Chapter LIV: The Land Between the Rivers
The following day, they departed for the river delimiting the northern border of the alleged land of the Entwives.
Even if Aryon's presence allowed her to focus only on the elsewhere, as he could take care of the here, the Aini couldn't keep her thoughts extended for too many hours in a row, therefore the explored area was forcibly smaller than the distance they would actually be able to scour; but they didn't want to take any chance to miss the Entwives, maybe by a hair.
"If nothing else, this land is truly beautiful," Nerwen observed, when they camped at night. Aryon, who was stirring the stew he was cooking, made with a rabbit he had shot that same afternoon, turned to look at her.
"Your capability to find the bright side in everything is amazing," he declared, moving to sit beside her, "It's one of your qualities I love best."
The Istar smiled at him:
"Sometimes I,too, got discouraged," she admitted, "but never for long. It's typical of my character, wanting to find a ray of light in the deepest darkness."
"I'm quite the opposite," the prince admitted. Nerwen's smile broadened:
"But I love you anyway!"
He cast her a quick glance.
"Thank the Valar!" he grumbled; a tiny smile danced at the corners of his mouth in a way the Aini found always adorable.
Their character difference could have been a source of conflict, between them; but instead they had turned it in a strong point of their relationship, because where one exceeded, the other mitigated, and where one didn't work something out, the other did. They completed and enriched one another. This didn't exclude small quarrels, on occasion, but they were always trifles, quickly sorted out with the simple use of common sense from both sides. Even at the very beginning, when they had clashed, more than met, on the shores of the Sea of Rhûn, this capability to understand each other had always been there – which now, in the light of the fact they were partners for life, looked obvious.
OOO
The next morning, they broke up camp and started for the day. In the afternoon, Nerwen perceived an awareness she thought she knew, but it was very faint because of the distance. She pulled at Thilgiloth's reins and the mare stopped immediately.
What's up? the Chargeress asked, moving her ears trying to catch unusual noises.
"I felt something," the Maia answered in a tense tone, speaking aloud to Aryon's benefit. The prince halted Allakos next to Thilgiloth.
"Hostile?" he enquired, his hand already on the hilt of his sword.
"Not at all," she reassured him, "but it's very far away; if I'll figure out in which direction it is, we could go and verify."
She closed her eyes to better focus and extended her thoughts at maximum range, moving them in a slow semicircle in front of her.
"There," she said at length, pointing straight northwards, "but I cannot make out the distance."
"We'll just have to find out," Aryon commented with a shrug. They spurred on their mounts and resumed their ride.
Half an hour later, Nerwen turned to her husband:
"I lost it… I don't perceive it anymore," she announced, frustrated.
"Did it move away?" Aryon asked, frowning, "Did it get scared?"
"But I sent only friendly thoughts!" she protested, "I don't see why it should get scared…"
"Mayhap your way to communicate made it uncomfortable," the prince reasoned. Nerwen pondered about it, then she nodded, agreeing.
"Too bad… it could have been an Entwife…" she murmured, slumping down her shoulders. Aryon felt very sorry for her.
"Come on, let's go on anyway," he encouraged her, "Mayhap it changes its mind and comes back toward us."
It was a faint hope, but better than nothing, Nerwen thought, therefore she nodded in acceptance.
Shortly before dusk, they reached the borders of a wood; Nerwen singled out yews, oaks, acacias, birches, beeches, ashes, chestnuts, walnuts, hazelnuts, maples and pines. There were very ancient trees, younger ones, and even very young ones; when the Istar probed them, she found traces of a great vitality that, even if dimmed by the winter rest, expressed a sensation of such wellbeing and joy, she smiled: the wood was healthy.
She told Aryon, who commented quietly:
"It could be a hint to the presence of the Entwives, couldn't it?"
Nerwen lighted up: she hadn't thought of this.
"That's true!" she cried, "It could actually be like that… Aryon, I feel we're so close…" she sighed, "Sometimes my Second Sight manifests in such a subtle way, I cannot distinguish if it's my own wish or an actual premonition."
The prince smelled the air.
"Anyway, it's time to stop for the night," he observed very practically, "Even because it's going to snow very soon."
Nerwen watched the almost dark sky, where the stars sparkled very brightly, as it is usual in winter nights.
"Is that so?" she asked, sceptically, "There are no clouds at all…"
"Trust me, it'll snow before dawn," he assured her, dismounting, "I smell it in the air."
