Author's Notes: Of all the chapters I've written so far, this one has to be my favorite.  It's all because I discovered just how much fun it is to write dialogue for Treebeard.  He's quickly moving up my list of favorite characters.  I'm especially proud of a nice one-liner that Pippin says that just randomly popped into my head while I was brainstorming.  For all of you Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Faramir lovers, you'll have to wait until the next chapter to see what they're up to.

Chapter 5

Now this is a memorable predicament, Merry silently mused.  Four years ago, Pippin and I were sitting on this exact same table while Treebeard lay down on that massive bed and we all spoke of Isengard.  Only this time, I have absolutely no idea what is going on.  During the war, at least Pippin and I knew that Saruman was operating on his own agenda and we knew that Isengard was unsafe for anyone.  Now, though, we don't know if Isengard is safe or not.  I only hope that Treebeard's explanation will not take several weeks.  I really want to get to Edoras and talk to King Éomer about the attack.

Treebeard shifted his roots about on the bed, making himself as comfortable as possible.  He could see that the Hobbits were anxious to learn the details of what was happening within Saruman's old fortress, but he was determined to teach those little halflings patience even if it took an Age.  Only when he was completely satisfied with his own comfort did the ancient Ent begin to speak.

 "My story begins a mere month ago, little Hobbits, on a night when no moon was present.  The world seems so dark when there is no moon.  Yet even then, the stars still light the way. Yet this night was different.  The stars, so wondrous in their splendor, seemed dull.  The stars are only dull every few millennia.  When that happens, it is not a good sign.  The last time they dulled, the first Dark Lord launched his most deadly assault upon the Elves of the First Age.  When we saw that the stars were dull, we Ents that guarded Isengard knew that something was amiss.  We went into a conference to decide why they had dulled."

"An Entmoot?" Pippin asked.

"No wonder they were caught off guard," Merry grumbled under his breath.

Treebeard, not having heard Merry's comment, turned to Pippin. "Oh no, Master Pippin.  This was not an Entmoot.  Surely you know that an Entmoot is only called for catastrophic reasons.  The dulling of the stars is not catastrophic.  It simply means that something catastrophic is about to occur.  When the catastrophe that the dulled stars foretold comes to pass, then an Entmoot will occur."

Merry shook his head. "So what was the point of a conference if you know that a catastrophe was coming?  Were you trying to prevent it?"

"Prevent it?" Treebeard was taken aback. "Master Merry, prevention is the work of the hasty.  Hastily thrown together plans, doomed to fail.  The best way to deal with a problem is to let it occur and then solve it."

"But then the damage is already done!  Civilization as we know it could be wiped out before you decide to solve the problem."

"That is the way we Ents live, Master Merry.  It is the very purpose that we were first created for.  We endure and then we rebuild.  That is how we solved the problems caused by Saruman.  He destroyed the forest and we destroyed his fortress of rock and stone."

Pippin quickly interjected. "But in doing so, you also prevented Saruman from wiping out Aragorn and the Rohirrim.  If they had been destroyed, all of Gondor would have been destroyed and Sauron would have taken over all of Middle Earth.  So, while you solved Fangorn's problem with Saruman, you also prevented Sauron from destroying everything."

"A regretful thing indeed, Master Pippin, caused by our own hastiness to go to war.  Now do you understand why we Ents dislike being hasty?"

Pippin was utterly confused. "Um…not really, no."

"Very well then, little Hobbit.  I shall explain."

"No, you will not explain, Treebeard!" Merry suddenly shouted. "The only thing that you are going to explain is what happened at Isengard."

"So hasty, Master Merry.  So hasty for an explanation that you would disrupt your own companion from learning.  If you will wait but a moment, I will finish my tale.  For now, young Pippin-"

"No no!  It's all right, Treebeard," Pippin interrupted. "Please finish your tale of what happened at Isengard.  You can explain Ent hastiness to me later."

Treebeard 'hrroomed' in disbelief. "It is amazing how such hasty creatures have survived for so long.  But very well.  I shall continue.  The stars were dull and so we Ents went into conference to deduce what catastrophe would strike.  There were many different ideas.  For example, Quickbeam believed that-"

"That's all right," Merry interrupted once more. "You do not have to tell us what everyone believed.  Just tell us what happened after the conference."

"You interrupt my explanation to Pippin and now you wish for me to skip important moments in history.  Is there no end to you hastiness, Master Merry?"

