Book 5 The Storm breaks
ii At Caras Galadhon
The night was now darker than any they could remember, with no sign of moon or stars, which seemed entirely blotted out by the Dark Lord's trickery. Again, they had to rely upon their elven companions to see anything at all. They thought they had probably set forth about five or six hours after dusk, by normal reckoning, but even that was guesswork. The northeast wind, which had been their friend for so much of the way, now seemed to desert them, and they had to paddle and even pole for long stretches, when the river seemed shallower and particularly sluggish. Fortunately, all three races were strong and enduring when it came to paddling, and they did not flag, but took turns to keep their rafts moving at as fast a clip as they could manage.
After they had been travelling for perhaps six hours, Haldir sent a heartening message back along the convoy to say that he believed they had passed beyond Fanuidhol, and had about ten or eleven hours to go, depending on the state of the wind. At this, as though at a signal, the wind suddenly sprang up again, and filled their sails for the first time that journey, and they were able to cease paddling and to allow their companies to take turns to sleep, while the wind bore them strongly forward, closer and closer toward the Golden Wood. Eären wondered whether the Lady of the Wood were responsible for the wind, now that they neared her territory, even as Elrond had been responsible for his.
When they had been travelling another four or five hours, Haldir sent another message back, saying that they should be on the look out for Silvan Elves from Lórien. There were northern outposts of the Golden Wood along the river, and their watchers would observe them as they approached. For some time afterwards, they saw nothing. Then, suddenly, Eären realised that the rafts ahead were moving towards the bank. Following as well as they could, she saw that, amid the general murkiness of what was surely mid- or late morning - a strange morning without dawn! - there were slightly more fluid grey shapes, glowing very faintly, like Haldir, at the edge of the river. They were hauling in their rafts, with long poles, and bringing them one by one into a small hythe.
Shortly afterwards she was leaping thankfully out on to the secure wooden staves of the hythe, where Glorfindel and Haldir were already in conversation in elvish with some tall, golden-haired elves wearing the Silvan habit. One of these turned to her and bowed, saying softly, "Mae govannen, Lady Eären of Gondor! The Lord and Lady of the Wood send their greetings. Be silent, for this is dangerous territory. Follow us! Do not fear for your rafts – they will be kept safe by our companions."
She followed Haldir and Glorfindel, and the three strange elves took them quickly into the concealing undergrowth and thence by a curious twist in the track and an upward slope, to a high platform in the trees, that seemed to overlook the river.
"I am Ilmarin, of the household of Celeborn," said the tallest elf softly. "We can speak here for a few moments in safety. We have been awaiting your coming, for we thought you might need help in this thick blackness. Messages came to us three days ago from Lord Elrond that your company had set forth from Imladris. Gwaihir, the Windlord and his cousins, have been watching the river for you, and brought us news two hours ago that you had passed Fanuidhol. You have made good time!"
"We have been fortunate indeed, though not without loss to our company," said Glorfindel quickly. "How much further must we sail, and what is our best course, friends?"
"We have a suggestion which may help," said Ilmarin now. "It is quicker by river to Caras Galadhon, than to come by road. However, if you wish, you can send your horses ashore here, and we will ride them to Lothlórien for you. They will like that means of travel far better, and it will lighten your rafts, so you should make better time for the last stretch of the journey."
They looked at each other, and made up their minds quickly.
"An excellent plan," said Glorfindel. "But we have seventy horses! Can that number be managed?"
"Easily, for we will divide them into groups with a lead rider each, and they will follow each other," said Ilmarin. "The country north of Lórien is curiously quiet at present. We have not seen orc bands for several days and that is not usual. Something is afoot in the Dark Land! How has it been with you?"
"The same," said Glorfindel. "We fear that the Dark Lord is marshalling all his forces for the assault which will come soon. Is Lórien yet unassailed? We feared that the assault might already be launched from Dol Guldur."
"Not yet, though there have been constant threats to our borders," said Ilmarin. "Things gather to a head! The sooner we are all safe in the Wood, the better! We should begin to unload your horses at once."
They returned swiftly to the bank, in deep darkness, where, upon Ilmarin's instructions, the Lórien elves led the horses with all speed on to dry land. The animals were grateful for this release, and were quickly gathered into troops of twelve by nimble Lórien elves, who set out at once on the route south.
"How long will the horses take to reach the Wood?" asked Glorfindel, watching them depart, a little anxious about losing their main means of transport.
