Stories of Arda Home Page
About Us News Resources Login Become a member Help Search
swiss replica watches replica watches uk Replica Rolex DateJust Watches

No Greater Love, Part Two: Repercussions  by MJ

XIII

Still Waiting

Four hours later, they were still at it.

"So if I understand all you have told me aright, the metaphysical implications and symbolism of your 'Yule log' custom concern warmth rather than light, hospitality and the longing for spring, not death itself."  Námo and the hobbits — with an able assist from Olórin, who was well acquainted with all their customs and history — had gone over the list of questions from the Vala's Maiar.  Most had been very easy to answer, but it was when they came to symbology and the more deeply philosophical questions that there had been some snags which required further discussion.

Eönwë knew nothing about the Hobbits' Yule, but he was interested in learning more, so he had stayed to lend his own able assist in seeing to it that cups were kept filled and curiosity seekers deftly turned away.  The lord of Mandos had been wise to come in common Elven garb and sit with his back to the doorway, else there might have been repercussions to his presence that could have adversely affected their host's business.  While they may have been intrigued by the halflings and the two Maiar, many Elves were disturbed by the mere presence of the Doomsman, and would have left had they known for certain he was there.  Though some may have felt the presence of unusual power, to their eyes, he was but a visiting Noldo.

As it was, Tinuwen was startled when she came to ask if there was anything more that they wished and saw Námo seated at the table.  But though she paled, recognizing the Vala despite his abnormal garb, she showed admirable pluck, and did not let herself be more than momentarily flustered by the discovery.  It was at that point that Eönwë took up the task of attending to the needs of those deep in the discussion, since word had apparently spread about the unusual guests at The Wandering Willow, and both dining halls and pub rooms were busier than ever with those who came to gawk, but stayed for the good food and drink.

For their part, the four others were largely oblivious to the stir outside the small parlor.  "I doubt that many hobbits would look on their holidays in a philosophical manner, Lord Námo," Olórin told him with a wry little smile.  "Having cause to feast and make merry during the coldest and darkest time of year is reason enough, especially to Mortals."

Neither of the halflings argued with that observation, for it was true enough.  "I know that I seldom looked beyond the merriment and the warm companionship," Frodo admitted.  "But that doesn't mean that your people shouldn't give our customs their own interpretations, ones that have deeper meaning for them.  When I was very young and my parents first took me to Brandy Hall for Yule, I watched as they brought in that immense log and prepared it.  It took four study hobbits to move it, and when it was ready, my Uncle Rory made quite a ceremony of setting it alight.  All of us youngsters were to gather up the kindling and set it in the great hearth before the log was placed, so that we'd feel a part of all the fuss.  When the time came for the log to be lit, just as the first stars were kindling outside, everyone gathered 'round the hearth, and all the lights in the house were doused.  Standing there in the dark — and it was quite dark, for all the windows were shuttered against the winter cold and night came swiftly, then — all of us lads and lasses were a bit frightened, until Rory, being the Master, struck new fire amid the kindling, using flint and steel.  There were a few moments when we all held our breaths, seeing the fire waver and refuse to catch — and then suddenly, all the kindling caught at once.  The flames roared up around the log, then lit the smaller bits of firewood that our fathers and uncles added to help feed the big log until it was burning well."

As he stirred sugar into the cup of tea Eönwë had just poured for him, Bilbo listened, then nodded, his entire expression turning nostalgic as his thoughts filled with memories of his own.  "And then the womenfolk brought out wine and cider in great pots, heated them with sweet spices over the burning log, and when it was ready, they poured out cups for everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, to drink a toast to the beginning of Yule."  He sighed, smiling.  "Ah, I remember it very well!  The Tooks had wonderful Yule traditions of their own up in the Great Smials, but there was something about those in Brandy Hall that felt less formal — if anything in the Shire could be called formal, compared to the ways of Men and Elves!"

