After an hour of walking, brightened by singing and merry frolics in streams running down the hills, the two companions reached a large and roughly flat area, majestically landscaped. In the center stood a grove of tall walnuts, arranged in a circle, which seemed to lean toward the center and spread their branches to protect it. Approaching, Gerry realized that these trees were very large, a variety he did not know. Together they formed a thick dome of branches, which center left sunlight filter through the wide grooved sheets.
The kid frolicking in the driveway in front of them, they advanced and admired the beds of delicate plants arranged as a star around the grove, from which emanated a radiant stream to peripheral plots. Its meandering course irrigated the majority of the plots before flowing down the slope they had climbed. Flowerbeds succeeded, alternating colored arrangements of flowering plants, vegetable crops and ornamental plants. A sense of order harmonized these beds without obscuring the essential and fragile beauty of each. In the hot and humid air, these plantations induced a feeling of loving care, as if the coming of a Hobbit, a great admirer of well kept gardens, naturally aroused affability and confidence, despite the scarcity of such events.
Preventing her kid from sowing devastation in the flowerbeds, Avacuna led Gerry at the foot of the grove. Setting aside the curtain of leaves, she invited him to penetrate beneath the shimmering green roof. Sheltered from the open air, a source welled there slowly between gorse, gurgling a song of serenity and renewal. Hundreds of small colorful plants vegetated in a green and gold light that flowed from the quivering canopy, in a soft and cozy atmosphere, a little stuffy.
At the center of the room stood a hunchback shaft, extending two frail but many-fingered branches above the plantations. There lacked the branches that once bore, autumn after autumn, bushels of golden fruits, hatched to disseminate life. Its smooth and worn deep brown bark, showed some bright red burls which almost evoked the body of a tired old Woman. Gerry, amused, noticed that it looked like a nursery guarded by a grandmother asleep in her ward, or a very old nanny, freezed with her fan in hand. Large stone jars filled with strange liqueurs, colored and vaguely bright, spread fragrance of resin and strawberry.
Avacuna advanced to the middle of the green dome, her timid kid at her feet.
-«Legolothië, Eldest! Leave your ancient dreams! Come drink water and suck large bowlfuls of air! »
The tree suddenly shook - the grandmother came out of her slumber. Near the main fork of her branches, two large knots streaked with dark red narrowed suddenly, to reveal huge and attentive brown eyes. The green sparks of her thoughts, dormant at the bottom of a dark brown and smooth pond, seemed to rise to the surface of the present, to the aerial and hectic existence, leaving at the bottom of the marsh, layers of decaying leaves as many centuries of memories. The slow chants of swarming and silty growth rose there to the swift time of the world to blend with frenetic rhythms of ephemeral hopes and the jingles of human vanities.
A large and thin red mouth outlined under a callous nodule resembling a nose. A deep yet feminine voice rose, where the torrents of the Blue Mountains happily rolled their pebbles. In her breath sighed the powerful fibers of Arvernien cedars, swinging in the sea breeze. Myriads of heavy ears hissed there beneath the autumnal squall of Thargelion. The memory of the growing world spoke through that voice. Rocky as a winter cough yet soft and moist like a spring rain, she sang the summer fullness and the fever of autumn harvests.
-« Harum, barum-ha! Avacuna, follower of Oromë, I thought of ripe wheat in the wind on the prairies of Thargelion. You pulled me out of quite pleasant dreams of growing. My broths and my liquors will soon be ready! But... petty buds! Who is this? »
To the surprise of Gerry, the old tree turned her scorched face toward him, bowing slightly to contemplate him. A grandmother welcoming the first newborn of her daughter, would not have expressed more warmth, love and compassion than the women shaft. Now lowered, her arm showed a fiber stiffness under the gnarled curves of her skin. She seemed an old apple tree about twelve feet high, twisted, dented and scorched by the task in the fields, forever bent toward shoots. Sepia and gray moss grew all around the huge burl that served as her head. A melancholy flame lingered in her eyes, unable to obliterate the love of what is living and will live, but sighing at the irremediable departure of what has ceased to live.
The Hobbit bowed respectfully, striving to turn a compliment of his own.
-« Gerontius, from the Took family, genus Hobbit! Let me commend you for the charm of your home!
- Here is a pretty name and a pretty voice! A child of Men, Adannig? It is not! A sprite from the twilight hills? Too much hair on his toes! Indeed here is a Periannig!
- We met a moon ago, Eldest! », said Avacuna, containing her excitement.
- I see he is a young male and you are fond of him, Avacuna! That is why you paid no visit to me for a few days. It is a long time since I kept you in my house when the call of life ran in your veins... »
Gerry asked why his companion had been retained, although she seemed to raise no protest about it and seemed to have consented. The woman-appletree looked at the Hobbit doubtfully and replied:
- « I wonder if a mortal can hear the answer... Well, be aware that this was to protect her from herself, to preserve her freshness, like a young salad, and leave open the doors to her future. »
The Woman-tree peered in the eyes of the Hobbit:
- « You understand, I am sure, the appeal of life, welling in hearts in the spring. Once Avacuna was inhabited by this call, she relayed to all. But she tasted the fruits of speech and thought and hoped, without erasing it, to contain her primordial instinct in order to preserve her destiny. Remember this, if you were to judge her on the precepts of your people. She took a very long way. »
To be perfectly honest, our Hobbit had not understood, at the moment, the very substance of these revelations. However he realized Avacuna would never meet the Hobbit standards. He vaguely got that it would be futile for him to try to understand the whole story of the young woman, too deeply rooted into the origins of the world. In any case, his love for Avacuna had already defeated the objections his Hobbit conservatism had made. Instinctively, Gerry adopted the cherub pouting that succeeded so well with mature Hobbit-women and answered:
- « Everybody may not be born in the court of the King!
Legolothië laughed - at least this is the interpretation that our Hobbit made about the sounds of waterfalls ruttling shingle and ice - and she said:
-«Arumarigperianbrum, He is cute, well aware of his condition and proud of it! »
Gerry blushed immediately.
-«Do not judge him too quickly, Elder!, said Avacuna alarmed. He seems superficial at first, but he is careful and does not seek vain glory.
