Capitolo IX: Heading for Tom Bombadil's Land
The following morning in the early hours, after a night of restful sleep, Nerwen resumed her journey along the Great East Road, heading for the Brandywine Bridge, almost 70 kilometres away; from there, she would take the road that, immediately after the Bridge, led southwards to Bucklebury and beyond, to the confluence of the Withywindle into the Brandywine, some 35 kilometres more on. She would need a couple of days, and then one more to go up the Withywindle to Tom Bombadil's abode.
She spent the first night at Whitefurrows, in an inn very similar to The Green Dragon that boasted of having the best cider of the Shire, and indeed Nerwen found it excellent. The day after, again early in the morning, she continued her journey; a couple of hours later she crossed the large stony bridge on the Brandywine and immediately took to her right on the road to Bucklebury, crossing the gates – which were closed at night – marking the entrance to Buckland; this territory, even if located beyond the river, was still part of the Shire, which border in this area departed from the Brandywine to follow the Hedge, a high and thick, impenetrable range of shrubbery, beyond which was the fearsome Old Forest, a place haunted by malevolent spirits. This was indeed a vestige of the immense forests that, of which its dense and wide range had become lost in the mists of time, covered vast portions of Eriador, the land situated between the Misty Mountains and the sea; and who knows what peculiar creatures inhabited it. Tom Bombadil lived on the other side of the Old Forest, by the springs of the Withywindle, the river crossing and dividing it in two unequal parts; the Hobbits assiduously avoided drinking the water of the Withywindle, believing that it was poisonous or at least carried strange enchantments of sleep and oblivion; and they even avoided completely going upriver. Therefore, in order to draw no further attention and also not to alarm needlessly her kind hosts, Nerwen never mentioned her destination, and anyway she doubted the Shire-folk knew of Bombadil's existence.
I n the early afternoon, the Maia caught sight of a bird of prey flying high in the sky, circling above her and then going away. From the dimensions and shape, she thought it was some kind of hawk, but it was too far even for her sharp Ainurin eyes to establish exactly which species. Among all the birds, the birds of prey were her favourites, especially the hawks.
In the late afternoon, she glimpsed a second one, or maybe it was the same; this time she heard also its cry kek-kek-kek, from which she assumed it was a cálë hawk, a beautiful medium-sized species. She tried to send to it a greeting, but the bird slid through the wind on its wing, heading toward the Old Forest and flying away at great speed.
Nerwen stayed overnight in Standelf, a small village located at the end of the road coming from the Brandywine Bridge, here, too, welcomed with cordial curiosity; and the morning after she started again.
When she arrived at Hedge End, where the large shrub ended close to the riverbank of the Brandywine, Nerwen caught again sight of a hawk flying in the sky, and decided it couldn't be a coincidence; but before she could call to the bird and ask about his persistence in following her, the bird of prey, maybe perceiving she maybe perceiving her curiosity, swiftly flew away, heading southwards.
"Did you see that hawk?", she asked Thilgiloth; the Chargeress snorted:
Yeah, it's the third time it comes, and I wonder what it may want from us, she answered.
Perplexed, the Istar continued staring at the spot in the sky's horizon where the bird had vanished, but it didn't reappear; so she let it be and resumed her pace. When she went past Hedge End, she immediately found the confluence with the Withywindle and began to go upriver on its northern bank, with the wood on her left and the river on her right. Proceeding northwest, Nerwen noticed the trees were becoming increasingly taller and dark, old and gnarled, as the river narrowed. The August sun shone down hard on her shoulders and on the wide-brimmed hat she wore, which she had taken on following Gandalf's example, even if it wasn't as high and pointy as his old friend's. It was very hot.
When midday arrived, Nerwen stopped Thilgiloth in the shadow of a tall birch tree with a double trunk and dismounted. Going down to the riverbank, she plunged one hand into the water, checking it with her power: she didn't think it could truly be poisonous, but every legend or rumour has normally a real kernel of truth to be born. However, she found nothing.
"The water's good,", she told Thilgiloth, "We can drink."
The mare came near and lowered her head, drinking abundantly: the heat of this day was affecting her, too; Nerwen emptied her canteen and refilled it with fresh water, then she drank, discovering it had a slightly vegetal taste, quite pleasant. Then she went to sit under the shadow of the birch and ate her lunch of bread and cheese and an apple, while Thilgiloth grazed the tender grass on the riverbank.
T here was an uncanny silence: no birds singing, no insects humming, no leaves rustling. Combined with the heat of this summer noon, Nerwen felt a pleasurable languor rising up, and she leaned more comfortably her back against the trunk of the birch, with the intention to close her eyes one minute to enjoy the quietness. Thilgiloth stopped grazing and, lowering her head, shut her eyes, too.
