Ent-draught

In his ent-house Treebeard removed the lid from one of several tall stone jars, took up a great ladle and poured out three bowlfuls — one of them much larger than the other two. What he poured looked like plain water, close to what the hobbits had already drunk from the Entwash out by the forest's edge — except that something in its smell or taste escaped description: faint, and putting them in mind of woodland air carried a long way on a cool night wind. It took hold in the toes first and worked upward, limb by limb, until the very hair felt renewed — and the hobbits felt their hair actually standing up, waving and curling and growing. Long afterwards Gimli made them stand back to back and found them three inches taller than they ought to be: mortals cannot go drinking ent-draughts, he said, and expect no more to come of them than of a pot of beer.