- Berries and twigs! Do you hear that! For you, people of the great music, the first look, from your heart, is almost always irreversible... But let us not be hasty!... »
Legolothië paused for a while. Avacuna and Gerry respected her silence, since a change had occurred in the face of the Woman-tree, which struck them. The green flames of the eyes seemed at present to be burning with a clear and intense fire, but very deeply, as if her stirred memories had belonged to a very distant past. Her deep voice was reduced to a whisper:
-« A friend of old time had this wise precept. I was nimble and playful at that time, the hastiest of ent-women1. I laughed at such advice. Who knows where are my companions now? You little Folk remind me of the distant time when ent-women and ents used to live together. I have not raised any ent-child since an immeasurable number of years!... Lallon lalla-lallon-mellon-ornon-fangorn-legotauron2…»
Sap dripped from the eyes of the Ent-woman. Gerry asked naively, to the dismay of Avacuna:
-« What happened to your friends?
- Some have fallen into bad accidents in Middle Earth. Sometimes enemies - burarum - slew them. Others have slowly become treeish, by dint of being absorbed in the memories of the time when the world was young. But for my ent-women companions, it is quite different. They were, a long time ago, teachers and guides for the men of yore. They created beautiful gardens, far south of here in a loop of the great river. But the war destroyed their works and dispersed them or worse...
- How sad...
- For confidence and independence, I was far away when my people disappeared. I looked long in their footsteps but could not find them. My people and his work seemed to have perished. I wandered for a while to the north under the foliage of Greenwood the Great. The ambition of a place of my own, a valley that I could lead my way took me so far. I lived to beautify this place and make it a safe haven. I sometimes felt the need to see my friends. But where are those who survived? Anyway, I had so much to do here that I never undertook this journey. Now I look forward to them but I cannot leave the work of my hands and all the creatures that matter to me here. Maybe the time to get on the road will come for me? Because I feel in the soil and water that a change is already coming... »
Melancholy passed slowly in the eyes of the Woman-tree. The green flames danced for a moment beneath the surface of her dark eyes:
- « But you, Perian, you are the last of your kind to cross these mountains! All your fellows fled the marshes for quite a while...
- My people did not keep accurate memories of our travels, as they back far away and get lost in our years of wandering before the creation of our country. I come from the Shire, far to the west of the mountains. These are the fathers of the fathers of my ancestors that you saw coming from the east of the Misty Mountains!
- So the time has passed quickly across the plains of the world...
- Since I started my journey, I came to realize how the world outside of our own daily universe, seems to move faster than our own affairs. We Hobbits hear only the news we are interested in, or we are capable to understand. For example, until now I hardly listened to the fabrications of our shirriffes from the North Farthing, who reported seeing trees move in the moors near the Hills Estrange. It is true that these appearances often occurred after a prolonged stop at the tavern... But now, unless I am not living a dream, I have to admit the wisdom of their assumptions. After all, the world is large and shelters scores of creatures we know nothing of!
- Without doubt this is particularly true of mortal people, who constantly have to relearn what their elders had acquired, through songs and stories or thanks to the folks of greater longevity.
- Tales lose their reality over time and Elves avoid mortals. I had never heard of your people. Who are you indeed?
- My real name is too long - even for me who am not so hasty - as long as the years of listening to our growing plants. The Elves, who saved the people of Ents from our mutism - glory and praise to them - call me Tulusdol Legolothië. I guess you would translate this name into "poplar head crowned with green flowers." But you can call me Legolothië. »
Gerry bowed low while removing his hat, which greatly amused the ent-woman. He kept talking about it, but he found that Legolothië looked more like an old apple tree bent under her burden of fruits, than a slender poplar pointing to heaven. No doubt the work of the land had taken its share of toil and pain.
-« As for my people, the ents, or Onodrim in Elvish, are pastors of forests and warden of the plants. »
Before Gerry's stunned and incredulous air, Avacuna clarified:
-« The ents are our elders, they were already present at the time of the great darkness and they helped plants to flourish and abound when the sun and moon took flight for the first time. »
Gerry felt slightly dizzy to consider a tree, talking seriously about the dawn of the world. There were limits to what a decent Hobbit could absorb about novelties and wonders! He sat alongside Avacuna and listened absently his companion ask the Elder to tell her story, which began a long time ago. Avacuna's kid snuggled in her lap, and our Hobbit leaned back against the trunk of a sturdy dwarf-oak. Vapors freed by the fermenting liquors rose to Gerry's head, and soon he could not tell whether he was dreaming or listening.
-« In the beginning of the world, the spirit of creation gathered the thoughts that wandered aimlessly in the dark, and instituted a choir. A chant arose, combining the themes of all these voices. What happened to the harmony and the world is told elsewhere3. But it resulted in many minds, exalted or small, wild or gregarious, female or male, who descended to Arda to perform their part of the creation.
That is how a spirit, armed with great courage and inhabited by the fire of discovery, embodied the instinct of hunting and free life in the forests of the North. The spirit fought the evil creatures that spread in Middle Earth. Its cunning and intelligence made it an outstanding hunter. Now it happened that the spirit saved a petty lost bobcat from the claws of a werewolf. It raised the cub and found therefore it was inhabited by a great maternal instinct. Her gender thus revealed, she traveled Middle Earth, continuing her hunt for evil creatures.
Passing by chance through the valley of Legolothië, she had made a few irregular and then more frequent visits. Driven by a need for companionship, she clung to the ent-wife, who provided for care and attention. She nested in fall, slept a lot in winter and was full of activity in the spring, under the indistinct and multiple form of a predator, fox or lynx. It happened to the spirit of the woods, to unite with predators, in their form. Thus was born, among others, Master Corruscin, the most civilized of Goupils East of the sea. But her empathy was not limited to hunters. Her mountain escapades gradually got close to the sheep, and she always kept a fondness for goats.
The spirit made the valley her home, ferociously protecting it against all the dark creatures that roamed the mountains. Legolothië named her Avacuna, which means "The one who does not bend, the Inflexible," according to her impetuous temperament.
Since Avacuna showed provisions for speech and sociability, gradually Legolothië held her in spring, for her to restrain and channel her instincts. Under the influence of the Ent-woman, it seems Avacuna progressively abandoned her willingness to take animal forms, retaining more and more the appearance she had today. Her diet also widened out. She sometimes encountered Sindar patrolling north of Rivendell. The elves had the unique power of speach, and bestowed this gift to everyone they met. Avacuna, in her need for sharing with thinking beings, was transformed again through their teaching, and was raised up to them.