Nerwen felt like falling into sleep, and this caused her a sense of alarm: she wasn't particularly weary, because in the last few days she didn't ride for very long distances, besides she rested well in the cosy Hobbit inns, nor her Chargeress could be very tired, she was used to much harder performances. She fought the drowsiness, which in turn seemed to fight back to subdue her with a mellow voice, enticing her to rest, to let herself go, to sleep… sleep…
She thought she heard far away a worried kek-kek-kek.
Even more alarmed, now convinced she was in danger, Nerwen gathered all her extraordinary Ainurin willpower and imposed it with extreme determination: the spell attempting to enthral her tried to resist, but then it split up in thousand pieces like a fragile crystal bubble. Nerwen sprang to her feet, furious, because she had finally identified the source from where the attack originated.
"Birch!", she cried harshly at the tree she had lain against, "How do you dare to try and imprison me in your bewitched cobweb? Don't you know who I am?!"
The tree shuddered in a violent tremor that no windstorm could arise, much less in a completely windless air like now. Nerwen projected her special senses toward the birch; in the beginning, she perceived a great anger emanating from the tree, which immediately turned into incredulity. The tree stopped shaking and seemed to wilt on itself, pervaded by a sense of recognition and dread.
"Good, I see you recognised my nature,", Nerwen growled, fuming, hands on her hips, "You will never again try such a trick! And warn your equals about my presence in this dale: if they dare to attack me, I'll be ruthless with them as much as I'm loving toward the friendly olvar. You know what I'm capable of, don't you?"
Another shiver passed through the birch, expressing all its dismay: it would never expect to stand face to face with one of the Ainur, and precisely of one who had power particularly on plants. What a big mistake it had made, to antagonize such a person! It bent its crown in a sign of acknowledgment and submission; but its heart, even if trembling in terror, stayed black in wickedness. Such was its nature, and such it would stay until the End of Days.
Nerwen was well aware of this; she picked up her saddlebag and drew back several steps, without turning her back to the tree: she had forced it to subdue to her, and she was sure it wouldn't try and mesmerize her again in a hex or disobey her command to warn the other hostile trees in the Withywindle Dale; but it would use branches and roots to wrap and imprison her, forcing her to destroy it in order to free herself, and even if it was a vicious being, doing so would repel her.
Thilgiloth, freed of the birch's spell at the same moment as her two-legged friend, had witnessed motionless the clash of wills; now she drew near to Nerwen, snorting quietly to make her aware she was right behind her. Not taking her eyes off of the tree, the Istar threw the saddlebag on her shoulder and got in the saddle; the Chargeress didn't need any encouragement and started to trot along the riverbank, withdrawing quickly from the maleficent tree.
What was that, in Kementári's name?!, Thilgiloth asked Nerwen, shocked. Only a very few things could frighten the Chargeress, but among them there were for sure those she didn't know and appeared dangerous, to herself and those she loved, like that birch.
"A being who was corrupted by the Dark Power in ancient times,", the Maia answered, thoughtfully, "or more probably, given its apparent age, a descendant of it. Unfortunately Morgoth's black influence contaminated many things, in the world: olvar, kelvar, two-legged creatures at all levels… even one of my own kin", she concluded bitterly. She had known personally Mairon, a brilliant and powerful Maia, follower of Aulë, who had become ensnared by Melkor and became his disciple, and finally took his place after his fall at the end of the First Age; then he took the name of Sauron.
Thinking she had now reached a safe distance, Thilgiloth slowed down her pace.
Now her companions will stay out of our way, after your warning, she commented, pleased.
"You can be sure of it,", Nerwen confirmed, stretching her lips in a ferocious sneer, "I put into that creature so much dread to last one year and one day", then she raised her gaze and observed the sky, "Did you, too, hear the call of the cálë hawk, earlier?"
Actually, no, the mare answered. No bird was in sight, thus the Aini concluded she had maybe imagined it.
They rode on undisturbed for some hours; Nerwen extended her perceptions and felt a feeling of rancour surrounding them, coming from the trees they were passing; but a strong fright was keeping the anger at bay. Nothing, in this dale, would ever dare to attack again her or Thilgiloth.
At about mid-afternoon they passed near an old willow tree, from which radiated a particularly strong sense of hostility, but which didn't dare attempt any action against them, evidently warned by the birch. Nerwen would never learn it, but a good number of years later, that same old willow would try a trick similar to the birch's on a group of four Hobbits, in charge of a very difficult and delicate mission.
It was about dusk when Nerwen arrived in sight of a mound; a large house in grey stone was built on top of it, covered by a thatched roof; from the chimney raised a wisp of smoke. A well-defined path wound up the shallow hillside.