"Oh," she uttered, amazed: she had never heard about someone who could smell snow, hence predicting its arrival; but she didn't question her husband's words, certain that he knew what he was saying.
"Better then pitch the tent in the cover of the trees," she said instead, pointing to an acacia with an umbrella-shaped crown that, even if leafless, had branches so thickly intertwined, they offered some shelter. So they set up their tent there, then they lighted a fire where Nerwen prepared one of her delicious soups with herbs, adding morsels of lembas that made it more substantial, while Thilgiloth, Allakos and Kerra grazed the hard winter grass and Túdhin went hunting for a prey.
They warned their four-legged friends about the upcoming snowfall, hence they, too, took shelter under the wide crown of the acacia; finally, they went to sleep, wrapped in their warm blankets and shared embrace.
OOO
When Aryon and Nerwen awoke, the next morning, the world outside their tent was particularly quiet, as it usually is after a snowfall; but in this climate, it was unlikely that the white covering would be so thick to justify this silence. Somewhat alarmed, Aryon reached out his hand and placed it on his sword – never too far from him – as the Maia was extending her thoughts outside; she immediately found her four-legged friends' minds, watchful but calm, and therefore she, too, relaxed.
Feeling Nerwen brushing her own consciousness, Thilgiloth told her serenely:
My friend, finally you're awake… There's someone here who would like to meet you.
At this point, the Istar extended her awareness even farther and met a very peculiar mental pattern. She sprang up sitting, suddenly excited.
At her abrupt movement, Aryon gripped the hilt of his sword, ready to wield it, but catching a glimpse of Nerwen's smile in the dim light inside the tent, he restrained himself.
"What is it?" he enquired under his breath.
"The Entwives," she answered simply; she threw her cloak over her shoulders and exited, her husband closely following her.
The landscape was blanketed in snow, but the white covering wasn't higher than three centimetres. However, Nerwen's eyes widened for another reason: even if she had perceived the Entwives' thoughts, she found herself unprepared for the sight that appeared before her when she came out of the tent: eight trees surrounded their small encampment… though they weren't trees. Motionless, they pointed to her their eyes, round and of different colours, from green to brown; their gazes where solemn, calm, completely avoid of menace, but the nervous flick they possessed, while going from her to Aryon as soon as he had appeared behind his wife, indicated a certain degree of disquiet.
The Avar prince, who had never seen an Onod in all his long life and, for the better part of it, had thought them a mere, foolish tale, stopped dead in his tracks; in his hand he was still clutching his sword – which for good measure he had taken with him – but he almost dropped it, his fingers suddenly limp.
Nerwen fought to find back her composure.
"Hail, Keepers of the Trees," she saluted them, talking in Entish and calling them with their formal title, "I am Nerwen the Green, follower of Kementári. I am honoured to meet you."
Saying so, she bowed. Aryon of course hadn't grasped a single word of her speech, which seemed to him very long and flowery, but he guessed the meaning when he saw her paying homage to the Entwives; he quickly did the same, bestowing them with the hail he granted only to the monarchs.
The Entwives were silent for a long time and Aryon began to feel worried.
"Why don't they respond?" he asked in a low voice.
"The Onodrim aren't hasty," she answered serenely; knowing them, she wasn't surprised if the reply was taking so long: they were surely elaborating the shock of hearing their language from someone who wasn't of their race, "Be patient, this will take a while."
After several minutes, the Entwife looking the oldest finally spoke.
"Hail to you," she answered, "I am Calenfinn. Hum, hoom. No one of other races speaks the tongue of the Onodrim, except our creator Kementári, of whom you claim to be a follower. Was it her, who taught it to you?"
"Yes," Nerwen confirmed, "she did."
Calenfinn watched her silently for a long time, while the implications of this news sank slowly into her awareness. Who was she, or better, what was her nature? She looked like one of the race of Men, but Calenfinn's sharp sight glimpsed a strange aura around her, something ethereal that went beyond the earthly sphere.
Nerwen reciprocated the Entwife's gaze with serene firmness; that wooden face didn't allow any emotions coming through, but after a while, in the green eyes lighting it, a series of feelings began whirling: surprise, incredulity, uncertainty, and finally reverence.
She had finally discerned in her a Maia.
"My friends," Calenfinn finally announced, addressing her companions, "this is an Ancient One. Let's honour her."
As she finished her speech, she bowed, bending stiffly. Astonished, Aryon saw all the Entwives lower their bare winter crowns in an unmistakable gesture of deference.
