"What's that, Kerra?" asked Merry.
"Nothing, just mumbling." She was secretly envious that the hobbits seemed unaffected by the magic; the only exhaustion they had to deal with with a physical kind. She brushed the leaves from her stained gown and tried to ignore how stiff her muscles were. "Can you pass me the water, Merry?"
"It's out," grumbled Merry, with an angry look directed at Pippin, who was tucking the canteen into his knapsack. Pippin looked down, staring at the bottle, then his eyes widened and he yanked the canteen out. He shook it, and gasped loudly.
"What is it?" whispered Frodo, eyes wide with fear.
"Look!" Pippin held out the water canteen in a shaking hand. "I drank the last of this yesterday-you know I did, Merry, you yelled at me for it--and it's full again! Full!" He threw it to the ground and stared at it as if it would start speaking in Elvish next.
Kerra picked it up delicately and sniffed the water inside. It smelled clean, but she opened her mouth and let a few drops fall in. It tasted just as it had smelled: clean, fresh, and pure.
"It's fine," she said, her voice tinted with wonder. "The water is fine."
Sam stared at the ground. Thank you, Lady, he thought. He wasn't quite sure, but he thought he heard a voice in the back of his head.
"You are welcome," it said before fading away.
*************
Strange noises abounded in Emyn Muil. Sixty years of healing had barely touched the surface of the devastation that Sauron had wreaked upon it. The rocks were still sharp enough to draw blood from even the toughest hobbit foot; the air was still heavy and clammy with evil.
Sam was on the first watch. The horrors lurking in the Molasba Forest, only left behind three days ago, were still nothing to the nightmares that dwelt here. How he hated this place! Its memory was all too fresh in his mind; stumbling through the ruined and blasted land, trying to keep Frodo from collapsing under the weight of a burden he was never meant to carry. Now, they had returned to this blackened hell, to fight their way across the landscape and hope, that, like the first time, they could reach Mordor unscathed.
Behind him, Frodo moaned in his sleep. Even the small noise was enough to wake Kerra, who moved from sleep to waking with a swift opening of her eyes. Seeing Sam crouched upon a rock ahead of her, she crept up to him and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned, glad to be relieved even though his shift wasn't quite over, and slowly retreated back to his bedding. He passed into a fitful sleep that was soon interrupted when a small noise near his ear jerked him awake.
Kerra didn't seem to have heard it, but when the rustle came again, Sam had his sword already clasped in a sweaty hand.
Silence reigned for a moment, and Sam relaxed, thinking it had all been a product of his sleep-deprived mind, when the rustle came again, so close he could hear it breathing, and he stabbed out with his sword in an ecstasy of pure fear.
The point of the blade connected with flesh, pierced and divided it. There was a stifled gurgling cry that awoke Frodo and brought Kerra running with a torch. Sam pulled his sword out of his victim to find the blade glittering with pale blood in the light from Kerra's torch. His eyes flew to his victim, who lay gasping on the ground and clutching their shoulder. The stranger was grimy, almost unrecognizable under the filth, but the eyes were unmistakable.
"Anemosi!" Sam fell to his knees and gathered her in, his mind whirling in a confusion of joy, fear, and relief. he tried and failed to ignore the fact that he had stabbed her in the same place that the Nazgul had stabbed Frodo all those years before.
He was weeping, he realized a few minutes later, and so was she, her tears washing clean spots in the grime on her cheeks. Heedless of anything except the paralyzing joy of having her back in his arms, Sam kissed her again and again and held her more and more tightly until she cried out in pain. He released her gently, smoothing her matted hair away from her face.
"Oh Anemosi, what's happened to you? How did you get out?" Before she could answer, he was kissing her again, unable to help himself.
"Sam, please!" Kerra, astonished and close to tears herself, had placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sam, let her speak." Frodo was standing slack-jawed between a just-awakened Merry and Pippin, completely awestruck at her sudden return.
