Chapter Fifty-five: The Old Forest
"Their pace has quickened. They must have caught our scent."
Peter stopped running and listened to the Ranger's words. Aragorn got up from where he had been lying on the ground, his ear pressed to the stone.
"Hurry!" the Ranger urged, taking off at a fast clip. Peter looked behind him and shouted the command to the next in line.
Legolas was the next one to come into view. Peter began to run to catch up with Aragorn. He did not wonder how the Uruk-hai had caught their scent. Five Humans, an Elf, and a Dwarf were hard to miss on the bare terrain, especially since they all ran at different speeds, causing them to spread out a great distance between leader and lagger.
"Come on!" Legolas shouted to Caspain and Edmund as the two sped past. Legolas looked back. In another moment, Susan appeared on the rocks below. Legolas offered her his hand.
"I can manage," Susan panted for breath. But she took his hand anyway to help her propel over the steep incline. "You should go. I'll wait for Gimli," she offered in an urgent tone.
With a nod of his head, the Elf bounded away after the others. Susan watched him go, then turned back to wait for the Dwarf who was always the last in their party. She did not mind waiting since this gave her a chance to catch her breath and renew her energy.
Three days ago, Boromir had died. Legolas and Aragorn had carried his body back to their camp on the river. They had placed him in a boat, said their final farewells, and let the water bear the body of their comrade away.
They also noticed that of the four canoes they had left Lorien with, only two remained. The last one appeared to have been docked on the other side of the river. Susan thought she caught a glimpse of two short figures through the trees.
"Frodo and Sam have already made it to the east bank," Legolas realized, shoving one of their canoes into the water. He looked back at the others expectantly. Caspain and Edmund seemed ready to join the Elf, but they paused, as did everyone else, watching Aragorn lace his gauntlets.
Frodo's fate was his alone.
Strider said that the remaining members of the Fellowship would search for the stolen Hobbits.
Peter, Susan, and Edmund were a little put off at first, not liking the idea of allowing Frodo and presumably Sam to be on their own with the Ring.
"Just like Narnia," Edmund muttered. "So close and yet so far."
"Just what is our role in all this?" Susan mused. "If we can't save Narnia, if we let little, defenceless Hobbits destroy the Ring, then what was the purpose of us being here?"
Peter looked out over the water. "We could split up. The Fellowship is already broken."
Susan glanced towards where Legolas, Caspian, and Gimli were hurriedly packing what was left of their provisions. Aragorn had instructed them to take only what they could carry on the run. The Ranger stared at her. A strange feeling washed over her, as if she were hearing snatches of a conversation she had not been privy to: "I swore to protect you." "Can you save me from yourself? Would you destroy it?" Susan hastily averted her gaze, watching the canoe bearing Boromir tip over the edge of the waterfall.
As Susan waited on the ridge for Gimli to pant into view, she again wondered why she and siblings had made the choice to stay with the others. She could not explain it, rather that she knew deep down they knew it was right. It was a feeling, not logic. Something Susan was not good at rationalizing.
"Come on, Gimli!" she shouted as soon as she saw him come into view. She then turned and ran after the others.
Gimli looked up with bleak eyes. "I'm wasted on cross-country distance! We Dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous at short distances!"
Susan soon caught up with Caspian and Edmund. "What is it?" she asked, surprised by the faint gleam of hope in their eyes.
"Strider just found a clasp from an Elven cloak," Edmund informed, tugging at his own leaf-shaped clasp on the cloak he wore that had been gifted by the Elves in Lorien. They all had received one.
"Merry and Pippin might yet be alive," Caspain grinned. The three hurried to catch up with Peter, Aragorn, and Legolas who were standing up on a ridge, staring out over the landscape.
"Legolas," the Ranger questioned, "what do your Elf eyes see?"
Legolas gazed across the land for a moment. The world looked open and large at Susan's feet; she could not see any movement below. Next instant, the Elf had spotted their quarry.
"They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard."
