Disclaimer: Aren't you bored of these things yet? Okay, the events are my own, but the characters and locations belong to Tolkien.

Chapter IX: Fading Remnant

"Gandalf! Come quickly! Something is terribly wrong!"

Gandalf hastened his stride, catching up with Aragorn at the peak of Dol Baran, from where the pair could see the whole of Nan Curunír spread out before them. But this was not the green field Gandalf remembered. The whole vale was burnt black, with small fires still smouldering along the edges. If it had not been for the heavy rainfall the night before, Gandalf feared the whole have Rohan would have been burning.

"Surely this cannot be the work of Saruman," said Aragorn, intruding on the wizard's thoughts. "I know you saw smoke, but this . . . this is beyond even his power."

"Do not underestimate the abilities of Saruman," chided Gandalf. "Even with his mind half-enslaved by Sauron he was powerful. Now, with his own will, and all the strength he gained through his battles with the Dark Lord, he must be strong indeed. And yet," he raised a hand to ward off the Dúnadan's apology, "I concur. This is not his work. I fear a far greater and more ancient evil has been at work here. I fear . . ." His voice tailed off.

"What do you fear?" asked Aragorn. Gandalf shook his head.

"Nay, do not ask me that until I am sure. Why do we not ask those who know for certain?"

Aragorn blinked, and turned to survey the blackened field before them. "I see no one, only burnt grass and a small stand of trees." His brow furrowed. "I do not understand how they could have survived the devastation, but even you, I think, could not persuade them to speak of it."

Gandalf shook his head. "I cannot speak to the trees, Aragorn, but this is of no matter. Your eyes deceive you – those are not trees."

"Not trees?" Aragorn stared in confusion. If they were not trees, yet held the semblance of trees at this distance – he judged it to be a league at the most – then he could think of nothing that they could be. Nothing in all of Middle-earth looked similar enough to trees. Nothing, that is, save . . . "Ents? I thought their kind were gone long ago."

Gandalf smiled. "Very good, Aragorn. They are, indeed, ents, and although they have been reduced, they are not yet lost to this world. If you look closer, you will see that they are, in fact, moving towards us. Come, let us go down and meet them."

As he approached the crowd of ents, Aragorn began to see the differences between them and true trees. Shorter they were, with a more mannish appearance to them. He could almost believe them to be some grotesque half-breed, part man, part tree, but could not see how such a thing could come to be. As if sensing his thoughts, Gandalf muttered, "The ents are trees inhabited by powerful spirits, created by the Vala Yavanna long ago. They are far older than anyone you are ever likely to meet, save a few such as myself. Be respectful. I suspect that the leader will be one known as Fangorn, Treebeard in the Common Tongue, one of the last of the original ents." With that, Gandalf looked ahead to the ents, now only a few hundred strides away, and called, "Ho, there, shepherds of the trees! I am Gandalf, known to you of old! Where is Treebeard, for I desire to speak to him?"

The answer came back, a deep rumbling on the wind. "Treebeard is fallen in the ruins of our home. We are the last of our people. I am Quickbeam, and I have heard of you, Gandalf the Wanderer. Perhaps you can assist in our plight."

The pair had now reached the small group, which Aragorn estimated to contain no more than twenty ents. "Treebeard is fallen and Fangorn is ruined?" asked Gandalf with concern. "How did such a thing come to pass? Was it Saruman?"

"Nay," replied the one identified as Quickbeam. "Of late Saruman was no friend of the ents, but even he could not overcome us. This was a different terror, a creature from the north. It fell upon us as a living fire, yet no water could douse it. A straight line it hewed through the heart of our forest, and the fires it left behind spread. Many ents fell, among them Fangorn himself. We few escaped, following the beast around the mountains to the Wizard's Vale. It turned north, heading for Isengard, and leaving this ruin in its wake."

Aragorn looked over at Gandalf, trying to gauge his reaction, but was shocked to find the wizard had paled and frozen in place. Attempting to cover for his friend, Aragorn asked, "What of Saruman? Did he destroy this creature?"

"Nay," replied Quickbeam. "Lights we saw over the Ring of Isengard, as if a great battle was occurring. But we fear that neither combatant was the victor – Saruman we glimpsed fleeing to the Southeast astride a great Eagle, and the creature of flame remains in Isengard. At night we have glimpsed its glow, but we know not why it remains there."

"It is a Balrog," said Gandalf suddenly, startling all those present, "and I suspect it has come from Moria."

"A Balrog?" asked Aragorn in disbelief. "Surely those were destroyed during the War of Wrath?"

"No, Aragorn, one at least still lives. I have felt it in the depths of the Misty Mountains, and I feel it now, but this description was the one clue I lacked to uncover its type." The wizard sighed, and a great weight seemed to settle on him. "A Balrog. I had thought my tasks were complete, but it seems there is one left for me."

The grey-clad Istar straightened up. "Aragorn, Saruman has fled toward Edoras, in the Kingdom of Rohan. There is a path over the peaks of the White Mountains accessible from the Hornburg. I urge you to take it, and to give assistance to the Rohirrim if they require it. Quickbeam," he turned to the ent, "I cannot command you, but if I could, I would ask that you and your people accompany Aragorn, for you would be invaluable assistance."

"I will go," said Aragorn, at the same moment as Quickbeam said, "We will go." Gandalf nodded.

"Excellent. Perhaps, between you, you can end the threat of Saruman. For myself . . ." The wizard took a deep breath. "I must face the Balrog. Besides Saruman, I may be the only one capable of destroying it."

Aragorn gasped. "Gandalf! If you do that . . ."

The wizard nodded. "It may be that I will fall. But that loss is acceptable, if the result is the banishing of an ancient evil from this world."

Aragorn nodded, attempting to speak through the sudden lump in his throat. "I hope that we can all be so brave as you, my friend."

"You will be, Aragorn," replied Gandalf with quiet certainty, and then walked briskly away to the north without looking back. Aragorn stared after him for a moment, debating whether to call him back, but finally turned and walked south, towards Helm's Deep.

Darkness Falling is almost at an end, but don't expect a happy ending. The saga will be continued in Part Two, Darkness Rising, but I'm afraid there will be a bit of a delay in between while I actually get some of that written. More on this in Chapter Ten, the final chapter of this tale.

Oh, and a note to Inglor: Don't give up on the Elves so easily. They'll be back.

Cloaked Eagle