Chapter Fourteen: Vacillation
Dawn had turned to fresh morning when the Fellowship reached Caras Galadhon, the capital of Lórien. The motley crew of wanderers were being led down a narrow fosse surrounded by mellyrn trees interspersed with oaks, birches, ash, and maples, while the morning light played goldenly through the naked brambles and branches, amongst the falling leaves. The quiet yet splendorous city lay in the core of the forest, and it began to glow as the chilled morning light rose higher, and those within the homes began to stir.
The lodgings were carved within the hearts of the trees or built on sturdy branches, their roofs made from gentle rinds of wood. They were perched at an array of different levels, ranging in size but built in the same manner, circular in shape with small, round windows and tall, arching doors. The rough bark on the outside had been hewn to be smooth, each home a different color, with different etchings of welcome above their doors. In the mecca was the dwelling of Galadriel and Celeborn and their own retinue, housed in the largest tree in the forest. The city stretched for miles, had been home to the Silvan Elves for ages past and would be until the last of them departed from this world. The lull of the Celebrant and Anduin rivers could be heard on the air, their gentle tinkling like crystal, and mixed with the song of the birds it almost reminded Nieriel of home.
I will be there soon, she thought suddenly, though that thought faded to the back of her mind as she took in the sights around her. Lórien never failed to awe her and that notion held true now as Nieriel basked in its magnificence with adoration shining in her eyes. She recalled how deeply she loved to explore the forest and all its crevices, from the canopy up top to the earth down below and had done so relentlessly with Arwen when they had been younger. She knew there were caves that glimmered grey and silver in the north, and that if you trekked far enough inside there was a special font that fed a pool surrounded by stalagmites while stalactites hovered overhead. She knew the Celebrant and the Anduin met in an emerald valley to the south, and that more than once in her youth she had traipsed through the waters, dirtying her breeches as she slipped over the smooth sediment on the bottom. She knew there were rollicking hills to the east where it was perfect to watch the sun rise. And she knew there was nothing like watching night creep over the mountains from the top of the waterfalls of the Nimrodel River in the west.
The fosse suddenly widened until it emptied into a clearing, leading the Fellowship into the heart of the realm which lay upon a large, green hill in the deep of the golden forest. The widest, oldest tree, taller than Nieriel could fathom and wider than any home she had ever seen stood proud before a dais upon which the sun shone brightly through a small clearing in the canopy above, bathing those that awaited them in white, radiant light.
Nieirel was the first to drop to her knee as the Fellowship was relieved of their blindfolds, and they quickly followed once they realized whose presence they were so suddenly in.
"Welcome to the Hidden Land, those of the Fellowship and its steady companions," Galadriel began, her voice melodically soothing, like chimes that swayed in the wind. "Please, rise and face me now."
Nieriel stood, and it was with eyes full of relief and adoration that she met the gaze of Galadriel. Her adopted grandmother looked as ethereal as she always did: her pearlescent gown clung to her tall, slender frame, the sleeves flaring deep and wide and hiding her clasped hands. The hem of the gown touched the ground, hiding her bare feet, and the neckline was rounded, perched daintily on slim shoulders to reveal delicate bone structure. The cuffs, hem, and bodice of the gown were laced with fine slivers of silver in an intricate embellishment of leaves and vines. Her hair lay in shining rivulets of golden over her bosom to tickle her trim waist, and her face did not bear an age any greater than Nieriel's own, and boasted the same gentle bone structure as the rest of her body. Her stunning blue eyes, so full of wisdom and mirth, twinkled as she smiled at Nieriel, before her curiosity took her and she perused the rest of the Fellowship with a muted fascination.
Celeborn stood the dark antithesis of his mate, his robes a deep hue of green and his countenance stern. His platinum hair draped becomingly over his shoulders, so long and straight it touched his waist, and his golden eyes flickered from one body to another without intrigue. He clasped his hands tightly before him, and when his eyes landed upon Nieriel he but raised a single brow, and she bowed her head ever so slightly to show respect. She knew Celeborn was more bark than bite; he only looked so cruel, when in fact he was gentle and kind, as benevolent as his mysterious wife.
