Frodo awoke to Bilbo’s gentle hand on his forehead.
“Did I fall asleep?” Frodo yawned. “What time is it?”
“Time for supper,” Bilbo said. “Are you feeling better?”
“Much better.” Frodo sat up and looked around the bed. “Where’s Scamp?”
“Estel is entertaining her. Or I should say, she’s entertaining him.” Bilbo said. “You needed to rest, and I thought you might fall asleep easier if she wasn’t bouncing around the room.”
“She doesn’t bother me,” Frodo said, his blue eyes sparkling. “I didn’t think I could ever get used to having a dog around, but I just love it -- and her.”
“I thought you might,” Bilbo said.
“She tricked us, you know,” Frodo informed him. “That first night, at the Cottons’, when she was so quiet and sleepy? All an act.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say it was an act,” Bilbo laughed.
“Maybe not,” Frodo grinned, “but it turns out she’s got real spirit.”
“Sounds like a young hobbit I know,” Bilbo chuckled. “Such a gentle and scholarly lad, but on the inside there’s such courage and spirit, and the ability to accomplish anything he sets his mind to.”
“Me?” Frodo asked, amazed.
“Absolutely,” Bilbo smiled.
Frodo suddenly threw his arms around the old hobbit. “I never even said ‘thank you’, Bilbo. Scamp needed a real home just like I did. How did you know I could get over my fear long enough to get to know her?”
Bilbo hugged Frodo tightly. “I just knew, Frodo lad. You have such a big heart… and it’s so wonderful to have someone to love.” He drew back and gazed at Frodo, his eyes wet. “I know how wonderful it is, for me.”
“Oh Bilbo,” Frodo said softly, “I’m so lucky.” He grinned suddenly. “You haven’t discovered anything new while I was asleep, did you? Have you sent out a call for the Dwarves to level The Hill?”
“Not yet!” Bilbo laughed. “Wash up and come to supper.”
When Frodo came to the dining room, he found Aragorn sitting on the floor with Scamp. He was pulling gently on a rope of knotted-together rags, with Scamp firmly attached to the other end by her teeth. She was pulled back and forth, never letting go, growling deep in her throat.
“Won’t that hurt her?” Frodo asked anxiously.
“Not at all,” Aragorn grinned. “She’d let go if she wanted to. She’s enjoying this -- see how her tail is wagging? Puppies like to bite and chew things; it feels good on their gums and teeth.” Frodo sat next to him, the sight of the big Man and the tiny pup playing together bringing a smile to his lips. He took the rope from Aragorn, surprised at how powerful the puppy’s tugs felt.
“I didn’t know she knew how to growl,” Frodo said in amazement. He pulled a little harder. “Let go, you crazy dog.”
“She’s quite stubborn,” Aragorn observed, “just like a Baggins.” He looked at Frodo. “I’m glad you rested.”
“So am I,” Frodo replied. “But when are you going to tell us what you know about the stone?”
“After supper,” Aragorn said quietly. “I’ll tell you everything -- or at least… everything I can tell you.”
Frodo tore into Bilbo’s roast chicken and potatoes, fresh greens, and lemon cake, partly from hunger and partly out of excitement to finish quickly, go back to the stone-chamber, and hear the Ranger’s story. Aragorn continued to be amazed at how much hobbits ate, and how often, but he savored Bilbo’s wonderful meals every bit as much as Frodo, and the feeling of ‘home’ that surrounded him.
Just as Frodo and Bilbo were clearing away the dishes, and insisting that Aragorn not help them, there was a knock at the door, and Frodo ran to answer it. He returned to the dining room with Sam in tow.
“You said to come back after supper, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said. Scamp ran over to him, dragging her new toy and laying it at his feet. “Am I too early?”
“Perfect timing, Samwise,” Bilbo smiled. “Let’s take a closer look at what this old Hill has been hiding all these years.”
Sam bent to inspect the rag-rope. “What’s this?”
“Try to take it,” Frodo advised. Sam gingerly picked up one damp end, and Scamp instantly clamped onto the other end, pulling and growling.
