Oh so sorry, so sorry, so sorry for this late update but things were literally piling up against me for this. Every day seemed to bring up something new to get in the way. Work for a job, dogsitting someone else's dog, driving test, sister having problems with her own car, asked to do many, many things by my parents. Everything just… ugh, it was so frustrating. And to cap it all off, this chapter is mostly another filler before things really get to the point, but still I did like writing it. It introduces two key characters from the books and movies to the saga. I hope you enjoy it and unless I have horrible bad luck (again), I will attempt to pick up the pace of my writing in future.
To Be a King
Chapter 12:- Forest Guardians
In Deckerdramon's experience a river was a good place to be if you wanted to find other signs of life. All forms of life, even Digimon, required water to survive and even in the Digital World a large number of villages and towns were built around a water source. Therefore, he assumed that the same thing would apply to wherever he was right now, especially since the landscape around him other than the river he was currently on seemed to be rather dry and a bit sparse, despite the rolling plains of grassland on every side.
There was also the fact that a river was an easy way for him to travel as rivers were usually level for the vast majority of their length. Those two reasons were why he was currently in Float Mode and travelling up the course of the river which he had crash-landed next to, pushing himself against the current with his modified tank tracks.
It required very little effort on his part to do this. After all, he was a very large and powerful creature. Pushing himself up a current was something that he could do with little effort against all but the strongest of pulls, like the whirlpool which had sprung out of nowhere in the Gold Land many years ago when facing Olegmon.
Still, Deckerdramon had been travelling up the same river for many hours now and he was beginning to wonder if he should have tried his luck further inland.
During the course of the river he had indeed encountered signs of life – even signs of civilisation. He had passed through what appeared to be some kind of village, similar in design to some of the Digimon villages he had encountered as part of Xros Heart and Blue Flare, except cruder and more makeshift. Many of the dwellings had been made of things like straw and thatch rather than solid wood, stone or other stronger and more durable materials. Even hard baked mud would have made a tougher abode than what he had seen, though he had to say that anybody living there would have been hard pressed to find anything like that in a landscape such as this and they would have had to make do with what they had.
But what caught Deckerdramon's attention more was not the material the buildings where made out of, but rather their condition – they were all completely ruined. Some had been partially pulled down and flattened as if trampled by dozens of stamping feet. Others had been set on fire with varying results. Some of them were still burning slowly. Some of them were still standing albeit barely. Others were only recognisable as having once been a building due to the charred lump of ash on the ground where they had once stood.
Deckerdramon had seen three of these villages situated alongside the river and in each one the story was the same. There could be no question that the village had been attacked by something. Something violent, aggressive and very thorough. In each village Deckerdramon had passed there had been no signs of life remaining, either of the attackers or of the previous occupants, but the giant mechanoid alligator had seen plenty of signs of death.
Deckerdramon was now one-hundred percent sure that he was not in the Digital World anymore for two reasons. Firstly, attacks such as this would not have gone unnoticed by the members of Xros Heart. King Shoutmon had been adamant that they do whatever it took to ensure they responded to threats the moment they arose, so he had done things like place sensors in vulnerable looking villages that would go off in there was an attack, had some subjects posted in most villages so they could send messengers quickly, and an extensive network of scouts in the form of flying Digimon that answered only to him and their leader, MailBirdramon. They would definitely have heard of attacks on three villages by now if this were their domain.
And the other clue was the fact that each village had had corpses littered in them. Not only did Digimon not leave corpses behind when they died – they dissipated into data – these corpses were most definitely of humans.
Even battle-hardened Deckerdramon had been repulsed by what he had witnessed at each village. Each death had obviously been extremely violent and probably very painful. The bodies had had limbs twisted at horrible angles or even completely missing, gaping wounds from swords or axes in obvious places, most often on their back, and many of them had arrows embedded in their dead bodies. And some of them… were just piles of bones. As if whatever had attacked the village had decided to eat some of its victims as well.
Deckerdramon was both saddened and revolted by what he witnessed but he knew there was nothing he could do here. He had arrived too late to help the unfortunate innocents and he did not have the time nor the ability to dig them graves. So he merely passed on sadly, but he was becoming more and more wary. It was obvious that wherever he had ended up, there was definitely some kind of evil abroad. And you could never be too careful, even when you were a giant missile-toting crocodilian.
Deckerdramon was not sure how much time passed as he continued northwards up the river, but he kept going well through the night and into the next morning. He wondered how many of his Digimon friends were in the same situation as him, wandering in the wild with no idea where they were or where they were going. Some of the smaller and younger ones might be breaking down with fear at this point.
He needed to press on quickly.
And so he did. And, eventually, he came to the forest.
When he spotted it in the distance, he chuckled to himself. "Excellent," he muttered. "A forest will be a much better place to live than these plains for anybody with any sense. Perhaps I will find more luck beneath the trees." So, he had pressed on with renewed purpose, noting that the river course would lead him straight towards said trees.
As he got closer though he became less sure of his own statement.
Eventually he pulled to a stop completely, his tracks slowing their progress until Deckerdramon and the current pushed against each other with equal force, causing him to sit still in the river. The forest was quite unlike any other that he had ever seen, even in the Digital World. Most forest could be dark of course since the trees blotted out the light with their canopies, but the darkness he could see between those trees was darkness of a whole different level. It was not just there – it was almost foreboding, as if it were alive. The shadows seemed to curdle and lengthen and shorten as if they had wills of their own.
And then there was the trees themselves. Deckerdramon was used to tall living monoliths but these trees were different. Very different. They were rather short in comparison to what he had encountered before, perhaps reaching two stories high at most, and none of them seemed to be straight. Each trunk was bent and twisted around as if the tree had no idea which direction it was meant to be growing in and their roots and branches seemed to stretch out as much as possible in any and every direction, making the trees look less like trees and more like lumps of earth and firewood that had been bent and contorted into weird shapes.
Even Deckerdramon, who had faced countless foes in battle and had enough firepower to obliterate a small village in the space of five seconds, hesitated at the sight of this forest, and wondered if perhaps heading into those trees would be a good move after all.
Especially since he was sure he was sure that some of those trees had shifted position a little bit since he had begun staring at them.
Nevertheless, he quickly quashed the feeling of doubt within him. He had had no luck whatsoever on the open plains so the forest would now be his best bet. "Well," he muttered to himself. "Here goes nothing." And he motored forwards once more, following the course of the river closer and closer to the trees. They remained silent and still as Deckerdramon approached, but he kept his senses tuned just in case. There was something about this forest that was just not… normal.
Eventually he was under the shadows and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. The river he was travelling up was now much thinner and Deckerdramon wondered if he was reaching its end, but he pressed on regardless, with trees bunched and packed all around him. There was no breeze now. Next to no sunlight, no birdsong… in fact no sound at all but for the faint rippling of the river and some sort of… slow groaning sound coming from… all around him.
What have I gotten myself into now? Deckerdramon thought as he pushed himself on.
"WOOOOHOOOOO! YEHEHEHES! THIS TAKES ME BACK!"
Gandalf chuckled at the actions of his fellow passenger. For a noble King of Digimon, Shoutmon wasn't particularly behaving with decorum and grace at the moment. The two of them had been riding through the night, but come the dawn and Gandalf had urged the horse, Shadowfax, to pick up his speed even further and now they were haring across the Plains of Rohan at an incredible speed, and Shadowfax didn't look the least bit tired.
