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masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_sporking2. Previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Demetrious Polychron’s Fellowship of the King! Last time, Alatar took Elanor and her friends on to Bree; meanwhile, Sam and Rosie, while trying to catch up to them, were accosted by a bunch of murderous orcs, a different group of equally murderous “Orcelven” and their gross rapist leader and were rescued by Tom Bombadil before getting sent on their way. Today, we pick back up with Elanor and Company as they arrive at Bree… and find out just what Polychron has done with the place. Yay. Joining us today will be Shade and Sonam!
Chapter 5: An Unforgettable Entrance
Elanor, Alatar, Fastred and Theo rode over the Greenway Crossing and came in sight of the white-stone walls of Bree. Although still called the Greenway, the road had been completely repaired and restored. Hardly a pothole, root or weed hindered travelers anymore.
Shade: Clearly, the king’s roadworkers are doing their job better than the king’s soldiers, considering what happened to Sam and Rosie just last chapter… I think we’ve figured out where His Royal Majesty’s priorities lie!
Bree had once been a village of less than a hundred stone houses for the Big Folk and an equal number of hobbit holes dug in various places. After the coming of King Elessar, waves of settlers followed. Many farmed in the north, repopulating the once-desolate lands of Eriador. The new supplies of goods brought immigrants from as far south as Greater Harad and as far north as Forodwaith. Bree became a busy and important center of trade.
Sonam: *looks at a map* Umm… beg pardon, but what? Are people really traveling thousands of miles from Harad just to settle in Bree? Aren’t there places a little… closer they could have chosen to settle instead? And I thought there weren’t that many of the Lossoth in Forodwaith to begin with…
MG: And don’t forget, Annuminas has also been resettled and become a boom town – and, as we’ll learn next chapter, Gondor itself has gotten a massive influx of new settlers and massive urban expansion! I’ve asked this before, and I no doubt will again, but where are all these people to fuel Middle-earth’s brand-new trend towards mass urbanization coming from?
Shade: …we’re barely two paragraphs in, and I already need a drink. Dammit, Polychron.
Traveling at the Speed of Plot: 13 (or settling, as it were)
The once modest village had grown quickly. Bree-landers realized there was quite a bit of money to be made facilitating the exchange of goods from growing settlements and farm communities.
Shade: Why is every community growing? Settlers have to come from somewhere – somewhere has to be shrinking! Even if everyone’s just been spending the last twenty years screwing like rabbits to celebrate Sauron’s defeat, it’s barely been time for one new generation to reach adulthood!
Their only connection was the crossroads at the Great East Road and the Greenway Crossing. The new and ostentatious West Gates of Bree were a cleverly designed and irresistible invitation for simple country folk.
MG: …that makes it sound like Bree has turned into a tourist trap (later aspects, we’ll see, don’t convince me otherwise…). Truly, what Tolkien would have thought of as a happy ending!
It beckoned for them to partake of the food, fashion, crafts and arts of foreign people and distant lands. Bree grew so big so fast, it swallowed the surrounding towns and they became adjoining neighborhoods within the larger city.
Sonam: What… what… did Bree just swallow up the whole country? What happened to the farms? What are people going to eat?
Archet, once the primary village of Chetwood North, had been populated by Men. Now it boasted equal numbers of Hobbits and Dwarves. They built grand stone houses (some said mansions) from the growing wealth of their guilds. Hobbits and dwarves discovered their mutual love of living underground,
Shade: Right, because hobbit holes and dwarven mansions are so much alike…
and Dwarves helped them dig many finely appointed holes. In return, dwarves appreciated how expertly tiny hobbit hands could execute their most ambitious and intricate designs for apparel: garb for workers, garments for the growing gentry and regalia for those with growing wealth, who imagined invented pedigrees – and wished to show them off.
Shade: …on the other hand, I could use some new clothes… and nothing wrong with inventing a fake noble pedigree and living the high life off it, I always say! *Sonam regards her disapprovingly
Hobbits helped dwarves craft their finest jewelry creations since the lost days of the Second Age.
MG: …courtesy of their vast store of gem lore and crafting skills they’ve just been… sitting on the whole time, I guess? Who knew hobbits were the equals of the Noldor when it came to such things – they’ve been holding out on us!
Archet became renowned for its shops of gems, jewelry and an almost endless variety of rings, set with stones of so many sparkling colors they put the rainbows to shame.
Sonam: I might think this might have something to do with a storyline that does, after all, involve a great many magic rings… but coming from Polychron, I somehow doubt it (that, or literally every one of those rings will turn out to be magical, in defiance of all logic and good sense!).
In Chetwood South, Breelanders raised cattle and sheep, and farmed vegetables and fruits not always supplied in sufficient varieties or quantities in the north and south. There they built forges and smithies for ironworks; lumber mills for crafting furniture and anything of wood.
Combe was a haven for artists and intellectuals. It boasted schools, bustling cafes, meditation gardens and a library – the only one between Lindon and Rivendell.
Shade: All this, I’ll remind you, in twenty-some years. Bree established all of this in two decades. No, don’t ask me how, I don’t want to know… but I’m sure some money changed hands under the table, because damn.
Staddle was built with most of the streets set close. It bustled with taverns, shops for pipe-weed and an underground market for goods (and bads)
Sonam: …I don’t think I want to buy any “bads,” actually.
Shade: *putting her arm around his shoulder* Clearly, Brother Monk, you’ve never been introduced to the wonders of a good black market! Fortunately, I am here to be your humble guide… though, sadly, we’re stuck doing this, which promises to be far less interesting.
which could not be sold openly in the more respectable parts of Bree. It was there they offered many exotic experiences, rarely talked about, but never wholly absent from any gathering of people.
Shade: Oh, come on, Polychron! You can’t just tease us and leave us hanging like that!
When Bree was still a village it had been one of the most diverse lands, welcoming hobbits, men, dwarves and occasionally even elves.
MG: I mean, Bree was mostly settled by Men and hobbits. It was noted to be unusual for how well those two groups got along and lived together in harmony, but it wasn’t, like, a huge melting pot or anything – it was a tiny country of small towns! Of course, the fact that the Road passed through Bree Village meant it saw a fair number of travelers… but most of them didn’t stick around!
Retaining that character made it an ideal crossroads. It went from being a small, simple village to a brightly growing city, without actually stopping to first become a town.
Sonam: *weakly* Well, at least Polychron realizes it?
Bree boasted of having thriving communities where a populous of different races lived together in peace, if not actual harmony. People rarely ever did that.
Sonam: I, ah, might be able to show you around some monasteries that might hopefully change your mind about that?
But Bree-landers did their best to tactfully overlook each other’s foibles with good manners. ‘If you don’t want it yourself, don’t invite it to your kitchen’ was a common-sense epithet often heard in Bree.
Shade: Well, sometimes “it” might invite itself, depending on just what “it” is and what being invited into the kitchen actually entails… I think this metaphor is getting away from me.
The cultures inspired each other, borrowing back and forth. Their communities grew rich and ancient arts were rekindled like in few other places. Some were even advanced thanks to the acceptance, curiosity and open-mindedness of the Bree-landers. And above all the King’s Law, the maintenance of his Roads and the occasional patrols of troops.
Sonam: *glances back at the previous chapter* Yes, I have to agree with Shade – the King’s troops haven’t impressed me very much so far, either!
Secure in the King’s favor and enriched by his blessings, it was well known that before he ascended the throne, Elessar had come many times to Bree and brought friends from the most foreign places. So Bree-landers embraced strangers and encouraged them to share their cultures, enriching the city which had often been frequented by the pre-coronation King.
Shade: …yeah, that seems quite a turnaround, considering everyone seems to have thought “Strider” was a scoundrel who was up to no good and who nobody should trust – I guess success really does make one new friends!
Almost every other business bore a sign: ‘Elessar Slept Here’ or ‘The King Ate Here.’ Even though they were only painted letters on wooden boards, the locals imagined seeing the clever sign makers concentrating, with tongues pushing out against the sides of their cheeks while writing, ‘Aragorn Bought Arwen’s Wedding Ring Here.’ Everyone knew that most of these businesses hadn’t existed before Elessar ascended the throne and married his Queen.
MG: On the one hand, a cottage industry of… Aragornania? …springing up at a town he spent a lot of time in before taking the throne is probably the most realistic thing out of anything that Polychron has described happening in Bree in this chapter… on the other hand, I can only imagine Tolkien’s reaction to this sort of crass commercialization of Aragorn’s legacy, and it’s yet another thing I doubt he’d consider a happy ending! I somehow doubt this is what he was imagining when he had Gandalf say that Aragorn’s reign would lead to better times for Bree!
That was the Bree Theo remembered. Now as they approached the high white walls, they saw that the West Gates were closed. Frightened militiamen armed with swords patrolled the entrance and nervous hobbit bowmen were posted on the battlements.
Shade: *rolling her eyes* Let me guess; the bad guys have been here too, right?
“Hallo!” Theo cried, waving his arms. The guards jumped and drew their swords. The archers notched arrows against their bows and aimed. Theo rode on, “It’s Théoden Brandybuck!”
“Master Théoden!” shouted the Captain of the West Gates. He sheathed his sword and turned to his archers and swordsmen, “It’s alright. Put up your arms! It’s one of the Deputy Counselors.” Then he returned his gaze to Theo, “Welcome back to Bree!”
Sonam: Theo is a deputy counselor? Isn’t he rather… young for such a position? I don’t think he’s even an adult by his people’s standards, is he? Then again, Elanor isn’t either, and look how this story has handled her… But surely Polychron might have thought that “son of the Master of Buckland” was enough for the locals to recognize him, if he visits often?
Elanor and Theo had been here many times. It was a favorite get away for their families.
MG: I mean, we know that the Brandybucks apparently got out to Bree reasonably often before LotR, and with the aftermath of the War of the Ring and the rise of the Reunited Kingdom leading Middle-earth to become much more interconnected… yeah, I can buy that.
It’s shops and curiosities, tradeshows and marketplaces made it a place with something for almost everyone, regardless how young or short an attention span.
Shade: See? Tourist trap. What’d I tell you?
Although many new and much finer restaurants, hotels and inns now competed for the lucrative business of accommodating the comings and goings of merchants, farmers and travelers, Elanor’s favorite place to stay was still the Prancing Pony.
As they approached the inn she noticed, even among the accepting Bree-landers, Alatar’s strange garb, majestic war horse, sea-blue robes tinged with silver, and sword and staff were attracting a great many stares and looks of fear, if not actual scowls of disapproval.
MG: *sigh* And of course, everyone has to notice Alatar. Gandalf usually just passed himself off as an ordinary old traveler, but I guess that’s not good enough for the Blue Wizard here…
Bigger, Louder More: 20 (three points for the overall state of Bree, one for Alatar’s fanciness)
People still said ‘hallow’ and doffed their hats or curtsied,
Sonam: I think you mean “hallo,” unless everyone is either sanctifying Alatar, or calling on him to do the same to them…
but their normal curiosity and usual gregariousness were gone. No one asked if they needed directions, nor help with their interests or business.
