The forests once more
cover the lands, from coast to mountain in every direction. Two
thousand seasons have come and two thousand seasons have gone, acorns
grown to saplings and thence to mighty tree.
Fed by sun, rain and
the great corpsefields, the forests grew and the memory of the deed
that was done faded. The treeherders roam far and wide, the threat of
axe and fire long faded from this world. In the shadow of the boughs,
joyous birdsong fills the world, a choir to please the ear of every
elf and wizard.
Yet I still recall the
day of the great council and a night never passes without dreams of
what could have been had my journey been delayed. There were great
tidings brought to me on the wings of my friends, bestirring me to
leave the long watch at Rhosgobel. The great evil had been banished
from this world and the race of orcs broken on the field of battle.
Human, dwarf and elf had stood together and some even sang of
hobbit-deeds of bravery and endurance. It was a time of great change,
the end of an age and an opportunity to set the great ship of history
on a new course.
When I arrived at the
council the elves were talking of sailing west, making room for the
age of man and letting their race fade from memory. The treesingers
had grown weary and sought peace in exile, with hope that mankind
could grow and mature, to become stewards of the east. Truly the
elven capacity for self-delusion was amazing and at first the shock
at such dereliction of duty nearly sent me fleeing back to the vales
of Anduin.
It was that night that
Corvus came to me. Long had he served as my eyes in the south, a
trusted friend and true heart. His wings were sooty black, not just
of feather but also with ash from the pyres of the orcs, and his
tales of human deeds were of equally dark nature. He spoke of the
strife among the different races of men, how great numbers of them
had sworn loyalty to the shadow. He reminded me of how easily the old
kings of man had fallen, to become wraiths that scoured the land, and
spoke of a new king that had made alliance with the dead of ages
past.
Corvus spoke also of
the Mûmakil, great tusked beasts and wisest among all my friends,
that had been forced to serve in war by man and now lay slain on
Pelennor Fields. The herds that once roamed Harad had been reduced by
the ravages of man and it became clear to me that in just a few short
centuries our majestic friends would no longer shake the earth with
their passing.
By dawn, my mind was
fixed on the task ahead. Fiery words sang in my mind and I knew that
tomorrow would be neither autumn nor winter for the elves, but that
they would rise to my challenge and embrace a new spring. I knew that
the first singers had not been forgotten in these halls and that if I
could evoke their spirit then the elves would rally to my cause.
Six days and six nights
the council argued, some crying for what had been lost and others for
what might never come. Many had set their minds, one foot already on
the ships to the west. Others were less certain and could hear the
reason in my voice. Iron, fire and strife were the signs of both man
and orc, two sides of the same coin. Death and despair ever walked at
the side of man, to think otherwise was madness.
To leave man as
stewards of the east was to condemn the forests and animals to
extinction or servitude. War would consume the lands until one day
man found the means to sail west in pursuit of new lands to destroy.
What then would remain for elvenkind but eternal damnation, having
forgotten the song and their duty? On the sixth night, as the stars
glimmered above, the decision was made.
The leaders of man were
summoned, given guidance and encouragement. It was announced that the
elven hosts would leave, set sail for the lands of the setting sun. A
great celebration was held, a coronation and a wedding sealed the
pact and gifts were solemnly exchanged.
Twelve great founts
were brought forth by the elves, gifts of parting to the new stewards
of the land. From each there flowed, on call, all the food and water
a man might need, sufficient to feed a city of any size. The tendency
for man to huddle together and live in great proximity was well known
and this gift suited them well, for it would free them of the labour
of the fields.
In the years to come,
mankind continued to till some fields and keep some animals for they
did not fully trust the power of the founts. There was ever a
minority who sought to keep apart and sustain themselves, but over
the years suspicion eased and the easy life offered by flocking to
one of the great fount cities, as they were now known, became
irresistible to most.
Fields lay fallow for a
time, but as the seasons turned they became overgrown and became lost
from sight. Years passed and cities grew, becoming ever more vast
with stone covering the old fields as roads, monuments and buildings
sprang up. Generations passed and man began to forget the lessons of
agriculture, relying ever more fully on the founts even as their
numbers grew beyond reckoning.
Then came the day when
the founts produced nothing but ash. At first they thought that it
was only temporary and they called wise men to determine how to
restore the flow of food and water. When their spells and prayers
failed to bring forth sustenance there was a great panic and people
fled, seeking to make their way to other cities that might yet have a
working fount.
As hosts of refugees
met in the wild, rumours travelled far and wide. Some claimed that
all the founts had failed, that mankind was cursed and abandoned by
the gods. Others claimed that at least one fount was still working
but that the city controlling it was keeping it for their own
exclusive use. Truth, as always among men, became irrelevant as the
first among them drew steel and slew a man from another city.
The slaughter that took
place over the next few months was far beyond anything seen in the
war of the ring. Blood turned rivers red and fields were lined with
corpses over distances beyond reckoning. To sustain themselves for
battle the warriors turned to feasting on the red meat of their
enemies, bathing themselves in blood and chanting to dark gods for
strength and victory. Among the elvenkind, any doubt about the virtue
of man was removed when those rituals were revealed by farseeing
stones.
When winter came the
hardship among men became so great that not one in a thousand
survived. Hunting and gathering sustained a few, cannibalism lent
strength to others but despair and hunger stole the strength from the
multitudes and they lay down to a rest from which they never awoke.
The spirit of man had been broken irrevocably.
With the first spring
rain, the elven hosts landed on the eastern shores again. Their
splendour was great, a host such as had not been seen since the first
age. United by desire to wipe the stain of humanity from middle
earth, they marched forth with spears shining in the sunlight. The
campaign would last less than a year as the remaining bands of
mankind were destroyed on the field of battle or hunted like animals
in the forests and mountains.
Thus my plan was
brought to fruition and the brief interregnum was ended. The kings of
man had enjoyed prosperity in the absence of the great shadow and the
elvenhost, but had shown their true nature and been punished for it.
It would take two thousand seasons before the last of the human
cities sank beneath the canopy of the vast forests, but the ship of
history was firmly on the new course I had plotted.
Birds and animals roam
free once again, free from harness and fear of the hunter's arrow.
The great trees provide shade and shelter, with elf and treeherder
lending a guiding hand when needed though their numbers remain few.
The lessons of ages past has been well learned and the world shall
forever remain free of the taint of the plow and forge. The
nightmare of the taming of the lands and rise of industry has been
banished for eternity, replaced with the the free spirit of the wild.
Mankind lives on only
in my dreams and memories, indistinct and foggy reminders that evoke
the haze that ever gathered over their camps and cities. Sometimes
Corvus speaks to me of them, warning me that just as orcs and man
once rose out of obscurity others could come. Perhaps the dwarves
might one day leave their mines and use their mastery of fire to
destroy the vast forests. Corvus counsels me to craft a ring and
store much of my essence in it, thereby ensuring my immortality and
also enhancing my powers. Only through such means can I truly ensure
that this age will last forever.
I am Radagast of Many
Colours, friend of animals.
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This is a non-commercial derivative work, written for the
RPG challenge. Apologies to the late J.R.R. Tolkien for borrowing one of his characters without permission.
