Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, owned Lord of the Rings the book, or the movie. I am simply a wannabe, bowing down to the geniuses J.R.R. Tolkien and Peter Jackson. *grovels on floor* All recognizable characters belong to them—and the few characters in the chapter that I have made up, actually belong to me. *smiles*

Hi everyone! Here is the last chapter of the Lothlórien section of this story! There's not much to say in this A/N: I've wiped out quite a few interactions in that last chapter (I felt like they were all squeezed together. *pouts*), so all I really want to get in is Gimli (I know, I haven't been establishing the dwarf-elf friendship very well so far…I promise I'll try!), Boromir, & maybe all of the hobbits. Ugh…that should be interesting (I seriously cannot write Frodo after Gandalf's death at all! He sounds too happy! ARGHH!)

…'K, here it is!

Chapter 14 – Ripples Passing

"…they do not count the running years. The passing seasons are but ripples ever repeated in the long, long stream. Yet beneath the Sun all things must wear to an end at last."

~ Legolas, "The Great River"

"It has just occurred to me…how long has it been since we arrived in Lothlórien, Ellacári?"

I looked at the hobbit who had spoken, Pippin, with a raised eyebrow. Not because I thought his question was ridiculous: in fact, it was a very reasonable inquiry. I was simply surprised that he would have been able to think about time at all.

Lothlórien – Caras Galadhon especially – had a special and magical quality, not unlike that in Imladris and Mirkwood, but simply greatly intensified. Time appeared to pass slowly and leisurely to the untrained eye of a mortal; but in reality, days, weeks, months, sometimes, would speed by, imperceptible to the guests of Lothlórien.

Elves acknowledged this slow passing of time…yet most didn't care enough to share it with anyone else. Aragorn and I did not know how long Mithrandir expected to keep us here in Lothlórien, but we had both thusly agreed to wait until the worst part of winter had ended, and to speak not of time when around the rest of our companions. Let them believe that they could stay here forever…and I'm sure many of them, if not all, wished to.

Yet beneath the Sun, all things must wear to an end…even such magical places as Lothlórien.

So for those reasons, I hesitated before answering Pippin's question. "Longer than you may think, young one…all places of elvendom have inexplicable measures of time. Though, by my count, it is the 14th of February."

All the hobbits who were seated around a small clearing looked at me in surprise and awe. "We've been here a whole month?!" Sam squeaked out in a surprisingly high pitch. "Why hasn't anybody said anythin' to us?!"

I sighed softly, placing a light hand on the young hobbit's shoulders. "Calm down, Master Gamgee." I said in a purposefully lilting and very Elvish tone. He immediately relaxed (as he always did when in the presence of elves) as I reassured him once more. "Aragorn and I have simply wanted to wait until January was over and done with…the rivers beyond this forest are treacherous that time of year. In February, the river will be much more easy to navigate."

Samwise nodded in relief, and that seemed to be the end of it. Until I glanced over at Frodo, who was watching our lessons (I had been teaching the hobbits Sindarin), and he was gazing at me in disbelief.

A month?

His thought was so loud and laced with disbelief that I was shocked that I could even hear it without trying to at all. I glanced at him kindly. "Prestad, Frodo?" | What's the matter, Frodo? | I asked softly.

Frodo shook his head, raising his hand to pat his chest in a nonchalant manner. It may have escaped the notice of the hobbits, but it did not escape mine. The Ring. I glanced at him with pity, which he flinched away from.

He did not look back at me.

Two hours passed after that before Gimli and Boromir arrived at our comfortable alcove, talking in hushed and rough tones of which I only heard snippets of: a result of the purposeful mumbling.

"…yes, yes...I have noticed as well…" That was Gimli.

"…we must ask her…too late…" Boromir definitely.

"…but…will…upset, I'm…"

"…now…"

I grinned softly at their secretive tones. Didn't they realize that at any minute of any day I could have read every thought their mind ever had? I had chosen not to, instead granting my friends their privacy (although if Boromir continued looking at Frodo in such a way, I might just bend those rules…).

