Chapter XXV: Back to Lothlórien

It was time to contact again her Mistress.

A few days had passed since the encounter with Treebeard, and other conversations, which had completed the picture of the story concerning the disappearance of the Entwives, had followed the first one. By now, Nerwen was persuaded that they had fled during the terrible war, when the Last Alliance between Elves and Men had overthrown Sauron's armies, at the end of the Second Age, and that they had gone as far as possible, somewhere into the east. The only clue she had, was the great red mountain range she had glimpsed at, once in the Mirror of Galadriel and twice through her Second Sight.

Mindful of the previous time, before proceeding the Maia had some energy food prepared, in this case some acacia honey, fetched by her generous and attentive host, and walnuts, hazelnuts, pine nuts, and the always excellent lembas.

Nerwen laid back on her mattress in the Ent-house; she had warned Treebeard about what she was going to do, so that he wouldn't worry about her staying motionless like dead. She closed her eyes and visualised a door, beyond which she imagined Yavanna waiting. She knocked and a few moments later the door opened; her Mistress appeared on the threshold, smiling at her affectionately. They embraced, while around them the garden of Yavanna's palace in Valimar appeared.

N erwen, my dearest, I am so happy to see you, the Valië said, sitting her on a near wooden bench, placed in front of a pond surrounded by large lilac flowers.

I, too, am happy to see you, Yavanna, the Maia said, I wanted to update you, because I have some news.

Tell me, Yavanna exhorted her.

Therefore, Nerwen reported her the departure from Rivendell, the inconclusive stopover at Rhosgobel in the hope to find Radagast, the assault of the werewolves and the providential intervention of Beorn; the news that in Middle-earth Skin-changers still existed surprised Yavanna agreeably, as Nerwen had been, too. Her account went on with the arrival at Lothlórien and Galadriel's and Celeborn's welcome, and the poignant encounter with her niece Arwen, perfect living image of Lúthien.

Does she really look so alike her?, Yavanna asked, more stunned than doubtful of her disciple's words.

She does, Nerwen confirmed, except for the eyes, blue instead of grey-green.

Melian never truly accepted the destiny her daughter has chosen for herself, the Valië considered, Mayhap, knowing about Arwen, she will find a little comfort.

The Maia felt a twinge in her chest and she realised that perhaps Arwen's fate would be similar to Lúthien's. Melian's daughter had chosen a mortal life to be with her beloved Beren; and Arwen could make the same choice for the love of Aragorn. The future wasn't decided yet, but the way she had seen them – partners for life – left little doubt.

I don't know, she said gloomily, My Second Sight revealed that Arwen seems to be destined to repeat Lúthien's case: she, too, could be lost for the Eldar and choose the Fate of Men for the love of a mortal. Perhaps it's better not telling anything to Melian, so her grief won't be renewed.

Yavanna pondered on what her disciple had said.

You are right, she agreed in the end, better save her this sorrow.

After a short pause, Nerwen went on, telling her Mistress about the White Council and Galadriel's anxieties, and about her Mirror and what she had seen in it. Involuntarily, she thought of Beriadir, too, and Yavanna smiled.

I am glad you found someone helping you to ease the sadness that having to give up on Thorin caused you, she said.

Finally, Nerwen got to the most important part of her update: the meeting with Treebeard. Yavanna tensed, anxious to receive at last news about her creatures.

So few remain… she whispered, sorrowful, when the Istar finished, And the Entwives, vanished thousands of years ago… There is no future, for them.

Until they stay separated, so it is, Nerwen confirmed, but the vision I had in the Mirror of Galadriel gives me hope.

They could just be more male Onodrim, the Queen of Earth objected. Nerwen nodded:

They could, she admitted reluctantly, but I want to believe that instead they are the females. The look of the landscape I've seen would suggest it: a well-cultivated land, like a garden, what the Entwives prefer, while the Ents love better the wild forests.

It is surely possible that this is the case, Yavanna agreed, but you need to go there and verify.

I'll do it, the Istar declared firmly, This will give back to the Ents the hope for future, and therefore a reason to feel involved again in Middle-earth's cause and to intervene, if needed, should Sauron arise again. Therefore, even the Entwives might want to play their part.

Yavanna nodded slowly.

Since you left, one year ago, she said, I felt his menace growing, like a pressure at the bottom of my mind. The earth itself perceives it. Now I have no more doubts: Sauron is gathering his forces to launch an attack. Warn the White Council: they shall not tarry any longer.

