Lindariel's entry -- The 10th and FINAL installment!
Posted: Sun Jan 09, 2011 11:40 pm
It is finally the First of Yule, and here is the final installment of my story:
Although the Master Healer of Imladris had every confidence that Halmir would make a full recovery, nonetheless, it was a tense and watchful night for Elrond and his attendants in the infirmary. After sending his weary sons off to their rooms for a long, hot bath, a good supper, and a well-earned rest, he summoned Lord Glorfindel with orders to take several scouts to the Angle and bring back Halmir’s wife and son to be with him as he recovered.
For the next several hours, they carefully tended the injured Ranger as he tossed fitfully in his fevered sleep, washing him down with cool water and packing his swollen ankle in snow from time to time to help reduce the swelling. Lord Elrond also prepared and applied poultices to draw the infection out of the wound, as well as a special herbal decoction for purifying the blood, which he had mastered during his studies with the Avari healers during the War of Wrath and later on during his time in Lindon.
Throughout this process, Amarthalion, the Chief Bard of Imladris, along with a small chorus of singers from the Hall of Fire, supported the physicians in their efforts with powerful songs of healing and comfort for those in pain. At midnight, the great Bard, who had served Turgon in Gondolin, Idril and Eärendil in Sirion, Gil-Galad in Lindon, and now Lord Elrond in Imladris, raised his bright tenor to the heavens and led the chorus in his beautiful polyphonic setting of the Hymn to Elbereth. Lord Elrond and the other healers and attendants joined them in this familiar setting, sung nightly in the Hall of Fire to honor the Blessed Lady of the Stars.
As the glorious strains wafted through the air, Amarthalion joyfully immersed himself into the Far Plain, and above his raised hands coalesced the mystic apparition of the Vala Elbereth in her guise as Fanuilos, the intercessor. From the slopes of Mount Oiolossë she appeared, a radiant vision veiled in sparkling, snowy white, her arms raised to receive the supplications of the Children of Ilúvatar. About her shining figure, a glistening web appeared as the individual voices from his choir wove their intricate strands of melody in a bright cascade of visible sound. When the lovely hymn ended, the vision slowly faded, and Halmir groaned softly, lapsing into a peaceful sleep. The fever at last had broken.
After making Halmir as comfortable as possible, leaving instructions with his fellow healers, and thanking Amarthalion and his singers for their help, Elrond took the hobbit’s package and retired to his room for a hot bath and a few hours of much needed rest until his duties as Master of the Last Homely House would once again require his complete attention. Before dimming the lamps and taking to his bed, the great elf-lord studied the hobbit’s package and its many spots, scars, and stains with a touch of amusement and murmured, “If a brown paper wrapper could talk, I imagine you would have quite a tale to tell.”
*****
Several hours later, with the sun well above the horizon, the Master arose, feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. He dressed quickly and spent a few minutes conferring with Lord Erestor about the duties before them that morning, and then stopped briefly by the infirmary to check on Halmir’s progress. The man was still sleeping peacefully, and his wound appeared much improved. With a few quiet words to the infirmary attendants, Lord Elrond left the man in their excellent care and went in search of his morning meal and the package’s small recipient.
The dining hall was mostly empty when he arrived. His weary sons no doubt were still asleep, or had requested to have their morning meals in their rooms. But off in a corner window seat, the elf-lord spied a small barefoot figure, wrapped in a blanket, nose pressed against the window, peering out eagerly over the snow-covered landscape, with a mug of hot tea in his little hands and a plate of half-consumed, raspberry jam-besmeared scones beside him on the seat cushion.
With a fond smile, Lord Elrond quietly approached his enraptured target and whispered softly, “Good morning, little one. I have a surprise for you.”
The beloved face with its bright eyes and infectious grin, topped by a mop of curly hair, lit up at the sight of the elf-lord, and then the eyes goggled at the rather bedraggled package. “Good morning!” cried the small Master, offering the elf-lord an enthusiastic hug and causing Elrond to thank his lucky stars that the mug of tea was nearly empty. “Please, come sit with me! Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” gushed the charming creature. “Is that package really mine?”
