AN: I'm back guys :) Next chapter is already written.

.Chapter 29- The Battle of Isengard.

-xXx-

Alysae, Merry, and Pippin stood on the forest floor, surrounded by the ancient and towering figures of the Ents. The air was thick with anticipation as they awaited the decision of the Entmoot, the gathering of these ancient tree-herders. Treebeard, their leader and protector, stood at the forefront, his bark-like face stern and unreadable.

The three friends exchanged anxious glances. The tension was palpable, and even the normally cheerful Pippin was silent, his face lined with worry.

After the whole business of the Ents' greetings taking several hours, the three friends were more than worried about the outcome of the gathering.

At last, Treebeard's deep voice rumbled through the clearing, breaking the heavy silence. "Hroom, hroom… After much deliberation, we have come to a decision." His yellow eyes slowly blinked as he looked down at the three smaller beings before him. "We Ents… have decided… not to go to war."

The words hung in the air, cold and final. Alysae felt as though the ground had been pulled out from beneath her. She stared up at Treebeard in disbelief, her heart sinking with despair.

"Not… going to war?" Merry's voice was filled with incredulity. "But… but you must! Saruman is destroying everything! He's burning the trees, tearing down the forests, and killing everything in his path! You can't just do nothing!"

Treebeard's expression remained solemn, though there was a hint of sorrow in his ancient eyes. "Hroom… It is not our way to be hasty. We are not warriors, young Hobbits. Our concern has always been the preservation of the forests, not the wars of Men or Wizards."

Alysae stepped forward, her frustration boiling over. "But that's exactly why you need to fight! Saruman won't stop until he's turned everything to ash. Fangorn, the trees, the very earth beneath our feet—it's all in danger. You're the only ones who can stop him!" Her entire body shook with the force of her anger.

Treebeard sighed, the sound like the creaking of ancient wood. "We have considered this… but we Ents have decided it is too dangerous. We are few, and our kind is ancient. The loss of even one Ent would be a great tragedy."

Pippin, who had been quiet until now, stepped forward, his voice trembling with frustration. "So you're just going to let him destroy everything? What about the trees that have already been lost? What about your own kind? Don't you care about what happens to the world beyond this forest?"

Treebeard shook his great head slowly. "Hroom, hroom… We care, Master Took, but our duty is to the forest first and foremost. We have lived through many ages of this world, and we have seen the rise and fall of many powers. This too shall pass."

Merry clenched his fists, his frustration evident. "This isn't just another war, Treebeard! This is the end of everything if we don't stop it! You can't just sit back and watch!"

But Treebeard's decision was made. He turned away, his massive form moving with the slow, deliberate grace of a being who had lived through countless ages. "Come, little ones. I will take you back to your homes. This is not your battle to fight."

Alysae felt a surge of helplessness wash over her. They had tried everything—pleading, reasoning, even appealing to the Ents' sense of justice—but nothing had worked. It was as if they were speaking to the very trees themselves, ancient and immovable. All of it had been for nothing. Gandalf had trusted them on this mission and they had failed. She felt tears burn her eyes.

"Maybe Treebeard's right," spoke Pippin. "We don't belong here, Merry. It's too big for us. What can we do in the end? We've got the Shire. Maybe we should go home."

Merry shook his head, the weight of the world evident in his eyes. "The fires of Isengard will spread. The woods of Tuckborough and Buckland will burn. And..." He turned to Pippin, his gaze intense, his voice carrying the gravity of his thoughts. "And all that was once green and good in this world will be gone."

Pippin looked back at Merry, his silence a testament to the crushing reality of the situation. The enormity of the threat hung heavily between them, the hope for their beloved Shire seeming increasingly distant.

Merry's voice broke the silence again, filled with a fierce determination. "There won't be a Shire, Pippin."

Pippin stood quietly, absorbing Merry's words, the despair in his eyes mirroring the hopelessness that now gripped their hearts. Alysae swallowed, memories of darkness and gigantic spiders invading her home swirling through her mind.

-xxx-

Alysae, Merry, and Pippin hung their heads, their spirits crushed by the Entmoot's decision. Treebeard's massive strides were slow but steady as he carried them through the ancient woods, heading back towards the edge of Fangorn.

The silence between them was heavy, filled with the weight of their frustration and despair. The Ents had decided not to go to war. After all their pleading and reasoning, it had all been for nothing. The realization felt like a heavy stone in Alysae's chest, and even the normally bright and cheerful Pippin had fallen into a somber silence.

