Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth
Chapter Twenty-Five: I Want to Learn to Love the Bomb
by Galadriel Tolkien
I do not know where Gandalf was those two long years. I know where I was. Haunting the north and guarding those who had fought so dearly in the War of the Ring. The Shire, Bree...
History, no doubt, would gloss over my involvement. It was an inevitable tendency I'd found. Centuries would pass and very few would remember the Lady Marya Luthien, friend of Middle Earth and sorceress. It had happened before, and I was guessing it was Fate's way of saving face. Or maybe it was just to keep me humble.
Those first six months I was kept busy rousting out all manner of creatures and men. Those who deserved it died swiftly. Those who were left I sent to Bree or Gondor. The cold quickly passed through to the spring, and I was grateful. Since it was damned cold and a lot of time was spent covering icy ground.
The North is vast, really, but having a horse to ride made it smaller. And so I spent a lot of time in the saddle, relearning how much I hated the activity. Alayna wasn't much happier...
Some of the time, and miles, was spent delving down into the earth for energy to rebuild my stores. There had been nothing left after the transformation spell on Mordor. And, knowing Fate, wherever I got sent next I'd need magic. At times I felt I was so far underground that the catacombs under Moria would have been above me.
Often I thought wistfully of the White Wizard who had stooped to share body and mind with me.
Especially on cold nights when I woke alone, half-remembered battles dancing across my dreams.
But he never came. And, as cold turned to spring then into a gentle summer I began to doubt he ever would. He had things to do, and I wasn't them.
My hair grew out, though. It was still riotously curly, but now it was nearly to my shoulders.
The leaves began turning and I made infrequent forays into Bree. They regarded me as a curiosity, a female Ranger. Alone and kindredless. Butterbar, the keep of the Dancing Pony, found me calming company, not demanding of chatter or conversation. We would sit in his parlour silently, sipping at lovely golden ale, or talking softly of Gandalf and Strider, or the news from the south.
My presence in Bree sent those who would cause trouble packing. And I found them out in the forests, and took care of them as I saw fit.
The innkeeper stocked some lovely ales. And, as it grew colder, I began stabling Alayna in Bree when I could. More worried about the wear and tear on her old bones than I was on mine.
She returned this loyalty by only rarely complaining during the month we spent tracking and destroying a band of thieves in the marshes. We were frequently wet and covered in mud, and rarely had a fire. Until the last of them were gone, and we built a pyre that was probably seen for miles around.
It was warm, though, so I didn't really care.
A bitterly cold winter fell on the northern reaches of Middle Earth, and snow fell in waves. It never quite let up, and at times I felt as if I were the only human being left. Then Alayna would take us to Bree and Butterbar would tsk at my leanness and feed me too much and give me a warm soft bed while Alayna got warm mash and a blanket.
When it became too lonely--sometime in January, I think--I followed the left-over bits of the link to Gandalf. He was surprised, but willing. And we met in dreams, then. Making love more often than not, our minds entwining deeply as our bodies could not.
If I had been less honourable, less atuned to the duty of being the only Ranger in the north, we could have met up physically. But he was busy in the East and South, and I was alone in the frozen North.
He learned more about me than I'd meant to let him. Bits and pieces of what I had been, who I would become. I think I scared him a bit. To realise the woman he loved could destroy the universe if pressed. Maybe it was what kept us so apart. I tried not to think on it too long.
Spring finally crept in, sneaking under doors and around glaciers. Flowers budded brightly as the land sprang back into life. And Gandalf finally came. In *both* senses of the word.
He arrived wind-blown and streaked with the spring rain which pelted the downs. It was a surprise, but a welcome one. We talked until there was no need for talk, and then we danced together under the stars, exchanging passion and love. Ecstacy was our tireless quest that night, and we were unquenchable in our desires for each other. There was a desperation to both of us, as if some sense said the end was soon.
I knew it would come, it had to. I never was allowed to stay a lifetime. Not when it was my happiness that was there. Fate would smile, and I would be whisked away, to save another world.
Quests would come and go. Loves would wax and wane. And I would leave my White Wizard behind.