And Shoutmon was currently standing precariously at the base of Shadowfax's neck, supporting himself with a hand on the back of the horse's head, with the other fist raised into the air as he whooped and hollered, clearly enjoying the wild ride across the plains and grinning almost literally from ear to ear.
Shoutmon was, of course, no stranger to riding on larger creatures. Ballistamon had given him lifts for many years and there were numerous times when he had ridden Dorulumon into battle or other dangerous situations during the war and many times afterwards. But mostly since he has assumed the role of King the situation had called for seriousness on his part – he had not had the opportunity recently to just enjoy himself as they pelted along. And though this situation was still a serious one, given he had been separated from his friends and all, Shadowfax' sheer speed had eventually gotten the better of the King and he was really letting rip now.
Shoutmon looked back at the White Wizard and shouted over the rushing wind that Shadowfax was practically producing from his sheer speed. "Doesn't your horse need a rest yet? We've been running for about half a day now haven't we?"
"Shadowfax is more than capable of running for a week without tiring," Gandalf replied, with a hint of pride in his voice. "He is part of a special breed of horses called the Mearas and even among Mearas Shadowfax is the fittest and strongest. He was given the title, the Lord of all Horses by the people who bred him in Rohan."
Shadowfax whinnied, as if he had understood that remark and was thanking them for the praise and, as if to prove what Gandalf had just said he promptly galloped up the side of a steep, rocky incline and bounded right off its summit, sailing out through thin air as if jumping over a giant hurdle and landing with a spray of dirt kicked up from under his hooves but still running almost full pelt. He seemed to take everything in his stride.
"This is awesome!" Shoutmon grinned, his yellow scarves streaming in the slipstream from the horse's run and almost hitting Gandalf in the face. "And you're a pretty good rider. For an old man."
Gandalf actually laughed. "Shadowfax would not allow me to fall unless I wanted to. But I have had quite a bit of experience with horses as I have walked this world for three-thousand lives of Men."
"That long, huh?" Shoutmon blinked. "Yeesh. And I thought Jijimon was old. Still, at least you don't seem to be going senile like he is. Please, don't try opening a door by farting at it."
Gandalf blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Long story," Shoutmon grinned. "Suffice to say we had to get past this large door in a place called the Sand Zone to find a treasure that would help us win the war against the Bagra Army and that was Jijimon's solution to getting past it. He called it a refreshing wind, though none of us saw it like that of course."
"You are a strange one, Shoutmon," Gandalf mused. "As are most of your party by the sound of things. When my own group arrived at the West Gate of Moria, I too had to figure out a way to get past it to continue our journey to Mordor. Farting at it was not one of the things that came to my mind."
"I highly doubt it would have worked," Shoutmon chuckled. "And yeah, I guess you could say we're a strange bunch. Jijimon will probably be somewhere in this world too if what you told me before is right. Perhaps you'll meet him one day. In fact I hope you do, because that would hopefully mean I reunite with him as well as all the others."
"Indeed," Gandalf agreed. "I would be most interested in meeting your companions. I know very little of your world or your friends and to be quite frank I believe you will be an interesting change of pace for me. I have lived for so long that there is little in this world I have not yet encountered or experienced. You Digimon are something new, and to an old man such as myself that is most welcome."
"Especially since we can help you take out that Dark Lord guy, right?"
"Sauron, yes," Gandalf nodded. "You say that you are powerful creatures and while power is not the only thing that will be required against Sauron, it will be most welcome nonetheless."
"Yeah, we are strong," Shoutmon nodded. "Some of us have enough strength to level a small town in half a minute, if that. But that's not all we have. Wisemon is the single smartest guy that I've ever met. Beelzemon can be as silent as a ghost when he wants to be. Sparrowmon can travel faster than the speed of sound and Cutemon can heal wounds that would cause slow and painful deaths with ease."
"Indeed?" Gandalf felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Well then, perhaps we have more hope than I initially realised with you on our side. Galadriel was right. However, even that will not be enough to win… we must set a trap for Sauron. Fortunately, I do have a plan of sorts, but there are many gaps that have yet to be filled. And hopefully one of those gaps will be closed when we reach the end of our current journey."
"Oh really," Shoutmon frowned. "Who is this friend of yours that we're going to meet anyway? You never actually said wh-"
A sudden shadow fell across them and Shoutmon's honed instincts caused an immediate reactions. His microphone was summoned from thin air and his head snapped upwards as his body tensed, taking in the large silhouette that was suddenly above them. He stared at it. For a second he thought it could be MailBirdramon, but it wasn't. It had feathers. But it was, unfortunately, not Beelzemon either because it still had the body of a bird. A very large bird – easily just as big as MailBirdramon himself.
Gandalf reached forwards and patted Shadowfax's neck and the horse drew to a standstill. He then placed a hand on Shoutmon's arm and said, "Stay your staff, Shoutmon. This is a friend."
"It's not a staff. It's a microphone," Shoutmon replied without thinking, but he still remained slightly tense as the bird settled on a large rocky projection nearby. Its body was covered in brown feathers that interlocked smoothly as it folded its wings to its sides. Its feet were adorned with enormous talons that could each rip Shoutmon's head off if they got the opportunity and the viciously hooked beak on the bird's face looked just as formidable. The giant bird fixed Shoutmon with a fierce but calculating stare with a single, large yellow eye, which seemed to be trying to pierce its way into Shoutmon's soul.
Shoutmon stared back without flinching and the bird seemed to appreciate this for some reason, because it nodded at him. It then turned to Gandalf and spoke in a voice that was surprisingly deep – Shoutmon had been expecting a screech for some reason. "I take it that this is the new ally that you mentioned, Gandalf," it said.
"Indeed, he is," Gandalf nodded. "Meet Shoutmon, the Digimon King, and our latest friend in the fight against Sauron."
"King, eh?" the bird turned to give Shoutmon the once-over again. "He does not look like much but I can tell that he has guts and bravery aplenty."
"I have a lot more than that, I can assure you." Shoutmon glared. "Care to test my mettle? I've fought enemies bigger than you."
The bird chuckled wryly. "Spirit too," he said. "I did not wish to offend you, good King. I have no doubt that you are stronger than you look. I have seen it many times before. And it is always nice to meet a fellow monarch."
"Fellow monarch?" Shoutmon blinked. "You're a King too?"
"I prefer the term Lord," the bird replied. "But to all intents and purposes, yes. I am. I am Gwaihir the Windlord, the Lord of the Eagles and Ruler of the Skies."
"Gwaihir is an old companion of mine," Gandalf explained. "We have faced many trials together and he has helped me numerous times in the past. In fact, very recently, Gwaihir rescued me from where I was imprisoned on the tower of Orthanc by the former White Wizard, Saruman. And he bore me again a second time from the peak of a mountain after my fight with the Balrog of Morgoth to Lothlórien, which was where I heard about your imminent arrival to our world."
"And let's not forget the time I rescued you and your companions when you were stuck in trees with wargs prowling around the trunks." If eagles could smirk, Gwaihir would probably be doing it, though he seemed to be managing to mostly do it anyway despite his stiff beak.
