Two roads, or is it three?

[wolflord_andain]

For all the long years that have passed since the Bael Andarien, since the death of Rakoth Maugrim, enemy of the Light, still the tales say to be wary of Pendaran Wood. The deiena have not left their trees, and the paths through the Forest's dimness are always moving, never still, and what they guide a man toward may be nothing like where he wills

Comments

[river_meimei]

River's head lifts, tilted as if listening to the air.

It's a beautiful forest. First and fairest, Fionavar is called, and not without cause. The trees are tall and ancient, green with shadows of leaves and dappled with moss. Breezes and leaf-rustles and soft earth sounds wind through it in a net of sound; a net of voices.

River is smiling very faintly.

[wolflord_andain]

Galadan makes no comment on the fact that it seems to meet with her approval.

He has no need, it is easily apparent to any who might care to see it.

And they have time -- more time than River might need to look her fill. Save, perhaps, if she is attempting to read patterns of meaning into the spattering of shadows under the trees.

[river_meimei]

No more than usual -- and this is River, so in any case she might be seeing those shadows as birds, or folds of fabric, or circuitry. Or perhaps just leaf-shadows in a wood even more living than most.

Galadan gets a sidelong glance, after a few minutes, and that tiny pleased half-smile hasn't gone away yet.

"It's rearranging the maps." River doesn't sound much troubled by this.

[wolflord_andain]

"The Wood has a will of its own."

River is already well aware of this, but there are some things the inhabitants of Fionavar have no need of knowing.

Will you follow?

He begins moving down one of the paths without waiting for River's answer, though is pace is not what it might have been, once.

And he remains human-shaped.