Bilbo weaved in one direction, then the other. Lights danced all around, and music seemed to flit through the air. He almost removed the Ring, curious to see what colors zoomed around him, but he couldn't seem to find his hand. He tripped over his own feet, and then fell onto his rump. He felt like he'd had a dozen too many of the Green Dragon's finest followed up by…well, he couldn't quite match anything to what he felt.
Lesson learned, you foolish Took, he scolded himself. Don't eat Faerie food. Not until he located Mistress Daphne and was assured of what was safe for consumption.
A tree's root inched in his direction. Awareness of his peril jerked his mind somewhat out of its dizzy haze. Bilbo scooped up Sting, appalled that he'd dropped it in the first place. Inching away, he awkwardly stabbed at the woody tendril. Sting bit deeply into the wormlike appendage, and the thing retreated in a hurry. But then, the forest around groaned as branches came to life. Bilbo's breath caught in his throat as a dozen wooden arms swept across the ground in search of him.
As Aleks would say, not good. Bilbo crawled away, the ground undulating beneath him. Whether it was from the food he'd ingested distorting his vision or the trees doing something beneath the soil's surface, he couldn't quite determine.
Breaking free from the forest, he tottered and fell to all fours, blearily looking around. A glade, he was slow to label. He made his slow, crawling way as far from the forest edge as he could. There, he sprawled on his back, watching the dark purple of night rotated like a pinwheel overhead.
OoOoOo
I flinched as another human-sounding scream filled the air, hugging my knees tighter. Since night had fallen, the sounds of Faerie had turned more sinister. There were moans that went on like foghorns, shrieks to make every hair upon the body stand up on end, and terrified screams potent enough to cause instant bladder failure. The rare person yelled for help, but those were few and far in between - and silenced so very quickly. Whether it was the trees that got them or any of a host of vicious monsters dwelling here, I didn't want to know. None of it came near Aleks and me, so I supposed Aleks's claim that the Old Ones needed us was true.
My body rocked back and forth. Aleks had crashed despite the cacophony close to an hour before. I thought long and hard upon his words. I'd fought tears back so long as Aleks had been awake, not wanting to add to his burden. I knew he felt the consuming terror gnawing at the edges of my mind, and I also knew he detected my efforts to keep the grief at bay that was threatening to rip me apart.
For Aleks, I'd kept it together. Until now.
My eyes landed upon my naked right wrist…and the sight tipped me over the edge. The first sob tore free from me without warning. Aleks might believe all was possible, Thorin's charge to him fueling him with purpose, but I knew better. I'd never see my toymaker again. Bofur was as lost to me as if I'd died of those arrow wounds, and a part of me couldn't help feeling the second outcome would have been preferable. Perhaps then I'd have the hope of being reunited with my love in Mandos's Halls. If I died here, who could say where I'd wind up?
The second sob raced on the heels of the first, then a third and fourth, each ripping past my defenses, escaping beyond my control. In my mind, this image of Bofur's gamine grin and the way he'd tease me replayed over and over, twisting the dagger of loss all the more. This wasn't supposed to happen, I screamed inside, not that the universe at large, or Eru, seemed to care. No more houseleek eyes, no more gentle touches or tugs on that lock of hair. Gone. All gone.
Thunder rumbled overhead, my only warning before torrential rain fell in sudden sheets. As if it granted me the permission I needed, I flopped onto my side in a ball, and succumbed, letting myself cry and cry. The question, "Why?" was one my brain clamored to know, but like everyone who ever uttered the word when tragedy struck, there was no answer. There was only the reality of a clawing hurt and the knowledge of a loss never to be mended.
How much do you love Bofur, my brother had asked. Enough that his loss swallowed my whole world. How did people do it? How did widows and widowers find it in themselves to get up, get dressed, and continue breathing in and out when the person who'd made life special was gone? My chest felt as hollowed out as a jack o' lantern, spilling messy guts everywhere.
And so I cried. For over an hour, I cried, unable to get a handle on the tears, unable to begin to get past them. It'll get better - wasn't that what people said? Yet, I wasn't sure I wanted the pain of loss to lessen, for it was my last tie to him. I refused to let my dwarf be forgotten as if he didn't matter. He mattered. He would always matter.
