Disclaimer: Not mine.
Author's notes: Yep, chapter ten is up too. :) Thank FairOphelia for betaing both so fast. Chapter 11 is now with her for checking, too. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!
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Chapter 10
The wolf approved of Lothlorien. Yes, there were too many trees for my liking, but it was still a beautiful place, and there was an aura of light and peace that surrounded it, an atmosphere that healed and brought joy to all who entered here. We walked down a curving walkway past several tree-platforms – I knew now that Haldir called them flets or talans – and ascended a stairway that wound around and around, leading up to an archway. It was here that Legolas set me down to stand on my own paws, and then all of us looked up as two of the most beautiful Elves I had ever seen in my life came walking slowly down to our level, surrounded by a pure white glow. I'd never met them before in my life, but I guessed that this must be the Lord Celeborn and his wife: the beautiful Lady Galadriel. Glancing around, I could see that the rest of the Fellowship were as awed as I felt. Gimli's mouth was actually hanging open a little, and Pippin was openly staring, his little eyes wide.
Lord Celeborn was tall, with blond hair that was tied in a neat braid behind him. He was dressed in formal silver robes, and his wife was just as resplendent in a shimmering white gown. Starlight and wisdom shone in her eyes, and I sensed that she was one who saw much more than what eyes alone could show. Strangely enough, the wolf found that it could not look directly at her for too long, and so I turned my attention elsewhere.
Haldir stepped to one side, dipping his head in a respectful bow to his Lord and Lady, and Aragorn and Legolas followed suit, with the Ranger touching his head reverently in greeting. I limped forward clumsily, stepping stiffly, and lowered the front of my body in a bow. Naturally, my next problem was in struggling not to fall forward on my face, because my shoulder gave way and I would have dropped like a rock and embarrassed myself had Legolas not been there to catch me and help me to sit up. I gave him a grateful look and turned to face the two ruling Elves of Lothlorien.
Galadriel was looking thoughtfully at me, a smile on her face.
- Welcome, daughter of Huan. -
I jerked, startled. The Voice! Was she here? But no, the tone of this voice had been different. Had it been – I had heard stories about the Lady of Lorien, who could speak straight to the minds of others. Had that been… the Lady of Light herself?
Galadriel's smile grew wider at my speculations, if anything, but she said no more as her husband began to speak, her gaze moving to the rest of the Fellowship and ending on Frodo. Celeborn, however, addressed Aragorn.
"The Enemy knows you have entered here," he said, using Common so that everyone in the Fellowship could understand. Like Haldir, he spoke slowly, as though unused to the language. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, but among you I see one who did not set out from Rivendell with the Company, and I do not see the one I had hoped to meet with the most." His gaze turned slightly sharp as he enquired, "Tell me, where is Gandalf?"
His wife's eyes flickered to Aragorn, who looked up.
"For I much desire to speak with him," Celeborn went on. "I can no longer see him from afar."
"He has fallen into Shadow." His wife's response was quiet, yet it held in it a finality and sorrowful certainty – she knew. She knew that the wizard no longer walked among the living in Arda. And now that I heard her speak aloud, I knew that I had been right in guessing that she had been the voice that I'd heard in my head when we'd first arrived here.
Aragorn's expression had turned very solemn, and he merely nodded. Legolas, however, spoke aloud to confirm what Galadriel had said.
"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame: a Balrog of Morgoth," he said, and I heard the sadness in his voice that was still raw. "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."
Gimli's head dropped slightly at this. I wondered why. Surely he did not blame himself? Yes, he had been the one who had been suggesting that they travel through Moria from the very beginning, despite Gandalf's worries about the mines, but he could not have known about the danger and darkness that awaited us there. Gandalf's death hadn't been his fault any more than it had been mine, or Frodo's, or Pippin's. It was the Balrog who had killed the wizard, and no one else. I struggled to go to him, wanting to lend him comfort from the Stone of Kindness at least, but Galadriel spoke first.