“It most certainly is!” laughed Elrond, as he carefully moved the plate of scones and accepted a seat beside the little one. “Ranger Halmir brought it with him last night. It has had quite a long journey to get here from the Shire just in time for Yule.”
“Is he all right?” asked the small Master, his expressive face suddenly a mask of concern. “I heard from the attendants this morning that Elladan and Elrohir rescued him from a pack of wolves and that he was badly injured.”
Elrond embraced his tiny companion warmly and murmured, “He will be just fine, otherwise I would be at his side, and I would not be here to wish you a blessed Yule, my dear.”
The little fellow breathed a great sigh of relief and burst out, “Oh, I am so GLAD! Halmir is always so very nice to me whenever he comes here on patrol.” He then sipped down the last swallow of tea and set his mug aside in favor of turning the package over and over with his small hands. “Goodness! Look at all the stains on this wrapper. There’s a tear here, and that’s a burn!”
“Yes, indeed,” laughed Elrond, “And I do believe you have added your own smear of raspberry jam as well.”
“Ooops!” giggled the small Master, as he wiped his sticky hands and the package with a napkin. “Oh well, I’m going to be removing the wrapper now anyway. No harm done!”
And that’s how the package got its last stain on the First Day of Yule, bringing the total number of marks and stains to twelve – raspberry jam, wine, tea, mud, a tear, boot black, a scorch mark, grease, blood, salve, miruvor, and finally another smear of raspberry jam.
The little hands trembled with excitement, as the small Master cut through the twine, removed the valiant and dutiful brown paper wrapper, and unfolded the protective oil cloth to reveal the brightly wrapped Yule gift with its beautiful green brocade cloth and red and gold ribbons. “How lovely!” enthused Master Elrond. “You should save that wonderful cloth. Mistress Wilwarin and her ladies will surely be able to make something marvelous with it.”
“I certainly shall!” the small one replied while gently untying the ribbons and carefully unfolding the pretty green cloth. “Oh, look!” he exclaimed joyously, “It’s a book!”
Indeed, nestled within the brocade wrapping was a small, brand-new book, covered in fine, bright blue leather with the title and decorative scroll-work etched in silver leaf.
“And there’s a letter inside!” he shouted eagerly, as he drew forth a folded piece of creamy-white stationery, fairly quivering with anticipation to read the following message written in a familiar spidery hand:
The 20th of Foreyule
In the Year 1343 of the Shire Reckoning
And the Year 2943 of the Third Age
To my dearest young friend Estel,
Greetings and my best wishes to you and your kind and gentle mother Gilraen for a happy and blessed Yule! I have been thinking of you with great fondness ever since I returned home from my adventures in the Wild.
It has been a tumultuous year for me, to say the least, coming back after my long absence to find that I had been declared dead! Would you believe I actually walked in as my relatives were auctioning off my things in order to take possession of my smial? It took quite some time to convince them I really was back, and not an imposter, and most certainly NOT dead, and several months to acquire and even buy back my own belongings! It’s actually quite funny to look back on it now, but at the time, as you might imagine, it was a tremendous headache!
I cannot begin to express how very much I enjoyed getting to know you during my two visits to Lord Elrond’s wonderful Homely House and learning a bit about your people and their noble efforts to keep the North-lands safe. I was also much honored by the eager curiosity expressed by you and your little elven friend Lindariel to learn more about my beautiful home in the Shire and the ways and customs of hobbits. And so, as my gift to you for this Yule season, I have prepared the enclosed little book, Tales of the Shire, containing many of the stories about our folk that we tell our own children, so that we can maintain our ways and remember where we came from and how the Shire was established.
The beautiful illustrations you will find inside were painted for me by my talented young cousin Primula Brandybuck. She is still just a young tween, but I think you will agree that she has a remarkable gift!
I do hope you and Lindariel will enjoy these stories and cherish them in remembrance of our brief but wonderful time together. Perhaps, when you grow into the wonderful man I’m sure you will be, your own journeys might bring you one day to my beautiful country. If they do, please know that a warm welcome awaits you at Bag End.
