Arhuine meets Longlimb, in Fangorn

You are embarking through the boughs of Fangorn. A path lies here, seemingly made by large and heavy beings as the dirt is packed and smooth. The trees about you have an ominous way about them, making you feel uneasy to be here. The trees themselves seem to make the path, as all other ways are blocked. Continue carefully, for there are things unheardof that live within these woods. Although the trees become very protective of their land at this time of night, there is just enough of a patch of light from the silverly moon to enable you to see your path clearly.

A lone elf sits upon her cloak beneath a tree upon the rich mould of the forest floor. She hums softly to herself, reading from a book.

Lost in shadow, filled with the haunting, eerie noises of the witching hours; no spritely, elven wood is this. Steeped in the magic of nature, Fangorn sleeps. Shadows are lengthy, and yet, all that lives is not quieted by the night; a song there is, sung by the innumerable birds and beasts, by the endless serried trees, whose leaves and branches rustle and creak the melody; the tune of the forest. A sudden breeze rises up, one unforseen and of direction indiscriminate. Many a loose leaf is caught, 'ere tumbling noisily off into the darkness of the wood... And yet, one tree, a short ash stood (strange though it may seem) amongst a multitude of mighty oaks stands unmoving. Unmoved by the breeze, it looms over the rough-trod path.

Cleareyed, Arhuine looks up. A faint smile upon her lips. Her each and every movement slow and deliberate. A discerning eye, keen mind and quick wit preparing her. Of woodlore she is undoubtedly no stranger, and such as what now presents itself upon the path, long foreseen.
Placing the book by her side she rises. Remaining with head bowed a little respectfully for some time, hands clasped loosely before her, everything about her mein bespeaks of one long prepared to meet and match the Onodrims slow, careful, methodical approach to existence. "May thy ever find thyself hale, bough, root, leaf and twig, and thy fosterings alike. The Ash if I may venture a guess? Some distance from your highlands you are? Or does the darker heart of this beautiful forest call you too? Well met." Raising her head she takes you in most carefully before continuing. "As the first Onod I of my company has met, it is to you I place the request of permission to be within thy forest. Five of us all told. Here and there not great distance off."

From the tree, there comes a rumbling note; "Hroom," announces it, "Hmmm, yes? Ash of the mountains... that is right, I suppose." A voice oddly musical and lilting does the thing possess, though there be no discernable mouth from whence it came, "But ho... my forest? And it is said that the firstborn be not flighty. Ho-hum,It is not my forest, I should say. But /hers/... would you entreat /her/ to enter in?" Of a sudden, the ash moves, (but that a tree should move, forsooth)Up it heaves ittself, as if 'twere rooted in its' place, and turns roundabout, it's great legs untwining, and its' tall arms let fall. An ent it is, one that lends its' gaze t'wards the maid whom picked it out. And it laughs, such a sound! A deep and booming peal of laughter, "Ho-ho, well met, I suppose... but as for permission. Many come in... few go out. If you go out, surmises you had permission to come in, hum?"

A musical laugh lilts in the forest gloom. Arhuines eyes sparkle with amusement. "Nay nay, good Onod. Thyself is found to be at fault of thine own concern. "Tis not for the guest to ignore the host and pay compliment to the builder of the house instead. Unto her does not the whole forest sing? If in that sense we look upon ourselves are we not both guest, and children I suppose, of her?" Arhuine strides slowly forwards, hands still clasped. "And of leaving and entering. Due respect for this land is required. Well I know of once the forest strode from the Blue Mountains to the Iron Hills, and what remains, is that in which we now stand. And thee, one of it's caretakers. Tis thine to decide who shall enter... and leave."

Upwards curling, the Anods' ruddy lips do smile. "O-ho... it knows much, yes. And blesses us with fitting words." And with something of a nostalgic air, (spurred, mayhap by the maidens words) the ent strokes at its' lengthy, mossy beard with a knobbly hand, "Oh... for the elder days. The oldest of us still remember them, and say... once all was trees, in the beginnings, when /she/ walked still. Great mountains of trees there were... and now all is come to this." A haughty sigh the ent draws up, "But ho... wherefrom come you, little ones? And what is it you seek in this place? Seldom now do even the firstborn come hither. And therefore are free to come and go, so long as they keep to the rules. We remember the old debt."

