For Shirebound, who wanted something from the POV of the Mallorn in the Shire.

First Bloom

6 Astron, 1420 SR

This was not the soil of its grandsires. This land was untouched by the Elders, and the other trees here did not speak or sing. There were in fact no other trees near it at all, though it could sense the roots of one that had stood not too long ago where it now grew. This tree had been loved and had witnessed many celebrations. It had heard singing and many of the little inhabitants of this land had dance beneath its bows. 

The mallorn grew tall and straight, strong as its forebears, alone but for the withered roots through which its own roots grew, entwining, learning the language of this land and its small people. One of the small ones came to it often. He wasn’t an elf and yet there was something Elvish about him: his sadness perhaps, mingled with hope, faint but ever present. Sometimes, the small one spoke to it, of his worries and fears, especially at nights when he couldn’t sleep. The mallorn was happy to receive his company at any time, not requiring sleep itself, and so it sheltered him during the long night of the Anniversary.

Afterward, the mallorn stretched its roots down deep, seeking all the nourishment it could. It was too early still, but it was possible, if only it could gather enough strength. Then the roots of the former tree gave over its last reserves, and the mallorn soaked them up through its roots, up its bole, into its arms and out to its fingertips. 

So it was on a clear morning in spring when its small friend came to visit, he was greeted by the golden blooms of the mallorn, small still for its kind, but as glorious as its forebears, and to its great delight, its friend smiled.

GF 12/18/11