Gandalf fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Why must you always bring that particular event up? Regardless, I am afraid time is short Gwaihir. Tell me, did you find them?"
"Of course," Gwaihir nodded. "I spied them from miles away, as well as a great many other things. The lands have changed greatly since last I flew over this region, Gandalf. The forces of Saruman are already beginning their assault on the northern and western territories."
"So I have heard," Gandalf sighed thinly. "But what of the others? What is their position?"
"What others?" Shoutmon interjected. "What are we talking about?"
"The rest of the Fellowship," Gandalf related. "I asked Gwaihir to scout out their position for me. There is much that needs to be done and I must meet with them as soon as we finish our current business."
"Ah. Okay," Shoutmon nodded. "So, what's the word, Mister Bird?"
Gwaihir stared at Shoutmon for several moments. "I do not know how to respond to that," he said. "What is the word?"
"No, I mean, what's the news?" Shoutmon fought down the urge to chuckle.
"Oh. Well, it appears that your prediction was right, Gandalf. When I spotted them they were heading northwest, in a similar direction to you yourself. They are, I estimate, about a day and a half behind you at the pace they are keeping, which is a surprisingly fast one considering they were on foot. They spotted me as I flew overhead but I did not descend to speak with them."
"Who was in the party?" Gandalf asked.
"Both of the Men, the Elf and the Dwarf," Gwaihir responded instantly. "I did not see any Halflings amongst their group but I am afraid that I did see that they were pursuing what appeared to be a group of Saruman's Uruk-Hai, and I was able to pick out two small shapes in their ranks, the size of children, which could have well been two of the Halflings. As to the other two, I could not say. I did not see them."
Gandalf's expression was unreadable, as if he were trying to feel many different things at once and his face did not know which one to express. "Then we can only hope that Galadriel was right and that Frodo decided to continue the journey alone. If the Uruks have captured him then I fear all might be lost already."
"That does not sound encouraging," Shoutmon said wryly.
"I am afraid it was not meant to," Gandalf muttered. "Still, that does not explain where the last remaining Hobbit is. And I shall have to find a way to deal with the Uruks myself if the rest of the Fellowship cannot catch them in time. If they are heading for Isengard then they will have to be waylaid before they get there."
"I could attempt a rescue myself," Gwaihir offered.
"No, Windlord," Gandalf replied. "Alas, I fear that this requires a little more delicacy than you might be able to provide. You are a powerful creature, but your attack could lead to the death of the unfortunate Hobbits if something went wrong. No, I shall have to think of something myself. And beside that, I believe you have been away from your own people for too long. You must return to the Misty Mountains once more, my friend."
"You do not wish for my help?" Gwaihir cocked his head.
"On the contrary, I fear that with the speed the war is progressing, the Eagles of the North will soon be needed far more than they currently are, and when the time comes, you shall have to lead them Mighty Gwaihir. Leave the Hobbits to me. For now, I would bid you return home and lead the Eagles as you see fit. I hope that we meet again."
"As do I, Gandalf," Gwaihir nodded. He glanced back to Shoutmon and said. "Watch yourself, little one. You might be powerful, but so are many of this world inhabitants. I would hate to hear you had died before I got to see what you are capable of first-talon."
"Little one?" Shoutmon sputtered indignantly, but before he could say anything else, Gwaihir was already in flight, throwing himself off the rocks and swooping so lower over their heads that his talons almost clipped Gandalf's head before he rose upwards and high into the midday sky.
As he receded in the distance, Shoutmon said, "Well I think I understood most of that conversation. Sounds like things are getting pretty serious."
"Indeed," Gandalf nodded. "We must press on. Fly Shadowfax. Onward!"
Shadowfax complied instantly with a neigh of determination and sprang forth once more, putting on even greater speed than before as he ran. Nevertheless, before he could get too far, the shadow of Gwaihir fell over them again as the eagle descended once more to fly over their heads.
"Oh, and I believe I should also mention," he chuckled. "That your Fellowship members had some additional company Gandalf. Some additional company that might be familiar to our red Lizard King. Farewell."
"Wait, what?" Shoutmon blinked. "Familiar?" But Gwaihir was already gone once again, soaring off into the distance. "Hoi! Get back here! What do you mean? Do you mean other Digimon? My friends?"
"I would not bother shouting," Gandalf replied. "He has said all he is going to. Still, if there are more Digimon travelling with my own companions then that could be most helpful."
"Yeah," Shoutmon agreed. "And I could meet up with some of the others sooner. How long until we reach this friend of yours?"
"It will be about an hour before we reach his domain," Gandalf replied. "After that, we shall have to find him."
"This is the domain of your friend?" Shoutmon asked, rather alarmed. Shadowfax had finally pulled to a halt next to what appeared to be a forest, but a forest with the most gnarly, ugly, bent, contorted and foreboding trees that Shoutmon had ever seen. It reminded him eerily of what Bagramon's Great Demon Palace would have looked like if there had been a forest in it.
"Yes, this is our destination," Gandalf replied as he dismounted smoothly. "This is the forest of Fangorn, one of the Middle Earth's oldest remaining woods."
"And we have to go in there?" Shoutmon asked. "Looks very, very… sinister to me. Quite creepy."
"Be careful what you say," Gandalf chuckled as the Digimon King hopped off the back of the horse and landed easily. "The Forest might not appreciate such descriptions."
Shoutmon's brow raised up. "You're kidding right?"
"Kidding?" Gandalf frowned in bemusement.
"Er… joking," Shoutmon supplied.
"Oh, I assure you I am not joking, Master Shoutmon," the wizard replied. "I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself, but I would advise you to stick close to me all the same. I have been in this forest many times – the trees know me. You, on the other hand, are a stranger and they are not overfond of strangers these days. They have not been for many long years now."
"Oh lovely," Shoutmon muttered. "Great. Well, let's not keep the creepy forest waiting."
Gandalf nodded and patted Shadowfax's neck, muttering something to the horse. The Mearas turned and cantered away. "Shadowfax will stay out here. Horses do not generally agree with Fangorn Forest. And one last thing, Shoutmon. No fire. Whatever happens, do not use that fire technique I saw you use before. The trees will get very angry indeed if they think you might try and burn them. And so will my friend for that matter."
Gandalf set off at a brisk stride towards the treeline. Shoutmon stared after him for a moment, unsure how to respond to this. They had many plant-like Digimon where he came from but the forests themselves had always been… well… forests. Ordinary forests. But Gandalf was talking as if this one was completely and utterly sentient.
After a moment, he shrugged to himself and said, "Well, if magic exists… magic forests might not be too much of a stretch. Maybe." And he quickly hurried after the wizard.
Shoutmon lost track of time almost immediately as they strayed underneath the trees. After a mere couple of minutes they had already lost sight of the edge of the trees and after that they were in almost complete darkness. No Sun, no Moon, no Stars and only the faintest drops of light reaching the floor in certain places. Soon Shoutmon was not sure if they had been there for an hour, two, or just five minutes. It was a very disorientating effect.
The more they went on, the deeper Shoutmon's unease became. He kept a close eye on the trees. Usually when he did this he wanted to make sure that there were no enemies behind them. But when the enemies might be the trees themselves… that was something new.
