Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

The towering trees of Fangorn blocked out the sun above us, leaving us all in a gloomy light as we treaded along the path. Thick with a stench of blood and destruction, the once pure air was hard to breathe. This was no longer the mystical forest of Fangorn: this was an ancient species of Middle Earth that had fought for its survival. Every branch and leaf subject to holding the memory of death forever.

Ahead, the trees began to thin and things seemed brighter. The trees groaned and creaked, their fatigue evident. No doubt they had begun their trek back to their original lands, abandoning the corpses of the Uruk-hai to rot in the fields before Helm’s Deep. My heart fluttered at a noise that came; the most beautiful, pure, foreign sound that felt eternities away: the sound of hobbit’s laughter.

Eventually the path came to an end and opened to the edge of Isengard. The grey stone wall, broken in places, served as the table and chairs for two small figures in the distance. All around them hung a cloud of exhaled smoke, and they exuded their shire cheer that we had been robbed of for so long.

"It's good. Definitely from the Shire."Merry nodded in approval. “Longbottom Leaf, eh?"

"I feel like I'm back at the Green Dragon…" Pippin said as he leaned backwards. "A mug of ale in my hand, putting my feet up on a settle after a hard day's work."

"Only, you've never done a hard day's work." Merry countered and they broke into laughter. Upon recovering Merry was the first to glance our way, eyes growing wide at the sight of familiar faces. “Welcome my lords, and lady, to Isengard!”

"You young rascals!” Gimli growled as I dismounted Feredir, running to the hobbits and pulling them each into an embrace. I placed a kiss on their foreheads before stepping back, musing at the sight of their unshattered innocence. “A merry chase you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!"

"We are sitting on the field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts.” Pippin said simply. “The salted pork is particularly good."

“Salted pork?” Gimli questioned, salivating at the thought of fresh meat.

“Hobbits…” Gandalf mumbled as Merry began to explain their situation.

“We’re under orders from Treebeard, who’s taken over management of Isengard.”

The hobbits gathered the food they desired to keep, sure to give some of the salted pork to Gimli before splitting up. Pippin rode with Aragorn, and Merry joined me. They stored the food in the space left in each of our bags and then we all followed Gandalf into the ruins of Isengard.

Upon entering, the breath from my lungs was stolen. There, before my eyes, was a host of Ents. Never had I imagined looking upon such mythical creatures. I had read stories, of course; my father had read me the famous tales of the creatures as old as middle earth, the shepherds of the forest. Here they were before me, tens of them. Frighteningly tall, they were completely woven of branches and tree trunks, with moss for beards and long arms.

"Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come.” The one whom I assumed to be Treebeard said very slowly. “Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

“Show yourself…”Aragorn whispered.

“Be careful; even in defeat Saruman is dangerous." Gandalf warned, looking up to the tower.

"Then let's just have his head and be done with it." Gimli voted, and although it sounded like a good enough plan, Gandalf knew otherwise.

"No, we need him alive.” Gandalf replied. “We need him to talk."

"You have fought many wars and slain many men Théoden king, and made peace afterwards." Saruman’s voice, this deep menacing sound, boomed down to us from above. He stood atop the tower of Orthanc, leaning against his staff and nothing but a white silhouette against the gray skies from where we were. "Can we not take council together, as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

“We shall have peace.” Théoden said, and I anxiously cast a glance at him. The presence of Saruman, knowing how powerful he was and whose side he was on, it was extremely frightening.

"We shall have peace… when you answer for the burning of the westfold, and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace."

"Gibbets and crows? Dotard!" The wizard spat. "What do you want Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess: the key of Orthanc, or perhaps the key of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives.” Gandalf replied calmly. “Thousands more are now at risk, but you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's council."

