From “The Life-book of Lancogard North-Took”:
Overhill, North-farthing, The Shire, 23 Afteryule
Such a thing has happened that I must write it all down, and not spare a single detail – because if I don’t, I won’t believe the story myself in times to come!
It was just a few days ago when the letter arrived at the Watch Office from Second Shirriff Bodo Bunce of Michel Delving. The unnaturally heavy snow we saw here was seen everywhere north of the Water, even places like Waymeet and Bywater got a dusting. Livestock were panicked from the winds and had to be rounded up, and that overtaxed the Watch, which was already strained from many points on the borders. Primstone told me of Bunce’s request for all available hands to report to Waymeet for duty. Primstone said he could only spare one Bounder, and since he couldn’t go, I went instead. I laid up for a few days at the Bird & Baby while the work was getting done, and long days we put in, I can say - but that’s not the reason for writing. It was what happened after the jobs were done, and I was thinking of heading home.
I had stopped at Waymeet towards supper-time for fodder for me and the pony and was watching both ways on the East-West Road, when I heard hooves approaching – not a pony, but a full-size horse, and being cruelly ridden. Rare enough for the Big Folk to be near the bounds, let alone this far into the Shire; and the rider was headed east, as if leaving. Shortly, the rider appeared and reined up close by where I stood, got off and led the horse to a trough. But let me tell you, I just stared – it was Big Folk, but not Mannish – and it was a woman! And what’s more, as I looked closer, she was an Elf!! For the first time in my life, I was looking at an Elf for once, and a maid for twice!
All in red and black she was, this Elf-maid, from foot to head. She sported a black hat with black feathers and a wide brim cocked up to one side, which she hung on the saddle-bow. Her hair was black, blacker than the darkest moonless night, and it made her pale skin even paler. There was no mistaking her for anything but Elvish, for her ears swept up and back like bird’s wings, and her eyes were bright and grey. Never had I seen anyone or anything the like. She must’ve seen me out of one eye because she turned towards me, looking at me with those eyes, and simply said, “Good Evening.” Just like that, I felt frozen, like a bird will freeze when a cat is about to pounce.
“Hullo,” said I, after clearing my throat. “Passing through, are we? Lancogard North-took, at your service. What business brings you to Waymeet, might I ask?”
She looked down the Road, as if seeing something in the distance. “No business that concerns Lancogard North-took, little halfling. I merely pass through this land, and my horse and I are thirsty.” Her voice was not what I expected an Elf to sound like: hers was low, and husky, but you didn’t want her to stop speaking. You wanted her to recite the Shire-census name for name, and just listen to her.
“Stare if you must, small one,” said she, “though I would ask what business of yours concerns you for me?” I snapped out of a fog; I think I really was staring.
“I am a Deputy Shirriff, and I make inquiries of peoples’ business, to render assistance as it’s needed. This recent weather has been unnatural, and a concern for many a folk around here.”
“The weather comes and goes in due season, though I agree this is unnatural. Many more unnatural things are coming, to the worry of all.”
“Elf-maid, your words are gloomy. Here in the Shire, we have simple lives and simple joys. Perhaps if you stayed here a while, you’d see –“
She sank to one knee, her eyes level with and boring into mine. “It is not solely your Shire, little one. Things both dark and light have walked these hills ages before halflings delved here. I know, for I was one of them. But it is good to see some of your folk stand watch for the peace of the land – ‘Shirriff’, did you call it? – and I bid you stay vigilant. May the stars light your way, always.” Those eyes, and that slight smile, and that kind and gentle tone – my head was whirling like too much wine, but I didn’t want to stop drinking. And I think my mouth moved without my head...
“Elf-maid, I would watch for you and your safe return, if your business brings you back this way. You are the prettiest maid I have ever seen, and no hobbit-poem could ever be good enough to speak your name. Which I mean, might I hear it, your name? It must be as pretty as you are, at least that’s what I have heard of Elves.”
And she smiled again, that little smile that turned up one corner of her mouth. “Then call me by the name you already gave me. You called me, ‘pretty maid’; so, my name shall be Bainiel.” And she brushed my cheek with her fingers, stood and turned to mount up and ride off. Bainiel…
“Wait!” I cried out. “That can’t be your real name, why do you jest with me?”
“My name you will learn in time, O watcher of roads. But for my part, no matter how far I travel, now I know there is one in this whole Shire who sweetly calls me Bainiel. To our next meeting, Lancogard!” And she set heel to horse and rode off, slowly at first then gathering speed until she vanished from sight down the Road.
Bainiel.
