Chapter LV: On the March
A few days were required before the Entmoot could start, because Fimbrethil wanted all of the Entwives to be there; they were 146 in total. A number of them were far away, taking care of the orchards located the farthest from the abode of the First Keeper, which stood almost at the exact centre of Dor-im-Duin, therefore some had to go and look for them.
At last, four days later, the Entmoot began.
F imbrethil sent Calenfinn to fetch Nerwen and Aryon. The two headed for the place where the Entwives were gathered; the sight of almost 150 Enyd was something unquestionably impressing, Aryon decided; but Nerwen, too, was struck because, despite these were all females and therefore generally smaller and more slender than the males, never in all her life had she seen so many in the same place.
The couple addressed a respectful bow to Fimbrethil, who responded with a stiff movement of her trunk, bending it slightly at the hips.
"Lady Nerwen, Lord Aryon," the First Keeper greeted them, "before we begin our discussion, I would like you to present your reasons as why we should intervene in the fight against Sauron."
Nerwen nodded, glad she could have the opportunity to talk personally to all the Entwives. Aryon signalled her she should speak: after all, he hadn't much to say.
"Very well," Fimbrethil said, "Come, I introduce you to the assembly."
The Maia followed the Entwife, until they stopped at the centre of the free round area. The hum that surrounded them, similar to the rustling of leaves of an entire wood in a windy day, caused by the muttering among the Enyd, stopped instantly.
"My friends and sisters!" the First Keeper began, speaking in Common Speech, "For those who don't know her yet, this is Nerwen the Green, who came looking for us from the distant West on behalf of Kementári. You already know the reason of this Entmoot; now Lady Nerwen will produce her arguments. She knows perfectly our tongue, but it is hard for her voicing it, therefore she will speak in Westron," she turned to the Istar, "Now it is over to you."
Nerwen waited for Fimbrethil to retreat in the circle of her companions, then she cast a circular glance to the Entwives gathered all around. There were birches, beeches and ashes, elders, holms and strawberry trees, as well as some willows, alders and poplars. Their crowns were all bare because of the season; some had an elderly look, such as Fimbrethil or Calenfinn, other looked less old, and some seemed relatively young. Their eyes – large and round, their colour from brown to green – were all on the Aini.
Nerwen took a deep breath: she hadn't expected to speak in front of the entire community of the Entwives, but she knew very well what to say.
"Since the creation of Arda," she began aloud, so that all could hear her, "the perfection of Eru Ilúvatar's work has been marred by the Dissonance Melkor Morgoth produced during the Music of the Ainur. Nonetheless, it has been incorporated in Eä and therefore we must cope with it. Occasionally, it seems to stop, to vanish for some time, but then it comes always back, because it is part of the Created World. When Morgoth was defeated and banished from Arda, his servant Sauron replaced him. He, too, looked defeated, after Eléndil and Gil-galad beat him in duel and Isildur seized the One Ring; but he was not. Slowly, he has rebuilt his strength, for a long time secretly, but now he has finally revealed himself in his full terrible power and his menace to Middle-earth has become imminent."
Nerwen paused, looking at the Entwives all around; none of them made a sound, waiting for her to go on.
"Mordor is very far from Dor-im-Duin," she continued then, "and some of you could think that Sauron will never come here, that the fight is up to the inhabitants of the lands west of the Orocarni, Gondor and Rohan to begin with; but if the Dark Lord wins the resistance of the brave Men living in those countries, afterwards his armies will spread everywhere, conquering one by one all the realms beyond the Red Mountains, from south to north, where he has other allies. And when he does, the stare of his terrible Eye and his insatiable greed will turn to these lands."
She paused again, so that the listeners would better grasp what she was saying in a language that, for them, was very hasty. Then she went on:
"A long time ago, when Sauron's menace reached your land, you decided to abandon it and seek another place to live in peace and take care of your plants. You made this choice because you are no warriors. You could make again the same choice now: to leave Dor-im-Duin and seek another land. But if Sauron wins, sooner or later there will be no other place to take refuge in, sooner or later you will be forced to face him anyway, and then you would be alone, because all the other will already have succumbed, and the only choice you'll have will be living, like everyone else, as thralls under his heel, or die."
Again, Nerwen paused; the assembly was listening to her in complete silence, evidently impressed. Aryon felt very proud of his wife: he thought that her words and her eloquence would convince even the rocks of the Orocarni to join in the fight against the Enemy.
"Or else, this time you could make the opposite decision," the Istar went on, "Instead of fleeing, fighting. You're no warriors, sure; but I know what you're capable of, if you're forced to defend your land and the trees in your keep. It has already happened, in the past. I am asking you to consider yours also the lands and the plants of the rest of Middle-earth, not only of Dor-im-Duin; because you and Dor-im-Duin are part of Middle-earth as much as all its other inhabitants and all its other lands are."
