Chapter XVI: A Question of Advice

‘I, for one, don’t see what’s so special about this place,’ grumbled Thorin as he lit up his pipe. It was mid-afternoon on the next-to-last day of spring and the thirteen dwarves were seated with their burglar on the southern porch. ‘A lot of silly Elves wasting their days if you ask me. We ought to have moved on a week ago, as soon as the ponies were rested.’

‘You’re only saying that now because you’re ready to be gone,’ Glóin laughed. ‘A week ago you were raving about everything from the food to the quality of the mattresses!’

‘They are very nice mattresses,’ put in Ori. ‘Do you suppose they’re enchanted?’

‘They’re not stuffed with straw, that’s all,’ said Dwalin. ‘After so many years of hard luck and penury we’ve all forgotten what a decent bed feels like.’

‘Anyhow Elves don’t really enchant things like that,’ Fili put in.

‘How do you know that?’ demanded Bifur suspiciously.

‘The son told me. Elladan. When I asked him about the women and how they keep their hair so long and soft,’ Fili said defensively.

His uncle frowned disapprovingly. ‘You stay away from Elf-women,’ he ordered sternly. ‘They’re good for nothing anyway: frivolous ornamental creatures. Can you imagine one of them trying to work a forge, or riding into battle, or doing anything at all besides standing there looking pretty? You might as well put them up on pedestals and dust them every Saturday.’

‘They bake the bread,’ Kili said in defence of his brother. Thorin shot him a withering glance.

‘It’s marvellous bread,’ said Bombur, licking his lips. ‘I’ll say that much for this Elrond fellow: he lays a fine board. Never in all my days have I been so well-fed.’

‘It’ll be hard to go back to camp rations,’ said Mr Baggins regretfully. ‘I could quite happily stay here forever, I think.’

‘So why don’t you, then?’ asked Thorin crossly. ‘We’ve got all the most dangerous parts of the quest still ahead, and I daresay we could do without any squeamish little hobbits whinging and complaining all the way to the Lonely Mountain. Pity we can’t take that Elladan with us: from what I understand he is a formidable warrior.’

‘Well if you’d rather not have me you can certainly ask him!’ said Bilbo, looking rather wounded. ‘I certainly shan’t impose myself where I’m not wanted. Master Elrond seems favourably inclined towards hobbits, anyhow, and I’m sure—’

‘I never thought I’d see the day that Gerontius Took’s grandson tried to abandon an adventure at the first pleasant waystation!’ a resounding voice announced in irritation. Twenty-eight eyes pivoted on the doors that led back into the house, through which Gandalf had come without any of them noticing. ‘And you, Thorin Oakenshield: I’ll thank you to consult with me before trading in my burglar for any mighty Elf-lords.’

Thorin snorted. ‘I only meant that he should stop complaining or—’

‘I know very well what you meant, and if you want to continue to enjoy my sponsorship of your efforts I suggest you stop complaining about my taste in adventurers,’ Gandalf said, shooing Ori and Nori out of his way as he settled on a bench. He produced his pipe from somewhere within his sleeves and proceeded to pack it with pipeweed.

Thorin was glowering unpleasantly. ‘On the topic of Elf-lords,’ he said, evidently undaunted; ‘I don’t think much of this Elrond of yours. He’s a fine host, I’ll give you that; but you led us to believe he could help us on our quest, and so far he hasn’t been very generous in that regard.’

‘Some would say that to put up a party of your size for a fortnight while expecting nothing in return is very generous indeed,’ Gandalf said dryly, huffing out a particularly large smoke-ring that turned blue as it floated away. ‘And not unhelpful, at that. Furthermore his sons have been very accommodating: Elladan taking all that trouble to educate you in the subject of dragon-slaying, and Elrohir venturing out with me to test a route into the mountains. As I understand you’ve had an opportunity to speak to a number of Elrond’s counsellors about your business, too. As for advice from the master of the house, I promise you’ll get it before we depart. Elrond has been occupied of late with other matters.’

