Now you are all here to keep safe and warm, while the storm blows over. I have a feeling that this one will last all night, and even then we may be digging our way out through thick snow.
But never you mind. It will stay warm in here, and there is food and drink, and there will be porridge for breakfast.
Who am I, I hear you ask? Am I some sort of Hobbit sized Troll?
Well some folk have said worse. I will tell you now, but I am not sure you will understand. So I will keep it simple.
To start with, I am more Hobbit than Troll, unless someone attacks any of my animals. Then I can be a bit mean. But mostly I am a rather old woman who likes her own company.
My name is all but forgotten, though I go by ‘Caillea’ here and now. Some still call me ‘Bheurra’, and some ‘Old hag’. Well I thank the latter kindly, and may all their potatoes turn to stone. But no. I wish none ill unless they first wish it upon me. And I will tell you a tale that shows I am no friend of the dark one, even if I am a friend of the winter.
Well it is like this: Once upon a time, when the lands were yet young and the Bright Ones had not yet gone West, there was a day when I was roaming the hills with my deer herds, and my wolves to guard, and there was a great rumble under the ground as if some giant worm was tunneling to the surface.
So I sat myself down, and listened carefully. I can hear and see all manner of things if I try, you see. And up out of an underground cavern came this giant or a giant, dressed all in black, with a black helm covering his face, and a a black mace in his hand. He did not need to speak to tell me what he was. But he did speak nonetheless.”I claim these hills and mountains and moorlands for my Master. All of Middle Earth is his, and this is no exception.’
Now he spoke very loudly, and the animals ran and hid, and those birds who could, flew to their nests, and even the fish in the streams tried to swim away. I did not like that.
So I stood up again and called back, funneling my hands about my mouth. “Too loud” I said. “You make all the small ones afraid.”
He looked down at me from his towering height and laughed.
“Small ones? Of what concern are they to me or my Lord?”
“They live, so you should have concern. And if not for them, for me.”
“What are you, tiny one,an overgrown rabbit?” He laughed again.
I could have told him then. To be honest I was surprised he did not already know, but was taken in by my form.
“I am the rabbit in her burrow, I am the eagle in his eyrie, I am the salmon in the spawning grounds, I am the stag in the forest’, I replied.
“You are nothing,” he hissed, and began to walk up the glen, away from me, spreading out his arms as if to draw up all that was unto himself.
“You,” I called after him. “You think you can have whatever you want? Well I will challenge you to a test.”
The Dark Servent turned, no longer amused if he ever was, but with the expression of one looking at a midge.
“YOU challenge me?” Be gone tiny whine.
“You think you are so grand and powerful, that you won’t listen to any other? Well he is my challenge. You can have all this land except what I can cover in one step. That is fair I think?”
He laughed again. “The midge can make a step of what…a few inches?”
“Are you afraid of me?”
“Fool, you have the challenge. You may have all the land you can cover in one step.”
“I have your word on that?”
He nodded. I had to be swift before the ridiculousness of the situation sharpened his thoughts.
“Alright…” And I grew to my real full size, and stepped over the whole of the North West.”
He screamed.
“I take it you had permission to make such a bet from your Master?”
“You…you cheated…”
“No, servant of Melkor, you just saw what you thought was there. You did not see me.””
He fled that land, knowing it had me to keep watch. He rarely returned, save after Utumno had been fully delved and filled. I did not reinforce my claim. But I think, in some small corner of his mind the Dark Lord knew who had out-played his lieutenant.”
I looked at the two rows of Hobbits and Dwarves, sitting open mouthed and staring at me. I wrapped my cloak tighter around my thin shoulders. “I said I was a teller of tales, did I not? Now it is up to you what you think of it. As for me, I am going to get more stew and a small glass of whisky. More tales another time.
(Now ye are aw here tae keep safe an warm, while the storm blows ower. A have a feelin thon this ane will last aw nicht, an e'en then we may be diggin our way oot throuch thick snow.
But niver ye mind. It will stay warm i here, an thare is food an drink, an thare will be porridge for breakfast.
