Elrond stood with his mouth hanging open. When he realized it, he snapped it shut. Valandil had just found and picked up the "One Ring of Power". He had struggled and won out against the summons of false mastery! Then he had thrown it in to the cataract of the Hoarwell. Now he stood looking out over the rivers and valley beyond. Elrond was astounded. It is his passions that make him strong! And he does not know enough to be afraid, or, he has been through so much that this is not as large a matter that it would have been a week ago! But a day and a half? Not much time at all. A glowing sword, though, and probably named as well! There is much more here than one can see. The time for the tale is not yet.
Elrond adapted an attitude of patient respect as Valandil pulled Thilnar from the sheath. Then knelt on his right knee and sat the sword point down on the stone. Hands clasping and holding the pommel upright, Valandil prayed silently for long moments. Then abruptly, he snapped upright and approached Elrond, sheathing Thilnar.
"It is named?" Valandil nodded. "Thilnar, White fire" He answered. "Made by Telchar, of Sky Steel, fueled by,....by passion." He drew it forth and presented it to him, one hand under the pommel, the other under the tip. Elrond hesitated, glancing up at Valandil's face, arms remaining by his side.
Valandil said in a quiet and strangely husky voice, boring in to Elrond's eyes with his own. "Uncle, not only with my life do I trust thee! Please." Straight faced because of the overwhelming emotion welling up in his soul, afraid to relax for fear of the dam breaking loose, he reverently picked up the sword. It was a shock to say the least. Elrond read the rhunes engraved on the black blade. Then put both hands to the pommel and swung it about. Elrond's weariness abated, and he worked it vigorously. Suddenly, he realized that what he was doing. His face colored, as he handed it back. Valandil was smiling widely. Elrond felt rather foolish, finally, he too smiled. "It has that effect on one. I think it likes you, mayhap." Still smiling, Elrond said. "I think we needs hasten, and ...my thanks." "Aye."
Elrond turned back to the terrace he had just left and jumped up. Though he was trying not to show it, he was in shock. It seems he has depths unknown, even to himself. Thought Elrond to himself. I could have slain him, or tried at least. Ever did Sauron love to set friends and family against each other! Even after death, this evil lust of death and betrayal still lived in the Ring. Elrond's world was crashing down around him. Was it my own conviction or Ring lust that drove me to draw my blades against him?
Valandil stepped up beside him. Facing each other silently, Valandil could feel the unspoken thoughts coursing through Elrond's mind. Elrond held his face dispassionate but Valandil could read the shock in Elrond's mien. Though I feel curiously free. Valandil thought. Valandil smiled in silent reply to Elrond's discomfiture. "Again you have come to aid my house in time of need. The thanks of my house is yours, once more. Uncle, you come unlooked for but, much appreciated." Valandil spoke in a quiet voice full of love. Elrond's world coalesced once again. Now both smiled. They grasped each other's fore arms in greeting. Soon they had turned towards the West and started their journey to find their army. As they traveled, they exchanged their stories.
Uduthar threw himself away from the palantir in disgust and anger. "The fool! My Master's curse upon him! Curse him by all that is dark and loathsome! How dare he throw away that which I seek! I shall crush his very bones to powder" he snarled. The palantir had shown the events on the terraces to the East. In his lunacy, Uduthar had once again missed as much as he saw! There were forces on the move and he had failed to see them. As he passed from the chamber, his underlings crowded back against the walls, cowering. Even his top captains and lieutenants, rarely met his eyes. He gibbered and laughed to himself, swinging his head about oddly and focused seemingly on nothing. His descent into madness had quickened and deepened. None knew if he consorted with the world of life or the kingdom of death. Most of his time he spent staring into the palantir. But it told him less all the time.
