Aragorn walked among the defenders of Helm's Deep. He had done this many times before, walking amongst his men on the eave of battle... but never like this. This time, instead of encouraging pats on the back and cheerful jibes about what they looked forward to at home, he was teaching old men how to draw a bow and young boys how to hold a blade. The only defenders left in Helm's Deep where the old, the young, and a few shield-maidens scattered about. Aragorn had never before prepared for a battle that he was so certain that he would loose.
From the corner of his eye, Aragorn spotted his companions, Legolas and Gimli. The dwarf was busy adjusting his mail tunic whilst Legolas was counting his arrows for what Aragorn knew was close to the fifth time. The dust and cobwebs of Helm's Deep revealed a fortress that had seen its fair share of years and battles. Torches cast flickering light on the ominous expression of the people of Rohan. Theoden King stood in another corner, newly freed from Saruman's influence, the King of Rohan looked grim. He too knew where this battle was going.
Gandalf, newly revealed as Gandalf the White, was gone. After announcing himself to the three hunters and guiding them to Rohan, he disappeared once more... promising to return with the Riders of Rohan who left with Eomer. But Aragorn knew that even if he, by some miracle, managed to find and retrieve Eomer's company in time... there was a high chance that it would be too late. The armies of Mordor and Isenguard were strong. The chances of this small band defeating them were next to none.
"Estel," Legolas hissed in his native tongue. "We are preparing farmers and boys to battle an army of orcs... 300 against 10,000."
"We have a greater hope here than in Edoras," he replied. They were getting some strange glances from those around them, but Aragorn was confident that none spoke Sindarin.
"There is no hope."
"There is always-"
"Do not pretend to be Mithrandir. They cannot win this fight. They will all die!"
"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn shouted, only realizing after the words had left his mouth that he spoke in Common. Aragorn paused, looking at the men and boys around him. He turned and walked away, he needed a moment of quiet on his own.
For in truth, Legolas was right. There was no hope of these men winning this battle. He was leading them to their doom just as he led the company. When they reunited with Gandalf, the wizard had no news of Merry and Pippin, only that they were beyond his ability to see. In all likelihood, they were dead, their should passed on to whatever realm Hobbits moved on to. Gimli as a dwarf would become one with the stone and fall into a deep slumber until his creator awoke them again. Legolas, the only immortal amongst the throngs of men would be sent to Mandos' Halls, he would rest and recover until his time came to be reembodied. Aragorn then thought of his own mortal self. Though he had a hint of elvish blood in his veins, he was a man just as those surrounding him. He would die and his soul would move to whoever those who held Eru's Gift went. One hand went to the pendent around his neck as he thought of Arwen who he would never see again. Hopefully, when news of his death reached her she would travel to the Undying Lands with the rest of her kin. She wouldn't have to give up her immortality and would be able to live with her family.
After some time, Legolas found him and apologized. The pair embraced as there was no reason for him to regret his words for they were true. Aragorn was at least comforted by the knowledge that he was to march to his death alongside his oldest friend when they were interrupted by the calling of a horn. Aragorn froze... he knew that horn.
He and Legolas raced through Helm's Deep, calling for Theoden King to join them as the ordered for the gates to be opened. There, marching towards them in familiar robes of deep blue, was an army of elves. Aragorn watched in amazement as he recognized the three unhooded figures who rode at the head of the party. With a crown of golden hair, a rarely worn circlet, and silver armor adorned with the emblem of a golden flower at the helm of the party was Glorfindel the Balrog slayer in all his battle glory. Flanking him on either side were the identical, dark-haired forms of the twins who Aragorn had long called his brothers.
A wave of hope surged through Aragorn as, without a though, he launched himself at Glorfindel and embraced him in a hug. As soon as he released his mentor he threw himself at his brothers who whispered into his ear.
"You didn't really think that we'd let you have all the fun killing orcs did you?"