D rawing nearer, they saw that on the threshold of the green painted door there was a male shape, not very tall and rather plump, wearing bright coloured clothes: sky-blue jacket, pea-green breeches and yellow boots; on the high hat he sported a blue feather.
As he saw horse and rider coming near, the bizarre being moved, dancing forward, and when he was close enough, Nerwen could see his face, red and wrinkled, adorned with a long hazel-brown beard; vivacious sky-blue eyes stared back at her, smiling.
"Welcome, thousand times welcome!", he cried, taking off his hat and bowing low, "Tom Bombadil is glad to welcome you in his land and house!"
Nerwen dismounted and reciprocated the bow:
"Nerwen the Green and Thilgiloth are glad to meet you, Tom", she answered, borrowing his unusual way to express himself in the third person, "Am I wrong, or you were expecting us?"
Tom put on his hat again and opened his arms:
"Many eyes watch my land and saw you coming."
Nerwen raised her eyebrows in surprise:
"Among these eyes, are there also those of a cálë hawk?", she asked. Bombadil nodded:
"My good friend Calad", he answered, "Did you see her?"
"Yes, and I think she even tried to warn us of a birch which tried to enthrall us."
"Ha, Old Woman Birch!", Bombadil shouted, begrudged, "Along with Old Man Willow, she's the creature who causes more troubles, here in the Withywindle Dale. I'll have to reprimand her!"
"That won't be necessary,", Nerwen calmed him down, "I did it myself, and at least for one year and one day she won't dare to attack anybody, not even a rabbit."
"Oh, well done!", Bombadil said approvingly, leaping joyfully, already oblivious to his irritation, "Serves her right!" Then he bowed again, "But please, both of you, come. Having realised what your nature is, I am prepared to receive you in my humble dwelling with all the honours you deserve. My sweet lady Goldberry is cooking an exquisite dinner, and I prepared my best fodder and a cosy shelter for Thilgiloth."
They went first thing to the stables, where a large pony that Bombadil introduced as Fatty Lumpkin, his mount, warmly greeted the Chargeress. Thilgiloth was unsaddled and curried, then left to eat with Fatty Lumpkin and they went to the house. During the short trail, Bombadil began singing:
"Hey! Come bella dol! Arrived have our friends!
Sorceress and Chargeress! We are all happy now!
Let's have fun and sing all together!"
And from the inside there came a clear female voice, young and at the same time ancient as Spring, flowing like the waters of the Withywindle, which source gushed just a few meters away from the house:
Let's have fun and sing all together
About sun, stars, moon, mist, rain and hope,
Light on the bud, dew on the plains,
Brambles on the shady pond, lily on the shivering waters!
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-woman's Daughter!"
They entered, and presently came a woman with long blond hair, wearing a green gown, looking like a girl, but an aura of wisdom and dignity surrounded her as only a great number of years can give. Similar in this was she to an Elven queen who lived many centuries, but in her bright eyes there wasn't the gravity of those who have seen too much winters to count them;, instead there were joy and light-heartedness similar to those shining in Bombadil's clear blue irises. Thanks to her Second Sight, Nerwen saw beyond and realised that he was the Forest, and she the River, ancient as the world, but always renewed and young. She bowed slightly to greet and pay homage to them.
But Goldberry ran to her and took her hands:
"No, please don't bow to us, you who come from the Undying Lands! We are the ones who bow to you…"
She made a deep curtsy, and Bombadil bowed low. This time it was Nerwen the one protesting:
"For the mission I accepted to accomplish, my status this side of Belegaer means little. Here I am Nerwen the Green, an Istar like your friend Gandalf, nothing more and nothing less. Besides, I'm your guest, and it's simple politeness to greet my hosts."
Hence, Goldberry stood upright smiling and said:
"You are welcome in our house, Nerwen. Come, I take you to the room we got ready for you."
She went ahead through the room, opened a door and went on along a corridor, at the end of which they arrived to a room with one of the ceilings slanting to one side; the stonewalls were entirely clad in green wickers and yellow curtains, and the tile floor was covered with small carpets made of woven canes. In the middle of the northern wall stood a bed with snow-white sheets, and on the wall at its side was a small table with a large jug, a basin, a mirror, towels and soaps.
"Dinner will be ready soon,", Goldberry told her, "Freshen up and change into comfortable clothes."
Nerwen gladly did as she had been told to, shaking off the long day on horseback; she took from her meagre luggage her home dress and donned the soft slippers she discovered beside the bed, and lastly she untied her braided hair and brushed it. Finally ready, she headed for the main room of the mansion, where meanwhile her hosts had set the table.
