Based on Quickbeam's song in The Two Towers.
. . .
Help.
Quiet, yet terribly urgent. It is not the calm, happy voice that my rowans have always used. There is an edge of fear. I wake.
Friend, they are coming. They are coming!
My trees. Their panic rustles through me. They call for me. And though I am many, many Entstrides away, I hear.
They carry axes, friend, they shudder. You always were quicker than most. Hurry, hurry!
They need me. Now. Their hill is too far, but they do not call me Bregalad for naught.
Haste is needed.
The rowans' terrified, whispering screams of pain fill my mind. I can feel their pain, the axes slicing me as cruelly as they slice into the flesh of my beloved trees.
Oh, Kementari, no!
One by one, their pleas for my help fall silent. My rowans. They cannot run. They cannot flee.
And I am too late to save them.
. . .
When at last I arrive, the hilltop is quiet. I can smell the foul stench of the Orcs who have been here, but they are gone. Gone are the murderers. Gone are the axes.
Gone, too, are my trees. The Orcs have felled them for nothing. My dearest friends are gone, killed. For nothing.
They lie on the ground, their branches broken, their bark gashed, their leaves trampled. Red berries stain the earth like blood. Their blood.
I call their names, each one. Over and over and over. Not one answers.
They are dead.
. . .
I know not how long I have been standing here, my trees dead around me, a stillness in the air.
I caress their lifeless bodies once more, and cry their names, cry their memory.
Then I turn my back on the slaughter. I will not return. I cannot.
My anger is kindled. My hatred.
They will pay. They will die, as my rowans fell helpless.
But for now, I wait, keeping my fire inside me, until it is time. The time will come.
Even the most hasty of Ents can be patient.
. . .
Go ahead and review- I'd love to hear what you think!