Ilmarin shrugged.
"They will not be long after you," he said. "Depending on the hindrances they encounter. Still, a far better way to travel for the horses. Now return to your rafts, and raise sail. In another two or three hours, you will reach the northern edge of the Golden Wood. From there it is about an hour to Caras Galadhon. Disembark at the northern hythe – Haldir and Galdor will guide you in. You are expected! Good sailing!"
Immensely cheered by this efficient and kindly welcome, Eären returned to her raft, and the Lórien elves pushed them off skilfully into the dark water with long poles. The dwarves on her raft were less cheered. She had learned on their journey together that they were unsure of their welcome in Lórien, where there was historic enmity between their peoples and the elves. Yet there had been no sign from the elves who had greeted them that they were not welcome. Eären tried to soothe their fears, saying, "Nay, come, my friends, we bring help to the Lord and Lady of the Wood! Surely they will be glad of our arrival at such an hour!"
"Aye," said Damring gloomily, "but the elves do not love dwarves!"
There were no further incidents on their journey, and they even managed to sleep a little, as the fresh wind bore them mysteriously forward on the full dark flood of Anduin. Eären wondered how it was that the smoky darkness remained, even though the wind was high, but it was so. At any rate, it was exactly what they needed, and with the lightened rafts skimming along at a great rate, it was barely two hours before they sensed the outlying trees of Lórien Wood closing about the banks of the river. From there, they made fast time to the northern hythe, which served the elven city, and curiously enough, she noticed that the darkness lightened considerably, once they were approaching it, though it did not entirely disperse, as they moved in towards their landing.
Haldir found the small, well-hidden inland channel, which led off the main stream, without difficulty. This channel led after a while to a longer and stronger stretch of landing, and once again, waiting watchers drew in their rafts expertly with long poles, and they were secured in no time. They were thankful to be able to disembark at last, the more so because there was light here, both from the stars and moon, which somehow seemed undimmed within the area of the city. Also, however, there was light from what seemed many hundreds of candle-points of light, which decorated the trees all around them. It was a welcome sight after all that darkness and dreariness of the river, as they moved into this place of light and hope.
"Welcome, welcome!" said the Lórien elves eagerly, as they came ashore. "Reinforcements are desperately needed in this hour! We thank the Lord Elrond greatly for his aid!"
The commanders quickly assembled on the greensward behind the hythe, and Haldir named the leaders of the Lórien elves to them as Rhosgobel and Lorelantir. It seemed that these two knew Glorfindel, for he was an elf of great age. Though Eären was a stranger, she nevertheless had a strong sense of being expected here.
"Welcome, Lady of Gondor," said Rhosgobel, a smaller elf than any she had yet seen of the Silvan kind, who, despite his smaller stature, had the same extraordinary, aquiline profile that she sometimes noticed in Haldir. "The Lady of the Wood much desires to speak with you."
"I am eager to meet her also," said Eären courteously. "But first I wish to speak for my friends the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, who travel with us. They have come to our aid in Imladris in time of great need, and now they are willing to aid Lórien in its struggle against the Dark Lord in any way we can. Nevertheless, they fear their welcome in this Wood, where there have been enmities in times past. Can I assure them that they may pass through here safely?"
Rhosgobel looked at her curiously, his grey eyes thoughtful.
"Our Lord and Lady know of the arrival of the dwarves," he said, bowing. "Old scores have been shelved here, for we must cleave to all those who are willing to do battle with us against Barad-Dûr. Tell them they are welcome. A pavilion has been prepared for them, even among the Galadhrim!"
Thankfully, she returned to the hythe, where Damrod and Damring waited together nervously. The rest of the dwarves, she noticed, were slow to disembark.
"Come Damrod," she said now, smiling. "Your welcome is assured. The Galadhrim offer you a place among the elves in their city! Who could ask for more?"
Damrod bowed low, evidently deeply relieved.
"You are a lady of courtesy, "he said now. " I shall not forget your kindness to the dwarves!"
The dwarf troop now disembarked, and the elves led their companies forward beyond the greensward, leaving the rafts secured, for the time being, at the water's edge.