{Section Break}
Bard watched the weakened Easterling forces retreat, repulsed by the combined forces of the Men of Dale and the Dwarves of Erebor. Together, the allies had withstood siege in the mountain stronghold and delivered far heavier blows than they had received. The Calormeme's catapults had proven effective in damaging many of the fortification walls of Dale, rendering Dale unusable for military campaigns - for either Dale residents or the Easterlings. They had accomplished this feat by getting closer to the walls than could have been achieved had the walls been armed with Dale's soldiers. Having forced back the defenders, the Calormene soldiers completed the destruction of Dale within a day. However, taking the Lonely Mountain was not so easily accomplished. From their vantage high above, the defenders sent down a rain of arrows and spears. The Calormene were soon unable to protect themselves from the onslaught and could not themselves send up missiles to stop the attack.
Bard turned back toward Erebor. Despite their combined forces attacking from above, Easterlings had managed to breach the threshold of the mountain entrance. King Brand of Dale and Dain Ironfoot, King Under the Mountain, had met the attackers with a ferocious and determined band of fighters.
Bard had wanted to join his father on the field of battle, but Brand had insisted that his son remain with the archers, watching from above. Their strategy was that Bard would watch the battle and alert archers to cease and resume fire based on the placement of Brand's troops below. Bard had felt honored to have been charged with this task until his father's final words came back to haunt him.
"Be as your namesake. Rebuild Dale and bring its people to glory in the Free World."
The task had been assigned to Bard to keep him out of harm's way as much as possible. It was so he might live because Brand had known he would likely die.
Thorin Stormhelm rested his hands on the top of his axe, fingers gently resting over the tarnished blade which he had rubbed the blood off of as best he could. He was kneeling beside the figure of his father, a battered but powerfully muscled Dwarf who even in death looked like a force to be reckoned with.
Behind Dain lay a longer body, horribly stabbed. Bard's stomach twisted as he tried to recognize the person though he knew beyond a doubt to who those telltale features belonged. King Brand had died first; Bard had watched it from above with a cry of anguish, wishing his father, who had sustained enough blows that would have killed any other man twice, would get up and make his way back inside. Bard had every intention of rushing down to the ground floor, to rush out and meet the enemies of his father, but instead he had watched. Seeing that his comrade had fallen, Dain had valiantly fought his way over to Brand's body. There, he had fought with every fiber and ounce of energy left in his body to protect the body of his friend.
When Bard saw Dain collapse too, a fire consumed him. He had previously told the archers to ceasefire while their troops were in the throng of fighters below. Upon witnessing the deaths, his vision went red; he felt like his heart was pumping blood so rapidly it might burst. The shower of arrows cascaded onto the villains with deadly precision. Every arrow Bard set to the bow Sigrid had gifted him upon her arrival to Dale met its mark.
Thorin slowly got to his feet as Dwarves and Men bearing stretchers approached to collect the dead rulers.
"The wounded have been collected," a young Dwarf said quietly. When this Dwarf had first rushed out of Erebor with a stretcher, his first thought had been to go to his king, but Thorin had placed a hand on his shoulder and said to find the wounded first so that they might be saved.
"Do you suppose we've heard the last of the Easterlings," Thorin muttered, choking back tears in an effort to be the ruler his people needed to look to now.
Bard shook his head. "With Dale destroyed, they appear to be making camp on the hills. They'll watch our every move, but they have not the strength to fight us again."
Thorin nodded, looking over their slain enemies. "We must wait for news from the South. The Easterlings are waiting on Sauron for reinforcements."
Bard gripped the bow in his hand. Sigrid had said it belonged to her father.
Sigrid. Lucy. Bard had seen neither of them since before the Easterlings took Dale, forcing the last defenders to make a mad dash for the mountain stronghold. He wanted their advice now; he had been too proud to accept it before. He wanted to hear their stories of Bard the Bowman and Thorin Oakenshield. Lucy and Sigrid had been as wise as Elves and had lived long enough to see history repeat itself.
