Fic: Drought
Thank you to Cal for betaing and to my friends at GoI for their support and helpful suggestions!
Drought
Haldir knew something was wrong.
Although the wardens ruffled his hair and smiled at him when they passed by, none of them made jokes today. Usually, when Hirgon brought his sons along to the borders, they enjoyed the cheerful bantering between their father and the members of his patrol. However, when they approached the watch talan this morning, they were met instead by the Marchwarden who pulled their father aside for a private conversation.
After his talk with Beridhren, Hirgon went straight to the tallest tree and scaled it with Orophin close on his heel while Haldir struggled to keep up, envious of their agility. He finally reached the flet near the top of the tree and found Hirgon looking north.
Haldir watched his father’s grim face for a moment and then turned to an unexpected sight: at this time of year, the grasslands beyond their borders should have been a lush green sea, but instead they displayed a sickly, yellowish hue.
‘Hardly rain any this spring, only sun all day long. The grass is wilting,’ Hirgon explained.
Why this would be a cause for concern, Haldir did not understand; Lothlórien was after all much the same as always for the Lady’s enchantment evened out the worst effects of the fluctuating temperatures and ensured a pleasant climate throughout the Wood. Rain fell in adequate quantities when needed, as proven by the abundance of grass that coloured the clearings behind them.
Hirgon spoke again, slowly, almost to himself. ‘Not much food for the game - their young ones will not thrive on hay. And if the grass looks like this here, close to the River, the fields of Men will be even worse. They will not have crops to sell come harvest; they may not even be able to salvage enough to feed themselves.’
Looking down at his sons, he elaborated, ‘We will not get to eat much bread or game this winter. The crops grown in the glades of the Wood are not sufficient, and the game not plentiful enough to feed us. You had better help your Naneth with the orchard and the vegetable garden if you want to be able to fill your bellies come spring!’
Orophin looked to Haldir, but Haldir held his tongue. True, he did not much care for the tedious work in the vegetable garden; however, he did like to eat his fill and was grateful for the timely warning. Although poor substitutes for the lovely bread his mother baked, carrots and beans were a great deal better than nothing.
***
Later that summer, Haldir questioned his uncharacteristic complaisance in the spring.
While his pregnant mother rested, and Orophin took care of many chores around the talan, Haldir toiled in the vegetable garden. He weeded and fertilized; watered and thinned out; and bound beans that seemed to grow a hand’s length while one looked the other way, growing into their neighbours and ruining his mother’s neatly arranged cane supports. The warm weather, rather than harming the beans, seemed to have encouraged them to excessive growth spurts.
Haldir did not know how much water he fetched over the summer, but his feet became increasingly familiar with the path to the clearing with the little stream. One of the first afternoons, he reached the stream and bent to fill his bucket. While the water trickled over the edge, he knelt on the bank. The music of the water as it ran over the stones in the middle of the stream pleasured his ear and soothed him, speaking to him with voices that won his confidence. He found himself telling the little stream of his troubles and felt better afterwards, for was not the ear of Ulmo ever open to all his needs and griefs?
When both his buckets were full, he lay down in the grass, picking idly at a dry mallorn nut, and opening up his senses to the wood. He looked up at the treetops, admiring the golden leaves as they swirled in an unpredictable dance with the breeze. Beneath the mellyrn, the playful wind turned maple leaves upside down, their pale undersides dotting the dark expanse of the underbrush.
This is the loveliest spot I know.
***
The fragrance of the warm day permeated the air and Haldir breathed deeply. Honeysuckle, rosebay and touch-me-not bloomed around him, their scents blending in the exquisite, sweet perfume of summer in Lothlórien. Haldir relaxed, smiling, for this place always spoke to his heart.
I feel so at home here, more than anywhere else in the Wood. I wish I could stay here all day!
Finally, he rose, re-attached his buckets to the yoke and placed it on his shoulders. Straightening his knees, he rose and felt the worn wood settle - smooth, but hard and so heavy - on shoulders not quite strong enough to carry it. Reluctantly, he left his little paradise to resume the day’s work. As he passed, trees murmured and let their fingered leaves caress him while brambles promised to part if he wished to tread another path than the common one.
Walking back towards the vegetable garden, he was, however, thankful for the smooth path, trod by ages of Elven feet, although he always failed to notice this advantage when walking with empty buckets in the opposite direction. By the time he reached the vegetable garden, his shoulders ached and his knees shook; his determination the only thing that kept him going.
However, towards the end of the summer, he had grown stronger and could carry water with hardly any effort; he had mastered the beans; and he had learned how to persuade blackbirds to pick caterpillars and snails, but leave the strawberries alone.
The vegetable garden flourished, they harvested ample crops that autumn and as he entered his home, Haldir felt something within himself satisfied by his efforts. He had worked hard and the results were visible before him: onions and herbs hung from the ceiling, the cellar his father had painstakingly dug out when Haldir was little was now nearly full - just waiting for the late crops - and the larder was filled with preserved food that would see them through until the next harvest.
His family was safe.Back to Overview