Eären had heard many tales of the Golden Wood in her childhood, but all fell far short of the reality. Elrond had tried to prepare her, but now that she was here, she looked about her in frank astonishment, for she had seen nowhere like it. They followed a path beside a stream for some way, all festooned with the same lights which shone so brightly in the area of the hythe. The path circled the hill on which the city was built, and having followed its curve for a while, they eventually reached a deep fosse, with a bridge spanning it, which led to the Great Gates of Caras Galadhon. Here, at the junction of overlapping green earthen walls, they passed through into the city proper. Once within the walls, they were astonished to see that there were no buildings, as such, in that place, but only great mallorn trees everywhere, covering the hill, with flets (woven platforms) built into their intertwining branches, upon which the elves lived.
Their guides took them to the great central tree, at the very top of the hill, the most extraordinary, vast mallorn that Eären had ever seen. Its head seemed to disappear into the skies above them, at a dizzy height that they could hardly guess at, and its upper storeys were reached by an enormous circular stairway, which wound round and round its ancient trunk, of vast girth.
They left their troops housed in pavilions at the bottom of the staircase, while Eären, Glorfindel, Haldir and their three troop leaders went up to the hall of the Lord and Lady of the Wood, at the very top. Even stranger than its tree dwellings, thought Eären, as they slowly climbed the stariway, was the atmosphere of Lórien, which was somehow full of light and hope – quite different from the world they had just left outside. Her heart felt immeasurably lighter for being here, as though there were something cheering in the very air, and her feet paced the stairs with renewed energy. She had something of the healing sense of being in Elrond's pool, in Imladris the Fair, but many things here were also strange and very different from that place.
After climbing for what seemed a very long way, until her legs ached, they finally came to a large house, within which was set a curious oval hall, shaped almost like the kernel of an almond nut. Even the great doors of the hall were curved, and opened outwards to reveal an inner chamber. At the end of this inner sanctuary, seated upon chairs of state, sat the Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel. As soon as they entered, the two rose and came to greet them. Eären, in brief shock, saw that the White Lady of her vision at Ningloron was none other than the Lady Galadriel!
The Lady of the Golden Wood was unexpected to her eyes. She was small for an elf – much smaller than she had expected – indeed, just a little shorter than Eären herself. She was a slender, almost frail-looking elf, of indeterminate age, dressed in a simple white dress, with flowing, long golden hair, which fell about her face and shoulders, unadorned. She had a face of great beauty, finely featured and smooth, and as luminously pale as a pearl. Her eyes were her most extraordinary feature – they were a brilliant rich golden colour, and when they fastened on each of them in turn, they had a sense of their very souls being read. Celeborn stood taller by two feet, also with long fair hair about his shoulders, and he wore a white tunic that flowed about his slender shape, and no weapon of any kind that was visible. How different he was from Elrond, she thought! He was equally, if not more, stately, and yet somehow very much himself! Struggling to understand what she saw, she realised suddenly that he was elf through and through, while Elrond had about him the blood of humankind, though finely intermingled with his elvish nature, and the long years spent in Imladris among the elves.
"You are welcome to Caras Galadhon, friends," said Celeborn courteously, his voice light. "Though I would wish to have received you all in better times, you are nevertheless most welcome here. Pray be seated."
He led them to the far end of the oval chamber, where they sat on low seats, and refreshments were brought. The quaravas of Lothlórien, Eären noticed, was if anything more sparkling and bracing than that of Imladris. As it coursed through her veins, she felt refreshed beyond measure, and her weary limbs relaxed. To their surprise, it was to Damrod that the Lady spoke first.
"Master Damrod, you are the second dwarf, who has been welcomed to our house in as many months," she said. When she spoke, her voice was like the rustle of leaves on a stone floor in autumn. "Old enmities die hard, yet now is not the time for such remembrances. Your offer of help is courteous, and we receive it with courtesy in kind."
Damrod rose and bowed so low that his beard swept the hall floor, but he was too overcome with awe to say anything. It was kind that the Lady took the trouble to reassure the dwarf, Eären thought, when she might have addressed more pressing matters – as though she had overheard all their anxious conversations at the hythe and on the rafts!
The White Lady's eyes turned now to Glorfindel, and they beamed a welcome.
"Well met, my Lord Glorfindel. How is your lord, the Master of Imladris?" she asked. "I have longed to see him these many years, yet the world has grown dangerous, and few there are who travel far beyond their own shores in these times."
Glorfindel bowed low.
"Lord Elrond sends his compliments, my lady, and thanks you warmly for your help and counsel in these difficult times," he said, with the gentle courtesy that Eären had come to recognise as part of his soldierly gallantry.