Nerwen noticed his confusion; she had foreseen that the Entwives could behave deferentially, as Treebeard had done at the time of her visit to Fangorn, therefore she had thought about a plausible explanation and now she gave it to him:
"I told them I'm a follower of Kementári; they needed some time to be convinced, but now they're paying me their respects."
The prince nodded, unaware that it was a domesticated truth.
"Do you speak Westron?" Nerwen asked, "For me it's hard speaking Entish and my companion doesn't speak it at all," she doubted the Entwives would possibly speak Avarin, but on the other hand, Aryon didn't know Sindarin nor Quenya – on which Entish was based – and therefore, the only option remained the Common Speech, "But I ask you not to reveal my true nature," she added quickly, "because I have not the permission to divulge it to those who do not recognise it by themselves."
Calenfinn, as it was typical of her race, pondered carefully over those words.
"Yes, I speak the Common Speech," she finally confirmed graciously, "even if it is a very hasty language and therefore we do not like to use it. And do not worry, your secret is safe with us."
"Thank you," the Istar then said, switching to Westron, then she pointed out the black-clad prince, "This is my husband, Aryon Morvacor, prince of the Avari Eldar."
At those words, which were finally intelligible for him, Aryon bowed again.
"Honoured to meet you," he declared, unaware he was repeating the same phrasing Nerwen had used.
"The honour is ours, Lord Aryon," Calenfinn reciprocated him courteously, then she addressed the Maia again, "We perceived your presence from a distance and we became intrigued," she paused, pensive, "I admit we felt rather alarmed, because never before did we hear the thoughts of another creature. Therefore, we came to check this out. Humm… We were surprised your kelvar did not get scared…"
She left the sentence unfinished, clearly perplexed by such a behaviour.
"I think it's because of Thilgiloth," Nerwen explained; the Chargeress, hearing her name, shook her blonde mane to identify herself and sent her a feeling of agreement, "She has encountered an Ent before, west of the Red Mountains, and she knows you're not evil creatures, so she reassured the other ones."
"Buràrum! You… encountered an Ent?" Calenfinn asked for confirmation, astounded; Nerwen nodded:
"It was him, the one who told me about your disappearance, which is the reason we were looking for you. However…" she shivered in the cold air, "for us, this temperature is uncomfortable: we'd like to light a fire and prepare a hot draught, if you don't mind."
"Of course… how rude of us to keep you in the cold! While you refresh yourselves, we will retire. Then we will speak."
The Entwives walked away, gathering not far away; they began talking among them in the slow, booming language of the Onodrim.
Nerwen turned to Aryon and saw him staring at the Entwives as if he wasn't still able to believe his own eyes.
"Well, my love, are they as you expected them?" she asked him sweetly. The prince tore off his gaze from Calenfinn and her companions to look at the Istar.
"Yes… and no," he answered slowly, then he shook his head and explained better, "Since I joined your search, I tried to imagine a thousand times how it would be to meet the female Onodrim, but the truth is, I didn't know what to expect. Not much for their looks – you don't need much to imagine a tree with two eyes and a mouth – but for the perception I'd have of them… Such ancient beings who make me feel young again… The thought that some of them are even older than me is… unsettling."
The Aini nodded, understanding his state of mind: as a race, the Ent were virtually older than the Eldar, because Yavanna had created them just after Aulë's Dwarves, but they awoke to conscience along with them, because Eru had decreed that the Elves would be his Firstborn and therefore no one could be born before them. Aryon was born at the beginning of the Second Age and had rarely met someone older than him; there were of course the High Elves coming from Aman, some of them – like Celeborn and Galadriel – were born during the Years of the Trees, or Círdan the Shipwright, but these people never went to the lands of the Avari.
"Now let's have breakfast," she exhorted him, "Then we'll talk again with the Entwives."
The prince nodded; he returned into their tent to get his sheath and put away his sword: he highly doubted that, despite all his fencing skills, he would be able to win in a confrontation with an Entwife, therefore holding his weapon was completely useless. When he exited, he found Nerwen busy lighting the fire; he helped her, getting the wood from under the cloth they had used to cover it the night before, knowing it would snow. While she was handling flint and steel, he filled up the small pot they used to boil water for their morning tea and, when the fire was burning, he put it there. They sat down on a blanket close to the fire and broke their fast with some de-hydrated fruit and lembas, drinking the bergamot tea that the Avari loved so much and that Nerwen, too, appreciated greatly.