Having been to both himself, Frodo agreed.  "At any rate, being so young, I found the whole thing quite magical, and forever after, I thought of kindling the Yule log as kindling the whole of Yuletide itself.  Not merely marking the time it began, but lighting all the warmth and cheer that was to follow, which couldn't happen without it.  Silly childhood nonsense, of course, which made all the grown ups laugh after I'd told them, but I never completely gave it up.  Somehow, it made all the feasts and frolicking even more special, at least to me."

Olórin reached over to pat the younger hobbit's healed hand, his own smile fond and warm.  "More of the world should indulge in such nonsense, my dear Frodo, both in Middle-earth and and in Aman.  Kindling the log kindled the joy in your own heart, and you shared it freely with everyone you met during Yuletide.  That is magic of its own kind, with a power that can reach beyond even the greatest works of the Ainur."

"Indeed so," Námo concurred, offering Frodo his own nod and appreciative smile.  "Perhaps we need to devise other ways to find deeper meaning for our kind, but such warmth and generosity of the heart is precisely what we hope to gain from the effort — or I should say regain.  The long ages we have spent in Eä have had too many years of strife and struggle against the Darkness, and the coldness that has crept into many of our hearts needs to be dispelled.  What you just told me, Cousin Frodo, describes a kind of renewal of life, not physical life, but life of the spirit.  The burning of this log brought light to your eyes, but it also brought light to your soul, and evermore gave you a thing to look forward to with eager anticipation and joy during the bleakest time of year.  We sorely need such a thing."  

As he lifted up his goblet of wine to take a sip, the Vala's dark eyes shone over the rim, momentarily unfocused but sparkling with the active thoughts behind them.  When he spoke, it was softly, as if he was speaking to himself.  "I believe I can see ways in which my people might wish to adapt this particular tradition so that it will have profound meaning to all of our kind."

Bilbo lowered his teacup quickly, rather than let his sudden snort of amusement splash the hot liquid onto the table.  "I can't quite see Lady Yavanna taking to the idea of burning a Yule log," he pointed out, cheekily.  "Weren't the Ents the result of her taking offense over Lord Aulë using wood to fire his forges?"

Even Námo had to laugh at that summation.  "It depends on who you ask," Eönwë said, grinning.  "She would say yes, he would say no."

"And both were right — and wrong," Námo added.  When the hobbits answered with puzzled expressions, he elaborated, setting down his wineglass to fold his hands on the table before him.  "Those of us who were most deeply involved with the formation of the physical parts of Arda hold aspects of what we made so dear to us that seeing them marred in any way is a pain to us, Aulë no less than Yavanna.  He grieves to see the stones and metals of the earth recklessly wasted as much as his wife laments for the destruction of trees.  But this world was to be made for the use and delight of the Eruhíni, not ourselves.  In a Mortal world, Yavanna's works could not endure forever, and her desire to single out the trees for special protection was... irregular.  It was only by the indulgence of Eru Ilúvatar that Manwë was allowed to grant her the shepherds of the trees, but as you have seen for yourselves, even their protection cannot endure forever.  Now is the age of Men in Arda, when all the elder kindreds will depart or fade, their power and presence much diminished from what it was of old. Some of the Children who remain will always love the trees and protect them in their own ways, using the resources they have to give with prudence and wisdom, but also with care for their continued survival.  Some will not, but it is not our place to make this choice for them, much less force it."

"And we may hope that Samwise Gamgee will be an excellent example to all who know him, and their descendants," Olórin pointed out, trading a glance with Frodo, who had been thinking just that.  

The once-Ringbearer nodded.  "If he chooses to sail West, I think it will be a very merry meeting between him and Lady Yavanna!"

"Also Lord Oromë," Eönwë said, taking his seat again, now that all their cups were filled.  "He is, after all, Lord of the Forests, and though he did not bring forth the trees as the Kementári did, he loves them.  Yet his is a more practical view of the part they have to play in the world, and I think he will also wish to honor your friend, from what I have heard of him and the part he played in restoring the Shire."

Bilbo sighed.  "I'm glad I never saw what Saruman and his lackeys did to our beloved Shire, but I do wish I'd had a better chance to see how Sam repaired the damage to wood and field.  I slept my way through most of it on my ride to the Havens, don't you know, being so worn and tired as I was then.  Glorfindel wanted to tie me to my pony to make certain I didn't fall off!"

