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The Light Within

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Mourning Song

by: Sherrywine

Standing in the presence of these two elves was like nothing else she had ever experienced.

For a moment Gwen stood awkwardly in front of the radiant Lord and his Lady, not knowing if a reply to the Lady's words was warranted or not. She was certainly not in the proper frame of mind for polite chit chat, and would rather stay quiet for the moment.

Each member of the Fellowship kept his eyes averted in respect, even Gimli, but Gwen chanced a look and noticed the pair of elves studying her companions keenly, with apparent interest. They could not have been more obvious about it, either. Galadriel's eyes went from person to person, looking at each of them as they stood before her. Aragorn, after a moment spent slack-jawed and silent, regained his bearings and bowed smoothly, thanking them for allowing their passage through the Golden Wood.

Gwen nearly snorted out loud, knowing these elves had not received them with much happiness or joy, but she wisely kept silent, though her thoughts were most ungracious. I wouldn't call our treatment at all charitable, she thought bitterly. If anything, those wardens treated us like enemies!

She studied the Lord and Lady with a spot of derision, acknowledging their physical presence and beauty even so. Gwen could see why the elves guarded this place so rabidly, even at the expense of their allies, but that allowance of understanding was grudging at best.

I apologize for my wardens' behavior, young one. A feminine voice, as clear as a bell, echoed through Gwen's thoughts, startling her greatly. But, the voice in her head echoed, these are dark times, and certain distasteful precautions are necessary. That pure voice filled her mind – from within – nearly making Gwen come out of her skin with distress, and she forgot her polite decorum and stared straight into the Lady's face in stunned revelation. These elves seemed suddenly, without a doubt, more magical than she had ever noticed before. How was it possible that this elf could do such a thing as invade a person's mind? Suddenly her ethereal beauty made more sense. Obviously, there was something magical about her, more so than other elves.

Gwen was appalled and skeptical. What powers had Glorfindel and Lord Elrond possessed of this magical nature? The girl from Earth reeled at the implications.

Where I come from, it is considered impolite to invade a person's thoughts, she said internally at last, feeling foolish and off-kilter. Her words were stated derisively, and the Lady's tinkling laugh filled her head, making it difficult to follow what the Lord was saying out loud to them all. Yes, this may be true, the Lady replied, but you are no longer in your world, are you, lost one? I know what it is you seek to find here. The words trailed away, striking Gwen like a blow to the face, and pain blossomed within her chest; the Lady was right, she wasn't in her world anymore – and the painful reminder of her loss couldn't have come at a worse time, as she was struggling with other strong losses. The desire for home was strong in her, still. It shouldn't have shocked or surprised her to still feel so strongly. That the elven Lady could read her so clearly was disturbing. Resolutely she decided not to speak again, reasoning that it was beyond odd to have a conversation in one's head anyway.

The Lord was speaking, his voice as light and clear as his Lady's, but much deeper. His face was as smooth as glass and twice as unreadable. "What hope you had in arriving here in secret is now at an end," he intoned in an emotionless tenor. "The enemy knows you have entered here." He studied their weary faces, his eyes solemn and revealing nothing to them. "Rivendell sent forth ten friends to journey to these lands, and yet there are but nine." Gwen's heart sank, knowing what he was getting at. She remembered the moment Gandalf fell to the balrog. Oh Gandalf...

Tears welled, more demanding and persistent than before, within the haze of chaos in fleeing Moria. God, but she wanted to be alone so badly and have a good, healing cry. There was no shame in that. But it was not time for that yet, and resolutely Gwen withheld her emotions, though it wasn't easy.

Aragorn sighed softly and met the gaze of the Lady. Gwen wondered if she was speaking to the Ranger in his mind, too. Celeborn continued to speak, seemingly oblivious to the side conversations that were occurring. "Tell me...where is Gandalf?" He asked solemnly, as if he expected the wizard to merely appear in answer.