The Battle of Dale was over. Bard was King of Dale and Thorin was King Under the Mountain.
{Section Break}
Lucy never knew how long she had lain unconscious in amongst shallow ditch watch and rubble. When she was finally feeling herself again, she crawled to the top of the embankment, uncertain of what she would find. Fires smoldered: every piece of woodwork in Dale was charred or gone. Catapults had taken their toll on what stone structures there had been. Bodies were heaped in piles. Lucy did not know how she had managed to avoid detection down in the ditch.
She had with her Thranduil's sword. She did not hear any sounds of fighting. In the quiet, her mind returned to what the Elvenking had told her at their parting;
"It might be a bit heavy for you, but at the very least, it will warn you of when Orcs are coming." Thranduil gazed up at Lucy, who was on horseback. "If you see my son, give him my regards."
She sheathed the blade. The Elvenking had somehow known that whatever the outcome of her time in Dale she was not destined to stay. But could he have ever guessed that she would leave Dale in ruins, with her troop of Elves dead?
And Sigrid?
Lucy looked around, hoping she would not find her sister-in-law's body. But there she was, pushed to the side of the open north gate of Dale, her hand still clenched as if she held a bow. But now the weapon was gone, likely taken by someone to use. Lucy fell to her knees, tears pouring down her cheeks. Was this how adventures went? Failure, heartache, death, defeat.
When faced with death, what can any of us do?
Lucy remained curled in fetal position until her eyes ran dry. Then she heard the footsteps approaching. They were soft steps. Light, yet heavy. Lucy knew those steps. She sat up and turned, unafraid.
"Lucy."
You go on living.
"Aslan."
The short woman clung to his mane, tears starting anew. Somehow they were a mix of hope and dread. After a moment of not moving, Lucy leaned back on her heels.
"How come you didn't come roaring in and save us like you did at the Battle of Beruna?"
"Things never happen the same way twice, dear one." Aslan's eyes were clear. He smelled of sunshine. Although things would never be the same, that things would never happen the way Lucy expected, there were promises that there could be a golden future. "But what will happen is another matter."
Lucy got on his back just as she had with Tilda all those years ago after his resurrection.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"I think the Trees have slept long enough."
{Section Break}
To say that Merry and Pippin were having a miserable time would have been an understatement. Not only were they beyond miserable, hungry, and frightened, they were apparently on the menu.
"I'm starving," one of the Uruk-hai complained. "We ain't had nothin' but maggoty bread for three stinkin' days."
"Yeah," another Orc agreed. "Why can't we's have some meats?" The Orc eyed the Hobbits. "How abouts them? They're fresh."
"They are not for eating!" exclaimed an Orc, probably a leader though Merry and Pippin were not certain of the ranking among the monsters. What they did know was that they were hauled to their feet, off of the ground from where they had been tossed aside by the Orcs who had carried them since they had been captured. Now upright, the Hobbits could clearly see through the gloom of twilight that they were the attention of every Orc.
An Orc with a narrow face leaned towards them. "What about their legs? They don't need those. They look tasty."
The presumed Orc leader pushed the invader back. All of the fell beasts growled at one another like a pack of displeased wolves. Suddenly, one very hungry Orc made a lunge at the Hobbits. Both Halflings were certain death had found them, but their would-be-attacker landed on the ground a short distance in front of them, its head cut off. The Orc leader stood over the mutilated body, holding a sword. Despite that they had been saved from becoming dinner, the Hobbits were thoroughly disgusted by the cannibalistic display that ensued.
"Looks like meat's back on the menu!" the leader declared as the Orc pack fell upon the body like birds of prey.
The two Hobbits shrunk away from the scene.
"Let's go," Pippin whispered, nodding towards the shadows of the woods. They crawled hurriedly across the clearing where the Orcs had paused to rest. Some Orcs had begun to chop down the trees at the edge of the clearing for reasons that escaped the Hobbits' knowledge. But a dark, dense forest still existed beyond the woodcutting endeavors of the fell creatures. If only Merry and Pippin could make the cover of the trees, maybe they could evade their captors.
