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 Company deals with grief over Gandalf in their own ways, Branwen finds herself expressing anger rather than grief before Aragorn talks her down. The Company enters Lothlórien after leaving the Gates of Moria behind, concerns regarding Orcs pursuing them are high. Branwen notices that Gollum has caught up with them somehow. While searching for a place to rest for the night and hide from any potential pursuers, they stumble across three Elves of Lórien, who recognize Branwen as Lord Elrond's and Lady Celebrían's adopted daughter.
Resting for the night in the treetops, Branwen is awoken by Aragorn in the middle of the night. They and Legolas observe a large group of Orcs passing into Lothlórien. The Lórien Elves draw them away while Branwen then sees Gollum making an attempt to get to Frodo. She scares him away with an arrow while hiding his noise under a silencing spell.
The next day, they cross the River Silverlode and are all blindfolded, after some tension with Gimli being singled out, and led deep into the Naith of Lórien. The following day, they arrive at the Hill of Cerin Amroth and a messenger from the Lord and Lady of Lórien reveals that they are all allowed to walk freely, to the joy of the Company.
Branwen finds herself nearly intoxicated by the feeling of the Naith of Lórien and finds a weariness, she did not realize she had, falling away. She joins Frodo and Sam with one of the Lórien Elves on the platform above the Hill of Cerin Amroth and sees her first look of the distant city of the Galadhrim. She heads back down as Frodo and Sam hear of Mirkwood and lays on the crest of the Hill of Cerin Amroth before Aragorn joins her.
Aragorn feels that being there with Branwen feels almost as right as it did with Arwen, despite his conflicted feelings regarding the two sisters. Branwen finds herself lost in thought considering love—familial and romantic—and understands that she feels an attraction for Aragorn but knows that she must let that go as he and Arwen are in love. Branwen strives to let go of the grief for Gandalf and thoughts of Aragorn as she lays there on the hill, but finds it still hurts.
Chapter Twenty – The City of Trees
The Third Age – January 17th, 3019
Dusk came quickly and blanketed the Naith of Lórien in its gentle embrace. Even as the night deepened around them, Branwen felt that the darkness held no real hold over Lórien. The Glow of Lórien in the Unseen created an almost perpetual twilight in her Sight.
While the Lórien Elves, that now guided them to the distant hill crowned with massive trees that she had seen earlier, unveiled lamps that produced silver light to allow their non-Elven guests see by, there was no shadows in her Sight. The Company was in awe of the Naith of Lórien and the surrealism that seemed to exist around them at the edges of their vision. Even Boromir, so very reluctant to come here, was in silent wonder. The Lórien Elves that guided them appeared to have a good bit of awe themselves, but instead were gazing at her rather than around them. Branwen imagined that, with Arwen living among them for the vast majority of the last five centuries, seeing Branwen's face must be a bit of a shock to them,
After a while of walking Southward, they came from under the golden boughs and out again under the sky. More and more stars were piercing the darkening sky as the light of the sun continued to fade. They had come to a space that appeared as a meadow at first glance but was clearly a defensive measure.
A circular space around the large hill of colossal trees had been cleared to see all who approached from any side. To control access onto the hill, there was a great and deep trench that surround the great mound, separating the meadow from the hill. On the opposite bank, the grass was a deep verdant green that should simply be impossible in the middle of winter, but she could See Life was vibrant here. The final defensive measure was a tall green wall that encircled the base of the hill inside the trench.
Within the wall, the Mallorn trees rose higher and wider than any trees that she could remember in living memory. Even the giant sequoias of Earth seemed a bit small compared to these behemoths. Among massive silver branches covered in golden leaves, there were small lights that appeared like stars in shining gold, silver, and green. Within her Sight, she could also see many platforms and stairs winding up through the trees themselves.
It was beautiful.
Haldir raised an arm towards the city and said, "Welcome to Caras Galadhon! Here is the city of the Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, the Lady of Lórien. But we cannot enter here as there are no Northward gates. We must go around to the Southern side, but the way is not short, for the city is great."
Their continuing journey was made easier by a road of white stone that encircled the great trench around the hill. Branwen imagined to the others, the trench must appear bottomless in the darkness. With her Sight, she could see it was incredibly deep and there appeared to be silent but swift moving water at the bottom. Death by drowning seemed inevitable for any who might fall in.
As dusk gave way to true night, the stars in the sky began to come out in great numbers that were matched by the ever-increasing star-like lights appearing in the branches of Caras Galadhon. As Haldir said, the city was great and it seemed as large to her as many downtown areas of major cities on Earth, only with living towers and spires instead of glass and steel skyscrapers. She easily felt Caras Galadhon was infinitely more preferable.
The Gates of Caras Galadhon were set in the Southwest of the city. A graceful white bridge crossed the moat to the large green gates bedecked with a great number of lamps like the ones their escorts carried. In her Sight, there was a powerful spell that secured the gates.
Haldir approached the portal and Branwen could hear him speaking very quietly but could not make out the words. The spell on the gates eased and they swung outward on silent hinges. Branwen Saw silent and near invisible guards to the sides with powerful looking bows. She doubted any but possibly Legolas would notice them.
The roots of the Mallorn trees were just as enormous as the branches and trunks so the pathways below were elevated above them with white wood decking. Eventually, they began to mount wooden staircases in a spiraling upward fashion around the hill and snaking through the massive tree trunks.
There were many voices that she could hear speaking, singing, and the sound of music far above them. Finally, they appeared to turn sharply inward towards the center of the city and came upon an open space at the foot of the greatest of the living behemoths. A lawn of the impossibly green grass stretched out under their feet. In the center of the lawn, before the great tree, was a fountain with a basin of elegantly shaped silver hung with even more of the silver lamps that the Elves of Lórien seemed so fond of.
The water that issued from it was not clear, but rather silver as it poured over the basin and threaded away and down through a channel in the earth to the South. In her Sight, the water appeared as if it was afire with ice crystals, as strange as it might sound. Branwen felt most strongly that it would be in her best interest not to touch the water.
Next to the foot of the largest of the Mallorn trees were three Elves wearing delicate mail and stark white cloaks. They appeared to be guarding a wide but incredibly steep white staircase with very narrow steps…or maybe a fixed leaning ladder with broad rungs might be a better way to describe it.
Upon seeing them, the Elves rose to their feet. Their eyes had come to Branwen's face and they were staring in plain wonder and bewilderment as Haldir turned to the Fellowship and said, "Here dwell Celeborn and Galadriel. It is their wish that you should ascend and speak with them."
Branwen wondered when this message had come to him, as she had not noticed another messenger while they waited at Cerin Amroth. Perhaps she had not been paying attention. One of the Elven guards brought out a small horn and issued a short but clear note. From far above, there was a response of three short notes.
Haldir told the Fellowship, "I will go first. Lady Branwen, if you would, please follow after me, then Frodo and Legolas with him. If any others would like to follow, you may if you wish. It is a long climb for those that are not accustomed to such stairs, but you may rest upon the way."
