The birds twittered merrily from their perches in the branches of the
nearly ancient trees in the Old Forest. The young Halfling knew it was
perilous to be where he was, but he lived for such risks and adventure. He
could imagine greater adventures that might interest him more than poking
around in the forest, but this would have to suffice. The thick cover of
the trees blocked the pale yellow sunlight and nurtured a very hushed and
dim environment underneath the leafy ceiling, so quiet that he was able to
hear his own breathing, which seemed deafening in the thick silence. Twigs
cracked underneath his feet as he took lumbering, clumsy steps over the
exposed roots and rocks.
"Well, I don't see what's so dangerous about this old forest," the hobbit mused aloud, bending over in his journey to pick up a rock. He cradled it in the palm of his hand for a moment, examining the outside of it. The scant sunlight nonetheless caught faint glimmers of a sparkling substance hidden in the depths of the rock, time and weather joining as erosion to allow some of the internal beauty to begin to peek through.
"Well, what have we here?" the hobbit murmured to himself, holding the rock aloft as he inspected it. He scratched his fingernail along the glittering part of the rock and it easily scraped off, revealing the dull grey stone underneath.
"Oh, I've another like you at home!" he cried, and dashed the rock against the trunk of the nearest tree. It bounced off with an ominous thunk and skittered along the ground before it came to rest in a pile of leaves. A blanket of silence suddenly enveloped the forest, and the hobbit strained his ears at the sudden lack of sound in any direction.
"Perhaps I'd best be…" His sentence trailed off as he gazed down the trail he had come from, or at least, the trail that used to be there. Thick trees rose to his right and left, and behind him as well, where there hadn't been any before. Or at least he thought there hadn't been. The only way left was forward, and so he resolved to go that way, the only way that was left to him. Picking his satchel from the ground, he hefted it over his shoulder and continued forward, the silence continuing to dominate the forest. But the traveling hobbit blocked it from his mind and stooped over the ground every once in a while in the search of a rare and eye- catching find. He was searching for rocks. Rocks of any shape and size, any color and weight (but of course only ones he could carry home) to stick into his satchel, the container that held a goodly portion of his collection.
An oddly shaped rock caught his eye, and he moved his fingers along the ground to grasp it, bringing it to his eyes for closer inspection. It was a flat rock of no particular shape, but there was a letter, or figure, or something carved into the rock that was meant to be read, the Halfling deduced. Shrugging his shoulders, he stuck the rock into his satchel and straightened up, taking another step forward.
He smacked right into the trunk of a tree.
"Ouch!" He reeled backwards and brought his hand to his nose, rubbing the pain away. Glancing upwards, he regarded the tree skeptically.
"Now I am certain that was not there before," he spoke aloud.
"That is because I moved." An answer came over his shoulder. He spun around to face empty air, and trees, many trees.
"Wh—who…what—who is that?" he stammered, reaching into his satchel for a fist sized rock.
"What do you suppose?" came the reply.
"Well, I," the hobbit said uncertainly, glancing quickly over his left and right shoulder. He turned back to the tree that blocked his path, and gulped. "I would suppose that I am talking to a tree, seeing as there is no one else around. But how did you…"
"Yes?" the tree, or being, or someone, asked.
"How did you…" the hobbit let his words trail off as he circled the trunk of the tree, checking for anyone hiding. "…move?"
"How do you suppose I moved?" was the return.
The hobbit began to feel cross. "Can't you answer anything straight? Well, can't you answer my questions with an answer instead of a question?"
"That would mean I am answering your questions, but I only question your answers, do I not?"
The hobbit began to feel confused. "If you are truly a tree, where is your mouth, and why can I hear you talk if you haven't any mouth?"
"Do you see my mouth?"
"Well, no, but—well, that's why I asked!" the hobbit exclaimed, exasperated.
"You may see my face if you like. Come around this tree to your left, the large oak with moss growing up the trunk. Yes, step closer, and you will see the truth."