Morning came too soon, and he left, the time already too much spent with me.
My body ached with loneliness, and strained muscles. It wasn't every day that I danced my passions out in such strenuous ways. It was a rather good ache.
Except that I was alone.
::I may not be your fuck buddy, by I *am* here.:: Alayna reminded me caustically.
A soft chuckle escaped me. ::True. Thank you, dearest.::
--
More time passed, and the year slowly grew older. I began to feel a restless urging from nowhere and everywhere, as if the very trees were chattering at me, "It's time! It's time!" they cried. And I knew the inevitable was approaching. My magical reserves were back to levels that wouldn't leave me a broken wreck.
The Rangers came back that summer, filtering north after celebrating their King for so long. They greeted me with surprise and gladness as I passed them my own news.
And then the North was no longer mine. It was theirs, as it had been for countless generations. I felt an interfering interloper, and retired to Bree and Butterbar's food.
I spent the days telling him all I could of various things, and giving him such jewels and moneys I had. They would not be useful out of Middle Earth, I was certain. And though he protested, claiming my tales were payment enough, I prevailed in the end.
But the woods in his Inn knew the truth, and at night I could hear them whispering softly, telling me it was time to leave.
Mid-August came and I was restless with it. And a story Pippin had told to me resurfaced. Of the Ents and the Ent-wives, and how he was certain they might possibly reside in the South Farthing of the Shire.
I left Bree during the night leaving the town as I had found it, peaceful and safe. The journey into the Shire was quiet and uneventful until at last I came to the supposed resting place of the Ent-wives. The fields and grasslands were lush and full, and I suspected the area more of good manure than magic.
But there was something there and so I rode slowly, eyes and ears open until at last I came to a field of daisies a lone tree in the center. She was a silvery barked beauty, her branches gnarled with age yet still graceful.
Dismounting, I walked towards her, then stopped and sat. Alayna flopped behind me and I leaned against her flank.
"I suppose," I began softly, speaking to the tree, to the sky, to the daisies which grew around us so innocently, "that I should begin at the beginning. But what was the beginning? Death? A ring? No. It was fire which begat them all."
My voice echoed slightly as I began the tale of the ring and its travels through Middle Earth. I touched upon the deaths of men and elves, dwarf-lords who were forever lost. And I talked of the Ents and the routing of Saruman and the destruction of Isengard. I talked until I was nearly hoarse, my throat dry with labour and my heart at rest.
The sun was slowly setting far away, the fragrant breeze tantalising.
"You speak well, young one."
The voice might have startled me, but I'd been expecting it for some time. I turned slowly and gazed calmly at the willow tree which had taken sudden root nearby. "I thank you, my lady."
"Child, you have told a tale which is amazing in some ways. What was your object in passing it here?"
"None, lady." I half-bowed to her. "I merely came to entertain the wise and beseech them for rest for the night."
"She has a glib tongue, does she not, Laure?" There was laughter in this new voice, and I regarded the silvery tree that had basked in the sunlight with me. "Child, there is always an object. Man has never changed from thus."
"Nor elf?" I asked with a grin.
"Nay. They have neither the wit nor the lack of pride to beg from such as we." The Ent-wife--for that was what she had to be--bent in a mockery of a bow. "What would you, I repeat?"
I considered them both, then nodded slowly, "I suspect in the end that I would have asked in the morning. But. Consider this, will you not forgive the Ents? They miss you a great deal. And this Age of Middle Earth still needs the subtle magic you possess."
"How glib the brat is." This new voice was shrill, but the tree who owned it was covered in white blossoms which smelled lovely.
"Oh, do put away your sting, Malina." The original Ent-Wife scolded softly. "She means us no harm."
"So you say. I, I believe she is sent to find us out." Malina reached out, catching her claw-like hand in my hair and yanked, pulling me backwards over Alayna's back. I stifled a yelp. "Will you now tell them, so they may burn down our valleys and gardens, little brat?"
"No." I tried not to move, since the pain from the roots of my hair said that any movement would see me bald. Again. "But I'd appreciate you not pulling my hair out. It's only just got this long, and I rather like it."
