strider!" exclaimed old Pippin Took. The mouth of Merry Brandybuck hung agape. King Elessar Telcontar was dressed not as a king of men, nor as one lately feared near death. He looked to the eyes of the old hobbits as an ordinary ranger of Eriador, indeed, much as he had so many years ago when he set forth as one of the Nine Walkers and was unknown to the world as the Heir of Elendil. Only the grey cloak of Lorien and a green jewel bound by a silver filet to his high forehead marked him as different from any other ranger of the field. He had shaved his kingly beard and only the steel grey of his hair beneath a clean bandage was now changed from the Aragorn they knew in the days of their youth. The old ranger's eyes were stern, though his countenance softened and a token of a smile briefly flickered on his lips.

"Hello, old friends," he said. "Do not look surprised! I sleep in the field tonight, with my cavalry. At dawn, I ride with them. My son has no need of a crowned king, waiting for word sent from his armies afar. Eldarion will be better served by the Chieftain of the Dunedain and the Flame of the West." With that, he unsheathed the great sword Anduril, which caught the light of the lamps of his chambers and reflected it with a fiery anger of its own. Long was it since the noble blade had been drawn in wrath, and it would not be sheathed again until the enemy was met.

***

Now, if you, like the wicked wizard, would like to know what had become of Prince Eldarion in all this time, we must take our tale back before noon of that day, to the hour when Rondramehir had dropped Elediriel to the ground some distance behind the wizard and the hideous vulture. The little hobbit girl was as scared as she had ever been in her life but when she saw the valiant eagles fighting and dying as they tried to battle the wizard, she knew that she would have only this one chance to act.

As carefully and as quietly as only a frightened hobbit could move, she crept up behind the cunning old man, and wizard though he was, all of his attention was on the fierce eagles stooping from the sky with their razor sharp talons and lightning speed. So he never saw that she had taken the little bundle of cloths wrapped around the slumbering baby until it was too late! No doubt you figured this out for yourselves already, and perhaps you think it was the obvious thing to do, but it was a dreadfully difficult decision for Elediriel all the same and the bravest thing she ever did in her very long life. I should like to see you do so well in such a horrible fix with no time to lose!

And she lost no time at all! As soon as she was out of sight of the terrible battle, though she could still hear the explosions of the wizard's magic, the screams of the dying eagles, and the gloating cackle of the wicked old man, she ran as fast as she could and did not stop for a very long time. Down the hill she ran and into the woods where they looked the thickest, holding the precious baby tightly and not daring to look over her shoulder to see if the terrible old man followed. Now you or I might have had a harder time of it, and I doubt such large folk as ourselves could have gone nearly as speedily or anything like as quietly as Elediriel Cotton, running for her life and for the baby's life through the wooded glen on the slopes of the Misty Mountains. A barefooted hobbit makes very little noise even when taking little care, but Ellie was afraid of every twig that might snap and every dry leaf that might rustle. Also, hobbits are much smaller and not so heavy, so they would have to try very hard indeed to make as much noise as you or I. Ellie was trying very hard not to make any noise, even though she was now quite far away from the dreadful wizard. But she knew she couldn't run forever and she had to find a place to hide!

Coming upon a stream, she thought of something Turry had once said, and remembered the sharp noses of wolves and worse things. She took time to walk some little way (with freezing feet!) up the pebbly streambed and tried not to leave any mark on the rocky place where she climbed back out. She went along and went along until she was dreadfully tired and knew it was time to hide. She sat upon a log to catch her breath (how long had she been running?) and saw that it was hollow. She set the baby down and looked inside, just to make sure there was nothing already hiding within. Despite herself, she squealed when a jackrabbit tore out of the log more frightened than herself. That would be good enough.

She found a tree branch with many twigs and dry leaves upon it, backed herself into the log, pulled the still slumbering baby in after her, and pulled the leafy branch in after them both. Soon, despite her fears, the hobbit lass was sleeping as soundly as the infant, though no spell had been cast upon her. If even a wizard had stomped past, searching hard with keen eyes and wrathful intensity, he would never have noticed, could not have seen, would not have heard, the soft breathing of the hobbit and the baby hidden at quite a little distance from the stony hill, through the woods, up the creek, in the mountain glen, concealed deep in a hollow log behind a branch covered with twigs and leaves.

***

Who can say if the wizard passed them by, or even if he drew near? Elediriel had hidden herself and the child quite well and did not move again until it was quite dark outside. She woke to the feel of the infant stirring and she feared that soon it might awaken and cry out. At first, she did not move, fearing to wake the child, but there was no room in the log to move about, and if the child did cry out, who knows what such cries might bring upon them in the wilderness?

Ellie slowly pushed first the limb, and then the bundle holding the infant, and then the limb again, and continued in this fashion until she had inched out of the log. The wind was blowing chill, but it had moved the clouds away. The moon had not yet begun his climb above the Misty Mountains, she thought. Emerging from the darkness of the log, her eyes could see well enough by the starlight. She laid the precious bundle down again on the leeward side of the log and thought the wizard's spell an unintended blessing. The little hobbit took stock of what she had. The journal had few pages left. How many were scattered to the winds? Did any fall where they might be found? Did Rondramehir defeat the wizard? Did the eagle go to get help? How far was she from anyone?

She had no answers to any of these questions, which was disturbing, but she did not want to think too much about that. What would she do if the baby woke? She was no wet nurse! Why did she bring nothing to feed a baby? A newborn could not eat Dwarven mirrors, combs and brushes! A newborn could not even chew an apple or a piece of bread! Why didn't she think to find some milk? Not that there had been time...

Just then, the infant did awake and was most definitely hungry and quite loudly enough, wanted someone to know it!

Elediriel almost began to cry. But she was a very sensible hobbit lass and knew that crying just then would not help anything at all. She hoped the wind would carry the baby's cries away from any that should not hear! If she could not feed him, at least she could put some water in the flask and make certain the child did not thirst. Surely water would not hurt!

Ellie pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, grabbed the flask and pulled out its stopper. She almost poured it to the ground at that moment, but then stopped. No one would begrudge her a sip or two to calm her nerves! She put the flask to her lips and a good draught of the smooth sweet liquor immediately brought warmth to her limbs and gave her a great sense of well being and calm.

"Why this is miruvor!" she said aloud, feeling quite refreshed and fearless, despite her predicament. She looked at the baby, crying softly by the log...

She just couldn't!

Could she?

She did. She dribbled the tiniest bit from the flask onto her littlest finger, which she placed in the baby's mouth. He sucked at it and immediately stopped crying. Ellie brightened and gave him a few drops more, and then a few drops more. Eldarion quickly fell asleep in her arms. Overjoyed, she replaced the stopper, retied her bag and secured it to her waist, took up the baby again, put the mountains on her left side, and made the best time she could in what she hoped was a generally southern direction.

The time passed and the moon made his way above the peaks of the Misty Mountains. The hobbit lass stopped finally to rest somewhat and to clean the infant and give him some water from a stream. She had remembered something her old mother had told her once about chewing food for a baby, but she was sure that this was something done for older babies. Still, she tried this with a little of the elven bread from the Last Homely House. Even a day old, it seemed to melt in the mouth like the finest confections from the bakery at the Great Smials. Eldarion did not complain and took some from her finger. A few drops of miruvor and he slept again. Ellie had no idea how long she had been walking or of how far she had come.

"Not long enough or far enough, I'm sure, but we'll keep going, won't we little Prince?" Ellie softly told the baby in her arms. She was weary but allowed herself a swallow of the cordial and started walking again, for she feared that some danger was on her heels.

She was right. As she walked, she heard on the wind what she gradually became certain was not her imagination, but the very thing she feared most. As she walked alone on the slopes of the Misty Mountains by the light of the Moon she heard the distant howl of wolves!

They sounded far away to the north, but not nearly far enough to satisfy Elediriel. She picked up her pace and just hoped they were not tracking her. As the moon rode high upon his path, Elediriel walked wearily, beginning to stumble, but afraid to stop even to hide. Eldarion sometimes woke and made baby sounds, but did not often cry, and this Ellie counted as a blessing. She worried even about the few drops of miruvor she had given the babe, dreading having to tell Queen Arwen! Then she almost laughed and said softly to the baby, "I hope I do have to tell your mother what a terrible nurse I have been! And the sooner the better!"

She heard again the howling of wolves, this time nearer. Ellie was panicked now and weariness left her feet. She ran again, hoping against her fears that it was just a coincidence, that the wolves were not following her, that it was just the sort of chance sounds that anyone might hear in the wilderness. She ran on and on until weariness overtook her again, and Eldarion awoke.

Ellie sat upon the root of a great tree with her back against the trunk, unable to move another step. The baby was hungry, so she dribbled a few more drops of the cordial and he grew quiet again. She took another swallow herself, and felt that after a brief rest, she might continue again. To pass the time while she rested, and to encourage the baby to fall asleep again, she sang a simple lullaby to the little prince.

Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Breathe your little sighs.
Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Close your little eyes.

One day you'll be handsome
And strong and so tall.
One day you will marry
The fairest of all.

Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Breathe your little sighs.
Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Close your little eyes.

One day you will find her
Looking up at you.
One day you will kiss her
And know her love is true.

Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Breathe your little sighs.
Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Close your little eyes.

One day she will give you
A son to call your own.
One day she will hold him
And sing this little song.

Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Breathe your little sighs.
Sleep sweet, sweet prince.
Close your little eyes.

No sooner had she finished singing the lullaby, not only was Eldarion asleep, but Ellie herself fell finally to her own weariness and dozed against the tree with the baby in her arms. Some time passed, but she did not awaken until, very close indeed now, she heard again the cry of the wolves. Waking with a guilty start she looked up. The moon had climbed to his highest point and shown brightly on the landscape. She dared not move a muscle or make a sound, for she saw now the dark shapes of the wolves drawing near, their eyes glowing in the dark!




Chapter XX

LOST AND FOUND

While Elediriel and Eldarion lay hidden fast asleep in a hollow log, to the south, Turgon Took rode Lightning somewhat ahead of his brother Fingon, who rode with young Cairmir on the back of Thunder. Due north they rode, slackening their pace little across the rolling meadows as the lands rose, drawing ever nearer the Misty Mountains. The sun had made her way so far west that now she shone beneath the clouds of grey that had kept her full brilliance from their pursuit. It was the first time they saw her direct light since she dawned that fateful day.

The hard-riding hobbits and the son of rangers saw far ahead of them, in the last red gleam of the setting sun, the bare hilltop the great eagle Rondramehir told them to find. They rode on, hoping to find Elediriel and not daring to guess at what they might actually discover. A chill wind began to blow and the clouds gradually thinned and left the sky. Turry was glad of the extra light, but did not trust the North wind.

They rode on.

***

At about that same time, Cairdur, the elder brother of Cairmir, riding hard on the trail of the hobbit ponies, came upon Madrigal Brandybuck and the elf girl Geniwel. They had cleaned the wounds of Rondramehir and stanched his bleeding. Geniwel was still singing soft songs of healing to the gravely wounded bird, while Maddie kept a sharp eye on the meadowland around them. She had long watched until the Took Twins and the ranger boy had ridden from sight to the north, and now she was facing south when the others came at last.

Cairdur halted his steed and dismounted. Sharp words were on his tongue, but he held them, seeing both the dauntless expression of the hobbit lass, and the mighty eagle whose great head was so tenderly stroked in the lap of the elf girl. His ranger's eyes saw well enough the track of two fast ponies to the north and he guessed at much of the story before Maddie said a word.

"Wait," said the young ranger. "The others are right behind me and your tale need only be told once." Indeed, his father Cairdur and comrade Aradhel were upon them, followed closely by a steed without a saddle that bore the wood-elf Legolas and Gimli the dwarf. Other rangers and elves followed as well and soon all were stopped, some not even dismounting. They listened intently as Madrigal told them the story of the battle of the Eagles and the Wizard.

Two of the elves stayed behind, to take the latest word, and Geniwel, and the Lord of the Eagles back to Rivendell with them. The rest rode north, as fast as their steeds could gallop. No one bothered to tell Madrigal not to follow (indeed, all but Legolas and Gimli pretended not to notice that she had), and proud Cider made no trouble about keeping pace with the fleet-hoofed horses of the Dunedain. The north wind blew chill, but the last rays of the sun illumined the underside of the grey clouds with touches of red and golden fire.

They rode on.

***

Elediriel's eyes were wide with terror as she watched the wolves draw nearer. She clutched Eldarion close and then despite herself, screamed a high shrill scream when the wolves saw her and trotted up to the tree where she had fallen asleep. There was no way that she could have climbed it, and saved the baby, too; not that she could even move, frozen in her fear.

The wolves laughed at the hobbit lass with a horrible growling sound, but did not leap to rend their prey, as Ellie thought they surely would. Instead, they surrounded her and howled to the moon, as if calling with a message for someone in their frightful voices. But it seemed that someone answered them sooner than even they expected.

As terrified as Ellie was, her fear grew even greater, when she saw an the head of an old man and the tip of his crude staff over the top of a hill, and then the entire old man himself as he climbed over the rise and walked quickly their way. The wolves seemed confused, and the largest of them trotted forth to meet the old man, but then stopped in his tracks with his ears laid back. He growled deep in his chest and his cruel, black, snarling lips were drawn back from his vicious fangs as he made ready to spring.

The old man raised his staff, pointing it at the leader of the pack, crying aloud in strange words unknown to Ellie's ears. The great wolf's tail was suddenly tucked between his hind legs and he ran yowling and crying down the slope as if he were but a cub suddenly frightened out of his wits!

As the noise of his departure faded into the distance, his pack mates began growling and howling in anger and confusion, pacing to and fro. Some of the larger ones made ready to spring by twos and by threes upon the old man, but he raised his staff again, pointing it swiftly at each one of them, uttering the strange words each time, and each of them, and soon all the rest of the pack of wolves as well, were yipping in fear and running with tucked tails as fast as their leader before them!

Now the wizard came near the little hobbit lass and the infant she held, and in her fear she shrank against the trunk of the tree behind her. She saw that he had changed the fine robes that were given him, and wore rags and tatters. His hair and beard were no longer combed and neatly arranged, but he looked as he had when he was found at the ruins of Dol Goldur, worn and tired and not a little crazed.

But there was something in his eyes that seemed different, kinder and simpler, not clever and calculating. With a trembling old hand, he touched Ellie's blonde head and then pulled away a corner of blanket to look upon Eldarion. A tear escaped his eye and traced a crooked line down his wrinkled cheek into his matted beard. He stepped back a pace and looked at them long, then looked a while with a grimace to the north, then looked long with a little confusion into the south, and longer still to the west. He walked suddenly with a purpose out from under the tree, leaned slowly down and grasped a fist-sized rock. He uttered soft strange words over it, then cast it underhand high aloft and cried aloud when it rose to the height of its flight.

It burst with a musical sound, like the ringing of a bell, and with a dazzling light in the darkness. The light hung there in the night air, like the wisps of a puff-flower, falling ever so slowly and fading ever so softly until it was gone. When Ellie looked back down from the wonderful sight, the old man was also gone.

***

In a surprisingly short time, Ellie heard the welcome sound of galloping horses and burst into tears when she saw Turry riding up the slope, with Furry and Cairmir not far behind. Of course they had ridden to the sight of the magical flare, certain that it just had to have something to do with all the terrible events of the last two days. Turry quickly dismounted and had only words of praise and wonder for the hobbit lass.

"You have found the Prince!" he exclaimed, but he was happier still to see Ellie. The feelings in his heart surprised him and he spoke with a thick voice, unable to say everything all at once. "This is more wonderful than I could have hoped! You must tell us all about it!"

"There is no time," said Furry, still mounted with Cairmir on Thunder. "The light that brought us here may bring something else! We should go!"

"He's right!" said Turry, and took the child while Elediriel climbed up upon the back of Lightning, who stood still for her to do so. Turry looked with wonder upon the infant for a moment, before passing him back to Ellie, and then mounting his steed behind her. She felt happy and safe finally, with the strong arms of the young Took around her, grasping the reins of his fine black pony. They turned Lightning's and Thunder's tails, heading back down the slopes and doubling back upon their tracks as quickly as they had come.

***

The moon was heading to the western horizon when the black ponies at last rejoined Cider and the horses of the Dunedain in the meadowlands of ancient Rhudaur, under the watchful gaze of the Misty Mountains. Happy was that meeting, indeed, but brief. The dour rangers did not trust that they would all be safe from the wicked wizard and insisted that they head East.

"East!" cried Furry. "But that's back toward the mountains! How safe is that?"

"There is a new outpost, built on older ruins when our people long ago lived in these lands and herded flocks in these green meadows. We hope to encourage such things again," answered Aradhel. "We will be safer behind those walls, and that is where the forces of Rivendell will first head as they follow us. I would prefer to wait there and rest our steeds, for we have all used them hard."

"There are other rangers there as well, and perhaps there will be greater safety with greater numbers," said Cairdur.

"There were great numbers in Rivendell," said Cairduin grimly.

"But we were not ready then," said Legolas.

"Aye!" said Gimli, patting the blade of his axe. "And I will feel still more ready with walls of stone between me and whatever a wizard may think to do!"

They headed east, back toward the Misty Mountains, to the outpost of the Rangers and wearily arrived with the rising of the Sun. The horses and ponies were quite glad of the halt, and an opportunity to rest, as were the hobbits and old Gimli, too (who was old enough not to care if folk saw him tired!). The elves among them, and the tall rangers, did not seem quite as weary, but took advantage of the safety of the small fort to stretch out and rest given the opportunity, as soldiers will who know that perhaps too soon they would be glad they had. So it turned out on this occasion.

The sun had only risen through half her morning flight when the rangers on guard sounded their alarm. Not even Cairdur suspected that the wizard would come in the daylight, but the wizard was wise enough to seize the best chance he could find or make. The guards on watch did not see the danger at first, but heard it.

It was good that they were alert, for otherwise they might have thought nothing of the first sounds from the mountain slopes rising to the east. It was the sound of rocks moving. First just small scatterings. Then small rocks hitting larger ones. Loose pebbles clattering. Then a crash followed by a scuffing sound, cracking branches, and curses spoken in a dull uncouth tongue in deep coarse voices. Another harsh voice rose above the others, like smashing stone, shushing the other voices around it. By this time Legolas and some other of the elves joined the guards upon the wall to see what made such noises. Turry and Furry woke in the alerted fort.

"What do you suppose it is?" asked Furry. "Trolls?"

"Not in the daylight," answered Turry.

"Worse, I fear!" said Gimli, blinking bleary eyes.

"Stone giants from the mountains!" Legolas called down. "An entire clan has been brought down upon us!"

***

They were mightily big, gigantic in fact, and looked as if they were made from the stuff of the mountains themselves. Turry and Furry, who had strung their slender bows and climbed up to the top of the wall for a good look, could hardly believe their own eyes when they got that look. Bigger even than Bilbo's trolls, bigger by far, a dozen of the giants were ambling clumsily around the fort. Their rough grey skin looked like pitted granite. Their hair was long and matted, hanging over their thick brows and into their craggy faces. They were clad only in ragged knots of skins and furs hanging from their thick waists. Their arms were long and thick, and their great huge hands hung down below their stumpy knees. Some of them even used their knuckles to help them walk, and none of them were agile. Even as stooped over and as slouching as they were, they looked almost tall enough to leap up and grab the tops of the walls, but fortunately, stone giants can't jump. They are as strong as they look however, and that is mighty strong indeed!

Each of them grabbed a good-sized tree in stony hands and pulled hard, uprooting them like powerful men pulling up little saplings. Then, the giants turned back to the gates of the small fortress, and taking up the trees like great clubs began swinging with all their might to break down the strong gates. It was also fortunate that giants are not only larger than trolls, they are also nowhere near as smart, and as you know, trolls themselves are not all that clever.

They got in each other's way, and their strokes were poorly aimed, and they knocked each other about quite a bit. They began roaring and fighting one another, growing more angry all the while, punching and scuffling and tumbling down the slope away from the fort and splintering the trees until they were quite useless. The gate of the fort itself was relatively unscathed.

Even so, those manning the fort had no intention of letting the giants get close enough again to have another try. When the angry giants had finally tired themselves quite sometime later, and remembered why they had come down from the mountain and what they were supposed to be doing there in the first place, the archers were ready for them.

As soon as the first ones had clambered back within bowshot, a hail of arrows was loosed and flew down to meet them. How the lumbering giants howled and screamed! Many of the folk in the fort had to hold their ears at the noise of it. Back in the keep, little Eldarion was awakened and cried aloud, as angry that his morning nap was disturbed as the giants were at the stinging arrows. Madrigal had brought some things with her, in the hopes that the baby would be found. Elediriel was very glad of this (she had not yet told Maddie about her use of the miruvor when she fled the wizard through the woods!) and the two hobbit lasses tried to comfort the angry infant prince as best they could.

There was no tender comfort for the enraged giants! The arrows did not cause the thick-skinned brutes any mortal hurt, but they stung something fiercely and made the giants pause. Then a couple of them stepped up again and each got half a dozen arrows for his trouble. They howled and roared again, pulling at the shafts and crying out as they brushed the painful darts away. Another one advanced into range, and was soon bristling with arrows before he turned back, raging with anger and bleeding from a dozen painful wounds.

And so it was a standoff. After that, even the giants learned not to get any closer than the archers could shoot. They milled around down the hill from the fortress, shouting angrily at the rangers and soldiers within, but unwilling to get close enough to do them harm. Things might have gone on like that until the giants lost interest and went away, but that was not to be.

Howling wolves were heard, though the sun was bright and the day was growing warm. At their head was a great large wolf and upon his back was an old man with a flowing beard. He glared darkly at the fort and then went right up to the giants. From afar, the archers on the wall saw him gesticulating wildly and could hear him screaming and cursing the sullen giants. He stooped to the ground and picked up a handful of rocks and pebbles and cast them toward the fort.

One of the giants did the same, hurling a much larger handful of rather larger pebbles and stones. They clattered against the walls of the fort. The cackling laugh of the old man carried clear to the fortress. He bade each of the giants pick up a handful of rubble and hold their fists out in front of them. He passed back and forth before their ragged ranks, and what he said could not be heard. But then he moved out of their way and cried aloud.

More or less together and more or less at the small fort, the giants hurled their handfuls of rocks and stones. As the small projectiles fell toward the ground again, the wizard cried aloud a single piercing word in a grim language and the rocks and stones, whereever they were, exploded into sharp shards and flinders. Many fell far short, and harmlessly hit the ground before the fort or its stone walls. Some fell to either side, again without effect. Some few even fell beyond the fort. But quite a few of the exploding shards of shattering stone filled the air inside the walls of the small fortress.

One elf archer, who had for centuries walked under sun and moon delighting in the beauties of a younger world, was mortally wounded, catching a shattering blast full in his chest. He fell where he stood and did not live long enough to say another word. Several rangers and other elves were sorely wounded and more than one died later that day of the injuries suffered in that hour. Upon the walls, the soldiers and archers suffered hurts, some more and some less, but none were unscathed by the cruel assault.

Even so, the wizard was unimpressed. Only a couple of handfuls of stones actually fell within the walls of the fort, doing any damage at all. Evidently he thought it a waste of good magic, considering how many fistfuls landed harmlessly outside the fortification. He cursed the giants again, who cringed despite their great size. The wolves howled with their horrible laughter (being none too fond of giants themselves).

The old man singled out the largest of the giants and made him pick up a single stone, the size of a man's head. He uttered words and waved his hands and cried for the giant to heave the stone at the fort. It sailed high into the air and came falling straight at the center of the fortress wall.

"Look away!" cried Gimli. "Cover yourselves!"

The stone fell from the sky as the wizard cried aloud the final word of his terrible spell. It struck with full explosive force against the sturdy gates of the fort and blew them asunder. The smoke cleared away and the blasted gates hung in twisted iron and shattered timbers, useless and ruined.

The giants roared and the wolves howled! No archers were seen over the tops of the walls, and the giants came forward, slowly at first, and then with greater speed when no stinging arrows stopped their progress. A giant pulled another tree up as he passed and ran to be among the first to the tiny fortress. The first two giants reached the ruined gates and pulled them down. Then they got in one another's way, each seeking to be the first inside.

Suddenly, with a mighty cry, Gimli the Renowned was between their legs and hewing at their feet. The two giants that were nearest the dwarf roared with rage. The third giant swung his tree at the dwarf and knocked one of the other giants down. Gimli cried aloud again in the dwarven tongue and his great axe severed the foot of the other giant. He crashed screaming to the ground, narrowly missing the dwarf, whose axe swung again and was the last thing the giant's eyes saw before it clove his great misshapen head right between them. The other giant had gotten clumsily to his feet and the third was about to smash the dwarf to jelly from behind when the mighty bow of Lorien sang a lethal note. An elven arrow suddenly grew out of his eye. He dropped the tree on his own head and fell to the stony ground and never moved again. The other giant grew an arrow from each eye and the Took Twins cried together, "For the Shire!"

Three giants lay dead at the gates of the fort and the rest milled around angrily, just out of bowshot at the foot of the hill. The dwarf laughed at the giants and they roared back and started throwing stones and rocks to little effect. The dwarf and elf and hobbits praised one another's prowess until Cairduin cried grimly for them all to look again.

The wizard was screaming for the giants to stop what they were doing and reluctantly, the remaining nine began to pay him attention again. The wicked old man had evidently decided upon a strategy of letting the giants hurl one stone at a time, and Cairduin feared that they could not last long before that sort of assault. The dour ranger was right.

Now, one stone after another was hurled into the sky and came crashing down explosively among them, and all they could do was try to find some cover that the razor sharp shards could not penetrate. One of the rangers caught a large shard in his chest and fell back dying. A large piece of the battlement where the fallen ranger had stood was broken and crumbled.

In the walls of the inner keep, Elediriel and Madrigal were wide-eyed with worry and fear. Even Cairmir the son of rangers looked scared. And now so did the rangers themselves. Another stone fell right in the midst of the yard of the small fortress. Some of the horses and more of the rangers were killed or mortally wounded with that blast. The hobbit lasses cried aloud in terror and Ellie clutched the little baby close to her trembling body.

Soon, there would be no one left to draw bowstring or wield sword or axe. Soon the giants would enter the fort and none would be left to oppose them. Soon the wizard himself would come and neither Maddie nor Ellie would be able to stop him from again taking the precious baby and continuing with whatever wicked scheme they had briefly stopped. Tears came to Ellie's eyes, as with another ear splitting explosion, the walls around them were shaken and the door was blasted open.

And then, at first Elediriel could not believe her ringing ears, but it was not her imagination. It was the ringing horn cry she heard at dawn the previous day above the vale of Rivendell. It was the horn cry of Buckland, and Madrigal knew it well, for she had heard her grandfather blow it before. The low thunder of thousands of hooves left no doubt.

"The cavalry!" cried Maddie, with suddenly rising hope. "The cavalry has come!"

[Mithadan]

Chapter XXI

THE CAVALRY OF ERIADOR

The sharp ears of Madrigal Brandybuck were not deceived and she indeed heard from afar the horn of Eorl, blown long and strong by her grandsire Meriadoc the Magnificent, riding together with his old friend Thain Peregrin Took. The old hobbits could not be denied and they rode proudly on their fine ponies following the vanguard of the Cavalry of Eriador.

With the clean sound of that enchanted horn rising high above the other calls of other horns and above the growing thunder of hundreds of hooves, the rangers and elves who still lived in the battered outpost took heart and once again dared to look above its ruined walls. Madrigal ran out of the chambers of the keep to the wreck of the fortress gate where Turgon and Fingon Took stood with Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, and Gimli the Renowned, son of Gloin. She brushed her brown mane of curls out of her face and shaded her eyes to look upon the Rangers of Eriador and the Elves of Rivendell riding hard from the south.

Outpacing them all was a rider whose mighty steed gleamed almost as golden as the sun running in her own course high above. His horse was a steed sired by the descendants of the great Shadowfax and had been handpicked as a gift by King Eomer of the Rohirrim. The rider looked much as any of the other hard-riding Rangers, but he was Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Chieftain of the Dunedain, Lord of Arnor and Gondor, King Elessar Telcontar, who held forward and aloft in his strong hand, Anduril, Flame of the West, brilliant with a fierce and terrible wrath. A verdant jewel flashed upon his brow in the bright sun. "Estel!" whispered Madrigal, almost to herself. "What?" asked Furry. "Hope!" she translated. "That is what the Queen calls him!"

