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Post by TOM BOMBADIL on Sept 7, 2011 3:59:33 GMT -5
  It was lovely spring weather outside when Tom Bombadil stepped outside from his little lodge deep inside the Old Forest. His beautiful wife River-Daughter Goldberry with golden locks and rosy cheeks gave him a kiss on his way out. The bearded man jumped the few steps down from the stairs and landed with his big feet on top of the freshly green grass that was still wet from the morning fog. One may have considered it too early to be up at this hour, but Tom saw it as late already and he was in a hurry to go on his daily visit to Old Man Willow. It was an angry old willow tree that needed to be sung to sleep ever so often if it should stay in control. Its anger was slowly starting to affect the other old trees and the younger birches were also slowly getting grumpy. They have started to reach out for any by-travellers or visitors of the forests. Even the lean deer could barely jump around in the forest without falling over the roots of the trees.
He walked down the small path into the dark forest with a song on his lips and a hat on his head. The rising sun started to peek out from behind the hills in the distance, and the fog was slowly fading. Spider webs were gathering small drops of the morning wetness, birds were waking up and slowly the insects started buzzing around his ears. The chuckling river ran around his feet as he elegantly placed one foot after another on the cold flat stones to get to the other shore. When he had crossed the old river, he pushed aside flowery bushes and entered the familiar grounds with the old willow trees.
Birches were still asleep and Tom gave them each a gentle pat as he passed them by. Just like a father would do to his sons. He walked down to the calm dark lake where the Old Man Willow was dipping its branches in the water. He shook irritably the dry leaves off them and let them fall down to the water before exhaling a deep sigh. Tom stopped to look at the moving willow with crossed arms and a mischievous smile on his lips. His red hair shined in the morning sun and a small flower had fastened in his beard when he had walked through the bushes. “Now old willow man! It is still early! Go back to sleep!” Tom hummed as he walked over to the willow. He placed a calm hand against it and leaned himself into the big tree. “Sleep deep and tight. Nothing will bother you today.” He said with a smile.
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Post by NIALL "THE NIX" OREN on Sept 7, 2011 6:07:31 GMT -5
 The Nix has travelled far. All the way from the depths of Fangorn Forest, to the steppes of Rohan, to the mysterious Rivendell, to wilderness and now he was here. On his way to the Shire. He had passed through the boarders of Bree-land and had decided to take the path through the Old Forest. He had missed the atmosphere there was in his homeland. He had (probably as the only person in Middle Earth) missed Fangorn quite a lot during his long journey. He had missed the silence, the magical trees, the Ents, the many magical creatures that lived near the boarder of the forest and he had most of all missed his lovely dark lake.
It was a lake situated deep in the forest where an old willow tree was hanging over the water and dipping the tips of its branches in the dark lake. Some flowers from the nearby linden trees were usually falling down and floating like small boats around the castle-like water-lilies. The lake was so dark that you could see the clear reflection of your face if you looked directly into the water. It was black as the Nix’s raven black hair.
The young man had travelled at night. He did not care what time it was when he was awake. It was a minor concern of his and he did not think about it as much as humans did. He actually enjoyed travelling at night. He enjoyed the mysterious white fog that covered the fields, the wet grass and the silence of the forest. It reminded him of home and he had stopped to take a break by the lake near the Old Willow. As an ancient being, he could of course feel the anger of the willow; however it did not frighten him. He was used to trees like that in Fangorn Forest, and the awakening of this old willow made him feel even more at home. Fully dressed, the boy had walked directly into the water and had disappeared under the surface of the lake.
It was first when the shine from the morning sun reached the waters, it stirred in the calm lake and an echoing melody started playing as the Nix rose from his rest – playing his violin as usual. His deep blue eyes were closed as his head was gently tilted towards the instrument that was placed against his shoulder. He knew what had woken him – it was not the sun’s shine, nor was it the birds’ singing. It was the presence of another man. And instinctively – without being able to control it; he had risen from the lake, playing his entrancing music to lure that person into the water. That was the nature of The Nix. He could not prevent it even though he really wanted to.
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