I, HILDIGRIM

I am Hildigrim of Endor, alone and apart - neither Elf nor beast, man nor dwarf. I am alone. I am a forgotten melody and a sour note in the song of creation - a mistake. I am a part of Endor, like its mountains and rivers, but I am more constant. The mountains have been lifted up and thrown down, but I will remain as I am until Middle Earth fails at last. Neither flood nor fire nor falling rock can change my physical form. And there is nothing of me "on the other side."

Fanghorn does not name me in his rhymes because I was not intended in creation, and Bombadil the Mair ignores me as something "embarassing." It is pointless to ask anything of Sauron.

The Elves have a name for me, but they have never told me what it is. I think it would reveal their opinion of me, rather than their understanding. They do not welcome me to their lands, but neither can they be hidden from me.

The Dwarves shun me. Dain had me brought before him, and I spoke to him in his own tongue. Long he questioned me about the time before his people came, and of the affairs of Men and Elves. I told him all he asked - and he wept. Now, the Dwarves are silent in my presence.

To those without wisdom, I appear as one of their own kind - as a Dwarf to Dwarves, as an Elf to Elves. Men seldom heed me, and Orcs hold me in the same general contempt they have for all living things.

I have lived among Men since they first came to Middle Earth. I had shared Fanghorn and Bombadil's interest in flora and fauna, but Men proved to be so unpredictable! Their final fate cannot be altered, but they have found so many different paths to it! Every time peace and prosperity has been theirs, they have seized upon some injustice or embraced some lofty goal, and have slaughtered themselves in the thousands. Even Morgoth and Sauron learned to be wary in dealings with these fickle creatures.

I watched them march off to Angband, and witnessed the founding and destruction of Númenor. I was aboard the ships of the faithful that returned to Middle Earth, and I lived in Arnor from the building of Annúminus until the fall of Fornost. I will never tire of watching the Dúnedain.

The Elves learned too much from the Valar to do anything "original." Granted, they have used that wisdom to their advantage, but only Fëanor (and a few of his descendents) have been truly creative.

Dwarves are dull in the extreme. They are all the same. The males and females look just alike. I don't even want to know how they tell the difference. (Actually, I asked Bombadil, and he has no idea either.) I stopped watching them when the 3rd or 4th Dain was born, looking exactly like the first.

Watching the Valar was interesting while Melkor was here. I know more than they do about Middle Earth, but their solutions to completing "the plan" for Middle Earth or thwarting it (for Melkor) were creative and often violent. The Valar ignored me, as a kind of embarrassing accident, and Melkor tolerated my presence because of that. I tried to followed the Valar to Aman when they left, but I am truly part of Middle Earth and cannot leave it.

Melkor stayed behind when the other Valar departed, but soon his evil became boring. He had no plan of his own, he only did the opposite of what the Valar would have done. So, I watched the biota and then the Elves when they appeared. I had expected more from the Quendi, given the anticipation of the Valar, particularly Oromë. But, even though the Elves were different from everything else, they spent most of their time "watching things."

I had expected Men to be as boring as the Elves, but I followed Melkor to Hildórien because he was so interested. His anticipation was not immediately rewarded. Some Men worshiped him and others fled in terror - just like the Elves. Then, the Men started migrating westward - just like the Elves. But, occasionally, without warning, some of them would kill Elves or one another, (more often one another) and it wasn't just the ones who followed Melkor. They weren't starving or hurt or threatened - they simply turned violent and then turned back.

Melkor was quite pleased until he realized he had not caused their violence. Thereafter, he dealt with them chiefly through Sauron or lesser slaves, who had the patience to deal with Men's unpredictability. I was fascinated, and I have never tired of observing their antics.

Men proved to be as interested in their surroundings as the Elves, and they were far more willing to try to change them without any understanding of their workings or of the consequences of their actions. At least the Dwarves are limited in their destruction to to the subterranean. The passage of men was often worse than a forest fire. I was alarmed until I realized how well this matched their fate and that of Middle Earth.

I soon learned not reveal my true nature to Men. They reacted either with horror or with profound jealousy for my deathlessness.

The later is connected somehow to their unpredictability, because it provokes them to violence. They attack, and that produces even greater horror, and then they flee from my presence.

Unless I admit the fact, very few Men have realized that I am not one of them. However, Men grow suspicious after I have lived among them for decades without aging. So, I must continuously move from place to place in Middle Earth, trusting to submissive postures and a small gifts to make me welcome. To them, my new face is generally no more threatening than that of a new place.