Pippin snickered quietly. "Hasty-adoc Brandybuck."

The glare that Merry sent across the table to his cousin promised painful retribution when the situation was not so dire.  He then turned back to Treebeard. "I'm very sorry for acting so hasty, Treebeard.  It's just that, if you went through every detail, I'm sure that we would be late for our scheduled arrival in Edoras in two days."

"Schedules are the very epitome of hastiness," Treebeard boomed. "However, I shall indulge you just this once.  All of the Ents gathered together to decide why the stars had dulled," He paused a moment.  When Merry did not speak up, he continued. "As we debated, a dark shadow passed over us.  It may be difficult to tell if a shadow is dark when there is no moon and the stars are dull.  Such a dark atmosphere makes seeing something darker almost impossible.  I recall a similar night when I was watching crows fly and-"

"Treebeard!" The hobbits shouted in unison.

"Hastiness! Hoom hrroom! I merely thought to give you a basis for comparison. Clearly my efforts are unappreciated by the hasty little Hobbits.  So be it! A dark shadow like a storm cloud passed over us.  At first, we indeed thought it to be a storm cloud.  But then the cloud sped up and funneled down until it landed on the very peak of Orthanc.  Naturally, we would have prevented anything from reaching Saruman's tower, but no Ent is tall enough to reach its peak."

"And all of you are too big to go through the front door and walk up the stairs," Pippin pointed out.

"Precisely, Master Pippin," Treebeard nodded. "Saruman did not consider the Ents when he built his stone fortress.  After the shadow landed, we were ever vigilant for signs that something had entered Orthanc once more.  Quickbeam thought that Saruman's spirit had escaped from Mandos and was trying to regain Isengard.  There has been many a time when I have wondered if that Ent-ling was truly a full blooded Ent.  I must ask him if the Ent or Ent-wife he sprouted from was an evergreen.  Noble trees they are, but all of that sap muddles their mind and they begin to speak nonsense."

"So was there anything inside the tower after that?" Merry asked, hoping to deter the ancient being from going off on yet another tangent.

Treebeard diverted his thoughts back to Isengard. "For a fortnight or so, there was nothing.  All was silent within Isengard.  Then, one day, fire suddenly erupted from within the cavern's rocks.  Men spilled out through the doors of Orthanc, brandishing torches while orcs with axes climbed out of the pits.  Fire spouted forth from the ground, burning two beeches.  Everything happened so quickly that we could not retaliate.  The only thing that any of us could do was retreat and regroup.  And so we were forced to abandon our post at Isengard.  We were pursued to the edge of Fangorn.  When we turned back toward Isengard, we saw our gardens burned to ashes.  All of our work wasted in the blink of an eye.  Many of the other Ents were injured and three were even killed." 

Merry hung his head.  "I'm so sorry, Treebeard.  I should never have doubted you.  There was nothing that you or any of the other Ents could have done against that kind of attack.  And now there are even less Ents in Middle Earth."

"So what is happening in Isengard now?" Pippin asked as he reached across the table and  placed a supportive hand on Merry's shoulder. "Do you know who's behind all of this?"

"Regretfully, we do not," Treebeard replied. "Orcs guard the newly built gates.  Every day we see them entering Isengard with Men bearing covered litters and bulging sacks.  And every day we see more and more Men leaving those gates; Men like the one that pursued you."

Frowning, Merry thought back to the pure evil he felt emanate from Gárulf. "You mean Men who are pure evil?"

"Indeed I do, Master Merry.  They appear to be multiplying faster than it is possible.  It is as if they are appearing from the very air."

Pippin thought for a moment. "Maybe they are.  Remember what Ranon and Baldor said?  Gárulf was supposed to have died four years ago.  We were all so happy to see him alive that we didn't bother to think his story through clearly.  When you think about it, his story really does not make any logical sense.  Even if he was supposedly alive when they buried him, there was no way that a mortally wounded Man could unbury himself without aid."

"He wasn't a Man, Pippin," Merry frowned. "He may have looked like a Man, but he definitely did not feel like one.  I have never been around any Man who's presence froze me from the inside out.  Only the Witch King has ever made me feel like that."

"And yet I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary," The younger Hobbit paused before continuing in a more somber tone of voice. "At least I didn't until he killed Ranon and Baldor so ruthlessly.  He was supposed to be their friend, and yet he murdered them in cold blood."

