We move forward in time to late in the year 3019. Elrond has just called his sons into his office.

‘My sons, I’m afraid we’ve had some rather serious news from the Shire….Do you remember that we saw Saruman and Wormtongue in Dunland, on our return from Gondor this summer?’ Elrond’s face was gravity itself.

‘Of course, father. Why, what has happened?’ The twins’ features showed curiosity rather than alarm.

‘Well after seeing us, he seems to have diverted North West and headed straight to the Shire’

‘But why?’ Elladan sounded puzzled ‘ he didn’t really have much to do with the hobbits did he? I mean we know he was jealous of Gandalf, and despised the Rohirrim, but all the hobbits did was…’

‘Destroy the one thing he wanted in all of Middle-earth, and instigated the destruction of Isengard by the Ents.’ Elrond completed the sentence for his son.

‘Oh’ Elladan’s characteristic verbal fluency evaporated, like a raindrop in the Harad sun, as he considered the implications of Elrond’s comment.

‘Saruman and Wormtongue’, Elrohir almost seemed to be thinking out loud. ‘Gandalf said he could do something small and mean. But they are both aged in body now, they wouldn’t be capable of doing too much harm, would they, Father?’

‘Aged indeed, but given strength by malice, and determined to inflict as much revenge on the hobbits as he could, on them, and on their houses and their land. And especially on the ‘Travellers’ Frodo and Sam, Merry and Pippin’

Elladan’s face suddenly brightened. ‘But its all right, the travellers returned to Bree and the Shire with Gandalf. We know he can master Saruman, we saw him break his staff at Isengard’

‘Gandalf did not go to the Shire. He left the four hobbits after Bree to visit Bombadil. They returned to the Shire alone, not knowing Saruman was there.’

‘And not knowing that Saruman had a group of about two hundred ruffians, thugs and worse, lurking in and around the southern edges of the Shire’ came a new voice. A tall dark haired Elf appeared carrying a sword. It took the twins a moment to realize Erestor was dressed for warfare.

‘Worse?’ queried Elrohir.

‘Worse. Some of them are black blooded. Saruman bred orcs and men somehow to make half breed creatures, filled with evil and greed, but able to stand the light.’ Erestor’s seriousness easily matched that of Elrond.

‘200 orcs in the Shire! And the Dúnedain are still in Gondor - the Ringbearer is unprotected! Father, we will deal with this right away. Erestor, will you ride with us? Where is Glorfindel? How many horsemen can we muster immediately? To arms, Riders of Rivendell!’

A few months of peace could not slow an Age of instinctive reactions to the word ‘orcs’. Chairs flew across the floor, as the twins leaped up shouting orders and instructions. Startled Elves started to appear from the corridors of Rivendell, some carrying hastily gathered swords or bows. Elrond’s office filled quickly, and soon the throng overflowed to the corridor outside.

Somewhat curiously, Elrond sat impassively during this display of military urgency, while a close observer might have noticed the tiniest twitching around Erestor’s mouth. Perhaps fortunately for Erestor, Elladan and Elrohir could not be said to count as ‘close observers’ at that precise moment.

As the noise of questions, explanations, orders and acknowledgements, filled his office, the Lord of Rivendell calmly raised his hand. Slowly, the room became quiet.

‘Please everyone, compose yourselves for a moment; it is important you hear the rest of the message – you haven’t even asked who it was from, or how it ended. There were two messages, one from the Shire itself, and one from Gandalf. I believe you may be interested in his words in particular.’

‘Yes, father, tell us! Does he have news of the hobbits? Did he go to help them fight Saruman and the orcs?’

‘Well, my sons, Gandalf sent us a short message that instantly told us the outcome of events in the Shire. A short message indeed, of just five words. A simple phrase, but you might just remember the circumstances when it was first used. I recall two riders of Rivendell giving Erestor, and me, rather the wrong impression about the outcome of a battle involving hobbits, and causing a certain amount of consternation. The only difference today is that the Chieftain of the Dúnedain, unlike then, and unlike some of you now, is unlikely to be sceptical about the news that hobbits are perfectly capable of dealing with problems in their own land. Indeed, they are warning us about escaped ruffians and offering us help in tracking them down! Let me see, when was it, that previous battle? Nearly two ennin past now, I believe?

‘Two ennin ago? That’s around 2730, or 2740?... A battle with hobbits? Five words? Oh…’

Elladan’s perfect Elven memory caused his fluent speech to dry up for the second time in a few minutes.

In the silence, nearly fifty acute pairs of Elven ears could hear Elrohir muttering quietly (but not nearly quietly enough):

‘More than meets the Eye, more than meets the eye……..they’ve done it again haven’t they!’