"This isn't right," Merry muttered under his breath, his voice tight with anger. "They're just going to let Saruman get away with it. Everything's going to be destroyed, and they're doing nothing."

Alysae clenched her fists, feeling the same frustration boil inside her. "We tried, Merry. We did everything we could. But they won't listen."

Treebeard rumbled softly as he walked, his deep voice breaking the silence. "Hroom, hroom… I am sorry, little ones. But we Ents are not warriors. We are shepherds of the forest, and our way is not the way of war."

Pippin looked up at Treebeard, his brow furrowed in thought. He had been quiet for a while, but now, an idea began to form in his mind—an idea that sparked a glimmer of hope amidst the gloom. He turned to Merry and Alysae, his voice low and urgent. "Merry, Alysae do you trust me?"

Both of them gave him a puzzled look. "Of course I do, Pippin," said Merry. "What are you thinking?"

Pippin took a deep breath, his eyes shining with a mix of desperation and determination. "Treebeard," he called up to the Ent, his voice suddenly filled with purpose. "I know you're taking us home… but could you take us south instead?"

Treebeard slowed his pace, his great head turning slightly as he regarded the small Hobbit on his shoulder. "South, hroom? Why would you want to go there? That will lead you past Isengard."

A determined smile spread across Pippin's face as he met Treebeard's gaze. "Yes. Exactly. If we go south, we can slip past Saruman unnoticed. The closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm. It's the last thing he'll expect."

Alysae, sitting beside Merry, watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression. She could see the logic in Pippin's plan, though it seemed counterintuitive. She turned her gaze to Merry, who looked away, visibly perplexed.

Treebeard's massive brow furrowed as he pondered Pippin's words. "That doesn't make sense to me. But then, you are very small. Perhaps you're right."

Pippin exhaled a relieved sigh, his smile widening as Treebeard's decision seemed to turn in his favor.

"South it is then," Treebeard announced, his voice carrying a hint of reluctant acceptance. "Hold on, little ones."

As Treebeard began his slow, deliberate march through the forest once more, Merry's incredulity was palpable. He turned to Pippin, his expression a mixture of disbelief and frustration. "Are you mad? We'll be caught."

Pippin's eyes sparkled with unshakable confidence. "No we won't. Not this time."

Alysae, her brow furrowed in concern but her voice steady, added softly, "If this is the path we must take, then we'll face it together. We have to trust that it will lead us through."

With that, the party braced themselves as Treebeard resumed his plodding journey south, their fates entwined with the uncertain road ahead.

Alysae didn't understand why Pippin wanted to go South but he seemed like he had a plan. The path ahead was uncertain, but for the first time since the Entmoot, a spark of hope had been reignited. They would show Treebeard the truth, and with any luck, they would convince him—and the other Ents—to stand against Saruman.

As they moved southward, toward Isengard, Alysae felt a renewed sense of purpose. The battle wasn't over yet—not for them, and not for Middle-earth.

-xxx-

As Treebeard lumbered forward, the air began to change. The sweet scent of the forest gave way to something darker, fouler. The ancient Ent slowed his pace, his great wooden limbs creaking as he approached the edge of the dense trees. Alysae, Merry, and Pippin, perched on his shoulders, could feel the tension rising within him—a slow, simmering rage that they had never felt from him before.

And then, they saw it.

Before them lay a scene of utter devastation. The once-vibrant forest had been reduced to a barren wasteland, a stark, blackened scar upon the earth. Great swathes of trees had been felled, their trunks shattered and splintered, their roots torn from the ground. Smoke still curled from the charred remains of what had once been a thriving woodland, now reduced to ash and ruin.

Alysae's breath caught in her throat, her heart sinking as she took in the horrifying sight. Merry and Pippin were equally stunned, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the distant crackle of dying fires and the low, mournful creak of fallen trees.

Treebeard stood still as stone, his great form towering over the wreckage. For a moment, he did not move or speak, his eyes fixed on the desolation before him. The Ent's silence was more terrifying than any roar of anger could have been. It was the silence of deep, ancient sorrow—of a grief so profound it left no room for words.

"Hroom…" Treebeard finally rumbled, his voice low and filled with immeasurable pain. "Many of these trees… were my friends. Creatures I had known from nut and acorn. The filth of Saruman… has soaked through their roots, their leaves… twisted and torn… until there is nothing left."

Alysae felt a tear slip down her cheek as she watched the Ent's immense sorrow. This was more than just destruction—it was a violation, a desecration of something sacred and ancient.