Their hope drew nearer but the wizard was not idle. He, too, heard the horn cry and the thunder of the great cavalry, whirled around with his fine robes billowing in the morning sun, and cursed them with a piercing voice. As the king rode nearer, the old man had the giant grasp a large stone as he chanted terrible words over it.

The giant waited for Aragorn to ride nearer and then he heaved the small boulder. The wizard's finger followed the flight of the stone until it was almost near the king. Madrigal watched in horror as the wizard waited for an awful moment to speak the word that would blast the rock into a lethal explosion of sharp fragments to kill King Elessar and end all hope.

The bow of Lorien sang again that day, and Legolas shot a last desperate arrow from afar, piercing the wizard's outstretched hand before the spell was complete! The wicked old man shrieked in pain and surprise. The rock fell harmlessly behind Aragorn, who rode straight up to the wizard and would have severed his head from his neck with the great sword Anduril, if the chief of the giants had not stepped between them.

With giants and wolves roaring and howling and rushing to the fight, there was King Strider, alone upon his golden horse, with his great sword flashing in the brilliant sun over the mountains. And there was also the chief of the giants, towering high above the Chieftain of the Rangers with immeasurable strength, and with speed and cunning greater than the usual giant possessed. Aragorn turned his noble steed about and galloped full at the giant, with Anduril held upraised above his kingly head.

The giant chieftain gathered a handful of rocks, mere pebbles to him, but fist sized to you and me, and hurled them at the king. Even with no magic spell upon them, anything hurled by a giant might do great harm. But Aragorn was watching for this, and feinted with his steed first to the left, and then to the right, and back again almost faster than the eye could follow. The giant's throw went awry and then Aragorn was upon him! Again, the agile steed feinted as the old ranger ducked right under the giant's sweeping fist. Anduril flashed in a great swinging arc, but it seemed nothing had happened.

Aragorn wheeled his steed about for a second pass and the giant turned to meet him. At least, he tried to. As the monstrous creature turned, his great legs gave way beneath him, suddenly gushing dark red torrents of blood from behind his knees. He began to fall and before he struck the ground, Anduril flashed again and his misshapen head was sent rolling down the mountainside.

Other giants rushed to the aid of their chieftain, and not even Aragorn, on the great steed of Rohan, could have defended himself against so many. But now the cavalry from Rivendell had reached the battle! From horseback, running in close and turning fast, mounted archers stung the remaining giants and wolves with innumerable arrows. The fell beasts and giants soon retreated back up into the mountains, harried by stinging arrows, until they reached the high passes where no horse could follow.

The king wasted no time, seeing the cavalry close at hand. Aragorn spurred his mighty steed up the slope to the outpost, sending wolves flying and dying with every sweep of Anduril, so fierce was the wrath that wielded it. He did not stop until he had passed through the ruined doors of the small fortress. There, he dismounted and ran straight back to the shelter. There, the hobbit-maiden Elediriel stepped forward with Eldarion in her arms and held the babe up to his noble father. Splattered with the blood of wolf and giant, covered with the dust of pursuit, the King took the Heir in his arms and kissed him. Ellie saw a single tear of joy trickle down his weathered cheek.

***

The king could not linger over the happy moment. Even as Argorn was reunited with Eldarion, his cavalry pursued the fleeing giants eastward into their haunts in the Misty Mountains, and the wolves northward into the forests on the mountain's slopes. He smiled upon Elediriel as the other hobbits drew near and said, "We shall never forget what you have done, and whatever you ask, I will grant. But now, keep him for me a moment more, until his mother comes for him." He handed the infant back to the little hobbit lass and looked kindly upon her.

"Now, I must away!" he cried, and sprang lightly upon the back of his great golden steed. With a leap, the mighty horse cleared the ruined fortress gates again as well as the giants who were slain upon that spot, and then the king was gone. Madrigal, Turgon and Fingon crowded around Ellie, who stood looking down at the happy infant in her arms as if she found herself in a dream.

"The king seems hardly injured at all," observed Furry.

"He'll feel it later in the day, I'm sure," said Turry.

"What are you going to ask for, Ellie?" asked Maddie, with Turry and Furry pressing in as well.

"I don't know," said Ellie. "I really have no idea! All I want is to see Queen Arwen and get a hot bath, a hot breakfast, and a good long sleep!" The hobbits laughed together amid the carnage

"Ho! Enough of that!" cried the voice of Gimli the dwarf. "Come here you hobbits! There is grim work to be done."

The hobbits felt suddenly that their laughter was out of place and they realized that there were wounded who needed help, dying who needed comfort, and the dead who required honor for their sacrifice. Madrigal's face burned a bright red and she was angry with herself. She ran to find bandages and water. Turry and Furry lost their happy demeanor and followed the dwarf to help with the grave tasks at hand.

Soon enough, there was other help, as members of the cavalry returned. They found that Gimli and the Took Twins had laid out the slain in the center of the courtyard of the fort, with their hands folded over their breasts, and their weapons laid nearby. Several elves of Rivendell, and not a few rangers also, lay cold and unsmiling in the afternoon sun and never knew in that life that their sacrifices had not been vain.

The rangers began the work of digging a grave so that two mounds could be raised the next day near the fortress in honor of the slain. They chose for this a spot high on the slopes overlooking the fort and the plain beyond, from whence came help in the time that their lives had purchased. The mounds were raised to the north and the south of the path the giants had chosen for their assault. Under the southern mound, nearest Rivendell, were buried the elves of that fair valley, and under the northern mound, the rangers whose vigilance never waned. The bodies of the slain giants and the wolves were taken high into the mountains, and were burned together that night beside that same path. It was said among the rangers that the great blackened bones remained there for many years as a warning of the wrath of the King of Arnor.

The elves of Rivendell took up the task of tending the wounded and setting the fortress and the camp of the host in order. By evening, not only was the cavalry encamped, but so also was a host of troops, mustered for they knew not what, since clearly the Heir had been recovered. With the Host of Rivendell, came Queen Arwen Undomiel upon a palfrey borne proudly on a noble silver steed. She dismounted in the courtyard of the fortress and looked upon the slain. Her breast rose with a shuddering breath and she deeply mourned their loss, having known some of their faces for an age and more under the sun and stars.

She then saw the hobbits and Gimli the dwarf looking on. Coming to them, she took from Elediriel Cotton her child, Eldarion Telcontar, Heir of Elendil, son of Aragorn. The beautiful queen gravely thanked the hobbit lass. She wept freely and silently at the return of her infant son amid the present reminders of the sacrifices of her loyal subjects. Her love for them, and for the living who remained, was suddenly sharp and keen. It seemed to Ellie that the Queen looked long upon the faces of the slain. Arwen held Eldarion in her arms and chanted quiet elvish words to him of love and of bravery and of sacrifice as she stood before each man and elf, so that the Heir would never take for granted the lives he was one day destined to rule. At last, she turned again to the young hobbits and the old dwarf.

"All of you have done so much, and have earned our gratitude for as long as we shall reign. But I should like very much," Arwen said, "if you would serve me further, Elediriel. You have only to name any gift I could give, and it would be yours. But I would come to know you better, for it has been years since one from the Shire has been my handmaiden. You would do us honor, and I would have Eldarion know you and learn from the Shire in his early years, if you would stay by me in my service."

"But, but," Ellie stammered. "Oh my Queen! I am not worthy! I have done a terrible thing!"

The Queen looked kindly upon the hobbit lass, with only a hint of amusement in her wise and ageless eyes. "And what terrible thing could you have done, Elediriel Cotton?"

"I-I-I... I gave the Prince miruvor to keep him quiet in the forest!" she blurted. "I'm so sorry! I know babies aren't supposed to have... but I didn't know what else... I didn't have anything else and... and..." And the hobbit girl burst into unhappy tears and seemed inconsolable. Maddie and Turry and Furry looked on in disbelief at Ellie, not knowing what the Queen might say.

The laughter of Arwen Undomiel was like flowing waters on a silver fountain. Soon the hobbits were smiling and grinning broadly and Ellie dried her tears and dared to smile herself. "My dear young Elediriel," said Arwen through her laughter, "my own mother, Celebrian, would give a drop or two of miruvor to my brothers Elladan and Elrohir when they were ill or ill tempered! Or so she told me, once upon a time. Perhaps that explains their fondness for the cordial to this day! I shall give Eldarion something better now. But let us not make a habit of such things!" Her smile was as bright as moonlight and her eyes gleamed like kindly stars.

Queen Arwen turned and left the hobbits, walking with light steps past the slain, stopping and gracefully doing a courtesy before them as if she were a common elven maiden honoring the highest nobility. Then, servants of her household helped her remount her silver steed and she went on to her tents, pitched in the plain at the base of the hill, guarded by many soldiers of Rivendell.

Gimli the Renowned, dwarf of many years and of long memory, wiped a tear from his own eyes and spoke first, "She reminds me of the Lady. So fair and noble, yet not haughty or prideful in the least. Alas, that there are not more of their like in this world!" And with that, the old dwarf breathed a deep sigh, then shook his head, clapped his hands and rubbed them vigorously together. "Come!" he cried, "You hobbits can find us something to eat! I am hungry as I have not been in many a year!"

In truth, the young hobbits had little more idea than the dwarf about where supper was to be found, but campfires were already burning down in the encampment, and surely, food was for the finding down there. They walked down the hill, and thinking of supper, they also suddenly found the excitement and the exertions of the day had left them quite weary and hungry themselves. Fortunately, they did not have to go very far before they were met by none other than old Merry and Pippin, come looking for them.

"The Queen herself has sent us to find you! She bids you come and rest yourselves and take supper!" shouted Pippin, as the young Tooks happily rushed their old grandsire.

"Grandfather!" cried Madrigal, wrapping her little arms about Merry's vast stomach and letting him hold her tightly. The old hobbit looked up and saw Ellie looking on, so he reached out and grabbed her as well. The hobbit girl never felt so happy and loved since her father, Odo, had died when she was just a wee thing.

While they did not actually eat with Queen Arwen, for she was tired herself and had to tend her son privately, she had ordered set for them a meal fit for the hungry hobbits (and for their friends and relations!) who had saved the Heir of Elendil. Pippin remarked, "I don't know how they manage such things, whether wandering in the forest, or campaigning in the field, the elves set a table better than the finest party in the Shire!"

"You said a mouthful," said Merry, with his mouth full. It was then that Legolas returned from the hunt and joined them at the welcoming fire.

"Ho! Legolas!" cried Gimli. "What news?"

"None better than you have seen yourselves," said the elf wearily. "The wizard escaped us. Never have I felt so weary in the pursuit since you and I, Master Dwarf, and the King himself, ran after these old rascals here."

"You might have run faster with the whips of orcs at your heels!" said Pippin cheerfully. "I don't believe I ever ran faster, even though my hands were tied!"

"It was not the orcs behind you, but the wizard before us," growled the dwarf. "Never was my heart so heavy and my will so burdened. Yet we ran all the same!"

"So it was this time!" cried Legolas. "I marked how the wizard ran, clutching his wounded hand, when he saw that he could not win."

"Aye! Now there was a long shot well aimed!" laughed Gimli. "Was ever a wizard so surprised?"

"That I cannot say. But it was as much good luck, if luck there be, as my aim, and as much the lingering enchantment of Lorien on this bow as any strength in my arm," said the elf. "Be that as it may, the old man took to his heels and called in the growling tongue of the Wargs. A wolf larger and fiercer than the rest came at his call and let the wizard climb upon his back as the goblins are accustomed to do. The old man was borne away upon the back of the great wolf faster than even an elf could run through the trackless woods. I know, for I gave chase, and so swiftly did the warg run that I would have been hard pressed to keep him in sight, even had not the will of the wizard been set to slow my feet and steal my wind."

And with that, the wood elf hung his head in shame. Madrigal came to him and gave him a hug about his shoulders and told him she was proud of him anyway. Legolas Greenleaf looked up then and laughed merrily once more.

"You give me cheer, hobbit lass," said the elf. "We have done much to foil the schemes of a wicked wizard at large, have we not?"

"Aye!" cried Gimli again. "Aye! Much has been done! Mistress Ellie here has saved the Heir! These Tooks here have rescued her from the wilderness! And we have rescued them all from wolves and giants!"

"And I helped!" said Cairmir. The younger son of Cairduin had not spoken much since the rescue, but had been happy to be there among so many great and renowned folk.

"That you did!" cried Furry. "There are many stories here, and I want to hear them all around this campfire tonight!"

"There walks another story," said Turry, pointing at a tall form striding past them in the darkness. Even as the young hobbit spoke, the kingly figure paused and turned toward them. The flickering light of the fire revealed the lean and weary features of Aragorn. He smiled and saluted them, then strode toward the tents of Queen Arwen.

"He looks so tired," said Ellie.

"We are none of us young as we once were," said Gimli. "And this was a day of great labour for even a young man. And he was sore injured, too. Tomorrow, no doubt, will bring counsel beyond the tales of friends around a campfire."

"You can be sure of that," said Legolas. "I doubt even now that the labours of the King are ended. But ours are, so let us be merry while we may. Now, young people, tell me all that has happened..."

Elediriel's story was wanted first, and she told it simply, and there was much wonder and concern about the actions of the wizard and questions that Ellie could not answer. Madrigal told of Rondramehir, the Lord of the Eagles, and Ellie was glad to hear he was in the care of the elves. Turry told of his happiness to find Ellie, and there was a special gleam in his eyes for her when she looked into them.

After that, she did not listen quite as intently to the stories that the others told. Her mind drifted ever and again to Turgon Took, who must have thought similar things for he often returned her shy gaze. Her eyes also were cast toward the tents of the Queen, where the Heir now rested in the safety of his mother's arms. But an eerie flickering light could be seen through the silken walls of the tents as the night deepened.




Chapter XXII

THE COUNCIL OF ELESSAR

Turgon Took, and his brother Fingon, awoke early (for hobbits) and went about the camp to see if they couldn't find an early breakfast. Turry and Furry had stayed awake as late as they could, talking with Legolas and Gimli. Elediriel and Madrigal bade the boys good night only a little earlier, and neither as yet had stirred from their tent, set for them not far from Queen Arwen's pavilion. The Took Twins slept under the stars near the campfire while Legolas and the rangers continued to talk. Young Cairmir had long since fallen asleep and his father Cairduin had covered him with a blanket and let him sleep there as the adults continued their tales and remembrances. Gimli, proud old dwarf that he was, refused to lie down, but nodded where he sat, determined to stay awake (or at least erect!) with the elf and the younger men until they themselves rested.

The rangers and the dwarf were asleep by the low fire and Legolas was nowhere about. Awaking hungry (as hobbits often do), the twins quietly set out for the kitchen area of the camp. There, elves and Big Folk were already working together to prepare meals for an army, as the dawn broke above the Misty Mountains and lit the lands of ancient Rhudaur.

Turry and Furry were soon rewarded with a bite of early breakfast, really just cold leftovers from the suppers of the night before. Still, even the elven bread of the night before, cold roast chicken, and strong hot tea were mighty tasty to the hobbit lads. As soon as they felt a little less hungry, they filled a rather large basket with more victuals and carried it carefully between them back to their part of the camp. Now the rangers and young Cairmir were gone, but Gimli still snored by the coals of the fire.

Ellie was standing in front of a tent, looking about sleepily. Madrigal sat nearby, looking at her reflection on a dwarven mirror hung on a pole as she brushed her mane of curly brown hair.

"Oh, look Maddie!" cried Ellie. "The boys have brought us some breakfast!"

"That's why I keep them around," said the saucy hobbit lass. "They suffice for hauling things and for serving their betters. Please set my breakfast down just there," she said, pointing nearby with her brush.

"And good morning to the two of you, too!" said Furry, laughing. "We have better things to do, you know. If you weren't so completely helpless, we could do them!"

"Helpless!" cried Madrigal. "Why, Fingon Took, if it wouldn't embarrass you for the rest of your life and make you the laughing stock of the Shire, I'd pin the tips of your ears together behind your head!"

"You and what army?"

"This one!" she said waving her brush about at the camp around them. "But don't worry, I shall only need them to witness your humiliation. Now, pour my tea!"

"Yes, O Great Mistress!" said Furry obsequiously, bowing low before the beauty. "Would you like it with cream and honey?"

While the other two tweenagers bantered, Turry and Ellie only quietly said "Good morning!" to each other, gazing into one another's eyes and not paying the slightest attention to Maddie and Furry. After a few moments like this, they both seemed to realize that the other two had gone quiet and were watching them in great amusement.

"Bwah ha!" laughed Furry, digging out the bread and chicken. "It's too early in the morning for that! You two love birds come here and help us finish off these birds!"

The tips of Ellie's ears turned hot and red, poking notoriously out of her straight blonde hair. She glanced shyly back at Turry, who bit his smiling lip. But his ears were red, too! She noticed (hopefully!) that the handsome young Took did not deny the accusation!

Madrigal just laughed and winked at Ellie, who said nothing. But all four of the young hobbits were soon quiet, making short work of their cold breakfast. They were just finishing up when old Meriadoc and Peregrin strolled over.

"Here now!" cried Merry. "Any of that left for an old campaigner?"

"I'm thinking they've forgotten all about their elders," said Pippin.

"Who could forget the racket you hobbits make!" said Gimli. The old dwarf was rubbing his eyes and stumbling blearily toward the hobbits. "But where there're hobbits, there's bound to be something to eat!"

***

The entire camp was awake before the dwarf and the hobbits finished eating. News stirred throughout the host that they might not return to Rivendell right away. More troops were set to work on the repair of the fortress. Soldiers who had ridden or fought or marched in haste the day before, now worked to repair armour and shields, sharpen blades and points, and check their horses and equipment. A herald made his way through the host, finding this one and that, and bidding them come to the Council of Elessar that night.

The hobbits found themselves among the mighty and the wise bidden to attend this meeting of the king. Clearly, King Elessar had news of great importance and no one knew what might happen next.

The day grew cloudy and dim and seemed to pass very slowly for the young hobbits. The rangers had not returned, nor had Legolas. Men and elves who were gravely wounded the day before, were tended, but some had died in the night and were buried with their comrades in mounds that were raised upon the slopes. Their burial was held that afternoon and this was the only time that day that the King and Queen were seen. To the eyes of his old friends, Aragorn seemed grey and tired. After the service, he returned to his tent. Some whispered that he was grown old and needed rest. Others said that he returned to wrestle in spirit with the wicked wizard, who had fled. Perhaps this was so, for as darkness fell again upon the camp, the eerie light that flickered from within his tent had resumed, just as it had been seen the entire night before.

***

The appointed hour finally came and those who had been invited awaited the King and Queen within the walls of the fortress. The walls were high and strong again, though work on the battlements would continue the next day. The wreckage of the gate had been cleared away, and sentries stood before the gaping opening and the temporary barricade behind it. No chances were being taken with the safety of the Queen and the Heir. A wolf howled very far away, but no other enemies came near.

Poles had been erected in a large circle in the center of the courtyard. Upon these were hung lanterns and within this circle sat a number of great and important people, and the hobbits as well, for testimony was required of the tweens, and the elder hobbits were summoned in their official capacities. Benches had been made and these were arrayed so that everyone around the circle could see who stood to talk. King Strider stood first and beside him was a tall stand wrought of iron, as if for a lamp. The top of it was round and covered with a black cloth embroidered in silvery needlework with the White Tree and Seven Stars of the house of Elendil.

"We are met tonight," said Aragorn, "to learn all that we know of the situation which now confronts us. My attention for many years had been upon the lingering threats of the South and the East. Eomer King of Rohan and I fought a long fight together with many brave men against the remnants of Sauron's assembled malice. A great victory was won before the Black Gate, but much evil remained. At long last, we deemed that we had vanquished the lingering threat of Mordor for our time, and I returned to Arnor.

"I have long been suspicious of the quiet years in the North, and it seemed that I had neglected the land of my birth long enough. In these last years, we have rebuilt much of what was of old and now begin the resettlement of the abandoned realms of the northern Dunedain.

"I thought us strong again, and prepared for any challenge. The time had come for a new Heir to be born to the line of Elendil, for we have now been at peace or truce with our enemies for many years and have at last begun the renewal of the united kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor.

"And yet, threads thought lost, woven long ago into the tapestry of ages of opposition to the Darkness, threaten to unravel all that has been done.

"Into the heart of Rivendell the evil dared to come, through my negligence and pride. I did not heed the warnings of Thranduil and Thorin, and so the darkness came and laid low that sanctuary. Now, others shall tell that tale in full." Aragorn motioned for the ranger Aradhel to pick up the story.

"We first came upon the wizard, who called himself Pallando the Blue, when we passed near the ruins of Dol Goldur. He was dressed in rags and seemed to be examining the fallen walls of the ancient fortress."

"It is a place," said Lord Celeborn, "that may yet have some attraction for evil things. It has been a lifetime of men since I led a host from Lothlorien to the rout of Dol Goldur. When we had killed every creature that served Sauron there, Galadriel laid low its battlements and cast down its walls with songs such as none have heard since the Elder Days. The People of the Golden Wood who did not come to tarry with me in Rivendell passed that way when they sought their cousins in Greenwood the Great, which was called Mirkwood in the days when Sauron dwelt there, whom we called the Necromancer in our ignorance."

"Aye," agreed Legolas. "And naught of evil has dared to raise its head there since that day, for my people and yours have made the woods wholesome and have kept watch upon the ruins of Dol Goldur. In part, this was why I urged we take that road."

"Perhaps it will be shown to be for the best that you did," said Celeborn. The tall silver-haired Lord of the Elves looked at each of the travelers, particularly the rangers, as he said this. Each of them looking into the eyes of the elf felt their piercing gaze, a regard that searched them through, measured them with an ancient wisdom, and found them blameless. At the last, his attention was fixed on the eyes of Aragorn himself and he said, "Had this wizard not been found, by chance as it seems, we cannot say what dangers we may have come to face."

"We have faced more than we might have, even so," said Aragorn, evenly meeting the eyes of the elven lord. "While none of these can be blamed if they fell to the power of the wizard's lies, I should have been more vigilant, as were Thorin of the Dwarves and Thranduil of the Elves. A King of Men might have followed their wise example."

"Say not so!" cried Legolas, son of Thranduil. His voice betrayed a certain bitterness. Suddenly, Elediriel realized that the events of the last days meant that Legolas was forever banished from his father's kingdom. "Say rather," continued the green-clad wood elf with an edge to his voice, "that they are kings accustomed to hiding in closed realms and it is less their regard for security than their distrust of outsiders that vaunts itself as wisdom. Let not the King of Men make his people prisoners of mistrust. Better the open trust that is your nature."

"Legolas speaks rightly," agreed Gimli. "You may look upon the realms of Mountain and Wood when you visit, thinking them wonderful indeed, and you would not be wrong. But it would not be right for Men to live as Elves or even as Dwarves."

"Nor should you take upon yourself a burden that I may claim as well," said Celeborn. "For I am liege of Rivendell, and its security is more my responsibility than yours."

"But I am father of my child and husband of my wife and any cotholder could show greater vigilance for his family than did Aragorn, son of Arathorn," said the king. "But that has little bearing on the matter before us."

"Yet we will ponder these words, and learn from their wisdom," said Queen Arwen. "My husband is hard on himself, yet a great king must be so. But neither wife nor queen blames him or any of these whose valour has returned my son to me and your heir to his destiny. I would hear less of who would blame themselves for the evil this wizard has chosen and more of what has happened."

And so Aradhel continued his part of the tale. The ranger told of how the wizard's mind and conversation seemed little by little to improve on the road to the caverns of Thranduil until even the great elven king was overshadowed by his presence.

The ranger summarized for the Council the story the wizard told there, of the treachery of Alatar the Black, of an age of icy darkness for Pallando the Blue, and of the duel that transfixed them both in a frozen tomb of tumbled stone until they were uncovered by workers salvaging the ancient stones.

Legolas spoke again and said, "Perhaps that there was much truth to this tale, for it seemed true even to my father, who listened with a wary ear. In this, the wizard showed his cunning, for an outright lie would not have fooled the vigilance of Thranduil. Alatar wrapped his lie in the truth, I think."

Around the circle, there was a murmur of agreement, for it explained much. Cairduin then picked up the tale and told of how, on the whole long road to the Lonely Mountain and back to Rivendell, the wizard seemed interested in every detail of what had happened since the War of the Ring. At this, Gimli cried out.

"Aye, and too much did I tell the old man of the defenses of Erebor! How proudly did I tell him of our vigilance, and describe to him the work of the dwarves! Alas for my folly! May that wizard get what he deserves!"

"We all talked over much," said Cairduin with a dour voice. "But the wizard talked as well, and many things seem plainer to me now."

"Aye," said Legolas. "He spoke many words to the birds, prattling as if he were not far from mad. What things they told him when he was alone, I cannot say, for they did not answer him when I was about. The things he said to them in my hearing made no sense, but clearly he was using them to summon fell creatures along the way."

"The orcs and wolves!" said Furry.

"And that giant vulture!" said Turry.

"And the giants, too!" said Maddie.

Aradhel said, "From the start he took on the role of Pallando the Blue, I think, perhaps seeing our party as we approached the ruins of Dol Goldur. It was no great matter for him to mascarade as his old friend, guessing rightly that we would receive such a one and take him withersoever he wished. He learned of us that Arnor was rebuilding and that an Heir would be born in Rivendell with great celebration on Mid-Year's Day. I think that along the way, the mind of Alatar the Black conceived a great mischief."

"Much more than mischief," said Aragorn. "My heart tells me that it is war he plans one day."

"One such as this black wizard might plan for an age," said Celeborn. "Men tend to think of the day at hand, and elves tend to think of the days that have been. But one of his order may do both, seeing the paths of the future as well with more clarity than men or elves. Perhaps the wizard took chance with both hands, while he was out searching for Pallando the Blue. Still, it has begun to seem to me that there is something brewing in the North."

"Aye," said Elrohir. "We have been abroad many years, my brother and I, visiting the elves of the Grey Havens, as well as the Kingdom of Thranduil, and searching out the few wandering bands of our kindred who still travel the wilds. We have heard somewhat of the rumours of the land, and these have been quiet until most recently."

"Too quiet, as it seemed to us," said Elladan. The sons of Elrond were ever distrustful of orcs, never forgetting the torment of Celebrien, their mother and Arwen's. "Whatever they have been doing, it is a great secret and is unlike their usual activity, such as it has always been."

"Except when a great one rises among them," said Aragorn. "Or when one such as Saruman of old would bring them into submission unto himself. I think that in the months since he has escaped imprisonment, Alatar has been very busy. Say you that Alatar may have been searching for Pallando? I think rather that the hunter was actually the hunted. I do not know with certainty. But since I have turned my gaze North, following these wizards, I have learned that indeed war is afoot. As I regarded the north, I looked afar to the ancient stronghold of the Longbeards, taken bitterly from them by the goblins an age and more ago. Mount Gundabad has been quiet indeed for a lifetime of men. But now it is teeming with orcs as a mound of ants.

"I cannot yet say how great the involvement of Alatar the Black may be. But he is not ready. I deem that their great numbers are insufficient to overrun all of the north. Yet, they could become a sword in our back, if one day war were raised again from the East. I think he saw what may have been his only opportunity to kidnap Eldarion, hoping perhaps to hold him hostage against our conduct and thus prevent our strength from being raised against his schemes. But like the Dark Lord he once served, he did not reckon on hobbits." The king turned with a kindly eye to Elediriel, and said, "It is time now that we hear from one to whom we shall forever owe the greatest gratitude, and learn of this other wizard, the one I deem the true Pallando the Blue.

With that, Ellie told them of the strange old man she met in the forest, fleeing the false blue wizard with the heir in her arms, and of how he rescued them from wolves. She could not repeat the unusual words he spoke, but she was able to explain how soothing and calming they were to her. Then she described how he threw a stone into the air before he left, making it flare with a lovely brilliance and a most musical sound.

