Fuckyou, Tree Faces. fuck. you.
Nothing like a treeface to strain the ties between author and artist. The written word is biddable enough when it comes to the Green Jacks and the Old Man Willows, but aim to render a Treebeard visually and you're courting failure on epic, nursery-school levels. Trust me when I say that what you conjure will be no shepherd of the forest, but rather a thing of warped proportions and impossible angles. A perversion born of the unholy union between pipe cleaner and newspaper, reeking of clotted glue.
Don't follow where WETA falters. Leave Fangorn to your wordsmiths.
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