Post
by Random221B » Thu Mar 01, 2018 7:36 pm
From: Nellie Rumble - Woodland Hall
To: Marigold, Fortinbras, and Coriandyr Took, and Rory Brandybuck - The Easterly Inn
"My dearest friends Marigold, Fortinbras, Coriandyr, and Rory,
I write to you now from my comfortable guest-quarters at Woodland Hall, where I take respite with my fellowship in the wake of battle. Everyone here, guest and Woodman alike, is limp with exhaustion. Many families tonight are grieving for their fallen, and we shall sing laments with them. Yet the hearth fires burn bright this evening as I write, and even the saddest hearts rejoice, for we have risen up together with our allies in the victorious defense of Woodland Hall, that shall continue to stand strong and proud another day.
‘Twas a terrible force we faced, hundreds of orcs and goblins and wargs swarming up from the river and the woods towards the south, and throughout the long dark night did we fight them, wave upon wave. Fortune’s finger touched us in blessing more than once, I must vow, else things had gone very differently for all of us. My fellows showed great valor and wisdom as they rallied to the leadership of this defense, and in their great cleverness in interpreting Lifstan’s dream to decipher the warnings and the intelligence it offered that allowed us to make haste to help the Woodfolk prepare. Nor may we discount the valiant aid of our elven company with whom you last saw us, nor the foresight and friendship of King Thranduil in granting us that aid, without which the events of this battle would have been too terrible to imagine. It was a risk for him to send so many soldiers so far to the aid of men, and a great gift that he did. The entreaty that I made to him then was that “when those of us on the side of the Light stand together, we cannot possibly be weakened”, and I am grateful and relieved to see my words proven true.
We have filled a great chasm with the carcasses of our wicked foes, and it may take the great magic of the wizards to purify the Woodfolks’ soil of the foul black blood that has soaked it. Every able-bodied Woodman and woman fought bravely and bold to defend their home as we pressed the enemy hard. The song of a river-maiden glimmered like chimes in the night, fortifying our spirits even as it caused the most cowardly of the dark ones to turn and flee; her silvery notes found harmony with the battle-songs of Bori’s people in the deep bronze tones of his powerful voice, rallying the courage of all who heard it.
The gibbous moon peered down upon us, as if holding up a hand ready to hide itself should the sight prove too ghastly to watch, and its spectral light cast a dim gray glow over heaving masses and foul shapes, upon the dark glint of twisted metal and the burning phosphorescence of terrible wet eyes reflecting torchlight and fire. The very ground shook with the stomping of feet and the clanging of metal, and the smell! Oh, the rich good scents of churned loam and river-water and tree-moss and the smoke of flaming hay-bales, poisoned with the stench of thick blood and filth, of death, and of the rotten exhalations of repulsive shrieks and howls steaming in the night air! To a hobbit’s nose, so delicately attuned even to the distinction between black and red raspberries, ‘twas nearly unbearable. I should almost be put off elevensies for good just remembering it…almost.
My friends, I would never have such danger come within leagues of you, but if you might have seen half what I saw…! I fought alongside the archers, of course, and often it gave me a high perch from which I was able to take in many wondrous things. I shall not forget my relief when I spied Caranthir emerge from the south woods where she had risked the run to rally our elven allies to flank the enemy. With her was bold Legolas and all the shining company like a blessed flame to burn away the dark, and I whistled her bird-song in my hopes that my fellows would understand that she was near, and take heart to know she did not fall.
Our brave Bride proved her blood to her people, if there were any remaining who did not know her (as we do) to be at least as fierce and fearsome a warrior as her sire Ingomer Axe-Breaker, as heroically she hewed down the many orcs who challenged her and her great hound beside her, never faltering in the face of such numbers. Nothing shook her, not even the sight of her own brother carried wounded from the field. (Never fear, it is said he shall recover.) I saw mighty Bori drive orcs into the earth with a single blow. Believe that I do not embellish the truth when I say that the great shadow of a bear rose up around Beran’s silhouette as though his very spirit had emerged to become a weapon in battle. Our champion he, I saw him stagger beneath blows that would have slaughtered a lesser warrior, only to witness him then shake free of their effects to rise up even more powerfully than before.