A s they ate, Túdhin came near and laid down next to them, staring at them with his yellow eyes.
So these are the famous Entwives... he began, hesitantly, I'm... impressed.
Nerwen reported his statement to Aryon and the prince admitted:
"You're not the only one who's impressed, old friend."
"Yes, they're truly formidable beings," the Maia agreed, "One mustn't get mislead by their apparent slowness. They are kind by nature, but if they come to the point of unleashing their wrath, they can be more destructive than an avalanche and more devastating than a fire. And I assure you, the Entwives are no less than the Ents."
"Better make friends with them, then," Aryon commented wittily.
"They don't concede their friendship very easily," Nerwen revealed, then she chuckled, "In this, they resemble to the Avari..."
Aryon frowned, but she laughed, her eyes shining in amusement, and he cheered up immediately, realising it had been only a little tease.
Seeing them having finished their breakfast, Calenfinn came over to them, while the other Entwives remained back.
"We came to the decision it is better you meet our First Keeper," she began, "and talk directly to her."
"With pleasure," Nerwen promptly accepted, "We strike camp and follow you."
As Calenfinn withdrew, Aryon asked under his breath:
"Do you trust them?"
"Of course I do!" the Istar began vigorously, before realising that, after all, her husband didn't know the Ents at all and, before meeting her, he had always thought them just a fable good at most for children, so she went on more calmly, "The Onodrim aren't evil in nature, even if they can be corrupted by the Dark Power," she explained, recalling Old Woman Birch whom she met in Tom Bombadil's land, "but I would sense it. I probed Calenfinn and the other Entwives: they're trustworthy, even if it's surely not advisable irritating them with a disrespectful behaviour."
"I wouldn't even dream about it!" Aryon reassured her, "I just wanted to make sure we're not taking any risks," he brushed her arm, "I couldn't bear anything happening to you..."
Nerwen felt her heart shrink, because once more she couldn't reassure him completely about her safety. She covered his hand with hers:
"Don't worry, the Entwives respect me because I'm an Istar, and even more because I'm a follower of Yavanna Kementári, their creator. By virtue of this respect, also you and our four-legged friends are safe."
Aryon's bright eyes shone in amusement, as a grin bent one corner of his mouth.
"It's convenient, being in the company of a powerful Istar..." he said jestingly, making her smile.
They took down their tent and loaded their luggage on Kerra; the mule was glimpsing the Entwives anxiously, impressed by their stateliness, therefore Nerwen calmed her apprehension caressing her neck and sending her a reassuring feeling.
While Nerwen was buckling the girth of her saddle, Thilgiloth turned her head to look at her:
Finally we managed to find the Entwives! she commented cheerfully, It was about time, don't you think?
Surely, the Maia confirmed, nodding, But now comes the crucial part: convincing them they have an important role to play in the fight against Sauron. If they reason like their males, it won't be easy at all..."
She remembered all too well Treebeard's attitude, shared by the other Ents of Fangorn: because they thought that the world didn't care for them, they had decided that they didn't care for the world.
OOO
T hey needed the whole day to reach the place of the First Keeper's abode; in that time, they learnt that the Entwives called their territory Dor-im-Duin, which meant simply Land Between the Rivers.
They crossed a wood to the northeast, then they rode on in this direction until they reached a woody hill range stretching almost exactly from east to west. The peak at the end was the tallest, very steep and slightly detached from the other ones; a deep indentation cut it almost in half on the vertical direction. It was there where the Entwives led Aryon and Nerwen; it was the evening of the sixth day of January.
When they arrived in front of the entrance of the indentation, they saw a golden light with a greenish hue flowing out of it, very similar to the one Nerwen remembered in Treebeard's Ent-house.
"You can leave your mounts here," Olbranch, one of the Entwives escorting them, said.
"Mayhap we should set up our tent," Aryon suggested, pointing to the sun that was almost setting on the western horizon.
"In the meantime, I will go in and announce you," Calenfinn told them.
They unloaded their baggage from Kerra and took off Allakos and Thilgiloth's saddles; as they were about to pitch their tent, Calenfinn came back.
"The First Keeper awaits you," she reported, "and she invites you to be her guests for the night."
Aryon cast a perplexed glance to Nerwen, who countered it with an encouraging smile and an affirmative nod.
"Very kind of her," the prince commented, "but what about our furry friends?"
"If you wish, you can leave them here, they will be perfectly safe; but if you prefer, you can take them with you."
