[Story Time] Getting Your Toes Wet

[David Johansen]

It was spring-time and the master of Bag End was growing restless. The little brooks and streams of his little country seemed, well, little. But it was the dreams, the roaring of waves and the screeching of gulls that troubled his sleep. It was well known in those parts that there were elven havens westward down the old road where they were sailing, sailing away forever. So it happened, one bright morning in June, after a tiresome encounter with one of his relations, that he left the key with Tolman, who kept the lawn for him and helped with the gardening, drew on a weather stained old cloak and a well laid pack and taking the back way, hopped the low point in the hedge and trotted down path to where it joined the old road. A few neighbours shook their heads as he passed, but as he was generous as well as odd and these were decent parts, no trouble came of it. There was a reasonably good inn at that junction and he didn't really wind up setting out from there until it was late in the evening. As chance would have it, he kept to his intended course and headed down the old road instead of home as had happened no few times before.

It was late and he was weary from making merry but the night air began to clear his head a bit as he walked under the stars singing bits of an old elven song he'd been translating. A cool breeze came up and he stopped to look around him. "Well, that's odd," he thought, "I've taken the wrong way. But then, I'm already miles from home and the havens are only a few days away. I've got a full pack on my back. I'm sure the neighbours will be laughing behind their hands and pointing if I don't get along and finish what I started this time. He found a comfortable patch of grass beside a sheltering bush, laid down his pack and laid down to sleep through the rest of the night. A passing fox stopped and stared for a moment, "well, I see old Bilbo's been in his cups again," he sighed, "off to see the mountains again I expect, but he's headed west, not east, the missus will have a laugh at that."

 

[David Johansen]

In the early grey of dawn, Bilbo awakened to the sound of fair voices singing. Making his way as quietly as ever a Hobbit could he crept toward them. There in the cold light of a lone star hanging on the western horizon, they were swaying gently like leaves in the breeze to their haunting song. Though fair, high, and clear, it brought an aching and longing to those who heard it. At length the star set and the song ended on the word "Erendil."

Bilbo supressed a sniffle and blew his nose on his pocket handkerchief. The singers froze, like deer scenting for a threat. Elves are decent enough folk, but they can be terribly skittish when lost in song and taken off guard. Many high elves remember the great darkness and living as they do in memory and the present at once, they might be forgiven for a bit of shyness when they think they are alone in the wilderness and hear a sound like two trolls trying to strangle each other.

Slender bows, like willow wands, and sharp arrows and knives appeared around the circle like a flash. The elves then silently spread out in a semicircle that fluidly enclosed Bilbo in a ring of steel. One of the elves cautiously advanced on him with an arrow at the ready. "It's only a hobbit," he called to his companions, "though there's a blade hidden beneath that cloak, or I'm a dwarf."

 

[David Johansen]

Bilbo smiled wide and put his hands away from him, he spoke a little elven but these fellows clearly didn't know that. "I mistook you for dwarves with all that squawking and grunting you were making," he said in their own tongue. The elf stared at him open mouthed for a moment and then smiled, "Well met Bilbo Baggins of the Shire," he said in elven, "your name is held in high regard in the house of Elrond," and held out his hand.

Bilbo took it and watched the other elves relax their guard a little, though they were still a touch jumpy for his liking, he doubted his mail shirt under his clothing could protect him from an arrow through the eye. "You have the advantage of me sir," he said looking up at the elf.

"I am Gildor Inglorien of the wandering companies," the elf said, "we are tarrying in these lands though the call of the sea grows as the darkness in the east does also.

"Gandalf said something about that, the last time I saw him, it turns out the Necromancer of Dol Guldar was the ancient enemy who has now returned to the fastness of Mordor. It makes me glad my own adventure got out of the way just in time to miss that. Surviving one battle is quite enough for any hobbit. There will be war in far away lands but not in my life time, I hope."

"That war may well reach farther than you can imagine. Old stories are often thought exaggerated or made up but the enemy is all that they tell and more," Gildor said and it seemed a shadow of fear and sorrow crossed his face as he spoke. "But tell me Bilbo, what brings you East of the Shire? Too much drink and a wrong turn perhaps? I can smell it on you but I have it heard that hobbits have a sure nose for home and breakfast, no matter how wild their revels."

