I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold; (Open)

[inafadingcrown]

Who: Galadriel and you
What: Wandering through the forest because oh, thank God, spring!
When: 4/7, anytime during the day
Where: the...forest
Rating: Can't see this going higher than PG
Notes: Brackets and prose are both fine; I'll switch to match.

It had been too long. Too long since she’d wandered through the woods, too long since she’d felt the grass beneath her bare feet.

Galadriel closed her eyes, letting the warm breeze blow back her hair, breathing in the first scents of spring. She placed a hand on each tree as she passed it, an almost affectionate gesture, making her way deeper into the forest.

At last, when the woods had begun to darken, the small amount of light filtering in through the canopy leaving them in a perpetual twilight, she stopped to rest and take in the stillness, unwilling to venture further- at least today.

Comments

[wolfchild]

The weirwood has got bigger.

Arya had not thought weirwoods grow so fast. It had been a sapling, long and thin with a ring of red leaves like a crown and barely reaching her waist. It is now as tall as Nymeria, sniffing a leaf next to her—and it grows still.

She does not know much about planting, but that is a good sign, isn't it? It means the old gods are here. They can see now. Mayhaps even hear. Still, she worries. She used up her wishing on this little tree. It must live. If the gods abandon it, what chance does she have?

Fingers map the lines and grooves in the snow-white bark. It looks naked without a face. Arya will have to ask Robb when they are meant to score the face into it. The sap will be as red as the leaves, she knows, as red as blood, as red as tears. And once it's grown, she will be able to dance among the branches. She will pretend to have wings and that her world is of sky and leaves. She won't come down.

Perchance she will find her father one day sitting on a root, head bowed as he cleans Ice to a cold gleam.

[inafadingcrown]

This was not a place Galadriel frequented. The weirwood, small as it is, was new to her- as was this side of Arya. There is no way that elf could miss that something significant was happening here- something solemn. She steps forward slowly and deliberately, letting her words serve as announcement of her arrival.

"I have not seen a tree of this kind before." Not in Middle Earth and certainly not here. That would have been enough to attract her attention even if the girl hadn't been attending it.

[wolfchild]

She jumps. Even Nymeria startles. She had not caught the elf's scent on the wind and the steps were quiet enough to fool even her ears. She bares her teeth in warning. Arya shushes her with a quick command.

"Down, Nymeria."

Arya stands. She remains in front of the tree in an almost protective gesture.

"It's a weirwood. It's little now, but it'll get bigger. Once it has a face, the gods will see through its eyes."

[inafadingcrown]

Even after Arya silences Nymeria, Galadriel gives the direwolf a wary glance. For whatever reason, this creature is as uncertain of her as her owner and she's in no hurry to lose a hand. She takes a few cautious steps closer, if only to get a better look at the tree.

"It is from your home, then?" Her eyes shift from the weirwood back to Arya and she smiles lightly. "Does it speak to you, little one?"

[wolfchild]

"Gods don't speak." For a time, she thought them deaf and blind as well. "And I'm not so little."

[inafadingcrown]

"Young, then, if you prefer." Then again, there were few who weren't young to her eyes. "In truth, I spoke not of your gods, but of the tree itself. You seemed almost to listen."

[wolfchild]

"Trees don't speak." A lie, she thinks. She heard a voice when the wind hit the leaves of the heart tree at Harrenhal.

"I was just wondering when it'd be big enough to carve its face. It grows quick."

[inafadingcrown]

"Oh, they speak, I assure you of that. Not as we do now, but they speak for those who would listen." She walks to the side, beginning to circle both girl and tree, still trying to examine the weirwood but still hesitant to approach much further.

"How long have you tended it?"

[wolfchild]

Nymeria follows Galadriel's movement. Her yellow eyes glimmer in the dim light. Strangely enough, despite the lateness of the hour, there is no lantern or torch to be seen.

"My brother and I planted it a few days ago, my lady. It was around here." Arya holds her hand at half the tree's current height to show how small it had been.

[inafadingcrown]

"In only a few days!" Her eyes go wide, despite herself. Even in Loríen, under the nurturing power of Nenya, trees rarely grew so fast. "Extraordinary."

[wolfchild]

Arya hides a smile.

"What do you want?"

[inafadingcrown]

"Must I want something?" She doesn't, in all honesty. It had been a chance encounter and she is happy to leave it just as she came.

[wolfchild]

She barely bites her lip on a 'People like you always do.'

"You would know, my lady."

[inafadingcrown]

"In fact, I do not. I chanced upon you here and now that my curiosity has been settled, I am more than willing to leave you be if that is what you would prefer."

[wolfchild]

She shrugs. That's about as close to an invitation to stay as Galadriel will ever get.

[inafadingcrown]

She'll take it. It's an improvement and progress in her eyes.

"Had you arrived in this world sooner than you did, you might have spoken to a tree in truth. Or a shepherd of the trees, rather."

[wolfchild]

"How long ago was that?"

Arya sits. She has to call Nymeria twice before the wolf acquiesces to lay down beside her. The animal huffs.

[inafadingcrown]

"It has been over a year now, I think." Galadriel follows suit, seating herself against a nearby tree.

[wolfchild]

"And how do you know how long I've been here?"

She tries not to make it sound like an accusation. She does. It falls short of its intended mark.

[inafadingcrown]

It's an accusation she's not particularly troubled by, at least. She smiles and tilts her head slightly. This, of all things, is what she chooses to question?

"I know many things, my young friend. But this is supposition. Mayhaps I am wrong. Yet I neither saw nor sensed you before that time and I do make some effort to watch after the little ones."

[wolfchild]

"I'm not little. We're not friends. I don't have friends."

[inafadingcrown]

"As you wish. My answer stands." She bites back the questions Arya's response had brought to mind. They wouldn't help.

[wolfchild]

She does not like Galadriel's answer. Arya glares sullenly.

[inafadingcrown]

"Come now, is it truly so troubling? You are perfectly capable of fending for yourself, but I could not have known that from the first. And there are many your age who are not."

[wolfchild]

"I didn't ask for it," she snaps. "I don't need anyone getting interested in what I do or where I am. You're not my family. I'm not your ward. It's creepy."