Author Note: Inspired by "Steady is the Hand" by rhosinthorn. Thank you for everyone who has read and reviewed my story.
The Shards of Sorrow
Review: The Fellowship enters Moria while under attack and Branwen's staff is broken beyond repair and completely unsalvageable. Aragorn becomes upset with her as she dismisses her physical wellbeing so easily and it warms her heart to be cared for. In the face of the Shadow of Moria without her staff, she realizes how childish she has been and makes amends with Boromir. He realizes the same after her apology.
As they descend deeper into Moria, Branwen notices a finger of influence from the Ring and spies Gollum while hiding under her Veil. She stays her blade due to concerns of his corpse attracting attention and that he might be of some use. After they stop due to some uncertainty of their path, Gandalf dissuades her and counsels her to show mercy so that she might allow herself mercy as well.
They continue through Moria but ascend upwards now until they reach a great hall. The next morning, they explore prior to moving on, to ascertain their location, and come across Balin's tomb. They discover what had happened to Balin as Branwen realizes that the Ring's tendril of influence on Gollum has vanished, indicating he has gone away from them.
Without warning, they hear a drum and it sounds as if Orcs have gathered to attack them. They barricade themselves in the chamber until the door is broken through and a short battle proceeds with their victory before they flee. Branwen has locked the door behind them but Gandalf remains behind to hold it. Shortly after, Gandalf comes under attack by the nameless evil of Moria and Balin's tomb collapses but Gandalf escapes very tired.
They flee to the Great Gates and stumble upon a trap that had been laid for them to corral them in, but they have evaded it by virtue of their different route. The nameless evil and Durin's Bane is revealed to be a Balrog as they cross the Bridge of the First Deep. Gandalf holds the Bridge, refusing Branwen's help, and destroys the Bridge to cast the Balrog down into the mountain roots. The Balrog pulls Gandalf down and Branwen is overcome with rage and then sorrow as they flee with the others openly grieving. They escape into the midday sun of the Dimrill Dale.
Chapter Nineteen – The Hill of Cerin Amroth
The Third Age – January 15th, 3019
Branwen was shaken out of her stupor, glaring at the Walls of Moria with a mixture of anger and grief, when Aragorn said to the Company, "I fear we cannot stay here longer. We must bid Gandalf a final farewell… Hope may seem thin, but we must go on! Weep no more for we have a long road and much more to do! Come!"
Branwen cast one last look at Moria and whispered, "Farewell, Gandalf… I do not know what awaits a Wizard like yourself in Death, but I hope you have peace."
Aragorn pointed Northward towards the looming peaks of Caradhras, Fanuidhol, and Celebdil—the Mountains of Moria. At the uppermost reaches of the ravine that formed the Dimrill Dale, there were white rapids that would eventually flow into the River Silverlode.
Aragorn said, "Over there is the Dimrill Stair. Down the deep-cloven way that climbs beside the torrent we should have come, if fortune had been kinder."
Gimli growled, "Or Caradhras less cruel. There he stands smiling in the sun!"
Branwen felt herself glowering at the mountain that had turned them away as Gimli shook his own fists at it. She turned her gaze Eastward and saw the arms of the Misty Mountain that formed the Dimrill Dale came to an end quickly, even as the mountain chain continued Southward. About a mile away in the lower reaches of the valley was a lake. Despite being in the sunlight, its waters were a deep and dark blue, like the open ocean, but it was utterly still with no a ripple to disturb it—the Mirrormere.
Gimli declared sadly, 'There lies the Mirrormere, deep Kheled-zâram! I remember that he said, 'May you have the joy of the sight! But we cannot linger there.' Now long shall I journey before I have joy again. It is I that must hasten away and he that must remain."
Branwen, feeling the rage prickling again, said, "Let us depart quickly, before Orcs decide to brave the sunlight…or I can no longer control myself and I return inside to destroy them all."
She did not wait for a response and began walking down the Road away from the Gates.
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Branwen felt her wrath cooling back into sadness as they walked down the remains of the Road, cracked and in pieces with the interlacing of heather. The sight of the flower did not ease her spirits and only reminded her of the sorrows of a life that was long past.
Besides the ruin of the Road, there were many works of broken stone, columns, and the like shaped by Dwarven hands. It was as they were following the Road next to the Mirrormere that Gimli let out a cry as he pointed at a single broken column near the top, "That is Durin's Stone! I cannot pass without turning aside for a moment to look at the wonder of the dale!"
Branwen felt her frustration mounting but kept her silence. Others experienced grief in their own way and this was Gimli's heritage as well. Aragorn ordered, "Be swift then! The sun sinks early. The Orcs will not, maybe, come out until after dusk, but we must be far away before nightfall. The moon is almost spent and it will be dark tonight."
Gimli wasted no time, "Come with me, Frodo! I would not have you go without seeing Kheled-zâram."
Had she been any less upset, Branwen would have been interested to look upon the Mirrormere, but instead she only glared back at Moria. She muttered to herself, "Those beasts had better hope that we are far gone by the time they come out of their hole…"
Aragorn heard her though and quietly advised, "Branwen, do not let vengeance consume your heart utterly. Gandalf's death was a noble sacrifice."
Branwen snorted, "There is no noble sacrifice, only Death. The only consolation is that Death is as peaceful as slipping between cool and soft sheets for a long rest without end."
Aragorn said softly, almost pleading, "Branwen…please, do not allow this to consume you. Gandalf would not want that…and you have a loving family that would not want that either."
Branwen felt a stab to her heart, imagining Arwen's and Elrond's faces. Elrohir and Ellandan would understand…but she had often pitied them for their burning hatred that kept them away from their remaining family most of the time and had not cooled in over five-hundred years. Is that what awaited her? …Is that what she had been doing to herself already? …But with self-hatred and sorrow rather than hatred of another?
Suddenly, she felt that her heart was indeed troubled…
She sighed and looked to Aragorn, "…You are correct, Estel. I will do my best…to grieve…and then let go. I have no desire to become consumed by another darkness as Elrohir and Ellandan are."
Aragorn gifted her a small smile, "It warms my heart to hear that… Remember, you are not alone and do not have to bear your grief or burden alone. I am here for you as you have been for me."
Branwen felt a lump in her throat as heat pricked the corners of her eyes. Damn it all to hell! But why did Gandalf have to fall!? If that old fool had accepted her helping hand, as weakened as she was, they might have been able to cast the Balrog down together and he would be here with them now, rambling on about some obscure history of the Mirrormere.
She then remembered that, without Gandalf, she had no way of learning how to craft a staff bound to the Rhythm and Wyld of Arda either. Damn it all…
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Aragorn watched Branwen with concern as they walked along the Road that now had turned Southward. The black rage on her face had given away to sorrow again, like she had looked when they had first met, and it broke his heart to see her this way…but it was better than the fury she had displayed after Gandalf fell.
For just an instant, Aragorn thought he saw her as a veiled bride clothed in twilight and a jewel at her throat. When she had howled, her Voice shook and broke the remainder of the Bridge and had sent terror stabbing into the Orcs and Boromir.
Aragorn had felt no terror, only sadness.
He hoped that she would not sink back into the darkness that Arwen had so determinedly pulled her out of. He had grown used to Branwen's smiles showing actual happiness rather than just biting wit or deep sadness. Aragorn hoped that passing through Lothlórien might be good for her and prayed that Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel would receive her as gladly as Master Elrond and Arwen's brothers had.