The hobbit took a cautious step forward, tightening his grip on the rock in his hand. He reached the tree, and carefully edged to the right, peering around the trunk.
A laughing hobbit face reached his eyes. "Fooled you!" the hobbit announced victoriously, dropping down from her perch in the branches of the tree. The male hobbit stammered, completely flustered.
"Ruby! What a cruel joke to play on me! Haven't you anything better to do than bother me? What are you doing here anyhow?"
"Oh, it was just a joke, don't be difficult, Freddy. I didn't have anything to do at home, so I followed you, of course," she answered simply, her bright brown eyes scanning the satchel he carried. "Are you still collecting rocks? What a dull hobby. I don't see any point in it at all. What are you doing here, I should ask?" The average sized hobbit girl sat on a nearby boulder, her auburn curls bouncing as she took a seat.
"Why don't you call me Fredgert like everyone else?" he asked to cover his embarrassment, sitting opposite her on a soft patch of moss.
"Now who is answering questions with questions?" she laughed happily, laying her hands in her lap. "I don't call you Freddy because I can't stand the name. If I must choose between Fredgert Knotwise and Freddy Knotwise then I'm going to choose the least strange! Now whoever heard of a Fredgert?"
"I have, because I happen to be a Fredgert, and I happen to think, Ruby Knotwise, that there are stranger names in Middle-Earth than mine, and you'd do well not to offend it while you're with me, or I may not enjoy your company any longer," he said pointedly, a look of hurt crossing over his face.
"You have to enjoy my company, you're my cousin," she protested, but at the look on his face, she relented and slipped off the rock to sit next to him, placing an affectionate arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry, truly."
"Really? What are you sorry for, then?" he pressed.
"I'm sorry…for tricking you…" she struggled. "And I'm sorry that…your name is Fredgert!" She broke out into laughter, apparently amused with herself. Freddy shook his head in frustration and pulled his satchel into his lap.
"What have you got there, Freddy? What have you found today?" She asked, seemingly genuinely interested. Freddy felt a faint pang of pride, and lifted the flap of his satchel, displaying his collection from the Old Forest.
"Oh, look at this one!" she breathed, and pulled a small rock from the pile. Half of it had been cracked open, and inside was a multifaceted chunk of sparkling purple stone. She continued to sort through the rocks, Freddy giving a detailed explanation of each mineral she held. Finally, she stuck her hand into the satchel and pulled out the flat, grey, engraved stone.
"What is this one?" she asked Freddy. He looked at it and ran his fingers over the smooth carving.
"I just found it, I don't know, but there is something carved here, and I imagine it's supposed to be read."
"Well, read it."
Freddy's cheeks colored slightly. "I…don't recognize this—this rune."
She glanced suspiciously at him. "Oh, Freddy…" she said as soon as it had dawned on her. "You can't read?"
"I…well—" He blushed furiously in expectation of the laughter that would follow, but none came.
"I don't recognize it either. Hang onto it for a little while, maybe we can find someone to read it."
Ruby rose to her feet, and Freddy followed suit, stepping past the barrier trees back the way they had come. Soon, the sounds of their lively conversation replaced the absent chirping of the birds, occasionally dotted with fits of bubbly laughter.
"It's a mystery, you know. How intriguing," Ruby commented. They had been speaking about the stone.
"It is strange that it should be lying in the forest, just at my feet where I should find it. And what strange lettering. Do you suppose it's a message to someone, or a warning, or a call for help?" Freddy mused, adjusting the weight of the satchel on his shoulder.
"If someone was in trouble, they took a long time to scratch a message into a rock. A tree, perhaps, though I'd be loath to scratch anything into these trees. I hear they bear ill will towards anyone who harms them. They know who has harmed trees before," Ruby said in a low voice, glancing around her at the trees stretching towards the sky. If she stared long enough, she imagined she could see one of the trees move, ever- so-slightly.