She paused once more, before playing her best card:
"Yavanna Kementári is sure that all the other Valar were wrong in not considering the Onodrim in their fight strategy against Sauron; she's sure also that you all – both you and the males – have a central role to play in the fight to free Arda from his menace once and for always. Form my part, I am sure you won't let down the Valië who both you and me worship."
She addressed a bow to the assembly, this way indicating she was finished, and went back to her husband's side; Aryon gave her a glance full of admiration and pride, which she countered with a nervous smile, uncertain about how much her dialectical efforts had actually affected her audience.
"Thank you for your speech, Lady Nerwen," Fimbrethil said, lowering slightly her branches toward her to show respect, "Lord Aryon, is there something you would like to add?"
"No, my wife has already set everything out in a very effective way," the Avar prince answered. Hence, Fimbrethil dismissed them courteously and they returned at her abode, where the First Keeper had offered them private quarters, a small cavern well heated by a brazier and lighted by the magical Entish lamps, where they had set their pallet and stored their baggage.
"Thank you for calling my speech effective," Nerwen said, while they walked.
"You're an excellent orator," Aryon answered, "Especially considering you've been taken by surprise."
"Would I've been ready, mayhap I'd be less effective," the Istar reflected, thoughtful, "This way instead, the words poured out directly from my heart."
"And it was audible, I assure you," the prince concluded; he was silent for a few minutes, then while they were entering their lodging, he asked, "How long will it take for the Entwives to make up their minds?"
"Hard to tell," Nerwen answered, "but for sure, several days. As you know by now, the Onodrim need a long time to meditate on things and make up their minds."
Aryon pressed his lips together.
"I just hope their choice will be the right one," he commented.
"So do I," she agreed with a sigh.
OOO
While the Entmoot was ongoing, the two of them spent their time exploring the neighbourhood, in the company of their four-legged friends, or taking some alone time in their quarters. Fimbrethil had granted them unlimited access to vegetable gardens and orchards, where they found broccoli, carrots, cabbages, spinaches, chicory, turnips, and oranges, persimmons, mandarins, apples, pears and pomegranates; on occasions, Aryon went hunting or fishing. This way, they spared their travel provisions.
The site of the Entmoot was several hundred metres away and, with all those Entwives, it offered the appearance of a large circle of trees. Despite the distance, listening carefully they could hear the sound of the debate, a murmur that never ceased, neither by day nor by night, and that increased or decreased in tone erratically. Aryon and Nerwen thought this depended on the greater or lesser liveliness of the various discourses.
"But do they never sleep?" the prince asked one evening, while they were coming back from a ride, accompanied by Kerra and Túdhin; it was getting dark and it was bitterly cold.
Nerwen had no need to ask what he was referring to:
"Actually, the Onodrim do sleep, but if necessary, they can do without even for long periods; and for long periods I mean really long: even several years."
"Good Valar!" he cried, impressed. Meanwhile, they had arrived at the entrance of Fimbrethil's dwelling, where the Entwives had set up an accommodation for their mounts, nothing more than a hut made of thickly intertwined branches, but enough to shelter them from the severe cold of the winter nights and from the sporadic bad weather.
They dismounted and unsaddled Thilgiloth and Allakos, then the Chargeress entered spontaneously into the shelter to eat some fodder, mirrored by the black horse and Kerra. The wolf instead followed his two-legged friends inside the First Keeper's house. As they arrived to their lodging, Nerwen lighted a fire, then they prepared and had some dinner; later, Túdhin took his leave to go sleeping with his equine friends and the couple got to bed. After a few minutes, the magic Entish lamps turned off; they would turn on again as soon as they would detect a movement of some significance, that is, when they would awake.
OOO
On the evening of the third day of the Entmoot, Olbranch came to get them.
"We are about to proceed with the final vote," she announced, "and the First Keeper wishes you to attend."
Nerwen exchanged a surprised glance with Aryon.
"They did it much quicker than I expected," she declared.
Aryon and Nerwen returned therefore to the site of the gathering, where Fimbrethil welcomed them; they stood next to her, awaiting to learn the Entwives' decision.
"The question is easy," the First Keeper announced to the assembly, talking in Common Speech out of regard for Aryon, "Shall we get involved in the fight against Sauron, supporting the other free peoples of Middle-earth?" she paused dramatically, so that the question would have the time to settle well into the Entwives' mind, "Who is in favour, to my left," she went on, pointing, "Who is against, to my right."
They moved in an orderly manner, nevertheless the noise produced by the movement of such a great number of Enyd was powerful, so much that Nerwen's and Aryon's four-legged friends, who had stayed in their shelter, turned to stare, alarmed.
