The morning brought bright light and a warm breeze up from the valley, and the scent of strangers to the noses of Ancalinte and Finlos. They stood at attention, guarding the approach to the rock camp, low growls rising in their throats.
The Elves were up in a flash, bows at the ready, Eryn not far behind them. Gimli still snored in his cloak by the fire.
Legolas leaped, light as a fox, to the top of one of the boulders and peered out into the growing light. He turned and waved down the two drawn bows behind him. "No wargs, or orcs this time. You won't need those."
The sun peered through the edges of the trees, birds woke and sang and went about their morning business. Legolas found the pot of last night's stew and set it on the fire, then began folding some of the larger tree leaves into cups. Eryn and Fearaf watched him uncertainly, peering often back down the trail. He motioned for them to come to the fire. Finlos and Ancalinte lay down, watching the trail to the farms below. Legolas gave Gimli's foot a light kick, "Wake up, it's time for First Breakfast."
Gimli sat up in time to hear a light crunch of brush and see a little black and white dog trot up over one of the boulders bordering their camp.
"Suilad!" Legolas rose and greeted the newcomers, gesturing to the tree roots and rocks as if in his father's halls. "Sit, there is a fine stew simmering on the fire."
Cal and Cam and Cel, paused, looked around the camp, their eyes taking in the great white dogs, the pony, a young boy with a lumpy tunic, the extra Elf, and most importantly; their missing goat. They exchanged silent glances. Cel's hand held several arrows; Eryn's, Fearaf's, and a few of the fine shafts of Lothlorien. He came forward, held out the arrows; "These are yours, no doubt, we heard the howls last night, wargs, I guess. We followed Nip and then your smoke, not knowing what we would find." He looked around the camp, "It seems you didn't need our help after all." He eyed the goat once more, but said nothing. The other two shoved past him and sat by the stew pot.
Gimli began dishing out First Breakfast. "My apologies, young masters, we did not bring our fine pottery, as we did not expect guests so soon."
The boys seemed not to mind, cradling the strange leaf cups in their broad hands and slurping the stew with relish, and some dribbling.
Legolas made introductions all around, then sat by the fire with a leaf-cup of stew. Fearaf sat near him, trying to blend into the rocks.
"Well, what happened?" Cam said to the Dwarf. "It must have been a terrific fight."
"Though we saw none of your wargs." Cal said.
"Did you pay no attention to their tales the other night? Wargs vanish in the sun!" Cam smacked his brother's arm. "Well, what of your tale Master Dwarf? We plucked many arrows from the ground, and that was only on this side of your camp."
"Eryn is the best storyteller here." Gimli said.
Legolas gestured to Eryn. He saw the dark look in her eyes, like stormclouds. Though her face was still and unreadable, he could sense her setting her will like a rock wall. "Tell them." he said to her.
She hesitated, eyes going from one farmboy to the other, then back to Legolas. His face was sweet and calm as morning, but there was a light in his eyes like an eagle's. His tell them was a bit more than a request. She eyed the farmboys again, with their well-made bows and the all-too-familiar arrows. She noted their simple, but well woven tunics, hunting knives in sturdy, worn sheaths and the adoration in the eyes of the little black and white dog. And the way Cal's hand strayed to Nip's ears, ruffling them affectionately. And the way Cam slipped Nip bits of his stew. She glanced back at Gimli, his face unreadable under beard and eyebrows, and at Legolas.
Go ahead. It was as clear as if he had said it out loud.
So Eryn told the tale of the Battle of the Wargs; at first her voice was quiet, distant, as if it was too great a thing to tell to farmers, as if they would not understand. Then, seeing the look in their eyes, keen and excited, her voice rose and her hands flew like wild birds in flight. Fearaf sat quiet, huddled in his cloak like a rabbit trying to stay hidden, on the other side of Legolas until Eryn dragged him forth to tell his part of the tale. It was Eryn though, who had to speak of his skill with the bow, for he would say nothing of it himself.
Lin's sons stared in wonder at the two great white dogs. Finally Cel spoke, "Where could we find dogs like that, I wonder?"
"They would guard your flocks well." Legolas said, laying a long, meaningful glance on Eryn.
"There are few others, and those that breed them live far from here." she said with an air of finality.
The boys faces fell, disappointed.
A long soft stream of Sindarin came from behind Eryn. 'There is still the matter of the goat. And Thulesilme. You are the one who can make them understand about Thulesilme's children. They will not listen to an Elf of the Wood, but they may listen to you. And you have a way to pay for the use of the goat, too, in Ancalinte's children.'