The dwarf and the man walked up to our little class, and the man patted my shoulder. "Madam Greenleaf…"

I rolled my eyes. "Please, Boromir. Just Cári. Madam Greenleaf makes me sound like a tree."

Merry and Pippin chortled, while Sam and Frodo simply smiled in a small sense of mirth. I turned around just to see Boromir and Gimli blush slightly, before the dwarf asked, "Will ya talk to us for a minute?"

I shook my head to myself in disbelief, before saying to Frodo, "Will you continue helping them with those primers, Frodo? I will be right back."

Said hobbit nodded in wholehearted acceptance, and I rose carefully from my seat to drift to a small clearing away from the camp.

We walked a couple of meters before the two of my companions turned around and studied my face with curious expressions, ones that even I couldn't decipher. "Ah, Boromir? Gimli? What are you doing?"

Boromir and Gimli looked at each other, and nodded slightly. I wasn't getting nervous; simply curious. What could they possibly have to ask me?

The man took a deep breath. "Madam Gree…Cári. Who are you?"

I looked at them blankly for a second. "I'm sorry if my naiveté is surprising, but why in Elbereth's name would you ask that?"

Boromir and Gimli once again glanced at each other, as if my words were confirming their worst fears. I crossed my arms, glaring at them with my father's lectures echoing in my head. "Why are you asking me who I am? I've been with you on this fellowship for nearly 2 months, and you ask me now who I am? Forgive me if I wasn't so frank at the Council!"

The two full grown warriors looked suspiciously like two children being scolded for a prank, as I glared at them in confusion and anger. "Well? Explain yourselves!"

The dwarf sighed gruffly. "I told ya she wouldn't take it well! Just like an elf to get offended at a simple question."

My eyes narrowed almost instinctually, before I finally considered the possibility that perhaps, they did not know who I was. They knew my name, of course, but the matter of who I was? Probably not.

I sighed, releasing my built up rage as my face calmed. "I apologize…what do you seek of me?"

Boromir tilted his head. "Your last name?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Greenleaf, as you have just showed that you know…"

"No, no. You're other last name. You know, the Elvish one!" The dwarf grumbled.

I rolled my eyes. "Thranduiliel. My name is Ellacári Thranduiliel."

Gimli raised his eyebrows, though seemed strangely resigned, and he didn't explode with rage when discovering I was Thranduil's daughter as I half-expected he would. Perhaps at the beginning of the journey, he would have had that reaction, but now…we had all grown closer after Mithrandir's death. It had taken the animosity out of our fellowship: facing imminent shadow and flame does that.

In contrast, Boromir looked absolutely clueless. "Thranduiliel?"

I rolled my eyes. "It means 'Daughter of Thranduil'. My father is King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and please, Boromir, do not look so surprised. I have enough of the bowing and 'if-you-pleasing' at home."

Boromir looked simply stunned. I rolled my eyes, intending to go back to the hobbits. "Is that all, gentlemen?"

Gimli shook his head franticly, grabbing my arm in restraint. "Wait, lass! If you're related to the king, then are you also related to—" he gulped nervously, suddenly sheepish, "—the Lady Galadriel?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would that matter?"

He glared up at me with curiosity and a new expression, as if he were seeing me for the first time. I sighed with exasperation. "Yes, Gimli…She is my grandfather's cousin, and thus my first cousin, twice removed. Although I suppose I'm more closely related to her, um, grandson…"

I swallowed, not liking where this conversation was going. If I so much as thought of Elrohir…the way his lips curved into a teasing grin, the lean, lithe muscles bulging in his shirt…oh…I've got to stop now…

I gulped, pulling back to present times and desperately attempting to stop a blush from creeping onto my cheeks. I laughed nervously (which came out like a pathetic chortle). "But there's really no resemblance…she's from a different lineage entirely, I'm not even considered a close relative of hers. Only as an…adoptive granddaughter, of sorts."

Boromir looked confused. "What do you mean?"

I groaned inwardly: why did I have to open that door? "After my mother died, I couldn't really stand to be in Mirkwood any longer. During the brief times that I wasn't killing orcs, I stayed in Caras Galadhon. The Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn took me in…became my mentors. I might have faded without them."

