Hidden Chronicles Chapter 12
In the House of The Maister
Any thought of escaping his captor was futile as Filibert was bundled forward, his arms held in a firm grip, his hands firmly tied and his head enclosed in a foul-smelling sack. From time to time he tripped on unseen obstacles and when he fell to his knees he was kicked and cruelly poked until he got to his feet. Once he fell into what must have been a patch of brambles and the sharp thorns cut through the thin hessian material covering his face. Finally, they stopped, and Filibert heard the scraping of metal, such as when heavy iron bolts are drawn, and the sound of a key in a padlock. From somewhere up ahead he recognised a dog’s low, menacing growl and he knew then that he had been brought to The Big House – the House of The Maister.
He was pushed forward once more and heard the creak of a door closing behind him before the sack was snatched from his head and he found himself standing in a huge, high-ceilinged, candlelit room. Although his hands were still tied his captor had released his grip on him and as he turned he found himself looking into the sneering visage of Alwin Mugwort, the Maister’s steward. Behind him his wife, Oleander, was securing heavy bolts on the large wooden door through which they must have made their entrance. The room was windowless and completely empty of furnishings of any kind. The walls were of plain dark wood panelling and at one end a staircase led to some kind of gallery, but Filibert could not make out the details for it was unlit. At the other end of the room he noticed a set of spiral stairs which disappeared up beyond the ceiling and which Filibert deduced must lead to the room at the top of the western tower.
On the side of the room opposite the front door Filibert saw a number of smaller doors, all closed. It was through one of these that Alwin now led him, all the time poking him and taunting him in mocking tones.
“Thought you was clever, didn’t you, poking yer nose into matters what don’t concern you? Well you was warned, and now ye’ll find out what happens to them what crosses The Maister!”
Filibert was led down a set of stone steps and found himself in a dank dungeon lit by a solitary candle. Alwin pushed him roughly into a small, barred cell where he fell to the stone floor as the steward locked the door behind him.
“The Maister’ll be seeing you in the morning. He says I ain’t to hurt you until then – but I hopes to get to know you better after that, oh yes indeed,” he sniggered, a cruel gleam in his eye.
The stone floor was cold and the cell was completely bare of any comforts. Filibert was bruised from his falls and the kicks and pokes he had received. His face was covered in scratches from the bramble bush and he was hungry, for he had had no supper. It is little surprise that he got little sleep that night and he was woken by the sound of a key turning in the lock of his cell. It was Oleander and she carried a steaming bowl of broth, a spoon and a hunk of dry bread.
“Eat this,” she said shortly, “Then you’re to be taken to The Maister.”
She handed him the bowl and left without another word, locking the cell door behind her. The broth was grey in colour and unidentifiable lumps floated on the surface. It was too salty, but Filibert was very hungry and he finished it all, mopping up the last dregs of liquid with the dried bread.
He had only just finished eating when Alwin appeared.
“I hope you had a comfortable night,” he sneered with a sadistic smirk.
Filibert was led up the steps and into the huge entrance hall from where he was taken to the foot of the spiral staircase and directed to ascend while Alwin followed. At the top he was urged through an open wooden trapdoor and stepped into a circular room lit by the winter sun streaming through the wide windows which looked out in every direction. So captivating was this panoramic view that for a moment Filibert forgot his present unhappy circumstances and gazed in awe at the whole village spread out before him bounded on two sides by the high Hedge and beyond that the fields, woods and hills of The Shire in the distance.
“It’s quite something, isn’t it?”
The softly spoken words broke Filibert’s brief reverie, and he turned his attention to the room itself. Piles of leather-bound books lay on tables placed around the room. On the one closest to him Filibert saw that some of the titles were written in languages he did not read or speak but he recognised the script as elvish in origin. Others seemed to be written in Common Speech and he saw one title was ‘A History of Halflings’. At the centre of the room stood a large oak writing desk strewn with notebooks and papers, complete with quills and ink bottles. Next to this, in a comfortable armchair, sat the owner of that voice, stroking a large white cat which purred softly on his knee.
Filibert could see at once that he was tall, as tall as a man perhaps, though not as tall as the elves he had read about in tales and histories. He was old, but the piercing blue eyes that shone from his gaunt face suggested a keen perception and vibrant will that belied his years. His silver hair flowed about his shoulders and the long robe that he wore seemed to shimmer and fade into nothingness with every slight movement that he made. Placed on a small table before him Filibert noticed a brass spyglass, tarnished with age, while propped against his chair, within easy reach, stood a long heartwood staff inscribed with runes and sigils. Noticing Filibert staring at it thoughtfully, the old man smiled.
