Chapter 11. Hobbit Help

The Elves shared of their provisions with the Fallohides and a merry feast was had by all in the treetops. Thorn and Beech rigged a hammock of sorts with the aid of the sons of Elrond, and they eased Glorfindel into it, tying him securely that he might not tip himself out in the night.

 ‘I haven’t been swaddled since I was a babe,’ he grumbled, and Beech laughed.

 ‘We’ll feed thee, o mighty alf,’ he said. ‘Never fear. The People have never yet let a guest starve.’

 ‘My thanks,’ Glorfindel said wryly.

 ‘Thou art most welcome,’ the hobbit replied. Quaint was the speech of these small folk, the Elves thought, but they were amazed at how rapidly the hobbits’ speech improved as they continued to speak and hear the Common Tongue and soon found themselves adopting the intimate form of address used by the hobbits. Before long an observer would have thought that all were members of a widely diverse but warm and loving family.

 ‘I know that spiderwebs will stop bleeding of wounds,’ Elladan said to Thorn, ‘but how did you know to find them so quickly?’

 ‘The Lady told me,’ Thorn said simply. He could not explain further, and finally the son of Elrond turned the subject to other matters.

 ‘You are different from the Halflings near my father’s house on the other side of the Mountains,’ he said. ‘Do you know them? Are they your relations?’

 ‘If they are Halflings like us-uns, then they mowt likely be,’ Thorn said. He stuffed his pipe with sweetfern he’d culled earlier as they walked, lit up and settled back for a good smoke. They were safe for the nonce, though as he smoked he continued to pay close heed to the surrounding wood.

 ‘You breathe smoke?’ Elladan said, astounded. ‘Be you related to dragons?’

Thorn laughed. ‘I know not what dragons be,’ he admitted, ‘save a rumour of great birds belching smoke and fire. But for us-uns, the smoke must go in before it comes out. It helps the food to settle, you know.’

 ‘No,’ Elladan said in wonder. ‘I didn’t know.’

 ‘Don’t the Halflings in your land smoke pipes?’ Thorn asked.

 ‘Not that I’ve ever seen,’ Elladan replied.

 ‘Then perhaps they aren’t our relations,’ Thorn said.

 ‘They have curly heads and furry feet,’ Elladan replied, ‘though they live in holes rather than trees...’

 ‘We live in holes when folk leave us in peace,’ Thorn said absently, and continued smoking and thinking. Beech noticed when he stopped drawing on the pipe and allowed the burning leaf to go out. As Thorn pocketed the pipe once more, he caught Beech's eye. The latter nodded and gave the territorial call of a robin. Flocking Elves saw the armed hobbits resting in their trees sit upright and pull out their bows.

Glorfindel moaned and thrashed nearby, and Beech hopped nimbly to where the Elf lord hung, perching above him and reaching down to touch his forehead. ‘Fever,’ he said shortly.

 ‘I was afraid of that,’ Elrohir said. ‘Those foul creatures smear filth upon the pyles of their arrows, if not outright poison.’ He forced a draught from a silver flask down the Elf lord’s throat, but it had no apparent effect. Probing the wound with his fingers offered no relief, but caused Glorfindel to cry out and struggle within his bindings.

 ‘Had it been poison he’d have died quickly,’ Elladan said, but he was frowning with concern.

 ‘What does your Lady say about fever?’ Elrohir asked Beech curiously. He didn’t like the looks of the wound, the ominous red of infection spreading out from the edges.

Beech nodded towards Thorn. ‘Ask him,’ he said. ‘He’s the Thorn; the Lady speaks to him.’

 ‘Thorn?’ Elladan asked. The Elves’ medical treatment had not prevented the infection, did not seem to be having any effect to alleviate it, and Glorfindel was growing more restless.

The hobbit cocked his head as if listening. ‘There is an herb,’ he said slowly, and pointed. ‘It grows at some distance, in that direction,’ he added. ‘I can show you,’ he said. ‘We’d have to build a fire away from here so as not to draw the attention of any we don’t care to find the People, steep the leaves in heated water, and bring the brew back here.’

 ‘Then let us go!’ Elladan said, taking up his bow and quiver.

 ‘A moment,’ Thorn said. ‘Can you go quietly enough to avoid drawing attention of the gobble-uns or Men?’

The son of Elrond stared in astonishment, but the hobbit was quite serious. ‘I can walk softly enough,’ Elladan answered at last, ‘and my cloak is of such stuff as disguises me from the casual eye.’

 ‘And what of the keen eye, the hungry eye, the seeking eye?’ Thorn pressed. ‘The Lady warns that such are not far. Even should we travel some distance, we will barely have time to heat water and kick dirt over the fire before they are upon us and the hunt is up. It will be difficult to slip past them and return.’

Elladan eyed the hobbit with growing respect. ‘We will do our best,’ he said. ‘The Elf lord needs more than our medicines can provide.’

 ‘You cannot go alone!’ Elrohir protested, but Elladan shook his head.

 ‘You must stay and watch over our sister, and Glorfindel,’ he answered. ‘You are senior in authority to anyone else, and must bring word of me back to our father should I fall.’