Frodo had picked up a sweet ginger biscuit from the replenished tray of snacks; he paused before taking a bite.  "I know just how you feel, Bilbo.  I wish he had tied me to his horse during the last leg of my journey to Rivendell — though I don't suppose I really would've noticed if he had or not!"  He nibbled an edge of the crisp sweet, his own eyes unfocusing much as Námo's had.  "I do hope Sam decides to Sail, someday.  I'm sure he'd be delighted to see how those who live here have taken to hobbit food and drink and even customs."

"Is he as fond of Yuletide as the two of you?" Eönwë asked as he reached for a ginger biscuit of his own.  "I've heard that the two of you have enticed both Elrond's household and the folk who dwell in Lórien into celebrating Yule with you each winter."

The hobbits laughed.  "It took very little persuasion!" Bilbo insisted.  "Elrond's folk had already more than half adopted it while I lived in Rivendell, and from what I've heard, Olórin's neighbor Ványalos is in truth a very tall Hobbit disguised as a Maia."

Both Frodo and Olórin had to agree, with laughter.  "Yes, and the fact that he has always been that way makes me wonder if perhaps he shouldn't have been sent in my place during the past age!" the Istar said, highly amused.  "But then, he would likely have gone astray from our mission much as Aiwendil did, taking up residence in a comfortable Shire inn and quite forgetting what he was there to do in the first place.  I was never able to do that, alas."

Námo gave the fair Maia a searching look.  "Does the fate of Aiwendil continue to trouble you, Olórin?  I know what you have said in answer to the complaints of others, especially among Yavanna's folk, but your words have always seemed to mask an inner unrest."

It was Olórin's turn to sigh.  "Perhaps they do.  What I know and what I feel are sometimes at odds with one another.  I know that Aiwendil made choices during his time in Endorë, as did all of us who were sent — indeed, as we all do throughout our lives, no matter what our kind.  Free will was Eru's gift to all His Children, and like all gifts, it can be both a blessing or a burden.  I wish that I had had the time and the clarity of thought to realize the path Aiwendil was stumbling down long before he fell away from our purpose, so that perhaps I might have been able to offer him support or guidance.  That I did not weighs upon my heart, at times.  Still, none of us were able to see and think and reason as clearly while trapped inside those truly incarnate forms, and in the end, it likely would have made no difference.  The task with which we had all been charged was to see to ending the threat of Sauron, not to our personal safety.  Aiwendil knew this as well as I, and made his choices despite it.  I regret that I could not do more, but I could not force his decision, any more than Lady Yavanna can force all the Eruhíni to love trees as much as she."

The Vala nodded, his expression sober, yet sympathetic.  "Yavanna does not blame you for this, but should your heart be overly troubled by the memories and the regret, do not hesitate to speak to one of us.  Any of us would gladly listen — though I think perhaps you may find  Manwë's counsel most efficacious.  He has had more than his share of regrets to bear, and often, the wisdom of our kin can bring the most ease."  He smiled softly.  "Also, speaking from my experience as the middle of three, I know it is an honor to be asked for counsel from a younger sibling, and a joy to be given loving aid and comfort from an elder."

Námo's remarks reminded Olórin that he spoke from a unique perspective.  Though there were many sibling relationships among the Ainur, there were very few that had more than two.  Among the Valar, there had been only one — at least until several days ago.  He smiled back and nodded.  "Thank you for your advice, my lord.  I'm still getting used to the knowledge that I have an older brother.  I shouldn't want to become a burden to him, but your words are reassuring."

"I'm still trying to get used to that idea, myself," Bilbo said after taking another sip of tea.  "Not that I think it's bad, mind you!  Just a bit much for an old hobbit to wrap his head around, someone finding only now that they've had a brother since literally before the beginning of Time."

Olórin chuckled as he leaned forward to pour himself some of the tea from the pot Eönwë had left on the table.  "Then don't trouble yourself with it, old friend.   Do you think you've told Lord Námo all he needs to know about the Yule customs in the Shire?"