Seeing that he had the floor, he spoke further.
"My Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, we come to the Golden Wood at a time when the world stands poised on the brink of the worst destruction that Middle-earth has yet faced. We have much to discuss. Suffice it to say, for now, that we bring a company of three hundred and fifty elves, dwarves and men, all devoted to aiding those who oppose our common Enemy. We know that we are few, but we are a handpicked and dedicated company. Lord Elrond commands us to aid the elves of Lórien Wood in any way we can, and then to pass on quickly to Minas Tirith, where he judges the worst assault of Mordor will soon fall. Pray tell me how things stand here in Lothlórien – for we met wargs and orcs mustering on both banks, on our journey, and we have concluded that the terrible darkness we passed through signifies the beginning of the first assault on the West."
"You are correct in thinking so," said Celeborn now, his ageless face serious. His eyes were searching, also, Eären saw, and he clearly read much in their eyes. "Aragorn has shown himself to the Dark Lord. He has challenged his right to rule the West! That challenge, we believe, has forced Sauron's hand, causing him to bring forward his plans for the assault. The great storm we have long foreseen is already gathering in the east. Armies of orcs, wargs and evil men in fealty to the Dark Tower are mustering at the Morannon Gate. Further north, they muster at Dol Guldur and further east at the Great Sea of Rhûn. There is now no time to lose, and no further point in concealment – every opponent of Mordor must now declare himself, and rally to whatever flag he holds dear!"
"And what of Rohan, and Saruman?" asked Glorfindel now, looking – and feeling! - curiously less dismayed to learn the worst than when they were merely speculating about it. "Lord Elrond has already sent a task force, led by his sons, and by Halbarad of the Dúnedain, to aid Lord Aragorn and the horsemen of the Mark. They should have passed this way a few days before us. What news have you of how they fare?"
"Your friends passed through Lórien Wood with all speed seven nights ago, and had our aid," said Galadriel. "When they left here, they passed on through Fangorn with great speed, for the Ent of that Wood is our friend, and he aided them at our request. They met with Aragorn in Rohan, east of the Fords of Isen, four days ago."
She glanced from face to face, and her extraordinary eyes glittered.
"Isengard has fallen!" she added, now, after a dramatic pause, and sharp exclamations of astonishment, mingled with satisfaction, went all round their company at this surprising news. "Our friends the Ents of Fangorn marched upon Orthanc, and brought the wizard's vale to ruin – for they are strong beings, when roused, and they have not been roused to such fury for many a long Age!"
"That is welcome news indeed, my lady!" said Glorfindel, astonished. "What became of the White Wizard?"
"He is imprisoned in his Black Tower," she replied, and there was triumph in her voice that was unmistakable. "And awaits the judgement of his kind!"
Glorfindel was about to speak again, but she held up a hand, saying, "There is yet more to tell! I fear the Ents came too late to stop the march of Saruman's army towards the Westfold. Nevertheless, with the aid of Aragorn, the Lord of the Mark was able to muster a defence of Rohan at Helm's Deep, a fastness deep within the White Mountains. It was a nightlong siege, and a bitter conflict – one that ended with the utter destruction of Saruman's evil hordes. Mithrandir was in no small measure responsible for this!"
"I thought of the Hornburg, as a possible place of siege!" burst forth Eären, who had intended to be circumspect, on her first meeting with the renowned Lady of the Wood, but in fact could not contain her glee at the thought that her friends of Rohan had inflicted a serious defeat upon the Dark Tower. "That is good news indeed, my Lady!"
Galadriel now turned her extraordinary golden eyes upon Eären, as though she had only just seen her.
"You are welcome to Lothlórien, Lady of Gondor!" she said, and her strange voice seemed to echo in Eären's head, just as it had when she had seen her face in her vision. "We owe you much already. You saved Lord Haldir from an evil warg. We thank you for your care of our elf lord!"
How she knew this, she did not say, but Haldir bowed, seeming unsurprised that this news had travelled ahead of him. He glanced at Eären in a manner that she suddenly thought friendly - perhaps for the first time since she had known him!
"I am happy to have been of use," Eären said, with a brief smile, and thought suddenly of how often she had said those words! She wondered whether it was difficult for her to imagine that she could be welcome on any other terms! Only Elrond had persuaded her that she might be welcome for her own sake, she thought sadly. How she missed him already!
