“I can see in the acorn the oak tree. I see the growth, the rebuilding, the restoring.” - Maya Angelou by MirienSilowende

Home Sweet Home

Read Home Sweet Home

The light dappled in gently through the trees and for a moment it looked almost like it could be a home. She sighed, turning away from the leaves dancing up above. It was not home, nor would it be until they made something of it. She turned back, looking at the wives who had arrived with her after the long walk. There were so few of them left! She hoped that Fimbrethil would be able to find the rest of the scattered Entwives. They had been through so much. Greylarch was leaning against a large oak nearby, looking as if she was about to slumber. Her eyes were closed and her trunk still had painful looking patches from being scorched in the flight from their home. Their former home, she corrected in sadness.

More wives gathered close to her, and she felt someone place a gnarled hand on her shoulder. “Rest, now Breithorn dear. You have led us well and now we must look after you.” The deep sonorous voice came from Pinecrown, who looked at her with concern in her deep eyes. “Have you taken any refreshment at all?”

“I have not,” Breithorn replied, feeling the fatigue wash over her. “I did not want to slow anyone down in the march. I will later. But for now I need to wash the soot off my bark and find a place to root for a while. I hope there is water nearby!”

Pinecrown looked around, her great mane of leaves swaying as she moved. “We will find all those things, I am sure. I am going to speak to some of the animals and see what kind of land this is, and what people are nearby, if there are. But I feel hopeful. My heart tells me that we can be safe here.”

Breithorn did not entirely share her optimism but she was glad to hear it. She looked out on the forest, noting the shade and the open spaces and she started to think. “These are still young trees, but they grow high. I like the way they reach up for the stars. There is space between the trees and although it is shaded, I think it is open enough that we could consider growing here.”

Pinecrown smiled, leaning forward and touching her forehead gently to Breithorn’s. “That’s the spirit,” she whispered. “We will always overcome our sorrows. Now, I must away. Rest awhile!”

She strode off, her long limbs bending and swaying as she moved off through the forest with purpose. Some of the other wives gathered in knots here and there, some leaning and resting as Greylarch did. Breithorn decided to take her friend’s advice and rest, reaching her arms up to the sky and her feet gently into the earth. She could hear the singing of the soil as it welcomed her toes, calling gently of rich nutrients and moisture. She could feel herself sigh slowly as she released the fear that she had been holding for so long.

Closing her eyes, she felt the warmth of the sun on her eyelids and the cool breeze ran over her bark. A humming rose up within her, a slow calm melody that felt as if it had risen from the ground up into her body and out of her throat. Her body began to sway slightly. She felt a presence next to her and she opened her eyes, seeing Tathara and Aebin beside her. Aebin stretched out her arms and her crown of cherry blossom began to sway as she too joined the song. Tathara listened, a smile playing on her mouth. “This is a beautiful song,” she said quietly. “It has so much hope and strength. I think the forest likes it.”

They continued to sing and the other wives began to pick up the melody, Greylarch opening her eyes and adding her voice, then Hwinn and Faran joined in, smiling as they linked hands and swayed. The melody turned, running far away across water and sea and they heard the strains of their Mother, the Maker of the Wives. Breithorn shut her eyes again as the song soared and she imagined Yavanna stooped in her fields of corn, pausing for a moment from her labour to hear their song.

She smelled a fragrance so sweet and pure, as if it had just been born, and she breathed it in, feeling joy spring up in her heart. The song paused for a moment but it echoed through the forest, the melody hanging in the air as if it was not ready to yet leave. Tiny birds flew to the branches, landing gently with curved silver claws and they picked up the song, their small mouths opened wide. The Entwives looked at each other and held hands, standing in a circle, listening to the song.

The air changed, taking on an expectant note, and Breithorn realized that the forest was listening, leaning towards the sound of the birds. She could feel the understanding in the forest waken slowly. In shock she opened her mouth but Hwinn shook her head. “Not yet,” she mouthed.

The trees started to move, pulling their roots gently from the soil and moving outwards, creating a great open circular hall where they stood. As they moved the outer edges of the forest became thicker, almost impenetrable, as if the very forest wished to keep them safe.

Hwinn was looking out, listening carefully. “I can hear the spirit of the trees,” she whispered. “It is unlike our forests of home and it is much newer but they have their own heart and they want to honour us here. Perhaps Yavanna did indeed hear our song. Wives,” she said, ushering them all together. Murmuring, they stepped closer, still holding hands or touching each other on the shoulder in sisterly comradeship.

“Let us sing again,” she said, looking at each of them in turn. “But this time we will sing of this home, how we can make it sweet and warm and new. Let us see what our song can make for us.”

They nodded eagerly. Breithorn saw Pinecrown returning, her eyes wide and joyful. Faran reached out to her, beckoning with her hands. “Come and sing,” she said as she beamed, her branches swirling around her head. Pinecrown did, her laughter spilling out like rain, as she twirled and danced and sang. Their hands connected and they spread out into the circle, their song deepening and maturing. The animals came and watched the song, their dark eyes wide and knowing. Flowers sprung from the barks of the trees, creating waterfalls of flowers around the edge of the forest, making the trees look as if they were wearing garlands and dresses of white lace. And then from behind them they heard another sound spring up from the earth, the gurgling of fresh mountain water. A waterfall grew from the edge of the forest and mountain walls started to heave closer, claiming the waterfall as its own. The grass fled from the water, creating a deep and clear rock pool. The Entwives watched the waterfall with wide and wondering eyes.