Past the lake, there was a large and deep spring of crystal-clear water from which the Silverlode began. Gimli said, "Here is the spring from which the Silverlode rises. Do not drink of it! It is icy cold!"
Aragorn continued from Gimli's words, "Soon it becomes a swift river and it gathers water from many other mountain streams. Our road leads beside it for many miles. For I shall take you by the road that Gandalf chose and, first, I hope to come to the woods where the Silverlode flows into the Great River—over there."
Aragorn noticed, as the others looked away from the spring toward the lower lands ahead cloaked in the golden leaves of the Mallorn trees, that Branwen disregarded Gimli's words as she stuck her waterskin into the spring with no apparent discomfort.
She finished and straightened up, unnoticed by the rest, as Legolas happily said, "There lie the woods of Lothlórien! That is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are not trees like the trees of that land. For in autumn their leaves fall not but turn to gold.
Not until the spring comes and the new green opens, do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers. The floor of the wood is then golden, golden is the roof, and it pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say. My heart would be glad if I were beneath the eaves of that wood and it were springtime!"
Aragorn replied, "My heart will be glad, even in the winter. But it lies many miles away. Let us hasten!"
His eyes went back to Branwen and saw there was now a glimmer of something in her eyes others than sorrow or anger as she looked upon the distant golden canopy.
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Branwen remembered the songs that Legolas had spoken of, as they were popular to sing among the Woodland Realm Elves. She remembered her time there in the Woodland Realm with some joy, but it had been tainted by the Shadow of Mirkwood. Now, she wondered, if Lothlórien might be all that the Woodland Realm had been but even more so.
It sounded as such from what Legolas said.
Branwen was also extremely aware now, as they walked, that she was approaching the Elven Domain where Arwen dwelt amongst her mother's people. Branwen was still unsure about how she might be received by Lady Celebrían's parents. She was still unsure how the adoption as Elrond's daughter would lead them to perceive her.
She was so very tempted to Veil her face but could only imagine how upset Arwen would be if…when she found out. Also, she highly doubted that Lady Galadriel, reputedly more powerful than even Lord Elrond, would be unable to See her Veil, even if the Elf-Lady could not See through it.
As their feet ate up the miles at Aragorn's fast pace, she found herself having to drawn on courage from Arwen's acceptance of her rather than her own heart. Her thoughts were interrupted by Legolas whispering to Aragorn, "Dúnadan, our Ring-bearer and his servant are falling behind."
Branwen looked back just as Aragorn did and found that Sam and Frodo were indeed lagging behind. Frodo looked very lethargic and drained while Sam's face was fixed as if he were in pain. The darkness of dried blood on his head reminded her that he was injured.
Aragorn halted their march to allow them to catch up. Branwen realized how many hours it had been since they had eaten as she was then aware of her stomach gnawing at her insides. Aragorn said to the two Hobbits, "I am sorry, Sam, Frodo! So much has happened this day and we have need of such haste, that I had forgotten Sam was hurt. Sam, you should have spoken. We have done nothing to ease you, as we should have, though all the Orcs in Moria were after us.
Come now! A little further on there is a place where we can rest for a little. There I believe Branwen and I will do what we can for you. Hop up, Sam! I shall carry you."
With Sam up on Aragorn's back and not unsteady on the ground, Frodo picked up his own pace and soon they found a small and picturesque clearing shaded by fir trees, formed by the joining of the Silverlode by another mountain stream. It appeared to be just three hours past noon.
Aragorn looked over Sam's head wound with a grimace as Branwen lit a fire with a word from wood that Pippin and Merry had gathered. They had a pot of water going soon to clean away Sam's wound before Aragorn pronounced, "You have good luck, Sam! Many have received worse that this in payment for the slaying of their first orc. The cut is not poisoned, as the wounds of Orc-blades too often are. It should heal well when we have tended it."
Branwen stepped forward. It did look much grislier than it truly was. She said, "Yes, head wounds bleed rather obnoxiously, but once we've cleaned it out, my little healing song should knit this shut. It's just little more than a flesh wound."
Aragorn nodded as he drew some dried leaves from his pouch, "Most excellent news for you, Sam! While they are dry and some of their virtue is gone, I still have here some of the leaves of athelas that I gathered near Weathertop. Merry, crush one in the water and I shall wash the wound clean."
The pungent but refreshing smell of athelas soon filled the clearing, easing everyone's spirits. Aragorn washed Sam's wound gently and the no-longer-so-pudgy Hobbit winced but remained quiet. The wound looked much better and not nearly so terrible once the dried blood and filth were cleared away.
Gently, Branwen placed her hands on either sides of Sam's head and began to sing.
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Frodo watched with rapt attention as Branwen sang her song over Sam. As golden ribbons of light snaked outward and gently caressed each of them while the Elf-maiden glowed with light, Frodo felt his heart and aches ease. Between the strong fragrance of athelas and her Voice, he felt a sense of peace come over him even as his thoughts turned to Gandalf.
What were they supposed to do without the Wizard?
While the grief had nearly knocked him flat when Gandalf fell, seeing the wrath of Branwen, as she cast down the rest of the Bridge with her Voice and shook the ground and air, had been terrible. And yet, Frodo had not been scared but only wished to raise up his own voice and scream with her, Sting held high and race into battle against the Orcs that had played a part in the death of his friend!
Her cry instilled fear in the hearts of the Orcs, but it had called him to arms!
When they had fled instead, he had kept close to her and he noticed his friends had done so as well without a word. He thought they had felt the same as he had; not fear but courageous fury to match the call of the Witch. Frodo had worried her power to be broken with her staff, beyond simple spells, but the bite of her sword had proved nearly as fatal.
When she had struck down the orc-captain with a single word, summoning forth lightning from her hand, Frodo knew that his hope was not so lost. Gandalf may be gone…but Branwen remained and she had promised to protect him.
Sam's wound was little more than a puckered pink line once her song was done and Sam looked worlds better, as did the others. Sam's hand went it his head and he smiled back at the fair Elf-maiden, "Thank you, Miss Branwen!"
She gifted him a kind look, "Of course, dear Sam. I could not let you on to suffer needlessly."
Frodo felt his heart warm. Yes, hope was not gone.
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After the Company had eaten and looked much more rested, Branwen watched as Aragorn and Legolas carefully erased signs of their presence from the clearing. Then, they climbed back up to the Road and were on their way again.
As Aragorn had warned, the sun had set early, hidden now on the other side of the Misty Mountains. As night descended and shadows spread, dense mist began to rise up from the grass around them within clearings. Though darkness raced Eastward from the horizon, in her Sight, the woods of Lórien seemed to glow with a subtle and soft golden light.
With everyone fed, watered, and Sam feeling much better, Aragorn marched them for another three hours and it was well and truly night. The blackness above was pierced by a great number of stars as the thin moon had not yet risen nor would it be of much use tonight to see by. Out of concern for being spotting by any Orcs that might be searching for them now that night had fallen, she did not summon any light.
She had little problem Seeing in the dark now, away from the Shadow of the Balrog, and the dark of the night sky was almost bright compared to the darkness beneath the mountains.
Branwen was up ahead with Aragorn when she happened to glance back. Gimli and Frodo were at the rear of the Company and she saw the twisted lifeform of Gollum a fair way back from them—the reaching tendril of the Ring that encased his heart. She frowned deeply and turned back ahead and reported quietly to Aragorn, "It seems our lurker from Moria has followed us somehow… He had disappeared this morning before we were attacked."
