October 12th Background story

The Ancient Trees

In the old glade, sounds were muted. Moss hung from the lower boughs of the trees, casting a green pall on the ground beneath. On her bench of fallen oak, Eleanor sat with her hands folded on her lap, listening. Insects chirruped, moths hummed, she could even hear the grass grow. What she wanted to hear however was the sounds of the trees. In this particualr glade, four ancient, twisted oak stood at each cardinal point. The were very old. Het people told stories about these very trees witnessing the birth of the sun, the coming of men and the fall of the elves.She flexed her shoulders to loosen them and started again.
Empty your mind her tutors had warned her. Do not let the distractions of the day intrude. Concentrate on the sap rising and the leaves fluttering in the breeze. Shje sat a listened, letting the whispering in the tree top lull her inot drowsing.
There were distant voices, but she ignored them. The upper branches creaked in the wind. The voices grew closer. A fly buzzed as it flittered from flower to sweet flower. The roots beneath the ground stretched, forcing a route through the stubborn soil.
"Eleanor," a voice whispered, "daughter of Heamor, child of the sun, we greet you."
Almost drowsing, she heard the voice but didn't have the energy to answer.
"A ranger in strange lands, a champion of the lost, we salute you."
"Awake!"