This was written for my good friend jodancingtree, as a birthday present. It is set in the universe of her wonderful epic AU-tales Following the Other Wizard and The Queen's Orc,. This little story takes place one millenium after the end of The Queen's Orc.

*****

Keeper of the Shire
By Cuthálion

The Shire, 2433

Little Elanor (named after the famous “Elanor the Fair”, daughter of the even more famous Mayor Sam Gardener) lay in her bed for nearly a week now. It had started with a sniffle, then turned to a painful tightness in her throat -- and now each new fit of coughing seemed to rip her body apart. Her mother, Primula Boffin, had tried a new ribwort syrup, but so far it didn’t work.

So she sat beside the bed of her little daughter, holding the fever-hot hand and humming the lullabyes she had already sung for Elanor’s four bigger brothers when they were babies.

They were living near Undertowers. Little Elanor’s famous namesake had founded the hobbit-settlement nearly 1000 years ago between the heartland of the Shire and the edge of the sea, after the Old War. Since then, all hobbit children had learned the ancient names, their sound an exciting music in the little ears and familiar to everyone: Frodo Baggins, the “Ringbearer” who lost a finger when he destroyed the ring of the Great Enemy, his gardener Sam Gamgee who stayed in the Shire after his master left and became the ancestor of an old family still important and well known in the home country of all hobbits. There were Meriadoc Brandybuck, the legendary Master of Buckland whose descendant still reigned in Brandy Hall and his cousin Peregrin Took, no less legendary Thain. The graves of both lay in a distant land, in Gondor, where now Isildur II was king. His forebear Aragorn, “King of many names”, had fought the last battle against the Great Enemy before Frodo the Ringbearer threw the ring into the fire of the mountain while fighting with an unspeakably frightening creature called Sméagol.

In the years that followed the Shire prospered and bloomed, but a century later there were new enemies bringing murder and demolition and trying to seize the land. It was at this time that the Keeper appeared, fighting them back as the new commander of the King’s soldiers and bringing a long-lasting peace. And with him came the Healer, his wife, and their offspring protected the Shire since that time and up to this very day.----

The small fingers in Primula’s hand went limp as Elanor fell asleep. Primula leaned in, kissing the brow under the sweat-damp curls. She went out and closed the door behind her.

“The cough isn’t getting any better,” she told her husband, “and the fever is still rising.”

Bargo Boffin lit his pipe and spoke through a blue, aromatic cloud of smoke. “The Keeper will be here tomorrow. And I’m sure the Healer will be with him. They will take the road to that ancient elven harbor, like every year, to remember and honor their friends that have sailed west.”

“That is good news, love!” Primula replied, a heavy burden suddenly lifting from her heart. “I’m sure the Healer will know what to do.”

******

It was not nice to be ill; Elanor tossed and turned on the crumpled bed sheet, and the pillow under her head felt like a hard clot. She wanted to get out of her small, airless chamber, she wanted to go out and run on the green grass; together with her brothers she’d even managed to escape the care of her Mama once and to reach the Elven Towers on the hills… an adventure she’d never forgot. She wanted to see the ocean.

Suddenly the door opened and she heard the voice of her mother. “She is in here, milady. I’m really glad that you have come.”

She turned her head and saw a figure bowing under the low lintel. It was a woman, but not a hobbit: Elanor had never seen her before. Long hair, smooth and shining like white moonlight, fell over her shoulders and nearly down to her waist, and the light of the lamp illuminated the right side of her face, revealing features as fine and noble as a cameo.

Elanor stared, her mouth half open; she watched the unknown visitor coming closer and crouching down beside her bed.

“Let me see, little wilwarin…” The voice of the woman was astonishingly low, rich and sweet like honey. Elanor watched as long slender fingers unbuttoned her cotton nightgown, and then a small wooden ear trumpet touched her skin and made her shiver.

“Did she cough up a lot of phlegm?” the woman asked.

“Yes, Milady.” her mother answered.

“Very good.” Her nightgown was buttoned up again, and the woman straightened her back. “I have brought some poppy essence with me. She must take two teaspoons of it and something sweet to drink, and then she should be able to sleep the fever away and to get the rest she needs.”

The stranger turned her head, and now Elanor could see the other half of her face; a mass of old scars marred the cheek and wound both down to her chin and up to the temple, vanishing in the silvery white hair. Only the ear was unharmed; it was pointy and translucent like a sea shell. The small girl gave a short gasp, but the small shock dissolved nearly at once into a great excitement.

“Ohh… you are the Healer!” she said with a small, hoarse voice. “Mistress Fairbairn told us about you… and you are the Keeper’s wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am indeed.” The woman stroke her cheek with a cool hand. “And you should go outside after a good night’s rest and breathe the fresh salty air. You will feel much better when you are allowed to spread your wings, my little wilwarin.”

“Will you still be here tomorrow?” Elanor asked.

“No, I don’t think so.” The woman got up. “But I will return from the Havens within the next three days, and then we may meet again.”

She was nearly out of the door when the voice of the little girl held her back.

“May I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“How does it feel to be married for more than a thousand years?”

“Elanor!” Primula Boffin froze in horror, but a smile spread on the face of the Healer and shone in her dark eyes.

“It is wonderful if you are clever enough to chose the right mate,” she replied, humor and joy ringing in her voice. “And that is what I most certainly did.”

*****

Three days later, Elanor had finally been able to leave her bed; she was playing on the road in front of the smial, wrapped in a warm cardigan and a long scarf. The air was fresh and cold, washed clean from a long rain in the night, and the sun was slowly setting, painting the sky with a firework of gold, crimson and pink.