'Leave my pups with foolish strangers who know nothing of galadhremmin ennorath?'
'Teach them. Teach the pups to guard their flocks, teach the farmers to guard the woods. It's your world now, what will you do with it?'
The eyes of Lin's sons went from one to the other in uncertainty. They could only see that there was some disagreement between the girl and the Elf.
Gimli caught some of it, and Fearaf understood wholly. 'Show them the pups.' He said, and came to her side, one hand held out.
Eryn stood, for an age it seemed, then reached into her tunic and drew forth the pups. She laid one in Fearaf's hands, and cradled the other two herself.
"What are those?" Cam set down his half-empty stew cup and peered into Eryn's hands, "Hounds." he said finally, "Strangely marked. Where did you find them?"
'Tell them the tale.' Legolas said. 'Now is your chance.'
Cal peered at the one Fearaf was holding, frowning, "Odd hounds." He said as it yawned wider than anything that small possibly could.
"They are not hounds." Eryn said at last. 'Legolas, can you call their father out?'
He went to the rock where Thulesilme still lay hid, knelt and spoke words as soft as live fur. Thulesilme came out, and stood before him, rubbing his great jaws against the Elf's shoulder.
Eryn studied the faces of the three farmboys, waiting for them to say this was one of their wargs.
"Handsome beast." Cal said, "Hunting dog?"
"One of your wargs, or a neighbor's." Eryn said, her face once more as hard as rock. She reached into her quiver and pulled out the arrows she had found with the female, she gave them to Cel. "Yours?" Her voice had an edge like a hunting knife.
"I made them for Giliel. She and her sister are alone, with their sheep, down the valley. She told me they were being plagued by wargs and wolves. They often go hunting on the edges of the forest, they have seen strange things there." he frowned now at Thulesilme.
"Well this time they were not hunting wargs. And the wolves are all long gone from this place, not that they ever plagued anyone." she snapped.
Legolas saw the hard light come back into her eyes. 'Eryn, anger will do no good here.'
She met his eyes for a few long heartbeats; eyes clear as bright morning light, set in a sweet, fair face little older, it seemed, than her own. But those eyes had seen much, not just long years under the trees of Eryn Lasgalen, but terror beyond words and grief beyond tears and great shining joy, more than she would ever see. He was the son of Elvenkings and the faithful companion of a King of Men. There was wisdom in his glance and in his words.
Eryn let out a long breath and turned back to the farmboys. She was aware of Fearaf standing by her shoulder, cradling the third pup. "This," she said at last, stroking a pup, "is no warg, no wolf, no hound. It is Thulesilme, and his fathers awoke in the dark before the sun, before even the Firstborn sang to the stars." She felt Fearaf shift his stance as one of the boys put out a hesitant hand to touch one of the pups. She saw the pup cradled in a gentle male embrace; Fearaf's long, fine-carved hands below, and Cal's broad, strong one above. There was a sort of wondering grin on the farmboy's face.
"They say Fangorn holds strange things. Things Men have never seen." he glanced up at Fearaf's face.
"It is true," Fearaf said softly, "I have seen a few of them."
"You have? What?" Cal's face held growing wonder, and something else.
The young Elf nodded, slowly, hesitantly. "Trees that hunt the remnants of the Dark Hordes, and the giant shepards that tend them. And...and other things..."
Cal's eyes widened with something close to fear.
"There are places in Fangorn where Men should never go, but it is not evil. And it is not concerned with your gardens and your sheep. It is the last remnant of the great forest that once covered Middle-earth. It only wishes to continue with its own life, its own place in Middle-earth." Eryn was almost surprised to hear her own voice say these things.
"Then these...dogs...are part of that?"
"They do not go into the forest, they love its edges, coming out under the stars to hunt. But not sheep!" she said quickly. Probably not, at least, she thought. She caught sight of Ancalinte out of the corner of her eye, turned and called the great dog over. "What Legolas said is true. If you had dogs like these you would not have to worry about wargs or orcs or even a very hungry Thulesilme." She knelt and rubbed Anca's great round belly, "Not all who breed them live far from here. Anca and Finlos are mates, and they have had litters before. Good pups who grow up strong and brave, like their sire and dam." She looked up at Cam, still stroking the pup in Fearaf's hands. She studied his face with its strong stubborn jawline, and its dark, earth-brown eyes, so different from the falcon-like beauty of the Elves. She eyed the close-cropped hair, like Thulesilme's fur, that made his head look look as rugged as a mountain boulder, not particularly fair. Then she thought of the moment by the spring with Legolas, when she had seen through the tree, to the whole gladhremmin ennorath. She stared at this young man, as strange to her as Legolas and Fearaf were to him.
