LoTR; Come Back To Me

When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade;

When blossom like a shinning 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.

Fimbrethil swayed in time to a tune almost as old as herself. Elvish tune, of course, though incomplete in her mind, for she couldn't bring herself to hum that part of the song which belonged to her other half.

  Ah, Fangorn. Calmest of the calm, most caring of the caring. Oh, she so often missed him. She could sometimes hear him in the missing half of the song. She could sometimes hear him in the low groans of the trees behind her. Oh, it occurred to her that she could go back and search for him. But, no.

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!

Yes, Fimbrethil, Wand-limb, liked the land she watched. Such a peaceful land, such a quaint land, where the peoples living there loved it, cared for it, followed the old teachings of the Entwives. Teachings which had long since been followed since the beginning of the Ents, though whose origins had long since been forgotten. But Fimbrethil did not mind. She just watched as this quaint little land the resident peoples called the Shire embodied the very thing the Entwives had long been trying to accomplish.

  Such a pity the Ents did not follow their ways, or otherwise Fimbrethil would be with Fangorn. But neither she, nor her sisters, stopped forgetting their counterparts, visiting their gardens as they wandered.

  Gardens which were now destroyed, gone. So strange that the matter of men and other peoples could cause so much destructions. They were so small, and yet too quick to be anticipated. Too hasty, Fangorn would have called them. And too hasty for the Entwives to protect their gardens and lands against the destruction of their war.

  Fimbrethil was glad that she had settled here. It was untouched by war, and chaos, and wilderness. And the least Fimbrethil could do was keep such wilderness at bay, standing watch on the edges of this dark, untamed forest, that which the Shire residents called the Old Forest.

  She liked to keep on the edges, watching the land, hardly moving, almost ever sleeping. But there were times that she would retreat into the Forest. Tom Bombadil could be seen, gallivanting about. A good man, if seemingly unpredictable. Fimbrethil often pined for the slow, controlled speech of Fangorn. She wondered if he and his kin went searching for herself and her sisters, seeing their war stricken land. That is if they had even visited their land again.

  It occurred to her that she might just see Fangorn again. There had been times when she could hear her name in his mouth, or hear his line in the song; Come back to me!

  She might have dared to answer that call.

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!

She was tempted. But singing did not end here in her land. Always was it Spring, or Summer. And still, Fimbrethil, for her land was fair, lingered.

  Maybe when such things did happen, she would come to him, and he would come to her.

Together we will take the road that leads into the West,

And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.