"....it was like a dream that I once had. But even more beautiful." she finished.

"It was like fireworks and flowers," agreed Turry. "It led us right to her. If it hadn't been for that, we would have ridden right past her and never been the wiser."

"I do not like these wizards who throw exploding stones! They seem too much alike!" said Gimli.

"They are very much alike," said Ellie. "But as different as night and day. Or black and blue. That's what he was like! Like a clear blue sky. The other one was always like a black fog or a clouded sky at midnight. I never liked him!"

"Alike or not," said Legolas, "I will not judge the one by the other. There has been too much of that in this world. But what of these wizards? They both seem to have vanished without a trace."

"For most of this day and last night I have been examining that matter, and have learned much," said Aragorn. "They have both headed north. I have seen them. When each of them perceived me, he became shrouded to my view, and would not permit me to observe where they did go, even until this hour."

"The eyes of the King of Gondor and Arnor are keener than the eyes of Elves!" said Legolas. The wood elf looked with a knowing expression upon his old friend. "Your eyes have indeed grown sharp since the days we hunted orcs across Rohan."

"Aye!" said Gimli. "For I remember that your ears were sharper than your eyes, and could hear the rumours of horses through the ground, while Legolas was counting spearheads! Can the ears of a ranger hear the tread of two old men, many leagues away? Or the foul feet of the orcs beyond the mountains all the way to Gundabad? The dwarves have not forgotten the sacred vault where Durin breathed his first. Nor have we forgotten our debt to the goblins, though it began long ago. Yet it is far from here!"

"For a moment, I almost thought the memory of dwarves faded with time," said the king, with a smile flickering across his tired face. "Or have you forgotten....this." Aragorn drew the black cloth from the iron stand beside him, revealing a black globe, perhaps a foot across. It seemed to glow softly from some immeasurable distance within, as if it were an immensely deep well lit from the bottom with only a single candle, but one as bright as day. So it seemed to each around the circle, from whatever their vantage: a warm light very far away. It captured the eye and pulled it ever towards its depths. Alone around the circle, the old Thain of the Shire, Peregrin Took, turned his face away and would not look upon it.

"This is the Palantir of Orthanc," said Aragorn. "With it, I have seen much. None of it comforts me. For many years, I have used it to great advantage against our enemies to the East and South, who rest now in uneasy truce, but are ever ready for revenge and are ever apt to the plans of Darkness. But for all that I have learned in the last day, there is something that gives me great unease. I think we have laid bare the strategy of Alatar the Black. He prepares the orcs of the North for war, perhaps years from now. Perhaps sooner. He thought to stay our hand with a royal hostage, rather than wait for our frontiers to become repopulated, strong, and vigilant. But Gundabad holds something else."

He told the council around him that he had surveyed the Palantir until he found the wizard Alatar, in the company of mountain goblins, riding wolves in a speeding retreat ever farther north. The wizard Pallando followed slowly on foot. Once each had perceived the king's surveillance, they shrouded themselves from view.

"Wizards, even good ones, or even mad ones, I suppose," said Aragorn, "prefer that their affairs be conducted without meddling. So since I could not follow them with my sight, I thought to look ahead. Pallando followed Alatar. Alatar rode with orcs and wargs. Their trail led north. The last great stronghold of the orcs lies in that direction, at the end of the Misty Mountains. The black wizard will reach it before even our cavalry could intercept him."

And there, the king told them, he saw a mountain carved out within from peak to root with great caverns and small, connected with many tunnels and chambers, filled with the twinkling lights of torches to provide such light as orcs needed. There were many of these creatures, thousands upon thousands spawning in the mountain far from their enemies and yet not far enough. Too many to stay put, but too few to avail against the gathering strength of Arnor to the west, and of Dale and Erebor to the east. Though a problem to be dealt with, this was not what gave the great king the most concern.

"When your enemy is known, you may form your plans and you may understand what plans he may make against you. I surveyed the extent of the stronghold of the orcs and of the population within. These, I think, we may deal with in time, and make an end of them. But at the base of the mountain, there is a blackness that I cannot pierce. It is more than unlit by torch or lantern, it is as surely shrouded from my view as the two wizards who head that way.

"I do not know what secret lies hidden in the heart of Mount Gundabad. But we must find out. My heart tells me that there is a greater danger hidden there in the darkness than presented by any kidnapping or raising of armies.

"We must lay siege to Gundabad, discover what lies shrouded in darkness there, and destroy it if we can, lest Alatar the Black use it with all the renewed strength of orcs from the Misty Mountains and with whatever hosts he may bring under his hand from afar."

[Mithadan]

Chapter XXIII

THE LONG MARCH

The very next day, messengers were sent to the King's allies in Rhovanion east of the Misty Mountains, and to all whom could carry weapons in the muster of Eriador, west of the Misty Mountains. Aragorn hoped to bring enough strength to a sudden siege of Mount Gundabad to force the goblins to a war they could not win. Even the hobbits of the Shire could be counted on to do their part. In fact, when King Strider began discussing with Thain Peregrin and Master Brandybuck the role of the hobbits, he was met with a resistance that little surprised him.

"Yes, we can indeed help to provision the army for the siege," said old Pippin. "But we can do more, besides!"

"That's right!" chimed in Merry. "My son will organize cartage from the Shire to Bree. But there are plenty of young ones who would gladly take their share of the danger as well. Now, if we must review the martial history of the Shire, let me start with the last invasion of goblins back in the days of..."

"No! That is quite all right!" laughed Aragorn. "You need NOT recount the daring exploits of halflings past and present! Tell me, what strength you can offer me in the field that helps me more than provisioning the men and elves of Eriador?"

"I admit, that is quite a lot to do in itself," said Pippin. "But I think that, in addition, my son, Faramir, can muster a fair regiment of sharp-eyed hobbits with Tookish bows, such as my grandsons wield."

"Aye! And strong fast ponies to carry them, such as my granddaughter rides," said Merry. "Buckland's breed has been improved somewhat from the stock of Rohan." The old hobbit had brought Stybba home with him from the great War, a gift of old King Theoden, and the noble pony had enjoyed a long and productive life as the most sought after stallion in the meadows of the Shire. Merry took a deep breath and began to lecture the king on the worth of Buckland ponies.

Aragorn laughed, and prevented the old hobbit from embarking under full sail upon a recounting of the careful breeding history of the Shire ponies by agreeing to let the worthies of the Shire be included in the great campaign.

"But, I think that they shall have the honor of protecting the Queen, rather than serving in the front lines of the siege," said the King.

At first, the old hobbits were of a mind to protest this, but when they realized that Queen Arwen herself insisted upon accompanying the host, they saw that her protection was a needful duty and one not to be despised. This was news that at first caused some consternation throughout the host. Yet, it also became a great source of pride when it became known that Arwen Undomiel would not return to Rivendell until Alatar the Black had been found and cast down.

"For I have seen that there is no safety for my son in Rivendell," she had said to the king, "at least no greater safety than may be found surrounded by the hosts of war, for the days of the secrecy of Elves are ended and the days of the might of Men have begun. I will trust to the strength of my husband who is with me in this new age, rather than to the wisdom of former days, for my father abides now in the distant West and my son's destiny is here."

"May I never fail you again," Aragorn said.

"My Hope has never failed," Arwen answered.

It was agreed that Lord Celeborn would lead the Lorien elves who had come with him to Rivendell, and that these would be the archers of the host. A cavalry of rangers and elves were to be led by Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond. From Fornost came another company of troops, less noble and skilled, but strong and fierce, was formed from recruited Breemen and folk of Dunland who had come in recent years to work on the towers and walls of new strongholds and to settle the northern lands. It was hoped that many more would come from the teeming population of Dunland with the promise of new homesteads. If they were settled in the region north of Rhudaur, then the Bree-folk would be relieved of a surfeit of immigrants. As is often the case in matters of war, long planned policies can sometimes be brought forward to serve many causes. Two birds would be killed with one stone, as the saying goes. The participation of the Dunlenders in the war against the orcs would make the northern reaches safe for their immigration. But there would likely be terrible battles fought first. Aragorn would be Captain over all and planned to fight wheresoever he was most needed, wielding Anduril, the Flame of the West, the sword of Elendil reforged.

The Council deemed that there was strength enough on the plain to begin the siege, and that the other forces could follow them to Gundabad as the muster continued. The way was long, and the summer and autumn would be all too short before winter in the North made the siege as hard for the besiegers as for the besieged. The King hoped that a decisive battle could be forced before the months of ice and snow decided matters for them.

The march to the north in the high summer was at first warm, then hot as the season burned more fiercely. Even so, it was not unpleasant, for in the northern reaches the mornings were cool and the Misty Mountains rising on their right hand were beautiful. Many streams flowed from the mountains, watering the verdant lands. Here and there, old ruins could be seen, for the land had been settled once upon a time. Great meadows promised abundant pasture for flocks and lush fields for grain. While the hobbits thought the slopes of the valleys steep, and the soil too stoney, the long forsaken lands seemed fair and lovely to the eyes of the rugged Dunlenders. The men laughed happily as they planned with one another how they might settle in just such a place, when the goblins had been destroyed. King Strider's kinsmen, the Dunedain, looked upon the lands and the occasional ugly ruins and thought of how an evil folk had once lived in the region. If some murmured that their king was mistaken to put the former vassals of Saruman into lands once ruled from Angmar, then others quickly urged their more dour cousins to have more faith in the son of Arathorn and in the Dunlenders he thought worthy of trust.

The cavalry did not ride hard, for it was a long journey and a host on foot from Rivendell traveled with them. Also, it would not do to arrive too soon before the siege was begun in earnest with the muster of Eriador and of their allies from Rhovanion on the other side of the Misty Mountains. So King Elessar husbanded their strength. Even so, each day's journey was long and wearying, for the king commanded that camp be broken early and made late. As the days passed, each day started sooner and ended later but the land grew less green and more rocky, slowing the progress of the cavalry and the following host even further. Scouts rode ahead to determine the best path and also rode to either side of the great company to prevent any ambush that might have been planned. Eventually, the Mountains of Mist dwindled and a great range of mountains rose across their way to the north. The tallest peak could now be seen, Gundabad, a great jagged mass of grey stone, laden with snows that never melted. It seemed to glower malignantly at them from afar. Soon, all who looked long upon it began to feel ill at ease, so none gazed upon it for long. Their way now bent to the east between the steep slopes of a great valley as they made for this dismal destination and the pass between the Misty Mountains and the goblin infested Grey Mountains.

It was in the days of their long march north that Elediriel entered into the service of Queen Arwen as her handmaiden. I'm afraid that this made Maddie somewhat jealous of Ellie, and though they remained good friends all their long lives, I'm sorry to say that it was some little time before they were as close again as they had been before Ellie's adventure. I'm sure that you might think this unfair of Madrigal, but you must remember that she was the Beauty of the Shire, one of the magnificent Brandybucks, and was rather used to being the hobbit lass that received the most attention.

If you were a very beautiful hobbit lass (and not a little spoiled!), suddenly the least among many folk, I dare say you might not have behaved any better, even if you were as good of heart as Madrigal Brandybuck! There she was, surrounded by many mighty men, a company of ageless elves, a dwarf of great renown, and even several hobbits of proven bravery. Now it should be said that not one of these folk thought the less of Maddie, and indeed loved having the saucy girl around, whose strong personality was usually the match of her beauty, but she herself felt that she was really not much help or worth at all. So, of course, poor plain little Ellie caught a little of Maddie's envy and anger one night near the end of the northward journey, after she came back to the hobbit's camp, late for supper.

Gimli was recounting the tragic tale of the Longbeards, the great tribe of dwarves that descended from Durin himself. They were the dwarves who first found the caverns of Gundabad, and enlarged them until they became a great settlement, making many things for the woodsman, farmers, and shepherds of the ancient northlands. Ellie arrived just as Gimli began speaking of their downfall.

"Those were days of peace for our great tribe. There, in Gundabad, Durin, the great father of my people awoke, and it burns my beard to think of what that mountain has become! Better that it should fall to rubble than endure the foul presence of the orcs! But this most sacred of places was lost to us long ago. Hordes of goblins and other creatures came in those years to our mountains. Survivors perhaps, of some great wars of the Elder Days, before the intrigues of the elves brought about the Bending of the world." The old dwarf cast a twinkling eye at the wood elf nearby.

"'Intrigues!' Say rather, the valour of the Noldor," said Legolas. "My people know little enough of the causes of the wars of those elves. But it may be that the reshaping of the world was fated for reasons that began before the world itself. It is at least something that the parts played in those days by those elves is still a matter of song."

"Aye. But however much the elves may sing of such things," the dwarf continued, "dead dwarves sing no songs. We never learned the secret of the Bane of Gundabad. The goblins left no survivors."

Gimli stroked his red and silver beard and sighed. "So I could not tell Aragorn who or what it might be that hides itself from his orb, in the deeps of Gundabad, where Durin woke. But we of the Lonely Mountain have long wondered, as we strengthened our defenses, how the Longbeards fell in their stronghold to the orcs. They might have endured a long siege and outlasted such foes, in a well-defended mountain, such as Gundabad is said to have been. We still do not know the answer to that riddle, though Aragorn may have found where that answer hides!"

"Why doesn't King Strider look back to that day in the Palantir?" asked Ellie. "According to the lore, a viewer could see through the veils of Time itself."

"Why don't you suggest it, since you're over there all the time?" Maddie curtly asked.

"I hardly ever see him," Ellie answered innocently.

"He has already tried," said Gimli, not really noticing the touchiness in Madrigal's remark. "He tells me that he has seen the downfall of the Longbeards, and whatever it was, it seems to have entered the mountain that day, with the goblins in its trail, but it is something that is always shrouded from the view of that elvish device. So, to be sure of what it is, we must see it for ourselves!"

"What do you think it is?" asked Turry.

"If it were a dragon, like Smaug (curse his name!)," said Gimli, "then all the land about would have been desolated as it burned all growing things, so that nothing could approach unseen. From time to time it would have issued forth, flying with fire and destruction, to feed upon livestock and men foolish enough to live nearby. If there were a dragon there, would we not all know of it?"

"You describe a dragon like Smaug," said Legolas. "In the songs, not all dragons were the same."

"Call them drakes or worms or serpents or dragons, they are all much the same, creatures of evil and treachery! They are vain creatures that lust for gold and destruction. And dragons have top-notch brains when it comes to three things: treasure, carnage, and riddles," replied the dwarf.

"As you say," said Legolas. "I am no expert in dragonry. I hope it is not something worse."

"You mean, a balrog?" asked Furry.

"Ai!" cried Legolas. "I can still see it before us, gigantic, hideous, terrible!"

"Aye!" said Gimli. "It is my worst fear. That the Bane of Gundabad was like unto Durin's Bane! And we have not the likes of Gandalf to aid us now, and even he had nearly perished! May such a thing not be so!"

"More wine!" cried Merry, swiftly heaving his bulk up upon his sturdy old feet. "A drink to Gandalf!"

Of course, this could not be refused and all there drained a glass to the dear old wizard who had laboured through an age against the Dark Lord Sauron in those darkest of days. The conversation naturally turned, as old Merry planned, to a discussion of the Grey Pilgrim, Mithrandir, later known as Gandalf the White. They talked of his great daring, his quick temper, and his kindly regard for the little folk of the Shire.

"And he loved the pipeweed, too!" said Gimli. "Which reminds me, if one of you young scamps could spare a little, I seem to have already smoked all that I brought!"

This set the old hobbits and the twins to arguing with each other for quite a while about who had last shared with the old dwarf, and nothing would do to settle it but for them to have a contest on the spot to blow smoke rings around the fire into the moonlit sky. Gimli did not care who won or lost, but was mightily glad to get a bit of anyone's pipeweed, having reacquired his taste for the habit with a relish.

"I should not be surprised to find that the smoke of that weed shortens your lives as much as your stature!" said Legolas. "What could be finer than the warm summer breezes and the green smell of the field and forest? Sensible creatures do not breathe smoke if they can help it. And you do it on purpose!" The wood elf walked off into the darkness, saying something about cleaner air. Ellie laughed and then got up to help Maddie clear away the remains of their supper.

"Oh. Nice to see that you are not too lofty these days to help a poor scullery maid with the chores," said Maddie.

"What?" said Ellie, not expecting the sharp tone in her friend's voice. The truth was that Ellie had not seen a lot of her friend for the last few days, and was looking forward to telling her all about the little doings of Queen Arwen and of little Prince Eldarion. But Maddie was feeling hurt, for she had been very much alone through the day.

"I guess you've come a long way from that little hole in the Shire," Maddie said, dropping plates and bowls into the hot water with a little too much force. The frustrated hobbit lass was suddenly drenched.

"Here! Let me help dry you off," said Ellie, running over with a towel.

"Just leave me alone!" Madrigal sobbed, and ran away to be by herself. Ellie finished up the dishes on her own (there really weren't that many), and wondered why Maddie was so upset. Turry and Furry each looked over in that direction briefly, but were really more concerned with their ongoing smoke ring contest with the older hobbits by the fire. But Turry looked again, and saw that Maddie had gone, and that Ellie was doing the washing up herself.

"I'm going to let you hobbits off the hook," said Turry, and began walking over toward Ellie.

"I'd say HE'S already pretty well hooked," said Furry.

"Ha!" said old Pippin. "If you had half the brains of your twin brother, you'd be after that other one!"

"I'm not saying a word," said old Merry.

"I will never understand hobbits," said old Gimli, his red and silver beard wagging as he shook his head.

"You're only a dwarf, you're not expected to," said Pippin, who blew another huge and gorgeous ring of smoke into the warm air. Furry just grinned, and whistling nonchalantly, ambled off in the direction of the horses.

Without preamble, Turry took up a towel and started drying as Ellie washed, and the old hobbits continued reminiscing with the dwarf by the fire. The young hobbit asked Ellie, "What's got Maddie so upset tonight?"

"Me, I guess," said Ellie. "I've been so busy with Queen Arwen and the little prince that I haven't made much time for her. I'll try to do better."

"Humph," said Turry. "She's just mad that you were called to be the Queen's handmaiden, and she wasn't. She'll get over it, and then she'll try to make it up to you. I've seen her this way before."

"I guess so. You've known her longer than I have. But it must be a little lonely for her without another girl from home to talk to," Ellie observed. She really was trying to put herself in Maddie's shoes, as the saying goes, even though most hobbits never actually wore shoes.

It was at this point that the last bowl was dried and so Turry and Ellie between them lifted the wash pot and took it away from the camp to dump it in a place set aside for such things (a large camp must have order, after all). On the way back, they could see the entire camp laid out under the moon, with campfires twinkling under the glimmering stars. Turry shifted his grip, and took the pot in his left hand, so that his right hand was free to grasp Ellie's.

Her soft little hand pressed his, and so they walked back together, not daring even to meet one another's eyes as yet. Or at least Ellie did not dare to look up at him, her heart was pounding as if she had run a race with wolves. She hardly dared to believe it was so, that the brave and handsome Turgon Took was holding the hand of the poor little hobbit girl he had hardly seemed to notice just a year before. She squeezed his hand just to be sure she was not dreaming and he squeezed back. Finally, before they reached the camp, he stopped and made her look up.

She could not help but remember the night he had held her under the stars in the land of the Beornings, when they had thought their friends slain by orcs, how he had dried her tears and was so kindly. His pert, handsome hobbit face was smiling softly, and his dark eyes regarded her with a fondness that made her feel weak inside. He took up her hand, still held in his, and kissed the top of it, never taking his eyes from hers.

"I think you're wonderful, Elediriel Cotton. And I, uh, I, well, I just wanted you to know that," he suddenly stammered. The look in her eyes was just too much for him, and he couldn't bring himself to say more or to do more just then. But it was enough for Ellie, who felt she might have burst on the spot had he said more. He grinned awkwardly and flushed red with an unaccustomed embarrassment. He murmured something about saying goodnight to Lightning and ran the rest of the way to camp, clutching the washpot in his sturdy hand and wondering if had just made himself a fool of a Took. Ellie gazed after him, and walked slowly and dreamily back to camp wondering what life might be like as Mrs. Elediriel Took!

Such are the passions of tweenaged hobbits in love. Hobbits tended to marry rather later in life than the Big Folk, and the crushes and tentative relationships of hobbits in their irresponsible twenties were rarely acted upon and were generally discouraged by their more responsible elders. What troubles and confusions have been the result of teens and tweens in love (even among the Big Folk)! Still, it was not unheard of for True Love to be found at such an awkward age and so it was, of course, the dream of many a tweenaged hobbit lass and not a few hobbit lads.

Turry caught himself with one hand on a post and whipped into the paddock where the hobbit ponies were kept. He saw his twin brother Furry there, with Maddie, talking quietly by her pony, Cider.

"Hullo! Hullo! What's going on in here?" laughed Turry. Furry stepped back guiltily from the pretty hobbit lass, though in truth, they had only been talking and nothing more.

"Nothing that concerns you!" said Maddie, sharply. "I thought you were out with Mistress Perfect."

"Huh?" said Turry. "Uh. I'm just here to check on Lightning. Here, Furry, hold this for me." He handed his brother the washpot and began making sure that Lightning had plenty of feed and water. While doing this, he thought on how silly he must have seemed to Ellie, running off like that. He quickly finished, dashed out of the paddock to find Ellie again, and was gone. Furry and Maddie stood around uncomfortably until Turry was out of sight.

"What's the matter, anyway?" asked Furry. "What did Ellie ever do?"

"Why is everyone always making such a big deal over her?" Maddie steamed. "And why can't I be there with the Queen, too?"

Furry thought on this for a second, and though he felt that Maddie was being a little childish, he wanted her to feel better, and saw no reason why Maddie couldn't be there with Ellie. Being a most Tookish Took, Furry offered a Tookish reply, "Why don't you just ask? I'm sure Ellie would like the company and I'm sure Queen Arwen wouldn't mind."

"Oooooh! You should never ask for such a thing! You should wait until it's offered!" cried Maddie. "Boys don't understand anything!" Just then, from the corner of her eye, the angry hobbit girl saw Ellie approaching the paddock. No doubt looking for Turry. Maddie looked back at Furry and saw the washpot in his hand and a mean little inspiration struck her. Suddenly, she reached out with both hands to grab Furry's head and she said sweetly, "...but you're so wonderful to say so ...Turry!"

And with that, she kissed Furry, who stood there with both hands held out awkwardly to either side, the washpot dangling from one of them. Poor little Elediriel saw the washpot and the kiss, and heard the name "Turry," and was simply shocked! She stood there for a long second, her dreams suddenly gone. She spun about on her bare heel and ran back to the camp, crying her blue eyes out the whole way.

Furry stood there with his eyes closed and a ridiculous smile on his face, completely unaware that Ellie had come and gone. Then he suddenly opened his eyes and cried, "Turry? Hey! You called me Turry!"

"Oh! Did I?" said Maddie, already feeling bad for what she had done.

"Yes! You did!" said Furry. "Did you mean to kiss me, or my brother?"

"Oh, it hardly matters, does it? Anyway, I didn't like it, so you needn't look for another," said the lass, beginning to feel embarrassed as well as ashamed, for she did, indeed, like the kiss very much.

"Well, that's fine then!" shouted Furry, growing quite hot and angry. "I can see why the Queen wouldn't want you around!" He then threw down the washpot and stomped out of the paddock and back to camp. Maddie flung her arms around Cider's neck and wept, wishing she were home in Brandy Hall with her mother and had never come on any adventure at all.

***

"Ellie! What's wrong?" asked Turry when Ellie came back into camp, weeping.

"Ask your brother!" cried Ellie, who hurriedly snatched her few things out of the tent she and Maddie shared and grabbed her blanket.

"What did he do?" (I must say that Turry was quite perplexed!)

"I don't want to talk about it!" wailed the little blonde hobbit lass. She picked up her things and ran, still weeping, off to the tents of the Queen.

"Girls!" exclaimed Turry. Just then, Furry stomped into the camp. "What did you do to Ellie?" he asked sternly.

"What? Nothing. I haven't seen her," said Furry, glumly.

"Well she just took her things and was crying her eyes out! She said to ask you why!" cried Turry, growing angry.

"How should I know?" asked Furry, turning his own anger and hurt feelings toward his twin brother. "She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

"Well... uh... I don't know about that..." Turry stammered.

"I don't understand her or any other hobbit girl!" yelled Furry. "If you ever figure them out, I'll pay you good money to explain it to me! Good night!" And with that, Furry grabbed up his things and headed off alone to the other side of the great camp.

Turry shook his head, wondering what had gotten into his brother and Ellie. Some time later, when Turry was just getting ready to turn in, Maddie sadly passed by his tent. She had obviously been crying.

"Hey, Maddie! What's wrong with Furry and Ellie?" he asked her. For a moment, Maddie looked at him and seemed about to answer. But her big green eyes brimmed with fresh tears and she said, "Just leave me alone!" She ducked into her tent, saw Ellie's things gone, and began crying again. Turry walked over just in time to find the tent flaps snapped shut in his face.

"Everyone's gone crazy!" he muttered on the way back to his own tent. Being a fairly sensible hobbit, and realizing that he would get no answers that night, he soon closed his eyes and slept soundly until morning.

***

I'm afraid that Turry remained perplexed and got no answers that morning. It seemed that there were hot tempers all around the camp. Gimli and Legolas were not speaking to one another. Elves and rangers alike were barely civil to one another. Everyone seemed grumpy, on edge, and out of sorts. Turry decided to seek out Thain Peregrin. He found the old hobbit sitting on a large stone. On the other side of it was Master Meriadoc.

"Grandfather! I've been looking all over for you," said Turry.

"Well you might have started here and saved yourself some time," old Pippin said, unreasonably.

"Yes, sir," said Turry, trying to hold his temper. What had he done, after all? "But Grandfather, have you noticed how angry everyone is?"

"If you're talking about that old wineskin," Pippin cried, pointing at Merry, who was pointedly sitting with his back to his old friend, "then I have nothing to say!"

"Nothing to say!" cried Merry, with mock rapture. "Oh that I should be blessed to hear that old blatherskite with nothing to say!"

"You can tell that bloated bit of livestock to keep his sarcasm to himself!" said Pippin.

"You can tell that dried up old fossil you call 'Grandfather' that he wouldn't recognize sarcasm if it walked in on all fours and licked the butter off his bread!" said Merry.

Pippin retorted, "Turry, inform that fat old..."

"THAT'S ENOUGH FROM BOTH OF YOU!" yelled Turry. The two old hobbits just sat there stunned and staring at the young Took. "If you can't open your eyes and see that something is terribly wrong then I am just wasting my time! I'm going to see King Strider! Maybe he will listen!" Turry left the quarreling friends sitting and staring as he stomped off to find the king.

The camp was getting off to a very late start that morning. Various lieutenants were bringing their complaints to the king, who sat on a campstool in front of his tent with his grey head in his hands. Men and elves were shouting over one another to be heard. Many others were also gathering in a crowd around the shouting. Elladan and Elrohir were grimly glaring at one another over the king's bowed head.

"Here, you halfling! Wait your turn," ordered a stout gruff Dunlander, as Turry squeezed through the angry ring to get to the king with his concerns. Turry ducked the man's big outstretched hand as the weary ruler looked up. "King Strider!" the hobbit called.

"Not now!" said Aragorn through clenched teeth. "I have many concerns just now. Come back later."

"But something's wrong!" cried Turry.

"You heard the King!" said the angry man. "End of the line for you!" He grabbed the hobbit and flung him roughly to the ground. Gimli was approaching at that moment and Turry landed at the iron-shod feet of the great dwarf. His small body hit the ground very hard and the little hobbit lay very still in the dust.

"Now try that with someone closer to your own size!" roared Gimli, with his face as red as his beard, clutching his battle-axe in a white-knuckled grip. At this, a number of the elves cried aloud, as did many men, and the fell sound of weapons unsheathing rang in the royal pavilion.




Chapter XXIV

THE SIEGE OF GUNDABAD

Eldarion could not be pacified. The infant cried loudly and angrily with his tiny face knotted like a red fist. Elediriel put her hands to her ears as the queen picked up her little son and tried to soothe him, walking to and fro in her fine tent, rocking the baby in her arms and speaking softly. Exasperated at last, Arwen told Ellie to bring the flask. The hobbit lass quickly found the precious miruvor and brought it to the frustrated mother.