Over the years, the Prancing Pony had grown along with the rest of the city,
Shade: Of-gods-damned-course it was…
but it had retained its original character. The third floor once consisted of only two spires containing the most luxurious suites. Now it was completely built up and had as many rooms as the others.
MG: Checking back to the description of the Pony, it is indeed three stories, but I’m not seeing anything about the third floor not being as built up as the others…
The open courtyard, through which guests once rode to the stables, had been completely enclosed. All the space, including the stables, was used to expand the Common Room, create a reception hall and build more guest rooms. Young hobbits or boys
Sonam: *taken aback* Are “boys” and “hobbits” somehow different things, then? I don’t think all young halflings are girls in Middle-earth, but maybe I’m just confused… very, very confused…
MG: Considering “hobbit boys” and “hobbit girls” are terms that show up in LotR and The Hobbit, I think Polychron’s the one who’s confused.
took the reins from arriving guests, giving them vouchsafes and leading their horses or ponies to a newly-purchased free- standing stable down the street.
MG: …possibly also confused as to how this setup is in any way more efficient than the old one…
At the reception desk, Theo ordered three suites connected by a master suite from a pretty young hobbit named Missy Hornbottle. She had met Theo before, fancied him and enjoyed flirting. But her eyes darkened when she looked at Theo’s friends and caught sight of Elanor.
“Who’s your new friend, Théoden?”
Elanor curtsied, “Elanor Gardner, at your service, ma’am.”
Missy’s hands flew to her mouth, “Lady Elanor! Martha! Peggy! Lady Elanor’s come back!” A commotion erupted from the room behind the desk and two young hobbits ran out. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t recognize you, Lady Elanor.”
MG: And here we get to what seems to be the meat of the chapter – the travelers, but especially Elanor, being the center of everyone’s attention. Of course, when you compare to The Hobbit, where Thorin and Company were just another group of travelers on the road, even with the king-in-exile of Durin’s Folk leading them (they presumably passed through Bree, though the text skims over that part of their journey) or FotR where Frodo and his friends are at this point fleeing for their lives and trying to keep their heads down, the difference is pretty stark. And Elanor is also fleeing from evil forces… but apparently thinks drawing attention to herself in the middle of a famous inn is the right way to go about doing that! And it’s minor in the grand scheme of things, but I do have to side-eye that Missy’s first reaction to meeting Elanor is to throw up her hackles assuming another girl must be trying to steal her crush, at least before she realizes who Elanor really is.
Bigger, Louder, More!: 21
Pervy Hobbit Fanciers: 21
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 16
The Unfair Sex: 13
Peggy turned to Martha and Missy, “Are you sure? I thought tonight they were celebrating Lady Elanor’s two-and-twentieth at the Party Tree.”
Shade: Why do people a country away care so much about Elanor’s birthday plans? Four help me…
“I can’t say,” Martha quipped. “I seem to have misplaced my invitation.”
“A few were sent out, I’m afraid,” Elanor explained. “But we had to cancel the party. Which could explain the absence of yours, and part of the reason we’ve come.”
Sonam: I beg your pardon, Mistress Elanor, but… you’re on the run from evil forces. You are not here to celebrate your birthday! And if you take the time to do it, you might well end up with evil at your doorstep! So, do forgive this humble monk for thinking this sounds like a terrible idea…
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 17
“You cancelled your two-and-twentieth?” Missy asked in horror, as if Elanor had just announced that Summer had been declared illegal.
Shade: Why does everyone care so much about this damned party!? I’m going to keep asking until I get an answer, preferably one that doesn’t involve Elanor being just so wonderful everyone’s lives revolve around her.
“We’re traveling to Gondor,” Theo said smoothly. “Official business of the King. Elanor feels terrible, but it couldn’t be helped. So let’s hear no more about it! If you’d kindly show us to our rooms, we’d best have a bit of breakfast.”
“Oh!” Missy exclaimed. “That’s dreadful. I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. Here.” She grabbed a large ring of keys, leading Elanor and the others up the steps of the wide staircase. “I have the perfect suite for you, Lady Elanor!”
As the only handmaiden to the High Queen Arwen in these parts, Elanor was famous and much admired by the younger folk of Bree.
Shade: Well, at least talk of the party’s over with (for now) if not the fawning. And I guess everyone here really is that obsessed with royalty, if Elanor being a queen’s handmaiden counts for more than her being the daughter of a famous local (the Shire and Bree are next to each other, I’m counting it) hero.
Although parents thought their children’s idle talk of rich kings and queens driving fancy carriages and living in lofty palaces in distant lands were a waste of time, best saved for after chores and supper.
MG: …as those same parents prepared to go to work the next day making themselves rich by shamelessly exploiting the fact that the king once spent a lot of time in their town…
Missy led them to the top of one of the two tallest steeples and the rooms she gave them were the finest left untaken. Elanor knew one set was better, rarely used, strangely unavailable.
Sonam: That sounds like foreshadowing. Do I even want to know what for?
MG: And I have to say… what? The Prancing Pony maintains some very nice ground level rooms specifically for hobbits! Not only built to hobbit scale but, again, on the ground, because hobbits like to live in holes when they can, and build low to the ground when that’s not feasible, and certainly don’t like to sleep at the top of steeples (which… I guess the Pony has, now… and are big enough to have rooms in them…). All in all, I’m just left feeling like Elanor has been given a room she’ll find very uncomfortable, where everything is too big for her. Great job, guys! At least it’s fancy…
Loremaster’s Headache: 73
Barliman Butterbur, older and fatter than she remembered,
Shade: Now, if he’d been younger and thinner, that would’ve been a real shock…
knocked on their door, breathless. Dressed all in white with a white apron, he was flanked by three hobbits carrying trays laden with food, and the very soul of apology.
“I’m so sorry, Lady Elanor,” Butterbur said, supervising his hobbit staff laying out their morning meal. “I know it’s not your usual suite. I’ve unexpected guests I’m not at liberty to discuss who beat you to them and that’s as plain as I can be. I hope you’ll forgive me, and accept again my apology and hospitality – on the house!”
MG: Is Butterbur implying that Elanor normally would rate the best suite in the house (again, I’m quite sure she’d like the ground level hobbit rooms better!). And I can’t help but feel like there’s something rather uncomfortable about how Polychron is having Butterbur bowing and scraping to her like this. Butterbur was a good guy, and he clearly loved running his inn and looking out for his guests… but he was also clearly an important man in his own right, by Bree standards, and was never this outright servile!
“You’re too kind, Mr. Butterbur,” Elanor said. She dug into the purse she kept hidden behind her pretty waist-belt. “That’s not necessary. I’m happy to pay.”
“Nonsense,” Barliman said, shaking his white towel. He made sure his porters had finished their tasks and removed the empty trays. “I insist!” Without another word, he left.
MG: Clearly, Butterbur has noticed Alatar, and after the scare he got some years ago when he almost forgot Gandalf’s letter, he’s decided to make a point of never, ever antagonizing anyone who looks like a wizard.
They were all famished. Without another word themselves, they set about the food. Even by hobbit standards, there was plenty for everyone and soon their plates were empty. After their long ride, their eyes were closing, whether they willed them to or not.
Sonam: *hopefully* Does that mean the chapter’s almost over? Not to be rude, but even so…
“Sleep now,” Alatar said. “These may be the last soft beds you’ll have for many a long night. When you’ve rested and refreshed yourselves, we’ll gather again and I’ll ask you to share everything you know about Rings of Power.”
Shade: I’m honestly amazed Alatar isn’t just planning to wait for Elanor to go to sleep, grab the Red Book, and bolt. It’s clearly what he wants out of all this.
The hobbits were too sleepy to argue. They went to their rooms and were soon fast asleep. They slept all day and awakened in the early evening, sore from the night’s hard riding, and hungry again.
Sonam: And in sleeping that long, they gave the enemies hunting them that much longer to catch up to them, I’d guess? Or are they all still busy killing each other back in the Shire, not having noticed Sam and Rosie got away yet?
Elanor rang her bedside bell. As fast as she could wish, the porters arrived with a full dinner for everyone, laying it all out in the master suite.
“Something strange is going on,” Theo said, after their evening meal.
Shade: *drily* Really. You’re just now noticing that, friend? Was the wizard arriving out of nowhere to rope you all onto this… irritating adventure… not the first sign?
“I noticed that too,” Elanor agreed, sipping her tea. “The gates were locked. And except for Missy, the people in town didn’t ask us anything. Not even Butterbur.”
Shade: Perhaps the good folk of Bree have better things to do than worry about you, your travels and your oh-so-important birthday, my dear lady handmaiden?
“It’s best we stay in our rooms tonight and leave before first light in the morning,” Alatar told them. “We have many long leagues ahead of us before we reach Minas Tirith.”
“Even more reason not to waste our last night in civilization,” Theo said. Without waiting for anyone’s permission, he winked at Fastred and the two of them left.
Sonam: …I suppose Theo’s father never told him about the time he went wandering around in Bree and was accosted by the Ringwraiths? That’s starting to seem like quite an oversight! And I’ll notice that Alatar, after giving his warning, did absolutely nothing to keep them from walking into (potential) danger…
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 18
Elanor went to her room to freshen up. She found Missy had drawn a hot bath with scented oils, laying out robes and soft towels. But she was surprised and genuinely moved to find a beautiful baby-blue full-length evening gown from one of the finest shops in Bree. It hung on her bathroom door and bore a pinned happy-birthday note, ‘Curtesy of the Proprietor & Staff.’
Shade: *shaking her head* She really is the center of everyone’s lives, isn’t she? For some reason, people never seem to give me free stuff wherever I go…
Sonam *is wisely silent*
She took her time, washing her hair and enjoying a long, soothing bath. After applying scented oils, she put on her new dress, looked in the mirror and felt like a new hobbit.
Leaving the inn, Theo and Fastred went to the stables. They checked on Silverfall and their ponies, then wandered the town. After sampling a fair number of alehouses but finding no new places as festive as the inn they’d left, they decided to return to the Prancing Pony.
Sonam: …and so their detour into town accomplished exactly nothing, then? Why even bother including it at all… unless getting Theo and Fastred drunk already was such an urgent need!
Entering the newly renovated and expanded Common Room, they saw it now had two long bars on each side, with luxury booths and box seats set along the other walls. A double fire pit in the center burned bright. It boasted marble fireboxes, metal grills and a solid granite chimney. There were even more tables in the middle of the room than the last time Theo visited, and a steady stream of servers went back and forth between the kitchen to the tables and the bars.
Bigger, Louder, More!: 22 (meet the new and improved Prancing Pony, everyone!)
At some booths were exclusively dwarves, hobbits, men or women.