As her thinking personality progressively asserted itself, she lost in instinct and ferocity, and gained in depth. Preparedness, prevention and anticipation came more frequently in her strategy of hunting and defense. Pleasure mingled with joy, frustration became regrets. Words begat infinite variations and subtleties, sometimes sowing paradoxes on the winding paths of reasoning and wisdom. Her aggressiveness subsided and channeled but not her fears, which only changed in depth : from transient and violent, they muffled but became steadier.
Her soul looked in the mirror of consciousness. Measuring the extent of her metamorphosis, she feared that her conscience would end up seeing only herself, denying the instinct which gave her birth. Would Anima be silent when Animus should come to look at her? 4 She had never lacked memory, but consciousness gave her memories a new sense. Without feeling regret for her past actions, she cast some forever. The lure of beauty, inventiveness and creativity - the gratuitous act in all its forms - flourished along with a visceral need to transmit what she discovered. Once hatched the bud of enthusiasm, the flower of lucidity bore the thorns of anxiety. Where would her evolution end up, and what was she doomed to? What would her fate be in Middle Earth?
Vainly seeking in her past, the keys to her future, she felt some indefinable soul quality still eluded her. An existential vertigo, quite incommunicable, clasped her - she could only compensate by sharing her knowledge. She taught the language to her dearest children and friends. Some mastered it, and most of them remained in the valley. Satiated by this surpassing of herself, Avacuna felt with sadness, however, her offspring moved away from her. Speech and its corollary consciousness, this priceless elven gift, proved a heavy burden...
So Avacuna ventured out of the valley, in search of an answer. This is how she met humans. Better than the Elves, they taught her that a part of our qualities are hatched in our relations with our fellows. She was bound with mortal humans, sharing with them the fiery flame to conquer her life. She thought she had found her way, but she was disappointed by the critical need for domination and power that characterized humans. Implacable conquerors tired her need for harmony and peace. Over time, Avacuna slowly abandoned, without admitting it, hope for inner peace. The harsh mortals, too, had given her a bittersweet fruit: the awareness that her need for serenity would never be appeased.
-« Thus always pushed to new shores
In eternal night away without return,
Shall we ever on the ocean of ages
Anchor one single day? »5
Legolothië concluded her narrative with emphasis and smile:
- « Until this day when my little savage-girl is stirred by a young rough Perian ! »
Avacuna was grateful Legolothië had painted a picture of her life, she could not have fulfilled herself. Hugging her kid who was trying to get her attention, she ran a worried look to Gerry who struggled to accept this rain of news. The Hobbit shut his mouth –that was open for quite a while - and answered without thinking at the dumb question:
- « You come from far away and you have lived several lives! Yet you have the appearance of a young girl, full of energy and eager to live. Next to you, I am like a spring shoot that a vigorous four poles high pine would protect from the snow. I feel down... »
Avacuna's fresh hand in his neck's blonde curls reminded the Hobbit of moments of intimacy and discovery. Then he had not felt dominated by her overwhelming elderness. Instead he had lived their first meeting and their conversations, as a welcomed traveler who held the key of a new continent, unknown by his companion. She added saucily:
-« I have not found you down... » and then grimly: « For my part, I wonder whether we can follow the same path. »
Legolothië had carefully observed the reaction of the Hobbit and was satisfied. She spoke to Avacuna with no regard for Gerry, who felt reduced to the level of a commodity on a stall:
- « Man is an imperfect thing that constantly tends to something better and bigger than himself. 6 You still have to find out whether Hobbits have inherited this tendency. This individual does not seem jaded or without resources. His fellows, who once crossed the Mountains, seemed to maintain a strong and healthy sense of restraint. But he is young and his true personality is not yet mature. I fear he has suffered too many insults lately... but the strength of his folk will provide for his development. »
Then she leaned over a stone jar from which emanated amber highlights and added wryly:
- « Regarding decrease difficulties, here is what should help you match... »
Legolothië handed a bowl of liquor to Gerry, who plunged his nose in it. He had the feeling of a hive, wrung in distilled wildflowers and strawberries, mixed with a rich flavor of almond and adjusted with a sour touch -perhaps grape! The traveling Hobbit is like a soldier in the field - he takes advantage of every opportunity to experiment the wealth of the visited countries, especially its culinary treasures. This thick potion brought him a boost, a feeling of energy and vitality, which was soon to gain his ends, as tingling in the fingers, the toes, the hairline and in some other place that our reader may easily imagine. It goes without saying that Gerry sipped his portion with gusto, and to the last drop. When he was restored, he was sent to pick berries and harvest some vegetables, with the stated aim to provide him with "something solid under his tooth" and complete his horticultural knowledge. He walked away, accompanied by the kid who capered around him.
Once alone, Avacuna and Legolothië conversed at length about the intentions of the young woman. But the Ent-woman was concerned by a dull premonition. Avacuna confessed she too had felt a warning against the immediate future. The old Ent-Woman spoke to her gravely:
- « You tried once to unite with mortals who pursued vain or selfish goals. I see you animated with a lively hope of happiness. This young Hobbit has qualities but I feel enemies and trouble are dragged in his wake. An old and lonely Ent-woman may not help you more... »
There was no more talk of this, but Avacuna knew she would soon be faced with a difficult choice.
X-X-X
The next day, Legolothië felt worried and torn. Her last potion had turned soured, which made her a bit grumpy and hasty. So she sent her savage-girl and her protégé on an errand among the slopes in search of a pastures flower.
Gerry, fiery and frisky after another swig of the ents beverage, meant to prove useful. His hair had become long and floated in the breeze, mingled with those of Avacuna while they went away to the northern slopes of the valley, pursued or preceded by the kid that wriggled in heather. The two companions feeling a fickle mood, the trip was long and not very productive. About two o'clock in the afternoon, lying under a hazel, the couple was awakened by a small thrush, that dared not approach Avacuna but maneuvered to alert Gerry. When the woman awoke, the thrush perched on a nearby hazel branch. A ray of sunlight flooded around the bird, revealing an unexpected sight. Avacuna enthusiastically exclaimed:
-« Awake, O lascivious dormouse! Your sweet little thrush has discovered an omen I like! »
Gerry, tired and satisfied with his exploits noon, mumbled something about tea time, before being shaken vigorously. Avacuna showed with emotion a tangle of honeysuckle with a hazel twig. Illuminated white flowers sparkled like jewels in the soft green hazel.