Branwen took a breath and released, attempting to clear away some of the nervous energy that had returned, before she followed behind Haldir. It appeared that all of their Company was prepared to make the climb. They passed upward through many platforms, some small and many large, that were connected by more steep stairs such as these or arching bridges of white wood. There were a number of Elves visible on the platforms and she could see curious Elves peeking down at them from higher platforms, hidden from mundanes eyes by golden leaves, and others watching from lower platforms as they continued their ascension. All around her, there were small lamps and crystals that made her feel as if she was on a silver ladder rising through a golden cloud of leaves.
Eventually, they reached the largest platform that she had yet seen and knew that they were very nearly at the top of the gargantuan center Mallorn tree. This platform had risen above the canopy of the others and, past the boughs and leaves of the smaller trees, it looked out in all directions for a great many miles. She could See only a few more levels above this one in the tree, but they seemed much smaller, as if for observation or quiet meditation than any gathering.
In the center of this largest platform was a large structure that might have been considered a small hall or a very big house. Through it, the tapering trunk of the Mallorn tree grew. Like all other structures of Lórien, it was made of the beautiful white wood that the Elves here seemed to build most things of and it was beautiful carved with many whimsical details that showed the love of its crafter. The only exception was the roof, as even though it appeared to be made of wood, its color so very perfectly matched the golden leaves around them that she wondered if it had been lacquered with gold.
Branwen felt a slightly hysterical thought that this was her last chance to turn around and avoid this meeting. She hung back and allowed the others to pass her as she contemplated, and yet, her feet carried her behind the trailing Boromir, who appeared just as unsure. She was the last to enter into a great oval chamber, in the center was the Mallorn tree trunk like a great pillar of silver with short and manicured branches reaching to the sides covered in golden leaves. It appeared this was indeed a hall of some type as a large number of Elves, almost all fair-haired, were gathered here, looking resplendent among the soft light that seemed to fill it and reflect off of the green and silver walls and golden ceiling.
As she stepped into the hall, there were a great many eyes that took them in with interest before they came to her. One by one, she could see out of her peripheral sight their eyes widening in wonder and confusion. Branwen hoped that Elrond had at least mentioned to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel the resemblance she and Arwen shared.
Her eyes then went ahead and she found the objects of her thoughts. In front of the silver trunk and background of golden leaves were two thrones carved of white wood. Two figures rose from them and there was no doubt that they were indeed Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Unlike the Elves about them, that were clad in green, grey, silver, and gold, the Elf-Lord and Elf-Lady wore only pure white and were exceptionally and equally tall, just shy of six and a half feet.
As expected, both were stunningly beautiful. Both boasted long silky hair and bright blue eyes in pale and wise faces that were ageless. While Celeborn's hair was of the brightest silver, Galadriel's tresses were of the deepest gold that stood out even against the golden leaves behind her. In Branwen's Sight, both shined as all Elves with their immortal lifeforces, but their magic was the most impressive that she had seen beyond Elrond, Glorfindel, and Gandalf. While Celeborn was a match for his male comrades, Galadriel was on an entirely other level.
It was from her that magic flowed heavy, thick, and golden as it traveled down the Mallorn tree to spread throughout the rest of Lothlórien. Branwen realized the Glow of Lórien was in truth the Light of Galadriel. Whereas the powerful servants of Shadow cast their own Shadows upon the Unseen, Galadriel cast a Light that drove out all darkness. In her Sight, she understood that this Light was powerful and as easily turned upon evil as a Shadow turned upon good.
On Galadriel's right hand, there was a mithril ring inset with a diamond. It glowed powerfully in Branwen's sight with a silvery-white light and it almost appeared as if Galadriel held a star in her fingers. Its white light stretched forward to brush each of them in turn. As it reached forward to her, Branwen was distracted and her Sight slipped as Celeborn spoke, his voice as clear and powerful as the Silverlode, greeting each of them in turn as they approached "Welcome, Frodo of the Shire! You have borne a heavy burden thus far. Please, sit beside my chair and ease your load."
Frodo bowed nearly at the waist and went to the indicated seat while the others remained standing.
"Welcome, Aragorn son of Arathorn! It is eight and thirty years of the world outside since you came to this land and those years lie heavy on you. But the end is near, for good or ill. Here, just as Frodo, lay your burden aside for a while!"
Aragorn placed his hand over his heart with a slight bow.
"Welcome, Legolas son of Thranduil! Too seldom do my kindred journey here from the North."
Legolas did much as Aragorn.
"Welcome, Gimli son of Glóin! It is long indeed since we saw one of Durin's Folk in Caras Galadhon. But today, we have broken our long law. May it be a sign that though the world is now dark, better days are at hand, and that friendships shall be renewed between our peoples."
Gimli bowed much lower than Aragorn or Legolas, but not so much as Frodo.
"Welcome, Samwise of the Shire! Meriadoc of the Shire! Peregrin of the Shire! You have shown stout hearts to come thus far. Allow yourselves to rest your weary feet while here in Lórien!"
The Hobbits seemed rather unsure and went down in awkward low bows much as Frodo had down.
"Welcome, Boromir son of Denethor! Many long years have passed since last a Man of Gondor has walked beneath the boughs of the Naith of Lórien. As the rest of your Company, lay aside your burden while you are within our realm and be at ease."
Boromir copied Aragorn and Legolas with a fist over his heart and a slight bow.
Celeborn's bright blue eyes then settled on her and he showed no surprise at her face, although there was a slight pause in his speech. He then gifted her a small smile that had been missing as he welcomed the others and said, "Greetings, Branwen Anaróriel, daughter of Elrond, to the City of the Galadhrim! I wish you welcome not as a guest, but I welcome you home as my granddaughter, for you are now here among your mother's people, our beloved Celebrían. Please, come sit now beside your grandmother and allow yourself to rest the weariness of your heart!"
Branwen performed a curtsey that she felt was rather more graceful than that she had done in the past. She felt her nervousness come away at the warmth of the greeting and welcome as Celeborn acknowledged her as Celebrían's daughter and their granddaughter. She gave him a hesitant smile that was received gladly and turned her eyes then to Galadriel.
Galadriel beckoned her with a slight motion of her hand to the empty seat beside her throne with a kind face. As their eyes met, Branwen felt a great presence almost engulf her mind, but it could find no entrance through her Veil. Branwen nearly started with surprise and she saw Galadriel looking at her now with just the smallest bit of intrigue.
Had Galadriel attempted that?
Branwen allowed her Veil to part only the slightest bit and the mental presence entered through the gap. A powerful and ancient mind filled with Light and magic spoke in a voice that rang like a crystal bell, 'Greetings, Anaróriel, and ease your heart. You shall find only welcome here as surely as your beloved sister. We will speak at a later time once your Company has parted from us."
Celeborn directed the rest to sit as they wished in the empty chairs most immediately around the thrones. When all were sitting, Celeborn and Galadriel resumed their own seats. Celeborn observed, "Here there are nine. Ten were to set out—so said the messages. But maybe there has been some change of counsel that we have not heard. Elrond is far away, darkness gathers between us, and all this year the shadows have grown longer."