“You really are a most remarkable hobbit, Master Diggle. You have guessed already, I think, that I am indeed a wizard. Among those of our Order I am known as Grimwald the Nebulous, although I have had little to do with my brethren for many years. Here, I prefer to be known simply as The Maister.”
The wizard glanced over to the door where his steward still stood.
“You may go now, Alwin, I shall ring if I need you.”
With a sullen glare in Filibert’s direction the scowling hobbit turned and left. The wizard pointed to a wooden chair opposite his own and indicated that Filibert should take a seat. Once he had done so the wizard resumed.
“Now then, you really have become a problem which we must resolve. However, I see from your expression that you have questions and since it is I who is partly responsible for bringing you here in the first place, I shall try to answer some of them, at least.”
Given his treatment at the hands of Alwin, Filibert was taken by surprise at the seemingly kindly and considerate manner of the wizard, but his head was indeed brimming with questions. You may remember that right at the start of these chronicles I told you that the Diggles, and Filibert was no exception, were a family possessed of an insatiable curiosity such as is unusual in hobbits.
“Well,” he began. “This place, the village. How did it come about? Why is it…hidden?”
“Interesting. Many, I think, would have asked ‘Why have you brought me here?’ or ‘What is going to happen to me?’ but you ask the bigger question straight away. Very well, I shall tell you.”
Filibert felt the wizard’s sharp gaze upon him, and he got an uneasy feeling that he was under intense scrutiny and was regarded as some kind of curiosity, worthy of further study.
“I should say first of all that although I am a wizard, we are not all the same. Many scholars still believe that The Creator created only five Istari, as our Order is known. Indeed, The Five are immortal beings charged by the Valar with helping the Free Peoples of Middle Earth resist the Dark Lord, though few inhabitants of this world are aware of their task or purpose. What even fewer know is that there were also created a handful of lesser wizards, to aid them in their mission, and I am one such. Although we are long-lived beyond your imagining, we are not immortal and we are possessed of lesser powers than The Five.
“For hundreds of years before the Long Winter in The Shire I assisted my master Gandalf the Grey in helping first the Elves and later the Dunedain, the Rangers of the North. When that time of freezing cold came to The Shire and during the famine which followed Gandalf and I did all that we could to inspire the hobbits here to survive those terrible times. I should tell you that during that time we both came to have a deep respect and affection for your people. So it was that Gandalf asked me to remain in the Shire and to do what I could to protect its folk from the evil that was already spreading across Middle Earth.
“So it was that I came to this place and built this house. No one lived in this part of the Shire then and I planted The Hedge, which is bound by powerful wards making it quite impenetrable except by my bidding. As you have discovered, together with the cliffs and the marshes at either end, this ensures that none may leave or enter and I lived alone for many years. During that time I began a study of the hobbit race so that I may better understand those I was charged to protect. I read the elven records and I went among your folk so that I might know them better at first hand. Naturally, I did not reveal myself to them for I have the power to move unseen when I wish to do so.”
Filibert glanced at the shimmering robe and remembered that he had said that his true name was Grimwald the Nebulous. The wizard continued his narrative.
“As years passed and I grew to better understand the ways of hobbits I became ever more determined to protect their simple, yet extraordinarily vital, way of life and news from beyond the bounds made me ever more fearful of the threats. To the south, Tharbad had fallen to the flood and all manner of wild men and wild creatures roamed the land and increasingly encroached on The Shire. I feared that the Rangers who secretly patrolled the borders were becoming overstretched and I knew that I had to do something. So it was that I brought the first hobbits here to Hidden.
“This place provides me with the opportunity to continue my studies of hobbit kind while ensuring that their culture and traditions are preserved. From this room I am able to closely watch them go about their daily lives and over many years I have made copious notes based on my own observations and I have read all the writings I could find concerning their history. One day soon I shall write the definitive study of hobbit kind.”
As the wizard spoke Filibert detected a note of pride and excitement in his voice as he spoke of his ambition. He came to the uncomfortable realisation that the objects of these studies were the very folk he had been living amongst, many of whom he had come to call his friends. For some reason he could not escape his childhood memory of gazing in fascination through a magnifying glass at a disturbed ant’s nest.
