More Than Stories
Estor and Arrell had slipped in and gone to bed without much trouble from their usually stern parents. But the next day brought trouble for Arrell. It was late afternoon and she had come in from the precious playtime that came after hours of work on their family's farm. Her father, mother, and brother were sitting around the table waiting for her to come in so they could eat when she burst into the house. She knew by the looks on the faces of her parents that she was in some kind of trouble (though not too much of an unusual occurrence for her).
"Is…something…the matter?" she asked hesitantly as she slowly sat down.
Her mother sat tight-lipped as her father spoke with the same barely-controlled calm Estor had used the last night. "Your mother spoke with the parents of your friend Eredor today. Might you be able to guess what they discussed?"
Arrell, who knew what it meant to be in trouble all too well, looked to Estor for support, and when he shook his head as if to say You're on your own now. She swallowed fearfully. " I suppose that would be…that…I…hit…him?" she asked with fearful reluctance.
"Why did you do it?" her mother demanded, coming very close to shouting.
"Because…he…called me…" She trailed off.
"He called you afraid!" Her mother spat the word out. "His mother told me. And what kind of a reason would that be? No reason at all! I simply cannot believe that you would do such a thing! And Estor? Where were you? Why weren't you there to keep your sister in line?"
"Mama, leave Estor out of this! It—"
"Child, watch your tone!" Her father interceded. "We are going to eat this meal in peace. And after we're through…Arrell, you and I are going to the woodshed."
About an hour later Estor came out to the woodshed where Arrell was standing, though he noted she was not sitting. Before he could speak, she turned to him angrily.
"Why didn't you say anything? You just sat there and-"
"Arrell, I told you. I wasn't going to lie for you, and the only way to help you was to do just that. You got in trouble on your own, you know."
She sighed. "I know. It just helps to have someone to blame it on."
He smiled at her ten-year-old logic. "I know. It helps for me too. But anyway, Papa wanted me to come out here and see if you wanted to go up to Farmer Eodren's with him to pick up some feed. He's leaving in a few minutes."
"I guess so…" She looked away, and out of the corner of her eye she saw someone coming towards them. It was Eredor.
"Arrell! Hey Arrell, Mama said your mama was mad and that she was going to give you a whipping! Well, I still think you're scared! I still think so! I-" He stopped when Arrell started towards him, but his taunting continued when he saw that Estor stopped her and she wasn't going anywhere.
"Eredor, go home." Estor's voice was firm, and the intimidated little boy turned to walk away. Just as he got up to the gate (still taunting), Arrell broke free of her brother's grip and ran up to Eredor, giving him a good shove before taking off in the opposite direction: towards the forest. She hollered back angrily, "I'll show you I'm not scared!"
Estor started after her, then gave up. Contrary to the children's beliefs, the forest was perfectly safe, and he knew she would come home when she got hungry.
Arrell ran tirelessly across the quarter of a mile of plains in between the village and the forest, muttering to herself. "I'll show him! I'll show them all and there's nothing anybody can do about it! I'm not afraid!"
She got to the edge of the woods, then hesitated before stepping inside. She held her head up, though she cast cautious glances this way and that, and walked through the thick forest. She continued muttering. "He's just scared himself! I don't even believe the stories. I don't even…" She was starting to get tired. All the running and muttering was wearing her out. There not being a place to sit on the ground that wasn't muddy, she grabbed the lowest tree limb she could find, and hoisted herself up. She climbed higher and higher, wondering if she could get to the top and how far she could see. Soon, though, she just sat down on a limb, panting. She rested a minute, muttering again. "They aren't real. They couldn't be real. They're just stories that old man makes up so we can have something to do besides work. Ents don't exist! They're just-" She stopped short. Did that tree just move? It must have been a squirrel. She relaxed, then all of a sudden, an eye popped open in front of her On the tree. Another eye. She did the only thing a ten-year-old could do. She screamed.
She tried to scramble down, but a huge hand, looking strangely like a branch, came out of nowhere and gently grabbed her and held her in place.
"What is this?" A slow, booming voice rumbled. "A man-child, all the way out here in my forest? Hrum, Hoom. This I have not seen for an age."
"A-are you-are you an ent?" She stuttered.
"Hm! That I am, little man-child." The tree started to say more, but she spoke.
"What are you going to do to me?"
"Burarum! You are a hasty little one, aren't you! But I am not going to harm you. I am called Weatherroot in your tongue. But as you are in my forest, under my branches, I think it is you who ought to tell me about yourself. What is your name, and why are you all the way out here, muttering to yourself about me and my kin not being real?"
And so Arrell spent the better part of the afternoon getting over her initial fright and learning all she could about this strange race.
