Chapter 13

Mel opened her eyes and blinked sluggishly. It was dark out. When she'd laid down the sun had just been rising over the mountains. How long had they slept? She stared into the dark for a minute, waiting for her eyes to adjust, waiting for Boromir's form to take shape beside her. But it never did. She reached out and all she touched was empty air. She felt a knot of panic in her throat and quickly fought it down. He wouldn't leave her. Not now. Would he?

"Harum hoom."

She flinched and sat up. Treebeard was swaying gently on the other side of the broken gate, watching her with those huge, expressive eyes.

"Your companion has gone into the mountains to retrieve your belongings. He will be back shortly."

Mel felt the knot in her throat melt away. He went to get their stuff. Of course he did. Mel yawned and stretched, then wrapped her cloak around her and crawled to the edge of the crumbled gate so she could sit directly in front of the Ent. His eyes followed her with patient interest until she was settled.

"Well…" she started to say, but all that came out was the same garbled nonsense that seemed to always spew from her mouth when she spoke to the Ents. She snapped her mouth shut. Merry's words echoed in her mind.

Mel? Was that…Was that Entish?

Treebeard smiled at her.

"You have many questions. And you have been very patient for a daughter of Men. I will answer what must undoubtedly be your first question and perhaps it will help you ask your other questions. The language that you speak is Old Entish. It is the first language of the forest and as the Calenhiril that knowledge is a part of you. It was necessary many, many years ago when it was the only language between the Ents and the trees they shepherded. Now of course, we have learned to speak our thoughts in the hasty tongues of many peoples. But I am afraid that when you speak with us, if you wish to use your own words, you will have to translate your thoughts as we do."

Like learning English all over again, Mel thought. She carefully considered what she wanted to say next, and the best and quickest way to say it. All she could form was one word.

"Why?"

In that single word, she hoped that Treebeard could hear all of her frustration, all of her questions. Maybe she had finally found someone who could truly understand and explain everything.

He sat back with a rumble.

"That is a very large question, little sister. But I will tell you all that I know. Do you know the origins of the Yavannacor?"

She concentrated, trying to remember what Rod had told her so long ago in Rivendell, and spit it out in as few words as possible.

"Made by dwarves for Yavanna."

The words felt funny coming out of her mouth, but they at least sounded like something she recognized.

"Hum harum, yes of course. But though the Seven children of stone forged the ring, to honor our Mother and assuage her wrath, they were not the ones to imbue it with its gifts. It was Yavanna's wish that the trees of the world have a champion among Eru's other children, someone to hear their pleas and give them strength to fight their own battles should the time ever come. It was to be a sort of counterpart to the shepherds of the forests, a person who lived in both the world of the two legged and the world of the forest. That is the purpose of the Yavannacor and that is the purpose of the Calenhiril, to do the bidding of Yavanna and to act as an ambassador for her children. Once the Yavannacor chooses its companion, the Calenhiril is forever marked as the Daughter of Yavanna, the most revered of all the old Ent legends. We have been waiting a very long time for you, little sister."

Mel tried to let all the information sink in. When she had put on the ring for the first time, what felt like a lifetime ago, something had happened to her. Her mind had been changed. She knew that now. In many ways she had always known it, but it had become abundantly clear once the Yavannacor was ripped away from her. She was no longer the same person. She could speak to the trees. She could speak to the trees in their own language… Entish, Old Entish, a language that no other creature should be able to speak. But she could. She was like a bridge, connecting the trees to the other peoples that coexisted with them, one foot in both worlds…

"But," she choked out, her words still strange and blocky feeling, "Why me? Why now?"

"We might never know the mind of Yavanna, Calenhiril." Treebeard replied, "We cannot be hasty in demanding answers that our Mother has not chosen to give to us. But know that she chooses her children very carefully. You were not made without purpose. It will be revealed to you in the time that is deemed best in her eyes."

A vision of Rivendell flashed in her mind.

Someday, she thought, if I survive all of this, I have to get back there. That's where the answers are. That's why she brought me here.

Treebeard stirred and looked toward the mountains

"Hoom hum, your companion returns swiftly."

Mel tried to look out into the night, but she couldn't see anything.

