Chapter 19 - “Another Fine Mess”

Penny was blinking at Lindir. No. No, no, no. Oh, hell. Hell and damnation and...

She sighed. She knew it would come. She was just thankful that she no longer had the belt on now it had arrived.

She had turned up at the stables that morning to find, horror of horrors, the mare Lindir had been getting her to tend to most days was saddled and with a bridle. It could only mean one thing.

Lindir, seeing Penny approach, grinned broadly.

Penny now stood in front of him, arms folded, and looking less than impressed.

“Come along, Pen-ii. You knew it would happen sooner or later. The sooner you get on, the sooner you learn and the easier it will be.” He was beckoning her over as he spoke.

Penny shook her head, resigning herself to the fact that there would be no escaping it. ‘Besides,’ she thought, ‘Who knows how long I’ll be stuck here. Probably no bad thing to learn how to deal with the main mode of transport, I guess.’

It was a thought that had been building recently. She did not know how she had got here, other than it was sudden. She supposed that it could just as easily happen again in the opposite direction but ‘when’ or even ‘if’ were completely unknowable. It was another one of those points she tried not to think about too hard.

She put one foot in the stirrup and hauled herself up. She could do that much herself, having had enough practice with Halbarad. She sat uncomfortably on the horse feeling like a sack of potatoes. She suspected she did not look too dissimilar to one as well.

Lindir was looking at her with an amused expression on his face. He shook his head and indicated for her to get down. Penny was baffled. She got off the horse only for Lindir to lift her and sit her sideways on the saddle. His strength surprised her since he had lifted her just as easily as Halbarad had done. It just went to show: these elves may not be broad-shouldered like the men, but they were just as muscular and strong.

Sitting sideways on the saddle she felt even more precarious.

Lindir took her feet and balanced them on a little padded step built into the bottom of the saddle. Then he handed her the reins and showed her how to hold them. Then he said something and the horse stepped forward. Penny screeched, really feeling like she was going to fall off. Lindir, saying something to the horse so it stopped as well as placing his hand on its neck to reassure it, looked at Penny with astonishment.

This was going to be more difficult than he thought.

Eventually the only way Penny would settle enough, though she was still very nervous and tense, was if he put a leading rein on the horse and walked in front. It was completely unnecessary given that the horse would follow him obediently wherever he led it without it, but even so. Better that than no riding lesson at all.

As she was led down to the gates and then towards the paddocks, Penny felt embarrassed. They passed several elves on their way, all of them looking at her, staring, nudging or giggling. She assumed it was them laughing at her clear inability to ride. In fact it was the leading rein which they found so funny since it could only be there to calm Penny. It was an indication of how frightened she was and how little she knew of horses.

After a little while of letting her go round in circles in a paddock, with the leading rope getting longer and longer, Lindir said a word and the knot on the rope undid itself. Penny squeaked in protest but Lindir gave her a stern look as he coiled up the rope. “No, Pen-ii. You are used enough to her by now.”

The horse moved forward, Penny stiff and rigid in the saddle and holding the reins out in front of her as if they were burning her. Lindir came up to walk alongside them, making encouraging noises, though whether they were for the horse’s benefit or hers Penny was not sure.

In the end it was not as bad as she had thought it would be. She did not have to do anything other than sit there since Lindir did it all, directing the horse as to when it should stop or move and which direction to take. This would continue in the same way for a few days till she began to feel more comfortable on a horse by herself. Then, and only then, would Lindir start showing her how to make the horse move for herself.

When it happened he showed her both what to do physically as well as taught her the Sindarin commands the elves used. Just as well to get her used to riding both horses trained by elves as well as those who were not. That way she would not have any problems riding either in the future. That was what he had been instructed by Lord Elrond.

So she would learn how to pull the reins, or gently tap with her foot against the horse’s flank, and learn a word to say at the same time as each action. This was how she first learned the Sindarin for ‘left’ and ‘right’. She realised that this was what Halbarad had done: used Sindarin speech as well as a physical action to direct his horse. She wondered if that was something the Dúnedain did as a matter of course or whether he too had been taught by the elves. Either was possible, she supposed.

