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that-angry-noldo · 2 years

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The Wind in the Leaves

[There once was a bird, Treebeard remembers.]

Now, it wasn't some... ordinary bird. It hadn't have wings nor feathers. It had long legs and long hands, and a patch of long golden fur on it's head. But it would sing, and it didn't hurt his trees, and it would listen to the whisper of the winds in the oak's leaves and to worms minding their business in the soil, so Treebeard didn't mind it.

Treebeard learned later that the bird wasn't alone, and it's species were called Eldar, and that other Ents already encountered them; but Treebeard paid it no mind, for Eldar rarely wandered in his forests, and rarely hurt his trees, and sang merry songs, and laughed, and their laughter was the one of the spring streams, of the shiny stars, of the worryless birds.

And these birds loved his forest, and they loved his trees, and they would wander off to the most surprising parts of his lands, and then they would get lost, and then they would find their way back - always tracking their steps, always consulting the stars, yet never listening to the forest itself.

It's almost like they were deaf.

It's almost like that practicular bird knew it was deaf.

Yes, that's how the story goes.

There once was a bird, Treebeard remembers. Golden hair crowned with the silver circlet, eyes looking around with questioning curiosity, head tilted on it's shoulder, like it was listening.

Like it could actually hear.

There once was a bird, Treebeard remembers. He also remembers that he loved that bird.

The bird would come and sit, listening to the whispers of wind, to the mumbling of worms, to the murmur of leaves; it would close it's eyes, and at one point, Treebeard wasn't that sure it couldn't actually understand.

He never reached out to the bird, always eyeing it from the distance, wondering in silence.

Sometimes, the bird would feel his gaze and startle, but it was young and inexperienced, and it could never find him. Sometimes, Treebeard almost wished the bird found him, seen him, heard him.

But then, the bird disappeared.

It was a dark time, time of smoke, screams and fire, time of orcs and axes, time of blood and anger. Many trees died. Many birds burned.

Treebeard never left his forest, healing what could be helped, growing what could be planted, mourning what was lost forever. He never forgot about the bird.

(Sometimes, he felt the urgent need to find it, to make sure it's okay, because the bird was his, and he had to protect it.

But the bird was gone.

Sometimes, Treebeard would forget it wasn't a bird at all.)

And one day, the bird showed up, and Treebeard wanted to reach to it, to hold it close, and so did the forest, and trees whispered in concern, and birds stopped chirping for a moment.

The bird changed.

It was thin and weary, and it's hands laid weakly on it's chest, and it's gaze was tired, and Treebeard could feel the smoke and the fire, and he almost moved, almost reached-

"There you are, Findarato."

"Tyelko."

Treebeard never heard the bird speak before.

The other bird was harsh and tall, and had silver hair, waved into a single braid. It smelled of horse sweat and hound howls.

Treebeard remained still. This Elda wasn't a bird. It will never be.

"You know, me and Curvo were getting really worried about you. You shouldn't disappear this sudden."

"Oh. I-"

'I guess I don't care,' the leaves sing, hopping onto bird's thoughts. 'I guess you were worried for wrong reasons,' branches suggest, reaching to the bird.

"- I guess I just wanted to get some break, you know? I also- I think I told Edrahil and Orodreth were I was going, didn't I?"

The silver-haired snorted. "Yeah, you did. Edrahil said 'tree stuff' and refused to elaborate. Care to explain, Ingo?"

"I- uh-"

"Not really," the trees suggest, and the trees never lie. The bird groaned, shook its head.

"I- you know how you talk to anilmals, Tyelko?"

"Doesn't explain tree stuff, cousin."

"I just. I used to come here before the- before the- Bragollach and. Stuff," the bird exhaled, closing it's eyes. "Kind of. Listening to trees. Resting."

"Listening to what, cousin?"

"Please, Tyelko, I'm tired. I just wanted some time alone."

"Are you saying your people struggle with their everyday life and you, their king, just wandered elsewhere from your direct obligations? Listening to- for Morgoth's sake, Finrod, trees can't talk! "

"Rude," whispered the old birch, and Treebeard couldn't agree more.

"It's not like they won't survive a day without me," the bird said uncertainly. "Please, Tyelko. I'm just... really, really tired."

The silence fell between them. Silver-haired eyed the bird cautiously, and then sat beside it.

"You can always come to me and Curvo, you know."

"I- yes. I know. I just... I hadn't visited this place in eight years already. I... I can take you with me next time? Maybe?"

"Hell no," hissed the green ivy, and the Ent closed his eyes in the agreement.

More silence.

"What- What do the trees talk about?"

"Oh!" the bird perked up and smiled. "They say-"

"Tell him he's a dwarf."

"- they talk about the weather, and about the winds, and also gossip about the birds nesting in their branches - it's pretty interesting, actually, bird drama is the best drama - and... honestly, sometimes they describe the winter and the snow in the way that makes me want to lay down and hibernate for a solid tree month - and oh! They also talk about squirells hiding their food and not managing to find it later, it's hilarious, and-"

The bird can understand, Treebeard thinks, and he can't help but feel a bit proud.

The silver-haired thinks, and then snorts.

"Very funny, cousin, but trees don't talk."

"They do!"

"Whatever helps you to sleep at night, Findarato. Stop behaving like a goddamn child."

"I- just leave, Tyelkormo. Please."

The bird didn't come the day after.

Or the week after, the month after, the year after.

It's nest remained empty. It fell to time pretty quickly, gave in to merciless rains and winds and snows.

And when he saw his kin again, they talked and they talked and they talked; and he heard of the nightingale princess and the one-handed man; and he heard the tale of Finrod and Sauron, and he stood still, and the forest mourned with him.

There once was a bird, Treebeard remembers.

He shooks his head and continues walking.

#silmarillion #tolkien #lotr #tolkien fic #finrod #finrod felagund #treebeard #celegorm #dagor bragollach #/end of classification tags #i randomly remembered someone saying finrod would befriend ents and my head went brrrrr #finrod learning treelanguage: looks like we can't speedrun friendship this time guys #edrahil: can't you be normal for just five (5) minutes??#orodreth have lost faith in his uncle long ago #also i wrote this without using google translator! that's an achievement!#anyways i hope you enjoyed :D

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