Next instant, Merry had been flipped unceremoniously onto his back. The Orc that had wanted to eat his legs was leering over him. The Orc wanted more than just the legs this time.
"Go ahead, cry for help," the Orc challenged. "No one will save you."
Neither Hobbit knew exactly what happened next. The Orc threatening them lay dead with a spear through its back. Newcomers on horseback stampeded into the clearing, carrying more of the same spears. Mayhem quickly followed as the two forces fought the other. Both Halflings took their chance to run.
Skirting the screaming Uruk-Hai and flailing hooves of the horses, Merry and Pippin made for the forest, finding an abandoned blade to cut their bounds as they went. As they neared their destination, an Orc caught hold of one of their Elven belts, which came away free and both Hobbits escaped into the darkness.
Unfortunately, the Orc was far from satisfied with having only the belt, and he continued pursuing the Halflings into woods. The chase went on for hours. Merry wondered if it was morning when, out of breath from their run, he urged Pippin to climb a tree. It seemed like there was a little more light at this point, but the forest was so dense, he could not be sure. However, if the forest was getting lighter then they did not have the cloak of darkness on their side. And since running and trying to hide in the roots of trees and burrows of the ground had failed them all night long, climbing trees seemed to be their next best option. Pippin scaled the tree ahead of Merry, who after climbing as high as the first branch, paused to see if their assailant was still in pursuit.
"I think we've lost him."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth then Merry had been yanked back onto the ground with the Orc standing over him once more.
Pippin stared down on his companion with a look of horror. "Merry!"
The tree blinked owlishly beside Pippin's face. The Hobbit gawked at the tree bark to ensure that his eyes were only playing tricks on him. Much to his astonishment, the eyes blinked again and returned his gaze.
"Ahhhhh!"
On the ground, Merry was about to become mincemeat. Nevertheless, he could not help staring upward after Pippin's scream. There was Pippin, seemingly being held by a stout tree branch as though he were a doll in a Hobbit girl's hand. The tree itself was staring at the little creature in its grasp and was moving. Now the tree was looking down on the hapless Merry. A great root-like foot lifted out of the ground and stepped down on the unsuspecting Orc, squishing it into the ground. Merry scrambled back in shock.
"Run, Merry!" Pippin hollered.
Scrambling to his feet, Merry began to do as Pippin bid, but he was not quick enough. A long tree branch snaked down and scooped the Halfling off the ground. Both Hobbits squirmed in the vice-like grips of the tree, all the while watching the large yellow eyes studying them.
"Little Orcs," it said in a slow, deep voice.
"The tree is talking," Pippin stated the obvious.
"Tree?" it asked in confusion. "I am no tree! I am an Ent."
"A Tree-herder," Merry recalled the name. "A shepherd of the forest."
"Don't talk to it, Merry," Pippin advised. "Don't encourage it."
The Ent had a contemplative look on his bark face. "Treebeard, some used to call me."
Pippin looked up at the face, ignoring his own advice. "And whose side are you on?"
"Side?" He sounded puzzled. "I am on no side because nobody's on my side, little Orc. Nobody cares for the woods anymore."
"We're not Orcs!" Merry shouted. "We're Hobbits!"
"Hobbits? Hmm. I've never heard of a Hobbits before. Sounds like Orc mischief to me!" Treebeard's grip tightened around the Halflings. "They come with fire! They come with axes! Gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning! Destroyers and usurpers!"
"You don't understand!" Merry cried, trying to reason with the tree-like being whose temper was rising. "We're Hobbits! Halflings! Shire-folk!"
Treebeard seemed unconvinced. "Maybe you are...and maybe you aren't. The Entmoot will have to decide."
Merry puzzled over the strange word. "What's that?"
"Tis a gathering," Treebeard answered slowly, carrying the Halflings in his branch-like hands as they moved deeper into the forest. "Something that has not happened for an age."
Pippin wore a surprised expression. "I don't know as we're so important to bring an Entmoot about."