The two Hobbits embraced each other in mutual comfort.  Treebeard regarded them solemnly for a moment before speaking again. "I have seen such cruel acts performed many a time since the dark Men began to leave the gates of Isengard.  We Ents tried to retaliate, but a wall of fire surges up from the bowels of the earth and surrounds the perimeter whenever we get to near.  Only the orcs and the dark Men may pass through the flames unscathed.  All that we can do is stop the ones who come too close to the forest.  And yet even that is difficult.  These Men have the speed and strength of the Firstborn. They are difficult to catch unaware.  The one that I killed earlier could have easily dodged me if he was not so focused on the two of you."

For a moment, no one spoke.  The hobbits bowed their heads, silently mourning the passing of the two Rohirrim that they had come to see as friends.  Treebeard, meanwhile, continued to ponder the mysteries surrounding the newly rebuilt Isengard at the typical Ent speed.  He was contemplating the origins of fire when Merry and Pippin lifted their heads.  A look of mutual agreement passed between them and the two Hobbits turned to look at Treebeard.  It was Merry who spoke.

"Treebeard, get up.  Take us to Isengard."

*          *          *

Treebeard stopped at the edge of Fangorn Forest.  From their perches among the Ent's branches, Merry and Pippin sat transfixed at the horrific sight before them.  At the base of the rolling hill (still recovering from the massive destruction of four years ago) lay Isengard re-forged.  The last time they had seen the former stronghold of Saruman, the Ents had turned the entire area into a garden worthy of being called paradise.  Wildflowers in every color of the rainbow were spread across the fresh grass as far as the eye could see.  The broken stones that marked where the walls had once stood were entwined by luscious vines.  The Ents had taken trees from their forest and replanted them along the edges of the caverns, now small lakes from the great flooding.  Even the tower itself was far cheerier when surrounded by life.  Birds had already begun to nest among the green leaves of the trees while rabbits and squirrels leapt between the roots.  Pippin swore that he had even caught a glimpse of a fox and a deer when they last visited.

But all of that was gone now.  Even the tiniest sign of life from the Ent paradise had been ripped away with heart wrenching cruelty.  Every tree had been uprooted.  Every flower and blade of grass was burned away.  The vibrant colors of the garden were gone, replaced with blackened ash against a sea of mud.   The luscious vines had vanished, replaced by cold grey stone once more.  Merry shuddered as he gazed upon the rebuilt walls surrounding Isengard.  They were even higher now and were dotted with massive serrated spikes of black iron.  Cruel guard towers were being constructed by a handful of Men.  Even the tower of Orthanc itself was more menacing than before with cruel iron bars, like a thousand spear points, jutting out toward the sky from base to tip.   

"How could anyone build this much in only one month?" Pippin wondered out loud. "I can only see a few Men working on one of the towers and the handful of Orcs around are patrolling the wall."

"It is because of the Men," said a familiar voice from behind them.

Merry and Pippin quickly turned and were relieved to see a familiar Ent shuffling closer. 

Merry smiled. "Hullo, Quickbeam."

The young Ent hroom-ed in greeting. "Welcome back, Masters Merry and Pippin.  I only wish that our reunion could be under happier circumstances.  As I was saying, the Men are the cause of the hasty rebuilding.  They are swift and strong like the Firstborn.  They seek neither nourishment nor rest.  They simply toil night and day on that wretched wall.  Not even the Orcs can endure that long."

Merry turned his attention back to the Men chiseling away on the rapidly forming watch tower.  A cold shiver, like a winter's breeze crept up his spine while a leaden ball of fear settled in his stomach.  He passed a hand over his brow, brushing away beads of sweat.  Deep within him, a sense of dread began to trickle forward.

"Merry?" Pippin whispered, seeing his cousin's face grow paler. "What's wrong, Merry?  Are you ill?"

The elder Hobbit quickly shook his head.  "No, Pip.  I'm not ill.  It's just something about those Men.  I just looked at them and I felt cold and shaky.  It's like when I saw Gárulf's eyes, only not nearly as bad."

"The curse of evil Men," Treebeard stated firmly.

"What?" Both Merry and Pippin cocked their heads in confusion.

Quickbeam replied before Treebeard had an opportunity to explain. "What he means to say is that those Men up there are the same as the one who attacked you before.  They are the very essence of evil.  Those who are sensitive to darkness, such as Ents and the Firstborn, can feel the corruption of their twisted souls."

