The roar of the water was deafening and it's cool spray was exactly the sort of experience Galadwen had left Lorien to find. The falls of Lindor they were called on the map, but she had been told that the men in this area called them Mere's End. In either case, they were quite magnificent. Perhaps 300 paces across, they poured in an unbroken sheet over a drop of at least 10 fathoms. Striking rocks at the base, the spray billowed upwards in a roiling cloud, soaking the rocky, moss covered shore in a perpetual rain.
Galadwen wanted to walk down and stand in the fog, feel it's dampness on her face, but the shore was steep, muddy and looked treacherous. Furthermore, she still wore the elegant clothes and slippers loaned to her by lady Arawel, and she didn't want to damage them. They were a matching set, now that she had time to admire them. Blue silk with intricate silver embroidery accentuated by small, clear gems that sparkled in the light. The young elf had never owned clothing as lovely as this, and she reminded herself that she must thank lady Arawel for entrusting her with them.
Galadwen had tried to assist with the setting up of the camp, but Silima would have none of it. "I won't have you tearing out those stitches your giant so lovingly gave you," she teased. "Find yourself a tree and rest in the shade."
Galadwen had to agree that she wasn't ready for heavy work. She had spent the hours since they came ashore watching the human soldiers handle almost all of the chores she was usually responsible for, and Silima had handled the rest. She had an opportunity to speak with Bellamdir, still sporting the feathered hat from the battle, about these human troops and was surprised to learn that other than a handful of men sent to manage the boats their relief force consisted entirely of troops sent by the King of Dale.
Still, it was three hours til dusk and she wouldn't spend that time lounging under a tree. A gentle walk was within her ability, so she found the small satchel in which she stored her parchment, charcoal and other art supplies, and made for the sound of the falls.
She was glad she had, and finding a comfortable rock, she sat and spent almost an hour drawing several views of the beautiful scene before her. After looking over the charcoal sketches, she packed away her things and noting there was still time before nightfall, decided to climb the rise and see what lay north of the falls. She had been told that a small town lay along the shore of Long Lake less than a thousand paces from the falls, and as she had never seen a human settlement before, it seemed well worth the short walk.
Moving away from the bank of the Celduin, she turned upstream and with a few minutes of steady climbing, crested the rise above the falls. She was stunned. She had never thought to see this much water in her entire life. Her studies had described to her the ocean, water that was almost endless, but while Long Lake wasn't endless, it was still breathtaking. The opposite shores of the lake were separated by at least three leagues. Far up the west coast, at the very edge of her sight, the spires of a city rose from the water, while the northern shore was too distant to see.
And there on the horizon, was Erebor it's pointed peak quickly drawing her eye! She imagined what a dwarven kingdom would be like. Perhaps a bed of golden coins to rest on, and dinner plates carved from great diamonds. Galadwen laughed at herself. "I am behaving like a child," she thought. Anyway, with luck she would find out for herself soon enough.
Looking about her she noticed for the first time a large mill standing on the shore of the river just 100 paces distant. It had a twin on the western bank, or it would have been a twin had it not been burnt down. A recent fire too, she assumed, as the charred timbers were not disturbed by grass or brush. The land on the west side of the river seemed open and fertile, an irrigated strip of green hugging the lake's southern shore, but like the mill, the few buildings on that side of the river were destroyed, piles of blackened wood falling inwards on themselves. The land was clearly intended for planting, but although Spring was well underway, the soil was un-tilled. Further upstream Galadwen saw the remains of a long, low bridge. The piers were intact jutting above the current, and they seemed solid, but the deck was gone, it's planks torn up and missing, making it useless.
On the east side of the Celduin lay the small hamlet she was looking for. The town's name wasn't particularly original, in fact the humans seemed to have a singular lack of talent when it came to naming things. It was called South End, along the shore of Long Lake, next to the River Running, and owing it's allegiance to Laketown.
"No", she thought, smiling slightly. "No originality at all".
She had never seen a town of its sort before. Her life had been spent in the trees of Caras Galadhon. Set high above the ground, its ladders, ramps and sweeping arches connected the tops of the mighty Mallorn trees which had been planted and tended by the elves there for more than 4000 years. Each elf had work as befitted their skills of desires, but they also had much leisure time. This time they used to play instruments, sing or write poetry, and those delicate sounds were a constant throughout every day. Caras Galadhon was as much a work of art, a natural extension of the forest, as it was a place to live.