Slowly, my tears wound down, Bofur's face filling my mind's eye. It could be worse, I could hear him say with his usual optimism. And while I wanted to scream that he was wrong because I hurt so much inside, I knew his sage words were, once again, correct. Aleks was here. Bilbo was here. I wasn't in this alone, so it was high time I stopped acting like I was. The two stuck in Faerie with me deserved better.
Sniffling, I sat up, the rain pummeling the tears from my face. "I wish you were here, Bofur," I choked, tears threatening to once more consume me. For some reason, it was so much easier to be hopeful when he was around.
Okay, then. It hurt, and it wouldn't stop hurting anytime soon, but I had work to do. The Company – Bofur – would want the three of us to stick together and get through this. Though I didn't see a way back to Middle Earth, I could see us maybe escaping to Earth. It wouldn't be easy, and the echnari would be after us in a hot second, but Aleks had said they and Faerie weakened without naiads. Was it possible they'd diminish enough to prevent them from locating us if we could just manage to slip away?
No way to know, but it was a plan. Find a way to Earth. Hide like the Dickens. Stay mobile.
I slogged to my feet, my robe plastered against my skin. Deep breath. Atta girl. I took unsteady, hesitant steps towards the forest that circled me a dozen or so yards out in every direction. My composure threatened to break every other step as grief would lance through me anew, turning my sight hazy. I can do this. Aleks had asked how much I loved Bofur. I had a new answer: enough to continue on. Enough to fight. He'd want that of me, I knew he would.
So. I had to find out what I could bring to the table. I'd avoided listening to the trees after the demonstration I'd been given of their ferocity earlier. Would they turn upon a dryad? Trees loved us. I'd never met a one that wouldn't literally split its trunk in two if I'd ask it. But these trees… My steps halted outside their reach.
Unlike healthy trees, even at night, these rumbled with anger and a thirst for violence. Was it because many had once been my sisters? Dryads who had been pushed and pushed by the Old Ones until they could stand it no more? Possible. I could see the faintest outline of them in a handful of boles, remnants of the women they had once been.
Where are their brothers? I rubbed my naked wrist and looked around, but even in the muted, rosy light provided by the trees' energies, I saw no sign of any White Stags. Like the echnari would risk that, a part of me said. It was right – so far, it seemed the most dangerous elements of Faerie were being barred from Aleks and me. White Stags definitely qualified as dangerous.
Scanning the trees, I sank toes into the wet soil, sprouting roots. Oaks, maples, laurels, and willows – all were present, but instead of healthy variations of green energy, theirs were roses, and ceruleans, and sapphires, and amethysts.
I'll love you forever, Bofur, a part of me sent out into the void. I'd use his memory to grant me strength, to help me to face what I needed to face. Eru, please grant us a reunion in Mandos's Halls. You brought us together. Surely You wouldn't offer such a gift only to snatch it away forever.
Bolstering my courage, I began to whisper, ready to run if the trees came after me.
It proved a good precaution. The instant my tentative whistle reached the first line of them, they exploded in fury. No real words were formed, the trees' utterances sounded more like rabid animals foaming at the mouth with mindless rage. My low call did not reach far, but the fury of the lead bunch was transmitted through the forest better than any gossip mill. The forest shivered, wood branches creaking. Then as a unit, from every direction, trees began to inch their way towards me, roots yanking up from soil with a wet slurp and slapping back down on the muddy surface beneath them with each step.
Um. I backed away. Maybe this hadn't been the best of ideas. Oops, I sent to my brother.
Aleks startled to full wakefulness, his mind homing in on my escalating panic like a missile. What did you do?
I tripped over a small rock, stumbling but not falling. I turned in a circle, watching the noose close in around me. My hair and gown were plastered to me, rivulets of water pouring down arms and legs.
What did you do? Aghast, he stared through my eyes.
I spoke to them.
You did what?
I spoke to them!
A pause. What exactly did you tell them? Before I could answer, What gave you the brilliant idea to talk to them in the first place?
I wanted to help, alright? I snapped back. You, me, Bilbo, we're all we have. I had to know if the trees would hear my call.
Well, they heard all right!
Don't yell at me! I shouted back.
I'm not! he fairly bellowed.
Closer and closer the noose closed. Holding my breath, I inched towards the front line, aiming for a gap between a sassafras and an apple tree. If I could sneak by… But no, the extensive network of roots from an aspen colony filled the gap just beyond them. Trapped. The trees could not see me, but they were coordinating, determined to search me out.