As her confidence increased over the next few days and she started directing the horse herself, always under Lindir’s watchful gaze, she sewed up the remains of her PJs one evening – now little more than shorts – and took to wearing them under her skirts for her riding lessons. The last thing she needed was to fall off a horse and have her skirts fly over her head without anything on underneath. Last thing Lindir would need too she suspected.

In the meantime life continued in the same routine it had settled into. She was a familiar figure round Rivendell now, as were the other guests. She often spent time sitting with Gandalf and the hobbits, who had taken to her somewhat and especially now Sam was helping out in the garden.

Her work in the garden led to her having regular contact with the cooks as well. Often she would wheel a barrow full of freshly dug vegetables to the kitchen door beside the sink and then unload them as they directed her. She found herself, occasionally, staying on in the kitchen after her work was finished in the gardens, to watch them cook. That in turn meant she was soon being taught things.

The first time this happened was actually one morning. She had decided to do some gardening before lunch for a change. As she passed by the kitchen door, Naurdir accosted her, waving two chickens at her. They needed plucking.

“Lord Elrond said you were to start helping in the kitchen, Pen-ii, well we need as many helping out as we can get for this kind of job.” Mireth was already there and Celebdor. Even Merry and Sam had been roped in. They were all sat on stools, along with all the cooks, plucking.

Penny took the chicken, trying not to make too much of a face as she did so, and sat on an empty stool. It involved laying the bird across your lap and pulling. That was it as far as she could tell. She made a start, trying to ignore the way it’s head flopped limply over her knee, and managed to get a few half-broken off feathers in her hand. This was tougher than it looked.

Someone nudged her. She looked beside her to see Merry grinning at her. “Look, Pen-ii, this is how it’s done,” and he proceeded to show her how to pull against the lie of the feathers, and with some force too. He worked in a steady rhythm. He nodded and smiled at her. “You try it.”

She was hopeless but she struggled on valiantly nevertheless. She realised that everyone thought it a little odd that she was unused to such a task. Similarly there were glances and murmurs when she was roped in to helping the kitchen proper. Her turning green at the sight of anything resembling the animal it had once been, let alone any gutting or skinning, was treated with amusement, bafflement or mild annoyance.

It took every iota of her will power to do it. Over the coming days whenever she helped in the kitchen she gritted her teeth and forced herself to get used to such things. Soon enough she was helping to stuff hearts and scrape tripe, as vile as it was. The tripe stank. Really, really stank. It was disgusting. Added to which, the smell remained in her nostrils for the rest of the day and meant she hardly ate a thing at supper.

The grimace on her face as she cut open whole hearts was priceless. She ignored the grins and sniggering. “I’ll show the arrogant buggers. I can do this. I can do this. I will bloody do this. Even if I have to run out of here vomiting,” she was muttering as she took the minced livers, breadcrumb, onion and mushroom stuffing and wedged it in firmly. Ewwww! Oh God. She was touching...

She tried not to think about it. She just had to get used to it. She had to. Who knew how long she would be here, and if... if she was stuck here... well, she couldn’t stay in Rivendell forever. She’d have to live amongst humans one day, she supposed, strike out on her own. Perhaps. She’d need to be able to cope with buying whole rabbits or unplucked chickens from the market. Or worse. Memories of Bree washed over her and she shuddered.

It got her thinking, though. What would happen to her? Within five months the War would be over. Then what? It was weird enough being here as it was. Thinking about what might be if she stayed in Middle Earth just terrified her. She felt happy enough (in relative terms) in Rivendell but she suspected she would not be allowed to stay indefinitely.

Arwen was very kind to her, making sure she was well looked after. She would make a point of getting Penny to sit with her in the evenings amongst the general company after meals, or else if she saw Penny when she was in the garden also, would call her over and talk. Even if Penny didn’t understand, Arwen would point out flowers, or simply try and make her feel included in whatever conversation was going on around her. The hobbits used similar tactics, as did the Rivendell elves she was getting to know. Erestor and Lord Elrond would call her over to sit with them if in company, so she was getting to hear a lot of Sindarin and beginning to recognise individual words, though she did not know what they always meant.

