A/N: ALERT! If you are coming here right from your alerts, you will need to go back to chapter 12...This is the second of two chapters posted at once! ;)
Disclaimer: Any recognizable piece of dialogue or character is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his heirs and/or of Sir Peter Jackson. I only own my two main OCs Baraz and Fìli, son of Kìli and some secundary characters.
Playlist for this chapter: Caras Galadhon from the Fellowship of the Ring OST; Elven morning light from the Battle for Middle-Earth II OST; The mirror of Galadriel from the FOTR OST.
13. The mirror of Galadriel
3019 T.A.
February
After a few more hours of dreamless sleep – the forest again, no doubt – Baraz woke to a sun ray teasing her face, getting through the canopy of leaves above her head. As she sleepily glanced up, she then realised that the trees had indeed taken the golden tint that gave its name to the forest. She gingerly touched a branch, feeling again the faint buzz of power under her fingertips.
Haldir's voice to her right shook her off her daze. "Mallyrn essa en ron." They are called Mallorn.
Baraz met the Elf's brown eyes. In the light of day, he seemed much less intimidating that the night before. She nodded with a small smile. "Ron naa vanima." They are beautiful.
He smiled and bowed the head slightly, before he raised a quizzical brow again. "Mani naa essa en lle, Pernogoth?" What's your name, Half-Dwarf?
Baraz did not answer right away. But after a few seconds, she understood that Haldir was not a danger, and that her name, after all, did not hold as much power as it did far North. "Baraz."
He tried the name and his nose turned upward. As all Elves, he did not like the harsh sound of a Khuzdûl word.
Baraz chuckled and said "Legolas lambe amin Aier." Legolas calls me 'Short One'.
Haldir smiled again. "Amin lambeva lle Aier." I will call you that, then.
They nodded to each other, and then Baraz realised her friends were awake as well, if Gimli's morning curses were any clue. She let herself fall down the tree, followed by the light and silent Elf.
Legolas greeted her with an amused smile upon seeing his kin so curious about her, and she sent him a playful glare.
Aragorn, on the other side, had his grey eyes settled on the road they had taken the night prior. He was studying the trees, worried, perhaps, that the Orcs were hidden in some bush, waiting to leap on them to kill them.
Haldir put a hand on the Ranger's shoulder. "Uuma dela. Faelyn sooraa sen. Ron autaa Lothloríen Rhun." Don't worry. Faelyn followed them. They left Lothloríen East.
While the news seemed to soothe Aragorn's worries, Baraz felt her heart squeezed in her chest. East? Could it be the filth had gone to Erebor?
She shook her head. No need to worry. This war was not only on her beloved Mountain. It was on each and every free city in Middle-Earth.
The group left their small clearing a few minutes later, after the four Hobbits had eaten a good filling breakfast. At least, what a normal human being would think a good filling breakfast. Baraz knew from experience that the two apples and sole toast with jam were far from filling a Halfling's belly.
As Haldir lead the group South towards their Lord and Lady's dwelling, Baraz fell into step with Boromir, who had remained awfully silent the previous days. She quickly enquired on this silence.
He shrugged. "I feel like this wood is draining me. As if I can hear voices in my head..."
He looked over at Baraz, half-hoping, perhaps, that she was experiencing the same sensations. She shook her head. "I am not feeling the same, dear friend, quite the contrary. This forest brings me the peace that alluded me in the mines."
He sighed. "Yes, I guess this is better than being buried alive..."
Baraz raised a brow at him. He looked weary, that was true. But she suspected that something else plagued him. She had seen his keen eyes go to Frodo often ever since they had left Moria. Whether the One Ring had a hold on him that she ignored, or he was only suspicious of the Ring-bearer, she did not know, but chose to change his mind rather than add to his misery.
Plastering a smile to her lips, she patted his arm and asked "Tell me about Minas Tirith. I often heard about its magnificence. It is as white as people say?"
At this the Man's eyes lit up with renewed joy. He was obviously very fond of the city he was born in, and did not waste any time in telling her how the White Tower gleamed in sunlight, so strongly that when someone looked straight at it, they had to protect their eyes from the force of it; how the Library was full of parchments sometimes as old as time itself; how he had received his first armour when he was just a little boy, and the look of pride in his father's eyes; how he loved his younger brother Faramir, who was so much more cautious than him and more boring in his study of things. All the while she could see he missed his home. But at least, for the newt three hours, he was not thinking of the misery their Quest had put them into.
