Scions of the Third Age

Back in her room Elanor sat down in the middle of the floor with Frodo’s great book in her lap. Her father had promised she would inherit the well-loved leather tome someday, and the lass tenderly turned the pages to revisit the epic saga of the War of the Ring. Knowing the tale by heart, she had no need of reading every word and turned eagerly to her favorite parts while skipping the scary or distasteful sections.

Banished to the upper level of the inn to keep from disturbing the proceedings below, Nildë wandered through the open door and plopped down next to Elanor to curl up against her leg and gnaw placidly at a dried piece of rawhide.

Elanor took comfort in the warm body of the puppy as the rain clung to the air even in the dry, snug inn. Wrapping up in her cloak she became engrossed and did not know anyone had ventured upstairs until she head a mighty sneeze just outside her chamber.

Nildë barked in surprise and Elanor’s head shot up to discover Fastred wiping his nose miserably with a large, blue handkerchief.

“Bless you,” she said automatically and then wiped away a few tell-tale tears, as she had just gotten to the part in the book where Frodo decided he must leave Middle-earth for the Undying Lands.

Forgetting his stuffy nose upon seeing Elanor’s blue eyes brimming with tears, he asked, “Are you all right, Mistress? Why are you so sad?”

Again she wiped her cheeks and then replied, “I was just reading something…”

Fastred took a few hesitant steps towards the door, but remained beyond it. Bashfully, he commented, “You seemed sad downstairs too.”

Elanor blushed and smiled fleetingly as she ducked her head. Even with tear tracks down her face, Fastred thought she was the most charming girl he had ever seen. Funny that two days ago the idea of talking to a hobbit lass held no interest for him whatsoever!

“The song the ladies sang reminded me of my Uncle Frodo,” she answered softly. “I don’t remember him very clearly, so I decided to come read about him again.”

“Frodo?” Fastred’s eyes widened, sparkling darkly in the shadows of the hallway. “Frodo Baggins? He’s your uncle?”

“Well, not by blood,” she admitted, “but I have always called him so. He was good friends with my father and he even gave me my name, Elanor.”

“It suits you,” he said boldly, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly in embarrassment.

Feeling his regard for her, she lightly patted a spot next to her and graciously offered, “Would you like to see Frodo’s book?”

Eager to see the treasured volume, he was still somewhat uncertain about entering the room and asked, “Are you sure it’s all right?”

“C’mon,” she beckoned him. “We won’t get into trouble.”

As he stepped over the threshold, Nildë stretched out over Elanor’s ankles and eyed the boy shrewdly when he sat down next to the girl.

Fastred eyed the puppy warily in return, but then Elanor spread half the large book on his lap and the trio settled in while the youngsters turned the beautifully written pages and Elanor pointed out her favorite parts.

Eventually the hobbit lass noticed her new friend drew out his handkerchief more and more often and then finally another huge sneeze set his eyes to watering.

“Here I’ve been going on about me when you look like you feel miserable. Can I do anything for you?”

“I think I’ve caught a cold out in the rain today,” he admitted, too sick now to try to hide it. “I felt fine when we got here, but…”

Seeing her mother do it a thousand times, the hobbit girl put the back of her hand to Fastred’s forehead with expert practicality. “Fastred, you’re burning up! Why didn’t you say anything?” she exclaimed.

“That’s funny, ‘cause I feel cold,” he answered woozily with a sudden shiver.

“That does it!” Elanor threw her cloak around his shoulders. “You need to be in bed. I’ll help you to your room and then go for your father.”

He tried to protest, but Elanor got him to his feet and steered him down the hall. Meekly Fastred allowed her to take charge, but said at the door of his room, “You don’t need to bother my father, Mistress. I’ll be fine in the morning…”

“My name is Elli,” she replied shortly. “Get into bed, Fastred. I’m going to look for your father anyway.”

She left him staring blearily after her and hoped he would take her advice.


Once downstairs, Elanor found that all the gentlemen had left the main room, as well as many of the women, but she saw Aibreán and her friend Saelind standing at the bar talking to the women she now knew as Kally and Gliowien.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Aibreán…” she spoke softly when there was a lull in the conversation.

Aibreán turned to her with surprise, though she answered readily, “No pardon needed, little one. What can I do for you? Nildë isn’t acting up, is she?”