Galadriel then spoke aloud for the first time, her physical voice as clear and perfect as her mental voice had been, though deeper than most women and Elf-maidens due to her stature, "No, there was no change of counsel. Gandalf the Grey set out with the Company, but he did not pass the borders of this land. Now tell us where he is, for I much desired to speak with him again. But I cannot see him from afar, unless he comes within the fences of Lothlórien—a grey mist is about him and the ways of his feet and of his mind are hidden from me."
Aragorn spoke in response, his voice heavy, "Unfortunately, Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained in Moria and did not escape."
From the Elves around them, there was a sudden cry of disbelief and then sadness. Celeborn's voice seemed to reflect the anguish that his people around him felt, although it remained steady, "These are evil tidings, the most evil that have been spoken here in long years of grievous deeds."
Celeborn then turned to Haldir, "Why has nothing of this been told to me before?"
Branwen spoke, the Elves of the room turned to hear her with wide eyes, likely noting the near identical voices that she and Arwen also had, "Please do not hold Haldir responsible, Lord Celeborn. I had not shared anything with him when we came into Lórien, beyond that we had passed through Moria on an errand of great importance from my father. The grief of Mithrandir's passing was still so very new, and our Company was in great fear for our safety as we knew the Orcs of Moria would be pursuing us."
Celeborn looked at her and said, "Dear granddaughter, tell us now the full tale."
Branwen glanced to Aragorn, who nodded his head, before she spoke, "We departed from Rivendell on December the twenty-fifth and walked along the foothills South in the country of Hollin, previously known as Eregion, in stealth under the cover of darkness. Within Hollin, it came to our attention that the animals had all been driven away by ravens of Fangorn and Dunland and, though we could not confirm at the time, packs of Wargs from the East.
On January the ninth, after many miles of travel, we came to Caradhras to brave the pass as the Gap of Rohan was closed to us with Saruman's betrayal and the passes in the North were already heavy with snow. Caradhras defeated us though and brought down a blizzard and rockslides until we were unable to move from the lower pass. We huddled around a fire for the night and then retreated from the mountain the following day.
That next night after escaping from Caradhras, Gandalf told us of a secret path through Moria and, as a whole, our Company was hesitant. We heard that night for the first time the howls of Wargs that had picked up our trail. With no options left to us, it was decided to brave the Shadow of Moria. The following night we were attacked by a pack of Wargs a dozen strong, but they were slain and we departed the next day to reach the Gates of Moria.
After we reached the Gates of Moria and the door was opened, we were attacked by a giant and foul creature with many limbs that lived in the lake that had been dammed in from the Gate Stream that had previously flowed there. We were able to successfully enter Moria, but the Watcher in the water, as Balin's folk had called it, collapsed the gates and we had no choice but to brave Moria.
Gandalf, with assistance from Gimli, guided us through Moria Eastward. We had ascended high during our traversal and came upon the Chamber of Records where Balin Lord of Moria was entombed. Balin and his folk had fallen some twenty-five years ago after they had attempted to retake Moria and were slain by Orcs…and possibly Durin's Bane."
The Elves seemed to lean forward at this with interest.
"At some point, the Orcs of Moria must have come across our trail or become aware of us as, shortly after we had discovered Balin's tomb, we were ambushed by a company of Orcs and a cave troll. We were able to slain many of their number and they retreated, before we fled through another door. From the log we had recovered in the Chamber of Records, Gandalf knew where we were and directed us to go ahead.
Within Moria, there was a heavy Shadow within the World of Shades and it had become much stronger while we fought the Orcs. I believe Gandalf had sensed this, so he ordered us forward and stayed behind to hold the door. Gandalf had felt an evil presence through the door and it was powerful enough that it nearly broke the spell that I and Gandalf had layered onto the door itself. Gandalf commanded the door shut and the struggle collapsed the Chamber.
Gandalf was thrown back but came down to join us and guided us out of Moria. We descended sharply and came to the First Deep, just a level beneath the East Gates. There we found a trap had been laid for us, I could See, by the fell creature Gandalf had encountered, but we had come from the opposite side from what had been expected and so we nearly escaped.
It was as we were crossing the narrow Bridge across the First Deep that the creature, that we had thought was buried, had caught up to us. It was a being, shaped like man, of Shadow and Flame, though in my Sight, it appeared corrupt, diseased, and decayed. Durin's Bane was a Balrog."
There were sharp intakes of breath from around the room as the Elves looked at her in horror. Celeborn asked, "A Balrog? You are certain?"
Branwen replied, "That is what Legolas and Gandalf identified it as. I only knew that it was, by far, the evilest thing that I have ever Seen or encountered."
Legolas said, "Yes, Lord Celeborn, it was most certainly a Balrog of Morgoth—of all Elf-banes the most deadly, save the One who sits in the Dark Tower."
Gimli said with a low voice filled with dread, "Indeed, I saw upon the bridge that which haunts our darkest dreams—Durin's Bane!"
Celeborn took a moment to process and then motioned to Branwen, "Please, continue."
Branwen nodded, "Gandalf ordered us across the Bridge and refused my offer to assist him. He was the last to cross and stood there in the middle of the Bridge as he refused to allow the Balrog to pass. The Balrog struck Gandalf but Gandalf held his strength and the Balrog's weapon of fire was destroyed. The Balrog then attempted to leap to Gandalf but Gandalf struck the Bridge with his staff and clove it in two along with destroying his staff.
The Balrog felt through the far side of the Bridge and, as it fell, it pulled Gandalf down with him into the shadow of the First Deep that extended far down into the roots of the mountain."
There was silence before Celeborn said, "We long have feared that under Caradhras a terror slept. But had I known that the Dwarves had stirred up this evil in Moria again, I would have forbidden you, Gimli son of Glóin, to pass the Northern borders; you and all that went with you, excluding my granddaughter. And, if it were possible, one would say that at the last, Gandalf fell from wisdom into follow, going needlessly into the net of Moria."
Gimli seemed to flinch at the sharp words as Branwen felt some irritation with Celeborn as well. It was not Celeborn who had faced the Balrog and watched Gandalf fall to his doom nor was it Gimli who had dug up this Balrog himself.
Galadriel responded to her husband, rebuking his words, "He would be rash indeed, he who would say that. Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. Those that followed him know not his mind and cannot report his full purpose. But, however it may be with the guide, the followers are blameless.
Do not repent of your welcome to the Dwarf. If our folk had been exiled long and far from Lothlórien, who of the Galadhrim, even Celeborn the Wise, would pass near and would not wish to look upon their ancient home, though it had become an abode of Dragons?
Dark is the water of Kheled-zâram, and cold are the springs of Kibil-nâla, and fair were the many-pillared halls of Khazad-dûm in Elder Days before the fall of mighty kings beneath the stone."
Branwen watched as the sadness and anger that Gimli had felt under the starkness of Celeborn fall away as he looked upon Galadriel with awe. He rose from his seat and bowed deeply, "Yet more fair is the living land of Lórein and the Lady Galadriel is above all the jewels that lie beneath the earth!"
Gimli rose back up and retook his seat. Celeborn seemed to be taking his wife's words under careful consideration, not appearing upset for being openly criticized by her. He spoke again after a while, speaking to the males of the Company, "I did not know that your plight was so evil. Let Gimli forget my harsh words—I spoke in the trouble of my heart. I will do what I can to aid you, each according to his wish and need, but especially that one of the little folk who bears the burden."
