The woods were alive in a cacophony of birds' songs, the brook's water, and the buzzing of flying insects. Arda felt at home right away. She had never been in a place so rich in colors, sounds, and perfumes.
She went by the creek, took her shoes off and plunged her feet in the chilly water. She felt so happy she started to sing and laugh. She was sure mom and dad wouldn't miss her for the few minutes she would've been gone. Besides, she thought, that's why they came in the woods, to get in touch with nature.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and laid on the creek bank's tall grass. This was going to be just great.
THUMP
Arda sat up and held her breath.
THUMP
"Who is there?" she asked. Nobody answered her; the forest's noises were gone, except for the babbling of the creek. Arda stood up, and gazed into the darker part of the forest while walking barefoot on the grass to dry her feet.
THUMP
"I hear you! Show yourself!" she cried into the forest. "I'm not afraid, you know. Show yourself!"
THUMP
"OK, maybe I am a bit afraid," she said to no one in particular, "but.."
THUMP!
This time the noise was closer. Arda saw a strange large shadow moving in the woods, and heard a odd noise, nigh musical, coming from that shadow. She quickly put her shoes on and ran inside the forest.
I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid! I'm not afraid! she kept saying inside her head, and then she nearly ran into that shadow.
Arda stopped, look up and her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and she gasped.
She had seen many trees before, some tall, some short, even some short and wide funny ones with leaves longer than she was tall. In her family's yard there was an old oak tree that she would climbed often in the spring to check on the bird nests. All those trees had one thing in common: they didn't walk. And talk, or rather, sing.
The talking and singing wasn't as disturbing as the walking. With each step, the tree would unearth a large root, swing it across some distance, land it with a loud THUMP, and that foot would immediately bury itself, like it had always been there.
THUMP
This last step was close and the noise and tremor shook the amazement off of her.
"Trees don't walk," said Arda.
The facts disobeyed her, and the tree passed her by in a huge step.
THUMP
Arda screamed at the top of her lungs "I said TREES DON'T WALK!" and confirmed that statement stomping her foot.
The tree stopped, turned toward her, and two rather black eyes stared at her. Arda immediately felt very small, and a small voice--more than her conscience, was just her survival instinct--inside her head told her that maybe yelling at a giant walking tree hadn't been a great idea.
A deep voice, as if coming from the earth itself, spoke. "Dwarfs don't come out in daylight either."
"Yes they do!" Arda replied. "And I'm not a dwarf! I'm an elf! A wood elf!" The same small voice inside Arda's mind suggested that talking back at the tree was even more stupid.
The tree bent at what would've been the waist, if it had been a man--an enormously tall man with multiple legs and a robin's nest on its head. It looked her in the eyes for a few seconds and adjusted its leaves on the top. From its head came loud distressed chirping, and a two robins flew out.
"You don't smell like an elf," he declared. "And the last wood elf left at least two hundred years ago."
"But I am an elf," protested Arda. "And.. and.. my dad said we are wood elves." That little voice inside her head was getting louder, saying that it was time to stop engaging in debates, and start engaging in cross country running.
One of the robins was trying to brace the nest, while the other flew in front of the tree's eyes chirping loudly.
"Did your father also tell you that trees don't walk?" said the tree waving away the robin.
"I, hmmmm..." Arda looked the tree in the eyes, and it never blinked. She was slowly becoming aware of the small inner voice, but she wouldn't be called a dwarf by anyone, not even a tree.
"Don't hum dwarf-girl, it is a sign of weakness."
"I told you I'm not a dwarf!" she said with a lower voice and averted her eyes.
"You smell like one."
"I'm too tall to be a dwarf," said Arda clenching her fists. She wanted to stomp on the ground, that usually made her point more poignant, but her legs didn't obey. Meanwhile her little inner voice was screaming, trying smoke signals, and foreign languages.
"From my point of view, you're not too tall to be a dwarf."
"I go to school with a lot of dwarfs, they are all much shorter than me."
"Elf-kind share their homes with dwarves now?" If there was humor in the tree's deep and monotone voice, Arda couldn't hear it.
Arda shuffled her feet. "Uh.. we live in a suburb. There's lots of people there. Elfs, dwarves, humans. Some ogres too."
"But no walking trees."
"We have trees. But they stay where you put them," Arda said looking up. "And they don't talk back."
The tree moved its face closer to Arda's. Both of the robins were shoring up the nest with their heads now, and the little screaming voice inside Arda's head had resorted to one syllable words and easy to understand diagrams.
"Young trees. Well planted. No reason for any of them to walk around. Give them another five hundred years and they'll run amok."
The tree straightened up, much to the joy of the robins and of the Arda's little inner voice.
"I must be going," declared the tree. "Nice to meet you, Elf-friend-of-dwarves."
"Wait!" exclaimed Arda. Her small inner voice started crying.
"What is it, girl?"
"My name is Arda. What's your name?"
"I am Creeosopotiritium."
"Hi Creo," said Arda.
"Bye Arda," answered Creeosopotiritium. The tree turned and with a loud THUMP started walking away. Arda's little voice relaxed, reached for a drink, and wondered about other job opportunities.
"Where are you going?" asked Arda. The little voice spat its drink.
The tree stopped. "I'm going home," it responded without turning. "You should do the same."
"Can I come with you?" If the little voice inside Arda's head had had hands, it would've been slapping her now.
"No," said the tree.
"Please? I've never seen someone like you!" she begged.
"Stop begging," said Creeosopotiritium. "It's unbecoming. And I don't carry others on my branches."
"I don't need to be carried. I'm fast! I can keep up with you! Please?" Arda's little inner voice gave up and left slamming the door.
Creeosopotiritium sighed deeply, as much as a millennium old walking timber could. A bunch of leaves fell from its head.
"Fine. I will tolerate you, but I will not carry you."
"YES!" rejoiced Arda, and she trotted behind the tree as it waded through the forest.
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