Galadriel studied her face curiously, her expression unreadable.
"Your brother, Lord Boromir, also passed through Lórien two months ago," she said suddenly, and her eyes seemed penetrating. "You are not at all like him, I see, Lady Eären."
Eären knew then, with great certainty, had she had any remaining doubt, that Boromir was dead, and that Galadriel knew he was dead. She held her peace, for the moment, but her heart was filled with almost unbearable pain.
"I am glad to hear that the sons of Elrond are safe," said Glorfindel. "And Aragorn, you say, has revealed himself? The Lady Eären foretold it, some leagues ago in our journey, for she has the long sight, like Aragorn, and others of her race. What do you think brought him to this, my lady, and how?"
Galadriel turned to Eären again, raising a lofty eyebrow, evidently waiting for her to speak. Eären hesitated a moment, and then said, "I think he used the Palantir of Orthanc – which Saruman had formerly used as a means of communicating with the Dark Tower. I do not know how he obtained it, but if he has been in the fight against Saruman, then perhaps he passed through Isengard, and obtained it there."
"That is as we surmise also," said Celeborn, looking at Eären with fresh interest. "A Palantir brought from over the sea by Elendil has long lain undiscovered at Orthanc. We knew of it – but hoped that Saruman would never discover it. Alas, it now seems that Saruman discovered it long ago, and used it long before we suspected."
"A Palantir!" said Glorfindel now, and it was clear that he, at least, understood what was being referred to. "So that is how Saruman communicated with Barad-Dûr! The Lord Elrond told me before we departed that that might be the case. Then – you believe that Aragorn has now reclaimed it, and uses it against the Enemy? That is a dark and dangerous strategy!"
"But a brave one," said Galadriel, and she smiled, for the first time, and her smile was like a shaft of sunlight through the branches of the mighty tree that surrounded them. "Maybe there is wisdom in it, Lord Glorfindel! Perhaps he hopes to force the Dark Lord to move more swiftly than he intended. Hasty moves lead to mistakes. It seems, from this darkness he spreads, that the Enemy has been worried – and if so, Aragorn has succeeded."
"But what is to be gained, my lady, in forcing the hand of the Dark Lord?" asked Haldir, though his tone was more humble here. Eären saw that he greatly admired Galadriel, and was high in her favour, for she turned to him now and smiled warmly. "I understand that it is wise to keep the Enemy on his toes," he added, "but to what end, if he has far greater force than we? Might it not be better for us to delay as long as we can, so as to gather as many of our forces as we may?"
"It is something to have taken the initiative away from him, Haldir," said Celeborn now, a little dryly. "Yet Galadriel believes that Aragorn has other ends than this. But let her speak of it to you, if she wishes."
"I think," said his lady, and it seemed to Eären that her mind was moving slowly over the whole scene, even as she spoke, "that Aragorn hopes to draw the attention of the Great Eye this way. For in so far as it looks upon us, it does not look within its own land. And there, in the land of Mordor, our best hope lies."
The hairs on the back of Eären's neck prickled. That they might be deliberately inviting attack was alarming! Yet she saw the wisdom of it, if it were so. Perhaps Aragorn believed in the strength of Lórien Wood? She hoped he was right, if so!
"Then you are of one mind with Lord Elrond," said Haldir, with conviction. "And I believe you see rightly, as always. But it is a high risk strategy – for what if the Dark Lord overwhelms us with his superior might, before we have had time to muster our response?"
"It is our business here to see that he does not," said Glorfindel firmly. "Therefore, my Lady, and my Lord Celeborn, we should be glad to know how best we can aid you, and how long you think we have before the blow falls on Lothlórien."
"There is a little time yet," said Galadriel, and seemed curiously serene, Eären thought, as she spoke of the imminence of war. "Rest a while now. Let your companies eat and refresh themselves, and sleep in peace. We shall awaken them as soon as they are needed. As for you, their commanders, rest also, after your long journey, and restore your strength, for it will be needed at the full, and soon. I have prepared a pavilion for you all, close to our hall. My counsel is to eat and then sleep until the sixth hour past noon. Then return here, so that we may hold a Council of War together."