"As it happens, my good fellow, I am travelling to see the sea and the elven havens. My dreams have been odd this spring and it makes my feet restless. Though I have never been east I am haunted by the sea, so I am travelling to find out if they're all they're made out to be or at least if the shadows that haunt my sleep are much like the real thing after all."

"I have heard that there may be bandits along the road. Men, up from the south seeking their fortunes and preying upon dwarves travelling east to the lonely mountain, Erebor. Indeed there are few dwarves left in these lands, so great is the rumour of Dain's wealth. But we have our own business and must be away, perhaps one day we will meet again and you can tell me what you think of the sea. It seems strange that a hobbit would feel its call. How it calls to me but I will not go yet, not while there is spring sunshine in the glades and bright nights beneath the stars. Fare you well Bilbo Baggins, we mean to travel many leagues northward today and must be off." With that last word Gildor Inglorien turned and walked away with his people without a backward glance but Bilbo stood long watching them as they faded away.

"Well, that was interesting," he thought, "I expect I am lucky to have a good name among the elves or I might have grown a nice coat of arrows."

 

[David Johansen]

Gildor's warning about brigands on the road gave Bilbo some pause and he stood a while looking back east, towards the Shire. Then he put his hand in his pocket and smiled a sly and secret smile, hefted his pack, and set out down the road with a slight swagger though he would have denied it if confronted.

The day was hot and by mid afternoon he grew weary and set down in the shade of an old elm tree. Much to his surprise, as he rested, there came the barking of dogs and the shrieks and cries of playing children. Leaving his pack by the tree, he crept hobbit quiet, over the rise and peered down to see a small village of men where children and dogs were chasing each other about. He had not heard of men dwelling there but noted that the buildings were quite new and a number of stumps stood in the fields where men were plowing furrows with great oxen pulling at the plows. The scene was rustic and picturesque but, while in some part he was curious about these folk, he could not quite bring himself to reveal himself, so he slipped his finger into his pocket and vanished from sight.

Moments later, the bucket was drawn up from the well though there was no one there to draw it. Then a loaf of bread mysteriously vanished from a windowsill where it was cooling. The dogs were barking and dashing about but they had been doing that when the children were playing and nobody paid them much heed. That night a few silver pennies were found in the children's beds but nobody could guess from where they had come, though some bore the image of a bearded king and a mountain on the back and the name of Dain.

A mile or more down the road, Bilbo Baggins appeared out of thin air and went on walking east, chuckling and seeming unusually pleased with himself. Evening came and went and he walked well into the night before crawling under the branches of a sprawling juniper with ambitions of world conquest and went to sleep.

 

[David Johansen]

The next day was grey and dreary. He wakened to the drip, drip, drip, drip of water running off the juniper branches and down his neck. He had a beastly time getting out from under the branches which seemed to hold him down and obstruct his movements and tangle in his hair and cloak. He drew his sword, an ancient elven blade which glowed when orcs were near and the juniper relented with a rustle like a chuckle. Wet and scratched as he was, he trudged on down the road sullenly without bothering about breakfast. There were hills ahead, where he knew Dwarves had mined for steel and coal long ago but he knew nothing about them now and feared that bandits would find many places to lie in wait where the road wound through them. He had an early lunch, sheltering under a great oak tree, munching on day old bread and smoked sausage. A bottle of Old Winyards warmed him up and the day started to look less bad. He took the opportunity to strip down and shake the water out of his breeches. Then took warm, dry clothing from his pack and, felt a good deal better. Wrapped in his cloak he drifted off to sleep without meaning to and woke just in time to see the sun setting in the west. The rain had faded but the night was very dark and the road was muddy so he walked along the grass beside it wishing he was back in his warm hobbit hole as was his usual response to difficulties.

In the dead of night, beneath the clouds, he heard ahead of him the splashing of boots in the muddy water. He ducked behind a large gorseberry bush who's white flowers were just beginning to open. A tall man in a hooded cloak was walking west up the road, he had a strong staff in his hand and his head was unbent. He stopped as he came to the bush and spoke words in a tongue Bilbo did not understand but even hidden behind the bush he felt naked, like the man was staring right at him.

