The Awakening

Note to my beloved readers:

First and foremost, thank you all for your patience and your encouraging emails. Life has been quite complicated since my last post, but I promise the rest of the story will progress more quickly.

Since my last entry, Peter Jackson eliminated Haldir in the Battle of Helm's Deep. But The Man Himself did not assign Haldir such a fate. I have opted to follow Tolkien's lead on this – during the War of the Ring, Haldir and his fellow Galadhrim were busy taking on the forces of evil around Lothlorien, joining up with Thranduil's armies in the Battle Under the Trees. So, in this fanfiction, Haldir Lives. For now.


Haldir stirred as the first rays of sun crept over the horizon. He swiftly dressed, braided his hair and climbed down the ladder of his flet to wait for the others to awaken. He shook his head. Tessel would find his vigil amusing, but the March Warden of Lothlorien was used to solitude while guarding the northern fences of his forest. He missed the fellowship of his brothers, Orophin and Rúmil. They often chided him for being aloof in matters of the heart. How surprised they would be now.

He was trying too hard and knew it. He was not glib by nature; his brothers teased him for being terse. Yet he had gone out of his way to be pleasant to Rebecca. He found himself opening up to her, wanting to charm her with the warmth he felt. He sighed and sagged against the bole of a tree. There were handsome men enough in the world; he did not want to play the fool. But he was unable to get her out of his thoughts – her smile, her silvery blue eyes, her musical laughter.

There was the question of her lineage. She was tall, yet her figure was unlike any she-elf in his acquaintance. He found himself dwelling a bit too long on certain aspects of her anatomy and shook his head to clear it. Perhaps peace was not good for him, left him open to flights of fancy. He thought of the approaching party from Gondor. Soon there might be a string of suitors, worthy men, no doubt, if they were in the royal entourage, but the mere thought of another courting her, taking her hand in the forests of Ithilien…

Despite his reverie he heard someone coming and turned to find Tessel regarding him with amusement. "Up a little early, aren't we, cousin?"

He released his breath in a huff. "I am accustomed to rising with the sun, but you? After a night of wine and song?"

Tessel folded his arms across his breast. "You don't factor women into the account?"

Haldir shrugged. "Your reputation indicates otherwise."

Tessel brushed aside the remark and cocked an eyebrow at him. "I have the morning watch, mellon. What's your excuse?"

Haldir scanned the horizon, avoiding his friend's eye.

"The March Warden, ever on the alert. But tell me, captain, isn't the day a bit short in the tooth for you to be hunting?"

"We go today to seek the Entwives."

"Ah, that is not the prey I had in mind."

Again, Haldir's gaze sought the horizon. "I don't take your meaning."

Tessel laughed heartily. "I never thought I'd see the day – Haldir, proud warrior, master of any female on whom he set his sights! Waiting at dawn for a woman who does not even realize she's his target!"

Haldir frowned. "You said last night that I was too marked in my attentions."

"And so you would be, with the sophisticates to whom you are accustomed. But this lady is not worldly. Have a care, cousin – you are in over your head."

Haldir's reply was cut short as the object of their discussion came into the glade, yawning and pulling her tresses through a leather band to hold them back. Tessel grinned at Haldir's suppressed sigh. His friend was to be a source of great sport in the days to come.

"Good morning, lady," the two Elves said at once.

"'Morning," she replied sleepily.

"Join me at table, won't you?" Tessel invited. "I've made some tea to open your eyes and wash down your lembas."

Legolas entered the glade, Dolressa hanging lightly upon his arm. She was resplendent in a forest green tunic that made her silvery blonde hair sparkle like moonlight. Rebecca felt dowdy in her travel-stained breeches, her curly hair beginning to frizzle in the morning's rising humidity. Dolressa smiled coldly at Rebecca, who could see from the glint in the Elf's narrowed eyes that she knew Rebecca failed in comparison to her elegant beauty.

"Good morning!" Legolas greeted them cheerfully. "Is that tea, Tessel?"

