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When you drive out to Whitby, that busy little town nestled into the crack between two towering cliffs, gripping the crumbling edge of North Yorkshire, the first thing you see of the town is the North Sea that lies beyond it. It is not the stark, crumbling abbey or the twin piers, not the archway made from the jawbone of a whale, not the crescent of white-faced hotels. The grey-blue mass of the sea stretches out before you as soon as you crest the moors, vaster than anything else in England. Aubrey knew the journey like the back of her hand—it was a second home to her, or a first one; so many memories were contained in that place. The curious thing about it—if the day is clear and the sky is blue, you can be staring at the sea for miles before you realise that it is not simply more sky.
That was the way Lórien appeared to them—a gold-green smudge blending in with the grass, merging so well with the plains that it was not until they were close enough to make out individual trees that Aubrey realised she had actually been watching Lórien for nigh on an hour.
Even as she thought about Whitby, she looked at Lórien and thought home.
The horses seemed heartened by the familiar sight of their home and increased their pace, breaking into an easy trot. They had met with the horses on the far side of Fangorn, just as Haldir had promised. Fingo had greeted her eagerly, butting his head up against her like a cat. She sensed that he had missed her—not just when they had been parted by the thickly overgrown, obscure pathways of Fangorn Forest, but in the long days before when she had begun to slip away from herself.
Autumn was well into the valleys of Middle Earth and the grasses on the plains of Rohan had begun to slowly brown and fade. The trees around Imladris had already been touched by the slow burn of autumn when they had left, red-gold stealing through the woods there, but the mallorn of Lórien were unmarked. There was a great and beautiful contrast caused—the mallorn retained their gold-tinged green leaves, whilst all the other trees around them, oak and birch and ash and elm, brightened into fierce reds.
Before them, a great gate parted the trees. A smooth, cobbled road led away from it; Aubrey suspected it was the same road that they had taken to first leave Lórien. She looked up at the canopy as they approached, looking for movement. Such an obvious, open route into the Golden Wood would surely be guarded by a unit of Haldir's wardens, but she could not spot so much as a leaf moving out of place.
Nevertheless, the familiar feeling of being watched built as they rode up to the gate. Aubrey looked up just as Orophin, who was at the front of their party, reached the gate. Sure enough, she saw the shadow of a warden crouched in the branches of the tree above, an arrow at his bow string. She couldn't see anyone else, but knew that there would be a full unit in the trees around them. Feeling faintly mischievous, she raised a hand and waved at the crouched warden. He lifted a brow in response, looking faintly put out to have been spotted.
Haldir drew her attention with an amused cough. "At least I know that you have become more observant," he said archly. He looked up and spoke in Sindarin, slow enough for Aubrey to catch the words. "Reveal yourselves," he bade the wardens.
They emerged like silent shadows, some stepping from behind the broad trunks of the surrounding trees, some dropping soundlessly from the branches above, until there were upwards of twenty elves around them, clad in the grey-green cloaks of their office. The elf whom Aubrey presumed lead the unit bowed his head to their party. "Well met, Marchwarden," he said. "It is good to have you home."
"My thanks, Nólaquen. Have you tidings for me?"
"None," the elf said. "The woods have been quiet in your absence."
Haldir nodded his head in satisfaction. "Good. You will excuse us, our journey has been long and we are weary."
The elf—Nólaquen, Haldir had named him—inclined his head in acquiescence. Without another word, the unit of wardens melted back into the forest. Haldir rolled his shoulders and dismounted with a sigh.
"Brother?" Orophin looked back, puzzled.
Haldir shortened Celeroch's stirrups and pulled the stallion's reins forward. "I merely wish to feel the ground of my home beneath my feet once more. Too long have I been away—and Celeroch has carried me far enough, have you not?" the grey horse whickered in apparent agreement.