If Boromir was among the company she would do her best to not look at him or respond to him at all. In fact she did everything she could to avoid him even to the point of turning and walking in the opposite direction if she saw him heading towards her on occasion. If Gandalf was around he was careful to steer her away from him or give her some excuse to leave and get away from him. If Gandalf wasn’t around, though, it was not always so easy. Several times, now, she had found herself trapped in a corridor with him alone and he, taking his cue no doubt from the first time he had really tried to talk to her, would point out figures in paintings on the walls, explaining the scenes or stories they came from.

Many scenes she understood on sight, or she heard the names and could guess, and she was interested how many seemed to be related to Elrond himself. There was a portrait of Gil-Galad in his armour and his herald beside him; Earendil in his boat, the silmaril on his brow; Elwing in flight and the Nauglamir round her neck. There were views of Nargothrond, of Doriath or Gondolin. Boromir pointed them and others out to her. He clearly knew his history.

Even so she did her best to get away from him as fast as she could on such occasions, often muttering the name of some skill she was learning, or Mireth’s or Eleniel’s names, as if she had somewhere she needed to be. The problem was he was such a nice bloke. Really nice. Very affable, charming, well read and learned. He was as handsome as hell: tall, dark and strong. If it wasn’t for the fact that this was Boromir - Boromir who tries to take the Ring and, more to the point, will be dead in three months – she would have really enjoyed getting to know him better, or as well as she could within the confines of no mutual language.

Already she felt waves of sadness and despair hit her when she let herself think of the fact that he would die and that she knew it, that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She also had another problem on her hands. She couldn’t put her finger on it exactly but she had noticed that Legolas seemed to be watching her quite frequently. She had, at first, thought she was imagining it then realised she couldn’t be when she glanced in his direction three times one evening to find him staring at her each time. His gaze had been one of curiosity but hard, his jaw tight. She hadn’t liked his look at all.

She remembered what had been said when she had first met Arwen properly and she started to be concerned that he had sensed something about her just as Arwen had. Elrond had told her not to worry about such a possibility, but she couldn’t help thinking about it. For several days after that conversation she had found herself second-guessing every elf she spoke to which was horrible. She had caught herself even doing it with Mireth and Eleniel, which was unforgivable.

There was a knock on the Lord Elrond’s door. It was late afternoon in early December, just after dusk but an hour or two before the evening meal.

“Come in.”

A figure entered hesitantly. “Forgive me, my lord. I trust I am not disturbing you? Lord Erestor told me you were here.”

Elrond looked up from his desk and the paper he was reading. “Not at all, Legolas. Please, do come in.” He stood. “Would you care for some wine?”

“I thank you, my lord, that would be most agreeable.”

Elrond gestured Legolas to sit in a chair on one side of the fireplace. There was no fire lit but the chairs there were more comfortable and it would be a more pleasant place to discuss whatever it was on the young prince’s mind. He was clearly troubled. That was obvious from his eyes.

Elrond came over to him, holding two cups of wine, and handed one to Legolas before seating himself opposite him. “Now then, Legolas. Why don’t you tell me what is on your mind? What did you want to see me about?”

Legolas did not answer immediately. He sipped his wine slowly, not looking directly at Elrond, as if trying to marshal his thoughts and considering how best to begin. At last, he lowered his cup, looked Elrond directly in the eye and said, “Who, exactly, is Lady Pen-ii?”

There was a brief silence during which Elrond studied the young prince thoughtfully. “What exactly do you mean by your question, Legolas? I am not sure how best to answer you.”

Legolas nodded. “I notice you answer my question with one of your own. Very well, my lord, I shall be frank. I am surprised that she is here as a guest and given free access to your realm. I admit I do not know her, but there is something about her that I sense, like nothing I have ever known. I know what her story is and yet...” He paused briefly and then looked Elrond straight in the eye as he continued, “And yet I do not believe it. Not for a moment.”

