January 2024
"I still can't believe I'm doing this," Yeyette said, looking down at the acorn in her hand.
Yeyette had been a strident atheist for years - indeed, she had been an antitheist, convinced that religion was the cause of most of the world's trouble. That conviction deepened as she became aware of dark forces like Sauron - no mere fictional legend but very much real and very much back - who exploited the theocratic far-right to gain power. But since Anthony had been reconnecting with his Jewish roots on his mother's side over the last few months, Yeyette had tried to be a supportive friend, and had come around to see that extremism was the problem, though considering extremist Christianity was the default setting in America one could hardly blame her for being bothered by religion for so long.
Today, it was a Jewish holiday and she was actually participating in a ritual for that holiday. It was Tu BiShvat, the fifteenth day of the month of Shevat; according to Hillel it was "New Year of the Trees" or "Birthday of the Trees" and to celebrate, they'd had a seder of different fruits and nuts. Now they were planting a tree, even though it was still winter in Indiana; there was snow on the ground.
Some time ago, an accident with Victor's alchemy lab had produced a "pineapple pine tree" - a pine where needles only grew on the top portion of the tree, giving it an umbrella-like shape, and the cones were actually pineapples. And in 2022 Tom Bombadil, who had spent five decades living as the painter Bob Ross, had encountered Yeyette and Sören when they were visiting the Bob Ross Experience in Muncie, and had given Yeyette an acorn. It wasn't just any acorn - Victor had brought it to the university and quietly had it carbon-dated and it was at least 12,000 years old. Yeyette had held onto it all this time; though Tom Bombadil had remarked the "happy little" pineapple pine tree needed a friend, it had felt almost wrong to plant an ancient artifact, and she wasn't even sure it would produce anything after all this time.
But today she was doing it for Anthony, one member of her chosen family of the present, and her brother in a lifetime long ago.
The ground was ready. Yeyette stepped forward and knelt in the snow, holding the acorn in her gloved hands. For a moment it felt like her hands were getting warmer and the acorn was pulsing slightly. "For future generations who inherit the Earth," she said, and looked across at Maglor, who had seen many, many generations in his years of wandering. Maglor nodded, and Yeyette looked back down at the hole in the ground. She gently placed the acorn in the soil, then spread some dirt over it as if she were tucking it in. She stood up and Anthony and Sören were grinning at her.
"Yay trees!" Anthony cheered.
"Yay Jews," Sören yelled.
Nicholas facepalmed and Anthony snickered loudly. "As you know, that is not a proper blessing," Nicholas scolded him, but his eyes were crinkled at the corners and Yeyette knew he was feigning more annoyance than he actually felt.
It was Dara and DeKalb's turn to cover the hole with dirt and fertilizer. Sören and Anthony gave Yeyette a hug.
"Thank you, again," Anthony said. "We could have gotten a seedling tree from a nursery. He technically gave that to you and you didn't have to -"
"I did," Yeyette said. "I wanted to. For family." She looked back at the hole, wondering if Tom Bombadil was right and it would produce a seedling eventually. It wasn't every day that one got to see something grow out of a twelve thousand year old seed, and her study of medicine had been born from a curious mind. "For science."
March 2024
"Ah shit, look who it is."
DeKalb and Anthony were going for a jog around the property now that spring was on its way. They slowed as they saw the familiar beige sedan pull in front of the red brick farmhouse on Old Town Road, and a man came out wearing a black suit and sunglasses.
They jogged over as the man slowly walked down the path to the farmhouse, meeting him on the path. "Agent Smith," Anthony said, internally chuckling at the unfortunate Matrix reference even though the man looked nothing like Hugo Weaving. "To what do we owe this... pleasure?"
"Don't play coy," the CIA agent said. He folded his arms and nodded over at the yard by the shed - formerly a small church - where Victor had his alchemy lab. "You know why I'm here."
"I'm afraid we don't, bud," DeKalb said. "There could be any number of reasons."
"The damn trees."
Usually, it took four to six weeks for a tree to begin germinating from an acorn - and a very tiny seedling at that. The acorn that had been planted at Tu BiShvat began germinating right away; two months later it was the size of a shrub.
And it was glowing silver. The pineapple pine tree had begun glowing gold. The glow was more intense at night, less like Christmas lights and more like having a small sun and moon in the yard. It was enough that it had become a bit of a minor tourist attraction.
"You're supposed to be keeping a low profile," Agent Smith said. "This is the opposite of a low profile."
Anthony and DeKalb exchanged glances. Anthony's heart beat faster. The entire reason that Anthony, Nicholas and Sören had been stuck in Indiana since 2019 had been the CIA herding them into the same program for Force sensitives that Yeyette, DeKalb, Victor and Dara were in, deeming it easier to keep an eye on them if they were all in the same place. But Anthony knew at any time the CIA could arrange to have them relocated - possibly even held at a facility or neutralized altogether if perceived as too much of a problem.
And yet, it still offended Anthony's sense of justice to have this CIA agent dictate to them what they could and couldn't have on their property. And it seemed downright evil to demand that the trees be cut down. Maglor had remarked that he thought these were Telperion and Laurelin reborn, much as Fëanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin had been reborn. It made sense.
And if that was the case, Anthony felt they needed to protect the Trees with their lives. The fate of the world might depend on it, somehow.
"One of our neighbors flies a Confederate flag," Anthony pointed out. "And has a fucking toilet on their front lawn. Are you seriously going to tell us having festive tree decorations is somehow more over-the-top than that?"