They looked the tiniest bit sympathetic, but still confused. "Fading? But elves are immortal."

The man said that with a wistful sigh that didn't escape my notice. I glanced sharply at him. "Do not be under the delusion, son of Gondor, that immortality is something that should be wished for. Mortals—" I sighed tiredly "—think that immortality is the greatest gift the Valar ever bestowed upon the Firstborn, and so are extremely jealous of us. But it is a lie. An illusion. Manwë cursed us, and I have no shame in saying so. Immortality is a burden…something that Man should be overjoyed to be relieved of. So easy to take your own life, to die…you have no idea how much of a blessing that is."

I had now begun whispering in hushed tones, and surprisingly, I wasn't able to stop. "…just a single drop of poison: a wrong mixture of the right herbs is all that it takes. Painlessly. Without the fear of failure. But elves are so much more different. We don't die. We can't die—unless we endure the most fatal, gruesome our loved ones die, we can fade from grief, simply stay so depressed, so angry for so long that you blow away like ashes in the wind…I was very close to fading, once. After my mother died, I came close. I almost chose to sail, when I traveled to Imladris for my supposed last time…when two young children came to Caras Galadhon, the new grandchildren of the lady Galadriel…Noldor twins by the name of Elladan and Elrohir…"

I looked back at them, shaking Gimli's now stunned hand off of my arm. "That is why my kinswoman, Arwen, is choosing a mortal life. It would be so much better to stay here, on Middle-Earth with Aragorn, and live one lifetime of Men, then to sail away and live a thousand lifetimes without him. Such a life is better than continually living behind a mask whilst your souls shatters into pieces. We are forever cursed to watch as the world changes and shifts and the fleeting lives of mortals come and go so quickly by our reckoning. Many think we are too arrogant, as you yourselves did when first coming to Rivendell. But can you blame us? How can we possibly form bonds with mortals knowing that in a blink of an eye, death will eventually seize them away from us?"

I had grown surprisingly angry during these few words that the two had spoken to me, and I did not know why. I had avoided speaking about immortality as such for a very long time: since Estel was 25, after Elrond had told him about his lineage. He had wished that he could be an elf, immortal, and eternal, but he had changed his mind after my stern conversation. He never asked me about it again.

"Why is it that elves always overreact when asked a simple question?!" Boromir grumbled angrily, nearly ending in a snarl. "'Immortality is a curse…' if it is such a burden, why do you not give it up?!"

I forced my face to become calm and stoic. I would not let my emotions shine through like that again. "Because that is not my chosen path, Son of Gondor. We all have destinies chosen by those greater than us…and denying that would be like trying to swim against rapids."

The man's whole body froze in fear. He slowly turned his head to face me. "That was exactly what she said—in my mind…" I knew immediately whom he was speaking of. Galadriel.

I considered saying something among the lines of "great minds think alike", but decided against it. He would probably lunge at me if I used sarcasm, and I would truly regret having to break his arm.

"Perhaps you should listen, then. 'Tis good advice."

"And what if my destiny leads me away from those whom I love?"

I lowered my head. "Then those who love you will understand."

Quickly and without hesitation, I turned around, and disappeared from the clearing, returning to the hobbit's campsite and to the normal and rational world of grammar and language syntax.

"Are you close to her?"

I turned around slowly, already sensing the son of Gloín's presence behind me. "If you're speaking of whom I think you are, then your answer is yes."

Gimli rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "What are you, an oracle? I'm just asking you a question, lass."

Now I was the one to roll my eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry. You see, my father taught me my excellent manners."

Gimli glared slightly. "I didn't know that you were Thranduil's daughter at the Council. If I had, I probably would have lunged at you right then and there."

I laughed. "Ha. Like Ro, Dan, or Estel would allow you to get within a meter of me."

He raised an eyebrow quizzically

I sighed. "Elrohir, Elladan, the twin sons of Elrond, and Aragorn. That was his Elvish name, before he became a ranger." I laughed, softly. "Those were much better days, son of Gloín…ones I wish could return to this Middle-Earth."

I looked down in sadness. "Indeed, they probably never will."