‘What other matters?’ asked Balin in an incredulous tone that implied he could not imagine what might possibly be more important than their endeavours.

‘The running of the house, to begin,’ said Gandalf; ‘or do you suppose such a vast holding manages itself? He has also been spending a good deal of time in counsel with me, and though you may not think him helpful, I have found him immensely so.’

‘Perhaps you’ll share his insights with us?’ Thorin asked sourly. ‘I am heading this expedition, in case you had forgotten that, and I resent being kept in the dark.’

Gandalf’s eyes flashed. ‘When I begin to forget things, son of Thrain, you may erect a cairn over me and leave me for dead. As for the fruits of my conclaves with Elrond, they concern neither you nor your illustrious quest. Yours is only one of many ventures in which I presently have a stake, and I would appreciate it if you would take the trouble to remember it.’

‘Don’t let’s quarrel,’ said Bilbo sensibly. ‘We’re about to set off on a dangerous journey together: it’ll be much more pleasant if we can all get along.’

For a moment both Gandalf and Thorin stared at him, and then the wizard laughed. ‘So it will,’ he said. ‘You’ve a rare wit. And speaking of rare wits, I’ve promised the master of the house that you would regale him with an account of your brush with the hill-trolls tonight.’

‘Me?’ Bilbo stammered. ‘Me? Tell stories to Elves? When they’ve got rooms full of lore, and know every yarn and legend and song ever made, in more languages than you could imagine?’

‘They don’t know this story,’ Gandalf pointed out. ‘Elves may like telling tales, but they equally love hearing them, and in my experience hobbits make excellent storytellers. Besides, anyone who loves to talk half so much as you do must have a flair for speech-craft.’

Bilbo flushed a brilliant shade of scarlet and made several incoherently modest remarks. Gandalf got to his feet.

‘I shall tell Elrond to clear his engagement book,’ the wizard said with a tone of finality, getting to his feet and snuffing his pipe with a flourish. ‘I assure you, he will be delighted at the prospect of hearing you.’

So saying he swept off of the porch, leaving Bilbo to bluster in a nervous manner – though secretly he was very pleased.

‘Flair for speech-craft, bah!’ Thorin muttered caustically, though quietly enough that only Fili could hear him. ‘Fine skill for a burglar. I wonder what other surprising talents he might possibly possess.’

lar

Elrond took the empty phial from Estel’s hand and smiled encouragingly.

‘I think that is the last draught you shall have to down,’ he said, studying the boy carefully. He was still painfully thin, but his eyes were not so sunken and the colour had been fully restored to his cheeks. His eyes were keen and the shadow within them was almost – but not quite -- outshone by merriment and a little high-spirited impudence. The attentions of Glorfindel, to say nothing of the visits from Elladan and Elrohir, were helping him to regain his confidence as well as his physical endurance. In a few weeks more, with continued attention and some diligent feeding, it would be almost as if he had never fallen ill.

‘Until the next time,’ Estel said with a strange impartiality. Elrond’s smile faltered. The evil to which the boy had been exposed had left its mark. He was prone now to moments of fey detachment that spoke to the loss of innocence.

‘There is no reason to suppose that there will be a “next time”,’ the Elf-lord said.

‘There is no reason to suppose that there will not be, either,’ countered Estel.

Elrond chuckled softly and tapped the boy’s chin with his finger. ‘I am beginning to think that giving you lessons in rhetoric was a grievous misjudgement on my part,’ he said fondly. More gravely he added, ‘We shall take better care in future. You shall not fall ill in this manner again.’

‘How can we take better care?’ asked the boy. ‘I thought you said you did not understand why I sickened.’

‘I do not. Not entirely,’ Elrond admitted; ‘but for one thing I shall not be so swift to dismiss your symptoms as a mere mortal ailment. That was an error upon my part, and for that I am sorry.’