Dolressa took a seat close to Legolas and nodded to Rebecca. "Are you ready for the day's adventure, child?"

Éowyn's arrival spared Rebecca. She, too, looked lovely and Rebecca wondered if blonde women were naturally more beautiful. She twirled her ponytail and regretted her brown hair.

Éowyn graciously accepted a plate and mug from Tessel and sat beside Rebecca. "Radagast is not joining us this morning?"

Rebecca grinned. "Uncle rarely rises before mid-morning. But he will join us after we visit the Fords."

Tessel laughed. "Of all the Istari, I think it is Aiwendil who most prefers the sweet things in life."

Haldir wanted to say that he was assured of sweetness with Rebecca in his company but bit his tongue. There was something in Dolressa's demeanor that thwarted amorous speech. He was, therefore, surprised and displeased when Legolas gave voice to his thoughts.

"Then he is most fortunate in his ward, Aiwë," said the prince with a smile.

Dolressa looked mutinous and stood, glowering at Rebecca. "Perhaps we should be on our road, so that the child will be able to greet Aiwendil with his morning tea."

Éowyn and Tessel exchanged an amused glance. Ever the diplomat, she agreed. "Yes, I would like to see how the restoration progresses."

They set out on foot, Legolas and Dolressa leading the way. Haldir walked with Rebecca and Éowyn, remarking, once he was out of Dolressa's hearing, that he was the most fortunate Elf in Ithilien.

As they neared the Haudh in Gwanur, Éowyn spoke of the sons of Folcwine and the terrible battle in which they fell. She bowed her head in reverence. "Here lie Folcred and Fastred, heroes who bought freedom from the Haradrim with their lives."

"Does Prince Faramir fear the Haradrim, lady?" asked Rebecca.

"Aye, as do all in Ithilien. We labor to beautify and fortify this land, but the Fords of Poros remain its weakest link."

"With our archers stationed on the bluff, they are not the vulnerable target they once were," remarked Haldir. "We have built many flets on either side of the Fords."

"True, Haldir, but it would be difficult for your sharpest archers to bring down the mûmakil used by the Haradrim."

Rebecca frowned. "I do not like this use of animals for purposes of war. It isn't right."

"For centuries my people have bred our horses to be strong in war, Rebecca," replied Éowyn.

"Nay, lady. Your people have bred horses to be strong, and they are. That they are needed in war is a terrible waste of good horses."

"You are a pacifist, but you must concede that preparation for war is necessary," noted Haldir.

"I will concede the marring of Arda and the sad inevitability of war," she sighed. "But I will never value war as a desirous or glorious thing."

Éowyn smiled. "A decade ago I would have contested your ideas, dear Rebecca, but I agree with you now. I beg you, however, not to mention the matter to my brother!"

Haldir grinned. "Your brother's enthusiasm extends beyond the battlefield, surely! I understand from Legolas that he enjoys the finest of tables at Meduseld."

"Yes, I daresay he and Legolas have raised many a tankard in the days after the war. But you shall see for yourselves, friends, when he arrives in a fortnight for Legolas' mereth."

"The mereth is for Legolas?" asked Haldir.

"Well, let us say it is being held in his honor," admitted Éowyn. "It is his father's idea. Thranduil contacted us at the turning of the year, and my lord agreed to his request of holding a feast to celebrate Legolas' impending nuptials. A great party is expected from the Greenwood, and the royalty of Gondor and Rohan are also attending."

Haldir threw back his head and laughed merrily. "It will take more than a mereth to bring my cousin to his wedding vows!"

Éowyn shrugged. "We agree, but a celebration is in order, if only for the restoration of Ithilien. And Thranduil would not be denied."

Haldir's smile tipped into a frown. "That is indeed Thranduil's reputation."

Éowyn glanced askance at Rebecca. "I have heard that he is less than discreet in his…attentions."