In the end, there were 132 in favour and 13 against; Fimbrethil expressed her vote last, joining the larger group.
Aryon cast a satisfied glance at Nerwen, who responded with an almost incredulous smile: she had expected a much stronger resistance, instead she had been wrong.
"Fine," Fimbrethil said at this point, "we have established that it is our duty to intervene into the fight against the Dark Lord. But how?" she turned to Nerwen, "What could our contribution be? We are no warriors..."
"No, you're not," the Maia admitted, "You're the Keeper of the Trees, you take care of them and of all the plants, and of the land on which they grow. However, if the land is in danger, you are capable to defend it. A long time ago, you did it, for your gardens in Beleriand now sunken into the waters of Belegaer. You can do it again, with the same strength and the same determination, fighting side by side with the other free peoples."
"Must we abandon Dor-im-Duin?" one Entwife asked, a slender poplar with an almost white bark.
"Only momentarily," Nerwen answered, "for the time we'll need to fight against Sauron."
"But how shall this fight be carried out?" the Entwife insisted.
"I'm no military strategist," the Istar declared, "so I turn it over to my husband, Lord Aryon of the Avari Eldar."
Unexpectedly called in, the prince stood straight at his full stature, even if he couldn't hope to equal his formidable interlocutors, not in the least.
"We cannot know it precisely, yet," he answered therefore, his deep voice resounding firmly in the clearing created by the circle of Enyd, "First thing first, I'd say we should join the Men living this side of the Orocarni. I suggest going to Pallàndim, the capital town of Yòrvarem, which King Pallando supports us and is an Istar like my wife."
The news made quite an impression.
"Another Ancient One?" Calenfinn cried; because of Nerwen, she took it for granted – indeed correctly – that another Istar had to be perforce a Maia.
Aryon arched one eyebrow hearing this title and Nerwen hurried to explain:
"It's the title the Onodrim tribute to the Istari," seeing him still perplexed, she added, "I can't tell you any more..."
The prince furrowed his brow, then his expression brightened and he nodded:
"Understood, it's one of those things you cannot tell me."
She addressed him an apologising smile, but he shook his head:
"I promised, remember? And I keep my promises."
Reassured, Nerwen broadened her smile:
"I love you," she mouthed voicelessly, "Yes, he's another Ancient One," she then confirmed in a loud voice, "His name is Pallando the Blue. He has agreed to play his role in the war against Sauron and he'll happily welcome you in honour."
"I am glad to learn this," Fimbrethil declared, "So, we will do as you and Lord Aryon suggest: leaving momentarily our land is no big deal, but we must arrange things so that our wards can manage for themselves for a while. Luckily, we are in winter and there is not much to do, at the moment. I think that in three or four days we will be ready to leave," she watched thoughtfully the Entwives who didn't want them to join the fight, "No one is forced to go: you are free to stay, if you wish."
"Thank you," one of them said, after a brief hesitation, "but the majority has decided, and largely; we have always been united: we will not stay behind."
"But mayhap it wouldn't be bad if someone stays to go on caring for your wards, at least the ones most in need," Nerwen suggested impulsively, favourably struck by the loyalty of the Enyd even when at odds.
"This is true," Fimbrethil approved, "Talk amongst yourselves and decide who and how many will stay."
OOO
At last, they decided that five Enyd, among those who had been against their involvement in the fight against Sauron, would stay in Dor-im-Duin to protect and watch over the trees and plants that needed it most, while the others would join the rest.
So it was that, on January 14th, an Istar, an Elf and 141 Entwives, accompanied by a wolf, a she-mule, a Chargeress and a horse, left the Land Between the Rivers, headed for Pallàndim.
OOO
They advanced quickly for about ten days, proceeding at a great speed because the Entwives walked very fast. The slowest would have been Kerra, but Fimbrethil had suggested that some Enyd would share her load, taking turns each day, and so also the mule advanced swiftly, keeping up with the horses.
They went on in an almost straight line on the slightly undulated plain, heading southeast directly for Pallàndim; they transited east of Dalad, the realm ally of Yòrvarem located on its northern borders, without passing through it.
Only a few hours before reaching Yòrvarem, on the afternoon of the eleventh day of their journey, in Nerwen's mind the image of a door took suddenly shape, in such a pressing way, the vision superimposed over her normal sight: Yavanna was sending her a contact request. It had never happened before, so far it had always been her to ask for a contact: something extremely serious must have occurred. Startled, she pulled abruptly Thilgiloth's reins; the Chargeress snorted, surprised, and was about to protest energetically, but sensing her two-legged friend's agitation, she refrained.
Alarmed, Aryon rushed at her side:
"What's up, Nerwen?!"
