Part III
“There is not another man on this isle that knows this craft better than I.” So speaks Halbrand, the Southlander. He is at the forge, addressing the smith, pleading to give him a job, anything. Was this his job at home? He has shown to possess several abilities; diplomacy at the queens’ court, light-fingered when retrieving Galadriel’s knife from Elendil's belt, able of making quick decisions when the raft was attacked by the worm, and now – if we are to believe him – also a great smith. Who or what is he really? It seems though he intends to stay on the island.
“I am here to start anew.”
The smith isn’t unkind, but tells Halbrand he need to have a guild’s crest first before being allowed to work steel. Halbrand drops all amiability and turns away a tad chagrined.
He seeks solace in a meal, a large plate of mussels and some bread. While enjoying his food he is recognised by several men as the person who ‘sailed in with the Elf’ and is asked for confirmation. He is not very forthcoming, without being outright rude.
One of the men comes over and sets himself at Halbrands table. He is wearing an golden emblem on a belt across his chest, about 2 inches in diameter. Halbrand’s gaze rests on it for a second.
The man asks Halbrand how close he is to the ‘She-Elf.’ It looks like he is out for a some… entertainment. Not that Halbrand seems to care or tries to evade it, at first. But his answers make three more men, friends from the first inquirer, come over to his table and join them. It’s a little bit threatening, as they are doing their best to provoke the wrong move from the ‘low man.‘ Halbrand freezes and is apparently busy considering the options his has.
And once again Halbrand turns like a leaf, going jovial, and buys everyone at the establishment a drink. Or two. Perhaps three. After a few drink he puts his arm over Man One's shoulders, jokes he should now go while everyone still has a positive opinion of him - meanwhile plucking the emblem from his belt - and walks off, slightly unstable until he disappears around a corner.
(OK, so he isn’t just light-fingered, he is a thief.)
However, his actions have not gone unnoticed this time. The four men follow him. A fight breaks out, in which Halbrand shows yet another of his many talents. He knows how to fight dirty. At some point a threshold is being passed and he goes berserk and fights without restraint. Again, who or what is the real Halbrand? If he has any doubts himself, he now gets the chance to weigh all his abilities, while resting in a dungeon.
Galadriel and Elendil are at the Hall of Lore. The walls are hidden by ceiling-high racks full with scrolls. Galadriel draws Sauron’s sigil on a piece of paper, which Elendil brings over to the librarian with the request for any information that may be available about it.
Curious, Galadriel walks through the (public?) room, appreciating what she sees.
“You didn’t say the Hall of Lore was assembled by Elros himself. It is rather remarkable.”
“Of course,“ Elendil realises, “You knew Elros.”
(Elros, an Half-Elf, choose to become an human and was the first king of Nûmenor.)
They both halt in front of a painting, showing two groups of about five Elves, each group with one Elf more to the front. One of the two must be Elros. The other Elf is someone we know. Elrond.
“An uncommon spirit,” Galadriel says, meaning Elros. “But I was always closer with his brother.”
There are four women standing behind Elrond on the painting. One of them could represent Galadriel, but if so, she is not readily recognizable.
“Remarkable,” Elendil mumbles.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” Galadriel shows she can be nice if she wants to.
Elendil answers with a smile, “Thank our last king. It was because of him this place wasn’t torn down.”
“He was loyal to the Elves?” It surprises Galadriel; after all, the Queen Regent and her chancellor are clearly not.
“
Is loyal,” answers Elendil after a meaningful silence. “We forced him from the throne for it. They say he spends his time in the tower now. An exile in his own kingdom.”
While Galadriel is absorbing all this information, the librarian approaches them.
(that was quick!)
Reverently he lays the documents he found on the table and after a small bow disappears again.
The documents concern the account of an human spy, retrieved from a dungeon. The spy made a drawing of the tower were he was held. It resembles Saurons’ sigil.
It dawns on Galadriel that it isn’t a sigil at all, but a sketchy representation of the Southlands. A map.
(It raises the question though why Sauron – or a devotee – would carve a map in Finrod’s flesh. It is a bit like: Here I am!) She compares the drawing now with a map, carved on a table-top. The resemblance is clear.
There is a description on the document. It is the Black Speech and tells not only about a place (the Southlands (Mordor).) but also of a plan. A plan to build a new realm, where evil would not only endure, but thrive. To be enacted in the event of Morgoth’s defeat… by his successor.
Elendil already looked concerned while Galadriel translated the text, but even more so seeing her face now (which we can’t, but I assume she must be looking stricken.)
“Matters are worse than I imagined.” She turns back to table with the map and Elendil joins her, taking in the situation. “Then the Southlands are in grave danger.”
“If Sauron has indeed returned, the Southlands are just the beginning…”
And on that alarming note we head back to the Southlands ourselves. In stark contrast, the Harfoot are celebrating, in preparation of the start of their migration the following day. They wear fancy outfits, mostly natural camouflage material, or headgear that represent birds of prey or predators. The women have mostly head-wear made of products of the field. Between the laughter and the giggles they chant their slogan: “Nobody goes off trail. And nobody walks alone.” (which soon might be proven to be in contrast with reality too.)
Everyone has joined in, except for Marigold and Largo who dejectedly sit together in their cart. It is not going well with Largo’s ankle. Marigolds fears to be left behind.
“No Brandyfoot has ever been left behind.” Largo assures her. But it seems obvious this is going to be the first time. Largo realises he should come up with a more sincere and reassuring word. And he tells her how, after his first wife died, the view of Marigold rekindled him and that he knew they would grow old together. They will manage somehow to get to the Grove. And besides, there was Nori too.