Shade: …why are you making it sound like “men” and “women” are separate species, Polychron? And are you implying that dwarves and hobbits don’t have men and women? My, my, that’s a new one…
At many more the people mixed, energized and excited to talk to others with unique stories and original experiences.
MG: Why does this sound like an advertisement? “Come visit the Prancing Pony, open now in Bree! See our inexplicable luxury suites, our inconveniently located stables, and our newly expanded common room, where our regular guests will share their unique stories and original experiences! Book your rooms today! For exact prices and availability, see B. Butterbur, proprietor.”
Though raucous, the conversations were festive. Theo and Fastred spoke loudly to hear each other over the din, even though they were standing side-by-side.
“I’ll order us a drink!” Theo shouted.
Sonam: It sounds like you’ve had quite enough already!
He headed for the bar, “Find us a seat!”
Fastred looked around dubiously, not seeing an open table. Suddenly the mixed group at the table in front of him looked up. Hastily, they drained their glasses, offered their seats and left. For a moment he was puzzled, then Alatar’s large calloused hand came down on his shoulder.
Shade: Oooh, fun. The Great Alatar scares off innocent patrons now! What will he do next?
They took their seats and the wizard raised his blue-robed arm, holding up four long fingers to Theo. The hobbit returned in a bit from the bar with his hands full of four large glasses of dark malt, foamy headed beer, setting them down on the table.
“Why four?” Fastred asked, clinking glasses with them and taking a long drink.
Sonam: …because there are four of you in your party? Have you forgotten Elanor already? By the West Wind, you’ve had more to drink than I’d thought!
Alatar smiled and pointed at the Common Room’s open double-doors.
A moment later, refreshed from her bath, her cheeks flushed from the warm waters, having expertly styled her shining blond hair and wearing the beautiful baby-blue formal evening gown, Elanor entered the double doors, illuminated by the bright flames in the double fire pits.
A hush fell over the room. Everyone was staring at her.
“Wow,” Theo said.
Fastred realized, as if for the first time, he had never seen such a vision of loveliness.
Shade: Oh, gods help me… laying it on a bit thick aren’t we, Master Polychron? Were I a suspicious woman – and I am – I might be compelled to wonder if Mistress Elanor doesn’t have an accomplice in the crowd, who’s busy picking everyone’s pockets while their attention is… ahem… elsewhere…
MG: And I, for one, can’t help but contrast this with the hobbits’ stay at the Prancing Pony in FotR, where sure, they got some attention because of the novelty of being travelers from the Shire, but actually making themselves the center of everyone’s attention – first with Pippin’s stories, then Frodo accidentally slipping the Ring on and vanishing in full view of everyone – was a bad thing because it helped the Ringwraiths find them. Here, Elanor just… gets to be the center of everyone’s attention for no reason that because of who she is and because she’s pretty, and it’s presented as an entirely positive thing with no downside. Aren’t you people supposed to be keeping a low profile?
Elanor’s eyes adjusted to the firelight and she looked around for her friends.
“May I be the first to wish you a happy two-and-twentieth, Lady Elanor,” Fastred said.
He bowed and offered his hand.
She curtsied gracefully, almost royally, as she’d often seen the princesses Celendrian, Elerith and Brindil do, “Thank you.”
MG: “Celendrian,” we’ve already heard, is the name Polychron has given to Aragorn and Arwen’s oldest daughter; now we have the names of her sisters (and just how often has Elanor met the princesses, anyway? From what we saw earlier, we know of Aragorn and his family visiting the Shire once, and that was a big deal. Elanor’s position as royal handmaiden has also been presented as being a ceremonial one; it’s not like she attends Arwen every day!). As for the names, “Elerith” might be an altered spelling of “el-eredh,” meaning “Star Seed,” which actually fits with the star naming theme of Elrond’s side of the family. “Brindil,” on the other hand, doesn’t mean anything that I can tell.
Linguistic Confusions: 12
“You look so beautiful!” Missy cried. Stepping out from behind the bar, she presented Elanor with a beautifully wrapped present in baby-blue paper. It matched her dress and was adorned with silver bows and ribbons, “We are honored to welcome the Lady Elanor Gardner of the Shire to the Prancing Pony on the night of her two-and-twentieth!”
MG: Is it Missy’s birthday too? Who knew! Remember, hobbits give presents on their own birthdays, they don’t get them! Unless Elanor is just that special!
Loremaster’s Headache: 74
While the crowd rose and clapped enthusiastically, Fastred led her to their table.
People cheered as she walked by adding cries of ‘Long life to Lady Elanor!’ and ‘Happy two-and-twentieth!’ amid a great number of other good wishes and praises of her beauty.
Shade: Ugh; I guess she really is getting that birthday party after all. If this gets any more saccharine, I think I’m going to hurl. Until then, so long as we’re at an inn, I think I’ll have some of Butterbur’s beer, if you please. And congratulations, you’ve just made absolutely certain everyone in a twenty-mile radius knows you’re here; I hope none of the various and sundry villains out hunting for you are paying attention…
Many festive hours passed. Their mugs were kept full by a seemingly endless number of lively celebrants, eager to pay their respects and wish the Lady Elanor a happy night.
Sonam: Am I the only one who remembers that everyone is supposed to be fleeing the Shire on a dangerous mission? And who remains very confused as to why Elanor seems to be a celebrity so famous she can make an entire inn and everyone in it revolve around her without even trying?
But in one dark booth, a grim young man in a long grey cloak sat drinking with a group of black-skinned traders from Greater Harad.
Shade: Hmmm… a mysterious figure is watching from a dark corner of the Prancing Pony as our heroes draw far too much attention to themselves… where have I seen that before…
Their leader was Manus Tarqus, son of Oduduwa.
Sonam: Is it just me, or do the names of this supposed father and son not even sound like they come from the same language?
MG: It’s not just you. I’m not giving a point, because Tolkien only gives us a few words from the Haradrim language and it’s not enough to draw any sort of conclusions from, but “Manus” is just Latin for “hands.” “Tarqus” looks like Latin but does not, to my knowledge, actually mean anything. And something about the name makes it sound more like something from Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom than Tolkien’s Middle-earth to me. Maybe it just makes me think of Tars Tarkas. *shrugs*
Though only a few years older than the young man and his own companions, Manus was much larger and more powerfully built. Exotically and colorfully dressed, he wore pearl earrings in his black-as-night ears.
Shade: Why are we specifying that only his ears are dark-skinned? Surely the rest of him is as well, unless this man looks very strange? And why, if he is “exotically and colorfully dressed,” are we only drawing attention to his earrings?
His happy and bombastic personality matched his clothes. It contrasted starkly to the forlorn young man, and the quiet and reserved men and women who were his mostly silent, steely-eyed companions. Beside Manus sat the beautiful Crown Princess Malvia Merkaba, daughter of Queen Akamai of Greater Harad, traveling incognito.
Sonam: …why do we have yet another royal personage in the Prancing Pony? And why and how is a Haradrim princess staying incognito in Bree, a place which is, by my reckoning, quite a ways from Harad…
MG: We will get an answer for that soon enough. But… “Greater Harad” is not a thing in Tolkien’s Middle-earth, and I’ve mentioned before that Harad as a whole is probably not a unified kingdom or empire with a single monarch. But of course, Polychron really, really likes royalty, so… here we are!
Loremaster’s Headache: 75
She wasn’t happy with the way Manus was looking at the many ladies in the room, including Lady Elanor.
Shade: Oh, and the first thing we learn about this princess is that she’s jealous. Lovely. And, pray tell, were the other “ladies” Manus was ogling underaged as well?
Pervy Hobbit Fanciers: 22
The young man found the reserved and ever watchful face of the woman he didn’t know was a warrior princess, somewhat peculiar, yet comfortingly familiar.
Sonam: …why? I’m genuinely curious, because that doesn’t seem to follow logically from what you just said at all – what’s familiar about her, exactly? And why, if we’re in this “young man’s” perspective, are we specifically being told something he doesn’t know?
For themselves, the people of Harad were content to observe the hustle and bustle of the room, staying vigilant. They enjoyed their beers and listened to Manus conduct his business.
“I know why you want to go to Lindon,” Manus told the young man.
“You do?” the young man asked.
“You want to meet the Elfs!” Manus cried.
Shade: …that strikes me as being a rather easy thing to deduce, since the elves are the only people who live in Lindon. Unless our nameless youth simply has a deep passion for seaside sightseeing?
“I have met the Elves, my friend,” he said, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “They are Elves – not ‘Elfs,’” Malvia told Manus. “Let him enjoy his beer.”
MG: Okay, for one, is the distinction between “elves” and “elfs” really clear enough that you could actually hear it spoken aloud (I think saying “elfs” with an audibly hard “f” is tricky enough you’d have to be doing it on purpose, at least?). And for another, presumably these people are speaking Westron, not English; is the distinction even audible in Westron? Somehow, I doubt it.
“You have not met the Elves,” Manus told him, hating being corrected. He took another drink and did his best to ignore Malvia,
Shade: Oh, the princess isn’t happy with you already, no you’re deliberately trying to ignore her? *shakes her head disapprovingly* Sounds like a great way to get yourself tossed in a dungeon when you get back to Harad, friend!
“You only think you’ve met the Elves!”
“I haven’t?” the young man asked.
“If you think the Elves of the North Kingdoms are impressive,” Manus told him. “You must wait until you see the Elves of Northern and Greater Harad. But the Elves of the vast jungles of South Harad – now those my friend are really Elves!”
The young man and Malvia laughed, “Thank you, Manus. You have made me laugh. I feared I might die before I laughed again.”
“He is right about the Elves of South Harad,” Malvia told him. “I have been among them, as well as those in the North Kingdoms.”
MG: Again, “South Harad” is redundant; I presume Manus means “Far Harad.” And honestly, this is a rather interesting concept. When it comes to the elves, Tolkien’s writings mostly deal with the Eldar – the elves who accepted the Valar’s invitation to come live in Aman and their descendants (including the ones who actually made it to Aman, and the ones like the Sindar, Nandor and Falathrim, who started the journey but for one reason or another never finished). But the Avari, those who refused the journey outright, get very little focus in the canon Legendarium; few of them live in the regions where most of the stories take place, but they’re supposed to be more populous the farther you get east. These southern elves the Haradrim know would presumably also be Avari (or possibly relatives of the Nandor who made it that far, or a mix of both). So this might be an opportunity to do some really interesting worldbuilding about a concept and people Tolkien touches on but never really explores (especially considering some of his notes in The Nature of Middle-earth that indicate that the Avari consider themselves to be the “true” inheritors of the ancient elven culture that first arose at Cuivienen, before they were contacted by the Valar, and which the Avari feel the Eldar turned their backs in in exchange for handouts). But Polychron, unfortunately, gets it all tangled up in his… interesting ideas about what’s going on in Harad, and the activities of his final major villain (the one we’ve not heard anything at all about yet) and so I think he ends up sadly, but not surprisingly, squandering that potential.