Nieriel could feel Sam shiver from where she stood next to him as Celeborn scanned him next, his lips thin and his face filled with displeasure. She did not know what ailed her in that moment, but she lifted a hand and rested it upon Sams's shoulder, squeezing for comfort.
Celeborn's voice rang out clear and strong: "Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him."
No one deigned to answer, the hurt still fresh. Nieriel herself found the words hard to come by; such a sadness she had never known enveloped her. She wanted to open her mouth, to respond to Celeborn, but her throat burned and instead she turned her eyes to the ground.
"He has fallen into shadow."
Lifting her head slightly as the words speared her through her chest, Nieriel watched as Galadriel tipped her head slightly, her piercing eyes so soft now as she gazed at Frodo.
How could I have forgotten she has the gift of insight? Nieriel thought, as Frodo startled slightly. She well knows what has happened.
Her gaze trickled to Boromir, and then swayed to Aragorn as she said, "The 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 the company is true."
Nieriel's own eyes first tracked to Strider, who looked as stoic as he always did anymore, and then to Boromir. He had paled, and if Nieriel perceived correctly he seemed to tremble under the onslaught of Galadriel's gaze.
If there were to be one to tip the knife, she well knew it would be he.
But I will not be here to find that out. I am going home.
The thought did not bring her solace, as it so readily had in the weeks leading up to the truth of the statement. I am going home, to Arwen, she told herself again, yet the comfort she usually felt was not forthcoming. In fact, something felt wrong. She frowned and turned her eyes to the ground as a niggling feeling of unrest settled in the center of her chest.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled; there is nothing that can be done anymore. He is gone. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil." Galadriel bowed her head slightly, sweeping her arms wide in a show of welcome. A breeze took the trees then, rustling the leaves, stirring the air, and Nieriel noticed that Galadriel had her eyes locked on Frodo, her lips upturned ever so slightly.
Poor Frodo, Nieriel thought with a pitiful smile as attendants approached them, to offer to show them to rest, shelter, and food. I remember the first time Galadriel spoke in my mind; it took me a while to recover, as I'm sure it will with he.
The Fellowship passed the day in silence and solitude, healing from the harrowing bouts they had overcome to reach Lórien. They had all been seen to separate rooms, offered baths and a change of clothes, as well as the ever-reaching hospitality of the Elves of Lothlórien. Nieriel slept most of the day away; the afternoon light faded into twilight, twilight faded into dusk, and with the cover of night the Elves began a haunting lament for Gandalf, one that woke her from her tomb-like slumber.
After freshening and now dressed in a plain gown of grey-blue, Nieriel found herself sitting upon her private balcony in the room she usually was given when visiting, listening to the sorrowful song well after the time for supper had come and gone.
A knock sounded from within her room and Nieriel called, "Come in," from her place in the wooden chair that overlooked the city. The dwellings were lit by the crescent moon and the stars above, yet the homes within were dark save a single candle in each doorway, illuminating the etchings and arches. Each single taper, a somber grey in color, glowed white and pure in memory of the soul that had been lost in the dark caves of Moria against the mighty balrog, the flame swaying gently with the lament that carried morbidly on the wind.
"You appear rested." Elladan said, taking the seat next to her. He was dressed in a silver tunic and black breeches, looking clean but for a few minor scrapes, and well-rested himself. He carried a plate of covered food, which he uncovered with relish while saying, "I come bearing gifts."
"Thank you. I have not yet eaten." Nieriel replied, taking her eyes from the sparkling city spread out before her to smile softly at Elladan.
A silence feel between them then, and Nieriel reached for a small handful of nuts, her thoughts turned toward Lórien. Housed in the hollowed tree where Galadriel and Celeborn dwelled were Nieriel's rooms, as well as those of the Fellowship, and the towering structure served as the stronghold of Lórien. It was where celebrations and discussions were held, where ambassadors and prisoners were kept, held a fire-hot kitchen larger than the one at Rivendell and a marvelous throne room that stretched the length of the tree and opened up to the sky. At the base of the tree was the dais, facing the fosse to greet any that made their way to the city, with sprawling gardens, grottos, and small waterfalls on all the other sides.