Lothloríen was a maze not unlike Mirkwood, although it was not filled with giant spiders and moths as big as a small child. It was clear forest with birds chirping and tweeting and flowers everywhere the eye went. It was peaceful, without a single blow of wind, and yet the leaves of the tree danced as if touched by an invisible hand.
Haldir lead them restlessly through the day, then another, and another still. On the afternoon of the third day, though, the scenery changed. Soft mounts became higher hills, and the Elf stopped at the top of one, glancing into the horizon.
"We will reach Caras Galadhon before sunset. I can see it from here." Legolas settled next to his fellow Elf and nodded, his lips stretched in a happy smile. Baraz would have given much to see hat he was seeing, but her eyes only stretched a few yards ahead and could not distinguish one tree from the other.
Haldir was right in his calculations. The group rounded a good number of hills more before they reached a huge clearing in the middle of which stood the tallest tree anyone had ever seen in this life or the other.
Baraz stood there, staring at the tree in awe. If she had glanced aside at her companions, she would have seen the same open-mouthed dazed expression on each face. Even Legolas'.
Caras Galadhon, the Home of the Galadhrim. A millennia old tree with a beautifully carved stairs running around it and leading to platforms every ten feet or so in the air. Air that seemed to buzz with even more power and magic than before. Soft patches of pavement here and there lead to enclosed part of what could only be described as a garden though nature was its own master there. There also were a couple of fountains on top of which stood, invariably, a statue representing a spirit of the Earth.
"Come. My Lord and Lady await us at the top." Haldir smiled at the Company, used, most probably, to the goofy smiles that birthed on the visitors' lips.
They all followed towards the stairs, and not once Baraz thought about the long and no doubt tiring climb ahead.
In fact, it was neither long nor tiring. Something pushed her forward and up without breaking so much as a sweat. They climbed and climbed, hands touching the trunk of the massive tree once or twice in reassurance. Baraz heard the Hobbits whisper words of admiration more than once, comparing the place to the most beautiful spot in Bywater: the Meadow. She smiled softly in the faint light, thinking how far from the Shire Lothloríen was, and how incomparable the two places were.
After a good half-hour, which had felt far less, they finally reached a platform from which no other flight of stairs began. Instead, there was a table with two chairs, and an arch carved in the bark of the tree itself leading inside, no doubt to personal quarters.
Haldir placed the group in a line, taking his time to place the Halflings in front of the others. He placed Baraz right next to Legolas, with Gimli on her other side. She smirked, understanding his antics. By placing her there, he was making sure that his Lord and Lady noticed the difference in height between her and the other two. Making her stand out as unique. What he didn't know was that it was useless. Galadriel knew of her already.
They waited a couple of minutes before their hosts exited the tree hand in hand. Baraz could not help but stare. They were so beautiful, and yet so different from the other Elves she had met before. They looked old, their skin so smooth it almost seemed made of marble.
They both had golden hair down to their waist. The male wore a pale blue tunic, and had plaited his long hair out of his face; the female – Galadriel, no doubt – wore a crown of mithril and the ethereal white dress she wore made her look like a nymph.
They both smiled at their visitors. The male – Celeborn, she remembered – addressed them in a deep but welcoming voice. "Welcome to Caras Galadhon, Fellowship of the Ring. I am Celeborn, and this is my wife, Galadriel."
Aragorn bowed the head in respect, soon mirrored by everyone else. "It is an honour, my Lord."
Celeborn smiled wider and raised a hand in peace. "No need for this, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. It is not the first time our paths are crossing. Although it is the first time ours are, Legolas Thranduilion." The Mirkwood Elf placed a hand over his heart in greeting. "Too seldom is our Northern kin visiting us. You are very welcome."
The couple moved a little to the left to face the other members of the Company. When they passed Baraz and went directly to address Gimli, her brow furrowed. "It is very rare for a Dwarf to be received here, Master Gimli. I do hope you will appreciate your stay. We are in dire need to reforge alliances between our two people."
Gimli nodded, his black eyes locked, though, to the Elf-Lady in front of him. He seemed transfixed.
When Celeborn came to address Boromir, Baraz felt a strange wave pass over her. As if a wave of freezing water had taken over her body and soul, but not in a painful way. When a voice rose in her head, she understood.
"I have wished to set eyes on you for quite a long time, Baraz, daughter of Ariana."