"That's just a story for the children, Ruby. Just a story. Trees don't know, they can't feel, and they can't possibly talk," he added wryly.
Ruby and Freddy both laughed as they continued walking. The sounds of their conversation muffled the faint rustle of a moving shadow that hovered near.
"Well, I don't see what's so dangerous about this old forest," the hobbit mused aloud, bending over in his journey to pick up a rock. He cradled it in the palm of his hand for a moment, examining the outside of it. The scant sunlight nonetheless caught faint glimmers of a sparkling substance hidden in the depths of the rock, time and weather joining as erosion to allow some of the internal beauty to begin to peek through.
"Well, what have we here?" the hobbit murmured to himself, holding the rock aloft as he inspected it. He scratched his fingernail along the glittering part of the rock and it easily scraped off, revealing the dull grey stone underneath.
"Oh, I've another like you at home!" he cried, and dashed the rock against the trunk of the nearest tree. It bounced off with an ominous thunk and skittered along the ground before it came to rest in a pile of leaves. A blanket of silence suddenly enveloped the forest, and the hobbit strained his ears at the sudden lack of sound in any direction.
"Perhaps I'd best be…" His sentence trailed off as he gazed down the trail he had come from, or at least, the trail that used to be there. Thick trees rose to his right and left, and behind him as well, where there hadn't been any before. Or at least he thought there hadn't been. The only way left was forward, and so he resolved to go that way, the only way that was left to him. Picking his satchel from the ground, he hefted it over his shoulder and continued forward, the silence continuing to dominate the forest. But the traveling hobbit blocked it from his mind and stooped over the ground every once in a while in the search of a rare and eye- catching find. He was searching for rocks. Rocks of any shape and size, any color and weight (but of course only ones he could carry home) to stick into his satchel, the container that held a goodly portion of his collection.
An oddly shaped rock caught his eye, and he moved his fingers along the ground to grasp it, bringing it to his eyes for closer inspection. It was a flat rock of no particular shape, but there was a letter, or figure, or something carved into the rock that was meant to be read, the Halfling deduced. Shrugging his shoulders, he stuck the rock into his satchel and straightened up, taking another step forward.
He smacked right into the trunk of a tree.
"Ouch!" He reeled backwards and brought his hand to his nose, rubbing the pain away. Glancing upwards, he regarded the tree skeptically.
"Now I am certain that was not there before," he spoke aloud.
"That is because I moved." An answer came over his shoulder. He spun around to face empty air, and trees, many trees.
"Wh—who…what—who is that?" he stammered, reaching into his satchel for a fist sized rock.
"What do you suppose?" came the reply.
"Well, I," the hobbit said uncertainly, glancing quickly over his left and right shoulder. He turned back to the tree that blocked his path, and gulped. "I would suppose that I am talking to a tree, seeing as there is no one else around. But how did you…"
"Yes?" the tree, or being, or someone, asked.
"How did you…" the hobbit let his words trail off as he circled the trunk of the tree, checking for anyone hiding. "…move?"
"How do you suppose I moved?" was the return.
The hobbit began to feel cross. "Can't you answer anything straight? Well, can't you answer my questions with an answer instead of a question?"
"That would mean I am answering your questions, but I only question your answers, do I not?"
The hobbit began to feel confused. "If you are truly a tree, where is your mouth, and why can I hear you talk if you haven't any mouth?"
"Do you see my mouth?"
"Well, no, but—well, that's why I asked!" the hobbit exclaimed, exasperated.
"You may see my face if you like. Come around this tree to your left, the large oak with moss growing up the trunk. Yes, step closer, and you will see the truth."
The hobbit took a cautious step forward, tightening his grip on the rock in his hand. He reached the tree, and carefully edged to the right, peering around the trunk.
A laughing hobbit face reached his eyes. "Fooled you!" the hobbit announced victoriously, dropping down from her perch in the branches of the tree. The male hobbit stammered, completely flustered.
