[Bêthberry]

Ithaeliel, Mattius, Brinniel and Auriel invite you to play their game, The Threat of the Trees.

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Child of the Seventh Age's post:

Brethil, the Great Birch, was the eldest and wisest of the sentient trees that belong to the race of the Huorn. He lived within the sweet dales of Fangorn Forest. None knew his exact age, but his memories ranged back for hundreds of years. The other trees paid him respect, both for his physical prowess and his innate understanding of nature.

Like others of his race, Brethil?s strength was immense. His roots burrowed deep in the soil, and his limbs towered up to the heavens, bending and swaying with the wild music of the winds. Like his cousins and brothers, Brethil was ?limb lithe," and could move swiftly and surely from place to place while wrapped in shadow of darkness.

When enraged, the Huorn could be utterly ruthless, and Brethil was no exception. In the past, he had struck down Orcs and other evildoers who had dared set foot within Fangorn. Yet, towards others, Brethil had shown restraint and obeyed the dictates of the Ents, or tree shepherds, who urged the Huorn to let the travellers pass. Brethil was simple and primitive, his passions strong and direct, but he was not a creature of evil.

Now, all was changing, as older customs gave way to the new order of Men. The fading of the Ents deeply troubled Brethil, since the tree shepherds had always provided the Huorn with guidance. The Huorn could not understand why the Ents were going and blamed their departure on Orcs and Men.

For Brethil, the Age of the Dominion of Men only seemed to mean more travelers coming with axes and splitting mawls seeking wood to construct distant buildings and cities. Many of these Men came not from Isengard, but from Gondor and lands beyond.

Moreover, Brethil still had vivid memories of Saruman who had ordered the Orcs to murder trees. Unable to understand who Saruman really was, Brethil assumed he was another bad man, since he looked like one. While the number of Orc travellers had declined, men came in ever growing numbers. Brethil felt they often displayed an arrogance toward the land and a lack of respect for the trees.

Underneath all this, there was yet another reason for the Huorn?s rage, a great and sad secret which had only recently been revealed to Brethil. Brethil?s heart ached whenever he thought on it. But he kept his counsel hidden and would not reveal this thing to any outside his own people. It seemed too deep a mystery.

The end result of this was growing sorrow and anger. Like all the Huorn, Brethil was incapable of shedding tears and did not even know enough words to express his feelings. The only response open to him was to strike out physically in the manner of a small child. Unfortunately, he and the other Huorn wielded such power that any striking out was bound to bring innocent deaths.

As Brethil gazed about the woods, he saw Huorn after Huorn falling into savagery. Although Brethil himself had not killed any of the innocent travellers, that compulsion grew stronger every day. The Ents were gone, the old rules were gone, and there was nothing to take their place. He felt empty and angry and hungry for some kind of guidance and structure. It was only a matter of time until he could no longer resist the compulsion within his heart and would strike out with unreasoning hatred.


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Mattius' and Ithaeliel's post:

Mattius laid down into the golden foliage with a sigh of delight. The fall and autumn leaves crackled under his weight as the elf put his hands behind his head. The little river sang close by and birds harmonised beside it. Opening his eyes he looked up at the streams of brilliant sunlight breaking through the naked treetops. He still liked the Golden Wood; even a thousand years after Galadriel had left, Lorien still had something magical and elvish about it.

He sat up and looked for Radagast, the wizard was a few feet away, kneeling down and filling up a flask from the small stream. The birds were dancing about him as he chatted back to them cheerfully. With a straining groan he pushed himself to his feet and the birds flew skywards. Mattius jumped to his feet but spun around when he heard horses hooves on the ground. Indeed there was a tall man dressed in the garb of Gondor riding a tall brown horse.

"Greetings!" Radagast said as the rider slowed his stallion and jumped down.

"Good afternoon to the pair of you," he replied, "I am Arthos, Messenger of Gondor." The man removed his helm to reveal his shoulder length black hair and shook hands with the elf and Radagast. "I travel to the Northern Kingdoms of the Dale and The Lonely Mountain but came to these woods to search for a river or stream where I may refill my water supplies."