“Is this what you’re teachin’ her, Mr. Frodo?” Sam grinned. “How to chew things? I thought she already knew how to do that right well, considerin’ what you brought my ma.”
“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked, puzzled.
“It’s nothing, Bilbo,” Frodo said hastily. He shot Sam a warning look, then tried to pull Aragorn up from his seat. “Please, Estel, can’t we go now?”
“This is your home, Frodo,” Aragorn smiled, rising to his feet. “It is I who should ask permission of you and Bilbo to come and go.”
‘You certainly have my permission,” Bilbo laughed. “I’m as curious as Frodo and Sam to find out what you know.”
“That stone holds something very, very special,” Aragorn said quietly, “and is older than you can imagine.”
~*~
Even in the inadequate light of the lanterns, Frodo could see that the woman in the carving was beautiful -- more than beautiful. Her long hair, thick and wavy, appeared to stir slightly in an unseen breeze. Her gown fell to her feet, sleeves full and draping softly downwards. Slender, delicate arms reached out for someone or something to her left, her expression luminous and haunting. The image carved into the stone was a work of exquisite craft, and Frodo gazed in wonder at loveliness he had never imagined. The artist had worked delicate strands of silver and gold into the rock itself, making hair, gown, and mantle shimmer.
The necklace around the woman’s throat caught the eye, and held it. Tiny, colored gems set amidst strand upon interwoven strand of gold gave it a nearly hypnotic quality, and cast brilliant sparks about the cavern. The necklace appeared large and bulky, but about the woman’s throat it somehow rested with grace and did not seem a burden.
But even the gems in the woman’s hair and necklace were outshone by the single large, faceted crystal caught in the center of the necklace, which radiated fiery sparks and a near-blinding radiance.
Together, the effect of the woman’s loveliness and the glittering, exquisite necklace were almost too much to encompass, and no one spoke for many moments. If the image was life-sized, then the woman had been taller even than Aragorn, who stood before it, reverently.
“Such a lovely face,” Bilbo murmured at last. He gazed in awe at the woman’s perfect features, at the eyes which reflected light and longing and deep wisdom.
“It is Lúthien,” Aragorn said quietly. “There can be no doubt.”
“Who was she?” Sam whispered.
“Lúthien lived -- and died -- in the First Age, Sam,” Aragorn replied. “Perhaps you will hear her story told in full, some day. She was the daughter of Elf and Maia, and fell in love with a mortal -- Beren, son of Barahir. Their story is one of the great tales of all time.”
“I thought Elves lived forever,” Sam said, puzzled.
“Lúthien chose mortality,” Aragorn said softly. “Her Elvish decendents, although there were few, have had the same choice given to them -- whether to live as Elf or mortal.”
“Are you certain it’s her?” asked Frodo.
“Lord Elrond’s daughter is said to have been born in the likeness of Lúthien,” Aragorn replied. “I see that the tales are true -- she bears a strong resemblance to this image. Lúthien was her great-great grandmother. But it is not just the resemblance that tells me who this is, but the necklace the stone carver has shown her wearing.”
“Such a necklace would have surpassed anything I saw in Smaug’s hoard,” Bilbo said, raising his lantern higher. “Was it of Dwarvish make?”
“You have a good eye, Bilbo,” Aragorn said. “This represents the Nauglamír.”
“I remember that ‘mír’ is “jewel”,” said Frodo thoughtfully, remembering the word from Aragorn’s Elvish phrasebook, “but what does---”
“That’s very good,” Aragorn said approvingly. “Nauglamír means ‘dwarf jewel,’ or as it is more usually called, ‘dwarf necklace’. The gems in the original necklace were from Valinor, and it is said that the virtue of those jewels caused the heavy gold to sit lightly upon the neck, and enhanced the beauty of those who wore it. When Lúthien and Beren died, the necklace was passed down to their son, Dior, and then to his daughter, Elwing. The Nauglamír was the cause of great strife between Dwarves and Elves, and bitterness remains between them, to this day.”
