The Green Witch

“So you lived with them then?” Thorin questioned, his interest peaking.

“Yes, for many a year,” Eskamë nodded.

“Then you must have slain dozens of dragons!” Bofur chimed in. The rest of the dwarves eagerly agreed. Eskamë frowned.

“I said I lived with them, master dwarf. I helped them, watched them- loved them,” she said softly. “They were my kin when I had none. My friends when the whole world abandoned and feared me. No dragon has ever died by my hands, and I should like to keep it that way.”

“Then what good do you have to offer us?” Thorin spoke, getting angry again so soon.

“My dear Thorin,” the witch said with a kind of sickening sweetness, “I have not finished my story,” and so the dwarves sat back in ease as she continued.

“I did not seek them out at first, of course. I ignored them, hid from them- simply let them be. But once I found a sick one, lying in the woods in the evening, accepting death to overcome him. I took him and nursed him to health.

“Blue he was, in color. A dark, rich blue, and with red eyes that gleamed like pools of blood. And yet,” she continued, noting several grimaces at the animal’s description, “He was gentle, and kind, and he let me help him. A baby he was, only about the size of a great horse. I fed him, watered him, gave him medicine, and in all of a few weeks, he was healthy again, which was good because he was quickly outgrowing my barn.

“He departed my house, and I thought that to be the end of him. But only days went by when I heard a great rustle in the forest. It was as if the winds of a hurricane had settled down in my wood. Alas, it was not the weather, but a great, full grown dragon perching itself in my yard.

“This dragon too was blue with red eyes, a mother of the sick one I had cared for. When I stepped out to behold her, I could not tell if this was to be my end or not; no fire breathed down upon me, but I was nervous nonetheless. Instead of killing me, however, she offered me kind words, and a gift.”

Eskamë now stood up from her chair and walked to her mantle. From it, hidden behind old jars and candles, she picked up a large gold coin, one that fit snugly into the palm of her hand.

“You were given gold from a dragon?” Kili asked in disbelief. Her eyes did not leave the treasure in her hands and she turned it and studied its surface.

“Dragons hoard their treasure, yes, but that is just their nature. They love gold, and they are drawn to it. As I am drawn to the forest and breathe in the life of the trees, they too must find a treasure. So, it is with only their utmost respect and reverence do they ever give any of it away. And even when they do, it is rarely more than one piece. Still,” she smiled, holding the coin up in the light, “it is a fine piece to behold.”

She handed it to Thorin who turned it over in his hands, reading the markings on either side, or at least attempting to.

“This is very ancient gold. From long before any of my kin brought forth treasure from the mountains,” he said, impressed in spite of himself.

“Yes,” the witch replied. “I have never found anyone who could identify it. None now live who have ever seen such a piece,” and she put the coin back on the mantle. “Those dragons showed me great kindness in those days, and I returned it. I became a guardian of their woods, a watchman, a gatekeeper. But darkness could not leave the beasts be. With strength as great as the dragons have, it was only a matter of time before a darker power looked to them.

“The witch King of Angmar lived uncomfortably close to the dragon valley. For years, though his mind had long grown evil, he ignored them and used his sorcery elsewhere. But eventually, when the Dark Lord Sauron began to take over new lands, the wrath of Angmar spread. He bewitched the dragons, turning them evil, making them forget all things good in the world, save their love for gold and, now, their love of death. A witch, though I am, I was no match for such magic. They turned against me, and I fled south.”

Fili, who had been very quiet this entire time, wasted no moment in looking anywhere but at Eskamë. Her words swirled around him, mixed with fire and the smoke from Gandalf’s pipe. He smiled when she smiled, he frowned when she frowned, he felt her pain at losing her home, her loved ones, as beastly as they may have been. Fili could have listened to her speak for hours on end, enchanted by her stories, and, again, he wondered if he really was being enchanted. But, for the first time, he did not fight it, and simply enjoyed her presence.

“Eventually, I came to Mirkwood,” she said, breaking the silence and signaling an end to her tale. “It became the only place I could call home since my departure from my beloved northern woods. That is, until Thranduil, King of the Wood Elves, decided peace wasn’t for his liking, and ordered me slain, should I ever step foot in their land again,” and she spit these words out as if they left her with a bad taste.

“Their land,” she said icily. “I was guardian of that land, I kept watch, I protected the elves more than they knew.”

The story now over, the dwarves sat in silence. Some of them grew tired, as the day had been long and troubling. Some were more awake now than when they first took a seat in front of the fire.

“Rest in here tonight,” Eskamë said, standing up from her seat. “I have blankets to give you, though it stays warm in these months through the night. We will discuss more in the morning,” she said, and none argued with her. They were finally realizing just how fortunate they were for such hospitality, and were too weary to object anymore.

Soon all of the company were nestled in blankets, pillows, and cushions, and the snoring had created a regular hum in the front parlor. Eskamë walked about the house still, though her feet made no noise at any step she took. It was only when he felt a colder night air on his face that Fili roused. He had just seen the front door shut silently.

Quietly as he could, and taking care not to step on any of his friends, Fili made his way to the door and stepped out on the porch. All was dark, save for a lantern to the left. Next to it, stood the witch, who looked to the moon.

“You should be resting, Master Fili,” she said, not breaking her eyes away from the moon. Swiftly, thin clouds began to cover the white orb in the sky.

