hooooo.
little orcs! burrum.
tree?! i am no tree. i am an ent.
treebeard, some call me.
side? i am on nobodys side because nobodys on my side, little orc. nobody cares for the woods anymore.
hobbits? never heard of a hobbit before. sounds like orc mischief to me! they come with fire, they come with axes. gnawing, biting, breaking, hacking, burning! destroyers and usurpers, curse them!
maybe you are and maybe you arent. the white wizard will know.
my home lies deep in the forest near the roots of the mountain. i told gandalf i would keep you safe and safe is where ill keep you. the trees have grown wild and dangerous. anger festers in their hearts. they will harm you if they can. there are too few of us now. too few of us ents left to manage them.
there is always smoke rising from isengard these days.
there was a time when saruman would walk in my woods. but now he has a mind of metal and wheels. he no longer cares for growing things.
we ents have not troubled about the wars of men and wizards for a very long time. but now something is about to happen that has not happened for an age.  ent moot.
'tis a gathering.
beech, oak, chestnut, ash.  good, good, good. many have come. now we must decide if the ents will go to war.
we have just agreed.
i have told your names to the ent moot and we have agreed – you are not orcs.
now dont be hasty, master meriadoc.
war, yes… it affects us all. but you must understand, young hobbit. it takes a loong time to say anything in ooold… entish. and we never say anything… unless it is worth taking a looong… time to say.
the ents cannot hold back this storm. we must weather such things as we have always done.
this is not our war.
you are young and brave, master merry. but your part in this tale is over. go back to your home.
i will leave you at the western borders of the forest. you can make your way north to your homeland from there.
south? but that will lead you past isengard.
mmmm. that doesnt make sense to me. but then, you are very small. perhaps youre right. south it is then. hold on, little shirelings. i always like going south. somehow it feels like going down hill.
and a little family of field mice that climb up sometimes and they tickle me awfully. theyre always trying to get somewhere where they – oh!! many of these trees were my friends. creatures i had known from nut and acorn.
they had voices of their own. saruman! a wizard should know better!
there is no curse in elvish, entish or the tongues of men for this treachery. my business is with isengard tonight. with rock and stone!
hoorarooom.  come my friends. the ents are going to war. it is likely that we go to our doom. last march of the ents!
a hit. a fine hit!
break the dam! release the river!
hold on, little hobbits!