With fondest regards, I am,
Your friend always,
Bilbo Baggins
The Baggins
Master of Bag End
Hobbiton
The Shire
THE END
Although the Master Healer of Imladris had every confidence that Halmir would make a full recovery, nonetheless, it was a tense and watchful night for Elrond and his attendants in the infirmary. After sending his weary sons off to their rooms for a long, hot bath, a good supper, and a well-earned rest, he summoned Lord Glorfindel with orders to take several scouts to the Angle and bring back Halmir’s wife and son to be with him as he recovered.
For the next several hours, they carefully tended the injured Ranger as he tossed fitfully in his fevered sleep, washing him down with cool water and packing his swollen ankle in snow from time to time to help reduce the swelling. Lord Elrond also prepared and applied poultices to draw the infection out of the wound, as well as a special herbal decoction for purifying the blood, which he had mastered during his studies with the Avari healers during the War of Wrath and later on during his time in Lindon.
Throughout this process, Amarthalion, the Chief Bard of Imladris, along with a small chorus of singers from the Hall of Fire, supported the physicians in their efforts with powerful songs of healing and comfort for those in pain. At midnight, the great Bard, who had served Turgon in Gondolin, Idril and Eärendil in Sirion, Gil-Galad in Lindon, and now Lord Elrond in Imladris, raised his bright tenor to the heavens and led the chorus in his beautiful polyphonic setting of the Hymn to Elbereth. Lord Elrond and the other healers and attendants joined them in this familiar setting, sung nightly in the Hall of Fire to honor the Blessed Lady of the Stars.
As the glorious strains wafted through the air, Amarthalion joyfully immersed himself into the Far Plain, and above his raised hands coalesced the mystic apparition of the Vala Elbereth in her guise as Fanuilos, the intercessor. From the slopes of Mount Oiolossë she appeared, a radiant vision veiled in sparkling, snowy white, her arms raised to receive the supplications of the Children of Ilúvatar. About her shining figure, a glistening web appeared as the individual voices from his choir wove their intricate strands of melody in a bright cascade of visible sound. When the lovely hymn ended, the vision slowly faded, and Halmir groaned softly, lapsing into a peaceful sleep. The fever at last had broken.
After making Halmir as comfortable as possible, leaving instructions with his fellow healers, and thanking Amarthalion and his singers for their help, Elrond took the hobbit’s package and retired to his room for a hot bath and a few hours of much needed rest until his duties as Master of the Last Homely House would once again require his complete attention. Before dimming the lamps and taking to his bed, the great elf-lord studied the hobbit’s package and its many spots, scars, and stains with a touch of amusement and murmured, “If a brown paper wrapper could talk, I imagine you would have quite a tale to tell.”
*****
Several hours later, with the sun well above the horizon, the Master arose, feeling refreshed and ready to face the day. He dressed quickly and spent a few minutes conferring with Lord Erestor about the duties before them that morning, and then stopped briefly by the infirmary to check on Halmir’s progress. The man was still sleeping peacefully, and his wound appeared much improved. With a few quiet words to the infirmary attendants, Lord Elrond left the man in their excellent care and went in search of his morning meal and the package’s small recipient.
The dining hall was mostly empty when he arrived. His weary sons no doubt were still asleep, or had requested to have their morning meals in their rooms. But off in a corner window seat, the elf-lord spied a small barefoot figure, wrapped in a blanket, nose pressed against the window, peering out eagerly over the snow-covered landscape, with a mug of hot tea in his little hands and a plate of half-consumed, raspberry jam-besmeared scones beside him on the seat cushion.
With a fond smile, Lord Elrond quietly approached his enraptured target and whispered softly, “Good morning, little one. I have a surprise for you.”
The beloved face with its bright eyes and infectious grin, topped by a mop of curly hair, lit up at the sight of the elf-lord, and then the eyes goggled at the rather bedraggled package. “Good morning!” cried the small Master, offering the elf-lord an enthusiastic hug and causing Elrond to thank his lucky stars that the mug of tea was nearly empty. “Please, come sit with me! Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” gushed the charming creature. “Is that package really mine?”