‘How do you know what signs point to which illness?’ Estel asked. ‘How do you know what is serious and what is trivial? How are you able to predict when someone will fall into fever and delirium, and when someone is merely coming down with a head cold? How do you decide what treatment to pursue, or which infusions to administer, or how—’

‘Lessons in the healing arts can wait until another day,’ Elrond said. ‘I understand you have a lesson in ciphering to see to instead.’

‘Yes,’ Estel said ruefully. ‘Master Erestor said that if I am well enough to watch Glorfindel and Elrohir sparring by the river, then I am well enough to return to my studies.’

‘I am glad,’ said Elrond, and an unwontedly wistful note crept into his voice. ‘You have much to learn, and there is so little time.’

‘Because I am mortal and my life is short?’ Estel asked.

‘Because your childhood is brief. Soon you will be a man, and then you will have no time left for my teachings,’ Elrond told him. ‘It is my duty to ensure that before that day comes I have taught you all that you need to know. In that catalogue of subjects I have included mathematics, and so I think it would be best if I left you now to your studies.’

Estel wrinkled his nose. ‘Must you?’

‘I must. You are one of my most important concerns, but not my only one.’ Elrond smiled again and Estel reciprocated. ‘Besides, if you do not master these concepts you shall never be able to move on to more interesting calculations.’ He took a step towards the door, but he could feel his son’s eyes fixed upon him in an unspoken question. Elrond paused. ‘What is it?’ he asked without turning.

‘How do you always know when I want to ask something of you?’ Estel exclaimed with a little laugh.

‘I operate upon the assumption that there is always some new question upon your lips,’ said the Elf-lord, only half teasing as he came back towards the child. ‘It is unusual for you to hesitate in asking it.’

An unwontedly hangdog expression appeared upon Estel’s face. ‘Atarinya,’ he said reluctantly. ‘May I... may I go downstairs tomorrow? Just for a little while, to hear the songs and watch the dancing? I am so much stronger now, and I promise I would stay out of the way.’

Elrond sighed and shook his head sadly. ‘I am afraid not, my son,’ he said.

‘But why?’ Estel exclaimed, and Elrond was surprised at the petulant note in his voice. ‘What does it matter if the dwarves see me? Why must I be hidden away? Even if I am sickly, I am much improved and I would be well enough to sit downstairs for a little while!’

The Elf-lord pursed his lips, trying to keep from appearing too grieved by the question. He failed, for Estel’s shoulders sagged and he whispered, ‘Are you ashamed of me, Father? Because I am weak?’

The abandonment of his customary term of endearment shook Elrond’s spirit and he knelt swiftly before Estel’s chair, gripping his forearms. ‘No,’ he said earnestly, his eyes taking Estel’s and holding them fast. ‘No. I am not ashamed of you. I love you and I am very proud of you. You are not weak: you are mighty in spirit and you are growing once more strong in body. My heart fills with delight when I look upon you. I have never been ashamed.’

‘Then why do you want to keep me locked away where I may not be seen? Why does it matter who notices me, or who may speak about me, if you are not ashamed to have tales of your sickly fosterling spread abroad?’ Estel bit his lip when it threatened to tremble. ‘I know I am not like other children, but I have always tried to be polite and studious.’

Elrond reached out with his left hand so that his fingertips brushed Estel’s jaw. ‘Who told you that you are not like other children?’ he asked softly.

‘Mother,’ Estel mumbled. ‘She said it last night when I asked...’ He stopped and shrugged one shoulder. ‘I am not like the children she knew when she was young.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Elrond admitted; ‘but that is only because you have had a different upbringing than your mother and her childhood cohorts. In your courage and your curiosity and your merry spirit you are the equal of any child I have ever met. You are not so very different, I promise, save maybe that you have skills and talents beyond the ken of farm-folk and foresters’ sons. That is no cause of shame for me, and it should not be for you.’

