Tyrion drinks Ent Draught
While the Dragons, Wizards and Shape Changers became the wonders of King's Landing, the Ents did their best to hide from the eyes of Westeros. Over time, they became a minor curiosity, to be seen once or twice and then forgotten.
But they did have one friend. Tyrion Lannister came to them regularly, speaking to them with genuine concern and interest... and then reporting what he learned to his father. The knowledge from the Ents revealed much of where the Wizards and the Creatures came from, though much of it seemed confusing.
The Ents spoke of Dark Lords and ancient civilizations, of men who could live for hundreds of years, and sunken kingdoms and immortal creatures fair and undying. But it was not those things that disturbed Tyrion. It was the Weirwoods. The Ents said that they spoke to them, and they wished to share their revelations with him.
One day, the Ents spoke of that particular matter. "Forgive me my lady," he said but I find it hard to imagine that a Weirwood would have anything important to say."
"They have Hmmmm much say," Willow, the Spokesperson answered. "And they wish that you heed warnings, that all men heed warnings. Hmmmm. The Northern Cold stirring Hmmmm and from, the depths, come darker things."
"Yes, you have mentioned them before," Tyrion said. They did mentioned the matter before, several times in fact and he did not believe them, but after news of the demon that attacked Prince Rhaegar came, he was no longer sure what to believe. "But what am I to do with this, my lady?"
"Tell your father... Hmmm. You report plenty to angry father. Report Weirwood warnings."
That caught Tyrion off guard. How did they know? But the Ents continued talking, of things in Valyria and Asshai, and distant Yi-Ti. Now, how did they learn about those things. Most of their warnings were confusing, prophetic if the prophet claimed to speak with snarks and grumkins. After listening for half a hour to their ramblings, Tyrion decided to indulge their request.
"My lady Willow. If you insist, I will tell my father, but I fear he will not take you seriously."
The Ent-Wives paused the conversation and spoke to one another. At length, they said: "Then tell others. Hmmm. Tell King. Tell Prince. Tell..."
"Why not ask the dragons to tell the king. Or the wizards. Why me?"
Willow scoffed. "Dragons. Tsk. Dragons only care about dragons. Hmmm. Wizards. Wizards know but they have other..." The Ent-Wife tried to find the right word. "Wizard shave other troubles. They keep secret. You understand? Hmmm. Ent -Wives tell you. You tell others." Before Tyrion could stammer a response, one of the Ent Wives arrived with a large wooden mug. She placed it in front of him. "You don't believe Ent-Wives. We show you proof? Hmmm. You tell father. Tell King."
Tyrion was intrigued. "Will this turn me into a dashing, handsome prince or a mean, little grumkin perhaps?"
"No joke. Hmmm. "Drink. You like," Willow said. Tyrion wanted to refuse but something in him compelled him to take a sip. The drink was fruity, and more than a little bitter, but Tyrion liked it nonetheless.
Willow then began speaking in a firm tone. "I make deal. Hmmm. I tell you prophecy, you tell father and others about Weirwood warnings? Hmmm." Before Tyrion could utter a reply, Willow was uttering her prophecy. "One day, soon, you meet young lady. She love you. Weirwoods say this."
Tyrion smiled. "She will love my money perhaps, but..."
"She will love Tyrion. Hmmm. You will save her from peoples attacking her with brother. She Crofter's daughter." Then another Entwife said: "Weirwood says."
"My lady, I..."
But Willow was not finished. "But father do something bad. Horrible. Hmmmm. You must protect her. If not, Tyrion and Tysha very bad end."
"That's her name? Tysha?" But the Ent-Wives became quiet for a moment, and they looked at each other with concern.
"Yes, Tysha. Her name," Willow confirmed. "What you do. Hmmm. will affect Tyrion's future and future of many. If what we say come true, hmmmm, you tell King. You tell Lords."
Tyrion chuckled at the Ent's very serious demeanor. "My lady, I will certainly take your words into consideration, but, pray, forgive me, I have read many prophecies, and they..." Tyrion paused as he felt a chill. He felt tight, exposed. He looked down at his clothes and to his surprise, found that it had shrunk.
No, not shrunk.
Tyrion shot up, and to his great wonder, found that he had ground at least a feet taller. The Ent Draught! It has to be the Ent Draw. Tyrion's legs had straightened, and he felt like he could run for leagues. He grabbed his tankard and drained it, then sought out more. I would drink this until I'm as tall as Jaime, he thought.
The Draught could not make him taller than 4 and half feet tall. Tyrion was disappointed for a moment, but that quickly passed. In a burst of joy, he laughed out loud as though he had been granted a miracle."