"Then you have struck luck good sir," said Mattius leading him to the stream and helping him fill his flasks. "May I ask why you are heading so far north of Gondor, for it is a long ride."

"Indeed you may and indeed it is," Arthos said standing up to face the two travellers. "The King is in search of a hero, there has been problems in Fangorn." At this Radagast's mind sparked.

"Fangorn?" He asked in a calm voice.

"Yes I'm afraid so, people have been going in and are not being seen again. That wasn't so bad, people just tended to avoid it but just recently...." Arthos' voice trailed off.

"Yes?" Radagast said almost screaming.

"Well, bodies began to be found, ripped to shreds and now there are rumours of children being stolen from their beds during the dead of night. Things are looking really bad." For just a second Mattius caught the look in Radagast's eyes. Pure fear. "But I must be on my way, thank you for your help gentlemen." With that he put his helm back on, mounted his horse and rode north.

"What is wrong, Radagast?" asked Mattius.


The wizard looked up at the elf. "We need to go to Isengard immediately." Mattius nodded as Radagast began to walk south in deep thought. He would give Radagast time to speak his worries, one thousand years of being with him had let him know when to leave him be.

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It was dusk in Lorien.

The ever-darkening clouds loomed overhead, their grey mass turned different shades of pink in the wake of the sun. Far beyond, to the east, a vast canvas of sky gave off flaming auras of all the colors of a rainbow. Amid the painted wisps of cloud and air was an orb of dark gold, ever sinking further toward the deeps of the world.

It was on such an evening that Endereth walked through the woods of Lothlorien again, after many, many years. Only shortly after her escapades in the Blue Mountains had she even set foot in the land she had once called home. But long since then she was a ranger. She had no home.
In her travels she had descried many processions of her people on their way to Valinor. Her heart broke again and again each time she saw them, for she knew they would never have her among them. She was a lone wayfarer, never to find a home with the elves again. She had forsaken them for her own desires long ago.

Now, as Endereth walked through the Golden Wood, once great and lit with the magic of the Lady of Light, she was taken aback at the magnitude of its fading. No sunlight shone now through the trees, and the golden leaves of winter were not nearly so wondrous as they once had been. Still they fell in numbers at her feet as she wrapped her dark cloak tighter still about her chilled body. The whole wood seemed to shrink before Ender's feet as her clear, icy eyes beheld a land shrouded in dusky silver.

Ahead of her there was an opening in the trees, leading to the shining waters of the river Nimrodel. Beside it, a tall bey mare was leashed to a tree. She neighed and lifted her head slightly as Endereth approached. The ranger gave a wry smile and stroked the mare's neck. "Yes, I remember it too, Caeren. It used to be glorious, but no longer. Now, let us move on."

The elven ranger mounted her steed hastily and they made east, following Nimrodel upstream, as the last sliver of sun sank behind the hills. Its light still gave a golden hue to Ender's face as she left Lorien; for the last time, she thought. Her back turned to the forest, she was surprised to hear three voices speaking with serious tones. Sliding off of Caeren's back, Endereth ran to the source of the voices, though their persuns were hidden from view. As soon as she believed she was close enough, Ender gave a startled cry to see a messenger of the King of Gondor ride away quickly. Just a few feet away she heard the two remaining voices speak.

"What is wrong, Radagast?"

Ender stifled a gasp. Radagast? Was Radagast the Brown, wizard and bird-lover, truly here in Lorien?

"We need to go to Isengard immediately." It was the voice of Radagast. Endereth would know the commanding tone anywhere. And it must have been Mattius with him!

As Radagast appeared and began to walk southward, Endereth walked out from behind a tree, breathless, unsure of what to say. A strong-looking, fair-haired elf looked up as she appeared, looked down again, and did a double-take. "Endereth?!" he shouted.

Radagast whipped around at Mattius' cry, his eyes growing wide, and he smiled in spite of himself. "Why, if it isn't the ranger Endereth! Mae govannem, my dear."

"Mae govannem, my old companions," Endereth replied, still reeling from the shock of seeing the two there of all places. "May I ask you both... what has just occured that requires a venture to Isengard?"

[ April 16, 2003: Message edited by: Bethberry ]