Disclaimer: Most of this belongs to JRR Tolkien. In fact, pretty much
everything except the actual writing does. All lawsuits will be duly
ignored.
WARNING: May contain spoilers. Definitely contains foreshadowing of events in the books. Mirrors are great that way.
Author's Note: The concept for this story was taken from the fellowship's visit to Lothlorien, when they meet the Lady Galadriel. What was a small paragraph is now several pages. Just for reference, the idea and quotes are taken from pages 468-469 of my edition of the Fellowship of the Ring. Read, and enjoy, and review! I like to know what you think. Thanks, SlV.
***
From nine they are now eight. The eight remaining companions of the Quest to destroy the One Ring stand before me. In each pair of eyes, I perceive something different. The dwarf looks upon me with fear and awe mingled in his stare. In the eyes of Legolas Greenleaf I see reverence for myself, my lord, and our realm, and grief for the loss of Mithrandir. In any elf lives much sadness for all the things we have seen that have now passed. I myself carry my own grief over the death of the Grey Pilgrim, a fellow Ringbearer. The three young Periannath share the awe of the dwarf, but none of his fear. Their race has not known the discord that we Firstborn have with the Naugrim. In their eyes lie a plea for sanctuary, and also concern. It is for their friend they are concerned and his eyes are dimmed by the weight of his grief and his duty. It pains me to know of such burdens in so small a person and I avert my eyes. I turn instead to the two men. Estel's face reveals nothing, but his eyes unmask the sadness that remains inside of him, and the toll that his responsibilities have laid upon him. Through the eyes of the other: the man of Gondor, I observe his wariness and a glimpse of something that touches me as terribly as the hand of Sauron himself when I know it. The Ring already has gained power within the fellowship.
My Lord Celeborn and I speak with the travellers for a time, and they recount to us the tragedy of Mithrandir's defeat at the bridge of Khazad- Dûm. Strange how so many may be united over the fall of one. The dwarf requires cheering and reassurance. It gladdens me to see his face so bright and the fear lift when I speak of the places his reveres in his own tongue. If only happiness and peace were this easily given and plentiful as nature, the One in Barad-Dur would have fallen from power long ago. But alas that his joy will not remain; for now that I have seen the power that the Ring holds over the surviving Walkers, I must question them to learn for myself who remains true to the quest.
" . . . But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true."
I am beginning to look deeper inside of the minds of each companion, searching for what they most desire. With this I shall tempt them: stay or stray.
I will focus first on all the Periannath save the Ringbearer. I shall be easy with them, for one thing is clear: no matter how dearly tempted, they have come so long together that none will allow their friend to continue alone. To Samwise, I show himself back in the Shire. He lives in a hole- dwelling such as I have never seen. He has a garden of his own with flowers, for I perceive that this little one loves to feel the earth with his hands. Quick as a flash of light upon Nenya, the vision changes and he sees the Quest before him. I know from him suddenly which he desires more and that he is ashamed by this, as his cheeks flush and he looks away. I gently release him and turn my thoughts to the two youngest. To them I offer nearly identical choices: home in the Shire with the good food and company of their kin, or the dark and dangerous road ahead. Both react in the same manner as Samwise, but less severely and my mind leaves them, confirmed in what I knew to be true. I smile at the little ones, touched by such simple desires in those that already on this journey have known so much.
To the dwarf Gimli, son of Gloin the focus of my mind moves next. The smile on his face quickly fades as his choice is laid out before him. He sees himself back in Moria with many of his kin, restoring the halls and caverns to the majesty in which they were preserved in tale and song. The Quest is then laid for him to see; a harder road than even dwarves may travel. He also looks away from my gaze and shifts anxiously. I am more trusting of the dwarves than are many of the Eldar, but never so much that I do not now vow to keep an eye on this one, so close to the power of the Ring.
I feel a sudden desire to know one who feels no fear of me. My eyes, roving over the company, land on the lone one of my own race among them. Strange how ancient and wise this Elven prince must seem to a group of mortals and men; but an innocent and impatient youth this son of Thranduil is to me. Like in years to my daughter's daughter, but unlike Undomiel, he has accepted what is his to bear. His eyes come to meet mine and hold them. //You know what I must ask of you// I silently tell him, and he inclines his head slightly to show he has known what I have told him. I focus myself on his mind, and the scene he observes before him comes as no shock to he or myself. He has remained in Lothlorien among my people, becoming acquainted with the beauty of the Golden Wood, learning every tree, rushing brook, breath of wind. He in turn sees the path the Company must take, leading on to places where the trees he loves cannot grow, where the sun and moon he knows do not shine. This elder young one does not turn away as others have done, but continues to meet my eyes as if trying to see in me what I have seen in him. I knew of his choice long before it was given to him, for the Eldar, whether Noldor or Silvan are loyal, and have no love of the darkness and death that will befall Middle Earth if the Quest fails. I give to Legolas a few more words in our own speech and break my gaze.
