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Sons of Fellowship  by Conquistadora

(Author's Note:  The whole of this chapter contains more canon than is practical to underline in view of legibility, so if you know Tolkien you can pick him out easily.  I seriously considered skipping this entirely, but seemed the weaker without it.  Needless to say, I don’t claim any of the original.)



“Well, come now!” Treebeard boomed to Gandalf.  “You have proved mightiest, and all your labours have gone well.  Where now would you be going?  And why do you come here?”

“To see how your work goes, my friend,” Gandalf returned, “and to thank you for your aid in all that has been achieved.”

The whole of the noble company was arrayed behind him, sitting astride their horses after riding there to Isengard from Helm’s Deep and the Deeping-coomb: the Lord and Lady of Lórien with the Lord of Rivendell, King Elessar of Gondor, the Ringbearers and their friends.  Gimli was mounted as ever behind Legolas, a position he was actually learning to enjoy, while Legolas himself had eyes only for Treebeard, who for him was still an amazing figure of legend.  Even more welcome to his Elven sight was the change the Onodrim had wrought within the confines of stone-circle about the Tower, for the greenery had returned, and what had been ruined was fair once more. 

“Hoom, well, that is fair enough,” Treebeard continued, his branches swaying thoughtfully in the summer breeze; “for to be sure Ents have played their part.  And not only in dealing with that, hoom, that accursed tree-slayer that dwelt here.  For there was a great inrush of those, burárum, those evileyed-blackhanded-bowlegged-flinthearted-clawfingered-foulbellied-bloodthirsty, morimaitesincahonda, hoom, well, since you are hasty folk and their full name is as long as years of torment, those vermin of orcs; and they came over the River and down from the North and all round the wood of Laurelindórenan, which they could not get into, thanks to the Great ones who are here,” he said, bowing as well as he might to the Celeborn and Galadriel.

Legolas smiled, and behind him Gimli tingled with strange pleasure to see his Lady so honored.  Gracious, he was becoming elf-conscious!  What would they say at the Mountain?

“And these same foul creatures were more than surprised to meet us out on the Wold, for they had not heard of us before; though that might be said also of better folk.  And not many will remember us, for not many escaped us alive, and the River had most of those.  But it was well for you, for if they had not met us, then the king of the grassland would not have ridden far, and if he had there would have been no home to return to.”

“We know it well,” said Aragorn from his regal seat astride his royal stallion, fitted with all the grand trappings one would expect of a triumphant king, “and never shall it be forgotten in Minas Tirith or in Edoras.”

“Never is too long a word even for me,” Treebeard said, with what began as a laugh but became then a strange tone in his deep voice.  “Not while your kingdoms last, you mean; but they will have to last long indeed to seem long to the Ents.”

Legolas understood his sentiments, as well as he could.  He had often felt them himself, he who was scarcely younger than the Gondor of Isildur, and whose father still held living memory of the Elder Days in Beleriand that was no more.  Doubtless Celeborn and Galadriel shared similar thoughts.

“The New Age begins,” said Gandalf, “and in this age it may well prove that the kingdoms of Men shall outlast you, Fangorn my friend.  But now come tell me: what of the task that I set you?  How is Saruman?  Is he not weary of Orthanc yet?  For I do not suppose that he will think you have improved the view from his windows.”

Legolas laughed brightly, unable to help himself.  Even Aragorn was seen to crack an inconspicuous grin.

Treebeard himself gave Gandalf a long and almost cunning look before he answered.  “Ah!” he said.  “I thought you would come to that.  Weary of Orthanc?  Very weary at last; but not so weary of his tower as he was weary of my voice.  Hoom!  I gave him some long tales, or at least what might be thought long in your speech.”

“Then why did he stay to listen?” Gandalf asked, over the gleeful sputtering of Merry and Pippin, who had endured their share of Treebeard’s long tales.  “Did you go into Orthanc?”

“Hoom, no, not into Orthanc!” Treebeard said, as though the very idea repulsed him.  “But he came to his window and listened, because he could not get news in any other way, and though he hated the news, he was greedy to have it; and I saw that he heard it all.  But I added a great many things to the news that it was good for him to think of.  He grew very weary.  He always was hasty.  That was his ruin.”

“I observe, my good Fangorn,” said Gandalf shrewdly, a tone Legolas had often heard him use when speaking to Thranduil his father, “that with great care you say dwelt, was, grew.  What about is?  Is he dead?”

“No, not dead, so far as I know,” Treebeard disclaimed.  “But he is gone.  Yes, he is gone seven days.  I let him go.  There was little left of him when he crawled out, and as for that worm-creature of his, he was like a pale shadow.  Now do not tell me, Gandalf, that I promised to keep him safe; for I know it.  But things have changed since then.  And I kept him until he was safe, safe from doing any more harm.  You should know that above all I hate the caging of live things, and I will not keep even such creatures as these caged beyond great need.  A snake without fangs may crawl where he will.”

“You may be right,” said Gandalf; “but this snake had still one tooth left, I think.  He had the poison of his voice, and I guess that he persuaded you, even you Treebeard, knowing the soft spot in your heart.  Well, he is gone, and there is no more to be said.  But the Tower of Orthanc now goes back to the King, to whom it belongs.  Though maybe he will not need it.”