"Ruby! What a cruel joke to play on me! Haven't you anything better to do than bother me? What are you doing here anyhow?"
"Oh, it was just a joke, don't be difficult, Freddy. I didn't have anything to do at home, so I followed you, of course," she answered simply, her bright brown eyes scanning the satchel he carried. "Are you still collecting rocks? What a dull hobby. I don't see any point in it at all. What are you doing here, I should ask?" The average sized hobbit girl sat on a nearby boulder, her auburn curls bouncing as she took a seat.
"Why don't you call me Fredgert like everyone else?" he asked to cover his embarrassment, sitting opposite her on a soft patch of moss.
"Now who is answering questions with questions?" she laughed happily, laying her hands in her lap. "I don't call you Freddy because I can't stand the name. If I must choose between Fredgert Knotwise and Freddy Knotwise then I'm going to choose the least strange! Now whoever heard of a Fredgert?"
"I have, because I happen to be a Fredgert, and I happen to think, Ruby Knotwise, that there are stranger names in Middle-Earth than mine, and you'd do well not to offend it while you're with me, or I may not enjoy your company any longer," he said pointedly, a look of hurt crossing over his face.
"You have to enjoy my company, you're my cousin," she protested, but at the look on his face, she relented and slipped off the rock to sit next to him, placing an affectionate arm around his shoulder. "I'm sorry, truly."
"Really? What are you sorry for, then?" he pressed.
"I'm sorry…for tricking you…" she struggled. "And I'm sorry that…your name is Fredgert!" She broke out into laughter, apparently amused with herself. Freddy shook his head in frustration and pulled his satchel into his lap.
"What have you got there, Freddy? What have you found today?" She asked, seemingly genuinely interested. Freddy felt a faint pang of pride, and lifted the flap of his satchel, displaying his collection from the Old Forest.
"Oh, look at this one!" she breathed, and pulled a small rock from the pile. Half of it had been cracked open, and inside was a multifaceted chunk of sparkling purple stone. She continued to sort through the rocks, Freddy giving a detailed explanation of each mineral she held. Finally, she stuck her hand into the satchel and pulled out the flat, grey, engraved stone.
"What is this one?" she asked Freddy. He looked at it and ran his fingers over the smooth carving.
"I just found it, I don't know, but there is something carved here, and I imagine it's supposed to be read."
"Well, read it."
Freddy's cheeks colored slightly. "I…don't recognize this—this rune."
She glanced suspiciously at him. "Oh, Freddy…" she said as soon as it had dawned on her. "You can't read?"
"I…well—" He blushed furiously in expectation of the laughter that would follow, but none came.
"I don't recognize it either. Hang onto it for a little while, maybe we can find someone to read it."
Ruby rose to her feet, and Freddy followed suit, stepping past the barrier trees back the way they had come. Soon, the sounds of their lively conversation replaced the absent chirping of the birds, occasionally dotted with fits of bubbly laughter.
"It's a mystery, you know. How intriguing," Ruby commented. They had been speaking about the stone.
"It is strange that it should be lying in the forest, just at my feet where I should find it. And what strange lettering. Do you suppose it's a message to someone, or a warning, or a call for help?" Freddy mused, adjusting the weight of the satchel on his shoulder.
"If someone was in trouble, they took a long time to scratch a message into a rock. A tree, perhaps, though I'd be loath to scratch anything into these trees. I hear they bear ill will towards anyone who harms them. They know who has harmed trees before," Ruby said in a low voice, glancing around her at the trees stretching towards the sky. If she stared long enough, she imagined she could see one of the trees move, ever- so-slightly.
"That's just a story for the children, Ruby. Just a story. Trees don't know, they can't feel, and they can't possibly talk," he added wryly.
Ruby and Freddy both laughed as they continued walking. The sounds of their conversation muffled the faint rustle of a moving shadow that hovered near.