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Jan. 23rd, 2010 12:01 amFilif sits in the forest, sinking his roots deep into the new patch of uncovered soil—slightly acidic, rich with nutrients the other trees have politely spared for him. He travels amongst them regularly, helping preserve their leaf-fall patterns, curing mold, and settling disputes. They do not have many, but all places have some—and in exchange, they have left him spots to rest here and there throughout the forest, by its very nature (despite the fire-breathing rabbits and other creatures) more comfortable than the rhododendron beds.
The wind stirs—no, Filif realizes, bringing himself to alertness, the Wind stirs through the forest, singing Its quiet song as It whispers knowledge that he cannot quite hear until It pours into his branches, curling and weaving and netting Itself in his needles as if It is as lonely as he is.
Filifermanhathrhumneits'elhessaiffnth, It breathes, little wizardling, dai’stiho.
Dai’stiho, Filif rustles back, what news do you bring?
The sudden gust feels like laughter, and then It tugs forward against his fronds and he resists slightly as he bends, roots already buried deep. Green-child, you do not follow?
Where is it you want me to go?
Where I am going, comes the laugh and another tug which bends him more but It lets goes before It might cause him any harm, to the deep forest, and beyond—there is work for you, Filifermanhathrhumneits'elhessaiffnth, or did you not know?
Filif straightens, surprised. Am I on errantry? Have the Powers called?
Yes, yes, the tug is impatient now, you are on errantry, and I am taking you. Will you follow?
Yes, Filif moves along with the Wind this time, always.
--
It takes him to a part of the forest he hasn’t seen. This doesn’t surprise him; the forest is deceptively large—in a straight line, it can take less than an hour to transverse it, but a multitude of new groves lurk alongside your path, asking to be explored. He has seen many parts of the forest this way; he has spent weeks in it, finding new sections every time. It stops tugging forward, eventually, and instead curls back around him, pulling at his needles and berries.
I brought you here, little wizard, It says, sounding a little smug, just like the Powers asked me to.
You did, Filif rustles respectfully, what is it that they wished me to do?
You’re going somewhere, the Wind sounds suddenly disinterested, they told me it would be clear when you arrived. It has to do with That One, you know.
You’re not going? He asks, stilling with concern. He has not been utterly abandoned by the Wind in -- it has been a long time, and never good.
Little green one! It laughs for a good minute, pulling tight around him, I am not going, but I will give you what you need.
The part of the Wind in his fronds tightens around him and compresses into glowing figures of the Speech, looping close around his trunk before absorbing into his heartwood.
There, It says, satisfied, they said that would be enough, Filifermanhathrhumneits'elhessaiffnth.
Filif has no words to describe the change in knowledge-source, and says -- reflexively -- Thank you and Dai’stiho.
Dai’stiho, wizardling, is the reply, and then with another tug the Wind pulls away.
The world flinches.
The wind stirs—no, Filif realizes, bringing himself to alertness, the Wind stirs through the forest, singing Its quiet song as It whispers knowledge that he cannot quite hear until It pours into his branches, curling and weaving and netting Itself in his needles as if It is as lonely as he is.
Filifermanhathrhumneits'elhessaiffnth, It breathes, little wizardling, dai’stiho.
Dai’stiho, Filif rustles back, what news do you bring?
The sudden gust feels like laughter, and then It tugs forward against his fronds and he resists slightly as he bends, roots already buried deep. Green-child, you do not follow?
Where is it you want me to go?
Where I am going, comes the laugh and another tug which bends him more but It lets goes before It might cause him any harm, to the deep forest, and beyond—there is work for you, Filifermanhathrhumneits'elhessaiffnth, or did you not know?
Filif straightens, surprised. Am I on errantry? Have the Powers called?
Yes, yes, the tug is impatient now, you are on errantry, and I am taking you. Will you follow?
Yes, Filif moves along with the Wind this time, always.
--
It takes him to a part of the forest he hasn’t seen. This doesn’t surprise him; the forest is deceptively large—in a straight line, it can take less than an hour to transverse it, but a multitude of new groves lurk alongside your path, asking to be explored. He has seen many parts of the forest this way; he has spent weeks in it, finding new sections every time. It stops tugging forward, eventually, and instead curls back around him, pulling at his needles and berries.
I brought you here, little wizard, It says, sounding a little smug, just like the Powers asked me to.
You did, Filif rustles respectfully, what is it that they wished me to do?
You’re going somewhere, the Wind sounds suddenly disinterested, they told me it would be clear when you arrived. It has to do with That One, you know.
You’re not going? He asks, stilling with concern. He has not been utterly abandoned by the Wind in -- it has been a long time, and never good.
Little green one! It laughs for a good minute, pulling tight around him, I am not going, but I will give you what you need.
The part of the Wind in his fronds tightens around him and compresses into glowing figures of the Speech, looping close around his trunk before absorbing into his heartwood.
There, It says, satisfied, they said that would be enough, Filifermanhathrhumneits'elhessaiffnth.
Filif has no words to describe the change in knowledge-source, and says -- reflexively -- Thank you and Dai’stiho.
Dai’stiho, wizardling, is the reply, and then with another tug the Wind pulls away.
The world flinches.
