An Oath Not Yet Fufilled

Notice:I have been informed that loving the sea is un-hobbitish behavior. I drew this from the fact that Sam had been to the Havens, and I made it so he later brought his daughter - hence her love of it. Thank you NancyBrooke for pointing that out!



If one had been down on the strip of sand that separates the rest of Middle-Earth from the Great Western Sea on the day that everything changed – the 5th of Astron by the Hobbit Calendar, 5 Víressë in the Elven reckoning - one would have seen a young hobbit lass walking along, dragging her hairy toes in the foam.

Elanor Gamgee was nearing her 30th birthday, and the Havens were her favorite place to go. Turning around a bend, she smiled. Straight ahead was a little bluff, which she had fondly dubbed Ordrin – from her younger days when she could not pronounce Oroduin. On a sunny day, Elanor could sit up on that bluff and see for miles out into the clear blue sea. Laughing merrily, she began to race down the beach.

The salt air was crisp on her cheeks, and the warm dry sand pounded comfortably underfoot. Stopping fast, the hobbit maid swung her basket up onto the rock, skipping nimbly up behind it. Stretching luxuriously out on the sun-warmed stone, Elanor ate her bread and cheese and stared off into the sea.

She must have dosed off, for when Elanor came to, it was growing dark, and the tide was rolling out. A storm appeared to be brewing on the horizon, as well. Rising and stretching, Elanor was ready to leave when a glint of something bright caught her eyes. Swinging around, she squinted into the sea.

There it was again! It had to be something precious, perhaps something someone had lost, and it didn’t look that hard to reach. The tide was out, and the object of her scrutiny was bobbing a small distance offshore. Before she knew what she was doing, Elanor had waded out into the water.

She was a good swimmer, and made swiftly for the shining object. But, no matter how far she swum, her goal seemed an equal distance away. Finally, the hobbit lass realized that for every foot she struggled, the wave pushed her back. There was nothing for it. She would have to dive.

Holding her breath, Elanor ducked her head underwater, and looked around. She could see surprisingly well, as the jewel seemed to be giving off a strong light. She could swim faster now, and was soon close enough to see that the gemstone was about the size of her fist. Elanor reached out, and clutched it to her.

The jewel was beautiful, perfectly symmetrical, and obviously carved by a master. Its light was very beautiful, and Elanor somehow felt as if she was immortal, and fairer than the Lady Evenstar herself. The hobbit girl tucked it into her pouch, and surfaced.

The storm was worse. Waves were growing ever larger and as Elanor struck out for shore, she could feel herself weakening. Fighting to come this far had worn her out too much, and it was a struggle simply to keep her head above the water.

“Help me! Please! Help!” The hobbit lass called as loudly as she could, but the screaming wind ripped away her words. She couldn’t hold herself up any longer, and sank beneath the waves like a stone.

She was terrified. Without the stones light, the sea was dark, and Elanor could not breath. I hope Mama and Father don’t worry too much, she thought tiredly, and then darkness took her.

Elanor came to slowly. At first she thought her mind was wrong. She should be dead. But, almost a the same moment, her body began to ache so much that she had no doubt that she was alive. A voice caused her to push her tangled curls out of her hair and look up.

“By Elbereth, I had thought you would sleep forever!” The speaker was an elf, tall and thin with long dark hair.

“It was lucky for you Cirdan saw you struggling and sent us out on a ship to fetch you. You looked like you were trying to reach Valinor without a boat, or were searching for the Silmaril Maglor threw into the Sea. That would have been a fruitless search, young one. Ulmo must have long since taken it back to Valinor. What are you named?”

Elanor looked startled. Cirdan. Of course! She had forgotten she was so close to the Havens. “I- I’m Elanor Gamgee. What’s a Silmaril?”

He smiled kindly at her. "Samwise’s daughter. I should have known. I would assume your father has taught you of Valinor?”

For the an hour, the elf, who’s name was Lontur, told her of the Silmarils and the War of the Great Jewels. Then he rose, and said. “It’s getting late. Can you find your way home on your own?”

Elanor nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” Only when she had curtsied shakily and started on the road to home that she remembered the jewel and pulled it out. The gem caught the light and threw it back, dazzling Elanor. Suddenly, a realization made her gasp.

“A Silmaril! This must be the one cast into the sea. But, if what Lontur said is true, I can’t bring it home. We’d all be thrown into a giant war!” Glancing around in fear and horror, as imaginary allies of some of Feanors sons swept down upon her, Elanor spotted a large rock pile, riddled with little crevices. Walking over, the hobbit-maid scrambled about on the rock until she found a hiding place for the great jewel. Then, lifting a boulder the size of her head, she blocked the entrance, then stood back and surveyed her handywork. It looked nice. No one would be able to tell from the outside what lay within. Elanor turned and headed for home, where a warm bath and food – lots of it – awaited her.



But an elf upon the shore had seen the Silmaril floating in the Sea, and recognized it for what it was, and by the next week, it was the talk of the town. Lord Elessar was coming on one of his frequent visits to the Shire borders, and news of the great jewel only sped his visit. Elanor attempted to act shocked and mystified, but in reality, she was worried. She knew that at least one of Feanor’s sons still lived, and might still be bound by his high doom. And if the Lord of Gondor were to hold in his possession a Silmaril of Feanor, who knew what the consequences might be? Surely the greatest craftsman Middle-Earth had ever known would not suffer a mortal to carry his greatest treasure. Which brought Elanor back to the thought that had pervaded her mind for several days now.

“If he would not suffer a mighty lord of Men to hold the Silmaril, what would he – and his sons – do to a hobbit girl?” The thought was to terrifying to comprehend.