The center of the forest was a place that was forever green, chiming with birds, crawling with small woodland creatures, and flittering with butterflies. It was always pleasant no matter that of the season, the blooms that grew splendid and never wilting. The scent of the mellyrn trees was abundant, mingled with the crisp earthly smells of the others, so soothing and fresh. The gardens had become a place that Nieriel would go to if she found she could not sleep while she was away from home, if her nightmares became too much. She had a feeling she would find herself there tonight.
"I know; you were not at supper which caused me to worry." Elladan said, earning himself a glare.
"I am glad we have reached Lórien." Nieriel continued as if he had not spoken, and Elladan nodded, his eyes turning to the city. "Too much we were forced to bear. It makes me wonder what is to happen when we disembark from here."
"'We'? You will be going home." Elladan replied, as if stating a fact.
"Yes. I will be going home." Nieriel said staunchly, as if trying to convince herself. The unrest at the notion, which had never quite left in the first place, unnerved Nieriel with a poignant flare. Elladan looked to her then, so attuned to her voice and moods.
"You are going home, are you not?" He frowned, his lips thin. "Arwen is waiting for you. She needs you."
"I know this." Nieriel replied, her tone slightly edged with annoyance. But do they need me here as well? Arwen is safe at home, in the capable hands of Elrond, surrounded by her people…
"How are you healing?" Elladan changed the subject, and Nieriel was grateful for it. These thoughts of vacillation she did not welcome. She had to go home. This was not her place. She belonged in Rivendell.
To distract her wandering thoughts she pulled up the hem of her gown to expose her ankle, wrapped neatly in a new, ivory bandage. "I had someone come and look at it; it is nothing more than a strain. I am to keep it elevated at night and rest it an hour a day bound with cool cloths, and wrap it with linen tightly when I am up and about."
She waggled her toes within her slippers to belittle her injury, watching Elladan and waiting for a snide remark, or perhaps a chide about her careless behavior. However when his eyes grew soft, the orbs never wavering from her bared skin, she suddenly became uncomfortable and hurriedly dropped her skirt, tucking it back around her legs with great care, clearing her throat roughly. The unrest within her grew enormously, for she felt Elladan's eyes slip from her foot to her face and linger there as if waiting to meet her eyes. However when Nieriel spent an obscene amount of time arranging her skirts and shuffling her feet, Elladan cleared his throat and continued speaking as if the moment had not transpired.
"That is good. I had hoped it was nothing more. Have you thanked the dwarf yet?" he asked with a raised brow and quite a rakish grin, and Nieriel glowered once more, the unrest subdued.
"As anticipated I am putting it off, though I am sure I will be reminded in due time."
Elladan tossed his head back and laughed, his brown hair tickling his chest, sweeping over his shoulder. Nieriel could not help but smile as well, for they so needed light and laughter in these times, and the sound was infectious.
"Come Elladan, tell me a story." Nieriel said, folding her legs beneath her for comfort as she reached for a piece of the pickings he had brought her. She rested her head against the pillowed backing of the chair and began to rock soothingly, bringing a small piece of cheese to her lips. "Something to distract me from these thoughts of darkness."
And, closer than old friends, they spoiled the night away doing just that.
The next morning rose grey, with a swirling mist winding throughout the city. Homes glowed with muted light as life below in the market, forges, and stores began, and the sun tried her hardest to peek through the clouds above. Nieriel was thankful for the thick gown brought to her for the day was cold, even within the confines of the council room of Lórien where a hearth roared with a crackling fire and torches gleamed bright, dancing with yellow flame.
"If we sail the Anduin," Gimli was growling, prodding a meaty finger at the large map sprawled out on the table before him. "That will take us directly to Mordor."
"Yes but you forget about Sarn Gebir," Boromir was shaking his head, pacing before the fire with a bandaged hand poised at his chin. "Those rapids are unmanageable, even for small boats."
"The river will be overrun with orcs as it is." Aragorn added, and Elrohir nodded his agreement. "Long past have they overtaken the waterways."
Those of the Fellowship were gathered in the great room, speaking of the journey to come. The hobbits sat in small chairs before the hearth while the others of the comradery gathered around a table where a map of Middle Earth was displayed. Galadriel and Celeborn were also present, lending their insight and wisdom, as well as Elladan and Elrohir. All appeared rested and well-fed, scrubbed clean and wearing fresh clothes offered to them by the generous hands of the Silvan Elves.
