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Hobbits weren’t the only beings that kept their souls outside of their bodies. Not that they knew of that; not for a very long time by now. Somewhere between the Wandering Days and the Settling of the Shire, they’d changed, but they’d all but forgotten about it or those who’d brought about that change in them.
By the time the Ring was rediscovered and on its way to Mordor, even the tales told of wandering trees had diminished. Only those living too close to the Old Forest would still tell their faunts about them, but those stories had grown twisted into cautionary tales for the little hobbits and their shifting dæmons. Don’t go wandering about into the forest, elderly grandmothers would whisper. The trees are watching, ready to snatch you both away!
So imagine, if only for a moment, the surprise of Merry and Pippin when they met Treebeard in the Fangorn Forest and learned that Ents, too, had dæmons.
~~~
“It feels weird in here, Merry,” Pippin whispered and eyed the old, gloomy trees of the forest. He was tired, and so was Chirper, his jaybird dæmon who sat perched on his curly hair. After avoiding orcs for so long and keeping a painful distance from Pippin, she looked like she’d not leave for the foreseeable future. “Like it’s hard to breathe.”
“It reminds me of the Old Forest,” Eve added. She was a thrush, just as small as Chirper but soft-spoken and motherly in a way that fit Merry oddly well. She, too, sat on Pippin’s curls, snuggling up to Chirper as she surveyed their surroundings. “Merry, I don’t like this.”
Merry, who seemed not bothered at all that his soul was touching Pippin, could only agree. He’d, of course, sneaked into the Old Forest during his childhood days. Growing up so close to it had also sharpened his senses somewhat, and while this forest didn’t feel as hostile as the one at home, he’d wager that it was at least deeply suspicious of the four small invaders.
But Pippin wasn’t the only one who felt tired to the bone. The orcs had forced them to run for far stretches, not that the times they’d been carried had been any more restful. All he wanted to do was find a patch of grass to sleep on. And something to drink and eat. And a good pipe to smoke…
He shook his head. First, he had to make sure they were reasonably safe.
“See that spot right there? Where there’s some light coming through? We could climb those rocks and get a good look around. It’s not that far,” he said and pointed forward, to where he’d seen the spot of light. “Maybe it’ll help us find the way out.”
“I could fly up again,” Eve offered. “If there’s an open spot.”
Chirper looked up, her little crest perking up. ”I could fly up right now! If I wanted to.”
“No, you couldn’t, it’s too dangerous!”
“I totally can!”
The chirping and fluttering on Pippin’s head was quickly ignored by the two hobbits as made their way towards the rock formation. With the way it was worn out on the side, it almost looked like a staircase, albeit a very uneven one made for far larger feet than theirs. Tired as they were, it was a tedious climb, but once they settled between the roots of the gnarled old tree on top of the rock and felt the sun on their faces, both Merry and Pippin relaxed. Even their dæmons quietened down as a gust of fresh air filled their lungs.
Merry hadn’t even noticed how stuffy the air had been underneath the canopy. Maybe they could stay here for a while, just to rest a bit. He leaned back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes fluttering close. He felt Pippin lean against his shoulder and together, they fell asleep.
He woke with a start, his eyes almost immediately searching for Eve, Pippin and Chirper. Their dæmons had taken to the air, wings fluttering in a quick panic around Pippin, who dangled in the air. For a moment, Merry thought that Pippin was hanging from a branch of the old tree - had he tried to climb it, only for his clothes to snatch onto the twigs?
But no - with mounting horror, Merry watched as these twigs curled around Pippin’s middle like fingers of a giant’s hand. Merry jumped up, his hand hovering uselessly over the spot where his little sword should be. It had long been taken by those nasty orcs, though, and all he could do was shout for Pippin as the hobbit was raised up and up and up.
There was a face on the old tree. Large, soulful eyes looked at the caught hobbit before settling on the two little bird dæmons circling Pippin, yet not daring to touch the moving tree.
“Let him go, let him go!” Chirper sounded half angry, half afraid, her crest up and the flash of blue wing feathers sharp in the evening light. They must had slept for hours for it to be so late.
Eve dove down, careful not to touch the being. “No, don’t! He’ll fall! Pippin, hold on tight!”
“Let him down!” Merry joined them and he did touch the tree, knocking his fists against the old, mossy bark.
And then they all stopped shouting about when a deep, resonating voice came out from the tree, groaning like shifting woods, rumbling like tumbling rocks, and yet not particularly threatening the way an orc would sound.
“Hum, ho… what’s that?” the voice spoke and those large, brown-and-green eyes took a longer look around, at Merry and Pippin and Eve and Chirper. “For a moment I almost mistook you for little orcs. But I have never met an orc with a soul, hmm…”
The tree moved before Merry could jump out of the way. Another gnarly hand caught him by the middle and lifted him up. It didn’t hurt at all, was the thing - Merry felt cradled in the palm of this being, this moving, talking tree.