Frodo, who had been listening with great interest, spoke up.  "There's one other tradition the Tooks had that some might find interesting.  Pippin said it began even before the Old Took was born, and they'd always called it 'sharing the light'."

"Oh, bless me!" Bilbo exclaimed, remembering.  "I haven't thought of that in years!  But it was a charming tradition, yes."   When he caught Eönwë's and Námo's curious eyes on him, he elucidated. "Everyone in the Great Smials — both the usual residents and all the guests, from the youngest to the oldest — would gather 'round the central hearth and in all the connecting passages while the Thain lit the the log.  Every person had a candle, and as the lot was kindling, the Thain would light a bit of the bark that had been kept aside when the log was being prepared.  From that, his wife would light her candle, then she lit all those of her children, and they passed the flame to the candles of their nearest kin, and so on until all the candles were lit, through every room and passage in the Great Smials.  I have no idea how the tradition began, but it was older than Gerontius, from what I'd been told."

"It truly was a beautiful sight," Frodo agreed.  "Pippin's father insisted that it was the oldest of all Hobbit Yule customs — which was ridiculous, since the custom of the Yule log obviously must have come first.  But I have no idea how old it actually is or how it began, so please don't ask me if it has some deeper philosophical meaning!"

Námo chuckled at the friendly little jibe while Eönwë grinned broadly.  "You may not know, but he does," the Herald said with a smirk, motioning to Olórin with a wave of his teacup.  "I can't recall the last time I saw him looking so smug."

The Istar answered with a wrinkle of his nose.  "I am not being smug!  But I do happen to know how the tradition began.  Frodo's right, it didn't predate the use of the Yule long, and as for a deeper meaning...!"  He shook his head, clearly amused.

Both halflings turned to him with surprise.  "You never told me!" Bilbo scolded.

"You never asked," the Maia countered smoothly.  "I did have other things to worry about, you know, much more pressing matters than the history of every tradition in every family in the Shire!  But," he continued more genially, "the origins of this particular custom aren't what one could call impressive.  I've heard Tooks of more recent generations claim that it was begun by their 'fairy ancestor,' or was something taught to them by one of the wandering companies of Elves that passed through the Shire more frequently in olden days."

"That's what Pippin believes," Frodo said.  "During the first Yule after the War, he told us a tale about how his many-times great-grandfather, born before the Great Smials were made, came upon a company of Elves out on the Far Downs on the eve of the Elves' new year.  All their lanterns and lamps were like stars under the trees, and there he encountered an elf-maid who fell in love with him at first sight.   She became his wife the following Yule, but when she bore him a son the next year, she died in childbirth.  He returned to the Shire with his son, and ever after, they kindled candles in her memory every Yuletide."  He snorted.  "Rather an unlikely story, I think."

Olórin laughed even as he agreed.  "Yes, I do believe Pippin was inspired by the many grand tales he heard during his travels.  Not at all uncommon for those in their impressionable tweens, or on their first great adventure!"  He winked at Bilbo, who flushed, but smiled widely as well, remembering his own adventure and how much it had inspired him.

The Istar sighed as he continued.  "The truth, alas, is more mundane.  Several generations before Gerontius, the Tooks owned most of the lands north of Tookland, and had tenants who lived there and worked them on behalf of the Thain.  When Isumbras the third was Thain, one tenant family, the Longtoes, had the dubious pleasure of working the area that included Rushock Bog."

Eönwë gave his fellow Maia a look of patent disbelief.  "Longtoes?" he repeated, more than half sure Olórin was making this up, given that the Hobbit family names he was familiar with were of a different sort, such as Baggins and Took.

But Bilbo quickly quashed that.  "An apt enough name, given that most everyone in that line has unusually long toes.  Hugo Longtoes was a friend of mine in Michel Delving, and he had the most remarkably long toes of anyone I've ever seen, Big People or small.  Were these ancestors of his?" he asked Olórin.