It had been decided the company would rest a week, perhaps two, in the splendid city of Lórien, though Nieriel had not decided if she were to stay that long. She wanted to lend her thoughts to the group; she had been a part of their decision making for so long and she knew this area well. But she missed Arwen desperately, and now that her end of the journey had come, a part of her was eager to return home.
A small part of her.
You may be needed here more, a voice whispered to her, but Nieriel refocused her attention to the map on the table to drown out the sound.
"We could take the Anduin to the Limlight, and then travel on foot through the Wold, take refuge in Rohan." Elladan pointed the path out, and Nieriel thought that was a good idea.
"We could stop if need be, speak with King Théoden to ascertain his stance in all of this." Nieriel said, and Aragorn looked up at her in puzzlement at her use of the term 'we'. Nieriel ignored him and continued, "Rohan lies close to Gondor, but the blood between them is thin. How have they fared thus far?"
Boromir blustered indignantly from his stance before the hearth, and Nieriel shot him a look of venom for it. "It is true. For so long Gondor has remained dormant even though the uprisings have increased."
"In any case." Aragorn said loudly, to head off the argument before it could begin. "That is a good plan. But we need another, because as surely as we will be attacked this plan will go awry."
"What other option is there?" Legolas asked, bent over the map, his brow drawn in thought.
"We could follow the Limlight and ride the outskirts of Fanghorn, and travel into Rohan that way." Elrohir offered.
Gimli noticeably quivered. "You court dark magic by seeking that place."
"As opposed to a witch here?" Galadriel asked with a twinkling smile, and Gimli flushed from his bearded chin all the way up to his hairline.
Nieriel could not help but snort her laughter, and even Aragorn's face broke into a smile as the others chuckled. When the laughter died it was Elrohir that said, "We do not have to go in the forest, merely around it. And I think any way we take we risk the wrath of our enemies. In any case, the river should be our last choice because it is the most unsafe route, but Elladan's plan seems to be the most navigable."
The others murmured their acquiescence, nodding at one another. Boromir slowed his pacing to come and look at the map while Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn spoke in low tones. Nieriel sighed and pushed away from the table, brushing a stray hair from her face. She was suddenly restless and walked toward the hearth, watching the orange flames dance with vigor as she paced.
The way they will take… Will it be safe enough? And the hobbits, will they be able to handle the coarse terrain? If I were to go along I could help with the burden, guide them along the rivers…
"You may rest here as long as you need." Galadriel bowed her head, and the talking ceased momentarily. "I would not want you to depart so soon if you are not ready. When your journey continues, all that we have to offer you is at your disposal."
Her eyes turned to Nieriel then, and she held out a slender, pale hand. "Nieriel, if you will join me?"
Startled, but nevertheless grateful for the reprieve, Nieriel swept past those at the table and took Galadriel's arm, and together they disembarked from the room, leaving the men to their discourse. In silence they walked the halls before descending the stairs that led them to a side door, which emptied out into the gardens behind the tall mellyrn tree.
"I have missed your company. I was hoping that you would stop here on your journey." Galadriel said softly, her bare feet traipsing the grass and moss-covered stones with grace as the door creaked slowly shut behind them.
"But then again, you knew we would." Nieriel replied, smiling at the Elven lady.
Galadriel's laughter tinkled, warming Nieriel's soul. The atmosphere seemed to get brighter in that moment, and the swirling tendrils of fog began to lighten. "Yes, that is true."
"Tell me how you are, Galadriel. How is Celeborn and Lórien?" Nieriel asked softly, as they slowly wound their way around bushes full of brightly colored blooms, around the thick trunks of trees. There was a grotto nearby, tinkling water from a small fall, and as they passed Nieriel watched a frog croak and then tumble into the deep.
Galadriel and Celeborn had been there when Elrond had brought Nieriel home, had been key in her survival and recovery. She looked to Galadriel as her own grandmother, though it felt silly thinking of her as such when Galadriel could pass for her sister, as age did not wither her features and if her coloring was but darker. The couple treated her much like family as well, though there were times when Nieriel's pride would not allow her to take advantage of such pleasures; today was not one of those times, when she was undergoing such internal strife and needed comfort and guidance.
