I FEEL THAT IT IS UNFAIR TO NOT GIVE REPRESENTATION AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO THE OTHER FAITHFUL REVIEWERS, Yasminasfeir1, Scylla's Revenge, AND A PAIR OF GUESTS BY THE NAME OF Jo AND Labaguette. YOU ALL MAKE WRITING SSSOOO MUCH FUNNER, DUE TO THE FACT THAT I GET TO HEAR YOUR FEEDBACK. IT'S ALWAYS SUPER ENCOURAGING TO KNOW THAT PEOPLE LOVE A STORY YOU PUT A LOT OF EFFORT AND TIME INTO. GENUINELY MAKES MY DAY. HONESTLY, IT DOES.
GOD BLESS AND GOOD DAY!
~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER
The ride was uneventful and quickly getting darker. No one seemed to want to talk, and that I understand. Gandalf advised that our journey should be as secretive as possible, after all. Eomer rides beside me and we can't stop glancing at each other and smirking. Whatever it is that we are right now...I like it a lot. There was no pressure to move faster than we wished to or do something we don't want to do. We were in clear agreement on our boundaries and would respect them until the wedding night, if that's how this all ends.
If we survive long enough to get married. I shake myself out of my thoughts and focus. We were halting at the edge of the forest and I didn't see why. Suddenly, I saw Gandalf rising on unconcerned. So we (Eomer and I, that is) followed him, and the rest came after, some reluctantly, some without hesitation, like Theoden. The King seemed to trust Gandalf enough that he would enter the forest after the wizard, even when others weren't inclined to do so. Eomer and I were of a similar mindset, riding after Gandalf without so much as a backward glance to see if we were followed. The forest was still lit enough for us to see in the dusk, but that light fades rather quickly. Up ahead I hear Gimli and Legolas (once again sharing a horse) talking about the woods. Legolas seemed to want to stop and admire the views, but the dwarf was urging his companion to continue on. He seemed almost afraid of the woods.
"Gimli, it's fine. This wood is beautiful, in its own way, I think. Although, there is a strange...something in the air."
"That would be the huorns' anger at the ransacking of the forest and the resurgence of the Orcs in their lands." Gandalf replies. I nod.
"This place is incredible." I mumble, looking around.
"It is rather intriguing. I see now why the legends warned travelers and wanderers to be wary of entering this place." Eomer adds, nodding. We ride on in silence, except for Legolas and Gimli, who goes on and on about the Caves. I smile. It was a new side of the dwarf that had not revealed itself to me until now.
"Lassie, you can verify my tale, can you not?" He asks eagerly halfway through his description. I purse my lips.
"Not really. I mean, they were gorgeous, but I did not have as thorough a tour of them as you seem to have had. I was only there briefly and when I was, only as far as my business took me." I explain. "What I saw was up to Gimli's description, though." Gimli nods and the pair strike a deal that if they survive, they would go back to both Fangorn Forest and to the Glittering Caves and see if the other's love of the two places was earned or not. I look at Eomer and laugh as we continue riding at an easy but good pace.
"There are eyes!" Legolas cries suddenly. I whirl my head around (grimacing when the movement pulls on my shoulder) and find that there were indeed eyes watching us. Deep, strong eyes that seemed to be reading more than our hair color and body language. I shiver a little under their gaze. "I have never seen such eyes before." He notes like someone entranced and hardly in control of themselves.
"Legolas!" I hiss, even as Gimli protests the elf wheeling their horse around to follow the eyes. "No!" Gandalf then turns, as well.
"Stay, Legolas Greenleaf!" He barks. "Do not go back into the wood, not yet! Now is not your time." Even as Gandalf finished speaking and Legolas returned, out from the woods came three...I'm not entirely sure how to describe them. They look like a kind of blend between man and tree, walking unhurriedly out to see us, but no further. It's unlike anything I've ever seen and I am unsure if I am the only one to have seen it.
"Gandalf?" I ask, nodding toward it. He looks and smiles. There is then the sound like clear, small horns being blown as the three beings cup their many-fingered hands to their mouths. The call (it's obvious that that's what it was) was answered and the three things were joined by many of the same species, each as unique as one human is from one another; clearly the same species, but vastly different in looks, one from another. Eomer and Theoden and the few Rohirrim with us put hands to their sword hilts, gasping aloud in awe and wonder. I myself am rendered speechless and awestruck.