Reluctantly, Sam released her. Anemosi's hand moved almost immediately to her shoulder, where the wound from Sam's sword was still trickling silverish blood.
"Oh, Anemosi! I'm sorry!" Sam gasped. "I didn't know!"
"It's all right, Sam," she whispered as Kerra tore a strip of cloth from her gown and wrapped it around the wound. She took Kerra's hand, and squeezed it tightly.
"I should have known you'd come...all of you..." She smiled weakly at those gathered before her. "I should never have doubted that you would come for us..." She shuddered, and rubbed her wrists.
A sudden noise behind Frodo made him jump up, sword drawn. He slashed out, and a gasp from the dark made him stab out again.
"Frodo!" Anemosi cried out. "Frodo, no! Stop!" She clambered clumsily to her feet, all grace deserted in the need for fast action, and staggered in front of Frodo. He paused, knowing he should shove her aside before whatever was lurking in the darkness attacked, but she stood firm.
Out of the darkness appeared a lanky form, all sinew and huge, bewildered eyes. It scuttled up behind Anemosi on all fours, and suddenly stood up to place a long three-fingered hand on her shoulder. Sam, thinking the beast was about to steal Anemosi away from him, cried out and stabbed at it with his sword. Anemosi struck the flat of the blade with her hand, knocking it away.
"Just stop! Please, don't hurt him." She placed her own small hand over the creature's. "This is Brule--he saved my life."
Sam and Kerra looked barely convinced, and even Frodo still had his sword out, so Anemosi turned to Brule and whispered to him.
"I think you'd better go small, Brule."
The creature blinked slowly at her. "But, lady, that's the one as hurt ye--don't ye want me ter stay big t'keep ye safe?"
Anemosi smiled at him. "It's all right, Brule--he didn't know. Besides, he's my Sam, so I know I'm all right."
Brule frowned, but argued no further. In a breath, Brule had shrunk to the size of a small cat, and had clambered protectively up on to Anemosi, where he rested his head on her shoulder. A long tail wrapped around her waist, previously unnoticed, and for the first time, they saw that his skin was slightly iridescent, even in the gloom.
Anemosi looked up at Sam and smiled.
"Kerra, Sam, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin...I'd like you to meet Brule. I think he'll be staying with us for a while."
"What is this...Brule, exactly?" asked Kerra, not even trying to keep her skepticism out of her voice.
"He doesn't remember what he is," answered Anemosi. "But he's very old, aren't you, Brule?" In response, Brule burrowed his head into Anemosi's neck, making a noise somewhere between a chitter and a purr.
Sam, for the first time he could remember, felt a cold stab of jealousy. that was his Anemosi, and no one, especially not some grimy little filth-eater, was going to touch her like that while he was around.
Before he could step forward to remove the creature, Brule had let out a small noise of alarm and leapt down from Anemosi's shoulder to disappear into the darkness. A low rumble, sounding as if it came from far away, followed his departure. Anemosi froze, her eyes wide and terrorized, her whole body tense.
"She knows..." Anemosi whispered. "She knows you're here! Oh, Sweet Lady, help us now!"
The rumble came closer, making the hair on the backs of their necks stand straight up. It was the sound of ancient machinery, the kind that was better left alone and in darkness, far away from the world of the living. It was the kind of sound that seemed as if it came from a blending of other noises: the sound of flowing water, far-off screams, and the low, quiet weeping of utter despair.
Anemosi moaned and clutched her hands to her ears. "It hurts, it hurts..." she said. The movement of her arms dislodged the makeshift bandage on her wound, and the gash began to bleed afresh. "Make it stop!" she screamed as the noise grew louder.
The rest of the group was frozen to the ground, unable to do anything but listen as the rumble grew close enough to vibrate the air around them. Anemosi's screams had faded away into sobs as she fell to the ground, shivering. Sam was powerless to move to her aid, and could only listen to her voice swoop upwards into a blood-boiling shriek as the rocks before them exploded.