He then glanced to Branwen, another kind smile on his face, and said, "It need not be said, I believe, that you shall want for nothing as long as it is within our power to give."
Branwen felt her cheeks warm a bit. What had Elrond told them?
Galadriel then said to the Company, but looking at Frodo, "Your quest is known to us, but we will not speak of it here more openly. Yet it will not prove in vain, maybe, that you came to this land seeking aid, as Gandalf himself plainly purposed. For the Lord of the Galadhrim is accounted the wisest of the Elves of Middle Earth and a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings. He has dwelt in the West since the days of dawn and I have dwelt with him years uncounted. For before the Fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin, I passed over the mountains, and together through ages of the world, we have fought the long defeat.
It was I who first summoned the White Council. And if my designs had not gone amiss, it would have been governed by Gandalf the Grey. And then, perhaps, things would have gone otherwise. But even now, there is hope left. I will not give you counsel, saying do this or do that. For not in doing or contriving, nor in choosing between this course and another, can I avail you; but only in Knowing what was and is, and in part, also what shall be.
But this I will say to you—your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true."
Galadriel then became silent and Branwen felt that there was purpose to it as she met the eyes of each of the Company, except Branwen's herself. Only Aragorn and Legolas seemed to be able to meet her eyes and endure her gaze while the others quickly looked away.
After she had met the eyes of all the Company, Galadriel spoke, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Tonight, you shall sleep in peace."
Celeborn raised his hand, "Go now! You are worn with sorrow and much toil. Even if your Quest did not concern us closely, you shall have refuge in this city, until you are healed and refreshed. Now, you shall rest, and we will not speak of your further road for a while."
The rest stood and Branwen went to do so as well, but she felt Galadriel's mind upon her, as if ushering her to stay seated. Branwen remained. A few of the others, including Aragorn, looked back at her, but they departed after Haldir back down the long stair to the forest floor.
The other Elves followed soon after and then it was only her along with Celeborn and Galadriel. They both rose and Branwen followed suit quickly. They were both equal in height before her and a foot taller. She felt so very small before them, but their faces were kind as they turned to her.
Celeborn said, "It pleases me to see that you have arrived whole—although not as well as I wished, considering Mithrandir's passing. We have received many messages from Elrond and our dear Arwen speaking of you and it feels as if we already know you. Both father and sister love you most dearly."
Branwen felt her cheeks flush before Galadriel spoke, "It was mentioned that you appear as Undómiel's twin. My heart feels glad to look upon you, as if our dearest daughter had born another and simply had forgotten to speak of it!"
Branwen bowed her head, "You are both very kind. I have heard wonderful things about you and your wisdom and power from my father and Arwen."
Celeborn replied, "We will have time to know one another, as I feel strongly that the wounds your Company has sustained will keep them here for a time… I will also say that Elrond and Arwen have bid us both to speak with you at length and, if you are willing, to speak of yourself and your story. They felt that both my lady and I might be able to speak and understand a little of what you have done and what you are doing. Neither would share any of their knowledge, but only requested that we ask you."
Branwen swallowed heavily. She knew that Arwen and Elrond only had the best intentions in mind…and it seemed that Celeborn and Galadriel were truly happy to see her, though more muted than Arwen. Something in her heart told her that she could trust them and that they did care for her already. Was this that Heart of an Elf difference where her Heart was more able to feel theirs?
Galadriel continued right after Celeborn, "But we will not speak of it more this night. You are weary. Arwen has asked that you stay in her quarters here in our home with us. We have already prepared different quarters for you, if you would prefer, but maybe being near your sister's presence might soothe you more."
Branwen felt some warmth come to her. That did sound nice. She nodded, "Thank you, Lady Galadriel."
Celeborn admonished her gently, "Please, none of that. If you wish, you may refer to us as grandmother and grandfather. If you are not yet comfortable, simply Celeborn and Galadriel will do."
Branwen swallowed and replied, "Yes…grandfather."
Celeborn awarded her a warm smile and Galadriel beckoned, "Come, child. Let us sup and then rest after."
Circling around the back of the central Mallorn trunk, there were walls that divided the rest of the house from the hall. It was not terribly large away from the hall and boasted only a handful of bedrooms, a cozy dining room, and a small library. Obviously, this meant that larger celebrations, if it was common among them, were likely held elsewhere. It would hardly be surprising considering how large the city was. Maybe there was a very large platform somewhere else in the city where they gathered.
Dinner was a quiet affair and Celeborn and Galadriel seemed utterly at ease with one another and with silence. Branwen felt no expectation to speak nor did the silence hang heavy. Dinner was delicious and Galadriel pointed her off to Arwen's room after.
Entering, Branwen was hit by the strong smell of morning dew and lilies. Somehow, Arwen's scent lingered here even after who knew how long since she had last stayed. It was not so large as the apartments of the House of Elrond, but it was still lovely with a window looking out onto the branches of the Mallorn tree and looking North over the majority of Lothlórien. A bath of warm water was already present for her and she gladly shucked her clothing to bath.
Warm, clean, and full of delicious food, she felt so very sleepy as she burrowed in Arwen's bed and found the sheets smelled of her sister as well. For the first time in weeks, Branwen felt at home as she drifted off to sleep.
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Arwen panted as she laid her sword to the side. She had gone on practicing long after Glorfindel had left her alone that day, as she had every day since the Fellowship had left. She had hardly left the training field other than to eat, study magic with her father, and rest for a short time in the bathhouse before she was out again. She had not slept since the Fellowship had left and was using every moment training with sword or magic or both.
Her father was worried about her, but this was not the time to be concerned about such things. If he had wished to avoid this, he should have given her more notice. Now, she was making up for lost time.
Arwen knew that an opportunity would arise soon and, when it came, she would need to depart swiftly. Already, she was comfortable with the weight and movement of the twin of Branwen's sword that Elrohir had given her, as he preferred his heavier double-edged sword. Arwen's sword was single-edged and one-handed just as Branwen's and Arwen had named it Hadhafang.
Her father had not been surprised to find that she carried a strong gift for magic, as it ran in her bloodline on both sides of her family, but he had been surprised of the ease at which she took to it. Water, air, and ice came to her as if she were born to them. The Bruinen and its waters seemed to hear her as easily as they did her father.
Due to her constant training, Arwen had had little time to spare. Though it hurt her heart to do so, she had given her design and specifications to the house tailors to beginning sewing the standard that Arwen felt Aragorn would soon need to raise.
Many things were coming together very quickly and she had no time to lose. With that thought, Arwen grasped her sword hilt again and began flowing through the movements. From a distance, she appeared as a dancer with a ribbon of silver that wove around her.
Unknown to her, her father looked down from a distant balcony and sighed. He looked to Erestor and commanded, "Have those underway at once."
Erestor bowed, "Yes, Master Elrond."
