I. The Arrow
As the cold moon rose, shining onto the landscape of Middle-earth and casting an eerie light on the houses of Lorien, Hithwen gazed at its silver beauty. "Isil," she whispered, looking at the cold orb. It was the sight she yearned for every eve. It distracted her from the journey she was being forced to make.
As she watched the moon's slow procession across the heavens, she thought. She thought of the Ainur and the Valar, and the Lords of Darkness, Morgoth and Sauron. She thought of the Orcs. She thought of evil.
It annoyed her.
Isildur annoyed her, too. Her mother had told many stories of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, in which Hithwen's father had been killed. Coincidentally, Hithwen didn't like Sauron much either.
Of course, after the death of her father, her mother was far too frightened to let Hithwen out of her sight. When the Third Age began to come to a close, her mother forbade her to go to Rivendell for the Council of Elrond. As a result, the only knowledge she had of the War was knowledge gained through the cracks of doors.
Of course, there was the time when the Fellowship visited Lorien . .
***
Haldir led Legolas to the dead maple. "It is high time you brushed up on your archery, my friend," he said, smiling.
"Thank you." Legolas did not smile. He drew an arrow, set it to his bow, pulled back savagely, and released. The arrow's head hit the small black target circle on the maple dead on. Legolas lowered his bow and his eyes.
"It would appear, Legolas, that you need no practice," Haldir chuckled. "Did the Orcs keep you fit?"
"Do not jest on this matter, Haldir of Lorien!" Legolas snapped, whirling around, eyes blazing. "The pain of Gandalf's loss has not yet passed!" He stood silent then, quivering.
Haldir's expression softened, from aloof to sad. "And I don't expect it shall ever pass, Legolas."
"No, I suppose not . ." A single tear dampened the ground for a moment; then Legolas kicked dirt onto it angrily and shot another arrow at the target.
"Allow yourself to grieve, Legolas," Haldir said quietly.
"I cannot."
"Why?"
Legolas was silent.
"What of the Halflings?" Haldir asked, after a pause.
"Frodo believes that it is his fault that Gandalf . . left us," Legolas murmured, eyes downcast once more. "Pippin does as well . . and he and Merry feel useless."
"It is not their fault! They are not useless!" Haldir shook his head vigorously. "Do you believe it is?"
"No." Again he drew an arrow; again he bent his bow; again the target was pierced. "No, it is the fault of that fool Gimli! Gandalf would have never agreed to go to Moria, had that dwarf not put in his bit!" Another arrow bit into the maple's dead flesh. "Were it not for him, Gandalf would still be here! We would still have hope!"
Haldir said nothing.
Legolas dropped to his knees in the soft grass. "I fear for Frodo," he whispered. "I fear for Sam, and Merry, and Pippin, but most of all for Frodo. The Ring is taking him now. His grief has made him weak. He is vulnerable. I do not know . ." - his voice was barely audible now - ". . I do not know if he will outlast the One."
Still Haldir said nothing.
"How can I help him?"
Then Haldir said, "Why will you not grieve?" He seemed to be ignoring all else Legolas had said.
Legolas was silent; but then he spoke.
"Someone must stay strong, Haldir. Someone must keep their heads through these dark times. Aragorn needs to let his emotions go, so that he can lead; Boromir cannot keep his pain in, nor can the Halflings. And as for the Dwarf, he is not strong enough even to pretend it." He made as if to spit on the ground, but stopped himself.
"You cannot be strong, Legolas, until you grieve." Haldir looked at the stars that seemed to sink earthwards around them. "My father taught me that."
Legolas looked up sharply. "Haldir-"
"Take it or leave it," the other Elf said in neutral tones. "No more advice will be offered to you."
Legolas stared at Haldir; then he jumped to his feet and looked around wildly, keen eyes searching.
"Legolas, what is it?" Haldir asked tersely.
"Someone was listening; but all I saw of them was vanishing russet hair." He kept searching the shadows of Lorien.
Haldir listened, then smiled. "Fear not, Legolas. 'Tis but my sister, Hithwen."
Legolas glanced at him. "How can you be certain?"
"Two reasons: One, she alone, of all the Elves of Lorien, has an insatiable appetite for information. That is why she came: to attempt to overhear news of the Fellowship. Two, this morning she fell into her friend Draugwen's mushroom sauce and hasn't yet had a chance to wash. I smelled her."
Legolas relaxed slightly. "Keep her away from the Hobbits." Then he frowned slightly, and asked, "But why would she want to know of the War and the Fellowship?"
Haldir's expression went a bit sad. "After my father's death in the Last Alliance, my mother has become petrified that one of her children would die as well. She would not let Hithwen go to Rivendell for the Council of Elrond. Hithwen is our warrior." Haldir's voice was fond. "She was furious."
Legolas sighed. "Would that we had but more time, I would meet your sister- " then he froze. He snapped his eyes towards Haldir. "Do you smell mushrooms?"
