the forest will keep you safe by Harp_of_Gold  

Lómion walked along the creek, looking for agates. He already had one pocket full, but the promise of a brighter colored one just beyond the bend lured him on. If he caught his father in a good mood later, he would polish them until they gleamed, smooth and glossy and a delight to slide his fingers over or sort into piles of treasure. First though, Lómion had to find them, and the hunt was half the fun. 

Above the forest's branches, the Moon shone round and full, slipping through the dense canopy in soft-footed beams of light. The night was clear and cold, but Lómion was well-wrapped in his new cloak with the fur-lined hood. He crouched and sifted through the round pebbles in the edge of the chilly water. There! The light caught in a stone that was almost translucent, with bands of orange and white. Lómion shook his hands with excitement as he picked it up and rinsed off the mud. 

Somewhere nearby, a branch snapped. Lómion froze. That was not the delicate step of the little forest deer, nor the scurry of a squirrel. The wood had gone deathly silent. He looked around, trying to spot he knew not what. A glint of yellow from between two trees appeared and was gone just as quickly. Lómion moved carefully, one step at a time, toward the bank and home. Maybe it was something harmless just going about its business. Maybe it hadn't noticed him. The creek flowed through hollowed, steep sides overhung with tangled, bare roots, and he scrambled up, reaching the top in a heartbeat. Nothing was there. Maybe he had been spooked by nothing. 

He started for home, walking fast. Without a warning, it was upon him, a huge thing of grey fur and shining teeth launched into the air. Lómion screeched and waited for the impact. Everything felt slowed around him, but he could not move. Before it could touch him, though, the forest came alive. Vines and branches flew toward it, seizing and wrapping it mid-pounce. 

Lómion was crying and breathing too fast; it made him dizzy. The vines tightened on the thing's throat. It looked like a wolf, somewhat, but like a wolf had been taken and twisted into something from a nightmare. It had two sets of eyes, and as the strangling vines squeezed relentlessly, all four bulged. Froth poured from its mouth as it struggled and heaved. When at last it stilled, its tongue lolled, thick and swollen, and black blood dripped from its eyes and nose. 

Lómion couldn't look away. He was on the ground without quite remembering how he'd gotten there; his legs felt like jelly. He sat there sobbing quietly and staring at the thing and the trees that had killed it so easily.

"Son? Are you out here?" That was Adar's voice. Lómion took a shaky breath. 

"Here," he tried to call, but only a croak came out. He cast his mind desperately toward his father and felt his answering touch, as steady and firm as stone.

"There you are." Adar stepped out from between the trees. He had a long staff in one hand and Anguirel on his belt. "What happened? The forest told me there was trouble."

Lómion found no words would come. He raised a trembling hand and pointed toward the wolf-thing.

Adar studied him. "Are you hurt?" 

Lómion shook his head no. 

"All right. Come along. Let's go home."

Lómion crouched lower and wrapped his arms over his head. He could not bear the thought of walking down the same path. What if there was another? What if the vines grabbed him?"

"If you're not hurt, son, get up. You're getting too big to carry." Adar voice was taking on an edge of sharpness, and that made everything worse. But when Lómion did not move, instead of getting louder and sterner and hurting his ears, he knelt beside Lómion and spoke softly. 

"Are you scared?"

Lómion nodded. 

"There's nothing to be afraid of now, see? That's one of Morgoth's foul creatures, but the forest took care of it. The forest will never let anything touch its little lord, you see? It's always watching over you. Whatever terrible things walk the world outside, you'll always be safe as long as you stay here in the forest." It was as long a speech as Adar ever made outside of teaching him in the forge, and though Lómion wasn't certain he wanted to trust the trees, his father's voice made everything feel a little more ordinary again. 

Adar held his hand out, and Lómion took it and stood. "That's right. Let's go home and get you some hot tea." 

Lómion nodded again and slid his other hand into his pocket. The agates were still there.

Adar stopped by the nearest tree, reaching out to touch it and murmuring a few words of thanks loud enough for Lómion to hear. "As long as you stay in the forest, you'll be safe," he said again, and Lómion realized he meant it to make himself feel better as well as his son.

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