"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose." She faced Gimli, and I sensed that her words had been meant to comfort the Dwarf as well. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-Dum fill your heart, Gimli, son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril, and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief." She ended, her gaze on Boromir, and the Man gasped and turned away. Gimli looked up, and I relaxed at the hope I saw in his gaze.
"What now becomes of this Fellowship?" Celeborn wanted to know, facing Aragorn again. "Without Gandalf, hope is lost."
My head jerked up to look at the ancient Elven lord. That wasn't true. Hope never faded. Sometimes it was hidden from view, but it would always shine, no matter how hard the darkness tried to hide it. But I couldn't say that, of course – at least, not aloud. Galadriel's knowing eyes returned to me.
- You are wiser than you appear, Huan's daughter. -
I flushed. I wasn't wise. That was something my mother had told me, long ago. Before she'd died. I was merely repeating her words, her wisdom...though I hadn't done it out loud. Wait. Galadriel had read my thoughts?
- I see many things, little one, - the Lady smiled.
"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife," she said aloud. "Stray but a little, and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet, hope remains while the Company is true." She looked at sturdy little Sam, who stood loyally by Frodo's side, and smiled. Sam gazed back, utterly captivated. I couldn't tell if he'd caught what she was saying about him, but unlike Boromir, he met the Lady's gaze without fear. I was so proud of him. Even I had not been able to look Galadriel in the eyes like he was doing now.
"Now – do not let your hearts be troubled," she went on. "Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace. We have prepared a comfortable sleeping place for you – on the ground, for I believe that not all of you are accustomed to our talans. Haldir will lead you there." She turned to look at Frodo, whose eyes widened slightly in response, and I wondered if she was speaking to his mind, too.
- Welcome to the Golden Wood, daughter of Huan. When you have recovered, we will speak again. We have much to talk about, it seems. -
And then Legolas scooped me into his arms, and we were following our guide to where we were to sleep. I was tired, too, so I didn't complain. But even as I closed my eyes and let sleep claim me, one question drifted into my dreams and stayed there throughout the night.
If Galadriel knew so much, did she see exactly who and what I was?
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Aragorn woke me later that night. He didn't mean to, he was just checking my injuries, but even his gentle touch roused me at once. I didn't know where the Ranger had acquired his skills in the healing arts, but I was sure grateful for them, so I didn't complain.
Someone was singing. Harmonious Elven voices filled the air, and I felt a sense of memory and sorrow as they sang in what was to me the mysteriously beautiful language of the Elves. I looked up and beyond the little alcove that had been given to us as a sleeping place, at the foot of a tall, silvery mallorn tree. Legolas was outside, just returning with a pitcher of water. As I watched, he stopped, listening to the song.
"A lament for Gandalf," he said softly, pensively.
By my side, the Ranger gave me a final pat on the head as he rose and moved away to sharpen his sword. He too seemed to be listening to the lament, and pondering the words that were being sung. Gimli was dozing nearby, while the hobbits were settling down for the night around me. Sam had put his bedroll in between mine and Frodo's, and I was touched at this gesture of trust and friendship. Spreading out his roll, Merry looked up at Legolas curiously.
"What do they say about him?" he wanted to know, referring to the song.
Legolas' gaze dropped, staring at something only he could see on the ground below. "I have not the heart to tell you," he answered. "For me the grief is still too near."
Sam crouched down, fluffing out his little pillow. "Well, I bet they don't mention his fireworks. There should be a verse about them," he said to Merry, before turning to me. "You should have seen them, Lady. One of his best was this one shaped like a dragon that Master Merry and Master Pippin stole back in the Shire, at Mr Frodo's birthday party. It was this big," he demonstrated with his hands, "and when it exploded it turned into a big green dragon, made of smoke and star-fire, and it flew down from the night sky and over the heads of all us unsuspecting hobbits before disappearing. Whew! That's as near as I'll ever go to a dragon in my lifetime, though." He thought for a moment, then stood up to recite what was apparently his own composition:
"The finest rockets ever seen,
They burst in stars of blue and green…
Or after thunder, silver showers
Came falling like a rain of flowers… oh, that doesn't do them justice by a long road," he ended, sadly.
