Without Bilbo's three books of lore, without Frodo's poignant narrative, without Sam passing these written treasures on to Elanor in S.R. 1482 and her descendants becoming their guardians and curators, you and I would never have read The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or The Silmarillion. Elanor's descendants - the Fairbairns of Westmarch - are the mothers and fathers of our Tolkienian tradition.
Far-western hobbits with worthy books
In this scene, five years have passed at Undertowers since Samwise sailed west and left the great volumes with Elanor. The hobbit settlement of this region, far beyond the traditional Shire, has been underway for thirty years. In the background on this spring day, Elanor and her husband, Fastred of Greenholm, are sowing the tilled fields of home beneath the Tower Hills. I suppose the soil would have been different there, this close to the coast. Likely full of rocks for wall-building, but very fine for growing taters and raising sheep to provide wool for adjusted hobbit wardrobes in this foggier clime.
The couple's children are ostensibly tending the flock amid green fields of grass, thrift, and heath, but that is not all they are doing. Elfstan, who has just reached the age of maturity at 33, and his sister, FÃriel, have brought Bilbo's elvish translations out with them on their walk. They scan the horizon, trying to take in the deep history of this place they call home. They see the three white towers, now more than 3,000 years old, which were built by Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor, as a monument to his friendship for Elendil, who fled the ruin of Númenor.
The bright-headed hobbit lad and lass look all about themselves, trying to guess at the direction of the Great Sea, over which their grandfather sailed away into the West just five years before. How much would Elanor have told her children about Sam-dad and the War of the Ring by this time? Would she have read any of the stories to them? Or did they come across the old tomes by themselves? We can only speculate, but the hobbits of the Westmarch are most assuredly undergoing significant changes in this Fourth Age of Men.
New views for old hobbits
Not only have they confronted and overcome the late Third Age superstition about looking at the unchancy West of which we hear in the Prologue to The Lord of the Rings, but Sam's progeny now possess a history of the elves, which is centered on the existence of the sub-created Creator, Eru Ilúvatar.
When we went adventuring with Bilbo and Frodo in the last years of the Third Age, we may have noticed that, unlike elves or men of faith such as Aragorn or Faramir, the hobbits appear to have no spiritual practices. As far as we can tell from the texts, hobbits seem to be the sort of virtuous pagans described by Professor Tom Shippey as inhabiting the Old English epic, Beowulf. What, then, must the effect have been on the Fairbairns in reading the lore books, which center on the histories of the First and Second-born children of Ilúvatar? What did Elanor see on her journey to Gondor in 1442 with her parents, where the people were flourishing beside The White Tree and had libraries of their history? Where does this family think that Samwise went on the ship?
Hobbits are a branch of Men, so these histories in Bilbo's lore books and the wisdom kept in Rivendell and Gondor are all directly relevant to their own lives. Whether hobbits long had consciousness of coming into existence as part of the Second-Born children of Ilúvatar in the Elder Days or whether a cloak of mystery quickly enshrouded their thoughts of this event, we simply don't know. Much was doubtless lost across the millennia and their long westward migrations.
Honoring the lore-keepers
Whatever the case may be, Sam's descendants clearly thought the wisdom contained in the family heirlooms was worth preserving. As tradition has it, their careful stewardship of the lore books was essential to the eucatastrophe of Professor J.R.R. Tolkien encountering copies and translating them for millions of grateful readers in our own Age. It's only in trying to imagine our own lives without the legendarium that we can fully measure what we owe special hobbits for keeping this lore alive throughout their perilous involvement in the events which ended the Third Age, throughout their remove to Undertowers in the Fourth Age, and into the modern era which has caused them to go into hiding.
Whilst the hobbits were still able to live their lovely lives in the open in those days of peace in which King Elessar declared the Shire out of bounds to unwelcomed guests, things must have been so pleasant beneath the Tower Hills. I have greatly enjoyed wool-gathering about whether any elvish charm might yet have lingered in the environs of Elostirion and its companion spires. The Lord of the Rings explains that hobbits did not enter the towers, at least at the time of writing, but I can't help wondering if this ever changed. Might not some Fairbairn scion with a spice of adventure have daringly climbed the heights and gazed out upon the sea over which fabled Samwise had sailed?
And down in the village of Undertowers, how might hobbit poets, lyricists, and musicians have been inspired by the elvish landmarks? Did it change their songs, or even their language? Did dwelling so near to such conspicuous scenes of elven craftsmanship and glory confer any special artistic blessings over time to the humbler folk? We can only wonder.
I sincerely hope you enjoy my heartfelt tribute to the Fairbairns of Westmarch and this rare glimpse of the wonderfully-named Elfstan and FÃriel. I invite you to spend a few minutes with them in their far-western homeland via this video short. The Fairbairns believed that their traditions were worth keeping, and we, too, can be like them when we share the old lore.