Please read A Day Out as a prequel to this entry.

It is the 1st day of Echuir
In the 3016th year of the Sun
Of the Third Age of Middle-earth

There are still four and fifty days ere Methor^[1], but already the heart of the greenwood -- and of the Tawarwaith -- is stirring, eagerly awaiting the coming of Ethuil; and in the misty twilight hours, flashes of copper fur can oft be glimpsed amidst the bare boughs, for the winter hoards of the woodland squirrels are spent, and now they come forth from the warmth of their nests to resume their foraging and to seek out mates.

I also went forth at the rising of the sun to "forage" (though not to seek a mate!) for I was again given leave to join the yearly trading party to Lake-town, the vast settlement of Men that lies upon the western shore of the Long Lake. I am no stranger to this town, for I visited there once when I was but fifteen years of age, and I was eager to again explore beyond the confines of my forest home. Teithoron even had new raiment fashioned for me especially, for he said it would be unseemly to appear in my common woodland garb as I had when I was a child, and he deemed even my finest tunic and breeches -- my festive feast finery --  would not suffice! But naught would part me from my cherished woodland cloak and hood, for these Amdirren my mother had woven with her own hands.

Maeriel remains the Elvenking's Ambassador to the town, and through her efforts, there is now a bridged road that wends from the eastern marches of the Woodland Realm, through the straggling pools and reed-beds of the Long Marshes, unto the western shores of the Long Lake. Thus it was that we had no need for passage by boat down the Forest River as before, and could ride mounted on horseback between the thickets of reed and rush, and then along the shore to the gates of Lake-town. (Alas, Rochereth forbade me from riding Gwedalion, son of Gwedal, for she distrusts the Lake-town hostlers and deemed also that it would be unfitting for men to learn that our folk ride upon woodland beasts.) Again I lingered on the road, and hearkening back to the day I had first laid eyes upon it, I marked that the vast wooden township was unaltered; it still stood above the cold waters upon its great stilts, and dark smoke still rose up into the rosy clouds.

Again we were met by Dagrun, the Captain of Market, though now her face was lined with age, cares and toil, and she clapped her hands and laughed merrily when she learned that I was indeed the small elf-child she had met six and thirty years before. But this time I followed behind her with our group of elf-traders to the Council of Ware where old agreements were renewed and new agreements forged, and I learned the meaning of boredom! Then we removed to the Trading Hall, a vast room bustling with busy merchants and piled high with their many wares. I watched curiously as they bartered and argued, and more than once men drew their fists and came to blows and guards came to take them away. And there were Dwarves, too!

The sight of these folk was wondrous to my eyes. Short and broad in stature they were; deep-breasted, strong in the arm, and stout in the leg, and their beards were long.^[2] They chiefly huddled in small groups, speaking softly together in a strange and cumbrous tongue. Maeriel told me this is called Khuzdul, the secret speech of the Naugrim, a secret which -- unlike our kindred -- they do not willingly unlock, even to their friends, but tend and guard it as a treasure of their past.^[3] Yet in their trade with men they spoke the Common Tongue with deep and throaty voices, but when I eagerly moved to speak with them, the Ambassador held me fast with a firm hand upon my shoulder.
   'These are Dwarves of Erebor,' she said, 'and though they are our close friends in trade they harbour little love for the Elves of Mirkwood since the Sack of Erebor by the Great Worm, for our folk came not to their aid in their hour of need and they have long memory for injuries! It would be better for you to first meet them in the own mansions where they feel secure and lofty....that is, more grand and noble,' she amended when I laughed aloud! Indeed, a Naug looked askance at me when he espied me watching (or mayhap he heard my cry of mirth?), and I wondered if I might one day visit their "lofty" halls under the Lonely Mountain!

As before, the group of elf-traders retired to the Dragonbone Inn when their labours were done, and from the doorway I marked that the mood within was more muted than my first visit. But the hush was disturbed by a loud commotion, for a large man thumped his fist upon the table where a small group of men sat nursing their tankards.
   'You have coin for ale, eh?' he berated a cringing drinker, 'but none to ease your debt to me?' Looking up at the sound of the closing door and seeing our elven-group, he lumbered toward us. I was dismayed to recognise him; it was none other than Saevarr, the boy who had been my guide and tormentor aforetime! But the boy had become a man, yet he was no less uncouth.
   'And so we meet again, eh Squirrel?' He looked me up and down as he had when we first met. 'You've grown,' he laughed, 'but you're still scrawnier than your fellows, and I'm still half a foot taller than you!'
Indeed, he now stood at six feet I guessed, but his girth was thrice the size it had been as a boy, and he was wearing finer raiment than even the most prosperous merchants I had seen within the Trading Hall.
   'Well met, Saevarr,' I replied merrily, though my heart was wary.
   'And still you wear no shoes!' he exclaimed. 'Come, you can buy me an ale... or are you still too poor to pay?'
With a wink, Maeriel slipped a small purse into my hand and led our group away.