"He is a cad who is unchecked since his wife's departure to Valinor," retorted Haldir brusquely. "You would do well to avoid being caught alone with him." He silently vowed to protect Rebecca from such a situation. The Woodland King would devour her like an aperitif, given half a chance.

They joined Legolas and his lady at the edge of the bluff. "You can see where the mûmakil have passed," he said, pointing to several patches along the ford that had been completely plowed down. "We should be safe, with our fortifications. We will have enough archers to bring them down."

Rebecca frowned. "Animals should not be used in war," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"That may be true, but we will need archers if we are facing mûmakil," he noted.

"Not necessarily," she replied, shaking her head.

Legolas looked puzzled. "I have fought these creatures before, Aiwë. Archers are really the only defense against them."

She faced him, eyebrows raised. "You fought them, yes, but did you speak with them first?"

Legolas looked nonplussed. "They were charging me at the time."

She nodded. "No, I understand. You did not know the words."

"Words?"

Dolressa tugged at his sleeve. "Enough of the child's fantasies. Come, we must return to Aiwendil, my love."

As they turned, Rebecca found that the same dimple in Legolas' right cheek when he smiled also appeared when he seemed to be gritting his teeth, but the look in his eyes was markedly different.

They found the wizard awake, albeit not alert, as he savored the meal that Tessel had laid out.

"I greatly hope that the new trade with the South will bring coffee back to our tables. Why, it must be five centuries since I enjoyed the darkest coffee in Southron. There was a sloe-eyed serving girl who…"

Dolressa clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Not before your ward, Aiwendil!"

The wizard smiled. "I was referring to the richness of her brew, lady."

Rebecca laughed, laying her head upon his shoulder lovingly. "When the trade routes are safe, we will visit her descendants, Uncle."

The heat of the day was beginning to rise. Rebecca lifted the heavy mane of hair from her shoulders, marveling at how the other ladies still looked cool and composed. She let her hair fall with a frustrated sigh.

Legolas noted her discomfort and smiled. "A braid would be far more comfortable in this heat, Aiwë," he commented.

Rebecca laughed as she rebound her hair into an unruly ponytail. "I've never been able to master the art," she admitted.

"Then you must allow me," he volunteered. "I have the experience of many years."

Rebecca blushed furiously. "I'm afraid my hair will defy your skills, sir."

"Nonsense! I relish a challenge!" he replied, insisting she settle herself before him. He gently combed his long fingers through her tresses, laughing as her tendrils curled around them and rebelled against the order under which he attempted to bring them. He thoroughly enjoyed himself as he stepped forward to survey his artistry. Despite his labors, several wisps immediately freed themselves to curl about her ears.

Dolressa sniffed. "The heat can be so withering to one's looks," she purred. "But I fear your handiwork will be wasted quickly, my love. The child will be scruffy again in a quarter of an hour."

Legolas scowled at her rudeness. She could be so insufferable at times!

"A rose blooms all the lovelier in the warmth of the sun," retorted Haldir. Legolas smiled at him gratefully.

On their road, Haldir laughed as more stubborn curls escaped their bounds. "I will be happy to redo them when we arrive at our destination," he said. "Galadhrim braids are superior to those of the Greenwood."

Rebecca shook her head. "I think my hair cannot be tamed by any braid, whatever its origin," she confessed.

The journey was arduous, descending north from the bluffs of Poros into thick forests. The company spoke to each other save Rebecca, who fell behind to listen to the whispers of the woods. After a time, Radagast joined her.

"What do you hear, my love?"

"Reverence, Uncle. And…mourning."

Radagast smiled. "Ah. You hear the song of the trees."

She nodded. "The singing grows stronger."

"Yes. We are coming to the glade, I think."

"The one of which the birds spoke?" she asked, feeling an odd apprehension.

"Indeed." He stepped aside, letting her enter before him, watching her closely.