Just think of them all as dormant Cherrymon, he thought to himself. And this actually seemed to work, to a degree. It put him in a mindset he was more familiar with.
Although the slow groaning and creaking noises were coming from all around him were still off-putting. Whenever he turned around he was pretty sure that he caught a glimpse of movement in the corner of his eye as if the trees had been shifting about and suddenly thought, Oh, he's looking. Freeze.
The deeper into the woods they traversed the more insistent the groaning noises became and there was the occasional sound like splintering wood, as if the tree roots were shifting underneath the soil. Gandalf, who didn't seem the least bit concerned by any of this, looked back to see Shoutmon peering out into the trees suspiciously, searching for any sign of activity.
"This place is…" Shoutmon muttered. "Dark. And not just the 'without-light' kind of dark."
"Fangorn Forest is the epicentre of a great power," Gandalf told him. "It is one of the places of Middle Earth where the spirits of the earth still reside strongly, and there are other kinds of ancient magics embedded in its structure. It is very old, but with age comes strength. And the trees have seen much since they first began to grow… and they have come to hate much of what they have seen."
"You keep talking as if they have feelings," Shoutmon muttered. And before he could say anything else, there was a loud groan that sounded more like a deep rumble of resentment and anger coming from close by. Shoutmon spun around, but all he could see was a tree looming over the top of him. He blinked. He could have sworn that tree had been leaning the other way a few moments ago.
"That is because they do," Gandalf warned. "It would be wise to remember that, Shoutmon. Many forests across Middle Earth are more alive than they might at first glance seem. Most have trees that are just trees. This forest is not one of them. These trees… are different. They have hearts, thoughts and minds just as much as any Man, Elf, Dwarf… or indeed, Digimon."
Shoutmon said nothing for a moment. "Well, if that is true… why are they so angry? What reason would trees have to be angry?"
"Trees are ancient creatures. They are slow, they are patient, and they remember," Gandalf said gravely. "They remember everything. And since they can communicate with each other they remember much which they have not seen. They remember every time some Man, every Dwarf, every Orc, every being has taken an axe to one of their comrades. They remember every fire that has been started on their wood. They remember everything they have lost and has been taken from them, every one of their number which has been destroyed. And so they have come to hate much of the outside world. Of the many races of Middle Earth, few understand the minds of the trees anymore. The Elves are one who do. And the other… the other has grown distant."
Shoutmon was momentarily stunned. He had heard many strange things from the Digital World, but the enormity of what Gandalf was saying was staggering. If what he said was true, then no wonder the trees did not like strangers. He stepped back away from the trunk of the tree and said, "Uh… no hard feelings… friend. I didn't meant to offend you. Oh, and please don't squish me. I only arrived yesterday. I have nothing to do with any of all that."
There was a slight rumbling noise coming from all around them and Shoutmon was pretty sure that a couple of the other trees around him shifted every so slightly.
"Er… was that a good thing?" Shoutmon asked the Wizard.
"Perhaps," Gandalf said. "But the trees are still watching. They are more alert than I remember. The forest must be waking up."
"And… that's bad? Or good?"
"Good," Gandalf confirmed. "Very good."
"Uh… If you say so," Shoutmon muttered. "So, where's this friend of yours?"
"Not far," Gandalf replied. "He is close now."
And so he was. Gandalf only led Shoutmon on for a further five minutes, though Shoutmon still couldn't tell exactly how long it was. But eventually the wizard drew to a stop in front of a tree that seemed to be shorter than most of the others. Its head did not break the canopy of the others and it seemed to be covered in a lot of moss and lichen with a few thin leafy branches protruding out the top and back.
"Here we are," Gandalf said.
"He lives in this tree?" Shoutmon asked.
Gandalf chuckled. "You have much to learn about our world, Shoutmon. This is no tree."
"What?" Shoutmon blinked. "No, I am pretty sure that's a tree. Look, it's got bark and leaves and everything."
Gandalf did not reply. Instead, he raised his staff and banged the base twice against a small boulder nearby. The sound it made seemed to be absorbed by the closeness of the forest, disappearing into the thick stillness like everything else, but for a moment it was crisp and clear.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then when Shoutmon looked up at the tree again, he yelped and stumbled backwards, landing in an undignified heap on his backside, because he could now see two large amber eyes staring down at him. Eyes which were part of the tree.
The tree moved slightly and Shoutmon stared as he picked out more details. The eyes were situated over a woody knob that was shaped like a human nose, and the long trail of moss that extended down from its resembled a long beard. It was a face. A face on the tree. And, as it moved further, Shoutmon saw it trunk split into two enormous legs and two extremely long arms with long wooden fingers rose up from where they had been hanging limply. The tree was no longer at tree. It had never been a tree at all.
A gap in the mossy beard opened to reveal a mouth in the appropriate place on the wooden face and the creature spoke. It was a low, rumbling voice that seemed to flow in a slow but steady fashion as if the being had all the time in the world, but seemed to hold behind it the deep age and wisdom of the earth itself. It also sounded as if the creature did not actually need to breathe as it spoke.
"Young master Gandalf," it said. It sounded male, but Shoutmon didn't really know if a walking tree could have a gender. "You have not visited my forest for many years. Much appears to have changed in you since last I set eyes on you."
"There have indeed been many things, Fangorn my old friend," Gandalf replied. "The world outside of your forest is in turmoil. The forces of evil are rising once again and I have been selected to replace Saruman as the head of my order."
"Grey turns to White," the tree observed. "It seems Greyhame is no longer a suitable title for you."
"Indeed not."
"Perhaps this is fitting," the tree murmured. "Saruman's mind has changed much over recent years. I have heard that he now consorts with evil and is attempting to court war and death."
"That much is true, I'm afraid," Gandalf sighed. "It is a tragedy to see one so great as he fall so far, but sadly that is indeed what has come to pass."
"Saruman would once come and speak with me on regular occasions," the tree intoned. "But it seems his love for things that grow has diminished. Replaced instead by his desire for cold metal and his vile machines. I have seen columns of smoke rising from his fortress in recent weeks."
"And with smoke there is fire," agreed Gandalf.
The tree-man rumbled with distaste and suppressed anger and there was a groan of disapproval that seemed to run through every single tree within earshot. Shoutmon had recovered from his shock by this point. After all, he had seen Woodmon and Cherrymon and other plant Digimon before on many occasions so the idea of a walking, talking tree was not that much of a stretch of the imagination – it was just the initial surprise which had gotten to him. Now though, he looked around warily. As a creature with power over fire himself, he felt a little uncomfortable at the sounds of anger emanating all around him at the mere mention of it.
"Er… could somebody tell me what the heck is going on here?" he demanded.
"My apologies, my friend," Gandalf said. "Allow me to introduce you to Fangorn, the forest's namesake and one of the three oldest of his kind left in existence. He is an Ent, a caretaker of the trees and the forest and he has been on Middle Earth longer even than I. He also sometimes goes by the name of Treebeard."
"An appropriate name," Shoutmon murmured, staring at the long, mossy beard descending down from the Ent's face.
