Rána could only gaze on Goldberry's beauty. He had never before beheld a naiad – a spirit of the water. The elves had spoken once of them, but even they were unsure of their origin. They were ancient certainly – perhaps even before the coming of the First Born to Middle Earth.
Goldberry's sharp eyes continued to rove Rána's face. "What do you seek here, Rána Dúnedan?" her voice was low and murmuring like water itself.
Rána shook his head, "I do not know," he answered. "I came here looking for one called Tom Bombadil. Do you know him?"
"He goes by many names," answered the sprite. "Iarwain Ben-adar, Orald, Forn, and many more names, older and deeper. He was here first and he will be here until all else has fallen in the world. He is the Oldest, and he is the Fatherless. Before even the Valar entered Arda. Before Melkor cast his filth in this world. Before root and twig and River-Woman, He was here."
"I have heard the name Iarwain Ben-adar!" said Rána with surprise. "The elves speak of him with great reverence. And among my own kin, this is a name I have heard tell of, though I had supposed him to be a character of old tales."
"You do not listen to me," said Goldberry, in a low tone. There was warning in her voice "He is oldest. The tales of him are the first tales told. The elves know him as well as any may. But he will not leave his borders. The world has grown too vast for Tom. He is the Master, but it is not his world anymore but that of elves, men, dwarves, hobbits, and all other free-folk."
"You obviously know much of this Bombadil," said Rána. Her words filled him with awe, but his young and foolish heart made him skeptical of this naiad's words. "How came you to know him?"
Goldberry lifted a golden eyebrow, and her eyes glittered. "You believe not my tale?" said said. "I will tell you. But only because you are a young and untried, and do not know the foolish things you say.
"Tom caught me, you might say," she said. "Yes. Tom Bombadil came across me bathing in the lily-pools. No one has ever caught one of the Daughters of the River, but Tom did. I am Tom's counterpart in the care and keeping of hill and wood and water."
Rána laughed. "Certainly it could not be difficult to catch a Daughter of the River. Why, I quite successfully crept up on you only moments ago, and I do not think you knew at first I was here."
Goldberry laughed. It was like the tinkling of silver bells, but it put Rána on edge. "You silly youth," she said. "There is a very significant difference between catching something, and catching sight of something. You saw me. You did not touch me. If you had, without my knowing, it would have fared ill for you." She drew a long white hand out of the murky water and touched his face. It was as cold as ice and as strong as mithril. "Old Willow Man isn't the only force to reckon with in this wood."
They stared at each other a moment longer: Rána, lying on the bank among the reeds, and Goldberry, shoulder deep in the green lily-pool with her hair all afloat.
"Come," she finally said. "The Master is abroad among the trees. He has many songs to sing before winter gnaws root and bone. This was my last sojourn into the deep sacred lily-pools. You were fortunately to have come across me – if you believe in fortune."
With that, she disappeared under the water without a sound. Seconds later she emerged on the far side of the pool and walked out as if on a submerged stairway. She was clothed all in green. Her arms were bare and the long train of her gown rippled like water behind her. Around her waist was a girdle of flowers wrought in silver. Her hair seems to dry instantly and lay in long curling tresses upon her back and shoulders. She was barefoot. She turned to Rána (who had the sense to scramble to his feet) and stretched out a white arm to him.
"This way," she said smiling. Her face was now merry and bright. There was nothing left of the sharpness in her eyes or the lowness in her voice. She was all light and beauty and mirth. "There is much I may show you before Tom calls us back. Much that may be seen before the fall of night. And you do not want to be in the wood after nightfall." Then she turned, and with light fleeting steps, disappeared into the trees.