"We shall see if what worked for you in the woods will work as well for me in the mountains," said Arwen, who took the flask and dripped a few drops into the open mouth of her screaming son. The baby coughed and gasped and choked. The queen put the child across her shoulder and lightly rapped his back until he cleared the fluid and was breathing well again. Almost immediately, the infant again began to cry loudly. His mother tried the miruvor once more and had better luck. Soon the infant was calm. Worn out from his exertions, the baby prince fell almost immediately asleep.

"I am nearly at the end of my wits!" cried Arwen, in a fierce whisper, as she and Ellie left the tent, leaving the child to the elvish maiden, Mehirabeth. "Are hobbit children as much trouble?"

"I do not really know, Ma'am," replied Ellie. "I'm sure they are."

"Why are we not breaking camp?" asked the queen. Ellie looked about and realized that the morning was not starting as planned. Every other morning had seen the camp breakfast at dawn and then be on the march immediately. The camp instead seemed in chaos. Angry voices were shouting on all sides, which the hobbit and the queen had not heard in the elvish tent while Eldarion cried so loudly. Lord Celeborn approached as they neared the tent of the King.

"Arwen," he said. "Something is awry. There is a malevolent spirit brooding over this camp, inciting envy and wrath. I have felt it since we came within sight of yon mountain." The tall elf pointed at the malignant peak of Gundabad, which they had first seen the day before.

"I feel it, too, Grandfather," said the queen. Ellie was always just a little surprised anytime she was reminded of the relationships between the age-old elves, who all looked like folk in their youthful prime to her eyes, when they did not seem as children.

"Then perhaps a daughter of the lines of Luthien and of Galadriel might do somewhat to help, if she has not forgotten her heritage entirely," Celeborn said calmly enough, though it seemed to Ellie that there was reproach in his words.

The queen's eyes flashed, but then she took a deep breath and thanked the great elf for his advice and turned to her hobbit handmaiden. "Elediriel," she said, "please bring me my harp."

Ellie dashed off to retrieve it. She stopped at the door of the tent and Mehirabeth looked up. "What do you want now?" the elf maid said.

"The Queen's harp!" whispered Ellie.

"You know where it is," Mehirabeth said disdainfully. Ellie ignored her and unpacked it. Looking upon the enchanted instrument, the hobbit girl thought for a moment about how her friend, Madrigal, had before given the harp to the queen when the king lay stricken.

"I'll be right back!" Ellie whispered again, and, leaving the harp, scurried out of the tent before even Mehirabeth's swift tongue could reply. She ran all the way (it wasn't very far) to where she and Madrigal had shared their own tent. Maddie was taking it down. She turned to see Ellie running toward her and at first was glad to see her, but then was ashamed of what she had done and of how she had been behaving.

Ellie saw the changing emotions on the honest face of her friend and suddenly remembered seeing her kiss Turry (as she thought) the night before. Immediately, Ellie grew angry and forgetful of why she had sought Maddie and of the Queen awaiting her harp.

"Ellie," Maddie began, "I'm sorry I've been mean. And I need to explain what you saw last night..."

"You don't need to explain anything!" Ellie snapped. "Turry can choose who he pleases. I hope you're happy. You probably deserve each other!"

"But Ellie," Maddie persisted, "it's not what you think."

"Then it wasn't serious?" Ellie asked. "That's even worse!"

"No! You don't understand!" cried Maddie, beginning to get upset.

"I don't understand?" Ellie shouted. "Oh, I see! 'Ellie doesn't come from the right families, so she can't be expected to understand.' Is that it? One set of rules for Tooks and Brandybucks and another for the poor Cottons and all the rest! I understand all too well!"

"But if you would only listen," Maddie shouted in return.

"No! You listen to me!" cried Ellie, angrier than she had ever been in her life. "I've put up with your whining and sniveling whenever things didn't go well or when you weren't getting all the attention! Well I've had enough! I ran all the way down here because the Queen needs her harp..."

"The Queen!" exclaimed Maddie. "The Queen needs her harp! And she wants me to bring it to her? Why didn't you say so?"

"Because it isn't true! She wanted me to fetch it, but for some stupid reason I thought maybe you would want to bring it, but I'm just wasting my time and the Queen's!" Suddenly, Ellie realized that time indeed was passing and that the queen was indeed waiting. Maddie realized the same thing at the same time.

"Oh, Ellie! And I've been so mean!" cried Maddie. "What are we waiting for? Come on!" The two hobbit girls ran as fast as their little bare feet could take them, forgetting their quarrel for the time being. Ellie ran into Arwen's tent and grabbed the harp without even looking at Mehirabeth's disapproving face. She looked at her friend standing sorrowfully outside the tent and reluctantly handed her the queen's harp.

"Listen Ellie," said Maddie, "You have to know that, last night, I wasn't, that is to say, we weren't really-- Oh! What I mean is, that it wasn't..."

There was a sudden outcry from near the tent of the king that stopped Maddie from explaining what had happened at the paddock the night before. Voices were raised in anger and the clear sound of unsheathing weapons rang throughout the royal pavilion.

"Oh no!" cried Ellie, and the two hobbits hurried to the sounds of building wrath.

The girls could not see through a ring of tall men and elves before the tent of King Aragorn. But they could hear the enraged cry of Gimli, son of Gloin, and the voices of elves and men raised in fury. They ran around the growing ring of warriors and finally saw Arwen looking on as Celeborn tried to push his way into the center of the ring. The countenance of the mighty elven lord was filled with wrath and, though he did not unsheathe his sword and did not carry his great spear, men and elves alike gave way before him. Those who did not heed his ringing voice found themselves caught up as if children and cast down. Many of his household, who had come with him to Rivendell from Lorien, came to his side and to his back to protect him from the swords of the Dunlenders or from any who might do harm to their lord. They looked with cool menace upon all others.

So it was that the crowd was somewhat dispersed and in its center Elediriel saw Gimli swinging his axe and Storwolos, a swarthy hulking man, parrying the blow with a great two-handed sword. Aragorn's hand on the hilt of Anduril and he looked near to leaping into the fray, for no one was heeding his commands. Elves and men alike were fingering weapons and all faces were grim and hard. Then she saw Turry, somehow she was sure it was Turry, lying still in the dust behind the dwarf. Before anyone could stop her, and heedless of the drawn weapons and wildly shouting warriors all about, Ellie ran to the fallen hobbit lad, crying his name and falling across his still form.

Gimli saw this from the corner of his eye and his head turned as he thought to warn the hobbit lass to get away. The Dunlender raised his great sword high and would have dealt a fell blow to the distracted dwarf, except that one arrow after another and then another and yet another struck him full in the chest. The big man faltered and his sword fell behind him from his nerveless hands and he fell dying to the dust.

There was a great cry from the other Dunlenders and things might have gone even more badly but each person in the camp stopped where he was when the horn cry of Buckland smote every ear with its clean and bracing call.

FEAR! FIRE! FOES! AWAKE!

Once again, the enchanted Horn of Eorl broke through a spell of evil and all who heard it felt as if they had freshly awakened from terrible dreams and darkness.

For spell it was, and no dream. Storwolos, one of the chief Dunlenders in the camp, lay slain by the arrows of Legolas, who could not have stood by to see his old dwarven friend struck down. The noble head of the wood elf hung low in regret for his deed. Though the horn of Merry Brandybuck had brought a breath of clarity to the host, the malevolence of the wizard, far away in the malignant mountain of the orcs, was still at work upon the camp. The rage each felt for whatever reason began almost at once to return and all others felt themselves growing angry once again as the spell of wrath and confusion once more fell full upon the host.

Nearby, two old hobbits stood surveying a gathering storm that the horn had given pause but could not stop.

" It was worth a try, Merry," said Pippin. "Now help me get to my grandson!" The old fellow was becoming concerned, for Turry had still not stirred.

"Don't give up so quickly," cried Merry. "Look! There's my granddaughter!"

The fat old hobbit was pointing at the queen. She took up her harp from the hand of Madrigal Brandybuck and graced the hobbit lass with a brief knowing smile. Then her slender hand plucked the strings and the hobbits saw that no small enchantment had been laid upon the harp of the queen. The first notes carried, not loud and bracing above the storm, as the sound of the horn, but clearly and softly through the din of anger and contention.

The sound of the harp came to the camp as if a welling spring of crystal clean water was swiftly filling the valley. The voices of rage were as muffled as if underwater. All hearts were calmed and peace was restored to all minds. Then, the clear voice of Arwen Undomiel was raised in elvish song against the wizard's spell of wrath. Elediriel's weeping over Turgon's still form stopped as she listened to the elvish words of the queen's song. In after years, she tried and failed to set to verse the words of the queen as they seemed to her hobbit's ears. She would always apologize that she could only tell of her own feelings and could not come near the majesty and beauty of the song itself and could never convey the wonder of the voice of her queen.

Arwen, Queen Undomiel,
Twilight of the Elves,
Lady of last Elvinesse,
who brought us to ourselves,
sang upon a day of wrath,
when every heart was cruel,
and bitter tongues were sharp and fell
and hands were raised to duel.

Wicked force of dark intent
had gripped our stalwart host
and plunged our minds in wicked thoughts
of hate for those loved most.
Though we had come together to
bring down an evil foe
he cast a spell from far away
that nearly laid us low.

But Arwen, Queen that blessed day,
made that spell disperse.
She sang across our stormy host
to repulse his evil curse
and turn our thoughts away from hate,
denying worth of life,
grasping pride and reckless rage,
to settle things by strife.

Her voice, uplifted, sang as sweet
as nectar to the bees,
and fell as clear as sunshine falls
upon the shining seas.
Our minds felt cleansed and clear again,
forgotten was each fight,
for Arwen brought us to ourselves,
and to the course of right.

It was a song worthy of a song, to be sure, for the queen's voice was uplifted until the sun had risen high in the sky and the wizard at last ceased to cast the darksome spell of wrath. Arwen had won. Ever after, among all the folk in the vale that day, if they lived through the terrible battles that followed, it was difficult to grow angry for petty reasons or to engage in selfish pursuits. In later days, Queen Arwen's song would echo in their minds, recalling how precious is the gift of life and how futile is the wasting of it in vanity and vexation. Its lingering enchantment upon them was realized that very day.

Elediriel Cotton stood as Turgon Took was carried away, and began to hope that he would be all right. Old Gimli assured her that hobbit heads were very hard and that the young Took would have little more than a nasty headache. Ellie nodded, but walked away to the queen's tent, rather than with the other hobbits to watch over Turry.

Turry had been injured, but not gravely, and he might have been on his furry feet again before the sun had set. Ellie was overjoyed at first to hear of this, but remembering what had happened at the paddock the previous night, became very sad again and did not visit the recuperating young Took. Turry would have looked for Ellie before he had even had supper, had not Furry and the elder hobbits made certain that he rested. Finally, Maddie went to old Master Meriadoc for advice.

"Grandfather?" she tentatively began.

"Oh ho. Yes, little pretty!" said Merry, who had been waiting for the moment. "What can an old hobbit do for you today?"

"I've done a rotten thing, and I don't know what to do," she said.

"Of course you know what to do," said Merry. "You just need to screw yourself up to do it."

"But it seems so silly and stupid!" Maddie cried. "I feel like a fool!"

"You'll get over that soon enough, I'm sure," Merry chuckled. "In fact, the sooner you get it over with, the sooner you'll get over it. Hey! I just made that up! But you remember it all the same! We'll make a family proverb out of it, eh?"

"Yes, Grandfather," she said meekly, beginning already to smile a little.

"Now you run and find your friends and apologize," said Merry. "You had better start with Ellie." She stood there for a moment wondering how much old Merry knew. "Go on!" he urged. She did.

Maddie went to the Queen's tent to find Ellie. A tall slender elf stood guard outside and, without expression, called softly so that Mehirabeth, Queen Arwen's elvish handmaiden, came out.

"I'm here to see Elediriel," said Maddie.

"She is busy with her duties to the Queen," Mehirabeth answered. "Perhaps she will return to your camp tonight, when she is finished." The tall elf maiden turned away dismissively.

"Oh, but please!" cried Madrigal, pushing down her temper and humbling herself before the Queen's servant. "It is most important that I see her now! Turgon Took, who was injured today wants to see her, and there are private things that she must know. Oh, please!"

Mehirabeth's cool eyes looked upon the distressed hobbit lass and she turned again and went into the tent. Maddie stood dismayed and turned to leave, beginning to weep a little. But before she had gone a dozen steps, Ellie came out of the fine tent and saw her walking sadly away.

At first, Ellie was inclined to simply let her go her way, for she did not want to talk to Maddie about anything, least of all Turry, and that was surely what she had come for. But then, unbidden, the memory of Arwen's song of peace resounded in her mind, as if she were hearing it again for the first time. She choked back a sob and called to her friend. Madrigal spun about on her bare heel and ran to embrace Elediriel. The two girls cried in each other's arms heedless of the tall elven guard behind them. All was explained and all was forgiven. Before supper together, all four of the tweens had reconciled and if the Twins had a special gleam in their Tookish eyes, then it is also fair to say that both of the hobbit lasses looked upon the dashing young hobbit lads with a new anticipation themselves.

***

Storwolos was given a funeral that night such as was common to the Dunlenders. His mighty form was carried to a bier of gathered wood laid on a hilltop there in the western end of the steep sloped valley. His son, Ulfang, who laid the first torch upon the pyre, received the great notched sword of his slain father and the young man vowed vengeance, not against Gimli or Legolas, but against the wizard whose spell had brought about his death. He spoke with a rough eloquence that surprised the rangers and the elves and inspired a certain sympathy and respect for the half-wild men of Dunland.

"...for it was not dwarves or elves or men or halflings that Storwolos, my father, came to slay, but the orc-folk of Gundabad, so that our people could live in the new green lands where our feet have trodden. As my father's ashes ascend to the sky, so let his spirit ascend from this hill. When we meet him again in the hereafter, we will tell him that his grandchildren multiplied and grew fat in a land of plenty. We will tell him that his true enemies met their just fate at our hands, and at the hands of our allies. We will remember that Storwolos, ever first in battle and counsel, was first to give his life for this land and this site will ever be a sacred place for us."

The King and Queen and their chief rangers honored the Dunlenders by attending their funeral ritual, as did Gimli and all the Lords of Rivendell. The renowned dwarf wept bitterly for his part in the death of Storwolos, and this was marked by the mourners. As the ritual ended, Aragorn renewed his pledge of land and freedom to Ulfang and the chieftains of Dunland.

"Your name is one that was not loved by the Elves or the Dunedain, yet your words go far to amend that," said Aragorn.

"Then let my deeds answer for all," said young Ulfang.

The tall king poured red wine from a golden chalice upon the ashes and the cup was passed to Ulfang, who did the same. Aragorn offered to have a great monument raised upon the site, but the Dunlenders said that the land was enough, and that Storwolos would prefer that the hill remain as it was.

No one knew where Legolas was to be found. It was marked by some that he walked out of sight as Arwen sang and was headed south. This caused some quiet concern among his friends, for much had happened to the son of Thranduil, but no one quite knew what to do about it and Aragorn said nothing.

***

The host moved east and two days later came to occupy the field south of Mount Gundabad and the passes between the Misty Mountains and the Grey Mountains. Birds flew to and from the royal pavilion and the siege was prepared. The Queen and the Heir were protected by the newly arrived Tookish archers and Buckland militia from the Shire, encamped about the pavilion at a great distance from the front lines.

Old Merry and Pippin, the great heroes of the Battle of 1419 were greatly delighted and wore their finest gear of war to welcome their lads from the Shire. But the long journey in the wolderness was more fatuguing than the old hobbits ha reckoned and they were weary when the boys from home caught up with the growing host. Nearly two hundred hobbits had come, drafted from the strongest young sheriffs and the best hunters and archers in Tookland, as well as from the sturdy hobbits of Buckland. Most were in their tweens, but there were a goodly number of seasoned old gaffers in charge of them. At their head was Pippin's son, Faramir, the father of Turry and Furry. The Twins were overjoyed to see their old dad (in fact, they had been far more homesick than either would have admitted!), and Faramir was proud to lead the best of the Shire to the honorable duty of protecting the Queen and Heir.

When the muster of Eriador was complete, and the supply lines to Bree had been secured, the time had come to officially declare the siege. Back in those days of less sophistication and greater civility, peoples did not make war upon one another without declaration. Such things were done for the decent respect of civilized people, both in that day and in days to come. Never would Aragorn have considered unsheathing Anduril, Flame of the West, to draw the life's blood of his enemies and yet be ashamed to openly declare his reasons. Kings like Elessar Telcontar (or Good King Strider as he was called in the golden years of his reign by the common folk), cared greatly that people in after generations would look upon his acts and judge them to be right, fair, noble, kingly, and just. But such high conduct has become rare in after years, for few nations have clearly declared for the sake of their posterity just what they were about and chose instead to obscure their acts of war with the shifting words of diplomacy so that they could achieve hidden agendas, observe political niceties, hold unsavoury alliances, and secure martial profits.

Six heralds were selected to formally announce the siege. Elladan and Elrohir rode forth for Rivendell with the star of Earendil upon their shields. Aradhel and Cairduin rode for Arnor and their shields were emblazoned with the White Tree. Ulfang for Dunland rode without sigil or sign other than the feathers of great birds and the tails and claws of fell beasts adorning a tall ceremonial spear. One herald did not ride, and that was Gimli, son of Gloin, for the dwarves. His burnished dwarven shield was graven with an image of the Hammer of Durin. The heralds and their horses wore plate and mail and came nigh the gates of the malignant mountain stronghold of the goblins. Their flag of parley flew stiff in the wind and the sun gleamed upon the gold and silver of their shields. There was no sound from the mountain. Trumpets blew clearly from the host behind them and Elladan stood forth to herald the army.

"The King and Queen of the united kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor, the Lords of Imladris, and the chieftains of Dunland are come to lay siege to this fortress. For long ages, the orcs and goblins of Gundabad have been a menace to the peace of the north ever since the massacre of the Longbeards founded this realm in blood. This stronghold now defends the wizard Alatar the Black, who conspired with the troops of Gundabad to waylay Heralds of the King on their peaceful mission, who betrayed the hospitality of Imladris, who attempted the murder of King Elessar, who kidnapped Eldarion, Heir to the Throne, and whose sorcery contrived the death of Storwolos of Dunland. Alatar is also determined by the justice of the King to be guilty of the imprisonment of the wizard Pallando the Blue, and of working great evil in Harad, Umbar, and other nations of Men in his foul service to the Dark Lord Sauron. Alatar the Black, and all who have aided him have declared themselves enemies of all the free peoples of the world and in retribution for these crimes of the past and to forestall future wrongs against our peoples, we declare this mountain under siege. No quarter will be asked or given. No lives will be spared."

There was silence from the mountain. A long minute passed before the encamped host heard a great drum roll out a slow doom, boom, doom. The heralds returned to the camp without incident and waited for nightfall.

[Mithadan]

Chapter XXV

WHAT GOES UP...

As twilight fell upon the valley, and the last light of the sun cast itself upon the uppermost peak of Mount Gundabad, sharp-eyed elves in the besieging host of Eriador watched hordes of small goblins and larger orcs creep out of the tunnels that riddled the mountain. They were soon arrayed in ragged groups that sullenly stared across the darkening vale, waiting for some signal to hurl themselves against their enemies encamped against them.

Slowly, from out of the main gate, carved in ancient days by the dwarven skill of the Longbeards, there came a gigantic form, pulled by many orcs. What it was could not be seen for it was covered with skins of fell beasts. Slowly it was brought forth and the cover was torn away. The host of Eriador saw a great engine of war, wrought by clever goblin hands, as another of the great engines was pulled from the gate, followed by another still. The wizard Alatar was not seen.

Now goblins, for all their wickedness and depravity, are not stupid folk, and they delighted in clever instruments of torture and of war. They were not unprepared for the siege, for they well knew of the approach of the tall king and his bright-eyed elvish friends. In the days of the long march of that host, the orcs of Gundabad built these great engines of destruction and were ready to use them as soon as night fell. No doubt Alatar the Black had insisted that they be built in darkness and covered so that Aragorn could not view their construction with his Palantir.

While this was a great cleverness on the part of the wizard, the king was wise in the ways of war and had anticipated that such devices might be arrayed against his forces. As soon as it had become clear what the goblins intended, the front lines of the cavalry mounted and prepared to move. Elladan and Elrohir, the sons of Elrond, commanded the Rangers and Elves of Rivendell and their elvish spotters were stationed among the riders with flags and trumpets.

The Dunlenders respected their chieftains, not least among them, young Ulfang, son of Storwolos. Many had come to work in the building of the castle at Fornost, and before that, the great tower on Weathertop. The pay seemed handsome enough to these men, born to a half-wild nation where the land did not gladly yield a living. But now they were ready to fight for a new land, lush and green, where their children would have a better life of peace and plenty. But quite a few were still distrustful of the King's men, and especially of the elves. Behind the cavalry, the Dunlenders stood ready, but murmured that horns and bits of cloth on poles were no way to fight. They soon received a lesson in the art of war, as practiced by King Elessar Telcontar and the last host of Imladris.

When the first engine released its fiery burden into the sky, a horrid sound of goblin screeching and shouting filled the valley with a foul and hideous clamour. But the keen-eyed elves marked its flight, and on a trumpet signal, pointed their tall flags at the place where the deadly missile would strike. Now, the Dunlenders more fully understood the wisdom of the elvish tactic. As each burning mass of tar and stone was launched, the spotters pointed at its inevitable destination. Captains and lieutenants could then swiftly order soldiers on foot or on horse to evade each lethal strike with instant speed and precision. After several of these had harmlessly landed in suddenly open places among the host of men and elves, the clamour of the goblins of Gundabad was stilled.

Then, the archers of the foul army stepped out before the siege engines and launched a forest of arrows. Each goblin sent flight after flight into the darkening sky. Their orcish eyes easily followed the flight of the poisoned missiles and saw their effect upon their enemy. As the lethal darts fell, the elvish trumpets sounded a different cry, the cavalry fled from range of bow, and every shield of every soldier was raised to catch the goblin shafts. Some poor few were hit and a handful of brave men died on the spot. The wounded would suffer somewhat from a certain pain for the rest of their lives, but elvish arts preserved many of their lives against the goblin's poison. As that may be, the few casualties and fewer deaths resulting from the barrage caused the wretched curses and terrifying shrieks of a horde of goblins to befoul the mountain air.

The cavalry returned and fired many arrows at the exposed goblins. Again the orcish arrows flew, and again the cavalry retreated and the shields of the soldiers were raised against the deadly rain. Again the cries of the goblins tore through the night. As of yet, the besieging host had launched relatively few missiles, but each of the elven archers found their mark. Aragorn and his captains knew that their strength had to be conserved and that the battle would not be won in a single night.

Someone among the leaders of the orcs, perhaps even Alatar the Black, realized this as well, and the order went out among the unruly goblins to stop wasting arrows. Before midnight, a stalemate settled on the valley and that situation remained the same for many days and nights, with a few more skirmishes provoked by the cavalry, but little other change in the situation.

The War Council of Elessar was convened to discuss the shape of events. Ulfang of Dunland wanted to know what the worst possibilities were.

"We do not know," answered Aragorn. The king looked thoughtfully at the folk sitting upon a ring of stones set for the purpose in the royal pavilion of the great camp. "If we were fighting an ordinary goblin army, then I would say that we might be encamped through the winter. Within Gundabad, where no stores will be added to whatever they have, Summer will pass, and then Autumn and they will be denied whatever harvests they gather or steal. Only the Withered Heath will be open to them, and it will not feed a mountain of orcs. All too soon, they will run out of provisions. Then they will eat first their prisoners, then their slaves, then their imps, then the smaller goblins, and finally the weakest orcs. Then, when the strongest and most ruthless feel the pinch of hunger, they will make an attempt to escape. Then we will kill them in the spring, after enduring a long cold winter, which could slay as many or more of us as they might if they came and fought us on the field. And with a wizard in Gundabad, I do not trust the winter. So we must end this before autumn fails."

Ulfang's countenance grew grim at this. "How?" he asked. "Will we go into the caverns and fight them under the mountains? That is suicide!"

"Nay!" cried Gimli. "My people have fought these goblins in their own lairs, hand-to-hand, face-to-face, cave by cave! Their strength is in their numbers. Individually, in close combat, with nowhere to run, they can be slain. Force them to fight in the tunnels, and the valour and skill of dwarves will beat the goblins every time!"

"Not every time," said Celeborn. "For as you say, their great numbers can weary the strongest hand. And when a strong hand falters, a weaker hand may triumph."

"And besides," said Ulfang, "men are too large to fight in such places, and would be easy prey for the orcs in their dark traps under the ground. My people cannot fight that way."

"Nor will you have to," said Aragorn. "That would play into the our enemy's hands. The army of Thorin Stonehelm is coming, but I could not ask such a sacrifice from the dwarves of Erebor."

"We dwarves have long thought to repay the debt of the Longbeards to the goblins of Gundabad," Gimli growled. "King Thorin would not shirk it."

"We do not need dwarves to fight for our land," said Ulfang.

"Dwarves have reasons enough to fight the orcs," said Gimli. "And if by so doing we also free the lands for prosperous neighbors, then that is all the better."

"We must know more," insisted Aragorn. "Remember, more than goblins lie in wait in the darknesses of Gundabad. There is the wizard, Alatar the Black. It might take an army to defeat such a foe, and even that is not a certainty. There is also something else, something dangerous and powerful at the root of this mountain. We must know what it is."

The tall king stood to his feet. "Something more than goblins was the Bane of Gundabad. Whatever it is, it is still within the mountain, and we must root it out and slay it as well. Ever the goblins have been beaten, routed, and thought nearly destroyed. But ever again they multiply in Gundabad and become stronger in number each time. After the Battle of the Five Armies, they multiplied again until the War of the Ring. And now they are multiplied again to become a great danger, if not this year, then the next, but sooner rather than later. Something has always held them to that mountain and renewed their realm. Even if the wizard had not come, we would have needed to make war. I had hoped to delay this for many more years, but the coming of Alatar has forced my hand.

"And yet," the king continued, slowly standing and looking west, as if in deep thought, "we are also brought here before the goblins were ready for war. Perhaps by chance, as it seems, we will confound their plans and hope to end the menace of Gundabad once and for all, freeing the northern realms for an age to come."

"What gives you this hope," asked Ulfang, "since your hope for a delay has vanished?"

"With an heirloom of my fathers, I have surveyed the mountain in great detail during our long march," Aragorn replied. He motioned to Aradhel and the ranger unfurled a large map, hung from a tall pole as if it were a great standard or a small sail. Aradhel came to the center of the council and turned the map about so that each could look upon it in turn. They beheld a great drawing of the passages, tunnels, chambers, and caverns within Mount Gundabad. Its lines had been darkened with inks of different colours so that the eye could more easily follow the bewildering maze. Notes could be seen written on the borders in the strong firm hand of the king. He explained his plan as they looked upon the map.

"When we are ready, I purpose that an assault be made against every entrance of the mountain. This will bring the forces down and away from the parts of the realm you see marked in red." A passage descended from the peak of the mountain, wound north of the main mass of openings and tunnels, and eventually joined a great chamber with a large corridor that led down to the bottom of the map. There, the sloping corridor ended in a shaded region labeled "Unknown."

"With these passages clear," Aragorn explained, "a party can descend to the shrouded chamber at the mountain's root. We will then learn the secret of Gundabad and perhaps can find a way to forever defeat the evil that has ever grown there."

"How did you come by this thing?" asked Ulfang, in growing wonder.

"I have inherited the means to see what I would from the kings of old," said the tall king. "From across the seas before the world was bent, came this to me, for of great lineage is the line of Elendil, of which my son is heir. I have drawn this by my own hand from what I have seen with my own eyes."

"But why will they not guard this entrance at the top of the mountain?" asked Ulfang. The young Dunlender's bare and massive arms were crossed over his barrel chest. He clearly was unconvinced of the plan, though impressed with the detailed map, and the high air of nobility that he realized was the birthright of Aragorn son of Arathorn.

