The Shadow Hunter

Chapter 11: An Old Friend

- T.A.3001 -

Bilbo Baggins was busy with his hands. With his grand birthday coming in just a few months, he had so many things to do: ordering food, setting up attractions, seeking out tents, readying tables, and sending invitations. Day and night had he spent his time to prepare for his 111th birthday, which every single Hobbit in Shire had been waiting for. They had been expecting it to be magnificent of course, and expected gifts to be given by the humble Hobbit. However, they wouldn’t expect Bilbo to invite queer guests to the party.

He was now writing numerous invitation letters, from the simplest to the most extravagant ones, and sealed each one of them meticulously. The invitation for Hobbits had been delivered a week ago, and what’s left to be sent were the special ones: for several Elves, a wizard, and a particular ranger. He leaned back to his chair to rest for a few minutes and finally picked out a single parchment, smaller than the others, and started dipping an ink to his quill. He pondered for a moment before he started writing the letter and rolling it into a small scroll that was the size of his palm.

Frodo approached Bilbo with a pot of tea and refilled his uncle’s empty cup. Bilbo didn’t notice his nephew coming as he tied the scroll tight with a string, avoiding Frodo’s curious gaze at the small object. “Who is that for?” Frodo asked.

“For a quite queer friend of mind,” Bilbo answered.

“Oh…. Do you think he’ll come?” Frodo asked again, finally understanding to whom the letter was addressed to.

“Ah, of course he’ll come! That lad will be delighted, in fact, and to see you under towered by his shadows would be an amusement to me!” Bilbo chuckled, taking the letter and rising from his old chair. “Come on! You’ve always wondered how I send messages to him, correct?”

Bilbo walked out of the room, Frodo following him curiously. For years Frodo had seen Bilbo sending these small parchments to someone, and sometimes he would see him reading another. He followed Bilbo to the garden, where a single raven was perching on their wooden mailbox. He had never seen the bird before, or maybe it was different than before, he didn’t know. Bilbo approached the bird and tucked the scroll to the bird’s neck.

“You’re sending a bird?” Frodo asked curiously. “But I thought that your friend is a traveller. How can it find him then?”

“That, my lad, is a secret I must not utter to you. My friend will be angry if I do so,” Bilbo said. Then, Bilbo did something very weird, for he whispered something to the bird, and the bird nodded as if it understood what the old man was saying. The bird then flapped to the sky and disappeared from their vicinity.

“Still confused aren’t you?” Bilbo said. “Your further questions must be answered by the man himself, for I have no right to do so. Shall we go back then? I’ve still too many to do.”

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A few months later, Shire welcomed the queer guests that for long Bilbo had kept secret. Elves and Dwarves came into the land, carrying gifts and talking something the Hobbits didn’t understand. They arrived in small groups, but their numbers were many, particularly on the day of Bilbo’s birthday. However, a stranger queerer than any other guest came in the morning. He was an old man wearing a grey pointy head, riding a carriage that carries bundles of firework as he smoked from his pipe weed.

Gandalf the Grey hummed cheerfully as he followed the twisted path down the hills of Hobbiton, his eyes ignoring all curious stares the Hobbits gave him, and instead mumbled a song that none there knew. Apparently, one Hobbit in the area knew this song well, and emerged from his hiding place to welcome the wizard. Frodo Baggins skipped towards the road and waited Gandalf to pass him as he folded his hands.

“You’re late,” Frodo protested once Gandalf had taken notice of his presence. Gandalf looked up innocently, stopping his carriage in the process.

“A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he early! He arrives precisely when he wants to!” Gandalf retorted definitely. There was silence among them, before both started laughing at their own questionable words.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Gandalf!” Frodo shouted as he leapt to hug the wizard. Gandalf managed to catch Frodo just precisely to prevent his fall and laughed when he fell to his embrace. “You didn’t think I’d miss your Uncle Bilbo’s birthday? Gandalf said, advancing his carriage once more. “How’s Bilbo? I am sure he has prepared long for this party!”

“You know Bilbo. He’s got the whole place in an uproar and has invited anyone he has known. Half of the Shire is invited, the rest of them turning up soon or later, and he’s also invited several Elves, I noticed…. He did strange things just to invite them, you know, including sending a raven to whoever his old friend is,” Frodo explained to Gandalf. Gandalf merely mumbled as he listened to Frodo’s story. “He sent this small parchment…. The size of my hand…. He said I have met his old friend, though I cannot even vaguely remember.”