- « Look how beautiful it is! Your blackbird woke us so that we can contemplate this...
- Did you know you cannot separate honeysuckle and hazel without causing death to both? »
The metaphor was too powerful to let the lovers' souls unmoved. Gerry was inspired and guessed what was expected of him. He composed a Linnod on the spot:
« Likewise, beloved, are we,
Neither you without me, nor me without you.7 »
These romantic circumstances produced a powerful effect on Avacuna, who let herself be guided the rest of the day without leaving her lovers with her eyes. From time to time she hugged her kid as Hobbit mothers did with their babies, and rocked it a few moments. Gerry advised that the weather was turning cold - threatening clouds rolled their scrolls from the north. The Hobbit, who meant not to return empty-handed, took things in hand and sent his thrush scout ahead. They hurried to their destination further north, and soon found the coveted plant, thanks to the faithful bird's indications, on top of an exposed hill. They carefully dug up one plant on three, not without carefully following finicky Legolothië's instructions - they re-filled holes with a mixture of gravel, local land and a few drops of elixir provided for this purpose.
Since a storm threatened to come by, they soon returned home. Along the way they entrusted the precious basket of flowers to the care of Master Corruscin, who honored his reputation of swift runner, by finishing the race for them. The lovebirds sheltered just in time in Avacuna's house, before the outbreak of the storm and the first autumn rain that, cold and sticky, isolated them for a night. They took snacks and curled under blankets and duvets. The evening was intimate - even the kid was not admitted.
- « I only miss a kettle's whistle! » blurted Gerry.
His companion had considered the day to be perfect. She was therefore a little disappointed by this yet casual remark. Fortunately she opened to Gerry who explained:
-« In the Shire, the kettle whistling indicates that the work of the day ends. The signal sounds through rain and fog to remind that a drink, tempered with art, is waiting for you to relax and invigorate your limbs as well as your spirits. A moment of relaxation, expected by all, gathers everyone home or at a friend's. Tea is a tradition of the Shire that the oldest clans have maintained since the time of the King8. It is an institution that brings together rich and poor, even if the poorest serve chamomile instead of tea. The hosts wear a more formal clothings after the fields soils outfit. The family table or dining room is dressed for the comfort of all in a relaxed and friendly atmosphere. The cups are the pride of the housewife; they are invented a pedigree or a distant genealogical origin. Tea brings friends for an informal chat. This is an opportunity to exchange pleasantries and enjoy together after a day of work or trade, or just conclude an enjoyable excursion. And tea is usually accompanied by cookies or a snack.
- Does your people have tea every day?
- Actually my people gather around a table whenever they can, said Gerry with lucidity. For us Hobbits, food rules the purpose and pace of the day... But tea establishes peace. Tea is drunk to forget the noise of the world...9 »
Contemplating the Hobbit ethics of life, Avacuna, thoughtfull, considered with tolerance the findings that civilizations discovered and cultivated in compensation for their wrongdoings. But she could not repel an anxious thought - Gerry lacked his people, and he should eventually make a terrible choice. The Hobbit felt his girlfriend's trouble and held her tighter against him.
He felt the autumn weather cooling and rain increasing and dreaded to spend a winter away from his family. However, for the first time in his life, a girl had imposed on him, with a natural he had not figured a girl could possess. He accepted this discovery with some gratitude: after all, girls could be pleasantly surprising! This unique opportunity blatantly confirmed every day. He realized that till now, he had neither felt any real regret, nor cherished any authentic dream. The fear of losing a dream held him now, but he still struggled to define this dream. « A man is old, only when his regrets have taken the place of his dreams.10 » had once said Gandalf, speaking of the Thain, who bred -too - many dreams according to the wizard. Being aware that he stood at the crossroads, made neither the choice easier, nor the arguments clearer.
Both fell asleep in the soft feather shared quilts, with no illusions about the impending confrontation, but agreeing to postpone it to the next day.
X-X-X
At daybreak, the wind from the North blew his biting gusts. The kid curled up on the bed at the feet of his mistress. Avacuna gave Gerry an elixir crafted by Legolothië. Their mood immediately veered sour when Gerry asked for warm clothes. Avacuna imagined the Hobbit was considering an immediate departure. She complied but walled in a silence that was not like her when the Hobbit, to take some courage or perhaps by indecision, asked her to have a few steps below thick clouds.
They followed the valley, at the bottom of which gnarled willows swayed their long hair over a dark river. On their way, stems diverged to form a tunnel of green and yellow leaves. Avacuna, noting Gerry's apprehension, explained that many trees had "awakened" in contact with Legolothië.
-« Large trees are able of thoughts in their slow and silty way, these raise to aerial areas when their sap flows. The cares of the ent-women have heightened their need for fresh air and sharing. Some have risen to thought - not always for the better, unfortunately! The tree hearts can turn toward harmony with their neighbors. Having extricated their feet from the soil, they usually turn to creatures who speak and move. But some hate those who freely roam the world without burrowing into ground or water. It is not always safe to venture out in the woods without knowing the songs that doze. »
When they had walked for half an hour and reached a hill overlooking the groves of roses, Gerry finally spoke. Indeed he did not know, while starting, what would exactly be his conclusion. Perhaps he hoped, in summarizing his objections aloud, start a debate that would solve them.
Gerry spoke of the great conservatism of Hobbit society, his responsibilities about his family and the Shire and the great distance from this valley. He pointed out painful considerations of age and ended so pompous explaining that he felt no right to require Avacuna's sacrifice to leave the life she had built. He spoke nobly, with a confident tone, by reasoned arguments. Did he expect tears or a resigned detachment? Anyway his academic speech did not have the expected result.