Elrond said nothing. He sat, his face impassive, his eyes narrowed slightly as he sipped his wine and allowed Legolas to continue.

“She has not lost her memory as Mithrandir claims. I can feel she has not. I have met those who have had such experiences. There was one unfortunate from Dale who suffered a terrible blow to the head in the Battle of the Five Armies. The poor man could not remember his own name, let alone his own family or history. He recovered, but not for many months. I know how that feels and she does not have that. Or not for me, at least, and, as I say, I have had prior experience of it. I find it curious and disturbing that one as strange as she should be here among us at such a time, and with the presence of such a thing as we have here with us in Imladris at this moment. It cannot be coincidence. Forgive me, my lord, if I seem overbold. I am sure if I sense this from her, then you and Mithrandir cannot fail to do so also. I just felt I should bring the matter to your attention.”

Elrond nodded and smiled thinly. “I thank you, Lord Legolas, for your conscientiousness in this regard. Though, I feel you are not being wholly honest.”

Legolas made a gasp of protest but Elrond held up his hand to stop him as he continued, “What you want to know is, if I and Mithrandir sense what you sense, then why have we not done anything about it? In truth, you feel you deserve an explanation, perhaps?”

Legolas coloured a little but nodded. “Forgive me if I seem presumptuous, but these are serious and dangerous times, my lord, as you well know...”

“And you are a prince in your own realm and one used to being in full possession of the facts. After the details and knowledge you were party to in the Council you feel it strange to be kept in the dark in this matter. Very well, Legolas. I am not surprised, in truth. I imagined one or two might sense something more than her simply being foreign to us, though she is foreign to us, Legolas, but I do not think you could even begin to guess by how much.”

Elrond stood, placing his cup on the mantelpiece as he did so. “I think, Legolas, you might better understand this from Lady Pen-ii herself. You would not believe me if I were to tell you without proof.” Legolas’s brow furrowed in incomprehension. “Please, wait here for a moment will you?” With that Elrond left his study.

He quickly found Erestor and explained the situation. Erestor shook his head. “I feared something like this might happen. Elbereth be praised it is at least someone as trustworthy and clear-headed as Legolas.”

“Indeed,” agreed Elrond. “I need you to find Mithrandir and Pen-ii. Bring them to my study as soon as you are able. I did not wish for any others to know of this, but Legolas deserves an explanation, even if he is one of those to go with Maura.”

Erestor nodded and bustled off, having a pretty shrewd idea of where Mithrandir and Penny might be since he had just come from the large antechamber where a crowd were exchanging stories and both had been there.

As Elrond re-entered his study Legolas asked, “What is this about, Lord Elrond? I take it I am correct in my assessment of her?”

“In part, yes. She is a stranger, foreign to our languages and customs. She does, as you suspected, indeed know where she comes from. The truth will shock and surprise you as it did me. You should know that not only Mithrandir knows the truth. There were six of us that questioned her: Erestor, Aragorn, Glorfindel and Halbarad being the other four. The twins and Arwen know also.”

Legolas nodded. In part that so many knew and yet she was still given free reign among them all alleviated his fears greatly. Even just to know that Elrond, as he had suspected, knew had eased his heart.

He had been greatly troubled when he had heard Gloín’s question and Mithrandir’s answer a week or so ago. He had immediately known it was not true and yet could not think why Mithrandir would lie, nor why her identity should be hidden. That, combined with the utter strangeness he sensed from her, had perturbed him. The more he had studied her and focused his attention on her, the more strange and alien she had seemed to him. It had worried him greatly. At first he had tried to push it away from his mind, refusing to consider that Mithrandir or Elrond would allow someone who may be a threat to walk among them. It had then occurred to him that they may have considered it better to have a threat where they could keep an eye on it rather than working against them unseen. It was then he had resolved to speak to Lord Elrond about it. He had a right to know. He was a representative of the North, would be going on an important and dangerous quest. If there was a danger to the quest, himself, his father’s realm or the Ring, he felt he should be told.

