++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Day 2++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Treebeard
The old Ent listened to the wind and water as he lay on his great bed. The water whispered of something new, something tender and precious in Fangorn, something that laughed like the streams laughed and smiled like the sun smiled. Something that sang like the birds sang, and kissed the flowers. Something that sang in the Elder tongue. Only this morning it had fallen into the shallows of the Entwash, and though it had soon splashed back out again, it had laughed and tried to move as slow as it could to avoid scaring the fish. The wind spoke of it, the little thing wandering into the forest, and of other things. How after the fall into the Entwash, the little precious thing shivered every time the wind tried to embrace it, and how it coughed hard, its breath blowing from inside it like a gale, and though it shivered in the wind, its flesh was hot as summer sunlight.
The Ent wondered at this new thing that was both hot and cold, and so small, and took delight in these wild things of Fangorn. But he must not be hasty. He would go see this little new thing, and see just what it was, good or evil, friend or foe.
Deorwyn
With a shriek and a resounding splash, Deorwyn fell into the Entwash again. Sputtering and coughing, she splashed her way above the surface and managed to get her throbbing feet underneath her. The stinging gash on the bottom of her left foot pulsed at her, reminding her that she'd been stupid enough to go into a forest with sharp rocks and no shoes on her feet. It hurt, but she wouldn't cry. Eothain never cried when he got hurt, so she wouldn't, either. Of course, Eothain always remembered to wear his shoes, as well, but Deorwyn was only six, she couldn't be as on-par as her older brother.
Spitting out some of the sweet water, she shook out her hair and looked around for Beornulf. She'd dropped him falling in. She had to find him, or he'd get scared and cold from being all wet! Her Papa always said that it was better to be cold, wet, and scared with someone else who was cold, wet, and scared than to be that way all alone. And Deorwyn hated being alone.
But when she spotted him, she almost cried. He was being borne swiftly down the river on the current churning up the deepest depths of the Entwash. Deorwyn didn't know how to swim, but she had to rescue Beornulf! How was she supposed to reach him? Her father had given him to her, she had to take care of him! He was her responsibility… and her friend….
Remembering how she'd seen her brother and his friends swimming in the river, splashing with their hands and kicking with their feet, she waded out as far as she could, standing on her very tippy-toes until the water was trying to splash its way into her upturned mouth. Tipping her head back to keep her mouth and nose above the water, she thought back to Eothain and Eomer, who swam as strong as horses fording a river. She could do that, she could swim like them.
With a slightly panicky, little hop and pushed herself into deeper, colder, faster waters…
And was promptly swept away by the vicious current, choking on icy water and scrambling to reach her doll, a rock, a tree branch, anything to keep her afloat.
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