It is the 3rd day of Ethuil
In the 3018th year of the Sun
Of the Third Age of Middle-earth

The merrymaking of Iestor^[1] is now over, and the fair season of Ethuil has begun. The sap is flowing again in herb and leaf, the air is cool and soft and filled with the fragrance of blossoming woodland flowers. The young leaves upon the beeches of our Green-elven glade shimmer golden-green in the Spring sunshine, and in their midst birds of bright song lift up their voices; between the roots tight-curled fronds of fern are thrusting through the sweet-scented earth, and small flowers are opening in the greensward. Ah, the green smell brings joy to my heart!

But when our small company set forth for the southern marches of the Woodland Realm at the rising of Gil-Estel ere the dawn, our thought was not bent on renewal, but restoration. We were again led by Angeleg, but today we were not hunting the great spiders of Mirkwood; our quest took us far afield to a grove of ancient oak-trees that aforetime was a place of feasting and mirth ere the Shadow deepened over Taur-nu-Fuin, and although unused in this wise for wellnigh a thousand years, it is still dear to the hearts of the Tawarwaith, and word had come of something amiss.

There the wide-armed oaks were overridden by a vast tangle of strangling ivy, their gnarled girths girdled with thick woody stems that climbed high into the canopy, where the dark mass of creeping vines overshadowed the great trees, denying them the life-giving Sun. The sweet perfume of the flowering wood was overwhelmed by the strong sour smell of the ivy, and the age-old voices of the benighted trees whispered sadly in despair; thus was it our task to tear down the overgrowing vines and free the grey oaken boughs. And though I am loath to slay any living green, I well knew that this must needs be done.

The songs of blessing that we sang while we assailed the tenacious tendrils were unlike those we sing for the gathering of plants and herbs, for the words were of healing and regrowth (though muttered elvish curse-words could at times be heard among the highest branches!) It was arduous toil, and while my hands laboured my thoughts wandered free...

This ruinous ivy is not evil in itself, but is a mark of evil's corruption of our once fair and wholesome forest. Indeed, ever since I was an elf-child I have oft gathered its leaves for my mother to make teas and syrups that comfort tightness of breath (for while we have no need for such remedies^[2], we trade many healing herbs and medicants with the Northmen; though not with the Naugrim, for they are likewise unaffected by mortal illness.^[3])

But alas, the power of the Necromancer defiled our once beautiful forest, for when he took Amon Lanc for his abode and built there his fastness of Dol Guldur, a darkness crept slowly through the wood from the southward, and fear walked there in shadowy glades; fell beasts came hunting, and cruel and evil creatures laid there their snares.^[4] The galassath strive one against another and the lavanath became black and foul.

Teithoron told me once of Udûn, first and greatest citadel of Melkor aforetime, delved under the Ered Engrin in the north of the world during the Years of the Lamps. Well do I remember his grim words for they filled my young heart with horror:

"The evil of Melkor and the blight of his hatred flowed out thence, and the Spring of Arda was marred. Green things fell sick and rotted, and rivers were choked with weeds and slime, and fens were made, rank and poisonous, the breeding place of flies; and forests grew dark and perilous, the haunts of fear; and beasts became monsters of horn and ivory and dyed the earth with blood."^[5]

We know now that the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur was none other that Sauron himself, but my teacher says that the servant is unalike his master of old, for the desire of Morgoth was to unmake the world and bring all to ruin, but it is the wish of Sauron to rule it and bend it to his will. But, alas, his dark malice yet corrupts any lands under his sway, and his taint befouls all that is fair. Yet there is hope, for ever is the power of Sauron contested by the will of Thranduil Elvenking, and the beauty of the Woodland Realm endures.

For, I deem, the Wood-elves are the stewards of Mirkwood, as the Rodyn are stewards of all Ardhon. And among them, Ivon is whom we most revere, for she it is that cares for living things. She is called the “Giver of Fruits”, and Teithoron says she is “the lover of all things that grow in the earth, and all their countless forms she holds in her mind, from the trees like towers in forests long ago to the moss upon stones or the small and secret things in the mould.”^[6] She nourishes the gelais by which the living bodies of levain and Incarnates are sustained.

And I deem that rocks and trees, birds and beasts are to be cherished simply because Eru fashioned them in the making of the world; that His purpose for all creation is for delight and beauty, to be enjoyed by we who are born into its magical wonder. Thus it is our part to rejoice in its glory and give homage to its Creator, to esteem and protect all things that grow and are fair. I have been mocked more than once for wearing no shoes, which is the custom of the Green-elves, and while this is well suited for stealth and nimbleness, in truth, walking barefoot keeps my kin in closer connexion with the hallowed earth.

The frenzied razing of the green vines brought to my mind a more wholesome pastime: the unhurried gathering of flower, leaf, seed and root of the woodland herbs; for this would commonly be my labour on a glorious day of early Spring such as this.

For six and thirty years Reneth, my mother, has shared with me her knowledge of the healing art, and while my leechcraft is not nearly as skilled as hers, she has imparted much herblore to me. Thus as the brown-green buds upon the the stooping oaken boughs were slowly unfettered from the tangled vines, my thoughts turned to Iavas when their green acorns will ripen to brown. At home we gather and grind the brown oakfruit for meal and flour, or eat them roasted or make spicy coffee for our lips' delight; the leaves also we use for medicants, and the bark too, but this is cherished chiefly by the leather-tanners for treating skins and hides. Indeed, the very ink with which I write is formed from oak gall and manifold are the uses of oaken hardwood... what a true marvel is the oak! (Yet I favour its cousin, the high-branched beech!)

The sun was long past its midday mark when, at last, our labour was done and the great heaps of stricken vines were set ablaze; for each cut tendril may yet take root and grow again. Their majesty restored, the ancient oaks joined their silent voices in our joyful song as they looked down upon the bonfire wherein their bonds burned in red flames. But dusk was coming on and soft light gleamed upon the grove, gilding the freed trees; the thin crescent of the Moon had fallen early into the pale sunset and the sky was clear above, revealing the first stars of night. Thence we hastened homewards ere the rising of Menelvagor and the new day.

[1] "Tolkien did not give the Sindarin words for these holidays in Appendix D. These translations from the Quenya were provided by Sindarin expert /u/Elaran in the /r/sindarin subreddit."
- Shire Reckoning: A visualization of the calendars described in J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings Appendix D
[2] "The fear of the Elves were destined to dwell in Arda for all the life of Arda, and the death of the flesh did not abrogate that destiny. Their fear were tenacious therefore of life 'in the raiment of Arda', and far excelled the spirits of Men in power over that 'raiment', even from the first days protecting their bodies from many ills and assaults (such as disease), and healing them swiftly of injuries, so that they recovered from wounds that would have proved fatal to Men."
- Morgoth's Ring, "Laws and Customs Among the Eldar"
[3] "[Dwarves] were singularly immune from diseases such as affected Men, and Halflings..."
- The Peoples of Middle-earth, "The Making of Appendix A: Durin's Folk"
[4] The Silmarillion, "Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age"
[5] The Silmarillion: Quenta Silmarillion, "Of the Beginning of Days"
[6] The Silmarillion:  "Ainulindalë, The Music of the Ainur"

*      *      *

While not directly referenced, I must also acknowledge the following works for both information and inspiration:

• Ents, Elves, and Eriador: The Environmental Vision of J. R. R. Tolkien by Matthew Dickerson and Jonathan Evans (© The University Press of Kentucky, 2006)
• Flora of Middle-earth: Plants of J. R. R. Tolkien’s Legendarium by Walter S. Judd and Graham A. Judd (© Oxford University Press, 2017)

15