Nerwen appreciated this very much, but she wasn't sure that all their four-legged friends would feel comfortable in an underground Ent-house, therefore she delegated the decision directly to them:
"Dear friends, we have all been invited into the First Keeper's dwelling, but if you prefer, you can stay outdoors here."
I'll go with you, Thilgiloth announced immediately.
I come, too, Túdhin affirmed.
Allakos shook his mane and snorted:
I don't like the idea to be underground.
I don't like staying indoors, Kerra intervened, If you don't mind, I'd rather stay outdoors with Allakos...
Nerwen reported their choices to Aryon, who nodded, accepting them.
"They can graze freely," said Olbranch, who went along very well with kelvar, "I will take care of them."
"We are grateful for your service," Aryon thanked her.
He and Nerwen wrapped their tent around its poles and secured the straps, and then placed it beside the rest of their luggage next to the entrance; finally, they walked behind Calenfinn, followed by Túdhin and Thilgiloth.
The Entwife led them down a tunnel, skilfully carved out; the location was dry and healthy, because the rock was porous yellow tuff, insulating and breathing. Globes full of a liquid emitting a soft golden glow, similar to a summer moon, lighted the passage; Nerwen recalled the vessels in Treebeard's house, which illuminated the Entish abode with a green-golden radiance.
When they arrived at the bottom of the tunnel, they entered into an almost perfectly square cavity, with smooth walls full of the same previous globes that lit it brightly as daylight. A gush of water spurted from one of the corners, about halfway between the ground and the ceiling, pouring into a round basin carved into the floor and then flowing away on a small canal, parallel to the left wall, finally disappearing in a hole. A wide shelf occupied the opposite wall entirely, and Nerwen recognised it as an Ent-bed.
But what drew immediately the gaze of both the Istar and the Avar prince, was the Entwife who was waiting for them at the far end of the rocky hall. Tall and slender, with the white bark of a silver birch, her crown was made of gnarled branches – bare because it was winter – which showed her elder age; however, her eyes, green and dotted with brown specks, were very lively and staring at them attentively.
"Lady Nerwen, Lord Aryon, this is our First Keeper," Calenfinn said, making the introductions in Common Speech. The Istar bowed formally, as if in front of a queen, and her husband did likewise with no hesitation.
"Hail to you, First Keeper," Nerwen said in Entish, then returned immediately back to Westron, "It's a great honour for us to meet you."
"Hail to you both, and welcome to Dor-im-Duin," the Entwife saluted them formally; she moved towards them, still watching them intently, "I am Fimbrethil."
The name sounded familiar to Nerwen, who furrowed slightly her brow in the effort to recall where she had heard it; when she remembered, her eyes widened in shock:
"You're Treebeards partner?!"
I t could be a simple homonymy, of course; but for some reason, it looked unlikely, being them Onodrim.
Indeed, she was right: the Entwife straightened herself further, towering over her and Aryon, not in a threatening way, but showing amazement:
"You know Treebeard?"
"Yes, First Keeper," the Istar confirmed, "Yavanna Kementári put me in charge of finding the Onodrim, who looked like wiped off Arda. In my search, I arrived to Fangorn Forest; it was he telling me about your disappearance. My Mistress then gave me the mission to find you, the Entwives. Along the way I met Aryon Morvacor, prince of the Avari Elves, who joined my search," she concluded, turning to look at her husband and smiling at him. He responded lifting slightly the corners of his lips, but his eyes were shining: he felt his wife's joy and rejoiced in turn.
Fimbrethil observed the exchange of looks; Calenfinn had told her they were spouses, of course, and that the Elf didn't know the Aini's true nature. She wondered why this had to remain a secret to him, but she didn't doubt this would be disclosed in the future eventually.
Now she saw the evident love these two shared and in her mind she saw herself and Treebeard, young and carefree, as they scoured the plains of Eriador and Beleriand under the stars of Varda Elentári, when Sun and Moon hadn't been created yet and the Two Trees blossomed in Valinor; a feeling she thought she had forgotten for a long time suddenly arose again in her soul: the longing for her partner and the desire of having him again by her side.
"I think we really do have very much to discuss," she observed slowly, "Please, sit down..."
They took their seats on the edge of the shelf – which actually was a bed – while Fimbrethil remained standing; the First Keeper dismissed Calenfinn, who retired with a stiff bow.
"If your kelvar friends are thirsty, they can drink from the spring," Fimbrethil said, "The same goes for you two."