"You need no weapons." Gandalf informs us. "They are not enemies, merely herdsmen. In fact, they are not concerned with us at all." Theoden then looks at Gandalf incredulously.
"'Herdsmen'?" He asks. "Where are their flocks?"
"And what are they, Gandalf?" I ask, accidentally interjecting on Theoden, but no one seems to notice. "You seem to have already met them."
"They are the Ents of Fanghorn Forest, sheppards of the trees." Gandalf replies. "Theoden and those of Rohan here should know them, as well, or has their songs and legends been forgotten, and the name in your tongue of 'Entwood' thought to be given in idle fancy? Nay, Theoden. To them, you are but the passing tale; all the years between Eorl the Young and Theoden the Old are little count to them, and all the deeds of your house a small matter." Theoden frowns, silent for several moments. Eomer, too, sits silent and thoughtful.
"The Ents were really interesting to look at, at any rate." I muse off-handedly. I had never been one to stand silence in the middle of a conversation for very long. Gandalf looks amusedly at me while we wait for someone to reply.
"They were indeed, Rowena." Theoden replies slowly. "Ents. Out of the shadow of legend I begin a little to understand the marvel of the trees, I think. I have lived to see strange days. Songs we have that tell of these things, but we are forgetting them, teaching them to our children only as a careless custom. And now the songs have come down among us and walk visible under the sun." Beside me, Eomer lets his uncle do the talking, nodding in agreement at various points.
"You should be glad, Theoden King." Gandalf replies. "For not only is the life of Men endangered, but the life of those things which you have deemed the matter of legend." I frown.
"How is that supposed to make him happy?" I ask before I can stop myself. Gandalf gives me a look that reminds me so much of my Seanathair (Grandfather), that I felt a twinge of hurt in my chest. He had been an amazing granddad and I miss him every now and again. Suddenly, I see a big resemblance between the two men that's hard to ignore. I fall silent.
"He is not without allies, even if he knows them not." Gandalf replies. I nod as Theoden sighs.
"Yet also I should be sad." He remarks. "For however the war ends, may it not be that much that was fair and wonderful shall pass for ever out of Middle-Earth?"
"It may." Gandalf replies. Quite a sobering thought. "The evil of Sauron cannot be wholly cured, nor made as if it had not been. But to such days we are doomed. Let us now go on with the journey we have begun." And so we do, left to our own thoughts.
For me, I can't help but think of my grandad, for the first time in years. When I was eight, he had been sickening, and then he was gone. I hardly remember him now, sadly. What I do remember strikes me as very similar to Gandalf; wise, but not aloof to others. Realistic, but not pessimistic. In general, a nice guy to hang around. What made this sudden revelation happen, I don't really know. I like it, though. Seanathair was a great guy. Gandalf is a great guy- -er, Wizard- -, as well.
"You're giving Gandalf a strange look." Eomer notes softly. He's smiling at me and I grin back.
"Oh, it's nothing. I was just thinking that Gandalf reminds me of my Seanathair, my grandfather."
"'Seanathair'?" Eomer asks, testing the word out. I nod.
"It is Scotland's native tongue's word for 'grandfather." I explain.
"And what would the word for 'uncle' be?" He asks. I think for a moment. It had been a while since I used gaelic for anything but cursing.
"Uncail." I reply. He frowns.
"Interesting." I chuckle.
"Not every word can be as fun to say as 'Seanathair', Eomer." I tease. "By the way, you would be called Theoden's 'nia'." I add. He smirks.
"Sounds a little feminine." I shrug.
"I didn't make the language." I muse and we ride on in companionable silence. In the twilight, we hear crows as they descend on the carnage. I grimace. I'd never liked crows. I just...they kinda freaked me out.
"The carrion will be busy on the battlefield." Eomer mutters. I nod.
"They must be having a feast." By now, the moon is just coming up.
"They always do, after a battle." I nod, frowning in distaste. It was true, no matter how unsettled it made me.
"What is it that troubles you?" Eomer asks. I hadn't realized I was still frowning.
"In plays meant to be creepy in my land, they use crows to set the scene. I guess that's why the carrion birds unsettle me." I explain. Eomer nods.
"They have crows in cages?" I smile.
"Something like that. It's hard to explain." I reply. He nods. Then notices that the creek is sluggish and tiny.
"This is become a dreary place." He muses grimly. "What sickness has befallen the river?"
"This is a river?" I ask. "I'd hardly call this a creek." Eomer nods.
