It only took him 300 years. A breeze, considering.
Many took longer. Some – like Olives and Redwoods – required a millennium to achieve Elder. No fault of theirs, of course, but still … many times longer than he’d had to.
His from-seedling brother had thought him nuts. Literally. “Wait and wait to reach Elder and all you get for your trouble is being bent out of shape, your roots hanging out, and critters crawling in your innards.”
His brother had other aspirations. “Sail the world, I would. Ride the ocean. Move on the wind.”
Elder hadn’t had the heart to tell him that he’d be just as likely to end up planked as some dark closet, with no fresh air or birdsong or butterfly-kisses. Or worse, chopped to burn.
It’s been centuries since lumberjacks carted his brother away.
He was Elder now. Guardian of the path. Home of many.
For Crispina‘s Crimson’s Creative Challenge