Abandoned Ship (June 3010) [Redbough & Golasgil]

”Lady, you must be wary. Do not linger to tend to my wound. Haste yourself away – there is some leafy creature nearby and I know not its intentions.”

Nida pressed her lips together, for a moment flicking her eyes to the leafy creature in question as he peered down over the two of them with concerned eyes. “I believe I have already met the creature,” she hummed lowly, slowly looking back to Golasgil.

"Myyyy intentionsss arrre only to helllp. I sawwww the smoke, aaaand fearrred a fire waaaas burrrning in the woodsss. Innnsteaaad, I fiiind youuuu, and youuur ship."

The sweeping, deep, and resonating way the tree was able to form its words still struck Nida as amazing, bordering something in her that thought it fantastical and horrifying. She had never seen a tree quite like this, nor had she heard any tales of the Haradric traders or visitors to Maalik’s courts that hinted such beings were common in the lands of Gondor.

She looked back out over the water, seeing the floating wreckage and the coiling smoke. “There may be things in the wreckage that will help,” Nida offered after a moment of consideration. She looked down to Golasgil, pulling the wrapped cloth away from his temple, beginning to rise from her knees. “I will be back,” she promised him, and perhaps the creature that towered over the two of them and moved for the water.

“What are you doing, Nida?” Barac called desperately. “We need to go for the city before this…this…thing decides it doesn’t want to be helpful!” He was jogging up, working to catch her arm. “Come on. Quickly!”

Nida frowned at the man, pulling her arm away. “This is not the farm, Barac,” she declared quietly. “One does not get far by ignoring others.” She looked to the others. “Search the shore. If we can find a cup, or a bowl—something to bring the man water.” She stooped herself, as the other escaped laborers began to fan out along the shore, and sift through washed up debris. She took the cloth square she had folded and dipped it in the water, ringing it and pacing her way back to Golasgil.

“They are searching for something to bring you water. I will join them in a moment, but I wish to clean this first.” Once more she kneeled, and with gentle motions she sought to tend the wound and clear away the blood.

Pirates. The ent's furrowed brows creased further, a grim look affecting him. Centuries of life had taught him enough about the lives of Men to know that there were those whole prowled the waters to prey on their own kind, taking everything they could carry and torching what was left behind. He swung his head back towards the ship, and a nearly-imperceptible shudder made his leaves rustle quietly. If there was one thing he well and truly feared, it was fire, and he didn't want to imagine what kind of pain those poor sailors had endured before the end.

The woman left his side briefly to try and salvage what she could from the wreck. One of the others still seemed frightened, however, urging her to leave while they could. He could practically feel the fear radiating off him in waves, and again wondered what had happened to these people to leave such a mark on their psyches. To his relief, though, the woman turned aside his protests gently but firmly, returning to her task of searching the shore. Several others joined her, and he turned his attention back to the injured man, now slowly seeming to come to. He startled as he realized that he was laying in the ent's hands and scrambled out faster than the ent could react. He seemed to be standing all right, if a bit unsteadily, and so the ent allowed it, although his hands remained resting on the ground in the event the man fell.

He seemed awestruck by him, and Redbough let out a quiet, rumbling chuckle. "No treeeee, but a tree shepherrrrd. Annn Ent. We keep to the willlld places of the worrrrld, helping them to heallll afterrrr strife." For the moment, he would leave out the fact that he was in truth a native to this part of the world, having walked these forests in his long-distant youth. 

The lady returned, resuming her task of cleaning the man's head wound. It appeared to be bleeding less, although there was no doubt in the ent's mind that it still hurt. He was impressed that the man managed to hold himself still as she tended to it. Upon his question, the ent's crimson eyes flicked to her as well, equally curious. "Whoeverrrr you arrrre, if you wish it, I would be happy to help you traverrrrse these lands to your dessstination. Gondorrrr is not farrrr, but the forest caaaaan hold danger."

He stood. He wobbled. And when the lady returned with the cool, wet cloth he once again slumped, the movement being too much for his spent energy and dizzy head. Golasgil allowed her to dab gently at the wound, grimacing but making no outcry or protest. In this small manner at least, he marked himself a man of Gondor. And when he heard that word spoken in the rumbling voice of the creature – called ent – his eyes lifted. No, they were not too far from the fair city, if the means by which he had been traveling were still available to him. But he was candid with himself to acknowledge, in his present condition, he would be hard pressed to make his way to Minas Tirith on foot. Yet, to travel accompanied by this…unknown…Golasgil had barely time to contemplate the wisdom or folly of such a move when the words of the gracious lady surprised him even more.