"You must have better eyes than me, Treebeard," she said, but she forgot to translate and it all tumbled out in Entish. By the time she got done saying what she had intended to say, she could see movement across the plain, a running form in the darkness.

"Do you see now, little sister?"

She smiled.

"Yes," she said carefully, "I see him." She looked up again, "Treebeard? Where are the hobbits?"

A deep rumbling sounded from his chest and it took a few moments for Mel to realize that he was chuckling.

"The little Shirelings have endured much for creatures of their size. They finally succumbed to exhaustion before sundown. They lay there."

One long finger pointed to a nook in the rubble. Mel could just make out two small figures curled up together. She smiled.

Boromir vaulted over a pile of rubble blocking the gateway, and made his way forward. Mel's smile widened. Despite Treebeard's reassurances, there had been a small part of her that had been afraid…

"Thought you ran off on me," she said, only half-joking, but trying not to sound like it.

Boromir glanced at her, and then up at Treebeard.

"I left a message for you." He said.

"Humph harum and I delivered it, Son of Gondor," Treebeard replied, looking a little miffed, "I told her you had gone into the mountains."

"He did," Mel added quickly. It was silly, but she didn't want Boromir and Treebeard fighting first thing, "I was just kidding."

The Ent and the Gondorian eyed each other for a moment longer. Then Boromir nodded and handed Mel her pack.

"All your things are inside."

Mel took it and tugged it open. She could smell the herbs of the salve that Eregwen had given her and the sturdy weave of the bag under her fingers gave her a strange sort of comfort. It brought back memories of Lothlorien, the calm serenity that had seemed to permeate the place even when things had not been going so well. Galadriel's face flashed in her mind's eye.

I saw hope…

"Melody?"

Boromir's voice snapped her back to the present. Boromir was eyeing her with some concern.

"Are you alright?"

She smiled. Hope… Mel thought that maybe now she knew what the elf-queen had been talking about.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, pulling the strings of the bag tight and slinging it over her shoulder, "Just thinking. So, what are we gonna do now?"

Boromir raised an eyebrow, but he answered her without a moment's hesitation.

"I must go to Gondor. I fear I have already been too long away."

Mel swallowed and tried not to feel guilty about that, without much success.

He shouldn't even be here…

"Well, that's all fine and good," she said, trying to not to sound as if she were being forcefully cheerful, "But if we try to get there on foot, we'll never make it before the siege."

"Siege?" he asked.

It took a minute for Mel to realize her mistake. Of course, Boromir didn't know about the siege of Minas Tirith. She felt a little bit like an idiot.

"Minas Tirith falls under siege on the 14th of March," She explained, "I don't know what day it is, but I do know that from this point on everyone is riding around on horseback. We need a way to keep up."

"There will be horses in Edoras." Boromir suggested.

"Great, but how long will it take us to get there?"

"On horseback no longer than four days, three if the horse is steadfast and the rider tireless."

"Once again, all fine and good, but as you can see," Mel waved a hand around them, "We don't have any horses. So, what kind of time are we talking about here?"

Boromir's eyes got distant. Mel could see him doing the calculations in his head. And she could also see that the calculations were not looking optimistic.

"I fear we would be too late."

Mel huffed.

"Well there's got to be…"

She trailed off. Her eyes had landed on Treebeard, who was watching them absently, as if he were barely interested in the conversation. She concentrated on translating herself.

"Treebeard? May I ask you something?"

"Of course, Calenhiril," he answered readily.

"I need to ask a favor. Something that would mean the whole world to me. Can you help me?"

"Well now, Calenhiril, let's not be hasty," Treebeard rumbled, "First comes the favor, and then the granting. What would you ask of me?"

"Well…" Her eyes flicked to Boromir, who was watching her with a befuddled expression, "I was wondering if we could borrow Quickbeam."

"Harum hoom, I am sure he would be at your disposal, but I'm afraid you would have to ask him. For what do you need his assistance?"

"I was wondering if he would mind carrying us to Edoras."

Treebeard's face creased in a grave frown.

"I do not think you know what it is you ask, Calenhiril."

"I know it's away from the tower here and the forest. But it's the only way we'll make it to Minas Tirith in time. And to Quickbeam the trip would probably be nothing, just a quick stroll in the hills!"

"It is a long way for one so young to go alone. This seems like a very hasty decision."