Treebeard stared down at Shoutmon with calculating eyes. They were neither warm nor cold… they were mostly just… blank. It was clear he did not know what to think of Shoutmon. Shoutmon looked up into the eyes of this Ent creature and was rather startled when he saw the sheer depths they seemed to go to. They were the colour of tree sap, but they appeared like wells… wells that had seen so much and yet so little at the same time. They reminded him a little of Beelzemon – steady, calm and scrutinising. And slow. Very slow indeed.
"Hrum, hoom," Treebeard murmured. "How strange. Never before have I lain eyes on a creature such as this? You are fortunate that you are Gandalf, for were you not I might have mistaken you for another of Saruman's vile abominations. I have seen some of what he has made from afar, yet you are not like them, I realise. I sense temperament within you but I cannot think of what you are. You do not belong in any of the old lists."
"Lists?" Shoutmon frowned. "What lists?"
"Hasty for knowledge, I see you are," Treebeard rumbled. "I refer to the ancient lists of the creatures of the world. Long lists they were, but were supposed to encompass every living creature brought to live in the world by the Valar, excluding the dark creations of Morgoth, of course. 'Eldest of all, the Elf-children; Dwarf the delver, dark are his houses; Ent the earthborn, old as mountains; Man the mortal, master of horses.' Hoom, there were many, many more besides but place you, I cannot."
"Not surprising really," Shoutmon chuckled. "I'm not exactly from around here."
"Shoutmon is what we might refer to as a Digimon, Treebeard," Gandalf replied. "As his kind only came into our existence yesterday there would be no place for him in the list. He and his kind were sent here by Eru Ilúvatar himself to help aid in the coming war."
"Hm. I did think I felt a change in the world but last sun," Treebeard muttered. "An alteration in the earth that might have consequence for all."
"That was probably us," conceded Shoutmon. "You haven't seen anything else new have you? Odds are it was probably a Digimon if you didn't recognise it."
"Nothing have I seen except for the strange new breed of orc that now run across the open spaces," Treebeard shook his head. "A most foul abomination they are, able to endure Sun and running with the gait of Men."
"So you haven't seen anything either," Shoutmon grumbled. "Brilliant."
"No, don't be hasty," Treebeard chided him as if he were a young child. "Things will come to those who wait."
"Including death," Gandalf replied. "While I admire your steady nature, Treebeard, I fear that if ever there were a time for haste it would be now. War is coming, and when it arrives, it will affect all, including you, your brethren and your trees."
Treebeard's head slowly turned round to look back at Gandalf. "For one so old, Gandalf, you are remarkably quick. Haste leads to rashness and rashness can lead to poor judgement and bad decisions. Patience can bring many rewards to those who have it. This Digimon friend of yours may be one example of that."
"Perhaps," Gandalf agreed. "But unfortunately Sauron will not see it that way. The sooner he can conquer this world, the better in his view, and the people must be ready for him when he arrives, or they shall be caught flat-footed, including your own. Sauron will destroy everything in his path, including the forest which you hold so dear. Fangorn is many times smaller now than it once was. Losing its great dynasty would indeed be a tragedy."
"Hm, this war is the war of Men," Treebeard grumbled. "It is with them that the darkness has its quarrel, not with us. We have changed little over the years, Gandalf, but we have seen the world change around us. We witnessed the rise of Sauron before and we were left well alone. You assume this time will be different?"
"Indeed I do," Gandalf nodded. "Sauron's rise was thwarted before for the Last Alliance was given many years to prepare for their assault. Sauron will be quicker this time. He will drive his orcs onwards from the south-east and take all in his path."
"Got that right," Shoutmon agreed. "If Sauron's anything like Bagramon, he'll want to mould everything in this world into something he likes. Those he doesn't kill will suffer. They always do."
"Hroom," Treebeard turned back to Shoutmon before. "You have faced great evil before then." He surmised. "War may affect everyone but it affects them in different ways. Fighting for the world is not my duty. We Ents were meant to guard the forests and that is what we shall do until the forests fade away. Perhaps if Sauron makes a move against us then act we will, but we do not have any business with him as of yet."
"Well, make it your business then!" Shoutmon suddenly cried. "You would turn your back on those that needed help?"
"The world has turned its back on us," Treebeard responded sagely. "Men are little different from those that they fight. They have spread across the four corners of this world, imposing themselves on everything before them. They care not for what they despoil, including the forests, and yet they claim they are different from orcs. Men are interested in little but themselves. The forests have receded under their hand and the time of the Elves and the Ents and the trees draws ever closer to an end."
"Well maybe," Shoutmon grunted. "But still, are you telling me that if a human, a Man, whatever, was fighting for his life against a bunch of bad guys right under your nose, you would merely let the guy be killed?"
Treebeard looked affronted. "Many Men do have good hearts, but it is their ignorance that is the greatest bane on the world."
"That does not answer my question," Shoutmon glowered.
"You are hastier than I assumed, I see," Treebeard replied. "Hrum, but the answer is of course, I would help him. Orcs have no place in this world. They were brought into it by foul sorcery and evil, as were the trolls. The trolls especially are an affront to everything Entish. I would not stand by as they ravaged our land."
"Well then," Shoutmon pointed up at him. "If you wouldn't leave someone to die when they're in front of you, why should you leave many others to die by not going out to help them, huh? You'd wait until they came to get you before you acted? That's a surefire way to maximise your chances of losing. When we're split apart, I can tell you that we are far, far weaker than we could ever be when united."
Treebeard continued to regard Shoutmon for what felt like a full ten minutes, but was in reality just one, before he said anything else. When he did say it, he said, "Root and twig, you are something very different indeed. You speak with such conviction for your stature."
"Damn straight," Shoutmon scoffed. "I know better than most how combining strength builds it."
"And he is right," Gandalf nodded, sending Shoutmon a smile of gratitude. "I will not make any demands of you, Fangorn. You are the master of this realm after all and we are in your land. However, I would request that you at least consider our words. Sauron understands the strength of combining forces just as well, and even now he calls as many evil creatures and races as he can to his cause. It is time, my old friend."
"Time is as steady as everything else for an Ent," Treebeard responded. "But what time would you say it is."
"I would request that you would convene the Entmoot once again," Gandalf replied. "Only you can decide whether you will help in the war which is consuming the world and I trust in your judgement, Treebeard. I feel that the Ents have more to give to the world than they currently are. You must decide, and soon, whether to fight for us. Saruman the White is in league with the enemy now and he is your neighbour. The danger may be closer than you would like to think."
Treebeard rumbled to himself. "Not since the Second Age have the Ents gathered, Gandalf. We do not have the strength that we once had."
"Perhaps," the Wizard said again. "But I believe you have more than you think you do."
Treebeard looked like he was about to say something else after a brief moment's pause. But something else interrupted him before he could manage it. One of the nearby trees visible started to move, to shake slightly even though there was absolutely no wind to cause it to do so. A groaning that was so low it was almost guttural started up around them as other trees began to shift. Treebeard looked up and them, eyes narrowing slightly as he listened to the noise.
"Er… what's going on?" Shoutmon asked, edging away from the nearest tree.
"The trees are speaking to one another," Gandalf said, with a frown. "They are agitated."
"That groaning noise is tree-talk?" Shoutmon asked.
"Indeed," the Wizard nodded. "Few are able to understand what trees are capable of saying but they are more than capable of understanding one another. Treebeard, what news?"