"Well, very well!", Bombadil rejoiced, glancing at her, "Here's our guest! Come and sit with us at our table! Cream and honey, bread and butter, and cheese, herbs and berries to satiate our hunger; and to calm down our thirst, sweet wine and cold beer!"
They ate and drank, and Bombadil entertained the ladies with many a song and rhyme interposed with a remarkable quantity of dong dillo and bella dol as a completely personal refrain. When they were finished, he and Goldberry quickly cleared the table, and then they sat down on the comfortable armchairs in front of the hearth, where in spite of the summer season a small fire was burning, not to warm up the room, but for the glee the flames rise in the spirits.
"Tell me, my lady," Bombadil began, "what did you come looking for, in Tom's house?"
"Information," Nerwen answered straightforward, "My mission is finding the Ents, but it seems they've vanished from Middle-earth for many centuries now and nobody knows where they've gone. Maybe you know where I can find them?"
Bombadil became thoughtful, and his reddish, wrinkled face lost some of the perennial jovial expression characterizing it, while his bright eyes dimmed.
"Truly much time has passed since the last time I saw an Ent,", he said slowly, "Here in the Old Forest live some corrupted descendants of that race, like the Birch Woman or the Willow Man, but of the true Ents I don't hear for centuries … Ent the earthborn, old as mountains,", he quoted an ancient rhyme describing the living beings of Arda, "After all, for many a century now I retired to this small portion of land, of which I defined borders I have no intention to cross. Here I am Master, and the rest of the world is not my concern."
Nerwen didn't approve of this point of view, which she considered restrictive; but Iarwain Ben-adar, the Oldest and Fatherless, was who he was, and she couldn't change his nature, no more than she could change the nature of fire or water.
The thought of water made her think of Tom's spouse, who was following silently their exchange, sitting next to them.
"Goldberry, did the river ever spoke to you about the Ents?", she asked therefore. Goldberry shook her head:
"No, the Withywindle don't know anything about them, nor the Brandywine with which it joins and which flows to the Great Sea. From here to the shores of Belegaer, there is no trace of the Ents."
Nerwen nodded; she was disappointed, but she didn't expect to solve the mystery of the disappearance of the Ents on the first try.
"Thank you anyway,", she said therefore, "I'll go on my search walking the roads of Middle-earth: sooner or later, someone will be able to provide me news."
"This, I don't doubt!", Bombadil cried, suddenly finding again his usual good spirits, "I think the High Elves will be more helpful than us: Lord Elrond of Imladris has a reputation of great knowledge, and so has Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien. And then of your order there's Radagast the Brown, who could know something about the Ents."
Again, Nerwen nodded: she, too, had thought about asking Aiwendil, who like her was a follower of Yavanna; but unlike her, he was more interested in the kelvar, especially birds, rather than in the olvar. She knew from Gandalf that he lived in a place called Rhosgobel, on the borders of Mirkwood.
"Thank you again, my friends,", she repeated, feeling suddenly sleepy; but it was a very different feeling from what she had felt that day from the Old Birch Woman's spell, completely natural, even if she wasn't yet used to it: in Aman, as an Aini she wouldn't feel tiredness, but Yavanna had warned her that in Ennor things would be different; she yawned.
"Forgive me, but the hour's late by now and I need rest,", she declared. Bombadil jumped up, mortified:
"Tom, Tom, how could you forget that your guest comes from a long day on horseback?! My sweet lady Goldberry, light a candle and take Nerwen to her room, please."
Goldberry stood up and took from the shelf of the fireplace a silver candlestick with a white candle, which she lighted at the fire; then she went ahead Nerwen along the hallway to her room, where she lighted another candle.
"Sleep well, my lady,", she said, "Tomorrow wake up at whatever time pleases you and we'll break our fast together."
"Thank you, Goldberry,", the Istar answered, hiding another yawn behind her open hand, "Good night."
Author's corner:
Tom Bombadil is, using Tolkien's words, a mystery. Maybe not even the Professor knew exactly who and what this character is; that Tom may be the Forest (the Trees) and Goldberry the River (the Water) is only an interpretation of the scholars who study the Professor's work, not an explanation of his about their true nature.
This mystery fascinated me since forever and so, like Tolkien in The Lord of the Rings, I inserted it in my modest fan fiction; of course, with all the humbleness of an admirer in front of a masterpiece. Besides, it was rightful to think that maybe, because of his nature (the Forest) and his age, Tom could know where the Ents were, and therefore Nerwen needed to meet him; but it would be obviously too easy to solve it this way, not to mention that, in this case, Nerwen's adventure would end immediately, while I have many more events in store for her…
Best thanks to ColdOnePaul for his precious editing work!
Lady Angel