This was clearly a town of fishermen and farmers. Their lives were simple, practical, and centered around surviving the next season, not with delicate rhymes or the trills of a flute. Small square buildings with basic framing and thatched roofs lay haphazardly along rutted dirt paths. Their walls appeared to be woven reeds taken from the nearby marshes and then dried, before being knitted into a wall, covered with clay and painted white. Always white.
But here on the east bank also, things were not as the should be. Of the thirty or so buildings she could see, many had doors hanging open, shutters swinging idly. The larger buildings, similarly built but for storage she assumed, likewise seemed dilapidated. Some homes were clearly occupied. Small tendrils of smoke wafted from clay chimneys, clothes on lines waved in a southerly breeze, and she could see people moving slowly between the buildings. But the bustle of work, of life, simply wasn't there.
At the far side of the village, hard against the lake shore, she noted a pair of long docks stretching into the cold, blue water. Next to those a small group of people gathered. As this looked like the only real activity anywhere in the town, she moved in that direction. She passed several women, each wearing worn, threadbare dresses to their ankles and plain, flowing blouses. Upon seeing the elf their eyes widened, and they hurried off avoiding Galadwen's gaze. She felt their fear, but didn't understand it. Certainly she couldn't be seen as dangerous?
Sidestepping puddles and mud holes, Galadwen passed through the run down buildings, arriving in a few minutes at a small patch of open dirt which formed a half circle at the foot of the two docks. A dozen or so small boats, each fitted with a pair of long oars and a square sail on a single mast, were tied up to the piers. Here a group of twenty or so, some men, but mostly women, were unloading the catch for the day. Wooden crates with large silver fish were stacked on the jetty next to each boat and apparently a count of the day's take was underway.
She was only twenty paces from the nearest of them when she was noticed. A small child turned, and seeing Galadwen sent up a sharp cry, backing away several paces. Looking towards the sound, others began to shout, and the half dozen men present grabbed boat hooks, fish clubs, or other implements and moved to confront the elf maid.
"Oi! You stop right there lass." The warning came from a broad shouldered man with a full beard standing in the middle. "You don't belong here."
Galadwen held out her hands, palms up. "I am sorry, good sir. I mean no harm."
A sturdy looking woman with a weather worn face and sad eyes laid her hand on the bearded man's shoulder. "Peace Steinarr. Have you seen many goblins in a gown like that?"
Steinarr looked the elf up and down, and his club dropped a bit.
"We were told there were strangers camped below the falls," the woman added. "I imagine she has just come to visit." Then looking at Galadwen more closely, her eyes widened. "I don't mean to be rude, milady, but you're one of the woodland folk, are you not?"
Galadwen dipped in a short courtesy. She wasn't sure if this was appropriate, but it couldn't hurt to be polite. "I am, good lady. And again, I am sorry if I have caused any of you distress."
A murmur ran through the crowd, and the weapons were lowered. The woman came forward, looking the stranger up and down as she did. Galadwen could see light blue eyes set deeply in what had been a lovely face in her youth, but now that she was near the elf thought she could see suffering. Deep wrinkles creased her forehead, and the eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark circles.
"Thank Iluvatar you have come." She was just a few paces from Galadwen now, her eyes brimming with tears, and reaching forward she fell to her knees in the soaked earth. Grabbing the elf's hands she kissed them several times.
This was quite a bit more than Galadwen had expected, but perhaps it was a local custom about which she was unaware. Unsure of what to say, she decided that saying nothing was the wisest course.
"We have prayed every night, milady," the woman continued from her knees. "When the Master refused to send soldiers, we prayed that aid would come from an unseen place." The poor woman was almost wailing now, tears tracing grimy lines down her cheeks.
Looking quickly about, Galadwen saw that there was quite a crowd surrounding her now. Whatever was happening, it might be getting a bit out of control.
The woman looked up at Galadwen, her face was unwashed, and her eyes red with sorrow. "I am Hilda, milady, uneducated and ignorant," The words came out irregularly, separated by muffled sobs. "By your clothes and bearing, you must be a queen or powerful lady, but we thought the Woodland Realm was ruled by a king?"
Galadwen was stunned. "My dear woman," she reached down and helped the distraught villager to her feet, "Thranduil is King of the Woodland Realm. I am Galadwen, of Lothlorien, and no queen."
Despair burst into the poor woman's eyes, and when she spoke, it was little more than a strangled whisper. "We prayed that someone would come and save us from the marauders, and when I saw you, I thought…." Her head dropping despondently to her chest, the distraught woman turned away.
"Marauders?" Galadwen stepped quickly forward, and taking the villager by her shoulders, turned her about. "What has befallen your people?"