"Let her go, Malina." Laure waved a branch. "She cannot harm us and you are being highly unreasonable."
"Am I? My children have already been burned. And there was fire in the north not that long ago. How soon will it reach us here, Laure? How long before we're merely stumps to be dug under into the soil?"
"It matters little," the willow replied serenely. "For even under the soil we shall nurture our children and friends."
Malina shook me slightly, then slowly released me and I could have sworn she snorted contemptuously. "As you wish, Nandara. But on your branches be this deed. And I will not be here to see you rue it." But there was something in her gaze that told me she was not finished. Either that, or she was constipated. If trees can get constipated.
Turning to me the willow spread her branches. "I am Nandara, child."
Rubbing my head, I smiled, "Marya DeZorga. Lovely to meet you."
Laure rustled her branches, the sound like laughter on the wind. "I am Laurelinea."
"I truly did not mean to offend you," I stood slowly, "And I meant what I said. I come only to talk. I don't want change--or, well, I wouldn't mind it. But it affects me not at all whether you whither away here or with the Ents."
::Oh, that's polite.::
::Shut up.::
Pulling slightly away, they both stiffened. Laure rustled her leaves, "What do you mean by that?"
"The Third Age is gone, darlin'. The Fourth Age doesn't look like it's going to have much magic in it. The elves are leaving Middle Earth. Doesn't this suggest to you that maybe old grudges and disputes should be settled before it all goes to hell?"
I was taking a risk putting it this bluntly. But they seemed sensible, er, people?
Nandara smiled at me, "I knew I liked you. Come, I'm sure we have something you can sleep on. Or would you prefer to eat before resting?"
I blinked at her. "I'm actually not tired yet. Or hungry."
"Then we shall leave you here. We must consider your words among us before we make any decision."
"Not being hasty, then?"
She chuckled. "That is for humans and hobbits, child. Although we are far more hasty than the Ents."
I nodded. "I need some rest, then. I'll be here in the morning."
"Good night, Marya." They both said. And then they were gone, sliding silently away across the meadow.
Chapter Twenty-Five: I Want to Learn to Love the Bomb
by Galadriel Tolkien
I do not know where Gandalf was those two long years. I know where I was. Haunting the north and guarding those who had fought so dearly in the War of the Ring. The Shire, Bree...
History, no doubt, would gloss over my involvement. It was an inevitable tendency I'd found. Centuries would pass and very few would remember the Lady Marya Luthien, friend of Middle Earth and sorceress. It had happened before, and I was guessing it was Fate's way of saving face. Or maybe it was just to keep me humble.
Those first six months I was kept busy rousting out all manner of creatures and men. Those who deserved it died swiftly. Those who were left I sent to Bree or Gondor. The cold quickly passed through to the spring, and I was grateful. Since it was damned cold and a lot of time was spent covering icy ground.
The North is vast, really, but having a horse to ride made it smaller. And so I spent a lot of time in the saddle, relearning how much I hated the activity. Alayna wasn't much happier...
Some of the time, and miles, was spent delving down into the earth for energy to rebuild my stores. There had been nothing left after the transformation spell on Mordor. And, knowing Fate, wherever I got sent next I'd need magic. At times I felt I was so far underground that the catacombs under Moria would have been above me.
Often I thought wistfully of the White Wizard who had stooped to share body and mind with me.
Especially on cold nights when I woke alone, half-remembered battles dancing across my dreams.
But he never came. And, as cold turned to spring then into a gentle summer I began to doubt he ever would. He had things to do, and I wasn't them.
My hair grew out, though. It was still riotously curly, but now it was nearly to my shoulders.
The leaves began turning and I made infrequent forays into Bree. They regarded me as a curiosity, a female Ranger. Alone and kindredless. Butterbar, the keep of the Dancing Pony, found me calming company, not demanding of chatter or conversation. We would sit in his parlour silently, sipping at lovely golden ale, or talking softly of Gandalf and Strider, or the news from the south.
My presence in Bree sent those who would cause trouble packing. And I found them out in the forests, and took care of them as I saw fit.