His eyes moved from one companion to the next, clearly seeking information. Gwen nearly shuddered under the probing power of his gaze. "I much desire to speak with him," the elf Lord explained, though without any inflection created by emotion. Gwen, like the rest of the Fellowship, could not speak the words; speaking them would make the reality too real for her.

Galadriel answered for them, whispering, "Gandalf did not pass the borders of this realm." Her voice trembled with emotion that surprised Gwen. Beside Gwen, Gimli's shoulders trembled slightly, and she grasped his large palm in her small hand, giving him what comfort she could in a small and silent way.

"He has fallen into shadow," Aragorn confirmed, grinding out the words past a tense jaw. Lady Galadriel seemed not to need his confirmation, however, and looked very sad at the explanation. Lord Celeborn seemed shocked to hear it, showing for the first time a modicum of care from his stern features. He was a Maiar, after all, Gwen recalled. Such beings must have been nearly indestructible to the elves. How often did a Maiar die?

Legolas nodded, the gesture weak and saddened. "He was taken by shadow and flame." Even his voice wavered ever slightly, and Gwen new he struggled to maintain his composure. "A balrog of Morgoth, which we encountered needlessly." Lady Galadriel drew in a breath, this bit of information apparently surprising to them. Celeborn's eyes betrayed his inner sorrow.

Gimli hung his head, clearly upset by the elf's words. Gwen understood the guilt he felt, because she felt it too. There were so many things that could have been done differently to avoid the old man's death. Galadriel watched her a moment, thoughtful. She replied after a moment, "Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in this great life." The Lady seemed to chide Legolas. Then, her eyes fell on Gimli, and her features softened. "Do not let the emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin."

In that moment, Gwen knew Lady Galadriel was as wise as she was beautiful, and that no words could have been more comforting for Gimli, who looked upon the Lady with wonder in his eyes, that dispelled all shadow. Gwen was thankful that the Lady could see past whatever prejudices existed between dwarves and elves to comfort the broken warrior, and her estimation of the Lady rose.

The elf woman turned piercing eyes to Boromir next, who seemed to shudder and grow uncomfortable.

"The world has grown full of peril," the Lady murmured. To Gwen's horror, the Gondorian began to weep, and the sound of it wrenched at Gwen's heartstrings, knowing the elf woman must have been speaking to Boromir somehow, and had touched something within him. What was she telling him?

Celeborn turned his attention to Aragorn. "What now becomes of this Fellowship?" he demanded. "For without Gandalf, all hope is lost." His words seemed to ripple around the company, and as they registered in her mind, Gwen drew herself up, highly affronted. Now wait just a damn minute! That's not true at all!

"I beg your pardon?" The words slipped past Gwen's lips before she could catch them, and maybe she didn't want to. Recklessness seemed to be her middle name when it came to the elves of these woods. "Your words are dangerous, my lord," she insisted sternly, though not impolitely. "There is always hope," she declared. Gwen hoped the others were listening to her like they were listening to the Lady. "This Fellowship still has nine others willing and able to continue this journey quite well, I think. We just need a little rest! Hope is lost," she snorted, growing quiet. Gwen muttered the last words to herself, and the others were looking at her quite mortified. She was wholly out of patience. I've about had it with these particular elves.

She was tired, hungry, and dirty as hell, and these elves had done nothing but insult their company and treat them like enemies. Frodo was nearly asleep on his feet, and the hobbits were looking as miserable as she felt. They could truly kiss her ass. Lady Galadriel seemed faintly amused, and she watched Gwen closely, passing a look to her husband. "You speak the truth, Gwendolyn Carrick, though your words are harsh. There is hope, but it is fading," she warned. "I have seen it."

Again amusement flickered on the lady's face. "Yet, while the company is as true as you are to one another, all is not lost." She gazed down at the hobbits, who had tears streaking their skin. "Do not let your hearts be troubled," she bid them gently. "Go now, and rest. Tonight you will sleep in peace."

Thank a merciful God, finally.

They turned and were led by waiting Wardens away from the high flets, to the forest floor, and soon to a grove among the trees. Pallets stuffed with goose down were laid around the space, and Gwen could see a low table piled with food at the edge of the area. It seemed the elves had prepared ahead of time.