They found themselves in a small clearing, silent and moss-covered. All speech was hushed as they looked about the ancient wood. Many an oak and beech put forth lichen-covered limbs, yet here was a cedar, there a birch, a hazel, an ash. They girdled an ancient oak which stood in their midst tall and proud, its sturdy limbs filtering the sun, whose slanting rays barely penetrated the gloom of the glade.

Haldir felt the heaviness physically. The sorrow was palpable. He cocked his head and placed his long hand upon the craggy bark of a beech, paused then whispered,

"This tree says, thus they have been ere he was born and they speak not. Alas, they cannot be woken."

"Ai!" exclaimed Legolas softly, "Have we found what we seek, only to be denied?"

Those assembled debated what to do. Radagast watched his ward, smiling. And waited.

A glimmer at first, imperceptible. Blind to all else but the oak, Rebecca stepped before it. The gem about her throat pulsed, adding to the eerie light filtering through the treetops, and grew stronger until the surrounding trees were bathed in its pale light. Her ribs ached as if something was rushing through her. She felt dizzy, disoriented, and leaned on the ancient oak for support. She opened her mouth and uttered a song unbidden. Radagast closed his eyes, sighing as he recognized the words. Rebecca was reciting the very song Yavanna had sung in an attempt to revive the dying Telperion, whose teardrop was captured in the crystal depths of her jewel. The song grew in volume, the words came faster, urgent. The trees shuddered as if caught in a sudden burst of wind.

The song faltered and ceased. Rebecca swayed and stumbled into Haldir's waiting arms. He lowered her gently to the soft earth, cradling her and kissing her brow. "Îdh na nín, melui Aiwë." He held her close as her ragged breathing slowed.

For several minutes there was complete silence, punctuated only by Rebecca's strained gasps. Then, a faint rustle began. Attention turned from Rebecca and Haldir to the oak, which trembled, shuddered and…sneezed.

A pair of moss-covered eyelids creaked open to reveal enormous brown orbs. A green glint flashed in their depths. "Who calls me?" asked a voice like the whisper of dried leaves across the forest floor.

Radagast stepped forward. No longer the stooped elder, he seemed fair to look upon and tall. "Awake now, my friends. Awake into a new order."

The oak shook, her leaves trembling as she stretched her limbs. "Who calls to me in the tongue of Yavanna, my creator?"

The jewel's light had faded, but an aura glimmered about the wizard. "It is Aiwendil, who wakes you in the name of your mistress, with the aerlinn of the Eilenäer. Come now, Fimbrethil, awake and join us."

The oak nodded slowly, as if she was recalling many thousands of things to arrive at the present moment. "I fear my legs are now cumbersome and crabbed with age, Aiwendil. Long have been the years of my sleep." The earth gave a small, sucking sound as she lifted one foot with great effort.

Turning, she looked about her and uttered something in Entish that took a very long time to say. One by one, the ladies on either side stirred, blinking sleepily. The birch reached up and tousled the pale green leaves crowning her head.

Fimbrethil laughed at the gesture. "You are lovely as ever, my Nimbrethil!" She stepped forward and surveyed her court. "Fraxinia, Avelluna, Atsinalui! But we are so few! Alas, we have lost many sisters along our path! Where is my fair rowan?" she cried in dismay.

"Be at peace, lady. There are some, your youngest kindred, I imagine, who may have fallen asleep to the north. It seems the eldest and stoutest of heart stopped last," replied Radagast.

Fimbrethil nodded. "Find my Acuparia, for she is dear to me of old." She closed her eyes, remembering. "The War of the Last Alliance. Our gardens were lost. Ponderous was our journey. At last we could sing our nainie no longer and here my memories cease. How long have we slept?"

"These three thousand years, Emerwen," replied the wizard.

"Our gardens – have they been restored?" asked the Entwife hopefully.

Radagast shook his head sadly. "Nay, they await your return, my lady. As does all of Middle Earth. We have awakened you so that the work of renewal may truly commence. The Nestad has begun."