"Then it's the perfect one for him to make. He's famous for being hasty," Mel pushed, "May I please ask him, at least?"

Treebeard rumbled to himself for a few more moments.

"Very well, little sister," Treebeard held out a hand to her, "Come, I will take you to him."

Mel grinned and clambered into Treebeard's open palm.

"Melody!"

Boromir's anxious tone made her pause and look back. He was staring at Treebeard warily, his eyes flicking over the Ent. Mel waved at him as she settled herself between Treebeard's curled fingers.

"Don't worry!" she said, cheerfully, "I'll be right back!"

Boromir looked less than convinced, but he didn't have time to argue. Treebeard was already sloshing away, humming contentedly to himself. Mel clung to his hand and tried to survey the damage to the courtyard in the dark. She could make out the forms of Ents wading in the waters of the sluggish river, but not much else. Her eye caught the shape of what looked like a fallen log in the water and she squinted, trying to get a better look. She jerked back when the log moved, the water rippling around it in dark waves. It twisted a bit and she thought she heard a rumble. Mel suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"Treebeard?" she asked, being careful to translate her words, "Is that the Ent that was burned?"

"Hum hum harum, yes, I'm afraid so, Calenhiril. His name is Beechbone. His injuries are severe. I am not sure he will survive the night."

Mel's stomach twisted and her heart clenched. It wasn't right. She couldn't just… let it happen.

"Take me to him."

"Calenhiril, I am not sure there is anything you can do."

But Mel didn't waver, "I've got to try. Please, just… Just let me try."

After a moment's hesitation, Treebeard turned and waded toward the fallen Ent. As they got closer, Mel was better able to see the damage that Treebeard was talking about. Many of his branches were broken and charred and his bark had black gashes where flaming arrows had pierced him. There were places where he had been burned nearly all the way through. Treebeard was right. He would never heal on his own.

Mel crawled out of Treebeard's outstretched hand and carefully slipped into the murky water surrounding the beech-like Ent.

"Beechbone?" She whispered. She reached out and touched his smooth bark, "Beechbone, can you hear me?"

There was a rumble from the trunk and slowly gentle gray eyes opened and peered at her.

"Calenhiril," he rasped, "What an honor to see you, little sister, even now as I lay dying."

"Don't be hasty, Beechbone," she chided softly, "It's very un-Entish. I'm here to help you."

"I do not know that I can be helped," he said, "I am an old tree and my injuries are grievous. I am no fool."

"Be still and let me try." She whispered.

Mel pressed both hands to his smooth silver trunk and closed her eyes. She remembered the tree by the waters of the Watcher's lake. She reached out like she had then, trying to see the injuries on the Ent. Bright spots lit up behind her closed lids. Many were small, just tiny pinpricks of light, but some flared with the intensity of white fireworks. Those were the spots that she concentrated on. She reached out with her energy and brushed one. It burned white-hot. She hissed and backed off. But the place she had touched was darker now. She reached out again, this time covering as much of the Ent's body as she could with her own cooling energy. Burning pain washed over her skin and she clenched her teeth to keep from screaming, holding on as tightly as she could. Slowly the lights started to fade, to blink out of existence like putting out a flaming torch. The power that she had used started to recede from Beechbone's body, leaving behind a smooth, clean slate. No signs of the white-hot burns were left. Finally, when all that was left were a few tiny pinpricks of light, like distant stars, Mel released the Ent and staggered away, slumping into the water and falling into oblivion.

Her unconsciousness lasted for only a few moments. She felt herself fighting back toward the surface of her mind and she quickly woke to find herself cradled in the hand of Treebeard. He was murmuring to her.

"Calenhiril, look what you have done."

She blinked slowly and turned her head. There in the water sat a perfectly healthy looking beech tree with gray eyes and silvery skin, staring at his own leafy hands as if they were new to him. She smiled and sat up. Beechbone looked up at her in wonder.

"I told you not to be so hasty," She muttered drowsily, "Did you think I would let you die?"

For a moment he only stared at her. Then he bowed his head and rumbled, "Forgive me, sister. I knew not of the power."

"We were all ignorant, Beechbone." Treebeard replied, "She is stronger than we thought, more suited to the task in some way that we cannot fathom."

"I don't feel very strong right now," Mel admitted.

