The Night's Wanderer

23. A Change of Character

It took a day more on horseback through the dark forest of Fangorn for the group to even near Isengard. And when they did their welcoming was a surprising one.

Morrandir could smell pipe tobacco, meat, and ale as they neared, making him very confused. Legolas noticed the furrow of the Wanderer's brows as his head tilted to the side like a curious dog.

"What is it?" Legolas questioned quietly so not to draw attention to them. It always seemed as though Morrandir knew more than he let on, but Legolas was yet to find a way to distinguish between knowing if it was a good or bad thing that Morrandir knew.

"I smell food and drink?" Morrandir said in a questioning tone. 

It made no sense.

He knew the tracks from the day previous to be of Ent making, and the gentle giants of the trees never delved in the luxuries of drink and meat, and fire for tobacco was not a wise idea. So that leaves two possible culprits. The two Troublemakers seemed to find that their troubles have a blessed end.

A short burst of laughter caused his ears to twitch. That was indeed the alcohol induced joy of two Hobbits, Pippin's laughter carrying on as the substance the two smoked dulled his mind. 

"Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard!" Merry spoke, a small slur in his words before he brought his pipe back to his lips. 

Letting his lips rise at the innocence of the two Hobbits Morrandir shook his head in amusement as they told Gimli what they feasted on. The salted pork was an item of interest, probably as the food loving dwarf had been surviving on elven bread and foraged foods from the forests. A diet Morrandir loved, but dwarves were not favourable of it.

"We're under orders," Merry defended them both from Gandalf's disgusted glance, "from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard." 

Nudging Celebrandir to go forward Morrandir was eager to see his old friend. It had been many centuries since his last encounter with the old Ent, Morrandir much more an elfling back then, and he was ashamed for not visiting his friend more than he had.

There had been once a day where the small grey haired elfling ran around the forest, climbing up the trees as high as possible in hope to touch the Moon and its Council. 

Treebeard had always presented he enjoyed the visits, soon educating the inquisitive elfling of the Ent and the great forests of Arda, quenching Morrandir's thirst for knowledge. The young elf was like a squirrel scampering around the trees, but one big enough for the Ent to catch on various occasions. 

"Young Master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come," Treebeard spoke up, eyes working their way across the party on horseback, "Ah, and small elfling, you've returned as well." The old oak tree mused. 

"It is good to see you well Fangorn," Morrandir greeted back, lips twitching into a smile. 

"Wood and water, stock and stone I can master. But there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower." Treebeard informed them, his slow speech pleasing to Morrandir's elven ears, although darker and foreboding to the rest of the party.

Taking in the Ent's words they all knew a battle was a possibility against those residing in the tower. The waterlogged ground could become a battlefield in mere seconds if they didn't act with caution. 

"Show yourself," Aragorn whispered, Morrandir believing the Royal Ranger's eyes sat on the tower before them.

Taking a moment to slip from Celebrandir's saddle and into the water, Morrandir needed to know what they were dealing with. Muttering "Marsay tula palk al- rindora," [World energy give me sight,] he could make out the large stone tower before them where Saruman hid from the world.