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Trotter  by Dreamflower

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Finding My Feet Again

I decided to write my father another letter. He deserved to know why I could not return. I had considered asking Gandalf to tell him that I was dead now-- but one glance at those bushy eyebrows and snapping black eyes as the thought passed through my mind made me keep my tongue between my teeth. Gandalf would not lie for me and I could not risk his anger by asking. But I knew I could entrust him with a letter and it would not go astray.

I also knew that perhaps my father would be the only one ever to see it, and so I told him much of what had befallen me, and asked his forgiveness for all the grief I'd caused the family for the way I left. I knew that this letter would not go astray, not with Gandalf delivering it personally.

Gandalf and I spoke several times over the last few days, and I realised finally that I wished to get fit enough to return to Two Rivers. There were enough Rangers there who had been maimed in battle that they would understand my situation. And truthfully, I was better off than several I knew who had lost a limb completely, like Master Hansael the schoolmaster, who had lost a leg.

Gandalf and I parted, he with my letter in his pocket. He embraced me before he left, but said briskly, "Now, Hildifons Took, you have a job of work ahead of you. I trust you will see to it without slacking." And he gave me a pat on the shoulder and was off once more.

But it was going to be quite some time before Lord Elrond thought me fit for a journey back to the Angle and to Two Rivers.

A few days after Gandalf left, Elrond pronounced me fit enough-- if not to walk-- to at least leave my bed. At first Elrohir or Angul carried me. I was too pleased at leaving the room to object to any affront to my dignity. I was carried to the dining room and allowed to sit at table with others to eat. A chair had been devised for me, high enough to reach the table, but with a small step built in, so that I could rest my still sensitive feet and they would not dangle.

It was nice to finally meet other inhabitants of the household. I was seated next to an Elf called Lindir, who was Lord Elrond's minstrel. Erestor, whom I had met several times when he brought me books sat on my other side. Company made the food taste better, and I did not speak much that day but listened. I tired quickly though, and after being taken back to my room by Angul that first day, I slept the rest of the day and into the morning.

That was just the beginning. When I had become used to taking most of my meals with the others, I was, one evening, brought for the first time to the Hall of Fire.

I cannot even begin to explain the enchantment of that place. The songs and tales carried me out of myself-- even when I could not understand all that was said (for my Sindarin was still lacking to a certain degree) I could somehow feel what it all meant, and was carried away by the pictures in my heart to far distant times and places. And so it was, that I was startled to hear a mellifluous Elven voice, deep in timbre, speaking not in the Elven tongue, but in Westron. I looked to see an Elf even taller than most I had met so far. He had a mane of golden hair, and in the light of the fire he seemed to glow himself. Never before had I seen such comeliness and power.

He was telling a story of he last days of the King: Arvedui of Arthedain, and of a group of valiant but small archers who had marched to his side. He told of how their bows had defended the camp, where the healers and the servants were tending the needs of the wounded, and how a small force of the Enemy had treacherously come from behind, to slay the defenseless. The archers had turned to meet this threat, with bow until their arrows were spent, and then with stones until they were utterly overwhelmed, and all were slain save one, who was left for dead.

And he told of the grief of the Army of Men and Elves, who had turned from their own victory against the Sorcerer of the North to find one last sad defeat behind them. They had driven the Enemy off from despoiling their victims, and then come back to grieve for the gallant fallen.

As he finished, he looked directly at me and bowed, and then he came and knelt before me. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

"My lord," I stammered, "I have never heard any who knew the fate of those long ago hobbits before. How do you know of what happened?"

"Master Hildifons, I was there. My name is Glorfindel, and never have I ceased to grieve for the sacrifice of your people, for though they were a peaceful folk of a peaceful land they gave their all for their King. And you are a worthy descendant of them."

Glorfindel and I were friends from that moment on.

Elrohir and Angul came to me the next day, and brought a pair of crutches made especially for my stature. I was awkward and clumsy, and taking only a few steps with them on either side of me was painful and exhausting. My left foot was in agony each time I placed my feet down, and my right only slightly less so. I could not seem to get the swing of the crutches, and before I could fall on my face, as I very nearly did, Elrohir swept me up and carried me back to the bed.

I was blinking back tears of pain, and he used his hands over my feet to draw off much of the agony, until all that was left was a dull ache-- as they ached most of the time. He looked at me, and said, "You are far too pale, Trotter. I do not think that crutches will be the answer for you."

I managed to gasp out, "I can't give up!"

He shook his head. "No, I do not expect that you will. But Angul and I will consult with my father. I think it possible another solution may be found." He placed his large hand over my brow, and eased me into sleep.

I was kept abed again for four more days. The second day, Angul came, and measured me a second time, even more thoroughly than before.

On the fourth day, Lord Elrond came himself, accompanied by both Angul and Elrohir. With them they brought a pair of objects the like of which I had never seen before.

Carved of wood, they looked like nothing so much as wooden boats-- except they had been split in the middle and fastened together with leather straps.

"I think, Master Hildifons, that we may have a solution for you. These are specially made shoes…"

"Shoes!" I exclaimed They did not look like any sort of shoes I had seen the people of Two Rivers wear! And the thought of confining my feet was repulsive. I stared at them.

"Let me show you," he said. He placed them beside me, and unfastened the straps on one of them. It parted neatly down the center, and I could see that within was padding, covered with a soft fabric. "You would wear soft stockings with them-- I have some being made for you now. These shoes are specially measured to your feet, and will give them support in the areas where they are weakest. I am hopeful that after you have been strengthened enough you may be able to walk almost normally with them. And for now, they should help prevent the severe pain as you begin with the crutches."

I gazed down at my hideous feet. A proper hobbit did not cover his feet, but my feet were no longer proper hobbit feet. It would be as well if they were covered over, so that I would not have to look at them most of the time.

I would walk again, and I would be able to go back to Two Rivers.





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