Bungo and his companions Nuri and Forlong , moved by pity, took into their care the elven hermit Aya, who for long years had dwelt alone in the wild places. Though her heart was heavy with solitude and she had turned from the high folk of Elrond’s kindred, still they hoped she might yet find solace among the Silvan people, who keep to the secret fastnesses of the ancient woods. Thus, with gentle words and steadfast friendship, they persuaded her to journey with them back toward the peopled lands of Middle-earth.
Yet on the homeward road Bungo himself was troubled; for the daggers he had borne away from the fell sorcerer Snava gnawed at his sleep, kindling in him dark dreams and murderous thoughts alien to the heart of a hobbit. But with the quiet strength and good sense of his kind, Bungo mastered the shadow within. At dawn he cast the weapons aside, determining to hand them over to Balin or one of the Wise, choosing peace over peril, and so freed himself from their malice.
When at last they returned to Bree, they were met by Balin son of Fundin, a Dwarf of renown. Eagerly did they tell their tale of the North, and when the key of strange make was laid before him, Balin’s eyes shone with wonder and desire, for it was said to unlock a hidden way into Khazad-dûm of old. Greatly did this stir his heart, for the halls of Moria had long been closed to the Dwarves, and their memory weighed upon his people like a stone.
Forlong, the man of the Dunedain, then brought forth Esterlang, his sundered sword. Balin, moved by the tale of its breaking, promised that it should be borne to Erebor, where the forges of the Lonely Mountain still rang with craft and cunning, that the smiths there might examine it and bring it anew to life.
But for all these marvels, the road of the company was not yet ended. Their counsel turned westward, toward the Grey Havens and the twilight lands by the Sea. There, in the shadowed forests nigh to Mithlond, dwelt yet some of the Sindar and Silvan folk, and it was thought that Aya might find peace among them. For indeed, in Bree she had been ill at ease, distressed by the noise and tumult of mortal folk.
So they passed swiftly through the green hills of the Shire, where Bungo felt again the quiet of his homeland, though he lingered not; and soon they came to the ancient Elven-towers upon the western borders of Eriador. There they were halted by a stern warden, tall and grim, who kept solitary watch over those fair and fading stones.
That very night, peril came upon them; for both a servant of Umbar, a dark man out of the South, and an emissary of Saruman the White, moving each unknowing of the other, sought to seize a Palantír hidden high within the tallest tower. In the struggle that followed the southern warrior was thrown down, and the emissary taken alive; and the Elven-warden, though at first mistrustful, looked thereafter upon the company with new favor.
Each among them then dared to lay hands upon the seeing-stone, hoping for counsel. But the visions it granted were wild and fell: only war and shadow, ruin and the marching hosts of iron. No wisdom could they wrest from its depths, and each turned away troubled, the weight of dark tidings heavy on their hearts.
Thus ended that chapter of their wandering, with questions yet unanswered, and the road ahead uncertain.
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