Disclaimer:  All characters belong to Tolkien Estates and New Line Cinema.  This story is non-profit and was written out of the author’s own personal insanity.  Read at your own risk.   May Tolkien have mercy on me. 

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“The hobbits turned and fled deep into the shadows of the wood…  They came at length to the edge of the shelf almost at the feet of an old stump…  They saw that that had only come three or four miles into the forest; the heads of the trees marched down the slopes towards the plain.”

“‘The wind’s changing,’ said Merry.  ‘It’s turned east again.  It feels cool up here.’

‘Yes,’ said Pippin; ‘I’m afraid this is only a passing gleam… What a pity… I almost felt I liked the place.’”

----The Two Towers, Book III

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“Almost felt you liked the place?” interrupted a rather high-pitched, squeaky voice.  “Hoooom, yes.  That is an excellent thought indeed!”

Both hobbits jumped, for the voice broke through the eerie stillness of the forest with an effect akin to the sudden cracking of ice on a silent pond.

“Turn around,” it demanded.  “I wish to look upon your faces!”

Pippin and Merry slowly turned around.  And then turned around again.  And again.

“I didn’t ask you to spin,” snapped the squeaky voice, clearly annoyed.  “I wish to see your faces.  Now turn and face me.”

“Pardon me,” said Pippin as the two hobbits slowly spun in another circle, attempting to locate the Voice, “but where are you?”

He heard an exasperated sigh followed by a muffled curse to his left.  “Here!  I’m here!”

Merry winced; the Voice was most unpleasant to the ears.

The two halted their confused circling and looked up.  The hobbits blinked.  Before them, amidst the tangled and shaggy eaves of Fanghorn, there stood…

Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.

Merry glanced irritably at Pippin.  The latter, who was just as confused, threw up his hands and shrugged.

“I’m very sorry,” Pippin apologized, “but we just can’t seem to find you.”

“Down here.  DOWN HERE!” the Voice became even more high-pitched, if that were possible.  Merry was almost positive his ears were beginning to bleed.

“Oh, right,” Pippin hastened to apologize.  “Sorry.  Very sorry.”

The two hobbits glanced downward.  Their eyes rested upon the owner of the Voice.  Merry gasped.  Pippin didn’t know whether to cry or scream.

“Hoom, hoooooom!” squeaked the Owner of the Voice.  “I am an Ent.  THE Ent.  Some call me Fanghorn.  Now, you, hrum, may call me Treebeard.”

“But, but,” sputtered Merry, “you’re not an Ent!  You're a talking daisy!!!”

And indeed, it was so.  Not only was Treebeard a daisy, but, more specifically, he was a Sultan’s Pride Federation Marguerite Daisy, with, and I quote, “lacy blue-green foliage, simple white single flowers.”  The species is native to the Federation Daisy greenhouses and flower shops, and stands approximately 50 cm in height.  It prefers sunny spots and well-drained soil.  What such a non-native species was doing in Middle-earth remains yet to be seen.

“I am an Ent!” screamed the daisy--Treebeard in rage.  “An Ent!  An Ent!  An Ent!”  The enraged creature began hopping up and down in furious 2-inch leaps.  He was surprisingly agile for a flower.

Something was wrong.  Very wrong.  Pippin was not sure how or why he knew this, but he was most certain that Treebeard was NOT supposed to be a flower.  A quick glance in the direction of Merry confirmed that he, too, believed something was amiss.  Pippin wondered if perhaps the orc draught was having some lasting side effects.

“Say, um, Treebeard,” Merry began tentatively, “aren’t you supposed to be… a tree?”

The screaming daisy stopped his “An Ent! An Ent!” rantings and disdainfully glared at the two hobbits.  “A tree?”  The flower snorted.  He bent his stalk and placed two petals on either side of it, putting forth the impression of one placing his hands upon his hips.  “That’s preposterous.  Whoever heard of a talking tree?”

Unfortunately for the Ent, his words would have had much greater impact on the two hobbits had he himself not been a talking daisy.  As it was, however, the idea of a talking daisy calling a talking tree ridiculous was most absurd.  The irony was not lost on either hobbit.

“Of course,” replied Merry, unsure of what to make of the whole matter, “whoever heard of a talking tree…”

“Exactly,” snapped the Ent.  “Now, who are you and what are you doing here?”

“Well,” began Pippin, “I’m Peregrin Took—call me Pippin, and this is Meriadoc Brandybuck—call him Merry.”

“Hm, hoom, hoooom,” squeaked Treebeard, “I like that.  They are pleasant names.”

Pippin sighed in relief.  Perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad after all.  “Yes,” he continued, “and we have just escaped from the orcs.  That’s why we ran into Fanghorn.”

“Orcs!”  The daisy shrieked, causing both hobbits to wince.  He began working himself into another hopping fit.  “Foul beasts!  They are slayers of my kin!”

Merry found himself wondering why an orc would go daisy picking.  It did, however, make for quite an interesting mental picture.

“Come,” squeaked Treebeard, “it grows late.  Let’s journey to my house!”

And with that, he began his 2-inch hopping into the dusky forest.  Pippin and Merry regarded each other for a moment, and then decided that there really was no harm in following the Ent.  After all, they had faced far more terrifying beasts than a squeaking flower.

“This is madness,” mumbled Merry as the two retreated further into the trees.  “If we ever find the others, they will never believe us.”

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Well, I saw somewhere that in the second movie Treebeard would be changed to a talking daisy (I believe it was an April Fool’s joke or something of that nature) and it just sort of bloomed from there.  Oh wow, no pun intended.

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