"We are as we always are: away from harm, watching the outside from within. Our people leave for the Undying Lands more and more; you know the time of the Elves is over."
Nieriel nodded. "Rivendell is but the same. Except, of course, we experience attacks. None would dare threaten the peace of Lothlórien."
"Ah, but Lothlórien does not have the staunchest of protectors in you, Nieriel. Rivendell holds true, and you are a potent reason why."
Nieriel ducked her head at the praise, feeling pride swell within her.
"How is Arwen? I feel her sadness within me; I know it has to do with Aragorn." Galadriel said, and her tone was not unkind.
"They did not part on good terms when he left." Nieriel said, looking down at her slippered feet. "Elrond spoke to him before he departed, and something in his words caused Aragorn to waver in his love for Arwen. He chose to leave her behind, seemingly for her own good, while he vacillates over his decision whether or not to obtain the crown of Gondor. He carries the burden with him even now. He is under much stress."
His lineage. His love for Arwen. This quest. I cannot imagine the turmoil he must be feeling without reprieve.
"And Arwen falters because of it," Galadriel said gently, her features withering with her own despair. Anguish lanced Nieriel's heart, and in that moment she knew she had to return to Rivendell. "Her heart is so pure, carries such love for Aragorn."
And Elves may perish from sorrow, Nieriel thought, and her throat tightened uncomfortably. But Arwen is stronger than that. And she has me. I will not let her. It will not come to that.
"You are to return to her from here?" Galadriel inquired. "You are not to continue on with the Fellowship?"
Nieriel shook her head, thoughts of Arwen and returning to Rivendell suddenly clouding her mind.
"But why?" Galadriel questioned, and the intrigue startled Nieriel, for she was not expecting such a response. "Why, when such unrest lies within you?"
At Nieriel's blasted look, Galadriel laughed. "You are as dear to me as my own blood-kin; I know your sentiments, can feel your turmoil as if it were my own. But if that were not the case, you forget so easily the insight I possess."
Nieriel smiled softly, returning her gaze to her feet. The smile waned, did not last but a by-breeze, and Galadriel tipped her head to peer at Nieriel. "Come. Speak to me like you once did. You used to love to talk as a child."
"I have not been a child for a long time." Nieriel replied, and Galadriel's laughter was melodic.
"I am not blind, Nieriel." Nieriel felt silly then, for her words had come out harsher than she meant. She bowed her head in remorse, and so Galadriel continued. "Your problems may not be Aragorn's, or Arwen's, or even mine own, but they are just as great, yet you keep them to yourself."
"For who would care?"
Galadriel pinned her with a look of droll amusement, for they both knew the question was an absurd one.
Nieriel sighed, her gaze captured as a butterfly flitted past. "I do not want to speak of what I think."
"A poison it will turn inside you."
Nieriel hesitated, her fingers clasped so tightly against Galadriel's arm that they began to dig through the fine silk of her aquamarine gown. She knew Galadriel was right, and many a times the Elven noble had acted as her confidant. But to give voice to all she harbored…
It is but Galadriel, her mind whispered.
"I want to stay with the Fellowship." Nieriel began, and giving voice to the notion she secretly sheltered pained her, made her feel so disgustingly guilty, yet it liberated her in a breathless, rushing way. "But Arwen… I know she needs me. She is devastated by the loss of Aragorn, yet I cannot get him to realize his stubbornness to assuage them both. The others of the Fellowship I feel…close to. They are growing on me, whether I want to admit to, or even realize, it or not. We have been through such harrowing events in such a short amount of time, have grown to know and respect one another in different ways, learn each other's quirks and habits. Even the dwarf, Galadriel, and you know how I feel about dwarves. And then I feel guilty for such thoughts, for they drive me further from Arwen.
"I just cannot help but feel as though there is more for me if I remain. In more ways than one."
Galadriel tipped her head in question, wordlessly prompting Nieriel to continue.