Aragorn looked surprised and asked, "Is there any creatures with him?"
Branwen shook her head, "No. So, shall I dispose of him?"
Aragorn's face became a little more mournful, "Let us leave him be…as Gandalf would have wanted."
Branwen sighed. Those were the exact words she had feared as the Wizard's voice rang in her mind even as she asked. Forgiveness and mercy, huh? She supposed she could give it another try, if only to honor the Wizard's sacrifice.
His death was no Machiavellian plot like Albus Dumbledore and Branwen would respect the completion of his promise to see them through Moria, even as it cost him everything.
Gimli's words drifted to her ears from the rear as the Dwarf declared to Frodo, "Not a sound but the wind. There are no goblins near or my ears are made of wood. It is to be hoped that the Orcs will be content with driving us from Moria. And maybe that was all their purpose and they had nothing to do with us—with the Ring. Though Orcs will often pursue foes for many miles into the plain, if they have a fallen captain to avenge."
Branwen was more than willing to fell many more than just the two she had killed today. She would not seek them out but crossing blades with her would be the last thing they would do.
She glanced back in time to see Frodo twist around suddenly. Her Sight saw only the barely visible eyes of Gollum looking at them before he ducked behind a bush. Frodo looked leery and she wondered if he had seen Gollum.
Gimli asked Frodo, his low voice just barely reaching her ears, "What is it?"
Frodo frowned, still glancing back, "I don't know. I thought I heard feet and I thought I saw a light—like eyes. I have thought so often since we first entered Moria."
Branwen felt a bit of pleasant surprise. Frodo was much more aware that she had thought him to be… She wondered if maybe their mutual connection to the Ring allowed him to sense Gollum easier.
Gimli paused and stooped down to listen. Just before they went out of sight, hidden by the thickening shrubbery, she called back, "Gimli, Frodo! Hurry along! Let us not be separated in the dark."
Gimli straightened up and told Frodo as they trotted to catch up, "I hear nothing but the night-speech of plant and stone."
Aragorn looked at them curiously and then her. Branwen wondered if her ears were keener than his as it did not seem he had heard the discussion between Frodo and Gimli. She whispered to him, "Frodo has noticed our lurker but is doubting himself. I think that speaks well that he even noticed."
Aragorn nodded, "Indeed."
It was only a short while later that they approached an archway, formed by tall silver trees with curving branches wreathed in golden leaves, across the Road and besides the Silverlode. A gentle breeze rose up and the sounds of it through the thousands of golden leaves beyond sounded almost like river rapids. The golden light within the Unseen gave everything in her Sight a beautiful luminescence. Under the bows of these trees, the shadows were gentle and very little could hide from her gaze.
Legolas seemed as happy as she felt as he rejoiced, "Lothlórien! We have come to the eaves of the Golden Wood! Regrettable that it is winter and not spring."
Aragorn seemed to agree with his joy and she had not heard happiness like this in his voice since Imladris, "Lothlórien! Glad I am to hear again the wind in the trees! We are still little more than fifteen miles from the Gates, but we can go no further. Here, let us hope that the virtue of the Elves will keep us tonight from the peril that comes behind."
Gimli said grimly, "If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world."
Legolas replied, "It has been long since any of my own folk journeyed here back to the land once we wandered in ages long ago, but we hear that Lórien is not yet deserted, for there is a secret power here that holds evil from the land and the formidable Lord and Lady of Lórien is believed to still preside over its boughs.
Nevertheless, its folk are seldom seen, and maybe they dwell now deep in the woods and far from the Northern border."
Aragorn spoke up, "Indeed, deep in the wood they dwell. We must fend for ourselves tonight. We will go forward a short way, until the trees are all about us, and then we will turn aside from the path and seek a place to rest in."
Boromir did not appear convinced and asked, "Is there no other way?"
Aragorn responded with a question, "What other fairer way would you desire?"
Boromir answered resolute, "A plain road, even if it led through a hedge of swords. By strange paths has this Company been led and so far to evil fortune. Against my will, we passed under the shades of Moira, to our loss. And now we must enter the Golden Wood, you say. But of this perilous land we have heard in Gondor, and it is said that few come out who once go in—and of that few, none of escape unscathed."
Branwen Saw that the Ring had latched onto Boromir's heart again. It appeared that the Ring was attempting to manipulate its way to staying outside of Lórien, to likely keep them outside of its protection and in danger of discovery by Orcs.
Aragorn disputed Boromir's words, "Say not 'unscathed', but if you say 'unchanged', then maybe then you will speak the truth. But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise, they now speak evil of Lothlórien. Believe what you will, there is no other way for us—unless you would go back to the Gates of Moria, scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River alone."
Boromir relented, the Ring's influence not strong enough to dissuade him from logic, "Then lead on! But it is perilous."
Aragorn nodded, "Perilous indeed. Fair and perilous, but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!"
Branwen felt that returning nervousness, wondering again how she would be received by the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien, so did not speak up. Had she been less anxious, she might have reminded them that her sister dwelled her for great lengths and that these were the people of her father's wife, but she was so, she did not.
They journeyed a mile under the golden boughs before they came across another stream that joined the Silverlode. If Moria and Mirrormere had been the delight of Gimli, Lothlórien appeared to be the delight of Legolas. Upon seeing the joining stream, he spoke with joy, "Here is Nimrodel! Of this stream, the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, and still we sing them in the North, remembering the rainbow in its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken.
I will bath my feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary."
Legolas removed his shoes quickly and stepped gracefully into the water, "Follow me! The water is not deep. Let us wade across! On the further bank we can rest and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief."
Branwen saw Aragorn pull his boots off before she sighed and followed his lead. Having removed her boots, she rolled up her breeches to avoid them getting wet, before stepping into the stream. The cool water ran over her tired feet and up towards her calves and she could admit that it did feel wonderful.
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Aragorn's eyes had drifted to the shape of Branwen's supple calves before he quickly looked away. As tired as she had appeared before, in the starlight under golden leaves with water caressing her shapely legs, he felt his throat had gone dry.
He glanced over and saw that Boromir was also struggling with keeping his eyes away from the sight of her legs being displayed as she elegantly walked through the stream towards Legolas. It seemed most of them were glancing at the oblivious Branwen.
It was rare for a woman or Elf-maiden to show so much bare skin.
Finally, she was across and rolling down her breeches again. Aragorn found himself thankful for cloaks as he had not realized how the breeches had hugged the curvature of her backside before. Aragorn was glad for the cool water that washed over his feet and ankles as it shocked him back into his proper thinking.
He was currently grieving the death of his dear friend! They were presently on a mission of secrecy to destroy the Ring of Sauron! He and Arwen were pledged to one another for marriage once her bride price was filled!
However…he could not stop his thoughts from going back to Arwen's words either. Aragorn reached down and splashed some cool water on his face as well. This was not the time to be thinking of such things.
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Branwen sometimes forgot she was in a medieval society until males would all freeze when a woman showed an ankle or, heaven forbid, a calf! It was like they forgot the cleavage bearing dresses barmaids used to entice customers inside and buy just one more round of whatever they were ordering.
Silly boys… They might keel over if they were introduced to the concept of bikinis! Not that she was much fond of the beach.
After slipping her boots back onto her dry feet, she ate a small meal with the rest of them besides the stream as Legolas talked about Lothlórien that the Elves of Mirkwood held in their hearts. She had heard a number of tales when she was among them and even more so from Arwen.
