Caterwauling by Elleth

[Reviews - 1]
Table of Contents
Printer Friendly: Printer
- Text Size +

Jump to

Author's Chapter Notes:

Originally written for a fanfic challenge at LJ's themiddleearth community. Warning for some silliness.


"Old Tombadil is a merry fellow, bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow!"

The world had not even begun, and already she was sick of the caterwauling following her everywhere, accompanied by a persistently annoying off-key fiddle. Where that was coming from, Eru alone knew.

Goldberry stopped her ears (or would have, had she possessed a body that actually had any corporeal ears) and rolled her eyes. Would have. If she had had any corporeal eyes. Being a newly-minted spiritual creature had its downsides, but even now, in the first few aeons of her existence, she was sure that she never wanted to hear that singing again. Ainulindale here or there, how blue jackets and yellow wellingtons were going to help create the world was a mystery, if there ever was one. Being the patron of horrible fashion statements hardly seemed like a choice career to her. Now, floristry, that was another matter entirely. As if on cue, the nonsense rhymes changed into something slightly more substantial. Slightly.

"Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing, comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?"

Unfortunately, she could.

"Fair Goldberry-o, hearken now and hear me!" Oh, no.

"My name is Goldberry. And I.do.not.want.your.flowers! Nevermind that there is no such thing as water-lilies. Yet. And if you don't stop this... I'll ---"

What she would have done - file a request for that song being retroactively terminated from existence - never was spoken, as Melkor and his annyoing, bug-eyed lapdog lickspittle, Mairon, blundered past. She'd heard from others that they were trouble; thanks to their involvement Melian's song got mashed up with one of those as-yet uncreated Elves, poor thing, and it didn't seem to work, what with rebellious teenage daughters, ragged mortals, and short bearded folks with axes.

But their bass, accompanied by decidedly un-Ainur-like sniggering, faded into the distance, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Would have, had she needed to breathe. Goldberry began to make her way over to Eru. If she'd read the schedule right, Creation was about to happen, and she wanted a front-row seat for descending into the world.

It was far less eventful than she had expected, and a lot more foggy than she would have liked, but either way, leaving was better than an eternity in the bliss of being stalked and serenaded by Tom Bombadil.

Descent into the world felt much like a too-fast elevator ride. After willing her head - an actual, corporeal one, with eyes and ears and nose - to stop spinning, Goldberry began taking in the multitude of sights, sounds, and smells; somewhere at the edge of her vision between the rushes, something yellow was hopping. She felt her stomach twitch, and wondered if this was Melkor and Sauron's involvement too... if so, they had succeeded admirably in making her her life hell. Or perhaps it just was stalking extraordinaire.

"Old Tombadil is a merry fellow, bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow!"


Chapter End Notes:

All of Tom's rhymes are borrowed from The Fellowship of the Ring. Mairon was a previous name of Sauron.



[Report This]
You must login (register) to review.