Slaves! From beyond the mountains – surely she could only mean…but how had they left such a cruel and terrible place? And her own homeland – Harad – ancient sworn enemy of his own people…yet, he could hardly conceive that he could call her foe, as he looked into her eyes, filled for the moment with kindness, and recollection, of memories perhaps unwelcome. He saw steel there too, though, and he wondered….However the men of Gondor did not wage war on women and children.

He struggled to sit more upright and took the offered cup eagerly, finding the sight and smell of water made the thirst temporarily set aside by amazement came back a hundred fold. He drank, deeply, and with great satisfaction, until the cup was drained.

”Lady, I thank you,” he said, with no apparent cooling of his appreciation based on her revelation of her race. His eyes went up to take in the bark covered visage of the strange creature, and he allowed, ”You are right, Sir Ent. These lands are dangerous, from both the impassive hazards of the earth, and from the purposeful malice of men.” He looked again to Nida. ”I offer you and your party my protection, lady, but it seems for the while I may be more in need of your assistance than I am able to return in kind. I…I have no true knowledge of these lands. I believe….” He looked up again at Redbough. ”I believe in my heart that this creature is a fortuitous boon sent by some merciful force, to help us all in our travails. Sir, if you are true in your offer of succor and assistance, I think we’d be the sorriest of fools to deny your kindness.”

Redbough
Amira

Thunder came from the bark and limbs of the creature. The ent. Nida, for a moment felt a flush of something cold wash through her limbs, stemming first from her chest. Fear. Anxiety.

Intermingled, it made the woman shudder, and she waited. Surely the tree-being was angry. If such was the case…

"Morrrrrdorrr. Sick soil, crrrrruel denizens."

Nida looked to the hand-like limbs of the tree with trepidation, awaiting some sort of strike or grasp. Something that showed she was neither no longer trusted, nor welcome. When it did not come, she shifted her attention once more, seeking now the being’s eyes through the red-painted leaves that clung to his dark bark. “You are indeed right, Master Ent,” the woman answered, the sound dredged with her own distaste for the lands that had belonged to the Dark Lord. “The lash and tears perhaps are the heartbeat of that land.”

Cruelty like she had never seen thrived in that volcanic, ashen place. Her back stung at the recollection of the boiled leather whips, her wrists ached at the memory of chains. Behind her, the laborers that had escaped the farm alongside her shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps their minds were plagued by the ghosts of nightmares from their time in Mordor, too; Nida could not blame them. It seemed as if the shadows of the mountains still cast shadow over them, leering and promising them their return.

"Of courrrse, I will guide youuuu to Minaaas Tirrrith safely. Do youuuu neeeeed me to carrrry you? I am morrrrre than strrrong enough to bear those who are injurrred."

The man was right. To refuse such help would be folly. Perhaps this ent was a gift; Minas Tirith’s road was long, and if their journey so far was of any indication, likely to be riddled with peril. “Then it seems we will owe a debt we cannot pay,” Nida hummed to the creature. She wondered if perhaps there was something she could offer to do for an ent; perhaps he needed to be watered, or if any of the leaves that made his lofty, fiery crown needed to be pruned away. It was a question, perhaps, worthy of asking, though perhaps when under way.

Instead, she turned away from the ent, looking instead to the man as he sat now before her. “You should allow him to help you,” Nida hummed to the man. He still looked pale, and the woman was unsure how well she trusted his legs to bear him yet.

“Barac,” Nida added. “Draw more water for him,” she bid, taking the cup once more from Golasgil’s hands and settling it in the other man’s. While Barac did not look wholly pleased, he did turn and head for the river and left Nida to assist the sodden, damp man into the ent’s waiting hand.

“Come, I shall help you,” Nida said to the man. With a firm, but gentle hold, the woman wrapped an arm about Golasgil’s shoulders to help support him as she sought to move him for the branch-like grip.

“It is not often I travel with those who are nameless,” Nida drawled, for a moment a curl coming to the corner of her lips. “Perhaps if those of the West do not carry such titles, I will need name you myself,” she said with low laughter to the man. Curiously, though, she lifted her eyes to mark the dark-barked figure waiting. “Is there something that I may call you, master ent? Are there names for your kind?”