A boom of thunder, a flash of lightning. The rain's roar seemed to accentuate the entire nightmare scenario unfolding around me. And then the trees closed ranks, blocking all sight of the world beyond them. Writhing roots were inches from my feet, and I danced around, helplessly.
Daph… Aleks groped for words.
I did the only thing I could think to do – I stretched out a shaking hand and set it against the bark of the nearest tree, a big, thorny hawthorn. It reacted in brutality, its branches smashing into me, groping for and grabbing me. Thorns bit into my skin as it hefted me off my feet.
Daph!
In my desperation, I could almost hear Gwathadar's voice. Those weeks of coaching at his side returned to me now, and using his tutelage, I hurried to examine the tree's energy signature. No black specks marred its aura – this was as unlike Sauron's taint as night was from day – but like Mirkwood, these trees were afflicted. I moaned as the thorns dug deeper, puncturing my torso and thighs in dozens of places. Aleks was screaming at me with all kinds of wild suggestions, his voice assuming a hollow, distant tenor. I tried to work faster, examining every inch of its miscolored energy flow. Wrong, every part of its energy was just wrong.
A sudden realization: the task was beyond me. Faerie's energy imbalance had affected this tree from germination onward. The damage it caused was too pervasive. I could not fix this.
Don't you dare give up, Aleks snapped.
Like that was an option?
The bole split and a ragged maw appeared, the sight we'd both been dreading. I had a clear eyeful of this slick gullet, and in a burst of panic, I did the only thing I could think of, remembering Thranduil doing the same. I yanked on the tree's energy, stealing every grain of it. The acid-pink stuff gushed into me, its flavor so sickly sweet and noxious I gagged. The tree died with an aborted, splintered scream.
I fell from its canopy, crashing down near its roots in a shower of berries and twigs. Whimpering, I crawled between its root shoots, seeking shelter beneath the hawthorn's corpse.
Then, the trees screamed. A shudder moved through their mass, and they bolted as fast as a tree could from me.
Aleks yelled in triumph. Woot! Take that!
But I knew better. It wasn't me sending the trees into flight. They'd not been frightened by me, they'd been infuriated by my actions. No, something else intervened. It took a minute for me to locate what it might be, but I spotted balls of fire flying through the air and slamming into boles in a shower of sparks. Whatever this was, it did not intend to kill them, I didn't think, for it never attacked the same tree twice. It drove them, herding them back to their original positions.
There, I said, showing Aleks the tiny silhouette in the shadows of the reforming glade.
What is it? my twin asked.
Before I could answer, it popped out of sight, reappearing a split-second later inches from my nose. I recoiled back with a shriek, heart beating like a sugared-up toddler discovering the joy of bongo drums. "Foolisssh dryad," it said. Standing all of a foot high, the wizened-looking, purple creature was one I instantly labeled: Imp.
Imp? Aleks stared through my eyes, too. Imp, he agreed.
"Lessson learned, yesss?" it asked.
I nodded dumbly.
"No need to ssspeak to Massster of thisss," it said in this sly voice.
Master?
Aleks instantly provided, Old One. If I had to bet, I'd say this imp was assigned to watch out for you.
Bet he was looking at a heap of trouble if the Old One realized how close I'd come to being eaten or pulled to pieces.
No doubt about it, Aleks said, grim.
"N-no," I said, deciding how I wanted to deal with this. One, there was no way I was whining to an echnari, and two, we'd need allies. We couldn't trust anyone since the echnari could rearrange anyone else's mind at will, but engendering some good will couldn't hurt. "No real damage done."
No real damage? Aleks said in disbelief. You are bleeding all over, Daph. You could audition for the roll of Carrie and not need any makeup!
The imp nodded, its countenance brightening perceptibly. "No ssspeaking to trees, yes?"
I grimace as I readjusted my seat, taking pressure off of my hip where a stick had been digging into it. "Trust me. I won't be repeating that."
The imp bobbed his head, then poof! He was gone.
OoOoOo
Daph finally nodded off at sunrise, safely hidden beneath the husk of the tree she'd slain. On one hand, both felt a lot safer knowing a fire-tossing imp roamed about, but on the other, a fire-tossing, invisible imp was roaming about. Escaping with such a creature underfoot was going to be a challenge.
Take an invisible person to deal with an invisible person? Aleks was still unclear on what the Ring allowed Bilbo to do. He'd have to ask him next time he saw him.