Gimli looked at me with an indiscernible expression. "What do you think is going to happen, Ellacári?" I chuckled: that was the first time I had heard him say my name. "I don't know, Gimli. All I do know is that the war is going to come to Men, on all fronts…and the fate of the world is going to be decided by what we do. Here. Now."

I turned around to face him. "Elves and Dwarves have no further part here. Either way, with Sauron's victory or defeat, a new Dawn will come, and the Age of the Firstborn will be over."

I shook my head in amazement. "Do you know what my job is, Gimli? What Elbereth asks for me to do? She pleads with me to see everything. Always. Seeing war-ravaged land…and the few beautiful places in the world…it tears me apart. How could such a beautiful world turn to destruction so fast?"

Gimli looked away from my distressed face. I looked down at a small puddle on the forest floor, seeing much more than a simple reflection in the clear, glistening water. I chuckled suddenly. "But we are only minor characters in this great production: did you know that?" The dwarf still did not answer. "The course of the world will be decided by the actions of our companions…so who are we compared to those who will end this, once and for all?"

Gimli finally shrugged. "I don't know lass; maybe we will be remembered as the only dwarf and elf that could stand each other's company for more than 5 minutes."

I laughed, the despairing thoughts drifting from my mind. "Ai, now that is an accomplishment."

He laughed along with me. See everything…always. But would it really be that horrible to be blind for just a while?

"Ai, Ellacári, I will miss you so much!" I was swooped up into tall, strong, lanky arms, with soft blonde strands tickling my cheek as my cousin pressed me close to his chest. "Must you really go so soon?"

I chuckled. "Haldir, it has been nearly a month. We're already behind schedule as it is!"

He sighed. "I know: 'tis a horrible fate that tears us apart so quickly." The Marchwarden released me from his comforting embrace, to gaze down at me with sad eyes. "Promise me you'll be safe, Cári."

I shrugged, winking playfully. "Now you know I cannot promise that: this is me we're speaking of."

Haldir growled affectionately, throwing his arms around me again. "Haldir! I need to go find Estel!" He still didn't release me. "Haldir, please. I promise to be careful, okay? I swear to you I will be fine."

The brave, fearless Marchwarden of Lothlórien's shoulders sagged. "Ellacári…what if I never see you again?"

I growled, gripping my beloved friend and cousin tighter. "Stop it, Haldir. Do not think of such horrible things…that will not come to pass! And besides," I added more cheerfully, "how many times have I gone out on patrol and come back in one piece?"

He looked as if he would interject something, but I put my finger over his lips. "Don't answer that."

He chuckled, his expression just a bit lighter, and I pulled him into one last reassuring hug. "Now I really must get to the boats. We're already late…Haldir, I will be safe, I promise."

He gazed down at me with knowing eyes. He understood. There was no way I could possibly make that promise. Not for sure, anyway. There was always a chance.

"Give my regards to Minuialwen! I don't know where she is…" I frowned at the prospect of not seeing her again before departing, but Haldir quickly eased my fears in that reserved way of his. "Don't worry, selen-nîn. I will convey your goodbyes. Go! You must find the Lord and Lady before your departure!"

I nodded, kissing him on the cheek. "Naamarie | Farewell |, Haldir. The next time we meet, Sauron will be a vanquished foe: the villain of merely a legend!" I laughed confidently, being ridiculously heroic purposefully. Haldir chortled along with me. "Galu, maethor-nîn | Good luck, my warrior |…and for the Valar's sake—"

"I know! I know! I'll be safe!" I ran off into the forest, leaving my cousin behind in the trees.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people. May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

Lord Celeborn walked slowly over to me, wrapping the beautiful, lightweight cloak around my shoulders, and sealing the ends with a brooch. "And may your journey be safe and successful."

I lowered my head respectfully, coughing slightly to indicate I wanted to speak with him. "Milord…" I whispered. The Elda nodded in expectance. "May you please send this back to Imladris…as soon as possible would be preferred, but please wait until we've left the city."