With this the woman burst into wails once again and threw herself into the young elf's arms. "They have killed so many of us, milady. Both my boys were slain the first day in the western fields."
Her grief was flooding into Galadwen and tears began to well in the maiden's eyes too.
"The men that weren't fishing tried to fight them, but they were overcome and so many fell. Those few that survived destroyed the bridge and kept them on the western bank, but they burned the grain storage and destroyed the western mill. We have been kept from our fields for nigh on a month, and even if we were to regain them, we have nothing to sew."
Galadwen now understood why so many homes seemed abandoned. Holding the sobbing woman, she looked about at the crowd that surrounded her. There were perhaps four score present, all of whom looked desperate and haunted. Of these, there were numerous women and children, but only a handful of men, most of whom she had seen at the docks.
"Who are these marauders, dear woman? Can't the master send troops to protect you?"
The lady shook her head mournfully. "No milady. We sent for aid the day after the raid, but were told that soldiers cost money, and that the meager taxes we paid to the coffers of Laketown were insufficient to warrant their expense. As for who they are, they are orcs, milady. Vicious, murdering brutes who raid from Mirkwood to the southwest. Remnants from the Battle of Five Armies, we are told."
A small flicker of hope rose in Galadwen's heart. "Orcs you say? Did they bear shields emblazoned with a red eye, a tear of blood dripping from it's corner?"
The woman's sobbing slowed. "Yes milady. That they did.".
Galadwen stepped back a pace and looked into the despondent woman's face. "I am sorry for the loss you suffered" she said, looking into red, tear stained eyes, "but I can tell you that you will not be further terrorized by those orcs."
A gasp escaped the woman's lips. "You are certain of this, milady? Don't think I distrust you," she added, grasping Galadwen's hand, "but we have no means of protecting ourselves, and must be sure"
Galadwen drew herself up and spoke loudly to the crowd in what she hoped was an authoritative voice. "My good people. This fine woman here has told me of the pains inflicted upon you by a band of murderous orcs. I am Galadwen of Lothlorien, and I grieve with you. I can do nothing about those you have lost, but I can assure you that the creatures who have plagued you will cause you no further harm. I was present three days past when these murderers were slain, perhaps to the last of them, by elves from the land of Lorien, and by soldiers sent by King Bard himself."
There was a moment of silence, and then the crowd erupted. Tears, wails, cries of joy and laughter. Everyone hugging each other, and to Galadwen's shock, hugging her. Men shaking her hands, women kissing her on the cheek. She was pushed and grabbed and held, and a little terrified.
After a few minutes, a particularly firm hand took her arm, dragging her through the throng. She tried to draw herself free, but the man had a very firm grip, and kept pulling. In a moment she was free of the mob. Her assailant was only slightly taller than her, with dark hair and ring mail. She had seen him before talking to Earendil on the river bank some hours before. His grip lessened some, but he continued moving quickly away from the throng, towing her between the houses.
After a few more paces, he let go of Galadwen's arm. "I apologize, but you would have been with them well into the night had I not gotten you away." He continued walking purposefully in the direction of the falls, and his bearing suggested he expected Galadwen to follow. "I am Belem, captain of the guard of King Bard. That was quite a pronouncement you made back there."
Galadwen wasn't sure if it was a compliment or sarcasm. "I did not think I needed rescuing, captain."
Belem continued his quick pace away from town, shrugging his shoulders. "Perhaps not, although you did look a bit overwhelmed there."
Galadwen had to admit she had been overwhelmed, at any rate she had to admit it to herself, but other thoughts came to her mind. "Captain. Those villagers are vassals to the Master of Laketown, are they not?"
The Captain nodded silently and kept walking.
"I was told they were beset by the same war band that we destroyed some days past, but that the master refused to send them soldiers or aid." Galadwen didn't want to think this was possible, that villagers would be abandoned by their lord when set upon by murderers.
Belem stopped, and turning to the young elf, sighed deeply. "Galadwen, I am a soldier and not one to get involved in the politics of the powerful…" The captian paused, as if he were considering about whether to continue.
"But…?" Galadwen fixed him with an expectant look.
Belem sighed deeply again, and continued. "But… the council of Laketown, and most certainly it's master, are ruled by the purse. Troops cost money to train, and more money to replace. It is my opinion," and at this he paused and looked firmly back at the elf, "and an opinion I would appreciate you not repeat to anyone else."
Galadwen nodded sincerely and he continued.