“It most certainly is!” laughed Elrond, as he carefully moved the plate of scones and accepted a seat beside the little one. “Ranger Halmir brought it with him last night. It has had quite a long journey to get here from the Shire just in time for Yule.”
“Is he all right?” asked the small Master, his expressive face suddenly a mask of concern. “I heard from the attendants this morning that Elladan and Elrohir rescued him from a pack of wolves and that he was badly injured.”
Elrond embraced his tiny companion warmly and murmured, “He will be just fine, otherwise I would be at his side, and I would not be here to wish you a blessed Yule, my dear.”
The little fellow breathed a great sigh of relief and burst out, “Oh, I am so GLAD! Halmir is always so very nice to me whenever he comes here on patrol.” He then sipped down the last swallow of tea and set his mug aside in favor of turning the package over and over with his small hands. “Goodness! Look at all the stains on this wrapper. There’s a tear here, and that’s a burn!”
“Yes, indeed,” laughed Elrond, “And I do believe you have added your own smear of raspberry jam as well.”
“Ooops!” giggled the small Master, as he wiped his sticky hands and the package with a napkin. “Oh well, I’m going to be removing the wrapper now anyway. No harm done!”
And that’s how the package got its last stain on the First Day of Yule, bringing the total number of marks and stains to twelve – raspberry jam, wine, tea, mud, a tear, boot black, a scorch mark, grease, blood, salve, miruvor, and finally another smear of raspberry jam.
The little hands trembled with excitement, as the small Master cut through the twine, removed the valiant and dutiful brown paper wrapper, and unfolded the protective oil cloth to reveal the brightly wrapped Yule gift with its beautiful green brocade cloth and red and gold ribbons. “How lovely!” enthused Master Elrond. “You should save that wonderful cloth. Mistress Wilwarin and her ladies will surely be able to make something marvelous with it.”
“I certainly shall!” the small one replied while gently untying the ribbons and carefully unfolding the pretty green cloth. “Oh, look!” he exclaimed joyously, “It’s a book!”
Indeed, nestled within the brocade wrapping was a small, brand-new book, covered in fine, bright blue leather with the title and decorative scroll-work etched in silver leaf.
“And there’s a letter inside!” he shouted eagerly, as he drew forth a folded piece of creamy-white stationery, fairly quivering with anticipation to read the following message written in a familiar spidery hand:
The 20th of Foreyule
In the Year 1343 of the Shire Reckoning
And the Year 2943 of the Third Age
To my dearest young friend Estel,
Greetings and my best wishes to you and your kind and gentle mother Gilraen for a happy and blessed Yule! I have been thinking of you with great fondness ever since I returned home from my adventures in the Wild.
It has been a tumultuous year for me, to say the least, coming back after my long absence to find that I had been declared dead! Would you believe I actually walked in as my relatives were auctioning off my things in order to take possession of my smial? It took quite some time to convince them I really was back, and not an imposter, and most certainly NOT dead, and several months to acquire and even buy back my own belongings! It’s actually quite funny to look back on it now, but at the time, as you might imagine, it was a tremendous headache!
I cannot begin to express how very much I enjoyed getting to know you during my two visits to Lord Elrond’s wonderful Homely House and learning a bit about your people and their noble efforts to keep the North-lands safe. I was also much honored by the eager curiosity expressed by you and your little elven friend Lindariel to learn more about my beautiful home in the Shire and the ways and customs of hobbits. And so, as my gift to you for this Yule season, I have prepared the enclosed little book, Tales of the Shire, containing many of the stories about our folk that we tell our own children, so that we can maintain our ways and remember where we came from and how the Shire was established.
The beautiful illustrations you will find inside were painted for me by my talented young cousin Primula Brandybuck. She is still just a young tween, but I think you will agree that she has a remarkable gift!
I do hope you and Lindariel will enjoy these stories and cherish them in remembrance of our brief but wonderful time together. Perhaps, when you grow into the wonderful man I’m sure you will be, your own journeys might bring you one day to my beautiful country. If they do, please know that a warm welcome awaits you at Bag End.
With fondest regards, I am,
Your friend always,
Bilbo Baggins
The Baggins
Master of Bag End
Hobbiton
The Shire
THE END
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