In the meantime, he thought, I have work to do. No one had yet arrived with food for them or any kind of supplies, and Aleks wasn't sure he'd accept them if the provisions suddenly appeared. I'll need to ask Daph for a list of what plants are safe to eat. He also needed to try and befriend some animals. After what happened to his twin, he was leery, but the benefits outweighed the costs. And if there's an imp out here protecting me, the sooner I know about it the better.
He rose to his feet, switching to satyr and stretching the kinks from his spine. With a swift survey of his surroundings, he trotted off. First order of business: find a base of operations.
He refused to call it a home.
OoOoOo
Bilbo tiptoed behind potted plants, cross with himself. He had no way to reckon how long he'd been comatose upon the forest floor due to those deceptive mushrooms, but it wasn't time he could spare. Aleks was counting on him to find Daphne, and he was determined to figure a way to smuggle his friends out of Faerie. He could do neither lollygagging about like a tween.
With Ring on finger and arms tight to his sides, he crept onward. The world around him was gray and barren of color due to the One Ring's presence, but he was growing acclimated to the limitation. It was a small price to pay to remain invisible to the echnari - a major consideration, given his current task: trailing behind the echnari who had spoken with Aleks. Ovid, as he'd learned the Old One was called, currently held the position of the dominant echnari, though like the others, his power was dwindling.
The echnari was quite wroth about the matter, too. When he believed himself alone, he threw such a fit as to outdo the most red-faced, screaming child. The suddenness of the echnari's loss of control was frightening, if he did say so himself. It was more like watching an overindulged child than an ancient being in possession of too much power.
He followed Ovid down a winged staircase that ventured belowground. Haunt Ovid as he had this day, he'd yet to find any type of map to direct him to Quai and Daphne. When the naiads had been brought through the rift, the two most powerful had claimed them. That Muriste had bristled in insult had not changed a thing - her trip to Middle Earth had cost her in power. How, Bilbo had not yet determined, but she'd fallen in ranks, her place assumed by Quai, and his by Arisse, and on down the line. Muriste fell in seventh place now, and though Ovid and Quai frightened him, he was grateful they had claimed Aleks and Daphne. Muriste had been vocal in her displeasure, and he couldn't help but wonder if she would seek revenge upon the naiads if given the chance.
At the base of the stairs, he found only a stately hallway that extended out some thirty yards in one direction. Stones the size of Dwalin's fist hung from either side of the ceiling, illuminating the passageway with spheres of crimson. Like the rest of the tower, much was constructed of glossy obsidian, and when combined with those peculiar stones, he did not much like the look of the place.
His steps carried him down the hall's length until he reached a diminutive rotunda. The domed room could be no more than ten feet in diameter with a round gap in the floor in the very center that he judged about a foot wide. It was what Bilbo saw suspended over the aperture, however, that held his attention, and Ovid's. A crystal hung there by no means Bilbo could see. With the Ring on his finger, he could not ascertain its color, but the stone smoldered as if lit deep inside. Bilbo crept closer, watching with rising bafflement as glowing thimbles of light flew up out of that hole in the floor and into the crystal, melting into it. The thimbles emerged and flew into the crystal in a steady stream, the rate never slowing or accelerating, putting Bilbo to mind of blood dripping on the floor, only this, he thought, was upwards.
He regretted the blood metaphor at once, for something about this sight unsettled him. What could this crystal be? What were the lights?
As he pondered and watched, the bright spots continued to fly up into the crystal. Ovid stepped onto a low platform, bringing him closer to the crystal's surface. The echnari's hand stretched out and smoothed against the stone.
Bilbo tapped his bottom lip as he witnessed large amounts of light leave the crystal and flow into the echnari's hand. "Failing," Ovid murmured. "Like all else." A cruel smile, his hand caressed the sharp-edged stone. "Still, I enjoy this sweet lullaby, my Sleepers," he said, stepping down with a last lingering touch. "We'll do this again on the morrow."
Bilbo hunched down low, eyes averted as the echnari passed him by. Only when the echnari had climbed the stairs to the tower floors above did he exhale. With his back to the wall, he sat upon the floor.
Truly he wished Gandalf were here. What had just happened? What was that light? Glancing at the glowing shard, he watched as the smaller lights continued on their upward journey. He suspected the crystal stored those lights, but what were they? What was their significance?