I handed him a clean, white scroll sealed with the same blue ribbon as the letter I received (now tucked safely in my shirt, close to my heart). It had taken a longer time than I had originally thought it would to pen a response to my beloved (I was delighted at how that term now applied to Elrohir). Whenever I tried to write…it came out falling completely short of what I had hoped for. What else could I have said besides "Yes! Yes! Of course I do! I always have!" And then I would have sounded like a besotted elfling (which my dignity would not have allowed).

I had tried to give it to Celeborn or Haldir before this moment, but had always changed my mind at the last minute: taking the coward's way out again and again. This way was much more final: I wouldn't be able to go back to tell Celeborn not to send it, and there would be no way to change it again (which would result in the further mangling of my already unrecognizable letter).

Lord Celeborn took the scroll, and, seeing the ribbon, nodded in satisfaction. I didn't have time to snatch it from his hand, before he tucked it into his robes (much to my mixed relief and horror).

My grandfather, now in more ways than one, kissed my forehead gently, whispering a final blessing. "Be strong, be brave, and don't look back, Ellacári Thranduiliel…"

I shivered slightly at his words, nodding in understanding. The Lord drifted away, disappearing back through the trees: to find Estel, no doubt. Some of the remaining Galadhrim spoke me in Sindarin (not wanting to worry the others) in hushed tones about the dangers they had seen recently near the shores of the Anduin: the newest species of orcs that did not detest sunlight.

When they spoke of those new, hideous creatures, I growled softly, asking with contempt laced in every word, "Curunîr-na adel hi?" | Is Saruman behind this? |

A tall, bright elleth with auburn hair (uncommon for Sindar) nodded in confirmation. "Osán-mîn…" | So we believe… |

I cursed softly. Curunîr'spower had grown more than I had feared. If he had somehow created a new species of orcs…they would be infinitely more powerful than the mindless bands we knew.

I didn't have any more time to question the elves further, for at that moment, the Lady Galadriel drifted into the clearing (and Estel is still not here! I thought, quite irked with said mortal). She smiled kindly at me, with a sincere affection that made my chest ache with the thought of leaving.

I bowed in respect again, but my lady would not have it. She tilted my chin up, resting something long and wooden in my hand. I looked down, and saw that it was a bow: a beautiful one, at that. It was magnificent in feel and sight, the long, elegant runes of ancient Quenya, my native language, adorning the strong, smooth limb. The string, which I examined closely for a moment, was golden…soft as cloth, yet strong and secure as the wood itself: a strand of elven hair, perhaps even Galadriel's own.

"My gift for you, Ellacári Thranduiliel…is a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of you and your kin."

I gulped, my eyes pricking slightly, and began whispering a word of thanks. "Hannon le—"

The tall, beautiful elf shook her head, murmuring softly. "What else is there to give…to the woman who already holds my grandson's soul captive in her heart?"

To my horror, I blushed, praying to the Valar that none of my companions had heard this last comment.

She moved down the line, presenting two, beautifully made daggers to Merry and Pippin. "These are the daggers of the Noldor. They have already seen service in war."

I smiled fondly, for I recognized them. They were Elrohir and Elladan's daggers, which they had used on the raids we had gone on after Celebrian was sailed. I grimaced when remembering the cold and distant look in the normally cheerful twins' eyes, as they brutally killed orc after orc with their swords and daggers. Service in war, indeed. Service in revenge, as well.

The Lady continued moving down the line of the fellowship, stopping at Sam in the middle. "And for you, Samwise Gamgee: Elven rope, made of hithlain."

Another smile broke out onto my face, at the generosity of the Lady's gifts. No one outside of those with elevated status in the hierarchy of the Galadhrim knew what hithlain truly was: all we knew was that it was very useful, strong, and reliable. Some suspected that it was Celeborn and Galadriel's hair, twirled into a thin, magical rope. But regardless of the material used, you would not fail if dependent on Elven rope.

Samwise murmured something resembling a thanks, before glancing over at the other hobbits, and saying hopefully and sheepishly, "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?"

Galadriel simply smiled, moving onto Gimli at the other end of our line. She smiled kindly. "And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?"

Gimli blushed. "Nothing." Then he seemed to reconsider his words. "Except to look upon the Lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is fairer than all the jewels beneath the earth."