"But why would Merry be sensitive to it and not me?" Pippin asked.

"And how did you know about the attack?" Merry cocked his eyebrow at Quickbeam.

The Ent was unfazed by their sudden demanding questions. "As I said, we Ents are sensitive to darkness; all of the trees in this forest are after the damage Saruman did.  The entire forest could sense the presence of an evil Man and felt his desire to kill both of you.  As for why Master Merry is more sensitive than you, Master Pippin, I honestly do not know.  Perhaps he was born with it, or perhaps some experience in his life has heightened his senses.  It is difficult to tell."

"So I'm not simply loosing my mind?" Merry gave a mirthless chuckle.

Quickbeam hoom-ed in confusion. "I do not see how you could 'lose your mind', Master Merry.  Is it not secure within your head?"

Merry rolled his eyes but decided not to say anything.  Quickbeam might not understand many expressions in Westron, but at least the young Ent could keep his mind on track.

"Hroom.  I must contemplate this concept of loosing one's mind," Treebeard rumbled.

Unlike certain Ents, Merry groaned inwardly.

Meanwhile, Pippin's eyes caught sight of something moving beyond the horizon. "Merry, Treebeard, Quickbeam, something is coming this way.  It looks like riders, though their horses are moving oddly.  They're too far away to tell for sure."

Merry squinted his eyes as he tried to distinguish the moving figures under the moonlight coming toward Isengard. "Where's Legolas when you need him," Merry grumbled. 

"You are right, Master Pippin," Treebeard stated as the figures came closer to the rebuilt fortress. "Those are not horses that they are riding upon."

The still night air was suddenly pierced by the unearthly baying of one of the most evil creatures in Middle Earth.

Quickbeam's branches quivered. "Wargs!"

"And where there's wargs, there's Orcs," Merry sneered as he reached for his sword.

Treebeard raised one mighty arm to still the Hobbit. "Must you be so hasty, Master Merry?  There is little we can do.  Now that they are closer to this hill, you can see that there are many more of them than there are of us.  We would not stand a chance against their numbers."

"Perhaps not," Quickbeam called as he pointed to more spots appearing behind the approaching warg riders. "Look there, for they are being pursued!"

The Hobbits followed Quickbeam's knobby fingers with their eyes.  Sure enough, a second group of riders had appeared.  As they came closer and closer to Isengard, Merry could faintly see a banner being carried by one of the pursuers.  A stray beam of moonlight caught the banner and the Hobbit's eyes widened in relief as he saw a distinctive white shape against deep green cloth.

"The White Horse!" He cried. "They are Riders of Rohan!  We must help them stop those wargs!"

"But what can we do?" Pippin demanded as Merry scrambled through Treebeard's branches and leapt onto Quickbeam. "There's too many for us to handle."

Grim determination spread over Merry's face.  "Then stay, if you wish to.  But I can not.  I am a knight of Rohan and must do anything I can to aid the land I swore allegiance to.  Come on, Quickbeam!  We'll cut the wargs off.  Maybe it will slow them down and buy more time for the Rohirrim." 

Without a word, the smaller Ent charged forward down the hill.  The ground shook beneath his root-like feet.  As they came to the bottom of the hill, the ground began to shake even harder.  Merry glance over his shoulder and half smiled when he saw Treebeard gain on them, Pippin standing atop his highest branches.

"A knight of Rohan can do little against this enemy on his own!" The Took hollered. "But maybe a knight of Gondor can even the odds a bit!"

With cries of battle rage, the foursome plunged forward, directly into the path of the oncoming enemies.  Wargs scattered sideways in surprise, many knocking the Orcs off their backs.  Treebeard and Quickbeam wasted no time before striking the despicable abominations with long sweeps of their broad arms and legs.  Merry managed to lower himself within Quickbeam's branches and slashed viciously at any wargs who launched themselves upon the Ent.  Atop Treebeard, Pippin was doing the same.  A hail of arrows and the battle cry of the Mark signaled the arrival of the Rohirrim.  The Orcs and wargs, still recovering from the sudden appearance of the two Ents, stood little chance as horses plowed through their ranks.