Relief filled her at the sight of relaxation and rest incarnate, and Gwen immediately laid her belongings by a pallet between Legolas' and Boromir's. For the first time in a very long day, she allowed herself to relax. Her exhaustion and a multitude of emotions quickly overtook her. Guilt. Sadness. Anger. Pain. Wishing only to lay her head down a moment, Gwen laid upon the pallet, not anticipating the extreme weariness that crashed over her like a wave on her senses. She was out cold in minutes, the quiet whispers of her friends around her, peaceful and soothing.

Singing woke her.

She couldn't have been asleep for more than an hour or so, because the others were still awake, despite the dark of night growing around them. Legolas stood nearby, having already cleaned himself, as she saw by his new tunic and breeches. Gwen sat up from her pallet and stretched, drawing the elf's attention. Her short nap had invigorated her like she hadn't thought possible after the long day they had had. A heaviness remained in her chest, however, that she didn't want to think about, or even acknowledge.

The haunting melody on the air riveted her attention, and after a few heartbreaking moments, brought silent tears streaming from her eyes. It was a song of the elves – in Sindarin – and she couldn't make out the words easily. She looked to Legolas, who was obviously trying hard not to listen. His hair lay loose and dry over his shoulders. His eyes glowed with unspoken emotion, and Gwen could see where he very nearly radiated pain. "Legolas?" The elf looked at her, having heard her whispered call. His elven hearing was unrivaled. She patted the spot next to her on the pallet.

"Come and sit," she bid him gently. "I will braid your hair, mellon." Legolas hesitated, obviously uncomfortable in his emotional state. Gwen hoped he would not push her away. This is hard for all of us. She lifted a hand toward him, calling him to her side silently. "Let me do this for you, as you have always done for me." It was true that Legolas had helped her manage her own thick, ever-lengthening hair while they had traveled over the hills of Eregion and through the passes of Caradhras.

It had been a soothing exercise for her, and he never seemed to mind it either. Finally, he glided to her, grasping her hand securely and allowing her to pull him down beside her. He is fragile tonight, she realized with a jolt when his hand gripped hers longer than was usual. It was so foreign to her that Legolas – the strong one – would be anything less. God, we all are, though. We've lost our leader. Our friend.

It was difficult to accept, much less move on from.

The pair of them just looked at one another for a moment in silent togetherness of emotion and understanding. "It seems I was more tired than I thought," she murmured with a half smile. "I didn't even wait to help the others with their things.." Gwen felt a moment's guilt, knowing that the task had fallen to Boromir and Aragorn, but Legolas squeezed her hand. It looked utterly filthy in his clean, pale grasp, but he didn't seem to mind. "They understood." He spoke in his native tongue, lowly.

Tears welled in her eyes, and more haunting notes of the elvish song filtered through the pale trees around the grove.

"Where are the others?" Gwen asked softly, breaking the sound of the melody in her mind. Legolas looked away from her then, gazing up into the great trees around them. "Washing, probably," he replied. "Aragorn was summoned to meet with Lord Celeborn a short while ago."

They fell into silence, listening to the song the elves were singing. It tugged so fiercely on her that Gwen found herself fighting rising tears. The song around them reached a haunting pitch, and those tears fell from Gwen's eyes in response. What made their words so powerful? Legolas watched her, his own gaze filled with sadness. Her heart felt as if it was being squeezed in a vice.

"It speaks to the very heart of me," she murmured, wiping the tear tracks from her face. Gwen didn't have to recognize the words to know they sung of Gandalf. Legolas' arms crept silently around her, and they embraced in mutual comfort. Wetness dripped into her scalp as Legolas wept with her, and they clung together, as if they would be blown away by a violent storm if they did not. "I don't even know what they are saying," she said. "But it hurts to hear it."

