CHAPTER 156: FANGORN FOREST

After dealing with the allegiance issue in Bree, Sylas prepared to head out.

Besides wanting to find Gandalf to see if he could use his wisdom and understanding of fire to help evolve his Animagus into a phoenix, he also planned to travel and "sign in" at various locations, hoping for unexpected gains. It would be even better if he could, by chance, obtain magical knowledge about the phoenix.

What he wanted most was Dumbledore’s insights and memories, as the master of the phoenix Fawkes, Dumbledore must have possessed deep knowledge and research on the creature. Unfortunately, the rewards from his "sign-ins" were never determined by his own will.

After making arrangements in the castle, Sylas took out the Palantír and checked Gandalf’s location.

As Gandalf’s image appeared in the crystal ball, Sylas raised his brows in surprise.

Gandalf was speaking to a tall, bearded tree-man.

"This is Fangorn Forest?" Sylas muttered, recognizing the figure as an Ent, a tree-being of the Ent race, more human-like than the Huorn tree-men, capable of movement and human speech.

In the image, Gandalf suddenly seemed to notice something.

"Who is it?" he called into the void, his expression sharp and wary. But moments later, his eyes softened, confusion replacing the alertness.

"Sylas, is that you?"

Sylas couldn’t respond from a distance, so after confirming Gandalf’s location, he immediately traveled by fireplace to Lórien, the nearest place to Fangorn Forest.

"Sylas, why are you here?" Arwen asked in surprise.

He was equally surprised to see her there, expecting she would be in Rivendell.

"I need Gandalf’s help. He’s in Fangorn Forest, so I came to Lórien to pass through first," Sylas explained.

Noticing the slight disappointment in her expression, he added, "Would you like to come with me to Fangorn Forest?"

Arwen’s eyes lit up, and she smiled brightly. "Alright!"

Naturally, if one wanted to take someone’s daughter on a trip, they needed the parents’ permission.

Lady Galadriel gave a gentle nod of approval.

Celeborn neither objected nor agreed, his expression calm and unreadable, though his manner toward Sylas remained unchanged. Even so, Sylas couldn’t shake the feeling of a faint chill running down his spine whenever the Lord of Lórien looked his way.

Under the watchful gaze of Celeborn and Galadriel, Sylas handed Arwen a broom. Then, with a shimmer of magic, he transformed into a great owl, spreading his wings to fly alongside her. Together, they soared out of the golden woods of Lórien, heading south.

Fangorn Forest was not far from here, an ancient and brooding woodland older than the kingdoms of Elves and Men alike. Before long, the dense treeline loomed ahead. Sylas landed first, shifting back into human form, while Arwen brought her broom down beside him.

They didn’t rush in. The shepherds of this forest, the Ents, were known for their deep suspicion of strangers. Ages ago, Men and Dwarves had felled many trees, and the Ents had not forgotten. Most who entered without leave never returned, for any who threatened Fangorn met swift judgment.

Though Sylas was a wizard, he was still, at heart, a man. Worse, he carried the title "Tree-Feller," and one of his wands contained a Huorn core, the dark and dangerous cousins of the Ents. Feeling it unwise to face them with such a weapon, he stowed it away and instead drew a wand of magnolia wood, its core woven with one of Lady Galadriel’s own hairs. Then, fastening the white-gem brooch gifted to him by Thranduil, he conjured his silver Patronus and sent it gliding into the forest with a message for Gandalf.

Arwen, who had lived alongside him for over a year, understood the thought behind these gestures. Her lips curved into a smile, eyes dancing with quiet amusement. Sylas, catching her look, could only sigh inwardly, sometimes one had to bow to necessity.

The Ents were not to be taken lightly. Born of Yavanna’s will in the First Age, they could rouse the forest itself to fury, sending roots and branches crashing down upon intruders. They had the strength to crush stone, tear down fortresses, and even bring down the walls of Isengard. When roused to wrath, they could sweep aside armies of Orcs as easily as a man might scatter dry leaves.

They hadn’t waited long when the forest began to stir. Branches shifted, trunks groaned, and the trees themselves seemed to draw aside, opening a path. From the shadows emerged a towering figure, an Ent, six or seven meters tall, striding forward with deliberate, thunderous steps.

He was a living giant of wood and leaf: head rising high above his broad shoulders, neck almost hidden beneath the rugged swell of his trunk. His arms were thick and powerful, his fingers long and knotted like ancient roots. His skin was the green-grey of weathered bark, patched with moss, and here and there sprouted small sprays of leaves. His massive feet, each with seven gnarled toes, pressed into the earth as he walked.

The great Ent moved with deliberate slowness, each massive step pressing into the earth and sending a faint tremor through the ground. Resting comfortably on the giant’s broad shoulders was Gandalf, pipe in hand, a warm smile playing on his lips as he spotted them.

"Gandalf!" Sylas called out in surprise, waving eagerly.

The Ent halted a few paces away and lowered the wizard to the ground with careful, steady hands.

"It has been far too long, Sylas!" Gandalf greeted, his eyes bright with genuine pleasure. "And the radiant Lady Duskstar!"