I'll tell them, Nerwen answered.

Good; now tell me about your plans about the search for the Entwives, Yavanna exhorted her.

I'll begin with the itinerary the vision in the Mirror of Galadriel suggested, the Maia said, I'll go to Dorwinion, cross the Sea of Rhûn and Eryn Rhûn, and then I'll look for that strange red mountain range, beyond which I've seen what I hope is the land of the Entwives.

It will be surely a very long journey, the Queen of Earth considered, in wild and little-known places. It will be quite dangerous.

I can see that, Nerwen agreed, but the help of olvar and kelvar already proved highly valuable, and I have no doubt it'll continue.

Indeed: you can always count on them, should you be in need of help, the Valië confirmed.

The most relevant subject being now exhausted, Nerwen asked about her sister, and she was reassured she was fine. She asked to her Mistress, too, if she could bring word of Galadriel to her father Finarfin and her daughter Celebrían, and Yavanna gladly accepted to do so.

They were about to part, when a deep rumble resonated in the distance, and the floor under their feet shook violently like for an earthquake.

What's going on? the Istar asked, alarmed: she didn't think that in the psychic world where she and Yavanna communicated – somehow similar to Olorendor, the Land of Dreams – there could be true dangers, but this sound was really scary, and the feeling of the earth teetering was highly disturbing.

A rip in the space-time, Yavanna answered, distraught, Sauron is drawing from dangerous energies in order to increase his power. I fear he is under such a terrible attack, he panicked and now he is defending himself with all he can find, even what could destroy Eä's fabric itself! Wait… Yavanna paused; her face became like stone because of the intense concentration, It is not now, but it will happen in a near future. And the result has been his downfall, but only apparently: actually he was able to escape.

Nerwen noticed that the Valië had suddenly changed verb tense from future to past and felt confused: the battle, which eco they just heard, had already taken place, or not yet?

Yavanna's next words unravelled immediately the mystery:

The damage to the space-time fabric had it seriously altered, Nerwen: you cannot go back in the same time you left, but only after the battle, when the damage is fixed. Months have passed. You left your body in a safe place, did you not?

Sure: in Treebeard's Ent-house, the Istar answered, troubled, Thilgiloth and Calad will be terribly distressed, she considered, worried, let alone Treebeard…

The Queen of Earth extended again her senses of Valië to see if it was somehow possible to move up Nerwen's return, but she saw no chance.

Go, my friend, she exhorted her, Do not worry, nothing happened to your body: it is in complete stasis, but the long stillness has debilitated it and you will have some trouble to move, at the beginning. Be careful and take all the time you need to recover, she suggested.

Nerwen nodded; then, Yavanna embraced her.

May the road rise to meet you, she wished her, like the last time; then slowly she and the garden vanished.

OOO

Opening her eyes, Nerwen found herself in Wellinghall; she looked around: it was day, and the light seeped through the ceiling of branches in the not covered section of the Entish house. Calad was close by, roosted on a perch made of two twigs, criss-crossed and tied together, her head under her wing, as if sleeping. Nerwen sent out her thought to her feathered friend, who started suddenly and looked at her.

You're back!, she rejoiced, You're awake!

She took off to land next to her arm and rubbed her head against her hand, in an affectionate gesture.

How long did I sleep? Nerwen enquired. Good Valar, she was so thirsty she could dry out the Anduin, not to mention how much hungry she was…

Four lunar cycles have passed, Calad answered. End of October, the Aini immediately computed.

I go and call the others, the hawk announced, jumping in the air and going away flittering along the passage lined by the trees, which leaves had acquired the colours of the fall livery.

Soon after, announced by a pounding hoom, hrum, hum, Treebeard arrived at full speed, Calad in front and Thilgiloth close behind. The Ent stopped next to her pallet and watched her intently.

"Well, well, I see you are back," he considered, "Buràrum, you wandered for months in a limbo from which we were not able to awake you! How do you feel?"

"Thirsty," Nerwen squawked, her throat completely parched. She was also starving, but in those conditions she would never be able to swallow anything.

Quickly, Treebeard fetched some water from the spring and took it to the Istar; he looked positively hasty, showing how much he was worried.

Nerwen sat up and took the jar the Ent was handing her, but she was so weakened, she wasn't able to rise it; therefore, Treebeard helped her, using very carefully one of his huge fingers. The Maia took a sip, then another, and another, trying not to gulp down too quickly and choke. The Ent-draught gave her instantly strength, enough to let her keeping the jar by herself and draining it in a few swigs. The energy of the magical liquid filled her, like a heat wave radiating from her stomach to her limbs, until the tips of her fingers and toes.