"No matter, no, no matter, heh heh heh, no matter." He gibbered. Rubbing his hands together as if washing, { Which he surely wasn't! } My armies are ready to smash the craven Men and Elves! I must go to destroy the white sword! I must prepare my arts, yes, yes! He he." A lesser minion crouched nearby, face adverted, hoping to not be noticed. Uduthar caught him up by his filthy leather jerkin. Shoving his face in to that of the cowering Goblin, he shouted, as if this one had disagreed with him. "I shall crush them, and then I will find it!" The sneer and madness in his face served to turn the unfortunate Goblin to a quivering mass of jelly. Uduthar shoved him away violently. "Are there none of strength here! Are there none to be found?" No one in the chamber or passage answered. He stomped away down the passage. Looking for one strong enough to carry through with his bidding.
Tierowyn rode with the scouts of the King's army. Though she wasn't used to it, she could get to like it, she thought. After King Meneldil had read Elrond's message, the King had began making plans with his leaders. At sunrise, the four hundred plus Calvary had mounted up and began pushing towards High Pass. She could fully appreciate the combined mass of horse and rider in battle, more so after seeing and riding with so many! These scouts are good, for horsemen. But no real sneaking is possible with these brutes. She thought, smiling inwardly at the thought of calling the horses "brutes" to the men of this army.
Gandemere was being herded towards the mountains. Once, the army had slipped away, almost escaping the trap. Now a new army was approached from the rear. Gandemere had moved towards the mountains, and was in fact, still moving! This new army would be here by sunset. A league ahead, the scouts reported a defensible position. They would not have long to wait.
Just before sunset, a scout came in. Here we go, thought Gandemere. The scout ran up to Myras. "The new army! It is not what we thought! Dwarves! The Dwarves of Kahzad Dum! King Dain leads them and Huthorin, walks beside him!" "Carry on!" Gandemere spurred off towards the approaching army.
Dournil was walking towards the army of Dwarves. His keen sight could make out the figures at quite a long distance. There was only one reason for a Dwarvish army, here and now. Tired hungry and footsore, he swung along at a good clip. At least, he reflected, I should be able to keep up with their short legs. Perhaps they know the whereabouts of my companions! He forced another step, and another and other. He could see the glints of shiny armor and spear points in the sun. No Orcs ever bothered to polish anything! Altogether a filthy people! Dirty as they are evil and stupid!
He saw the King's banner at the van; suddenly dip several times, signaling a halt. Over a hill to the army's front came a lone rider. Dournil smiled at the horse's four white socks. Myras. He would know her anywhere. Smiling, he forgot to limp as he picked up speed. He had found his army.
Valley of life and beauty
Elrond and Valandil lay on their bellies, over looking a sight of great awe and amazement. Below them a long valley, not considered deep by these mountains standards, but a good five man lengths, anyway, stretched away before them. It lay deep in the interior of the mountains, wide, the better to catch the sun, but completely surrounded by towering peaks. The pure air, cool temperatures and plentiful rain made this a perfect place for a garden. But the likes of this had never been seen.
Flowering trees, shrubs, and ornamental plants of types Valandil had never seen grew in beautiful profusion. And the flowers! Any and every kind bloomed and blossomed in an abandon of colour and fragrance. Elrond had smelled this first, then had heard something. They had come some small distance from off their intended path. But the sights that met their eyes, denied their senses!
For among the plants, sculpted pathways, live growing trellises, small, blooming ornamental trees, flowers and herbs, there stood gathered and singing, a most incredible sight. Tall, tree like beings sang with women's voices. Though the language was not for Men and Elves to know, clearly the words were understood by all the plant life of the garden valley, below. The flowers, buds and blossoms seemed to push forth, growing before one's eyes, and the small trees and grass and living trellises swayed and seemed to dance to the swaying of the singers. Valandil heard trees on the slopes around them creaking and saw they too, were caught up in the song. "The Watchers people", said Valandil to Elrond quietly, as if to not break the spell.
Elrond spared him a momentary glance, "Entwives." Then turned back to watch. Valandil vowed silently he would find out more, later. Another voice was heard from the timber behind them, resonant and captivating. Neither felt compelled to turn, at this time. They just let the moment wash over them, bathing them in peace and serenity. Finally, when the rustle like leaves in the breeze, borne across the ground, stopped behind them, they rolled over to face the singer.