In fact, she was starting to feel faint again. And her hands felt hot and itchy. She looked down and bit back a shriek. Her arms, from her elbows to her fingertips were streaked bright red, even turning purple in places! She tried to fight down panic and think clearly. She needed to do something. She ripped the pack off her back and started digging through it, ignoring the pain that was gradually building up with every movement. She jerked out a roll of bandage and Eregwen's jar of salve, smearing the green-scented balm all over her arms and wrapping them tightly to hold it in place. Instantly she felt the burns start to cool and as the panic cleared her head, she could finally think rationally. This was what had happened before. That's why she had gotten so sick at the Watcher's lake. She had transferred the tree's sickness to herself, and her body had expelled it. In the same way, she had taken on the burns of Beechbone and so she had started to burn up. She was reminded of something from her old life, something she had learned in school.

Energy can neither be created nor destroyed.

It made sense, in a weird sort of way, and she wondered why she hadn't anticipated it in the first place.

When she was done bandaging her arms, she looked up at Treebeard and grinned.

"Okay, I'm good. Now may I speak to Quickbeam?"

Treebeard curled his fingers around her, and seemed to debate the wisdom of her request. Mel felt her stomach sink. But finally, the Ent nodded, turning and splashing to the far side of Isengard, past the dark tower of Orthanc where not a light flickered. Mel shivered and turned away from it. She never wanted to think about that place again. When they reached the far wall, she could see several Ents walking to and fro along the perimeter on both sides of the dam, taking down rubble and clearing away the opening that the broken dam had left behind, piling the rock on both sides of the river. They were recreating the banks of the Isen.

"Bregalad." Treebeard rumbled.

The rowan Ent straightened and immediately waded over to them.

"Yes, Fangorn?"

He saw Mel in the palm of Treebeard's hand and grinned.

"Little sister, you are awake! But what has happened to your hands?"

Mel couldn't help but return his grin. She had to work very hard to translate what she needed to say.

"Quickbeam, if you agree to what I'm about to ask, I'll have all the time I need to explain what happened."

"What would you ask of me?"

"I want to…"

Treebeard interrupted her with a loud rumble, "Think carefully before you answer, young Bregalad. What Calenhiril requests is dangerous and hasty."

But Quickbeam just turned his smile up to Treebeard, "Danger I have seen aplenty and deemed it not so terrible. And my name would not be Quickbeam the Rowan were I not a hasty Ent. Please, Calenhiril, speak."

Mel's smile widened, "Quickbeam, I would like to ask you to carry Boromir and I to Edoras."

The Ent's eyes lit up and Mel heard the gentle rumble that she could now identify as Ent laughter.

"Oh, little sister, is that all that you require? Why it is hardly a dangerous or hasty thing! Of course I will carry you and your companion."

"Quickbeam!" Treebeard exclaimed, "You have given this no thought at all! It is a long journey."

"Of only a day or two!" Quickbeam answered, his eyes still dancing with merriment, "And to serve the Calenhiril in even such a small task is more than an Ent of my standing could ever ask for. Everything will be quite alright, Fangorn. I will prepare myself for the journey and come for you at the gate in half an hour's time, if that pleases you, sister."

Mel was so happy she could have danced.

"Yes! Yes, it would please me very much, that's perfect! Thank you, Quickbeam, thank you!"

The rowan Ent bowed to her, "The pleasure is mine, Calenhiril."

Then he turned and sloshed off into the darkness, humming happily to himself.

For a moment, Treebeard stood very still, watching him go. Then he shuddered, as if shaking off some irritant, and began walking back toward the gate, muttering under his breath.

"Foolish… hasty… no idea… carefully… no thought at all…"

Mel chose not to speak until they got back to the gate, where Boromir was pacing back and forth. When he caught sight of them, he raced to the edge of the rubble and reached out to help Mel as she slid off Treebeard's palm. When she placed her bandaged hand in his, his eyes grew hard and dangerous.

"What happened?" he asked in a clipped tone. It scared her and she pulled her hand away.

"Nothing. I helped that burned Ent and it burned me. I'm fine." He didn't look like he believed her, "Really, I'm okay. I already feel better."

He still looked incredulous, but Mel decided to ignore it. Instead she managed a little smirk and gave him the good news.

"I got us a ride."