The Other Child: Into the Woods
Radagast passed a pleasant week in the House under the Hill, spending a great deal of time with Rebecca when he was not discussing serious matters with Tom Bombadil. Rebecca did not like this; their faces were as long as their discussions. She was happier when they smiled and let her listen while they talked about the West and badgers and something called "ents."
One sunny afternoon Radagast sat on the stone bench in the garden while Rebecca named the flowers for him. "These are nasturtium and those are hollyhocks and these are bluebells," she said proudly, pointing to a large cushion of tiny flowers.
"Ah yes, those grow in the forest near my home."
"Is your home far away, Uncle?" she asked, calling him by the name he had encouraged her to use with him.
"Not so very far but far enough. Would you like to visit it?"
She clapped her small hands together and leaned on his knee. "Oh, yes, I'd like that very much! I've never been to your forest, only the old one near the House under the Hill."
He patted her head fondly. "We shall make that trip on the morrow, Rebecca."
Her eyes opened wide. "Really? Promise?"
The old wizard smiled indulgently. "I promise."
"With Tom and Goldberry, too?"
Radagast braced himself. "No, Rebecca, Tom and Goldberry must stay here."
A cloud passed across her face. "Why?"
"Well, because they must. Someone needs to take care of Fatty Lumpkin."
"Oh." She became quite serious. "I see. Yes, they must take good care of Fatty."
"Then you and I will have an adventure, shall we?"
Rebecca nodded and clung to his knee. "Yes, let's."
The next morning was bright and sunny. Rebecca held a small bundle of her clothes and a doll that Goldberry had packed for her. She clung to it looking little and lost as she said farewell to the only family she had ever known.
There was a tear in Tom's eye as he lifted her upon the horse in front of Radagast. "You be good and mind, now, little one," he said as he affectionately pulled at her shoe.
She nodded. "I will, Tom. And you take care of Goldberry and my Fatty Lumpkin."
Goldberry blew her a kiss then took Tom's arm as they waved goodbye. She wept a little as she watched the pair ride off towards the Great East Road.
"There, now, love," soothed Tom as he squeezed her shoulders. "We've not seen the last of her, you know. She'll be back, when it is time."
Rebecca sat in front of Radagast on a very tall horse. She felt lonely for a time after departing from the House under the Hill, but soon the sights began to intrigue her. The Barrow-downs did not look so awful in the light of day, dotted with strange rocks that stood in circles or single fingers poking towards the sky.
They passed through the little town of Bree. Rebecca hoped for a glimpse of the Prancing Pony and its merry keeper, Barliman Butterbur. Tom had taken her there from time to time and she liked the harried Butterbur. "Are we not to stop, Uncle?" she asked as Radagast spurred the horse into a light trot.
"So early on our road? Nay, little one, we shall ride through. I think it wiser." Radagast and Tom had agreed that they would keep to themselves as much as possible; it would not do for some to know that he had taken a ward whose heritage was a point of great interest.
Soon they were on a road, smooth and wide, that led into the east. Tall drifts of summer flowers swayed in the breeze on either side of it. To the north a line of hills bared their shoulders to the sun. The largest had a flattened conical top.
"That is Weathertop. At its summit are the ruins of Amon Sûl."
"What was Amon Sûl, Uncle?" she asked, squinting as she tried, without success, to catch a glimpse of the ruins.
"A great watchtower. It is said that Elendil waited there for the coming of Gil-galad out of the West."
"Who was Gil-galad?" piped the insistent little voice.
Radagast laughed softly. So many questions, but they were to be expected; it was his job to answer them as best as he could. "Gil-galad was an Elven king, and a great one. He fought beside Elendil in the Last Alliance. But these are tales for another time, and not for the open road."
They rode for many miles and Rebecca found herself sleeping through parts of it. They stopped for the night near the banks of a great river, beside a lovely bridge. "The Mitheithel," Radagast explained as they supped on delicacies from Goldberry's larder.
"And what are those woods, to the north?"
"They are part of the Angle of Rhudaur, but the Trollshaws have been infested by trolls for many an age. We will not visit there."
She looked to the east, where the craggy tops of great mountains could be seen. "Oh! Those are the Misty Mountains!"
"I'm glad to hear that Tom has taught you some geography," chuckled Radagast. "They are indeed the Misty Mountains, or Hithaiglin to the elves. We shall take the High Pass through them. It is kept safe from orcs by the Beornings."
Rebecca's eyes lit like candles. "Will we stop at the Last Homely House, Uncle? I would dearly love to meet some elves!"
Radagast shook his head firmly. He would enjoy dinner at Rivendell as well, but circumstances made it impossible; it was a point on which he and Tom were in full agreement. "No, little one. We will camp with the Beornings."
"Oh! They make honey-cakes and change into bears!" she cried with delight.
"Only the rare Beorning is a shapeshifter, little one. But their honey-cakes are worth the trip."