҉
The Third Age – January 18th, 3019
Branwen woke up slowly feeling delightfully comfortable, warm, and…safe. It took her a pause to recognize the bedroom that she was in. Piece by piece, everything came back to her. She sighed sadly, thinking of Gandalf's fall…and then thoughts of Arago—… No. Leave that alone.
She sat up, realizing that she was nude as she had not bothered to dress last night, before she went into Arwen's wardrobe. There were some clean dresses here, mostly white and silver as that seemed to be the custom here as opposed to the more earthen tones of Imladris and the Woodland Realm. Branwen wondered if the Grey Havens boasted more blues and such since they were supposed to be on the sea.
Putting those ponderings aside, she dressed and exited the room and walked down the corridor to find Celeborn and Galadriel sitting at the dining table with some plates of bread, fruit preserves, and soft sweet cheese. Celeborn greeted her, "Good morning, Branwen. Please, sit and break your fast with us."
Branwen did so, "Thank you. I feel much more rested and I did feel much closer to Arwen sleeping in her room last night. Thank you also for organizing a bath as well. I had not realized how dirty I had become!"
Galadriel remarked, "Of course. Now, please, enjoy."
They ate in silence as they had last night and Branwen marveled at how the silence felt so comfortable with them. There was no awkwardness at all to be felt and it was as if…they were simply enjoying each other's and her company.
After they had finished eating, Celeborn said, "If possible, and you feel up to the task, we would very much like to hear your tale and offer our insight, if we can."
Galadriel said nothing and only looked into Branwen's eyes. There was no mental presence today, just kind empathy. Arwen had yet to steer her wrong and Branwen trusted Arwen to only do what was best for her, as she had no other. Also, these were the people that Arwen spent the vast majority of her life with for the last five centuries.
With that thought, Branwen made up her mind, even if it made her stomach curl. She nodded and said, "…If Arwen has asked that I do so, I shall… Is there…somewhere that we can speak privately and not be overheard?"
Celeborn gestured to the door into the library, "Of course. My study is more than sufficient and none shall disturb us."
Going in, Branwen followed Celeborn and Galadriel and found she had not noticed a door in the back during the short tour the night previous. Celeborn opened it and it led down a short staircase. The study was revealed to look remarkably like Elrond's study—circular with great windows looking out. It was clear from the view that Celeborn's study was built beneath the rest of the house and was, in fact, under the platform.
It provided a commanding view of the lower sections of Caras Galadhon. Branwen understood how no one would be able to overhear them. Unless they could fly, there were no walls to hear through except the stairway that they had come from.
Branwen sat at one of the chairs opposite Celeborn's desk while Galadriel took the other. They both looked at her with open and kindly faces, patiently waiting for her to begin. Branwen took a breath…and started.
Celeborn's eyebrows drew together many times as Galadriel's face would smooth away like stone for short periods, but they did not interrupt. They listened as she told them the same tale that she had shared with Elrond, Glorfindel, Aragorn, and…Gandalf months ago.
After she had finished, the questions began to come. Celeborn seemed to be an even more avid scholar than Elrond as he asked pointed questions regarding Earth and the magics and technologies thereof. Galadriel seemed pensive as if there were a great many things that she was turning over in her mind.
Finally, it came to an end and Celeborn said, "If I had not heard your tale with my own ears and the Truth in your words, I would have thought such things impossible… A daughter of Men, becoming one of the Eldar… Fascinating. I have never heard of such and I hardly fathom the nature of these Shards of Sorrow that would have done so.
And your realm…so much potential, it seemed, and yet, all wasted. I can only wonder what the Men of your homelands might have achieved if they had only strong rulers to guide them away from self-destruction… I wonder if what you have described is the Fate of Men here in Middle Earth once the Elves have all gone into the Utter West…"
Branwen had no answer and Celeborn appeared to be thinking aloud more than asking her a question in any case. Galadriel then spoke, "You have suffered much, my child. It gladdens my heart to know that Arwen has done so very much for you… Your father asked one more boon of me, concerning yourself."
Branwen felt a bit of concern as Galadriel said, "I have a far greater Sight into what was, what is, and what has not yet come to pass than your father. We both have tools at our disposal but the tool he uses to See is useful for a great many other things and so its Sight is not as powerful. I have a Mirror that I can use to divine all of these things and my Sight with it is not perfect, but it is great. I understand now, knowing of your tale and what you possess, that your father wishes me to see if I might divine the nature of these Shards of Sorrow. Would you be opposed?"
Divination… Branwen had never really been a fan of Divination after all the mess it had caused her over the years. But she supposed that she should given Galadriel the benefit of the doubt if nothing else. She was not some drunken fraud living in a drafty tower and scaring children. Galadriel was a powerful Elf-Lady that was reputed as the most powerful magician of the Middle Earth among the Free Peoples.
Branwen nodded, "Yes. I will consent to that."
Galadriel smiled before she leaned forward and took Branwen's hand, "Thank you, Anaróriel. We shall do so this evening then, after your Company has gone to sleep. We will need to descend to the bottom to look upon my Mirror… For now, let us discuss the loss of your staff instead. Gandalf had told you that he would teach to make a staff bound to the Song of Arda. Did he give you any knowledge that might allow you to complete this work on your own?"
Branwen shook her head, "No… We did not have the chance to speak."
She glanced outside and saw the power that flowed through the Mallorn trees and felt they would have made an exceptional staff, but, without a core, it would be little more than another source of the Wyld and she had no need of that. Branwen needed a focus and a conduit.
Seeing Galadriel's and Celeborn's long hair had reminded her a bit of the Veela of Earth and she had contemplated, for a moment, if their hair might work as a focus as Fleur's own wand had used a hair from her grandmother. However, the more she Saw, the more she Knew that their hair, while beautiful, was not innately magical. The magic of the Elves was rooted in their souls, not their bodies, and so nothing of them could be used as a magical core.
Celeborn brought her back to the present as he said, "If that is all for now, please, come! Caras Galadhon awaits and you have a people very eager to meet you. It has been some while since we have last left our home and it feels time that we should go out among them as well. Our people will be gladdened to see you as they have missed Undómiel greatly since she left for the House of Elrond."
And just like that, Branwen found another connection. They knew of what she was and, she speculated, they suspected the hurts of her Heart as well. Despite it all, they had accepted readily and happily and now wished to be seen with her and introduce her to their people. It was…a good feeling.
Branwen felt nervous to go out around Caras Galadhon, as it was far larger than Imladris with far more Elves, but she felt reassured between her very tall grandparents.
As Celeborn had said, she was met with looks of awe, wonder, and kind words from those that they interacted with. Most did little more than bow to her grandparents and herself. Much like with the Elves of Imladris, it seemed they were content to merely look upon her rather than engage. Some of the Elves from last night that had been present in Celeborn's hall did approach and spoke with her grandparents and then introduced themselves to her.
Branwen felt that she always seemed to forget Elven hospitality until she was back among them. The City of Trees was beautiful in the daylight as well, shafts of sunlight coming down through the branches high above, and all around there was music, song, poetry, and dance. Some of it was sad and she understood that the news of Gandalf's passing had begun to spread, and she could hear the lamentations for him. Somehow, though it renewed her grief, it eased it as well.
