Chapter 5: Strawberry Pie

All hobbits, of course, can cook, for they begin to learn the art before their letters (which many never reach): but Sam was a good cook, even by hobbit reckoning.

‘Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbit’, The Two Towers

The hobbits and Legolas heard Gimli before they saw him. His laughter, as he and Mahtan came through the entryway, was so unrestrained and boisterous, it set several of the fragile wind chimes tinkling as he passed.

“And there he is!” Gimli proclaimed, pointing to Legolas.

“Indeed!” Mahtan said, surveying Legolas closely. “Our woodland friend must have tales as unique as your own.”

“Just what have you been telling him, Gimli?” Legolas asked nervously. He had no wish to be embarrassed before such a legendary person.

“Mahtan was just asking me if I’d ever spent a prolonged period of time with an elf, seeing as I may soon be doing so again. ‘Prolonged’ doesn’t begin to describe our travels, does it, my friend?”

“It does not,” Legolas said with a grin.

“You’re going to be spending time with Mahtan?” Frodo asked with barely-restrained joy. “Then you liked the tunnel?”

“Frodo, the tunnel was very much to my liking,” Gimli said sincerely. “I cannot thank you enough for stumbling upon it.”

“Frodo Baggins,” Mahtan said, bowing slightly. “Sam Gamgee. Legolas, son of Thranduil. Gimli has told me your names, and I look forward to getting to know you better.”

“It’s our honor,” Frodo said, and Legolas touched his hand to his heart.

“The son of Eärendil is not here?” Mahtan asked as he and Gimli joined the others at the table.

“He’s seeing to the horses,” Sam said. “He said he also wanted to take another walk among the plants. This is such a lovely place, sir.”

“I am most pleased you appreciate it, Sam,” Mahtan said. “If I may be so bold as to say so, I am certain that Yavanna must also surely sense your kind regard.”

“Do you live here alone, Mahtan?” Frodo asked, unable to hide his concern that the ancient elf had been feeling millennia of guilt for something he couldn’t have anticipated, or stopped.  Why, just a few years of darkening thoughts had nearly been too much for him.

“Occasionally I do, Frodo, but for only a few moon cycles at a time to feel the healing energy, and keep my skills fresh in my workshops,” Mahtan said. “My wife and children, and much of my large family, live in Avallonë, but occasionally visit here as well.” He smiled gently. “My family’s troubles were long ago, my friend, and my life has been a good one. The slow but inexorable healing of this land has taught me patience, and hope, and the knowledge that even the greatest of hurts can be eased with time.” Frodo’s smile was a mirror of his own. “I see that you know something of this.”

Gimli surveyed the table with a critical eye. “I hope you have left a few crumbs for an old Dwarf and our esteemed host,” he said.

“More than a few,” Frodo assured him, uncovering the ample portions of food they had set aside.

“Are you finding the luncheon to your liking, my friends?” Mahtan asked.

“Very much so,” Frodo said, and Sam nodded enthusiastically.

“Thank you for your hospitality, sir,” Sam said to Mahtan. “We’ve enjoyed your food. I hope you don’t mind that we've added what we planned to use for our picnic.”

“You’ve lived a long time, Mahtan, but you’ve never tasted anything like Sam’s strawberry pie,” Frodo said confidently. “May I cut a slice for you?”

“Thank you, Frodo,” Mahtan said. Sam noticed that the elf seemed amused at the sight of a square pie.

“We didn’t have a proper round pan to use, sir, but I hope you’ll like it all the same,” he said.

Mahtan tasted the pie and heaped many compliments on Sam, but when the hobbit’s attention was elsewhere, he whispered a few words of Khuzdul to Gimli and looked pointedly at Sam. Suddenly, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, Gimli felt a blinding realization fill him.

I believed that the hobbits lacked nothing here, but they have just been making do with what they could find in the marketplace, or which has been gifted to them. I could easily craft more suitable baking pans, pie tins, and cutlery of a size and shape that would please them... fine cabinetry, more furniture, a bench set near the garden, a second within sight of the sea...

As sound swirled around him with conversation and laughter and the clatter of plates, his mind filled with new and exciting ideas.

Legolas’s dwelling is modest; he has taken little thought to it. I know that he would appreciate wind-driven chimes such as these, some finely wrought lamps, and perhaps new arrows to use in the archery competitions... Elrond has been writing a great deal; perhaps inkwells for him, clasps for his books, and a fine bracelet for his lady. Does a wizard need anything I could provide? The hobbits would know. And for Lady Galadriel...

A voice broke into his reflections.

“You’re looking happy again, Gimli, although you’re barely eating anything!” Sam said, torn between joy and concern.

Gimli looked around the table at four pairs of eyes smiling at him.

“I am happy, Sam,” Gimli said. To his surprise, he felt ravenously hungry. He pulled over the cheese platter and cut a hefty sample of each kind for himself. “Forgive a foolish old Dwarf whose mind tends to wander.”

“I think we can do that,” Legolas said teasingly.

When Elrond returned, the waves of joy emanating from each person seated around the table nearly overwhelmed him. Mahtan rose to greet him.

“Welcome to my home, Elrond. I have been speaking with your friends, and hope you will bring them to visit us in Avallonë. We have ponies to lend them, and my family will enjoy getting to know all of you.” He turned to wink at the hobbits. “There is also a recipe I would like my esteemed wife to learn, if Sam would be so kind as to share it with her.”

“We will come with pleasure, Aulëndur,” Elrond said, “and I hope you will have patience with me when we have time to converse; the questions I have for you may exceed the number of stars in the sky.”

“I hope you will patiently endure my questions, as well!” Mahtan said, clasping Elrond’s arms in friendship. “And if everyone has now eaten their fill...” He smiled at Gimli. “Think you that our friends would like to gaze upon the wonders Mahal has unleashed below us before you start for home?”

“You mean inside the tunnel?” Frodo asked eagerly. He scrambled to his feet. “What are we waiting for? Elves may have eternity to accomplish all they will, but hobbits have rather less time.”

As do Dwarves, Gimli mused. But I feel like a youngling again, about to apprentice to a master smith. I have been wallowing in my own petty problems, blind to the ways I can enrich the lives of those around me. In my time remaining, I may only be able to craft a fraction of those things I desire to gift to my friends.  But what I can do, I will do.

As they walked outside, with Frodo beside him, the final piece for which he had been searching slid into place.

I am needed here.

** TBC **