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The Road to Edoras  by Dreamflower

CHAPTER 34

Beorhstan’s family made the group welcome, although Targon and Éothain declined the offer to stay in the house, and instead the group set up camp in the farmyard.

There was bustle in the yard as the menfolk set up trestle tables and Derehild, assisted by Bertrade and Merewen brought food for their guests.

The family was pleased to meet the Rohirrim, and were somewhat overawed by the Gondorians, while Legolas and Gimli left them briefly speechless.

But they were fascinated by the holbyltlan and could not get enough of watching them. And soon young Aedberht was chatting amiably to Bergil and to Jolly, Rolly and Denny, who had set up a cookfire and were preparing some fruit dumplings as a sweet and as a gift for their hosts.

“I am pleased to get a chance to meet holbyltlan at last. When we heard of the ones who had come to the War, we were amazed.” The boy said. “I had heard the tales all my life from my grandmother--” he nodded towards Bertrade, who was placing some dishes upon the long table. “who knows a great store of tales.” He paused and looked once more at the hobbits, bustling about their task. “I have to say, you do not look at all like I had imagined.”

Jolly grinned at him. “And what, young sir, did you think us hobbits looked like?”

He flushed, bit his lip and frowned. “Well, you are a bit taller than I had thought, by about a head. And the tales say nothing of pointed ears, nor of the hair upon your feet. I suppose I thought you looked much like us, only smaller.”

Jolly fished a dumpling from the pot and blew on it, pinching a bit of it off, and taking a taste. He looked thoughtful, and held the ladle out to his companions. “I think they are about done; what do you think?”

Aedberht found his fingers and tongue nearly burnt from the heat of the dumplings, which did not seem to bother the hobbits, but they were delicious. The consensus was that they were indeed done, and Jolly carefully removed the cookpot from the fire.

He glanced at the boy. “I’d most dearly love to hear what sort of tales might be told by your folk about ours,” he said curiously.

“Yes,” said Bergil, “what do they say of hobbits in Rohan?” For there were even fewer tales of the Pheriannath in Gondor.

The boy blushed. “Are you sure you wish to hear the stories? For now I see you, you don’t seem much like the little folk in the tales.”

Denny laughed. “I think it’d be kind of funny-like to hear such stories, myself.”

“Well…” Aedberht bit his lip and glanced over at his grandmother, and then he went over to where Bertrade had finished laying the table, and spoke softly to her in Rohirric. She looked up briefly, and glanced over at the hobbits and Bergil, who were watching with anticipation. For a moment she studied them, and then nodded, speaking once more to her grandson.

Aedberht gestured for Jolly, Rolly, Denny and Bergil to join him. “She shall tell the tale in the Rohirric tongue, and I shall translate for you, if you still wish to hear it?”

They nodded their assent, and sat down upon the ground about her feet. Aedberht stood behind her at her shoulder. She gave a smile that lit her wizened face, and then spoke out in the rolling cadences of the Rohirric tongue. Though her listeners could not understand her words, her tone was dramatic. After a moment, she stopped and looked at her grandson.

Aedberht closed his eyes, for a moment, and then spoke:

“Long ago, when our people dwelt still to the East of the Great River, many long generations before the Longfathers of Eorl the Young became the chiefs of our peoples, there dwelt upon a farm in the low hills between the Wood and the River, and old farmer and his wife.

When he stopped and looked up, he saw the other hobbits had joined them, listening intently. He also saw his uncle watching and listening at the back of the gathering. Beorhstan gave him a smile of approval, and a nod. Then Bertrade spoke again, and he listened intently, so that when she stopped he could repeat her words. She would speak for a moment, and then stop and look at him, and this is the tale as he repeated it:

Now this farmer and his wife had three daughters, but no sons. Yet their daughters were all great beauties. When the oldest daughter came of an age to marry, a wealthy trader asked for her hand. Her parents were pleased with this match, and so she was wed. But her husband was a haughty man who looked down upon his wife’s parents, and he took her far away to dwell among his own family, where they would not have to see her family, for they were embarrassed by them.

A few years later, the second daughter was of an age, and her hand was sought in marriage by a great warrior. Once more her parents consented to the match, for he was a brave hero of renown. But he cared not for the farm on which his wife was raised, thinking such was beneath his notice, and he too took his wife away.

The farmer and his wife were very saddened by this, for they missed their older daughters a great deal. But they were consoled by the presence of their youngest daughter. She it was who was the most beautiful of the three, and she had a kind and gentle nature. She loved her parents very much, and told them she would never wed if it would take her from their side. Her name was Bridd.

The three lived well enough for some years, though as the farmer grew old, his farm became less prosperous, for he had no sons to help him. His wife and daughter did what they could, but much of the work was beyond their strength, and his own strength was waning.

One day, Bridd went out to pick berries. She was sadly lost in thought, for she was worried about her parents, who were getting older, and she was fretful herself, for she had turned away many suitors for her hand, drawn by her beauty, because they did not care for her family’s farm, and now she worried that she would never wed. She also missed her sisters, who had not visited in many years.