I have little desire to continue my examination with the three that remain. Two minds contain secrets that I do not wish to know. One is weary and its resolve has been moved to the limits of its endurance. With regret, I begin with Estel, the only other among them who knows what will be asked of him. Already I know his deepest desire, and it brings me little joy. I respect this man for the battle he must win, and his noble birth, but it would pain me to see the daughter of my Celebrian given to the world of mortals, never to cross the sea with her kin. He loves her deeply though, and she him, and like the question I know already the reply. As with Legolas my eyes are met and the message they contain is clear. //Love her well//. With these final words I acknowledge a truth that I do not wish to accept, and grant Estel my blessing.
There is another of the race of men among the eight. It is he who now regards me with deep suspicion, and it is he for whom I fear most. Power corrupts many who desire it, and this man of Gondor differs not from others like him. Looking deeper into his thoughts than I have the others', I assure what I have already seen. The Ring is exerting its power over him, and he is beginning to crave the power it will bring him. For this man there is not a question, but a revelation. In his mind's eye, scenes are laid out before him of death and destruction. Finally, one he recognizes. The White City as smouldering ashes, the bodies of his kin strewn about the streets as if it were a battlefield. All this caused by the "trinket" he covets. When the vision fades, he glances at me quickly and looks away. The look was one of pure fear and hate. I will be remembered to him always as the Elf-Witch. The one who showed him what power and desire had kept hidden.
Nothing is hidden however, to the Ringbearer. He feels the corruption within him. It tests his strength of will and he fights it. He hangs on precariously, and it will not become easier as he draws closer to his goal. For me to enter his mind as I have done with the others would be to do nothing less than invite my own suffering. I desire to help him, but strangely, my position cannot allow this. This was fated to him, I have felt it, but why I do not know. Destiny can be cruelest to those who want know part in it. The fate of us all rests around the neck of this little one from the Shire.
From nine they are now eight. The eight remaining companions of the Quest to destroy the Ring stand before me. Bound with the task of destroying this small thing that possesses this great power. They are fully united by race, trust, or purpose, but their task is a great one, and each companion has his parts to play in the events to come. For now they are safe in my land, under my watch, but they will tonight wonder about what has been shown to them. I smile upon them and release them from me with words meant to comfort.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled, tonight you shall sleep in peace."
And may tomorrow bring what it may.
WARNING: May contain spoilers. Definitely contains foreshadowing of events in the books. Mirrors are great that way.
Author's Note: The concept for this story was taken from the fellowship's visit to Lothlorien, when they meet the Lady Galadriel. What was a small paragraph is now several pages. Just for reference, the idea and quotes are taken from pages 468-469 of my edition of the Fellowship of the Ring. Read, and enjoy, and review! I like to know what you think. Thanks, SlV.
***
From nine they are now eight. The eight remaining companions of the Quest to destroy the One Ring stand before me. In each pair of eyes, I perceive something different. The dwarf looks upon me with fear and awe mingled in his stare. In the eyes of Legolas Greenleaf I see reverence for myself, my lord, and our realm, and grief for the loss of Mithrandir. In any elf lives much sadness for all the things we have seen that have now passed. I myself carry my own grief over the death of the Grey Pilgrim, a fellow Ringbearer. The three young Periannath share the awe of the dwarf, but none of his fear. Their race has not known the discord that we Firstborn have with the Naugrim. In their eyes lie a plea for sanctuary, and also concern. It is for their friend they are concerned and his eyes are dimmed by the weight of his grief and his duty. It pains me to know of such burdens in so small a person and I avert my eyes. I turn instead to the two men. Estel's face reveals nothing, but his eyes unmask the sadness that remains inside of him, and the toll that his responsibilities have laid upon him. Through the eyes of the other: the man of Gondor, I observe his wariness and a glimpse of something that touches me as terribly as the hand of Sauron himself when I know it. The Ring already has gained power within the fellowship.
My Lord Celeborn and I speak with the travellers for a time, and they recount to us the tragedy of Mithrandir's defeat at the bridge of Khazad- Dûm. Strange how so many may be united over the fall of one. The dwarf requires cheering and reassurance. It gladdens me to see his face so bright and the fear lift when I speak of the places his reveres in his own tongue. If only happiness and peace were this easily given and plentiful as nature, the One in Barad-Dur would have fallen from power long ago. But alas that his joy will not remain; for now that I have seen the power that the Ring holds over the surviving Walkers, I must question them to learn for myself who remains true to the quest.
" . . . But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true."
I am beginning to look deeper inside of the minds of each companion, searching for what they most desire. With this I shall tempt them: stay or stray.
