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Trotter  by Dreamflower

 

Chapter Nineteen: The Grey Wanderer

He did not seem to be surprised to see me, and I felt somewhat hurt that his greeting to me was not heartier. In fact, the look he gave me was very disapproving.

There was a feast on the green that night, though the weather was a little brisk, and a bonfire-- it was not only a feast of welcome for our guests, but one of farewell for Thorn. He would not see his home again for eight years-- suddenly, I felt very ashamed of myself. I should have made time to go back to the Shire before now, or even written another letter. At least Thorn's family would know when he would be back home.

And suddenly I realised why Gandalf was angry with me.

But I was only partially right. As I stood alone at the edge of the gathering, feeling rather maudlin and ashamed, I felt a large hand land upon my shoulder.

"Hildifons Took. When I heard that the Rangers of Two Rivers had taken a hobbit into their fold, I was sure that it had to be you." His voice was very stern. "Why did you leave the way you did?"

I sighed. I still thought of Gardenia from time to time, and sometimes wondered if I could ever have done anything differently, to have won her heart. "I was crossed in love," I replied.

He moved to stand before me, and reached to tip my chin up, so that I would have to look up at him. "You were crossed in love," he repeated, and gazed intently at my face. I felt uncomfortable at his scrutiny, but I did not try to look away. "Yes," he finally said, "I see that you were. Yet I do not think that was the only reason you left-- although you yourself do not realise that even now."

I blinked at his words. I did not understand what he meant.

He knelt before me, and now his gaze was very serious and sad. "Why did you never send word? You know that your parents and sibs believe you long dead?"

Now I was even more confused. "I wrote. I wrote a letter a few months after I left!"

He raised a brow. "Your father never received it. How did you send it?"

"I gave it to Archer; he found a tinker in Bree who was going to the Shire. He gave him coin to deliver it, he said."

"Well, clearly the tinker was unreliable, or some mishap kept him from doing as he had promised. I see now that you are not quite so irresponsible as I had thought."

"What should I do, Gandalf? Another letter after so long will never make up for their grief." I was quite distraught at the thought that my letter had never arrived.

"I do not know now, Hildifons, but I will give it some thought to the matter. Have you been happy here among the Dúnedain?"

I smiled. "I have, Gandalf. They are so brave and fierce-- yet they are also so kind. They saved my life-- that's how I came to be among them."

"Tell me about it." He sat down on the ground next to me and took out his pipe, and I seated myself by him and took out mine, and I told him of how they had saved me from the brigands, and how I had come to stay with them. He listened patiently, and when I had finished, he simply nodded. We sat together silently for a long time, blowing smoke rings.

The next day, we farewelled Thorn, and watched him ride off between the twins. His parents were proud and smiling, but I saw tears in Lady Moriel's eyes, and young Oriel, now eight, was openly weeping. Her brother teased her often, but he also was very protective of her.

Gandalf had remained. He spent many hours consulting over some things with Lord Argonui and with Arador. They seemed to consider him a person of great importance, and it occurred to me that his visits to the Shire, where he was considered merely a conjurer who entertained hobbits with his fireworks and his tales, were only a very small part of the wizard's story. For the first time, I began to wonder just who he really was.

Still, he seemed quite content to tell his tales among the children of Two Rivers, and when Yule arrived, he lit the night with his fireworks for our benefit. As it turned out, I was the only person in town who had been privileged to see his fireworks before-- it was the first time he had ever done so in Two Rivers. I asked him why afterwards. He simply smiled at me, blew out one of his more fanciful smoke figures, and winked at me.

I still do not understand what he meant.

When Spring arrived, our patrols prepared to leave. Arador was taking us this time to the North-east, to a place called Fornost. Gandalf travelled part of the way with us, though he made no secret of the fact that he would leave when we turned Northwards, as he was heading to the Bree-lands and the Shire.

We talked privately several times, and he asked more than once if I would consent to go back with him, but I was not ready yet. One day, I told myself, one day I would return.

We spoke one last time, the night we camped at Weathertop, for he was to go on alone, as we turned off the Road and headed North the next day.

"Very well, Hildifons," he said (he never called me Trotter) "I will bear word to your father of your fate; I will leave it to him whether to tell the others in your family. I can see that you are going to be quite stubborn about this. My heart tells me you may have some task to perform before you are ready to go back to the Shire. Take care of yourself, young Took. The world is a very big place and you are one very small hobbit, after all. But I think you have found good friends."

He left his horse with us the next morning, and went on his way on foot.





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