Treebeard frowned and his voice sounded like a groan. "This meeting was not happening for you, little Orc."
"Then something else has brought the Entmoot together?" Pippin asked, wondering what might cause the Tree-herders to amass after so long.
The bark shifted around Treebeard's eyes to give the appearance of him frowning. "Now that would be telling. Not so hasty, that's my motto."
"It must be something of great importance," Merry pried.
"Wouldn't you like to know, little Orc."
"We're not Orcs," Merry cried again. "We're Hobbits! My name is Meriadoc Brandybuck, though most call me Merry, and this is Peregrin Took, generally known as Pippin, or even Pip."
Treebeard rumbled softly. "But you are hasty folk, I see."
Merry was feeling desperate to convince the Ent of who they were. "We set out with a company from Rivendell. Four of us Shire-folk altogether, with six of the race of Man, an Elf, a Dwarf, and a Wizard-"
"A Wizard?" Treebeard lifted Merry closer to his face. "What Wizard?"
"His name was Gandalf."
Treebeard lowered Merry so he could stare at both Hobbits for a second. "Maybe I am being hasty…"
After a moment of no response, Merry and Pippin exchanged a confused glance. Treebeard had a faraway look on his face. Finally, he said;
"You speak of Master Gandalf as if he was a story that had come to an end."
"Yes, we do," said Pippin sadly. "The story seems to be going on, but I am afraid Gandalf has fallen out of it."
Merry studied Treebeard. "Did you know Gandalf?"
"Yes, I did. The only wizard that really cared about trees." The Ent looked around him as they continued to make strides through the dark woodlands. Although patches of sky that peaked through the dense, leafly canopy were pale blue, little light of the day shone amongst the trees. At length, Treebeard requested that they tell their tale, but not to hurry in the telling.
The hobbits began to tell him the story of their adventures ever since they left Hobbiton. They followed no very clear order, for they interrupted one another continually, and Treebeard often stopped the speaker, and went back to some earlier point, or jumped forward asking questions about later events. They said nothing whatever about the Ring, and did not tell him why they set out or where they were going to; and he did not ask for any reasons.
Treebeard was immensely interested in everything, especially anything having to do with Gandalf or Saruman. The Hobbits regretted very much that they knew so little about them. They knew at any rate that the Uruk-hai that had captured them had come from Isengard.
By the time the Halflings had finished their tale, they had reached a small clearing surrounded by the tangled network of old trees. A late afternoon light lit the fringes of the forest, making it appear less dark and spooky than it had the night before. In the middle of the clearing was a tall gray stone that reared itself up out of the ground like a monument. As Treebeard set the Hobbits down on the grass, noises moaned out of the forests, making the Hobbits nervous at first. Then, out from the woods came tall, tree-like creatures, much like Treebeard himself.
"Beech, Oak, Chestnut, Ash," Treebeard listed off as the Ents approached. "Good, good, good. Many have come." He stared around at the gathering, taking his time to do so, noting each wide-eyed or solemn face. "The Ents have not been troubled about the wars of Men and Wizards for a long time," he groaned slowly. "Hmm. Now, we must decide if the Ents will go to war."
A.N.: Bard was actually in his thirties when he became King of Dale after his father's death. I aged him down in this story to allow for more character development. According to The One Wiki To Rule Them All, Bard was given the bow of his namesake Bard the Bowman. Since in my story Sigrid received the bow when she was in Narnia at the home of Tauriel and Kili, I added that she gifted the weapon to her great-nephew as a reminder of who his namesake was. And like I said in an earlier author's note, the Battle of Dale actually took place close to the same time as the Battle of Pelennor Fields, but I obviously changed the timeline to get Lucy in on the action.
I am sorry for not updating this story on a regular basis. I am trying to keep this story updated whenever I can. Thank you to all my reviewers and readers who have continued to read this and bear with the infrequent updates. Knowing that there are still those out there who enjoy reading this are my motivation to continue this project!
As always, please review!