After a while, he was silent, and the sound of the gurgling stream and small waterfall nearby was pleasant. Legolas then spoke of the Elf-maiden Nimrodel, for whom the stream was named after, and sang a lengthy song before he grew quiet again. Legolas touched a bit upon the Fading of the Eldar, though he did not name it as such, and the tragedy of Nimrodel.
Branwen thought it was strange, trying to forget the grief of Gandalf by instead mourning for the Elder Days.
Legolas spoke, "It is told that Nimrodel had a house built in the branches of a tree that grew near the falls, for that was the custom of the Elves of Lórien, to dwell in the trees, and maybe it is so still. Therefore, they were called Galadhrim, the Tree-people. Deep in their forest, the trees are very great. The people of the woods did not delve in the ground like Dwarves nor build strong places of stone before the Shadow came."
Branwen felt a bit curious as to why Legolas spoke as if his own people did not live among the trees. Then she remembered that Elvenking Thranduil and his court lived in the Elvenking's Halls and only the lesser folk among the Woodland Realm actually dwelled in the trees. Maybe it had not always been so? Maybe they had not adopted that until Spiders began infesting Greenwood the Great and it became known as Mirkwood instead? That would make some sense.
Gimli replied to Legolas, looking back at the Road and then up into the branches above that shimmered softly in her Sight, "And even in these latter days, dwelling in the tress might be thought safer than sitting on the ground."
Aragorn said, "Your words bring good counsel, Gimli. We cannot build a house, but tonight we will do as the Galadhrim and seek refuge in the treetops, if we can. We have sat here beside the road already longer than was wise."
Branwen felt some doubt that Orcs would trespass here, but she could be wrong. As it were, Gollum was only a little way away up the stream, hidden in the undergrowth, and watching them intently.
They walked deeper off the path and among the trees themselves. While it became much darker to mundane eyes, the glow of the trees in the Unseen left her with clear vision. There was little darkness here under their boughs in her Sight. Eventually, they came to a cluster of large trees that stretched high above. They had reached the base of them before Branwen noticed, among the glow of the trees themselves, there was the light of three immortal lifeforces peeking down at them from between the thick cover of leaves.
Elves.
Legolas announced, "I will climb up. I am home among the trees, by root or bough, though these trees are of a kind strange to me, save as a name in song. Mellyrn they are called and are those that bear the yellow blossom, but I have never climbed in one. I will see now what is their shape and way of growth."
Pippin commented, "Whatever it may be, they will be marvelous trees indeed if they can offer any rest at night except to birds. I cannot sleep on a perch!"
Legolas' response made her chuckle as he rebutted, "Then dig a hole in the ground if that is more after the fashion of your kind. But you must dig swift and deep, if you wish to hide form Orcs."
Before Legolas went to jump upward, Branwen said loudly, so that her Voice carried up to the platform she could only barely make out high above, "Perhaps our hosts can join us first instead of peeping down on our heads."
Legolas froze as Aragorn looked at her in question. Three voices of laughter came from the platform before one spoke, "We had not heard the voice of an Elf-maiden as you walked into our wood, only the voice of our Northern kindred. It is a surprise that you have spotted us! Some of your party breathe so loudly that we could shoot them in the dark! Have no fear though! We heard the voice of our Northern kinsman from across the Nimrodel and so did not hinder your company. What is it that you are doing in our woods?"
Branwen replied to the hidden Elf, "I have had no reason to speak. As for what, we are a company from Imladris on an errand of great importance from Master Elrond. Now, will you come down or will you force a lady to climb?"
There was no answer immediately and Merry asked, "Who are they? What do they say?"
Sam berated, "They're Elves! Can't you hear their voices?"
Branwen said, her dry wit coming through, "Yes, they're Elves currently debating whether they will climb down or if they will make me climb up. They also say you breathe loud enough that they could shoot you in the dark, but they heard Legolas' voice, so they did not impede our way."
Sam slapped his hands over his mouth.
The Elf's voice then came down again, "Though it pains to ask this of you, if you are who I believe you are, my lady, would you climb up to us with our Northern kinsman along with the Hobbit named Frodo Baggins, if he should be with you? We ask that all others remain below to keep watch until our course is decided."
Branwen watched as a slender rope ladder, glimmering silver in the low light, descended from the treetop. Well, that was certainly much easier than trying to climb up tree branches. Their words also gave her a bit of hope for her reception.
Branwen jumped up onto the ladder and called, "Come along, Frodo! The Elves would like to speak with you as well. It seems they have heard of us! Lads, man the watch, if you would be so kind until this is sorted."
Legolas followed right behind her, then Frodo, and Sam as well. As she climbed, she noticed the branches of the Mallorn tree grew rather like candelabra—first straight out and then curving upward. That was until they reached trunk crowned into a starburst of many arching boughs. It was in the crown, far above the forest floor, that there was a wooden platform built and she climbed up through a hole close to the trunk.
Rising through, she found three elves—all garbed and hooded in shadowy grey clothing so that they were nearly invisible in the darkness. In her Sight, besides the brightness of their lifeforces, they were not so invisible in the glow of the Mallorn tree they perched in.
All three looked at her with surprise before Legolas came up through the platform. She bowed her head graciously and said, "Well met, friends. I am Branwen Anaróriel, daughter of Elrond, and this is Legolas son of Thranduil Elvenking."
The lead Elf spoke as they bowed a bit, "Good evening, Lady Branwen, Prince Legolas. My apologies for our rudeness! We had heard that Lord Elrond had welcomed a daughter into his household…but your appearance caught us by surprise."
Branwen nodded with understanding, "Yes, I am aware that my resemblance to my sister is rather startlingly. Now, let us move on to matters of import, shall we?"
He nodded, "Of course, my lady. As a daughter of Elrond, of course, you are also a daughter of Lady Celebrían and we will expedite you as quickly as we are able. I am Haldir and these are my brothers Rúmil and Orophin."
Branwen supposed that answered her uncertainty of whether her adoption applied only as Elrond's daughter or if she was also considered Celebrían's daughter. Hopefully, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel were not too put off by her.
Legolas said, "Well met, my friends! It is wonderful to see friendly faces again after these last few weeks in the Wilderness."
Haldir gestured to some graceful stools off towards an observation deck and asked, "Please, sit and join us while we wait for the two still climbing!"
Branwen sat down with Legolas next to her and the other Elves sat as well. Haldir asked, "Is it true that you are a skilled magician, Lady Branwen? We had heard stories that you are powerful enough to stand in the face of the Nine."
Branwen frowned minutely, very aware of the loss of her staff, "That was previously true. Unfortunately, during our travels, my staff was broken and I will require a new one in order to fully access my strength again."
Legolas laughed, "But please do not think that means her powerless! Just today, she killed eight Orcs, two of them captains, and she is well skilled with a sword!"
Haldir and his brothers laughed with glee. Before Branwen could expand or retort, Frodo and Sam then came through the platform hole and Haldir's attention went to the Hobbits. Haldir stood up, along with his brothers, as he picked up a veiled lamp and shined its silver light onto Frodo's and Sam's faces before closing it again.
Apparently, whatever he was looking for satisfied him and Haldir greeted the Hobbits, "Good evening!"
Frodo stuttered through his own response before Haldir switched to Westron, "Welcome! We seldom use any tongue but our own; for we dwell now in the heart of the forest and do not willingly have dealings with any other folk. Even our own kindred in the North are sundered from us. But there are some of us still who go abroad for the gathering of news and the watching of our enemies, and they speak the languages of other lands. I am one. Haldir is my name. My brother, Rúmil and Orophin, speak little of your tongue.
