The Green Witch

Nearly an hour later, the entire company could be seen crowed around the witch’s dining table, hovering over a steaming meal as Eskamë, in being a good host, circled around, serving drinks, lending forks, and dishing out spoonfuls.

“Watch it!” she yelled at Kili, who bobbed below her arm as he climbed across the table. She scowled but laughed in spite of herself. They really were a cheery bunch, when they wanted to be.

When it finally appeared that all of the guests had full plates and had begun diving in, Eskamë went to get herself a plate and two wine glasses. Then she pulled a dusty bottle of red wine out of a low cabinet.

“Gandalf?” she asked, holding out a glass to him.

“Why I wouldn’t mind a glass at all!” he said, and she filled both glasses. Instead of taking one for herself she walked over to Thorin, who was agreeable, but quiet.

“This will help with your head,” she said, offering him the glass. A few of the dwarves looked over at them, confused. Thorin hadn’t mentioned his head to anyone. He looked at her for a moment, debating on whether or not it was worth it to refuse the glass. He lowered his eyes and gently took the glass.

“Thank you,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry it’s not much,” she said, breaking the end off of a loaf of bread and passing it down the table. There were a few polite remarks among the bunch of them. “If I’d have my way, we’d have eggs. Eggs go best with ham,” and there were several “Ayes!” that filled the room.

“Chickens not productive lately?” Bilbo asked, his neck and shoulders barely visible over the edge of the tall table not meant for hobbit-sized folk.

“N’uma,” she said in Elvish, shaking her head. “The wargs have killed nearly all of my chickens,” and she looked directly at Gandalf as she said this. “The mountains are full of them of late.”

“So this is not the first time they’ve been in these lands?” Fili asked, suddenly intrigued. She turned to him.

“No, no… they have become quite familiar with the northern lands. Though I see not why,” she said, and again glanced towards the wizard.

Fili’s eyes lingered on Eskamë for a moment. He watched her hands flutter around the table. They were small, but they were strong. He noticed a jade colored ring around her right thumb. At first glance it seemed to be made of a stone, but the longer he looked at it he thought it was a thin vine, wrapped around her finger. When it started to resemble a shined stone again, he tore his eyes away, frustrated. As he looked up, her eyes met his and she smiled while he simply looked away.

“It’s a witch’s ring, Master Fili,” she said. Fili felt the same as Thorin had when she’d read his mind moments earlier. It unsettled him, and he wished she would stop.

“So you read minds then do you? What am I thinking now?” Fili snapped back. Kili laughed with his mouth full.

“Bad idea, miss,” Kili warned the witch, “Never anything good to be found in there,” he said, laughing again and elbowing Fili in the ribs. A few of the dwarves laughed, while Fili smirked.

“I don’t read minds, master dwarf,” Eskamë said, taking a drink of her ale. “I read emotions. You saw the ring and I felt confusion. When Thorin’s head troubled him, the air was thick with discomfort,” and she motioned toward Thorin.

“And how does one read emotions?” Fili asked her boldly, a smirk still on his lips. As they held eye contact she narrowed her own eyes, feeling suddenly very alone with the blonde dwarf, though a dozen of his kin, plus more, reminded around her.

“That, my friend, is about as useless as asking a bird how he takes flight,” she said, tearing her eyes away from him, but all the while feeling his on her.

After dinner was finished and the dishes washed and put up for drying, Eskamë put water on for tea in the parlor fireplace. The night had made the room dim but the light of the fire gave them enough to see each other clearly. The witch set out to start getting some tea together.

“You make your own tea?” Bilbo asked, peering at the leaves she was sorting. She smiled.

“Yes, Master Baggins. Rarely do I get merchants in these lands. Once in awhile a vagabond will wander through with some wine or some type of brew, but for the most part I make everything,” she said, growing quickly fond of the inquisitive hobbit.