Expansion-Pack World: 11
“Very well,” the young man said, lifting his glass. “I shall reserve my judgement as to whether or not I have met the Elves, until I meet your legendary Elves of South Harad.” They clinked glasses and drank. The young man waved Missy over, “Another round.”
“You’ve been kind and generous,” Manus said, waving Missy away. “But I’m sorry, tomorrow we have too much work. We must retire for the night and I cannot take you west.”
Sonam: …am I the only one who thinks that sounds rather like Manus just doesn’t want to take our young man west, and is making excuses? And also, that we’ve just been dropped into the middle of this conversation with no context?
“It would not be immediately,” the young man said. “I will be in Bree a few more days, waiting for my friends. We will be traveling, just the three of us, with little luggage. Though I anticipate we may have need for armed companions on the road ahead. I can pay you, and the men and women of your fighting teams, handsomely for your escort and assistance.”
“I’ve got plenty of room,” Manus told him. “We just completed a large delivery to Rivendell.
MG: Which has… interesting implications, when you consider what the fic will later show us has been going on in Rivendell (and I’m not sure Rivendell gets that many merchant caravans anyway – it’s rather out of the way, by design – though maybe that’s changed in the early Fourth Age? Though if so, that makes later developments all the stranger…)
But there I received word: Greater Harad has been attacked by a new and infernal breed of evil from the East called the Orcelven. They’re raiding our lands and killing our people, spreading like an infection!
Shade: Oh, look, we couldn’t even pass a single chapter without mention of that… repulsive cretin and his offspring. Fun.
Queen Akamai has ordered me and my caravan to Minas Tirith, to obtain the council of King Elessar and negotiate terms for his help in resisting this new evil.”
MG: *doubles over laughing* Oh, Dear Eru! You were sent from Harad to Minas Tirith… and you somehow ended up in Bree! Hundreds of miles out of your way, clear on the other side of the continent! What, did you take a wrong turn at Albuquerque or something? *doubles over laughing again; Sonam and Shade look on in confusion*
Traveling at the Speed of Plot: 14
This troubled the young man more than anyone else’s bad news should, “It is not my place to council you against the wishes of your Queen. Though I must warn you, the roads between Bree and Minas Tirith have been crossed by armed bands of Orcelven. Stay vigilant.”
Sonam: Not to mention, I’m afraid poor Manus has been wasting his time! What help can Aragorn be against the Orcelven, if he’s unable to stop them from roaming at will in his own kingdom? I think Harad might want to look elsewhere for allies…
“That’s unhappy news,” Manus said.
Shade: And that is an understatement! Maybe Manus Tarqus has more tact and restraint than I’d given him credit for?
“Though we thank you for the warning,” Malvia told him, eyeing her people.
They rose from the table. The young man bowed and kissed Malvia’s hand. She was charmed and for once, Manus was jealous of her. The men bowed and the women curtsied.
Shade: *arching an eyebrow* Manus is jealous of Malvia getting her hand kissed by this courteous, presumably handsome young stranger? My, my. I’d assume it was intentional… but I don’t think Polychron is that subtle or restrained!
The young man sat back down and took another drink, “I enjoyed our conversations. Perhaps one day we shall meet again and I will have the opportunity to travel with you, hearing more tales of your many adventures. May the miles pass swiftly and you reach Minas Tirith safely, a fair city where you and your companions will be welcomed.”
MG: *still sporfling* If they can find Minas Tirith and don’t end up at Erebor instead! Then again, if Aragorn is as ineffective against the Orcelven as he seems to be, maybe Durin’s Folk would be more useful allies!
“Thank you!” Manus said. Slapping the young man’s back (a bit too hard), he drained his glass and those of his companions, “It’s been a pleasure!”
They left and the young man continued drinking alone. His eyes were drawn to the three hobbits celebrating Elanor’s two-and-twentieth, with a wizard.
Sonam: I’m amazed he hadn’t noticed it already, considering what a stir it was making among everyone else in the inn!
Unaware, he too was being watched by a hooded and mail-clad stranger at another table, surrounded by grim friends.
Shade: Oooh, ominous. Mysterious ally or evil villain? I suppose we’ll find out!
Alatar became aware of him, rose and went to his booth, “Are you from Minas Tirith?”
“It is no business of yours where I am from,” the young man said, uncomfortable, though he tried as politely as he could to manage the less-than-friendly words.
Shade: Well, presumably, if he’s from Minas Tirith he likely has an urban Anorien accent, whatever that might sound like – that could be a start!
Butterbur rushed over, “Don’t you be talking to him!”
Sonam: And I don’t think Mysterious Young Man knows how to keep a low profile, either! I may have lived most of my life in the mountains and might not be the most worldly sort, but at least I know that if you get the staff at an inn to wait on you hand and foot and keep strangers away from you, people will notice!
Alatar’s eyes darkened and he drew himself up, “I will speak to whomever I wish! I advise you not to meddle in affairs that are not your own.”
“It is all right, Barliman,” the young man said. “I did wish to speak with him.”
“You’ll be knowing your business better than me, your… I- I mean sir,” Butterbur said. “It’s not my place to be telling you, who you may or may not speak to. But if anything were to happen to you at my inn, I could never forgive myself. And your father would have my head!”
Shade: *rolling her eyes yet again* Oh, look, what have we here. A young Gondorian man of means, clearly of high noble birth, who Butterbur has to stop himself from calling by some other title and whose father he’s clearly intimidated by… I wonder who this could be? But I have a feeling that it will turn out that lurking in dark corners in this particular inn is hereditary…
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 19
Alatar recognized the silver and black worn by the royal guards of the Palace of Anor, hidden beneath the young man’s grey Elven cloak, “You’re from the Palace.”
Shade: Or perhaps he killed the real pr… young man, and took his clothes, hmm?
“Hush!” Butterbur cried. He stepped between them, attracting stares. The conversations around them died. Heedless of the danger, Butterbur pushed Alatar towards the door, smiling through his terror, “I’m happy to announce – I’ve just upgraded you to my finest suite!”
Alatar pushed him away and raised his staff, to smite the innkeeper.
MG: Dear Eru. Sure, Gandalf lost his temper with Butterbur, to the point Butterbur was terrified he’d put a curse on him… but that was because he thought Butterbur had screwed up and gotten Frodo killed (and when he found out Frodo was actually alive, and with Aragorn, he was so relieved he blessed Butterbur’s beer instead). Alatar is threatening Butterbur with immediate physical violence for being moderately annoying. Why are we supposed to like this character again?
Elanor stepped between them and took the wizard’s hand, “Would you do me the honor, sir, of the first dance on the night of my two-and-twentieth?”
MG: *sigh* Thank you, Elanor. On the one hand, you’ve dragged us back to the inexplicable birthday party subplot… but on the other, you probably just saved poor Butterbur from a grim fate, so I think that cancels it out.
Without waiting for a reply, she led him to an open section, where Fastred and Theo had cleared away the tables. Musicians played and people sang ‘The Maiden’s Song Of May.’
In Summer when the flower blooms
To dance a young man longs
The woods then fill with ardent grooms
Who sing the Summer songs
He saw a maid draw to the dale
And leave her Hill behind
Her skin was soft, and smooth and pale
Her eyes were large and kind
The fairest maid he’d ever seen
Or ever would, he knew
Her eyes appeared the fairest green
Her dress, the fairest blue
Into the woods they danced and danced
They danced throughout the night
As all around them creatures pranced
Within the soft moonlight
I do not know our final fate
Before the end this day
But I will wait outside her gate
On a fair morning of May
MG: …honestly, as far as Polychron’s poetry goes, it’s far from the worst, and actually sounds like something hobbits and Bree-folk might sing. It’s not great, IMO, and parts are awkwardly worded… but it could’ve been much worse!
They finished dancing and the people stood, applauding and cheering.
Shade: …because of course they were. *sighs and hoists a mug she has somehow acquired* More beer if you please, Master Butterbur.
Alatar caught sight of the young man. He was standing just outside the door of the Common Room, beckoning.
Fastred reached for Elanor’s hand. Bowing, he addressed the wizard. “May I?”
Sonam: I’d think it would be Elanor’s choice, who she dances with, wouldn’t it? Also, the way that’s worded makes it sound like Fastred was the young man, when I’m quite sure that’s not the case!
“Please,” Alatar said. He handed him her hand and bowed. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Elanor. And your grace.”
But she only had eyes for Fastred.
Shade: Well, at least Polychron isn’t trying to set up the underage halfling girl with the immortal wizard, and if that isn’t a faint comfort…
As they swept out onto the dance floor, Alatar left them. Seeing the young man outside the Common Room, he followed him out into the hallway.
MG: And on that note, the chapter comes to an end! On the one hand, after the relentless grossness and Edge of the previous one, this one is almost a relief. On the other hand, a lot of it still feels… off. The explosive growth of Bree makes no sense, and seeing a country of peaceful, sleepy villages turn overnight into a crass, commercial, sleezy tourist trap makes me sad in ways I don’t think Polychron would ever grasp (though somehow it seems a fitting metaphor for this whole… endeavor). And there’s something a bit disconcerting about how even a country away, everyone’s lives seem to revolve around Elanor and her damned birthday party, to the point that the Prancing Pony seems to have mutated into a modern five-star hotel with staff falling over each other to please her for no real reason other than to accommodate it. It’s especially jarring to compare it to Frodo and Friends’ stay at the Pony in FotR – or to Bilbo’s own birthday in The Hobbit, which happened during his arrival in Laketown and he was so distracted by the rest of his adventure he didn’t even notice it. And really, though it has the outward trappings of classic wish fulfilment, it doesn’t really feel like that, either, so much as it’s just a further manifestation of Polychron’s fascination with extravagance and excess. More important plot-wise, however, is near the end of the chapter, when we meet some new characters who’ll be important down the line, including Manus Tarqus and his companions and our Mysterious Young Man™ whose identity is totally a secret, honest! Also, I still don’t like Alatar, and increasingly think he’s just Gandalf with everything that made Gandalf likable and interesting excised.
Anyway, next time the Mysterious Young Man™ reveals his identity (spoilers – he’s Eldarion. What a shocker.), and we get quite a lot of backstory dumped on us… including the long-awaited(?) true name and motivations of the Orcelven Prince! And I also will have to question Polychron’s grasp of geography, both real and fictional. We’ll see you then! Our counts stand at:
Bigger, Louder, More!: 22
Expansion-Pack World: 11
Feel My Edge: 23
Happy Ending Override: 7
Linguistic Confusions: 12
Loremaster’s Headache: 75
Pervy Hobbit Fanciers: 22
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 19
Rings-a-Palooza: 58
Take That, Tolkien!: 9
Traveling at the Speed of Plot: 14
The Unfair Sex: 13
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Demetrious Polychron’s Fellowship of the King! Last time, Alatar took Elanor and her friends on to Bree; meanwhile, Sam and Rosie, while trying to catch up to them, were accosted by a bunch of murderous orcs, a different group of equally murderous “Orcelven” and their gross rapist leader and were rescued by Tom Bombadil before getting sent on their way. Today, we pick back up with Elanor and Company as they arrive at Bree… and find out just what Polychron has done with the place. Yay. Joining us today will be Shade and Sonam!
