The sun blazed high in the sky above the large evergreen forest on the outskirts of Rivendell. Danirya gazed around, her eyes taking in the new location into which she would be settling over the next few days. The trees were glowing emeralds in that mid-morning light and they cast shadows that were not pools of darkness for one to fall in, but mysterious new layers of light upon the soft ground.
Danirya’s eyes picked up the faintest of movements, and she watched a rust-coloured squirrel bound out of the bush it had used as a hiding place. Partway to the next tree, it stopped and turned its furtive eyes to her, mere centimetres away. In her garb of smoke grey and Earth brown, it would have been forgivable not to have noticed Danirya. But then she had chosen to show herself; she could have remained as quiet and still as the melody of the air, if she had wanted to.
The squirrel pushed its pink nose up to the heavens, identifying Danirya as an elf and not plant-life. She inclined her head at it, trying to convey the message that she meant it no harm. It chose to run off.
She hoped that it would reach its destination safe and sound and that it knew that she was a friend of the forest, and therefore its friend too.
That glorious day, Danirya sat there amidst the plants of good and bad, and the predators and prey of nature, contemplating herself and the life she had made for herself.
She was a friend to the forest, but could she be a friend to herself?