Lori looked quietly down at his bowl of porridge, red hair spilling over his eyes. Well, to call it porridge would be rather generous. The food was really nothing more than a loose collection of dried up, long rotten oats put into some lukewarm water. The entire hut reeked of this meager excuse for food, excluding of course all of the other smells the house had collected over the years. Honestly it was a wonder that the bugs and rust hadn't taken over the whole single room, Lori thought.
One of his siblings ate silently, as he did, while the other three whispered crude jokes to each other. His parents, standing a few feet away from the table were having an argument. They had been having those a lot recently. Usually over petty things which didn't really matter very much, like who would cook the porridge or something. Lori wished that they would get their argument over with.
Underneath the creaking table Lori held a small flute which he had carved. It was made out of a small piece of tree bark he had found outside a few weeks ago. Wrapped around the mouthpiece of the flute was a small bit of bright red cloth, something which he had been hiding just for an occasion such as this. He had spent ages on it, making absolutely sure that the elvish runes he had fashioned were correct. The runes were based on what few old books he could scavenge for and so it was ultimately extremely sloppy, but he believed that it was a fair representation of the ancient languages of the now long extinct race.
Lori looked up. His parents had stopped shouting at each other suddenly. His father sat on a stool next to their huge family radio, as he almost always was, listening in for news from his friends about the outside world. Apparently strange things were happening way out west. Of course, Lori never heard any of this news, despite his pleadings to listen just once on the radio. His mother had retired to the old couch, now covered in a thick layer of mold with her head in her hands.
Lori got up out of his chair and went over to his mother. "Mama, can I go outside?"
Lori's mother turned to the boy with a dull, annoyed expression. "Why would you ever want to do that in this awful storm?"
"I just wanna play with my friends for a bit!" said Lori, "I still haven't showed them my flute yet!"
His mother rolled her eyes. "Whatever, just come back in soon, you know how dangerous a storm can be."
"Yes mama!" Lori said, starting to walk calmly to the door.
One of his brothers, Pori, snickered as Lori passed. "Look at Lor'!" he whispered to whoever would listen, "Gonna go play with his imaginary friends!" The whole table snickered under their breath. Lori's mother and father pretended to not notice.
"And make sure to bring the detector!" Lori's mother shouted as Lori himself got to the door.
"Yes mama!" Lori said, grabbing the faded yellow box as he stepped calmly through the door, shutting it behind him. A faint rushing sound could now be heard. Lori looked up the steps. They were ancient and crumbling, leading up to the part-wood-part-metal hatch door. The stairs completely filled the dark room. Lori climbed up and began to push on the door. It creaked dangerously and pushed down on Lori almost as much as Lori was pushing up on it, but eventually Lori was able to push it open and step outside.
The winds bit into him, sending dust into his eyes immediately. Lori quickly put on his dark goggles and pulled his scarf up over his mouth. He knew he had forgotten something. Sand stretched on for miles and miles in every direction. The storm prevented one from seeing the sky, however if one did they would only see a great brown blanket covering the world. The radiation detector began to click rhythmically as the wind howled around Lori. Nearby was a metal sign which is said to have once been green and was used to mark the names of roads. Now Lori's family used it to mark their home, the Duggleswift family.
Lori pulled his loose jacket tight across his body from the cold and climbed slowly to the top of a nearby ridge. The walk was slow, having to fight against both the wind and the sand at the same time. Lori was hoping that a storm wouldn't come on this day too, but at this point he didn't even care anymore. He had to do this, if not for them then for him. He had prepared for this for months and he wasn't going to let a simple storm get in his way.
Lori finally made it to the top of the small dune, sitting and waiting. He waited and waited. It must have been a whole half an hour that he waited. And then he continued to wait. Lori began to get worried. Would they not come? Did he miss it? Or was he too early? Lori decided to wait another few minutes. He began to count on his fingers the time. 120 seconds. Then 90. Then 60. Then 10.
Finally, after what had felt like an eternity Lori heard a faint thump thump like a metronome in the distance. One he was very familiar with. He stood up. He could feel the consistent drumming shoot up his leg. Very soon he could hear a faint sort of singing, blending with the tenor howling of the wind around him in it's own deep bass. It seemed to almost creak in the air. Lori got out his flute and pulled down his scarf, preparing himself.
Very soon he could see dark figures appear through the deep dusty fog of the storm. They were tall, easily 12 or more feet tall, although it was difficult to tell because of their slouching. Their limbs were spindly and rough, twisting around like vines. They plodded as if they had been walking for an entire day and would fall over at any moment. However, their most distinctive feature was their eyes. Those deep, green, hollow eyes which seemed to look out on the world through a thick cloud. None of them looked at Lori, simply looking on towards where they were going.
They sang their song altogether, plodding along in a march, fashioning the Earth itself into a drum for them as they shook the whole ground beneath them. Lori began to play along with them, following them along and adding with his own harmonies and flairs. He played with all the might he could, trying to get at least one of them to notice him. The hulking, zombie-like creatures continued to plod along, singing their ancient tune.
When spring unfolds the beechen-leaf and sap is in the bough, When Spring is come to garth and field, and corn is in the blade, When Summer lies upon the world, and in a noon of gold When Summer warms the hanging fruit and burns the berry brown; When Winter comes, the winter wild that hill and wood shall slay; When Winter comes, and singing ends; when darkness falls at last; Together we will take the road that leads into the West,
When light is on the wild-wood stream, and wind is on the brow,
When stride is long, and breath is deep, and keen the mountain air,
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is fair!
When blossom like a shining snow is on the orchard laid,
When sun and shower upon the earth with fragrance fill the air,
I'll linger here, and will not come, because my land is fair!
Beneath the roof of sleeping leaves the dreams of trees unfold,
When woodland halls are green and cool, and wind is in the West,
Come back to me! Come back to me, and say my land is best!
When straw is gold, and ear is white, and harvest comes to town;
When honey spills, and apple swells, though wind be in the West,
I'll linger here beneath the Sun, because my land is best!
When trees shall fall and starless night devour the sunless day;
When wind is in the deadly East, then in the bitter rain
I'll look for thee, and call to thee; I'll come to thee again!
When broken is the barren bough, and light and labour past;
I'll look for thee, and wait for thee, until we meet again:
Together we will take the road beneath the bitter rain!
And far away will find a land where both our hearts may rest.
One single ent turned to Lori. It looked on him with an expressionless face, looking almost curiously at him, before turning back and continuing on with his brethren. The ents marched onward, fading into the storm, their song becoming nothing more than a distant plea, before disappearing entirely. Lori got his belongings together and went back inside. The wind continued to howl.