Nerwen translated for Túdhin – Thilgiloth of course had grasped the Entwife's words – and the two of them thanked her, but for the moment didn't take the offer and simply placed themselves next to their two-legged friends, the Chargeress beside Nerwen, the wolf laying down at Aryon's feet.
Fimbrethil began the conversation, asking:
"How is Treebeard? And his companions?"
"He's fine, at least when I last saw him," Nerwen answered, "but it's been over 75 years since and therefore it's no recent news, sorry. As for his companions, I hadn't the chance to meet any of them, however Treebeard told me that more and more of them fall asleep and become almost entirely vegetal. They call them Huorns. This situation saddened him greatly and he was almost resigned to see the Onodrim vanish from Arda. It was then that he told me about you and your disappearance. At first I thought he meant you were all dead, while you were actually just gone without a trace."
The Maia paused and looked Fimbrethil straight in the eyes; feeling under examination, the Entwife blinked slowly and, for the first time in her life, she knew she was in a state of inferiority, because she was facing a creature older than she was, as much ancient as the world itself, no, even more, because she had existed before the creation of Eä.
"I will not ask the reason for your choice," Nerwen went on slowly, in a grave tone, "but it took your race almost to extinction and this can only be a great sorrow for Kementári. You all are aware of this, I think...?"
Even if enclosed in a speech of flawless politeness, the reproach was stinging. Aryon wondered worriedly if Nerwen had considered the possibility it could infuriate the First Guardian, then he called himself silly: rarely Nerwen didn't know what she was doing, and never about what concerned her specific area as an Istar.
Nerwen's remark struck Fimbrethil hard; her gaze became blurred, as if lost in unfathomable depths. Then she cast down her eyes and it was as if she was bowing under the weight of an unexpected responsibility. She kept silent for a long time, meditating about those words; the Istar and the prince waited patiently, leaving the Entwife her time.
"By leaf and sapling," Fimbrethil finally murmured, "We have always thought that, sooner or later, we would send back one of us to Eriador, seeking our partners to convince them to join us... but we have it good here, everything is tidy and cured and growing as we wish it to... we prosper and live in peace. The years have gone by, becoming at first centuries, then millennia, and finally here we are, facing the emissary of our creator, and she is reminding us our lack toward her and our partners..." she raised her gaze again, now back to the present, "The Ents seemed to care little or nothing about us and our land, or so we convinced ourselves; when we felt Sauron's threat grow and his accursed Orcs – buràrum! – began raiding our land, devastating it and cruelly destroying the olvar under our protection, we decided to go in search of another place where we could live in peace. We preferred saying nothing to our partners because they would try to dissuade us and we didn't want to listen to them, and there was no time for discussions... we have been forced to decide hastily. Apparently, it wasn't for the best..."
She paused; at this revelation, Nerwen furrowed her brow.
"It wasn't for the worst, either," she said slowly, "Your previous land witnessed a terrible battle that destroyed it, to the point that even today, after over 3000 years, it is a barren and burnt place called the Brown Lands. If you stayed there, you, too, would have been destroyed."
Fimbrethil pondered over the Aini's words.
"Yes," she admitted at length, "if it is like you say, then mayhap it was not entirely a fault. However, this does not justify the fact we never came back... I can only say that we felt deeply let down by the Ents' behaviour towards us. We felt them distant, indifferent, and when we found this place and took it into our care, for a long time we were so busy that we never thought of returning. When we began to think again about it, we kept postponing, sure that there was always time to do it... of course we didn't grow in numbers, without our partners with whom giving birth to Entlings, but we flourished. Our life was so good that we didn't feel the urge to go back to Eriador."
She sighed, and it seemed like a whirlwind among trees, a sound that impressed both Aryon and Túdhin, making them start.
"The Ents weren't indifferent," Nerwen declared in a low voice, "only little interested in your way to take care of the trees, unalike to theirs. When they discovered you were disappeared, they mourned greatly; many of them left to seek you, scouring every corner of Middle-earth for many years. Songs and poems have been composed about their search. But I am persuaded they have never been able to go over the Orocarni – we succeeded just because we came by chance across a document indicating a forgotten pass – otherwise they would have surely found you. How did you manage to go beyond the Red Mountains?"
