Little Galadriel. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

  The plants were slightly larger on one side of the rockery, as though they had been watered more keenly. Finrod rose to his feet, wondering if Galadriel had found a nice view. He stood where he had seen her stand, her little silver watering-can in hand, pouring away... He looked around, the little garden nestled between the side of the House and the orchard, the view was as ever, the fields and gardens, the mountains, the sky. He frowned; she was appallingly clever, even at six, and he felt sure that she had some purpose in mind, that there was a reason why these plants were taller. 

  The garden had been their mother’s idea. Eärwen had taken Finarfin to the Garden of Estë to soothe his spirit, and they had discussed their precocious daughter.
   "She reads all day. I have to order her outside."
   "She likes it well enough when she is out with people, but soon after she will be back with her book, and when I urge her outside she always says 'just let me finish this, mother' and I do not know how to answer."
   "Firmly?"
   "Yes, but if it seems to her an obligation, to have fun, it will rather spoil the point."
   "If only we could bring her here more often."
   "Oh, is it so bad?"
   "No, my dear, I have seen and heard nothing that you have not. But there may be a way... Suppose we set aside a corner by the House, put a little hedge and a gate, and tell her that it is her garden, and that she may plant whatever she wishes."
   "Darling Finarfin! If you were not my husband I would propose to you!"

   The brothers had dug the pits, their parents brought pretty shrubs in pots, and they planted them out, shaping a little hedge, and Aegnor, who was skilled with wood, made the little gate. They hurried back to the House to clean up for the feast, for it was the seventh begetting day of the youngest of them, and they wanted to surprise her. 
   Galadriel liked to wear white, she greatly admired her cousin Aredhel, who was grown-up, and rode a horse instead of a little pony. There were white rosebuds plaited into her hair, and made into a little garland around her neck. Finarfin scooped her up and set her on his arm "How would you like to grow your own roses, my dearest child?"
   "No thankyou father." she replied primly. Finarfin laughed "Oh? And what would you grow if you had a garden?"
   "If I had my very own garden? I would grow trees."
   Finarfin smiled "Why trees?"
   But Galadriel had looked at him as if he had asked why she liked to breathe air, and he turned helplessly to his wife, who reached out and took Galadriel and settled her on her hip "Come, my darling, we have a surprise for you."

   "Father, I think this garden is only big enough for six trees."
   "Well, if you wish to plant trees, you may plant them wherever you please, of course."
   "No thankyou, trees know how to plant themselves. But it would be nice to encourage a few to grow here. It might be best if there was a little stream running through it, for water, you know."
   Finarfin held his face still, he could see, and hear, his sons snorting with suppressed laughter, and even Eärwen was holding a hand over her mouth, though her eyes were sparkling. 
   "Well of course they will need water, that’s very sensible. Finrod, you will help me make a little stream, won’t you?"
   "Of course, we all will!" there was a cheerful chorus of assent "Where would you like the stream to be? And what kind of trees would you like?"
   "It doesn’t matter where the stream is, only it must wind here and there, like a proper stream. I should like a willow tree, a cherry tree and anything else except pine trees."
   "No pine trees?"
   "No thankyou."
   "What about flowers, you know, little flowers around the trees?"
   "No thankyou." 
   Orodreth stepped forwards; sometimes he thought he could see a little of himself in Galadriel. She was fearless, but people would stare at her, and ply her with questions, gifts, praise and so forth, until she didn’t know where to look or what to say. He could see the faint colour in her cheeks that spoke of agitation. He smiled his shy smile "What about a rockery? I could lend you my rock collection, you will take good care of them, I know."
   All eyes turned to him, he stepped back, blushing, but Galadriel smiled radiantly "Oh Orodreth! That would be lovely beside the stream! I shall help you carry them. Mother, please put me down now." But Eärwen, almost helpless with laughter at her earnest child, was glad to open her arms and see Galadriel spring away, shedding white petals as she ran. Orodreth looked at his parents and said "Mother, I..." before dashing off after Galadriel. Finarfin laughed aloud "Well, my brave sons, we have work to do! Let us begin by hauling these rocks outside!"