"Indeed," agreed Legolas, stepping forward and bowing low before the Entwife. "We would be honored for your assistance with the Olvar, lady."

A fond smile lit the Entwife's craggy face. "Ah, my darlings! How I long to see them, to hear their sweet voices!"

"In time, my dear, in time!" laughed Radagast. "Yet you are newly wakened and are in need of sustenance! I will send word at once to your husband and his merry band; they will be here within the space of a fortnight. "'Twere possible, he would no doubt fly!"

Fimbrethil held a twiggy hand above her trunk. "My beloved lives still!"

"Aye, the Aldaron does, in lands near the Isen, as of old. He will bring you draughts from the deep places of the earth, to refresh you and help you regain your strength."

Fimbrethil sighed and sagged. "It is well, Aiwendil, for I am so weary. Yet I must seek our younger sisters…"

"Nay, lady, stay and call to them only. I shall attend them," said Radagast, laying a hand on her arm. "You are in no fit shape to be wandering the hills of Ithilien."

Fimbrethil bit her lip. "You are right, Aiwendil. I should not go far were I to wander from this glade. I will do as you ask, and speak to them."

So saying, she cupped her long hands about her mouth and began a long, low call. As she did so, the other Entwives began to stretch their limbs and move about the glade. The company looked on in wonder. At last, Fimbrethil lowered her hands and listened. A faint response was heard; the sound could almost be mistaken for a birdsong on the passing breeze were it not for the delighted smile that spread across her face. "Ah! Embla! There is Sylvestris and Gossypium! And again, Platania and Rubrium!" Then she shook her head. "So few, so few! Have so many perished by axe and flame, then?"

"I fear it is so, but we shall see," soothed Radagast. "Rebecca and I shall travel hither and attend to your lost comrades."

For the first time, Fimbrethil seemed to be aware of Rebecca, who had regained herself and stood beside Haldir, regarding the Entwife with amazement. She reminded Rebecca of Treebeard with her tall and almost neckless head, yet the nose was more delicate and her limbs bore a grace that was lacking in her male counterpart. She understood now why Treebeard called his mate "Wandlimb."

Fimbrethil nodded slowly. "Ah, this is she who dares to use the words of Yavanna." She stepped before the awestruck Rebecca and placed a wooden finger lightly upon her cheek, gazing deeply into her eyes. Rebecca felt lost in their fathoms.

"Yes, the Eilenäer will unite more than the Onodrim, I believe," she said at last. "She is to be part of the Ainulinde with her sweet voice. The Ainur have chosen well for the Erusen."

The company was startled by the rush and caw of a large black crow, which hoisted itself into the sky and disappeared to the south. Radagast frowned deeply.

"All is not well, my friends," he said solemnly. "There are yet those who would stop us. We must be wary." He turned to Legolas. "Come, lead us back to your camp, where we may continue our business." He bowed low before the Entwives. "Dearest ladies, we shall return thither with your sisters and kinsmen. Take heart!"

Rebecca paused, then curtseyed before Fimbrethil. "If I may be of service, my lady, I will do all I can to aid you and your kin!"

Fimbrethil placed her twigged hand upon Rebecca's bowed head. "Hail, Eilenäer! It is I who art in thy service!"

The companions made their long way back to the Sylvan camp beneath Henneth Annûn. It took the remainder of the day and by late evening they found themselves in the twinkling lights beneath the trees.

Rebecca walked by herself, the others leaving her to her own thoughts. Legolas was deeply impressed with the business, not the least of which involved Rebecca's part, and spoke in depth to Radagast during their travels. It was clear to the wizard that something besides the Entwives had awakened that day. Dolressa was uncharacteristically silent during their return to the camp. For her part, Rebecca did not like the look in Dolressa's eye when she caught it.

Upon their return, Radagast called to him two large ravens. He spoke to each in turn and sent them their separate ways.

"To whom did you send them, Uncle?" asked Rebecca as her eyes followed the flight of the birds as they headed northwest.

"To Tom Bombadil and to Treebeard, of course."