"Kementári is calling me," the Maia panted.
Fimbrethil, noticing the two of them had stopped, halted the Entwives and headed for them.
"What is it?" she asked, concerned.
"I don't know yet," the Istar barely managed to answer, "I must speak with Kementári."
The First Keeper refrained from asking anything, as she thought inappropriate questioning an Ancient One about a Great Ancient One – the Entish way to call a Vala or a Valië – and simply nodded.
Nerwen dismounted, as Aryon was doing the same, then she spread a blanket on the ground, so she could lay down; Túdhin came to her and touched her hand with his nose.
What are you doing? he asked, disquieted.
I must go Elsewhere: they are calling me.
I'll guard you along with your partner, the wolf promised. Nerwen stroked his head, smiling with gratitude:
Thank you, my friend.
She laid down; Aryon sat beside her on his blanket and Túdhin stretched down on the other side.
Nerwen closed her eyes and the door, which was the link between her and Kementári, looked even clearer to her. She opened it and her Mistress appeared on the threshold.
Nerwen, she welcomed her, reaching for her; she took her hands and felt her clutching her own.
What is going on, Yavanna? she asked, worried.
Come, take a seat, the Valië said, as behind her a couch appeared; they sat, still hands in hands, We just perceived the death of an Istar, she went on. Nerwen tensed: because they were in another dimension, they didn't perceive Alatar's death; now, who could it be of the other four? Pallando? Or… Her eyes widened: only for one of them would Yavanna call her so urgently.
Olórin? she breathed. Her best friend, known as Mithrandir among the Elves, Tharkûn among the Dwarves and Gandalf among Men in Middle-earth, So his soul is now in the Halls of Awaiting…
The eyes of the other Aini were full of sadness.
Unfortunately, no, she said, Manwë felt him dying… but his soul is not in Mandos. I am so sorry, my friend…
Nerwen was having a hard time to believe this news.
How is it possible? she asked, distraught, He did nothing to deserve ending up into the Void like Melkor! I'm sure that even Alatar, who mended his ways at the last moment, had been allowed to go there!
Actually, he is there… Neither me nor Manwë can understand the reason why Olórin instead is not. We are afraid he is lost…
No, this is not possible! Nerwen rebelled, There must be an explanation… mayhap he isn't dead at all!
He fought with a Balrog, exactly like you, the Valië revealed, and even though he was alone, he managed to overcome him, after a long battle, throwing it into the abyss… but his victory costed him his life.
This doesn't explain anything: it happened also to Glorfindel, the Istar recalled, and he went back to the Halls of Mandos! Why not Olórin?
She couldn't accept it, she never would; she and Olórin had been friends since the beginning, when Ilúvatar created the Timeless Halls and the Ainur; together they had sung in the Ainulindalë and admired it when Eru had made it visible in the form of a vision of Eä, the Created World; together they had witnessed its concretisation through the Flame Imperishable; and together they entered it along with the other Ainur who had asked for its custody, who later would subdivide in Valar and Maiar. They had been friends through all the Valian Years, the Years of the Lamps, the Years of the Trees and the Years of the Sun. Now it couldn't be all over!
No, there ought be another explanation, she repeated, stubbornly, something that we cannot even imagine…
Suddenly, at it usually did, her Second Sight kicked in. She saw a large army of the Easterlings leaving their capital city, marching swiftly to Mordor; at the same time, from the southern lands, the armies of the Southrons were on the move, even more numerous and powerful because of the terrible oliphaunts, they, too, heading for Mordor; moreover, from the Khand, located southeast of Mordor, the cavalry of the Variags was moving. Her sense of time told her this would happen in a very near future.
Then her Second Sight took her farther into the future, but she had no way to know how much. She saw an immense deployment of armies in front of a strikingly beautiful city of white stone, which she recognised as Minas Tirith as she had seen it in the pictures in Elrond's library back in Imladris. There was an incalculable number of Orcs, supported by the human armies she had seen earlier. Appalled, Nerwen saw them laying siege to the town and bombing it with catapults and trebuchets; after wreaking devastation, fire and death, they assaulted the large gates with an immense battering ram shaped like the head of a wolf, breathing fire from its jaws. Above them flew big winged animals, mounted by the Nazgûl; and the icy voice of their commander, the Witch-king of Angmar, was terrible to hear.
Minas Tirith was clearly condemned; the small army she saw coming from Rohan wouldn't change the outcome of the battle.
Then her vision changed, moved northward with the speed of thought. She saw an immense lonely mountain that she recognised as Erebor, in front of which, in a large dale, stood a great city of Men. Mighty forces besieged it, and Dwarves and Men were fighting fiercely to defend both the town and the Lonely Mountain.
Their situation, too, was desperate.