“Over time, the village grew. Those first hobbits had children, and their children had children. A remarkable thing about most hobbits is their lack of curiosity. Within a few generations most of the villagers had forgotten the tale of how their forebears had been brought here and while they have a vague idea of an ‘outside’, it is now generally considered to be a place of no interest, and indeed that it is best avoided by any self-respecting hobbit. Even as the population grew, the villagers were able to provide much of what they needed within the bounds of the village. I knew though that I had to find a way of bringing some things in from the outside which they could not make for themselves.
“Although I can temporarily remove the wards on the Hedge and allow passage through it takes a great amount of magical energy and it is not practical on a regular basis. So it was that I came up with the idea of a tunnel. I needed to find someone with the skill to build one and who I could be sure would keep it a secret. So I went out into the world and after much searching I came across Durnir Ironhammer. Like many dwarves he knew all about tunnels and he has great skill in their making. He is also quite consumed by his love of jewels and treasure. I found him on the Barrow Downs, one of a ragtag band of treasure hunters scouring the tombs of the Dunedain. You should know that I have lived for many years and have come to possess many treasures in my time.”
He casually reached into his robe and withdrew a handful of sparkling diamonds, rubies and emeralds. As he did so he turned to a corner of the room where several large chests, which Filibert had not noticed before, were casually placed.
“It was easy to persuade Durnir to come here and build the tunnel, and afterwards we built the forge above its entrance in Hidden. So long as I pay him in jewels he remains and keeps the tunnel secret, and his skill as a blacksmith makes him a most useful member of the community.
“Unfortunately, there was a problem. When Durnir agreed to build my tunnel I sent another of my agents, a hobbit carter, to bring him here from the Downs. I think you have met the fellow.”
The wizard smiled sardonically.
“Another one of the treasure hunters, a man, a southerner, saw Durnir leaving with the carter and, knowing that only word of some great treasure would persuade the dwarf to leave their party, decided to follow them. The carter brought Durnir to the very place where you yourself entered Hidden and when I suppressed the ward to allow them to enter that southern fellow rushed through the gap in the Hedge too and ran off into the night.
“Of course, we found him soon enough. I sent Alwin and the carter out with the dogs and they soon tracked him down and brought him to the dungeon here. Durnir set himself to the task of building the tunnel by day and slept contentedly at night with the growing stash of jewels with which I paid him beneath his pillow. The prisoner, however, presented a problem I could see no way to immediately resolve.”
As he spoke these last words Filibert saw a momentary flicker of contrition cross the wizard’s face. While the tunnel was being built the man was kept in the dungeon of the Big House and he was left completely at Alwin’s mercy. Grimbald confessed that he had not fully realised the extent of Alwin’s cruelty and the man was subjected to all manner of sadistic torments. Before the wizard could decide what to do the man managed to escape the dungeon by night, carrying with him his light pack of belongings.
On being told of the escape, the wizard had Alwin call out the watchman who roused the village and the hobbits chased a tall figure through the gloom, though they never got close enough to get a good look at him. They lost him completely up near the High Woods and many tales of what they had seen that night were told, as is the way with hobbits. The wizard deduced that the man, who had probably never seen hobbits before, had assumed them to be some species of goblin. His treatment at the hands of Alwin may well have contributed towards this view. He was clearly terrified by his experience and he remained in the woods, living off the land and anything he could steal, desperately seeking escape, his terror and his madness growing over the years.
The wizard had clearly felt no need to take further action so long as the man remained in the woods. Filibert, however, was both shocked and filled with pity for the poor demented soul who now lay in Araminta’s care.
“If Alwin is so cruel, why do you keep him on?” asked Filibert.
“While he is my steward he must remain here at the house,” the wizard replied. “I could never let him go to live among the villagers. Besides, the fellow is useful. Anyone he finds straying near the Big House is very unlikely to come back.”
“I can see how you can bring stuff from outside the village in through the tunnel. But where does Aunty Prue come into it?”
Grimbald smiled.