“Because this friend Bilbo’s referring is not a quite sociable one,” Gandalf explained. “Hmmm, he’s also inviting him… They indeed have sent more messages than I have expected…”

“Who is he actually?” Frodo asked curiously. Gandalf merely blew a puff of smoke to the air with his pipe. “Gandalf?”

“He is a good friend of mine and Bilbo. He is by the name Daefaroth, the Shadow Hunter and the walker of Middle Earth. We had some adventure in the Misty Mountains. I am sure you’re going to like him, Frodo, despite his strange upbringings,” Gandalf said. “Now, enough of this strange folk. Tell me, how’s the old rascal lately?”

Frodo seemed disappointed at Gandalf’s unclear explanation, though he didn’t say so. “He’s been acting strange, seeing old maps and all. Of course I know that you have something to do with it. Whatever you did with this strange friend and Bilbo back there, has caused you to be labelled as a disturber of peace.”

“Well, this strange friend has told me that alias many times before,” Gandalf said. Behind the carriage children were shouting to him, begging for fireworks to be lit and stopping their conversation. Gandalf sighed, knowing that his reputation had turned from a disturbed of peace to a firework maker now in the eyes of the children. Frodo looked at him expectantly when the wizard didn’t do anything despite their requests. Gandalf, however, smirked, and from his pile of fireworks launched several small ones that exploded in the air and brightening the road slightly with light. The children cheered wildly as they watched the fireworks that sent joy to their innocent hearts. Gandalf chuckled with Frodo and smiled with him.

“I am glad you’re back,” Frodo said finally.

“So I am, dear boy,” Gandalf replied, seeing the Hobbit leaping from his ride and bidding him farewell. Gandalf nodded and saw the Hobbit running away like a deer, smiling to himself when he saw that things hadn’t changed since he last visited. He continued to drive his ride towards Bag End, where things remained green and beautiful, just like the last time he had visited.

Arriving in front of Bilbo’s house, Gandalf walked down from his ride, slightly tired after the long journey he had taken. He observed his friend’s house intently, noticing that it too hadn’t changed, except for the ‘no admittance’ sign on the fence gates. It seemed to Gandalf that the Hobbit was enjoying privacy in his elder days. Gandalf walked up the steps towards Bilbo’s doorsteps and knocked the door with his staff. He caught a glimpse of the symbol he had drawn for Thorin’s company decades ago, still engraved on the wood. It flooded the wizard with memories and made him more eager to meet Bilbo.

“No thank you! We don’t want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations! A familiar voice came from inside the hole. Gandalf sighed and leaned closer to the door. “And what about very old friends?” Gandalf retorted. There was a loud thump coming from, perhaps from the dining room if judging from the clatter, and the sounds of hasty steps that closed in the door. Gandalf leaned away, allowing the Hobbit to look at his face clearly once he had opened the door. Bilbo Baggins’ eyes widened in joy and he jumped like a rabbit.

“My dear Gandalf!” Bilbo exclaimed, hugging his old friend. “Come on! Welcome!” Bilbo continued, taking Gandalf’s hat and staff, putting them aside on the wall. Gandalf entered his comfortable home, ducking a wooden arc that almost hit his head. “Tea, or maybe something a little stronger? I wasn’t expecting you to come this early, so I haven’t prepared anything- Ah! Sponge cake will do, won’t it?”

“Just tea, thank you,” Gandalf answered as he followed Bilbo to a well-furnished room with a short table and a blazing fire that warmed up a small kettle. Gandalf took a seat on one of the chairs, lighting his pipe weed once more and enjoying the warmth of the house. Bilbo handed him a slice of sponge cake and Gandalf was forced to accept it, along with the tea. “I, in fact, haven’t expected for myself to come this early. Fate has chosen a small yet safe path for me to travel and I managed to arrive without any disturbances, except for your nephew, of course!”

“Frodo? That lad, always seeking curiosities,” Bilbo said as he poured Gandalf a cup of tea. A loud knock from the door almost caused the Hobbit to drop the teapot. Bilbo and Gandalf shared a look with each other and looked towards the door. Another knock came and Bilbo hid behind the table, as if he had seen a dragon once more. “That must be the Sackville Bagginses!” Frodo told the bemused Gandalf.

