Chapter 18 - “Sense and Sensibilities”

Penny was in the Hall of Fire later that evening, listening to the songs and the chatter around her. Mireth was talking nineteen to the dozen next to her and Penny was happy enough to let the babble wash over her.

She felt a touch on her shoulder. It was Erestor. He beckoned her to come with him and, as they passed a group consisting of the hobbits, some of the dwarves and Mithrandir, he asked Gandalf to join him also. Penny was led out into the corridor and then into a small antechamber.

Elrond was in the room, leaning against a mantlepiece with a goblet of wine in his hand. He looked up and smiled as they entered. “Ah, Pen-ii. Good. There is someone I believe you have not been properly introduced to yet. Most remiss of us.” Penny looked at the chair he was indicating near him and saw Arwen smiling kindly at her.

“Pen-ii. I am glad to meet you properly at last. Father should have introduced us long before. It is only because of something I let slip just now that he has rectified it. You must forgive us if we seemed rude.”

As Gandalf translated this Erestor gestured towards a chair for Penny and Elrond poured her some wine as she took her place.

“I am most honoured to meet you, hiril nin. Aiya.” Penny’s brow furrowed. “Something you said? I don’t understand.”

Arwen laughed, but before she could reply Elrond spoke. “It would seem her brothers could not keep her in ignorance.”

“Ah,” said Gandalf, suddenly understanding what all this was about. “It would seem, Pen-ii, that Lady Arwen knows your story. From Elladan and Elrohir.”

Penny looked at Arwen in astonishment. She was absolutely speechless. Why this hit so hard she wasn’t sure. Actually, yes, she was. She knew exactly why. Arwen was female. She was an elf, sure, but she was female. The first female to have any idea of what she was going through. The compassion she suddenly saw in Arwen’s face brought tears to her eyes.

Arwen was speaking very softly. “I can have no idea what it must be like for you, or what you went through before it was known or understood, Pen- ii. I have wanted to say something to you all this time but was waiting for my father to inform me which he failed to do till I mentioned it to him myself.” She flashed an exasperated glance at her father. “I understand he wanted as few people to know as possible, and you must not blame him for his decision, but you also needed to have a female who understood. I think that is, in part, why my brothers told me though we are also very close and rarely keep secrets from each other. I confess I had sensed something strange about you even before they told me. It would not surprise me if others here sense it also. Indeed, I am sure they do, though they will not know what it means. You seem utterly foreign to us. More so than humans normally do. Does she not?” Arwen looked about her as she said this and there was murmured agreement from the other three.

If anything hearing that just made things worse for Penny. So she really was a freak. They were all picking up ‘weirdo’ vibes from her. She was determined she wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t. She’d just started feeling a little settled, just started forgetting about it all to a certain extent, and now this.

She looked at Gandalf. “So everyone, or every elf at least, will have sensed something peculiar about me?”

Gandalf did his best to explain, “Not exactly. Possibly one or two. Not everyone is strong in such things, though all elves have such abilities to a certain extent.”

Elrond, Erestor and Arwen, listening to Gandalf as he spoke, realised what her question had been and what her concerns were.

Lord Elrond smiled gently, trying to reassure her. “You must not worry, Pen-ii. Often elves can sense that someone is different, perhaps from a culture or place utterly alien to them and that is how you will seem to most of them. That is all. No more than that, I can assure you. It is possible one or two will sense something stronger but even they will not be able to define it nor will they be concerned, given that you are here as my guest and with my approval.”

Penny nodded. It made her feel very uncomfortable to know all this, though.

“How are you finding Imladris, Pen-ii?” Arwen was trying to change the subject.

“I.. it is wonderful. Really.” They laughed. “Why do you laugh? Just to be here, to be...” She sighed. “I can’t explain what it’s like to be here. It’s like a dream in many ways. I have to stop from pinching myself at times. Not just that, but to meet or see all of you...”

Arwen nodded, “It must be very strange. If I were to wake up in the middle of Gondolin or Nargothrond tomorrow it would perhaps be similar.”

