Interlude: Through a Glass, Darkly
A/N: This was originally a longer Chapter Four, but I have broken it out into an interlude.
Galadriel watched the human woman walk slowly down the stairs. The gown which clothed her showed a well formed muscular body, her dark curls which brushed against it were cut short, a warriors cut which just brushed against the green shoulders of her gown and was, to Galadriel's eyes, a most strange look - even for a human. Together with the bruise on her forehead, grazed cheek and the slightest trace of a limp which caused her to take a step at a time she made a most unusual presence in Galadriel's garden. Few had been allowed to walk in this part of her garden; fewer still had been allowed to look within the mirror before her. She looked down at it; the water was still eddying from where she had poured the water into the mirror.
Galadriel placed the silver ewer with which she had poured the water back in its place and waited as the young woman took the final step down onto the floor of the hollow. The root system and bole of gigantic mellorn dwarfed the young woman who was several inches short of six feet. Galadriel smiled a moment as she thought of how the woman who seemed of small stature to her now would tower over the little people of the Shire who had stayed in her realm so recently. Though she doubted either would be found wanting in courage of heart!
Anária felt as though the lady was looking through her not at her. As though she saw something else, that Anária herself could not. Carefully she moved forwards. A silver pool of water lay in a shallow silver bowl upon a stone pedestal.
"I heard you summon me, My Lady". She bowed. There had been no words in that summoning, yet a summoning it had been. Galadriel's eyes focused once more upon Anária. A mysterious smile graced the Lady's lips.
"It was you who summoned yourself." Anária frowned. The Lady was still smiling, and waiting. Perhaps this was test? A riddle for a test.
"Do you mean that I caused you to summon me by some means Lady?" Galadriel simply continued to smile, tilting her head slightly. "You can see into my mind… And therefore you knew of my… premonition?" Galadriel's inclination of acknowledgement was barely even a movement. Her eyes remained on Anária.
"You are troubled by your gift." The words were gentle. Anária felt a great wave of feeling, a gift it was called, how this could be called a gift she had often wondered.
"My Lady… This is no gift!" She swallowed hard against her onrushing feelings. "It was because of this so-called gift that I was taken from my home as it fell, that my brother lies grievously wounded! Is it a gift that I am plagued by premonitions and feelings without context or substance by which to judge them truly?" She bit her lip to quiet her words, their bitterness of her tone echoed strangely amongst the quiet trees. Like that echo the Lady's tone when she spoke was one of remonstration.
"We do not always get to choose our gifts Anária." The Lady was no longer smiling, instead her countenance was troubled. "And some gifts that seem a mighty burden may turn out to be a blessing in disguise." Anária bowed her head, an acknowledgement and an apology.
"You are troubled not only by this gift. You are troubled by the knowledge that your Chieftain, your sworn lord was so close, and yet your steps were guided away from him." She lifted her eyes to meet the Lady's. Her eyes were kind in their sorrow. "Would it ease your mind to know that your Aragorn still lives?"
"It would." Her words were little more than a breath. Power lay in the hands of the Lady of Lórien, this she had already known.
"I have seen it." The words were measured. There was an unspoken regret in the sentence that stopped Anária's elation from taking flight.
"You have seen it?" The Lady was looking away, into the silver bowl before her. Anária stepped closer, to the edge of the stone pedestal, but something warned her not to look into water fully – not yet.
"I see much, Anária, daughter of Anáthor and Belraen, of the House of Elendil." Her blue eyes had fastened upon Anária, a look which was searing in its intensity. "I see you taken to Imladris by Aragorn, your gift yet another of the signs foretold of the coming of the return of the King. I see you, riding through the wilds, I see the fears of your family that a precious daughter will be lost." She paused and Anária wondered if she was finished, but implacably the words came on.
"I see your brother, struck down, defending a beloved little sister." Anária's breath caught in her throat, she had told no-one of how Anádor had received the wound to his side. But the Lady did not stop. "I see your troubled thoughts. You believe you are responsible, you feel that your weakness will be the undoing of the world." Anária felt her cheeks heat, she could no longer meet the Lady's gaze, she dropped her eyes to her hands where the rested on the edge of the pedestal, her fingers were white at the knuckles where she gripped the edge. There had been ever so slight a hint of amusement in those final words. A mocking tone that made Anária feel ashamed. She had great pride she knew; too much, it was a fault she felt keenly.