A feeling of terrible urgency gripped Nerwen.
Yavanna, things are going down! she cried, We must move immediately to assault Sauron's allies from the rear and divert at least some of them from the attack on Gondor! she thought frantically, Pallando told me he needed months to reach Yòrvarem from Gondor, but the pass we used to cross the Orocarni is very narrow, an army going through it would require weeks… we must find another way, a quicker track to reach the Easterlings!
Yavanna furrowed her wide brow while reflecting upon this, her green eyes lowered on her hands.
I think that no one in Arda know the shape of its lands better than the Eagles, she said at length, Hence, they could know about a quicker way, other than the pass. I can ask Manwë to send you one of them to assist you, if there is one willing to agree: as you know, they are wild beings who helps the other creatures only at their will.
Mention them my friendship with Gandalf, Nerwen suggested, this time using the most well-known name of her friend, who is the emissary of their creator: this could be useful to make them more favourable about helping me.
Excellent idea, Yavanna approved, I will contact Manwë and tell him so.
They quickly parted; and even this time, the Queen of Earth didn't forget to bless her friend and follower with her special formula:
May the road rise to meet you…
OOO
Nerwen re-opened her eyes, meeting immediately her husband's grey-blue gaze, as he was sitting next to her.
"Welcome back," he said with a little, but love-filled smile, helping her to get up sitting. Túdhin rubbed his nose on her hand to greet her and she stroked him affectionately.
Aryon handed her a canteen of water and a piece of lembas; after drinking a long draught, the Istar signalled Fimbrethil to come near; eating, she told them about her encounter with Yavanna.
"The armies allied to Sauron are about to move?" Aryon repeated, as his military strategist mind was promptly starting up, "We must hurry, that's for sure! And if there's a way to go round the Orocarni by a shorter way than the one the Blue Wizards took when they came here, we'll follow it. When do you think the Eagles will arrive?"
"I don't know… I don't even know if they'll arrive," Nerwen pointed out, "They are wild beings, very much individualistic… they could decide they are not interested in helping us because they have other plans, or problems they judge more important. Not to mention that crossing the skies so far from their eyries could involve the risk to meet the Nazgûl, who are now equipped with enormous winged creatures capable of tearing them apart…"
"We will just have to hope," Fimbrethil said, "and in the meantime, hasten to join your friend the Wizard," she looked at her with intrigued eyes, "Or are they two? Lord Aryon mentioned another one…"
"They were actually two," Nerwen explained, finishing the last morsel of lembas and standing up with Aryon's help, "but one has died to save me and the other one."
"I see…" the First Keeper nodded, without further questions.
They resumed marching and didn't halt until night fell.
OOO
The next morning they went on. The inhabitants of a few farmhouses they happened to pass by ran in fear, panicked by the sight of what looked to be through and through walking trees; doubtlessly, the noise produced by 141 Entwives marching on was significant, similar to a constant thunderclap blended with the cracks and rustles of a forest in a windstorm, and sounded terrifying to the ears of the unaware Yorvar.
At nightfall, getting near Pallàndim, they realised the news of their approach had preceded them – they had anyway expected it, as they hadn't kept it secret in any way, nor would they have reason to – because outside the gates of the town a group of about thirty riders was deployed, carrying Pallando's white and blue banner. The Wizard in person was leading them.
As soon as she caught sight of him, Nerwen nudged Thilgiloth to go and join him, closely followed by Aryon and Túdhin. Pallando mirrored them, followed by his flag-bearer and two guards.
"Welcome back, my friends," the king greeted them from afar, waving. They halted facing each other, smiling, glad to meet again.
"I see you succeeded," the Blue Wizard considered, nodding towards the Entwives, who had stopped a couple of hundred metres from them.
"Yes, we did," Nerwen confirmed, "Come, I'd like to introduce you."
Pallando followed the Maia and the Avar prince, accompanied by the standard-bearer and two guards of honour, who stayed a few metres behind him.
Seeing them approaching, Fimbrethil came forth to meet them, accompanied by Calenfinn.
They halted some steps apart from each other. Pallando's eyes were round in marvel: he had never seen an Ent in all the time he remembered of his life, and Nerwen thought he hadn't seen one even before losing his memory.
"Pallando, this is Fimbrethil, First Keeper of the Entwives," she said, "Fimbrethil, this is Pallando the Blue, King of Yòrvarem."
The Wizard bowed his head in a respectful greeting. Fimbrethil observed him for a long time, but he stayed still, as Nerwen had warned him about the Onodrim taking things slowly.
"I am honoured to meet you, Ancient One," the First Keeper finally declared, responding to his greeting with a stiff bow. The title made Pallando arch one eyebrow, as he, because of his amnesia, wasn't familiar with it, but he accepted it nevertheless.