“I am glad you came to me with this, Legolas. Better you know the truth and all doubt is eased from your heart than you think we are holding back important information from you. When you discover what her story is you will, perhaps, understand better why I did not wish it to be generally known, and especially not to any of those who will accompany Maura.”

“So it does concern the Ring!”

“Only indirectly. I will let her explain.”

There was a knock on the door and Erestor entered with Mithrandir and Penny following him. As Erestor turned to go, Elrond bade him stay. “You may be able to help convince Legolas of the truth of all this. You might remember how difficult some of us were to convince at the time.”

As Legolas raised an eyebrow at this, Gandalf smirked, “Yes, Elrond. Some were indeed very difficult to convince.”

Elrond coughed and muttered something about not being entirely sure what Mithrandir was driving at. Then he turned to Penny, offering her a seat and some wine, before either Erestor or Gandalf could respond.

At last they were all seated and settled. It was Elrond who began. “Pen- ii, I appreciate this may be difficult for you, but I must ask you to explain where you come from and what your story is to Lord Legolas.”

Penny wasn’t sure she had understood Gandalf correctly at first. She looked at Elrond, who nodded, then at Legolas who was watching her quietly with that same intent, hard look she had caught him sending her way every now and then the last few days.

“Oh, shit.”

Mithrandir raised an eyebrow and didn’t translate.

She nearly spilled her wine as she let her head fall into her free hand with a groan. Then she looked at Elrond. “You said I had nothing to worry about. You said that most of the elves here would not sense anything about me. I presume he,” she gestured at Legolas, “has in fact sussed out that I am not who you are all saying I am.”

She sunk back into her chair, her elbow on the chair’s arm and her brow in her hand. She was worried now. Really worried. She knew that she had nothing to fear in the sense that those who already knew would make sure she was treated well but the idea that everyone would somehow guess or that word would get out in some way terrified her. They would all think her some kind of freak. It would change how they dealt with her completely. Especially if it became know that she knew what lay ahead of them all. God, it just didn’t bear thinking about.

She was toying with her wine cup, her breathing quickening slightly as all this ran through her head. There was silence from the four males in the room.

Legolas suddenly had a feeling that this was very big indeed and that she was very worried that he had even brought it up at all. He turned to Elrond, “What is this all about?”

Elrond sighed and then said gently, “Pen-ii? Please?”

She looked up at Legolas and he could see tears in her eyes. His brow furrowed even more.

“I am... I...” She sighed. “I do not know how I got here. I am from here, but not from this time. I.. Oh God, how do you explain this? There are two Ages or more between my time and this. All this, all of you, are known to me. I have read it all in a book. You are like myths. Like Gondolin or Valinor would seem to you, well that’s how you are to me.”

She waited as Gandalf translated her meaning, watching Legolas’s reaction as he listened. He snorted, smiling, clearly thinking it a joke. Then, as he glanced at the faces of Erestor, Gandalf and Elrond he realised that they were deadly serious. He looked back at Penny. “You cannot be serious? This is a jest, a trick, surely? It is not possible. I refuse to believe it!”

Penny didn’t need a translation. There was nothing she could say about Legolas that he would not think someone else had told her. She looked at Mithrandir, “Please explain to Lord Legolas that no-one here has told me anything of him or his family outside of that brief mention of King Thranduil when you, Bilba and Gloín were telling your story of Erebor the other day.”

Gandalf translated this and added, “I can vouch for what she says, Legolas. You must believe her.”

Penny looked at Legolas. “I have to confess that little is known of your history, Lord Legolas. I do not know if you have brothers or sisters. I do not know your mother’s name or her fate. All we know of you is that you are one of the Eight chosen to go with Maura and the One Ring. I know what your fate will be but don’t ask me because I won’t tell you. You are Legolas, son of King Thranduil, son of Oropher. Oropher came from Doriath and fought at the Battle of the Last Alliance. He didn’t wait for the signal from Gil-galad, but went ahead and charged. Your father brought home only one-third of the army to your realm from that battle. That is all I can tell you of your past. There is also no way I could know what you came here for, nor what you said in the Council, would you agree?”