Frodo spoke up unexpectedly. He was deeper within the alcove, his face hidden by shadow, but I could see tears shining in his bright blue eyes. "Oh, Sam. That was just beautiful, just perfect. Gandalf would have approved, too, I know."
Around my neck, the Stones of Kindness and Friendship began to glow softly. I looked at Frodo with as gentle an expression as I could put on my face. The wolf sensed that he was grieving still. Frodo looked back at me, and slowly, he smiled back at me.
"Goodnight, Lady," he said softly, and I nodded as he rolled over on his sleeping roll. A yawn caught me by surprise, and I settled my head down on my paws. Sleep didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.
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We had been staying at Lothlorien for a week already. We all had healing to do, for wounds both physical and spiritual, and resting too, as we slowly recovered our strength and our spirit for the journey that was still before us. Aragorn spent much of that week in conference with Legolas, Haldir and the Lord and Lady, planning the best route to be taken and what preparations would have to be made - until Legolas put his foot down and insisted that the Ranger get some rest too. It was the first time I got a glimpse of the bond between them, a deep friendship filled with trust and brotherly love that activated the Stone of Friendship right away with its strength and intensity.
When he wasn't in conference, though, he was with the hobbits and I, checking on me, or helping Boromir teach Merry and Pippin swordplay. Gimli was surprisingly cheerful – I hadn't expected it from the Dwarf, surrounded by Elves as we were, but then again I supposed that complaining about it would be like looking a gift horse in the mouth. Better this than for him to offend our hosts, after all.
Frodo spent much time with his loyal Sam, wandering the beautiful woods, lost in thought and memory. Still, he seemed to be healing inside, where it counted… and yet, I sensed that his burden became heavier with every passing day. I was worried for him, but I had no idea what I could do.
As for me, I wasn't allowed off my sleeping pallet, except for taking care of nature's call, and some short periods of exercise under strict supervision - this consisted of me limping around the clearing near our sleeping area in haphazard circles until I became tired, or until whoever was keeping an eye on me decided I had done enough…usually Aragorn or Legolas, as these two had decided that the others should be allowed to rest rather than be forced to babysit me…though I don't think the hobbits would have minded, really.
I think Boromir found the least peace in Lothlorien compared to the rest of us, though. I don't know why, and I didn't ask him. If there was one thing that I had learned about Boromir by now, it was that his greatest strength and weakness was the same thing: Pride. He had an abundance of it, and he was the most difficult member of the Company to befriend. His trust I had – but to a certain extent only. It wasn't that I didn't try to make friends with him, either. It was just more… difficult, though I did know that it wasn't as bad for him when it came to Aragorn or any of the others. Perhaps that was because they had spent more time together since leaving Rivendell, and I had only come in halfway. Perhaps it was because I was not, and would never be a member of their Fellowship. I had no idea.
Besides Boromir, the other source of mistrust – this one running far deeper than Boromir's – was a small number of the Lorien Elves. Twice already I had experienced the joy of watching the elflings of the Golden Woods playing in front of or near me, and I would watch them because doing so filled me with a deep feeling of peace and joy. It's the same feeling one gets when they see children anywhere laughing and running around, and you become enchanted by their happy innocence. But unfortunately, their parents didn't agree to this at all. The minute they caught sight of me watching their children, they would snatch up their offspring and rush away, casting fearful or hateful looks at me over their shoulders. One had even sent a small stone skimming past me, narrowly missing my nose.