Before them stood a tree like being, age evident in the deeply veined, almost silver bark. From behind the face hung long greenish silver moss, so that it resembled hair, sweeping to just short of the ground. A thick braid of moss, thick as a man's arm, wound around the trunk several times above the face, and then fell to the ground, cascading from limb and bough, like a clear forest river. The face! Angular cheeks, with full, smooth lips, a small stub of a nose and large, deep green eyes, with black corneas, so that it almost hurt to look on the depth! By the standards of Men and Elves, this being would be accounted most beautiful!
She stopped her singing and slowly smiled down from her great height. Valandil and Elrond jumped to their feet, as men will in the presence of a beautiful woman. Bowing before her, they had no chance to speak for firstly she spoke. Very slowly and in an unsurpassed resonant voice, she began.
"Hoooomm, hooomm. Well come to our garden." She turned to Valandil as her voice resonated clear down to his toes. "We have waited long to complete the task 'The Two' had set for us, King of House Elendil.
( King?) Be comfortable in the peace of our glade. Bear well those which you carry about your person, for it has been seen that ages in the future, one of your descendents will have need of the seedlings, in a dale above and beyond a white city of Men." Now she turned to Elrond. For a long while she spoke no word, just looked with her deep eyes, as if seeing his soul. Then slowly she smiled and gave a sort of nod, a bend belike, recognition sparkling in her eyes. Elrond bowed once again and spoke. Hearing his words, Valandil's jaw dropped in surprise.
"Lady Entwife, it has been long and long since I have enjoyed your company." He turned to Valandil with a sweeping introduction; May I introduce you to the Eldest surviving wife of Ents, Gildaroam. With a spinning head, Valandil bowed, but spoke no word. Gildaroam smiled, holding speech as well, for Ents and Entwives spoke little when speech wasn't a requirement. Though rare, they much respected this quality in the speechful races of Middle Earth. Gildaroam broke the silence first, one could see that this tickled her by the glimmer in her eyes. Addressing them both, she turned to the garden below. "I make my final goodbyes to all I have known in the ages we have resided here. Since no others have come in an age, few know our story, none know all. I know you are hasty folk, always hurrying about on matters of import, but I wonder, do you have time for a story?" "Yes" "Of course!" "Then I shall endeavor to tell all in the time remaining. For as you may or may not know, we Ents are slow of speech. Only a thing worth saying is said."
Gildaroams Tale
"Long ago, before the rising of the moon, soon after the waking of the Quendi, my people, the Onodrim, first saw the stars above us. Love of the forest was in us born, so that we sought out deep fastnesses. Ah! Hoomm! The old ones used to tell us of those days! Many were the stories of witness they told. Of the Noldor who were seen to hug and speak to the growing things, to the betterment of both, and much of the foulness as it began in later times. They knew of Turgon and Finrod, of deeds of Beleriand and Gondolin and the history of Middle Earth up to our times. Seldom did we Onodrim have exchanges with the two- legged peoples, but the old ones saw and knew much, gathering information from the wild things.
Hoom, hoom. As the troubles grew worse and people began to build their cities and villages, our roaming grew less and less. The forests began to change and my people stayed more to themselves than ever before.
At this time, in the beginning, my people lived in all the forests of Middle Earth. Truly they covered most of it! We started to pull closer together, until most of us lived to the northwest of where we stand today. But this took many, many years. There we lived in peace and happiness for years and years beyond count! It was a fair land, private and beautiful, bordered on two sides by mountains and on another by deep forests, with a great river flowing south. And our gardens! Hoom, hoom, hooomm!" Now a clear sap like fluid began to leak from her eyes. "The gardens of those times were unlike any, and never will be again. In those days, our elders were growing old and many passed away into sleep, that is to say, treelike. I was not yet mature when these gardens were begun. Elders were made resting places there, among the things they loved! So that is why no gardens could ever rival them." She paused, then, for some length of time, looking over the valley, the sadness of her visage seemed to hang in the air and was reflected in the singing of the wives in the valley. Valandil and Elrond kept silent, out of respect for a lost tale, a lost people, fallen from their greatest days.