Penny nodded. She nearly added ‘Or Valinor’ and caught herself just in time. Thank God! Not the best thing to say given Arwen would not be going with her father...

“And how are Erestor’s lessons coming along? He is not being too hard on you, I trust?” Arwen grinned at the Counsellor.

Penny laughed, “Not at all. He’s very patient with me.” Erestor nodded in appreciation at this as Gandalf translated it. “It’s true. Le hannon, Erestor. He’s not the only one, though. Mithrandir will tell you: every meal time anyone sitting next to me is testing my Sindarin, Maura in particular. I have Lindir, Mireth, Eleniel and Celebdor all teaching me things as well. Too much, sometimes. It’s hard to remember it all.”

“It will come. Give it time.” Arwen stopped, considering Penny for a moment. “So you know what our futures hold. That must be hard indeed for you Pen-ii. I, as well as Mithrandir and my father here, can have some idea of what that can be like. But we can never know with certainty. Not like you.”

Penny was looking troubled, her brow furrowed. She really didn’t like thinking about it, or being reminded of it.

“Forgive me, Pen-ii. I did not want to make you feel ill at ease. I only wished to let you know that I can understand. Or a little at least.”

Penny nodded. “I know. I would expect, in some ways, that you would have such a skill, as Galadriel’s granddaughter, but it is known of you.” She hesitated.

Arwen, watching her, smiled softly as if she knew what Penny would have said. “Go on, Pen-ii. I do not think you will offend any by continuing.”

“Did you not say to Aragorn when you first met, when he said he thought you were Luthien, that your fate might not be dissimilar to hers?”

There was an intake of breath from Gandalf. As he translated there were mutterings and gasps from Elrond and Erestor but Arwen, having heard the names and guessed what she had said, simply broadened her smile. She nodded. “I did indeed, Pen-ii. So even that is known, is it?”

Penny nodded. “Oh yes. You and Aragorn are very well known.” She thought, ‘And thousands of PMFs are desperately jealous where I come from.’

Arwen raised an eyebrow at her. Penny looked at her curiously. 'Dear God. She didn’t inherit THAT trick from her granny too, did she?' Arwen smiled, the smile quickly widening into a smirk and then a grin. 'Bloody Nora, she DID!' Penny started giggling and Arwen joined her.

“I shall have to be careful what I think when I am round you, then,” said Penny.

Arwen shook her head as Gandalf translated. “Do not worry, Pen-ii. I can sometimes get a sense of what someone is thinking or about to say, but nothing clear. Nothing exact. Not like the Lady Galadriel. Or Mithrandir. It’s just... well... that was very clear and concerned me personally, that was all.”

As Gandalf translated this, Penny could see both Erestor and Elrond, but Elrond in particular, looking intrigued. Hoo boy. She hoped Arwen would not explain because that could open up a huge can of worms. Explaining the concept of the films might not be so difficult – much like a play or something – but fanfic...! She could just imagine it: ‘Well, Elrond... umm.. how shall I put this? There ARE people around who would give their right eye for one night with you. With any elf. In fact Glorfindel’s up there too, along with both your sons, but it’s mostly Legolas. Every time. Poor bugger.’

No. She didn’t think so.

“So Aragorn is the hero of your story?” Arwen was asking.

“One of them,” said Penny diplomatically. “He is, after all, the heir to the throne. As well as one of the Fellowship. Very heroic stuff.” She was having to bite her tongue and was trying to choose her words very careful. She had nearly said ‘future king’ except that might have told them he did actually become king.

Arwen could see she was getting uncomfortable and raised her hand in apology. “Forgive me, Pen-ii. I understand it may be difficult to even speak of the past or the present without reference to what you know will come afterwards. Still, I wished for Erestor to bring you to meet me now so at least we will no longer be strangers. If there is anything you need, you are to let my father know. Or me if that might be easier.”