She glanced at Galadriel, meeting her deep blue eyes and smile. "It is an honour, my Lady." When she realised she had said that out loud, her companions turned to her, but their hostess' smile only widened.
When her voice rose aloud, it was even more beautiful than before. Deep, feminine and yet powerful. "I wish us all to be friends."
When the introductions had been made, Celeborn made an ample gesture with his arms. "You are free to stay as long as you like. Accommodation will be prepared for you. I think our Dwarrow friends will prefer to sleep on the ground. We will see to that."
They were about to be dismissed when Galadriel's voice arose again. "How did he fall?"
They had stopped and stared at her. Hearts fell, shoulders slouched in pain, and when Aragorn answered, tears prickled Baraz' eyes. "Gandalf was taken by a Balrog of Morgoth."
Galadriel closed her eyes for a moment, lips silently moving as if she was chanting an incantation. When she opened them again, the smile returned, albeit sadder than it had been. "Thank you. He will be sorely missed."
They had almost reached the bottom of the tree again when a hand touched Baraz' arm and she glanced over her shoulder at the worried face of Boromir. Her own brow furrowed upon seeing her friend in distress.
"Boromir? What unsettles you?"
He shook his head slightly, then sighed. "Has she...did she... Did the Lady talk to you too?"
Baraz was about to answer that of course, Galadriel had talked to her, he had heard her with his own ears, when she realised he was talking of that. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' and then she nodded.
"She said things..." he shuddered, "things that I hope never to hear again."
"Was it so terrible?"
He nodded. "I dare not repeat her words but...if she is right, then... I have doomed us all."
Baraz stopped her descent and turned to face the tall Man. He had been so worried, so weary these past few days, and she hated to see her friend like that. Her small hand met his and she gently squeezed his fingers. "Boromir, son of Denethor." He locked eyes with her. She smiled softly at him. "You are one of the bravest men I have ever met. You could never do any of us any harm. Now come. Let's light a fire and talk of much happier days."
And when he followed her down, her smile faded. Boromir...their doom? What had Galadriel seen?
As their feet touched the ground and Haldir lead the group towards their accommodations, as Celeborn had called them, a heart-breaking lament began to fill the air. One voice, then two, then many, joined... It was as if the whole place was chanting.
Legolas' eyes filled with tears after the first verse – which had been sung in Quenya, for Baraz did not understand it. He said in a quiet voice: "They are singing for Gandalf."
The whole Company stopped and listened to the lament. Pippin soon started to weep, as did Gimli after a time.
Baraz closed her eyes and just let the elvish fill her senses, a hand clutching her chest just above her heart.
"Mithrandir, Mithrandir, A Randir Vithren ú-reniathach i amar galen I reniad lín ne mór, nuithannen. In gwidh ristennin, i fae narchannen I lach Anor ed ardhon gwannen Caled veleg, ethuiannen." Mithrandir, Mithrandir, O Pilgrim Grey, No more will you wander the green fields of this earth, Your journey had ended in darkness. The bonds cut, the spirit broken, The Flame of Anor has left this world, A great light had gone out.
When the tune faded out, Baraz' eyes opened again and the first person's eyes she met were Aragorn's. He had dried streaks of tears on his face, and when he bowed the head at her, she did the same, a silent understanding that this song had reopened their wound and then closed them forever. The time for pain was over. The time for grief had come.
Haldir brought the group to a beautiful clearing sheltered by a bending root that danced over the ground. Under it had been spread several mattresses with blankets and pillows. A fountain sang nearby. The whole setting was as peaceful as could be.
Their host left them to their occupations and as night fell, the Fellowship settled and went to bed. After Sam had managed to produce a delicious broth from a couple of what he had managed to keep safe during the last part of their journey, one by one fell asleep on comfortable beds, heads emptied of fear and weariness.
Baraz closed her eyes to the form of Aragorn sitting on a rock and lighting his pipe. When the rings of smoke started to rise from the man, she felt herself being lulled to slumber by the close-by fountain...
It was still pitch black when Baraz awoke to the sound of her own name whispered by the breeze that caressed her face. She opened an eye, then two, staring at the empty clearing. The wind touched her face again, and there it was once more.
Baraz... Baraz...
As if pulled up by an invisible string, she rose, her bare feet bringing her to the edge of the clearing and onto a paved pathway. If she had turned her head, she'd have seen an empty bunk bed. That of Frodo.
Her feet brought her to a thin passage between two high trees. The path was going down a soft slope from there, and the quiet singing of water nearby, as well as a slightly colder breeze, told Baraz that she was nearing a stream.