“That will be seen later,” said Aragorn.  “But I will give to Ents all this valley to do with as they will, so long as they keep a watch upon Orthanc and see that none enter it without my leave.”

“It is locked,” Treebeard assured him.  “I made Saruman lock it and give me the keys.  Quickbeam has them.”

Beside him, the slender Ent Quickbeam bowed dutifully, handing to Aragorn the keys to Isengard, two great black things of cunning design bound by a ring of steel.  The King took them, and thus was the citadel returned to its rightful master.

“Now I thank you once more,” Aragorn said, “and I bid you farewell.  May your forest grow again in peace.  When this valley is filled there is room and to spare west of the mountains, where once you walked long ago.”

An unmistakable sadness came over Treebeard then, that Legolas felt echoed the fading of his own kind.  “Forests may grow,” the Ent said.  “Woods may spread.  But not Ents.  There are no Entings.”  

“Yet maybe there is now more hope in your search,” said Aragorn.  “Lands will lie open to you eastward that have long been closed.”

“It is far to go,” Treebeard said, shaking his head despairingly.  “And there are too many Men there in these days.  But I am forgetting my manners!  Will you stay here and rest a while?  And maybe there are some that would be pleased to pass through Fangorn Forest and so shorten their road home?”

“We must pass now to the west, Eldest,” Galadriel said smoothly, kindly refusing the offer.  “For there lies our road if we would accompany the Ringbearers and the others of our kin.”

“I regret that the eves of Fangorn lie not in my path,” said Elrond.  “I must return to Imladris with my own.”

“I am appointed to return south,” Aragorn disclaimed in turn, “to rejoin my Queen and my people.  Perhaps the day will yet come when the Sovereigns of Gondor may be honored by your hospitality.”

“I too must pass west,” said Gandalf at last, “to finish what was begun, and see these Hobbits home.”

“I will walk the ways of your wood, Master Fangorn,” Legolas said brightly, “for the north road is mine.”

“Ah, yes!” Treebeard replied, as though just taking new notice of him.  “There you are welcome, Legolas of Mirkwood!  Too long has it been since the Elves graced our shadows.”

“Come, Gimli!” Legolas encouraged his reluctant companion.  “Now by Fangorn’s leave I will visit the deep places of the Entwood and see such trees as are nowhere else to be found in Middle-earth.  You shall come with me and keep your word; and thus we will journey on together to our own lands in Mirkwood and beyond.”

From behind, Gimli grumbled out a noncommittal reply, though he had no choice in the matter.

“Here then at last comes the ending of the Fellowship of the Ring,” said Aragorn as they all prepared to part ways.  “Yet I hope that ere long you will return to my land with the help that you promised.”

“We will come, if our own lords allow it,” said Gimli.  “Well, farewell, my hobbits!  You should come safe to your own homes now, and I shall not be kept awake for fear of your peril.  We will send word when we may, and some of us may yet meet at times; but I fear that we shall not all be gathered together ever again.”

Frodo was silent and Sam thoughtful, but Pippin said, “Of course; you must come to visit!  You’d love the Smials, Gimli; and Legolas, there are woods enough even for you around Buckland and Tuckborough.”

“And I’m sure Mum would get a thrill having an Elf in the house,” Merry put in with a grin.  “And she’s used to laying laden plates, Gimli, with pipeweed aplenty.”

“Well, if you put it that way,” said the Dwarf gladly, “I shall certainly have to stop by the Shire before too many years have gone.”

Legolas smiled fondly upon their Halfling friends from his mount in his soft, peaceful way.  “You may expect me,” he said simply, leaving no doubt in their minds that sooner or later he would appear about their borders.

Final farewells were given, some for only the present, others with small hope of meeting again.  Legolas would not go without first taking his leave of the Lord Celeborn, and Gimli received a last benediction from his Lady.

“Fare free, Legolas!” Gandalf said with a smile, dismissing his ever-faithful servant with a wave of his hand.  “May you find the Greenwood merrier than you left it, though it be broken.  No more do I ask of you, who have proven well your fidelity and righted as well as you might the hurts of your house.  Return again south if you will, to foster young and fair groves to grow tall and stand in evergreen laughter against the Ruin that claimed the blood of your grandsire.”

“I would keep you no longer from your father, Legolas,” Aragorn said for himself, a genuine smile illuminating his rugged features, “though I humbly ask that Thranduil share with me later he who has been his greatest blessing.”

“That sentiment I do not think he would argue,” Legolas returned.  “Though I expect he will let me go as I will.  Perhaps I may yet convince him to follow in these days of peace, for too seldom has he afforded himself leave to wander.”

And so Legolas and Gimli were the first to turn away, leaving the others to speak yet a while with Treebeard.  As Arod trotted northeast from the confines of Isengard, Legolas turned him once to look back, and Merry and Pippin took the chance to wave merrily after them.

Gimli waved back and then sighed heavily, letting his hand fall to slap against his leg.  “It seems we have come so far already,” he said, thinking of the road behind.

Legolas laughed again, and turned Arod back toward the distant timberline.  “But Gimli, we have only just begun!”








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