So it was that they passed the ford and valley of Rivendell the next afternoon and came as night fell to the twilit log cabins of the Beornings at the western foothills of the Mountains. They were well received; while the Beornings were wary of strangers, they knew Radagast, who had spent a great deal of time in their company on his travels. They shared his love of all creatures and set an excellent table, both of which appealed greatly to the wizard. They were charmed by his young charge and called her "little cub," pressing honey-cakes and blackberry jam upon her till she felt she would burst. She laughed as they drank great tankards of ale and got foam in their bushy beards. At last Radagast carried her fast asleep to a bunk, then returned to speak about serious matters with his hosts.
The following day the stalwart Beornings escorted them across the High Pass. Radagast was relieved for they saw nary an orc. They did, however, meet Gwaihir the Windlord who spied them from his lofty aerie and descended to converse with his old friend. He instructed the eagle to take all messages of Black Riders and their allies to Gandalf at Orthanc.
Gwaihir nodded his noble head. "The crows have been swayed by the Dark One, Radagast. Promises of carrion from the battlefields, I fear. But those of us with stout hearts and sound minds shall patrol the lands, as always."
Rebecca was entranced with the mighty eagle, who consented to letting her stroke his large brown feathers. She craned her neck to watch him as he soared away high into the sky.
The mountain road wound this way and that; Rebecca tried not to look down as the great height made her a little dizzy and afraid. But Radagast's horse was sure-footed and after several hours the road started to slope downwards. In the distance Rebecca could discern the tops of many trees; they stretched for miles, as far as the eye could see.
"We are now on the Great Forest Road, little one."
At last they came to the edge of the huge wood, much bigger than the Old Forest. Two tall trees covered with lichen leaned together, forming a living arch. Then the trees closed in about them, yet the air did not become thick. "The trees aren't angry here," she declared.
Radagast agreed. "Yes, Old Man Willow has poisoned the Old Forest with malice. Here it is different; the trees are often sad but they are kindly and gentle."
They rode on until they reached an open glade. The afternoon sun slanted through the birch trees and threw shadows across the bluebells scattered upon the grassy carpet. "Here we shall take some rest, little one," Radagast said as he dismounted, lifting Rebecca from the saddle and allowing the horse to graze. Rebecca watched the acrobatics of several black squirrels that played in the branches of a large oak.
They had not been long at their ease when there was a rustling noise, like a soft wind pattering through the leaves. Of a sudden, a small group the likes of which Rebecca had never seen joined them. "They must be elves!" she thought with excitement as she noticed their pointed ears. She had only heard of them in Tom's tales; after they failed to stop at Rivendell she feared she'd never see any, and here was a band of them!
The elves were dressed simply in tunics and breeches. Some wore soft pointed shoes. The tallest of them wore supple leather boots that reached to his knees. He was clad in green and brown, a long bow slung across his back. He had the keenest eyes she'd ever seen and he had no beard - she had never seen a man without one. Pale was his golden hair and he was very tall. He was the most beautiful creature Rebecca had ever beheld and she stared openly. He greeted Radagast warmly, embracing him with a "Mae govannen, Aiwendil!"
Radagast
clapped him on the shoulder and nodded a greeting to the other elves in the
party. Rebecca hung back, shy and
uncertain, patting their horse's soft muzzle.
The tallest elf turned his bright eyes on her and grinned broadly. "And who is your traveling companion,
my friend?"
Radagast beamed. "This is my ward,
Rebecca. Rebecca, this is Legolas,
prince and heir to the throne of Mirkwood."
Legolas bowed low. "It is an honor to meet you, little one."
Rebecca felt her cheeks burning. She did the smallest of curtseys, still clinging to their horse.
Legolas introduced his kinsmen, five in all. One was a very beautiful lady elf, who had silvery hair and smiled at Rebecca, but it was a cold one and very brief. Rebecca studied her own shoes, feeling odd and somewhat insulted although she could not think why.
"And where do you travel with your company, Legolas?" asked Radagast.
Legolas sighed, his fair countenance darkening. "We have dire news, Radagast. I am sent as emissary to meet with Elrond in Imladris. My father seeks his counsel in these troubled times. We have been beset by orcs and have had more than one bloody battle defending our shrinking kingdom. We fear that evil is growing in the southwest, near Dol Goldur once again." He lowered his voice and continued, "The birds speak of Nazgul - several have returned to the tower."
Radagast shivered involuntarily and shared his news from Orthanc.
"Ai, it is so, then. The Dark One is moving at last."
"I fear so, my prince. Mithrandir and Curunir are meeting at this moment to discuss our defense."
"And where do you travel, Aiwendil?"
"I meant to make for my home in Rhosgobel."
The elf shook his head vehemently. "That you must not do, my friend. Not while the Nazgul inhabit Dol Goldur. The vales of the Anduin are too near and the orcs range far these days."
Radagast nodded. "Your counsel is good, Legolas. But whither shall we travel? I must consider the child…"
"You must go to my father in the north. He is your friend of old and will welcome you gladly into his halls. If you ride steadily you will be there by nightfall."
"It shall be as you suggest; thank you, my prince."
"And now we must be off, for our road is the one you have just traveled. Fare thee well, Radagast. Take good care of your charge!" He smiled again at Rebecca and, with a wave of his hand, vanished with his companions into the wood. Rebecca felt sad that he had gone.
