When the river runs dry by daughterofshadows
Fanwork Notes
I wrote this during the Instadrabble session 20.08.2022 for the prompts Restoration of Whychus Creek (video) and the quote When the storm has passed, put your energy into rebuilding your life. Don’t waste time looking back. - Leon Brown.
Grundy assured me that this would also be okay to post in the actual Silm section, but since this is literally set during the events of the Two Towers, my heart disagreed.
Luckily, we now have the Beyond the Silmarillion section!
To celebrate I'm posting this double drabble where it belongs in my mind.
- Fanwork Information
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Summary:
How does Saruman's work in Isengard affect the animals living around the River Isen?
Today, the field mice tell the story of the days when the Isen disappeared completely.
Major Characters:
Major Relationships:
Artwork Type: No artwork type listed
Genre: Fixed-Length Ficlet
Challenges:
Rating: General
Warnings:
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 201 Posted on 20 August 2022 Updated on 20 August 2022 This fanwork is complete.
When the river runs dry
The mice may have gotten the order of events somewhat wrong, but you have to excuse them. Times were hard and confusing and when the days blur together it is difficult to remember what happened first.
(In other words, I didn't want to grab the book to fact check whether the ents were responsible for holding back the river, or whether it was Saruman. The field mice are blaming Saruman)
- Read When the river runs dry
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The field mice are the first to spread the news. The water in the river, the stream that brought life to their valley, has dried out.
It is only the latest in a series of troubles here in the valley of the Isen.
Many animals have already left, seeking greener pastures untroubled by mad wizards in tall white towers that care little for the lives of others, be they beast or man.
Perhaps the field mice, too, will have to leave now. There was still food to be found for them, but without water, even they cannot survive.
Then a storm rolls across the plains. It’s a storm unlike any in living memory. Not one of thunder and rain, but one of stomping feet and drumming hands.
The forest is on the move, followed soon by pounding hooves.
And even though they bring neither rain nor hail, the water returns to the river overnight. Gurgling and splashing, the bed fills again.
A sigh of relief passes through the grass.
The wizard is ousted from his tower and the valley heals from his torture.
And as it heals, the birds flying high in the skies take up the message.
“Come home!”
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