But then she heard a cry, as of something in pain. Turning aside from the path to look, she was surprised to see, caught in a rabbit snare, a small person. He was struggling weakly, but looked up at her in fear as she approached. He dangled several inches above the path, his small arms trapped by the snare, and his struggles only served to make the snare tighten about him.

“Oh, you poor dear!” she exclaimed. And in spite of his obvious fear, she carefully took hold of him and removed the snare.

She put him down, and he stood for a moment looking up at her, and then said, “You have surely saved my life! My name is Tûkka,”

As Aedberht repeated that, several of the hobbits gasped and looked at one another.

“…and I am ever at your service and that of your family.” And he gave a little bow.

At this kind speech, she stared a moment, and then burst into tears.

“What troubles you, fair maiden?” asked Tûkka.

Encouraged by his kindly manner, Bridd told Tûkka of her worries and fears. “I am sorry to have troubled you so, Master Tûkka, for I do not think there is aught you may do to help me with these sorrows.”

“Dry your tears, and do not despair, for a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved. You may find that the help of such a small person is of value after all.” He gave a call, a whistle like that of a thrush’s song, and Bridd saw that they were suddenly surrounded by many small people, who appeared from behind the bushes and trees. Tûkka stood and said “This is my friend Bridd. She has saved my life; if ever she is in any need, I ask you, my people, to come to her aid.” And by this, Bridd knew he was the chieftain of his people. He turned to her and bowed, “If ever you are in need, call my name three times, and I or one of my people, will respond.” And then, suddenly, and to her astonishment, he and all the other small people vanished.

Bertrade paused in her telling, and then her daughter-in-law handed her a cup. The elderly woman gave her thanks, and then after taking a few sips, took up the tale again. As his grandmother spoke, Aedberht’s mother handed him a cup as well, and by the time Bertrade paused again for him to translate, he had drained it.

After a few days, Bridd began to wonder if she had dreamed the encounter with the strange little person. She had much on her mind, for it was spring, and her father was having difficulty with the plowing. When he was too tired to go on, she tried to do it for him, but she had not the strength nor skill to do it properly, and all too soon she had to quit. As the Sun went down and the Moon came up, she returned to the cottage weary and discouraged. “Ah,” she sighed, “Tûkka, Tûkka, Tûkka! Would that you were real, and could be of help to me!”

The next day, the farmer and his weary family arose, and he went out to try once more to finish the plowing. But he soon came running back--

“All the fields are plowed!” he exclaimed. “I do not understand it!”

His wife and daughter stared in amazement. And then Bridd remembered her words the night before. “Tûkka!” she exclaimed.

Her parents looked at her, puzzled at her words, so she recounted what had happened. “I had thought perhaps I dreamed it all--but now, I think not!”

His flagging strength renewed by this amazing event, the farmer and his wife and daughter immediately set to with the planting. They could not, of course, finish it all in one day, yet the next morning, they found that what they had not done had been completed in the night.

Throughout the season, the farmer, with Bridd and his wife at his side, worked as hard as they might, yet each morn, any task they had left unfinished at evening, was found to have been done already by the dawn.

The farmer’s family was very grateful for the help of Tûkka’s small people, and after a few weeks, Bridd took to leaving food and drink outside the door. It was always gone at morn.

The crops grew more bountifully that year than ever before, and when harvest-time approached, the farmer realized he would never be able to get it all in.

“I think, Bridd,” he told his daughter, “that we may need more help than your small friend and his people may give--they are after all, quite small, and this is a great harvest.”

That night, as Bridd placed the food and drink outside the door, she looked out into the darkness. “Tûkka! Tûkka! Tûkka!” she called softly, “you have my thanks for all your help, but I do not think that you will be able to help with this much harvest!”

The next morn, as the farmer and his family were at breakfast, there came a knocking upon the door.

He rose, and went to answer. There stood a sturdy young man, and six young men behind him.

“My name sir, is Aldor, and these are my brothers. Last night, we came upon an old woman carrying a great load of firewood, and we helped her carry it to her cottage in the forest. We told her that we were wandering in search of work, and she sent us here to this place, saying that you had need of help with your harvest.”

The farmer nodded sadly, “So I have, but I have no coin with which to pay wages.”

The young man looked at his brothers, and then back at the farmer. “We would be glad to work for our board, and for a place to sleep in your stable. Our old master, a merchant, turned us out without our wages, for he found workers who would take less than we. And the only other person we have spoken to was a warrior, who disdained us as we are not fighting men.”

And so it was agreed, and the seven brothers were hard workers indeed, and soon the harvest was well and truly in. The farm became indeed the most prosperous in the area, and word began to spread of how profitable the farm had become.

One day, as the farmer and his workers were repairing a fence, there came the sound of horses and waggons. The farmer looked up the road to see a well appointed wain, and in it rode his oldest daughter and her husband.