"So you have come here for information. I have some for you." He said smugly, and took from his robes a glass orb. I knew at once what it was, a palantír. There were once seven palantíri, brought to middle earth by Elendil. Three were kept in Arnor, and four in Gondor. By now, three had been lost and now a forth rested somewhere in the depths of Mordor, if this was his means to communicate with Saruman, who held the fifth.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth.” Saruman held the palantír before him, staring deeply into the seeing stone. “Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." Gandalf strode forward a few paces as Saruman pulled away from the palantír. “You are all going to die.”

"But you know this don't you, Gandalf."Saruman sneered."You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me… what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

"I've heard enough."Gimli grumbled, and then turned to Legolas."Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob."

“No.” Gandalf stopped Legolas from drawing an arrow. "Come down Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy; I have no use for it!" I gasped, backing Feredir away as Saruman sent down a ball of fire. It engulfed Gandalf and Shadowfax, the heat emanating and reaching me. I shielded Merry, and when the fire diminished I stared in awe at the unscathed horse and rider.

"Saruman, your staff is broken." Gandalf said simply, and I looked up to see the staff shatter into dust in the wizard’s hands. A small man wandered up behind Saruman, hunched over and cloaked in black. I recognized him as Gríma Wormtongue.

"Gríma, you need not follow him.” Théoden called up. “You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan! Come down."

"A man of Rohan?” Saruman sneered. “What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and rats roll on the floor with the dogs? Victory at helms deep does not belong to you, Théoden, horsemaster! You are a lesser son of greater sires."

“Gríma,” Théoden said again after a moment’s hesitation. Saruman words were sharp, and they hit the king deeply. “Come down. Be free of him."

"Free? He will never be free." Saruman stated, and as Gríma began to disagree the wizard hit him to the ground. "Get down, cur!”

"Saruman, you were deep in the enemy's council. Tell us what you know." Gandalf begged as Gríma got to his feet.

“You withdraw your guard,” Saruman bargained. “And I will tell you where you doom will be decided.” Gríma took from his robes what looked like a dagger, and moved towards the wizard. "I will not be held prisoner here."

He plunged the blade twice into Saruman’s back, and just as quickly Legolas pierced the man’s chest with an arrow. Saruman stumbled, teetering on the edge before he fell off. I watched in horror as he fell from such a height. In the back of my mind I knew he was falling to his death, but I could not peel my eyes from the sight. His descent ended as his body was impaled by the spokes of a wheel. I turned away from the sight, scrunching my eyes together as I rushed to get the image from my mind.

"Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free.” Gandalf said in a solemn tone. “The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

"The filth of Saruman is washing away.”Treebeard said wistfully as Peregrin dismounted Brego and waded through the water to an unknown destination. “Trees will come back to live here. Young trees, wild trees." Pippin picked up a globe, the palantír, and held it in his hands with wonder. “Bless my bark!”

“Peregrin Took!” Gandalf called urgently, rushing over to the hobbit’s side and outstretching his hand. “I’ll take that my lad. Quickly now!”



One of the most pleasant things about returning to Edoras was the chance to properly bathe. I was covered in blood and sweat and weeks of traveling. Upon arrival I was graciously given a private room to cleanse myself in. There was a celebration for Rohan’s triumph in the evening, so I dug to the bottom of my pack and pulled out a dress that had travelled many miles with me. It had been a gift from King Thranduil while I stayed with him. True sindarin style, it draped on the floor and had long, exaggerated sleeves. It was a navy colour with a white band around the middle and the bottom.

I slipped it on and gave my hair a much needed brush, also taking the opportunity to wash the blood stained clothes of the battle. For the first time in ages I felt properly pretty, and upon closing my bag I saw a familiar trinket. The vial-necklaces, from Lady Galadriel, only one full. I took a second, concentrating as I pulled the vision of Sam and Frodo from my mind and captured it in the vial. As I went to put it away, another necklace caught my eye. A distant reminder of a life past lived; the necklace Boromir had given to me in our youth.