They rose now and bowed courteously. Elves showed them out, down the Great Stair again, and to the guest pavilion which stood near the base of the Great Mallorn. They were shown an area where streams gushed down from the hillside, into a shallow water trough, where they could strip their travel-worn clothes off and wash. Fresh clothes were brought for them, including some of the grey habits of the Lothlórien elves - a great compliment, Haldir intimated in her ear, as he washed noisily. The habits blended perfectly with the environment around them, in such a way that they were impossible to detect when still, and not easy to see when moving.
Food and strange drinks in great profusion were now brought to their pavilion, and they ate gladly, seated cross-legged on a soft rug scattered with cushions on the ground. They were pleased to be offered fruit, nuts and other more substantial fare, after subsisting mostly on lembas for the last day or two. Palliases of fresh, sweet smelling hay were laid upon the ground, with sweet pillows stuffed with herbs, and blankets to cover them.
"This is a strange place indeed!" said Damrod, in awe, wandering round near the entrance to the pavilion, and admiring the Great Staircase, and the many lights, which seemed to twinkle everywhere in that place. "I never thought to see such a place in all my life! Yet the Lady of the Wood is gracious indeed – and far more beautiful than I ever appreciated!"
Findegalad laughed, saying, "She is the oldest and most nobly born elf of Middle-earth, for she alone remembers the light of Valinor, when she lived there, years uncounted ago! Take care, Master Dwarf, for she may read more in you than you care to reveal!"
Glorfindel however interrupted, and said to them, "Take some rest, my friends. We have had a long journey."
Eären lay down thankfully upon her simple pallet, and was surprised at how downy soft and fragrant it seemed. She was unable to shake off the movement of the raft on the water for long enough, but at length weariness overcame her, and she was able to fall fast asleep.
She woke with a start, to find it dark, but feeling refreshed after her sleep. It seemed to her that the same voice that she had heard in her head when they beached the rafts called to her softly, saying, "Would you look in the Mirror of Galadriel, my lady?"
Eären sat up and looked round, startled, but all her companions were still fast asleep. Feeling that there was some urgency in the voice, she rose silently and went out of the pavilion, to find the Lady Galadriel herself outside, beckoning her to follow. Nearby stood a shimmering fountain that fell into a basin, from whence, in a pure stream, it hurried on down the hill towards the City walls. Galadriel followed the stream, her small feet silent as the leaves on the grass as she hurried downhill. Eären, feeling strangely drawn after her, followed behind her small figure, until they reached a treeless hollow at the bottom of the hill that seemed laid out like a garden. The Lady now passed through a hedge and descended a long flight of stairs noiselessly, to the lowest point of the dell. Here the water ran near another basin, which stood upon a pedestal, and was shallow, and presently empty.
"This is my mirror, my Lady Eären," said Galadriel now, watching her closely as she approached. "Lord Elrond has spoken of it, I doubt not. It can show you things that were, and things that are – and, perhaps some things that have not yet come to pass. Do you wish to look?"
Eären looked at her in awe, wondering why she had been asked to share this great honour.
"I am greatly honoured by your notice, my Lady," she said frankly. "I wonder why you bestow such a great honour upon me?"
Galadriel laughed lightly at this and her laugh tinkled like the water itself.
"You are a lady quick of mind and heart," she said. "I see why the Lord Elrond loves you!"
Eären flushed, feeling confused. She saw that not much passed in Middle-earth that Galadriel did not see.
"Do not be afraid," said Galadriel now, seeing doubt in her eyes. "I mean to help, if I can. Do you wish to know what the mirror can show?"
"If it helps me to return safely to the Lord Elrond, I will gladly accept any counsel you can give me," said Eären stoutly, resolving, as she usually did, that her best course was honesty.
"I do not counsel you," said Galadriel. "Merely show you what I can, to aid your understanding."
Eären sighed at this rather puzzling reply, but finally nodded. She had heard from Elrond of the Lady's gift for revelations, and, though uncertain, she resolved to look.
Galadriel now took a silver flagon from the ground near the basin, and filled it with the clear water of the fountain. Then she poured its tinkling water into the basin that was empty, and stood back, a simple, silent, white figure, waiting for her to look.
After a moment, Eären stepped hesitantly up to the pedestal basin, and leaned over the smooth water, searching it for what it might reveal. At first, she saw nothing but blackness in its inky depths. Then the blackness became a mist, and the mist cleared slowly, to reveal a familiar, beloved face. It was Elrond! He it was, without doubt, sharply etched, as though reflected back to her from the water as a mirror. He looked so close she could hardly believe it; he smiled his brilliant, seductive smile at her, and her heart leaped. Then he raised his dear hand in a familiar blessing. His magnificent grey eyes pierced her, and she felt his love for her enter her soul once more, as a physical presence inside her, before he slowly faded away.