"Who is Thranduil, Uncle?" she asked as she stared after the spot where the tall elf had disappeared.
"Thranduil is the King of the Elves in the northern part of this forest. He is a good and fair king, although his kingdom has fallen upon sad times. It was once known as Greenwood the Great but it is now called Mirkwood."
"Why are the times sad?"
Radagast sighed. "Dark times came to this forest when the Necromancer, the Dark One, arrived at the fortress of Dol Goldur. He opened the door to all sorts of fell creatures. Giant spiders, wolves, trolls, even orcs from the Misty Mountains have encroached on its western borders. And now, the Nazgul…"
Rebecca stared, wide eyed between fright and curiosity. "Who is the Dark One, Uncle? What are Nazgul?"
Radagast looked down at her and frowned. "These are not topics for the open air, sweet one. Let us wait until we are safe in the halls of the Woodland King."
He lifted her onto the horse then mounted behind her. They rode until nightfall; she felt safe with his strong arms on either side of her, and looked up with wonder at the great canopy of leaves that filtered the twilight. Occasionally she saw a bright star peep through and then the new moon, a sliver of bright silver. Soon she grew tired and dozed as the horse trotted quietly along the earthen path.
She awoke as she heard Radagast murmur a soft "whoa." They had just crossed a wooden bridge that spanned a swiftly flowing stream. Before them were two huge oaken doors set into the mouth of a great glittering cave. Beech trees grew on the riverbanks and up the steep slope of the hill like endless pillars. Seemingly from nowhere an elf appeared and smiled broadly. "Mae govannen, Aiwendil! You are here to see our Lord Thranduil?"
The elf took the horse while Radagast led Rebecca through the doors. He took her small hand in his and followed another elf down a long hall lit with red torches. Rebecca could hear the sound of laughter and singing of many fair voices, lovely and full of mirth. At last they came to the great hall. The rock was ornately carved so that the tall ceiling seemed made of the living boughs of many trees. Soft candlelight glowed and reflected in the polished floor. In the center of the hall sat the King on a high carven wooden throne. He smiled as Radagast bowed before him. Rebecca performed her very best curtsey; she'd never met a real king before.
"Hail, Thranduil, King!" spoke Radagast.
"Well met, Aiwendil. I welcome you back to our Woodland realm; it has been many a year since we have greeted you here."
Rebecca watched, silent and wide eyed. The king was grave and very beautiful. Atop his long golden hair sat a crown of berries and red leaves. He held a carved oaken staff and was clad in silver and green. He appeared hale and youthful, although his eyes held the secrets of many years.
He turned them upon her. "And who is your companion, Aiwendil?"
Radagast smiled. "This is Rebecca of the House under the Hill. She is my ward and traveling companion."
Rebecca curtseyed again and felt very shy.
Thranduil laughed softly. "She is welcome here and will be treated with the honor due a ward of Aiwendil. We have but poor fare yet you are welcome at my table. Come, sit beside me and tell me your news of the world outside our realm."
The chamber for feasting was unlike anything Rebecca had ever seen; she imagined not even Rivendell was so grand. There were hundreds of red torches set in the walls and a silken canopy was spread above a long table laden with food - she had never seen so much at one time. The King took the tall seat in the center of the table. Radagast sat on his right and Rebecca sat beside the wizard, feeling very small on her large oaken chair. A smiling elf brought her several silken pillows to bolster her so that she was able to reach the table, just barely. She looked shyly up and down the length of the table. So many fair folk, all with summer flowers twined in their silvery hair. White gems gleamed on their collars and belts and their eyes were wide and grey. None were so fair as the tall elf in the forest glade; she wished he was at the feast, too, but stopped thinking of him as she was given many delicious cakes to eat.
Several hours passed. Radagast and the King spent most of them in deep discussion over their wine. Galion, the king's butler, often refilled their goblets with Dorwinion wine, of which the King was especially fond. Sometimes they laughed with a mirth that was wonderful to hear, but mostly they shook their heads and frowned. Rebecca pondered what they could be so unhappy about, with such cakes and twinkling red lights. After a time Rebecca nodded her head drowsily. The King smiled and bade Radagast to put her to bed. Radagast carefully lifted her in his arms and, following an elf with a candle, took his leave of the King.
They passed along several halls with many doors. At last Radagast took the candle from their escort and entered the room he indicated, plain but comfortably furnished. Rebecca opened her eyes and looked about with sleepy curiosity. Radagast set her on the bed; she sank into downy feathers as he gently tucked her in, pulling the blankets up to her chin. Although her eyelids drooped, she asked in a small voice, "Who is the Dark One, Uncle?"
Radagast kissed her brow. "Shush," he soothed. "We will talk about him tomorrow. You are safe here. Sleep now, little one."
As Radagast settled himself into the other bed and snuffed out the candle, Rebecca snuggled down into her blankets. "The Dark One is a man," she mused sleepily. "I wonder if he has a beard?" Then she thought of the tall elf prince and of cakes and candlelight under the boughs of great trees and smiled as she fell asleep.
Next: Child of Mirkwood