“What do you make of that Gandalf?”
“Unless my old eyes deceive me, there is one hobbit with two horsemen riding in the fields”
“Is your hobbit friend in the habit of sharing his carrot growing skills with men?”
“No…but perhaps these are not ordinary men” Gandalf was beginning to smile
He and Aranuir rode on slowly. Soon they were near Odofur’s farm house, a stout brick construction of two floors with wide round windows and a bright green and yellow round door with a brass handle. Living in the flatlands next to the river, Odofur had no hillside to burrow, but had made do nicely.
East of the house two other men were beginning to make out details.
“The one has a tall pointy hat, father”
“And the other is a solid built man with long white hair”
“Pointy hat?’ Odofur piped up. “I know someone with a pointy hat. Traveling wizard. Stops by to share good pipe weed and stories.”
“Gandalf” Aravir spoke out loud, recognizing the wizard who he had met scarcely thrice in as many decades.
“Yes, that’s his name.” Odofur replied.
“Well I think he’s come to share some of that pipeweed with you Odofur.” Aravir observed, “But he seems to have a guest with him, a rather solid fellow with snow white hair”
“Another wizard?”
“No, Odofur, it’s…grandfather!” Aragorn almost shouted, finally closing the gap enough so his young eyes could clear the puzzle.
“Grandfather?” Odofur was puzzled.
“It’s Aranuir, my father and Aragorn’s grandfather!" Aravir exclaimed, "I haven’t seen him in some time. What would bring him to your door. Odofur?”
“Whatever the reason it is cause for celebration. A family reunion! It is a fine day indeed!. We will set up the pavilion in the back yard. Food for all! Hearty ales! Fine wines!”
Odofur dashed ahead of his companions to meet Gandalf and Aranuir at his front door.
“Gandalf. What a surprise and you have a guest as well.” Odofur stood in front of them, hands on his hips, ready to host regardless of the suddenness of the company.
“So very good to see you Odofur. I have a guest indeed. Aranuir, great grandson of the last king of Arthedain, hopes you will provide him some welcome with your much renowned Oldbuck hospitality.”
“If he likes mutton, he will be pleased with his stay. And some cheese, and ale, lovely dried apples sliced thin, cream, honey…well you will not be disappointed. Now please let my sons take your horses to the barns for a nice feeding and grooming. Merioc! Derioc!” Odofur called and the front door sprang open.
Two bustling young hobbits emerged. Gandalf and Aranuir dismounted and Odofur’s sons whisked the horses away.
“Back quickly now. There will be two more!”
Indeed even as those words left Odofur’s mouth, Aravir and Aragorn arrived and eased off their horses. Aravir walked forward
“Father”
The two men embraced.
“Aravir, my son. And with Aragorn.”
Who at that moment joined them in a fierce hug. Three men who shared the same bloodline and the same roles as chieftains.
“What strange fate brings us together at a hobbit home in the East Farthing?” Aravir stepped back to appraise his father, someone he regarded as nearly indestructible.
‘Let us enjoy what fate may provide, Aravir.”
“Gentlemen, gentlemen! It is I who will provide!” Odofur exclaimed, “Please, come ‘round back with me. Delfina and the ladies have set up benches for you and a rough table. The pavilion is up. Libations will soon follow then as much mutton as you can eat!”
Odofur was in his element as host, for which he was well regarded in the East Farthing. Little bothered by the fact that a wizard and three Dunedain were his guests. If anything, this would enhance his reputation.