The Last March

"Sauvage" / "Last March of the Ents" Model : Onodriim ”Earth shakes 

Stone breaks 

The forest [is] at [your] door 

The dark sleep is broken 

The woods have awoken

The trees have gone to war

Roots rend, wood bends

The Ents have answered the call 

Through branches now the wind sings

Feel the power of living things

The trees have gone to war”

Treebeard telling the tale of the Entwives

A forest. Well, this was no unknown thing to her as trees or grass she had beheld before. Though, this forest seemed darker, unlike the woods of Valinor. There silver and golden had been the trees and sweet the song of birds. But in this strange place no merriment was. Líriel had even tripped over a thick root, which had caused her to mutter some words not quite proper for a lady.

The cape was tightly wrapped around her body as though it had brought her a certain safety. Her father had told her of some odd creatures, even dark, when she had been a child. She had been frightened, though when she had been beneath her blanket such things had been powerless to reach her. Almost the same was with the cape. Yet this time she knew well that a thin layer of raiment would not keep her safe from any perils. Warriors brave had perished while wearing their armours. Líriel could not even wield properly a knife, let alone to fight for herself. She was defenseless then.

He began his typical slow, rhythmic march towards the sound. Friend or foe, he was going to investigate. He made his way through the brush, other trees bending their bows out of his way to allow him passage. The sound had stopped, but that did not deter the Ent, and before long, he found the source.

Sitting beneathe a tree was an elf maiden, laid in a heap on the ground. Treebeard knew that Elves lay down to sleep, but still it seemed an odd thing, and in an odd place. Perhaps she was injured? Times were that the only interaction he had with other races was the Elves, but in recent years, they rarely ventured into Fangorn, and instead most of what he encountered were Men, Dwarves or Orcs. 

Still, he could tell by the Orc's demeanor that he thought he was being judged too quickly. And so, not without suspicion, Treebeard let his predisposition towards Orcs go. At least for the moment. 

Treebeard furrowed his brow suspiciously, surveying the Orc. She was young yet, from the looks of her. Still curious and not yet hardened like the rest of her kind.