She had already figured out the answer and what Fimbrethil told them confirmed it:
"We walked and walked and walked, constantly heading eastwards, crossing rivers and endless prairies. The lands were mostly uninhabited, except for a few Men – Easterlings, I guess – who ran, scared to death, upon our sight. Then, one day we reached a great forest, which we recognised being the Wild Forest, or what remains of it since the great inland sea of Helcar disappeared, on which shores, Lord Aryon, your people had awakened, so long a time ago..." she bent slightly toward the prince – her way to nod – and he nodded in turn, "At this point, we turned southward until we came round the forest, than we resumed going eastwards until we reached the Eastern Ocean. At that point, as we didn't wish to go to Harad, which savage inhabitants have no consideration for other creatures unless they are at their service, we turned northwards, following the coast, for many months. Then, one day we came across a river which told us about an inland area, uninhabited but splendid. We came to see it and became enamoured of it, adopting it as ours... and here we are."
"A truly splendid land," Aryon confirmed, talking for the first time – but after all, he had little to say, about Nerwen's mission: he accompanied her, supported her, but it wasn't his mission, "even in the middle of winter."
"Thank you, Lord Aryon," Fimbrethil said; her woody lips were incapable to smile, but her eyes lightened up in delight.
"I agree," Nerwen intervened, then her tone became unexpectedly harsh, "but I fear soon Dor-im-Duin will end up like your ancient gardens and become new Brown Lands."
This brutal statement startled the First Keeper and her gaze darkened. If it were anyone else saying this, she would dismiss it with a shrug of her wide crown: the Entwives were afraid of no creature, not even the Orcs. Indeed, if at the time they had preferred leaving, it hadn't been because of fear, but because they hated fighting; this didn't mean they weren't able to, if need came. However, her interlocutor wasn't anyone, but an Ancient One, even if in incognito. Suddenly, she felt sure that the reason Nerwen didn't openly reveal her true nature – not even to her husband – must be very grave.
"Why were you seeking us?" she therefore asked, slowly.
Nerwen exchanged a look with Aryon: the decisive moment had finally arrived. If Yavanna was right – and the Istar didn't doubt she was – from Fimbrethil's answer could perhaps depend the fate of Middle-earth. Hence, she had pondered very carefully about what she was going to say.
"During these last centuries, the Dark Enemy rebuilt his power," she revealed, "In secret at first, hiding his identity and seeking refuge in a secondary stronghold; here, he suffered a defeat, but he was far from destroyed; he ran and went back to Mordor, finally revealing himself openly and restoring Barad-dûr. Then, he began gathering around him armies of Orcs, with the apparent intention to arrack the free peoples of Middle-earth; and not only this: he found allies in the Haradrim and the Easterlings. If he'll succeed in his purpose, his overwhelming numbers will ensure him victory, the world will fall under his shadow and all living beings will suffer horribly under the heel of his tyranny," she paused to emphasize what she was going to add, "All the living being, Fimbrethil... the Onodrim also. Fangorn as much as Dor-im-Duin. It's only a matter of time."
The Entwife was silent for a long time; her blurred gaze revealed she was pondering deeply about what had been told her.
"This news is very, very grave," she commented at length, "Even feral, I would say. However, it cannot be that you and your husband crossed half the world only to take us this information: hence, what is the true reason?"
Again, Nerwen chose carefully her words, even if she had meditated on them for a long time, after her last interview with Yavanna.
"Kementári felt for a long time that the other Valar were wrong to leave the Onodrim out of their plans," she answered, "They sent the Istari among the free peoples of Middle-earth – Elves, Dwarves and Men – to oppose the growing Darkness, prevent its return if possible and, if not, prepare for defence; but they didn't think of the Ents. And yet, you're ancient beings, wise and powerful. You are a potent help in the fight against the Dark Lord. You cannot and must not be left out, nor keep yourselves out."
Aryon, who had shared with his wife her thoughts about how expressing the cause to the Entwives, intervened:
"Middle-earth – all of it – is also yours... not only a small piece called Dor-im-Duin!" he said in a low, but passionate voice. Nerwen cast him a quick glance full of gratitude: she hadn't anticipated his involvement into the conversation, but his contribution was valuable and she was thankful.
Again, Fimbrethil took her time to ponder about the issue.
"I see your reasons," she finally declared, slowly, "Can you tell me what Treebeard's position on this is?"
Nerwen stiffened: the question came unexpected to her. She quickly weighed up her options: she could lie and declare the old Shepherd of the Trees had told her that, in case of conflict, he would support the free peoples of Middle-earth in their fight against Sauron; but lying – except for extreme circumstances – was something she loathed, also because, on the long run, it always proves counterproductive. Hence, she decided for the truth.