"It is my opinion that the council of Laketown did not see profit in risking troops for a ramshackle cluster of buildings on the south shore."
Galadwen shook her head. "No," she thought. "The council simply must not have been aware of the true situation here".
Pulling open her satchel, Galadwen sat down cross legged in the grass. "I am sorry Captain," she replied in response to a stammered protest. "I promise you this will not take long."
In fact, it took somewhat more than an hour, and when she was finally done the sun was rapidly sinking from view. By then Galadwen had sketched the houses, abandoned and in disrepair, the ruins on the western shore, including the destroyed mill, and also the bridge, torn apart in desperation by the same villagers who had made it. Putting away her kit, she found the Captain had been quietly waiting for her the whole time.
She smiled at him as she rose from the grass. "Thank you good sir. I know you had pictured us back in camp by now.
Belem nodded. "Shall we be on our way?"
The pair began moving down the slope skirting Mere's End.
"You are a good woman, Galadwen." The captain had to yell as they walked, the roar of the nearby falls being tremendous. "I know what you believe, that those pictures will sway hearts in Laketown." The captain was about to say something else, but instead said, "I pray that you are right."
Galadwen was praying for the same thing as the captain continued.
"In addition, I must thank you. I overheard what you said to the villagers. Many folk would not have given credit to my soldiers, but you made sure that our role, and that of the King, was prominently mentioned." With this he doffed the flat, feathered cap he wore, swinging it downwards in a fluid bow.
Galadwen smiled. "That's where Bellamdir got his hat," she thought.
"I can see why young Earendil is so smitten with you."
Her smile faded away instantly. "Excuse me captain?"
"I am sorry to become involved in this," and to Galadwen, the captain's face looked as if he were indeed sorry. "This lad is in my charge and, as noble a woman as you appear, any relationship between two of you is doomed to bring him nothing but pain."
Galadwen remained stone faced, and didn't acknowledge the Captain with as much as a glance.
"Earendil is as honorable a lad I have ever met," Belem continued, his voice softening as the roar of the falls fell away behind them, "and I must tell you, every lass from scullery maids to the noble ladies of court would bed him if they could." Belem was watching closely for a reaction, and Galadwen tried hard not to flush. "And yet, he has never so much as kissed a girl, to the best of my knowledge."
At this, Belem smiled. "'It is not gallant to lead a woman down a path that leads nowhere', he told me some time ago. I am faithful to my wife my lady, she has bore me three strong children and I owe her at least that, but I could not have honestly said the same thing when I was that boy's age." Looking directly at Galadwen he added, "incidentally, you do know he's 15, don't you?"
Galadwen failed completely to maintain her facade this time, looking with shocked eyes at the soldier.
"Hmmmm. You didn't know, it would seem. Well, it's true," Belem assured. "However, beyond just his age, there is the minor issue of your immortality."
"That is quite enough Captain," Galadwen snapped. "My decisions on whom I consort with are my own, but I can assure you, whatever the lad's feelings toward me, I am not smitten with anyone under your command." Walking ahead of Belem, she continued towards the camp.
The soldier jogged briefly to catch up, then walked again at her side. "I am sorry this conversation came up and am glad to hear that young Earendil will not have to struggle with this situation. I sent him north to Dale earlier in the afternoon, so you will not have the discomfort of seeing him again any time soon."
Galadwen wasn't the least bit interested in where Earendil was. Really she wasn't.
"Incidentally," the Captain added. "You may not have heard the last of this subject. I believe the lady Arawel has opinions on this she would like heard as well."
Galadwen grimaced, but continued walking in silence.
This continued for some time, and presently the camp came into view. She noted the men standing near the boats talking and lounging, and then saw the men in feathered caps still bustling about the camp.
"So the Council only sent a dozen men to aid us against the orcs?" She asked Belem.
Belem snorted derisively at this. "They sent a dozen men, but they refused to do anything other than manage the boats." The captain's tone showed clearly how little he thought of them. "They remained with their craft as we attacked the hill. Not that I would have trusted them in a fight," he added.
Galadwen shook her head in dismay, and together they passed between the first of the tents. The sun had fallen below the horizon and it was darkening rapidly as they arrived at the tent of lady Arawel. Moving ahead, Belem approached the tent.
"May we enter?" There was a moment of silence, so the Captain added, "I have Galadwen with me as the lady Arawel requested."
Galadwen heard a response that might have been her mistress.
Did she say temptress? Galadwen was sure she had misheard, but as she passed through the tent flap, she noted that the captain had a concerned look in his eyes.