Something crawled out, supperating and noxious and a thousand different kinds of foul. It was a rolling nightmare, a monster of vast geometries that had no right existing in any world that was ever graced by sunlight. It had no eyes that Sam could see, no features at all except for a huge mouth that opened wide and roared into the deep night. Beside such an agony of sound, Anemosi's cries were lost.
The creature pulled itself out of its hole, the sharp edges of the rocks cutting into the tough flesh and releasing a putrid smell that made the air shrivel inside their lungs. It sniffed the air once, and turned its heavy blind head in their direction
Kerra sucked in a breath and blew it out as an expletive as the creature lifted a monstrous paw and began to waddle towards them. She caught a glimpse of its underbelly, and the sight of the ponderous sacks of venom hanging there nearly made her sick.
"You know," said Merry in a voice of such calmness that it was only a matter of time before he broke out into hysterical screams. "It might be a good idea if one of us came up with a plan."
Sam couldn't have agreed more. His attentions, however, were occupied with gathering Anemosi off the ground and heaving her into a standing position. She was weeping helplessly, mumbling like a lunatic as the creature inexorably advanced, and her body felt oddly loose and weak in his arms. She would not be able to run on her own power; she would have to depend on his strength to get anywhere.
"I have an idea," announced Kerra, her eyes never leaving the creature.
"And it is?" asked Pippin, anxiously awaiting the brilliant plan that she would undoubtedly have in mind.
"RUN!"
And they did. They grabbed whatever supplies were in reach, leaving the rest behind and diving into the blackness. Strong as he was, Sam soon fell behind as Anemosi's fading strength left her completely. He was, essentially, carrying a dead weight.
He stumbled over a particularly sharp rock and fell heavily to the ground. Anemosi tumbled from his arms and lay still a few feet away from him, not making a sound to even hint that she was still alive. He scrambled over to her, hoping that the mist would hide them for the few moments it would take for him to recover, but without warning he felt a cold, poisonous wind blowing across his back.
He threw his body over Anemosi's, praying that he could protect her for as long as he was alive, and turned to face the monster.
Blind it may have been, but it did its mistress's bidding. And it was her voice, not the primal roar from earlier, that came from its maw.
"I see you! You cannot hide from me!" The mouth opened wider than any bone structure could have allowed, and Sam was contemplating his death between the rotting fangs when a spear flew out of the mist and lodged itself deep within the monster's throat.
Making a gurgling scream that seemed mixed of Lanal's voice and its own, the creature fell forward to the earth. The sacks on its belly burst, leaking forth a gassy, over-ripe liquid that boiled on the rocky ground. Sam looked around, gasping for breath in the rancid air, and saw a tall form coming towards him out of the mist.
"Are you Samwise Gamgee?" asked a slow, sonorous female voice. The figure was huge, as tall as a tree, and built in the same fashion.
"I am," whispered Sam, scarcely caring that he could be placing himself in just as much or more danger than before.
"Hem! Good, good. Much too hasty with your name, little fellow, just like all the others like you that just ran into me. Hem, hem! Better gather your friend up, and let me carry you both. We can move faster that way. Hem! Come along now, little hobbit!"
He found himself scooped up in a huge pair of rough hands that handled both him and the limp Anemosi with astonishing gentleness. He smelled tree bark, and a flash of realization leapt into his brain.
"You're an Ent!" he gasped.
"Hem! Not quite, little hobbit. But close! You were much too hasty with your guess, that's why you were wrong, hem! I'm an Entwife, and my name is Fimbrethil."
*************
NOTE: The Entwives, for those of you who don't remember or who haven't read the books, are the female versions of the Ents. They were "lost" according to Treebeard, and have not been seen by the Ents for many, many years. I decided to create my own story about what happened to them. FImbrethil was mentioned in The Two Towers by Treebeard as an Entwife of astonishing beauty. Enjoy.