"I come bearing a message from my Lord Elrond of Rivendell," Glorfindel announced to Theoden who had just arrived at the scene. "The memory of elves is long and we still recall the days when Elves and Men stood side by side, fighting and dying together. We have not forgotten these days and though we are leaving these shores, we are proud to stand alongside you once more."
"You are most welcome here," Theoden King bowed deeply in gratitude.
With that formality done, Glorfindel smoothly transitioned into what he did best, leading his soldiers.
"Tirron," Glorfindel called to an elf bearing a bow. Aragorn recognized him for he had been his archery tutor many years ago. "Organize the archers of the first battlements. Legolas, will you take charge of the archers on the second battlements?"
"Or course," the younger elf bowed and embraced Aragorn once more. There was a new spark of hope in his eyes for it was impossible to not find optimism in the presence of the ancient hero. "With me," he called to a group of elves who broke off to follow the Mirkwood Prince.
"You two," Glorfindel pointed at the twins. "I trust you can take charge of the wall defenses?" The pair nodded their heads. "Good," he narrowed his eyes slightly. "And don't die... your father will kill me."
The duo nodded their heads, a hint of a smirk before they began shouting orders to the soldiers who moved quickly and fluidly to obey. Aragorn felt a surge of pride as he watched the soldiers, many of whom had helped to raise and train him, take their slot alongside the men of Rohan.
"And you," Glorfindel took another step forward, his finger prodding Aragorn's chest. "Don't die... Arwen will really kill me."
Aragorn threw his head back and laughed, tossing one arm around the Elf's shoulders.
"No," he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't think I will be dying this night."
Maybe... just maybe, the defenders of Helm's Deep stood a chance.
Thunk
Two Hobbits looked up in alarm as a slim dagger flew past their heads and embedded itself in a tree trunk behind them. Evelyn had just returned to the campsite that she had set up for the odd bunch from scouting out Isenguard. It was her third day of scanning the perimeter and so far, she had had no luck in finding any chink in Sauron's defenses that would allow her to attack without the aide of an army.
She stormed over to the tree, cursing Yavanna, the Valar, Eru, and whatever other deities decided that she should be dropped into this miserable world to complete a seemingly impossible task. She yanked her blade back out of the tree and rubbed the bark, muttering an apology for attacking it so. Nightshade emerged from behind another tree and nuzzled Evelyn gently, prodding her to sit down.
"No luck eh?" Pippin asked, only to be elbowed sharply by Merry.
"No luck indeed," Evelyn grunted.
It had become clear after a day that Gandalf the White wasn't planning on miraculously showing up and Evelyn had understood enough about the Hobbits to quickly realize that they would die if she left them in Fangorn forest. Thus, she ended up with two very confused but surprisingly pleasant Hobbits tagging along as she established a base camp that was far enough away from Isenguard to be safe, but close enough to case out the place. In the time between flights over Saruman's tower, Evelyn had spent a good amount of time with the two Hobbits and found them to be shockingly pleasant company. They were unfailingly cheerful, generous, and kind without any prompting. They had no real reason to trust Evelyn and Nightshade, yet they did and did so unwavering. For all that is said about hard won trust, when given so freely and generously, it made Evelyn all the more determined to treasure it.
"Well how did we take down Saruman's tower in your books?" Merry asked.
Evelyn had ended up explaining quite a bit to them over the past several days. It was nearly impossible to not as the Hobbits were incredibly curious and continuously asked questions.
"With a race of creatures that don't exist," Evelyn was staring at a particularly large tree, a note of contemplation in her tone.
"Well... I think you need an army to take that down," Pippin replied.
"Indeed..."
Evelyn thought back to what Elrond said to her on her last night in Imladris. The Lord had walked her back to her chambers and explained a rather absurd theory that Evelyn was finally becoming desperate enough to think on.
"I believe, Evelyn," Elrond spoke in a measured tone. "That there is more to you powers than you think."