This is getting nothing done. He stood and gingerly made his way closer to the crystal, but then he heard a voice whisper into his ear, "Who?" Terrified Ovid had detected him, he did as any respectful hobbit would have done and made haste from the vicinity. He hunted out as good hiding space as one could find in the floors above and stayed there until his heart calmed from its frantic beating. As time stretched on with no furor, he dared to hope he'd been mistaken. But then, what had that voice been? He was no youngster to be ruled by flights of fancy, no indeed. Bilbo thought on this for a considerable time, opting to remain out of sight a bit longer.
The next morning, he roused from the cupboard and endeavored once again to ferret out echnari secrets, hoping along the way to find a clue about where to find Daphne. With each day, his promise to Aleks grew all the more threatened, for if he could not locate their dryad, he could not protect her.
As he wandered up the colossal tower's winding stairs, a voice echoed down the stairwell. Muriste, he identified. "That will not work," she hissed.
Bilbo picked up the pace. If the echnari were meeting, perhaps he would learn something of importance. He halted at the fourth floor and padded across the slick landing to the room on the north side.
"Silence," another male commanded. "You have no say."
Bilbo peeked around the doorframe and then sidled inside the room, ducking behind potted, hobbit-sized fronds. He grimaced as he brushed against one, eyeing the Old Ones for sign of discovery, but they appeared to be engrossed in their disagreement. None noticed one plant's sudden sway.
His grip upon Sting tightened.
"I have no say? You wouldn't even have these naiads if not for me," Muriste proclaimed in a frosty voice.
"We would not have lost them if not for your incompetence, either," Ovid responded, his gaze leaving the open veranda and returning to the room's occupants.
"The two naiads are not enough," another female interjected. This one was smaller than most with her hair plaited into two long braids that fell over her shoulders to her knees.
"On that, there is no question," another male said. "A number of us have lost our lands already to Faerie's contracting size."
"We must come to agreement," Muriste insisted. "We cannot afford the time lost by producing half-breed children that prove to be powerless. We must combine the naiad bloodlines with those of compatible traits."
"The sirens are cousins to the naiads," a white-haired, white-eyed male said. Bilbo felt a burst of hope, for here at last was the echnari who had Daphne. Quai, his name was. "We know such unions will be fertile."
"Little use are children locked within the sea," she of the plaited hair countered with disdain.
"Little use are children sterile because of an unwise pairing," Quai drawled.
The woman spat like a cat.
"Calmly," Ovid said, the threat from him silencing the others for a long stretch.
"I cannot afford calm," the woman at last spoke with reserve. She paled as Ovid's glowing black eyes turned to her. "My…lands…"
"Yes, Faerie is fading," Ovid agreed with a horrible kind of gentleness. "Lands are dwindling until they are no longer accessible." Ovid's attention moved on. "Quai, bring the female naiad here. Perhaps if the twins are in closer proximity, their effect will be greater."
Bilbo's interest sharpened. His task would be simpler if Daphne was brought to him.
Quai frowned, a minute downturn of thin lips. Those blank white eyes slid towards Ovid. "No, I do not believe I shall."
Ovid's body assumed a stillness unnatural to hobbits or dwarves. "What did you say?"
"I said no. Oh, I am certain the naiads' effect will be enhanced through proximity," Quai continued in a silky voice. "But that is not all of your intent. Faerie begins to wither. By placing both naiads here, you ensure your own survival. Is that not so?"
Ovid's silence was like a shout.
A low rumble filtered through the other echnari. "If this is true, the naiads must be shared." "You cannot hoard them." "You will not dispose of me as you did the Sleepers. I demand equal use of the wretched creatures." More and more objections filled the air, the tones behind them growing in anger as Ovid did not answer their demands.
Bilbo frowned. He'd seen and heard enough to know these echnari were at heart selfish and vain creatures. If the situation was as presented here, they would turn upon one another like famished dogs with one bone. And the bone, disturbingly enough, would be none other than Aleks and Daphne. If they warred as many threatened, it might spare the naiads from attempts to breed them like animals, but accidents happened. Either could be wounded, perhaps even killed if one of these Old Ones decided it better that none should have them if he or she could not.
When Quai said his piece and stormed out, Bilbo hurried after him.
OoOoOo
Aleks grunted and sagged to the ground, dripping sweat. He sneered at the way his black robe plastered to his body. The thing repelled dirt and stains like nobody's business, but still. A robe? Dude. At some point, he'd have to start hunting animals with the goal of skinning them for leather. He refused to spend months in this prissy, bedroom attire.