Rána dove in after her, part of him hoping that he would learn something from her, part of him fearing that she would lead him into a bog and leave him there. She remained at all times several paces ahead of him and always out of arms reach. Every once in a while she looked back at him and smiled. Through the forest, on a winding path that only Goldberry could see, Rána and the naiad passed almost silently. The Ranger's young skills were being honed and polished, and he was almost as silent as the woman in front of him. They melted from tree to tree with only a whisper, as if the wind were rustling gently through the leaves. None of the woodland creatures noticed their passing, and even the trees seemed unaware of their presence, or else let Rána pass in peace while in the company of Goldberry. He was so concentrated on keeping her within his sight, that he knew not where she led him, or indeed even in what direction they went. Finally, Goldberry stopped. They were standing at the bank of the Withywindle. She turned to face the young man. He stood in front of her – taller than her, but not by a great measure. She was tall like an elf maid but there was a willowiness to here which suggest more organic roots than even the elves.
"We will talk here," she said. "You may ask your questions, and I may answer some. I may answer some which you may not even ask. And I may not answer some which you do." She took his hands and drew him to the ground so that they sat facing each other with the river floating by next to them.
Rána sat but said nothing.
"Do you know where you are?" asked the water-wight.
Rána shook his head, and Goldberry pointed across the lazy brown water. There, on the western bank, surrounded by willows, and in a deep bank of willow leaves, was the oldest, most ancient willow Rána had ever seen. Its old grey trunk was thick and gnarled like the sinewy arms of an ancient hermit. Its thick roots stuck partway out of the ground and trailed like bony fingers into the water. Its tendril-like branches hung down to the ground and dragged lank in the river.
"That," said Goldberry, "Is Old Man Willow: the oldest and most dangerous tree in The Old Forest. His strength is green though his heart is rotten. His power surges through leaf and limb and root from the eastern end of the forest to the trees on the borders of Buckland. They are under his command, and it is Tom who keeps him from doing any terrible mischief. You are fortunate to have entered the wood from the Downs side. He is a mighty singer, Old Man Willow. Not many can escape his cunning lair. You are young and strong – you may have fared better than some, but we will never know."
"Why do you bring me here?" asked Rána, eying the ancient willow whose branches swayed with the gentle breeze.
"This is a good bank to talk on," replied Goldberry. "And Tom will pass this way on his way home. We may meet him here before nightfall and finish our journey together. As long as you are on this bank, Willow Man cannot consume you. And while you are with me, you are quite safe." She smiled, and for a moment Rána thought he imagined the strange gleam in her eyes which he had seen at the lily-pool.
"Now," said she. "Ask me your questions.
Rána sat for a moment. "How did you know my name? At the lily-pool. You said you were not expecting me so soon. How came you to expect me at all? Certainly none knew of my journeying here. None but Barad knew I would pass this way."
"Barad did not send word," said Goldberry. "But news has other means of travel. Birds and beasts, brook and stream. The Water tells me many things both light and dark. A babbling book carries many secrets which are lost to all who cannot interpret their words. We knew of your coming. Gandalf was also here, a month and a day ago, and said he asked you to look in on the Shire. I see this is not your desire."
"You see rightly," said Rána with a frown. "I do not see where the importance lies in the Shire. Hobbits have always seemed, well… insignificant in this dark world. I feel I would be more use fighting with the elves and my kin and driving wargs and orcs back in the mountains. Why must I be sent like a boy on an errand to the Shire where I am little better than a gardener looking after fragile flowers? I want to leave a mark in this world. I want to be of more use." Rána was alarmed with himself. His tongue had been loosed as he had rarely spoken to anyone before in his life.
Goldberry just looked at him, and there was a faint smile on her lips. "More use," she said. "Perhaps. But the insignificant things of this world are often the things which hold the remaining traces of goodness. The world around grows dark. Tom has shut himself in, and that is saying something. Is it not worth something to have a bright spot of light in the surrounding darkness? To preserve something which is yet untainted? If no one were here protecting her borders, the Shire would fall into that darkness sooner rather than later. A long time yet, perhaps, but not so long as you would not feel the consequences. The days of dark deeds and red sunrises will come. Spend time watching those absurd little creatures. Gandalf does nothing in vain, and his wisdom is far beyond the understanding of mortal men."