"You take too much of the responsibility for yourself." The mocking tone was gone; in its stead was gentle reproach. "There are others who must carry the burden of the fate of men. You would do him a service by carrying it also, but that does not aid him – nor does it aid you." Anária felt tears of shame spill hot onto her cheeks. She heard a rustle of fabric, Galadriel's hem came into view, and she felt a hand upon her chin. It drew her face up until she was looking at the Lady.
"Pride is not always a fault young ranger. Nor is it an evil to take responsibility for your actions and feel keenly the burden of duty." The blue eyes now brought her peace as she looked into them, even as her next words brought dread. "Will you look now? You may yet see something that may encourage you even if your dreams are troubled."
At first there seemed only a reflection of the stars above, and her own face looking back at her, but then it when completely black. First she saw the last homely House, Imladris in deep autumn, the leaves had turned to gold and fallen onto the ground, she saw the Lord of Rivendell passing across a bridge, his face grim. He was armed and armoured, and his eyes were filled with dreas.
Then the image changed, she saw a great number of people passing across a plain, women and children for the most part, and in their faces the hushed fear of those who flee a terrible foe. The mothers kept their children close and guards cloaked in green guarded the column. They were the people of Rohan she knew, not only from their standards and the dress of the guards but by their look, a fair people of flaxen hair were the Horse Lords of Rohan. And then just for a moment she saw a tall man with dark hair walking amongst the fair figures but before she could ascertain his identity he was gone, the mirrors image changing yet again.
Rain poured upon a line of Elven archers, amidst them, clad in golden armour, his head uncovered stood Haldir, his proud face was wary, almost she would have said fearful as he looked down at something she could not see. Then he was moving, it was later, the rain had stopped, he was motioning to elves to pass him. She could not see what happened! He had been struck and he reeled and looked around almost in confusion. For a moment he seemed to be looking right at her, his face dark with pain and dread, when she saw another Uruk rise behind him, his sword raised to strike. But then the image was gone.
Before she could speak or move she saw a village set ablaze, Orcs marauding through it. Faster now the images came – one after another – a weeping mother holding a dead child, men and woman in chains led by Orcs. One of them turned her face – it was her mother, Belraen! She no longer wished to look, but she could not force herself to turn away. Then her mother was gone. She saw Elves upon the steps of the Last Homely House, it was ablaze and they lay, dead and dying as it burned around them. Then she saw a creature the likes of which she had only seen twice before in her life. A Halfling, one of the little people. His hair was dark and his face was dirty. He was running down a black tunnel, his face a picture of terror. For the briefest moment he turned his face to her and she saw a chain about his neck, upon it lay a golden ring. It was shiny and bright, and seemed to grow larger as she looked at it, until it filled the entire mirror. And for a brief moment within it she though she saw something flicker. An eye – an eye of fire!
"Ahhhhh!" With a cry she threw herself back.
Galadriel was silent. Anária was shaking, her hand against the bole of a giant mellorn as she took deep shaking breaths. Galadriel did not wait for her to gather herself, there was no time, it was already the middle of the night, just after dawn the final march of the Elves in alliance with men would begin.
"What you have seen is but a glimpse of several possible futures. Most of these are beyond your reach to alter." Anária's grey eyes came up to meet the ladies, tears were standing in them but with a shake of her head and a quick flick of her fingers she dismissed them
"Most? Then there is something that I can do?" she pushed herself away from the wall and Galadriel smiled, she had not been mistaken as to the strength of the young woman, her grey eyes were alight with a fiery determination.
"You have two choices. You can remain here in Lórien and tend to your brother, but know that if Hope fails these woods will fall, that is the war goes ill elsewhere there will be nowhere that you will meet your doom here." Anária nodded jerkily. Galadriel walked close once more, locking down into that proud young face.
"Or you can leave your brother in our care and ride forth with our blessing to do what you can, to play your own part in determining the fate of the lands of men." Before she had finished speaking she already knew what Anária intended. And in her heart Galadriel felt a fierce joy; the young woman met her eyes and knew Galadriel saw into her mind and heart, she returned the Lady's smile with a twist of her lips.
"Then I commit my brother to your care my Lady, and ask your indulgence and assistance in helping my go forth."
"Which you shall have!" said the Lady, she turned away, a gesture of her hand commanding Anária to follow her as she went up the winding stairs…