 ‘Thorn,’ Beech said in a protest of his own.

Thorn put a hand on his arm. ‘The alf will die,’ he said softly in their own tongue. ‘He is dying even now. I must go, brother. The Lady has shown me what is needed and where to find it.’

 ‘But— ’ Beech said.

 ‘If the young alf and I do not return, Black will be Thorn after me,’ the head of the Fallohides said firmly. ‘He has already heard the Lady.’

 ‘I do not like it, brother, not at all,’ Beech said in frustration. ‘That She has spoken to him already...’

 ‘Means that my life is at an end, perhaps,’ Thorn said patiently. ‘And if there are no more sips in the cup for me, who am I to complain? All I can do is make the best use of the time I have, Beech, and while we speak the alf-lord’s time is running short.’ Switching back to the Common Tongue he said, ‘Are you ready, alf?’

 ‘Call me Elladan,’ that one said.

 ‘Ell Adan,’ Thorn said, shouldering his own quiver and taking up his staff. ‘A curious name. Does it mean anything in particular?’

 ‘I’ll tell you when we return,’ the son of Elrond said, tossing a rope coil from the branch and sliding down. Thorn followed, and those remaining in the tree pulled the rope back up as soon as the hobbit touched the ground.

The sky slowly darkened as those hiding in the trees waited. Elrohir had to gag Glorfindel to quieten him, and the precaution proved necessary as dark growling forms passed below more than once. Elves and hobbits waited together, scarcely breathing, hands tightening on bows and relaxing again as the creatures passed.

Elladan followed Thorn through the wood, slipping silently along. Though the son of Elrond was accomplished at moving swiftly and silently through the woods, he found the hobbit chief had a genius for making his way without noise, scarcely disturbing the foliage as they passed.. At times Thorn would hold up a hand, crouching in cover, creeping forward by inches; at other times he sped so quickly the son of Elrond had trouble moving silently at the pace the hobbit set. After a wearisome time of hiding and moving and hiding again, Thorn suddenly straightened and sniffed the air. ‘We are past the danger,’ he whispered. ‘We can go swiftly now.’ True to his word, he broke into a run, sure-footed in the dark. Elladan wondered if he had eyes in his toes.

Finally the hobbit stopped again and listened. ‘Running water,’ he said. ‘The leaves will be found growing where a spring bubbles up and runs into the stream. The water of the spring is safe to drink; the water of the stream is not.’

 ‘I’ve drunk from the forest stream before,’ Elladan replied.

 ‘You won’t any more,’ Thorn said, ‘not if you’re wise.’ They found the spring by the sound and Thorn swiftly plucked leaves, discarding some by their feel, putting those he found satisfactory into a bag that hung from his waist. Out of another bag slung at his back he took several water-skins and urged Elladan to fill his own water bottle as he filled them.

 ‘The fire now?’ Elladan said.

 ‘No,’ Thorn replied. ‘There is a tree we must find, some ways down the bank.’ He began to walk and the son of Elrond followed. ‘Here,’ the hobbit said at last. ‘Climb.’

The two climbed the tree he indicated, then edged out on a limb that projected over the stream. ‘Don’t fall in,’ Thorn warned. ‘The enchantment will send you off to sleep and you’ll drown, unable to swim to safety.’ Elladan nodded soberly, tightening his grip on the branch.

Mid-stream the hobbit hissed at the son of Elrond to stay, eased himself off the branch until he was hanging from his hands, inched his way along the branch, and as it began to bend he reached out to take a branch extending from a tree on the opposite shore. Once he had a firm grasp, he let go of the first branch and made his way by careful hand-holds along the new branch until he could swing his feet up to help support him. Once he reached the bole of the tree, he climbed down and waited for Elladan to follow.

Reaching the ground, he murmured his thanks to the Lady for the bridge she’d provided. He and Elladan walked some ways down the bank of the stream, well away from the "bridge". Finally Thorn scraped some dry tinder from beneath a fallen log, found dry sticks and started a fire. He took a small pot from his bag and filled it from one of the water-skins, then forced the harvested leaves through the narrow opening into the skin until it was full. When the water boiled he poured the contents of the pot into the skin with a dexterity that astounded Elladan, but he forgot his wonder as shouts and growls were heard from the other side of the forest stream.

Thorn rose abruptly, kicking dirt over the fire, grabbing up water-skin and pot, careful not to burn himself, and melted into the underbrush. Elladan needed no urging to follow as arrows began to rain down in the clearing around the smouldering fire. From their hiding place they saw foul orcs emerge from cover, shouting and gesticulating.

Several plunged into the stream, only to fall limp into the black water with oily splashes. The fellows that went to pull them out suffered a similar fate, until the remaining creatures stood baffled, watching the hapless orcs quietly drowning as the stream slowly carried them away. A few more arrows were launched at the smouldering fire, and then the orcs turned and disappeared into the underbrush with menacing growls.

Thorn waited a long time before creeping from his hiding place to shovel more dirt over the last of the coals, pouring the contents of another water-skin over for good measure. Then he and Elladan retraced their steps to the Lady’s bridge, crossed the stream, and cautiously made their way back to the refuge of People and Elves, arriving shortly before the dawn.