Tianwen·Magweth Pengolodh

Welcome, but no laughing about the type of people who have found a home in Kingstown.The fat man laughed out loud, and Pengolod slipped out the door behind him, but when he expressed his thanks to Noof, Noof just waved his hand indifferently: "For me, the audience is too small for you to bear." That sort of thing."

"Having said that, you're standing up for yourself and being the target of ridicule, rather than, ah, what he meant to be," Pengolods said.

Nufu said lightly: "And I never mentioned why the Pocket King is always fat. See, that is our specialty. As long as you laugh at yourself first, and then laugh at others, the stimulation will not be so unbearable."

After speaking, the Pocket King left quickly, and left in the cart that had been waiting at the door during their conversation.As the wagon driver yelled at the oxen and set off, Pengolod realized that he had seen the driver too—in white robes and a wig of golden straw, he claimed to be a beautiful elf lady.

This last strange event made him feel worn out to the bone.Once the Pocket King left, the residents of the square felt even more hostile.So Pengolod went away, and returned to Alfwine's shop.

fat man's story

Business was still slow when he arrived.Alfwine and Tom are clearing the bookshelves.They seem to have been working together happily, because Alfwine was very happy when he said: "It seems that you have found the wrong bathhouse. Come and take a look at this, it is left by my past teacher." Pengolod went to look .It was a blessing to be able to return so easily to the safety of their friendship after a day like this.

That night, Pengolod kept quiet when he called Alfwine to the conversation.He heard stories of Alfwine's youth on trading ships, and some embarrassing tales of Alfwine's own apprentices.After Tom was sent upstairs, Pengolod (responsibly silent about eavesdropping on Rosenzil) spoke of his meeting with the Pocket King.Alfwine listened with relish, and in turn told Pengolod about the hundreds of years of dirty history of the square where the incident happened.They kept talking about Tom coming down from his oven-hot attic and being allowed to sleep on the little tiled porch.

Pengolod wrote all night listening to the child's soft snoring as regular as a bellows.After that conversation in the explorer's guild library, Pengolod had been planning to write a complete Tale of the Children of Hurin for Alfwine. (None of them were complete in the Explorers' Guild library—another sign, he suspected, that Minas Tir had ordered a cleanup on his throne.) That grim story spoke of Turin the Mortal and Bey of Doriath. Leger's unhappy friendship, and this rough day had given him the mood to write it and do something for Alfwine at the same time.It is the longest ballad known to the Elves.He couldn't have written it all in one night, but he had already started work, so when it was dawn, he managed to stop writing.

Pengolod greeted Alfwine as he came downstairs.Alfwine looked at the page and said, "Don't tell me you've been writing this all night."

"That's exactly what I did, taking advantage of the cool night - I have surrendered to your climate." Pengoloz heard a familiar voice from the street before Alfwine said, "I'm going to wash Look at this ink when you drop your hands. If Rosenzil comes while I'm at the well, buy me two muffins. I've been up all night, and I'm really hungry." He hurried Out the back door before she came in the front door, into the yard, and washed leisurely.

This day's business was even lighter than the previous day.Alfwine bound the pages Pengolod had written into a set of leather covers.Pengolod watched, and their conversation continued as usual, leading Pengolod to tell another old tale.He remembered who that guy in the past was of the same type as Noof.

****

I would have never met Di Javier, but our fortunes were both turned upside down.We who fled from Gondolin lived a few years at the mouth of Sirion, and made an alliance with the children of Cirdan.Many of them had lived in the great stronghold of Brethombar, but the stronghold fell, and they fled to the same district of Sirion.The castles of the Teleri by the sea were old, built in a time when only the stars shone.The race you call the Dwarves built their towers. (The dwarves took the pearls as a reward and retreated far south inland before the sun came out to the great dwarven homeland of Khazad-dum.) During this time the Green Elves and the refugees of Doriath fled from the spreading evil of the North. and Doriath fell, and Sirion became their great refuge.

All that evil was not the work of Morgoth.Famous among the refugees was young Elwynn, whose native Doriath fell in the second great kin-murder of the sons of Fëanor.She and her mother escaped with the family heirloom, Beren's Silmarillion.Elwyn has her grandmother's beauty, and perhaps her mother's melancholy.Poor and lovely, she wore the Silmaril, so irresistible that the Council of Brithombar, having seen her, could not drive her away, nor would she drive her away.But they knew that the favor of Ulmo and the waters of his river protected Brithombar as far as possible from Morgoth, but could not keep out the sons of Fëanor.

Thus, Idril was able to merge the refugees of the Rock of Water Pleasure (among them our artisans and designers) with the people of Cirdan.Under the guidance of those old men of Gondolin a great and steep wall was built, which curved around the harbor of Sirion, and bounded it between the sea-cliff wharves on the west and the stone arches on the east.When word reached the war-torn lands that the mouths of Sirion had grown strong and strong, more good races came seeking refuge.

During the time we were allowed to live in Sirion, I met a variety of peoples there, and I felt the sting of sorrow again with the new knowledge they brought.I was Eärendil's teacher at that time, and I was in a higher position than I used to be—not because Eärendil boasted about me.The boy worshiped Cirdan as a hero and longed to have his ship.His body grew early, and when he was 20 he announced that I didn't have to teach him any more.I could hardly refute this strange man, who was but a boy by our standards, but as handsome as his mother, as virile as his father, as tall as dead Turgon.With so many qualities, it seemed only natural that he should soon win the heart of fair Elwynn.

Not long after they were married, I endured another separation.Finally, this time, those who left chose to leave by themselves.Tuor grew old.He and Idril loved each other so much that they decided to try sailing to the west together.Several of their most loyal followers also traveled with them in the crew, among them my long-time friend Voronwe.Idril asked me to read the omens of the journey.I had to reassure her three times that I wasn't saying the things she wanted to hear and that they really boded success.But I saw from those omens that my destiny was not the same as their journey.So I stayed.

I continued to serve Eärendil as I served Idril and Tuor; but when Idril and Tuor were gone, I had much more time at my own disposal.I have formed friendships with the inhabitants of Sirion of various races and nations.Never before, nor ever again, so many different families of elves and mortals lived together.Learn the origin of the runes of Daeron, compare the dialects of Ossiriand and Falas with the ancient language of Doriath, hear the great Song of Lethian and the story of liberation from bondage— How ecstatic Rumir would be if he was still alive.But Rumir is dead.My craft as a scholar has expanded, and because of it, I allow myself to have some joy in my life again, and I'm privately thankful I chose to stay.

As you have guessed, it was at this time that I met Di Javier.

Di Javier had come with one of the few groups that remained of the House of Hador to protect his kin.The men of the house of Hador, like Tuor, were blue-eyed, yellow-haired, and imposing, showing what kinship Elves and mortals have in our Maker's mind.Di Javier's party, allied with some of the Beor family, escaped enslavement or a worse fate.Union naturally brings closer bond—marriage, of which de Javier himself was a product.He was a tall, burly, ugly man with a black beard and deep-set eyes.He has always said that he is from the Hador family and is only interested in the Hador family, but he doesn't look like them at all.After we got to know each other, de Javier told me that some of the more uncivilized Beorns had said he was born a bear-man, and offered to teach him the mystical lore of his people.But Di Javier rejected the possibility of becoming a bear.He was driven by another strange fate.

In those days all good mortals spoke Sindarin.Even those who had never seen the elves spoke the forbidden language in rebellion against the conquerors from the east.Di Javier went one step further.He would come early to the bard's circle, be the last to leave, and afterward chase those who chanted or sang, asking them questions about that specialty.When I recite, almost no one chases after me to ask questions, so I gladly give