Penny looked at her. She wondered if... did she know about what had happened yesterday with Erestor? Had he said something? Unlikely. Mireth possibly? Or Eleniel? She got the feeling that she knew, though, and she was grateful for the offer. It would indeed be wonderful to have a female around who knew what her full story was, not that Penny wasn’t grateful for the friendship Mireth and Eleniel had shown her by any means, but having a female on side was a relief.

The next few days passed into an easy routine. Mornings were spent first with Sindarin lessons followed by a few hours at the stables with Lindir who was getting her to brush or feed the same horse every time Penny noticed. If she had time before lunch she would do any writing practice she had for Erestor, a little weaving or else some embroidery. This last was a project she had been given by Mireth. She had given her a square of linen and a frame to keep the material tight and Penny had to practice the various stitches she had taught her, much like a sampler.

Afternoons were spent weaving or gardening, though she often had time to wander, which she did now Lord Elrond had given her permission to do so.

The tanners she didn’t bother with. Watching people scrape bits of animal skin she really didn’t need to see, thank you very much. The blacksmithing was amazing, though and in the buildings and workshops nearby to the blacksmiths were the carpenters, potters, silversmiths and jewellers. Slowly Penny found herself going there more and more often if she had any free time. She didn’t think she would be any good at any of it but it was all fascinating to watch.

Most of those working there were males. Any elleths who were there tended to concentrate mainly on detailed decoration. Penny was astonished at the level of intricacy and detail the carpenters managed to achieve with both inlay and marquetry. Over the next few weeks she would watch as a table top would be carved out and inlaid with tiny slivers and pieces of different coloured wood, or even metal or mother of pearl on occasion, till a scene of astonishing beauty was visible: a waterfall, mountains, and birds in the trees. It was not dissimilar amongst the smiths: working in silver, copper, brass and even gold. She now understood that Elladan’s miruvor flask, while stunning, was by no means unique.

This was not a production line. It was a slow careful process of creation for each item and the numbers working in each workshop were not great – five or six at most and in some it was less - yet the detail and beauty was all the greater for the time taken over each item.

The barn where the carpenters worked smelled wonderful and the floor was covered in wood chips. Work was not busy here: they took their time to both create a piece and then decorate it and, Penny soon realised, one elf would often be responsible for the entire process: from building a chair itself, for example, all the way through to carving it or inlaying it and then staining or varnishing it. There were smaller items such as boxes carved in such a way that they were like doilies – full of holes as if made of wooden, knotted string – as well as figurines, utensils (such as spoons) or arrow shafts. She was gratified that none of them minded her presence but welcomed her smiling, pulling up chairs or stools for her to watch them as they worked, and it was the same in each of the workshops and barns.

Slowly, as they all got to know her, she was given little jobs to do or given ‘a go’ on one tool or another. She couldn’t be sure but she rightly suspected that she was never given a job on anything important. Often it was a piece of wood too knotted for use, or the sawn-off end from something else. But even so she planed and drilled and even whittled, though quite what this last achieved she had no idea. She had made a very sharp point on a very short stick. To what end heaven alone knew but everyone nodded and smiled at her nonetheless.

She loved watching the turning. That didn’t happen every time she was there. You sat at a table, with the piece being worked on – whether a bowl or a chair leg – in front of you and a lathe held against it. Attached to the lathe by a rope was, from one direction, a treadle and, from the other direction, a bendy pole that was wedged firmly into the ground. Press the treadle and the lathe turned on the piece of wood; release and the pole (bent by the action of the rope pulling on it as the lathe turned) straightened so turning the lathe back in the other direction so you could then press the treadle once more. The lathe only ‘worked’, therefore, when the treadle was being pressed but in this way they could turn very well indeed.

They offered her a go on it but she refused, realising it would need a lot of skill and practise. Fun to watch, though: to see a bowl appear out of a solid block of wood. She noticed that often chair legs or similar were turned on green wood and then left in a pile unused for quite a while. Only weeks later would a turned leg become part of a chair or table.

Much of the work done by the carpenters, however, was basic everyday things. Wicker work was done here also, so baskets were made, fences and gates that needed replacing for the farmland further up the valley, chair seats were woven from rushes, low wicker panels for use in the kitchen garden, and barrels. Loads of barrels. They were the product of the combined efforts of the carpenters and blacksmiths and it was a job that took the several days.