I held it in my hands, pondering the possibility that the actions I partook in were gravely wrong. How long had it been since Boromir passed? I could not even remember. Little bits of him were slipping from my mind, and I struggled to hold onto them. Tears welled in my eyes as two knocks fell on the door. I hurried to wipe my face and announced the stranger could enter.

Legolas slid through the door, striding over to me in clean robes. A smile grazed his face as he eyed the familiar garment, but it quickly faded as his eyes found my face. His brow furrowed in worry and he caught glimpse of what was in my hands. I bent down to bury it in my bag, pulling the newest memory necklace over my head and wearing it proudly. I offered a smile.

“I thought you would have lost it.” Legolas teased about the dress in an attempt to lighten my mood.

“This is too beautiful a thing to lose.” I replied as he offered his hand. I took it as he led me to the main hall. I took a seat beside him on one of the benches as many others began to file into the hall. Théoden sat at his throne with Èowyn at his side. Across the room was Aragorn and Éomer, Gimli coming and sitting on my opposite side. When the hall was full, servants came around and presented everyone with a cup to drink from during the toast. After the preparations were complete, Théoden stood.

“Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!”

The hall hailed in unison and we all took a drink. There were a few minutes of silence in which people were deep in thought, of those who were lost and of how they survived, but eventually the interaction began to pick up as well as the mood. I followed Legolas and Gimli to a couple of barrels of ale, around which a group of Rohan soldiers were gathered. Éomer was manning the tap, filled three mugs and handed them to us.

“No pauses, no spills.” He said as all of the men took a mug.

“And no regurgitation!” Gimli laughed as he took a seat at the table.

“So it's a drinking game?” Legolas asked, eyeing the mug with intrigue.

“Aye, last one standing wins.” Gimli replied. I let it be known that I had no intention of partaking in the event, earning a smug smile from Legolas.

“What'll we drink to? Let's drink to victory! To victory!” The men called, signaling the start of the game. They started on their drinks, Legolas taking a small sip as Gimli chugged his. I took a sip of my own, and looked around the hall at all of the men celebrating.

I caught sight of Aragorn, who was approached by Èowyn. My heart twinged as she handed him a goblet to drink from. The exchanged words and smiles, before he departed. Théoden stood beside her as they both looked on after him. The king said something to his niece that evoked a smile and blush out of her. I took a gulp of my ale, focusing back on the drinking game. They had been through many rounds now, a mountain of overturned mugs on the table before Gimli. The proof of his thorough intoxication was not only in his slurred words, but also in his stained beard.

“Here, here.” The dwarf began to slur. “It's the dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women.”

“I feel something.” Legolas said hesitantly. “A slight tingling in my fingers... I think it's affecting me.

“What did I say?”Gimli roared, getting out one last sentence before collapsing to the ground. He can’t hold his liquor!”

Legolas turned to me and smirked. “Game over.”

There was a commotion from the other end of the hall and I saw that the two hobbits had gotten onto one of the tables and were starting a song and dance. They each held a pint of ale in hand as they stomped around the table with the hobbit feet. They stomped on hands and knocked over mugs, but it was such an entertaining spectacle that no one seemed to mind.

“Oh, you can search far and wide
You can drink the whole town dry
But you'll never find a beer so brown
As the one we drink in our home town.
You can keep your fancy ales.
You can drink em by the flagon
But the only brew for the brave and true
Comes from the Green Dragon!”

They clinked mugs together and chugged their ales, Pippin rejoicing in his victory of drinking faster—although much of it ended up on his shirt rather than in his stomach. I smiled at the two, my fingers going up to the memory around my neck. I worried for Frodo and Sam, it made me nervous that they were in the company of Gollum. But I knew that they would see the task through. These brave little hobbits who never should have known anything beyond the green of the shire and the beauty of their gardens; they were out there somewhere, saving middle earth. I pondered this while my eyes once more found Aragorn.

Because there was some good left in the world, and it was definitely worth fighting for.