The Other Child: Battle Under the Trees
Quickbeam drummed his long woody fingers upon a broken stone wall of Orthanc. It had once encircled a beautiful garden; he felt sickened as he looked now into a blackened pit - yet another thing to be cleansed at Isengard.
He turned and watched two figures fade into the distance; Saruman and the cringing Wormtongue had almost vanished on the road from Isengard. He shook his head. He did not like it one bit. There was something in the old wizard's manner that was secretive and haughty. He stomped the earth in frustration. Treebeard was wrong to have let Saruman go; there was harm in him still.
He surveyed the Ents' labor that morning. They had made progress in clearing the filthy cataracts that Saruman had wrought in his careless destruction of Isengard's gardens, yet much work lay before them. He raised his eyes to the east, where restless dark clouds continued to rumble. There was still much to win, he realized. Loss was unacceptable, unthinkable. Quickbeam cringed at the very idea; with a deep sigh he began to make his way towards Treebeard, who was directing the restoration of Isengard.
Many leagues to the northeast, Rebecca tossed in her bed. Her sleep was troubled and turbulent, the sheets wound about her limbs as she tossed and turned. A panoply of images flitted through her dreams. She saw one old man dressed in white leaving a tall tower, and another shining with the radiance of the sun. She saw tall trees lifting large boulders as if they were pebbles. She saw a grey army passing through a dark tunnel; they came into the sunlight and captured a great fleet of ships, sailing them down a mighty river to a battlefield overlooked by a brilliant white city. Aboard one of the ships she saw Legolas, his eyes lit with wonder and longing as seagulls darted about the prow of his boat. She awoke with the realization that the Prince would not return to the Woodland Realm unchanged.
She rose and dressed quickly in a tunic and breeches; Radagast cared not what she wore and Thranduil found her "Elven lad costume" amusing. Not that either of them gave her much thought lately, she sighed as she captured her hair into a bushy ponytail. The days had darkened with war as skirmishes broke throughout the forest, to the north and to the south. The folk of Lorien fought along the western border against the forces of Dol Guldur. In the north the King and an alliance of Beornings, Woodmen, Men of Dale and the Dwarves of Erebor fought against bands of goblin-men, wargs, trolls and orcs from the Misty Mountains. Difficult days indeed.
Yet all the news was not dire. Beyond hope Gandalf had not been lost in the pits of Moria; Gwaihir the Windlord had rescued him from the peak of Zirak-zigil after his victory over the balrog and bore him away, light as a feather, until his work in Middle Earth was at its end. He was now called "Gandalf the White," replacing the traitorous Saruman in the order of the Istari, and was busy fighting in Gondor. This news had greatly restored the spirits of the companies of the North; Rebecca had never heard Radagast laugh so merrily, and it gladdened her heart.
Thranduil's caverns were heavily guarded; Rebecca took advantage of this safety and spent a great deal of her time on the hilltop during these lonely days. The birds were her close companions and talked of other things besides war. Spring was coming to the woods and nests were being built. Their songs made her smile; they reminded her of Goldberry singing on washing-day. Suddenly Rebecca felt very homesick for the House under the Hill. Nobody ever spoke of war there. Tom Bombadil had wanted her to see more of the world, to have adventures. She was beginning to understand that adventures had many sides, not all of them pleasant.
Across Middle Earth, as Rebecca sat conversing with a flock of sparrows, the tall ships of Umbar arrived at the Battle of Pelennor Fields. Aragorn's true glory was revealed as he and his comrades took the battlefield. Great deeds were accomplished that day. Chief among them was the defeat of the Witch-king of Angmar by Éowyn of Rohan and Meriadoc Brandybuck. No longer would the Nazgul lord bring fear and death in his evil wake. An eagle, Meneldor the Swift, brought this news and there was great rejoicing among the allied forces of Mirkwood, strengthening their morale and their resolve on their own battlefield under the eaves.
Later the Council of the Host of the West met to decide their course of action. Many great lords were there assembled: Aragorn and the sons of Elrond, Éomer of the Mark, Imrahil of Dol Amroth, and Gandalf the White. Under Gandalf's advisement, it was decided that they would march to the very gates of Mordor to engage the Dark Lord and buy time for the Ringbearer. News of this reached King Thranduil on his battlefield and he feared for his son. Rebecca did not know where Mordor was and Radagast told her about the Enemy's tower of Barad-dûr and the great mountain Orodruin, Mount Doom, wherein the ring was forged and must return to unmake the Dark Lord's power. Rebecca took to her hilltop again and turned her eyes to the heavens, invoking Ilúvatar to speed the Quest and protect them all, especially the son of Thranduil.
As the week progressed, the Battle under the Trees intensified; the forces of darkness poured all their might into the fighting. Heavy losses on both sides mounted. On her hilltop Rebecca could detect the acrid smell of blood and smoke carried on the crisp March winds; it was awful and she sought the caverns in despair.
Radagast found Rebecca curled upon her bed, wracked with tears. He gently roused her. "Come, little one, let's away. We must meet our fate with courage."
Reluctantly, Rebecca took his hand and returned with him to the hilltop. From this lofty position they could see the smoke of the battles about the forest while far to the south dark clouds rolled and tumbled upon themselves. Angry flashes of orange and red lit the darkness and Rebecca clung to Radagast in terror.
Of a sudden a great white light split the sky to the south and there came a thunderous crashing. They stared in silence and wonder, aware that something had just occurred that was shaking the very earth. Then Rebecca spied an eagle, soaring high up in the heavens. It spiraled above their hill but did not land, proclaiming over the treetops a message: "Sing all ye people, sing and rejoice! Sing all ye children of the West, for the Black Gate is broken and your enemy cast down forever!" It then wheeled to the west to spread its glad tidings.
Rebecca cried aloud and hugged Radagast. The wizard smiled with grim satisfaction. Victory in the face of impossible odds. As they stood together they heard great cheering as the forces of Mirkwood drove their foes before them. In the north the allied forces of Elves, Men and Dwarves destroyed the armies of the Enemy. To the south the Galadrim drove their foes into the mighty Anduin while Celeborn and Galadriel threw down the walls of Dol Guldur and cleansed its vile pits. The allies of the Dark Lord were destroyed that day.
As they listened to the cries of victory Radagast sat upon the ground beside Rebecca. His knees did not creak so much as before. "This is a day which will long be remembered in song, little one."
Rebecca leaned into him and closed her eyes, grateful that Ilúvatar had answered the prayers of Middle Earth.
"Soon it will be finished for Gandalf, yet it has only begun for us, my love."
Rebecca looked up into his face, uncertain of his words. "What do you mean, Uncle?"
Radagast reached into his robes and brought forth a small white gem held upon a silver chain. It glittered in the slanting rays of the late afternoon sun. "This is yours, Rebecca. Shaped by the great Aulë himself, as directed by Manwë. Long ago was your destiny foreseen and so I give this now to you." So saying, he fastened the chain upon her slender neck.
She gazed at it in wonder. "But what am I to do, Uncle?"
Radagast pulled her to his side. "In the fullness of time, we shall see, my love. We shall see…"
Next: A Royal Wedding