Tianwen·Magweth Pengolodh

,child.I won't talk about fighting.Would you like to hear something interesting? "The boy swallowed and nodded.

"Okay. I'll tell you what that is all about." Pengolod pulled out all his storytelling skills, engaging them so that the story would not be interrupted.

That was before the war, when your fathers came from Númenor to aid us.Our Linton elves tried first.We went south, trying to defend our people in Eregion from the Great Enemy and his orcs.We marched with great impatience, at first blatantly taking the southern road, and then changing our course so that we could better conceal our tracks.Many streams and two rivers join together to form the Gvaszrow River, where the waterways are criss-crossed and the water flows slowly, making the surrounding land green and full of vitality.

We made our way quietly through the swamp and along the stream that flowed through sandy banks and willow shades.It was the most beautiful part of our trip south.The fighting had no effect on the swamp.White swans swim leisurely in the pond, raising cygnets, and irises and reeds bloom in spring.As an interpreter and trailblazer, I rode in front, while the others got off their horses and walked on the wet ground.

We stopped by a stretch of sandy river bank. "These really look like Oak Caves, what do you think?" asked one of the warriors.Tunnels had been punched in the sand, too large to be the work of otters or badgers.We judged that the area was sunny and clean enough to attract orcs, but found no excrement or tracks left by wild animals.To make sure, our captain stooped to peer into a tunnel, and thrust his spear into it.His back must have been a tempting target.Someone threw a shelled walnut at him from out of sight, and it hit the mark.He was really annoyed, and he turned his head and straightened up, but a few more nuts flew and hit his armor, and there was a musical jingle.There is obviously a reason why the captain can be the captain, because he endured standing there as a target for a moment, and then made a gesture.A few elf warriors quietly sneaked up to the source of the firepower, pounced on and launched a massive attack on the enemies who used nuts as weapons.It sounded like a hell of a fight from where we were.

Two minutes later, four elves slid down the river bank, all as annoyed as the captain, and half-blind, busy wiping away the mud that had stuck around their eyes.One complained: "Just a few mortal children!" The other said: "No, it's the dwarves. As I said, they still hate elves in their hearts." "We only caught one, but you can see It's over." After hearing these contradictory reports, the captain called me over.I am an interpreter and need to identify the captive, explain what he is, and judge whether he is good or evil.

Two tall elf warriors who lived nearly seven times the life of your king drew the captive.I've never seen a creature like him.He was only a little taller than half our warriors, shorter than a dwarf, but beardless like me.But he was not a child, but a young man of his kind, with dark curly hair hanging on his neck and forehead, and eyes full of wit, anger, fear, and courage.He was covered in mud from the scuffle with our soldiers just now, but regardless of that, he was decent and clean, wearing simple home-woven clothes.The most amazing part of his whole body is his feet.He was barefoot, without shoes, and despite his small stature, his feet were large, larger than my own, and covered in thick curly hair.Yes, the feet have curly hair.

Are you all laughing enough?I'm going to go on.

There was a group of us standing there: me, the odd guy, our captain and fighter.I got down on one knee in front of the very reluctant guest so that I was closer to his height; we then tried to communicate.I heard traces of other mortal languages ​​in his, but not enough for me to really understand him, and he knew nothing of every language I tried.So I did the basics — I put my hands on my chest and said my name.He was quick-witted, understood what I meant, and followed suit.I smiled because I understood how the first elves, those under the stars, communicated with other races and made language possible.The euphoria in his response faded away as our captain stepped forward from the crowd.The captain asked in a commanding tone: "Well, what is he?"

Such abruptness really annoys me.I know what this one isn't, he's not an evil creature; but I don't know what he is.I wish I had the chance to learn a new language from scratch and learn about a new race through it, but this is wartime and we don't have time.So I chose an answer that would have saved the life of this stranger.I said with great force: "From his peculiar dialect, I believe he belongs to a kinsman of the dwarves, perhaps the famous Nogis Nibbin, 'the dwarves.'"

The captain shouted: "But he doesn't have a beard!"

"He has beards on his feet," I said.

Fortunately, our desperate captive took on a stern expression, which lent him some dwarven air.The captain looked at his wrath, and said, "Well, well! We will never go against the King of Durin's people with spears, and make him angry. Give him some gold, and let him go."

In the end, the chap nearly killed himself again, for he looked at gold with suspicion like no dwarf ever does.He touched the pattern engraved on one of the gold pieces and was impressed by its craftsmanship.Then he pointed to the brass-encrusted horn hanging from my belt. "He wants the horn? Give it to him too," said the captain.

I took the horn and ornaments off my belt and handed them to his little hands.He raised it to his lips and blew so loud that it startled us all.Then he smiled, gave a neat bow, and was gone—stunningly fast and as quiet as we were.We left without further comment on this, for we were already delayed and had to catch up.Our unit simply noted in the report that we had paid Nogis Nebbing for the way.

I never saw that strange marshman again, nor any of his kind.When the battle was over and we were on our way home, my unit stopped for a while at a mortal village near Imladris.A shepherd who rested among them told me that what I had seen was a Holbetra, the cave-dweller mentioned in the legend.

When the young audience in Pengolod heard this, they erupted.Each of them had heard of Holbetra from their great-grandfather or aunt, from the shepherdess or from the old sailor.They scrambled to report what they knew to Pengolod.Their lore mixed with lore of dwarves and elves to create an elusive image of a crazy race, and Pengolod listened to their imagined or half-forgotten misunderstandings, and it was hard to keep them. serious.

The sun goes down and a mess of narration brings the party to a close.Some boys thanked Pengolod, some didn't, but most left Tom with a coin or half. "I'll give you money when we meet at the pier on the day of the stars, and then I will have money." A teenager said while walking.

After the last boy left, Pengolod stood up: "You - for this - charge a fee?"

Ah Tang's ears turned red again, but he was very stubborn: "It's very troublesome to arrange. You need to use a bench, you have to choose a good time, and so on."

Pengolod snapped, "What do you think your master will say?"

"You said I should give you half?" Ah Tang said.

Before Pengolod could react to Tom's Romana logic, the boy continued: "I wanted to write the story in a booklet and sell it, but then I would have to ask Master Alfwine for paper, And he will definitely want to see the exercises I wrote on paper. I can't tell stories like you. I want to make some money myself, so that when the master gets married, I can surprise him with a wedding gift."

Pengolod's anger was overruled by surprise: "He proposed to her?"

"Not yet. But he will," said Tom, strangely uncertain. "Since you went to Armenelos, they've been making love like two dolphins. The day before you came back, he put The gold you reserved for his lodgings went to the jeweler who made the ring. Please don't tell him I told you!"

"I should have expected it myself. Soon..." Pengolod whispered.He noticed that Tom was ashamed and afraid: "Old stories and history belong to everyone. You can write them down as you like. Is there any child in particular who wants to hear about me?" he asked, thinking of spies again .

"Everyone wants to know you!" Tom said, as if only Pengolod was in the dark.

"Everyone? Surely some people are particularly interested?"

Ah Tang checked the sandals: "There are two people who are always asking, especially when you are not around."

Pengolod couldn't control his urgent tone: "Alfwine told them what I did?"

"Oh, no. He also told me not to tell." Ah Tang explained, "If they don't know, they will come back in a few days, which is good for business." Pengolod was still weighing, but did not answer, so Ah Tang Tang asked, "Are you really going to tell Master Alfwine what I have done?"

"It's too funny a story not to tell," Pengolod admitted, trying not to laugh