“You’ll be hard pressed to find a better cup of tea than that of Eskamë’s here,” Gandalf spoke up, between puffs on his pipe.

“Mithrandir, diola lle,” she thanked him, flattered and grinning. “You jest. My tea is very simple,” she insisted.

“Annette Bolger used to sell me the finest tea leaves in the South Farthing, I’m sure of it,” Bilbo insisted. “It was sweet enough with no sugar- just perfect!” he said, and then shut his eyes for a moment, lost in the memories of his comfortable home.

“Ah, well this tea is none too sweet, but it is smooth and calming,” Eskamë said softly.
“Enough about tea,” Thorin spoke up suddenly. “We have taken your hospitality and been grateful for it. But now we must discuss what we came here for,” he said sternly. “How do you know about dragons?”

“While I would normally remind you that you came here for no more than a little refuge,” she said, causing Thorin to, once again, clench his jaw, “I will agree with you Thorin. I will tell you my story,” and she began to pour the hot water into mugs as she walked about the dwarves gracefully.

“Do you know how the witches came to exist?” she asked none in particular. Kili sat up straight.

“Mother always said the elves made them. Pulled them up from the ground,” he said seriously. Fili snorted.

“That was a bedtime story, Kili,” he reminded his brother, to the amusement of the others. “It wasn’t true.”

“Not entirely,” Eskamë said to Fili as she poured his tea. “We did come from the elves, though, no, we were not born from the earth.”

The witch filled the last cup- her own- and set it on an end table near her armchair. She pulled a long black sweater off of the back of the chair and pulled it over her slender arms.

Every time she seemed move, she did so with the same grace as the elves. Ordinarily Fili wouldn’t think anything of it, as he thinks very little of elves. But for some reason he found her movements captivating. He caught himself with his eyes on her more than he would care to admit, but every time, he went back for another glance, another taste. She sat down, tucking her legs beneath her, and took quick sip of her tea before continuing.

“We were created from the great essences of the world. The magical places that nature put enough energy in to create, well, life, in the most advanced of forms. There were witches that existed in the essences of the mountains, the prairies, and the forests, like myself. And, of course, there were many others as well.

“We are immortal like the elves, but our life is tied very closely with the essence from which we were created. I, for example, cannot stray too far from Mirkwood, or I become very weak. The very fiber of my being would cease to exist if I hadn’t any forest.”

“Then why do you not live inside the forest?” the hobbit asked.

“I will get to that, my friend,” she said patiently, and then continued. “The witches, or Kuruni in the mother tongue, were companions to the elves and guardians of the land. But, in protecting the land, some witches grew dark and obsessed with eliminating any threat to their beautiful homes. The Kuruni Wars, while brief, were ruthless and devastating. Eventually the elves had to step in and destroy their creations.

“The great Kuruni Fara was the hunting of the witches of Middle Earth. The hunting of my people,” she said, and gazed into the fire, a thick silence settling upon the group.

“There were some of us who were able to hide. I took to the north, seeking any patch of trees to take refuge. I’d grown weary and thin, and I’d almost given up hope. But then, I found it,” and as she said this last statement, her eyes seemed to turn to stars and fade away into the past. Fili watched her with growing interest as she described the northern forest.

“It was a beautiful land, untouched by the hands of men, or even elves. It was an ancient place, yet it invited me to its branches. Trees as tall as mountains grew here, trees whose leaves shined every color in the bright, bright sun,” she spoke, closing her eyes, lost in memory. Fili liked to hear her talk about this place, this home. It reminded him of when his uncle Thorin would speak of Erebor.

“I stayed here for some time before I learned of the land’s secrets- before I learned what it hid in the lowest valleys.”

“Dragons,” Fili said without thinking. He was suddenly quite caught up in the lady’s story, forgetting his present company.

“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes again. This time she smiled, and Fili felt goosebumps grow on his arms, as a warm, peaceful heat seemed to envelope him as he noticed the soft curve of her lips. “Dragons.”