“What became of it?” Bilbo asked.
“It is said that Elwing’s husband, Eärendil, wears this necklace still,” Aragorn continued. “He has the great jewel you see here represented in crystal -- one of the Silmarili of Fëanor -- bound to his brow. It is that very jewel that we see at night -- Eärendil’s star, beloved of the Elves.”
“That bright star is really a jewel?” Sam asked in amazement.
“If the necklace had not been taken to the stars,” Frodo asked, “who would now wear it?”
“Lord Elrond,” Aragorn replied, “for he is Elwing’s only living son. Or perhaps Elrond’s daughter…” He became lost in thought for a moment, then came out of his reverie and smiled down at the hobbits. “Better that it circle above us, forever out of reach, than be the cause of more death and grief. Rivendell would not be the haven it is, perhaps, if the Nauglamír rested there, a temptation to those who might seek it, still.” He looked thoughtful. “Rivendell remains a place of great peace, and may it always be so.”
Frodo saw that Sam was frowning in concentration, and he assumed that too many Elvish names had flown too quickly past his young friend’s head -- but that wasn’t what was bothering Sam.
“Mr. Bilbo,” Sam said suddenly, “maybe this lady is buried here, beneath the stone!”
“Bag End is no barrow, Sam.” Aragorn smiled and picked up Scamp, who was chewing contentedly on one of his bootlaces. “If there were bodies here, however ancient, I suspect that Scamp’s nose and senses would have detected them. No,” he continued, “although no one knows the final resting place of Beren and Lúthien the Fair, they traveled only a short time in the north. For the most part, they lived south and west of here, in lands now drowned under the Sea, and most likely died there, as well. Their bodies will not be found, and their final days are unknown to us.”
“Who made this?” Bilbo asked after a moment, tracing a finger along the intricate carving. “This is the work of a master craftsman.”
“I doubt we will ever know,” Aragorn sighed. “I do not think it was the work of Elves, for their memories would hold the image of Lúthien forever fresh and would not need to represent her in detail such as this. I suspect that an artisan among Men, one of those who would have lived in this area back then, caught sight of Lúthien and captured her likeness so as not to forget it.” He looked around the chamber. “Either this stone was once open to the sky, and this hill yet to be, or perhaps this was an ancient cave or opening in the hill. Somehow, over the many Ages and changings of the World, all knowledge of this carving was lost.” He gazed at the woman’s face. “You are not forgotten,” he murmured.
“I wish we could see this in full sunlight,” Bilbo said wistfully. “I suppose no one ever will again.”
“Estel,” Frodo asked, “how old is this? When do you think it was made?”
“Lúthien and Beren did not live to see the Second Age,” Aragorn replied thoughtfully. He handed Scamp to Frodo and held his lantern as close as possible to the image. “If this was carved when they lived, it is older than 6,000 years -- perhaps much older. I have heard no tales that they traveled in the north after Lúthien came to wear the necklace, but it must have been so. Only someone who had seen her in truth could have made such a detailed carving, or been moved to do so.” He looked around the chamber. “We cannot know how or when this stone was covered over and the hill grew around it, but the image has been protected over the Ages, marred by neither wind nor weather. The image is as it was.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Lúthien namarië,” he murmured, “le cuinar ned gur-nîn.”
Frodo, who had been cradling Scamp in his arms, grinned down at the pup. “Look what you found, you rascal,” he said fondly.
“This is purely wonderful,” Sam said happily. “To think that this stone has been sittin’ here all the time, hidin’ its secrets. And maybe the other one, too?”
“He’s right, Bilbo,” Frodo said suddenly. “Can’t we dig behind the other one?”
“I think we’ll have to, now, Frodo lad,” Bilbo nodded.
“Other what?” Aragorn asked.
“Estel,” Bilbo said softly, “there is one more stone.”
Lúthien wearing that necklace and that
immortal jewel was the vision of greatest beauty and glory that
has ever been outside the realm of Valinor.
The Silmarillion