And surely, great tales shall be told and many ballads sung of Lifstan, who took on the mantle of commander and wore it with the nobility of one born to sword and stratagem. My friends, had you but heard his voice ringing above the noise of battle like a weapon of mithril pulled from its sheath, rallying all with words of power and conviction! –I would write them all down to be remembered and repeated throughout the ages, but I confess that much of it was some sort of allegory of the people of Laketown which complexity was a bit lost upon me in the chaos of battle. Perhaps I shall ask him to tell it to me again…it was something to do with bitter pickle-beer that I believe may have meant that the most dreadful of nights may be survived…? The stories of big folk, I admit, are often too symbolic for me to follow.
Nonetheless, he spoke to great effect, for even those exhausted and harried were fired up to fight even more bravely, and surely his wise command and unshaken valor saved many lives and won the day, for never were the palisades breached nor any shingle upon a Woodfolk house broken.
Even with all that, did not the wonders cease! Twice I saw, in the blink of an eye, the bright hope of a snow-white stag amidst the darkest places of battle, standing proud and pure and sure, shimmering there in the night. Time itself seemed to hold its breath in admiration of this otherworldly vision. And from the woods to the east came the wizard Radagast the Brown, ridden from Rhosgobel at our behest to bring to our aid all his command of the natural world.
You may wonder what modest part I, but a Hobbit, played in this night’s great tale. As I said, I began by placing myself with the archers that I might help organize their efforts, for many of them are skilled hunters who have never seen battle. We held the line early in the fight, giving no quarter to the foes who first swarmed up. Our arrows set fire to more than a few of their boats upon the river, and we stared them down as boldly as we might while our bows aimed true.
When the signal was given for archers to fall back within the wall and take to the towers, I had but a moment to make a choice. I have my way, as you know, of hiding myself in plain view, and it is better even in darkness. Again Fortune smiled upon us, for this time as I cloaked myself in shadow, I found myself no more visible than the breeze rustling through grass. I was able therefore to slip away unseen and climb to the top of a farmhouse outside the wall, where I could see many of the things I have described in this letter, and from whence I could fire upon those who threatened my fellows.
I daresay I was well occupied picking out goblin snipers, who dropped from the trees like the most cursed of rotten fruit. Below my perch, I was aware that the very ground teemed with enemies all around, but none could see me, and so I was far safer than my friends who fought upon that same ground.
Finally we had fought to a point where wisdom demanded that we fall back within the outer gate and fight from the towers there, holding the wall against the last of the orcish forces as they broke their swords and their spirits upon it.
Again I had a choice. To fall back with my fellows, I must make the treacherous drop from the roof into the very center of the foes around me on all sides, and run for the gate, dodging sword and spear as long as my shadow covered my steps. Or, I could keep my perch and use what remained of my arrows to cover my fellows’ path to the gate, doing what I could to secure their safe passage within, and then flatten myself upon the roof when my quiver was spent until the battle ended.
I stayed upon the roof—for what good would it have done me to risk my small hide running amidst the orcs? My heart, gladdened as I saw my fellows vanish behind heavy oak and heard the crash of the bar dropped after them, suddenly chilled in my chest. Some goblin keen of eye had managed to spot me and raised up a cry, and in trying to hide against the chimney I stumbled and fell backward, my shadow dissolving as I was revealed to all who looked up.
Those evil, vile eyes--! I shudder to recall them below me, so many of them, surrounding me, turned upward and reflecting the hay bales’ orange flames. It was as though I sat on a giant fry-pan wreathed by hot embers just seconds before they burst into new flame. Their voices roared like wildfire all around me, vicious and gleeful, and they began to press against the walls of the house, to climb it, black beetles with foul dripping mandibles and murder in their withered souls.
I loosed my sword and closed my eyes. My own breath was loud in my ears and for just a moment, all within me was still. I thought of my parents, the lowly trotters whose kind hearts know that nothing—and no one—is ever really trash. I thought of the beauties of springtime unfolding in the Shire, and of morning sun sparkling upon the dew on Rumble Orchard apples. I thought of my fellows turning back to look for me as the Woodland gate closed them safely away, of Bori calling my name, and remembered sharing the family fires with them at Yule. I thought of you, my dear beloved friends, and the home you have given me during my adventures. In my mind, I once more kissed little Corie’s sweet round cheeks and felt her sleeping breath upon mine as I tucked her in while Rory quietly closed the white book from his seat beside her bed. I hoped that someone would remember to bring him my book and tell this final story, and I vowed that I would give it as worthy an end as my sword might sustain.