"He said that, as the world cares little for the Ents, they decided that they care little for the world," she answered frankly, "My objection was the one my husband just expressed: you are part of this world, whether the world cares for you or not, or whether you care for the world or not. On this, Treebeard admitted I was right."
"I see," Fimbrethil murmured; it sounded like a low subterranean rumble, "However, Mordor is remote and since we settled here, we never saw a trace of an Orc. I do not think the enemy will arrive so far away..."
"Don't delude yourself: the western lands won't be enough for Sauron," Nerwen interrupted her harshly, "Once finished with Gondor, Rohan and Eriador, he'll turn to the lands east of the Misty Mountains, swallowing up all of them as far as the Orocarni, from the Iron Hills to Eryn Rhûn, and at that point, you don't think he'll stop, do you? As we managed it, the Dark Lord's armies, too, will succeed in getting through the Red Mountains and, once here, they'll wipe off any resistance they'd find. It's only a matter of time, from a few years to a few decades, and all of Middle-earth will be subject to the Eye and all its peoples will be enslaved. You cannot seriously think you'd be able to stand up alone to all the power of the Black Hand!"
Fimbrethil stayed stock-still, as if hit by a lightning; however, her eyes had been so far as placid as mountain-lakes, but now it looked as if a violent storm was raging in them.
Aryon shivered at the picture Nerwen had painted, even if it wasn't the first time he was hearing this reasoning, which he shared.
"You won't avoid the Enemy's menace just ignoring it," he pointed out with quiet firmness. The Entwife's troubled gaze moved to the prince.
"The prospect is - buràrum! – definitely horrifying," she admitted at length, "What do you suggest, then?" she paused briefly, "Or mayhap the right question is another: what does Kementári want us to do?"
The Maia nodded.
"That you join the fight, according to your skills," she answered, "to stop and if possible defeat Sauron definitively."
"We are no warriors," the First Keeper replied.
"Not in your nature, no," Nerwen admitted, "but if someone threats the trees in your keep, you would surely be capable of defending them, am I right?" she leaned over to the Entwife, "The last time you preferred go away and seek another territory; you could do it again, of course... but sooner or later, continuing giving ground, the places where you can take shelter with your protégés will run out and then you'll be anyway forced to confront the extreme choice: submit to Sauron or fight."
"Fighting does not mean an assured victory," Fimbrethil observed.
"Fighting means winning or losing," Aryon intervened forcefully, "and both prospects are better than the certainty of slavery without hope under the heel of the Abhorred."
Once more, the First Keeper fell silent for a long time, pondering.
"You bear terrible news," she finally considered, "However, it will not become less terrible pretending not to hear it," she paused, "I will muster all my companions and we will talk together to decide how we must act. Calenfinn!" she called out, and her voice sounded like a trumpet blast. The other Entwife arrived immediately.
"Hum hoom," rumbled Fimbrethil, "Send for all and everyone. Let them know that I summon them for an Entmoot!"
OOOOO
Author's corner:
Finally, we have reached the core of the narration: the Entwives have been found! As says Thilgiloth, it was about time... but this story dilated in a totally unexpected way, leading me through unforeseen and sometimes unforeseeable situations and characters, taking me by surprise more than once. I hope you've been taken by surprise, too, dear readers, because this means I'm not boring you! XD
As for smelling the snow, I didn't imagine it: I can do it! My parents always made fun of me, despite my forecast coming each time true. Until in a documentary they learnt about some Islanders, Norwegians, Siberians who can do it, and that among them this isn't such a big deal; and finally they stopped mocking me LOL
As much as for Corch, the smuggler Elf, also the pronounce of the –ch in Olbranch the German way, as in SchumaCHer.
And so, Fimbrethil summoned an Entmoot! Of course, she doesn't know it, but it comes about one month before Fangorn's. Will the Entwives decide to support Nerwen and Aryon in the fight against Sauron? And if so, how? Follow me in the next chapter and you'll see...
And in the meantime, what is happening in this same timeframe in The Lord of the Rings? Well, on December 29th, the Fellowship of the Ring has left Rivendell and is now about to arrive to the land of Hollin; in a few more days, they will try to cross the Misty Mountains through the Caradhras pass...
I never get tired of thanking the people following this story; and remember, if you leave me a comment or a constructive criticism, I would be really glad. And mind, I don't bite LOL
Lady Angel