The innkeeper stocked some lovely ales. And, as it grew colder, I began stabling Alayna in Bree when I could. More worried about the wear and tear on her old bones than I was on mine.
She returned this loyalty by only rarely complaining during the month we spent tracking and destroying a band of thieves in the marshes. We were frequently wet and covered in mud, and rarely had a fire. Until the last of them were gone, and we built a pyre that was probably seen for miles around.
It was warm, though, so I didn't really care.
A bitterly cold winter fell on the northern reaches of Middle Earth, and snow fell in waves. It never quite let up, and at times I felt as if I were the only human being left. Then Alayna would take us to Bree and Butterbar would tsk at my leanness and feed me too much and give me a warm soft bed while Alayna got warm mash and a blanket.
When it became too lonely--sometime in January, I think--I followed the left-over bits of the link to Gandalf. He was surprised, but willing. And we met in dreams, then. Making love more often than not, our minds entwining deeply as our bodies could not.
If I had been less honourable, less atuned to the duty of being the only Ranger in the north, we could have met up physically. But he was busy in the East and South, and I was alone in the frozen North.
He learned more about me than I'd meant to let him. Bits and pieces of what I had been, who I would become. I think I scared him a bit. To realise the woman he loved could destroy the universe if pressed. Maybe it was what kept us so apart. I tried not to think on it too long.
Spring finally crept in, sneaking under doors and around glaciers. Flowers budded brightly as the land sprang back into life. And Gandalf finally came. In *both* senses of the word.
He arrived wind-blown and streaked with the spring rain which pelted the downs. It was a surprise, but a welcome one. We talked until there was no need for talk, and then we danced together under the stars, exchanging passion and love. Ecstacy was our tireless quest that night, and we were unquenchable in our desires for each other. There was a desperation to both of us, as if some sense said the end was soon.
I knew it would come, it had to. I never was allowed to stay a lifetime. Not when it was my happiness that was there. Fate would smile, and I would be whisked away, to save another world.
Quests would come and go. Loves would wax and wane. And I would leave my White Wizard behind.
Morning came too soon, and he left, the time already too much spent with me.
My body ached with loneliness, and strained muscles. It wasn't every day that I danced my passions out in such strenuous ways. It was a rather good ache.
Except that I was alone.
::I may not be your fuck buddy, by I *am* here.:: Alayna reminded me caustically.
A soft chuckle escaped me. ::True. Thank you, dearest.::
--
More time passed, and the year slowly grew older. I began to feel a restless urging from nowhere and everywhere, as if the very trees were chattering at me, "It's time! It's time!" they cried. And I knew the inevitable was approaching. My magical reserves were back to levels that wouldn't leave me a broken wreck.
The Rangers came back that summer, filtering north after celebrating their King for so long. They greeted me with surprise and gladness as I passed them my own news.
And then the North was no longer mine. It was theirs, as it had been for countless generations. I felt an interfering interloper, and retired to Bree and Butterbar's food.
I spent the days telling him all I could of various things, and giving him such jewels and moneys I had. They would not be useful out of Middle Earth, I was certain. And though he protested, claiming my tales were payment enough, I prevailed in the end.
But the woods in his Inn knew the truth, and at night I could hear them whispering softly, telling me it was time to leave.
Mid-August came and I was restless with it. And a story Pippin had told to me resurfaced. Of the Ents and the Ent-wives, and how he was certain they might possibly reside in the South Farthing of the Shire.
I left Bree during the night leaving the town as I had found it, peaceful and safe. The journey into the Shire was quiet and uneventful until at last I came to the supposed resting place of the Ent-wives. The fields and grasslands were lush and full, and I suspected the area more of good manure than magic.
But there was something there and so I rode slowly, eyes and ears open until at last I came to a field of daisies a lone tree in the center. She was a silvery barked beauty, her branches gnarled with age yet still graceful.
Dismounting, I walked towards her, then stopped and sat. Alayna flopped behind me and I leaned against her flank.
"I suppose," I began softly, speaking to the tree, to the sky, to the daisies which grew around us so innocently, "that I should begin at the beginning. But what was the beginning? Death? A ring? No. It was fire which begat them all."