But we have heard of your coming, for a messenger of Elrond passed through Lórien to the Lord and Lady with news of Lady Branwen's potential arrival. Other messengers we saw on their way home up the Dimrill Stair. We had not heard of Hobbits—halflings—for many a long year and did not know that any still dwelt in Middle Earth.
You do not look evil! And since you come with our Lady Branwen and an Elf of our Kindred, we are willing to befriend you, as Elrond asked—though it is not our custom to lead strangers through our land— we shall oblige you, as you accompany our Lady Branwen.
But you all must stay here tonight. How many are you, Lady Branwen?"
Branwen almost wanted to laugh. Of course Elrond would send a messenger ahead of her to inform her adoptive grandparents… That sounded strange to think of that she had grandparents.
She answered, "There are nine of us—including myself and Legolas, there are four Hobbits, a man of Gondor, Aragorn son of Arathorn, and a Dwarf."
Haldir looked disturbed, "We are glad to welcome back Aragorn son of Arathorn, as he has the favor of the Lady, but a Dwarf… That is not well. We have not had dealing with Dwarves since the Dark Days. They are not permitted in our land. I cannot allow him to pass."
Branwen replied, "Myself and the rest of our company are in some debt to Gimli son of Glóin as he assisted with guiding us through the Shadow of Moria. He was chosen by my father to accompany our mission."
Frodo spoke up as well, "He is also of the Lonely Mountain and one of Dáin's trusted people! He has been brave and faithful!"
Haldir looked rather conflicted and asked, "Should a fault come from the Dwarf, would you allow yourself to be held responsible? And the others that accompany you as well?"
Branwen nodded, "I will take full responsibility for this Company."
Legolas spoke quickly, "As will I. I am sure that Aragorn will vouch for Gimli as well."
Haldir glanced at his brothers before he nodded, "As you say then, Lady Branwen. We will do this, though it is against our liking. If Aragorn and Legolas will guard him, and you and they will answer for him, he shall pass, but he must go blindfolded through Lothlórien.
But now, we will debate no longer. It is rude to impose on a lady such as yourself!
Your folk must not remain on the ground. We have been keeping watch on the rivers, ever since we saw a great troop of Orcs going North towards Moria, along the skirts of the mountains, many days ago. Wolves are howling on the wood's border. If you have indeed come from Moria, the peril cannot be far behind. Early tomorrow, you must go on.
The four Hobbits and yourself as well, if you wish, Lady Branwen, shall climb up here and stay with us—we do not fear the Hobbits! There is another deck in the next tree. There the others must take refuge." He pointed at the platform just visible to her Sight.
Branwen said, "I shall entrust our dear Hobbits to you to mind them while Legolas and I shall keep an eye on the rest of our Company."
Haldir nodded, "Very good, my lady. Call us if anything is amiss!"
Branwen looked at Frodo and Sam and teased, "You two be on your best behavior and if Peregrin Took has any funny ideas, push him out of the tree for me, will you?"
That got some smiles from the two before she and Legolas climbed back down. Aragorn asked once they were descended, "Well then?"
Branwen told Merry and Pippin, "Climb on up. You'll be staying with the three Elves up top tonight. There is another platform the rest of us shall be sleeping on. Master Elrond set word ahead that we would be passing through and they will guide us tomorrow early. Gimli, they've given leave for you to enter as well, but you will have to be blindfolded."
Gimli sputtered but she pressed on, "It does not appear to be something negotiable."
Legolas concurred, "Yes, even though Lady Branwen vouched for you and they recognize her as Lady Celebrían's daughter—the daughter of the Lord and Lady of Lórien—they still insisted. I shall go up into the next tree to bring down the ladder. The sentries told us that a large company of Orcs passed by some days ago North to Moria and Wolves have been prowling the forest border."
Aragorn nodded, "Well, Boromir, would you still have preferred to go elsewhere?"
Boromir frowned, "I like it not… My apologies to you, Legolas and Branwen, but Elves are a queer folk and I have only heard more so about the land of Lórien."
Branwen shrugged it off easily, still trying to wrap her head around her fluctuating identity, and said, "The important thing is to get off the forest floor and that we have guides to take us through Lórien and fight with us should we meet any servants of Shadow."
Aragorn declared, "Indeed! For now, let us stow our baggage down here, so as to avoid the strain of carrying it up."
They did so and all of them hid their bags, except Branwen as her enchanted bag was very light, in a deep drift of leaves. Aragorn meticulously rearranged it to hide the bags and the fact the pile had ever been touched. Legolas had thrown down the rope ladder and they quickly climbed up, sans the Hobbits.
Haldir then came by with a pack of food that was much fresher than their aged rations and some flasks of warming liquor—not nearly as potent or as rejuvenating as the cordial of Imladris, but very welcome. He had also brought some fur cloaks for them and Branwen was happy that she had kept her own in her bag from before Moria instead of discarding it.
Branwen fell asleep soon after, wrapped in her fur cloak and blanket on the platform. Aragorn laid nearby and she felt a sense of peace as the others bedded down as well.
҉
The Third Age – January 15th, 3019 – Very Late Evening
Branwen was awoken by a gentle shaking and she sat up immediately, Aragorn's finger to his lips. Legolas was also up and peering down intently while Boromir and Gimli remained sleeping. Far below and back towards the Road, she could hear the sound of many boots and shifting armor.
In her Sight, through the cover of the leaves, she saw a great many Orcs marching in line through the forest. Likely almost a hundred or more. Branwen was shocked that they would dare to march into an Elven Domain so openly and in so many numbers.
She saw the three Elves, only visible by their lifeforces in her Sight as they were so stealthy, prowling in the treetops. Branwen glanced back towards the other platform and saw that one of the Elves had retracted their rope ladder and it appeared Frodo was sitting up. The Elf, Orophin she thought, descended back down and gracefully crept along a thick branch before crossing to another tree.
It was as she glanced that way, she saw Gollum creeping up from the opposite side of the three, looking intently at the hidden platform, and before he began to climb. She hissed with anger and pulled her bow and an arrow from her pack. Branwen had not cared greatly about Gollum as long as he kept his distance, but this was too much.
She nocked the arrow and pulled it back to her ear as her bowstring moaned slightly.
Aragorn looked at her and then whispered harshly, "What are you doing!? What are you aiming at!? We cannot alert the Orcs!"
Shit! He was right… If she killed him, his blood would draw them as Orcs were supposed to have strong noses, especially for blood. If she wounded him, he would scream and yell… Then she had no choice but to scare him away.
With her Voice, she commanded to her arrow with a whisper, "Fly near my target," followed by, "Silence."
Gollum would be unable to make a sound, voice or otherwise, though it strained her without her staff at such a distance, even using Sindarin. Gollum seemed to pause with some confusion as the silencing spell took effect and she released her arrow, the well-made Elvish fletching left it whisper-silent in its flight, and the arrow curved slightly to correct her aim before it passed within a foot of Gollum.
The hideous creature fell to the ground in fear, his thrashing in the bush below silent, before he ran off. Branwen felt herself sweating as she maintained the silence on him before she felt he was far enough away and allowed it to release. She panted as quietly as she could as Aragorn said, "Well done… That must have taken it out of you."
She nodded, "Yeah… Doing that at a distance and silencing completely is…difficult. Especially without my staff."