“What are you doing?” Fili asked curiously.

Instead of answering, Eskamë turned her attention to the dwarven boots that were laid out before her, where everyone had left them at her request. Under her breath she muttered a spell that didn’t sound entirely elvish, or entirely like any language Fili was familiar with. As her words continued, steam began to rise up from the shoes, and the dirt and wear they once showed began to clear up before his eyes.

“There, all clean,” she said, and smiled at Fili. “I even have a good charm repelling water that I put upon them. You could let them go in the river all the way to Rohan and they’d still pop out dry as a bone.”

“Thank you,” Fili said, not knowing what else to say, but still being very grateful for the magic. She smiled at the blonde dwarf, recalling briefly how handsome she found him- especially now, in the night, when he wore less armor and coats, and simply looked more real to her eyes. Not one to stare, she turned her eyes to the sky once more.

“There’ll be a great rain tomorrow, one that will be none too brief. Your company should rest here for another day,” she said simply.

“You read the stars too?” Fili asked, as he walked over to where she stood at the edge of the porch. Eskamë laughed.

“The weather is hardly the stuff of magic, Fili,” she said looking down at him. “But yes, I do.”

Fili looked at the stars, noting how they seemed so unreachable to him, so insignificant.

“There is nothing I wish to see in the stars,” he said bluntly.

“I have met many just like you,” she said quietly. “Skeptics. Always refusing to believe anyone but themselves could possibly present their future to them,” and she found his icy eyes, even in the darkness. “And they are right.”

The statement confused Fili, who had expected her to defend her ways and practices, not agree with him. Seeing his confusion, she continued.

“There is naught but emotion in the future. Even the highest of elves cannot see the world exactly as it will lay out. Everyone has a choice. Everyone could become anyone,” she said, looking back to the sky, but frowning once she beheld whatever it was she saw. She strained further, searched more towards the east, but still, her brow was furrowed.

“What is it?” Fili asked. She turned to him, a sweet seriousness in her face.

“Would you believe me if I told you?” she said and smiled.

“I might,” the young dwarf said with a smirk. Slowly, Eskamë’s smiled faded and her eyes became very serious indeed as she leaned down, closing a bit of the distance between Fili and herself.

“Your brother will need you, and sooner rather than later, I fear,” she said, barely above a whisper and almost gravely. Fili’s expression turned fearful at once.

“What is it? What will happen? Is Kili going to be alright?” he questioned intensely. Eskamë put a hand on his shoulder, and immediately Fili felt calmer.

“I told you, it is only emotion I see, no more,” she said. Then, seeing his dissatisfaction at this response, she added, “Just be there for him, Fili, as I know you would be inevitably.”

For a moment they stood as they were, calm and being calmed by each other’s presence. There was a slight chill in the air, but nothing too tremendous to drive them indoors. Then Eskamë’s eyes fell upon Fili’s forearm. A cut, about from the inside of his elbow almost to his wrist was scabbed over and violently red. While it didn’t bleed at the moment, she could tell it was agitated.

“I have something for that,” she said, and began to walk down the steps to where dozens of strange plants sat, framing the front of her house.

“Oh, it’s nothing, don’t bother,” Fili insisted, not wanting to think a simple cut was cause for concern. Still, she rummaged through bushes, plucking berries and a few leaves. These she crushed with a mortar and pestle, which Fili knew not the origin of; they just seemed to appear. When she had a paste ready for him, she reached out for his arm. He waved her off.

“Do not be stubborn, lest you’d like to lose your arm,” she insisted, which caused Fili to relent. She took his forearm in her hands, caressing the callous skin with her ointment. Fili felt his insides tremor at her touch, and he secretly savored the moment in time. Her fingers, though strong and worn through much hard work, were soft and gentle. They almost danced across his skin, mesmerizing him with both the sight of them, and the touch of them.

“What about me?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere. She looked up at him, confused.

“What about you?”

“You read my brother’s stars, not mine. Why do you not tell me my future?” he asked, partially in attempt to flirt and talk with her more, and partially because it did interest him. She looked back down at his arm and smiled.

“I told you the future that was of greatest interest to you. Your brother’s fate is more important to you than your own,” she said, looking up at him warmly. Fili had no reply, for she was right.

“But,” she continued, “I can say you have the courage of kings, Fili. Courage that is not easily given up on.” Fili felt a bit of blood rush to his face; it was not in the nature of dwarves to compliment each other, and so he did not quite know what to say in return.

“All dwarves have courage,” he grunted, not looking up at her. She laughed, still gently rubbing in the cream over his wound. She was at his wrist now.

“Do not be stubborn,” she teased. When he still did not look at her, she slid her fingers down his wrist, and took his hand in her own. At this new touch, he looked at her, suddenly overwhelmed by the air that they were sharing. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, and Fili believed that in that moment, there was nothing that could ever take his attention away from the green eyes he’d suddenly found himself so lost in.

“It is only when others see it within us, that one’s nobility is pure of heart,” she said, gently squeezing his hand. Fili took his free hand and brushed her rich brown hair behind her ear.

“You are beautiful, Eskamë, Witch of the Northern Forest,” he said humbly. “Not even the most stubborn of dwarf could dare deny that,” and at the smile and soft blush that came from his words, he leaned upwards as she leaned in towards him, and they kissed softly beneath the moonlight.