Then she looked deeper. It startled her. Like Gimli, he had the strength of the roots of mountains, and like Legolas he had the love of growing things, but he had also the changefulness of Men, the ability to adapt, to learn. And his heart held no darkness.
Eryn stood then, eye to eye with Cam, "I have need of a milk goat, for awhile. Perhaps you would like one of Ancalinte's pups, when they are born. I would give you one, or two, if I can use your goat for awhile longer."
He stared at her in surprise, glanced at his brothers, back at the slight girl who barely came to his shoulder, a girl in battered tunic and travel-stained boots who, it seemed, had stolen their best milk goat and now stood before him with the look of an eagle in its eyrie. He glanced at his brothers again.
"Ancalinte's pups would be better raised by a warm fire, with some sheep to guard."
Eryn turned, the voice was Gimli's. I need no warm fire, the words nearly fell out of her mouth...
...but Cel spoke first, "You would show us how to train them?"
"Well, yes, of course."
"You've traveled far, it seems" Cal said, "where are you staying?"
"Here...anywhere..."
"Well we have room..."
"And the pony..."
"And there is work for Finlos..."
"...and your bow as well..."
The voices of the three brothers piled on top of Eryn's and each other's, spilling out ideas for the raising of pups and the harboring of dog trainers. There would be room for Thulesilme's children as well, and enough milk goats to go around, and if Ancalinte had as many pups as she'd had before there would be enough for farms all over the valley and then...
Eryn escaped and came to sit by Legolas, Fearaf sat beside her. Thulesilme stayed with his shoulder leaning against Legolas' side. They watched the farmboys' animated discussion.
Fearaf's eyes went from Cal to Cam to Cel, with a look of utter confusion, "How do they know what each other are saying?"
"What have I gotten into?" Eryn muttered. But her face held a look of amusement.
"You would only have to stay there till midsummer." Legolas suggested. "By then, Anca's pups will be big enough to go to new homes, and Thulesilme's children would need to learn to hunt, and return to the edges of Fangorn."
"I'll need someone to help with that I think. Someone who can understand the whispers of trees and coax Thulesilme from his den." She looked up at Legolas.
"If two people are lost, it is best if one of them stays in one place."
Eryn turned in surprise to Gimli. "What are you talking about?"
He nodded at Fearaf. "He is running around in circles looking for his kin, and they are likely doing the same. One of them should stay put."
Fearaf's eyebrows wrinkled into a puzzled squiggle.
Gimli leaned in close to him, looked him in the eye, "Dartho a Eryn." He said.
Stay with Eryn. The peculiarity of an Elvish-speaking Dwarf struck Fearaf rather like a rock to the head. He opened his mouth but no words made an appearance. He looked at Legolas.
Legolas eyed the Dwarf and his face broke into a smile, to Fearaf he said, "We will spread the word of your whereabouts. And we will come back at Midsummer to help return Thulesilme's children to the wild. Till then, you two have much to do; teaching Ancalinte's pups, and beginning the training of three small wild things." He leaned closer to Fearaf, "Perhaps you can convince them that the taste of sheep is evil."
Fearaf nodded, his face a mask of strength and resolve.
To Eryn, Fearaf looked a bit like Glorinn, the first day she had introduced him to a saddle. Full of uncertainty. She laid a gentle hand on his arm, gave him the conspiratorial smile of a companion-in-arms, "If you can survive the Invasion of the Sheep, so can I." She gave Lin's sons another long appraising look, but there was still amusement in her eyes. "As long as they don't try to put me in one of their sister's silly frocks."
Fearaf turned to her, "Silly?"
"Yeah, focks; silly, can't hunt, can't ride, can't climb trees."
"Perhaps, but once in awhile it might be fair to look upon."
The two stood, eye to eye; the sapling Avari, with his waterfall of nightshade hair and eyes like mist in the hollows of the hills, the girl of the Dunedain, strong and sharp as a falcon feather, as a knife blade of the Eldar. An understanding passed between them.
"Well," said Gimli, "that settles that. Now that the Elves have finally stopped talking endlessly, we can go have second breakfast."
"And," said Legolas, "There is a small girl who wished to learn how to use an Elvish bow."
"And I can get my pony back."