Suddenly, Treebeard's sorrow began to shift, the deep sadness in his voice transforming into something darker, more powerful. Rage. The great Ent's eyes, once soft and wise, now blazed with a fierce, almost primal fury.

"Hroom, hroom!" His voice thundered through the air, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. "Saruman! A wizard should know better! There will be no mercy—no peace for those who have done this!"

The anger of the Ent was palpable, a force of nature unleashed. His deep, resonant voice echoed through the clearing, carrying a command that seemed to reverberate through the very earth itself.

"Sound the call!" Treebeard roared, his powerful voice carrying through the forest. "Let every Ent, every tree, know! The time has come to fight! War is upon us! We march to Isengard!"

The response was immediate. From all directions, the ancient voices of the Ents rose in a chorus, a mournful, powerful wail that shook the ground and the very trees themselves. Alysae, Merry, and Pippin watched in awe as the forest came alive with movement—trees uprooting themselves, ancient limbs cracking as the Ents prepared for battle.

Alysae's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the transformation. What had once been a peaceful, ancient race, content to watch the world pass by, had now become an unstoppable force of nature, driven by grief and rage. The Ents moved with purpose, their great strides shaking the earth as they began their march towards Isengard.

Pippin leaned close to Merry, his voice a whisper filled with awe and a hint of fear. "We did it, Merry… We really did it."

Merry nodded, his eyes never leaving the scene before them. "Aye, Pip. But it's more than that… This isn't just about winning a war. It's about avenging what's been lost."

Treebeard's voice cut through their thoughts, filled with grim determination. "Hold on, little ones. We go to settle this debt."

As the Ents surged forward, their mighty forms moving with the unstoppable force of an avalanche, Alysae clung to Treebeard's shoulder, her heart racing. This was no longer a march—it was a reckoning. Saruman's days of defiling the earth were numbered, and the Ents were coming to make him pay for every tree, every creature, every inch of soil that had been taken from them.

And so, with the Hobbits and Alysae clinging tightly to Treebeard, the ancient forest itself began to march on Isengard, a force of nature awakened and driven by the purest form of wrath.

The Ents had joined the War.

-xxx-

The air was thick with tension as the mighty Ents marched toward Isengard, their ancient limbs creaking with purpose. The once-serene forest now moved with the fury of nature itself, and at the head of this formidable force was Treebeard, his eyes blazing with a fierce determination. Clinging to his massive shoulders, Merry, Pippin, and Alysae could feel the raw power of the Ents beneath them, each step sending tremors through the ground.

As they neared the gates of Isengard, the stark contrast between the lush, living forest and the cold, industrialized stronghold of Saruman became painfully clear. Black smoke billowed from the chimneys, and the sound of clanging metal echoed ominously in the distance. The once-vibrant land had been twisted into something dark and unnatural, a perversion of everything the Ents held dear.

Alysae's heart pounded in her chest, her grip tightening on Treebeard's rough bark. She could see the devastation below—the endless rows of iron and stone, the lifeless trees that had been torn from the earth, their roots exposed like raw wounds. Beside her, Merry and Pippin exchanged anxious glances, the reality of what they were about to face settling in.

"Hold on, little ones," rumbled Treebeard, his voice a deep, resonant growl. "The time has come."

With a mighty roar, Treebeard and the Ents charged forward, their massive forms crashing into the defenses of Isengard. The gates of the stronghold shuddered under the impact, and within moments, the walls began to crumble beneath the relentless assault. Saruman's orcs, who had been patrolling the outer defenses, were caught completely off guard. The sight of the massive, living trees descending upon them sent them into a panic.

The first wave of orcs surged forward, weapons raised, but they were no match for the fury of the Ents. Treebeard swatted them aside as if they were nothing more than insects, his immense limbs crashing down with the force of a falling oak. The ground shook with every blow, and the air was filled with the sounds of battle—the groans of the trees, the roars of the Ents, and the desperate cries of the orcs.

Alysae, Merry, and Pippin clung to Treebeard with all their strength, their knuckles white as they tried to hold on amidst the chaos. The world around them was a blur of movement and noise, the sheer scale of the battle overwhelming. The Ents, driven by centuries of pent-up rage and sorrow, tore through the orcs with an unstoppable force, their massive forms crushing everything in their path.

"Look out!" Merry shouted, as a group of orcs charged at Treebeard, trying in vain to hack at his bark with their crude weapons. But the Ent was unfazed, his ancient wood tougher than any iron. With a sweep of his arm, he sent the orcs flying, their bodies crashing into the rubble with sickening thuds.

