ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴏɴ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ

[persequor]

ᴡʜᴏ: Arya and you.
ᴡʜᴀᴛ: A day in the life.
ᴡʜᴇɴ: Today.
ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ: Options A-E open to all. Just let me know where we're at.


[ A // ɢᴀʀᴅᴇɴs ]
[ A couple of hours after daybreak finds Arya still in the gardens. While Nymeria naps close by, she attempts to weave flowers into a crown. The end result is laughable. Growling in frustration, she rips it apart. Around her lie the bruised and wilting victims of previous attempts. ]


[ B // ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ]
[ From the open door of the music room comes the sound of drumming. There is no rhythm nor any sense of a song. A laugh sometimes accompanies it. Inside the room, Arya beats on a drum in front of Nymeria. The direwolf seems more interested in the drumsticks Arya has in her hands than the actual instrument. Occasionally, she lunges at the sticks and Arya laughs and moves back. Nymeria yelps. ]


[ C // ʀᴏᴏғ ]
[ Arya lies on her stomach, head and shoulders jutting out over the edge. She kicks her feet idly back and forth as she holds her arm straight out. Her hand opens and something falls. She counts under her breath before stopping with a frown. ]

I need something bigger. Nymeria, the stick.

[ Nymeria ignores Arya; the direwolf continues gnawing happily on her drumstick. ]


[ D // ᴘɪᴇ sʜᴏᴘ ]
[ Having mopped the floor, wiped down the tables and counter and rearranged the chairs—twice—Arya finally accepts she is done with her work. She had not thought she would enjoy it so. Work was a welcome reprieve. When she had something to do, she had less time to think. In Paradisa, there was nothing but time to think. She had even begun to miss her lessons.

With the store empty for the moment, Arya steals a day-old pie from the kitchen. She sits at a table against the windows to eat. Fork to her lips, she entertains herself watching the people walking by. ]


[ E // ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅs ]
[ Lying on the grass near the duck pond, the child is unobtrusive and quiet for once. The direwolf usually with her is nowhere to be seen yet they are not separated. Arya almost seems to be sleeping if not for the slit of grey marking open eyes. Try not to step on her. ]


[ F // ᴅᴀᴇɴᴇʀʏs ]
Daenerys!

[ Pushing everything out of mind, Arya smiles as she calls out. Behind her, Nymeria drags a deer carcass across the ground. ]

Viserion! Drogon! Rhaegal! Look what we've brought you!

Comments

[persequor]

You can still remember so long ago? [ The question is blurted out without thinking. ]

[inafadingcrown]

[Fortunately, elves don't exactly have the same stigma on age that humans do. The implied "you are ancient" doesn't offend her in the least.]

I can. I remember a time before the coming of Men and before the sun and the moon.

[persequor]

Before the--was there light?

[inafadingcrown]

There were the stars. And then the Two Trees still shone in Valinor. [She gestures to the ground beside Arya.] May I? [She'll tell you more, but she'd rather sit while doing so.]

[persequor]

[ Arya shifts to the side. Nymeria cracks one eye open at the movement before settling again into her doze. ]

[inafadingcrown]

[Galadriel seats herself next to the girl, tucking her skirts under her.]

They were not trees as you are wont to think of them, for they were sung into creation by Yavanna Kementári herself. Telperion shone with a silver light and Laurelin let off a golden hue.

[persequor]

Elves can sing trees into being?

[inafadingcrown]

Ah, I forget. You would not know. Yavanna is no elf, but a Vala. It is difficult to explain; men are wont to worship them as gods and they are not far wrong.

[persequor]

Your gods live in trees too?

[inafadingcrown]

They do not live in trees, no. Yavanna is called the "Giver of Fruits" and
"Queen of the Earth" and so trees are under her domain. Her spouse, Aulë, is master of the earth and all materials shaped from it. The Lady Varda is queen of the stars and so forth. [There's a kind of reverence in her voice when she speaks of them. A sort of humility that doesn't often come through.]

[persequor]

How many gods do you have?

[inafadingcrown]

The answer is less simple than it seems. There is Eru Ilúvatar, the One, and from his mind sprang the Valar, who are both of him and beings in their own right.

Of them there are fourteen, though not all are of equal might.

[persequor]

[ ...and this is why she talks to trees. ]

Then you've the sun and moon and the--trees.

[inafadingcrown]

[It's even more complicated when you know them personally.]

We've the Two Trees no longer, alas. They were destroyed ages ago.

[persequor]

Why?

[inafadingcrown]

[She stops to think of how best to explain this without overloading the poor child with tales of the time before the First Age.]

There are some who ever want that which they cannot have; in time, their lust turns to hate and they destroy that which they covet. So it was then.

[persequor]

Oh. [ So there are assholes among elves too. Good to know. ] Couldn't others be planted?

[inafadingcrown]

Not Trees such as these, alas. [And Uncle Asshole refused to let his precious jewels be cracked open to help revive them. That is not a euphemism, by the way.]

[persequor]

Was that when the sun and moon were made?

[inafadingcrown]

It was. And we were glad of it; the first rising of the moon came at a time when hope was most needed by my people.

[persequor]

Why? What happened?

[inafadingcrown]

We had just finished the crossing from the Undying Lands to Middle-Earth; the path was cold and harsh and many perished on the journey. And we had battle and death still fresh in our memory also.

The First Age was a harsh one and this was but the start.

[persequor]

Why did you make the journey? Did others invade?

[inafadingcrown]

[She gives a rueful little smile.] If ever I pressed too far, you are gently revenged. The tale is long in the telling and full of woe. I would prefer to keep it for another day.

[persequor]

All right.

[ You get a week to cough up story time B( ]