Avacuna crouched as to pounce on her prey. Her clenched fists let see strong claws that quivered with nervous spasms. Her cats eyes flashed, but she exploded in words:
- « I forbid you to decide in my place what is acceptable or not for me! You consider neither staying here with me, nor inviting me to the Shire that you miss and that you made me dream of - you should have told me to my face. You cast ahead on me and your kin the reason for your choice... But indeed you are rejecting me. I never imagined such a cowardice on your part! »
Gerry staggered, found nothing to answer. He loosely expected Avacuna to dismiss the litany of his objections. Now it was too late. Taking the first step and all the following is a long walk alone, that cannot be imposed without consequences. The Hobbit had, in a few seconds, expelled from his life the only female he esteemed.
The return was a disaster. They coldly agreed Gerry would leave the next day, provided with food and directions to the Great East Road. As the Hobbit was hanging back flattering the kid, Avacuna threw him a glance full of sorrow and contempt. That is when she noticed, far north, an opaque cloud, darker than the others, that flew above the peaks and plunged into the valleys. A shiver ran through her, which was not only due to cold.
Gerry, his heart heavy, turned and stared at the dark omen. Suddenly a quadruped appeared on top of the hill. Strong and well built, he saw Avacuna and was in three leaps besides her. The superb mountain goat smoked in the cool morning when it bowed its horns to the young woman. Avacuna stroked his neck and spoke softly. But Gerry was concerned about the cloud, that quickly approached in a heartbreaking and growing rumor, at the limit of human hearing.
Master Corruscin, attracted by the cries, came to him using this language:
-« We were strolling through the thickets beyond the fountain, when those high cries came intolerably assault our ears... »
Hundreds of squeaks now filled the heavy air. Avacuna, alarmed, shouted at them:
« A swarm of bats is flying down from the north and is spreading terror and desolation in the mountains. They precede an invasion of orcs! »
Gerry wondered if the valley could avoid a disaster. What could attract them here? He remembered the concerns of Eagles and their council of war. He supposed that the events at Mount Barum-Nahal had sparked this surge. Now they ran from the North and all the mines obedient to Gundabad. But why so far South? A former doubt seized the Hobbit: were they after his ring? He felt revolt and guilt set up in him: the valley and its inhabitants were in great danger, probably because of him. Did he have to flee and would that be enough to divert the fury of the goblin hordes? Yet he had been carried by the air, preventing any orc messenger to follow or locate him. No doubt he was not the cause that had bought the orcs so far. He decided that his flight would not save the valley.
His mind clearer now, he strengthened his will and told Avacuna he would join her in defense of her home, although he could not see much how to stop orcish hordes. Gerry bitterly regretted the absence of his companions. What would he not have given to stand alongside his friends, a squad of Dúnedain or Dwarves in arms?
- « When majors fall, minors must take over! 11 », He sighed.
He concerted quickly with Avacuna. She agreed that evacuating the valley was not possible - her heart would not consent to this, no more than Legolothië. Light-footed Corruscin was immediately sent to warn the Ent-woman. The little thrush flew on an imploring word from Gerry, as once during Arathorn's lifetime. Avacuna warned her offspring who traveled the valley on all sides to warn about the imminent attack. Gerry's plan was simple - he imagined they could hold, with all the help they could muster, the line of the willows river, that crossed the valley from east to west before turning Southeast along a steep slope. The northern part of the valley would certainly suffer damages, but it would help disperse the orc troops.
Avacuna's hill stood not far south of the river, near a small bridge of logs, that a beavers' family had obligingly built. She prepared herself the sabotage of the bridge, which could be triggered by pulling a rope concealed in the grass on the South shore. Animals, big and small, flocked north and crossed the river by this single practicable point, while the ominous cloud approached inexorably. Brandishing spears and blowpipes carefully, Avacuna went out of her cave, wearing a leather and mail armor and decked with paintings, Gerry was intimidated by. She donned our Hobbit in the same way, not without a feeling of pride mingled with apprehension. She also gave him a short sword, light and slender, probably the work of an elven blacksmith in a remote time. Gerry, feeling moved, remembered the last gift a lass had bestowed to him - his ring - and looked at the accumulation of problems that had arisen. He wondered if wearing the colors of two ladies was not presumptuous or ominous. But he drove those thoughts away with the certainty that this gift was offered and accepted for noble reasons, and it would be used wisely. So harnessed with a hauberk and an oversized helmet, Gerry saw the attention of the whole company of small refugees turn to him and found himself in some way established as the general by the collective and gregarious confidence of the rabbits army.
An acute and threatening rumor slowly grew before them. Occasionally a dark shape fluttered above the river, announcing the pestilence cloud that would befall. Gerry was trying to send away the armies of rodents, paralyzed with fear, when Legolothië finally arrived. She was ranting with helplessness but Gerry was able to reason her. They held lengthy council together about what to do. The part of the river that was easiest to cross, flowed in front of them, less than one mile long. Upstream to the northeast, stretched the deep valley which ended in ravines where the slope increased sharply. Downstream, the river spread out in marshes before joining a fast and dangerous course. Determined, Legolothië went rummaging through Avacuna's souvenirs, deep in her caves, and pulled out a large leather bag marked with the rune "R", filled with vials of all kinds, she brought to Gerry. Grabbing a small tin canister, she pretended to walk away and then changing her mind, she grabbed a seeds purse. Under a sky that grew dark and threatening, she traveled the South river bank, singing slowly, slowly emptying the purse and pouring from time to time some dark liquid from the tank. Slowly darkness came down while them pestilential miasma of Gundabad's caves buzzed all around.
Endorsing with candor and unconsciousness the role his lord had been holding so often for him, Gerry entrusted Avacuna with a flank guard role - she gathered her wild cousins from the mountains, the large antlers deers, wild boars and ibexes, and led them to the northeast, by the peat, to bypass the river and be ready to pounce on the rear of the enemy. After a last look, Avacuna went on, pushing her cavalry in front of her.
Gerry posted himself on the top of Avacuna's hill. While he scrutinized the dark to distinguish movements on the North bank, Legolothië passed back and forth, humming for herself, still spreading and pouring along the river. In the growing darkness, the Hobbit distinguished large dark forms gathering on the south bank, while the water level rose. A large hedge of thorns now doubled the river for a great length, and it thickened quickly. The Ent-woman had deployed her art by spreading her elixirs of growth. Gradually, large disheveled forms emerged near the shore, creaking.