"Almost certainly, though I haven't kept close track of the family trees of everyone in the Shire.  Moro Longtoes and his family farmed the lands around the southern half of Rushock Bog — not the most hospitable place, I'm afraid.  Ordinary crops did not thrive there, so for many years, Moro paid their rent with the harvest from the waxberry bushes that grew thick around and over the southern half of the bog.  They were good people and did work as hard as they were able, so Isumbras never had the heart to turn them out."

"Then he was fair-minded as well as kind," Námo opined.  He was clearly interested in hearing this story, if only for the insights it would give him to the Little People.  "If they were granted their tenancy with the understanding that they farm the land to the best of their ability, then they fulfilled their obligation by returning whatever bounty that land had to offer.  It was not their fault if it was not well-suited for the cultivation of other crops.  Or did they choose this land because they knew it was infertile, and thus would give them an excuse not to work harder?"

The fair head shook.  "No, they were honest folk.  Moro and his wife Lily had worked another small farm for the Tooks, farther south along the Water, but a fire followed by a flood destroyed their home and much of the fields and groves beyond repair.  After careful inspection of the ruins, Isumbras felt that the land had become too dangerous to be safely farmed, and would remain so for many years.  He would have found them other work in Tuckborough, but the Longtoes were farm folk and uneasy with the idea of living in town.  The Rushock Bog farm was the only place Isumbras had available at the time, and though others had disdained it, Moro was willing to try to work it.  He'd hoped it might be suitable for cultivating mushrooms, but the soil was too acid.  He was only able to get a few small plots of vegetables to grow, but the waxberry shrubs that already grew wild in the area thrived quite luxuriantly."

"So Moro did do the best he could with what the land had to offer," Frodo concluded.

Now, Olórin nodded.  "He did.  Waxberries, as you may know, are not fit to be eaten by Hobbits, but after the waxy coat has been boiled off and the fruit dried, it can be used to feed domestic fowl, and the wax can be made into sweetly scented candles.  So Isumbras did profit from the harvest, though not as he had expected."

"And what does this have to do with the sharing of light custom?" Bilbo asked a bit impatiently, genuinely eager to know more.

Olórin took a long sip of tea before resuming the tale.  "Ah, now we come to it.  The Longtoes were so diligent in improving the one decent crop their farm had to offer, the waxberry harvest grew more and more bountiful, until after a few seasons, the Tooks found themselves with plenty of hen feed and far more candles than even they could use over the course of an entire year.  One Yule, when their storerooms were overflowing and more space was needed for other things, Isumbras's wife, Columbine, finally grew tired of trying to store the ever-increasing number of candles, so she emptied one big closet by handing them out as little favors at their Yule feast.   When the guests asked why, she said she was 'sharing the light,' since the winter was long and dark, and that particular winter colder and snowier than usual.  After the lighting of the Yule log, one of Isumbras's cousins who had been helping decided it was time for a pipe, and he used his candle to get a flame from the log.  His brother then brought out his own pipe and asked him to 'share the light.' 

"When Mistress Took heard them making a joke of her gifts, she scolded them so roundly for it, some of the other cousins decided to follow their example, and before long, half the candles she had given away were lit.  Columbine felt she was being unfairly mocked, and she complained to Isumbras, demanding he put a stop to it.  But being the sensible hobbit he was, he laughed and said that it was such a lovely sight, seeing all those flickering little lights on such a cold dark night, he would make a tradition of it every Yule.  He managed to get Columbine to see the humor in it, and by the following year, they'd devised a more suitable way to 'share the light,' with the little ceremony the two of you have described."

Bilbo leaned back in his chair, pleased with the story.  Frodo laughed softly.  "It's too bad Pippin isn't here to hear the true story of his 'fairy tradition.'  You were actually there, weren't you, Olórin?"

The Maia's eyes twinkled over his cup.  "I was.  The Tooks were often the most welcoming to me in those days, and I was grateful for their hospitality.  It was largely due to the support I had been given by the Thain that other hobbits throughout the Shire were willing to accept my help several years later, during the Long Winter.  Isumbras did not survive that bitter winter, but his family and his new tradition did."