"You can come out from there, I mean you no harm," the man said in a thickly accented tongue.

Bilbo hesitated, there was something uncanny about the darkness beneath the stranger's hood but it seemed he could not hide from the man. Perhaps he was a wizard or saw well in the dark but there seemed nothing to do but speak with him. "Hullo, there, I am Bilbo Baggins of the Shire," he started, "I am travelling to see the sea if you see my meaning."

"Well met, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire," the stranger said, "you may call me Sparrowhawk, and I have come over the sea in search of a dragon lord."

 

[David Johansen]

Bilbo shook his head and looked up at "Sparrowhawk." The man's skin was dark, it was hard to tell, how dark in the night but his eyes and teeth were white and the effect was quite unsettling out in the lonely hills, he swallowed and took a breath. "We're thankfully rather short on dragons in these parts, though I dare say there's a few to be found in the north and east and there's few enough heroes up to the slaying one these days last I heard. As for lords, well, they say the dark lord has returned to his fastness in Mordor but I can't recall whether he ever had much to do with dragons, too wilful for his liking you might say, though Gandalf did say once that he was glad that Smaug was dealt with. He would have been a deadly weapon in the hands of the enemy." It started out a little squeaky but he did well enough once he got his wind under him.

The stranger knelt down as one might when speaking with a child, Bilbo didn't quite know whether to be offended or grateful. "I see that you have some knowledge of dragons. Perhaps we could sit and speak for a while. I have come far from my boat and this land is greater than any island I have ever heard of, if the few folks I've met are to be believed. Where I come from only the Kargish raiders are so fair skinned and to tell the truth I find it a little unsettling. But there was a port where strange folk dwelt where great ships with swans on their prows lie in harbour, and there I dared not land for the people were full of a strange light and sang like the stars themselves, so I concealed myself and sailed down the coast for a day to give the haunted place a wide berth. As I made land fall a giant rose up from the sea or perhaps it was the sea taking on the form of a man. He warned me that my errand was known and I would not be hindered, so long as I use my art lightly or not at all. And I have taken that warning well, for there is a mighty song of creation and a power that strives against it here, yet the tongue is strange and what lore and names I learned in Roke have availed me little.

 

[David Johansen]

"Well," said Bilbo, "Those would be the elves at the Grey Havens, I expect. You needn't have worried, they are kind and goodly folk. A bit standoffish, of course, they seldom have much to do with mortal men, you know, their time in Middle Earth is fading and they are sailing away to the uttermost West." He was wondering what Roke was and having some personal experience with giants wasn't all together sure that they could string a proper sentence together. Still this stranger seemed harmless enough, though he was quite certain there were no "dragon lords" to be found in The Shire. "You might have done well to ask the elves about your dragon lord, some of the heroes in their ancient tales killed dragons, a few heroes among men as well, you know. In fact I knew a dragon slayer in Erebor some years back, Bard the Bowman, I was the one who spotted the chink in old Smaug's armour, but they mostly seem to forget about that part. Bard's probably quite old now, I seem to be standing still while others march on down that road you know. But I come from a long lived family and us Hobbits live a good bit longer than men.

The night was growing old and the sky was turning a dim grey as they talked. The man's skin seemed somewhat less dark in the growing light and he smiled kindly at Bilbo, "But I'm not looking for Dragon Slayers, for even in among the isles of the sea we have a few of those. Yevaud's brood lie at the bottom of the ocean by my own word. But, you see a Dragon Lord is someone that a dragon will actually take a moment and talk to before attacking them."

"Oh, said Bilbo with a little sigh, "Is that all?"

"I see," said the man called Sparrow Hawk, "you spoke to this, old Smaug and he spoke to you, didn't he?"

"Well, yes," said Bilbo, "he could smell me but he couldn't see me and I think he was curious what I was. He was familiar enough with the smell and taste of Dwarf you might say but I don't think he'd ever eaten a Hobbit, you know. But he was mostly trying to get to me and find out who we were and where we came from don't you know? So he could take revenge for that cup I stole, I was the appointed burglar on that expedition, not that I ever considered myself one of course but Gandalf told Thorin I was the burglar or would be when the time came."