"My pleasure, First Keeper," he answered.
Aryon had already gone over the courtesies and was instead pondering about practical things.
"I don't think it opportune having the Entwives – or even just a delegation – entering town," he said, "In my opinion, better we discuss what we got to do staying out here."
"You are certainly right, Aryon," Pallando agreed, "While you were away, I sent emissaries both to Dalad and to Varas, explaining the situation to their monarchs. Both have agreed to join the fight. From here, you cannot see it, but beyond Pallàndim you will find their encampments: there are over 8000 soldiers, plus almost 3000 of mine. I will send for their commanders and organise a meeting for tomorrow morning in the early hours…"
"Forgive me, Pallando," Nerwen interrupted him, "but I bring most urgent and grave news. If possible, I'd like to have a meeting now."
The king glanced at her in surprise.
"You mean right away?" he asked for confirmation and, at her nod, he sat upright on his saddle, "Fine," he agreed, trusting her completely, "as you wish. Just let me issue the orders."
Pallando beckoned one of the soldiers, then he gave him instructions and soon after the man went off on a gallop to return to the squad that had accompanied the king out of town. There was some fuss, then three guards went off in different directions, one heading for Pallàndim, the other two for other places outside the town.
A little over an hour later, Nerwen, Aryon, Fimbrethil, Pallando and the two chief commanders of the armies of Dalad and Varas were gathered in council. No tent would contain the imposing First Keeper, therefore they held the meeting outdoors, with the Humans, the Istari and the Elf sitting on comfortable field-chairs.
The two allied generals had been informed about what was ahead them, but the sight of the Entwives had them nonetheless greatly impressed.
After he was done with the necessary introductions, Pallando gave the floor to Nerwen, who explained the situation as her vision had shown it to her, adding that it was extremely urgent leaving immediately, hoping the Eagles would accept the request of the Valar to help them finding a shorter way to reach the lands of the Easterlings. She didn't take into account the Southrons and the Variags, as their lands were even remoter.
When she finished, the commander of the Daladar, a woman by the name of Voranya, with piercing grey eyes and a fiery mane streaked with white strands, was the first to speak:
"How much are the forces these Easterlings will deploy?"
Straight to the point with no hesitation, Aryon thought, pleased. Nerwen, too, was favourably impressed for the same reason.
The Aini was no expert and wouldn't be able to explain in detail; but she had shared with Aryon her vision – in a manner similar to the one she had learnt the Avarin tongue from him, even if now, instead of extracting an information from his mind, she had put one into it – and therefore she could answer:
"About 15.000 infantrymen."
"No cavalry?" Grellon, the general of the Varasar, enquired.
"Not as warriors, only dispatch riders and commanders," Aryon answered, "The Easterlings fight solely on foot. The Variags of Khand are those who have a very strong cavalry, even if not as formidable as the Rohirrim. However, the number of Mordor's allies is predominant, compared to Gondor and Rohan: we must divert at least part of them, easing the pressure on Gondor. The Easterlings are the nearest ones: if we attack them, they'll have to commit at least half of their troops to defend themselves. Even this way, the allied forces of Mordor are much superior to the Gondorians and Rohirrim, in a ratio of one to four."
"Gondor and Rohan have not many hopes for victory, then," Pallando mused in a dark tone.
"Mayhap not," Nerwen admitted, "Nevertheless, we must do whatever we can to help them."
"It won't be easy, taking our troops so far to fight in a war that somebody could think does not belong to us," Voranya remarked.
"Whoever thinks this way is a fool," Fimbrethil intervened for the first time, startling both Voranya and Grellon with her thundering voice, "This war belongs to us all! Burarum! It belongs to all the free peoples of Middle-earth, of which also your realms are part. We Entwives, too, forgot it, but fortunately Nerwen the Green has come to remind us that we belong to this world and, should the Abominable win this war, he will not let any people escape him and soon all of Arda will be crushed under his domination and we will all be his thralls!"
Nerwen recognised her own words in those of the First Keeper and felt pleased, because it meant that she had her truly convinced.
There were no other objections. They discussed well into the night, skipping dinner, about how to organise the departure and the journey. The supply wagons would slow them down, but it was unthinkable moving their joined armies without them, with their load of food and spare weapons. Meanwhile, they would head for the southern end of the Orocarni, which they estimated to reach in nine or ten days, marching at maximum speed. There, the southern span of the Shadowy Forest would bar their way westwards and they would need to decide whether crossing the wood, where the trees would slow them down, or going round it, marching quicker. Understanding which solution would offer the less waste of time would be the problem. Then they would have to find a ford to cross the Lavnen, this way reaching the southwestern territory of the Easterlings. From there, they would head for their capital town, Ichidoragon, hoping to draw soon their attention. They would be ready for battle any moment, marching already deployed; as an alternative, they would set camp around Ichidoragon, putting it under siege.