Arhuine shakes her head. Then gives it a toss as she looks about her. "Nay again. I recall no debt. Hand in hand the quendi and the Onodrim have walked the ages past. If not side by side, akin in spirit. No debts should be owed, for our bond and purpose is a common one. The preservation of the gifts bestowed, untainted."She takes a moments pause to give thought. "Tis of this in part which does draw me hither, bringing us unto thy forests. Thee and thine, eldest and closest to the mother from whom that which grows and thrives, healthy and wholesome has sprung." She rests her eyes upon you, slowing the pace of her discourse. "Of healing I seek. Of life and growth, renewed. Restored. Of knowledge, and what may be gleaned of thee, the ancients, enwrapped and enfolded within thy loving Valiers' grace."

A pause the Anod lends, one ample to its' slow, sonorous contemplation. At the last it speaks, "Ahh, words most heartening you speak... and yet. An end is coming... we feel it in root and twig, even as should you. Hum... yes, intertwined we are... even as the trunks of the Hirilorn was of old. An end comes soon, a great dwindling... too late for new beginnings is it not? Surely, seek you not the westward path, hmm?" But the ent leans towards a lengthy scrutiny of the little lady stood before it... to the raven hair, and striking features not lost in the bottomless wells of its' memory. "Ho... but you are one of the Golodhrim... can you seek the straight road? Even as all shall in the end... even the shepherds. If that is so... then shall you stay here an age, and have our knowledge? Perhaps your time has come? It wishes to learn? That is perilous... But healing it may bring."

Arhuine tilts her head, smile cryptic upon her lips. "Dark and drear thy council. Come come, tis not the way to speak to guests!" Her eyes sparkle. "Perhaps indeed the end is near, Naught that this poor elf may change or alter of the song is there? And more discord serves no purpose." She looks off into the branches overhead. "For the nonce I care not about what shall be on the greater scale. Tis not my purpose. A friend has taken an injury, and I seek to set it right. A little task perhaps, but does not the mightiest oak find in it's ancient past it is made up of the littlest tasks? The single acorn nurtured? That good Onod is my goal. Nothing more. Within thy land is many secrets, perhaps some which even the eldest among you know not."

"Hoo, no little task, that. Ever grown an oak? A long labour, that, though one we take on happily, and shall never once regret. But," The Anod waves a twiggy hand, "Such is our lot..." And it smiles once more, a merry smile, "Perhaps you should converse with the oldest... to the eldest, even. Some of the others are hid away, or tree-ish by now, Hoom... yes. I should think that soon he shall find you, even as did I. And his words shall better answer thy questions... his actions thy requests. The eldest is mightier than I."

Arhuine 's smile grows. "At his leisure of course. It is all too common for thy folk to consider others hasty. Tis not the case for this poor elf. The time I have taken in dutifully recording some history has seen many acorns grow to the mightiest of hale trees."A little frown comes to her face. "But I do forget my manners. Arhuine I am called, although at othertimes Lasselante. Falling leaves in the common tongue."

"Ho-hoo... not idly shall one single leaf fall, say we. A pretty name, no less... But I," Outwards stretched is a long, entish arm, "I am the long of limb, Rhankanann and Palyatalma in the hastier tongues. Aptly so, I suppose." And Longlimb smiles, despite himself, "Well met, yes. A merry meeting, this. Recorders of the history, us both... though I do not doubt that our tales each are different... great deeds are but a note in the song." 

Arhuine chuckles which turns to a warm ripple of laughter. "Well met then Long of limb. So short a name, but tell me this, are not the Onod such a hasty folk? Or can you in all honesty say that you have only glanced at a tree as your find yourself striding through the forest? Have you stopped each time and moment to give each and all due consideration?"
She tosses her head again, with more ripples of laughter finding their way down the ancient darkling halls of green. "Tis but how one does look upon things. Taking the time to contemplate later is what truly is of value." Her laughter fades to seriousness. "And that is what does bring me here. Not rashness but long and careful thought. I much look forwards to meeting the most ancients of your land, and reknewing acquiantance of the forests namesake. Unto him do I bear word from my lord. And more."

Fangorn illuminates with the light of the rising sun. All about you trees turn towards it, as if in welcome of the new day.

With laughter in its' turn, the ent does answer: "Spoken well, your words. But perhaps you forget... we only these days remember the trees, such is the way it was meant to be... we are the shepherds, tending the flock. We walk alone. Shall not the shepherd teach their sheep, and the sheep their shepherd... hoo, yes. So one becomes like to the other... and so we do. Even we, whom live for years innumerable, and to whom all the years of men are of small account... even we should not hope to go through the world and know all that /her/ works have to tell us." It withdraws its' outheld arm, lets it fall to depend at its' side, "Long years we have... uncounted years to watch the trees, and listen. And think upon that which we see. Even the eldest does not know all... but there is little he does not. You shall meet him, true... and soon enough. Sooner, if you would have me call him?" The Anod's voice depends 'pon that questioning note.