She finally took up her tale once again. "Far and wide traveled our flock, for we care for trees and plants and aid life in our demises. Also do we greatly desire knowledge and wisdom. Over time, we wives of Ents grew lonely for sunlight and a greater task, we thought that perhaps our wonderings had finally come to an end, and began to prepare. We put our minds to great gardens, and began years of labor, we thought that they might never be complete, for they lived as we ourselves lived! They brought us a joy we had never known!
In time these gardens became we wives chiefest love and we kept to them. Our lives ran together with those of our husbands and sons. Many Entlings strode about, hasty and full of forest mischief!
Then came the destroyer, who began to war with my people in small ways at first. But he warred with all people of those times! And he burned and utterly ruined our gardens, and the resting of our beloved elders!
I remember all those who were killed at this time! Fimbrethil and Glowlimb! Starsilver and Fastcreek, who made such haste! Greenroot, Redleaf and so many others! Most of our husbands and eldest sons were away on business of the forest! Only a few of the eldest, sleepy, and the youngest of the males, inexperienced in battle arts and unproven, remained.
The evil one laughed as he slew those who were readily at hand and pursed we wives, with his army and his dark arts. When ever one of us was caught, he cruelly maimed or changed them. Most left us shortly, dying or wondering away to who knows what end. We wives did not wish this to be brought on our husbands, so we did not return for many years. When we did return to what other peoples called the brown lands, no sign of our husbands was found. This is the time I chanced to meet a young Elf Captain, who was kind to this blasted land. I found him planting some few seedlings. I took a chance and asked if he had heard of our husbands." Valandil looked askance to Elrond. Elrond nodded slightly. "We do not know where they went, and have heard no tale. Perhaps none survived. Hoooommm,............... Hooomm!
So we found this place, in our tongue we call it Valley of Sorrow. Also, The Two, who have given us a reason to live, and a further task for our time. Our time and task are finished here, and we leave for the farthest east. With no Entlings, only can there be one end! Yet a great water of salt is spoken of, and The Two wish to go, for reasons of their own. So, once again we wives leave hearth and home, tree and flower, mountain and garden. This then is the story of the Entwives, as we are called by the two- legged peoples. I wish someone to know it perchance the males might come to be known once again. Or that we not pass completely from memory."
Of the leaving of the Onodrim
I say to you at the last, farewell, and let not this story fade away with our memory. Gildaroam turned away and began to make her way into the valley by a trail, unseen to their left. Valandil sat heavily, with a sigh and tears began to flow down his cheeks. With a glance, Elrond followed suit, sitting, but no tears escaped. Gildaroam stayed near to the wall, entering the valley, and stopped to their right. She seemed to be waiting, alone, she did not approach the other wives, nor did she sing. The other wives had started a different song during her story. Some lament from the sound of it.
Our gardens grow in sacred light, Tree and flower blooming bright
Rock and stone we settle and rest, sculpt a pathway on her Brest
Mother gives and takes away, our joy of life with each passing day
Our husbands lost or driven far, children wonder among the stars
Soon we leave for distant lands, never understanding The One's plan
Hoooo, hooooo, hooooooooo
At the end of each refrain, they would all cup their limb-like hands about their mouths and a sound as if horns issued forth. This had started low and mournful, but had built in feeling and volume with each round, until their great and torturous pain was expressed in the calls, leaving no doubt in the minds of the listeners that this was a cleansing of their collective souls.