Wha am a, a hear ye speir? Am a some sort o hobbit sizit troll?
Well some folk have says worse. A will tell ye now, but a am no sure ye will ken. Sae a will keep it simple.
Tae start wi, a am more hobbit than troll, unless someone attacks any o ma animals. Then a can be a bit crabbit. But mostly a am a rather old woman wha likes her own company.
Ma name is aw but forgotten, thouch a gae bi ‘Caillea’ here an now. Some still call me ‘bheurra’, an some ‘old hag’. Well a thank the latter kindly, an may aw their tatties turn tae stone. But na. A wish none ill unless they first wish it upon me. An a will tell ye a tale thon shows a am na friend o the dark ane, e'en gin a am a friend o the winter.
Well it is like this: once upon a time, whan the lands were yet young an the bricht ones haed no yet gone west, thare wis a day whan a wis roamin the hills wi ma deer herds, an ma wolves tae guard, an thare wis a great rumble under the ground as gin some giant worm wis tunnelin tae the surface.
Sae a sat myself doun, an listenit carefully. A can hear an see aw manner o things gin a try, ye see. An up oot o an underground cavern came this giant or a giant, dressit aw i black, wi a black helm coverin his face, an a a black mace i his hand. He did no neit tae speak tae tell me whit he wis. But he did speak nonetheless.”A claim these hills an mountains an moorlands for ma master. Aw o middle yird is his, an this is na exception.’
Now he spoke very loudly, an the animals ran an hid, an thae birds wha coud, flew tae their nests, an e'en the fish i the streams triit tae swim away. A did no like thon.
Sae a stood up again an callit back, funnelin ma hands aboot ma mouth. “Too loud” a says. “ye make aw the small ones afraid.”
He lookit doun at me from his towerin heicht an lauchit.
“Small ones? O whit concern are they tae me or ma lord?”
“They live, sae ye shoud have concern. An gin no for them, for me.”
“Whit are ye, tiny ane, an overgrown rabbit?” he lauchit again.
A coud have telt him then. Tae be honest a wis surprisit he did no already ken, but wis taken i bi ma form.
“A am the rabbit i her burrow, A am the eagle i his eyrie, A am the salmon i the spawnin grounds, A am the stag i the forest’, a repliit.
“Ye are nothing,” he hissed, an began tae walk up the glen, away from me, spreadin oot his arms as gin tae draw up aw thon wis unto himself.
“Ye,” A callit after him. “Ye think ye can have whatever ye want? Well a will challenge ye tae a test.”
The dark servant turned, na longer amusit gin he iver wis, but wi the expression o ane lookin at a midge.
“Ye challenge me?” be gone tiny whine.
“Ye think ye are sae grand an powerful, thon ye won’t listen tae any other? Well he is ma challenge. Ye can have aw this land except whit a can cover i ane step. Thon is fair a think?”
He lauchit again. “The midge can make a step o what…a few inches?”
“Are ye afraid o me?”
“Fool, ye have the challenge. Ye may have aw the land ye can cover i ane step.”
“I have yer word on thon?”
He noddit. A haed tae be swift before the ridiculousness o the situation sharpenit his thouchts.
“Alricht…” an a grew tae ma real fou size, an steppit ower the whole o the north west.
He screamit.
“I tak it ye haed permission tae make such a bet from yer master?”
“Ye…ye cheated…”
“No, servant o Melkor, ye juist saw whit ye thoucht wis thare. Ye did no see me.””
He flit thon land, knowin it haed me tae keep watch. He rarely returned, save after Utumno haed been fully delvit an fillit. A did no reinforce ma claim. But a ken, i some small corner o his mind the dark lord knew wha haed out-playit his lieutenant.”
A lookit at the twa rows o hobbits an dwarves, sittin open mouthit an starin at me. A wrappit ma cloak tichter around ma thin shoulders. “A says a wis a teller o tales, did a no? Now it is up tae ye whit ye think o't. As for me, a am gaun'ae get more stew an a small glass o whisky. More tales another time.)
* I am working on the Scots. It's been a long time.
