+++++++++++++++++++Interlude+++++++++++++++++++
Taking Place Between and During the Recovery of the Nameless Child
Treebeard, Gandalf, & the Nameless Child
The Old Ent rustled his leaves as the sun warmed the sap within him, filling him with the essence of the ancient spring times. But even with the feeling of euphoria from the gentle warmth of the sun's beams, something was wrong. Not just strange, not a strange off-ness that sometimes occurred in nature when things went awry, but plain, down right, almost frighteningly wrong.
The rivers iced over in the height of summer time, the fields barren in spring, the skies raining acidic waters instead of the sweetness of the pure and natural rains… something was wrong in the forest of the Ents.
Darkness touched his roots as he began striding from the edge of the forest deeper into the shadows of the wood, the dappled light brushing over his branches and leaves, gentle whispers of sweetness and light as he tried to find the midnight stain upon the soul of the forest.
The earth wasn't screaming, not yet anyway, but soon, soon it would shriek and writhe in pain and agony, burn like the blazes of man's fires, burn like the summer heat in the broken and desiccated and dried out underbrush of the forest. The forest would burn.
Right now it ached, the forest, the sap running like poisonous, dagger-sharp ice through the trunks of the trees. Something was very, very wrong in the heart of Fangorn….
A sweet, gentle laugh, labored but still full of joy and innocence, brushed over his leaves and branches and trunk and roots, and knew that not everything was wrong in the heart of the woods. One thing, one beautiful thing, was very, very right.
The nameless child (the little girl who was once Deorwyn of Deorwang Province but Treebeard did not know this, and so in his mind she could only be the Nameless Child) walked slowly between the stately redwood and pine trees, for her lungs were still weak, but she stood straight, and she only leaned ever so slightly on the arm of the Grey Wizard as he escorted her through the wood.
"Good morning, Treeman," she called, and her breath only caught a little bit. She was strengthening slowly, like a sick sapling that was slowly regaining its life. Soon, rather soon he was sure, the little one would go back to her own forest, to the horse lords of Rohan.
"And a good day- haroom!- to you, my- ahhhh- little one," the Ent of Fangorn said gently, and he reached out a branch to touch her tangled, tawny hair like a sunset.
"Child," he said, with his large voice booming and harooming, "I need to speak with young master Gandalf. Would you go and sit in the sunlight- it will make you even better- while I speak to him."
Slowly, for she had no shoes and was still somewhat weak, she made her way to the brilliant patch of sunshine and Treebeard turned to the wizard.
"She's recovering," the Wizard said. "Soon, she'll be perfectly healthy, as long as she keeps drinking the Ent Draught mixed with the tea."
"And soon she will leave again, return to her people-a"
"No," Gandalf said. "She can't go back. She must stay with you until I bring her back to her people, and that, Master Fangorn, will not be for a long time. She must stay here with you."
The Ent stared at the wizard for a very, very long moment, the woodsy eyes catching the dark eyes of the Istari. Then he stared for a very long time at the little girl who stared up at the boughs of the tree she sat beneath, listening- he knew she was listening- to the forest grow. There was a tiny wrinkle between her eyebrows as she pressed her cheek to the bark of the redwood and exhaled a soft breath.
"You have seen this?"
"Yes," Gandalf replied, and that was all there was to be said for a very long time, until suddenly the nameless child gasped, ever so soft a catch of breath, and jerked her face away from the bark of the tree, scrambling to her feet.
"Little one?" Gandalf asked gently. She was starting to breathe shallowly, gasping for breath ever so lightly, her eyes wide and terrified. She stumbled over to the wizard and the Ent, and opened her mouth to speak, when another Ent shambled through the trees and haroomed, "Treebeard! Quickbeam, something has happened to Quickbeam!"
"The river!" The nameless child cried out softly, her voice catching in her throat. "The river, the water! The earth, the water, the trees!" Tears rolled down her cheeks as she grabbed at Gandalf's sleeve. "The trees, the water!"
They stared down at her, the two Ents and the Wizard, and knew that somehow, she knew exactly what was wrong with the forest.
oo8oo8oo8oo
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