They now turned as one, towards the southern end of the valley. Man and Elf also turned. There, a cave opened into the valley. It's opening carved much like that from which Valandil and Elrond had come out of. There was movement inside, Valandil grabbed Elrond's arm as The Watcher came forth, carrying in her arms, one to each limb, a silver and a gold sapling, apiece. Valandil and Elrond watched as the singers fell in behind The Watcher and began to move in their odd ground- eating pace, that was like slow motion, down the valley. They made a sound like rustling leaves, or running water. When all but Gildaroam had started down the trail at the northern end, she turned to them one last time. Elrond and Valandil had stood, honoring, when the watcher, bearing her burdens, came from the cave. They stood a little above eye level, to those standing on the valley floor. Gildaroam gestured meaningfully to the west, then she gave a small wave in farewell, and picked up the song the singers sang and departed towards the trail, and down it, out of sight. The singing of the Entwives echoed, bouncing up the walls of the trail and into the valley. The dew of morning or mourning sparkled sadly in the garden valley, and deep soul rending sadness descended on living hearts, as at last the echoes faded away, never to be heard again in this world. "And the glory of Middle Earth is lessened."
The two companions looked to the west and saw movement. Upon the far hilltop, unnoticed before now, stood a small herd of horses, two stood out in front. A chestnut stallion, foremost. A golden dun stood close beside, but just back of it's shoulder. The freshening breeze rippled and tossed their manes as they stood looking to the northern trail. Then the stallion's magnificent head swung to look directly at Valandil and Elrond. Valandil felt that gaze as a physical impact, indeed, he actually flinched back a step. After a few moments, the stallion turned to his herd, as if giving some order or word and began to make his way down into the valley. Crossing at a dignified trot, directly towards them. Valandil saw him coming and did not wait, but slid down the steep, grassy slope to stand on the valley floor, amongst the flowers, bushes and shrubs, waiting. Elrond did not move. But heard and saw all.
Ride the wind
In ancient times, before the ways of civilization and progress trained men to disbelieve in the intelligence and spirit of the winged, four-legged and finned peoples of the earth, and the existence of other two legged peoples, when the animal and plant world existed equally and were viewed by Elves, Dwarves and all fair peoples of Middle Earth as worthy and intelligent, verbal communication sometimes took place. Upon occasion, when the speaker deemed the listener worthy and crucial the message. Or great deeds done for another's benefit suitably impressed, would one of the so- called "animals" speak to men. The stallion stopped before Valandil and blew loudly, shaking his head. Then to Valandil's surprised awe, spoke, neck arched proudly, in a deep basso rumble.
"Man! (snort) great peril besets this land, our home! Thou must be a King among Men, for I smell powerful talismans about you. Little do I wonder where at did they come hence! ( Bbbbbbtt! ) They who grow and walk about this valley are wise in the ways of life, and would not suffer you to pass with evil in your heart and mind. You and yours are required elsewhere to greet your destiny! That you may use these things in hope or folly!
You have seen, here, a sacred thing, you carry, on your person, great wonders. (Snort and blow) Your people, nay!, all the people of this land, have need of your leadership. So that evil not prevail! Myself and one other offer the two of you speedy travel, under the protection of the herd." So saying, he tossed his head in horsely fashion towards the Dun, who had approached them as he spoke to Valandil. He turned aside and craned his neck about, so that his nose was off his opposite shoulder, looking over his back at Valandil. Then turned his eye down to his own back, in indication. Swinging his great head back to a more natural position he spoke again. "Ask not a name for that is a shackle I care not for, a chain or rope on our freedom. A scent serves to identify for us! Rather, ask for the name of the wind in the long grass, or a summer thunderstorm, or winter snow falling from the sky! What say you man?! Will you tarry here in this place of sadness and longing? Or race the wind to find your destiny?"
Valandil bowed low. "Surely you must be King of all horses!" (For these were of the Mearas, wild and free!) You offer unlooked for and much needed assistance at a time and place of many wonders! No names will be asked or given, and my House will always deem it so between our peoples! Our thanks and blessings, the blessings of all the fair races, will follow your people through all time, for this aid you offer so willingly!"