The face of her father succeeded this vision rapidly, and she was as shocked as she had been delighted before. Lord Denethor stared at her unwinkingly, and there was that light in his old eyes, which she had identified in her previous vision as madness! Suddenly he opened his mouth and laughed raucously, the bizarre cackle of a mad man, which raked through her mind and heart like a pain.
The scene changed again, and next moment Denethor lay silent upon a bier, such as she had often seen in the House of Hallows in the White City. Flames curled all around him, as though he burned! She could not decide whether he was alive or dead, and her heart leaped in horror. She breathed rapidly, as though she had been running.
This vision quickly faded, and was replaced yet again by a scene of dreadful, desperate battle before the familiar City Gates of Minas Tirith, her home. The battle seemed to be between thousands of orcs and men, not a few horsed, and it raged fiercely. The faces of many orcs came and went, arrows whistled by, swords rose and fell, and all the land was dark as midnight.
This vision too faded, and was succeed by a laughing face – a man! It took her a long moment to identify him, though he was familiar to her. Then she realised it was none other than Aragorn! Aragorn would have startled her in any guise, but Aragorn laughing was entirely unexpected, for she had known him in Imladris as a man sober, if not grim of countenance, more given to sorrow than smiling. This Aragorn, however, wore a brilliant white cloak, with a jewel at his throat, and she had never seen him smile so, as though he were utterly light of heart, for once in his life. A bright blue sky was behind his head, and his handsome face was burned a healthy brown, like a nut, by the sun of Gondor. The darkness of battle was quite gone, and around him were trees and greenery. Then she noticed that he wore a fine sable mail coat, as though at a celebration, emblazoned with the emblems of ancient Gondor upon it – seven white stars, a sun, a moon and a White Tree.
He held out his hand to her, encouragingly, a light in his face, and she took it, as though she had entered the mirror itself and took part in the vision. They went into the Temple in the White City together, and faced the altar. It came to her with total shock that they were at a wedding! Moreover, when the priest appeared before them, he was none other than Mithrandir, wearing a long white robe, but his hair and beard had turned as white as snow. He raised his hand in blessing over them – and the vision faded, leaving nothing but black water before her. This time, no new vision came to her, and it seemed that the mirror had ended its tale for that day.
Eären stepped slowly back from the basin, startled, her mind full of these visions. She met the curious golden eyes of Galadriel still upon her.
"I do not understand," Eären said, at last, bewildered. Galadriel's glance was challenging, but she said nothing. Eären thought a moment, and added, "Rather, I understand some of it, but not all. Did you see what I saw, my lady?"
Galadriel smiled enigmatically.
"Enough," she said. "You saw the Lord Elrond, I think, and his love for you, and the blessing he gives you?"
Eären brightened visibly, remembering that vision, and saying, "Yes, I did! I saw it in his eyes! It was wonderful! For a moment, I felt I was at home again, in beloved Imladris, with him!"
Galadriel smiled, saying pointedly, "Are you not always there, in a place within your heart?"
Eären laughed at this truth, saying honestly, "Yes, of course. I understand now!"
"In his heart, also, he will always be with you, no matter where you are," Galadriel said simply. "He loves you greatly, I see! For elves are not as men are – they do not love often, but when they do, they love deeply!"
She seemed to need no reply, as though what she stated were obvious. After a moment, she added curiously, "What else did you see?"
"I saw my father's death," Eären said now, sadly. "I have seen it before, and I do not doubt now that this is how his end will come, or something like it."
"You are not surprised," said Galadriel flatly, and Eären, heart-sore, nevertheless realised that she spoke only the truth.
"I had a vision of his death once before," she said. "In Imladris I saw him falling from the Great Embrasure into the fire beneath. . . . Always there is fire and madness in my visions! No, I confess I am not surprised, though greatly saddened."
"I saw something of this future in Lord Boromir, your brother," said Galadriel, reflectively. "I tried to give him hope, to let him see that not all power resides in the One Ring, or even the many! But I fear I was unable to persuade him."
"Tell me the truth about Boromir – for you know many things," pleaded Eären now. "He is dead, is he not?"
She asked it with her heart in her mouth, but feeling sure that this wise elf would know, if anyone would.