Over the coming weeks she was introduced to basketry and discovered she wasn’t too bad at it. Or at least, unlike most things, she didn’t completely balls it up first time, even if it wasn’t perfect. She made a complete mess on the potter’s wheel, but had so much fun with it that she kept coming back time and again till at last she was showing some signs of improvement. She was pleased to finding some skills she enjoyed practising at last. She was really getting into the gardening as well and her writing skill with a quill was improving.

She’d suddenly got the knack of it and Erestor now found her ‘writing out’ exercises had vocabulary lists on the back of them. Everything was written in her own language since she didn’t always know for sure how something was spelt in Tengwar, though she always hazarded a guess. Erestor would correct any he saw mis-spelt but he was pleased that she was at least trying to make a note of the new words she was learning. He could always tell where she had been the previous day by the words written down: vegetables, garden tools or flower names; the names of various metals or woods, ‘hammer’, ‘chisel’ or ‘saw’; colours, material names, ‘loom’, clothing items. She was learning, slowly. The interesting part would be the verbs.

It was nearly two weeks since Halbarad had left and Penny was hoping that today or tomorrow she would be able to bid a joyous farewell to the belt contraption for a month. It was just after lunch and it was raining. Had been all morning too. It was pouring down, in fact, and Penny really didn’t feel like gardening or running through the downpour to the carpenters and smiths or even to her weaving. She was in one of the antechambers, alternating between reading her Sindarin lesson (she was up to lesson five) and her sewing. One of the carpenters had given her a little box, covered in carved butterflies, to keep her threads and needlework in. She loved it to bits.

Mireth was with her, also working on some embroidery, and Eleniel was busy darning a hole in a shawl. There was a fire lit in the room and quite a few of the guests and residents were here, seated near the fire, some near the three large windows with window-seats, others at chairs and tables ranged about the room. The dwarves were here, as were the Mirkwood elves. Mithrandir had just left and there was no sign of Boromir: no doubt with Elrond as seemed to be his wont. He had been at lunch, though.

Penny felt kind of sorry for him. He got on well enough with the elves it appeared but he was a bit of a lone element there. No one had come with him from Gondor but also all the men had left to search for the Nazgûl. She had spoken to Gandalf about it.

“I presume Boromir didn’t go because he doesn’t know the terrain?”

Gandalf had nodded. “He wanted to leave with them but was persuaded against it. Even he had to admit it would be easier and faster for the Dûnedain and elves of Imladris to search without him. He is a sensible and intelligent man. He understood well enough. Besides he is also a guest here and Lord Elrond would not hear of a guest undertaking such a dangerous mission.”

Still. Poor sod. Wandering about kicking his heels. Must be quite trying. If she hadn’t promised herself...

No. Out of the question. Absolutely.

She had then asked Gandalf about his saddle. Gandalf had looked surprised at her question. “Did that not make it into your stories, then, Pen-ii? He lost his horse as he crossed the river Gwathló near Thabad.”

Penny had looked puzzled for a minute and then it dawned on her. Of course he had! She had completely forgotten. “I forgot, Gandalf. It’s such a minor detail amongst so many in the stories that it totally slipped my mind.” She paused, considering. “His journey was quite an astonishing one, wasn’t it? That our stories do make clear. A feat of bravery and heroism in itself because the Greenway is in disrepair and the bridges collapsed. Poor Boromir.”

Gandalf nodded. “Yes, indeed. He had a very hard time of it. You saw him the morning he arrived, did you not? One of the scouts sent out to look for the kuduk came across him wandering a few miles South of here, completely lost. It was another reason why it was out of the question that he could immediately go back out with the others to look for the Nazgûl: he needed to rest. He lost near all he had also: his pack, his food. Elrond has clothed him as I am sure you have realised.”

Penny nodded in her turn. Now it all made sense. It also explained why he had reeked quite so badly that first day when she had nearly run into him. He probably hadn’t changed any part of his clothing in weeks.