"No thanks are necessary, but blessings from "The One" are always welcome! Promise not what you might not deliver, but stomp and trounce the evil ones from this land! Prevail, and that will be blessing enough! What say you, man of high words? Shall you ride the wind?"
"Aye!!" Valandil then stepped up to beside the Chestnut, and carefully grasping the off side withers, pulled himself up over the stallions back, and swung over his leg. The chestnut sidled a little apart, so that the Dun could move in to Elrond, who, coming down and forward, swung aboard as gracefully as only an Elf can.
The stallion turned halfway back and said. "Grasp tightly my mane, so to stay on, for the mountain trail is tricky and rough, but do not pull! The Onodrim say they are not a hasty folk! It is said that once, my people taught them the meaning of that word. So too, shall you learn!" The chestnut reared, pawing and striking at naught, then, in three great strides, launched into a run so swift that tears seemed to jump into Valindil's eyes. In less time than it takes to tell, the two Mearas had crossed over the valley and hill beyond, the herd falling in behind as the landscape whizzed past. Valandil took note, after a time of how the sun seemed to slide across the sky. Glancing behind from time to time, he was not surprised that the herd traveled bunched tightly, Elrond's steed ran at his steed's shoulder. Valandil wondered if Elrond's face was a mirror of his own.
Dournil thought he heard fair Elvish singing as he approached the Dwarven army. He looked about, but saw nothing. Dwarves sang in deep voices! "But if that is not Elves singing, I'll throw my next packet of Lembas on the ground and stomp on it!" He thought. Unconsciously, his hand went to the flat, empty packet at his side. This served to remind his stomach that it was empty as well. It rumbled and roiled.
He stopped and looked over his left shoulder, to the South. Over a low hill rose a standard on a pole. He recognized it instantly! A golden Mallorn tree atop a field of black, surrounded by a field of white. Laurelindorenan! Land of the valley of singing gold! Then over the hill came the Elves of Celeborn and Galadriel. Dournil faced the army, holding up a hand in greeting. Now the Orcs will rue greatly, the evil which they have sown!
Gandemere slid Myras to a stop before the guards of Dain V. Swinging off her back, he knelt before him. With a gesture, King Dain waved him to his feet. "Captain Gandemere, if memories serve." He said.
"Lord King Dain", Gandemere replied. "What brings you at the run, Captain? Orcs, mayhap? Or longing for a visit?" Dain asked with a smile in his eye. "Orcs, Lord. Three different forces, along with Trolls and half-men! All within a day of us!" Dain answered immediately. "Then let us not tarry!" He waved his troops forward, Dain gestured towards Myras, a guard picked up her reins, but she refused to budge. Dain smiled at Gandemere. "Myras!" said Gandemere in a commanding voice. She suffered to be led by the guard. As they walked, Dain began asking questions of Gandemere. What of Elrond and Prince Valandil?" He asked.
"Prince Valandil went missing yesterday morning. He and Elf Captain Dournil went to check the top of High Pass. They have not returned or been seen. Even now, Elrond searches the pass for him."
"Much of this I know." Said Dain, indicating Huthorin, who walked at his side. Gandemere gave Huthorin a polite nod of recognition. "I know the size of the Orc host from the pass as well, but what of the others?" "Close enough to the same, Lord."
"Well, help has come! Old alliances are not so easily forgotten in our halls and others as well! Prince Valandil will turn up! He is of a stout blood, that of Elendil and Isildur! On a young man's lark, no doubt. Dournil? I think he is less lost than you may think!" Once again he stopped his army. He half turned and pointed towards a lone figure, approaching from the East. "Could that be one of your lost lambs? We spotted him some while ago." The distant figure stopped and turned and over a low hill to the South, came first a banner on a pole, then an army behind. "As I say, Old vows are still honored in many halls to this day. "Gandemere was overcome. "I can find no words to express my thanks and gratitude!" "Then remain silent." Dain said in a fatherly tone. Gandemere did.