“No, ma’am,” Elanor answered. “I was hoping I might be able to speak with your friend, Lady Saelind.”

“Of course, Elli,” she raised a slim eyebrow in question, but merely turned to her willowy companion, “Saelind, Mistress Elanor would like a word with you…”

The taller woman knelt down to speak with the young halfling. “I’m pleased to meet you at last, my dear,” said Saelind. “What did you need?”

“Thank you, my lady,” Elanor bobbed a curtsey. “I’ve been hoping to meet you too, though under different circumstances…”

The women’s faces all took on serious expressions as Saelind continued, “Is something wrong?”

“It’s Fastred Greenholm,” the lass answered, looking from each lady’s face to the next. “He’s burning up with fever and says he’s chilled, but I cannot find his father. Can you help him, my lady?” she asked Saelind.

“Take me to him, sweeting…” she stood up briskly.

“I’ll go for the lad’s father,” offered Gliowien, “and pray that Mac hasn’t drunk him under a table.”

Kally added, “And I’ll put on a put a kettle on to boil in case it’s needed.”

As the two women left, Aibreán said to Elanor, “Come, vanisiler. Take Saelind and me to Master Fastred. We will do what we can to help your friend.”


Once Elanor pointed out Fastred’s room to Saelind, the woman made a detour to her own quarters to retrieve her healer’s satchel. In the meantime, Aibreán knocked on the door as the hobbit lass stood by anxiously.

Getting no answer, the auburn-haired woman opened the door a crack. “Master Fastred?” she called softly, but only got a soft moan for an answer. Swiftly, she opened the door all the way and hastened to the bed. The lad was still wrapped in Elanor’s light blue woolen cloak and lying in a listless heap on top of his bed.

Fastred’s sandy hair was matted with perspiration and his cheeks were flushed with fever. Elanor saw Aibreán’s lips form a thin, grim line and she asked, “Is he going to be all right?”

“Saelind is a good healer, Elli,” she replied, remaining calm. “Now I know you want to help Fastred, so here’s what you can do. Run back downstairs and tell Lady Kally not to bother about the kettle. We need to set up a bath in here with tepid water. Can you remember that?”

“Yes!” the girl said. “Mama had to do that for Goldie when she had a fever last winter. She was very worried about my little sister… Is Fastred really, really sick?”

Aibreán put a comforting hand on the hobbit lass’s golden head. “I’ll let Saelind make that determination, sweeting. We just want to be prepared, right?” Bravely, Elanor nodded. “Good girl. Now hurry downstairs. We want that bath to be ready if we should need it, don’t we?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word Elanor headed out the door just as Saelind returned and she heard the healer say, “Aubri, help me get the boy out of these clammy clothes…”

She was not allowed into the sick room again that night.


Elanor tried to bargain with Samwise to let her stay up to hear how Fastred fared, but was sternly overruled. The King and Queen would not appreciate any more delays because the hobbit lass was foolish enough to fall ill herself due to overtiredness and proximity to the sick lad. She tried to reason with him that she could start her training as errand-bearer by running for Saelind and Aibreán and the other Shieldmaidens tending to Fastred, but when Saelind came out to the corridor and agreed with her father, Elanor’s hopes of helping were dashed. Meekly, she went to her room and climbed into bed.

Yet, sleep did not claim her easily. The rain had finally stopped, so the faint sounds from below in the common room drifted up to make her wonder what the Shieldmaidens, rangers and other patrons of Queenie’s did while she lay in bed. The noise was subdued, she thought, perhaps reflecting the solemnity of the earlier ceremony or even the concern over the halfling boy down the hall from her.

Wondering kept her awake so she pulled a chair up to her window and opened it a little to listen to the horses and other animals in the nearby stables and barn. Suddenly Elanor felt homesick, missing her mother, Frodo and her other brothers and sisters. The animals seemed restless as well, for even though night had fallen she could hear the horses stamping in their stalls and cows and sheep lowing softly at one another.

Wrapping up tightly in the heavy coverlet from her bed, Elanor curled up in the chair and set a lone candle on the table at her elbow. Now that the rain had stopped, the air outside smelled clean and earthy. She breathed it in gratefully, thinking of home and her little garden at Bag End. Closing her eyes, she finally drifted off to sleep.


-end of Chapter Six-