Chapter 5: An Unforgettable Entrance
Elanor, Alatar, Fastred and Theo rode over the Greenway Crossing and came in sight of the white-stone walls of Bree. Although still called the Greenway, the road had been completely repaired and restored. Hardly a pothole, root or weed hindered travelers anymore.
Shade: Clearly, the king’s roadworkers are doing their job better than the king’s soldiers, considering what happened to Sam and Rosie just last chapter… I think we’ve figured out where His Royal Majesty’s priorities lie!
Bree had once been a village of less than a hundred stone houses for the Big Folk and an equal number of hobbit holes dug in various places. After the coming of King Elessar, waves of settlers followed. Many farmed in the north, repopulating the once-desolate lands of Eriador. The new supplies of goods brought immigrants from as far south as Greater Harad and as far north as Forodwaith. Bree became a busy and important center of trade.
Sonam: *looks at a map* Umm… beg pardon, but what? Are people really traveling thousands of miles from Harad just to settle in Bree? Aren’t there places a little… closer they could have chosen to settle instead? And I thought there weren’t that many of the Lossoth in Forodwaith to begin with…
MG: And don’t forget, Annuminas has also been resettled and become a boom town – and, as we’ll learn next chapter, Gondor itself has gotten a massive influx of new settlers and massive urban expansion! I’ve asked this before, and I no doubt will again, but where are all these people to fuel Middle-earth’s brand-new trend towards mass urbanization coming from?
Shade: …we’re barely two paragraphs in, and I already need a drink. Dammit, Polychron.
Traveling at the Speed of Plot: 13 (or settling, as it were)
The once modest village had grown quickly. Bree-landers realized there was quite a bit of money to be made facilitating the exchange of goods from growing settlements and farm communities.
Shade: Why is every community growing? Settlers have to come from somewhere – somewhere has to be shrinking! Even if everyone’s just been spending the last twenty years screwing like rabbits to celebrate Sauron’s defeat, it’s barely been time for one new generation to reach adulthood!
Their only connection was the crossroads at the Great East Road and the Greenway Crossing. The new and ostentatious West Gates of Bree were a cleverly designed and irresistible invitation for simple country folk.
MG: …that makes it sound like Bree has turned into a tourist trap (later aspects, we’ll see, don’t convince me otherwise…). Truly, what Tolkien would have thought of as a happy ending!
It beckoned for them to partake of the food, fashion, crafts and arts of foreign people and distant lands. Bree grew so big so fast, it swallowed the surrounding towns and they became adjoining neighborhoods within the larger city.
Sonam: What… what… did Bree just swallow up the whole country? What happened to the farms? What are people going to eat?
Archet, once the primary village of Chetwood North, had been populated by Men. Now it boasted equal numbers of Hobbits and Dwarves. They built grand stone houses (some said mansions) from the growing wealth of their guilds. Hobbits and dwarves discovered their mutual love of living underground,
Shade: Right, because hobbit holes and dwarven mansions are so much alike…
and Dwarves helped them dig many finely appointed holes. In return, dwarves appreciated how expertly tiny hobbit hands could execute their most ambitious and intricate designs for apparel: garb for workers, garments for the growing gentry and regalia for those with growing wealth, who imagined invented pedigrees – and wished to show them off.
Shade: …on the other hand, I could use some new clothes… and nothing wrong with inventing a fake noble pedigree and living the high life off it, I always say! *Sonam regards her disapprovingly
Hobbits helped dwarves craft their finest jewelry creations since the lost days of the Second Age.
MG: …courtesy of their vast store of gem lore and crafting skills they’ve just been… sitting on the whole time, I guess? Who knew hobbits were the equals of the Noldor when it came to such things – they’ve been holding out on us!
Archet became renowned for its shops of gems, jewelry and an almost endless variety of rings, set with stones of so many sparkling colors they put the rainbows to shame.
Sonam: I might think this might have something to do with a storyline that does, after all, involve a great many magic rings… but coming from Polychron, I somehow doubt it (that, or literally every one of those rings will turn out to be magical, in defiance of all logic and good sense!).
In Chetwood South, Breelanders raised cattle and sheep, and farmed vegetables and fruits not always supplied in sufficient varieties or quantities in the north and south. There they built forges and smithies for ironworks; lumber mills for crafting furniture and anything of wood.
Combe was a haven for artists and intellectuals. It boasted schools, bustling cafes, meditation gardens and a library – the only one between Lindon and Rivendell.
Shade: All this, I’ll remind you, in twenty-some years. Bree established all of this in two decades. No, don’t ask me how, I don’t want to know… but I’m sure some money changed hands under the table, because damn.
Staddle was built with most of the streets set close. It bustled with taverns, shops for pipe-weed and an underground market for goods (and bads)
Sonam: …I don’t think I want to buy any “bads,” actually.
Shade: *putting her arm around his shoulder* Clearly, Brother Monk, you’ve never been introduced to the wonders of a good black market! Fortunately, I am here to be your humble guide… though, sadly, we’re stuck doing this, which promises to be far less interesting.
which could not be sold openly in the more respectable parts of Bree. It was there they offered many exotic experiences, rarely talked about, but never wholly absent from any gathering of people.
Shade: Oh, come on, Polychron! You can’t just tease us and leave us hanging like that!
When Bree was still a village it had been one of the most diverse lands, welcoming hobbits, men, dwarves and occasionally even elves.
MG: I mean, Bree was mostly settled by Men and hobbits. It was noted to be unusual for how well those two groups got along and lived together in harmony, but it wasn’t, like, a huge melting pot or anything – it was a tiny country of small towns! Of course, the fact that the Road passed through Bree Village meant it saw a fair number of travelers… but most of them didn’t stick around!
Retaining that character made it an ideal crossroads. It went from being a small, simple village to a brightly growing city, without actually stopping to first become a town.
Sonam: *weakly* Well, at least Polychron realizes it?
Bree boasted of having thriving communities where a populous of different races lived together in peace, if not actual harmony. People rarely ever did that.
Sonam: I, ah, might be able to show you around some monasteries that might hopefully change your mind about that?
But Bree-landers did their best to tactfully overlook each other’s foibles with good manners. ‘If you don’t want it yourself, don’t invite it to your kitchen’ was a common-sense epithet often heard in Bree.
Shade: Well, sometimes “it” might invite itself, depending on just what “it” is and what being invited into the kitchen actually entails… I think this metaphor is getting away from me.
The cultures inspired each other, borrowing back and forth. Their communities grew rich and ancient arts were rekindled like in few other places. Some were even advanced thanks to the acceptance, curiosity and open-mindedness of the Bree-landers. And above all the King’s Law, the maintenance of his Roads and the occasional patrols of troops.
Sonam: *glances back at the previous chapter* Yes, I have to agree with Shade – the King’s troops haven’t impressed me very much so far, either!
Secure in the King’s favor and enriched by his blessings, it was well known that before he ascended the throne, Elessar had come many times to Bree and brought friends from the most foreign places. So Bree-landers embraced strangers and encouraged them to share their cultures, enriching the city which had often been frequented by the pre-coronation King.
Shade: …yeah, that seems quite a turnaround, considering everyone seems to have thought “Strider” was a scoundrel who was up to no good and who nobody should trust – I guess success really does make one new friends!
Almost every other business bore a sign: ‘Elessar Slept Here’ or ‘The King Ate Here.’ Even though they were only painted letters on wooden boards, the locals imagined seeing the clever sign makers concentrating, with tongues pushing out against the sides of their cheeks while writing, ‘Aragorn Bought Arwen’s Wedding Ring Here.’ Everyone knew that most of these businesses hadn’t existed before Elessar ascended the throne and married his Queen.
MG: On the one hand, a cottage industry of… Aragornania? …springing up at a town he spent a lot of time in before taking the throne is probably the most realistic thing out of anything that Polychron has described happening in Bree in this chapter… on the other hand, I can only imagine Tolkien’s reaction to this sort of crass commercialization of Aragorn’s legacy, and it’s yet another thing I doubt he’d consider a happy ending! I somehow doubt this is what he was imagining when he had Gandalf say that Aragorn’s reign would lead to better times for Bree!
That was the Bree Theo remembered. Now as they approached the high white walls, they saw that the West Gates were closed. Frightened militiamen armed with swords patrolled the entrance and nervous hobbit bowmen were posted on the battlements.
Shade: *rolling her eyes* Let me guess; the bad guys have been here too, right?
“Hallo!” Theo cried, waving his arms. The guards jumped and drew their swords. The archers notched arrows against their bows and aimed. Theo rode on, “It’s Théoden Brandybuck!”
“Master Théoden!” shouted the Captain of the West Gates. He sheathed his sword and turned to his archers and swordsmen, “It’s alright. Put up your arms! It’s one of the Deputy Counselors.” Then he returned his gaze to Theo, “Welcome back to Bree!”
Sonam: Theo is a deputy counselor? Isn’t he rather… young for such a position? I don’t think he’s even an adult by his people’s standards, is he? Then again, Elanor isn’t either, and look how this story has handled her… But surely Polychron might have thought that “son of the Master of Buckland” was enough for the locals to recognize him, if he visits often?
Elanor and Theo had been here many times. It was a favorite get away for their families.
MG: I mean, we know that the Brandybucks apparently got out to Bree reasonably often before LotR, and with the aftermath of the War of the Ring and the rise of the Reunited Kingdom leading Middle-earth to become much more interconnected… yeah, I can buy that.
It’s shops and curiosities, tradeshows and marketplaces made it a place with something for almost everyone, regardless how young or short an attention span.
Shade: See? Tourist trap. What’d I tell you?
Although many new and much finer restaurants, hotels and inns now competed for the lucrative business of accommodating the comings and goings of merchants, farmers and travelers, Elanor’s favorite place to stay was still the Prancing Pony.
As they approached the inn she noticed, even among the accepting Bree-landers, Alatar’s strange garb, majestic war horse, sea-blue robes tinged with silver, and sword and staff were attracting a great many stares and looks of fear, if not actual scowls of disapproval.
MG: *sigh* And of course, everyone has to notice Alatar. Gandalf usually just passed himself off as an ordinary old traveler, but I guess that’s not good enough for the Blue Wizard here…
Bigger, Louder More: 20 (three points for the overall state of Bree, one for Alatar’s fanciness)
People still said ‘hallow’ and doffed their hats or curtsied,
Sonam: I think you mean “hallo,” unless everyone is either sanctifying Alatar, or calling on him to do the same to them…
but their normal curiosity and usual gregariousness were gone. No one asked if they needed directions, nor help with their interests or business.