Her fingers were dancing on the barks of trees, her eyes glancing up into the leaves here and then. She could not remember ever visiting a place more peaceful than Caras Galadhon. But, and the thought brought a frown to her features, she knew that it would not keep the Enemy or their mission at bay. As long as they stayed, they were putting the Elves in danger...
A voice ahead shook off her thoughts and she stared in front of her, trying to catch who was awake at this ungodly hour.
When she caught the ethereal voice of Galadriel as well as a glimpse of a brown mop of hair, she stopped. The Elf Lady was with Frodo.
Baraz considered interrupting for one second before she realised this was probably the stupidest thing she had ever thought in her life. Frodo was the Ring-bearer. He had much more interesting things to discuss with a thousand of years old Elf than she had. So she waited, her toes buried in a cover of moss, and her thoughts drifted again.
They drifted to the Shire, to a time when, merely two dozens of years old – still a child by all means – she wandered off in the woods surrounding Hobbiton, and when she was often joined by younger Hobbits who wanted to know if she was an Elf. In those times, she was laughing and shaking her head, but agreed to tell them wonderful stories about the Tall Kin, stories that her mother had told her in confidence. And when all the Hobbitlings had filled their memories with tales of Luthíen the Fair and Gid-galad the Brave, they were all going home, clothes green from having rolled into the grass.
The shuffling of big feet shook her off her thoughts once more. When Baraz opened her eyes, she saw Frodo walk her way, although he seemed more swallowed up in his own thoughts than anything else. When he arrived at her height, he glanced up at her and nodded sharply before passing her.
His behaviour had been strange as of late, considering they had basically been raised together, but Baraz always pushed the matter away, thinking it a futile thing.
When he gaze raised again, she saw the Lady of Light waiting for her, her blue eyes boring into hers even from a distance.
When she reached her, Galadriel smiled softly and bowed the head in greeting. Baraz mirrored her, then asked, keeping her voice low as if the whole place demanded it, "You wanted to see me?"
Galadriel nodded with another smile. "I thought you would like to see this." She stretched a hand towards the basin that stood nearby.
It was resting on three roots that had sprung from the ground and weaved themselves against each other, forming a beautiful vine. The basin in itself seemed made of pure silver, and inside rested the clearest water Baraz had ever seen, even in Erebor with the source of the Celduin.
"This is my Mirror," the Elf said. "I can show you things to pass through it, should you wish it."
Baraz stared at her hostess in awe. Of course, her mother had told her countless times before that Galadriel had the gift of foresight, but never would she have hoped to see things for herself. "I wish it."
The Elf smiled wider and stretched a long finger to touch the water. Through the ripples, Baraz saw images form, and she gazed at them, a frown settling on her features almost instantly.
She was back in Erebor. The Front Gate had been cracked open, smoke rising from inside the Mountain. Piles of bodies, Men and Dwarves alike, could be seen on the slope below, and the cries of a battle could be heard from across the plain.
She was running now, running towards the fight. Her foot caught onto something and she glanced down, gasping when she saw Dwalin's dead eyes stare into nothingness, his strong hand still gripping his beloved axe.
A few feet further, the broken bodies of Dain and Thorin lay, bloody and defiled, while Brand still fought, Kilí by his side, although the battle was lost. They were the only two fighters left alive, and at Kilí's feet, Baraz was horrified to discover the small body of Filí. Beheaded.
A cry erupted from her lips, and she tore herself free from the vision.
When she looked up into Galadriel's face, Baraz realised she was crying. Wiping away her tears, she asked, with a trembling voice, "Has this happened?"
The Elf shook her head. The smile had faded and she sported a much graver look on her fair face. "It could happen. But could not."
Baraz growled a little, her hands balling into fists. "I have to warn them."
Galadriel raised a hand. "No need for haste, young one. Erebor is not yet in danger. Your friends are. If you leave now, you could jeopardize this whole Quest. Have you thought about it?"
Baraz did not answer, the vision still shadowing her vision. The sight of Filí's corpse had broken her heart more than anything else.
At last, after a moment of silence, she bowed the head. "Thank you, for showing me this, my Lady. I am grateful."
Galadriel's smile returned. "I was very fond of your mother, dear Baraz. And I think she would have been very proud of you in this moment..."
Baraz tried a smile of her own. Yes, she hoped Ariana would have been proud too...