The Ent-Wives, though, remained serious. "Remember what Weirwood say."
The Exile and Stannis
When Stannis Baratheon arrived at King's Landing, he found his brother doing his usual folly, drinking, fighting and running after girls. Stannis and his younger brother, Renly were given the chance to see the Dragons, but only for a few moments. They had certainly been magnificent creatures, but they never did anything other than sleep, drink and eat.
Stannis heard that there was another group of dragons giving three minute rides, but his guardians never allowed him to venture past the noble quarters of King's Landing (Even after the passing of months, lords and diplomats still crowded to look at the magical creatures and perhaps, speak to them.). So here he remained with little baby Renly. He had looked at the Dragons a few more times but eventually, he grew weary of them until he did not wish to see them anymore.
Instead, Stannis explored the city. Of particular interest was the Dragon Pit, which the King was repairing to house his new dragons. It was there that Stannis found found him: The Giant Eagle. He perched there, among the ruins, arrogant and aloof at all the humans working under him. Commoners and nobles had tried to approach the eagle before, but always, it flew away, as though it regarded them with disdain.
Stannis looked at this creature and felt an odd kinship. It lay apart from the others, like him. For some strange reason, it brought up memories of Proudwing. So one day, Stannis sought a private audience with the giant eagle. He found it perching on one of Dragon Pit's ruined walls. Fear caused him to take slow, fearful steps, but the iron core in him would not permit him to back down. Eventually. he reached his quarry, and the creature glared down at him, from his wall, as though he was a pest, beneath his attention.
But Stannis, iron-hearted Stannis, met the Eagle's stare, and their glares were like the contest of wills. At length, it was the Eagle who relented.
"What want, boy?" he asked in heavily accented Westerosi.
Stannis' eyes grew wide at that. "You can talk?"
The Eagle sighed. "Yes, I talk. Now, what want?"
Stannis' thoughts returned to Proudwing. "Are you the king of eagles?"
"No," the Eagle said simply, and returned to brooding silence. "If I was, I not here."
"Are there others like you?"
"Yes."
Stannis frowned. "Can you tell me more about your kind?"
The Eagle's answer came with what appeared to be amusement. "Ask Wizards. Busy."
"You're only perching."
"Yes, I busy perching."
Stannis began grinding his teeth, and turned to leave. But he returned the next day, and he glared at the eagle, which also glared back at him. No words were spoken until late afternoon when he returned to the Red Keep. When Stannis wearied of the heat, he found a shade and glared at eagle from there. They would glare at each other from afar, in the midst of playing children and under the shadows of ancient Dragon statues.
Stannis then returned the day after that. And the day after that. And then the day after that. Each time, he glared at the eagle, who glared back at him. On the fifth day, the Eagle, however, he found the eagle was amused for some reason. "If promise to answers questions, promise no annoying me?"
Stannis nodded his head and he did not wait for the eagle to give him leave to ask his first question. "Do you have a name?"
"I am forbidden to speak my own name."
Stannis frowned at that. "Why?"
"Of a folly. I cannot speak more."
"You promised to answer my questions!"
"And I will. To the best of abilities."
"What do I call you then."
"Wizards call me Exile. I exile."
That intrigued Stannis. "The other Eagles exiled you? Why?"
"Because we servants of Manwe, and I failed duty. Not speakings of folly."
"Who is Manwe?"
"Very powerful... thing. Not man."
"A god?" For a moment, Stannis' eyes seem filled with wonder. "An eagle god."
"No! Not god. Creator of Eagles Eru. Eru Iluvatar. Our king, Thorondor,"
Stannis asked more questions, the kind of questions asked by a child in wonder. Their conversation lasted for over an hour, in which case, Stannis learned of Manwe, highest of the Valar and his servants the Great Eagles, and how they have helped the land known as Middle Earth. He learned of battles and lands of great wizards and Elven Lords, of great heroes and dark monsters, of the Noldor, of how Thorondor and his host fought Ancalagon and the Dragons, and of tales that reminded him of the Age of Heroes. At last, his curiosity quenched, Stannis did not have anything else to say. There was so much here, and the boy could not process all of them.
Stannis may have no more words left, but the Eagle did.
To Stannis surprise, the Exile jumped from his perch and landed next to Stannis. "You brave boy." The Eagle said in a daring tone. "It dark now. I bring you home, yes? You like fly?" Stannis balked. "What wrong? Scared flying?" And there was mocking in his voice.
Stannis tightened his jaw, and walked up to the Eagle's back.