"It not an entrance but, rather, an ancient guard post that faces to the north," the king replied. "It was hewn by the dwarves who first settled here to watch for ancient dangers an age and more ago. The goblins have no fear of such, and do not use it. The chamber is open to the sky, but there is no path or stair leading to it on the slopes and cliffs of the mountain itself."

"Hah!" laughed Gimli. "Of course not! Any dwarf worth his tools would not make such a mistake."

"And yet, I daresay an elf could make his way," Elrohir said. "But for you others, it may indeed be unreachable."

"Then how do you reach this unreachable entrance that is not an entrance," Ulfang persisted.

"We will have help there," Aragorn smiled. "Is it indeed unreachable? Only if we attempt to scale the mountain. But the chamber is open to the sky, and the eagles of the Misty Mountains have pledged what aid they can give. Their king, Rondramehir the Sky Wing, is healing at Rivendell, and many of his house were slain by Alatar the Black, who hides within Gundabad. Yet a goodly number remain, and a small party might be born aloft on their great wings and brought to the old dwarvish post on the mountain peak."

The eyes of the Dunlender grew wide. This was, to his mind, more understandable but of greater wonder. "We have children's tales of such things! But I think that my people will not ride the wings of eagles or journey under the cold stone. We will fight, but let us fight in ways we know."

"You are wise, Ulfang, son of Storwolos," replied the king. "Reckless valour is often wasted valour and I would not have you spend your lives foolishly. This will prove a dangerous mission that few could undertake with hope of success, and your brave men can indeed help us more in the open field. We will soon decide who will accompany me into Gundabad. Gimli, son of Gloin, has already volunteered and I will gladly accept the help of a dwarf in the passages beneath the stone."

At this statement there was some worried questions and no small consternation from the council, who did not care at all for the idea of the grey-headed king taking on such a dangerous mission. But he would permit no discussion of the matter.

"I will ask no one to do what I would not! And there is this also," said Aragorn. "While much of the horde will be drawn to battle, there may still be many within that could bring this plan to ruin. How will the party evade capture in and out of a goblin fortress? None but myself have the skill to lead a party in and out without detection, and only by the means that this map was surveyed can I hope to do so, and at that, the entire host of Eriador must provide our diversion. We must discover and end this menace now, lest it grow beyond our power ever to do so, and the northern realms of Eriador and Rhovanion never know peace." No further arguments or questions were offered the king, so he had Gimli explain the next part of his plan. The dwarf was only too happy to have the attention of the council.

"There is an old dwarven construction in Gundabad that we can perhaps use to our advantage," said Gimli. "If you will look at the map you can see, marked in blue, something that the wretched goblins may not have considered. The blacksmiths are already working on a device of my own invention that will unleash a force that no goblin or wizard has imagined!"

The assembled counselors listened intently as the renowned dwarf explained his clever plan.

***

The next day, various folk sought an audience with the king in the royal pavilion, hoping to be included in the mission. Cairdur, son of the ranger Cairduin, was chosen, for he was slender of build and only the strongest of the great eagles could carry a full-grown man. Even so, neither Aragorn nor Cairdur could wear armour or mail, lest they too greatly burden the noble birds. Gimli would not go without at least a shirt of mail, but being a dwarf, was light enough to be allowed his way.

Turry and Furry also volunteered. Merry and Pippin came along to support the Twins in this. They were proud that hobbits of the Shire had formed a company of archers, under Pippin's son Faramir, to defend the Queen. They also thought that it was fitting that hobbits, in the tradition of Bilbo Baggins, descend into a dangerous mountain down a forgotten dwarven passage.

"That ought to bring you the luck of the hobbits!" said Pippin. "You'll need that! And you don't have to worry about them being too heavy for an eagle to lift."

"And besides," said Merry, "we will lend them the elven cloaks of Galadriel to help them hide among the stoneworks. You may need a hobbit's stealth on this job."

"But will I need two?" asked Aragorn. "It seems to me that Turry, at least, must remain, for I have heard that he is not recovered completely from his injuries." Unfortunately, this was true, for he had cracked both head and ribs in his fall at the Dunlender's hands.

"Then take me instead!" cried Maddie, surprising everyone. She had followed the other hobbits to the royal pavilion, certain of what she would do as soon as she heard the Twins planning to volunteer. She stepped around the corner of a tent as the startled hobbits reacted.

"What?" old Merry cried.

"NO!" cried Turry and Furry together.

Pippin just shook his old grey head. Merry turned to face his granddaughter and forbade it.

"Your father (not to mention your mother!), would roast me on a spit if I let you do this!" cried Merry.

"And I will never speak to you again if you don't!" said Maddie. She stomped her bare foot and her brown curls shook. "And I mean it!"

"I might have something to say about this," said Aragorn with a dry smile. "Madrigal, this is not simply a journey down a secret tunnel, as my old friend Bilbo made. This may be far more dangerous, for there will be many goblins, and perhaps much hand to hand fighting. And at the end, Bilbo knew what he would find. We do not."

"But when you entered the mines of Moria, you did not know what Durin's Bane was either, and neither did my Grandfather, and nor did Thain Peregrin, nor Master Samwise, nor Frodo of the Nine Fingers himself!" Maddie dauntlessly replied.

"We had no choice that day," the king answered grimly. "And we entered against my will. Now, it comes to my ears that Furry here shoots as well as any archer of Rohan, so answer me honestly: can you do as well as that? Or would you be a distraction to our mission?"

Maddie reached into the pocket of her riding trousers (a singular fashion in the Shire, since few other hobbit girls rode ponies like a boy), and withdrew a sling. She placed a round river stone in its pouch, swiftly whirled it around her head and flung it hard, faster than any but elvish eyes could see, and shattered a nearby rock. The king and the other hobbits looked back at the defiant hobbit lass, who already had another stone in her whirling sling. She hurled it in exactly the same spot, blasting the fragments of the rock, and said, "Does my king not know? I am Madrigal Brandybuck, the Terror of the Shire, and any goblin that gets in my way gets what that rock got!"

The hobbits laughed, but the king did not. As their quick mirth quickly died away, Aragorn said, "A foresight is upon me. I will take the hobbits Fingon and Madrigal, the dwarf Gimli, and the ranger Cairdur. Seven eagles are strong enough of wing, and one of them must carry Gimli's device. That leaves one place to be filled in our number."

"Now do I most miss Legolas," said Gimli. "He was nearly as good as a dwarf at orc-slaying!"

"He is where he needs to be," said Aragorn. He meant something more by this, but others took this to mean that the wood elf wanted to be alone after the slaying of Storwolos. This tragedy had followed on the treason of Alatar, which had doomed Legolas to exile from the realm of his father, Thranduil. Everyone felt sorry for him and longed to see him again.

It was finally Elrohir, one of the sons of Elrond, who was selected for the mission. The slender elf was skilled in all ways of war, and was ever as eager as his brother Elladan to kill goblins when he could for the memory of the terrible crimes their mother, Celebrian, suffered at the foul hands of the orcs, never to recover unless she was granted healing in the Elvenhome over the Sundered Sea. It was agreed that the ranger Aradhel would command Elrohir's regiment of cavalry until the elvish knight returned and that Lord Celeborn would command all in the king's absence.

They had only to wait until the weather was right, and none but the king knew what weather he and the eagles were awaiting. But the wait turned out to be long, and the siege did not go as well as hoped.

A large contingent of orcs, an army in itself, was wisely sent forth before the siege was joined and was deployed to guard a critical pass. They held high ground that prevented the Kings of Rhovanion from joining the siege. King Thorin Stonehelm of the Dwarves, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, and King Bain of Dale were stalemated. While the orcs did not have force enough in the passes to destroy the allies, neither could the allies assail the pass with sufficient force in the narrows of the mountains without suffering great losses. Less than ten leagues separated the hosts of Rhovanion from the hosts of Eriador and sight of Mount Gundabad. This may have been a blessing, for the allies of the Wilderland did not have Arwen Undomiel with them to overthrow the malevolent spell of wrath that Alatar the Black may have cast upon them, if they were within his sight. Blessing or not, the siege was hard to maintain and the summer was not growing longer.

***

The days drew on into weeks. Little happened on the lines of the siege, for Aragorn would not begin the battle until his mission was ready and the orcs would not begin a battle they would surely lose, at least not until their last despair. Or so it was thought. Summer waned into autumn as the weeks began to grow into months. The allies feared the onset of winter would come to the aid of Gundabad. Holding the siege through the northern cold and snow would be grievous, and if the winter were terrible, then the siege might fail, the goblins survive to replenish their numbers, and all suffering and sacrifice have been in vain.

But finally, a day dawned when low clouds had settled over the Grey Mountains and fog filled the valley. As arranged beforehand, seven great fires were lit in a wide circle in the open plain near the royal pavilion. These had been set ablaze on each of two previous mornings that had dawned misty, but the eagles chose the third morning as the best.

Eight great eagles landed, one after another, within the circle of the signal fires. Furry was packed and waiting, and ran to tell the king, but found that Aragorn was already striding to the eagle's landing through the grey mists, closely followed by Maddie and Gimli, who carried his secret device in a large heavy pack. Elrohir and Cairdur came right behind. Other figures, obscured by the mists, were also following to see the party on its way. The king had known, by his methods, that the weather was right for the mission and so he knew to have the party ready and at hand.

Rondramehir himself had come. The great lord of the eagles knew that he was not yet fit to carry heavy burdens, but took wing from Rivendell as soon as he was able, and was come to lead his seven wingmates. Madrigal came to him and the noble bird had kind words for her, and wished that he could carry her himself, for she had stayed with the elf-girl Geniwel when his injuries at the hands of Alatar overcame him, and thus was his life saved.

Aragorn spoke quietly to Celeborn. Not much needed to be said between them, for preparations had long been ready for the day. The armies and the cavalry were ready to force the denizens of Gundabad to battle, and away from the mountain halls where Aragorn hoped to lead his team. The king had said his good-bye's to Arwen at the pavilion and she remained there with Eldarion. The rest of the folk stood in little groups, saying their good-byes, and hoping that this would not be the last time they laid eyes on one another. Elrohir gravely spoke with his brother as did Cairdur with his father and his young brother, Cairmir. The hobbits, of course, were there as well, but in hobbit fashion, made light of the dangerous mission.

"Now listen, my boy," said Faramir Took, coming with several other hobbits, friends, family, and Took archers, to see the party on its way, "you keep both eyes open and on what you're doing, and not on that Brandybuck girl!"

"Dad!" cried Furry. Pippin just laughed. He had lent his elven cloak to young Furry and had already said as much as he could bring himself to say. "I mean it," said Faramir. "You two've grown mighty close in these last weeks, as everyone knows, and I'll not have you walking into danger with your mind on anything except your mission. Now you go on and keep the King out of trouble and mind what I say!"

"Yes, sir," said Furry, seeing there was no sense arguing the point and that his old dad was probably right. Meanwhile, a similar conversation was underway between Maddie and her grandfather.

"I must say you look better in that cloak of Lorien, than I ever did," said Merry.

"Oh, Grandfather!" said Maddie. "I don't suppose I can keep it?"

"Of course not! I'm only lending, not giving. So I expect you to bring it back! You keep your eyes and ears sharp, and don't go mooning over Fingon while you're on the job," said Merry. "And don't go looking at me like that! You know as well as I do that you're smitten with that young Took, so you keep your mind on business!"

"Don't worry, Grandfather," sighed Maddie. "We'll all be just fine!"

"Well," sniffed old Merry, "go on then, before you make a spectacle of yourself!"

Then Maddie and Furry said goodbye to Ellie and Turry. Turry still felt that he should have been the one to go, for in the delay he had quite healed up and felt ready for anything. But the king was firm in his earlier decision, and seemed to have some notion that Madrigal would be needed, so that was that, and Turry made the best of it. The young hobbit contented himself with helping his father lead the Took archers guarding Queen Arwen (a more dangerous duty than he yet realized). As for Elediriel, she was both delighted and fearful for her friend, and never admitted her relief that Turry would be safe (as she thought) on the ground with her. Turry and Ellie wished their friends well and then held hands, watching as the eagles flapped their great wings and lifted one after another of the party into the grey mist and out of sight.

***

Up and up they flew through the low lying fogs and clouds, in great circles that the hobbits felt rather than saw, for they could see nothing but the gloomy mists. After what seemed a long time, the mist brightened and they were suddenly above the cloud tops. Fields of serene white clouds were aglow with the morning sun and as the eagles wheeled about, Maddie shivered in the fierce cold, but looked in awe at the sights. She saw from on high the peaks of the Misty Mountains, ever taller and receding to the south. Looking to the north, she saw the massive grey stone of Gundabad, under a burden of brilliant white snow that not even the summer sun had melted.

It was toward this that they now flew, and there were no other eyes so high that they could be seen approaching from above the clouds. Now Maddie understood the wisdom of waiting for the right weather. They needed the cover of fog so that the attempt could be made undetected. But the tops of the clouds also had to be low enough so that the eagles could see to land at the ancient dwarven observation post on the mountain's peak, for surely there would be no signal fires to lead them down (and it would be bad news if there were!).

Sooner than you might think, for the great eagles of the Misty Mountains were swifter of wing than any other bird, Gundabad was below them, and the eagles circled in a dizzying spiral down to a tiny open cove on the north side of the mountain's peak.




Chapter XXVI

STRATEGIES AND TACTICS

Turry and Ellie watched until their friends and the eagles that bore them were lost to sight, high aloft in the grey mists. The tweenaged hobbits walked hand in hand back to the royal pavilion, and the hobbit encampment.

"I still say that it should have been me," said Turry. "Maddie might be good with a sling, but she's never been in any real fight."

"That's because she's too smart!" said Ellie, sticking up for her friend.

"She's going to have to be more than smart. She's going to have to be lucky, too!" said Turry. "For that matter, so will Furry and the rest of them."

Suddenly, Ellie remembered what day it was. "Turry, it's Baggins Day, you know, and we forgot all about it," she said.

"Why, so it is," he said. "That's just got to be lucky, at least for hobbits!"

"I think it will be lucky for everyone!" cried Ellie, feeling hopeful about the mission for the first time. But just as quickly, her sudden hope faltered as she thought on the reasons for Bilbo's luck.

"But I'm forgetting," she said sadly, "that Bilbo and Frodo were so lucky, because they needed luck to deal with the Ring. We aren't on a quest like that."

"Are you so sure?" asked Turry. "I'm no wizard or elven lord so I don't have ages of wisdom and study to help me understand things. But it seems to me that there wasn't much use in finding the Ring, and in all the luck given to Bilbo and then to Frodo, if everything that comes after is going to be overwhelmed by other shadows anyway. We've got to deal with what comes our way, just like they did. Why shouldn't we hope for as much luck as we need?"

"I think you're right," said Ellie, brightening. "So that means that Maddie and Turry will be lucky and do all right!"

Turry thought for a bit, and then said, "Well, I'm sure she will. But sometimes you have to give a lot, sometimes everything, for the sake of everyone else. There have been dark times since the world began, and the songs the elves sing at night say that darkness will not be utterly banished until the first shadow, the big one in the void, and all the evil that ever was, is defeated by all the good that ever was, in a great war at the end of time. And there were some mighty good folk who didn't make it in their day. But their part made the difference for all the rest and in the end it all goes our way. That's what the elves believe. Along the way, I guess that 'luck' is just surviving destiny in our own lifetimes. What's important is what we do with our lives, not how long we live them. The elves can live as long as the world itself, but their songs are about the ones who don't."

"Let's not talk about it anymore," said Ellie, shivering. She and Turry had been spending quite a lot of time together, when they could, and this was often late at night, listening to the singing of the elves under the stars. They sang until late many nights of the siege about the mighty deeds of the elves in ancient days, and of evil greater even than the Dark Lord Sauron, evil that ever returned and was ever defeated. Sometimes the singing was terrible to endure for the songs were of deeds of great valour in times of unspeakable terror, and yet were sung in voices fair beyond mortal beauty.

Now, no one can listen to elvish singing by moonlight or starlight, and not be changed by the hearing. The elves of Rivendell, mustered to their last battle, sang the greatest martial songs of the greatest heroes of the Eldar. The Dunedain, who understood many of the words of the songs, were no less affected than the Dunlenders, who understood none of the words, but like the fathers of men harkening to the voice of Finrod Felagund, their minds came to understand the elvish meanings. The young hobbits were no exception, listening to the stories sung and almost seeing, as if in a dream, the great and the horrible deeds of ancient days. Some (by no means many) hobbits in those days had a great regard for all things elvish. Turry and Ellie had come from a generation of hobbits that were given elvish names by parents born to families who had recently great and fateful dealings with the immortal elder race.

But Ellie was becoming homesick for the Shire, and the snug little hobbit hole her father had built. It was a little much for the bookish hobbit lass to ponder high elvish faith in the grey mists of Gundabad, while her best friend was headed straight for the perilous unknown heart of that malignancy. Her blonde hair was becoming wet in the cold fog and she was growing chill. She was ready to get back to her service to the Queen, if only to be distracted from thoughts of Madrigal (and the others!) perishing in torment at the hands of the goblins, far under the mountain, or being consumed by the nameless terror the King sought to find.

The trumpets of the elves of Rivendell sounded forth. The time for the attack had come, and everyone was called to their stations.

Ellie and Turry said their good-byes (and stole a quick kiss!) before running to their duties. While Elediriel Cotton was a help to Queen Arwen and the infant Prince Eldarion in various small ways (which made Ellie quite happy, I must say), Turgon Took was a help to his father in ways great and small. Faramir Took, son of Peregrin, was in command of the Tookish archers. He was to be Thain of the Shire himself one day, when (or if) Old Pippin finally decided to retire. Faramir was a hobbit that commanded respect, at least from other hobbits, and he took his duties seriously. Turry put aside his regret at being passed over for the mission and did his best to measure up to his father's expectations. The son of the Thain had personally trained him with these other hobbits. They were the best in the Shire, hoping now that the signal had been given they would measure up. Master Faramir was mightily proud of their accuracy and speed with the Took-made bows. These, like the bows of the Twins, were made on a pattern much like the elven bows of old Lorien.

Many of the elves in Lord Celeborn's command looked with kindly mirth upon the halfling archers when they arrived with their little almost-elven bows, as if they were elf-children playing at war. But Faramir Took made certain that the hobbits kept up their training throughout the long siege. It came to pass, as their practices were observed, that even the elves who had come to Rivendell from the Golden Wood had to admit that the hobbits of the Shire were good archers, good as any of the younger races could be, they supposed. From the former sentries of Lothlorien, this was higher praise than it sounded!

The hobbits would dearly purchase still higher praises before the next day dawned.

***

As the sun rose above the surrounding mountains and warmed the valley air, the fogs lifted enough to reveal that the forces of Eriador had used the cover of the grey mists to move into position for their assault upon the gates of Gundabad. They were there to force the goblins to battle, and that was precisely what happened.

Really, the goblins had little choice other than to fight, and that meant responding as Aragorn had planned. Every orc and goblin that could hold spear or sword was sent either to the front line or to protect the greater and lesser gates of the mountain. In fact, the plan worked better than Aragorn had hoped, though in a fashion other than the king intended. For as soon as the assault began, the greatest part of the strength of Gundabad was sent, under the command of Alatar the Black, down a narrow tunnel of great distance, excavated by the wizard's design soon after the siege began. Its egress from the goblin mountain began in the shrouded depths of the uttermost cellar. The goblins filed with great speed past the immense terror that abode there and passed, by her leave, into the secret tunnel.

Suddenly, after the last orc passed into the darkness, behind them came her young, who hungrily eyed the goblins, but killed only the few along the way who were so unlucky as to be at the tail end of the single-file host. This was just as well for Alatar's plan, or else the ravenous young creatures might not have long fit through the narrow spaces of the goblin-carved shaft, they grew so swiftly with each bloody meal. Certainly, no goblins thought of turning back, hiding along the way, or otherwise deserting!

The black-clad wizard led the host at the speed he thought best (which was none too speedy for the orcs at the end of the line). The cleverness of the wicked wizard was such that not only were the unruly goblins kept in line, but also the voracious creatures that followed were somewhat sated before the end of the journey, and more easily held under his sway.

Finally, as the grey day faded into night, the terrified goblin host and their relentless pursuers all issued forth unobserved, several leagues west of Gundabad, outflanking all the besieging armies, ready now to march under cover of darkness and bring death to their unsuspecting foes. Then, in time (for Alatar could bide his time), nothing would stop the wizard from eventually conquering both Gondor and Rohan with great terrors from the North and with mighty armies from the East and South. The dominion that even Sauron the Dark Lord, in all his terrible power, failed to achieve, Alatar the Black, in his own clever strategies, hoped to gain.

***

Throughout the day, the battle had gone as well as could be hoped. The Cavalry of Eriador, led by Elladan of Rivendell and the ranger Aradhel, utterly destroyed the force of orcs that served the siege engines of Gundabad. The great machines were of no avail against the swift horses of the rangers and the elves, for the riders would come within bowshot of the goblins and release a deadly rain of darts that slew many with each pass. The cavalry itself was protected from the goblin archers by the elven bows of old Lorien, for the archers of Lord Celeborn could hit their marks from afar, relying on their memory of the goblin positions to aim their shafts through the mists.

When the crews that served the war engines and the goblin archers had met their fate, then more goblins issued in great numbers from the lesser and greater gates of the mountain. But the allies of Eriador were ready. Ulfang had led a force of Dunlenders behind the goblin lines, creeping slowly against the ground in the night fogs to silently slay the watchers on the slopes. Thus was Aradhel able to lead a great regiment of rangers into position to ambush the force of goblins that streamed through the main gate. The Dunlenders were ready to deal with the orcs of the lesser gates.

Still, it is one thing for a host of great knights, elven archers, and stout men to slay orcs upon the field, it is another thing entirely to dislodge them from strongholds of stone. The orc commanders made certain that enough force remained so that the gates of Gundabad could not be taken without great loss.

Listening to the signals from the mountain and the battlefield that lay before it, Celeborn thought that things had gone too easily. This is not to say that there were no casualties, for goblins are cruel fighters and not entirely unskilled in the practice of war. Perhaps the Dunlenders were hurt most, for they were neither as well trained nor as well equipped as the Rangers, and neither of these forces of Men had the skills and arts of the Elves.

Even so, it was clear that Gundabad had not exhausted its strength. Lord Celeborn wondered what might be at hand, and so ordered the recall of his commanders to anticipate the likely counterattack.

***

"Why am I called away from my men?" cried Ulfang, as he strode into the meeting. Obviously, he did not think much of the idea, for he had left many good men waiting at the lesser gates for any surprises from the orcs.

"Today's action has gone well for us," Celeborn replied, as calmly as only an elf-lord of his great wisdom and experience could. The assembled captains nodded and happily agreed. Even Ulfang admitted this. But the great elf continued, "I wonder if it has not gone entirely too well. I anticipated that greater forces would be sent to the battle. They have chosen rather to let their war machines be taken and now hold only the gates of the mountain. This means one of two things. Either they have somehow sent a host of goblins away, to escape or to ambush, or they have simply kept back their host in the mountain itself, and wait for winter."

"Then what are we to do?" said Ulfang. "Search for them in all these mountains? Wait here until we are covered with snow and ice?"

"Perhaps we will do both," said Celeborn. "The elves have not joined this last battle ere we depart these lands in order to see it lost. I have known elves that bore greater cold and greater hardship than any winter in the Grey Mountains. But we will not fight to rid this land of this evil, if those to whom this land is left care not to bear its burden."

"We of Dunland have already borne part of this burden," said Ulfang grimly. "And we expect to bear still more of it and to see still more of us follow Storwolos, my father, in the warrior's way to the sacred rest of our ancestors. But we will not shed our blood in vain. And I do not yet feel that my father's spirit is peaceful. Your king's plan has failed. How will we end this?"

"Perhaps it will be time enough to judge the strategy of King Elessar when all has at last unfolded," said Cairduin. "Peace may yet come to your father's memory."

"The elves do not consult the spirits of dead men when considering our paths," said Celeborn. "Let us gain wisdom through understanding. If the goblins have deserted, then they will regather in time, but are weaker dispersed and unsheltered. Also, there is still the nameless evil that even you must sense at the heart of this mountain. Evil unchecked is evil that grows. Will it ever be easier than today to end the unknown menace? Not even the elves can say, but wisdom is against delay. And finally, there is Alatar to consider, and he plans to rule all lands ere this age is well begun. You folk of Dunland might not have forgotten what an unopposed wizard can do."

"We have not forgotten the Old Man of Isengard, called by you Saruman. He brought our nation to an unjust war and many of our fathers died for his lies and sorceries," said Ulfang. "We are not children. We know that these things must be fought, if we have the strength to fight them. But we must have a plan!"

"Then listen," said Celeborn, "for I did not call you from your men without considering matters. If the goblins have dispersed, which I consider unlikely, then they will become a dwindling folk, ragged bands of brigands that disciplined forces will hunt down in time. If they are somehow preparing an ambush, it may fall this very night, for the mists that covered our preparations may have covered theirs as well. We can turn such an ambush to our advantage if we double our forces."

Ulfang nearly spoke up, but at a look from Cairduin, held his tongue. Celeborn continued his assessment, "I hope, before nightfall, that we might overcome the orcs that prevent the Northern Kingdoms of Rhovanion from joining the siege. We will take the great engines of the goblins and bring them within range of the orc army guarding the pass and so bring about their destruction. Then, with our forces redoubled, we can deal more effectively with any contingency."

There was not much time, so leaving force enough to discourage an attack from the gates of the mountain, men of Eriador and many horses of the cavalry were put to the task of moving the great war engines of the goblins. Near the end of the day, the machines were in place and a hail of stone began falling upon the goblins guarding the pass. Seeing this, the Kings of Rhovanion urged their soldiers to attack. Both ends of the pass were under assault and the great goblin catapults were assailing their own makers from above. Soon, with nowhere to run, the orcs were slain to the last creature and the pass was freed. Before the sun had fallen, the siege was at last joined by the elven army of King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm, as well as the dwarven forces of Thorin Stonehelm, King under the Mountain Erebor, and finally the fighting men under King Bain of Dale, the greatest settlement of Men in the northern Wilderland.

The allied forces marched double-time to return to the siege as night fell. They all knew well that if there was to be a counterattack, it would likely fall at night. They returned to their positions, tired from fighting and marching, but with strength redoubled, ready for whatever might come. Or at least they hoped that they were ready, and the war songs of the elves filled both the valley and the hearts of the allies as a cold north wind blew away the grey mists and the stars above shone brilliantly. But what actually came was unexpected and no army could have been truly prepared for what happened that night.

***

It was nearly midnight when the onslaught of the orcs began. Horns blew fiercely from the direction of the setting moon and were answered as fiercely from the mountain. And then the orcs came. And they came. And they came.

By the thousands they were vomited forth from the greater gates of the mountain, and by the hundreds from the lesser. Many thousands more came in a great horde from the west. And elvish eyes could see that beyond the great screaming mass of goblin soldiery, still more were coming after.

Then there was such a battle as had not been fought in many long years, and would not be fought again in that age of the world. The bright swords of the Dunedain swept with fell hands against wave after wave of the goblin horde; the sharp spears of the Dunlanders cut through orcs so that great piles of the slain lay all about them; the axes and hammers of the Dwarves slew the orcs with nearly every stroke, so thickly they came; and the shafts of the Elves flew through the clear night sky and stuck down one ragged line of goblins after another.

And still they came. In after-days it became a subject of debate as to whether or not the allies would have prevailed against the goblin horde, all other things being equal. All were certainly agreed that the arrival of the Beornings from the east was timely, coming through the pass lately freed from the orcs and passing unhindered through the allied host until meeting the waves of goblins with an irresistible tide of fury. Mighty men, taller than the Dunedain, broader than the Dunlenders, came to the front of the battle, wielding great clubs and thick staves. Rising from the field of war, stained a wet black by light of star and torch, the foul scent of the blood of orcs filled their nostrils and they were overcome with a towering rage. One by one they cast aside their blunt weapons of wood as they transformed into fearsome bears of great size and power. Roaring above the clash of war, the ferocious bears swept through the goblin host and their advance sent the orcs screaming and yammering back.