His idea struck her as a good one, so Aubrey slid from Fingo's back. Her boots made a muted thud on the cobbles beneath her feet, and with that percussive she was welcomed back to Lórien. She had the odd feeling that she had simultaneously never left and yet had been away for years. She wished that she could connect the Lórien the way that she had to Fangorn, but it felt like too personal a thing to demand of Haldir and Orophin.
They walked on in silence, each of them savouring the feeling of being beneath the familiar, comforting canopy. A pair of redstarts followed them through the trees, calling out to one another every few seconds. The birds would leave them behind when they entered the more dense forest; they preferred the open, outer edges of the wood where oak and birch dominated the canopy. A gentle breeze shifted the orange-tinted leaves of the beech tree above her and the sun glimmered through.
"Back in my world," she said, "I never really liked autumn that much. The fog comes down onto the moors so you can't go walking as much, and the days get shorter and shorter. Eventually, you wake up and go to bed in darkness . . . it can get you down. The trees are beautiful, I guess, but in the end they're still dying leaves. Evan—Evan used to love autumn. Well, I suppose he still does. He loves carving pumpkins, and fireworks, so it's about his favourite season. Here, though—will the mallorn leaves fall?"
"Not in autumn," Haldir told her. "They will fall in spring, when they are replaced by a new season's growth."
She smiled, reaching out to trail her fingertips across the nearest mallorn's silvery bark. "It'll be nice to see that. I didn't realise quite how much I'd missed this place."
Orophin smiled approvingly. "We all miss our home when we are away from it," he said.
His words rang true within her. It was not until I left you, she thought, that I realised how much I have come to love you. Though the words were silent, she had the distinct feeling that the forest heard and understood her nonetheless.
o0o
Ilye and Rúmil were waiting for them in the stable yard. Ilye shrieked when Aubrey rounded a gentle bend in the path and ran forwards. Delighted, Aubrey thrust Fingo's reins into Haldir's hands and ran to meet her friend. They met in a laughing tangle of limbs, hugging each other fiercely.
Aubrey buried her face in her friend's shoulder, revelling in the silken feeling of Ilye's hair against her cheek. "I missed you," she whispered.
Ilye squeezed her ribs. "I missed you too. It's not the same without you here, you know. I had to resort to Rúmil's company."
Aubrey looked up, chuckling, expecting Rúmil to offer an affronted reply, but the ellon was too busy greeting his brothers. She watched them interact, oddly touched by the enthusiastic way in which Haldir and Orophin greeted their youngest brother. The brothers' voices overlapped into a glorious harmony—they were the perfect trio, Haldir's baritone rounding out Rúmil's tenor and Orophin's bass. They spoke so quickly that Aubrey could not determine much of what they said, but she smiled at the lyrical rhythm amplified by three.
Ilye's arm tightened around her waist and the elleth tugged her away. "Come on," she said. "They will not pay attention to us now that they are reunited. Let us get you settled in your home, and you can tell me all about your journey and what you have learnt."
Aubrey made to turn away, then stopped. "Just—I just need to sort out Fingo."
The dark bay gelding stood patiently beside Celeroch, cropping the grass at the side of the path. She led him into the centre of the stable yard and paused. After all that she had been through with the horse, she didn't know which stable to place him in.
An elf approached her, a soft smile on her youthful face. "I will take Fingo," she volunteered, holding her hand out for his reins.
"I'd rather sort him out myself," she retorted.
The elf raised a pale eyebrow but nodded and gestured to the left wing of the stable block. "His is the third box," she said.
Ilye followed Aubrey as she led Fingo through the wide double doors. He seemed content to be home, flicking his ears forward and whickering softly. "The elves who work the stables would have seen to him," Ilye remarked as Aubrey led him into the third box.
Aubrey shrugged, beginning to untack the steed. "I owe it to him to look after him after everything he has done for me."
They did not speak again as she untacked Fingo and then rubbed him down until his coat was dry and smelt of sweet straw. She moved around to his big head and scratched him beneath the chin in the manner she knew that he loved. "I will have to come and visit you," she murmured, and pressed a kiss to the centre of his soft, whiskery nose. "Thank you for everything."