"Something comes," Treebeard replied, with a slight frown. "Something unusual. The trees are… growing restless. They are awaking faster than I had anticipated and now they are saying that something is approaching. Something which has unsettled them. I must investigate."
Gandalf had, throughout his time, rarely seen an Ent move at any pace except a slow, striding walk, but evidently the disruption to his beloved trees was more than enough to get this Ent moving quickly. He stepped forwards, past the Wizard and the small Digimon and moved away into the forest at what might be a brisk pace for an Ent, but was actually quite fast considering the size of his legs meant that his strides were far longer than anything other humanoids might be able to manage.
"Come," Gandalf said, nodding in the direction that Treebeard had taken. "Whatever is taking place must be significant to have this effect on the trees of the forest. And our business with Treebeard is not yet concluded either."
"Well, if there is a threat," Shoutmon growled, raising his microphone and patting the bulbous tip into the palm of one hand, "Then they might have found a little more than they bargained for." And the Digimon King charged after Treebeard with Gandalf in hot pursuit, leaping over tree roots with easy bounds and following the huge depressions in the ground made by Treebeard's every footfall. Gandalf held his staff close and his other hand strayed towards the hilt of his sword, Glamdring. He hoped he would have to use neither, but he knew that whatever this was, it was likely to be more than a simple Orc raiding party.
Deckerdramon had ploughed himself up the river for a considerable amount of time in search of any other forms of life, but all he had seen throughout this venture had been… well, nothing but forest really. It seemed that this tree landscape was just as deserted of life as the plains – lots of plants but no animals of any kind. Perhaps the birds had more sense to live in a place like this. Everything seemed thick and slow and dense, even the air around him, as if it was pushing down on him and attempting to force him underwater.
And Deckerdramon could never shake the feeling that he was being watched by something at all times.
Eventually though, the river had tapered out and grown even thinner – too thin for Deckerdramon to navigate his way through. He sighed. "Well, so much for that idea," he murmured to himself as his legs folded outwards and returned to their original position, while his back-launchers shifted back down to the prime position for firing, pulling himself out of Float Mode and into his normal form. As he touched the bottom of the shallow river he motored himself forwards, forcing himself up the shallow bank and onto the first reasonably large space amongst the trees that he could find.
He was rather surprised when the trees reacted to this and the nearest ones to him seemed to try and back away, though it could have been a trick of the light, or lack of light. Regardless, the groaning sounds that had continued to resonate all around him increased the moment the Deckerdramon pulled out of the river and he could distinctly hear the sounds of rustling branches coming from every direction.
The enormous alligator stood there for a while, listening and watching, but nothing else other than that seemed to happen for a while so he merely shut his eyes and tried to blot out the noise, giving himself some rest as he tried to think what his next move would be.
This forest was unlikely to get him anywhere. He had not been in it for long but the river was too thin for him to continue effectively and he was pretty sure that traversing his large and rather unwieldy body through the dense trees would not be worth the effort. So, there seemed to be only one course of action he could take – turn back and head back out across the plains, this time on the ground. It still seemed like a lousy option, but it was the best it really had.
After a while though, Deckerdramon heard something which caused his eye to open. Something like heavy footfalls, muffled by the sound of the forest but still distinctly footsteps. Ones which were getting closer. He frowned, wondering if his luck was in. Perhaps this was another Digimon approaching who could help him find out where he was. He slowly turned himself around so he was facing the direction of the noise and waited for the perpetrator to appear.
When it did, Deckerdramon blinked at the sight of the walking tree-like creature which hove into view ahead of him. It's long, mossy heard stretched down past its hips and it had a look of both confusion and wariness in its amber eyes.
The two creatures stared at each other for a while before the newcomer moved first, stepping forwards and saying, "You disturb the forest, stranger. The trees do not take to your presence here. They say that you reek of industry and metal and smoke. They are angry. You must leave."
Deckerdramon's eyes rolled to the side, able to see the trees a little more clearly. The regular trees that is. Some of them did still appear to be shifting uneasily. Deckerdramon's eyes narrowed, wondering once again just where the heck he was.
"I beg your pardon, good Tree," he said, turning his eyes back to face the new person. "It was not my intent to cause disruption in your home. I have merely lost my way and am seeking to find my friends."
"Your friends?" the tree rumbled. "Perhaps you are referring to Orcs? And I am not a Tree. I am an Ent, a Guardian of the Forest."
"Guardian of the Forest?" Deckerdramon repeated. "Well, fancy that. A noble title, if I do say so myself."
"You have an eloquent tongue," the Ent stated. "Hum, hroom, but your body, your form… this can only be the work of Saruman. You bears the marks of his foul machines and contraptions. A body of metal is no natural thing. Is this some treachery of the Wizard? Are you one of his creations?"
Deckerdramon frowned. "I am afraid I have not the foggiest idea what you are talking about," he said. "Who is the Wizard you speak of? And I assure you that I was not created by some magic. I was born into my world just as with every other creature. And a metal body is perfectly natural where I am from, I guarantee it."
"And perchance where you are from would be Isengard?" the Ent's rumblings were growing stronger as he grew more suspicious. He was spreading his legs out and reaching down with his enormous gnarled hands to where a large boulder was nestled on the ground, as if making ready to scoop it up and throw it.
"Now hold on," Deckerdramon protested. "What have I done to deserve such aggression from you, Master Ent. I did not wish to cause you unease and if you so desire I shall leave immediately. But…"
"Oh, I don't believe it!" cried a familiar voice from nearby. "Deckerdramon, you old croc! It's so great to see you!"
Both the Ent and the crocodilian faltered as the red form of Shoutmon bounded past the former and skidded to a halt in front of the latter, while a man in white robes stepped up from the same direction. Deckerdramon took one look at Shoutmon and let loose an uproarious bellow of laughter, lifting himself up onto his back legs slightly for a moment before crashing down again with a colossal thump.
"My liege," he laughed. "Shoutmon. Thank the Code Crown I have found someone at last. I've been wandering around for over half a day without the faintest idea where I am or what's going on. But at last I finally found you, my King."
"And a good thing too from the looks of things," Shoutmon laughed. "It sure as heck is good to see a familiar face after all this madness that's been going on recently. But have you seen any of the others?"
Deckerdramon shook his gargantuan head slightly, smoke unfurling out of the vents on the bottom of his snout as he did so. "I'm afraid not. I found myself close to a river when I woke up after the celebration and I forged my way upstream in the hope that I found someone or something but until you I have seen nothing at all. No sign of anyone else I'm afraid."
Shoutmon grimaced. "Well, you can't have everything I suppose, but still, running into you again is more than enough. I already feel a lot better knowing that the Digimon who could probably destroy our own castle in a single move is back."
Deckerdramon chuckled. "And I feel better knowing that the King is safe."
Shoutmon looked a little uneasy for a split second. Deckerdramon's statement reminded him of the self-confidence issues that he'd been having recently. If everything that Gandalf had said about this world and why the Code Crown had sent them here was true then he would indeed need to be responsible for everything that happened next, like a King should be. He already knew that this was going to be the greatest challenge he had had to face since rising to the throne by far and not just in terms of the fighting but leading his Digimon, if he found the rest of them, into alien territory.
And, as before, he was not entirely sure he was up to it.