"We can't take with us siege engines like catapults and trebuchets," Grellon pointed out, "We'll need to build them on location. This will require time and means…"
"No need for it," Fimbrethil intervened, "because in this, my companions and I can help: we will be your siege engines," she paused, responding solemnly to the flabbergasted gazes of the attendants, "Our aim at hurling projectiles is surely better than your devices, and our strength is no less…"
OOO
The next day was entirely devoted to the preparation for the departure of the armies of Yòrvarem, Dalad and Varas. The Entwives rested on the banks of the Yorva, east of the town, from which wall many people watched them gaping, half in amazement and half in awe, but none dared approaching them.
Finally, at dawn of the 28th day of January, the triple army began do move. The Yòrvar marched in front, then camethe Daladar and then the Varasar; the high command had been entrusted to Pallando, as he was the only monarch there – both his homologues had stayed in their palaces, being none of them a warrior – and even because of his age and wisdom, noticeably greater than the other two commanders'.
Aryon had received the title of First Captain, because of his knowledge of the Easterlings; for the same reason, he would actually command the three joined armies, once on the field, as he had commanded the army of the High Sovereign of the Six Tribes of the Avari. Nerwen was formally appointed First Personal Counsellor of the King.
They marched southward, as fast as possible, for ten days. At first, they skirted the Yorva, then, when it bent eastward to the Red Mountains from which it came, they left it, diverting slightly westward while the mountain range, in this place, curved sharply southwards, arriving at about 120 kilometres from the Great Forest. The good weather and the mild temperatures of this latitude facilitated their journey.
This was a completely uninhabited region, unclaimed by any realm, as Yòrvarem's warlike southern neighbours were located on the other side of the Great Forest and on the coast, so the only living beings observing the passage of the triple army were the animals, who accidentally were wandering in the vicinity.
In the middle of the eleventh day of marching, they reached the end of the mountain range, almost by surprise, because it ended abruptly with a peak no less high than the others they had seen so far, white with snow. At the same time, in the distance on the western horizon, appeared a dark stripe: the Shadowy Forest.
The moment had come to decide whether trying the crossing of the forest, which breadth in this point was unknown to them, with all the troubles implied in moving an army of 11.000 units with all the supply wagons through such an environment, or continuing to go round it, without knowing the distance they would need to cover. Supplies weren't an issue, at least so far, but they could become, should the journey last too long.
Nerwen had constantly kept an eye to the sky, also with her special senses, in the hope to see the Eagles appear, or at least, one of them; but so far, she hadn't seen or perceived any trace of them. She tried even now, unfortunately to no avail; she exhaled a dispirited sigh.
Pallando decided to halt and hold a council with the generals and the senior officers, as well as the Entwives, about the path they should take. The question was debated thoroughly, but it didn't find a satisfactory solution. If the forest was very large in one direction, they would waste much time crossing it; it it was in the other direction, they would waste time in the attempt to go round it. Having no maps showing them one or the other distance, it was all about luck.
"We might as well flip a coin," Voranya declared through clenched teeth, frustrated.
"Indeed," Grellon agreed, equally discouraged.
At that precise moment, they heard a faint sound: the cry of a distant eagle. Nerwen raised immediately her gaze to the sky, while hope had her heart jumping. She scanned all around, straining her sight, and finally she detected a black dot, coming nearer from north by northwest.
Noticing the direction of her gaze, Aryon raised his eyes in turn and caught sight of the shape that had drawn his wife's attention.
"What is it?" he asked, dismayed.
"I don't know yet," she answered, "Let me check..."
N erwen sent her thoughts to the still vague form and met the mind of an Eagle. She gasped in her joyful surprise and smiled, revealing to Aryon this was a friendly and welcomed presence.
Greetings, Nerwen Laiheri, the Eagle hailed her, I'm Coeris of the Eyrie of the Clouds.
Her name – Queen of the Skies – revealed she was a female.
Greetings to you, Messenger of Manwë, she countered her respectfully, Thank you for coming.
It's a pleasure helping a friend of Mithrandir, Coeris answered, I was with Gwaihir when we went to bail him out on that flaming hill, he and his companions the Dwarves, and I fought with him at Erebor. When I learnt you were asking a guide to go the quickest way to fight in the war against the Dark One, I volunteered.
Nerwen was pleased to find out how her suggestion to name Gandalf had paid off.
Thank you, she repeated, I'll announce your arrival to my friends.
Shortly interrupting their mental conversation, she turned to the other ones.
"The Eagles agreed to help us," she simply informed them, "One of them is arriving right now."