Haldir looked angelic. A small voice from the top of a nearby elm said, with no little embarrassment, "I'll be leaving now."
***
Ode de Mushroom. Hithwen still winced at the memory. Not a good first impression for one of the Fellowship. Oh, well.
She hadn't left, of course. She'd stayed until she'd heard all she wanted to hear- and until Haldir started sending threatening glances her way. /Big brothers are /so/ annoying./ She'd learned a lot, though.
Unfortunately, that was the biggest chunk of information she got for a while. The Lady Galadriel spent most of her days at her mirror, watching the War and conversing with Lord Elrond of Imladris. The Three Rings stirred, and Galadriel had no time to tell tales to the young ones. Usually, Hithwen gathered her information from those "tales", which were truly histories of the Wars of old, and the present War-but no longer. The only information she got was from her closest (and oldest) friend-Draugwen.
Draugwen was a hobbit, that much was certain; enough tales of Halflings were brought to Lorien by Gandalf and Elrond Half-Elven to ascertain that Draugwen was one. However, she'd no recollection of her past; she lived in Fangorn Forest with the Ent Quickbeam, and she visited Lorien occasionally. Most of the Elves thought her far too rambunctious and loud, but Hithwen did not mind; in fact, sometimes she felt more comfortable with Draugwen than she did with most Elves, excepting her brother Haldir (she was not as close to Rumil and Orophin as she was to Haldir).
Draugwen got information from Quickbeam, relating to the Entmoot and the destruction of Isengard. She passed this on to Hithwen. The hobbit also, unbeknownst to Merry, Pippin or Treebeard, had been following the three through Fangorn to the Entmoot. There she met up with Quickbeam again, and then hid herself, away from sight, to watch Merry and Pippin wait out the Entmoot. During this time, Draugwen had told Hithwen, an odd feeling had come over her . .
Hithwen shook her head. /No, Draugwen will get what she wants,/ she assured herself, adding wryly, /or else she'll make something /happen/. No, it's time to be selfish, and think about /me/ for once./ She gently stroked the arrow, pried in secret from her brother's target right after the Fellowship left, long and straight and perfectly sharp, even after being shot into the hard maple's bark. It had taken nearly an hour to dig it out of the tree; there had been such force behind the shooting of it.
Hithwen sighted the arrow's shaft. /Well, it's almost begun./
***
The Ring had been destroyed two years ago. Now it was time for Hithwen to cross the sea.
As the cold moon rose, shining onto the landscape of Middle-earth and casting an eerie light on the houses of Lorien, Hithwen gazed at its silver beauty. "Isil," she whispered, looking at the cold orb. It was the sight she yearned for every eve. It distracted her from the journey she was being forced to make.
As she watched the moon's slow procession across the heavens, she thought. She thought of the Ainur and the Valar, and the Lords of Darkness, Morgoth and Sauron. She thought of the Orcs. She thought of evil.
It annoyed her.
Isildur annoyed her, too. Her mother had told many stories of the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, in which Hithwen's father had been killed. Coincidentally, Hithwen didn't like Sauron much either.
Of course, after the death of her father, her mother was far too frightened to let Hithwen out of her sight. When the Third Age began to come to a close, her mother forbade her to go to Rivendell for the Council of Elrond. As a result, the only knowledge she had of the War was knowledge gained through the cracks of doors.
Of course, there was the time when the Fellowship visited Lorien . .
***
Haldir led Legolas to the dead maple. "It is high time you brushed up on your archery, my friend," he said, smiling.
"Thank you." Legolas did not smile. He drew an arrow, set it to his bow, pulled back savagely, and released. The arrow's head hit the small black target circle on the maple dead on. Legolas lowered his bow and his eyes.
"It would appear, Legolas, that you need no practice," Haldir chuckled. "Did the Orcs keep you fit?"
"Do not jest on this matter, Haldir of Lorien!" Legolas snapped, whirling around, eyes blazing. "The pain of Gandalf's loss has not yet passed!" He stood silent then, quivering.
Haldir's expression softened, from aloof to sad. "And I don't expect it shall ever pass, Legolas."
"No, I suppose not . ." A single tear dampened the ground for a moment; then Legolas kicked dirt onto it angrily and shot another arrow at the target.
"Allow yourself to grieve, Legolas," Haldir said quietly.
"I cannot."
"Why?"
Legolas was silent.
"What of the Halflings?" Haldir asked, after a pause.
"Frodo believes that it is his fault that Gandalf . . left us," Legolas murmured, eyes downcast once more. "Pippin does as well . . and he and Merry feel useless."
"It is not their fault! They are not useless!" Haldir shook his head vigorously. "Do you believe it is?"
"No." Again he drew an arrow; again he bent his bow; again the target was pierced. "No, it is the fault of that fool Gimli! Gandalf would have never agreed to go to Moria, had that dwarf not put in his bit!" Another arrow bit into the maple's dead flesh. "Were it not for him, Gandalf would still be here! We would still have hope!"