Over the years, the Prancing Pony had grown along with the rest of the city,
Shade: Of-gods-damned-course it was…
but it had retained its original character. The third floor once consisted of only two spires containing the most luxurious suites. Now it was completely built up and had as many rooms as the others.
MG: Checking back to the description of the Pony, it is indeed three stories, but I’m not seeing anything about the third floor not being as built up as the others…
The open courtyard, through which guests once rode to the stables, had been completely enclosed. All the space, including the stables, was used to expand the Common Room, create a reception hall and build more guest rooms. Young hobbits or boys
Sonam: *taken aback* Are “boys” and “hobbits” somehow different things, then? I don’t think all young halflings are girls in Middle-earth, but maybe I’m just confused… very, very confused…
MG: Considering “hobbit boys” and “hobbit girls” are terms that show up in LotR and The Hobbit, I think Polychron’s the one who’s confused.
took the reins from arriving guests, giving them vouchsafes and leading their horses or ponies to a newly-purchased free- standing stable down the street.
MG: …possibly also confused as to how this setup is in any way more efficient than the old one…
At the reception desk, Theo ordered three suites connected by a master suite from a pretty young hobbit named Missy Hornbottle. She had met Theo before, fancied him and enjoyed flirting. But her eyes darkened when she looked at Theo’s friends and caught sight of Elanor.
“Who’s your new friend, Théoden?”
Elanor curtsied, “Elanor Gardner, at your service, ma’am.”
Missy’s hands flew to her mouth, “Lady Elanor! Martha! Peggy! Lady Elanor’s come back!” A commotion erupted from the room behind the desk and two young hobbits ran out. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t recognize you, Lady Elanor.”
MG: And here we get to what seems to be the meat of the chapter – the travelers, but especially Elanor, being the center of everyone’s attention. Of course, when you compare to The Hobbit, where Thorin and Company were just another group of travelers on the road, even with the king-in-exile of Durin’s Folk leading them (they presumably passed through Bree, though the text skims over that part of their journey) or FotR where Frodo and his friends are at this point fleeing for their lives and trying to keep their heads down, the difference is pretty stark. And Elanor is also fleeing from evil forces… but apparently thinks drawing attention to herself in the middle of a famous inn is the right way to go about doing that! And it’s minor in the grand scheme of things, but I do have to side-eye that Missy’s first reaction to meeting Elanor is to throw up her hackles assuming another girl must be trying to steal her crush, at least before she realizes who Elanor really is.
Bigger, Louder, More!: 21
Pervy Hobbit Fanciers: 21
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 16
The Unfair Sex: 13
Peggy turned to Martha and Missy, “Are you sure? I thought tonight they were celebrating Lady Elanor’s two-and-twentieth at the Party Tree.”
Shade: Why do people a country away care so much about Elanor’s birthday plans? Four help me…
“I can’t say,” Martha quipped. “I seem to have misplaced my invitation.”
“A few were sent out, I’m afraid,” Elanor explained. “But we had to cancel the party. Which could explain the absence of yours, and part of the reason we’ve come.”
Sonam: I beg your pardon, Mistress Elanor, but… you’re on the run from evil forces. You are not here to celebrate your birthday! And if you take the time to do it, you might well end up with evil at your doorstep! So, do forgive this humble monk for thinking this sounds like a terrible idea…
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 17
“You cancelled your two-and-twentieth?” Missy asked in horror, as if Elanor had just announced that Summer had been declared illegal.
Shade: Why does everyone care so much about this damned party!? I’m going to keep asking until I get an answer, preferably one that doesn’t involve Elanor being just so wonderful everyone’s lives revolve around her.
“We’re traveling to Gondor,” Theo said smoothly. “Official business of the King. Elanor feels terrible, but it couldn’t be helped. So let’s hear no more about it! If you’d kindly show us to our rooms, we’d best have a bit of breakfast.”
“Oh!” Missy exclaimed. “That’s dreadful. I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. Here.” She grabbed a large ring of keys, leading Elanor and the others up the steps of the wide staircase. “I have the perfect suite for you, Lady Elanor!”
As the only handmaiden to the High Queen Arwen in these parts, Elanor was famous and much admired by the younger folk of Bree.
Shade: Well, at least talk of the party’s over with (for now) if not the fawning. And I guess everyone here really is that obsessed with royalty, if Elanor being a queen’s handmaiden counts for more than her being the daughter of a famous local (the Shire and Bree are next to each other, I’m counting it) hero.
Although parents thought their children’s idle talk of rich kings and queens driving fancy carriages and living in lofty palaces in distant lands were a waste of time, best saved for after chores and supper.
MG: …as those same parents prepared to go to work the next day making themselves rich by shamelessly exploiting the fact that the king once spent a lot of time in their town…
Missy led them to the top of one of the two tallest steeples and the rooms she gave them were the finest left untaken. Elanor knew one set was better, rarely used, strangely unavailable.
Sonam: That sounds like foreshadowing. Do I even want to know what for?
MG: And I have to say… what? The Prancing Pony maintains some very nice ground level rooms specifically for hobbits! Not only built to hobbit scale but, again, on the ground, because hobbits like to live in holes when they can, and build low to the ground when that’s not feasible, and certainly don’t like to sleep at the top of steeples (which… I guess the Pony has, now… and are big enough to have rooms in them…). All in all, I’m just left feeling like Elanor has been given a room she’ll find very uncomfortable, where everything is too big for her. Great job, guys! At least it’s fancy…
Loremaster’s Headache: 73
Barliman Butterbur, older and fatter than she remembered,
Shade: Now, if he’d been younger and thinner, that would’ve been a real shock…
knocked on their door, breathless. Dressed all in white with a white apron, he was flanked by three hobbits carrying trays laden with food, and the very soul of apology.
“I’m so sorry, Lady Elanor,” Butterbur said, supervising his hobbit staff laying out their morning meal. “I know it’s not your usual suite. I’ve unexpected guests I’m not at liberty to discuss who beat you to them and that’s as plain as I can be. I hope you’ll forgive me, and accept again my apology and hospitality – on the house!”
MG: Is Butterbur implying that Elanor normally would rate the best suite in the house (again, I’m quite sure she’d like the ground level hobbit rooms better!). And I can’t help but feel like there’s something rather uncomfortable about how Polychron is having Butterbur bowing and scraping to her like this. Butterbur was a good guy, and he clearly loved running his inn and looking out for his guests… but he was also clearly an important man in his own right, by Bree standards, and was never this outright servile!
“You’re too kind, Mr. Butterbur,” Elanor said. She dug into the purse she kept hidden behind her pretty waist-belt. “That’s not necessary. I’m happy to pay.”
“Nonsense,” Barliman said, shaking his white towel. He made sure his porters had finished their tasks and removed the empty trays. “I insist!” Without another word, he left.
MG: Clearly, Butterbur has noticed Alatar, and after the scare he got some years ago when he almost forgot Gandalf’s letter, he’s decided to make a point of never, ever antagonizing anyone who looks like a wizard.
They were all famished. Without another word themselves, they set about the food. Even by hobbit standards, there was plenty for everyone and soon their plates were empty. After their long ride, their eyes were closing, whether they willed them to or not.
Sonam: *hopefully* Does that mean the chapter’s almost over? Not to be rude, but even so…
“Sleep now,” Alatar said. “These may be the last soft beds you’ll have for many a long night. When you’ve rested and refreshed yourselves, we’ll gather again and I’ll ask you to share everything you know about Rings of Power.”
Shade: I’m honestly amazed Alatar isn’t just planning to wait for Elanor to go to sleep, grab the Red Book, and bolt. It’s clearly what he wants out of all this.
The hobbits were too sleepy to argue. They went to their rooms and were soon fast asleep. They slept all day and awakened in the early evening, sore from the night’s hard riding, and hungry again.
Sonam: And in sleeping that long, they gave the enemies hunting them that much longer to catch up to them, I’d guess? Or are they all still busy killing each other back in the Shire, not having noticed Sam and Rosie got away yet?
Elanor rang her bedside bell. As fast as she could wish, the porters arrived with a full dinner for everyone, laying it all out in the master suite.
“Something strange is going on,” Theo said, after their evening meal.
Shade: *drily* Really. You’re just now noticing that, friend? Was the wizard arriving out of nowhere to rope you all onto this… irritating adventure… not the first sign?
“I noticed that too,” Elanor agreed, sipping her tea. “The gates were locked. And except for Missy, the people in town didn’t ask us anything. Not even Butterbur.”
Shade: Perhaps the good folk of Bree have better things to do than worry about you, your travels and your oh-so-important birthday, my dear lady handmaiden?
“It’s best we stay in our rooms tonight and leave before first light in the morning,” Alatar told them. “We have many long leagues ahead of us before we reach Minas Tirith.”
“Even more reason not to waste our last night in civilization,” Theo said. Without waiting for anyone’s permission, he winked at Fastred and the two of them left.
Sonam: …I suppose Theo’s father never told him about the time he went wandering around in Bree and was accosted by the Ringwraiths? That’s starting to seem like quite an oversight! And I’ll notice that Alatar, after giving his warning, did absolutely nothing to keep them from walking into (potential) danger…
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 18
Elanor went to her room to freshen up. She found Missy had drawn a hot bath with scented oils, laying out robes and soft towels. But she was surprised and genuinely moved to find a beautiful baby-blue full-length evening gown from one of the finest shops in Bree. It hung on her bathroom door and bore a pinned happy-birthday note, ‘Curtesy of the Proprietor & Staff.’
Shade: *shaking her head* She really is the center of everyone’s lives, isn’t she? For some reason, people never seem to give me free stuff wherever I go…
Sonam *is wisely silent*
She took her time, washing her hair and enjoying a long, soothing bath. After applying scented oils, she put on her new dress, looked in the mirror and felt like a new hobbit.
Leaving the inn, Theo and Fastred went to the stables. They checked on Silverfall and their ponies, then wandered the town. After sampling a fair number of alehouses but finding no new places as festive as the inn they’d left, they decided to return to the Prancing Pony.
Sonam: …and so their detour into town accomplished exactly nothing, then? Why even bother including it at all… unless getting Theo and Fastred drunk already was such an urgent need!
Entering the newly renovated and expanded Common Room, they saw it now had two long bars on each side, with luxury booths and box seats set along the other walls. A double fire pit in the center burned bright. It boasted marble fireboxes, metal grills and a solid granite chimney. There were even more tables in the middle of the room than the last time Theo visited, and a steady stream of servers went back and forth between the kitchen to the tables and the bars.
Bigger, Louder, More!: 22 (meet the new and improved Prancing Pony, everyone!)
At some booths were exclusively dwarves, hobbits, men or women.