“I’m not an orc, and Merry’s not an orc either!” Pippin said with an offended squeak to his voice. He shook a fist at the big face. “We’re hobbits and I’d like to be called a hobbit if you please!”
“Hobbits? Now, now, don’t be hasty. I know the songs, but I have never heard of hobbits…” The tree hummed and hommed, the sound reverberating through Merry as well it felt so deep. “But then, I have never seen another being who keeps their soul outside, haven’t I?”
“Please don’t hurt them,” Merry pleaded and Eve landed in his cupped hands. He brought her close to his chest and saw Pippin doing much the same. With dæmons as small as theirs, it felt nice to be able to protect them like this, and right now he wanted to hide Eve from the sight of this strange being. “We did nothing wrong, I swear! We just wanted to hide for a bit-”
Pippin squirmed in his hold, his eyes wide as he interrupted Merry. “What do you mean by another being?”, he asked. “Hobbits are the only ones with dæmons!”
Merry nodded. That was common knowledge, and their long journey since had only confirmed it. Neither men nor elves nor dwarves had them. Not even Gandalf, or strange Tom Bombadil. Merry had seen trolls and orcs and goblins, too, and, for a short, desperate time, a balrog.
Yet no sight of another dæmon than those the hobbits had brought along - little Eve and littler Chirper, and Sam’s rabbit Bell, and Frodo’s cat Sonia.
But as Merry looked into these large, old eyes, he saw the recognition in them.
“Now, now, that’s not quite true,” the tree said, and he slowly walked down the rock. Merry looked down and saw how perfectly the large feet and curling toes fit against the stair-like formation, and he realized that they had been stairs all along, worn into the rock by decades or more, by the same strange feet that looked like roots. “But then, we always thought that we ents are alone as well. dæmons, you call them? Humm, how interesting.”
“You have a dæmon, too?” Merry asked, eyes wide and confusion rampant. It was such a strange thought - that out of all the creatures and beings on Middle Earth, this tree person, this ent would have one. “Really? But…”
His voice trailed off when he saw the movement. From out of his cupped hand, Eve peeked out and let out a little thrill of delight. There, between the branches of the ent’s head, sat a little squirrel.
Men and elves and dwarves, they all could not separate a settled dæmon from any other animal. Gandalf could because he was a wizard, and the lady Galadriel had been able to, as well. Hobbits, however, had no such problems. Even the littlest hobbit faunt could easily point out a dæmon. It was a good thing, too, since touching a dæmon not your own was a great taboo. Some hobbits were close enough to be allowed to - Merry never had any problems with Pippin carrying around or patting Eve, for example -, but a stranger’s touch was bad in a way he couldn’t describe with words.
And so, Merry knew that the little squirrel was no squirrel but a dæmon, and its eyes were the same shades of browns and greens as the tree’s eyes.
“But- but how?” Merry felt himself saying, his mind still a bit numb from surprise. How could a being so very different from hobbits… be the same in this fundamental way?
“That is a question I would like to contemplate,” the tree said, his steps slow but long. The trees around them seemed to lean out of his way, but only so much so that he could walk through them without slowing down. More often than not, branches and twigs caressed the branches of this strange being.
It looked like affection, Merry thought.
“Where are you bringing us, then?” Pippin asked. “And what’s your name, anyway? I’m Peregrin Tuck, at your service, and this is Chirper.”
What a strange day it was, for Pippin to remind his manners before Merry. “Meriadoc Brandybuck and Eve, at your service.”
“Humm, ho… you may call me Treebeard, then. We’re Fangorn, although my true name might be too long to tell. Yes, Treebeard will do… Treebeard and Fangorn.”
“I like them,” the squirrel said, her voice soft and gentle and matching the rhythm of Treebeard just right, and Merry, who’d still been somewhat tense and protective and afraid, finally relaxed because he knew that a dæmon was a person’s soul, and that was all he needed to know that for now, they were safe. “We should add them to the song.”
“Yes, the song, you are right, my dear,” Treebeard hummed and eyed them again. “Hobbits, you say? Such a hasty name for hasty little creatures, but it fits you well. You must tell me everything about yourselves, or as much as you like to tell me.”
Pippin perked up. “And you’ll tell us about you and about ents, and how come you have dæmons as well.”
From between Merry’s carefully cupped hands, Eve gave him a look that spoke of bright curiosity. Merry couldn’t help but smile. It felt strange on his lips after days of having not done it, but the warmth of the sun still lingered and Treebeard’s hold was gentle and the forest didn’t seem so strange anymore.
Treebeard wore his soul outside his body, just as they did. And Merry couldn’t deny his own curiosity and wonder, now that he’d finally met someone else in this big, vast world to do so.