The sounds of the Orcs faded as she sat recuperating against the tree trunk on the platform. A short while passed before Haldir popped up into the tree, carrying her arrow. His eyes took in her, Aragorn, Legolas, and then the still-sleeping forms of Boromir and Gimli. He asked, his voice agitated but quiet, "Who shot at the creature while the Orcs were passing?"
Branwen whispered back, "That was me, Haldir. Fear not, I silenced him so that no sound would come from either his voice or his movements. He is a foul thing and has been following us since shortly after we entered Moria. I had been content to leave him be, but when I saw him moving towards the Hobbits…well, the only reason I did not kill him was because I did not want the Orcs to smell the blood."
Haldir looked mollified and then impressed, "I had thought my ears had failed me for a moment as, just as I saw him and thinking he was a Hobbit, your arrow went past him and he fell but made no sound. Your arrow also curved in flight! Was that your magic as well, Lady Branwen?"
Branwen nodded, "Yes. What of the Orcs though?"
Haldir became more serious, "A strong company of Orcs has passed through. They crossed the Nimrodel—curse their foul feet in its clean water! Then they went on down the old road beside the river. They seemed to pick up a scent and they searched the ground for a while near the place where your Company halted.
The three of us could not challenge a hundred, so we went ahead and spoke with feigned voices, leading them on into the wood. Orophin has now gone in haste back to our dwellings to warn our people. None of the Orcs will ever return out of Lórien. And there will be many Elves hidden on the Northern border before another night falls. But, Lady Branwen, you and your Company must take the road South as soon as it is fully light."
Branwen nodded as Aragorn replied, "Thank you, Haldir, for your protection."
Haldir bowed, "You are welcome. I shall take my leave and stay with the Hobbits in case this creature you shot at comes back."
Branwen settled back down after she saw the Ring's wandering thread for Gollum had disappeared. He appeared to have fled and she hoped he would not come back. She had not killed him because of Gandalf's words and the Orcs of Moria and then the warband of Orcs this time, but the wretched thing was testing his Fate.
She would try for Gandalf's mercy, in honor of his memory, but she would not spare Gollum needlessly either. With that, she turned over and went back to sleep.
҉
The Third Age – January 16th, 3019
They departed early the next morning, the sunlight filtering yellow through the golden canopy down to them. Oddly, it seemed like the weather felt closer to an early autumn morning or maybe late spring—cool but very pleasant. The all-encompassing boughs of the Mallorn trees left only shallow patches of blue sky available to be seen.
Haldir and Rúmil guided them back to the path alongside the Silverlode. The road was full of boot prints from the Orcs, but of them, there was no further sign as they continued Southward. After a short while, Branwen Saw the lifeforce of another Elf on the other side of the Silverlode in the brush.
Haldir drew them off towards the hidden Elf and said to the Company, "There is one of my people over across the stream, though you may not see him."
He issued a whistle like a bird and the hidden Elf stepped out to reveal he wore the same grey garb, but his hood was thrown back to show blonde hair. Haldir threw a length of their special grey rope across the stream to the new Elf and he caught it before tying it around a tree by the bank.
Haldir explained, "Celebrant is already a strong stream here, as you see, and it runs both swift and deep and is very cold. We do not set foot in it so far north unless we must. But in these days of watchfulness, we do not make bridges. This is how we cross! Follow me!"
Branwen considered the stream before her. When she had dunked her waterskin in the spring that spawned the Silverlode, despite Gimli's warning, it had been like touching liquid ice. Having it expected it, she had not made a sound, but she could not imagine it was pleasant wading or swimming through it.
Haldir had fastened his end of rope to a tree on their side and, with only the grace an Elf could possess, ran across its length effortlessly. Oddly enough, she felt that it might take some concentration, but she thought she likely could replicate the feat as the stream was not terribly wide across here.
Legolas spoke though, "Lady Branwen and I can walk this path," and that gave her some confidence if Legolas thought so, even if he did not know she was technically human, "but the others have not this skill. Must they swim?"
Haldir said, "No! We have two more ropes. We will fasten them one above the other—one shoulder-high and one half-high—and holding these the strangers should be able to cross."
The Elves worked quickly to do just that. Legolas crossed first, needing no support from the other ropes, before Aragorn ushered her to go. Branwen found it rather easier than she had expected and only very lightly ran her fingers across the half-high rope.
The others crossed after, some with more difficulty and some with less. Gimli and the Hobbits were the least sure-footed. Rúmil stayed back on the other side and gave a wave before departing back to his station with one of the released ropes over his shoulder.
Haldir then said, "Now, friends, you have entered the Naith of Lórien, or the Gore, as you would say, for it is the land that lies like a spearhead head between the arms of the Silverlode and Anduin the Great. We allow no strangers to spy out the secrets of the Naith. Few indeed are permitted to even set foot here.
As was agreed, I shall here blindfold the eyes of Gimli the Dwarf. The others may walk free for a while, until we come nearer to our dwellings, down in Egladil, in the Angle between the waters."
Gimli puffed out his chest with some indignation. He had not had the opportunity last night, but it appeared he was ready to fight this and replied, "The agreement was made without my consent! I will not walk blindfolded, like a beggar or a prisoner. And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Lady Branwen, Legolas, or any other of my companions!"
Haldir nodded, "I do not doubt you, as Lady Branwen has vouched for you. Yet, this is our law. I am not the master of the law and cannot set it aside. I have done much in letting you set foot over Celebrant."
Gimli spread his feet apart and declared, "I will go forward free or I go back and seek my own land, where I am known to be true of word, though I may perish alone in the Wilderness!"
Haldir was now stern, "You cannot go back. Now that you have come thus far, you must be brought before the Lord and the Lady. They shall judge you, to hold you or to give you leave, as they will. You cannot cross the river again and behind you there are now secret sentinels that you cannot pass. You would be slain before you saw them."
Branwen felt her jaw clench. This was not how she imagined things would precede and she doubted her word held much weight at all, considering that she was merely adopted and had not even met the Lord and Lady yet.
Gimli, in a flash, drew his axe and Haldir and his companion drew their bows. Legolas angrily said, "A plague on Dwarves and their stiff necks!"
Branwen's Voice rang the air like a gong, "ENOUGH!"
Everyone flinched away from the sudden sound before they found her glaring eyes. Gimli lowered his axe as Haldir and the other Elf lowered their bows. Aragorn then spoke, his words directed at the Fellowship, "If I am still to lead this Company, then you must heed my orders. It is hard upon Gimli to be singled out. We will all be blindfolded, even Legolas. That will be best, though it will make the journey slow and dull."
This seemed to please Gimli and he laughed, "A merry troop of fools we shall look! Will Haldir lead us all on a string, like many blind beggars with one dog? But I will be content if Legolas here shares my blindness."
Legolas was now angry, "I am an Elf and a kinsman here!"
Aragorn threw his words back at the Elf-prince, "Now let us cry—'a plague on the stiff necks of Elves!' But the Company shall all fare alike. Come, bind out eyes, Haldir!"
Gimli pronounced, "I shall claim full amends for every fall and stubbed toe, if you do not lead us well."
Haldir answered with no concern as he bound the Dwarf's eyes, "You will have no claim. I shall lead you well and the paths are smooth and straight."
When Haldir came to Legolas, the Elf-prince groaned, "Sadly for the folly of these days! Here all are enemies of the one Enemy and yet I must walk blind, while the sun is merry in the woodland under the leaves of gold!"