He and his wife and Bridd were overjoyed to see them, but when they stopped and alighted from their seats, she embraced them rather formally. Her husband looked about him with a calculating eye.

As they yet stood in by the road, they heard the sound of horses, and looking up, they saw their second daughter and her husband, at the head of an é ored of riders. The warrior signaled for his men to wait, and the two of them rode forward. They looked at the elder sister and her husband in dismay, as they dismounted.

The husband of the older daughter puffed himself up, and addressed the farmer. “We have been thinking of you lately, Father and Mother,” he said in an oily voice. “And it seems to me that you are getting on in years, and perhaps keeping up the farm is too much for you. And my sister-in-law is yet unwed. We offer you all a home with us. We will put someone in charge of the farm, and I have a cousin who has been looking for a wife…”

At this, the farmer and his wife looked dismayed, but before they could say anything, the warrior spoke up. “Nay! I say they should come with us!”

Soon the new arrivals were arguing in the road, and poor Bridd watched in distress at the quarreling. “Oh, Tûkka! Tûkka! Tûkka!” she exclaimed sadly to herself, “if only there were something you could do about this! I have no wish to leave my home, nor to see my parents living on the charity of my brothers-in-law! But alas, I think this may be beyond you.”

Just then, she heard a sound like a bird, as of a thrush’s song, and the next thing she knew, Tûkka stood by her side. The quarreling stopped as all of the people stared at him in amazement.

Finally the warrior found his voice. “Who and what is this little manikin?” he said in a haughty tone.

Tûkka gave another call, and soon all were surrounded by the little people, and from a copse of trees beyond the road, came an old woman. She walked over and stood by Tû kka’s side. She stared at the merchant and his wife, and at the warrior and his wife. “What is all this uproar?” she said sternly. “You row in the roadway like greedy children!”

The merchant’s face went red. “And who are *you*, old woman, to take us to task? You have no authority here!”

“Do I not?” she asked. And her voice no longer sounded old, yet neither did it sound young--rather it sounded like a fresh wind off the plain after a thunderstorm. The air about her shimmered, and there stood before them a tall women of unearthly beauty. She seemed to glow. The merchant and the warrior cowered before her. She turned her glance upon their wives. “You are your parent’s daughters! It is time that you acted like it!” she said sternly. They turned very pale, and then a flush of shame spread over their faces. They looked at their parents, abashed.

And suddenly, the strange woman shrank down, until she was no taller than Tûkka. She stood beside him, and took his hand, and looked upon him fondly.

Tûkka looked up at the others. “Bridd’s family is under my protection and that of my people,” he said, “and you will do well to remember that!”

And then in the blinking of an eye, they were gone.

All gaped for a moment, and then the merchant blinked. “This changes nothing!” he said. “It’s for the best if they come with us!”

His wife turned and looked him in the eye. “I think not, husband, if they’ve no wish to! If you insist on this, then I suppose I shall have to tell the Guild Master of your habit of putting your thumb on the scales when you are weighing out your coin!”

He gaped at her for a moment, and then swallowed, and nodded.

The warrior chuckled, and said “Well, I suppose that means they must come with us…”

But his wife shook her head, and then smiled at him. “How would your men feel if they knew that their mighty leader is deathly afraid of spiders?”

He blanched. “Very well, wife,” he said meekly.

“Now,” said the oldest daughter, “let us have a proper visit with our family!”

And into the cottage they went, but as Bridd started to go, Aldor stopped her. “Bridd, if you would have me, I will wed with you, and I will stay upon this farm with my brothers, and we will take care of your parents in their own home for the rest of their days.”

And so it was, and Bridd and Aldor were happy together, and her sisters visited more often than they had before, their eyes opened to their shameful neglect. And their husbands soon grew used to the new way of things.

And Bridd had no more need to call upon Tû kka, yet one day, she went out to the path where first she had found him. “Tûkka, Tûkka, Tûkka!” she called softly.

And the next thing she knew, he stood beside her. “Do you need my help once more, Bridd?” he asked.

“Nay,” she said, “for I’ve all I ever wanted. Yet I would that you would meet someone.” And she held down a bundle she carried, and, lo! It was a babe. “Here is my son. Without the help of you and your lady, he would never have been born.”

And Tûkka smiled, and placed kiss upon the babe’s brow, and vanished once more.

Bertade’s voice had ceased, and she watched as her grandson translated the last few words. She reached up, and gave him a proud pat on the arm.

He smiled at her, and said "Ic þancie þe, Ieldracennicge"*

The hobbits were all staring at one another in amazement.

“Tûkka?” said Berilac.

“I know,” said Freddy. “It’s almost unbelievable.” He wondered what Pippin would say when he heard this tale.

And then Merewen announced that the food was ready to be served, and strange tales were put aside for the moment.

But not forgotten.

________________________________

*My thanks to Marta and to Rhapsody on the SoA e-list for their help with the “Rohirric”.





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