My frequent movements taught me that Men varied greatly in their relation to the land. Some were like trees that put down deep roots and never moved. The Butterburs have grown in Bree longer than the trees of Chetwood have stood, or the waters of Midgewater have flowed. But, the scoundrels of Sorontil seldom lasted a single season, and many were buried there on the day they arrived.

Of the cities of men where I have lived, Osgiliath was the grandest, Annúminus the most beautiful, and Minis Tirith the most noble. In its day, Osgiliath, held people of every type, mixed together in bewildering patterns. I have sat for hours in the same spot never seeing the same person twice. Annúminus was somehow a creation of man, and still a part of the land. It did not stand apart from the forest or the lake, and seemed to nurture both. It was better than the people within it. Minas Tirith stood for Man's loftiest goals, and his greatest follies. Nonetheless, I preferred living in Sorontil.

Over the centuries, I met and came to know many of the great Men of Middle Earth. I remember little about individual persons. All people look alike to me. But the actions of certain Men are easy to recall. King Elendil transformed Middle Earth forever when he founded Annúminus, and he (with Gil-Galed) defeated Sauron in mortal combat. Two mortals defeated a powerful Mair! And, Elendil's descendent, Elesser, rose from the ashes and ruin of Elendil's realm to create an empire even greater.

I have never been able to anticipate these remarkable events, but like the Wise, I have learned to recognize signs of impending change. I was able to witness the defeat of Sauron because Elendil was the greatest Man of his time, and he had besieged Mordor for a long time. But, I did not think Elesser capable of anything nearly so interesting, until after his triumph at Plennor Fields. I had met him while I was living in Bree, and I thought him little more than a highwayman.

I do not mean that highwaymen were not interesting. But without soldiers or mercenaries to chase them, they were dull. That's why I preferred living in Sorontil. It was full of Dúnedain soldiers, unscrupulous merchants, and the most villainous rouges imaginable. For a time I owned a small shop, just so I could run screaming into the street after each burglary to watch the royal guards charge off in pursuit of the thieves. Too soon, word spread among the thieves that no matter what was done to me in the shop, I always ran screaming into the street afterward. And, one of the soldiers remarked on my uncommon luck. So I moved to Tharbad.

Naturally, I avoided the Mair and the Elven Lords to keep from being exposed to the Men. This was rarely a problem, except for Gandalf, who appeared whenever and wherever trouble threatened. I seldom talked with the Istari, but he knew well my old acquaintance Bombadil, and therefore knew my identity.

My other encounters with the wise were accidental, but sometimes very exciting. I had returned to Sorontil ages after my shopkeeping adventure, and had taken a job as a stable hand for one of the Dúnedain "elf friends" who lived at the eastern edge of town. The master never guessed that I could speak Quenya, so I was able to stay current on the villainy of Sorontil and happenings in Imladris. Late one evening he received a guest, whose horse I stabled, and it proved to be one of the Sindar from Rivendale.

One of the Elves of Rivendell had been killed - rather nastily. Possibly by rogues or mercenaries from our fair burg. Somehow they had gotten close to the hidden vale, something that had never happened before. The murderer's tracks had been well-hidden but clues indicated the presence of an Easterner, but something wasn't right. Elrond had called a council, and the Elf had come to Sorontil to warn the elf friends to beware.

This was interesting news, but I was in no way prepared for the events of the next day. I had walked into town, to watch caravans coming from Hithaeglir, and noticed people first walking toward, then running away from one of the side streets. There, appeared the Knight Glorfindel. I couldn't believe it! Tulkus' Mair very rarely left Rivendale, and Elves were not tolerated in that part of Sorontil. They were generally escorted out by the Royal Guard, for their own safety.

Before long, the pubs started emptying. Most of the mercenaries were carrying weapons. Glorfindel seemed to be paying little attention to the growing crowd, until several men wearing heavy armor strode into the street from a small alley between the Orcs Jowl and The Dragon. I had just noticed two bowmen about 4 paces behind Glorfindel when chaos erupted. The two bowmen's heads hit the ground, and everyone on the street started trying to get as far as possible from the Elven Knight and his prey.

Afterward, the most common topic of debate in the pubs was whether or not any of the Eastern mercenaries had realized the magnitude of their mistake before they fell to the ground, gutted.

The Royal Guard did not arrive to escort Glorfindel out of town, and he left without speaking to anyone. Thereafter, Elves generally received better treatment in Sorontil.

I don't truly miss Sorontil's mayhem, but I have never found a place in Middle Earth with the same level of activity. I have nearly worn out my anonymity in Pelargir. And I am growing tired of the comfortable lifestyle of Gondor. I have not lived in Bree in centuries! I hope Gandalf doesn't show up. But then it would probably be exciting if he did.