   They planted the apple tree in one corner and a beech tree in the other, it would tower over the rest in time. The cherry tree would overhang the gate, and the willow the stream. There was a silver birch by the rockery and a walnut tree on the other side. They had dug the little stream out, lined it with small stones and gravel and opened a channel to the nearby stream, the Arrow. There had been a fair bit of mud at first, and they were concerned that they had in fact built a swamp, but the water settled and cleared, the mud dried quickly in the Light, and the little stream sparkled and glittered like Orodreth's shining stones. Finarfin passed around a flask of miruvor 
   "My sons, you have earned this! What a child! Trees! A stream! This was supposed to be to get her outside, doing things, rather than reading all day..."
   But Orodreth shook his head "She will tend it as diligently as she does all else. Doubtless weeds will spring up, she will protect her trees, and the rockery. Indeed, she asked me about mountain plants, and I am to fetch her down some samples next time I go climbing."
   Aegnor laughed "It seems that we are the flowers that grow in this garden! Let us all climb with Orodreth, and gather little plants, and make our sister's rockery fine!"

   At dinner one day, Galadriel announced that she had made a treasure hunt, in her now-complete garden, and handed them each a slip of parchment. Her writing was ambitious but irregular, though they did not consider such details, in their astonishment. 
   "Who helped you to do this, my dear?" Eärwen asked her.
   "No one, mother, I did it all by myself." Galadriel paused and frowned "Can you read it?"
   "Yes, it is very clear: 'The stream flows, strange flower grows'. So this was all your own work?"
   "Yes. It is to thank you all for my garden, even though it will be so long before my trees are grown" she sighed dramatically and they all laughed. But Finarfin rose to his feet.
   "Come, my fine lads! A quest! And you too, my beloved, take my arm, and together we shall venture forth in search of treasure!"
   They all cheered, and Galadriel clapped her hands together and half-skipped, half-ran out to her little garden. 

   The little gate had a sign painted on it, and some little flowers painted around the edge of the sign. The sign said 'start'. Finarfin shook his head, wondering what his daughter would become, what she would do...

   There were six clues; in the hedge, up the beech tree and at last, under the rockery. Angrod, who had not stopped to listen to their jokes and laughter, had hastened from clue to clue, carefully replacing each under the silent, watchful eyes of his little sister. He knelt beside the rockery, sure enough a small tunnel had been cleared, the plants they had gathered and carefully set between the glittering stones were spreading their roots into every crevice, he could see pale thread-like roots hanging inside the tunnel. He did not want to put his arm in. He turned his head, there were her little feet poking out under her long white gown. He looked up at the serious face, and knew that it was the look in her eyes, that measuring, assessing look, which made them all scramble to please her.
    He laughed, she was their little sister, they probably spoiled her, but they did not care! He sighed and reluctantly put his hand into the tunnel, waving his fingers carefully. The tunnel split, he paused, marvelling, this was the test. 
   What had she done, what was in the tunnel, apart from whatever treasure she had placed there? He hated spiders, but she, of course, found them fascinating. Or snakes, or worms... With a sigh he chose the left branch, and his fingers touched cold slime. He jerked his hand out of the tunnel and leaped to his feet, clasping his wrist with his other hand, while Galadriel danced around in a circle cackling with laughter. The others crowded round, but it was clay on his hand, wet clay, which he washed off in the stream as the others laughed at him. But Galadriel shouted over their noise "Angrod! Do not tell them which way!" and he smiled slowly and nodded, and stood beside her as Finrod said "I shall go next."

   He knelt by the rockery and slid his hand into the tunnel, thinking fast. There was water in there. He had seen her putting it there, with the little silver watering-can, the plants grew more, he had noticed... He lifted his head and looked at the rockery, then smiled and looked up at his sister and reached in and pulled out a hand-made necklace of uncut beryl. 
   Galadriel narrowed her eyes and looked at him "How did you know? You were in the Hall of Fire, you all were, I made certain. How did you know?"
   "The plants are taller on that side, I saw you water them more."
   "Finrod, you are so clever!"