Chapter Five
Marcho and Blanco did not gain and audience with the King that day, nor the next, nor the day after that. It was explained to them that the King was only available for public audiences in the morning, his other royal duties taking up the rest of the day. In this time, at least, the two brothers were able to prepare themselves for their encounter with royalty. On the advice of the King’s steward, they bathed in the palace and changed into more formal attire. Grandfather had advised them to pack such clothes back in Staddle, and also instructed them on how they should address the King. It was in a large antechamber that the candidates waited to be called into the throne room. The entire room was white marble, from the wall to the floor to the ceiling. Marble benches were placed around the chamber, but they were far too uncomfortable to sit on after the first day. Those who waited for the King’s ear were dismissed at noon, and were told to return at dawn the next day. This at least gave Marcho and Blanco the time to explore the great city of Fornost in its entirety. They had hoped to be able to explore the royal palace, but only the entrance hall and the antechamber to the throne room were open to the public. When a candidate was called up by name by the King’s steward, they would enter the throne room through a large white marble door which was carved ornately with various symbols and characters. The length of these audiences varied, but most of them lasted only a few minutes.
At long last, their wait was over. The King’s steward with his golden chain of office entered the antechamber and called their names. Through the door they went, following the steward’s swift steps. The throne room was truly something to behold. Its ceiling was so high up that Blanco almost sprained his neck whilst looking up at it. A set of marble steps elevated the throne above the rest of the room. The high walls were decorated by tapestries, but these tapestries were gold and silver in their colour; the scenes that they illustrated seemed to light up the entire room. The tiling on the floor formed a beautiful mosaic made of bold colours. Around the throne room were many courtiers, the lords and ladies of the kingdom. All were dressed in the finest and most flamboyant clothing that the two hobbits had even seen. Upon the throne was the King himself, his crown perched upon his long dark hair that fell neatly upon his shoulders. He was handsome to behold, with eyes that were both bright and dark at the same time. His robes were burgundy in colour, with a gold trimming. The two hobbits had never seen the King before, save for his face that was found upon the coins of his realm.
Once they were standing before the King, Marcho and Blanco bowed lowly to their King. In return he raised his head in acknowledgement.
“Your Majesty,” the steward began after bowing. “I present to you these two Halflings, Marcho and Blanco, from the Bree-lands.”
“Rarely is it that I am presented with the Periannath.” The King announced with a commanding voice. “Speak and I shall listen.”
Marcho stepped forward, bowing once again. “Your Majesty, I come to you on behalf of the Thain of the Staddle-folk and all the hobbits of Bree. For centuries we hobbits have lived as loyal vassals of the crown. As I am sure you are aware, Your Majesty, the realm is consumed in war. Our people have no taste for war, for we live peaceful and simple lives. It is my wish that you might grant us your favour in allowing us to establish a home in the land that can be found west of the Baranduin River, away from conflict and the oncoming darkness.”
The King turned his head to one of his advisors who stood at his left. Unlike the other courtiers, he was not dressed in fine clothing. Instead, he wore an old grey robe and cloak with a blue pointed hat. His long white beard fell below his waist. Leaning on his staff, the advisor moved closer to the King. The two whispered some words to one another before the advisor returned to his previous position behind the throne.
“It is true that I know of the plight of my own kingdom. From my own subjects I would expect unwavering loyalty in times of war. But I also know of the Periannath and their peaceful ways. I am told that this land has long since been disused for residence, and has instead been used as hunting grounds for the crown’s use. I am fond of the hunt myself, so why is it that I would give it up to you?”
“I do not know your mind, Majesty, nor shall I try to.” Marcho began. “But I would hope that you might value the needs of a desperate people over sport.”
The courtiers of the throne room began to mutter among themselves in shock. The two hobbits expected to be thrown from the throne room, but the King gave a regal smile.
“You are bold, perian. Bold, indeed. But you speak to me of the good citizenship of your people, so I wonder why you so freely abandon your home now, even during war?”
It was Blanco who spoke now to the King. “We do not abandon it freely, Your Majesty. But of late our people have not been made to feel Bree, nor the rest of the Bree-land, as our home. The authorities are harsh upon our people, harsh beyond proportion, even in these dark times.
The white bearded advisor once again moved to the King’s side and whispered into his ear. The King nodded slowly before standing, revealing himself to a man of great height and strength.
“It was no simple matter that brought you so far north, that I see. I could not call myself King if I were to exclude the needs of one peoples in favour of another. So be it, then. From the Baranduin River in the east to the Far Downs in the west, and from the North Moors in the north and the South Marches in the south, this will be your land. To me you will swear fealty to as your liege lord, as a new shire of my Kingdom. You shall speed my messengers, and you will maintain the roads and bridges found within the territory. In return for your loyalty, you shall receive the protection of the Crown, at times of peace and war.”
Marcho and Blanco could not quite believe their success. They had indeed found a home for all hobbits to live in harmony and peace with one another. This land that they had only seen once in their dream. A dream no longer, it would seem. No longer would hobbits be treated with disdain or inequality by the Sheriff’s Men. They would be far beyond his jurisdiction now.
“We cannot rightly express our gratitude for your kindness, Majesty.” Marcho spoke before bowing before the King, with Blanco following soon after. “You have given us a home. We shall always serve the rightful King of Arthedain.”
“Go now, and lead your people to their new found land.” The King ordered before descending back to his throne.
Giving a final bow to the good King Argeleb, the hobbits exited the throne room, following the steward back to the antechamber. Upon exiting the palace, they made their way across the courtyard back towards the city. As they did so, someone caught up with them from behind. It was the King’s advisor with the blue pointed hat. Calling the brothers to stop, he smiled down at them kindly, leaning on his staff. He appeared to be even older than Grandfather, yet had a strength about him that the hobbits found difficult to understand.
“Greetings, dear hobbits.” He spoke, his bright blue eyes shimmering beneath his white eyebrows. “I did not get the chance to speak with you in the throne room.”
“Well met.” Blanco courteously replied. “Might we know your name, my lord?”
The elder chuckled. “I am no lord, but merely a servant. I go by many names in many lands, but in the Bree-lands you might know me as Gandalf.”
“Nice to meet you, Gandalf. I think we ought to thank you for advising the King in our matter.” Marcho bowed.
“The King is wise and prudent, and it is him whom you should thank. Go now with haste, for the shire of the hobbits awaits you. Winter will soon be upon you, and there is much work to be done.”
The two hobbits bowed to Gandalf. “You must visit us, soon. You will always be welcome, should you be passing through.”
“I am counting on it!” he chuckled, before returning to the palace.
It was now a matter of returning to the south, to the Bree-land.
