Sam yelled at the trees. Just before he was shouting through the trees, but now he shouting at them. For the third time they had entered the Old Forest and for the third time they had found themselves back outside where they began. Merry and Pippin looked on forlornly as Sam tried to smack the boughs with a club of wood, but the trees moved in tighter.
"Maybe they don't want us in." Pippin thought aloud. It was quite by accident, but Sam turned on the tired Thain.
"Nuuhhhh, ya think?" he asked savagely, using a term he had often heard his children use.
"Well, I'm just as frustrated as you are!" Pip yelled back, his temper rising sharply. The sun behind them cast a red gleam over the Shire, reflecting the moods they were feeling. Sam withdrew from his anger and looked sheepishly at the ground.
"Sorry, Mr Pip," he said, "I can't bear to think what is happening to them in there."
"Neither can I," Merry said. He walked up to the trees with purpose and searching through his pocket he brandished a pair of scissors at the trees, the same ones he had used to cut the hair of his son.
"If you don't let us through, I swear I will hurt you." He said, holding up the scissors. The trees quivered their leaves in mock fear. Merry snapped a few dead twigs off the nearest tree. It creaked in merriment and suddenly it let loose some of its older, dryer branches to the ground. Merry dived away just in time but smiled grimly. He held up a branch.
"Are you afraid now?" he asked and was answered by loud creaking laughter.
"Merry, what on Middle-Earth are you doing?" Pip asked as he dismounted from his horse. Sam looked on, unconvinced.
"Just watch," he whispered, pulling a tinderbox out of his other pocket. Gathering branches off the ground and some dry moss he began to light a fire. The trees began to whisper in a barely audible rustling.
He said aloud to the hobbits, so the trees could hear him, "It looks like we're going to stake out the night until they let us in, or we will burn the forest." The wood erupted into sounds of outrage: creaking, moaning and rustling. By now the fire had grown cheerfully.
"Mr Merry," Sam whispered to the large hobbit, "you're asking us for trouble, and by the looks of them, we're in for it."
Merry didn't seem to listen and held up a burning brand.
"Afraid now?" and he passed the brand close enough for them to feel the heat. Normally, the wood would just close in on them and the hobbits would be no more, but they were having an unusual dry spell and any flame could risk a forest fire of grievous harm. In one sudden movement, they parted revealing a straight path to wherever they needed to go.
Sam scratched his head, "Well that's something you don't see every day."
"Come on lads, and bring a branch with you." They picked up a brand and mounted their steeds.
"You really are amazing sometimes Merry." Pippin laughed as they entered the wood.
"Why thank you Pip," He paused, looking at the trees, "I want no funny business either! No pitfalls or cantankerous willows, or I swear I will thrust this brand into your leaves!" he shouted to the forest.
In the distance, they could see trees lumbering guiltily across the path, changing its course. Satisfied, but wary, the hobbits continued their journey.
TBC