A great full-throated cheer arose from the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, for they highly esteemed the Beornings. Indeed, many living dwarves still remembered Beorn the Skin-changer, who had fought in the Battle of the Five Armies. Perhaps the dwarves of Erebor did not have much else in common with their neighbors, but they certainly shared with the Beornings a great hatred of the goblins.

The first goblins to flee from the Beornings were the first to be slain by the second great mass of orcs that now marched upon the field. The deserting goblins met only the wicked curved blades of the great orcs and many, seeing the first deserters slain, turned again without choice, but with more hope of victory, to the battle. They had reserved in their last and greatest number, their biggest and boldest fighters. Now Ulfang the Dunlender saw the wisdom of Celeborn in freeing the eastern pass and combining the forces, for this last host of orcs blew upon their horns, and more horn cries answered from the mountain gates. The battle began anew, in the darkest hours of the night, and even with the Beornings, the outcome was in doubt. The great orcs, reserved for the final push, were nearly fresh, having only marched some distance and not having fought with desperate strength for hour upon hour. And there were so very many. Now, surely, every living orc of the North was gathered in the valley to fight for Gundabad.

As the men of Eriador and Dale were pushed back to their own lines of defense, joined by the dwarves of Erebor and even the great Beornings, the call of elvish trumpets was lifted to the stars and a great hail of arrows covered the fighting retreat of the allied armies. This retreat was just that, a strategic withdrawal to a better defensive position, not the kind of rout that fleeing generals sometimes call a retreat to salve their wounded careers. The trumpets of the elves called their allies to the trenches they had dug in the weeks of the siege, and from here they would stand and fight. The great war engines of the goblins were turned again, and this time would be used against the fresh horde of orcs to the west.

It seemed at last that the strategy of the Aragorn, the tactics of Celeborn, and the valour of the allied soldiers would win the day. They awaited the sunrise as the goblins hurled themselves in vain fury at the allied entrenchments.

But now the course of the battle turned against them, for there were other strategies and tactics at work that darksome night. From the west, behind the goblin horde, there rose into the sky small winged shapes that took flight over the orcish host and toward the allied soldiers. Soon, it could be seen by the elves in the moonless sky that these were creatures the size of wolves, some were larger than horses, and all had long necks and tails like snakes and great wings like bats. When sulphurous flames issued forth from their nostrils, all doubt was removed.

The goblin horde screamed in foul delight and a cry of fright went up from the allies as they all realized that scores of fire-breathing dragons were joining the battle. Even the stoutest of dwarves, bravest of men, and coolest of elves felt great despair and tremendous fear. Fighting a host of orcs on the ground, with cold steel, hard armour, and strong defenses, was one thing. Fighting a swarm of dragons, breathing fire from the sky, was something else entirely.

They were hideous creatures, and not at all like the cute and cuddly representations you might see on store shelves, made by unscrupulous manufacturers of cheap toys. Their scales were slick and gleaming, their stench noxious and choking, and their forms were vile and fearsome. Their eyes cast rays of searing light across the land, and whomsoever was caught in their gaze fell under the dragon spell. These unfortunates, in small groups along the front, were spellbound where they stood until they were consumed with dragon fire and cried in terrible anguish as they fell burning to the ground. The dragons raked the allied lines over and over again, to the horrid delight of the cheering and jeering goblin rabble. Now fear struck every heart, for there are but few who have seen a dragon and lived to tell the tale.

The largest of the dragonets, for they were dragons but recently hatched, flew to the battle ahead of its nestmates and they followed it. It was nearly twice the size of the others, for it had led its fellow hatchlings in pursuit of the goblins through their secret tunnel out of Gundabad. Consequently, it had eaten many more goblins than the others and had grown at a greater speed. This dragon wore black armour fashioned beforehand and fitted across its pale chest and belly. Across its back there was a saddle and upon it rode Alatar the Black.

The wizard was dressed in gleaming black armour and a black cloak flew behind him in the wind of the dragon's flight. Alatar looked down with a baleful eye upon his enemies and their fear and desperation grew fivefold. From a great quiver on his back, he grasped the first of many spears, and chanted over it in a fell voice that carried over the field and made the soldiers feel cold despite the heat of battle and the dragon fire. Suddenly, the wizard hurled the spear down from on high, crying aloud the final word of his spell as it smote in the midst of a group of dwarves. The entire valley was lit as if by a flash of lightning. All eyes could see those unfortunate sons of Durin sent flying in the blast, broken by its force and struck dead before their bodies fell back to the bloody field.

The goblin forces shrieked with great joy at this. Between dragon fire, sorcerous power, and a host of wicked orcs, there was no chance that the allied kings and their forces would survive the night. None in that valley thought so on either side of the battle lines.

***

Turry looked at Faramir and saw the same fear and doubt in his father's eyes. The Took archers from the Shire, in position around the royal pavilion to protect the Queen and the Heir, were also afraid. Few of them had ever been outside of the Shire before, and for all their bravery and good intentions before the battle, and even during the first and second watches of the night, they had never really felt that the combat would ever reach the pavilion itself, stationed far behind the lines of strong men, enduring dwarves, and skillful elves. But it seemed now that nothing could stop the dragons in their flights, and naught but burning death was in their wake. A stream of messengers and finally Lord Celeborn himself and many others, captains and kings, came to the pavilion. After a time, trumpets blew and a murmur began to spread through the host. Here and there, elvish voices were raised in song of battle and hearts were emboldened and lifted up, for the voices were both fair and fell. Now, the keen-eyed young Took saw the dragons were headed straight for the pavilion and the duty of the hobbits was clear. Turry grabbed his father and quickly explained his plan, before dashing off to find Master Merry.

***

Just minutes before, in the tents of the pavilion itself, Ellie held Eldarion in her arms, for Queen Arwen had told her to take up the little Prince again, so that she might flee with him from the last desperate stand. It was hoped that an Heir of Elendil might still live if all was lost. This seemed a forlorn hope, for if all was lost, then there would be no one to guard the infant prince from his foes until he was old enough to fight, and there would be no one for him to lead, should he survive to such an age. None of them could shake the malevolent thoughts. Arwen gird herself with elvish armour that was gracefully fitted to her lovely form, and took up sword and bow so that she would not be taken by the goblins, as had been her mother Celebrian. Ellie cried to see this, even as Mehirabeth calmly packed items that the little hobbit might need and otherwise helped her Queen make ready to fight.

The Kings of the Wilderland and Celeborn Lord of Rivendell stood before them when the three left the royal tent, preparing to flee into the night. The tall silver-haired elf looked gravely upon his granddaughter, Arwen Undomiel, her elvish handmaiden, Mehirabeth, and finally upon her hobbit handmaiden, Elediriel.

"There is no time for lengthy advice, Arwen, but you have a full store of wisdom, and may even elude capture. Where are you headed?" the elf-lord asked.

"East, through the pass, and then south to Rohan and Gondor," Arwen answered. "Rivendell may be nearer for me, but Gondor is better for my son, and it is from Gondor and Rohan that the last stand will be made."

"Then we must hurry," said Celeborn. "I have prepared for this, and we must get you through the lines, if it is still possible."

"We will make it possible," said King Thranduil. "Archers will help to hold off the encirclement, and give you more time."

"And dwarves will guard your retreat," said King Thorin. No one spoke of what chance the Queen might have, in the wilderness with dragons in pursuit. Arwen seemed resolved to leave when finally one of the rangers arrived, late, to the hurried meeting. His steps were not sure in the darkness, lit only by stars and flames. Then he saw them and hurried with faltering strides.

"It is too late! The dragons are coming!" cried Cairduin, staggering into the pavilion, burnt and bleeding. Ellie screamed in horror at the sight, for she could not even tell, except by the voice, that it was her ranger friend. This was the first time that the tender hobbit lass felt the full terror of war and she could not contain herself. Mehirabeth calmly poured a bit of miruvor for the girl to ease her shock, for she was an elf-maid of many long years and knew somewhat of the miseries of war. It is surprising how some of the folk who seem most unpleasant in days of ease, can be gentle and kindly in times of great need. Ellie tried to regain her composure as the dying ranger fell to his knees before his Queen.

"The dragons follow the wizard. They evade the archers and will not fly near them. But the rest of us are facing the dragon fire," Cairduin said between ragged breaths. "Our armour and shields are useless! Even now, the foe moves to surround our eastern flank, and none of us shall escape. But we will try to clear a way for you. Elladan, your brother, and Aradhel, your servant, are preparing the cavalry. The enemy completes the circle, but we will breach the lines before they dig in, and perhaps you will find safety for the Heir of Elendil. I will return to the front."

He staggered to his feet, and then fell to the ground with no strength left. Arwen, for all of her elven calm, cried out, and kneeling, cradled the bleeding head of the horribly burned man in her arms. "Farewell, Queen Arwen Undomiel," he breathed. "I shall never look upon my King, my sons, or my wife again, and perhaps none of us ever shall. But if you should, then let them know that this ranger died well."

And with that, the grim ranger spent his last breath. Elediriel cried tears that no elf-draught could staunch, but her mind was clear and her limbs felt strong when the Queen spoke. Arwen stood to her feet, tall and graceful, her beautiful queenly armour wet with the blood of Cairduin and her eyes brimming with tears that would not yet fall, "I will stand with my people! None of these, from the greatest to the least, will have died in vain. Grandfather, I will not flee with Eldarion, son of Aragorn. We will stay and see my King's plan through to the end. We have not come through ages of shadow to spend our lives vainly in this last unforeseen battle. Nor shall I have the lives of these soldiers spent for a mere chance of safety. I will not lose faith, for my son and I shall share his father's fate whatever that may be."

Lord Celeborn saw the resolve of her mind and did not waste breath in argument. Perhaps he thought that the fate she spoke of was death by dragon fire. Nevertheless, he bid his herald blow his trumpet to recall the last cavalry charge before it was begun. Word began to spread throughout the entrenched allies, even as the dragons wheeled about overhead, that Arwen and Eldarion were staying, and the resolve of the noble host grew with the telling. Elves dared raise their voices in song, and fired long flaming shots into the sky. Hearts were also raised and men and dwarves and elves prepared to fight so that even if all should die, no enemy would survive to boast of it. But it was then that the hard warning of the ranger Cairduin was borne out. The dragons were guided toward the pavilion from afar, cutting a swath of flame and terror through the soldiers as they flew, ever over the dwarves and men, and away from the bows of the elves.

It was at this very time, in the midst of fire, despair and death, that Legolas Greenleaf returned, somehow finding a way through the closing enemy lines. Into the royal pavilion with the wood elf, walked an old man with a gnarled staff. His long whitened hair and beard were blown wildly in the cold winds, and the tattered rags and faded blue fabrics that clothed him were whipped about his bent frame. Of course, it was Pallando the Blue, and in the midst of fire and war, none in the pavilion were more surprised than King Thranduil, the father of Legolas, who stood speechless in growing wrath at the sight of his son with the old wizard. He was not speechless for long.

As voices were raised in the pavilion, and as dragons brought flame and destruction from above, Ellie oddly found herself frightened for Maddie and the others. The little hobbit lass suddenly realized what had gone unspoken, that with all these small dragons in the sky, there must be a big one shrouded in the cellars of Gundabad! How she wished once again that they were all safely home and that none of this had ever happened!

[Mithadan]

Chapter XXVII

...MUST COME DOWN!

Now, if you, like Ellie, would care to know what had happened in all this while to King Strider and his friends on eagles' wings, we must return to when and where we left them the previous morning, high over the tallest peak of Mount Gundabad, lit by the dawning sun as it stood alone above the low clouds and mists of Autumn.

The eagles landed them on the floor of a tiny cove on the north side of the mighty peak. Furry and Maddie found the snows to be cold to their bare feet, not so cold as you or I might, for hobbit feet had thick leathery soles and were covered with hair like the stuff on their heads, but it was mightily cold all the same!

Fortunately, they were not to stand around on the icy space for very long, though it seemed so to the shivering hobbits. Rondramehir gravely said goodbye to Maddie and the rest, and then the great birds took wing again, promising to return before the next day dawned. She looked long at the eagles as they flew away, while Gimli searched for the entrance to the mountain. On the south wall of the cove, covered with snow and ice, was a narrow crevice, which Aragorn agreed was the thing they sought. Once it had been a fairly wide opening into a large chamber. Now they had to hack away at the ice so that there would be room to squeeze inside. The young ranger Cairdur did most of the work, until the others insisted that he save his strength and let them take their turns.

It was Elrohir, the son of Elrond, who swung the pick for the last strike and sent a great wall of ice crashing down so that the entrance was finally open. They crowded inside, and in the dim light, the hobbits could see that a stairway spiraled down into darkness. Gimli lit a very compact dwarvish lantern, which cast a small light about them that he could douse at a moment's notice. Then he shouldered his great pack, carried aloft separately to the icy peak by the strongest of the eagles, and hurried forward to lead the way.

"Hold, Master Dwarf!" cried Aragorn. "Let us make certain that we do not rush with your glowing lantern into the friendly embrace of the goblins!"

Cairdur and the hobbits had to laugh and even Elrohir smiled at the great dwarf's eagerness to explore the goblin stronghold. Madrigal reminded herself that the mountain had originally been inhabited by dwarves, and dwarves never forgot, though ages might pass, wrongs that had been done them. Furry winked at her as Gimli stopped in his tracks and courteously bowed before his old friend, the king.

The old ranger himself carried a rather bulky pack. From it, he withdrew an instrument of unique design, wrought not by dwarves, but by the same elves who had reforged Anduril long ago. Aragorn held the case aloft by a handle and with the other hand released a catch. A tall pole dropped from the bottom, each section slightly smaller than the one above it. With a sharp spin, the shaft was locked into place and three legs swung from the bottommost segment with a quiet snap. Then Aragorn opened the case with both hands, for now it stood supported at eye level, and revealed the Palantir of Orthanc.

It was fixed within a setting of iron, like a great jewel, and could be freely rotated. The setting itself moved on a gimbal so that the Palantir was always upright, whatever the slope of the ground upon which the stand was set. It was clearly the same stand that Aragorn had used when revealing the Palantir at the first council in the fortress of Rhudaur, though it had already been opened at that time. Gimli clapped his hands at the clever device, for it was fair and sturdy and clearly of great use to the king, but it was obvious even to the fascinated dwarf that this was not the time to question the king about its design and manufacture.

King Strider carefully positioned the Palantir in its iron setting and gazed for a few moments into the orb and down through the rock of the mountain, following the spiraling course of the stair, looking for any sign that might indicate the long passage was inhabited. The hobbits listened to the blowing winds, still heard within the guard chamber, until the king was at last satisfied that they could proceed. Outside, the sun had climbed high overhead, and battle was joined on the mountain slopes, but no sound of it carried to the hobbits' listening ears.

They made their way carefully down the crumbling stair, lit only by the dwarven lamp in Gimli's sturdy fist and an occasional shaft that still brought meager light and air into the tall stairwell. The dwarf went first, followed by Aragorn and the hobbits. Cairdur marched behind his king, and Elrohir trod with light elven steps at the end of their line. Furry insisted that Maddie stay next to the wall, and she did not object, for the way was narrow and the drop precipitous. She got dizzy if she looked down into the darkness for very long.

It seemed to Maddie that their time on that long stair was even greater than the time they spent on the icy peak, now far above them, but they were moving cautiously and quietly down the abandoned passage, disturbing only the thick dust at their feet. Finally they did come near the end of the stairs and paused while Aragorn surveyed the Palantir to see the way before them. The grey-headed king looked long at the crystal orb, as if he could not quite believe what it revealed to him. He sighed at last and replaced the enchanted heirloom in its bag under his elven cloak.

"Our plan has either worked far better than I dared hope, or something has gone terribly wrong. This part of the mountain is indeed deserted," Aragorn said. "I expected to encounter at least a few goblins, but there are none."

"There are some," said Elrohir, "but they are not near." His sword gave off a faint bluish gleam.

"But that's what we wanted, isn't it?" asked Furry. "A deserted mountain?"

"Indeed, little halfling," said Elrohir. "But if the goblins are not in abundance in the mountain, then they are outside of it, and so the safety we receive is the peril given to our friends."

"Then we shall create a little peril of our own," said Gimli. "Let's be off to the cisterns!"

"Right!" said Cairdur. "Since they are risking life and limb to buy us this opportunity, let us make the most of it!"

"This way," said Aragorn, now leading the companions to the great cisterns of Gundabad. Along the way, Gimli quietly explained to the hobbits the ancient construction practices of the dwarves.

"You would not believe how much water a dwarven settlement requires," said the old dwarf. "Water for drinking and water for cooking. Water for turning wheels to drive various machinery. But can you guess why we dwarves so prize the crystal clean water of melted snow?"

"Tempering dwarven axes?" answered Furry.

"Bathing?" ventured Maddie.

"Beer!" cried Gimli. "Fine malt beer! Why the beer of the dwarves is unsurpassed, and one of the secrets, which perhaps I should not admit, is crystal water from the snowmelt of the mountains."

"Then you haven't tried the Wizard's Brew in Bree!" said Furry. "When we get back, I'll buy you a round and you'll never boast of dwarven beer again!"

"Hush," said Elrohir. "You grow too loud in your praises of mortal beverages. Besides, nothing is finer than the miruvor of Rivendell." None could argue with this, though Furry insisted that the enchanted beer of the Prancing Pony was hard to beat, and not, strictly speaking, an entirely mortal beverage.

Maddie was about to recommend the wines of Dorwinion, which she had sampled at the Mid-Year's Feast in the Shire the year before, when they arrived at the door to the great cavern that was the ancient reservoir the Longbeards had built centuries ago. Again, Aragorn surveyed the Palantir and Elrohir checked the blue gleam of his sword and they were satisfied that there were no goblins present. So the rangers and the elf slowly pushed a great stone door open just enough to slip past. Then, they crept out onto the ledge overlooking the cavern and Maddie took a sharp breath at the sight.

The ice crystals of the cavern's low ceiling reflected and refracted the light of Gimli's lamp, and he dared to turn up its brilliance until the entire vault was lit with white radiance. It was not terribly bright in the great chamber, but to the hobbits' eyes, used now to the dark, it was dazzling. Beneath the icy dome was a deep lake of the darkest blue. It did not look very deep, but Gimli assured them that it was.

"The water is so clear that you can see the bottom as if it were only a foot deep, but it is many, many fathoms to the bottom," the dwarf whispered, and his voice echoed back from across the lake.

"Let us be on our way," Aragorn murmured. He signaled for Gimli to dim his lamp and then led them around the shore of the deep cistern. On the far side, Maddie could see that the dwarves had built a mighty wall to dam the water and so form the great lake under the mountain. When they reached the other side, the path became a long stair that switched back and forth down the massive wall to the floor of the great cavern.

"How far down are we?" asked Maddie quietly.

"Not far at all," Gimli answered. "We are still high above the valley. This cistern is actually near the top of the original excavations. Thus, when released, the fall of the water can turn wheels and otherwise be piped under its own power down to any portion of the realm for the use of the inhabitants. But we will soon put this to our own use! Now, young hobbits, help me with my pack."

They had reached the bottom of the cistern, and the hobbits tried, and failed, to lift the heavy pack from the shoulders of the dwarf. Gimli finally just sat down and squirmed out of the straps. Maddie marveled at the strength and endurance of the old dwarf. But the dwarf made light of it and quickly opened the pack and unwrapped the machine inside.

It was an odd-looking thing to be sure, a cross between a dwarvish toy and some kind of war engine. The device was a combination of iron gears and tightly wound sinews. Gimli and Cairdur set it by the wall and the dwarf busily went to work laying out tools. "It will take a while, as I told you at the outset," he said. "Now is the time for you to find out what lies below, as I make ready here. Be wary! The bones of this mountain are simply rotten with ill-planned goblin tunnels and shafts. They could be hiding anywhere! You should take me with you, for my axe would gladly taste the blood of these foul orcs of Gundabad, and my eyes would gladly behold the sacred chamber where Durin woke, whatever else may occupy it now!"

"No Gimli," said Aragorn. "It is for that very reason I would urge you stay, for we must be stealthy now, and the debt of the dwarves must be put off for a little longer. Could you restrain your just wrath at the sight of whatever desecrates the chamber?"

"My heart trembles even now," the dwarf answered. "I will yield to your wisdom in this."

Elrohir was to stay with the dwarf, for his sword would warn them of approaching orcs. The hobbits followed quietly behind Aragorn and Cairdur, as they sought an unobserved path to the unknown danger in the bottom-most cellar. As before, they did not move until the king had surveyed the Palantir, and was certain that they could continue to the next place. He carried it in its setting on its stand as if it were a great staff. Furry now noticed that the elvish craftsmen had made a place for the king's hand so that it balanced well in his strong grip, heavy as it was. In this fashion, the rangers and the hobbits made their way down past the very heart of the goblin kingdom.

The map (which both hobbits had studied until their heads ached, at the insistence of old Pippin) had shown a great open tunnel, high and wide, that led down to the lowest cellar. But Aragorn chose a different route. Their way was long and twisting to avoid detection and along that way, Madrigal saw what Gimli meant about the bones of the mountain. Older tunnels and corridors seemed to slant in odd ways, as if they had settled unevenly, and cracks and fissures were everywhere. After they had gone along this way for some time, carefully and slowly, Furry guessed that it was now very late at night, perhaps even the second watch, and he wondered how the battle was going out in the valley.

So too, did the king and the ranger wonder, and so, at their final stop before rejoining the great corridor nearer to its end, Aragorn surveyed the Palantir for news of the battle outside. It was difficult to make sense of the confusion of a battle in the broad clear daylight, but on a moonless night, it was nearly impossible. Still, Aragorn had become skilled in the use of his great heirloom and could see well enough that all was not well, yet all was not bad.

"They have freed the pass, for I see dwarves in the fight, but our forces have retreated to the trenches," said the old ranger-king. "Much more I cannot tell, but I can see why there are few goblins in here. Nearly every orc alive must have joined the battle above!"

"How I wish that we were there, too," said Cairdur fervently.

"As do I," said Aragorn. "But your fair blade and Anduril, here, may yet taste of battle, ere we reach the field. There are still goblins enough and more at the gates of this realm. It would be good fortune beyond belief if we do not encounter any."

And with that, they moved on just as quietly as they could, but still Furry and Maddie could hear the light scuff of the rangers' leather-shod feet on the canted floor of the corridor. The hobbit lass pushed ahead and tugged at Aragorn's grey elven cloak.

"King Strider!" she whispered. "You stop right now! You rangers might be good in the woods, but no one is as quiet as a hobbit when she wants to be! This is why we came. Now, we're almost there, so you two Big Folk should stay right here and let us Little Folk take a quick peek!"

Aragorn weighed this swiftly in his mind, and then softly said, "Go! But only take a quick look. Use the elven cloaks of your grandfathers to full advantage, and stay hidden. Do not be seen! Do not be heard! Come straight back without delay! Now hurry!"

Furry and Maddie did not need to be told twice. As frightened as they were of whatever might be in the cellar at the end of the great corridor, their curiosity was greater, and so, hand in hand (as much due to the darkness as for the comfort it gave) they crept silently down the way. The stone grew warm beneath their bare feet and Maddie almost appreciated this, since it was the first time her feet had been warm in quite some time. Finally, they stole around the last bend of the hall and its final downward slope and peeked cautiously around the great stone columns of the cellar entrance.

Wordlessly, breathlessly, in terror and in wonder, they gazed upon a living horror of the ancient world. The vast cavern was uncomfortably warm and lit with a dim fiery glow. By it, the hobbits could see vast wealth upon the floor, golden heaps of treasure and glittering gems. But in coil upon coil, nestled atop the hoard, lay the hugest dragon imaginable. The sound of its breathing was like a gigantic rumbling wheezing bellows and it exuded a foul stench. Its scales may have been golden, once upon a time, but were now caked with years of black stony filth. It lay without moving, save for the rise and fall of its tremendous chest. The thing was vast, huge beyond reckoning, and as large as was the cavern that was her lair she made it seem much smaller, for she nearly filled the entire chamber in her immensity.

Her name was Veatrix the Golden, and she, in her day, had been great and terrible indeed. But in the last overthrow of Morgoth, when the world was bent in the tumults of the final war of the Valar, she fled, coming at last to Gundabad, and crawled into its lowermost cellar never to come out again. She was old then, and now she was ages older. She had lived beyond her time, served by the goblins that became her servants, and finally, her worshippers.

In horror, the hobbits saw that the piles upon the floor were not treasures alone, but corpses, bones, and skulls of goblins. Bones of great orcs and of goblin imps were spewed out in heaps upon the floor. Veatrix was rather dainty, as far as dragons go, and did not care for the bones of the foul folk if she were not hungry. But as she had not missed a meal in ages, she ate what she pleased, and none dared complain.

Now, most dragons, as is well known, do not suffer any other living thing in their lairs, but old Veatrix was cunning, and her fear of the Valar overruled her solitary nature. She shrouded herself from magical view and agreed to help the goblins defeat the Longbeards in ages past. She used this singular cohabitation as a perfect disguise for her lair, for who would think to look for a dragon in such a place? In return, she demanded and received the bloody sacrificial tribute of the goblins and gave them the benefit of her cunning so that they remained strong and she remained hidden. Now Furry and Maddie knew what the Bane of Gundabad actually was!

Then Maddie saw something still more troubling! What at first glance she had taken to simply be a grisly pile of broken skulls was actually the shards from a clutch of empty dragon eggs. Why, the old thing had recently hatched a brood! Maddie pointed, and Furry's eyes grew wide as he understood. His handsome face hardened and he motioned for them to leave. Ever so quietly, the hobbits slipped away from the sleeping beast and returned to where the rangers still stood, warily guarding the way.

Furry quickly told Aragorn what they had seen, with Maddie adding details as the young Took told the swift tale. Most surprising was the description of the broken eggs. Aragorn again used the Palantir to survey the battlefield. His face grew pale and with a sharp command to follow, they ran straight up the open corridor to the great reservoir. Elrohir and Gimli were waiting. The dwarf had just completed his work.

"Ah! There you are at last!" said the dwarf. "What did you find down in... a dragon! A dragon profanes the sacred chamber where Durin awoke!"

"How did you know?" asked Maddie, a little disappointed that she did not get to surprise the old dwarf.

"I can smell the dragon-reek on the both of you young hobbits!" he cried. "To think of it! Elrohir, is there a laundry in Rivendell that can remove such a stench?"

"Elven garments hold no foul odors," the elf answered, with a trace of a smile. "Perhaps the maidens who delight in handling fabrics know some art that would help. Or perhaps the garments should be buried."

"Later, we can all bury or burn every stitch of clothing not fashioned on elvish looms," said Cairdur, with a straight face. "But will your contraption work, Gimli?"

"Of course it will work! All I need do is pull this pin," he said proudly, "and the mechanism will gradually spread these stones apart. See how we have inserted these rods into the crevices? Hard work that, especially since it had to be done noiselessly. But I remembered a method once used in repairing the carven bedframe of my father's friend Bombur. The fat old fellow actually insisted that we do our work without waking him, and since no other bed could accommodate his girth..."

"I would hear that tale another time, Master Dwarf," Aragorn said dryly.

"Suffice it to say then," said Gimli, "that this device will gradually part these dry set stones where they sit and the water behind the dam will flood down the great corridor and into the dragon's lair. Thus, we only need trigger the machine and virtually everything below this site will be drowned! Once I start it, it will unwind until the stones move, and then the weight of the water behind this wall will do the rest. No force under ground or sky could stop it then. We will cleanse the sacred chamber with water and ice and drown the worm for a hundred years!"

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked Furry.

"Really! My feet are freezing again!" said Maddie. But Aragorn was surveying the Palantir.

"If all is well," the king said, "then the eagles await us. I fear that everything has gone entirely too well for us, but we must not be unthankful for that. There is dragon fire and more over the valley and others have fared worse than ourselves tonight! Come, Gimli! Let us send a cool drink to a hot dragon and be on our way!"