"There is more to you than meets the eye Bilbo Baggins. A darkness, like the old powers of the earth surrounds you. There is terror and a powerful will which even now reaches out to me and calls my true name. Black magic. That is how I found you as you came down the road and hid behind that bush. It is probably what the dragon sensed and thus deigned to speak to you. I do not know what you found on your expedition, but I know power when it calls to me and I believe that you, Bilbo Baggins, are the dragon lord I seek. Will you come with me, to sail to a forgotten island and speak to a dragon once more?"

Bilbo gulped and clenched his hands, "I, well, nonsense, I say. I'm just a very little fellow in the wide world, but I set out to see the sea and it seems likely that I'll be safer in the company of a wizard, no don't deny it, than on my own with bandits about. So, say what you will about dark powers and who a dragon will talk to, if they don't talk to just anybody, who do they learn to talk from? Boats frighten me more than dragons but I'll come along none the less.

Then to Sparrow Hawk's amazement Bilbo drew out his pipe, lit it with a match and blew smoke rings while the sun rose.

 

[David Johansen]

It took a couple days to reach the sea. If there were bandits about, the damp kept them indoors and the journey passed without incident, but they also turned off the road which led to the havens and cut across country, through a pleasant and hilly country where occasional bits of ruins still stood where men had once herded sheep and goats. Sparrow Hawk, shook his head in amazement as they climbed to the top of a hill to get their bearings. "I never imagined an island so vast, there should be a word for it in and of itself, for it is a thing unto itself," the wizard murmered as he scanned the horizon. "There, Bilbo Baggins, that line of grey in the distance is the sea. As long as we can manage to keep in that general direction we can't but help to meet it. But tell me, of the people who once dwelt here? The stones are not so old that they do not remember the sheep on the hills and the children in the yards. They whisper of loneliness and lost purpose but there is no memory of great evil here, who were they and where did they go? "

After a moment of reflection The Hobbit replied as best he could, "My people have stories of better days when there was a king and this was his kingdom. We have our own stories but few go back beyond the founding of The Shire, our land. But there were men who dwelt here once and some are coming north again. There are rumour's of trouble away south. The old enemy has returned, Gandalf says. Perhaps when he fell, and it was safer people moved to warmer climes. They say there is no winter in the south. Occasionally a Hobbit goes travelling. I did. People think it's shameful but I did and I think I'm the better for it anyhow. There was an enemy in the north too, in Angmar, before the Shire was founded. Most Hobbits wouldn't know much about it but I am a student of elven lore and I know that there was an evil king who threatened the kingdom in the north long ago. But I really don't know, if anyone ever wrote it down it hasn't come to us, perhaps if we meet some elves, they would know. They live forever, if they aren't killed of course."

"Living forever," the Wizard shook his head, "can be dangerous business. Still, in my world of islands and seas we had a high king once, and look back and wonder still." He drew two halves of a broken bracelet or ring and stared at it a while.

"What is that," Bilbo asked quietly as the silence grew awkward.

"The Ring of Erekabeth, it is the symbol of kings. Half I found in a labyrinth deep in the earth where the old powers overwhelmed my own and nearly destroyed me and the other on a little wisp of an island where an old man and woman were marooned since they were children. It is not a thing of power, not magical power at any rate, but it symbolizes a hope and a dream of better days.

"Oh," said Bilbo, "I expect a king would just make things worse, with wars and battles and rebellions and hard laws and taxes and such. We live quietly enough in The Shire, we don't make trouble and don't go looking for it and as such we don't need a king to protect us."

"Perhaps it is so now," Ged responded, "but you've mentioned men are coming back into these empty lands and you have mentioned bandits, and I suspect you'll want more law and order than your Mayor can bring. Men have a way of turning on the small and weak and the poor often turn on the prosperous. You might want for a king yet."

Bilbo shrugged, and they set off down the hill towards the distant grey line that was the sea.