Faith

Camp Fire Stories

The searching party was slow in covering terrain even with dwarven help. It took them days to ride what would be done in a short while, looking for signs of the so-called kidnapper.

During supper none was too keen to talk, worried as they were, but the warmth of the meal in their bellies and of the fires around their camp settled their mood. Men and dwarrow both defined watches, and some went to their bedrolls early. Bard, worried to the last drop of blood, circled the camp as far as the light of the fires reached, a bear caged in the circle of light.

The night owls, like Bofur and Nori, played cards whilst hens, like Dwalin and Dori, were long snoring. Thorin rested his back against a large boulder, keeping his own watch over his closest family. Bilbo, always the curious one, sat cross-legged near a fire, where some Dalemen shared stories with the Rohirrim. One of Bard's rangers, a mature fellow with clever eyes, was finishing a story.

"... And the poor fisher, after rowing all the way to the springs of the river, found the place the old woman told him. Once he pulled his boat to the shore, and said the magic words she taught him, the sand in the chest she gave him turned to pure gold. Then he gave it to a beautiful maiden who stood there waiting, exactly as the woman said there would be. In the end, not only did he keep the gold, but also found the woman's daughter and they wed and lived happily ever after."

"But why didn't the old woman spend her gold and pay for her ride across the lake? I never understood this part." One of the younger guys asked, annoyed.

"That's because you don't pay attention, Jarred. The old woman was a fairy, and she was testing the fisher. She wouldn't let anyone greedy near her daughter, that's why she begged for the ride and only then told him there would be a prize."

"Oh, I see." Bilbo shared his opinion. "It's like the stories where the hero must have a pure heart to achieve his goal. I've heard some of the kind."

"But this, master Halfling, is not about achieving a goal. It's about having a pure heart and keeping faith. If he were greedy and said the magic words before he reached the right place, the boat would sink with the weight of the gold. He would drown and wouldn't find the maiden. The fisher was selfless and kept faith on the fairy's words, that he would find happiness at the end of his journey. And so he did."

Bilbo nodded, agreeing, happy to have one more story to add to his collection.

Dunwine cleared his throat, granting the attention of the story sharers for the next one.

"The pure of heart might journey even when they ain't aware of it. There are paths, hidden to most, that only the pure of heart might tread."

"Are there? Where to?"Asked Bilbo. "How can one journey without being aware?"

Dunwine smiled, knowingly. The hobbit asked exactly what it took to hook the audience.

"There are. There are places far, so far away, no mortal can reach them."

Bilbo nodded again, understanding. The Undying Lands. He heard about them in the House of Elrond.

"Bulshit. Wherever an elf can go, a man can go too." Said one of the Dalemen, not to challenge Dunwine's words, but to induce him to continue.

"Really? Would you dare to go to the Golden Forest, where the elf witch is queen? Or to take one of the swan ships that sail away from the Gray Havens and never return?"

"Oh, come on. Everybody knows nobody enters the Forest of Golden Leaves and comes back unscathed. Only a fool would set foot in Lórien."

"And yet, it is about Lórien that I'm about to tell. Not the forest, but the Power."