Aleks's eyes traveled to the hollowed-out durian shell he'd repurposed as a bowl where nuts, fruits, and other plant material were stored. He supposed he should eat, but he hadn't been very hungry. Since that first day, his appetite had waned steadily. An effect from balancing Faerie's energies? He'd noticed a…buzz…or sorts, a tingle that never faded so long as he was in contact with the ground. It wasn't painful, but it was beginning to irritate his satyr side, making it more temperamental and agitated.
What do you think? his sister said, changing subjects.
Aleks peeked at her progress. What did he think? He thought they were going to make it.
Daph acted like they had no hope, but each day, his determination grew. To be honest, he'd expected to be bringing broken pieces of his sister back with him to Middle Earth in the hopes Bofur could mend what Faerie was sure to destroy, but in this, he'd underestimated her. Instead of crumbling under the load of fear he could feel haunting her, she was gritting her teeth and dealing with each new development with resolve. No matter how ugly, she was meeting it head-on, and that included the creatures he'd encountered that first night. He'd intentionally kept it from her, hoping she'd be spared that particular nastiness, but on their second night, one of the little monsters had shown up at the perimeter of her territory, crying in the guise of a human child. A young human child.
She got through it, he reminded himself very, very privately. It had pushed every button she had, but she'd trusted him above what she saw. The Old Ones could not mess with their heads, but some few of Faerie's worst nightmares could take altered forms to lure victims. This one had been particularly chilling. Who wouldn't rush in to try and save a battered-looking kid?
Test the edges, he urged. With him as absent instructor, she had concentrated this day on sharpening some of the humanoid shin bones littering the forest floor into daggers. He couldn't train her in combat, but at least she had them if that barrier keeping the bad stuff at bay failed.
One by one, she tested them against her thumb, giving him a good view of her left arm and the slit-shaped track marks marching up its length from that hawthorn. She'd been treating them, so he held his peace, but that didn't mean he liked it. It was his job to protect her, but little he could do that when she was…wherever she was…and he was in this valley.
That third one is the best. Keep it to defend yourself.
He felt her agreement as she set it aside. We need staffs, she said. She flashed him a picture of them using one to test the ground for lurking roots or other plants hunting for meat as they walked.
Aleks had been about to dismiss the idea, but he reconsidered. Staffs, he agreed. Next up on the agenda. He turned to his own growing collection of weapons. He'd found an edge of stone that worked well as a scraper, and he had a pair of bone-daggers, too. Any thoughts about helping us to get out of here? he asked her.
Maybe, she said. Let me experiment with an idea a bit more. I don't want to suggest anything if it turns out I'm wrong.
Fair enough. They each turned to their own projects, the link not vanishing but fading to the background. And both tried not to react to the Faerie-sounds that threatened to disturb their equanimity. By Durin, he hated this place. He rubbed his neck. I'll get us home, Thorin. Somehow.
Closing his eyes, Aleks sought the tenuous bonds he'd formed with the few animals receptive to his call. Gaining their attention had taken hours. Many remembered satyrs, and some had lamented their loss, but by and large, the animals cared for nothing more than survival. And in Faerie, survival equaled trusting no one. Coaxing them near had been beyond taxing.
He missed the fox's simple devotion.
Still better than the trees, Daph said.
Aleks snorted. She had a point.
Two days of work, and he'd befriended – if one could call it such – a weasel with a particularly robust vicious streak, a family of raccoons willing to share information for the kernels and nuts he harvested with Daph's guidance, and – here he was proud – a real, live cerberus. (He'd no idea there was a real one, much less a race of them.) Talk about the jackpot. The thing was snarly and reminded him of an uber stand-offish Gloin, but so far as protection went, it was hard to beat a three headed, giant dog. The fact that the dog had a beef against the echnari only made it better.
Too bad he'd only found this one, though. Aleks sighed. To his sister: We could use a whole pack of cerberuses. Or was it cerberi? He snorted. Who cared?
She read his thought and agreed. A pack of them would be a boon, no doubt about it. Then tentatively, Anything new on your end?
He hated to disappoint her, for he knew that though she was coping better than he'd imagined, beneath it all, she was still scared out of her mind. Worse, he hadn't even told her about the Old One's promise of mates yet. He'd been putting it off, hoping to share only when Bilbo was in position to protect her. Wrong of him? Maybe. Nothing, he told her. And continued to hold his silence.
OoOoOo
Aleks slept.
