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The huorn rustled his leaves again, agitated, and Galeniril smoothed her hand down his bark.
"I know, my friend," she whispered. "I feel it too. Return to your brethren, and I shall see to removing this corruption before it can fester any longer."
The creature bristled but did as he was bid. His roots, still growing — he was a quite young tree, after all —, carried him past Galeniril and deeper into the forest where his fellow huorns rested. Galeniril watched him shuffle away, and when he disappeared from her sight, she turned to a nearby butterfly. She whispered instructions to make sure that her young huorn friend did not wander off, for the young ones were always the most curious. The butterfly flapped its wings and took to the air, flying off.
Galeniril sighed once she was alone, though she was never truly alone in the forest. It was a comfort for one as old as she, to know that while mortals came and went like the passing of seasons, her trees and her wilds would remain. And when nature ceased to exist in Middle Earth, perhaps she would sail to the Uttermost West, where the Elves dwelled.
Now was not the time to think of such things. Trouble stirred in her forest, and if it was within her power, she would set it right.
Light on her bare feet, Galeniril went south, toward the border of Fangorn and Rohan. Small animals followed in her wake, as they often did, for she was kind to them and in return they loved her like a mother. Flowers bowed in her passing, and the trees, neither huorn nor Ent, just simple trees, stood straighter.
They did not serve her; none of the wilderness did. She was not their queen or their ruler. She was one with the wilds, with the trees and the flowers, with the things that grew, and therefore they treated her as such. They listened because she helped them, because she protected them.
She was born from the earth itself, just as they were.
Galeniril felt it before she saw it. A persistent leech it felt it, adamant to drain the forest of its beauty. The feeling was familiar, from a time long ago when a being of immense power sought to control all of Middle Earth. She knew his name, though she dared not speak it, for it would make her fears true. Yet that feeling, that stench of decay, had only been rising in recent days. It may already be too late.
The creatures that had been trailing her footsteps halted, cowering as she neared the source of this foul magic. Galeniril did not falter. With gentle hands, she pushed aside the lush branches blocking her way, and there, at the very edge of the woods, lay the perpetrator of today's ill feeling.
Galeniril sighed once more. Even though she had suspected what it may be, her heart still ached to see the rotting tree, so far gone it had already fallen.
It was no natural rot. Despite how nature lasted longer than mortals, it too would succumb to death, as all things did. It was the balance, and Galeniril accepted that. Her trees and her flowers and her herbs would wilt away, where they would seep into the earth, ready to begin the cycle anew. This, however, was the product of some vile being wishing to spread corruption throughout the forest.
This was no natural death. It was murder.
Galeniril knelt in the dirt before the blackened tree. She had seen this before, knew how to cleanse it. Fangorn had fallen victim to it before, but the first she had seen such rot was long before she settled amongst the huorns and Ents.
She thought back to the Greenwood, now called Mirkwood, and the land surrounding the terrible fortress of Dol Guldur. She had done what she could to stop the spread of the Necromancer's sorcery upon the land, but it was not enough. The Elves had retreated north, and Galeniril mourned what was once a beautiful forest.
She loathed to think about that same fate befalling Fangorn. Perhaps she was not strong enough again, but she would at least try.
Sadly, nothing could be done to save the tree. The most she could do was give it peace in death and purify it before the decay could infect anything else. The ground where the tree had collapsed was already showing signs of the rot sinking into the dirt. She would have to be quick lest it went beyond what her capabilities could heal.
Raising her hands to hover above the tree, Galeniril sang softly. Magic tingled at her fingertips, called forth at the behest of her will. She trailed her fingers along the darkened and corrupted wood, and where they touched, the evil fell away, disappearing into nothingness. She sat there for a long while, singing and caressing the tree and ground as her small animal friends watched on. Little by little, she cleansed what should never have been touched by those with ill intent. One day, life would return to this small part of the forest, and she would welcome it with open arms.
Once done, Galeniril finished her song and rose to her feet. The shadows had lengthened around her, signifying the coming of night. She should return to her huorns, tell them of her success and that they need not fret any longer. But long had it been since she let herself step beyond the forest and survey the land of the horse lords. The huorns could be patient a little longer.
Galeniril moved silently. She used the darkening of the day to her advantage, melding into the shadows and branches once she reached the forest's edge. The land opened before her into rolling hills and green country. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing in the smell of fresh grass.
While the openness of Rohan was not what she preferred, she could still appreciate the beauty of the land and all that it held. The people were kind as well and respected the forests when they could. They took what they needed of the trees and did not seek to destroy the forest in its entirety. The same could not be said for whoever continuously tried to corrupt her forest, of course.
She stood there, listening to the breeze and insects, and when she deemed it time to retreat into the woods, she prepared to turn. However, a voice broke through the silence.
"Éothel, do not run so far!"
Galeniril's eyes swept the area before coming upon a woman and man standing near a cart at the road aways ahead. A small child stood further from them, gazing at Fangorn longingly. Despite the distance, Galeniril could still hear them.
"Éothel, listen to your mother," the man said.
"But, Father, look at the forest!" the young girl, Éothel, exclaimed. "I wish to explore it!"
"Dear, that is Fangorn. You will get lost," the woman replied.
"I will not. You know I will not."
Galeniril smiled softly to herself. It seemed that even hundreds of years later, her descendants still yearned for the wilds.
Long ago, a mortal man had claimed Galeniril's heart. She knew it was foolish. He would die while she would remain the same, but she could not help but be smitten with him. Solvarr was his name, and she still missed him dearly. Before his death, Galeniril had promised that she would watch over their descendants. If it ever came to it, she would protect them just like how she protected her trees. Solvarr had died smiling.
She did not remember exactly when she faded from memory within her lineage. It was only a matter of time before tales of them being born from a forest folk became legend and myth. They had ventured into Rohan generations ago. Galeniril knew they were here, for it was part of the reason she had gone south instead of into Lothlórien. She had stayed true to her word and kept an eye on them as they lived and died. Even if she had not been watching, she would have felt the familiarity of her kin within the young girl named Éothel.
They did not know her, would likely never know her. She was content with that. She did not need to meddle with mortals anymore. She could watch from afar.
“Éothel, I am sorry,” the girl’s mother said as she grabbed her daughter’s hand, tugging her back to the cart. “But we must reach Woodhurst before nightfall.”
“It would only be for a moment. Just a peek,” Éothel argued.
“And when has a ‘peek’ ever just been that?” the man stated, hoisting her into the back of the cart. Éothel huffed and crossed her arms. The man climbed to the front of the cart next to the woman and looked back at the girl. “How about we strike a deal? When we return home, I will take you on a hunt, and you may lead the way. You will choose where we go, and I will follow.”
Éothel’s face lit up like the sun. “Oh, yes, Father! That is a good deal!”
“I thought so.”
Galeniril decided to leave her kin be after that. They seemed happy and safe, and that was all that she hoped for. Éothel would do well in the world, Galeniril foresaw, and she would be much like herself. For now, she would grow and learn and perhaps scare her parents too often by disappearing into the woods.
Galeniril wandered back into Fangorn, letting a squirrel jump onto her shoulder. “Come now, my friends,” she said to the various animals still watching her. “Let us go to the huorns and share the good that was done this day.”
Much good would need to be done in the coming years.