“Prue was among the first hobbits I brought here to Hidden. She is truly one of the best of your kind. A warm-hearted woman, but one who does not suffer fools gladly, has a good eye for business and cares deeply for her community. What’s more, when she speaks her mind, people listen. Once the tunnel was complete I took her into my confidence, and she saw straight away the benefits it would bring to the folk here. I asked her to set up The Shop and oversee the goods exchange system that operates there, a role she gladly accepted. She passes any orders for goods from the outside to my housekeeper, Oleander Mugwort, who then carries them to me for approval. The carter takes the order, together with the gold I give him for payment, buys the goods in The Shire and brings them to the tunnel entrance on the outside, well hidden amongst thick vegetation. He, Durnir and Prue’s nephew, Colum, carry them through the tunnel to the forge from where Durnir and Colum take them to The Shop. The boy has been sworn to secrecy by his aunt and he is far too afraid of her sharp tongue to speak of this to anyone.”
Filibert could not help being impressed by the revelation of these elaborate secret arrangements but as he pondered them he had a sudden thought.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “From what you say this must have been going on for hundreds of years. How old must Prue be, then? And Durnir and the treasure hunter, too, for that matter?”
“You forget, I am a wizard. I do not have the power to make folk immortal, like the elves, but I do possess some magic, learned long ago, which can prolong life spans greatly. I would never use such magic on every inhabitant, of course – it is necessary for my ongoing studies that the natural cycle of life and death is preserved here. However, I have found it expedient to greatly increase the longevity of a few ’essential’ individuals. Since you ask about the wild man I will tell you now something I was going to tell you later. The magic that prolongs life is that same magic that wards The Hedge, making it impenetrable. When I take it down to create a gap the magic is suppressed but does not disappear entirely. Those who pass through The Hedge, in the way you yourself once did, are changed as they do so and acquire that same longevity of life as those I choose to grant it to.”
Filibert’s mind reeled as he realised the implications of what the wizard had just told him, but he was given little time to think it through.
“Now, Master Diggle, I must decide what to do about you. You are, indeed, the nosiest of nosy hobbits and I cannot let things go on as they are. I have taken a lot of trouble to ensure that the hobbits here are content with their lot and accept that they may not stray beyond the village bounds. Most have grown up with these conditions and know nothing else. They have everything they need here. Besides, most hobbits, I have found, are suspicious of anything which might disturb the rhythm of their daily lives. Nevertheless, some hobbits are a little more imaginative and curious and the questions you have been asking around the village, together with your restless wanderings in search of what you call ‘escape’ have not gone unnoticed and some younger hobbits have been heard speculating on what an ‘outside’ might be like. I cannot allow it to go on.”
The wizard paused for a moment. “I am offering you a choice. You may remain in the village as schoolmaster and stop asking your questions and looking for a means to leave. If you do not accept this offer you shall be allowed to leave, but before you do I shall use my magic to wipe all memory of this place and how you came to be here from your mind. I should warn you – that magic is imperfect and you may also lose knowledge you possessed before you came here – I cannot be certain how much of your past may be lost to you. You must choose now! You would not, I think, wish to spend another night in the dungeon with Alwin for company.”
Filibert did want more time to think it through but the wizard seemed insistent that he should make his decision immediately.
“I have a question,” he said.
“Ask,” replied the wizard.
“What will happen to the man from the woods? Araminta is looking after him but I worry that he will get stronger in her care and he seems quite mad.”
The wizard smiled for a moment.
“I have studied your folk for years, yet you hobbits never cease to amaze me. Faced with a decision which will change your own life forever your first thought is for others! You are right, of course, he can’t remain here. Though I have little time for treasure hunters such as him, he has suffered enough and I fear it is beyond the not inconsiderable skills of your little healer friend to restore his mind. Whatever you decide I shall arrange for him to be taken from here to a house of healing run by some of my elven friends.”
“Speaking of Araminta,” Filibert enquired, “will she always be here if I stay. I mean, is she…?”
“Essential?” asked Grimbald. “Well, she is the village healer. What do you think?”
“One more thing,” Filibert ventured.
“Go on,” the wizard urged, a mixture of amusement and impatience in his voice. “I swear you are the most inquisitive hobbit I have ever met.”
“Well, I was just wondering why you have allowed me to send those letters to my cousin Wybert. Surely, when he tells his tales the secrets of this place will be revealed.”
The wizard’s demeanour changed at once at this, and he started to laugh quite uproariously. When he had recovered, he looked at Filibert pityingly.
“That spinner of dubious yarns!” he laughed. “The one who tells tales of talking donkeys and magic carpets flying across the Shire! Why, my dear Filibert, who would ever believe a word he wrote?”
“So,” answered Filibert, “if I decided to stay I could still send my letters?”
“Of course.”
“Then I have decided,” Filibert answered.