He had taken to eating near Gandalf at mealtimes and was clearly getting to know the hobbits. It meant that he and Penny knew each other well enough now that they would nod, smile and greet each other. He had grinned the first breakfast he had seen Frodo go through her Sindarin with her for Erestor’s lesson. She now found him pointing out things to her in Sindarin at the dinner table also. Quite why she was surprised that his Sindarin was so good she had no idea. He seemed to speak very fluently and easily with those around him. She had asked about that too.

“Gandalf? Boromir is thought of as the warrior and his brother as the gentler, more scholastic one. Is that a fair assessment?”

Gandalf had smiled, “In very general terms, yes indeed. But do not forget Boromir is the eldest son of the Steward of Gondor. One day it may be he will, in turn, be Steward himself. He has been trained and educated to a high standard, as one befitting his station. Though his brother showed more inclination in that regard, Boromir is no dolt. His Sindarin, if heavily accented, is more than passable.”

Penny was pleased to hear this. Why, she was not sure. It was nice to know him as such a rounded figure. She had watched him a few times from a distance. Knowing what she knew meant she felt more drawn to him than the others in some respects, though it equally meant she kept her distance from him as much as she could. He seemed to get on well with the dwarves and spent much of the evenings, if not with Elrond or Gandalf, in their company with huge mugs of ale.

Ah, yes. The dwarves. That was an interesting situation. Very interesting.

Penny couldn’t put her finger on it. There was no tension between them and the elves, but there was no love lost either. Any elves who encountered them were courteous enough, as were the dwarves in their turn. Indeed, she had seen laughter and jokes being shared, but there was a definite vibe: as if neither side could completely relax. It could have been she imagined it. She doubted it, though.

Once she had seen the Mirkwood elves chatting with the dwarves in the Hall of Fire. It had been fairly obvious that Legolas and Gloín knew each other which Penny, thinking about it later, realised made a lot of sense. No doubt one or the other had met in diplomatic meetings between Erebor and Mirkwood she supposed. ‘Puts a whole new twist on the Gimli-Legolas friendship,’ she had thought.

The two groups were chatting even now, though only two of the Mirkwood elves were present (one of them Legolas) and only Gloin, his brother and another dwarf were in the antechamber.

The door opened and Gandalf came in with Bilbo, Frodo and Merry. As the only spare seats were near Penny and the two elleths, Gandalf steered Bilbo in that direction so he could sit. Mireth and Eleniel were standing, muttering excuses since they had jobs to attend to, so Penny found herself alone with Gandalf and the three hobbits as they chatted.

“Mithrandir, I would still love to know about Erebor and Smaug. Since this afternoon is stretching ahead of me, would now be a good time?”

Before Gandalf could reply Bilbo, having heard ‘Erebor’ and ‘Smaug’ had leapt in, “Ah, yes, Pen-ii. Gandalf told me you wanted to hear about my adventures. And very interesting they are too, might I add.”

Frodo groaned, “Now she’s done it. We’ll never hear the end of it, you do realise this, Gandalf? You should have warned her.” He turned to Pen-ii, “You will be stuck here for hours now.” He grinned.

Penny giggled when Mithrandir translated. “Well, if it’s not a good idea, another time perhaps?”

“No, no, no! Now’s as good a time as any!” insisted Bilbo as Gandalf explained what Penny had meant.

Penny was then treated to the most entertaining afternoon she had had so far. Bilbo started off easily enough, though Penny clocked the rolling eyes, shared giggles and smirks between Frodo and Merry as he did so. Clearly they knew this story backwards. She noticed they were staying to listen to it again, though.

It wasn’t long before the trouble started. Gandalf, busy translating every now and then, started interrupting Bilbo, clearly correcting him. Bilbo hadn’t even got past the point in the story of he and the dwarves leaving Hobbiton. Gandalf explained to Penny, “I would not tell him the entire truth to his face but it was not nearly as simple as he believes, as you well know.”