Námo had listened attentively, and now sat thinking upon all he had heard.  "So even though Isumbras himself soon accepted the Gift of the One, his spirit has been carried on among his people even beyond his death, his Light symbolically evoked and rekindled each Yuletide in this elegantly simple ritual he began."

Both Bilbo and Frodo looked up at the Vala, surprised yet moved by his observation.  "I doubt that he had such an interpretation in mind at the time," Frodo said thoughtfully.  "But as Olórin has so often reminded me, what we call chance and coincidence are often the subtle hand of Ilúvatar at work in our lives.  Yes, it's entirely possible that the tradition came about to remind some of us that death is not an end but only a point of transition, just as the cold of winter, even at its darkest, will inevitably give way to the warmth of spring."

Bilbo agreed.  "That would be a fitting legacy for the father of Bandobras the Bullroarer and the great-grandsire of Gerontius.  And perhaps it might be a legacy of sorts to others?"  His pointed glance shifted toward Námo, a small impish smile playing about his lips.

The Doomsman returned the smile.  "Just so, Cousin Bilbo.  It will need more discussion among my people, I am sure, but I believe this may be just what they were looking for."

"If it has anything to do with light, you can also be sure Lady Varda and her people will want to be involved," Eönwë noted as he reached for another ginger biscuit — only to have his hand suddenly slapped away.

"Yes, we would certainly want to be a part of that discussion," Ilmarë said, looking down at her brother with a stern expression.  She had just returned, but so quietly, those in the parlor didn't know if she had walked in or simply materialized where she now stood.  She clicked her tongue when Eönwë frowned back.  "I can see you haven't been paying attention to the hour, not a one of you.  Nárënilda has been beside herself, not knowing if anyone would return to eat the supper she's been hard at work preparing, and though Lord Manwë and my Lady Varda have been very busy, they've begun to wonder what's become of their guests.  Are you to blame for this, my lord?"  Her question and arch look was aimed at Námo, since to the best of her knowledge, the hobbits had not planned to meet him today. 

The Vala was not in the least bit ruffled by her manner, nor were the two Maiar.  Frodo was quite certain that was because Ilmarë's scolding was entirely a pose, as any of those questions could have easily been answered via osánwë.  However, Bilbo, used to living among Elves rather than Ainur, was dismayed.  "Oh dear, they're not terribly upset are they?  We were having such an interesting conversation, I completely lost track of the time.  I hope we haven't missed supper, or delayed it into ruin!"

Ilmarë's expression softened into apology while Olórin gave the elder hobbit's arm a reassuring pat.  "Not to worry, Bilbo.  We would have been warned sooner if anything was truly amiss."

"Yes, do not let my sister's dubious sense of humor trouble you," Eönwë added, casting her his own chiding glance.  "We've been here longer than we may have originally intended, but the hour is not that late."

Námo rose from his chair, favoring the hobbits with a gracious smile and nod.  "Even so, it is nearing the time you should return to Valmar.  If I have kept you here overlong, I beg your pardon, but I am most grateful for the help you have given me, and my people."

Still seated, Frodo answered with a slight bow of his upper body.  "It was my pleasure, Lord Námo.  If I can do anything more to help, you have only to ask."

"Yes, indeed!" Bilbo chimed in, having calmed himself.   "Frodo and Gandalf can both tell you how much I enjoy showing off things I've learned, and to do so for you or any of the other Ainur is a great honor."

"Then let us settle accounts with Master Olindar and be on our way," Olórin suggested as he also rose.  "If you would, Ilmarë, go on ahead of us and reassure Nárënilda and Lady Varda that we will return soon — that is, if we can avoid any new delays along the way!"

Next:

Enquiring Minds

***********

Author’s Note:

I’m sorry that I didn’t get to responding to reviews for the last chapter; between the brutal cold and a slight illness, I was barely had the energy to stay awake, much less write, and when my energy came back, I wanted to get this chapter finish (which proved to be something of a problem of its own, for other reasons).  Thank you to all who reviewed, and Fiondil, I have only two words for you: protective coloring. :) 





<< Back

Next >>

Leave Review
Home     Search     Chapter List