Finally, Celeborn and Galadriel said that they would be going back up to their home and invited her to walk about Caras Galadhon more and go back to the forest floor and see her Company. The Mallorn trees provided all the shelter from wind and rain that the Elves could ask for and so the Elves slept out in the open on the platforms high above on couches and the like, if they chose to sleep at all. The Elves had brought down couches and tables for the Company to sleep on the forest floor to accommodate the comfort of the Hobbits, Gimli, and Boromir.
Branwen found them all resting and looking almost a bit…dazed. The drunkenness that she had felt the day before upon arriving in Cerin Amroth was still there, but it was on the edges of her perception now. She knew that, if she wished, she could dive back into the magic and would likely be singing elegies alongside the Elves to mourn Gandalf.
Of them, Aragorn was the most unaffected. The rest of them, especially the Hobbits, appeared rather…stoned and she half expected one of them to ask about food and being massively hungry. Legolas was no where to be found and she assumed that he was up in the treetops spending time with his kinsmen.
She settled down onto the couch next to Aragorn and he looked up surprised to see her. She had thought him simply resting, but it seemed he had been near dozing instead. Nonetheless, he smiled at her and said, "Welcome back. How was your time with your Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel?"
Branwen nodded, "It was…good. They have heard a great deal about me from Elrond and Arwen. They had asked Celeborn and Galadriel to listen to my tale, if I would speak of it, and I trust Arwen and Elrond not to lead my wrong, so I told them about myself… They've accepted me and I believe Celeborn and Galadriel are taking the time to process… Galadriel seems most interested in deciphering the nature of the Shards."
Aragorn hummed in thought, "Lady Galadriel has incredible Sight and power. She would likely be the best to attempt to understand them…"
Branwen leaned back and, changing the subject, observed, "It appears that the news of Gandalf has begun to spread quickly… I walked the city today with Celeborn and Galadriel and I could hear many songs and poetry of him and his passing… I can hear some even now."
Aragorn sighed, "…Yes. Gandalf was much beloved by the Elves. We are all saddened to see him go."
"Yes… But, as Galadriel had said last night, hope is not lost."
Aragorn smiled sadly at her, "Of course not. Though we will mourn him, his knowledge and strength, we still have you, so that is something."
Branwen put a stranglehold on her thoughts before anything could arise and said, "Thank you, Estel… I feel that, between you and I, we shall figure something out."
"Indeed."
Conversation then turned away from grim ponderings and darkening futures, and instead became lighter and happier as Branwen allowed the Light of Galadriel to ease into her mind. Branwen ate with the Company, Legolas joining them, and she did not return upward to her grandparent's house.
Branwen knew that Galadriel would descend when it was time for them to look into her Mirror.
҉
As expected, after the Company had gone to sleep, Galadriel had descended down the steep stairs like a silent phantom. She beckoned Branwen with a simple wave of her hand and Branwen followed her grandmother's tall form.
She led Branwen down toward the southern slopes of the City of Trees along winding paths. Branwen could not help but notice that they appeared to be following the silver water from the central fountain that she had not wished to touch.
Galadriel led her through a tall hedge into a private garden. Branwen blinked as she realized, within the boundaries of this garden, there were no trees growing and it seemed the reaching branches of the Mallorn trees above had parted away, leaving a patch of unimpeded sky. It was black now with stars piercing the darkness above.
Galadriel led her further down the slope within her garden, for Branwen could not imagine anyone else having a private garden in Caras Galadhon, until they reached nearly the bottom. Branwen entered into a mossy dell just behind Galadriel and saw as she had almost expected—the silver water of the central fountain flowed here.
In the center and deepest part of the hollow, there was something almost like a birdbath wrought in silver and shaped to appear like a small tree rising from the ground. The top came to waist height for Galadriel and was wide and shallow. Near its foot, there was a silver pitcher.
Her grandmother took up the pitcher and filled it with the strange water that dropped like a small waterfall into the hollow before continuing Southward and down. Branwen wondered if it was the source of the water in the bottom of the trench.
Once the pitcher was filled, Galadriel poured the water slowly into the basin until it was filled to the brim. She leaned down to put down the jug as she then breathed onto the still surface. Branwen felt powerful magic beginning to churn about them and it felt as if the Wyld was tense with anticipation. In Branwen's Sight, the basin seemed to be softly burning with power.
Galadriel turned to her and said, "Here is the Mirror of Galadriel. If you will, please look into the basin. Through it and you, I might perceive the nature of these Shards of Sorrow. I warn you—while I can command the Mirror, the Mirror also shows things unbidden; things often stranger yet profitable than things that I or you would wish to behold. What you may see as I attempt to See into you, I cannot say. For it shows things that were, things that are, and things that yet may be. But which it is that he sees, even the wisest cannot always tell. Do you wish to look?"
Branwen answered, "We've come here already…and there is nothing in here that I likely have not experienced or imagined."
Galadriel nodded graciously and waved her forward, "Just remember—do not touch the water."
Branwen stepped forward and looked into the basin. The water appeared dark, despite being in a reflective silver basin, and she could only see the stars above her. Branwen Saw the magic of the Mirror was reaching out to her and, once it touched her, the Mirror grew grey and then clear.
It showed three dark-haired Men with a fourth in front of them. The first three men all held an object in their hands—one a wand, another a small stone, and the third a cloak. The fourth man, his face hidden in the deep shadow of cloak darker than the Void, with a solemn yet terrible voice that carried farther that it reasonably should said to the three men, "To make amends for that which you have attempted, to overcome and supplant Death, you have been chosen to bear the Shards of Sorrow. Your punishment shall be that of which you have attempted to do."
Above the figure's hands, that were wreathed in shadow, three shining stars appeared—one azure, one ruby, and one silver. The crimson star disappeared into the first man's wand, the cerulean star into the second man's round stone, and the silver star into the third man's cloak. The figure then declared, "It is done. The failed purposes of these objects are now realized with the strength of the Shards of Sorrow—a wand able to deliver Death, a stone able to cheat Death, and a cloak able to hide from Death. Hallowed as they may be now with the strength of the Shards, they are deathly creations and they will eventually claim you. The one to master them all shall become the Deathless…but it shall not be any of you."
The vision departed and Branwen felt stunned. She had witnessed the creation of the Deathly Hallows with the Shards of Sorrow. Who was that? What did it mean?
The Mirror then showed her the flash of a snowclad mountainside. The remnants of a tower that had been blasted apart by lightning, it appeared, was smoking and its ruin was strewn across the slopes. Within the ongoing blizzard, she could only see two figures—one higher up the mountain side near the tower and another cast down. Both appeared quite dead.
The image was gone before she could look any closer.
The Mirror shimmered again and it was…her. She looked so very…happy, truly content. She was sitting in a chair and…nursing a swaddled babe with her swollen breasts. The infant was beautiful and…maybe a girl. She was dark-haired and had bright grey eyes that appeared just slightly green. Branwen stared in wonder and moved closer before, "Do not touch the water!"