The dwarf bowed low, and swept his helm before his knees. Then he walked over to his device, murmured something in the secret tongue of the dwarves, pulled a pin, and watched for a moment as the enormous tension of the wound mechanism began to release itself. Slowly the steel pins began to move and almost imperceptibly the stones at the center of the base of the dam also moved. A tiny trickle began to seep from between the large blocks.

"We haven't much time!" cried the dwarf. "We must make haste! Quickly! To the top of the wall and out of here before it blows!"

The party hurried to heed the dwarf's advice. But Aragorn's foreboding that all had gone too well for such a dangerous mission was not a gloomy imagining. For as they hurried, Madrigal's bare foot slipped on the icy stair and she tumbled back down an entire flight to the base of the wall. It was at that moment that the cold trickle became a sudden rushing torrent and Maddie was swept away, back down into the great corridor and out of the sight of her friends. Above the roaring waters, as she gasped for breath in the frigid cold, she could just hear the anguished voice of Furry, calling her name. Then she was swept helplessly on the speeding current down, down, down, directly into the dragon's lair! Her head was knocked against the very column at its entrance where she had hidden with Furry to look upon the beast. Then she knew nothing more.

***

Madrigal Brandybuck awoke, cold and shivering, to a sudden warmth. She might have welcomed the hot blast of air, had it not come with sulphurous fumes and the stench of foul decay. She heard the torrent rushing behind her and wondered why it was not filling the caves. She opened her eyes to see, but leering over her was the hideous head of the dragon. Maddie then did what any lass of the Shire might have done in such a situation.

"Stop thy screaming!" cried the dragon. "Look upon me well, child, for I am Veatrix the Golden, and I am thy death!" A trifle melodramatic, perhaps, but that was a tendency of dragons in any age, and Veatrix was terribly ancient, and terribly vain.

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty," said Maddie, after she stopped screaming and drew a breath. She knew that politeness counted with dragons, as much as anything might. "I was so startled that I did not realize where I had fallen and I utterly forgot myself. It won't happen again! Did you enjoy your esteemed repose?"

"Nay! But now I know who troubled it! Thou it was, who didst peer in upon my slumber. Thou and another. I felt thy air after thou didst steal away. Thou wert wise to steal naught but the sight! Now tell me, child," said Veatrix, as sweetly as a dragon could (which was not very sweet at all, I must say), "who hideth behind thee and sendest a drowned waif of a girl to do a thief's work? Or be it the work of a warrior that thou art about?"

Now Maddie knew, as did any hobbit who listened to the old stories as much as she had, that it did not do to lie to a dragon, nor was it a clever thing to tell them exactly the truth, either. So she gave the best answer she could, which I daresay was better than you or I might have done in such a horrible situation. The old worm might have already placed the pretty hobbit girl under the dragon spell, except that she could not help playing a dragon's games with Maddie before dining. She had not seen a fresh young thing like Madrigal ever before and was working up a good appetite for the little morsel.

"I am neither thief nor warrior, O Greatest Queen of All Terrors!" replied the hobbit lass. "And none hide behind me, for few are small enough to do so. I am not a child, for I am fully grown. My name means Song, and many have sung of my beauty, though I must look a sight after my little bath. I really must thank you for such a nice warm place to dry off!"

"And what meaneth this bath of thine?" asked the dragon, who was not at all pleased with the rushing current of icy water flowing across the lowest end of her lair. "Didst thy friends thinketh to drown me? Well they be fools! I didst recently renovate, just in time for thy prank."

Madrigal followed the dragon's gaze to where an obviously new tunnel had been opened at the lowest corner of the chamber. There, the water that should have flooded the lair, was pooling and simply draining away through the goblin tunnel. It was then that Maddie nearly despaired, for she did not know how long she had been unconscious or how much water the reservoir held. At least the torrent had not yet shown signs of diminishing. She drew a deep breath, and played another dangerous round of the dragon's game.

"Why, who would have known that you would ever want to change anything in such a dwelling?" she asked. "It was quite awe inspiring as it was! Why, so much treasure! So many victims! Not even Smaug had such accommodations, I'm sure! Why ever did you want another entrance into your bed chambers?"

"Thou art, indeed, a child, for all thy protestations," replied the dragon. "For what thou seest be only an exit and wilt never be an entrance."

"But it is surely too small for Your Majesty's, uh, majesty," said Maddie, suddenly realizing that the dragon was also far too large to exit even through the great hall!

"Do not be preposterous if thou canst help it," huffed the ancient dragon. "My servant hath led the goblins away through here, where thy king's bauble canst not see! I didst plan to seal the hole, but desired my nap still more. So, it became a drain for thy bath and so all the plans of thy king and his armies to gain mine treasure hath been brought to naught!" Then she laughed a terrible laugh that made the little hobbit tremble with fear.

"But surely, O Mighty Empress of Despair, you can not blame them!" Maddie said, trying to seem nonchalant, walking about a little, as if taking in the sights of an elven valley. "Why, if anyone saw all of this, you would be the envy of the world! Wisdom beyond reckoning! Treasures beyond imagining! You even have a brood of fine children to call your own--." Here the hobbit girl touched upon a subject most touchy for dragons. As I'm sure I don't need to tell you, dragons do not live long after they lay their eggs, and so they tend to put off laying them for as long as they can. Veatrix had waited longer to lay hers than any dragon before her, enduring age after age, and for the last few millennia by hiding in Gundabad, living off of goblins and not much else. But even a dragon wearies of life at last, and this one had finally decided to lay her clutch of eggs and pass thereafter into stone. Fortunately, most dragons are slain before they perform this last monstrous deed, and this is a good thing, or dragons might overrun the world even to this day!

It was also not unheard of for young dragons to check in on their parent's horde and attempt to take up residence. If they were clever enough and waited enough so as not to be eaten by the dying dragon ere it became stone (which could take quite some time), they could then fight to the death with their nestmates for supremacy. The last dragon alive would then inherit. This competitive arrangement helped to keep the dragon population manageable. It was only when the first Dark Lord had a hand in matters that there were dragons of any great number at a given time, and the situation at Gundabad had given Alatar the Black a similar idea. His wicked plan was to use his sorcerous power to control (or to at least influence) the young dragons for his own ends. That was agreeable to Veatrix, who had demanded of him peace and quiet after a last meal of great variety and enormous quantity. All the same, it was vexing to Veatrix to be reminded of her inescapable demise.

"If any hatchling of mine didst appear here," the dragon cried in a voice like stone on stone, "their flesh wouldst be mine again, as was their father's! Nay! They goeth forth even now and giveth fire unto thy friends on the outside! Tonight, they dineth upon the roasted flesh of elf and dwarf and man! They shalt not return until I be long dead, if they knowest aught at all."

"Oh no!" cried Madrigal, in false pity. "You are surely not afraid that I will kill you?"

The dragon laughed a hideous wheezing laugh that shook the chamber and the poor little hobbit girl wondered if it would fall in upon them. "What a humourous notion," she said at last. "A fine entertainment before dinner! A fine supper of dwarves, and men, and even elves! Mounds of the freshly slain, hauled in on the backs of goblins, by order of mine servant. Art any more of thy sort about, I wonder? Do not lie, I see in thine eyes that there are! All the better! I be old, child, terribly old, and didst dine upon goblins for ages. Simply ages. My new servant hath pledged unto me a fine feast of choice roast meats ere I die. So didst I agree to lay mine eggs at last and return unto the stone." Veatrix was talking more than a dragon might, perhaps. But, like some elderly folk that you may even know, the dragon had become terribly lonely. Not that she wasn't planning to eat the little hobbit all the same!

"It's a shame that all you get is goblins," said Maddie, wandering about the great room nervously, her hand in her pocket, keeping an eye on the dragon and on the corridor. "I'm sure they taste simply terrible! But I don't think there will be many orcs left for you to eat, after we win the battle. Besides, I don't think Alatar the Black would keep his word even if he could."

"Then thou hast met him! But thou shouldst not fret on that account! Flesh in plenty shalt be brought unto me for a last dinner," said Veatrix. "And not one goblin on the platter! My servant dareth not defy me, lest I call upon mine heirs to slay him!" Her head slowly moved about the room, following the hobbit lass, keeping an eye on her and on the corridor.

"Yea!" continued the dragon, with her slithering tongue running around the cracked rim of her dreadful mouth and her vast stomach rumbling like an earthquake. "A fine repast wilt be mine this night! And thou shalt make a tasty appetizer, ere I dine in earnest!"

With that the great beast began to uncoil and move. Her stony scales splintered and cracked, and clouds of dust fell from her vast bulk. The beast's golden eyes glowed and cast their perilous beams in a swift sweeping arc across the floor toward Maddie. Seeing that the conversation was at an end, quick as you can say "flick," Madrigal whisked her dwarven mithril mirror out of her pocket, averted her eyes, and held it before the dragon's malevolent entrancing gaze. Later, Ellie would say that "the luck of the hobbits" was with her best friend, for when Maddie held up the mirror, a reflection of the golden beam was cast from the dragon's wicked eye straight back into it!

Now it is only fair to record that this was not nearly as efficacious as Madrigal had hoped, for she had actually imagined that the dragon spell might fall upon the very dragon that cast it! In fact, all that happened was that Veatrix was dazzled and surprised, and then outraged at the little trick. She drew a deep rattling breath like a cyclone and in the next moment would have roasted Madrigal Brandybuck on the spot, except that the clever hobbit girl had time to drop a stone into her sling. She whirled it like lightning straight into the golden eye of the ancient dragon!

Such a sound you never heard in your whole life! Indeed, Maddie's little pointed ears rang for sometime after that and it was several days before she could hear very well at all. But she didn't stick around to hear more! She ran as fast as her bare feet could scurry, splashing out into the icy corridor, and straight into Furry, knocking him flat on his back and falling atop him. Of course it was Furry, for her friends had certainly not abandoned her! Later (when Maddie could hear well enough to be told), she learned of how they had all swung across the torrent on an elvish rope with a dwarvish grapple to follow her to the dragon's lair.

"We have overstayed our welcome!" cried Aragorn. "Fly!"

"What?" asked Maddie, as she was picked up in strong craggy hands and found herself being jostled and bumped like a sack of potatoes, for Gimli the Renowned was running as fast as he could run with a hobbit slung across his broad back, splashing up the great corridor and away from the dragon. Between bounces the hobbit lass saw Furry quickly gain his furry feet and shoot his best arrows at the terrible face of Veatrix, now pushing through the entrance of her lair and far into the hall. The special dwarven arrowheads given him by King Thorin Stonehelm pierced her rotting scales and wounded her face dreadfully, for one arrow stuck in the dragon's eye (the same one Maddie had hit!), another pierced her ear, and another protruded from her bottom jaw and for a moment held it fast against the roof of her dreadful mouth.

Elrohir snatched the dauntless Took around the waist and ran with elven speed away from the dragon, which was now as enraged as only a wounded dragon of great pride and antiquity could be. Soon the speeding elf drew even with the dwarf as the rangers stepped aside. Aragorn and Cairdur let fly shaft after shaft at the face of the dragon, but their arrows were not tipped with mithril edges as were the hobbit's, and they rebounded harmlessly from the dragon's head. With a stifled roar, Veatrix shoved forward, pushed her forelegs as far to the front as they would go, and twisted her neck back with a great grinding noise until her claws could reach her mouth so that she could finally unclamp her jaws. At the last moment, the rangers turned and ran through the shallowest part of the icy stream that still cascaded down the sloping corridor. Choking fumes and searing heat followed them, singing leather, hair and skin, but the dragon herself did not follow.

Veatrix the Golden, in her great wrath, had forgotten for the moment how truly immense she had grown since she had long ago squeezed down the corridor and into her lair. She could go no farther and had to let her intended prey escape. Her vast bulk completely sealed the entrance to the corridor and the rushing water swirled about her and became a boiling roiling steam. This did not suit the dragon at all, who was not as hot as she had been long ago, and who had detested water even then. She tried to back out of the corridor into her chamber.

But she was, of course, stuck. In her hot fury, she had wedged herself too tightly into the corridor and was pinned! She couldn't budge an inch! Now the waters had nowhere else to run and were swiftly rising about her neck and shoulders. Veatrix cried aloud in a voice that shattered stone and split rock, but no goblin came to investigate, for those who were not in the field were too terrified at the sound to be the slightest bit curious. The beast realized her danger and now struggled with all that was left of her ancient might. But the mountain was mightier still and held the dragon fast, caught in the lowest end of the great corridor, which was filling with icy cold waters from the snows of Gundabad.

No other creature is as fierce as a dragon in a pinch, and Veatrix the Golden was as fierce as any dragon that ever was. Her terrifying bellows and dreadful cries of wrath were loud beyond words to tell and carried through the mountain, out of its gates, and into the valley, where every creature for many leagues about could not help but pause and listen in startled wonder. The first light before dawn revealed churning steams and smokes rising from the gates of Gundabad. The tremendous dragon writhed wildly in her stone bonds and the mountain and the lands around shook with her desperate struggle.

"I told you this mountain's bones were rotten!" cried Gimli, as the companions splashed ahead. Indeed, the ill-planned tunneling of the goblins had weakened the excavations of the Longbeards and the natural caverns of the mountain. As the dragon's flailing and pounding wracked the earth, stone began to give way and great cracks and fissures opened between the vast halls. Elrohir lightly leaped away from a great arch of stone that came crashing down at his heels.

"We will never make it back to the mountain's peak!" the elf-knight shouted.

"The gates!" cried Aragorn. "We must fight our way out!"

"Then let us try the third gate on the second level," Gimli said as loudly as he could. "It will be defended less, and we are almost there!"

They passed the hall where the rushing waters of the reservoir still swiftly drained into the great corridor. Now they ran more swiftly to an intersection of halls and turned to the gate that Gimli had chosen. This led them now through the areas of the goblin stronghold that were more inhabited. Upon turning the corner, they immediately ran into the first orcs they had seen within Gundabad.

Anduril, the sword of the king, swept through the first two and Cairdur's blade slew another. At this point, as more goblins could be seen up ahead, Gimli and Elrohir set down the hobbits. The dwarf drew his battle-axe from its sheath on his back and Elrohir drew his sword, blazing with an ice blue rage at the nearness of the orcs.

The goblins saw them also, but were themselves seeking to escape and outpaced all in the company save Elrohir, whose rage was kindled at the very sight of the foul race. The elf-knight swiftly overtook the goblins and seemed almost to fly rather than run. His blade was radiant as the summer sky and the goblins howled and shrieked in terror at the sight. The company passed over their corpses, and Madrigal stifled a cry at the sight, but none would have heard her over the horrendous shrieks of the struggling dragon. The terrible cries of the worm were matched by the grinding of the mountain as it fell apart.

Onward they ran, not stopping now to survey the Palantir for safety, but speeding as swiftly as they could through one hall and then another. Always the blades of Elrohir and Aragorn went before, gleaming like sky and fire, hewing and slicing, felling the orcs they encountered like stalks of grain before a scythe. The mountain rumbled and shook with thunderous crashes, for gigantic slabs of stone within were falling against one another and breaking asunder in primordial tumult. Suddenly, at the last turn, they saw before them the silhouettes of fleeing goblins against the first light of dawn at the end of the tunnel.

They were the last creatures to flee the crumbling mountain. Every orc that had remained within, shirking the danger of the battlefield, now only wanted out of the calamity and were much more willing to take their chances in the field, rather than be buried alive! As they scurried and scrambled down the mountainside, one of them turned and saw Elrohir and Aragorn, with Gimli, Cairdur and the hobbits following after. The goblin called out in his uncouth tongue to his mates and they turned and cried aloud, some in fear and some with glee, for they saw the bright blades, but they also saw what they thought was easy prey, for there were many orcs gathered outside the gate.

But Elrohir was an elf-knight, one who had spent an age and more in errantry, the son of Elrond and Celebrian. His mother had been tortured in unspeakable ways by the goblins long ago, but ever the memory burned hot within him, and now he was wroth beyond the reckoning of the orcs. His strong clear voice cut through the cacophony of the mountain's ruin and the dragon's torment, and the name "Celebrian!" rose above the monstrous noise and then he was upon them. "Elendil!" cried Aragorn and his blade Anduril swept like a flame in the rising sun. Cairdur leaped into the fray to protect the back of his king while Gimli roared a challenge in his dwarven tongue and came nimbly down the stony face of the mountain like a dwarf in his youth. Furry was already firing arrows into the goblin crowd as fast as his hands could move.

But Furry heard another noise with his keen hobbit ears, a different rumble than the goaning and grinding sounds of breaking stone coming from deep within Mount Gundabad. This growing roar came from outside the mountain and from above. Maddie turned to see why Furry stared speechlessly behind them and saw a great avalanche of snow and stone tearing down the slopes and cliffs straight for them! She screamed as high and as loud as only a hobbit lass can, and first the goblins, who were facing that way, and then her friends, who were facing the goblins, all looked up the mountain and saw the rolling death from above.

That would have been the end of their stories, except that Rondramehir, King of the Eagles of the Misty Mountains, had been circling the peak of Gundabad at dawn, when the quaking and breaking began. This noblest and greatest of birds had eyes sharper than any living creature's and so he saw the avalanches as they began to fall and he saw the goblins as they evacuated the mountain. This he thought amusing for they fled right into the path of the crashing rock and snow! Then he saw the bright blades and the familiar shapes of the rangers, elf, dwarf, and even the small hobbits, and was amused no more. Crying aloud in the keen language of the great birds, Rondramehir commanded the eagles that flew with him to stoop down from the sky like lightning. So did the eagles rescue King Elessar and his friends from death on the slopes of Gundabad. Madrigal did not have time to draw another breath before she found herself snatched up in sharp claws and lifted high into the breaking dawn.

"Do not squirm so, lest I drop you!" warned the eagle. Madrigal was twisting in the iron grip of the bird so that she could see the mountain. As she looked, the sides of Gundabad were cast down in the tumult and the cloud of its destruction threatened to swallow the northern sky. But the high winds blew fast and clean and gradually Maddie could still see the peak atop the central core of the mountain, still gleaming high in the dawn sky amid the ruined slopes. Gundabad was no more. Only a tall sharp spire of jagged rock remained and the elves renamed it Carag Amlug, or, as the hobbits called it, The Dragon's Tooth. Veatrix the Golden lay crushed at the root of the mountain and never moved again.

At last, the hobbit lass turned away from the ruin of the mountain and looked down into the valley to see the armies she had left behind only a day before. Madrigal could hardly draw breath as she took in the sight. A terrible battle had been fought and the ground was dark with blood. The shining swords, mail, and helms of the allied armies gleamed in the dawn, and they seemed a great glittering island in a lake of swarming goblins. From the royal pavilion, there rose a foul black smoke into the sky.

***

You are probably wondering as much as Maddie what had happened on the battlefield so let us take up that part of the story where we left it.

Celeborn saw that the young dragons were avoiding the elven archers by following the dragon that bore Alatar the Black ever over the men and dwarves. The wizard was hurling enchanted spears into the ranks of soldiers in the trenches and the dragons followed with hot sulphurous fires that burned all in their wake. Now the elf lord ordered his archers to disperse throughout the field, so that the young dragons could not fly over any part of the besieging host without risking elvish arrows.

But as fast as elves can run, dragons can fly faster, even small ones, and from the high vantage of his black-armoured dragon, Alatar saw the movement of the elves and decided to assault the royal pavilion before elven arrows could defend it. As the ranger Cairduin lay dead at the feet of Arwen Undomiel, the wizard led the young worms in a diving attack from on high, down to where the leaders of the forces were gathered.

They were arguing at that moment, and perhaps this discord was also part of the wizard's attack, but it is enough that there were hard feelings between Legolas and his father King Thranduil. Legolas had returned to the besieging armies just as they themselves were besieged by a host of orcs and a swarm of dragons, and in this critical moment, he had once again brought with him uninvited, an old man claiming to be the tortured wizard Pallando the Blue.

"What do you mean by this treachery?" cried Thranduil sharply. "Again you fecklessly compromise the safety of your friends and relations?"

"Let them call it treachery or foolishness who will," cried Legolas bitterly, "when all has been said and done!"

"Then let less be said and more be done," said Celeborn sternly. "This war does not permit leisure for family quarrels!"

"Pah!" spat Thorin Stonehelm. "There are enemies enough and more, and this addled old man is added to our burden. I go back to the front!"

"Go then!" cried Thranduil. "Ever was the vision of the dwarves only as long as their noses! This elf I called my son has brought danger into our midst! Ere this wizard does us grievous harm, I will slay him where he stands!"

"I forbid it!" shouted Legolas, and as fast as eye could see, he nocked an arrow to his great bow of Lorien and took aim at his own father. Things might have taken a tragic turn, for the sword of Thranduil was drawn as the haughty elf king thought to slay the old man and perhaps his son as well.

At that moment, the field rang with the familiar horn cry of Buckland and the great folk suddenly realized that they were under attack from above. Faramir Took had ordered his son's plan put into effect, and the archers of the Shire had hidden themselves from sight as well as they could. The wizard had cleverly led his dragons away from the arrows of the elves, but now came down upon the back of his dragon in a steep dive toward the pavilion. He either had discounted or had not counted upon the bows of the hobbits in his calculations.

Turry peeked out of his concealment and waited until the dragons were almost upon them and he cried out to Master Merry Brandybuck, "Now!" whereupon the fat old hobbit blew upon the enchanted Horn of Eorl with all the wind he could muster. Old Pippin and Faramir stood up beside him with arrows nocked to guard the old fellow as the valley resounded with the call.

Up leaped the hobbits from their concealment and the arrows flew from their Tookish bows unerringly at the dragons as they passed. The wizard had not counted on this! Now, as dragons grow older, they grow tougher, especially if they can roll about grinding the metals and stones of a vast horde of stolen treasure into their scales. But these dragons were newly hatched. I daresay, that even so, they were terrible enough and being able both to fly and breathe fire, you wouldn't want to fight a young dragon at all, much less a swarm of them. But that was exactly what the hobbit archers did.

The sure aim of the young hobbits was rewarded with cries of surprise, anger, and pain from the dragons flying low over the hobbits' heads. Many of the dragons fell from the sky, and were set upon by brave men and dwarves nearby. Many soldiers were slain by the dying dragons, for such creatures are fearsome and deadly as long as they have any life in them at all. Some other dragons were merely wounded, and faltering in the air, tried to fly away and these were slain by the arrows of the elves. Still others were unscathed, and able to flee the field entirely, flying away to the north, where they escaped to trouble folk many, many long years later.

But there were some, the three biggest and boldest of the dragons, which were both unharmed and enraged. They did not heed the wizard, but instead flew back to visit the hobbits with a fiery revenge. Down they came, and this time would not be taken by surprise. Loud they cried and swept the entrenchments with fire and it was a terror to hear and to see. But Turry leapt to the top of his trench and as fast as his hands could move, put three arrows into the head of the lead dragon. Down it fell in flaming ruin, nearly crashing into the valiant Took. The young hobbit was overcome by the flames and fell back dazed into the entrenchment and lay there until he was found and revived after the great battle. Turry never recovered his mithril-edged arrowheads, but he never lost the fame that came to him in after days for slaying the young dragon.

The other two worms were also slain by the archery of the hobbits and by the ferocity of the Beornings and the dwarves, who made certain of the deed when the dragons hit the ground near their positions. But the hobbits of the Shire paid a ruinous cost. The dragons were hot in their fury and did not immediately fall to the arrows of the Tooks. Many bare-footed hobbits never walked again in the soft fields of their homes, for they fell to dragon fire in the Battle of Gundabad. Many more of them were wounded, indeed, were maimed for life, as were so many of the soldiers of the besieging armies. But many lived to proudly bear their scars, and these hobbits could always count on a free round and a hearty song at their local taverns for the rest of their long lives.

But there was one dragon that no arrow could touch, the one that bore Alatar the Black. They were clad alike in a cunning black armour of the wizard's design, for the wicked fellow well knew of the tenderness of young dragons, even if they themselves only learned by experience. The largest, most clever, and fiercest of the dragons agreed to be clad in the black metal plates and so was unharmed by the arrows of both elf and hobbit. Perhaps the precious mithril arrowheads given to the Took Twins by the dwarves might have pierced this armour, but Turry never got a chance to find out.

The wizard saw the destruction and desertion of his dragons, but was still determined to win the day. The worms had left the field smoking and reeking with the burning bodies of his enemies, and the great goblin horde still surrounded their entrenchments. And he still had the largest of the dragon brood and his enchanted spears. He brought the dragon back around so that he could overfly the royal pavilion again. This time, there would be nothing to stop his assault, for the hobbits were in disarray and the bows of the elves were not yet in position to threaten him.

As he drew near, he held aloft one of the great spears in his hand and began to pronounce his terrible spell. In the next instant he would have hurled it down into the center of the pavilion and killed all the great folk there assembled (not to mention poor little Ellie, and Prince Eldarion). It was just then that the first dreadful cries of Veatrix the Golden were heard, as she struggled against the mountain that pinned her fast. The terrible shrieks of the monstrous creature caused all heads to turn and all hands to stop. The wicked wizard paused in the recitation of his lethal spell for a single moment in his startlement.

That was his undoing. Down below, Pallando the Blue, tormented for an age of freezing darkness by treachery of his one time friend, never took his attention away from Alatar the Black. In that moment when all other ears harkened to the piercing death cries of Veatrix, and all other eyes looked to the ruin of the mountain, Pallando raised his gnarled staff in a withered hand, pointed it at Alatar, and spoke aloud the final word of the wicked wizard's spell.

The spear exploded in a great consuming ball of brilliant flame. Dragon and wizard fell together from a great height with a terrifying shriek of agony and fear and they were followed by a fiery trail to the hard ground. There, in the midst of the pavilion, their bodies were utterly burned to ashes in the raging fire that was an infernal combustion of the spell of the wizard and the heat of the young dragon. The sulphurous reek of their destruction rose high into the early morning sky and the foul black smoke of it lingered in impotent wrath above the battle before a wind blew it to nothingness in the east.

The ruin of both the wizard and the mountain and the death of so many of the dragons filled the goblins with dismay under the rising sun. As disheartened as were the orcs, still more emboldened were the hosts who had come to lay siege to Gundabad. With the death of Alatar the Black, it was as if a great weight was lifted from every shoulder and the hearts of the elves and men and dwarves rose with the sun.

The rage of the Beornings at the very sight of the goblins returned. In bear-form once again, they clambered over the top of the entrenchments and assailed the orcs gathered before them. The trumpets of the elves rang out and swiftly the elves also went over the top. Their arrows found every mark and the orcs ran from their bright steel and brighter eyes. The great voice of Thorin Stonehelm carried loud across the vale, and then the axes of the dwarves were parting goblin heads from goblin shoulders.

The orcs were pushed back on every side, fighting now for their very lives and their numbers were still as the sands of the sea. Their end came with the thunder of hooves, for the red flame of Anduril burned again in the morning sun as King Elessar led the cavalry in a charge that broke through the goblin lines. Finally, the tide of the battle had turned.

The grim day at last ended, and the few goblins that escaped the arrows of the elves, the axes of the dwarves, and the swords of the rangers, fell to the rage of the Beornings, who did not cease to hunt them at the end of day. But otherwise, with the setting of the sun and the rout of the last of the goblins, the fighting was over and the Battle of Gundabad had been won. Perhaps some orcs fled earlier in the day and survived, but for many long years after that day, none of the folk of Eriador or Rhovanion feared that any great host of goblins would ever trouble them again.

[Mithadan]

Chapter XXVIII

AT LAST TO HOME AFAR

I wish that I could say that all was happiness and joy, and that the entire host of the allied armies enjoyed a great celebration that night, but that was not to be. You must remember that many brave folk had died, and many more lay grievously burned and injured. There was little sentiment and less time to rejoice in the victory, for it was won at a terrible cost.

Many tears were shed that night as friends discovered bodies of friends, as fathers mourned over sons, and sons over fathers. And more were yet to die. As many as died in the battle, died that night and the next day of their injuries, and as many others took serious harm. Few were unscathed and no person on the field that day was not marked with the memory of the horrible battle for the rest of their lives.