“Our Mother heard us,” whispered Aebin reverently. “She has given us water.”

Their song changed then, to one of harvest and of gathering thanks, for the wizened mother that they knew in their hearts, with ruddy cheeks and bark hardened skin and a smile that lit up their souls. They sang to Yavanna as the forest widened again, offering them space to grow crops and farm their land. More animals came to watch and some offered their voices to the melody. And all the time the Wives stood and swayed and sang.

Time passed, as the forest evolved and grew to keep their benefactors safe within, and inside they ordered their new home to their satisfaction. Aebin called up a chorus of lively cherry trees that marched alongside an orchard of fruit and pear trees, and their small trunks stood proudly next to the cedars and the oaks of the forest. Tathara called for willow trees to come and drape their green leaves delicately within the new waterfall and pool, the shadows of their green crowns making the waterfall a cool and inviting place. Faran sang to the rowan trees and they too came, clustering within the mighty trees and smilingly offering their warm hued fruit to the many birds who came to shelter in the branches.

Pinecrown ordered the animals and built them delicate homes in the trunks and branches of the trees, singing as she worked. And Breithorn called the birches, the beautiful silver trees that danced in the moonlight, to stand tall against the cold grey mountain wall that surrounded them. Hwinn would dance with the birches and when she sang they would light with an ethereal silver light. Breithorn would watch and feel glad that Yavanna had found them this home. She was grateful for it.

But sometimes when she sang she would look out and hope that Fimbrethil and the rest of the wives would find them. Sometimes when she sang she would think of the Ents that they had loved so long ago, and wonder if this perfect place, this gathering of forest and farm, would have been the place that they both would have loved best. And so at times the song took on a note of yearning, a remembrance of what they had loved and lost, so long ago.

Time slipped on, and the trees of the forest clustered more closely together to protect their secret within, to keep their Entwives safe. The Entwives thrived there, growing their crops and growing rosy-cheeked and hale once more, and every evening they sang, to the forest, to the mountain, to the waterfall, to the animals and to their Mother who they loved so much.

One evening they had gathered in their circle and as the Moon rose they started their song, swaying in unison with their hearts full of joy and their faces full of peace, upturned to the sky. The birds and squirrels sat high in their nests and holes, watching with reverence. But their song was disturbed by voices, curious voices, who had found the secret forest and were slowly making their way through.

One by one the Entwives faltered, losing the threads of their song, and they turned to look, to listen. Breithorn heard the voices last and a thread of long forgotten fear re-entered her heart. Had someone found them? Would they lose their home again? Her eyes were wild with fear yet she felt courage rise. She would protect the forest. But as she prepared to stand with her brethren she realized her sisters looked out with wonder and joy. She wondered. Could it be?

Rushing forwards, she moved to the edge of the forest where the rowan trees lived, looking out in the dim. Slowly the voices got louder, clear, beautiful voices that she had dreamt of hearing again and had missed so greatly since they departed. And then the Wives, the Wives who belonged to the voices, began to push their way into the clearing, their questions halted in their mouths and now they gave in to exclamations and sighs and laughter.

“This is perfect!”

“How did you find this?”

“By Mother Yavanna, this is a sight for tired eyes!”

And one by one their Wives stepped in, faces so familiar, and the Entwives found that their faces were bathed with tears, tears of joy and wonder. Last came Fimbrethil, looking tired and older and spent, but her eyes were deep pools of love and calm and grace. She looked around, nodding, seeing all the work they had done. She looked at each of them, a small smile playing on her mouth and at last she said, “It seems that you have been very busy, Wives. This is beautiful. How did you manage it?”

Greylarch came closer, embracing her friend with tear-filled eyes and an expression of joy on her face. “Fimbrethil, at last!” she exclaimed, as she stepped back, looking at her. “We have been waiting so long for you here. We have been working hard indeed on this, but the forest itself lent us its song. Each night we sing, and each night the forest helps us grow. Perhaps you heard the song?”

Fimbrethil nodded. “I did, and I have heard the song in my dreams for many nights. It is I think how I managed to find you at last. We have been walking for so long but at times I could hear the song from so far away, and I knew it was my sisters. And at last we found the edges of this forest, dark and thick and uninviting, but within was a silver glimmer and a fragrance of flowers, and the song reached out to me, as if it were calling to us. Calling us home. And here we are.”

She finished simply and Greylarch smiled. “And here you are,” she said. She turned, reaching out her branches to show them the beauty of their home. “And here you are, Wives,” she called. “This is the doing of our mother, Yavanna, and this is our home. Home sweet home, at last.”

Home Sweet Home. The words rang deep in the forest and the resonance echoed through the trees and the pools and the birds and the animals who gathered there. And even the Moon smiled down as he watched the Entwives gather their lost sisters to them and they danced and sang their song within their new forest home.