"We'll make a rider of you yet." Legolas said, laughing.
"No, no, no, I will still need to rest my rump and stretch my legs, just not quite this far."
They set off down over the hill toward tilled land and clouds of sheep, warm fire and ale and bread. Legolas turned at the edge of the rock circle, and met the dark eyes of Thulesilme. Enough game lay by his den for a few days, and he was strong enough now to hunt small things on his own. They would return soon, Eryn and Legolas and Fearaf...and maybe some of Lin's sons, to bring Thulesilme another feast. Then Eryn and Fearaf would return to the valley, and Legolas and Gimli would return to the edges of Fangorn. Thulesilme would go with them for awhile, despite the Dwarf's misgivings. It would be good to have the company of such an ancient creature, to carry his tale back to Mirkwood and beyond. Maybe even Gimli would come to appreciate his beauty in time. And he and Gimli would return in the summer, to take the pups on a journey of learning; all five of them.
Thulesilme turned and trotted off into the bush. Legolas watched the movement of brush, the rumor of the birds till Thulesilme was out of even his sight. He stood for awhile, vaguely aware of the vanishing hoofbeats of Glorinn, the heavy thunk of Gimli's boots, the lighter tread of the feet of Lin's sons, the fading "maahaahaa" of the goat. He had stood like this an age ago, a heartbeat ago, on the edge of Fangorn, peering in wonder into the wood, while a Ranger sat in deep thought against a tree-bole, and a Dwarf fingered his axe nervously by the fire. There were deep places there where no man had ever walked, that even his own folk had forgotten. They called him with voices as deep as tree roots, as soft as wind-whisper. Voices almost as powerful as the distant wailing of gulls.
"Legolas!" The voice came faint from down the hill. Faint but deep and strong as mountain roots. Reluctantly Legolas turned from the wood, and headed down over the hill to join his friends. "Legolas!" The voice came a bit louder now.
He smiled at the growing impatience in the Dwarf's voice.
Gimli stood in the middle of the trail like a dislodged mountain boulder, the others had vanished into the bush farther down, only a faint disturbance of birds a few hundred paces away marked their passage. "If we all ran on Elvish time, we would no doubt starve." He cast a dark look toward the wood. "I suppose you haven't seen enough of Fangorn yet." He looked up at the Elf's face, "I suppose we'll be tromping around in the depths of it talking to trees before too long."
"Not yet. Not till Thulesilme travels with us awhile. Not till Thulesilme's children can hunt on their own."
Gimli made a grunt of approval.
"Then we will go to the deep places of the Entwood and see such trees as are nowhere else to be found in Middle-earth!" The look on the Elf's face was one of pure joy.
"Elves." Gimli muttered, shaking his head. He turned and began tromping back down the trail, behind the Elf this time.
Up the wind from the valley below came a distant sound, like a faint mournful song. Legolas halted and stared out into the sun, still walking up the east side of the sky. His expression shifted, like a cloud passing over the sun.
Gimli frowned, he had heard it too, and though he had not Elf-sight he knew what Legolas saw. "Are you sure you will make it to the depths of Fangorn?" he said softly.
The Elf looked away from the distant sky, and met the earthbound eyes of his friend, saw the look in them, and remembered Gimli's words long ago; There are countless things to see in Middle-earth, and great works to do. But if all the fair folk take to the Havens it will be a duller world for those who are doomed to stay. And Meriadoc of the Shire had said; There will always be some folk, big or little, who need you.
Yes, there were yet things to do here in Middle-earth. Places to see, to feel, smell, taste, to experience, to sing of. Wisdom to learn, to pass on. Songs that could be made, to carry back over the lonely sea.
And perhaps the sea would not need to be so lonely...
A smile touched Legolas' face like sun. "Yes, mellon nin, Fangorn calls, and you still have a promise to fulfill to see it!"
Gimli nodded, a look of relief on his furry face. "Indeed, I do, as you fulfilled your promise to share the wonder of the Glittering Caves. But for now, let's go eat. And I think they still have some of that ale left."
Legolas clapped a hand onto Gimli's broad shoulder, grinning, "They won't for long."
"Come Gimli!" said Legolas. "Now by Fangorn's leave I will visit the deep places of the Entwood and see such trees as are nowhere else to be found in Middle-earth. You shall come with me and keep your word; and thus we will journey on together to our own lands in Mirkwood and beyond." To this Gimli agreed, though with no great delight, it seemed.
(Many Partings, Return of the King, LOTR, JRR Tolkien)