Away to the North!
From Library of the Randirim
Chapter One: A Sunny Departure
Randirim Hall, such as it was, would still need many a week before it was cleaned and proper and ready for hosting and Esslar was desperately looking forward to the day. Ere long he would be sending out fliers and posters for an event if he could only guess the specifics. First the many crates and clutter would have to be cleared away of course. Through fortune and fancy he had managed to accrue a tidy sum of money managing a number of the farm fields nearby, and of course there had been the occasional mathom that came his way (though he was ever reluctant to give such things up for they fascinated him). And nearly every penny had gone to purchase the Hall and its furnishings. Books from Lindon and Westmarch and Imladris and even further had come packed in crates and dwarves, ever the merchants of the road, had been constantly busying about storing this and that. For the moment though, the main chamber, which was to serve chiefly as a library, was all to him.
The silence was nearly joyous and he sat at a table littered with maps and charts and inventories and ignored them all for the sake of a single clay cup filled with steaming red tea. The evening's chill still gripped the hall but in his thick robes, all the thicker for the small but numerous books that lined the pockets, Esslar did not feel it. At least, not until his cup was empty and the light pouring in through the round windows was bright enough to make the motes dance in the air before him. Putting the cup aside he navigated a way through the chamber to the foyer and there went through the great round door and out into the garden. To his left was a great party tent, for such events as might be had there, and to the left was a tent for the growth of the mushrooms that hobbits did love so much. Before him were two lawn statues, one of the great hero Gil-galad with his shield and spear and the other of Celebrimor with his hammer and arm outstretched in welcome.
A loud caw sounded from the eave above him and Esslar smiled at the raven perched there. "Look Gragog! Arnor rises over the valley and Celebrimor hails it heartily while Gil-galad bows his head in fealty. It is fitting, is it not?!" The raven's head bobbed up in down and he guessed that meant consent. He was not very good yet with raven-speak and Gragog was as yet too young to speak much in the tongues of men, dwarves, or elves. Esslar looked back towards the rising of the sun with a sincere smile, content in the peace of the Ewefields and the companionship of his friends. Gragog he had known for many years, for the raven had come to his window as a chick for bits of crackers and had followed him from Mirkwood on his journeys. Somewhere Artos would be looping about, snuffing at the group, probably at mushrooms. At first the scholar had fretted over bringing a nearly wild bear into a place such as the Shire, but Artos too was young and he was rather small and gentle. With some small coaxing (notably fish), Artos was all too eager to even give rides to young hobbit-children. Esslar had guessed that fish and mushrooms must have been rare in the hills beyond the Misty Mountains and so must have seemed a new wonder to the bear.
But, companions aside and journeys ahead, he had things to order and set to right. True to their word, the dwarven workers appeared an hour after sunrise. Esslar was as yet secretly untrusting of them, but they had done nothing to dis-earn his respect so he consented to leave them to their labors. While most resumed putting the Hall together to his express designs (and truly, to details that would have bored all but dwarves and hobbits), a few of the laborers prepared his wagon and a horse to pull it and loaded it full of crops from his own fields. Mostly melons and nuts and other such things that would keep for a journey, though he had selected small packages of oranges and mushrooms and pears and these he had packed himself in a way such as to preserve them over the journey. For word had come to him along the roads of strife to the north and true to the creed of the Randirim he would follow it down whatever road it might lead. And while Garaf could lend spear and sword aptly to his cause, Esslar was left with wit, lore, and a rather abundance of produce.
By the time the sun was nearing its peek, the scholar had finished his noon-time meal and was loading into the wagon. He was quite pleased to see Artoc curled up on the seat, napping in the sun and Gragog perched on the side of the wagon, keeping a sharp black eye on the baskets of food. "There's no crackers I'm afraid, but perhaps we'll find some along the way." he commented as he gave the black bird a comforting pat on the head. Gragog's greedy glint in his beady black eye spoke volumes about just what he thought of the lack of crackers and what Esslar could do with his pats, but the scholar missed the look entirely as he climbed up into the wagon.
"It's good to see you Artoc. Did you have a good lunch?" Is what Esslar intended to say but his bear-speech was nearly as impracticed as his raven-speech and it came out as "Cave sharp blur Artoc. Did you hunger spotted fang?" For the bear's part, he raised a sleepy glance at the elf's smiling face and then went back to sleep. Quite ignorant of his true words, Esslar whistled a gay tune as he flipped the reins and started the wagon on it's long journey towards the north.
And this was the beginning of Esslar Reinind's second journey, from whence would come many new adventures for the elf and his companions and the full width of his lore would be tested in the harsh lands of the north.