I almost laughed at his completely awed and reverent words: possibly the only Dwarf who respected any elf as such for a thousand years.

Galadriel giggled softly, smiling kindly at the flustered dwarf. If Gimli had such a respect and awestruck view of my lady, then he couldn't possibly be as bad as I originally believed.

I smiled, turning around and leaving Frodo, Gimli, and the rest with Lady Galadriel. Naamarie, milady. And incase we do not see each other again…hannon le, daerammë. Tenna enta lúmë… | thank you, grandmother. Until next we meet. |

I walked through the forest softly, losing sight of the clearing. If the Lady of Light responded, her reply was lost in the breeze—because I did not look back.

"Cári, are we ready to depart?" My friend asked softly, as I loaded the last packages of lembas onto the boats.

As my gaze rose, I saw all of my companions gazing at me curiously, wondering why Aragorn had asked me if we were ready. The elf that had been helping me load, Arandur – one of Celeborn's advisors, in fact – nodded in confirmation.

I touched his shoulder. "Hannon le, Arandur."

The tall elf (who in some ways reminded me of Glorfindel) smiled, pulling me into a brief hug. "Naamarie, ah galu na le ah meldir" | Farewell, and good luck to you and your friends |

I nodded, stepping from the small pier into mine and Gimli's boat. Arandur looked around at the trees, listening to things and whispers the rest of the fellowship could not hear. He nodded after a few minutes. "Now, Thranduiliel."

I turned to the forest, balancing easily on the boat, and concentrated. Whispering soft words spoken only by my ancestors and patrons, I held out my hands, letting the energy flow through them onto the forest. Before my companions' confused gazes, Arandur and the pier itself flickered slightly, fading into the background as if never there. The fellowship could only notice it with intense concentration, but only because we knew it was there: the servants of Sauron, such as Saruman's spies, orcs, or Gollum, would not see the entrance to the Golden Wood at all.

There was a silence amongst our fellowship as we floated there, motionless, on the Anduin, ready to continue the difficult journey ahead, and yet, not wanting to leave. Estel sighed, and whispered a small farewell. "Naamarie, Lothlórien…and the Lady of the Golden Wood."

Gimli grunted in agreement, and Estel met my eyes with one, fleeting glance. I took that as my cue to sit, and begin rowing. Estel, Frodo, and Sam went past us in their boat first (Sam looking curiously seasick already); and Boromir, Merry, and Pippin followed immediately afterward.

I didn't dare turn back to the watchful eyes of the advisor I knew were there. Instead, I listened as Gimli's cheerful, yet strangely melancholic chatter filled my ears, blocking out the beautiful melodies drifting down from the invisible city…still singing…ever lamenting…always lamenting.

Farewell, Lórien…

"Ai! Laurië lassi súrien,
Yéni úntimë ve rámar galadh!
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier
Mi oromardi lisse-miruvóreva
Andúnë pella Vardo tellumar
Nu luini yassen tintilar I eleni…"

| Alas! Like gold fall the leaves in the wind,
Long years numberless as the wings of the trees!
The long years have passed like swift draughts
Of the sweet mead in lofty halls beyond the West,
Beneath the vaults of Varda wherein the stars
Tremble in the song of her voice… |

Translations –

Prestad, Frodo? – What's the matter, Frodo? (lit. Is there trouble, Frodo?)

Naamarie – Farewell

Galu, maethor-nîn – Good luck, my warrior

Curunîr-na adel hi? – Is Saruman behind this?

Osán-mîn – So we believe

Hannon le, daerammë. Tenna enta lúmë. – Thank you, grandmother. Until next we meet.

Naamarie, ah galu na le ah meldir – Farewell, and good luck to you and your friends.

Word-Count: 4563

Hmm, I actually really liked the very end of this chappy. The beginning: not so much. But I can't really do anything to fix it.

Nothing much to say in this A/N. From now on, I'll really try to update sooner! I promise! I think it's actually getting easier as the story goes on (once we get to the Two Towers storyline, it'll go much faster!)

Thanks for sticking with me for so long! Really, it means a lot!

Naamarie.

~CC.