Penny grinned, “No, indeed. Thorin didn’t think much of him at all, did he? It took all your powers of persuasion to get them to take him along once they had met him, didn’t it?”

Gandalf nodded, grinning. In the meantime, Bilbo had called over to Gloín asking for his opinion. Gloín came over to join them and Penny was introduced, at last, to some of the dwarves. She bowed and greeted them, sticking to ‘aiya’ since at least that could be translated.

It then became a three-way story telling between Gandalf, Gloín and Bilbo with each interrupting and correcting the others much to the amusement of Frodo, Merry and Penny, as well as the small crowd that had now gathered round them. Bilbo was clearly getting quite exasperated with it all and there were several bouts of “Who is telling this story?” and “That’s not how looked from MY neck of the woods!” with Frodo adding a “Does it really matter?” only to get such looks from the three story-tellers that he kept his mouth firmly shut from then on, but not before he and Merry had exchanged a look and collapsed into giggles.

The next major stalling point was Mirkwood. Or, more specifically, King Thranduil. Bilbo and Gloín glossed over a large part of the story at that point, Penny realised, and when she looked at Gandalf to ask for an explanation she saw he was grinning at Legolas who was grinning back.

“That’s not quite how my father remembers it,” Legolas said, still grinning.

“I am sure it isn’t, but that is besides the point,” Gloín grumbled. “Besides, I do not think it is the place or time for prolonged discussion.”

“It isn’t quite how I remember it, if truth be told,” Legolas continued. “But you are right. This is neither the time nor the place.”

As Gandalf translated for her she could see Legolas’s eyes were sparkling with amusement. He’d been there! Of course, he would have been. That’s how Gloín and he knew each other, presumably. Or how they first met, anyway.

As dusk fell outside they were reaching the Battle of the Five Armies. Legolas was joining in with the story-telling as well now and telling of the march north of the army of Mirkwood. Penny’s eyes were wide.

“You were there, Lord Legolas?”

Legolas waited patiently as Gandalf translated. “But of course, Lady Pen- ii. Where else would I be other than fighting by my father’s side?” He had seemed a little confused by her question but affable enough.

As the dinner bell rang the conversation had fallen into a general chatter. There were gaps. Big gaps. But understandable ones. No mention made of the trolls’ gold, though they had mentioned Sting and Glamdring. No mention, of course, of the Ring or Gollum.

Penny noticed that Gandalf did not speak of Dol Guldur or the attack on it.

On the way to the dining hall Gloín, walking on the other side of Gandalf from Penny was asking, “So you had heard of Smaug’s fall and the restoration of Erebor in your country, Pen-ii?”

Penny nodded. She could feel Gandalf’s gaze upon her and suddenly worried that she had drawn attention to herself by asking for the tale. Gandalf would have stopped her, though, would not have joined in himself if that were case, wouldn’t he?

“Where exactly is your country, Pen-ii? I gather it is far.”

He hadn’t meant anything by it. He was intrigued. No-one seemed to know where she came from. Elrond clearly did, and Mithrandir, but neither were giving anything away. Gandalf quickly interjected.

“She does not know. She is clearly not from here but she has forgotten everything of her past. Bumps on the head can do that sort of thing. She was in a dazed and confused state when Halbarad found her. We are helping her as best we can, Gloín. Time may tell. Or may not. You never know with this sort of thing.”

Gloín nodded. Penny wondered what Gandalf had said, since Gloin had clearly addressed his question to her, but whatever it was Gloín wasn’t expecting her to reply any more. He simply smiled kindly at her and nodded. “I am sorry to hear that, Pen-ii. Most difficult for you, I am sure. If you will excuse me.” He headed off towards his companions.

“What was that about? What did you tell him, Mithrandir?”

“He asked where you were from, Pen-ii. I said that you have lost your memory.”

“Ah. Okay.” Penny grinned. ‘Good thinking, Batman!’ she thought.

“He was most sympathetic and moved to hear of it,” Gandalf continued.

As they entered the dining hall Legolas, who had been walking behind them and had heard the entire exchange, was giving Penny a rather odd look.