Pippin watched in awe as another Ent, taller and more gnarled than Treebeard, grabbed a nearby orc and hurled it into a group of others. The orcs scattered, their morale shattered by the sheer power of the Ents.

But the orcs were not the only ones fighting. Above the fray, Saruman's war machines, massive and terrible, began to move. Huge wheels turned, and blackened bolts of fire shot forth from the walls of Isengard. One of the flaming projectiles slammed into a nearby Ent, setting its branches alight.

"Fire!" Alysae cried out in horror as the Ent, ablaze, staggered back. But the burning Ent did not retreat. With a furious roar, it charged forward, smashing into the machinery with all its might, the flames consuming it even as it dealt a devastating blow to Saruman's forces.

Treebeard let out a mighty bellow, a call to arms that echoed through the battlefield. "Hroom! To the water! Drown the flames! Destroy the dam!"

The Ents responded to Treebeard's command, their deep voices rising in unison. Together, they turned their attention to the dam that held back the river, the source of Isengard's power. The orcs tried desperately to stop them, but they were no match for the Ents' wrath. With a series of powerful blows, the dam began to crack, water seeping through the fractures.

"Hrum, hroom!" Treebeard's voice boomed above the chaos, a thunderous roar that seemed to shake the very earth. "Break it down! Let the waters wash away this filth!"

With one final, earth-shaking strike, the dam that had been holding back the river gave way. The water surged forward in a powerful, relentless torrent, crashing through the walls of Isengard. The river roared with newfound freedom, sweeping through the stronghold, extinguishing the flames, and drowning the twisted machinery. The orcs, caught in the flood, were swept away, their desperate screams lost in the tumultuous roar of the water.

Alysae clung desperately to Treebeard as he braced himself against the rushing tide. Her heart pounded in her chest as the foaming grey waters surged towards her, threatening to overwhelm her. She was not high enough to escape the deluge.

A scream tore from her throat as the water grabbed her legs and began to pull her away. Her cries were swallowed by the roaring flood as she was dragged under, struggling futilely against the powerful current.

In the crushing depths, her vision blurred, and the cold darkness of the water began to close in. Is this how it ends? she thought, panic rising within her.

Suddenly, amidst the darkness, a brilliant light emerged. Her surroundings shifted, and she found herself in a serene, ethereal realm. The tumult and fear of the flood faded away, replaced by a profound calmness. Before her stood a being of immense beauty and grace—clearly one of the Valar. Yavanna, the Goddess of Life, stood before her, her presence both soothing and awe-inspiring.

Yavanna's long hair shimmered like fertile soil, and her dress flowed with the colors of the forest. She radiated a quiet, enduring strength that seemed to bridge the realms of the living and the divine.

Alysae, overcome with awe and reverence, managed to bow her head and utter, "Mae govannen, hiril Yavanna."

Yavanna's expression remained inscrutable, her eyes reflecting the wisdom of ages. There were no words of comfort or answers to Alysae's unspoken fears, but a deep, unspoken understanding passed between them. As the vision began to fade, Alysae felt a profound sense of peace, as if she had been touched by something eternal.

The next thing she knew, she was gasping for breath, her hair plastered to her face, and deep coughs wracking her chest. Something powerful had pulled her from the water, and she found herself sprawled in the enormous, yet gentle, hand of Treebeard. Merry and Pippin were beside her, their faces etched with concern and relief.

"Alysae! Alysae!" their voices called out, a mixture of fear and joy.

She wiped her face, shivering from the cold and the shock. With a strained but determined smile, she managed to say, "I'm alright, I'm alright."

Treebeard's gaze was both fierce and tender as he looked down at her, his great eyes reflecting the storm and the calm that had just passed. The hobbits' relief was palpable as they clung to her, their presence a warm comfort in the midst of the chaos.

The floodwaters swirled around them, carrying away the remnants of Saruman's once-mighty Isengard was now a ruin, its iron towers crumbling under the relentless force of nature. As the waters receded, the battlefield fell silent. The Ents stood victorious, their ancient eyes reflecting both the sorrow of what had been lost and the grim satisfaction of justice served. Treebeard looked down at the ruins of Isengard, his voice a low, mournful rumble.

"Hroom… The work of Saruman is undone. But the cost… the cost is great."

Alysae, Merry, and Pippin, soaked and exhausted, looked out over the scene of devastation. They had won, but the victory was bittersweet. The forest would heal, in time, but the scars of this battle would remain for generations.

Treebeard began to move again, slowly and carefully, his steps echoing with the weight of centuries. The battle was over, but the war for Middle-earth had only just begun.

-xxx-

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