Still, he quickly wiped the unease off his face and grinned. There was no need to tell Deckerdramon about his own doubts right now. They had enough problems to worry about besides the fact that the King didn't know if he could lead or not.
"I see you've picked up some new friends, Shoutmon," Deckerdramon looked up at the Ent and the Wizard once again. "Care to introduce me? And perhaps tell me what is going on?"
"What is going on is that just about everything we know has been turned on its head," Shoutmon muttered. "But yeah, I can introduce you. This is Gandalf, and Big, Tall and Leafy here is Treebeard."
"Then perhaps we are in the Human World?" Deckerdramon enquired, taking in Gandalf's appearance.
"He's not a Human. He's a… I forget the word. Let's just go with Wizard, for now. Anyway, you guys, this is Deckerdramon, one of the most, if not the absolute most, powerful Digimon in my personal forces – the Xros Heart United Army. When I was talking about some of my friends who could level villages instantly, this guy is primarily who I had in mind."
"I see that you were not… 'kidding'… as you put it," even Gandalf seemed to find himself slightly stunned and amazed as he took in the sight of the enormous Digimon that loomed over him, so tall he nearly brushed the canopy in many places. "If he is indeed a Digimon, then you were not exaggerating when you said that you could come in many forms."
"Course I wasn't," Shoutmon snorted, patting Deckerdramon's huge, armoured leg. "And I can tell you, now that we've got Deckerdramon and his missiles on our side, the forces of this Sauron guy are going to be wetting themselves and running the other way, you mark my words."
"Sauron does have many large and powerful creatures on his side as well," cautioned Gandalf. "But perhaps you, Deckerdramon, could put even many of them in an uneasy state of mind."
"Who exactly are we talking about?" Deckerdramon asked. "Who is Sauron?"
"Well," Shoutmon shrugged. "It's quite a long story I'm afraid. And I already can't remember about half of it. If that."
"Your memory is improving then," Deckerdramon chuckled, blowing more steam from his vents.
"Watch it," Shoutmon glared at him. "I am not above bashing you in the nose, Big Guy."
Treebeard, who had remained silent of observing since Shoutmon had entered the picture, chose this moment to speak up again, "Hrum, hm, you say that you are both Digimon? Yet your body shapes are so vastly different. The lists of old may not apply to you, but they agree that members of the same species are supposed to be similar to one another, excluding differences between male and female."
"Where Digimon are concerned, anything is possible," Shoutmon shrugged. "And we tend to break the usual rules."
"So, then you are not a servant of the fallen Wizard?" Treebeard asked for confirmation, staring intently at Deckerdramon. "You do not associate yourself with the vile, destructive Orcs of the mountains."
"If you are referring to the Wizard you mentioned earlier then I have never heard of him before today," Deckerdramon replied evenly. "I certainly do not serve him. I serve only King Shoutmon and the Generals of our army, Kiriha or Taiki or Nene. And since we have not seen them in many years, Shoutmon is the only one I answer to."
"And do you, perchance, believe their tale, Gandalf?" the Ent looked down at his friend.
"I do," Gandalf nodded. "Shoutmon would have little reason to lie about this and the Lady Galadriel has personally vouched that the Digimon can be trusted. This Deckerdramon is indeed another Digimon and therefore an ally of ours."
Treebeard coughed and had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. "Hoom, then I must beg your forgiveness," he said, turning to Deckerdramon once more and lowering his head. "In my need to protect the trees I seem to have ignored my own motto and acted in haste. You see, Gandalf, how haste can lead to poor judgement and incorrect decisions. I assumed that this Deckerdramon was a dark creature creating at Isengard by the traitorous Wizard, and in my haste I almost acted rashly. I must remember to pace myself further in the future."
"These are difficult times, Treebeard," Gandalf nodded. "As I said they would be. And I am sure that Deckerdramon understands your need to protect your home."
"Naturally," Deckerdramon agreed sombrely. "I have had to do just that in the past myself. You need not worry, Treebeard. I do forgive you. I can sense strong love emanating from within you – love for everything that you have cared for since you first came into being, love for everything that grows and your forest and your home. I sense your true self through that love and I understand your position."
"Deckerdramon is the Guardian of Love in our world," Shoutmon supplied. "He's able to judge a person's character almost immediately by how much love they hold in their hearts, allowing him to recognise enemies and friends on sight. And he will only ally himself with those who have very strong love in their hearts."
"Love is a most important commodity," Gandalf smiled warmly. "One of the most valuable there is and one that our enemy does not understand and seeks to eradicate. The world would truly be an empty place without it. Tell me, good Deckerdramon, what do you sense coming from my own heart."
Deckerdramon fixed Gandalf with one large, red eye for a moment, which then closed as if basking in something. "Oh, you're love burns like the Sun, Master Wizard. I can sense your strong feelings for everything that you see around you that is good, and all peoples and races that you consider under your care. You have lived for so long now – I can tell – and your love has grown exponentially with each passing year. And… while there are many who you consider close to you who you constantly worry for, you also care deeply for all people you consider free, even those who are less than receptive to it."
He opened his eyes and added, "You understand love at its deepest heart and in all its forms. And you wish to use that love, inspire it in others and teach them to stand together. Strong love. You have it in abundance."
"More than Kiriha?" Shoutmon raised a brow.
Deckerdramon laughed. "Perhaps even more than Kiriha," he said. "But do not tell him I said that if we ever come across our Generals again?"
"Why? Is the big, powerful Deckerdramon worried he'll upset him? Or are you afraid of getting told off?"
"If you were not the King, I would tell you to be quiet," Deckerdramon muttered. Shoutmon snickered into a hand.
Gandalf had actually felt his self-esteem lift when he listened to Deckerdramon's description of hi. "I thank you for your kind words, Master Digimon," he said. "I can see that you may make a fine friend and ally in the coming fight."
"You have no idea," Shoutmon grinned. "No, seriously, you don't. You've never seen Deckerdramon in action before. The things I've seen him do are mind-boggling at times. The sheer amount of firepower he possesses can sometimes be astonishing. And if you guys don't even have technology in this world… then you've never seen missiles in action before, have you?" He grinned.
"We have never had much need for this technology," Gandalf said, with slight distaste. "It is a word that is new to our world, as is another word – industry. Saruman is, even now, creating weapons and machines which might well do similar things to your friend here."
"I doubt they'd be as good," Shoutmon chuckled. "And it's not all bad you know. From what I know of things like industry, which is not much admittedly, it can be just as useful to build as to destroy. It's just the problem is for some people it's difficult to always know which one they are doing. Though I bet it's 'destroy' all the way with Saruman, right?"
"Sadly yes," Gandalf nodded. "Nevertheless, the world has gone through three ages without the need for this newfound industry and the way it despoils the natural world and I do not believe we shall need it in the future. Though I do not wish to cause offence to you Digimon if you would rather use it."
"We don't use it a whole lot ourselves really," Shoutmon shrugged. "It's just that some of us, like Deckerdramon here, are technologically built."
"Though I assure you I am not a metal creature," Deckerdramon replied. "I am quite flesh underneath all this armour."