"Better," Nerwen whispered; she handed back the jar to Treebeard, who filled it up again, and then brought it back to her. Nerwen took another couple of swigs, slower, and then she looked around.

"I'm so hungry, I'd swallow down a whole Oliphant!" she cried, hoarsely. Treebeard burst into a thundering laughter, and she got feelings of relief and amusement from Calad and Thilgiloth.

You had us terribly worried! the Chargeress told her, reproachful, What happened? Why did you sleep so long?

"While I was speaking with Kementári, Sauron disrupted the fabric of the world," Nerwen explained, trying to simplify the concept, so that it could be comprehensible to her interlocutors who, unlike her, didn't witness the Music of the Ainur that created the universe, and therefore couldn't know how it worked, "This prevented me to come back in my body at the time I left it, and I was able to do so only now. I'm so sorry I worried you, my friends, but I couldn't help it."

"It's not your fault, Lady Nerwen," Treebeard reassured her, "Now think about getting your strength back."

"Lembas," the Istar suggested, pointing at her backpack, close by on the same shelf she had slept on for all those weeks. Thilgiloth, who was nearer, slid it toward her pushing it with her muzzle; Nerwen opened it and took out a bundle of the Elven crackers, which in its mallorn leaf had stayed fresh and crispy as if just baked. She wolfed down a whole one, occasionally alternating a swig of Ent-draught to the mouthfuls. Soon enough, her strength was back and she dared to move some steps; her muscles, which had stayed still for so long, hardly responded to her solicitations: she would need a number of days, before they would return in shape like they had been.

"Sauron disrupted the fabric of the world?" Treebeard enquired, "Hroom… as a matter of fact, some days ago I felt a great disquietude in the earth. By branch and root! Maybe the Dark Enemy has been attacked and he did not expect it, therefore he reacted in confusion and panic, creating a disturbance in the forces of the universe," he looked at Nerwen, who was swallowing up the last crumbs of the Elven cracker, "Am I right?"

The Maia nodded.

"I don't know the details," she said, "but Kementári, too, thought so. Besides, I know for sure that Lady Galadriel pressured the Council to launch an attack to Dol Guldur, trying to wipe out the presence of the Dark Enemy from that place. But I have to go back to Lothlórien to know for sure."

"You are in no condition to go nowhere, for now," Treebeard considered, looking at her while she was trying to move some more stumbling steps, probing her own strength.

"I see," Nerwen admitted with a sigh, going back to sit on the shelf she used as a bed, "I'll wait until I'll recover…"

OOO

Nerwen was able to leave Wellinghall the fourth day of November; Treebeard escorted her, leading her directly northward along the foot of the Misty Mountains, in order to shorten the journey as much as possible. In just three days they reached the Limlight, in this place nothing more than a large brook, and forded it, ultimately reaching the northern margin of Fangorn Forest in a rainy day. Here, Treebeard halted, looking northeast, towards Lothlórien.

"The time for me to leave my forest has not yet come," he said slowly, "nor for the Ents to reveal themselves again to the world. Please, don't disclose our presence here, for the moment, not even to your friends, the Elves."

From under the hood of her cloak, Nerwen looked Treebeard straight in the eyes, where green lights floated, flashing lively.

"I doubt I can keep a secret, to the piercing gaze of the Lady of the Golden Wood," she said quietly. Treebeard mused about it: he knew Galadriel and her perspicacity.

"You are right, Lady Nerwen," he admitted, "but should the Lady of the Galadhrim guess even what you will not tell her, beg her not to speak to anyone about it, except Lord Celeborn."

"Alright," the Istar accepted, "As you wish, my friend."

"Thank you, Ancient One," the Ent then said, conferring her again the formal title his race used for Nerwen's, "I thank you so much for taking up to find the Entwives, and therefore I name you, here and now, Friend of the Ents."

Touched, Nerwen addressed him a clumsy bow from Thilgiloth's back:

"You honour me highly, Shepherd of the Trees," she said, using, she too, the formal title, "I hope I'll succeed."

"I hope it, too, with all my heart… even if, knowing the history, I confess I do not dare hoping too much," he sighed, and it sounded like the blow of the wind in the chimney of a great hearth, "It was an honour and a pleasure to meet you, and I hope we will be able to meet again under better circumstances."