“Not a Baggins nor a Hobbit, but a ranger if I may correct you!” a deep yet familiar voice came from the door. Bilbo instantly recognised the voice and stood up, hitting the table in process. Bilbo didn’t pay attention to his painful forehead bruise and instead skipped towards the door. Gandalf stood from his chair, watching the old man opening the door in the same excitement as before. From the door emerged a black-cloaked figure, a scarf veiling his lower face. He was wielding a bow and quiver, along with two short swords sheathed behind his back. His dark-grey tunic and darker pants were dusty from the road, his dark-brown boots and bracers covered with mud and soil.

“Daefaroth! Why, both of you are early birds, aren’t you?” Bilbo exclaimed excitedly, hugging the ranger with joy. Varilerin jolted as he received the Hobbit, who looked ever younger despite his old age. “It’s been too long, My Friend!”

“I have to come early since your message is very exquisite. I am guilty if I don’t come now,” Varilerin explained, pulling down her hood to reveal a tied, raven hair. “Though I must apologize for not returning your bird.” Just then a raven flew towards her shoulder and perched on it. She let the bird move onto her arm and gave it to Bilbo, who seemed fascinated at her skill in handling the animal.

“I cannot seem to understand why birds like you, My Friend,” Bilbo said in amazement, receiving the bird carefully and frightfully. He put the raven into the cage in his garden, before turning back to welcome his old friends. “Come, Daefaroth, make yourself at hom!” Bilbo told her. Varilerin nodded and entered the house, seeing Gandalf standing lonely by the hearth.

“It’s good to see you, Gandalf,” Varilerin greeted him as she unclasped her cloak. After putting her dark cloak beside Gandalf’s hat, she joined Bilbo and the wizard in a reunion tea time.

“You do not have to hide yourself here, Daefaroth,” Gandalf said to the ranger. Varilerin seemed reluctant, even though Bilbo was her good, or best friend. Bilbo had many Elf friends and she didn’t want her existence to be exposed, at least not when she’s not ready. “Bilbo won’t tell a single soul, you know that. Your identity is safe within this room,” Gandalf assured her. Bilbo seemed curious as well, not glancing away as he poured tea for her. Varilerin sighed, knowing that she had lost from the two’s insistence, and pulled her dark scarf down, revealing a fair face she had long hidden. Bilbo almost overflowed Varilerin’s cup when he saw her face, only prevented from doing so when Varilerin lifted the teapot personally.

“By the love of food!” Bilbo exclaimed once he regained his consciousness. “I have never thought you are a fair lady, Daefaroth!” Varilerin remained composed as she took her cup, glaring at Gandalf after the result he had produced by telling her to reveal her face. “Then you are an Elf? Well, I have long not doubted it, but to be really a fair Elf!”

“I am a peredhil, Bilbo, not a pure Elf. Many are fairer than me. You have just seen an elleth, so I believe that your reaction is acceptable,” Varilerion reasoned, sipping from her cup. Bilbo shook his head and took a seat. “I have been to Rivendell before, with the Company, and yet I haven’t seen such a fair-“

“Stop, please, Bilbo Baggins. You have enough words to be uttered,” Varilerin scolded the Hobbit. The Hobbit stopped immediately, but still giggling in fascination. Gandalf was staring at her as if he was daydreaming while he smoked unconsciously. “What are you looking at, Gandalf the Grey?”

“No… No, just wondering. Ehm,” Gandalf stammered. “Have you chosen between your kin, Daefaroth?” Varilerin scowled at him, admiring his skill in avoiding undesirably topics.

“I will continue to live as an Elf,” she told Gandalf cautiously. Gandalf nodded in understanding, putting off his pipe and cleaning it aimlessly. “Gandalf, do you have anything to say on my decision?”

“No, not at all. It’s just that, Arwen has chosen to live as a Man,” Gandalf told her. Seeing Varilerin’s immediate surprise, Gandalf decided to continue his explanation. “Arwen has found her purpose of life and she has chosen morality. Love is a strange thing, Daefaroth, and it has changed the strangest individuals…”

“Arwen has fallen in love with Aragorn,” Varilerin deduced. She understood well that the look Gandalf was giving her meant that she was correct. “It is good for then. She deserves nothing less than an honourable man.” Varilerin and the other two stayed silent, not wanting to say anything that could possibly hurt the ranger’s feelings. After a while Varilerin finally moved, rummaging her pocket and taking out an object from it.

“Enough of the gloom talk. I have a gift for you, Master Baggins,” Varilerin said as she showed what she was holding. It was a small knife, barely larger than her hand, and made of pure white metal. There were intricate carvings engraved on it, of leaves and of trees. “I made this during the journey, though I am not quite the crafter I can assure you that it can kill someone.”