With a last scratch beneath his forelock she left him to eat and rest. All of her energy seemed to leave her quite suddenly as she latched his stall.
Ilye observed the sudden slump in her posture and linked their arms together, offering her some small support. "I have an idea," Ilye grinned. "I will fetch us both clothing from my talan, and then we shall go to the bathing pools. You can tell me everything whilst you rest and get cleaned, I am sure you have missed soaking in hot water."
Aubrey certainly had. The layer of grime on her skin had become a constant presence, and she had almost forgotten what it was like to not smell of sweat and horse. Even more than that, despite the healing influence of Fangorn and the soothing aura of Lórien, she still felt as if the Dunlanding's blood clung to her skin.
"A bath would be very welcome indeed," she agreed.
Ilye nodded decisively. "In that case, I shall meet you at the bathing pools."
o0o
Aubrey slipped into the steaming water with a long, grateful sigh. The water was just a little hotter than she would have been comfortable with, but when contrasted to the cool forest air it was ideal. Cloudy with minerals that benefited the skin and did something towards preserving modesty, the water was perfumed with a chalky scent. It reminded Aubrey of talcum powder, or Sudocrem.
She pulled her hair free of its tangled braid and teased the strands apart. It was disgusting, almost gluey with grease, but already the steam from the pools worked to soften and cleanse it. She felt the heated water loosening and relaxing muscles sore from sleeping on the ground and long days in the saddle.
She settled onto the natural rim that created a seat within the pool and stretched her legs out in the water, her head lolling back to rest upon the smooth rock lip of the pool.
"May I join you?"
Aubrey shrieked and her eyes flew open. Galadriel herself stood at the edge of the pool. God, she thought, trying to calm her racing heartbeat, I am cursed to be surprised by elves at these damn pools. She nodded wordlessly and averted her eyes while the elven matriarch stepped out of her trailing gown and eased herself into the pool.
It was a large space, Aubrey estimated that it had a diameter of at least ten metres, but nakedness has a way of making people feel closer than they are. Even the long weeks on the road with two men had not quite eliminated her sense of modesty, and looking upon a naked Galadriel, even if she was submerged in cloudy water up to her shoulders, felt like an act of heresy. Aubrey was reminded of the Greek myth where a mortal man happened upon Artemis bathing in a pool in the woods. She turned him into a deer and his own dogs ripped him apart.
Aubrey drew her legs up to her. She had a feeling that Galadriel's awesome presence would always make her slightly nervous.
"Tell me about your trip," Galadriel invited her.
Several things ran through her head in that moment.
I killed a man.
I am dead.
I do not think that Haldir hates me.
I connected to a primordial forest and it changed me.
"Glorfindel is very beautiful," she said.
Galadriel laughed. It was a glorious sound, a beautiful sound. "Yes, he is. He spent a lot of time with the Valar and their radiance lives within him."
"Have you spent time with them as well? You're pretty . . . radiant." Aubrey observed.
Galadriel smiled approvingly. "You feel the power of my ring, Nenya. I made . . . many great mistakes when I was young, dear Aubrey, for my pride and folly was great. I am proud, however, of my actions with this ring. It isNenya, combined with my own power, that protects Lothlórien, as surely my wardens do."
"I can't imagine you making many mistakes," Aubrey blurted.
The elf smiled benignly. "My power has always been great, as, I flatter myself, has been my beauty. But young I was once, and though wise I now am, wisdom is begat in mistakes and born in bloodshed."
Aubrey's head spun at her lyrical, meandering speech. "If it helps," she said slowly, "I think you do a very good job as a ruler."
"You are very kind, child, but I did not come to you so that we could discuss my relative merit or failure. I wish to hear about your journey."
So Aubrey related her adventure. She told Galadriel about the long, cold passage over the Misty Mountains and the fearsome storm that had sent them cowering into a roughly hew waystation. She recalled the beauty of Imladris and the welcome they had received her, and then, reluctantly, her words slow and painful, she told of what she had learned there.