"So do I," the Aini replied, "Meanwhile, may the stars shine upon your path."

"And upon yours," Treebeard answered, bowing stiffly.

Nerwen spurred Thilgiloth, who started pacing under the rain, followed by the quiet Thalion; Calad took off flying in front of them, taking on again her task for scouting.

Treebeard stayed and watched them go, until they disappeared behind a fold of the terrain; then he turned and marched back into Fangorn's depths. Many years would pass before he would meet again other two-legged beings wandering in his forest, and those would bring a great turmoil in his life and in his kindred's…

OOO

Celeborn and Galadriel received Nerwen immediately, in private; the Lady of the Wood told her that, soon after the Istar's departure for Fangorn, she had called for the White Council; in that occasion, Saruman had finally given his consent to attack Dol Guldur. Mithrandir had taken on the task to lead the army of the Galadhrim, and two weeks ago the battle had taken place, fiercely fought by weapons and Power; when they were about to win, Sauron drew to the essence itself of Eä to launch a desperate counterattack, which Mithrandir had been able to hold back only thanks to the Power contained in Narya, assisted by the one of Nenya brandished by Galadriel. Yavanna had been right, Nerwen thought: Sauron had used very dangerous energies in the effort to win the battle. Luckily, he didn't succeed, nor the damage on the fabric of Eä had been irreparable, even if it had cost her a time leap of almost four months.

Anyway, Sauron had been defeated and forced to leave his fortress, escaping to a still unknown destination.

Nerwen was sorry she had been unable to be there, not so much for the help she could give in battle – indeed scarce – but for the opportunity to see Gandalf; her Second Sight had told her they would meet again soon, before another long separation, but it hadn't been like that; after all, the future isn't immutable, except in very broad terms. If she wasn't speaking with Yavanna in that precise moment, she would have come back to Lothlórien much sooner and therefore her vision would have become true; but it had been otherwise. At this point, she would meet her best friend again only in many years, and she was sorry about it.

"Too bad we cannot annihilate him," Galadriel complained at the end of the recount of the battle, referring to Sauron, "No force in this world can. Only the destruction of the One Ring can do it, but it has been lost so much time ago and it hasn't been found anymore…"

Nerwen grimaced.

"What's been lost, must be found," she considered, gloomily. Celeborn watched her intently, concerned:

"Your Second Sight gave you some hints about it?"

Surprised, Nerwen reciprocated his alarmed gaze:

"Hum, not really: I was just quoting the old proverb."

What she didn't know – what at the moment nobody knew – was that the One Ring had already been found, and by the maybe most unlikely creature in all Middle-earth; but this would be revealed only in a number of decades.

And therefore, unaware of this, they changed subject.

"How was your search in Fangorn?" Galadriel enquired.

"I made a remarkable encounter," the Istar answered, well aware it would be useless to try keeping something from her old friend's sharp gaze, "but I'm not at liberty to talk about it. Anyway, as a result, my mission will go on in Wilderland, far away eastward, beyond the known territories. Do you remember my vision in the Mirror, Galadriel?" the Lady of the Galadhrim nodded in confirmation, "Well, that's where I must go."

"We're sorry you cannot tell us about what you found in Fangorn," Celeborn said, "but of course we won't insist, if you have to keep it private. With regard to what concerns the continuation of your mission, it's not advisable travelling during wintertime, unless it's about very serious and urgent business: if you like, you can spend here the cold months and leave again in spring."

"Thank you, Lord Celeborn," Nerwen accepted gratefully, "Luckily my task isn't that much impelling to force me travelling in the bad season."

OOO

Nerwen had her previous quarters back. Elladan and Elrohir had returned to Rivendell, but Arwen still dwelt by her maternal grandparents and was more than glad to see her aunt again, whom she had become so attached in no time.

The day after her return to Caras Galadhon, Nerwen went looking for Beriadir, but she didn't find him. Calad offered to keep an eye on his flet, but she didn't see the handsome Silvan Elf that day, nor in the following ones; he had to be on duty somewhere along the frontier of the Golden Wood.

S ome days later, on an afternoon, Nerwen was in Arwen's sitting room, playing teliad with her, an ancient board game consisting in getting out of the chessboard all of your pieces before the adversary did. Both the player were very good at it, and they were having fun in beating each other more or less equally, when Calad perched on the sill of the closed window and tapped on the glass with her beak to draw their attention. Nerwen stood up and opened the window, even if to communicate there was no need to do so.