"Yeah, it might be drawing attention, but that's good for the local economy," DeKalb added. "People are coming from around the state or even out of state to admire these trees and while they're here they eat at restaurants and shop at stores and stay in hotels. Your organization said we were still going to have to contribute to society while being in your program. What do you call this if not contributing to society, huh?"
"Besides," Anthony said, looking over at the trees and then over at the CIA agent's bland car, "we all know that when people are working for the government or involved in classified stuff, they try to be as boring and nothing-to-see-here as possible... which just makes them stand out more. We knew it was you before you got out of the car, you know what I mean? So there's something to be said about maybe letting us stand out a little, so people don't think six random foreigners, one fake American and one actual American living together in a farmhouse in rural Indiana is part of some government conspiracy."
Agent Smith took off his sunglasses and glared, his blue eyes icy, but then he looked down as if he were considering their points. When their eyes met again, Anthony did something he didn't like doing, and reserved for rare emergencies - he pushed with his mind, to remove any lingering doubts about their argument. "The trees are fine," Anthony said. "The trees aren't a problem."
"The trees are fine," Agent Smith repeated in a dull monotone. "The trees aren't a problem."
"Good," Anthony said. "So we have an understanding."
"We have an understanding." Agent Smith blinked, winced, and put his sunglasses back on. Then he walked off without another word.
The migraine hit the minute after Agent Smith drove away. It was one of the worst ones Anthony ever experienced - one of the reasons why he didn't like using this particular Forceful ability, besides having ethical reservations about it. It was bad enough that through the searing, pounding pain, the sky began to spin, a white haze forming at the corners of his vision and swallowing the world.
"You OK, bro?" DeKalb asked.
"Oy vey," was the last thing Anthony said before he hit the ground.
When he came to, he was in the alchemy lab, which was set up as a makeshift medical station. Yeyette and Victor had brewed a tea with herbs and one of Laurelin's pineapples and Nicholas offered it to him. "Drink," Nicholas urged.
Anthony drank and a warmth spread over him, and within a few moments the throbbing roar faded to a more dull ache.
"Sorry, man," DeKalb said with a sympathetic frown.
Anthony looked out the window of the shed and the trees were still standing, glowing. "Worth it."
late April 2024
Unfortunately, it wasn't just the CIA who noticed the trees.
At sunset, two crows alighted on Old Town Road. In a burst of feathers, the "crows" changed form - an unusually tall man with shoulder-length red hair, wearing a black leather jacket with a black button-down shirt and black trousers, and a somewhat shorter man who looked like a more feminine Michael Jackson, with long black hair and wearing a brown leather trenchcoat over a grey knockoff Armani suit. The two men looked at the glowing trees some meters away, took two steps forward and promptly ran into something that felt like a glass wall made of static electricity and shoved them back with a heavy punch.
Sauron - the redhaired man, living among mortals under the alias of Marion Allendale - fell on top of his half-human son, Larry Hortler, and then backhanded him in frustration. "Oweth!" Larry cried.
"You see? It really is the return of the Trees, and the Trees are shielding their property." Sauron got up, held out his left index finger and shot out a lightning bolt at the invisible shield wall, which immediately bounced back and zapped Larry in the crotch. Larry screamed like a girl and Sauron backhanded him again.
Larry held his face and sneered at his father. Sauron scoffed, and turned to the shield once more. With his back to his son, Sauron said, "You are going to take care of our little problem. I have other things to do."
"Fathereth, the shieldest art strong and thou hast many more yearsest of magicaleth experiencest than I. Thou didn't bypassest the shieldeth, whyfore art thou askingest me?"
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop talking like a bloody idiot?"
Larry's nostrils flared, once again stung that his father didn't appreciate the poetic older version of English that his mother had taught him. But then, his father didn't appreciate anything about him, and the sparks of his indignation fueled his wounded pride, the resolve to show him once and for all. Though Larry was still daunted by Sauron leaving the task of destroying the Trees to him, rather than Sauron doing it himself or outsourcing it to Melkor or Ungoliant, this was also a prime opportunity to prove himself... to gain a boon, and move that much closer to breaking free of his father, to overthrow him and become his own god.
So Larry picked himself up, dusted himself off, stepped beside his father and nodded. "Yes, Sir. I will see to the destruction of the Trees - and then, the entire House of Finwë."
"I don't think I need to tell you what will happen if you fail." Sauron changed back into a crow, and flew off with a mocking caw.
Larry attempted to follow him, but the shapeshifting ability had gone with his father. Larry was stranded here. At least he had his cell phone and could call a cab - or Juniper, if she wasn't too busy with one of her other lovers - to pick him up and take him home. He wasn't going to be able to destroy the Trees tonight. He needed a plan.
He needed more power, since that shield wasn't going to be easy to dismantle - not even his father could do it. Larry and Juniper had been planning a rite to gain that power, though it had been scheduled for Samhain, a special time of year. It was going to need to be bumped up the calendar. Not immediately, but soon.
Larry speed-dialed Juniper, and amazingly she answered on the first ring. "Yo."
"Juniper, I needest an rideth."
"I hope you don't mind sloppy seconds."
"I meaneth in thine car," Larry spat, angry with himself for feeling jealousy considering he didn't even love the wench. "And we needest to talketh."
"...Oh." A pause. "Is it bad?"
"Nay. But it art aboutest the ritual we hadst intendedest to performeth on Samhaineth. Thinkst I it shouldst beeth moved to Beltainest."
"You mean... the really big one."
"Yea." Larry looked up at the first star in the blue dusk. "It art timest for... Preparation H."