I hoped that in the Shire, there would be some who would find it in their hearts to be proud of the adventures of a simple Hobbit, and not merely think me foolhardy.
My heart swelled in that moment with love, and with peace, and I knew that if I fell, I would fall as one who fought because she had the world to live for, and not—although it is true-- because that world was worth dying for.
I opened my eyes, and the sun rose in them.
Ask me not how, for I do not now and think that I never shall know how it is that the night passed so swiftly. But I swear to you upon my family’s true heart that in that very moment, I watched the brightening sky go purple to lavender to rose to peach to bright, fathomless blue. To my left, above the tree-line in the east, the golden sun emerged like a hero of legend, chasing away the fearful moon and indifferent stars, shining like the very essence of courage and valor and hope. Its rays stretched out across the land, burning shadows and gilding the leaves of the trees.
I felt its warmth on my face, drying the tears of awe upon my cheeks that I had not even felt escape, and I looked down upon the miracle it brought—the last of our enemy, vanquished by the literal Light, as they screamed and fled in pain and rage. Into this sudden and astonishingly beautiful morning, from the woods to the south, came the lady Ruithel with a defiant cry, hurling the head of the orcish commander with a shimmering arrow sprouting from its eye like wheat from a dung-heap (I learned later that he had been felled at the outset by this single arrow loosed from lord Legolas’ shining bow) directly into the confused mass of the fleeing enemy. The last of their resolve shattered, these stragglers skittered off, and with luck many of them were chased down by those elvish allies still energized to fight.
Below me, the ground was suddenly open, the path to the gate clear. I was safe. I thank the grace of the hand that spared me, and hope that I repay its mercy with honor.
For now, we rest—and I shall feast as if it were every great holiday and festival combined! There is much to be done here; we cleanse the battleground, tend to the wounded, bury and mourn the dead, repair the palisade, clean and sharpen our weapons, mend our armor. There are messages to send and patrols to organize.
Soon, though, I think my fellowship shall go our ways for a while, as we often do; we know when we shall meet again, but there is time before that for us each to see to our own affairs.
For myself, I hope that I shall soon be on my way to your door again. I had hoped perhaps to travel home to Longbottom and see to my orchard holding; I have been too long away from my family, and I wish to teach them the methods that Marigold and I have worked upon for growing Rumble apples that are uniquely bred to be Elven, Hobbit, Dwarf, and Big Folk all at once. But alas, I have not so many weeks in which to make such a journey this spring! Instead I shall take my joy in visiting you all, and Mari and I shall return to devising a recipe for a fizzy Rumble apple wine so golden and bright and secretly-spiced that it is like nothing ever tasted anywhere else—a wine that is at once Elven starlight, Dwarven gold, the nobility of Man, and the Hobbits’ joy, all corked up to pop with the magic of the Wizards’ fireworks. The Easterly Inn shall be one of only three taverns in all of Middle Earth where this drink may be sampled, and I smile to dream of the wealth and fame it shall bring to your door for your everlasting success.
And so I write to you now not merely to share my tale, but because the one thing that makes my heart heavy is knowing that I cannot take to the road for at least some days yet, with all that must be done here at Woodland Hall. I had thought perhaps to leave more quickly in order to bring you word of the battle myself, and let you see that I am all right, but I send this letter ahead of me for I fear that fragments of tales might otherwise reach you first, an incomplete story that may or may not tell you how I fared. Therefore let your hearts take ease knowing that I am safe, and miss you all most terribly, and am most impatient to be on my way to your hearth.
I leave Woodland Hall at the half moon, I expect, for the Old Ford and thence to the Inn, and shall hasten in my travel if I may. Wish kind weather upon my head that I might see you all sooner than later, and hold me in your thoughts as you are always so vividly and fondly in mine.
With great affection,
Nellie"