Suddenly the swarm was upon them. The cries that filled all their thoughts drove crazy all the animals around him, brave or coward. Small black and slimy leeches fluttered around, trying to attach to their skin. In their erratic flight, bats with red eyes cast a shadow of fear and disorder. Legolothië joined Gerry and seized a container that looked porous. A thick fluid dripped through many tiny holes in the coarse pottery. Legolothië introduced a solvent by the cover and said a few words. After a moment, a little smoke escaped from the container, leaving a feeling of healthy bitterness to whoever breathed the scent. Immediately the pestilential swarm of bats moved away from the hill. The Ent-woman placed the porous container in a hemp mesh and suspended at top of a soft hazel branch, over the hill. On her orders, a couple of weasels climbed nimbly on the branch and made it to oscillate, which gave a large rotational movement to the container. The surrounding air got rid of bats, the bubble of clean air growing regularly. A large number of animals surrounded Gerry - foxes, badgers, weasels and ferrets stood as one, surrounded by bands of rabbits and voles, that looked terrified but were unable of anything more courageous than being there.
The horde of goblins was approaching. Behind the bats' screeching cries were perceived their guttural groans and heavy footsteps. Gerry imagined huge orcs with a bloody mouth and clawed hands, brandishing sharp scimitars in a vile den smell. It was not far from the truth about the orcs' scent. But the tribe that ran to the assault was a small and lively kind - the warriors wore thin spears and light shields. Suspicious, the orcs stopped at the river, which black water bubbled strangely and uninvitingly. They pushed hideous war cries, cursing the indistinct shadows beyond the river. Their swarming mass thronged now before the bridge. They must have reached the river upstream and, put off by the effort necessary to cross it, they had followed downstream to find a pass. Gerry felt a hesitation in the dirty and unkempt ranks of the Goblin soldiery. No leader had been able to impose its strength, to crystallize hatred and push forward the slovenly and howling troops, who contemplated the water with a dubious frown. Indeed the river had risen considerably and its ink surface bursted from time to time with a limp, slimy and unattractive "plop".
As Legolothië returned to his side, Gerry found himself thinking:
- « We could use a wizard! They can shed light where all hope seems to faint... »
Thinking about such a help beyond any hope, Gerry saw some well known frowning eyebrows, requiring him to fight with all his intelligence and all his heart. He took out his ring and raised it high. At this time the cloud ceiling torn, throwing a fleeting ray of light brighten the foothill where the Hobbit and the Ent-woman stood. The twin stones shone a thousand lights for a few moments. Did Gandalf watch on them from afar, in his distant journeys? The event, though incidental, fed our Hobbit with unusual temerity. Exalted as would have been an impatient heir to prove himself, he cried:
- « Go back to your smelly caves! The day of the world will not allow you to tarnish its glory! »
What an incisive formula! What a kicked pace! What an authority in the tone of this thin Hobbit voice, barely out of his teens! But what do you think happened? Goblins, put aback for a moment by the river's putrid appearance, saw a ray of light on a big old stump, under which housed a pretentious little brat, dressed in shiny mail. The puppy was wearing too large weapons and had about too grandiose a speech for someone so small. And now he boasted, brandishing a golden gem! That was too good for him, that dirty little thief!
A large orc with a sly look, gave him a derogatory invective, that had his comrades guffaw. Strenghtened by his rhetorical success, the orc took firm steps on the bridge, followed by his comrades who thronged to be the first to take part in the quarry or enjoy the show, hustling and fighting if necessary. While Gerry's confidence crumbled, the light fainted and darkness fell on the hill. The Hobbit saw with anguish the rabbits' army flee in all directions. What had he expected? Where were the solid companions present there for a moment, badgers and foxes? Legolothië and he were almost alone in front of a rising tide of cruel and devious creatures. Panicked, Gerry turned and hurried to the hill, the only idea that floated in the storm of his thoughts was to barricade himself in Avacuna's cave.
X-X-X
That is when luck chose to remind him of his duties. The Hobbit, weighed down by his cumbersome gear, tripped over a thick rope that was lying in the grass. He fell to the ground. The rope! The bridge! He rose with difficulty under the weight of his armor, grabbed the rope that controlled the trapped bridge and pulled with all his strength. Slowly at first, the overloaded logs uncoupled, then crumbled in seconds, throwing to water terrorized dozens of orcs.
You must know that orcs have a visceral fear and disgust about water. But the river was now at its highest. The elixir that Legolothië had poured in it seemed to have slowed the flow, as if it was encumbered by a thick layer of mud or algae blooming. Goblins squealed as piglets when sliding into the waters that seemed an oily ink. Few reappeared up at the surface, as if the sticky mud or slime algae had retained them at the bottom. Some debated desperately, unable to leave the water and sank inexorably.
Gerry, mortified by his fall but relieved by the unexpected effect, freed from the nodes he had himself tied with, while the goblins stared angrily the failure of their peers. It is not in the nature of this sordid brood to feel compassion for fellow soldiers killed in combat. Generally, the pain or the terror of a comrade, that is to say, a rival, a thief and a threat, pleases them extremely. For example it came to the mind of none, to reach a pole to their fellows who debated before they succumbed. However they consider pleasant to discuss with their gang about the slow torture of prisoners, or the meal they will have out of it. They thought they only had to reach out to capture their prey. At present a considerable obstacle stood before them. That is why the disordered cohort grew to a state of indescribable fury, by an escalation of verbal hatred. They threw many spears and arrows, without much result. Some solid badgers and foxes were unfortunately shoot and succumbed in horrible convulsions, as the throwing weapons of those detestable creatures are usually coated with poison.
After several minutes of fruitless demonstrations of rage, some goblins, smarter than others, parted from the bank and began to cut trees. By their repeated invectives, they convinced others to lend a hand. Goblins do not make beautiful things, but they are cunning and their great number overcomes individual laziness. Soon many truncs were piled up on the bank, and then pushed into the water. From the south bank, Gerry, Legolothië and their helpless friends gazed with distress the logs spilling to complete a sort of floating bridge.
Before it was ready, the Ent-woman approached the edge, singing down a dull air. Gerry had the feeling that the grove of the bank had thickened. Amid brambles that lined the bank, willow branches hanged casually. But Gerry realized that the North bank had no more of them, though they grew on both sides before the goblins arrived.
