Lord, what fools these mortals be!
-William Shakespeare
I’ve been sitting in this same spot for several centuries now. You’d be amazed at the changes that one can observe from just remaining stationary. You’d also be amazed at the way people think they can talk right in front of some "old tree" and not be heard. Goes to show the misperceptions of people. Not that I care what people have to say, I have better things to do than worry about the unimportant lives of people I don’t even know. I have the responsibility of watching this other young treant, Greybark. He very much needs to learn proper treant behavior. He’s not to the point yet where he is past the need for my tutelage. Sometimes I wonder if he will ever be. The difficulties I must go through.
I’ve been staying around this forest for longer than anyone else and I’ve witnessed a lot of things. Luckily, most people don’t bother me about things. One advantage of being a tree. No busybodies.. or rather, very few.. running around. Most of the other inhabitants of this forest are tolerable, I suppose. The dryads seem to think they can climb my branches anytime, however. Very presumptuous and flighty creatures. Although Moon Tears is quite good to talk to. Very respectful. But don’t even get me started on all the little faerie creatures. Especially those blasted dragons. Fly in out out of the branches, no respect at all for one’s leaves or twigs. And Blast.. always bringing stolen food and sitting in my branches to eat it. It’s not very pleasant having the remains of sticky pastry clinging to one’s appendages until the next rain washes them away. You’d think at my age I deserve to just be left alone. But no such luck at all. Everyone wants to bother the poor treants, who can’t chase the perpetrators who do such things. Between the pastries and the fire, it really is quite bothersome. No fun to be slowly burnt up, I can tell you that. And nowhere to run. In all my centuries in this place, I have never experienced something so terrible. The screams were the worst part. And my cursed roots keeping me in place so that I could not even try to help. Helplessly stuck sitting here and waiting for the inevitable, friends dying all around me. I can only hope such things don’t happen again. Although from what I hear, some young man protected all the trees from fire here recently. I’ll have to have a talk with this young man, very kind of him. But marrying a dryad? What is the world coming to? It’s not something that’s ever happened in my experience, and I doubt it has ever happened anywhere. But I suppose I shall have to sit back and allow it to happen and even congratulate the couple. What’s next? Pepper becoming a mute?
Around the Springs of Gray my wild root weaves.
Traveller repose & Dream among my leaves.
-William Black