Shade: …why are you making it sound like “men” and “women” are separate species, Polychron? And are you implying that dwarves and hobbits don’t have men and women? My, my, that’s a new one…
At many more the people mixed, energized and excited to talk to others with unique stories and original experiences.
MG: Why does this sound like an advertisement? “Come visit the Prancing Pony, open now in Bree! See our inexplicable luxury suites, our inconveniently located stables, and our newly expanded common room, where our regular guests will share their unique stories and original experiences! Book your rooms today! For exact prices and availability, see B. Butterbur, proprietor.”
Though raucous, the conversations were festive. Theo and Fastred spoke loudly to hear each other over the din, even though they were standing side-by-side.
“I’ll order us a drink!” Theo shouted.
Sonam: It sounds like you’ve had quite enough already!
He headed for the bar, “Find us a seat!”
Fastred looked around dubiously, not seeing an open table. Suddenly the mixed group at the table in front of him looked up. Hastily, they drained their glasses, offered their seats and left. For a moment he was puzzled, then Alatar’s large calloused hand came down on his shoulder.
Shade: Oooh, fun. The Great Alatar scares off innocent patrons now! What will he do next?
They took their seats and the wizard raised his blue-robed arm, holding up four long fingers to Theo. The hobbit returned in a bit from the bar with his hands full of four large glasses of dark malt, foamy headed beer, setting them down on the table.
“Why four?” Fastred asked, clinking glasses with them and taking a long drink.
Sonam: …because there are four of you in your party? Have you forgotten Elanor already? By the West Wind, you’ve had more to drink than I’d thought!
Alatar smiled and pointed at the Common Room’s open double-doors.
A moment later, refreshed from her bath, her cheeks flushed from the warm waters, having expertly styled her shining blond hair and wearing the beautiful baby-blue formal evening gown, Elanor entered the double doors, illuminated by the bright flames in the double fire pits.
A hush fell over the room. Everyone was staring at her.
“Wow,” Theo said.
Fastred realized, as if for the first time, he had never seen such a vision of loveliness.
Shade: Oh, gods help me… laying it on a bit thick aren’t we, Master Polychron? Were I a suspicious woman – and I am – I might be compelled to wonder if Mistress Elanor doesn’t have an accomplice in the crowd, who’s busy picking everyone’s pockets while their attention is… ahem… elsewhere…
MG: And I, for one, can’t help but contrast this with the hobbits’ stay at the Prancing Pony in FotR, where sure, they got some attention because of the novelty of being travelers from the Shire, but actually making themselves the center of everyone’s attention – first with Pippin’s stories, then Frodo accidentally slipping the Ring on and vanishing in full view of everyone – was a bad thing because it helped the Ringwraiths find them. Here, Elanor just… gets to be the center of everyone’s attention for no reason that because of who she is and because she’s pretty, and it’s presented as an entirely positive thing with no downside. Aren’t you people supposed to be keeping a low profile?
Elanor’s eyes adjusted to the firelight and she looked around for her friends.
“May I be the first to wish you a happy two-and-twentieth, Lady Elanor,” Fastred said.
He bowed and offered his hand.
She curtsied gracefully, almost royally, as she’d often seen the princesses Celendrian, Elerith and Brindil do, “Thank you.”
MG: “Celendrian,” we’ve already heard, is the name Polychron has given to Aragorn and Arwen’s oldest daughter; now we have the names of her sisters (and just how often has Elanor met the princesses, anyway? From what we saw earlier, we know of Aragorn and his family visiting the Shire once, and that was a big deal. Elanor’s position as royal handmaiden has also been presented as being a ceremonial one; it’s not like she attends Arwen every day!). As for the names, “Elerith” might be an altered spelling of “el-eredh,” meaning “Star Seed,” which actually fits with the star naming theme of Elrond’s side of the family. “Brindil,” on the other hand, doesn’t mean anything that I can tell.
Linguistic Confusions: 12
“You look so beautiful!” Missy cried. Stepping out from behind the bar, she presented Elanor with a beautifully wrapped present in baby-blue paper. It matched her dress and was adorned with silver bows and ribbons, “We are honored to welcome the Lady Elanor Gardner of the Shire to the Prancing Pony on the night of her two-and-twentieth!”
MG: Is it Missy’s birthday too? Who knew! Remember, hobbits give presents on their own birthdays, they don’t get them! Unless Elanor is just that special!
Loremaster’s Headache: 74
While the crowd rose and clapped enthusiastically, Fastred led her to their table.
People cheered as she walked by adding cries of ‘Long life to Lady Elanor!’ and ‘Happy two-and-twentieth!’ amid a great number of other good wishes and praises of her beauty.
Shade: Ugh; I guess she really is getting that birthday party after all. If this gets any more saccharine, I think I’m going to hurl. Until then, so long as we’re at an inn, I think I’ll have some of Butterbur’s beer, if you please. And congratulations, you’ve just made absolutely certain everyone in a twenty-mile radius knows you’re here; I hope none of the various and sundry villains out hunting for you are paying attention…
Many festive hours passed. Their mugs were kept full by a seemingly endless number of lively celebrants, eager to pay their respects and wish the Lady Elanor a happy night.
Sonam: Am I the only one who remembers that everyone is supposed to be fleeing the Shire on a dangerous mission? And who remains very confused as to why Elanor seems to be a celebrity so famous she can make an entire inn and everyone in it revolve around her without even trying?
But in one dark booth, a grim young man in a long grey cloak sat drinking with a group of black-skinned traders from Greater Harad.
Shade: Hmmm… a mysterious figure is watching from a dark corner of the Prancing Pony as our heroes draw far too much attention to themselves… where have I seen that before…
Their leader was Manus Tarqus, son of Oduduwa.
Sonam: Is it just me, or do the names of this supposed father and son not even sound like they come from the same language?
MG: It’s not just you. I’m not giving a point, because Tolkien only gives us a few words from the Haradrim language and it’s not enough to draw any sort of conclusions from, but “Manus” is just Latin for “hands.” “Tarqus” looks like Latin but does not, to my knowledge, actually mean anything. And something about the name makes it sound more like something from Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom than Tolkien’s Middle-earth to me. Maybe it just makes me think of Tars Tarkas. *shrugs*
Though only a few years older than the young man and his own companions, Manus was much larger and more powerfully built. Exotically and colorfully dressed, he wore pearl earrings in his black-as-night ears.
Shade: Why are we specifying that only his ears are dark-skinned? Surely the rest of him is as well, unless this man looks very strange? And why, if he is “exotically and colorfully dressed,” are we only drawing attention to his earrings?
His happy and bombastic personality matched his clothes. It contrasted starkly to the forlorn young man, and the quiet and reserved men and women who were his mostly silent, steely-eyed companions. Beside Manus sat the beautiful Crown Princess Malvia Merkaba, daughter of Queen Akamai of Greater Harad, traveling incognito.
Sonam: …why do we have yet another royal personage in the Prancing Pony? And why and how is a Haradrim princess staying incognito in Bree, a place which is, by my reckoning, quite a ways from Harad…
MG: We will get an answer for that soon enough. But… “Greater Harad” is not a thing in Tolkien’s Middle-earth, and I’ve mentioned before that Harad as a whole is probably not a unified kingdom or empire with a single monarch. But of course, Polychron really, really likes royalty, so… here we are!
Loremaster’s Headache: 75
She wasn’t happy with the way Manus was looking at the many ladies in the room, including Lady Elanor.
Shade: Oh, and the first thing we learn about this princess is that she’s jealous. Lovely. And, pray tell, were the other “ladies” Manus was ogling underaged as well?
Pervy Hobbit Fanciers: 22
The young man found the reserved and ever watchful face of the woman he didn’t know was a warrior princess, somewhat peculiar, yet comfortingly familiar.
Sonam: …why? I’m genuinely curious, because that doesn’t seem to follow logically from what you just said at all – what’s familiar about her, exactly? And why, if we’re in this “young man’s” perspective, are we specifically being told something he doesn’t know?
For themselves, the people of Harad were content to observe the hustle and bustle of the room, staying vigilant. They enjoyed their beers and listened to Manus conduct his business.
“I know why you want to go to Lindon,” Manus told the young man.
“You do?” the young man asked.
“You want to meet the Elfs!” Manus cried.
Shade: …that strikes me as being a rather easy thing to deduce, since the elves are the only people who live in Lindon. Unless our nameless youth simply has a deep passion for seaside sightseeing?
“I have met the Elves, my friend,” he said, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “They are Elves – not ‘Elfs,’” Malvia told Manus. “Let him enjoy his beer.”
MG: Okay, for one, is the distinction between “elves” and “elfs” really clear enough that you could actually hear it spoken aloud (I think saying “elfs” with an audibly hard “f” is tricky enough you’d have to be doing it on purpose, at least?). And for another, presumably these people are speaking Westron, not English; is the distinction even audible in Westron? Somehow, I doubt it.
“You have not met the Elves,” Manus told him, hating being corrected. He took another drink and did his best to ignore Malvia,
Shade: Oh, the princess isn’t happy with you already, no you’re deliberately trying to ignore her? *shakes her head disapprovingly* Sounds like a great way to get yourself tossed in a dungeon when you get back to Harad, friend!
“You only think you’ve met the Elves!”
“I haven’t?” the young man asked.
“If you think the Elves of the North Kingdoms are impressive,” Manus told him. “You must wait until you see the Elves of Northern and Greater Harad. But the Elves of the vast jungles of South Harad – now those my friend are really Elves!”
The young man and Malvia laughed, “Thank you, Manus. You have made me laugh. I feared I might die before I laughed again.”
“He is right about the Elves of South Harad,” Malvia told him. “I have been among them, as well as those in the North Kingdoms.”
MG: Again, “South Harad” is redundant; I presume Manus means “Far Harad.” And honestly, this is a rather interesting concept. When it comes to the elves, Tolkien’s writings mostly deal with the Eldar – the elves who accepted the Valar’s invitation to come live in Aman and their descendants (including the ones who actually made it to Aman, and the ones like the Sindar, Nandor and Falathrim, who started the journey but for one reason or another never finished). But the Avari, those who refused the journey outright, get very little focus in the canon Legendarium; few of them live in the regions where most of the stories take place, but they’re supposed to be more populous the farther you get east. These southern elves the Haradrim know would presumably also be Avari (or possibly relatives of the Nandor who made it that far, or a mix of both). So this might be an opportunity to do some really interesting worldbuilding about a concept and people Tolkien touches on but never really explores (especially considering some of his notes in The Nature of Middle-earth that indicate that the Avari consider themselves to be the “true” inheritors of the ancient elven culture that first arose at Cuivienen, before they were contacted by the Valar, and which the Avari feel the Eldar turned their backs in in exchange for handouts). But Polychron, unfortunately, gets it all tangled up in his… interesting ideas about what’s going on in Harad, and the activities of his final major villain (the one we’ve not heard anything at all about yet) and so I think he ends up sadly, but not surprisingly, squandering that potential.