Don't get me wrong – most of the Elves who visited me were nice, even if they only wanted to see the wolf about whom rumors had been spread far and wide throughout the Golden Wood. They were fascinated by me, the first and only wolf to ever enter Lorien and be allowed past her borders. I allowed this fascination and interest only because I had no other choice, for I could not leave my sleeping pallet, and all the time I hoped that it would fade quickly.
But then our second week in Lothlorien had started, and I received a visit from the Lady of the Galadhrim herself.
Dressed in a white gown similar in design to what she had been wearing the night we had arrived, Lady Galadriel moved with the same flowing grace that all her people had, sweeping regally towards me. My pallet had been shifted outside for the day – Aragorn, as my self-appointed healer, had decided that I needed some sunlight and fresh air outside of the sleeping alcove. I was bored, and so looked upon my visitor with welcome.
The rest of the Fellowship weren't around – only Aragorn was taking a rare nap under the tree nearby, and he awoke as Galadriel spoke to me.
"Mae govannen, tithen pen," she murmured, spreading her hands in a gesture of greeting. "Gîl síla na lû govaded, a im gelir ceni ad lín."
I stared at her, eyebrow raised. I hadn't the foggiest idea what she was saying, and I knew she knew that I didn't. She laughed merrily at my expression, and looked up to smile at Aragorn as he stepped up to join us, nodding to him as well. "Suilaid, Elessar."
"Suilaid," responded Aragorn, nodding back respectfully. "Man anírach cerin an le?"
I couldn't take it anymore. Glaring at both of them, I growled. If they weren't going to speak a language I understood, I was leaving.
Galadriel laughed again, turning her ageless gaze to me. "Peace, little one. You cannot blame us for wanting to converse in the language that we are both most familiar with, can you?"
I could, but when she put it that way, it made me feel kind of selfish… With a sigh, I looked at her. What did she want, anyway?
"I wish to speak with you, little one," Galadriel told me, her tone calm, gentle as the surface of a lake on a day with no wind. "The time has come for me to address the all-important question of who and what you truly are." She took a seat on a nearby root, seemingly unconcerned that her pure white frock might get dirty.
Aragorn stood. "Then I should leave," he offered, glancing at me with an unreadable expression. "This sounds like a discussion which requires some privacy for those involved."
The Lady of Lorien held up one commanding hand that stopped him in his tracks. "No, Elessar. You are right about privacy for those involved; but you have forgotten the simple fact that you are involved also. You care for her, you see her as a friend. Therefore, what I have to say here is for your ears just as much as it is for hers. Am I right, little Lady?"
I hesitated, but nodded. It did make sense, I supposed. But anyway, I trusted Aragorn – I trusted all of the Fellowship, and I had no problems with him staying. If I were completely honest with myself, the Lady of Lorien unsettled the wolf deeply, and I would rather not be alone with her. Looking at Aragorn, I communicated this with a desperate whine. The Ranger looked at me, startled for a moment, but then he nodded in understanding and moved to sit cross-legged beside me.
"If you want me to stay, Lady, then I shall," he told me softly. "If you are sure you do not mind."
I snuffled, rubbing my head against him, feeling comforted. Of course I trusted him. I trusted the entire Fellowship.
"Very good," Galadriel murmured softly, though I wasn't sure what or who she was referring to. "All right then. Come, Lady. Let us discuss your past…and about the future that I see in front of you." She folded her hands comfortably in her lap, and as the sun rose higher into the sky, we sat in the shade of the mallorn tree and began our discussion.
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Translations:
Mae govannen, tithen pen – Well met, little one.
Gîl síla na lû govaded, a im gelir ceni ad lín – A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, and I am happy to see you again.
Suilaid, Elessar – Greetings, Elfstone (Aragorn's surname, long foretold and given to him in Lorien by Galadriel)
Man anírach cerin an le – What can I do for you?
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The Sindarin I got from a useful site of Elvish phrases, so please excuse any mistakes there.
Please do press the pretty purple button. I would like to know what you all think. :)
RK9.