Haldir answered as he bound Legolas' eyes, "Folly it may seem. In nothing is the power of the Dark Lord more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all those who still oppose him. Yet so little faith and trust do we find now in the world beyond Lothlórien, unless maybe in Rivendell, that we dare not endanger our land by our own trust. We live now upon an island amid many perils and our hands are more often upon the bowstring than upon the harp."
The others were now all blindfolded with wrists bound in a single file and Aragorn was at the head of the line. The rope around their wrists connected to a loop tied loosely around the person in front of them. Branwen then stepped forward, the last to be blindfolded, and Haldir looked at her with confusion before she said, "Am I not to be blindfolded?"
The Elf's face paled and he shook his head fiercely, "No, my lady! I dare not! By rite of adoption, you are Lady's Celebrían's daughter as surely as you are Lord Elrond's! You are not just of kin, you are among your mother's people over which her esteemed parents, the Lord and the Lady, watch over! I could never dare to bind your eyes and wrists!"
Branwen replied, "Well, you must today for I am here as part of this Company and I shall be part of the merry troop of fools. Should there be any questions, you can say that you were ordered to do so by me, but I will not walk freely while the others must be blinded and bound. As I had said to you last night, we all owe Gimli some debt for helping guide us through Moria and so I will honor that."
Haldir looked incredibly conflicted as she noticed Gimli seemed to puff up a bit in pride at her words. Finally, Haldir bowed his head, "Please forgive me then, my lady, and I beg of you to explain this to the Lord and the Lady as I fear they will look at me most unkind."
Branwen smiled, "Fear not, Haldir. I will assuredly do so and there is nothing to forgive." She then leaned forward and whispered, "This is an act of solidarity, but I assure you, if I wanted, no mere rope or blindfold could hold me."
That seemed to reassure him and she was quickly, but gently, blindfolded and her wrists bound with a length of rope like the rest. She felt herself being led to the front of the line ahead of Aragorn and his length of rope was attached around her waist.
Soon, they were on their way and it was as Haldir had promised—the path was smooth and soft with no concerns of falling or stubbed toes. While slow going, the walk was rather pleasant as the leaves rustled gently in the wind and was accompanied by birdsong. The sun was warm when they passed through clearings. She could feel the Wyld around her deepening and it felt…almost like when Hermione had taken her back with that Time-Turner, as if she were going backwards.
The land around them felt younger, more vibrant, and youthful. It felt like Imladris, but even more so, as a bone-deep weariness she had not noticed seemed to ebb. Branwen wondered what she would See once this blindfold was removed.
They walked all day and into the night. Unfortunately, they still had a way to go, so they slept on the ground, still blindfolded with wrists bound. The ground was soft though and Branwen knew that there was no threat in these woods and so slept easily.
҉
The Third Age – January 17th, 3019
They started out again the next morning and continued on an easy walk. It was after a few hours, Branwen believed it to be around noon, that she felt the Wyld shift as many presences approached them on silent feet and only their soft Elvish voices gave them away.
One spoke, "Greetings, Haldir! I see you have me the Company that Lord Elrond's messengers had spoken of?"
Haldir's voice answered, "Yes, and I bring them now to the Lord and the Lady."
"Very good. We march now to the Northern border to guard against any attacks from Moria. The force that had entered the forest the night before last has been almost all destroyed. The last of them have been driven out West towards the mountains and are being hunted as we speak.
There was also a strange creature that was seen by some. Odd in appearance, running like a beast on hands and feet, but clearly no beast. It eluded our capture and we refrained from shooting it as we could not tell if it was either of good or evil. It vanished South down Celebrant."
"I believe I know what creature it is that you speak of, as I had seen it myself."
"Yes, rather strange thing, I am sure. Also, I bring word from the Lord and the Lady. Of this Company, all are to walk freely—even Gimli the Dwarf. The Lady knows of each member of this Company."
Branwen, still blindfolded and bound, smiled at this. That was good news. It was met with sounds appreciation from those who did not understand Sindarin after Haldir translated. Haldir turned to her first and removed the blindfold as he said, "I beg your pardon again, my lady! Surely, I will be struck with misfortune for this!"
Branwen opened her eyes and took in the sight of a hill to the left encircled by two rings of trees—the outer trees boasted bark as white as new snow and leafless as they should be in winter. The inner circle were more Mallorn trees but of colossal height and with sweeping branches covered in golden leaves. A massive white platform stretched between these Mallorn trees and was held aloft from the large mound far below that was carpeted in the greenest grass she had ever seen, yellow flowers like stars, and little white ones like snowflake on the grass. The sun shined brightly from the clear blue sky above.
Branwen smiled, the beauty stunning her, before she turned back to Haldir unbinding her wrists and spoke, "As I said, fear not, Haldir. No misfortune should befall you when I have asked for you to do so. Speak the truth, if you should be asked, and I assure you, no blame shall come upon you."
Haldir bowed his head in thanks, "You truly are as kind and gracious as Lady Arwen, with whom you look so alike. Let me be the first to welcome you home, Lady Branwen, for this is your home as surely as Imladris is."
Branwen graced him with a kind smile and stepped aside to take in the heart of Lothlórien while he ran to Gimli next and said to the Dwarf while unbinding him, "Your pardon! Look on us now with friendly eyes! Look and be glad, for you are the first Dwarf to behold the trees of the Naith of Lórien since Durin's Day!"
Once everyone had been unbound and given back their sight, Haldir threw his arms back towards the hill twice-encircled with the giant platform high above, "Behold! You are come to Cerin Amroth! For this is the heart of the ancient realm as it was long ago and here is the mound of Amroth, where in happier days his high house was built. Here ever bloom the winter flowers in the unfading grass—the yellow Elanor and the pale Niphredil. Here we will stay awhile and come to the city of the Galadhrim at dusk."
The others laid down in the luscious grass of the hillside, except Frodo and Sam who stared about with wonder and awe. Branwen could understand as everything just seemed more. Within her Sight, everything hummed and pulsed full of life and energy that she had never before witnessed in the world as a golden glow saturated the land and filled the air. It was as if something had simply stopped time for the land of Lórien and it existed in just that ideal moment—no darkness, no decay, and everything near as perfect as the world could be.
Branwen joined the Hobbits and said, "Quite a sight, isn't it, Mister Baggins, Mister Gamgee?"
Frodo seemed to have no words, but Sam replied, "It's sunlight and bright day, right enough. I thought Elves were all for moon and stars, but this is more Elvish than anything I ever heard tell of. I feel as if I am inside a song, if you take my meaning."
Haldir smiled, as if he perfectly understood, and asked them, "You feel the power of the Lady of the Galadhrim. Would it please you to climb with me up Cerin Amroth?"
Branwen followed easily up the hillside, her raven curls caught in the South wind that blew upon her as she entered the first circle. Oddly enough, she swore that she could hear the sound of waves and gulls of some sort though they were far from the Sea.
She followed behind Haldir, the Hobbits were enraptured on the mound but quickly trotted to catch up. When they had reached the platform, Haldir pointed South and said, "Look this way first!"
Off in the distance was a large hill covered in the largest trees Branwen had ever laid eyes on—looking almost like green spires and skyscrapers than trees, they were so humungous. It appeared like a city and she understood that was where the Elves of Lothlórien dwelt as she Saw the hill was thick with the golden aura that covered all of Lórien. If Sauron and other fell beings could cast Shadows on the Unseen, then this was like a Glow.