The orcs went on the attack, jumping on floating logs stacked in the river bed. The task was difficult for them. The unstable trunks turned or moved - they were quickly covered with a greasy water and became slippery. Many orcs were killed by falling into the water. Gerry shot now with his sling, to the delight of the badgers who screamed "To bath!" whenever an orc fell because of the Hobbit. After several attempts, goblins resolved to consolidate their bridge. They cut more trees, tied them and pushed them over the top, across the first layer. Now they could cross safely - and badgers were not to laugh any more!
The hordes of Gundabad launched their assault, determined to exterminate all life on the South shore. Some were cut down in their tracks, but most decended violently on the bank, bellowing and thrusting in the brambles. What a surprise it was for them to find troll-size opponents!
Willows are usually placid trees. They tirelessly suck water from their deep roots, while pitching their head so indolent. But they have a dark heart as long as the torments the goblins once inflicted to them, who cut and leave to rot trees full of life. Then their mumbled anger was unleashed against bipeds, with all the tenacity of roots extending over many years, concentrated in a few seconds of struggle. Willows, that became "entic" besides Legolothië, proved virulent and ruthless. The first goblin line was dismembered, the second was decapitated, the third crushed under a root, the following equally projected in water, strangled by vines or perforated by direct blows to the abdomen. The carnage lasted as long as the goblin fury proved stronger than their cowardice.
The vexed and sparse orc troop withdrew to the North bank, badly shaken but not yet defeated. Long, champions concocted a response, not without rising in several fatal fights against each other. Finally, several advanced with torches in hand, which dripped viscous flammable liquid. In the background now some high fires threatened to spread. The torches were projected on willows, some of which suffered greatly. One of them flared up in seconds and died screaming in pain. Old trees, with sheer anger, rushed to the attack despite warnings from Legolothië. From entrenched and victorious defenders, the unfortunate would turn into easy prey on the North shore open area. Goblins re-formed their ranks and refilled their torches for a kind of combat where they knew they held supremacy and awaited the messy onslaught of the "entic" trees, savoring their victory in advance.
Then Avacuna's group fell like lightning in the back of the orcs. She patiently waited for the right moment, repenting at times to call the whole troop of her children to their death against a well-armed and cruely trained horde. However, she lacked some important information. The valley was not attacked by the allied bands of Gundabad reclaiming the northern Misty Mountains. On the opposite, that was of a defeated tribe, driven from the supreme power by the wars triggered after the dragons' departure, and pushed southward. The people of the valley could not know, but they had before them some disunited fugitives of a troop that lacked a true leader.
Thus Avacuna's charge was decisive. Large deers cast down Gundabad's soldiery, that finished gutted by hordes of wild boars. The entire goblins right wing panicked. Pushed by mountain goats, they were thrown into the river and could not escape. Orcs, halved and with no leader, believed they were lost and disbanded. They were crushed between the hammer and the anvil. Avacuna, radiant in the midst of the carnage, reduced methodically pockets of resistance and did pursue the fugitives. Soon Legolothië who had crossed the river carrying Gerry, laid the Hobbit down. All the inhabitants of the valley were dealing with the invaders at bay. Gerry was found by chance alongside the Huntress as the enemies were eradicated around. Never token of courage was shared with more fervor. Gerry and Avacuna engaged their faith in a look and sealed their fate by returning to combat.
Avacuna rushed to conduct the pursuit, making vows no goblin would ever return to his lair in the North. Gerry returned to the river to attend Legolothië who fought the last orcs squares. Shaken by the battle and sweating under his helmet, he was walking with a quick step, when he felt violently pushed on his back. He slumped heavily and gasped. Orcs are customary with sneaky ruses. Escaping the enemy wrath by feigning death, they secretly gear a poisoned cutlass while the front of the fight moves, to arise by surprise on the back of the opponent.
The Hobbit nearly fainted, but his conscience maintained enough to wish he would succumb without suffering too much before the inevitable. But the inevitable would come slowly, after a painful and ultimate ordeal - a clawed hand snatched his sword in an oath of disgust and turned him bluntly.
- « What's he's got in its dirty Elvish hands? Where it puts its treasure? »
Gerry startled - ultimately the curse had been tough and had pursued him to a premature end. He felt a strange satisfaction - temptations and deceptions would stop. Repulsive hands fingered him impatiently. Between his half-closed eyelids, Gerry saw a brown skull, emaciated and stitched with pink scars where worms and flies swarmed around, leaning on his face and scrutinizing him carefully. While the insane bloodshot eyes gazed enviously and feverishly, foul nasal slits inspected his hands. With despite, the creature seized the Hobbit's mailcoat and pulled it with unspeakable brutality, notching his nose and ears. Still holding the Hobbit with the horrible strength of his twisted and hairy arms, the orc inspected the back of the coat with rage. Gerry could not refrain some protective reflexes that did not escape the acute eye of the trained torturer. Abandoning the coat, the orc slammed Gerry on the ground with a knee on his stomach. The poor Hobbit knew his last hour had come. He attempted a diversion:
- « Mind your hands, my treasures are Elvish. You will be burned! »
The hands for a moment ceased their heinous browsing, hesitated then grabbed Gerry by his neck and shook it until the grin of the victim came to resemble the hateful smile of his tormentor.
-« Burned? Elven magic? Bolg take war magic of the elf! »
Hands no longer mucked around – they applied their implacable force to destroy life. Under the disgusting palms suddenly flashed the dwarven necklace. The dazzled orc stopped his grip and seized the jewel, trying to pull it out. Gerry could finally take a deep breath and in his last moment of lucidity, reached into his torn vest to fetch his weedpurse. The orc saw the crimson velvet purse and tried to take it. But Gerry threw it as far as he could. The precious parcel softly flew hardly a pole away, just before crashing with a clear sound Bolg interpreted as the promising jingle of gold. In a flash, Gerry caught in his purulent pupil, the feeling of victory and the desire to get rid of his bulky prey.
But luck had not completely abandoned our hero. Legolothië had launched a cry of victory, reminiscent of the trumpet calls of the kingdoms of yore. Foaming and squatting to clear out faster, Bolg had a moment of hesitation, peering in turns the dwarven necklace, the attracting purse and the bank, to assess the danger. Gerry, who felt in his back the pain of a hard and cutting item, since he was on the ground, contorted to reach it. His hand closed over a long orc cutlass, sharp and hideous. The anxious and furious look of the killer returned to Gerry when the blade thrust under his armpit. Bolg, quick as a snake, suddenly relaxed to avoid the blow, and nearly achieved that. Keeping his momentum, he rolled over himself toward the purse, allegedly full of elven treasures.