Haldir said nothing.
Legolas dropped to his knees in the soft grass. "I fear for Frodo," he whispered. "I fear for Sam, and Merry, and Pippin, but most of all for Frodo. The Ring is taking him now. His grief has made him weak. He is vulnerable. I do not know . ." - his voice was barely audible now - ". . I do not know if he will outlast the One."
Still Haldir said nothing.
"How can I help him?"
Then Haldir said, "Why will you not grieve?" He seemed to be ignoring all else Legolas had said.
Legolas was silent; but then he spoke.
"Someone must stay strong, Haldir. Someone must keep their heads through these dark times. Aragorn needs to let his emotions go, so that he can lead; Boromir cannot keep his pain in, nor can the Halflings. And as for the Dwarf, he is not strong enough even to pretend it." He made as if to spit on the ground, but stopped himself.
"You cannot be strong, Legolas, until you grieve." Haldir looked at the stars that seemed to sink earthwards around them. "My father taught me that."
Legolas looked up sharply. "Haldir-"
"Take it or leave it," the other Elf said in neutral tones. "No more advice will be offered to you."
Legolas stared at Haldir; then he jumped to his feet and looked around wildly, keen eyes searching.
"Legolas, what is it?" Haldir asked tersely.
"Someone was listening; but all I saw of them was vanishing russet hair." He kept searching the shadows of Lorien.
Haldir listened, then smiled. "Fear not, Legolas. 'Tis but my sister, Hithwen."
Legolas glanced at him. "How can you be certain?"
"Two reasons: One, she alone, of all the Elves of Lorien, has an insatiable appetite for information. That is why she came: to attempt to overhear news of the Fellowship. Two, this morning she fell into her friend Draugwen's mushroom sauce and hasn't yet had a chance to wash. I smelled her."
Legolas relaxed slightly. "Keep her away from the Hobbits." Then he frowned slightly, and asked, "But why would she want to know of the War and the Fellowship?"
Haldir's expression went a bit sad. "After my father's death in the Last Alliance, my mother has become petrified that one of her children would die as well. She would not let Hithwen go to Rivendell for the Council of Elrond. Hithwen is our warrior." Haldir's voice was fond. "She was furious."
Legolas sighed. "Would that we had but more time, I would meet your sister- " then he froze. He snapped his eyes towards Haldir. "Do you smell mushrooms?"
Haldir looked angelic. A small voice from the top of a nearby elm said, with no little embarrassment, "I'll be leaving now."
***
Ode de Mushroom. Hithwen still winced at the memory. Not a good first impression for one of the Fellowship. Oh, well.
She hadn't left, of course. She'd stayed until she'd heard all she wanted to hear- and until Haldir started sending threatening glances her way. /Big brothers are /so/ annoying./ She'd learned a lot, though.
Unfortunately, that was the biggest chunk of information she got for a while. The Lady Galadriel spent most of her days at her mirror, watching the War and conversing with Lord Elrond of Imladris. The Three Rings stirred, and Galadriel had no time to tell tales to the young ones. Usually, Hithwen gathered her information from those "tales", which were truly histories of the Wars of old, and the present War-but no longer. The only information she got was from her closest (and oldest) friend-Draugwen.
Draugwen was a hobbit, that much was certain; enough tales of Halflings were brought to Lorien by Gandalf and Elrond Half-Elven to ascertain that Draugwen was one. However, she'd no recollection of her past; she lived in Fangorn Forest with the Ent Quickbeam, and she visited Lorien occasionally. Most of the Elves thought her far too rambunctious and loud, but Hithwen did not mind; in fact, sometimes she felt more comfortable with Draugwen than she did with most Elves, excepting her brother Haldir (she was not as close to Rumil and Orophin as she was to Haldir).
Draugwen got information from Quickbeam, relating to the Entmoot and the destruction of Isengard. She passed this on to Hithwen. The hobbit also, unbeknownst to Merry, Pippin or Treebeard, had been following the three through Fangorn to the Entmoot. There she met up with Quickbeam again, and then hid herself, away from sight, to watch Merry and Pippin wait out the Entmoot. During this time, Draugwen had told Hithwen, an odd feeling had come over her . .
Hithwen shook her head. /No, Draugwen will get what she wants,/ she assured herself, adding wryly, /or else she'll make something /happen/. No, it's time to be selfish, and think about /me/ for once./ She gently stroked the arrow, pried in secret from her brother's target right after the Fellowship left, long and straight and perfectly sharp, even after being shot into the hard maple's bark. It had taken nearly an hour to dig it out of the tree; there had been such force behind the shooting of it.
Hithwen sighted the arrow's shaft. /Well, it's almost begun./
***
The Ring had been destroyed two years ago. Now it was time for Hithwen to cross the sea.