"What happened in the woods, Uncle? What was it that I said?"

"Your song has been unleashed, my dearest. You will sing ever after, often when you least expect it."

They were interrupted by a loud "hurrah!" Two horsemen had newly arrived and were descending from their steeds with a flourish. Behind the tallest, a sturdy, squat figure was brushing away assistance disagreeably.

"Call your servants off, Legolas, or by Durin's beard I will have their heads for dinner!"

"But you are early, my lords!" exclaimed the Elf with a laugh. "We did not expect you so soon!"

Rebecca gasped as she beheld the new arrivals. The King of Rohan looked much like his sister, tall and fair and full of laughter. The dwarf she assumed was Gimli and his riding partner…

It was her first glimpse of the renowned King of Gondor. She took one look. And fled.

Haldir saw Rebecca dart from the clearing into the trees. Concerned, he turned and followed her swift retreat. Legolas, in the midst of the greetings, also saw Rebecca disappear into the forest, pursued by Haldir. He wasn't sure whose behavior troubled him more, that of Aiwë or his cousin.

Radagast took it all in and, with a sigh, followed the pair into the woods.

Many leagues to the south, Pallando sat in session with the Variags of Khand, having already secured the support of the Haradrim of Haradwaith and Far Harad. The medallion on his breast brought him great skill as the spirit of Saruman smoothed his voice with influence and power. They were deep in discussion as to the terms of their treaty, which included the employment of many mûmakil.

A great serpent wound its way around the circumference of the felt tent, embroidered in threads of crimson and ebony. They sat upon intricate woolen rugs, evidence of continued allegiance with the East. The men with whom Pallando spoke were tall, their skins burned by the fierce sun. Their black hair was plaited with gold, and their faces painted with crimson. The Variags loved bright clothing and ornaments; their chieftains were dressed in cobalt and orange, adorned with golden scimitars. Banners of red marked with a black serpent were displayed in the tent.

Pallando reminded them of their recent defeat in the War of the Ring, and of their defeat at the hands of Gondor in the Battle of the Crossings of Poros in Ithilien in 1885. He played upon their anger, knowing them to be cruel as orcs in battle – they gave no quarter and expected none. The mightiest of them came from Far Harad, comparable to trolls in strength and size. He would need every last one of them.

Their chieftain took an enormous golden goblet and drank deeply, then handed it to Pallando. "To our unity," responded the wizard, who drank and passed the cup to another Variag. The cup was passed in turn to each warlord. A feast ensued, at the culmination of which a girl garbed in crimson was brought before Pallando, who, besotted with drink did not understand the significance.

"To seal our treaty, my friend," replied the chieftain, exhibiting several golden teeth in his wide grin. "The purest of our maidens, a virgin, for your pleasure."

Pallando made to protest but he heard a soft whisper in his mind, "Take her, you fool," he heard the voice say with a sneer. "It will be… amusing."

At that moment there was a stir at the flap of the tent. A servant entered, holding a large crow upon his forearm with great uneasiness. Pallando stood upon hearing Saruman's order, "Bring the bird to me."

To the servant's great relief, the crow hopped from his arm to Pallando's. The caws of the great bird puzzled him: "Entwives found, Eilenäer sings." Although a Maiar of Oromë, Pallando was not familiar with the ways of the woods. He did not understand the message, but his master did. He could hear Saruman's cold laughter ringing in his ears. "So, it has truly begun. We have much work to do my friend. It is time to travel east, to Rhûn. After you enjoy your evening…"

Things Elvish:
mellon - friend
mereth - feast, gala
Îdh na nín, Aiwë muin – Rest with me, sweet Aiwë
aerlinn - chant
nainie - lament
Emerwen - Shepardess
Nestad - healing
Aldaron - Lord of trees
Ainulinde - Music of the Ainur
Ainur - Holy Ones
Erusen - Children of God
Onodrim - Ents
Estolad - camp

Next: Wassail