I will focus first on all the Periannath save the Ringbearer. I shall be easy with them, for one thing is clear: no matter how dearly tempted, they have come so long together that none will allow their friend to continue alone. To Samwise, I show himself back in the Shire. He lives in a hole- dwelling such as I have never seen. He has a garden of his own with flowers, for I perceive that this little one loves to feel the earth with his hands. Quick as a flash of light upon Nenya, the vision changes and he sees the Quest before him. I know from him suddenly which he desires more and that he is ashamed by this, as his cheeks flush and he looks away. I gently release him and turn my thoughts to the two youngest. To them I offer nearly identical choices: home in the Shire with the good food and company of their kin, or the dark and dangerous road ahead. Both react in the same manner as Samwise, but less severely and my mind leaves them, confirmed in what I knew to be true. I smile at the little ones, touched by such simple desires in those that already on this journey have known so much.
To the dwarf Gimli, son of Gloin the focus of my mind moves next. The smile on his face quickly fades as his choice is laid out before him. He sees himself back in Moria with many of his kin, restoring the halls and caverns to the majesty in which they were preserved in tale and song. The Quest is then laid for him to see; a harder road than even dwarves may travel. He also looks away from my gaze and shifts anxiously. I am more trusting of the dwarves than are many of the Eldar, but never so much that I do not now vow to keep an eye on this one, so close to the power of the Ring.
I feel a sudden desire to know one who feels no fear of me. My eyes, roving over the company, land on the lone one of my own race among them. Strange how ancient and wise this Elven prince must seem to a group of mortals and men; but an innocent and impatient youth this son of Thranduil is to me. Like in years to my daughter's daughter, but unlike Undomiel, he has accepted what is his to bear. His eyes come to meet mine and hold them. //You know what I must ask of you// I silently tell him, and he inclines his head slightly to show he has known what I have told him. I focus myself on his mind, and the scene he observes before him comes as no shock to he or myself. He has remained in Lothlorien among my people, becoming acquainted with the beauty of the Golden Wood, learning every tree, rushing brook, breath of wind. He in turn sees the path the Company must take, leading on to places where the trees he loves cannot grow, where the sun and moon he knows do not shine. This elder young one does not turn away as others have done, but continues to meet my eyes as if trying to see in me what I have seen in him. I knew of his choice long before it was given to him, for the Eldar, whether Noldor or Silvan are loyal, and have no love of the darkness and death that will befall Middle Earth if the Quest fails. I give to Legolas a few more words in our own speech and break my gaze.
I have little desire to continue my examination with the three that remain. Two minds contain secrets that I do not wish to know. One is weary and its resolve has been moved to the limits of its endurance. With regret, I begin with Estel, the only other among them who knows what will be asked of him. Already I know his deepest desire, and it brings me little joy. I respect this man for the battle he must win, and his noble birth, but it would pain me to see the daughter of my Celebrian given to the world of mortals, never to cross the sea with her kin. He loves her deeply though, and she him, and like the question I know already the reply. As with Legolas my eyes are met and the message they contain is clear. //Love her well//. With these final words I acknowledge a truth that I do not wish to accept, and grant Estel my blessing.
There is another of the race of men among the eight. It is he who now regards me with deep suspicion, and it is he for whom I fear most. Power corrupts many who desire it, and this man of Gondor differs not from others like him. Looking deeper into his thoughts than I have the others', I assure what I have already seen. The Ring is exerting its power over him, and he is beginning to crave the power it will bring him. For this man there is not a question, but a revelation. In his mind's eye, scenes are laid out before him of death and destruction. Finally, one he recognizes. The White City as smouldering ashes, the bodies of his kin strewn about the streets as if it were a battlefield. All this caused by the "trinket" he covets. When the vision fades, he glances at me quickly and looks away. The look was one of pure fear and hate. I will be remembered to him always as the Elf-Witch. The one who showed him what power and desire had kept hidden.
Nothing is hidden however, to the Ringbearer. He feels the corruption within him. It tests his strength of will and he fights it. He hangs on precariously, and it will not become easier as he draws closer to his goal. For me to enter his mind as I have done with the others would be to do nothing less than invite my own suffering. I desire to help him, but strangely, my position cannot allow this. This was fated to him, I have felt it, but why I do not know. Destiny can be cruelest to those who want know part in it. The fate of us all rests around the neck of this little one from the Shire.
From nine they are now eight. The eight remaining companions of the Quest to destroy the Ring stand before me. Bound with the task of destroying this small thing that possesses this great power. They are fully united by race, trust, or purpose, but their task is a great one, and each companion has his parts to play in the events to come. For now they are safe in my land, under my watch, but they will tonight wonder about what has been shown to them. I smile upon them and release them from me with words meant to comfort.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled, tonight you shall sleep in peace."
And may tomorrow bring what it may.