I followed Saevar to a table in a darkened corner of the common room, "my private throne" he called it; and in the gloom, he could sit unseen yet watch all who came and went beneath the dim light of the torches, like a fat spider awaiting its prey! And he told me he was now a banker, and I asked him therefore what a "banker" does. At this he laughed, but not kindly, and told me that he owned the bank.^[4] Still I did not understand his words, and therefore he explained, at great length, that he was now an important man in Lake-town, for he safeguarded in his vaults the treasures of others for which service they paid him in return. And he told me that he also oft loaned coin to those in need, and they repaid him in their turn and more besides!
   'But if you have much and they have little, why not share yours and give to them what coin they need to simply sustain themselves?' I asked. Now he laughed uproariously, and I deemed that this spider was more alike to a covetous dragon sitting upon its ill-gotten hoard!
   'You still haven't learned anything at all, have you, Squirrel?' he said. 'How much of my wealth would be left if I gave it away to the needy? What about my profits? Is it not enough that they have a moneylender who's not a greedy Dwarf^[5] to ease their suffering? Bah!'
I was weary of his talk and lust for gold, and so I sought to turn his thought to other matters.

   'How fares your father, Várthrek?' I asked. He had not spoken of his mother at our first meeting, and I heeded the warning in my heart and made no mention of her either.
   'He is still a guard, choosing honour and duty above wealth and status' he frowned, 'but now he is in his autumn years and no doubt expects me to provide for him in his dotage when age forces him to hang up his sword.'
   'And what of Fjolnir?'
   'Eh? Who's that?'
   'The toymaker at the market who gifted me my dwarf-made flute.'
   'That old man? Why, he's dead of course!'
These tidings saddened my heart. 'Alas, I had hoped to meet with him again for he was kind and friendly,' I said. 'And I thought to buy one of his fine kites today.'
   'With the long life of your people, you've forgotten that we mere mortals are doomed to die of age. Besides, his stall is no more... his daughter took it over when he died, but she owed me coin and so I claimed her goods in recompense. I have her kites somewhere in my stores if you wish to buy one from me!'
   'That was an unkind deed!' I exclaimed.
   'Wellnigh forty years have passed, and still you have not grown up... you're still a soft squirrel!'
   'And age has not softened your mood, I see!' I remarked with a laugh. 'You are still a base boor!'
   'Laugh all you want,' he said, 'but beware... many of the men with whom you had business today are indebted to me. With a word I could ruin all your trade!'
   'That would indeed be folly, for our goods go hence to Dale and Erebor, and I doubt you wish to risk the ire of King Brand or of Durin's Folk, nor the displeasure of the Master of Lake-town, over a petty quarrel with a soft Elf!'
   'Bah!' he spat. 'Your pretty smile hides the poisoned tongue of a viper... I'm glad I do no business with your kind!'
   'O! Did you not know that squirrels will not bite unless provoked?' I retorted and he glowered at me. 'Perhaps your ale has warmed overmuch and thus is your cold heart now so hot,' I said, and emptied my flagon into his. Then I bade him farewell and left him fuming in the shadows, while I went to fetch a fresh ale for myself, cool and untainted by Saevarr's ill mood, to drink beside the bright and cheerful hearth; and in a moment of impish impulse I plucked my wooden flute from beneath my tunic, and I tootled the selfsame tune with which I once teased the stout boy beside Fjolnir the toymaker's stall. And the folk sitting thereabouts caught my merry music, and smiled one to another and danced together heedless of the dour glances that Saevarr cast upon them from his gloomy corner.

Now the gathering of treasures is not unknown to the Elves. Indeed Tharanduil Elvenking has a rich hoard, and Teithoron says he is ever eager for more, for he has not yet as great a treasure as other elf-lords of old^[6]; but with his treasury, he provides for the wants and needs of all his people. And I have learned that coin is indeed necessary for trade between Men, Elves and Dwarves, although in truth the labour I saw within the Council of Ware bewildered me! But to see men who spend their short mortal lives in earnest toil, fettered by it to one such as Saevarr son of Várthrek, fills my heart with dismay, for it seems they toil in vain.

Nor can I fathom the hearts of those who are driven by greed. For if all a person's needs are met, why desire more? And whence comes this desire, for surely it is unnatural to the fae of the Eruchîn? Is it therefore a token of the taint of Morgoth Bauglir, the Marrer of Middle-earth, I wonder?

But enough deep questions for now! Menelvagor climbs in the sky and a new day begins... Now is the time for song and merriment, not for pondering the mystery and misery of misers! Though I deem I shall not go to Lake-town henceforth while Saevarr yet dwells there, for he cast a shadow of gloom upon both of my visits; but he spoke the truth when he said mortal men were doomed to die of age, and I am enduring!

[1] "Tolkien did not give the Sindarin words for these holidays in Appendix D. These translations from the Quenya were provided by Sindarin expert /u/Elaran in the /r/sindarin subreddit."
- Shire Reckoning: A visualization of the calendars described in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings Appendix D
[2]  The War of the Jewels, "The Later Quenta Silmarillion: Concerning the Dwarves"
[3] The Lord of the Rings, Appendix F, "The Languages and Peoples of the Third Age"
[4] I can find no evidence that banks existed in Middle-earth, but we have vault-keepers and "Visiting Bankers" in LotRO. (A little artistic license on my part!)
[5] Nor can I find any JRRT references to moneylenders apart from Thorin's ambiguous comment in The Hobbit: "Altogether those were good days for us, and the poorest of us had money to spend and to lend..."  but I wanted to give my antagonist a despicable profession. (Artistic license again!)
[6] The Hobbit, Chap. 8: "Flies and Spiders"

 

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