[alaklondewen]

Marcho was hurriedly removing the upper branches of the fallen willow, while Kalimac worked on the roots. The uneasiness he felt grew as the surrounding trees seemed to maliciously lean in over the hobbits. The unintelligible whispering became louder as the hobbits disassembled the fallen brother of these trees. Marcho wanted to cry out against them…it wasn’t their doing that this ancient willow had fallen, but he kept his mouth closed and concentrated on the task at hand. The quicker he worked that sooner they could get out of this eerie forest. He hoped the Chubbs would return shortly because he did not want to be forced to look for them, and he certainly could not return to camp without them. An image of Harold’s father rose in Marcho’s mind, and he shuddered.

The scout was almost relieved when Kalimac broke the silence, calling to him in an unexpectedly amiable tone. “You may not be able to answer this, but, why exactly is the root of tree pulling on my foot?”

Marcho laid is axe down and looked curiously toward his brother-in-law. “What?” He wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, but when his gaze fell on Kalimac’s leg, his eyes widened and he stood momentarily in shock. Kalimac tried to pull his leg from the vice, but the roots visibly wrapped tighter around his foot. Marcho lunged forward and knelt next to the attacking roots. He slid his knife from its sheath and slowly moved toward his brother-in-law’s ankle. The roots sensed their danger and squeezed until Kalimac winced, “Don’t cut them…they’re angry, and they’ll break my foot.”

Marcho lowered the weapon and thought a moment, then raised the knife again. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I am going to save my friend.” He yelled toward the towering limbs that swayed and groped over his head. Then, he gently wedged the knife between the roots and Kalimac’s ankle. After rocking the knife slightly for a minute or two, the tree began to lessen its grip.

As soon as an opportunity arose, Kalimac pulled his foot free. “Thank you, Marcho…I will never forget…”

“Don’t worry about it…Let’s just get out of here.”

At the same time, the Chubbs came into the clearing looking pleased to be back with the group. Sarah had her apron folded as though she was carrying something, but Marcho didn’t ask what. Instead he motioned for them to take a load of the timber that he and Kalimac had cut to be taken to the camp.

~*~*~

The hobbits had walked for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes when they began to hear the sounds of the settlers moving about and talking. They had been gone longer than Marcho had expected to be, and his burden lightened with the thought of being out from the closeness of the forest.

As they moved closer, something moved in the shadows and caught the scout’s eye. “Hello there!” He called hoping it was just one of the settlers.

“Hello yourself!” Came the reply from a mouth Marcho could identify even in the dark.

“Father?!” Harold exclaimed in surprise. “What are doing out here?” The hobbit and his wife hurried to where the old hobbit stood. “And Fredigar?”

The old hobbit complained loudly to his son, but Marcho only heard the words “senseless” and “no good hobbit” thrown his way. Shaking his head in slight amusement, the scout passed them by and entered the circle of settlers, where he quickly worked to get the fire made while ignoring the groaning and inquiries of the tired and grouchy travelers.