"How so?"
"You have something rare... so rare that it is entirely new and unique..." Elrond paused, looking out the window to watch the stars glittering like jewels set high in the sky. "You have the blood and powers of the Valar, the crafters of Middle Earth, running though your veins... but you also have mortal blood. You are a Child of Man and therefore you bear Eru's Gift."
"I can die?" Evelyn asked bluntly, her eyebrows raised.
"Eru's Gift is beyond just the ability to die... it's unique. No being of power has ever held Eru's Gift and I think the reason why is because it gives you abilities beyond the Valar."
Evelyn snorted, but Elrond continued.
"Your wolf Nightshade... she not only understands you, but she speaks to you?"
"Yes," Evelyn looked down to Nightshade who was following the conversation with suspicion.
"Yet she doesn't always obey you? She can joke and deceive, she has her own independent mind."
"Of course."
"Evelyn," Elrond stopped walking again and turned around to look into Evelyn's eyes. "Nightshade is not a normal wolf. She is larger, stronger, faster, and far far more intelligent. Most importantly though... she has independent thought. She is a creature crafted by your powers to create."
"That's..." the word impossible died in Evelyn's lips as she thought about how Nightshade had slowly grown more and more conscious over the years they spent together.
"Evelyn of Yavanna... I believe you can create the Ents."
The idea was absurd. Her magic was uncontrollable, like a wild wave that refused to be tamed. They also exhausted her beyond belief, a simple blast of light was enough to make her knees grow weak.
And yet, that absurd idea was her only hope.
She couldn't win this battle without an army of some sort. Even if she could only create a few Ents it would tip the scales in her favor. She needed to do this... she just wasn't sure if she would be able to.
What do you think? She asked Nightshade.
The wolf's reply was the mental equivalent to a shrug.
Sighing deeply, Evelyn placed two hands on the tree. As usual when wielding her magic, she dug down deep into a well within herself, closing her eyes in concentration she focused on everything she despised. She thought about that dark cell in the depths of Mirkwood, the deep pain when she watched an arrow pierce Nightshade's heart, the sting of betray upon finding out about her grandmother, and the burning hatred she held for Saruman for trying to take what was her- what's mine... what?
She pushed way that intrusive thought and went back to thinking about the pain and rage and hatred swirling inside her. She felt more than saw the white glow of light that bathed her as she pulled all the energy out of her body. Her face twisted into a grimace through a combination of the memories and the physical exertion of wielding her magic as she gave one final shove.
Evelyn collapsed, gasping for breath her knees no longer supported her as she slouched against the tree, panting through the waves of magic reverberating off her. She glanced up at the tree... and as she suspected nothing much at changed. Perhaps it looked a bit brighter, stronger than the other trees around her... but it certainly wasn't sentient.
"What was that?" Pippin asked after a pause.
"I was trying to create," Evelyn muttered, more to herself than the nosey Hobbit.
"Well I don't think it worked," he hummed.
Evelyn shot him a glare that sent him scurrying back over to his older cousin.
"Why'd you look so angry doing it?" Pippin asked, an expression of open and honest curiosity that Evelyn struggled to be angry with.
"It's... it's how it works..." Evelyn admitted after a pause. Having the powers of a Vala didn't exactly come with an instruction manual. And, with an absentee grandmother the closest she ever had to a teacher had been... well had been Sauron so the only way she knew how to access her power was through anger.
"You can't create anything when you're angry," Merry said with an incredulous voice as if Evelyn had just missed the most obvious fact in the world. "My mum always says that if you bake a pie angry... the crust becomes brittle and the butter melts."
"And my gran says that an angry baker's dough never rises," Pippin was nodding along as well, the picture of sincerity.
"Well that might be true with baking-" she huffed, but was cut off.
"Not just baking! Mister Gamgee always said that an angry gardener's cucumbers turn sour and his patch is filled with weeds."