“My, Daefaroth!” Bilbo exclaimed happily as he received his gift, forgetting all the uncomfortable topics he had just talked with the other two. He observed it keenly, seeing that although it was small, it might be stronger than any weapon he had encountered. His face was suddenly saddened when Varilerin gave him a sheath for the weapon. “Thank you, My Friend… It truly is beautiful… And it reminds me of my journeys.”

Bilbo sighed, sheathing the blade and putting it slowly on the table. He looked at the two sadly. “You two haven’t changed, yet look at this old Hobbit. Unable to travel any longer, yet desiring to go.”

“So you’re still going with your plan?” Varilerin asked Bilbo. “He’s told you also?” Gandalf asked her. Bilbo and Varilerin nodded simultaneously in response. Bilbo had, to the two’s knowledge, planned to travel once more after his birthday, without the accompaniment of anyone. He had not told anyone besides the two, even his loved nephew Frodo.

“Frodo suspects something, Bilbo,” Gandalf informed him. “If he is to know, he might come with you as well. You need to tell him sooner or later.”

“Yes. Yes. I know he’s very fond of me. I think though, his heart is still in love with the Shire, the woods, the fields, and the little rivers. He is young, yet I am old. I feel thin, sor of stretched like butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday, a very long one, and I don’t expect to return. In fact, I mean not to.”

“Everyone needs rest,” Varilerin remarked, having stayed around Shire for some time as per Gandalf’s suggestion. A life without battle or caution was strange for her, but it at least gave some peace to her restless heart. Shire was like Rivendell in some ways, giving warmth and tranquillity whenever she visited it. It was just that she couldn’t be living forever like the Hobbits, spending days with laughter and conversations. She was a warrior at heart, and would remain a warrior for eternity.

“An adventurer will always be an adventurer,” Bilbo sighed. He smiled at her and she nodded in agreement. “More tea? For the sake of old friendship?” he asked the two.

“Yes, I will gladly accept it,” Varilerin said, letting herself enjoy whatever peace she had left before she enter the perilous world once more.

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Varilerin closed the fence gates of Bag End slowly, not wanting to disturb the now sleeping Bilbo. “Enjoying yourself, My Dear?” Gandalf asked Varilerin, who replied with a short nod. Bilbo and the two had spent several good hours only chatting and telling stories, reminiscing older days and hoping for the future. However enjoyable it was, Varilerin, Gandalf saw, was still gloomy and restless after the awkward conversation they had regarding her choice. Varilerin pulled her hood and stared far into the stars, covered slightly by the lush forests of Shire. She narrowed her eyes as if she had seen something. This intrigued Gandalf, who saw nothing beyond the horizon.

“There is something you don’t want to tell during our tea time,” Gandalf deduced. Varilerin didn’t take her eyes off the forests. “What news you have for me?”

“I am sure you have known, My Friend. Poor news have come from the north, of the armies of Mordor moving. I can feel the darkness growing in my heart. It burdens me as each day passes. You are correct, Gandalf. The turning point of this era has come. Sauron will move his forces harsher than before, whilst Men and Elves are in their brink of destruction….”

Varilerin paused and turned to Gandalf. Her silver eyes were wary and cautious. “In my travels these recent months I have heard and seen strange things. Black riders riding in the night, searching for something. They do not know their path, but they are drawn by something…. The servants of Sauron have travelled far, and they are searching for the Ring. Their heading closer to these lands.” Gandalf immediately understood what Varilerin was indicating to, narrowing his eyes as well. “I doubt that Bilbo lost his ring decades ago. He is hiding it, a fact I am afraid for because it might endanger his life.”

“You think that the ring Bilbo has is more than is seen?” Gandalf asked. Varilerin gave him a ‘what do you think?’ look, convincing the wizard that his suspicions had been true all the time.

“But I think if the ring is indeed more powerful than we can imagine,it will be safe as long Bilbo has it. It seems that Bilbo hasn’t used it for any much purpose,” Varilerin continued. “I have been watching him from afar… It is one of the reasons I choose to stay around Shire.”

“You are wiser and keener than I then,” Gandalf remarked. “Now that my suspicions are confirmed, I am afraid I have to disappoint Bilbo’s happiness in his birthday…”

“Surely you ought to,” Varilerin said. “Come, I believe you deserve a tour of Shire. I have lived long enough around here to discover what you haven’t.”

“I accept your offer then,” Gandalf said. They walked away from the Hobbit’s house, leaving the old man to his probably last sleep in his home.