The Two Towers (The Lord of the Rings #2)(29)

‘I remember it was long ago – in the time of the war between Sauron and the Men of the Sea – desire came over me to see Fimbrethil again. Very fair she was still in my eyes, when I had last seen her, though little like the Entmaiden of old. For the Entwives were bent and browned by their labour; their hair parched by the sun to the hue of ripe corn and their cheeks like red apples. Yet their eyes were still the eyes of our own people. We crossed over Anduin and came to their land; but we found a desert: it was all burned and uprooted, for war had passed over it. But the Entwives were not there. Long we called, and long we searched; and we asked all folk that we met which way the Entwives had gone. Some said they had never seen them; and some said that they had seen them walking away west, and some said east, and others south. But nowhere that we went could we find them. Our sorrow was very great. Yet the wild wood called, and we returned to it. For many years we used to go out every now and again and look for the Entwives, walking far and wide and calling them by their beautiful names. But as time passed we went more seldom and wandered less far. And now the Entwives are only a memory for us, and our beards are long and grey. The Elves made many songs concerning the Search of the Ents, and some of the songs passed into the tongues of Men. But we made no songs about it, being content to chant their beautiful names when we thought of the Entwives. We believe that we may meet again in a time to come, and perhaps we shall find somewhere a land where we can live together and both be content. But it is foreboded that that will only be when we have both lost all that we now have. And it may well be that that time is drawing near at last. For if Sauron of old destroyed the gardens, the Enemy today seems likely to wither all the woods.

‘There was an Elvish song that spoke of this, or at least so I understand it. It used to be sung up and down the Great River. It was never an Entish song, mark you: it would have been a very long song in Entish! But we know it by heart, and hum it now and again. This is how it runs in your tongue:

ENT.  When Spring unfolds the beechen leaf, and sap is in the bough;
   When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow;
   When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain-air,
   Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!
ENTWIFE . When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade;
   When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid;
   When shower and Sun upon the Earth with fragrance fill the air,
   I’ll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair.
ENT.   When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold
   Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold;
   When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,
   Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!
ENTWIFE . When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown;
   When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town;
   When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West,
   I’ll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!
ENT.  When Winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay;
   When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day;
   When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain
   I’ll look for thee, and call to thee; I’ll come to thee again!
ENTWIFE . When Winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last;
   When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past;
   I’ll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again:
   Together we will take the road beneath the bitter rain!
BOTH . Together we will take the road that leads into theWest,
   And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.’
Treebeard ended his song. ‘That is how it goes,’ he said. ‘It is Elvish, of course: lighthearted, quickworded, and soon over. I daresay it is fair enough. But the Ents could say more on their side, if they had time! But now I am going to stand up and take a little sleep. Where will you stand?’

‘We usually lie down to sleep,’ said Merry. ‘We shall be all right where we are.’

‘Lie down to sleep!’ said Treebeard. ‘Why of course you do! Hm, hoom: I was forgetting: singing that song put me in mind of old times; almost thought that I was talking to young Entings, I did. Well, you can lie on the bed. I am going to stand in the rain. Good night!’

Merry and Pippin climbed on to the bed and curled up in the soft grass and fern. It was fresh, and sweet-scented, and warm. The lights died down, and the glow of the trees faded; but outside under the arch they could see old Treebeard standing, motionless, with his arms raised above his head. The bright stars peered out of the sky, and lit the falling water as it spilled on to his fingers and head, and dripped, dripped, in hundreds of silver drops on to his feet. Listening to the tinkling of the drops the hobbits fell asleep.

They woke to find a cool sun shining into the great court, and on to the floor of the bay. Shreds of high cloud were overhead, running on a stiff easterly wind. Treebeard was not to be seen; but while Merry and Pippin were bathing in the basin by the arch, they heard him humming and singing, as he came up the path between the trees.

‘Hoo, ho! Good morning, Merry and Pippin!’ he boomed, when he saw them. ‘You sleep long. I have been many a hundred strides already today. Now we will have a drink, and go to Entmoot.’