But the words were hard for her, because she did not understand the sentiment behind them. They rushed out of her, an explosion of thought and feeling. "Legolas… He… I feel… Different when he is near. He seeks me out relentlessly. He tries to make me laugh and smile, yet I do not know why, for whoever would care whether I smile or not? I feel him watching me more often than not. He taunts me, yet it does not bother me like it would if it were someone else, even Elladan or Elrohir." She blushed, crimson from her head to her toes. "I…lose myself, in a way, when he does those things. I cannot explain it. I do not understand it." I do not want to. "It is a silly notion anyway."
"Tell me why you feel as though those are silly notions."
"My place is not with him." Nieriel hardened once more, casting her foolish whims away. "My place is not with any of these people. This quest is not my own. I am to be loyal to Arwen. That is what awaits me."
Countless heartbeats passed; Nieriel was lost in her thoughts, barely heard when Galadriel asked, "Then you are to sail unto the West? For that is what awaits your lady, if all is to come to pass."
Nieriel slowed, and Galadriel did as well. They did not cease their walking, though Nieriel did not answer right away.
"In truth, Arwen asked me the same thing a few weeks ago. I had not thought about it then, and that has not changed in this moment." Nieriel replied, and Galadriel nodded her head in understanding.
"To leave this realm, everything I know and love so dearly, when I have yet so much to see… If I leave the company now, will it be in vain? I feel as if there is more I have to do, more I can accomplish. Almost as if I can change the outcome of this war if I stay, if only but a little longer."
"Have you felt that you have made a difference thus far?" Galadriel asked, and her tone made Nieriel think that she was not delving for her own answer, but to help Nieriel uncover her own.
"I suppose so, in a way. We have battled orcs and wargs, hidden from crebain. I have helped to scout, to guide them through the land that I am most familiar with. I have shared my knowledge about the foliage, the lands, giving tips here and there about living off of nature, sharing how I have survived for so long. I know which herbs in this area are best for seasoning, or which will better heal a cut or scrape. In turn they share as well, and they teach me things I did not realize I did not know. They explain the lands, the patterns of the seasons, what to expect during winter in the open fields. They tell me of places they have been, tell me stories of all they have encountered." Nieriel suddenly stopped, coming to the realization that she had rambled, and about things Galadriel had not asked.
Nieriel frowned, unsure of herself all of the sudden; the feeling stung. Maybe the trifling unsettling at the notion of leaving had been fabricated by her imagination. Maybe she was getting swept up in the adventure, the intrigue of it all.
And as if reading her thoughts Galadriel asked, "But how are you to experience everything there is if you are to leave?"
Nieriel could not answer. It was the conundrum that she found herself in, a conundrum that was growing more troubling as the hours, the thoughts drew on.
And I so desperately want to experience everything I can. And she knows that. Nieriel looked up at Galadriel, who was smiling down at her. Nieriel was tall, yes, but beside Galadriel she was small, for the woman was a goddess brought to life and towered over them all in every way.
"If I sail unto the West, leaving all of this behind, will I find my parents?" Nieriel asked softly, after a few heartbeats of pensive silence.
"Will you?" Galadriel replied, and Nieriel knew she would not answer even before she had asked. Galadriel was not inclined to share the future; she liked others to make their own decisions so fate could not be thwarted.
However the answer troubled Nieriel, more so now more than ever. Should she stay with the Fellowship? To never see these beings again, to know if they lived or died? What would she find if she continued? Is there more to be had? Will there ever be light through this darkness? And if she returned home to Rivendell, would she sail unto the Undying Lands? Or would she find herself loathing in her decision to return to this quest? Is there more for me, in ways that I had not ever thought of before?
"If you will not answer me that, Galadriel," Nieriel said, choosing her words carefully, slowly. "Please think upon this: do you know who I am?"
Nieriel looked up at Galadriel, and the lady was smiling radiantly down at her. The arm resting against her own was warm, and her slim fingers curled along Nieriel's flesh, driving goosepimples to the surface. The air around them had lightened, so much so that they passed through a glorious ray of sunshine that had broken through the canopy of the trees above.
"No," Galadriel said, and Nieriel knew the answer had been coming, but still felt the sour pang of sorrow it always delivered when she asked; and she asked every time she came to visit her dear Galadriel.
However Galadriel's smile only widened, her eyes glimmering and bright as she continued, "But you will come to find yourself."