"Aye, you can't make anything when you're angry."
"Then what's your suggestion?!" She pulled herself to her feet, gesturing over her shoulder in the direction of Isenguard. "Because the fate of Middle Earth lies in me figuring out a way to take down Saruman's stupid tower and I have't the slightest clue what I'm doing!"
There was a pregnant pause.
"Well instead of thinking angry thoughts... why don't you try happy thoughts," Merry said with a shrug and a smile.
You weren't angry when you healed the Golden-One, Nightshade pointed out.
Evelyn froze, thinking over Nightshade's words... she was right. She hadn't been angry when she healed Glorfindel and she wasn't exhausted after. What she did... felt natural. It was a long shot, but so was her entire mission.
She tried again. This time, she approached the tree and closed her eyes, placing her hands on the trunk and clearing her mind of previous angers. She went back into that same state of mind that she had been in when healing Glorfindel.
She thought of everything she loved: sunshine on her face, wind rippling through her feathers, deep breaths of fresh air, the whispering of the trees, Nightshade's coarse fur and wet nose, that tug in her heart when Glorfindel was near, and even the mischievous smiles of the Hobbits- so eager to trust. She thought of the world as she wished it to be- a Middle Earth without the looming darkness of shadows encroaching. And as she imagined, she felt her magic flowing.
It wasn't like all the times past when she pulled and yanked, wrenching it out of her body until it explodes like water from a dam. Instead, it was gentle- a steady flow of power that wrapped around her and followed her guiding hand. She could feel her magic caressing the tree, enveloping it in white light before shimmering and sinking down into the trees core. When she finally finished she didn't collapse in exhaustion. She felt straggly lighter, a tingling warmth spreading across her body.
Evelyn opened her eyes and smiled. For there, standing before her, were two massive eyes as the tree looked at her with curiosity open in its expression.
"Hello," she whispered, suddenly nervous. What if I did it wrong? "I think I'll call you Treebeard... is that alright with you?"
Of course, you are my creator... why did you awaken me?
It took Evelyn a moment to realize that Treebeard was speaking in her mind just as Nightshade usually did. It made sense... if she recalled correctly then the Ents weren't originally able to talk. It took hundred of years for the elves to teach them speech. But no matter, they wouldn't need to speak for the mission ahead.
"What..." Merry's eyes were wide and Evelyn turned, suddenly remembering that she did indeed have an audience present.
"Oh..." Evelyn smiled. "Well... Merry, Pippin, this is Treebeard. You won't be able to understand him but he can understand you. I have more work to do so I'd appreciate it if you could get him up to date with the happenings of Middle Earth... explain to him the predicament that we've found ourselves in."
The Hobbits wordlessly nodded, their eyes never leaving the hulking form of Treebeard as Evelyn turned to the next largest tree, repeating the same process. She did that over and over and over again, awakening the trees and granting them names. Vaguely in the background, she could hear Merry and Pippin gathering the newly made Ents together, explaining to them how Saruman was bent on destruction.
Eventually, Evelyn found that she didn't have an endless reserve of magic, even when using it in the manner that she could only assume to be the correct method. By that time, she had created close to twenty Ents. It was better than nothing, but no where even close to the army that she wanted- the army that there was in the books.
But then... an idea struck. There weren't enough Ents to send them at the tower as they were in the books, they would be destroyed before they could bring it down. But... if she found a way to distract Saruman and his army of orcs and Uruk-hai for long enough... then perhaps she could buy the Ents enough time to tear down the dam and flood Isenguard.
She just needed a distraction...
Her eyes shifted until they landed on the two Hobbits, both of whom were standing and gesticulating wildly as they told their tale. A plan was starting to form in Evelyn's mind. Twenty Ents, two Hobbits, a wolf, and one girl with the blood of the Valar running through her veins. Her fingers traced the golden flower clip in her hair.
Perhaps we can win this fight...