My voice echoed slightly as I began the tale of the ring and its travels through Middle Earth. I touched upon the deaths of men and elves, dwarf-lords who were forever lost. And I talked of the Ents and the routing of Saruman and the destruction of Isengard. I talked until I was nearly hoarse, my throat dry with labour and my heart at rest.
The sun was slowly setting far away, the fragrant breeze tantalising.
"You speak well, young one."
The voice might have startled me, but I'd been expecting it for some time. I turned slowly and gazed calmly at the willow tree which had taken sudden root nearby. "I thank you, my lady."
"Child, you have told a tale which is amazing in some ways. What was your object in passing it here?"
"None, lady." I half-bowed to her. "I merely came to entertain the wise and beseech them for rest for the night."
"She has a glib tongue, does she not, Laure?" There was laughter in this new voice, and I regarded the silvery tree that had basked in the sunlight with me. "Child, there is always an object. Man has never changed from thus."
"Nor elf?" I asked with a grin.
"Nay. They have neither the wit nor the lack of pride to beg from such as we." The Ent-wife--for that was what she had to be--bent in a mockery of a bow. "What would you, I repeat?"
I considered them both, then nodded slowly, "I suspect in the end that I would have asked in the morning. But. Consider this, will you not forgive the Ents? They miss you a great deal. And this Age of Middle Earth still needs the subtle magic you possess."
"How glib the brat is." This new voice was shrill, but the tree who owned it was covered in white blossoms which smelled lovely.
"Oh, do put away your sting, Malina." The original Ent-Wife scolded softly. "She means us no harm."
"So you say. I, I believe she is sent to find us out." Malina reached out, catching her claw-like hand in my hair and yanked, pulling me backwards over Alayna's back. I stifled a yelp. "Will you now tell them, so they may burn down our valleys and gardens, little brat?"
"No." I tried not to move, since the pain from the roots of my hair said that any movement would see me bald. Again. "But I'd appreciate you not pulling my hair out. It's only just got this long, and I rather like it."
"Let her go, Malina." Laure waved a branch. "She cannot harm us and you are being highly unreasonable."
"Am I? My children have already been burned. And there was fire in the north not that long ago. How soon will it reach us here, Laure? How long before we're merely stumps to be dug under into the soil?"
"It matters little," the willow replied serenely. "For even under the soil we shall nurture our children and friends."
Malina shook me slightly, then slowly released me and I could have sworn she snorted contemptuously. "As you wish, Nandara. But on your branches be this deed. And I will not be here to see you rue it." But there was something in her gaze that told me she was not finished. Either that, or she was constipated. If trees can get constipated.
Turning to me the willow spread her branches. "I am Nandara, child."
Rubbing my head, I smiled, "Marya DeZorga. Lovely to meet you."
Laure rustled her branches, the sound like laughter on the wind. "I am Laurelinea."
"I truly did not mean to offend you," I stood slowly, "And I meant what I said. I come only to talk. I don't want change--or, well, I wouldn't mind it. But it affects me not at all whether you whither away here or with the Ents."
::Oh, that's polite.::
::Shut up.::
Pulling slightly away, they both stiffened. Laure rustled her leaves, "What do you mean by that?"
"The Third Age is gone, darlin'. The Fourth Age doesn't look like it's going to have much magic in it. The elves are leaving Middle Earth. Doesn't this suggest to you that maybe old grudges and disputes should be settled before it all goes to hell?"
I was taking a risk putting it this bluntly. But they seemed sensible, er, people?
Nandara smiled at me, "I knew I liked you. Come, I'm sure we have something you can sleep on. Or would you prefer to eat before resting?"
I blinked at her. "I'm actually not tired yet. Or hungry."
"Then we shall leave you here. We must consider your words among us before we make any decision."
"Not being hasty, then?"
She chuckled. "That is for humans and hobbits, child. Although we are far more hasty than the Ents."
I nodded. "I need some rest, then. I'll be here in the morning."
"Good night, Marya." They both said. And then they were gone, sliding silently away across the meadow.