"Eruanna told me that she died," she said softly. "It seems that I died too."
Galadriel nodded severely. "This I have seen."
"That's what I would have seen in your mirror," Aubrey realised suddenly. "That's why you wouldn't let me see!"
"It cannot be certain what you would have seen," Galadriel reminded her. "I merely knew that it was not your time to look. Would you like to look now?"
Aubrey bit her lip and considered it. "I don't think so," she said. "I can't think of anything that would be worth knowing."
Not even the wellbeing of your brother? Whispered a quiet, sly voice in the back of her mind. She quelled the thought ruthlessly.
"Very well," Galadriel said. "There is more to your story."
"Yes," Aubrey mumbled. Behind her, the underbrush shifted and she whipped around in time to see Ilye shove her way into the clearing, carrying a pile of clean, fresh clothing. The elleth's eyes widened when she saw Galadriel sharing Aubrey's pool, but at a signal from her ruler she quickly set her bundle down, undressed and slid into the pool.
Aubrey flashed her a quick smile and, at a prompting glance from Galadriel, went on. "We met three men—humans. In Dunland. One of them was badly injured and Haldir stopped to help him. That night, we camped with the men. One of them—one of them put his knife to my side in the night. He wanted to rape me, to kill me." Her voice hardened and she said bleakly, "I killed him first."
Ilye's face was pale with shock. "How did you—"
"I am glad that you were not harmed," Galadriel interrupted gently. "But please go on."
Aubrey took a deep, fortifying breath. "I felt awful about it," she said. "I felt so guilty about killing him and I was so full of grief . . . I can never see my brother again. Ever. Eventually . . . eventually Haldir seemed to lose his temper with me moping. He took us through Fangorn forest. He and Orophin showed me an ent and put their hands over mind on his bark. I saw the forest, I felt it and I heard it."
Galadriel nodded. Aubrey got the sense that the elleth had been waiting for her to say something in particular, and she had just said exactly that.
Sure enough, Galadriel stood up, droplets of water cascading down her pale form like diamonds. She stood before them like Botticelli's Venus, painfully beautiful and utterly aware of the fact. Her hair fell in dark, wet curls around her, sticking to her ribs and her breasts. Aubrey blinked stupidly for a second before she quickly looked away. Galadriel laughed lightly at her embarrassment. There was the rustle of clothing and when Aubrey glanced up once more, Galadriel had wrapped her dress about her like a long shawl.
She inclined her head to Aubrey and Ilye. "Enjoy your re-acquaintance. It is wonderful to have you back in Lórien, dear Aubrey."
She walked away, gliding over the forest floor. Aubrey wasn't sure whether to sink down into the water in shame or burst out laughing herself. I think, she thought to herself, remembering the jewel-bright drops of water glistening upon the elven ruler's creamy skin, that I might be jealous of Celeborn.
o0o
The clearing was quiet in the dead of night. The twin statues that guarded the mirror cupped their bowls of flickering fire, providing silent, watchful judgement to the figure that stole into the clearing.
The intruder was glad in a long, dark cloak that entirely obscured their face and form; even the lady of the wood would not have recognised them as they crossed to the magic-imbued spring.
The jug vibrated in the hands of the figure as they filled it; for this was not the mirror's mistress and she was not there to allow this intruder passage. The mirror did not take kindly to being forcibly viewed, to being viewed without permission.
The intruder went against everything in the mirror's magic. It was wrong.
The figure walked to the basin and emptied the silvery water into the container, dropping the jug and letting it bounce carelessly across the floor. They pulled back their hood, exposing a triumphant smile.
The intruder leaned across and peered into the vessel. The intruder froze, hands tightening on the cold, stone edge of the pedestal. Finally, after almost a full hour of gazing into the forbidden mirror, the intruder jerked backwards, gasping.
The figure sank to the floor beside the fallen jug, and wept.
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