Okay, so it was a tad underhanded to wait until he couldn't object, but I needed to try this. I couldn't let him talk me out of it, because it was the only way I could think of that would allow me to contribute in a real way.
I left my camp but remained in the confines of the round glade, my sharpest bone-knife in one hand. Choosing a spot at random, I squatted on my heels. Deep breath. The idea had been percolating since my brush with the trees. Fixing them was beyond me. Like I'd told Aleks, they'd been twisted by Faerie's messed up energies since germination.
But…naiads brought balance to that energy, or so we'd been led to believe. The idea: to grow something from seed to maturity using my energy, not Faerie's. It was risky, and I knew it. If anything went wrong, I'd better hope that imp was nearby and faster on the draw than the last time I'd kicked the hornet's nest.
Quit stalling, Daphne, I scolded myself. Gwathadar had taught me, helped me to use my energies in ways I hadn't imagined before. I'd gone against Sauron, for pity's sake! That had to count for something.
I set my dagger close to my side and dug a small hole into the moist earth. Then, I took a berry from the hawthorn I'd killed and dropped it into the hole, patting the dirt back into place over it. I had a seed. I had earth, and the ground was still damp from the heavy rain two nights before. "Showtime," I whispered.
Cupping both hands over the site, I closed my eyes, allowing those small seeds of potential to appear in my mind's eye. The seeds slumbered as all seeds did, only the barest of glows about them. Two had already adopted a blush to their muted energy, and those I bypassed immediately. Of the ones remaining, I let instinct guide me. There, some part of me said. That one.
I assumed full dryad form, sinking my own roots into the ground. The buzz of Faerie energy intensified. "I really hope this works, Bofur," I breathed. A scream from a distance away almost make me lose control as fear skittered down my spine. Picturing my toymaker's face, I took a deep breath. Before doubts could set in, I willed my own green energies into that seed, urging it to grow. Its glow increased, pulsing in response until the kernel cracked and a filament of green eased out between the folds of its casing.
So far, so good.
A drowsy male voice: Daph, what are you up to?
I swallowed a nervous giggle. Playing? Go back to sleep, Aleks.
His mind sharpened. Playing? Surprise, worry. Then a hint of anger, You better tell me you picked something small to experiment with. A strawberry bush. A grape vine. Something benign.
Actually, that probably would have been a good idea, but… Yeah, too late now.
The fragile seedling broke through the surface between my hands, shooting upward. I fed it still more, unwilling to risk using any other energy source for fear of destroying this experiment. My head grew dizzy, but onward I pushed and shoved, feeding it all I dared. The shoot thickened, pushing my palms farther apart as its tip soared ever higher into the air. In less than half a minute, my little sprout was anything but little.
What is it? Aleks demanded.
Now, I did giggle. A hawthorn.
A hawthorn? Are you mad?
No, I'm being ambitious. Now hush. Buds formed, studding the tree's developing bole and quickly inching out. In less than a minute, adult-sized branches unfurled in a chorus of leaves.
Green, I showed my twin. The energy is green.
Aleks crowed, and I laughed. Then Aleks warned, Daph, move.
I darted out of the way as the trunk of this new organism finished developing, its root base expanding and churning the ground where I'd been seated. I worried about that, worried that if it fed upon Faerie's energies it might begin to twist as its fellows.
What would you do, Gwathadar? I leaned in closer, examining the way the tree struggled to utilize that wrong energy, and inspiration struck, guided by a big surge of instinct. Stretching out invisible fingers, I tweaked its inflow and adjusted the tree's receptors, building a…filter, I supposed. I was no botanist to put it into technical terms, but I knew success when I saw it. The energy corrected like a gear locking into place.
I had a healthy, normal hawthorn tree. Well, a normal hawthorn tree for Faerie, anyway.
Then a woody hand grabbed me. I screamed my head off – hey, the last one had tried to eat me – but the new tree enfolded me with care close to its trunk. It allowed its arsenal of thorns to rearrange themselves to shield me from any who might challenge it.
Dude, Aleks breathed. Daph…that was impressive.
A glimmer of pride touched me. I'd done it. More, it meant I could help the guys.
I felt that, Aleks growled. If you think you need to prove to me—
I interrupted him. No, Alek. To prove to me.
My brother looked long and hard down the link at me. Alright.
Alright?
I get it. He changed the subject. Scratched his head. What do you plan to do with an army of trees?