She flinched away as Galadriel's voice broke her thoughts and the image faded…then another one replaced it. It was Branwen again…but this time she was alone. She was looking down from a high up mountain peak…to the ruins of…Minas Tirith. The Shadow of Mordor had spread and now blanketed the lands as far as she could See. Branwen saw that this version of her was not simply unhappy but…dead. Her heart was beating and she was breathing, but she seemed utterly void of emotions and care as the filthy snow, colored grey by rising smoke and ash, buried her.
The vision faded and the Mirror grew dark again.
Branwen stepped away, feeling utterly spent and weary for whatever reason. Galadriel's face was unreadable. Branwen asked, "Well? Any…luck?"
Galadriel shook her head slowly, "Not much of that, I am afraid. As Elrond had told you, I Saw that the Shards within you are deeply connected to the elements, but of what else they are, I cannot tell. I Saw the visions that you did, but I was not able to perceive the figure that gifted the Shards to those three brothers.
One thing I can say—you have no need of a staff."
Branwen looked at her in confusion, "Of course, I do. If I did not need a staff, I would be able to cast spells with the same strength."
"What I mean is that you already possess a conduit…conduits much more powerful than any mere staff. The Shards of Sorrow are not just sources of magic, they are able to be used as channels. You are unable to do so because you have rejected them. I doubt that you have even yet tapped into your full power, even with your staff. If you wish to regain your old strength and then surpass it, you must begin working on your connection to the Shards of Sorrow."
Branwen felt stupefied. She had the potential to be even stronger? And without needing a wand-staff or anything? But she had rejected the Shards of Sorrow so…she had screwed herself? Branwen wondered how she was not supposed to reject the Shards of Sorrow. They had cursed her…and now she was supposed to accept them?
That would…not be easy.
Branwen sighed and asked, "What of the other visions? I did not understand the second…and the third and fourth…I am assuming those were potential futures?"
Galadriel said, "Of the second, I was unable to understand either… I only saw a snowy mountainside and two figures that appeared dead upon it. Of the third and fourth, I do believe you are correct… How they might come to pass…or fail to come to pass, I could not say. Beware attempting to pursue visions of the future or prevent them unnecessarily. Often, in pursuit of their avoidance or fulfilment, we may instead create the opposite."
Branwen nodded solemnly even as she wondered about them.
…The future with the child and Branwen breastfeeding her…had that been a future with…Aragorn? The girl had had mostly grey eyes and was dark-haired… STOP! Branwen kneaded her scalp. There was no point to dwelling on these visions, other than the one from the past. The unknowable vision was useless and the future ones were just shadows in a looking glass.
Galadriel then said, "Come, Branwen. Let us adjourn for this evening. I feel that you have learned enough to understand what you must do to gain your strength back. I only apologize that I was unable to help you more… All of your Shards are extremely powerful, but the Shard of Unknowing is near impossible to perceive and its presence is deeply connected to the other two so that I am unable to Know them either."
Branwen shook her head, "There's no need to apologize. Thank you for helping me. I have…stupidly, I suppose, not considered that my rejection of the Shards would make them less willing to assist me."
Galadriel replied, "It is not that they are unwilling to help, it is that you are unwilling to accept it. You must bridge the gap between you and them…which is what I believe your staff was helping you do, but did not do so completely. You must stop relying on crutches like that… You are not an Istari.
They came here to Middle Earth in bodies crafted like Men. The bodies of Men are unable to channel the power of the magic and Song of Arda, as it would utterly destroy them. Only the Dúnedain, blessed by the Maiar, are able to channel even the smallest forms of magic. But your body is no longer of Men and, each day, you become closer to an Elf. An Elven body has no fear of channeling magic and so you have no need of the crutch that the Istari use to circumvent the limitations of their human bodies."
Branwen nodded in understanding and fell into deep thought as they ascended back up the hill and then into the treetops again. As she laid in Arwen's bed that night, Branwen could only wonder what she was supposed to do.
҉
Branwen spent the next number of weeks moving up and down the great Mallorn tree. She ate breakfast with her grandparents before she would ascend upward to the small viewing platforms even higher above. There, she would meditate deeply on the Wyld and the Shards of Sorrow.
She felt them there within her—each was its own little pocket of strength.
While she did not struggle to channel them as she had always—using her Sight, casting small spells with her Voice, and concealing herself with her Veil—she could not channel the power that she could with her staff. Branwen could only wonder how she was supposed to accept them. She had thought she had, over the years. They were there, they weren't going anywhere, and she had not necessarily refrained from using them.
Was that not acceptance?
Around midday, Branwen would usually go down to the forest floor and take lunch with the Company. Legolas was often up and down through the trees as well with, surprisingly, Gimli at his side and they could be found listening to songs and poetry mostly. Gimli seemed to be picking up a good bit of Sindarin as well, seeing as how the Elves of Lórien either did not speak or refused to speak Westron.
After lunch, Branwen would often spar with Aragorn. The others seemed simply too at ease and…dazed still by the Light of Galadriel that filled the Naith of Lórien. Their sparring was good exercise and practice. They used stout, heavy, and straight branches for their spars and they worked well enough, especially after Aragorn had taken the time to whittle them down closer to what their respective swords looked like.
The Hobbits and Boromir seemed content to simply wander around the bases of the trees on the forest floor instead of going upward into the treetops themselves. Branwen could See that Boromir felt…uneasy around her now. He was not necessarily scared of her, just wary. The Hobbits, especially Frodo, did not seem to share any of those concerns and were simply happy existing in the haze of Lórien resting, eating, and drinking.
After their afternoon sparring practice, Branwen would usually go to Galadriel's garden. Her grandmother had welcomed her to it as long as she stayed away from the Mirror. Aragorn would sometimes join her as she meditated and he seemed to be content looking at the colors of the sky as they shifted to twilight.
Having him there felt…nice.
It was comforting and he seemed to gain some comfort as well. Gandalf's death was still weighing heavily on all of their minds, but Branwen understood that Aragorn was doing his best to remain appearing almost unaffected in front of the others. Only to her did he open his heart.
"I…simply struggle to believe him gone. He had been mentor, as surely Elrond, for the last sixty-odd years. Gandalf was as monolithic as Elrond himself… I could never imagine him passing…and yet he has. Now, I find my mind plagued with thoughts of Elrond passing, Glorfindel, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, and all other figures that have been fixtures for centuries…"
Branwen responded, "Death often comes quickly…but, as I believe I have told you before, it is peace. Like slipping into cool soft sheets in a darkened room. It is a restful sleep that you never wish to wake from again. There is nothing to fear of Death… Don't pity the Dead, pity the Living. Fear not the future that is not yet come or the past that has already gone, focus only on the present for that is the only thing that you can change."
Her words seemed to help Aragorn and she noticed he had begun sitting closer to her as the days passed, like he would sit next to her when they had been studying together in Imladris. Now though, she was aware of a certain…pull she had felt towards him. Branwen felt unable…or maybe just unwilling, to put space between them.
Regardless, she refused to acknowledge the thoughts that she was feeling…or that damned vision that seemed to haunt her now. For the time being though, she was content.
After her afternoon meditations in Galadriel's garden, they would return back to the central pavilion and eat dinner with the Company. The evenings were often spent talking but mostly listening to the songs celebrating Gandalf and mourning his passing.