Leaving Gerry and his necklace, the orc grabbed the purse, broke the pipe, tore the packet of pipe-weed and took the ring. Triumphantly, he straightened up and looked at his prize of war, taunting Gerry with a sly glance:
-« Gold of elves burns not... You little liar! »
Then Bolg raised his index and put the ring on his finger, forcing it to prevent getting off. He was shaken with a rush of adrenaline and satisfaction he had never known. At that time he seemed young, not having reached his full stature. Gerry on his side, could not bear to feel cheated, robbed of the precious treasure and the relationship forged with its strange power. Taken by a blind frenzy, the Hobbit rushed to Bolg. Never any rage, neither any conscious exercise of the will, nor any fear were able to mobilize such an implacable determination.
-« Give me my treasure back! My Precious! It is mine! » Screamed the little Hobbit dealing a blow in full swing at the knees of his opponent.
Bolg dodged around the blow with all the art of a goblin of the North. Victim of an excess of confidence and hampered by his injured arm, Bolg nevertheless lost his balance and had to replicate the roll he had achieved a moment ago. But the ring betrayed its new master - when the orc found standing, he lacked both the ring and the finger. Pushing on the ground, Bolg had triggered the stones mechanism and severed his own finger. The orc screamed only when he realized what he had lost. Still Gerry never knew if his rival's pain was due to the severed finger or the lost ring, since at this moment Legolothië came in great wrath. Without taking time to utter any curse, Bolg fled towards the mountains.
He does not come into this tale any more, but the Elves of Rivendell say he survived and managed to rally an obscure minor tribe, East of Mount Gram. There he brooded his pain and hate, always on the alert and ready to have his irreparable loss paid by anyone who overshadowed him. He came to surpass the strongest warriors and supplanted the king of the tribe. Indeed he was the bastard son of Azog king of Moria's orcs, infamous for the people of Dùrin. A few years later, Bolg became the undisputed king of Gundabad, lord of the clans of the Misty Mountains and the Gray Mountains. 12
X-X-X
Gerry, blinking in the dim light that dissipated, felt Legolothië lifting him gently. From the hill, where they were joined by cohorts of the inhabitants of the valley, he saw a great flood that washed the aftermath of the invasion. Then the waters receded slowly, restoring the devastated valley with a familiar appearance. Woods and plantations in the northern part were almost completely destroyed. Legolothië felt febrile and diminished, as if the loss of so many years of love and effort had halved her person at the same time that the world she had built.
However, the Ent-woman set to work with enthusiasm and imagination. Fortunately the depredations and atrocities of the orcs had not lasted long. The days that followed, feverish and laborious, were golden. Freed of the threat, the valley redoubled with a late flowering before diving into the winter. The people of the valley experienced a period of intense reconstruction.
Poor Corruscin came to live on the hill, for the time to clear and restore his devastated home. When he returned with great ceremony with his vixen - who was, as is said in the Shire, in very advanced and favorable circumstances - he was unpleasantly surprised to find a whole family of weasels, many and squawking. Corruscin could definitely not expropriate under these conditions. So he moved for the winter in Avacuna's caves.
Gerry felt great difficulties to recover. He was not physically injured, apart from bruised ribs which long remained painful despite the care of the Ent-woman. He even surpassed the shock of war violence. But he had painfully realized, facing the test, that the ring exercised over him an irresistible attraction, which made him a stranger to himself. He began to doubt that the past events may have helped him to grow. In his heart, he had to admit he could not keep the ring, even though he had come to call it "My Precious." His resolution was strengthened to the extent of his doubt about his ability to do without it. He stuck to this set of mind when he proposed Avacuna to come along with him to the Shire. They would try to live there together the promise they had made in the heart of the event.
Avacuna was delighted and expressed her gratitude to her hero in a very demonstrative way. But filial feelings linked her to the Ent-woman, and she was afraid to leave the valley. However Legolothië felt in the tide of the days that new winds blowed around their lives.
- « Bright and wild forces, as Treebeard used to say, will always have the ability to repopulate the chaos. I see my little Avacuna chose to join the order of mortals. Your time has come to complete the metamorphosis that was missing to your nature. May you both make good use of your days to fight the long defeat! Time now is counted for you, my dear... »
Then, blessing her two proteges, she poured for them a great swig of a rich mixture that gave off pine and lavender. Gerry did not remember the exact words of the Ent-woman, but he knew that the valley would remain closed to him, for their own good, as long as he would not be helped by Great Eagles of the north.
1 The verb « Enter » in old french means « to graft ». Hence the personal traduction « Graft » for « Ent-Woman », used for the title of this chapter. Is that too bold to imagine that Professor Tolkien might have given this name, Ent, as an ethymology, which would be particularly appropriate for Ent-wives, these outstanding gardeners?
2 Ent-speak meaning approximately : « Treebeard, sweet shepherd of the trees in the green forest... »
3 Aïnulindale, The song of the Aïnur, J.R.R Tolkien
4 Paul Claudel
5 Lamartine - Ainsi toujours poussés vers de nouveaux rivages / Dans la nuit éternelle emportés sans retour / Ne pourrons-nous jamais sur l'océan des âges / Jeter l'ancre un seul jour ?
6 René Descartes
7 Le lai du chèvrefeuille, Marie de France - Ainsi, amie, est-il de nous, /Ni vous sans moi, ni moi sans vous
8 In reality, this tradition goes back well before the end of the Kings of Arthedain (in TA 1979). Tea was an imported commodity, passing through the great trading center of Tharbad. From the year TA 1409, the kingdom of Cardolan dwindled. The river and road trade fell. Then was tea cultivation was slowly introduced in the greenhouses of the South Farthing to supplement the deficiencies.
9 Lu Yu, Tea Master under the Tang dynasty (618-907)
10 John Barrymore
11 The Lord of the rings. J.R.R. Tolkien
12 Bolg son of Azog appears in the Redbook of the March of the West, where J.R.R. Tolkien tells how he led the Gundabad confederation troops at the battle of the Five Armies.