She inhaled the woodsy, slightly sweet scent of Legolas' long blond hair, comforted by his wry strength and quiet nature. "You need not know the words, elen, for you knew him," the elf murmured lowly. Truth rang in his clear, harmonious tenor. "We knew him. This song of mourning is only a shadow of that knowledge." Gwen knew it was true. Together they sat, purpose forgotten as they shared in their grief.

After the song ended and silence descended, they broke apart; each was slightly, embarrassed at their show of emotion. Their hands remained clasped, and Gwen stared at them, fingers twined together, for a long time. "I didn't ever think I would come to grieve for anything other than my old life," she said softly, her thoughts now miles away. Legolas heard every word clearly, and was silently considering as she continued. "That I would want anything more than to go home, and be able to touch my parents as I am with you now." She rubbed her thumb over his hand unthinkingly. They both shuddered at the jolt of emotion her touch created. It was an intimacy, this friendship of theirs.

"But if I had a wish to give now," Gwen sighed. "I would wish for Gandalf to be back..for Frodo, at the very least." Tears welled again in her eyes and green met gray as she raised her head to meet his eyes. "I would wish for Gandalf to be alive again." She couldn't help but be horrified in realizing how her heart's desires had changed in just a few months, and it showed in her distressed eyes. "What kind of person willingly gives up an entire life for another?" It confounded her. Gandalf's death and this quest in the face of death had changed everything.

Legolas embraced Gwen again, bringing her head against his chest in comfort.

"I forget, sometimes, that you are so very young, for all your great travels and old ways." He said, pausing with a sigh. "There is no betrayal in your thoughts, elen." His words pierced to the heart of her emotional turmoil. Gwen truly did feel like she was betraying her family, in willingly setting aside her personal quest to get home for helping Frodo, even to her own death, like Gandalf had done.

"I have learned that it does not take a lifetime to change – though for elves it surely seems that way," Legolas continued. You have changed in your time on this earth, and you will continue to change. That is the blessing of the Valar – that life should be at times as varied and different as they are."

Gwen shuddered and more tears fell, as silently as her thoughts were racing. He shouldered her up, and lifted her chin to his eyes, and for a moment Gwen was reminded that Legolas was as ancient as any other elf, and as wise. He pointed into the sky, at a patch of inky darkness visible – amazingly – through the branches of the mellyrn around them.

"Look at that star, elen. It shines so brightly," he said, his voice as clear as Lady Galadriel's. She could see the pinprick of light in the sky, dim but unceasing. "It is beautiful," she whispered. He nodded. "Yes, it is," he agreed. "It is Eärendil. No matter how a person travels, heedless of his destination, never can the light of that star fade from his face. Such is our love for those we call family," he explained. "Whenever I am thinking of my mother, and saddened that she is no longer here, I look to that star as a reminder that she is never gone from my life."

She looked, first at the night sky, and then at her friend, beginning to understand his point. He said with a smile, "The path of your destiny has brought you to this place, with our company, yet your Earth world lives on in your heart." She nodded, wiping the tears from her face as they dried again in tracks. "It cannot be easy," he murmured gently, "but in life such things rarely are." They were startled by the return of the hobbits and Gimli, but there still no sign of Boromir or Aragorn. Quickly, Legolas bent to her ear, not wanting the others to hear him.

"Never will the light and love of your previous life leave your face, elen and never will the memories of that time leave you fully," Legolas promised. "Do not let your sadness weigh your heart forever."

He pulled back, and their sad eyes met once more. "Gandalf would have put it in such a way, I believe," he smiled slightly, squeezing her hand once more before releasing her. They stood up together, ignoring the others in the grove who watched them with interest. The tall elf pressed a hand to her face, willing her to feel his own emotion. "Feel no shame, Gwendolyn Carrick – elen," he murmured down to her. "You are not alone in your grief, or on this road you now walk."

Gwen nodded slightly, and winced when she saw the dirt and tear stains on his clean clothing. Legolas followed her eyes, smiling slightly at her ruefully apologetic gaze. "Time for another bath, yes?" Gwen's chest expanded with a laugh.

"I suppose so, yes."

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