Galadriel did not attempt to evade the question. Nor did she look away.
"He is long dead," she said simply. "His bones lie white on the floor of the Great Sea, and his eyes are pearls."
Eären's heart almost failed her at the exactitude of this description. It could not but ring true.
"Nonetheless," added Galadriel, suddenly, "he did not fail at the test."
As she said so, her golden eyes were especially piercing, and her voice like the sighing of the west wind.
"He came to understand better at the end," she went on. "He understood that he had been pursuing a dream, a false hope! Knowing that, he drew his great sword at the last and fought to the death, to protect and defend the small people, the hobbits. You may be prouder of him, in the manner of his death, even than you were in his life, I think."
Great tears gathered in Eären's eyes, and she bowed her head, both touched by this valediction and overwhelmed with painful grief. The scene in her vision of Parth Galen returned to haunt her mind, and she could not speak. Galadriel stood by and watched her, offering nothing more.
At last, Eären sighed deeply, raised her head and said humbly, "I thank you for this comfort, my lady. I am glad to know he was not dishonoured in his death."
"It is small enough comfort. And yet it is everything," said Galadriel now, almost lightly. "What else did you see in the Mirror?"
"Orcs! Terrible war and darkness!" said Eären, remembering with a shudder. "I saw a battle before the Gates of Gondor. I expect no more when we come there, and yet - someone must go!"
"You are a brave family," said Galadriel darkly, and it was hard to tell whether she approved of her or no. "Yet do not fear too much the heat of the battle, my lady. Your time is not yet come, I think. What is worth winning is worth fighting for, is it not?"
Eären said nothing to this – for at that moment, she was not sure what was worth anything! Moreover, strangely, she had an inkling that it was not the war that Galadriel was talking about!
"I did not understand the last scene at all," she confessed, finally. "It was Aragorn! However, a very different Aragorn from the one I knew in Imladris – one happy and smiling, going to his wedding! What can be the meaning of this?"
Galadriel frowned.
"He wedded you?" she asked, pointedly.
Eären was astounded, now, at her prescience, but nodded, though reluctantly.
"So it seemed to me. Yet it makes no sense at all!" she burst out. "For if the west does not fail entirely, Aragorn will marry Arwen, without doubt! And if the west fails, then surely there will be no more marriages!"
Galadriel paused, evidently deep in thought. A silence drew out between them. Finally, she said, simply, "He has loved the Lady Arwen for long enough."
She was silent for a moment longer. Then she added, "Keep this vision in your heart, my lady. For it may be useful - and then again, it may not."
"Can the mirror change the future?" Eären was prompted to ask, feeling that it was a foolish question, even as she asked it, but she was unsettled by what she had seen.
Galadriel shook her head.
"There are those who are foolish enough to turn aside from their path in order to fulfil it," she said. "But then they may encounter ends unlooked-for - and unwelcome! It is unwise to interfere with fate."
"So says the Lord Elrond," said Eären, and smiled. Suddenly she thought she rather liked the Lady Galadriel, for all her strange ways.
They walked slowly back up the stairs together, Galadriel moving with an unnerving noiselessness beside her. As they walked, Eären plucked up enough courage to ask Galadriel, "I have heard it said that the Lady Celebrian was your daughter, my lady. Was she a very beautiful elf?"
Galadriel shot her an enquiring glance.
"She was gentle and kind," she said noncommittally. "Why do you ask, Eären of Gondor? Do you fear that you cannot fill her place in the Lord Elrond's heart?"
Eären smiled, seeing that her poor subterfuge was easily seen through.
"I suppose I am afraid of that," she said now, frankly. "It is hard to compete with a spirit and a memory, especially one held so dear by so many."
"They shared much affection," said Galadriel thoughtfully, after a moment. "Yet not always desire. Between you and your lord, I think, there is both! Do not underestimate the power of that."
Eären was astounded by this reply. Yet, curiously, as she pondered this saying, it rang true in her heart. There had been, from the beginning, between her and Elrond, a powerful mutual attraction. They both loved and desired each other – and that was a rare gift, one they were lucky to have found.
When they had followed the fountain stream up the hill until they had almost reached the travellers' pavilion again, Galadriel whispered, "Go now and sleep a little longer, and later we will talk again."
"Thank you, my lady," whispered Eären, "for your great kindness to me!"
Galadriel, however, was already gone.
224