Merry had just pulled his blade from the throat of a dead warg when one of the Rohirrim caught his eye.  The Man was shouting something, though his voice could not be heard over the skirmish, and gesturing wildly at a spot behind Merry.  The Hobbit looked over his shoulder and was shocked to see a litter bared by two Men, and they were seconds away from reaching the gates of Isengard!  Throwing caution to the wind, Merry leapt down from Quickbeam's branches and raced after the Men.  Cold fear gripped him in its icy fist as he gained on them, but the charging Hobbit pushed it to the back of his mind.  He had a duty to the kingdom of the Rohan and nothing, not the strength of Men or the slower movements of a Hobbit would stand in his way.  Whoever these Men were and whatever they were carrying, Merry had to stop them.  But the legs of Men are far longer than those of a Hobbit and Merry could not stop them from passing through the gates first.  But the headstrong Brandybuck did not give up.  He continued to run after his quarry before the gates could close.

"Master Merry! NO!" Quickbeam shouted.

But the warning came too late.  Fire erupted from the earth, surrounding the stone wall.  Merry tried to pull back, but the momentum from his run pushed him forward.  Pain lanced up his left arm and a cry of agony was ripped from his throat.  He fell back, landing hard upon the ground, and passed out.

"Merry!"

"Master Meriadoc!"

Merry groaned as he came too.  White hot agony blazed up and down his left arm.  Groaning, he curled up around it.  Strong hands pulled him into a sitting position while a smaller pair supported his back.  Wearily, the Hobbit opened his eyes and saw the rider who had signaled to him earlier was at his side and opening up a jar of healing salve.  Pippin was helping to remove what remained of his left shirt sleeve. 

"It's not too bad," Merry hissed through his teeth as the Man began applying the salve over the burns covering his arm. "I'll be alright."

"You will be alright after you have received proper medical treatment, Master Meriadoc," The rider stated simply as he began to wrap the medicated wounds.

Merry glanced back at the battle, only to find that there was no battle.  The corpses of Orcs and wargs were scattered upon the ground.  The Riders of Rohan were busy treating wounds and piling the corpses for burning.  Merry looked back at the walls, expecting to see the great pillars of flame that he had crashed into, but there were none.  The flames were gone and the stones looked even colder than before.

Pippin could tell what Merry was thinking. "The flames disappeared right after you hit them.  Some of the riders tried to go after the Men as well, but that wall of fire appeared when they got too close and then vanished again when they moved away.  I've never seen anything like it."

"We owe you a debt of gratitude, Master Hobbits," The rider said calmly as he tied off the bandage. "By surprising those Orcs and their fell wolves, we were able to destroy them without serious casualties."

"Elfhelm!" Merry gasped when he suddenly recognized his aide as one of King Éomer's trusted captains. "I'm sorry I did not recognize you at first."        

"You need not apologize, Master Meriadoc, for I shall be the one who will be doing the apologizing to Éomer King when we return.  For while this battle is ours, we have once again failed our true mission.  Once again, the Men of Isengard have carried their quarry through those gates and beyond our reach.  We have failed our king.  I have failed."

"I do not understand," Pippin piped up as he helped Merry to his feet. "What was your mission?"

Elfhelm whistled for another rider and together they hoisted the two hobbits onto their horses before he answered the young Took. "There is too much to tell now, Master Hobbits, but I shall tell you along the way.  We must report this to Éomer King immediately and get Master Meriadoc to a proper healer."

The Hobbits waved good-bye to their Ent friends as the order to ride was sounded.  Treebeard and Quickbeam watched them go as the riders raced back toward Edoras.  When the party was out of sight, the two Ents shuffled back up the hill toward Fangorn.  For it was never wise to linger close to Isengard for long.

Merry braced his injured arm against his chest as he clung to Elfhelm.  The sheer agony had dulled, leaving only a constant throb.  He needed something to take his mind off the pain.

"Elfhelm, will you answer one question for me?"

The captain eased his horse into a steady gallop before nodding his assent to the Hobbit bouncing along behind him.

"What was their quarry?  What were those Men carrying on that litter?"
Elfhelm sighed deeply. "I had hoped that would not be your first question, Master Meriadoc.  Those Men committed the most heinous of crimes in all of Rohan.  They desecrated a sacred grave.  And now they have the remains of Theoden King."   

A/N: Ah, the clues are being laid down.  Will anyone be able to figure out what's going on with these new Men?  Coming up next, we return to Gondor where plans must be made. 

On a little side note, no one's given me any suggestions for the gender of Éowyn and Faramir's baby.  Will it be a boy or girl?  Again, I'm not going to be stereotypical and make Éowyn give birth to twins.  That's just too cruel for the poor woman.