Chapter Eighteen: For Better or For Worse

I celebrated gaily with the men of Rohan, consoled in knowing that there was nothing to fear from Saruman anymore. He would never torment another innocent soul, or tear another family apart. His evil was fading from the land like a dark stain being washed from a white tunic. For that I was most grateful.

Gradually my attention turned to Merry and Pippin, who were doing a lively dance on a table, singing jovially. Ale slopped from their tankards as they waved them about. The dance appeared to involve a lot of kicking, and I noticed many Rohirrim wincing and clutching at their noses.

I laughed and clapped along with the rest as the hobbits' song concluded, my mood lightened considerably. Eru knew how I had needed the distraction.

----

The night air was still and cool. No breeze rustled the grass, nor blew away the filmy clouds draped over the white moon. I was almost asleep when I heard Merry's voice, an anxious whisper.

"Isilden?"

"What?" I murmured groggily. "Merry? Is something wrong?" I stared around the dark interior of the room that we shared with our comrades, trying to locate the hobbit.

My gaze swept over Legolas, staring blankly up at the ceiling, as elves did when they slept; Pippin, curled up on his mattress, snoring peacefully; and Merry, propped up on his elbows, gazing at me with wide, worried eyes.

"Isilden," Merry whispered again, "Th- there's something I have to tell you."

I sat upright, suddenly wide awake. "What?"

"It's about your sister," said Merry quietly.

"Elennar?" I gasped. "What… she's not—"

"No, no, it's not that," Merry told me. "Elennar's just fine. She's safe, hidden with the Ents in their forest. They'll take good care of her, trust me."

My heart leapt. My sister was still alive! "But why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't want to mention it in front of Saruman," the hobbit explained. "Just in case he got angry, you know."

I nodded. "But what about afterward? After I… after what I did? You could have told me on the way back here, or at the feast…"

"I guess I figured you had enough stuff to deal with then," Merry sighed. "I'm sorry. I should've told you much sooner."

"That's all right," I replied. "Better a little late than not at all."

Merry smiled. "So you're not mad?"

"No," I said. "Not at all. I'm just glad she's all right."

"So am I," the hobbit agreed, lying back down.

"Merry?" I whispered suddenly, before he could fall asleep again.

The hobbit sat up again. "What?"

"Do you think maybe we could go and get her?" I asked.

"You mean go to Fangorn Forest?" said Merry. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Isilden. What with you looking like an orc… besides, we need to get back to Minas Tirith. Lord Denethor will want to know what we've been doing all this time."

I nodded. "You're right. But the only things we found out were about the attack on Helm's Deep, and that's all over now. So we've got nothing to report."

"Yes, we do," the hobbit told me. "We can tell him Saruman's dead."

I nodded. "And speaking of Saruman, you never told me how you escaped. How could you ever get out without anyone seeing you?"

"With a lot of trouble, and a lot more luck," said Merry. "And, of course, a plan."

"What did you do?" I asked.

"It was Pippin's idea," my friend answered. "We had to wait until Saruman was through with us, after he came back from talking to the orcs."

"You didn't tell him anything, did you?"

Merry shook his head. "When Saruman left, Elennar helped to untie Pippin and I. Then we picked up that whip he'd been hitting us with – you know, the nine-stranded one – and cut it up with a piece of a broken sword. We tied all the strands together to make just one rope—"

"—and used it to climb down the tower?" I interrupted. "You must have read my mind; that was exactly what I had been planning."

"Well, yes and no," Merry replied. "We had planned on doing that, but we never got the chance to."

"Did Saruman come back again?" I asked fearfully.

"We could hear him outside the door," the hobbit explained, "but then there was a huge crash, and the whole tower started to shake. Elennar was so scared; she thought we were all going to die."

"What happened?" I gasped. "What was it?"

"Ents," Merry replied.

"Ents?" I repeated. "The tree-shepherds?"

"That's what some people call them," the hobbit nodded. "They were led by Treebeard; you met him back at Orthanc. They were attacking the orcs that had stayed behind – good thing you were already gone. They were slaughtered. The orcs, I mean, not the Ents."

I nodded. "What exactly did the Ents do?"

"They broke the dam that was blocking the river Isen," Merry explained. "The whole place was flooded… all the orcs were drowned. Those that weren't trampled, anyway. The Ents suffered, too – lots of them were set on fire."

He yawned. "G'night," he murmured sleepily, closing his eyes.

"Good night," I whispered. "Pleasant dreams."

But Merry was already snoring.

----

I woke later that night, and found I couldn't drift off again. The room was silent, except for an occasional snore from the hobbits. No-one else seemed to be awake. I rose without a sound, inching toward the door.

A sudden snort made me turn, but it was only Pippin. The hobbit was still fast asleep. Sighing in relief, I pushed open the door and slipped out, wary of the creaking hinges.

Torches flickered in the gloomy hall, making weird patterns dance upon the stone walls.

I advanced softly, not wanting to wake anyone up. Feeling fairly unsure of myself, I glanced nervously over my shoulder as I walked.

Perhaps that was why I didn't see the elf in front of me until we collided.

I let out a yelp as my back struck the cold flagstones. The figure on top of me gasped and hurriedly scrambled away, whispering, "Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, I couldn't see you…"

"That's all right, sir," I replied softly, recognizing Elrond's voice. "What are you doing out of bed at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same thing, Isilden," Elrond whispered, helping me to my feet.

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd take a walk," I explained. "And you?"

"I've just had a dream," the elf told me. "It was terrible. Minas Tirith was burning, being attacked by orcs."

"That is terrible," I said with a shudder. "But maybe it was just a dream."

"No," Elrond disagreed, shaking his head firmly. "It wasn't. I've had dreams like that before, and all of them – all of them – have come true. It was Foresight, another gift of mine. I see the future in my dreams."

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked.

Elrond thought. "Yes, there is. You can help me find the king. He must know of this."

"There's no need for that," Théoden's voice rang out behind us. "I'm right here."

Elrond and I both turned and bowed our heads to the king of Rohan, whose blue eyes held many questions in need of answering.

"Tell me, Lord Elrond," he said calmly, "what must I know? Is the news ill?"

"Théoden-King," the elf replied, "I have just had a vision; a glimpse of the Enemy's next plan. He will strike the city of Minas Tirith."

"Ill news indeed," said Théoden. Turning to me he ordered, "Summon Gandalf and Aragorn to my throne room. They need to know of this; together we all can take counsel. Lord Elrond?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Come with me. We have much to discuss."