Legolas nodded as Gandalf translated her question. He was not convinced. Anyone could have told her what she had just told him of his family.

“Very well. You came here to tell of Smeagol’s escape.”

Legolas gasped. He looked from Elrond to Gandalf who simply smiled sadly back at him.

“You know that no-one from the Council would have told her what was said there, Legolas. I know you do not need to ask us that,” said Elrond as he saw the younger elf’s astonishment.

Penny continued. “There was an attack. Yrch. Smeagol escaped but not before some of your people were killed. It was Aragorn who brought him to your father, at Mithrandir’s insistence.” Legolas nodded dumbly as Penny shrugged. “It is not much, and it may not convince you. You might think I learnt this from people telling me, but I didn’t I promise you. I read it. I read it in a book. Erestor, Mithrandir and Elrond can tell you.”

And they did: all three relating, in brief, what had happened at the questioning and how she had shown knowledge she could not have possibly known. Legolas’s eyes were wide in astonishment, alternately staring at whoever was speaking and then back at Penny.

At last silence fell and Legolas struggled to take in what he had been told. When he finally spoke his voice was quiet. “I see now, Lord Elrond, why you did not want this known and especially not to those who will travel with Maura given the fate of that journey is known and the outcome of the impending war.” He considered Penny thoughtfully for a moment. Then, “You must forgive me, Lady Pen-ii. I think I may have been a little cold towards you till now.”

She shook her head. “No, but I had noticed you watching me. I guessed that something was up.”

“It must be difficult for you to have such knowledge, my lady. Can I ask, is this part of the reason for your behaviour with Lord Boromir? I only ask because he has noticed and interpreted it otherwise.”

“What do you mean?”

Lord Elrond and Erestor were also looking confused. Only Gandalf knew of Penny’s discomfort with Boromir and not even he knew the reason why. As Gandalf translated Penny’s question he added, “Yes, Legolas, what do you mean?”

“Well, I have noticed Lady Pen-ii trying to avoid him. So has he, in fact. He mentioned it to me, jokingly, the other evening. He had tried to say something to you, Lady Pen-ii, in the Hall of Fire and, well, you muttered something and very deliberately crossed the room to talk to Lady Mireth. You...” Legolas cleared his throat. “You blushed a little, if truth be told. I think that he is under the impression... well... that, er..” Legolas trailed off.

As Gandalf translated what Legolas had said, Penny looked at the blond elf and caught a look in his eye: partial amusement and partial embarrassment.

Oh my God.

No. No, no. Oh, bloody hell. No bloody way, this was NOT happening. Someone tell her this was not bloody happening. She turned in horror to look at the other three, now smirking slightly, Elrond with one eyebrow raised. Only Mithrandir looked at all serious but there was a questioning look even in his eye as he returned her gaze. They had all suddenly realised what Legolas was driving at as well.

Boromir thought she fancied him.

Penny is learning to sit sideways on a horse because, as I can best discover (thank you NL & French Pony), that is how women rode even before the invention of the side-saddle. They would sit sideways behind the man or else sideways by themselves (but go no faster than a walk in that case). Riding hard and fast was clearly a male domain. Added to which is the issue of the skirts – which though potentially voluminous enough to cover everything could ride up. However: in elvish society men and women did not learn different skills according to sex as such (see Morgoth’s Ring – vol 12 of History of Middle Earth) unlike humans. That would, one presumes, mean female elves could and would ride astride their animals if they needed to. JRRT, in the same essay, says that, while male elves fought in battle, if necessary the females would fight as well and would be as skilled at it as the men. It is not inconceivable therefore that Penny will be taught to ride sitting astride a horse just in case she ever needs to move an animal fast. This is a war situation, don’t forget, so any eventuality is possible. Being able to ride a horse at a gallop, even if it does mean showing your knees, might save her life if Rivendell is attacked. So she will learn that as well later on. As ever this is poetic licence based on the best research I have been able to do on this matter.