Suddenly she heard the sound of approaching feet and hooves; she raised her head and saw four soldiers in the garb of Gondor. They rode towards her, the visors of their helmets open, their gaze aimed straight ahead. Behind them came a dapple-grey palfrey, its delicate hooves dancing on the grassy path. On its back sat the Healer, the hood of her long dark cloak stripped down and her moonwhite hair fluttering in fine wisps around her slender face. Beside her, one strong, dark hand at the stirrup of her mount, walked a sturdy figure in black and silver armor. Elanor caught a glimpse of a grey face, of many, neatly plaited braids and of piercing black eyes and stood without moving, gazing in surprise and wonder.

She awoke from her motionlessness when the soldiers had passed her by.

“Milady!” she cried with a high, excited voice, waving with both hands. The soldiers stopped at once, and the dark attendant of the Lady grabbed the reins of the palfrey and turned his head in her direction.

It was the first time that Elanor met him, and of course she knew who he was – how could she not? There were songs sung about him… about the orc warrior who met the Ringbearer on his quest to heal the burned and poisoned lands of the East, of their wondrous friendship and the famous jewel of the Elven Queen that he still wore around his neck after thousand years of care and protection of the Shire.

His forehead drew back over heavy brows, a flat nose and a strong chin, his chest and abdomen were broad and round like a barrel over bended legs. His feet stuck in leather boots and the fingernails of his bare hands were close cut. There was nothing ridiculous about him, and nothing that frightened her. Years and years of patient lessons for more than ten hobbit generations paid off well; she looked at him with no fear at all, but with deep fascination.

“Is this the little one to whom you gave the poppy syrup, melethril?” he asked with a voice that came rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Yes.” The Healer smiled and slid with easy grace out of the saddle of her palfrey. “How are you today, wilwarin?”

“I’m fine!” But Elanor’s gaze still rested on the Keeper, and without thinking she blurted out with the question that she’d been thinking of from the moment she first saw him.

“Do you really still wear the jewel?”

The Keeper made a few steps towards her and bowed down; he was not as big as the Big People, but big enough for a ten-year-old hobbit girl. Then he reached behind his black armor and pulled out a long glittering chain. Elanor saw the huge white gem catching the last red rays of the sun and blazing like a shooting star, and her eyes grew wide.

“And the Ringbearer gave it to you?” she whispered. The gem scattered rainbow sparks over her hands and face, and then her eyes met the eyes of the Keeper and they shared a smile.

“Yes, he did. He was my shieldbrother and my runt, and he gave it to me.”

“Your runt?” Elanor giggled. “Why did you call him so?”

The Keeper laughed. “Because he was so small, little one. Nearly as small as you are. Do you know many stories about him?”

“I know that he threw the ring of the Great Enemy into the fire.” Elanor replied, eager to please him. “I know he wasn’t allowed to sail into the West with the Elven Lords. And I know that he went into the East to heal the Land, together with the Birdtamer.”

“The… ah, you’re talking about Radagast!” The Keeper gave a loud, bellowing laughter. “I bet the old man would have liked that!”

In this moment Primula stepped out of the smial.

“Is my daughter bothering you?” she asked with some concern. “Elanor, you should go inside and lay down. “

“No, Mistress, she is certainly no bother.” The Keeper replied with real friendliness. “And I think there are more stories to be told. If you don’t mind, we would like to stay here and tell the young miss some tales she should know.”

“Oh!” Elanor’s mother was startled, but she quickly regained her composure. No true hobbit woman shied back from the challenge of feeding unexpected guests, even if they were embodied legends of Shire history.

“Of course, Mylord. Would you like to come in?” she asked with perfect courtesy. The Keeper laughed again.

“No, Mistress. We would prefer to stay outside under the stars, if you allow. I will send my guard to strike a camp; the have enough provisions in their saddle bags to share a good meal tonight. And if you would be so kind to bring us something to eat and to drink?”

“And a soft, warm blanket for the little one to sit upon and another one to cover her up as long as she’s willing to listen,” the Healer added.

Half an hour later a bright fire was burning in an iron fire bowl, and Primula and Bargo Boffin carried trays with food outside. The Keeper and the Healer enjoyed the meal, and both accepted a mug of the beer Bargo brewed in his cellar. And the Keeper told Elanor and her parents tales about healing and hope, about joy and sorrow, about fighting, danger and bear hunts until Elanor fell asleep on her mother’s lap and was carried inside by her father. And still the Keeper spoke, and Bargo and Primula listened with open mouths and wide eyes like stunned children until the fire died down and he was silent.

Then the Healer raised her voice and sang, a song full of love, of the grief for everything that was lost forever and of hard-won peace, and when the song was over, Elanor’s parents wiped away their tears, bowed deeply and went to bed, leaving behind their guests. The Keeper laid down on the blanket, taking the Healer into his arms, and they talked softly until the stars paled and the rosy fingers of the dawn reached over the sky.

*****

When Elanor woke up the next morning, the last remnants of her cold were gone, and she slipped into her dress as fast as she could and hurried outside.

But the lawn in front of the smial was empty, and the soldiers were gone, and with them their legendary guests. The air was cool and soft on her face, and she gazed up to the Elven Towers on the Hills and saw the gulls circling around them, blazing white in the early sunlight.

“But I have seen them.” Elanor whispered to herself, eyes shining. “I have seen them. They are real.”

And she turned her back to the towers and went back inside with shining eyes, her heart still filled with the vivid memory of Malawen the beautiful Healer and Queen Arwen’s Orc Canohando, Keeper of the Shire.

THE END

wilwarin - butterfly
melethril – my love