Prologue

Rootfoot was different from the other Ents. It was said by some that his great aunt had been a stone-troll, though the claim was of course untrue. It was true, however, that while the others preferred the deep cool and heavy sunlight of the burgeoning forest, he liked caves and the hills around them. Caves, cool and still and eternal. Fangorn, the Oldest Ent, said it was unnatural, more befitting of a Dwarf or Troll than an Ent. But Rootfoot was not a small hasty creature, despite his other unEntish attributes. Nor was he tree-ish in the slightest. In the end, the other Ents, having conferred about Rootfoot's strangeness, decided to leave him be. And this was how Rootfoot liked it.

He loved wandering about the foothills of the Misty Mountains, herding the gnarled trees which grew, wild and free, on the hillsides. He cultivated them, spoke to them of freedom and deep rocky soil in which to stretch their roots, and the myriad shapes they could make with their branches, unencumbered by near neighbors as in the forest of Fangorn and the other Ents. Rootfoot taught the hillside trees to love their freedom, as he did himself. And so for a time he was content, slowly wandering the foothills.

Until one day, a most unlikely thing happened. A Hobbit, named Bilbo Baggins, burst from the caves. Rootfoot did not see him at first; he was invisible. But as he moved over the meadow, Rootfoot saw his faint shadow, and could feel the patter of his running feet through the ground up his many-toed, rootlike feet. He reached the safety of the trees and sank down to catch his breath for a moment, just under Rootfoot's spreading branches. When he took off the Ring, Rootfoot grabbed him.

The haste was most unbecoming of an Ent, but as I have said, Rootfoot was no ordinary Ent. And the Ring was calling out to him in a most disconcerting way, interfering with his normally ponderous and exhaustive thinking. He spoke to the Hobbit, squeezing him a little. Yes, unlike other less-informed and well-traveled Ents, Rootfoot knew of the Halflings. In any case, the Hobbit Bilbo, growing frightened, dropped the Ring to the forest floor and ran off to his friends the Dwarves, to tell wild tales of talking trees and Goblins. But that does not come into this story.

Rootfoot took hold of the Ring, lifting it from the mast which littered the floor of the small forest he had cultivated. He lifted it, and as he did it grew, to Ent-size, and slipped easily onto his large leafy finger. For in Rootfoot it thought it had found a weak bearer, one who would return it quickly to Sauron.

But the Ring was mistaken, for the time was soon to come when the Ents would shape the fortunes of all.




Disclaimer: I don't own any of Tolkien's books, ideas or otherwise, though I think I do own this rather odd plotline... If you must know, it was inspired my MSTery Inc's MST of The Fellowship movie(illegal, but oh-so-funny), which mentioned the unlikelihood of an Ent getting hold of the One Ring. Well, that was one plot bunny which just wouldn't let go! And here you have... the result. Enjoy, once I get around to posting the next few chapters.