Everybody looked in the direction she was showing them.
"An Eagle?" Grellon repeated, squinting his eyes in the effort to see better, "I can't see a thing..."
"She's still very far away," the Istar told him, "but she'll be here soon. Let's prepare for her a proper welcome. Remember, the Eagles are very touchy: treat her with great deference. Her name is Coeris, or Queen of the Skies, which means he has a high rank among her people."
"Better warn the troops," Pallando observed, "They could feel scared, seeing such an enormous eagle."
He called his aide-de-camp and ordered him to spread the news about the arrival of an Eagle of Manwë, who was coming to help them finding the way, adding that none had to bother her or got near her without permission.
Shortly after, Coeris glided majestically toward them, revealing herself in all her impressive size, with her over 20-metres wingspan; she landed at a certain distance and Nerwen, Aryon, Pallando and the two generals hurried to mount their horses and approach her. Túdhin, who never abandoned his two-legged friends, followed them, while Kerra preferred staying, intimidated by the newcomer.
The enormous bird of prey waited, watching them intently. She was at least six metres tall and her huge beak could easily grab a horse; everyone except Nerwen – who already had seen the Eagles on other circumstances, also during the War of Wrath at the end of the First Age – stared at her in wonder and a trace of reverential awe, as much as they had at first stared at the Entwives. They got near, slowly, then Nerwen talked to her with voice and mind:
"Welcome among us, Coeris. These are my husband, Prince Aryon Morvacor, Pallando the Blue from the order of the Istari, and generals Voranya and Grellon. Friends, meet Coeris of the Eyrie of the Clouds."
"It is an honour meeting you, Coeris," Pallando declared, bowing from the back of his white horse, "Your help will be very valuable."
Aryon, too, bowed his head, showing his deference, and the two senior officers did the same.
Nerwen translated for the Eagle, who didn't understand Westron.
As I said earlier, I'm glad to help you, Ancient One, Coeris replied, Your friends are well-mannered, she added, satisfied, Give them my regards, please.
"Coeris greets you," Nerwen reported, "and says she's ready to help us."
"Ask her about the shortest way to get to the land of the Easterlings," Aryon exhorted her, "between going round Tor Kathren and crossing it."
Crossing it, was the Eagle's opinion, Not far away from her,e there is a place where the forest becomes significantly narrow, being less than a hundred kilometres wide. After crossing Tor Kathren, there are less than 250 kilometres to get to the Lavnen in a place you can ford, so it is 350 kilometres at most. If you would choose to go round the forest, that would be over 600, and you would be almost 200 kilometres too far south.
Nerwen reported her words to the others.
"Definitely, it's worth crossing," Voranya commented, "Even if the trees will hinder us and we'll have to move much slower than across open territory, we'll surely need less time than going round the forest."
They used the rest of the day to advance toward Tor Kathren, turning straight westwards exactly at the end of the Orocarni, and in the late afternoon they set camp on the border of the forest.
"Not only did we find a way to cross the Red Mountains," Aryon commented, talking to Nerwen before going to sleep in their tent, "but we even found its southern limit. Our names will enter the geography books along to those of the great explorers," he concluded, amused, making his wife chuckle.
The crossing of the Dark Forest took four whole days, then they needed as much days to get to the Lavnen in the place Coeris had pointed them out. Once they had reached the riverbanks, they looked across it, where the land of the Easterlings was.
It was the 18th day of February.
OOOOO
Author's corner:
Linguistic note: Onodrim is the Sindarin collective noun used for the Ents, while Enyd is plural to Onod; that is, Onodrim means the people, the race, while Enyd means Ent or Entwife as individuals.
The Entwives's Entmoot, in spite Nerwen's surprise about its brevity, actually lasts as much as the one that, between the end of February and the beginning of March, the Ents will have at Fangorn: three days.
The oliphaunts are, of course, the elephants, an archaic noun used by Tolkien.
Ichidoragon (pronounced ee-chee-do-ra-gon; I emphasise the first "o" but I don't know if it's correct) means City of the Dragon in Japanese (at least, according to Google Translator…); I chose Japanese because the armours of the Easterlings imagined by PeterJackson look very alike those of the ancient samurai.
What is happening in the meantime to the Fellowship of the Ring? On January, 15th – the day after the departure from Dor-im-Duin – Gandalf fights the Balrog on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm; on the 25th, he flings it into the abyss from the peak of Zirak-zigil and dies; and while the three armies march to the Lavnen after crossing the Dark Forest, on February 14th Frodo looks into the Mirror of Galadriel and on the 16th, the Fellowship leaves Lothlórien.
I thank all those following patiently and constantly the progress of this fan fiction. We're almost there; I promise you won't need as much chapters to get to the end hahaha!
Lady Angel