Finally, one night, Branwen let the Light of Galadriel fill her instead of hiding away from it. The song that had come to mind was sad and was an old one of the Wizarding Britain that had been sung during a number of funerals. It was about a witch of a wealthy family who had gone mad over the violent death of her loved ones during the Witch Hunts of Europe. So, she had danced by herself with their ghosts in the ruins of their old home. It was sung most often during funerals honoring those who died violently to remind attendees to seek Life and not hold onto the Dead. She had heard it many times during his lifetime back on Earth, especially after the war.
Some squibs had taken it and sold it to a television series…but it came out quite well for them. The Weird Sisters had been stealing music from the Muggles for years, so it seemed fair. Maybe she would change it here as a reminder to herself…to seek beyond Death.
Best of all about it, it still rhymed in Westron.
҉
Aragorn found his gaze go to Branwen as she rose from the couch next to him. She walked forward into the center of the clearing; the simple white dress she wore made her appear otherworldly. She clasped her hands together before her voice rose up, clear and pure as a crystal bell, and began to since in Westron.
"High in the halls of the kings who are gone
Heather would dance with her ghosts…
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found
And the ones who had loved her the most…"
Aragorn wondered if she had come up with song…or if it had been written of Heather Potter back on her realm. He noticed that the other members of their Company had all stopped talking as they listened to her sing.
"The ones who'd been gone for so very long
She couldn't remember their names…
They spun her around on the damp old stones
Spun away all her sorrow and pain…"
Aragorn felt his eyes glued on her as she sang. It sounded so heartbroken and somber. He wondered if all those that had left Branwen…and Heather behind could hear her lamentations.
"And she never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…"
Aragorn had always associated beautiful songs with Elvish Tongues only, but somehow the way she sang made the Westron just as wonderful. He noticed that the songs and music from above had come to a stop and Branwen's song now seemed to be the only one filling the city.
"They danced through the day and into the night,
Through the snow that swept through the hall…
From winter to summer then winter again,
'Til the walls did crumble and fall…
And she never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…
She never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…"
Sorrow and longing filled each line as Branwen sang of Heather never wishing to leave the ghosts of her loved ones alone.
"She never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…
Never wanted to leave…"
Her voice rose powerfully one last time before it suddenly tapered off and yet echoed about the pavilion. The sudden drop-off of her voice revealed that the city above them was incredibly quiet. Branwen continued near whisper quiet and yet it seemed to carry just as far.
"High in the halls of the kings who are gone,
Heather would dance with her ghosts…
The ones she had lost and the ones she had found
And the ones Who had loved her the most…"
Branwen dropped her hands and the song was done. Aragorn looked around and found the Hobbits appeared to be wiping away tears, the poignant sorrow and grief of the song seemed to have burrowed into them.
Above their heads, slowly Elven voices began to speak, recite, and sing as their musical instruments filled the air once more. Legolas spoke first, "That was quite a sad song, Branwen… Did you compose it yourself?"
Branwen smiled as she retook her seat next to Aragorn and replied, "No. It is an old song of my homeland sung most often during funerals regarding violent death. It was about a wealthy woman who went mad after the deaths of all her loved ones and danced in the ruins of their old home until she died herself. It is to remind those of us still living to seek happiness beyond the Dead."
That seemed to somber most of them. Then Merry seemed to have heard what she said, "Where is your homeland, Branwen?"
Branwen gave the Hobbit a mysterious smile, "Very, very far away. There is nothing left of it as Men, in their greed, destroyed the land, cut down all the trees, and killed or drove off all the animals. Parts of it are now swallowed by the Sea and the parts that remain are burned to dust by the sun. I believe it likely that most of my people and the Men that remained are likely all dead… If you remember, when we first met, I warned you Hobbits of the darkness in the Hearts of Men."
Aragorn frowned as Boromir suddenly stood and rebuked, "Not all Men! I know it must be quite easy for you Elves to look down on us, but not all Men! I refuse to sit here and be insulted!"
Aragorn went to speak. He was upset, his grief feeling renewed, and he did not care to have anyone speak to Branwen that way. Out of all of them, she understood the nature of Men and the end result of their greed. The End of Men and the destruction of her realm had spoken deeply to him when he had heard her tale as, though he wished to deny it, he could easily imagine the Men of Middle Earth doing the same.
Instead, Branwen placed a small hand on his shoulder and stopped Aragorn from speaking. He looked at her in confusion before Branwen stood again. Boromir was glowering at her but seemed unsure as Branwen was not upset at all.
Aragorn felt shock rise up in him as Branwen said, "…Maybe it's time that I stop hiding so much… Lady Galadriel has said that I need to work on accepting myself…and parts of myself if I am to regain my strength and tap into my full power. I have been rejecting parts of myself for decades…and so these are the consequences…"
Boromir seemed much more confused now than anything and the rest of the Company was staring at her. Finally, Frodo asked, "…What do you mean, Branwen?"
Branwen looked at him and smiled slightly. Then with both hands, she drew her hair up and back away from her ears to reveal her rounded ears. The others did not seem to understand the significance of the action, just as Aragorn had not the first time until she explained.
Branwen said, "I was not always an Elf… In fact, I'm still in the process of changing according to Master Elrond and Lady Galadriel. I used to just be a woman…a daughter of Men."
Gazes went to her ears now and understanding and shock began to spread across the faces of the others. Branwen continued before anyone could say anything and said, "So, yes, I know of the darkness in the Hearts of Men because I have seen it…and I have experienced it myself. I have always been a witch…but this transformation was not planned…or wanted. I could not rightly tell you how either… Gandalf believed in a few more decades that my transformation would be complete. I don't believe my ears shall ever change though…"
She then dropped her hair, covering her ears again, and said, "If that is all, I shall be going to bed. I would appreciate you not needlessly sharing this either. Of course, my adoptive family knows of this, but it creates questions that I either can't or won't answer… I tell you all this as a show of my trust in you, to gain some of your trust, and…as I said, to try and accept myself. Good evening…"
Branwen turned and walked away and mounted the near-vertical stairs. The others watched her go before Pippin looked to Aragorn, "…Did you know about this?"
Aragorn looked over at the stunned hobbit and nodded, "Yes, I knew… It is why she was so uncomfortable with her true form and face. It is also why, at times, she may seem rather clumsy for an Elf."
Legolas commented, "…I had wondered why she seemed so precarious at times. She is rather heavy-footed for an Elf-maiden."
Boromir asked, "But…how? How does one go from Man…to Elf?"
Aragorn shrugged, "She doesn't know herself…and of what I do know, I shall not say. It is not my place and her secrets are hers and hers alone to tell… Treat her as you have already and you will find she is still Branwen."
Aragorn wondered what Branwen had been thinking when she had shared this with everyone…but also felt a strong bit of pride in her. She was beginning to open up and trying to accept herself.
She deserved happiness.
Author Note: Song is "Jenny of Oldstones" from HBO's 'Game of Thrones'. Specific cover that I have in mind is by an artist that does a number of covers going by the name 'Karliene'. Really great cover if you like that sort of thing.