Expansion-Pack World: 11
“Very well,” the young man said, lifting his glass. “I shall reserve my judgement as to whether or not I have met the Elves, until I meet your legendary Elves of South Harad.” They clinked glasses and drank. The young man waved Missy over, “Another round.”
“You’ve been kind and generous,” Manus said, waving Missy away. “But I’m sorry, tomorrow we have too much work. We must retire for the night and I cannot take you west.”
Sonam: …am I the only one who thinks that sounds rather like Manus just doesn’t want to take our young man west, and is making excuses? And also, that we’ve just been dropped into the middle of this conversation with no context?
“It would not be immediately,” the young man said. “I will be in Bree a few more days, waiting for my friends. We will be traveling, just the three of us, with little luggage. Though I anticipate we may have need for armed companions on the road ahead. I can pay you, and the men and women of your fighting teams, handsomely for your escort and assistance.”
“I’ve got plenty of room,” Manus told him. “We just completed a large delivery to Rivendell.
MG: Which has… interesting implications, when you consider what the fic will later show us has been going on in Rivendell (and I’m not sure Rivendell gets that many merchant caravans anyway – it’s rather out of the way, by design – though maybe that’s changed in the early Fourth Age? Though if so, that makes later developments all the stranger…)
But there I received word: Greater Harad has been attacked by a new and infernal breed of evil from the East called the Orcelven. They’re raiding our lands and killing our people, spreading like an infection!
Shade: Oh, look, we couldn’t even pass a single chapter without mention of that… repulsive cretin and his offspring. Fun.
Queen Akamai has ordered me and my caravan to Minas Tirith, to obtain the council of King Elessar and negotiate terms for his help in resisting this new evil.”
MG: *doubles over laughing* Oh, Dear Eru! You were sent from Harad to Minas Tirith… and you somehow ended up in Bree! Hundreds of miles out of your way, clear on the other side of the continent! What, did you take a wrong turn at Albuquerque or something? *doubles over laughing again; Sonam and Shade look on in confusion*
Traveling at the Speed of Plot: 14
This troubled the young man more than anyone else’s bad news should, “It is not my place to council you against the wishes of your Queen. Though I must warn you, the roads between Bree and Minas Tirith have been crossed by armed bands of Orcelven. Stay vigilant.”
Sonam: Not to mention, I’m afraid poor Manus has been wasting his time! What help can Aragorn be against the Orcelven, if he’s unable to stop them from roaming at will in his own kingdom? I think Harad might want to look elsewhere for allies…
“That’s unhappy news,” Manus said.
Shade: And that is an understatement! Maybe Manus Tarqus has more tact and restraint than I’d given him credit for?
“Though we thank you for the warning,” Malvia told him, eyeing her people.
They rose from the table. The young man bowed and kissed Malvia’s hand. She was charmed and for once, Manus was jealous of her. The men bowed and the women curtsied.
Shade: *arching an eyebrow* Manus is jealous of Malvia getting her hand kissed by this courteous, presumably handsome young stranger? My, my. I’d assume it was intentional… but I don’t think Polychron is that subtle or restrained!
The young man sat back down and took another drink, “I enjoyed our conversations. Perhaps one day we shall meet again and I will have the opportunity to travel with you, hearing more tales of your many adventures. May the miles pass swiftly and you reach Minas Tirith safely, a fair city where you and your companions will be welcomed.”
MG: *still sporfling* If they can find Minas Tirith and don’t end up at Erebor instead! Then again, if Aragorn is as ineffective against the Orcelven as he seems to be, maybe Durin’s Folk would be more useful allies!
“Thank you!” Manus said. Slapping the young man’s back (a bit too hard), he drained his glass and those of his companions, “It’s been a pleasure!”
They left and the young man continued drinking alone. His eyes were drawn to the three hobbits celebrating Elanor’s two-and-twentieth, with a wizard.
Sonam: I’m amazed he hadn’t noticed it already, considering what a stir it was making among everyone else in the inn!
Unaware, he too was being watched by a hooded and mail-clad stranger at another table, surrounded by grim friends.
Shade: Oooh, ominous. Mysterious ally or evil villain? I suppose we’ll find out!
Alatar became aware of him, rose and went to his booth, “Are you from Minas Tirith?”
“It is no business of yours where I am from,” the young man said, uncomfortable, though he tried as politely as he could to manage the less-than-friendly words.
Shade: Well, presumably, if he’s from Minas Tirith he likely has an urban Anorien accent, whatever that might sound like – that could be a start!
Butterbur rushed over, “Don’t you be talking to him!”
Sonam: And I don’t think Mysterious Young Man knows how to keep a low profile, either! I may have lived most of my life in the mountains and might not be the most worldly sort, but at least I know that if you get the staff at an inn to wait on you hand and foot and keep strangers away from you, people will notice!
Alatar’s eyes darkened and he drew himself up, “I will speak to whomever I wish! I advise you not to meddle in affairs that are not your own.”
“It is all right, Barliman,” the young man said. “I did wish to speak with him.”
“You’ll be knowing your business better than me, your… I- I mean sir,” Butterbur said. “It’s not my place to be telling you, who you may or may not speak to. But if anything were to happen to you at my inn, I could never forgive myself. And your father would have my head!”
Shade: *rolling her eyes yet again* Oh, look, what have we here. A young Gondorian man of means, clearly of high noble birth, who Butterbur has to stop himself from calling by some other title and whose father he’s clearly intimidated by… I wonder who this could be? But I have a feeling that it will turn out that lurking in dark corners in this particular inn is hereditary…
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 19
Alatar recognized the silver and black worn by the royal guards of the Palace of Anor, hidden beneath the young man’s grey Elven cloak, “You’re from the Palace.”
Shade: Or perhaps he killed the real pr… young man, and took his clothes, hmm?
“Hush!” Butterbur cried. He stepped between them, attracting stares. The conversations around them died. Heedless of the danger, Butterbur pushed Alatar towards the door, smiling through his terror, “I’m happy to announce – I’ve just upgraded you to my finest suite!”
Alatar pushed him away and raised his staff, to smite the innkeeper.
MG: Dear Eru. Sure, Gandalf lost his temper with Butterbur, to the point Butterbur was terrified he’d put a curse on him… but that was because he thought Butterbur had screwed up and gotten Frodo killed (and when he found out Frodo was actually alive, and with Aragorn, he was so relieved he blessed Butterbur’s beer instead). Alatar is threatening Butterbur with immediate physical violence for being moderately annoying. Why are we supposed to like this character again?
Elanor stepped between them and took the wizard’s hand, “Would you do me the honor, sir, of the first dance on the night of my two-and-twentieth?”
MG: *sigh* Thank you, Elanor. On the one hand, you’ve dragged us back to the inexplicable birthday party subplot… but on the other, you probably just saved poor Butterbur from a grim fate, so I think that cancels it out.
Without waiting for a reply, she led him to an open section, where Fastred and Theo had cleared away the tables. Musicians played and people sang ‘The Maiden’s Song Of May.’
In Summer when the flower blooms
To dance a young man longs
The woods then fill with ardent grooms
Who sing the Summer songs
He saw a maid draw to the dale
And leave her Hill behind
Her skin was soft, and smooth and pale
Her eyes were large and kind
The fairest maid he’d ever seen
Or ever would, he knew
Her eyes appeared the fairest green
Her dress, the fairest blue
Into the woods they danced and danced
They danced throughout the night
As all around them creatures pranced
Within the soft moonlight
I do not know our final fate
Before the end this day
But I will wait outside her gate
On a fair morning of May
MG: …honestly, as far as Polychron’s poetry goes, it’s far from the worst, and actually sounds like something hobbits and Bree-folk might sing. It’s not great, IMO, and parts are awkwardly worded… but it could’ve been much worse!
They finished dancing and the people stood, applauding and cheering.
Shade: …because of course they were. *sighs and hoists a mug she has somehow acquired* More beer if you please, Master Butterbur.
Alatar caught sight of the young man. He was standing just outside the door of the Common Room, beckoning.
Fastred reached for Elanor’s hand. Bowing, he addressed the wizard. “May I?”
Sonam: I’d think it would be Elanor’s choice, who she dances with, wouldn’t it? Also, the way that’s worded makes it sound like Fastred was the young man, when I’m quite sure that’s not the case!
“Please,” Alatar said. He handed him her hand and bowed. “Thank you for the dance, Lady Elanor. And your grace.”
But she only had eyes for Fastred.
Shade: Well, at least Polychron isn’t trying to set up the underage halfling girl with the immortal wizard, and if that isn’t a faint comfort…
As they swept out onto the dance floor, Alatar left them. Seeing the young man outside the Common Room, he followed him out into the hallway.
MG: And on that note, the chapter comes to an end! On the one hand, after the relentless grossness and Edge of the previous one, this one is almost a relief. On the other hand, a lot of it still feels… off. The explosive growth of Bree makes no sense, and seeing a country of peaceful, sleepy villages turn overnight into a crass, commercial, sleezy tourist trap makes me sad in ways I don’t think Polychron would ever grasp (though somehow it seems a fitting metaphor for this whole… endeavor). And there’s something a bit disconcerting about how even a country away, everyone’s lives seem to revolve around Elanor and her damned birthday party, to the point that the Prancing Pony seems to have mutated into a modern five-star hotel with staff falling over each other to please her for no real reason other than to accommodate it. It’s especially jarring to compare it to Frodo and Friends’ stay at the Pony in FotR – or to Bilbo’s own birthday in The Hobbit, which happened during his arrival in Laketown and he was so distracted by the rest of his adventure he didn’t even notice it. And really, though it has the outward trappings of classic wish fulfilment, it doesn’t really feel like that, either, so much as it’s just a further manifestation of Polychron’s fascination with extravagance and excess. More important plot-wise, however, is near the end of the chapter, when we meet some new characters who’ll be important down the line, including Manus Tarqus and his companions and our Mysterious Young Man™ whose identity is totally a secret, honest! Also, I still don’t like Alatar, and increasingly think he’s just Gandalf with everything that made Gandalf likable and interesting excised.
Anyway, next time the Mysterious Young Man™ reveals his identity (spoilers – he’s Eldarion. What a shocker.), and we get quite a lot of backstory dumped on us… including the long-awaited(?) true name and motivations of the Orcelven Prince! And I also will have to question Polychron’s grasp of geography, both real and fictional. We’ll see you then! Our counts stand at:
Bigger, Louder, More!: 22
Expansion-Pack World: 11
Feel My Edge: 23
Happy Ending Override: 7
Linguistic Confusions: 12
Loremaster’s Headache: 75
Pervy Hobbit Fanciers: 22
Plot-Induced Stupidity: 19
Rings-a-Palooza: 58
Take That, Tolkien!: 9
Traveling at the Speed of Plot: 14
The Unfair Sex: 13
