Of The Fate of Eluréd and Elurín by cuarthol

Of The Fate of Eluréd and Elurín

“Hoom hmm, what’s this, now?”  The voice was deep and rumbled about, but there was a kindness to it, like a cool shade in the height of summer or the sweet first fruits of autumn.

Two great gnarled hands came down and gently plucked the weeping children from the forest floor, lifting them closer to get a better look.  The twins clung to the thick fingers, soft with moss, and stared wide-eyed into the very unexpected face that gazed slowly between them.

The eyes were a rich amber brown with a hint of green at the very edge.  They were eyes which had seen many things, and yet looked upon them as if seeing something entirely new.

“Hmmm haroom, ‘tis not the season for little saplings to be out.  The heavy snows will whither your leaves and break your branches.”

Eluréd snuffled and wiped his eyes and said rather hesitantly, “Who are you?”

"And what are you?" Elurín added.

“Who I am would be a long time in the telling,” came the slow response.  “But Bayberry will do for a name for now.  As for what - haroom - I am a friend of these woods, and have rested for a time here.  But Melian has left and evil has come.  Yes, hm, yes, there is evil at work.  I feel the stones crying out.”

Elurín said, “Our home is ruined and our family is- is…”

Despite having always considered himself quite brave, he could not bring himself to say the word aloud, for he was still only six and the grief of it was far larger than his mouth could hold.  Instead he buried his face in his hands and wept again, and Eluréd also.

“Hmm, yes, more alike to Orcs than Elves.”  The weathered face looked about the forest, and a great shudder went through the branches of the nearest trees and swept out like a wave.

The large hands closed slightly around the boys, not enough to crush them but holding them securely.  The moss offered some small bit of warmth, and they settled in, feeling if not safe exactly, then at least less afraid and alone.

Bayberry carefully collected the twins into one hand - which made them much happier to be within reach of one another - then lifted a hollowed-out gourd which hung on a cord and pulled the stopper.

“No doubt you are in need of something more suited to your kind, but this will have to do for the time being.”  

The fragrant draught within was thick and sap-like, with an almost spicy quality that warmed them as it went down, filling their bellies and bringing vigor back to their cold hands and feet.

Then Bayberry settled in to wait.  Eluréd curled up in his brother’s arms, yawning, but Elurín could not drag his eyes away from the strange whitish-gray face, eyes closed as if listening.

After a great long silence, the shudder in the trees seemed to return, branches shaking until the snows came falling down from even the densest of them.  At last Bayberry’s eyes reopened.

“Hmm.  Hroom.  ‘Tis ill-news indeed.  Come little saplings, let us find warmer soil to plant you in.”

With long, slow steps, Bayberry began to move.  Elurín noticed that the surrounding trees seemed to ease gently out of their way, pulling back low-hanging branches with deep creaking sounds.  Otherwise all seemed silent: the birds did not sing and even Bayberry’s footfalls were deadened in the thick, powdery snow.

“Where are we going?” Elurín asked after a while, for they had left the only part of the forest they were familiar with.

“Hmmm.  Hrm.  East, I think, is the best place to take you.”  A soft ripple went through Bayberry’s limbs and a bit of snow which had clung to what might be called hair fell away.  “There are more of your kind in the woods of Ossiriand; and of my kind, those who will wish to know of what has passed here.”

“Your kind?” Elurín asked, eyes going wide in awe.  “There are more of you?”

A sound that might almost be called a laugh rumbled from deep within.  “Hoom! Haroom, oh yes, little sapling!  We are the tree-herds, the protectors of the forests.  And the chief among us is friendly with the Elves of that land.”

“Will we be safe there?” Eluréd asked.

“Hmm.  Hoom.  I cannot say that any place is safe.”  The smooth lines of Bayberry’s face wrinkled up slightly at that.  “But you will be safer there than here.”

That was little comfort to the twins, but no safer place could they imagine to ask to be taken, and so they continued thus across the long leagues of Doriath.  Once, Eluréd thought he heard their names being called, but Bayberry did not stop, and Elurín did not seem to hear it, and so he kept quiet, fearing who might be looking for them.

All through that night and most of the following day they traveled, and the twins slept in Bayberry’s hands though not very soundly, and dreams troubled them both.

When they at last came to Ossiriand, the Green-elves, though at first hesitant, welcomed the twins among them.  For they had known Lúthien, and remembered Beren, and what little of their griefs the twins could share softened the hearts of those who heard it.

But Bayberry went in search of Treebeard, for it seemed that this evil heralded more than the fall of an Elven realm, and they had learned well the bite of the axes of Orcs and the fires of Dragons, and there was much to discuss.