Earth and Sky [October 3010][Gwaihir]
Oct 24, 2017 21:50:31 GMT -5
Post by Redbough on Oct 24, 2017 21:50:31 GMT -5
The beings alive today knew the Wold as a cold and desolate steppe, just one of many scars left on the land from a war long past. But Redbough remembered a time when the woods stretched further, covering these hills in heavy, ancient forest. As any ent would, he mourned the loss of the trees and the destruction wrought here, but he also couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the lost lives and suffering that had endured here. Numerous battles had been fought here during the Dark Lord's first attempt to conquer Middle Earth, and the blood of countless soldiers had once soaked this soil. To a being whose life was measured in centuries, the life of a human seemed as fleeting as a the beat of a bird's wing--flashing into being, only to be gone a moment later. And yet, Redbough couldn't help but be fascinated by the wonderfully unpredictable phenomenon that was humanity.
He had always been an odd one among his kind. Perhaps that explained why he was out alone, in a place where forests were just a distant memory.
The ent's gently-swaying form stood out against the featureless horizon of the Wold as he made his ponderous way across the plains. A deep, sonorous hum surrounded him, but his song had neither words nor tune. It was not meant for the ears of mortals, be they man or beast, but instead for the ground beneath his feet and the collection of seeds and nuts cradled within his gnarled hands. At random intervals, he would pause and stoop, gently pressing one into the soft soil and pushing the dirt back into place over it. To each seed, he sang of growth and health, coaxing them to bury deep in the soil and take root, so that in the spring, they would have the strength to sprout and reach the sunlight and rain above. Perhaps trying to regrow the entirety of Middle Earth was a fool's task, but it was one Redbough took up readily. Destruction and renewal were merely two halves of one cycle, like winter and summer. Nature always recovered, no matter how long it took.
He had always been an odd one among his kind. Perhaps that explained why he was out alone, in a place where forests were just a distant memory.
The ent's gently-swaying form stood out against the featureless horizon of the Wold as he made his ponderous way across the plains. A deep, sonorous hum surrounded him, but his song had neither words nor tune. It was not meant for the ears of mortals, be they man or beast, but instead for the ground beneath his feet and the collection of seeds and nuts cradled within his gnarled hands. At random intervals, he would pause and stoop, gently pressing one into the soft soil and pushing the dirt back into place over it. To each seed, he sang of growth and health, coaxing them to bury deep in the soil and take root, so that in the spring, they would have the strength to sprout and reach the sunlight and rain above. Perhaps trying to regrow the entirety of Middle Earth was a fool's task, but it was one Redbough took up readily. Destruction and renewal were merely two halves of one cycle, like winter and summer. Nature always recovered, no matter how long it took.