The Chief

There was a light tap at the door, and Ithwen stood as it was pushed open. She looked at the man who stood there, then motioned Hathil to the door. Hathil stepped through, and was unsurprised when Gundor bade him come out to him.

"Galan tells me of a strange catch you have made."

"Yes. Now that we have caught it, I do not know what it is." He shrugged. "If we can rely on the legends, I have caught an Elf."

"Ah. Show me his boat before I speak with him."

Hathil went with Gundor down to the delicate craft, now tied to the crude dock, like a swan tethered to a log. It rode gracefully on the small swells as they knelt on the deck and examined the beautiful carving and the cunning lockers. They found bags of ship's biscuit, but light and crisp; tasting it, both agreed the Elven bread to be far better than any ship provisions they had known or heard of. They found also a locker, which when opened contained weapons among other objects. There was a bow, skillfully carved and ornamented, and a coiled bow string, and a quiver filled with arrows, fletched with grey feathers bound to the shaft with thread as fine as spider's web. Also there was a sword, bright and sharp, and set about with runes such as the Elves were said to use. The scabbard bore a rayed sun on a green background, and threads of gold were worked into it. They marveled over the fineness of the weapons.

"He did not come expecting peace."

"Who in this land does?"

Gundor grunted in agreement. Indeed, no man of their town would go about without a knife, and in the woods a bow, though none were so wealthy as to own swords. But Gundor alone among them had seen soldiers in the town of Arthrad Lumren, who bore always sword or bow, and some who had shields as well. In truth it was the beauty and richness of the arms which surprised them, not their presence. "It would seem he is a great Lord of their kind."

"But what does he do sailing such a small ship by himself?"

"It is said that the Men of the Ships are tall and stern, and bring great gifts of knowledge and skill to the Men of our shores. Some say they are not Men at all, but Gods out of the West. Could he be of them?"

"Nay, he is no Man. I have never seen an Elf, but Ithwen says he is as the legends describe them." Hathil's faith in Ithwen's words was absolute. "And the Men of the ships, though we have heard talk of them, we hear such different things that it is hard to say where the truth is."

Gundor nodded and considered. I will send word to Baragund of what passes. And we shall ask this traveler of where his road will take him. He continued, "Has he spoken of why he has come?"

"He has spoken little, aside from simple things. But he is still ill and recovering, better this noon than this morn."

Gundor reached a decision. "Come, it is time for me to find out more about him; why he is come and what he plans, and whether there are others we must watch for."

"Gundor," Hathil said earnestly, "I believe him to be of a different kind from Men; there is no deceit in him. He would not hurt us. Do not shame our people before him."

Gundor looked at the younger man with mixed pity and exasperation. Hathil was a good man, and would grow to be a better one, but had not seen the shadow take hold in another.

Gundor had given his youngest sister to this one who she yearned for, and they had known joy for five seasons. When she grew big with child all had rejoiced, for every child was a gain for the struggling town when illness was ever present and the Wildmen of the forests took their occasional toll of the unwary. But Gilwen had died in childbed, and the babe with her, and Hathil had grown silent and solitary; preferring his boat and his nets to the talk of others, unless it was Gundor's own son Galan, or his scamp of a friend, Hadad.

Now it seemed he had taken to this stranger as well, another reason for Gundor to inquire as to the plans of the newcomer. He knocked on the cottage door and beckoned, and Ithwen came out to him, curious.

"What did you find on the ship?"

"Never mind that now. Rather, old woman, tell me what your sharp eyes see. And what does your sharper tongue tell? Truly little escapes you." Her face reflected approval for his wisdom in asking her conclusions.

"His customs and thoughts are not ours, young one; I find him difficult to comprehend. He speaks, so far as he knows our tongue, with directness and I see no guile in his words. I find myself wishing to trust him. I do yet know if this wish is wise, but were he a man, I would."

Only the healer could get away with calling him 'young one.' "Settle him and then leave us be, Ithwen."

Gundor waited for her to proceed him, then after a few moments, walked into the cottage and sat where he could see the stranger. Ithwen spoke their names, each to the other, and fussed over a rich smelling soup which she set before her outlandish guest, and then looking at her townsman pointedly, brought him a bowl as well. He ate slowly, savoring the well-cooked food after a few days of travel bread and game. As he ate he watched, noting the differences that told him with certainty that this was no man. The face was fair beyond any he had seen, and the few words spoken sounded like the song of a bard he had once heard in Baragund's hall at Arthrad Lumren. But fair or not, he must know more of this stranger.

When the guest had finished his soup, Ithwen took the bowls from both of them, and at a nod from Gundor, withdrew from the cottage. He smiled to himself; she would give him a tongue-lashing for turning her out of her own house, but she would choose her time well.

To his surprise, the stranger spoke first. "You command here." He had used the words that meant 'leading in battle.'

"I am chief of the town. My people trust me to look after them."

A very small smile. "That is good. A chief must have the trust of his people." The smile faded, and the face was focused. "What do you wish so that you may know your people are not threatened?"

"Why are you here?"

"It was chance that brought me. I was travelling to the Grey Havens in Lindon by way of the Gulf of Lune, but the storm and my own lack of skill with sail and rudder brought me to your village. And I am thankful that it was so, for your people have cared for me well."

It was no real answer. His voice sharpened a bit. "Where are the rest of your people; where are your ships and warriors?"

The stranger spoke softly now, gaze bright and direct, "There are none on this shore south of Lindon. I came alone from Vinyalondë, returning to Middle-earth after long years away." The eyes challenged him to accept the words as truth.

He believed; he felt the power of this being even as he sat up in bed eating soup and wearing simple fisherman's clothes. But if he believed wrongly, tempted by the beauty and nobility of the unhuman face, all living here would suffer.

Gundor held his tongue and studied the stranger intently.

The stranger smiled again, and his face lit; joy seemed to dwell there, as if only waiting for brief clouds to pass so that it might shine forth again.

"I have come for one purpose, but have been pleased to find another- learning more of the nature of Men."

Abruptly Gundor stood. This being, Glorfindel as Ithwen named him, was a riddle, and one he could not solve tonight. His weariness tugged at him, begging for a warm bed now that his stomach was full. It was no fit state to answer riddles.

"We will speak more on the morrow. We are both weary, you from your ordeal on the sea, and I from my travel and labor. Rest now, and I will send Ithwen back."

He nodded curtly as Glorfindel wished him peaceful rest from his labor, then left the cottage, closing the door behind him. He did not have long to wait before Ithwen reappeared.

"So you are done with my home for the evening? I may return to its warmth?" There was acid in her voice, but not outside the usual tone of their banter. More seriously she asked, "What did you learn?"

"Little, I fear. He denies that there are others of his kind with him, or following, or nearby at all. There are many other questions I would ask, but they will wait until my wits are sharper." She sniggered. He ignored it.

"Ithwen, I will set men to watch the night. I do not wish him to leave with the questions unanswered."

She looked at him narrowly. "I do not think you need worry, Gundor. I am not often wrong about any manner of folk; the more I see of him, the more I think he is what the legends tell of. But we will learn more tomorrow when he, and you, are fit to continue.