He paused, carefully considering his next words. The truth had to be told, or this enforced isolation was little more than cruel, but at the same time he had to find a way to drive home his point that would not arouse the child’s curiosity further. ‘Yet it matters very much what is said about you beyond the confines of this valley. There are many dangers in this world, and many evil folk. Long have I stood against the Shadow, and I have made many enemies in the far countries; enemies who would do anything to hurt me and those that I love. You have heard the folk of Imladris speak about my wife, about the mother of Elladan and Elrohir, have you not?’

Estel nodded, his eyes wide. Though such terrible tales were seldom told in their entirety, a quick-eared boy could not help but catch snippets of mournful reflection now and again, and not all Elves were habitually discreet.

‘She was captured by Orcs, and put to long and cruel torment,’ Elrond said, his voice faltering a little as the memory of her broken form upon a makeshift bier assailed him. ‘She was powerless to protect herself, and my aid came too late. Though I could heal her body, in part, I could not soothe her spirit. She was weary of Middle-earth, and she departed into the West, where in time she might heal and grow whole again. She was brutalized by those embittered by my forays against evil, and I could not save her. Never again can I allow such a thing to happen to one whom I love. Therefore I must keep you hidden away in Rivendell, and rumours of my dear son must never leave this valley. Do you understand? This secrecy against which you chafe is necessary for your own protection.’

‘I understand,’ Estel said quietly, sobered greatly by his guardian’s words. ‘But Atarinya,’ he tried again; ‘I would be very quiet and I would stay out of sight. The dwarves would never know that I was present. The midsummer revels are so wonderful...’ He sighed regretfully.

Elrond was about to reply when an insistent knock sounded on the sitting-room door. He smiled apologetically at Estel and moved to open it.

Gandalf stood in the corridor, staff in hand. He peered briefly over Elrond’s shoulder, taking in Estel’s disconsolate form.

‘He is looking much stronger today,’ he said brusquely. ‘I need to speak to you about the dwarves.’

An indulgent expression slipped over Elrond’s face like a mask. ‘Very well: what about your dwarves?’ he asked.

‘Thorin was hoping that you would be able to give them some advice to aid them in their quest; he does not seem satisfied with Elrohir’s reconnaissance or his brother’s wise anecdotes about good sense in dragon-hunting or Erestor’s wealth of knowledge about the folk of Dale and their descendents in the Lake-town. We intend to be gone the day after tomorrow: I would grieve to miss your midsummer celebrations, having tarried already so long.’ The wizard plucked at his beard and went on. ‘I shall also need to impose upon your good graces and borrow a pony: my horse is a good, sturdy beast on the plains, but she would not fare well in the mountain passes with her long legs and her heavy feet.’

‘Certainly. I am sure we can find some steed to meet your requirements,’ Elrond said. ‘Is that all?’

‘There is one other thing,’ Gandalf said. ‘Mister Baggins has been begging me for an opportunity to tell you of our encounter with the trolls. I have told him that you are much occupied with important matters, but he entreated that I ask if you might spare him some time this evening. You know how hobbits love to spin yarns of their deeds, both great and trivial.’

Elrond smiled in earnest now, thinking of his smallest guest. ‘I should be very happy to accommodate him. After supper, perhaps, in the Hall of Fire? That will prove a quiet place tonight, I think, for with the weather so fair my folk will all be abroad in the twilight.’

‘Very good. I shall tell him: he will be most delighted,’ Gandalf said. Again he glanced into the room behind Elrond. ‘I shall leave you to your fatherly duties. When he can spare you come to me in the library: there is the small matter of producing a clear diagram to take to Isengard.’

Elrond nodded. ‘I shall be along presently,’ he promised.

Gandalf swept away, and Elrond turned back into the room, expecting to find Estel perched on the edge of his chair, sharp ears pricked and a hundred questions at the ready. To his surprise, the boy had moved to the table where his mother often supped, and was bent over his mathematics problems, working with astounding industry. Unwilling to disturb him while he was thus absorbed, Elrond made his own quiet retreat.