Marigold scoffs a bit at that, but Largo knows Nori. When she sets her mind to something, nothing can stop her.
Right at that time Nori seeks to slip into Sadoc’s abode to search in his Big Book for the constellation The Stranger had drawn. But Polly is on her tail and tries to stop her from doing something stupid with terrible consequences, like ending life as parchment. They bicker about helping the Stranger or not. In the end Nori blackmails Polly into helping her.
Going through the book, Nori just has found the page she was looking for as Sadoc approaches his cart to fetch his prepared speech. Polly manages to warn Nori, who just in time dives under the table. Unfortunately, Sadoc sees a line in his text he is having second thoughts about, sits down and start thinking. From under the table Nori tries to feel her way to the page she has left lying on the table and finally succeeds locating, no thanks to the confusing directions given by Polly.
Sadoc starts his speech under cheering of the Harfoots (reminding me of Bilbo’s speech at his eleventy-first birthday.) “Should any Harfoot fall behind this migration, they will likewise be carried in our hearts and in our memories.” It fails to be a consolation for a few Harfoot. “In life we could not wait for them.” He then continues, mentioning by name the Harfoot they had to leave behind recently. The group answers each name with, “We wait for you.”
Among the names are relatives of Polly, “Landslide,” and, presumably, Sadoc’s wife, “Wolfs.”
Behind, the Stranger sneaks into the camp to study the star-map by the light of a fire.
(Why does he at times remind me of Catweazle?) But he holds the page to close to the fire and it catches flame. Panic surfaces. He flails his arms, jumping around until he stumbles, falls and gets covered by one of the erected sun-shields. This alerts the Harfoot, but they don’t immediately see anything unusual in the dark. Suddenly a huge figure, a giant, rises just before them. The monster looks weird and outright dangerous, yelling, dancing and turning like a madman. When he manages to free himself, to his great relief, he makes matter worse by calling for Nori’s help. Everyone who had dived for safety now emerges again and soon everyone is staring at Nori.
“You lied,“ Sadoc says somewhat later, as they stand assembled near the campfire, “stolen, brought a dangerous outsider into our midst…”
“And she lied,” Vilma helpfully contributes.
“He already said that,” Largo sounds in-dignified. Nori all the while stands there timidly.
“Well, she did.” That was Malva.
Nori can’t be timid for long. “But, no. He was lost. Hurt. What was I supposed to do? Leave him there?”
“You must admit, Sadoc, it is quite extraordinary.” Largo stammers a bit in his attempt to break the mood against his daughter. “Have you ever heard tell of beings falling from the stars?”
Sadoc is reflective at first, than gets more assuredly. “I have heard of beings who were turned into stars. Never the other way around.” Yet he is mystified by it all. “It is very troubling.”
“But what about the stars on that page?” Nori wants to know. “What’s it say they mean?”
Sadoc makes an annoyed wave with the concerning pages. “Nothin’. The pages are all burnt up. Why didn’t you bother to read them?”
“I thought we’d have time later.” She looks down, dejected, not realising what she just said.
“Who is ‘we’?” Malva wants to know.
Almost betraying Polly by glancing her way, Nori quickly answers, “No one. Just me. He’s
my friend.”
This friend is watching all this from a distance behind a tree, anxious following the discussion.
“We don’t need friends, girl. We need to survive.” You can almost read it on the Stranger’s face, ‘But so must I.’
It stings Nori into a more heated reply. “Without friends, what are we surviving for? ‘Good, little Harfoots, stick to the paths, flee every danger’, heaven forbid we explore something new for once?”
“Eleanor Kellamark Brandyfoot!” Marigold jumps in, tired of the same old discussion with Nori about this. “Our way has kept us alive a thousand years!”
“Our laws are clear,“ Malva states chilly. She continuous slowly, overemphasizing every syllable, “Any Harfoot that breaks them is to be de-ca-ra-vaned.”
The Harfoot exclaim unitedly, but not in the same way, while the Brandyfoot family starts to get really worried.
But Sadoc resolutely pushes Malva to the back.
“Our laws are clear indeed. But…” here he wavers, desperately looking for something to rescue the situation. “Miss Brandyfoot is young. With as much hair still to grow on her toes as sense between her ears. Tomorrow we depart as planned. And the Brandyfoot cart will be with us… at the back of the caravan.”
“At the back?” Largo exclaims, not happy. “Now wait, wait. We have to talk about this. Don’t you mean the middle...” He runs after Sadoc, who abruptly had turned an disappeared towards his cart.
And all of a sudden the meeting falls apart and most people head to their own carts. Shaken and perturbed, knowing that they might very will might be forced to the Brandyfoot behind. Polly flees, not knowing what or how to speak to Nori, who just stands there, forlorn.
“You may as well have stamped our name in the book of left-behinds.” Marigold snaps at Nori.
“There is a reason he came to us.”
“Honestly, Nori. Do you see a destiny in this? Do you think the stars reached down and touched ya? Is that it? Do you think you’re special? You’re just a child!”
”I know I’m not special. I know I’m just one little Harfoot in a grand wide world. But
he is special. I can feel it.”
Marigold looks tenderhearted. “My darlin’ girl. Ever your heart has been like your father’s. But the tallest milkweed gets
snipped.” There is little arguing about that. “It’s time to pack.”
She leaves Nori standing alone in the clearing.
From behind his tree the watching Stranger looks as helpless as Nori does.
To be concluded.