***

Despite his fatigue, King Strider lent his aid to the healers throughout the host with the most severe cases. He spoke personally to each of his rangers, praising them for their bravery, remarking on the skill of their soldiery, and letting them know that their king greatly esteemed them. But Aragorn sent Aradhel especially to find the sons of Cairduin and to summon them to him. Cairmir was still a young lad, and the great excitement of the siege and the tremendous events of the days before were as nothing to him compared to the loss of his father. The boy had served as squire to his brother, Cairdur, and to his father in this campaign and had adored the dour ranger and was proud to be his son. Cairdur's face was set in the same grim lines that his father had customarily worn and he had manfully held his emotions in check for the sake of his younger brother. The king was stricken with compassion for the two and his eyes were bright with the dew of his sorrow.

"Your father was among the finest who ever served the House of Elendil," said the ranger's chieftain, "and if our house be the most noble among the houses of men, it is because of our people. With men like Cairduin among us, the king of such a people must ever be mindful of bravery and sacrifice such as his. Decency and honor demand that a king do what he may to redeem the lifeblood of the fallen with mercy and justice for our people, and this is the debt I owe. To Cairduin in particular do I feel this debt, and if you will let me, I will be as a father to you, and you will be as sons to me."

The young ranger and his little brother then fell weeping into the arms of their king. Perhaps some would think this unmanly (even if they dared not say so!), but such folk know little of fighting men, for emotions run high among mighty men of valour after times of great peril and loss. Even the bravest man on the field may find himself, years later, shedding unexpected tears when unbidden chance brings to mind the glorious exploits and tragic deaths of their comrades in arms.

King Strider ordered that the slain be honored quickly, lest the carrion birds and beasts despoil them. Nearly a quarter of the rangers would never go home again, and a green mound was raised over them near the hill at the western end of the valley, where Storwolos had been sent to his fathers. On that hill, many Dunlenders followed the late chieftain as their ashes rose to the heavens. A great barrow of stone was raised on the other side of the hill and there were interred the dwarves who had died.

A smaller mound was raised by the ranger's barrow over the hobbit archers of Tookland and Buckland, who fell defending the Queen. Half of the best young volunteers of the Shire remained near the field where they fell. Another small barrow was raised opposite the hobbit's barrow, beside the cairn of the dwarves, and there were lain the remains of the few elves who had fallen in the conflict. The valley was thereafter called Conath Imlad by the elves, the Vale of Lamentation. It became a sacred place for all that lived in Anor and such ill will as was held between the peoples of Eriador was ever after diminished.

A narrow chasm near the eastern pass of the valley was found and the carcasses of the goblin host were cast into it. The dwarves contrived a slide of rock and dirt to cover them, but it was long ere any could pass that way without a feeling of dread and nothing grew there in the lifetimes of any of the men or dwarves who came to use the pass in happier days.

Wagons were built for those who could not walk or ride and the day soon came when everyone was released to go to their homes, both new and old. With autumn waning, the Dunlenders knew they could not immediately settle the newly freed northlands, but they vowed to return in the spring with their families. The dwarves made ready to march back to Erebor, and the men of Dale would accompany them. The Beornings had already left for the northern vales of the Anduin, though Feorn had remained behind for a Council that the King had called.

The royal pavilion had been removed from the battlefield, for the burnt and blasted site of the black wizard's demise was loathsome to all. It was at this meeting that the kings and captains met to discuss the final disposition of the battle and the settling of affairs. Gathered around this circle and sitting or standing on the hills all round were those of the armies of elves and dwarves and men who came to witness this final council of the alliance. Aragorn spoke first.

"Now let us resolve all matters that lie between us," said the weary king, "for our enemies are vanquished, and only we ourselves can prevent the future happiness of our peoples. It is our duty now to secure this victory with goodwill between us all. I would start from the south with Ulfang of Dunland. What do you say?"

The barrel-chested Dunlender stood. He was covered from head to toe with cuts and scrapes that still wept red through his bandages if he moved much. His left hand was gone, lost to the burning maw of a young dragon. It was a poor trade for the dragon, for Ulfang's right hand wielded the notched blade of his father and severed the worm's head from its neck. The dragon head was ever after an heirloom of Ulfang's family and in after years became the sign of his house.

"I say for my people," said Ulfang, "that we have done all that was asked at the cost of many of our lives. I say that the king of the tall men has given his word that these lands shall be ours and our children's forever. I say that it is time now for the king to keep his promise."

"And I say," replied Aragorn, "that my promise will be kept. The lands known as the Entenmoors are now given unto the sons of Dunland who fought in this battle and to their children. You have purchased it with blood and with honor. You shall order your own affairs in the name of the king and we shall swear oaths of fealty to one another."

The young Dunland chieftain nodded his head and took his seat again, for he was still weak from loss of blood.

"And now let us hear from the east," said Aragorn. "What say you, Feorn, Master of the Beornings?"

The great bear-like man lumbered to his feet, towering over the assembled council, and said, "Nothing was promised me but the slaying of orcs, and I have had that in plenty. I ask for nothing more, unless there be more coming."

"There is more!" said King Thorin Stonehelm, standing to his broad feet. The great dwarf seemed to be one of the few who had taken no harm, though under the battle armour, which he still wore, none could say.

"Then let us hear from the north," said Aragorn. "What says the King under the Mountain?"

"That there is great wealth yet to be gained. We know that the horde of Veatrix lies buried beneath that mountain," the dwarf lord said, pointing at the great spire of the ruined mountain. "And I mean to find it! But though the treasure was built upon the labour of the dwarves, it has been won by the valour of our friends. The recovery may take many years and will be costly. I mean to charge these costs against whatever is recovered. But will all here say it is fair that the net profits be divided equally amongst all the armies?"

"I say that is fair," said Aragorn, and all of the other folk of the council also agreed. "And yet, the finding of the horde of the dragon may not be as difficult as you think. Our friends the eagles have espied the outpouring of the reservoir of Gundabad where it issued forth in a narrow ravine west of the mountain. There lies the exit of the tunnel used by Alatar to outflank our forces. The other end of that tunnel, if it is intact, is the cavern where the treasure lies. Since all are agreed, let the dwarves of Erebor recover the treasure, if they can, and be repaid from the horde ere it be divided between the Kingdom under the Mountain, the Woodland Realm, the Kingdom of Dale, the land of the Beornings, the veterans of Dunland, the Kingdom of Arnor, the folk of the Shire, and the elves of Rivendell."

All voices were raised in assent and the matter was so decided. Then the king resumed his rounds of the Council.

"Now let us hear from the Woodland Realm of Greenwood the Great," said Aragorn.

"I will speak briefly," said Thranduil. "For what I will say perhaps concerns you folk little, but I would say them before all. I have said rash words to Legolas, my son and heir, and would take them back if I could. Times are changing from the olden days, and I would rescind the exile of my son, imposed by my word and by my law." The wood elves of Greenwood cheered at this, for the son of the king was well loved, and some thought his exile harsh and undeserved.

Legolas Greenleaf stood to his feet and bowed before his father, but said, "I thank the king for what he has said, for he need not have humbled his pride. If my exile be lifted, then I thank him, but he need not rescind a law that served our people so well for so long. I broke the wise laws of our land in bringing Alatar the Black into our secret places, and it proved an unwise act. Some would say that I was under the spell of the wizard, and perhaps that was true. Yet I would not have my father hold me above the laws of the Woodland Realm. I will not return."

There was a murmur of voices around the Council and on the hillside, but Legolas continued. "The wizard's spells worked only upon what was already in our hearts, and perhaps good may come of confronting it. I know that many of our people feel as I do, and can no longer live in the confines of Greenwood, however great. I long for the sea and for what lies beyond. I would ask of you, my father, that you release any who would go with me."

Thranduil had remained standing as Legolas spoke, and the haughty elf's countenance hardened.

"Yea, Legolas!" said the proud elven king, casting an eye at the wood elves listening on the hillside. "You are full of years and tire of my rule, and seek a people of your own. If you do not accept my clemency, then let all in my realm who would submit to your rule go freely. But let them think well ere they choose for there is no return from the course you would set them."

"Nay, my father and king!" replied Legolas. "I do not seek to rule over any, but I will gladly lead any who will follow. There are many who will be happy in Greenwood for long to come, for your realm is beautiful, and your rule is not unjust. But even you, yourself, will weary of it one day and will answer the call of the sea."

"Then let it be as you have said," said Thranduil. "Where shall I send those who would flee these shores, now that all dangers are passed and life here will be gladsome?"

"I would ask a boon," said Aragorn. "In my kingdom of Gondor, there is a land called Ithilien. Let the elves of Greenwood have a haven there where they may tarry until they depart the shores of Middle-earth. The stay of the elves in that land would make of it a garden again, and ever their memory would live in Gondor for as long as Ithilien blooms."

"I thank my friend, the King of Gondor," said Legolas, bowing before Aragorn. Then turning, the slender elf knelt before his father and said, "I ask your blessings, my father and my king, on me and on all your people so that we may all be reunited in happiness on the far shore of the Straight Sea."

Thranduil, his haughty heart melting at last, placed his hands upon the bent head of Legolas and said, "That may be many long years, and I would that there be no stain to darken your heart." The King of the Woodland Realm then lifted Legolas up and they were reconciled to one another at last. The elves of Greenwood would think on these matters and many followed Legolas to Ithilien in the years that came after.

"Now," said Aragorn, "If there are no other matters before us, let us turn..."

"There is just one!" It was the soft high voice of the hobbit, Elediriel Cotton, who spoke. She was a timid girl and, despite all of the events of which she had been a part, was still in awe of the great and noble folk gathered in the Council.

"Do you speak for the hobbits of the Shire?" the king asked with a wry smile.

"N-n-no, sir," said Ellie. "But you promised me that you would grant my request, and this seems the right time."

"Indeed it is," said Aragorn. "It was your hand that rescued Eldarion, my son and heir, from the hand of Alatar the Black. I promised to grant whatsoever you asked, and if it is within my power, I am bound to redeem my word." Now this was the kind of promise that many kings in later days lived to regret, for not all folk are reasonable when making a claim upon the word of a king. This has sometimes proven especially troublesome when such claims were made in the presence of other great folk of the world. But Aragorn knew well enough that his word was safely pledged to the young hobbit lass and did not fear anything that she might ask.

"Well, sir," Elediriel said, "I have a problem, and it seems a light matter among all these high purposes but only the King and Queen can help me!"

The king smiled and held his hand out to Arwen Undomiel, who took it lightly and smiled warmly at her hobbit handmaiden. "What help we can give you, we will," said the queen.

"Well, I miss my mother and our little home terribly, but I do not wish to leave the service of my Queen," she said.

"And there is another matter!" cried Turgon Took, standing to his bare feet with his arm in a sling and bandages on his head. "Go on, Ellie, ask them!"

The bookish hobbit girl shyly smiled and said, "Turry has asked for my hand in marriage, and, well, --if it's all right with everyone-- we want to be married in Rivendell."

At this, Fingon Took received a sharp elbow to his ribs from Madrigal Brandybuck, and he was quickly on his furry feet standing by his brother. "And Maddie and I are getting hitched, too!"

At this, Faramir Took shouted with joy and grabbed both of his sons while saying something about their mother and how pleased she would be, while old Merry and Pippin crowded round the hobbit tweens and all the hobbits on the hillside cheered. The smiling king exchanged a look with Celeborn, who nodded in assent. Then Aragorn stood again and raised his hand until all of the commotion had settled.

"Lord Celeborn is agreed, and I know of no reason why these hobbits should not be given a matrimonial ceremony in Rivendell. We shall make the arrangements soon. And as for your matter, Elediriel," the king said, looking now at his queen, "I expect that Prince Eldarion will spend his childhood in Rivendell and that your Queen will often have need of her handmaiden from the Shire. There is room enough for Mrs. Cotton to join you there, if she and your husband-to-be are willing."

"I would ask something as well," said Arwen. The beautiful queen stood then to face the king.

"The Queen of Arnor and Gondor need only name her desire," said Aragorn.

"But what I now ask is not yours to grant," said Arwen, who then turned to where the hobbits still stood. "My handmaiden would be happier, I think, if she had friends from her home to be company for her. I would ask Madrigal Brandybuck and Fingon Took if they would consider living for a time in Rivendell near Elediriel Cotton and Turgon Took after they are married there."

"Oh Queen Arwen!" cried Maddie. "Of course we will! Thank you ever so much!" Furry had nothing to say about the matter, or at least wasn't quick enough to speak his mind, but didn't really seem opposed to the notion.

"Now," said Aragorn, "If there are no other matters before us, I would like to..."

"There is one, King Strider!" cried Pippin Took. The old hobbit stepped forward then. "I am growing old and am ready to give my son Faramir, here, my duties as right Thain of the Shire. I should like leave to see his namesake, the Steward of Gondor, and report to the Tower Guards of Minas Tirith again ere I grow too old to make the journey." There was an astonished murmur from the hobbits at this word, for while Faramir had already taken up much of the work of the Thain, none of them could remember a time when Old Pippin had not held the position. They were both shocked at the idea of Thain Peregrin leaving the Shire, but of course they were happy for Faramir. But there was one more surprise.

"I have something to add to that!" said Merry Brandybuck. "I'll be giving up the mastery of Brandy Hall to Maddie's father. He did a fine job getting the produce of the Shire to Bree to send up here to Gundabad, and it's high time he took over for me. King Eomer of Rohan is waiting to see me! Besides, this old rogue will need my company on the way to Minas Tirith, if he ever expects to make it!"

"You do not need my leave for any of these things, but you have my blessing," said Aragorn dryly. "And now, I believe, that is all of the matters that lie between us. So, let us turn at last to the West and take up the matter of our friend, the wizard Pallando the Blue." At this, the old man, now dressed in fine elven robes that captured the colour of the sky, stepped forward to stand before the king. His long white hair and beard were neatly groomed and his eyes were no longer mad. His countenance was kindly and wise, and though he was not crowned, he looked more a king than the tall lean ranger who stood facing him.

"There is nothing that I would not grant you, but there is little enough that we can offer you," said the king. "I give you leave, though you do not need it of me, to pass whithersoever you will as you seek healing and rest. I can only offer you our blessings and our gratitude." The tall grey-headed king then knelt before the old man, who bent his own snow-wreathed head and wept in gladness. No words were spoken. Indeed, the old man had said nothing since the battle and never came to speak often or much as long as he remained in that land, but a profound sense of the destiny that had touched them all was felt and a vision came to the minds of all who were gathered round. As if in a vaguely remembered dream, they seemed to see a glorious valley of ethereal light inhabited by brilliant beings of great power and noble purpose. Then, with the speed of waking, the sights and sounds of Middle-earth returned to their minds, and the council was ended.

***

Autumn was fine and cool, with that crispness in the air that made travel pleasant and the days a joy. But everyone only wanted to get home as quickly as they could, for Autumn passes soon enough into Winter, when travel is not as comfortable, and there was not a person in all the host who did not want to return to the familiar faces of their loved ones and the simple ordinary lives they had lived before.

The hobbits took leave of the elves and rangers as swiftly as was fitting and made haste to return to the Shire. They had company along the way, for Pallando the Blue made known that he desired to return to the Blessed Realm from which he had been sent. King Strider himself rode with them on their way to the Grey Havens and he was accompanied by the young ranger Cairdur and his brother and squire, Cairmir, as well as Legolas and Gimli.

Ellie had time during the siege and on the journey home to rewrite her journal, consulting with her friends (and her betrothed!) to set matters down as they had happened. This kept the bookish hobbit lass quite busy, but not too busy for another climb with her friends to the observation platform on the roof of the watchtower of Weathertop.

This time, they arrived in the daylight and the sight around them was splendid. From the great height (Turry could not convince Ellie for any reason to look over the side!), they could see the Blue Mountains far away, where many of Gimli's relatives still dwelt, and the dark line of the forests at their feet and the blue bay of Lindon where Aragorn said was harboured a last fleet of elven ships, left behind by Cirdan the Shipwright, to await Celeborn and the elves of Imladris.

"Not the last," said Legolas, "only the last built by Cirdan on these shores. Another will sail one day from the mouth of the Anduin, though smaller in size, if not in number."

"Would that I could go, too," sighed Gimli.

"Perhaps you shall," said Legolas.

"Let us not speak of it," muttered the dwarf. Perhaps he thought that a dwarf would not be permitted sight again of Galadriel ere he died, and he feared the breaking of his heart if he should try and be denied. It was many years after that day before Legolas took sail, long after nearly all of those who first followed him from Greenwood to Ithilien had already sailed the Straight Sea. Some say that he tarried until sure that no others of the Woodland Realm would leave Middle-earth in that age. Some believe that he waited until Aragorn breathed his last. But some also say that the Silvan wood elf Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, tarried for the sake of Gimli the Renowned, son of Gloin, dwarf of the House of Durin, and together they sailed beyond the bending of the world.

"There's the Tree!" cried Maddie, who keenly desired to return home for a time. "It's the only one like it outside of Lothlorien!"

"It is indeed a mallorn-tree," said Legolas. "I have desired to see it since you first told me of it."

"Oh! I can't wait to show you," said Maddie. Furry cleared his throat.

"That is," said Maddie, "WE can't wait to show you! It's just wonderful!"

Old Gimli wiped a tear from his eye, though he could not see any of the distant things the others spoke of. But in the eye of his mind, he clearly saw the mallorn-trees of Lothlorien and the Lady of the Golden Wood. An old man's hand rested upon the broad shoulder of the dwarf, and Pallando said words that none save perhaps Aragorn understood. Gimli was strangely comforted all the same.

***

The great dwarf's sorrow was further assuaged in Bree when he was forced to admit that the Wizard's Brew at the Prancing Pony was indeed better than the best dwarven beers, but said that it didn't count because it had been enchanted. It was recorded that Gimli drank quite a lot of it all the same!

There was only one other noteworthy event before the party reached the Shire, and that occurred as they reached the gates of Buckland an hour or so after the sun had set. The party stopped and informed the gatekeepers that the Master of Buckland and the Thain of the Shire had returned. Merry did not mention that with them was the King of Arnor and his Rangers, as well as the wizard Pallando the Blue, and the heroic archers of Tookland.

"But, Master Merry! Thain Pippin! Them are Big Folk! It's against the law!" said old Tubby Burrows. The old fellow's high voice trembled and cracked, but he was doing his duty as he thought right.

"That's right," agreed young Digger Hardbottle. "It's against the law!"

"Well said, Gatekeepers of Buckland!" the grey-headed king brushed back the hood of his cloak and laughed. An elfstone set in a silver fillet upon his brow gleamed by the torch lights, and his countenance was kindly and regal. The other travelers drew aside as his great golden horse stepped lightly to the gate. Looking down from his noble mount at the gatekeepers he said, "I am Elessar Telcontar, King of Arnor and Gondor, and it is by my order that Men may not set foot within the bounds of the Shire. You do well to uphold my law! But though my subjects are forbidden to wear the crown of the king, yet may the king himself do so. I pass through this land on King's Business, and these other folk are with me."

"Good King Strider!" cried old Tubby. The gaffer paused in perplexity for a moment and then sprang for the gate.

"King Strider!" cried young Digger at the same time. The Junior Keeper of the North Gate of Buckland rushed to open the latches, collided with the Senior Keeper of the North Gate of Buckland, and both were knocked sprawling into the road. The nervous hobbits fumbled over each other but did manage to open the gates to allow the party to pass. And surely they would have passed into the Shire at that very moment, but there was another important matter that had to be settled. Now, I'm sure you know exactly what the tweens had forgotten, but all of the events of their great adventures had completely driven the matter out of the little heads of the young hobbits.

"Halt!" cried old Pippin. Even the king checked his steed, as the old fellow's pony trotted ahead of the rest to block the road. "Do you gatekeepers not remember that four of these are exiles and may not return to the Shire or the lands thereabout without my pardon?"

"I had completely forgotten, Thain Took!" said old Tubby, with a laugh. "Shall I call the Sheriffs for you?"

"That won't be necessary my good hobbit," said Pippin, "But, since you cannot permit peace-breakers and exiles past this gate, something must be done! So, by the power vested in me by the King of Arnor, I hereby pardon Elediriel Took for instigating an incident at the Green Dragon in Bywater on the evening of September 23, 1482. I do also hereby pardon Masters Turgon and Fingon Took for public misbehaviour in this same incident, and I further pardon Mistress Madrigal Brandybuck for assaulting a shopkeeper in a public accommodation. You are exiles no more, and are free to enter the Shire!"

"Race you!" cried Madrigal to Furry. Madrigal's amber mare, Cider, leapt as if chased by wolves and carried her mistress down the road to Brandy Hall, pursued closely by Furry's black pony, Thunder.

The other hobbits laughed, as did the Big Folk who were with them, and so they passed into the Shire and were on their way.

***

There is really little more to tell. All that happened afterwards to the young hobbits were only matters of happiness. It is a strange thing that reading of the joy of others is not nearly as interesting as tales of sorrow and conflict, but that is the way of things, and so we must bring this story to an end.

The company of heroes passed with the wizard through the Shire, past the Tower Hills, and on to the Havens of Lindon. A ship was waiting there for the old man, and many elves lined the docks to say their farewells to friends and relations who were leaving, and to catch a glimpse of the Blue Wizard, last of the Five whom had come across the Straight Sea so long ago. Before he boarded the vessel, he stooped by the shore and took up a small stone in his hand. He smiled at Elediriel especially and was clearly thankful to Aragorn and to Legolas for helping him find his way home.

They watched the ship sailing away into the West, and before it passed from view, Ellie thought she saw the wizard hurl the stone he held high into the air. It burst into a brilliant rainbow of lights and slowly drifted, fading, into the sea. A musical sound like a distant chime reached the shore as the magical flare passed from sight, and the last wizard left the shores of Middle-earth.

***

King Strider and the Big Folk with him did not return through the Shire, but instead travelled on the newer road that passed from the Blue Mountains where some of Gimli's kin still dwelt to the shores of Lake Evendim and to the king's castle at Fornost. Legolas and Gimli went with them to enjoy the hospitality of their old friend and to see the great new castle. They stayed briefly there until parting in Bree, when Aragorn returned to Rivendell and Legolas and Gimli set out for Rohan.

Meriadoc, Master of Buckland, and Peregrin, Thain of the Shire, did not stay another year in the land of their births. Word came from Rohan that the venerable King Eomer, son of Eomund, desired to see his old friend, Master Holdwine. So old Merry and Pippin gave their offices to their sons in 1484 and set out in fair weather on the Old South Road to Tharbad and beyond, through Dunland and the Gap of Rohan, to Edoras, where Eomer awaited them. The old fellows missed the marriage of their grandchildren in Rivendell, but did not lack for things to see. Along the way to Edoras, they stopped to see the wonders at Helm's Deep, where they were joined by Gimli and Legolas. The dwarf never forgot a debt and had eagerly held the wood elf to his promise to revisit the Glittering Caverns of Aglarond.

Of course, back in the Shire, Mrs. Cotton had been overjoyed when Ellie indeed had brought home a husband (at least a husband-to-be, which is not quite the same thing, as brides-to-be always discover). The old dear was a little reluctant to leave the little hole that her late husband had built, but as soon as her mind was set, she looked forward with great anticipation to an old age in Rivendell, proudly seeing her young girl serving their Queen, and being the grandmother of the many little baby hobbits she expected Turry and Ellie to provide her. She was not disappointed in that and died some years later with a smile upon her lips.

As soon as arrangements could be made, the Took Twins, Madrigal, and the Cottons were to set out for Rivendell. But the younger hobbits could not resist a last visit (at least for several years) to the Green Dragon. This was a resort of quite a few of the archers of Tookland, and their cheers were almost thunderous as the Twins and the girls came into the hobbit tavern. Nothing would do but for all of their exploits to be recounted, and for the ale and beer and song to flow like a spring.

An old gaffer in the back called for Ellie to give a poem, for if the hobbits did not quite remember her last effort in the tavern, they certainly remembered its consequences.

"Yes! A poem!" shouted another old fellow.

"Or a song!" shouted another hobbit.

"No, a poem!" shouted the first old gaffer. "'Bandit' Sandyman cheated me on the price of a shovel, and I want someone to break his nose again!"

There was a great noise of laughter and delight in the hall, but Ted Sandyman only showed the top of his prematurely balding head and the red tips of his ears, as he stared into his beer and said nothing anyone could hear.

"As a matter of fact, I have written a bit of a poem," Ellie said. "I suppose someone could make a song of it, but I'm not very good at singing." The shy lass had come a long way, and even if she would not sing for the tavern full of hobbits, she could now at least recite her poems without (much) fear.

When darkest days come to the land
and sword is drawn by kingly hand,
when wizards come from realm of dread,
and dragons hatch on golden bed,
who comes along to save the day
(though they seldom know the way,
and never seek a hero's fame,
prefering others play that game)?

It is the halflings of the Shire
who rise above the troubles dire
and find a way, as if by fate,
to overcome the shadow's hate.
The luck of the hobbits, I would say,
is what we need to save the day!
It comes to those who do what's right
though it means a hopeless fight!

Our darts are sharp, and our swords are keen
our aim is good, and our slings are mean.
We'd rather drink an ale, it's true,
or even have a beer or two!
But dragon fire and goblin foe
and wizard spell and giants slow
don't wait upon the supper table
so we must do what we are able!

So, when the darkness seeks to end
the lives and loves of folk and friend,
be like the halflings; don't give in!
Despair just lets the shadows win.
Luck comes to naught with a failing heart:
what victory's won right from the start?
When all seems lost what is there to lose?
The luck of the hobbits is yours to choose!

The poem (which I'm sorry to say was better received by the Big Folk outside the Shire) was born of discussion on the road that Turry and Ellie had about faith and fate. Ellie still contended that Baggins' Day had come and gone right through the battle, and though no one had celebrated, surely no one could now doubt that it was the luck of the hobbits that had come through again. In after years, before the great events of those days were altogether forgotten, when the hobbits still celebrated the archers of Tookland, and the Battle of Gundabad, it was much sooner forgotten that some had once celebrated the birthday of one Bilbo and one Frodo on that day. But it was remembered by the Big Folk, as long as the Little Folk were remembered at all, that to have one of them with you was a lucky thing indeed.

Applause was scattered and polite, and since there was no fight brewing afterwards (not even Ned Sandyman had anything derogatory to say), the evening ended well enough for the hobbitry of Bywater. As for Ellie, Turry, Maddie and Furry, they took leave of the Green Dragon rather early so that they could walk to The Hill and spend some time together under The Tree before leaving the Shire for Rivendell. They stayed up rather late, I must say, though what they talked about for such a long time has not been recorded.

The kindly sun rose the next morning to see the young hobbits and Mrs. Cotton on their way to the elven valley with no few number of the Shire folk as well. I'm sorry to say that there is no record of anyone from the Sandyman family attending the nuptuals. But they were not missed for never before and never again had so many hobbits come to Rivendell! The weddings of the Twins to Elediriel and Madrigal were everything their mothers could have hoped and more. A great enchantment still lingered there while the elves yet dwelt in the Last Homely House. The songs of the elves and the bells of the dell were long remembered by the hobbits, who never tired of telling younger ears in later years about the wonderful place. The important folk of the Shire were awed by the hidden valley of the elves, and by the tall rangers who guided them there and back again.

Serving as handmaidens to Arwen Undomiel was each day a wonderful thing, and Ellie and Maddie learned much that they eventually brought back with them to the betterment of the Shire. As for Turry and Furry, there was an endless wealth of crafts to learn of the elves and much of the arts of war to learn from the rangers. In later years, the hobbits (no longer in their tweens) paid a last visit to their now quite elderly grandfathers. Old age finally did catch up with Merry and Pippin in far away Minas Tirith in the Kingdom of Gondor, and the younger hobbits did not return to the Shire until after the old gallants breathed their last and were entombed with honor among the great of Gondor. In time, when Turry became Thain Turgon, and Maddie became the Mistress of Buckland, the Shire benefited greatly from the things they learned in the realms of elves and of men.

I suppose I should also say that the young hobbits found married life, even in Rivendell, to be more joy and work than they had dreamed, and that the raising of young hobbits was much more adventure, confustication, and bebotherment than they had ever imagined. Which is to say that they lived very happily ever after.

The End