"Mithrandir," Arwen replied, inclining her head with a graceful smile.

Gandalf regarded them both warmly, then shot Sylas a conspiratorial wink, a flicker of admiration in his gaze. Turning, he gestured to the towering figure behind him.

"This," he said, "is my old friend, the eldest and leader of the Ents, Treebeard."

He faced the Ent once more. "And these two, this fair Elf-maiden is the jewel of Lothlórien and the Evening Star of Rivendell, the White Princess of the Noldor, daughter of Lord Elrond. And the other... he is the black-robed wizard from Hogwarts Castle at Weathertop of whom I have spoken: master of the dragon Smaug, bane of Orcs, and my steadfast companion."

"It is an honour to meet you, Master Treebeard," Sylas said politely, inclining his head. "I have long heard of the tree-shepherds of Fangorn."

Arwen also offered a gentle greeting.

Treebeard’s great head tilted as he looked down at them. His voice rumbled forth slowly, deep and resonant, like distant thunder rolling over the mountains. "Welcome... Elf-lady."

He was plainly fond of Arwen. The Elves had always shared a kinship with the forest, regarding it as their home and ally. In ages past, it was the Elves who had first discovered the sleeping Ents, awakened them, and taught them speech and thought. From that bond had grown a friendship that had endured through the long centuries.

But when Treebeard’s gaze shifted to Sylas, it sharpened. A green glimmer flashed in his deep brown eyes as he said, "I sense the resentment of trees within you... You have harmed them before."

Sylas’s heart gave a small jolt.

Choosing not to hide it, he recounted the tale of his past quarrel with Huorn-kin in the Old Forest.

Treebeard listened in heavy silence, the weight of his gaze never wavering. Sylas felt a bead of tension coil in his chest, but the reassuring calm on Gandalf’s face eased his worry.

At last, the Ent spoke again, slow and deliberate. "Since you are a friend of Gandalf’s, I will believe you are not wicked at heart. If you give your word never again to bring harm to the trees, then Fangorn will welcome you."

"I give my word," Sylas replied without hesitation.

Treebeard studied him a moment longer, then nodded. "Then follow me."

With that, he lifted Gandalf once more onto his broad shoulders and turned to lead the way into the ancient forest.

Sylas let out a quiet breath of relief. That was... a pass, wasn’t it? He mounted his broom and held out a hand to Arwen. She took it, and together they followed after the Ent.

Treebeard’s stride was unhurried yet immense, covering great distances with ease. He moved like a king among the trees, and wherever he passed, other Ents and Huorns drew aside in respect, the forest parting to make way for him.

In time, the towering trees thinned, revealing a glade at the foot of the Misty Mountains. Here lay the dwelling place of the Ents—a grand hall shaped by the hands of time and nature, as though carved into the mountain itself.

A wide, level clearing stretched before it, flanked by rows of tall, straight trees like silent sentinels. And the deeper they went into that living hall, the taller and older the trees became, their crowns lost high in the shadowed canopy above, the air rich with the scent of moss and age-old wood.

Sylas discovered that these trees were all Huorns, tree-like beings who served as the silent gatekeepers of the Ents, standing watch over this place without a sound.

Following Treebeard into the hall, he saw that the walls on either side stretched upward until they met the fifty-foot-high cave ceiling, ending at a steep rock wall. In the center of the hall there was a gap through which both light and water flowed.

Beside this gap stood a massive stone table, yet there were no chairs. On the right side of the room lay a huge low bed piled with hay and bark. The entire dwelling radiated a primitive, natural beauty. This was Treebeard’s home, the Spring Hall.

Ents did not live together; each usually guarded a particular forest or region, claiming it as their own territory and dwelling there alone. That was why Sylas saw no other Ents present. Only on great occasions, such as an "Entmoot," would the tree-folk gather from every corner of the forest to discuss matters of importance.

Treebeard set Gandalf down and invited everyone to sit as they pleased. He then lifted two great containers and placed them upon the stone table, which rose at least six feet above the floor. Hovering his massive hands over the vessels, he gave them a gentle shake. At once, golden and green light spilled forth, filling the entire room with a warm radiance.

Next, he walked to the far end of the hall, opened a huge jar sealed with a heavy stone lid, and drew from it a ladle brimming with liquid. He poured the contents into four bowls, one large, three smaller.

Sylas’s eyes lingered on the two light-filled containers Treebeard had used as lamps. They were clearly enchanted objects, their glow rich with life and vitality, casting a comfort over all who beheld them. But his attention was soon claimed by the bowls of liquid Treebeard now carried toward them.

"You are fortunate today," Gandalf said, his eyes alight as he regarded the drink. "This is Ent-draught, the unique drink of the tree-folk. You will not find it anywhere else."

Sylas remembered the tales. Merry and Pippin, during the War of the Ring, had drunk Ent-draught while staying in Fangorn. Not only had their wounds healed and their weariness vanished, but they had also grown taller, taller than any other Hobbits in living memory.

Thinking of this, Sylas felt his own excitement rising. A drink that could make one grow taller was no small gift. Though he was not short by any means, who could refuse the chance to stand taller still?