Rána hung his head. He knew she was right. But something inside him still longed for the sword and the bow.
"Do not be crestfallen," Goldberry said and looked hard at him. "Something else weighs deeply on your mind. Your brother, perhaps. You feel guilty for being left while he was taken. Do not be. I cannot foresee the future. The Waters do not tell such tales, but I guess he is not dead. That chapter is not yet closed."
Rána nodded. "I will find him someday – dead or alive, I will find him. But it is not him I think of."
Goldberry smiled knowingly. "She has not forgotten you either," she said.
Rána's head jerked up, but Goldberry smiled brightly and pulled Rána to his feet. "Enough of these dreary things!" she laughed. Daytime is for dancing and night is for the sorrow! Come, I will teach you some of the Water's language.
Rána was loth to touch the lazy brown water, but it was not to the river Goldberry led him. She took him along a narrow stream which fed the river instead. The water was clear and clean and babbled over a bed which was covered in many small, brightly colored stones. Rána completely lost track of the time as Goldberry told him many strange and wonderful things about the Water and its language. She spoke of oceans and rivers, lakes and pools, waterfalls and thunderstorms and all their different tales. Rána felt his heart leap on high when she spoke of faraway harbors of ships and storms and stars, and he thought he felt a glimpse of the love elves have for the sea. The naiad drew him into the water and he felt it run over his tired feet, swirling around his ankles with an aliveness he had never felt. She poured water into his hands and it sparkled and told him things he had never imagined about beginnings and births. He started to understand the River-words – even if only a little. Long into the afternoon and early evening Goldberry spoke to Rána of the Water.
As the sun dipped below the trees, Rána was brought back to conscious thought by a voice which came floating over the river:
Hey! Come merry dol! Derry dol! My darling!
Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling!
Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,
Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,
There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,
Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.
Old Tom Bombadil, water-lilies bringing
Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?
Hey! Come merry dol! Derry dol! And merry-o,
Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!
Poor old Willow-man, tuck your roots away!
Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.
Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.
Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?
Rána stood amazed for a moment before running down to the shore of the river. On a narrow path which wound into the trees, and from around the old Willow, bounded Tom Bombadil. His bright blue jacket and yellow boots shining in the waning light. His long brown beard bounced on his broad chest as he danced along the path. Rána did not have time to stand amazed at the strange Tom for long, for a clear voice – as clear as the water in the stream – broke out behind him in joyful ringing song:
Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars, moon, and mist, rain and cloudy weather,
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!
So Goldberry sang out behind Rána, and Tom stopped directly opposite them and waved.
"What's this?" he cried. "My lady out after sunset? Strange sight indeed! Young Ranger needs a teaching and my lady's the one to teach! You found him wandering in shady pools, drowning in the river, eh? Young Dúnedan goes wandering in the wood alone? My Goldberry fished him out?"
Goldberry laughed. "He is early! We have spoken of many things concerning Water and her voice."
"Aye!" exclaimed Tom. "And none can teach it better than her daughter! But who's been getting supper laid? Shall we all go hungry? Young men can't go for long on nothing but river water and weeds!"
"I shall go along ahead of you," said Goldberry. See he doesn't lose himself again!" She turned to Rána with a smile. "Forget not the teachings you have received today. Few there are who can claim to have learned them from Tom's lady." With that, she sprang away through the trees as light as a bird and disappeared from sight.
"Come along my friend!" cried Tom. "Supper will be cold by the time we get there! Goldberry is a mighty runner!" Tom bounded down the path and Rána scrambled over muddy tree limb and root to keep up with him on the other side of the river. Rána soon came upon a fallen tree which spanned the width of the river and he ran across to the west side. With an effort he jogged along with Tom (who moved much quicker than his looks promised). The sun was set, and the darkness was increasing when Rána saw lights ahead in the trees. There was Tom's house, and Goldberry standing in the open door with light pouring out behind her to welcome them.