Beriadir is back, the hawk announced, I saw him arriving.

"Thank you, my friend," Nerwen said, smiling gladly: she was truly looking forward to see again her friend-in-love, but decided not rushing to him: if he just came back from his guard duty, he surely needed to freshen up, grab something to eat, rest. She would send him a note, inviting him to her as soon as it suited him best.

Beriadir didn't make her wait a long time: less than two hours later, he showed up at the palace and was taken to Nerwen's room, and she joined him after a few minutes. As soon as he saw her on the threshold, his ocean-blue eyes sparkled and he beamed one of his dazzling smiles.

"Mae govannen, Nerwen," he murmured, getting near her in a few quick paces. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly.

Of course, on that evening the Istar sent her apologies to her hosts for not being able to dine with them.

OOO

Nerwen spent the winter alternatively in the palace or at Beriadir's, according to his guard duties; by the end of January, one late afternoon a messenger arrived, carrying a letter of Mithrandir to Nerwen. The Maia didn't expect receiving news from her old friend, and quickly retired to her room to read in private, by candlelight. Beriadir was patrolling the northeast border of Lothlórien, on the river Nimrodel, and would return in a couple of days.

My beloved Nerwen, Gandalf began in his elegant calligraphy, I write to you from Beorn's hall; he is harbouring me for the cold season along with Bilbo Baggins, while we are returning to the Shire; I learned that, during you journey, you met them both, and they send their greetings to you.

Apart from that, I would like to tell you that it is a pleasure to write to you, but unfortunately this is not the case, because I have news that I know will grieve you.

As you know, Thorin Oakenshield had a mission to accomplish, which now I have the liberty to reveal to you: win back his lost realm of Erebor, destroyed by the dragon Smaug over one hundred and seventy years ago. And he did it; Smaug is dead – even if not by his hand – and the Realm Under the Mountain has been restored. As a result, a terrible battle occurred, involving five armies, and even if it ended with the victory of Dwarves, Elves and Men against Orcs and Werewolves, we paid a dreadful price: almost one third of our forces has been killed, among which, sadly, also Thorin himself, and with him his nephews Fili and Kili, his heirs, fallen while defending him.

The letter slipped from her suddenly weakened fingers. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and began to flow down her cheeks, now ashen-pale.

Thorin… killed!

The pain she was feeling surprised her: after all, she had always been aware that Thorin would eventually die, being mortal. This was what affected her so much, when she had left him in Bree: even if they would meet again and be together, it would last only the time of Thorin's lifespan, very long, as he was a Dwarf, but nonetheless limited. However, Nerwen had hoped for him a long and prosperous life, and his premature death grieved her deeply.

She took up again Gandalf's letter, her hands shaking, and tried to be strong enough to go on reading.

This happened the third-and-twentieth day of November. Now, their cousin Dáin Ironfoot is King Under the Mountain.

My dearest friend, I wasn't aware your encounter had generated affection, between you and Thorin. During the long months we spent together, he never told me, but this doesn't surprise me, knowing how jealous he was of his feelings, especially the deepest ones. He revealed it to me before parting from this world; his last words have been for you: "Tell her that my heart was hers. Tell her that, would I have lived, I would have asked her to be my queen. I hope she will keep the memory of me and of the time we spent together in Bree."

Again, Nerwen had to stop reading, because tears prevented her to see. She closed her eyes and cried for a long time, bitterly.

She would never forget him. In her heart, there would always be a special place for Thorin Oakenshield, Dwarven prince, Durin's Heir, King Under the Mountain.

Namárië, Thorin…

OOO

Author's corner:

The teliad (Sindarin, meaning simply "game") is an invention of mine, and its rules are inspired by the Egyptian senet, one of the most ancient board games in history.

The news of Thorin's death traumatised me; obviously, I knew perfectly that it had to occur, but describing Nerwen's grief was devastating, and again, her tears have been my tears… Luckily, there's Beriadir to comfort her, a character I specifically created for this purpose: I didn't want her to confront this great sorrow alone.

From the next chapter on, we'll leave the known lands of Midde-earth to enter the far less known Wilderland: so far, Nerwen's adventures have been relatively easy, favoured by persons and places more or less familiar, but from now on it won't be the case any longer and things will grow more difficult…

Thanks to all those who are following this fan fiction: please let me know if you're enjoying it! Hugs to everybody!

Lady Angel