"Once, it was a mighty river. I wonder what has happened. Many fair things Saruman has destroyed. Has he devoured the springs of Isen, too?"
"So it would seem." Gandalf replies. Theoden looks around and grimaces.
"Alas!" He cries. "Must we pass this way, where carrion-beasts devour so many Riders of the Mark?" Gandalf then points to a mound surrounded by many, many spears.
"Here lie all the Men of the Mark that fell near this place." Gandalf says sadly.
"Here let them rest." Eomer replies, sighing heavily. "And when their spears have rotted and rusted, long stil may they stand guard over the Fords of Isen." I reach over and pat his shoulder comfortingly. I didn't care if people draw the (accurate) conclusion that we are more than mere friends. He was hurt, as a good leader should be, by any loss, even if he didn't know these people. We rode on, harder now, across a large open pathway of sorts beside a highway-ish thing. The wayside was better ground to ride over than the actual road, so that's what we did. By midnight, Eomer told me we were about five leagues beyond the fords with the mound of fallen Rohir. We're making great progress.
"The more I hear of your world, the more I wish to visit it." I can't help but laugh at the seemingly random comment.
"Oh, man. Um...it would be very...disorienting for you, I'm afraid, darling." I reply. "There is technology that does not exist here and would be so different from what you're used to, you'd be overwhelmed." Eomer cocks his head.
"Oh? Pray tell. I am most intrigued." I frown, thinking of what to tell him.
"Um…for one thing, there are vehicles that run on a chemical called methane. They don't need horses to move at great speeds and they have lights that shine out in darkness to allow the driver to continue driving after dark without worrying about a torch going out." I say after a moment, fumbling a little for words as I go along. "They have devices called radios that produce songs and music, ah, sent out on a kind of signal that radios can pick up and play out loud."
"The driver can control which songs and when they come out of this device?" Eomer asks. I nod.
"Kinda. With little buttons on it." He chuckles.
"I must admit, it is a trifle confusing and certainly unusual. I enjoyed it, however. Did you ever drive one of these machines?"
"Yep! I drove a somewhat small one that could hold four people. It was painted green, called a truck, and had a storage space off the back. I put a backpack I used for my schoolbooks in there unless it was raining or snowing." I reply. He smiles.
"I would like to see these machines." I chuckle.
"Yeah. They are called cars and would be so helpful here." I reply. "We could probably have been at Isengard by now if we were driving one." His eyes widen.
"Indeed?" He asks. "A mighty feat, indeed. Isengard lays fifteen leagues away, at least." I frown.
"How far is a league? Is it miles? Feet? Inches?" Eomer considers this for a moment.
"I have heard it calculated as the distance a man can walk in an hour." I nod, running through how long that would be in miles.
"So...I'd guess roughly three miles. Maybe three and a half." I then scrunch my eyes closed as I try and use math to convert fifteen leagues into miles. "So Isengard is...um...like, 52 miles away." Eomer laughs.
"Somehow, it seems less of a distance when presented in miles." I frown.
"I guess." I then stifle a yawn even as Gandalf calls for a halt. Eomer looks up and spots something that makes him frown. I look up cock my head at the sight of a large column of steam, thicker than any I'd ever seen, intermingling with smoke.
"What do you make of that, Gandalf?" Aragorn asks worriedly, nodding to the plumes. "One would say all of the Wizard's Vale is burning." He adds. Gandalf frowns, but Eomer replies first.
"There is ever a fume above the valley these days." He muses sourly. "But I have never seen aught like this before. These are mainly steams, not smokes. Saruman is brewing some devilry to greet us. Maybe he is boiling all the waters of Isen and that is why the river is dry." He goes on. I frown.
"Kinda pointless speculating without more data, at least. If I were to guess, I'd say fires were just put out or something similar, but even that wouldn't account for that much steam and smoke." Gandalf grins at me, once more bringing to mind Seanathair with his gentle, proud smile.
"How remarkably perceptive you are, my dear. In any case, we must wait until tomorrow to see what he is doing. Now let us take a rest, if we can." And so, we dismounted our tired steeds and tied them to a fallen log that fortunately had many knots and broken-off branches which were perfect for the reins. I grabbed my satchel (you thought I'd left it, didn't you?) and unpacked the bedroll, rolling it out gratefully and curling up in it. Eomer knew better than to sleep too close and as such I was wont of his company, but soon fell asleep.