There were further groaning noises from the trees around them, causing all four members of the company to look around them. "The trees grow more uneasy," Treebeard murmured. "They do not like the presence of the metal reptile, as they say. They still declare that his feels unnatural to them. And the angrier the trees get here, the more dangerous they become." He looked round and fixed Deckerdramon with an amber stare. "And I am afraid to say I agree. You emit smoke, and you smell of fire. You are a danger to them all as long as you stay here."
Deckerdramon would have raised a brow it he physically could, but as he couldn't his eyes rolled upwards to stare out at the trees once more. The idea of talking trees was not so much of a surprise to him as it was to Shoutmon, considering what Deckerdramon had done with his life before joining the Blue Flare army.
"I assure you that I mean no harm to you or your forest," Deckerdramon replied earnestly. "I would never destroy that which did not need to be destroyed."
The rumbling of the trees grew more insistent. Treebeard shook his head. "They do not believe you. They say you are a destroyer, who could wreck everything in your path, and that all things like you are made only to cut and break and kill them and their brethren. They have long seen Men and others like them destroy their fallen comrades and burn them. And you have fire within you. You release smoke. You are a destroyer of trees just as Man is."
"Can you not tell them that they have it wrong?" Deckerdramon asked.
"The trees have feelings," Treebeard replied. "Their hate for things like you is strong and set deeper than their roots. They will not change their thoughts on you easily. I would not wish to make such a decision in haste, but perhaps it would be better for you to leave the forest now. The forest is waking up and they may not remain idle for long."
"The trees will attack us?" Shoutmon asked. "Seriously."
"Many of the trees here are just trees," Gandalf said. "But not all. Many of them are more than they seem, Shoutmon. And they have the strength of the ages within their wooden bodies."
"They say the same of you, Shoutmon," Treebeard agreed. "They say that they smell fire on you too."
"Smell?" Shoutmon blinked. "Trees can smell?"
Before Gandalf of Treebeard could answer that peculiar question, Deckerdramon decided to do something about the incessant groaning. He opened his jaws wide, which momentarily surprised both Gandalf and Treebeard as he had not been opening said jaws to speak, hence why his voice had a slightly echo-like quality to it, and reared up onto his hind legs a fair distance. His back and shoulders pushed up against the canopy and the trees seemed to retract from his touch and he let out a bellow which shook the area for miles around.
"Ancient forest," Deckerdramon cried. "I know that you fear me and that you would rather see me gone, but I can tell you now that I am not your enemy. I will never be the enemy of the Forest, of any Forest. Apparently you have a Guardian in the form of this Ent and possibly the others of his kind here already, and in that instance I am not so different from them. For back in my world, I too was a Guardian of the Forest."
The trees actually quietened, the groans and moans reduced to a minimum and an intense and thick air of silence settled over the forest, one that seemed like the silence of many people listening attentively to what was going on.
Treebeard looked surprised. "You? A Forest Guardian?" he asked.
"Indeed," Deckerdramon nodded. "Perhaps not in the same sense as you in guarding and caring for the trees, but back in the Digital World, we had a large number of territories which we called Zones. One of these Zones was the Forest Zone. It was a single big woodland filled with trees far taller than any around here and numerous plant and insect Digimon alike. I may be a Guardian of Love, but I was also the Guardian of the Forest Zone and it was my duty to protect it and its inhabitants from any threat that sought to destroy both land and life. So, in many ways, perhaps I am similar to you Ents. I lived in a great Temple, filled with an abundance of life and protected the most sacred treasure of the realm to ensure that nothing could change the forest to its purposes."
"Hey, he's right," Shoutmon nodded, a grin on his jagged mouth. "He and his two closest followers, Lilamon and Stingmon, helped to defend everything and everyone from the Bagra Army when they invaded. The Forest Zone was a place where they tried for months to invade without success thanks to Deckerdramon and his subordinates."
"That is right," Deckerdramon rumbled. "And whilst I might not be a Forest Guardian in the same sense as an Ent, I am still one in some sense. I regard the forest as my first home, and I will always defend it, never destroy it. You have nothing to fear from me."
"Though you should thank the fates that Lilamon is not here," Shoutmon snickered. "Because if she were then you might have to watch her doing the Love Love Dance whenever she feels in a bouncy mood."
"That dance is proof that you have love in your heart," Deckerdramon objected. "And perhaps this forest could do with a little more of it."
The trees rumbling grew in pitch again but they did not rise to the same heights as before. Treebeard listened to them for a few moments and then gave an earthy chuckle. "Perhaps the trees were too hasty to jump to a conclusion themselves. They are still suspicious and they claim that they will be watching, but they have subsided their complaints for now. Hrum, hoom, you are most certainly an odd bunch, you Digimon. Root and twig, you are. Hm."
"I most certainly agree," Gandalf nodded. "A strange bunch for strange times. If there are as many of you in our world as you think there might be then I must confess I am eager to make the acquaintances of the others, and there has been little that has made me eager for many long years now."
"You flatter us, sir," Deckerdramon laughed as he settled back down onto his front feet. "Now that I at least have some form of semi-trust from this forest perhaps somebody could actually tell me more about our current situation. If this is not the Human nor the Digital World, then where actually are we?"
"Alright – here's that long story which I mentioned before," Shoutmon grinned, and he began to explain everything to Deckerdramon. As he did, Gandalf stepped around to face Treebeard again and said, "Well, Treebeard? Do you believe that the Digimon are worthy of your trust now?"
"Hrum… Still in two minds, am I, Gandalf," Treebeard replied stoically. "The trees are right – those creatures do not feel like any other we have experienced and still they smell of fire and smoke. But I shall not be hasty. I shall make my decision when I have seen more of their activity."
"And something tells me you may see quite a bit more of what they can do in the future," Gandalf said. "I have the beginnings of an idea, Treebeard. An idea that may help to end this war and the reign of Sauron forever. But while Sauron is a great threat, Saruman is the closer and more immediate one. We must end his misguided attack on the world now before we can truly begin our attempt to turn the tables on Saruman. I would ask you once again to consider convening the Entmoot. The Ents must play their part if all the Free Peoples you spoke of in the lists before can remain Free."
"There has been no Entmoot since the Second Age, Gandalf," Treebeard replied. "Not since the Entwives…" he stopped and grimaced through his mossy beard and said no more, but he did not need to. Gandalf knew what he was talking about.
"I know my friend," he said. "But all I ask is that you at least discuss it amongst you and your kin. For I agree with Shoutmon. Either we all unite, or we will all fall."
Treebeard is HARD to get right! He doesn't say a whole lot in the films because he speaks so slowly, but he does quite a bit of talking in this chapter, and I hope to God that I got him to sound right at least most of the time. Still, at least now I have finally gotten this chapter out of the way, and I can move on to the next one soon enough. As to Deckerdramon, I thought it was quite ironic that a missile-toting alligator was a guardian of the Forest Zone in Xros Wars, but I saw the connection between him and Treebeard and thought that the two of them might make quite good comrades one day.
See you soon. Possibly. Maybe. Hopefully…
Next time…
Fangorn is not the only dark forest with a Digimon in it. Up towards the north, Lillymon and the three Elite Monitamon are still wandering around, completely lost and with no idea where their friends are. And soon, something else will be adding to their problems. Many somethings… each with many legs.
Coming up:- Chapter 13 : Mysteries of Mirkwood