Her eyes tracked Eastward until she saw the Anduin, that she had once boated down, and then, far past the empty plain between, rose Southern Mirkwood. Its Shadow was as thick and disgusting as she remembered, if not more.
Branwen had no desire to look upon it and cast one last glance before descending back down. She mounted the hill of Cerin Amroth and drew in a breath of life around her. Without another thought, she cast her cloak off and threw herself down into the grass amongst the flowers and allowed herself to simply be.
For whatever reason, this place at the top of the hill, felt so very special to her.
҉
Aragorn entered the first circle of trees of Cerin Amroth. His thoughts went back to that night so many years ago, where he confessed his love to Arwen, but did not ask for her hand as he still loved with Branwen and was ashamed of it.
Despite it all, this was still a place of happiness for him as he walked further within.
He then noticed someone laying on the top of the hill. Aragorn walked up until he saw it was Branwen. She appeared fast asleep with her wild tresses splayed out around her and her skin so perfectly beautiful in the daylight. The corners of her pouty petal-pink lips were only the very slightest upturned in a subtle smile, as if she were dreaming of only happy things. With her cloak cast to the side, her petite yet shapely form was shown by her fitted green tunic and jerkin and tailored breeches.
Seeing her here, it felt right…almost as right when he had stood here with Arwen decades before.
Her eyes then slowly opened, so green that they made the grass appear pale, and, though he had been caught gazing upon her, she only smiled bigger. She was the image of loveliness itself. How was it possible that there was another that could send his heart racing as quickly as Arwen did? Branwen then said, "Sit with me, Estel. I don't believe I have ever felt the world so alive around me before."
He could not have said no if he tried…
Branwen had become a part of his life since she had left Bree behind and, no matter how he protested, his heart did not seem to care of his own desires or thoughts. Aragorn had come to care for Branwen deeply, beyond just as a fond memory under moonlight, as they talked and laughed together in Rivendell, most often Arwen with them. He had grown protective of her during their journeys in the Wilderness even as he marveled at the skill and power she had shown.
It felt as inevitable as the changing of the seasons…the growing love that he felt for the Morningstar, just as he so dearly loved the Evenstar.
҉
Branwen heard footsteps as someone walked up the hillside towards her. Without opening her eyes, she already knew who it was. She had become intimately familiar with the sound of his gait next to her during the darkness of Moria and then him walking behind her blindfolded in the woods.
His footsteps came to a stop and Branwen opened her eyes and found he was looking at her with a soft smile that she could not help but return. For some reason, she thought he should look younger, not the boy that she had met so many decades before, but only his hair lacking any silver and none of the shallow wrinkles around the corners of his eyes.
She blinked and the feeling vanished, but she was unwilling to move from her spot, so she told him, "Sit with me, Estel. I don't believe I have ever felt the world so alive around me before."
He paused only for a moment and then sat down next to her. The South wind came through the trees again and brushed past him before it came to her. While it sounded like waves and sea birds, it smelled like pine and juniper as Aragorn's scent filled her nose.
Branwen felt nearly drunk on the power of the land around her and did not bother to avert her eyes from the profile of his face—his strong and noble features and his bright and intelligent grey eyes.
He then turned to look at her and smiled again, "Here is the heart of Elvendom on earth…a place of peace…and love."
She replied, "It's beautiful…" and he turned back to face forward.
Branwen wondered—what was love to her?
She did not know if she had ever experienced love before. She knew that the love of a family had eluded her entirely throughout her life once she had gained Arwen and then Elrond. Branwen had been convinced that she knew what it was because she had once upon a time had the Weasley family, but that was nothing more than the hollowest imitation compared to the love she felt from her sister, her father, and, sometimes, ever her brothers in her so-far limited interactions with them.
She hoped that it would be the case with her adoptive grandparents as well.
…But what of romantic love…?
The affection between lovers that would bind themselves together for a lifetime? She had only experienced the shallowest of romantic feelings for a few boys in her teenage years as she had been more concerned with not dying. Then her distrust because of what her best friend had nearly attempted and the images and sounds she witnessed before he killed the horcrux had nearly robbed her of that desire entirely.
She could never claim to have loved someone beyond the barest stirrings of affection, as all were kept at arm's length. Thoughts of affection died away entirely once she had died the second time and found out the curse that had been afflicted on her.
So…why was it then, in a world so far removed, she felt a stirring in her chest and stomach as she looked upon Aragorn's face?
It was not love…not yet, as it was only the very beginnings of it. Branwen knew that it should be odd, as she had mentored him as an awkward preteen, but that had been literally decades in the past and so far removed. Her thoughts of little Estel had become so less prominent in the face of the man that was before her, his leadership and command, his cool intelligence, and his unwavering goodness.
Branwen knew that her sister loved Aragorn and that he loved her sister and, if not for the euphoria that the Naith of Lórien had gifted her, she would not even entertaining these thoughts…but just for a moment, she wanted to pretend that…Aragorn was hers.
She allowed her eyes to trace his profile again, the strong width of his shoulders, and the strength in the curve of his arms. His scent drifted to her again and she allowed herself to imagine what it might be like to have her nose buried in his chest as she breathed him in. She dreamed how it would feel as their affection for each grew with every day spent together and how they would eventually speak those words to one another. Branwen imagined that he might have proposed to her here, on the Hill of Cerin Amroth, with a ring and words of love—telling her how he knew from the moment he had seen her in moonlight, as if he had fallen into a dream with Lúthien…
…Would their children have had grey eyes or green?
She turned her eyes away from the curve of his lips and pulled herself away thoughts of their softness… It was just a dream and they would not fall in love together with growing affection, there was no proposal on Cerin Amroth as he looked deep in her eyes, she would not wake in the morning within the strength of his embrace, and they would not share dark-haired children…that was for Arwen.
Branwen could not find it within herself to feel envy or resentment towards her sister. Arwen deserved the best as the most wonderful person that she was…and Aragorn was by and far away the best male—Man or Elf—that she knew as he was so wonderfully kind and thoughtful while still being so poised and kingly.
Branwen was not sure if she wanted to laugh or to cry.
She had refused to entertain even the smallest tickle of these thoughts after they had departed on their journey to Imladris, even as she had found his physical form attractive, first binding them with the promises that she had sworn to Gilraen and memories of him as a child, and then with the looks that were shared between Aragorn and her sister…and now, here she was lying next to him in the grass and allowing herself to imagine an entire lifetime with him…
…Was it only the feel of familiarity and trust that spawned these feelings…? She had always had fondness for Estel after their first meeting and then passing over the initial hurdle all relationships faced. He then had become a regular presence in her life again over these last months, now a man grown. Branwen felt strongly there was not a person she trusted more than Aragorn, excluding Arwen.
…Was it only the familiar sting of grief, of losing a potential mentor that seemed to be all the things that Albus Dumbledore should have been, that she was now trying to latch on to something else…?
Branwen felt sure that there were a number of potential suitors that might be interested in her if she would only show interest back and put in some effort…and the only one she had felt any stirrings of desire for was the man that was in love with her most beloved sister, who loved him back.
She allowed them to pour out—all those emotions and fantasies of Aragorn, the sorrow and anger over Gandalf—and she imagined them flowing out of her heart and down the sides of the hill, staining the grass red. Gandalf was gone, just as most of those she had come to care for had done before him and would do again. Aragorn was not for her…he never had been and never would be. He deserved better than some broken and wretched thing like her…like her beloved and most wonderful Arwen.
Let it all drain away…
…
So why did it still hurt then…?