Ok, I rarely ever put these in my stories, since I feel that it's just a given when your writing a fan fic. BUT, I figure, it can't be a bad habit to get into. None of the characters that Tolkien made are mine, since (DUH) they are Tolkien's. The only ones that belong to me are the Fates and that hobbit-maid—and I guess you can say her family is mine as well. Anyway, I shall end this bothersome chatter, and continue on with my story.
"Lorelle—what troubles your heart?"
The hobbit-maiden looked up from the bow she had been idly holding in her hands, and into the face of the Lady of Lothlorien.
"Lady Galadriel," the hobbit-maiden replied in Elvish as she swiftly rose to her feet, startled. "Lady Galadriel…I was just…" But her voice faltered, as her words failed her.
"Come Lorelle Serilda," Galadriel said, calling the hobbit-maiden by her full Elven name. "You saw something while you were standing sentry today. What was it that has silenced your tongue and made you think heavy thoughts?"
Lorelle walked with the Lady Galadriel, bow still in hand, deep in thought. "They appeared to me while I was scouting the western border," she finally said.
Galadriel knew of who she spoke. "Lachesis, Parca and Atropos came to you."
"Yes, Lady Galadriel—the Three Fates."
"And what did the Three say to you."
Lorelle's face became emotionless as she looked down at the bow. "They chanted the same prophesy they once told you."
"Ah, yes…the day they delivered you to me.
This small one shall bear up the Burdened one,
When that burden proves too great.
She will lead him into the Dark Land,
Right passed its very gate.
A shiver ran through Lorelle. "Yes Lady Galadriel. That is the prophecy they spoke. Then they pointed Northwest, towards Hithaeglir."
Lorelle fell silent once again as they continued their walk. Galadriel looked down at the hobbit-maiden, love in her piercing eyes. The Fates had brought Lorelle to Lothlorien not even thirty-three years ago—a mere blink in an Elf's long life. They had brought the sleeping babe, stolen her from her family and transported a long distance from her true home. They placed the babe at Galadriel's feet, with no more words than a prophecy and Raise her to be strong—raise her to fight.
And Galadriel had raised her, lovingly, yet aloof. For one day, the girl would leave, and it would be improbable that she would return. Hobbit's lives were mere breaths compared to elves' longevity.
"And what do you think they mean you to do, Lorelle?" Galadriel asked, though she knew the answer already in her heart.
Lorelle's head rose, and she looked to the Northwest. Galadriel could feel that she was looking passed the Elven homes, passed Hithaeglir.
"The time has come m'lady." Lorelle said, her tone emotionless. Her hands involuntarily tightened around her bow. "I can feel an urgent cry from past the Mountains—the ring bearer is traveling towards Rivendell."
"Then you must travel to meet him." Galadriel said, her words making the truth final. "When do you plan to set out towards Rivendell?"
"I plan on riding out before dawn rises over Lothlorien tomorrow."
"So soon?" Galadriel asked, surprised, but calm.
"I fear that I shall find I am too late."
Galadriel placed her hand lightly on the young hobbit's shoulder. There was a weight on this young girl's soul, and yet, Galadriel knew that it was a weight she was prepared to carry.
"Lady Galadriel," Lorelle started, her voice soft. "Do you believe that the Fates chose wisely? Was I really the only one suitable for this task?"
"You must not doubt Lorelle. Doubt will lead your heart into darkness. You must have faith."
Lorelle looked but at the Lady, and bowed deeply. "Your words will guide me in my actions," she whispered. "I shall remember all I was taught here—I will succeed."
And with that, the hobbit-maiden took her leave.
~*~
It was well before dawn when Lorelle awoke in horror. A sharp pain quickly receded as she leapt out of her bed and threw on her tough yet light elven clothes. Such a fear had shaken her to her very core. Something had happened to the ring bearer—Lorelle feared that she had failed before she had even begun.
Her things had been packed that evening, and her swift and sure-footed horse was awaiting her in the stables. She made no attempt to silently creep out of her home, built under the raised roots of one of the Lothlorien trees. Time had—in a heartbeat—become of the essence.
She made her way to the stable. The ache in her shoulder was gone, but the weight in her heart was still there, growing with every footstep. What terrible thing could have happened in the short span of a few hours?
Her house, Abargon, stood in its stall. She sensed her mistress' distress, and neighed softly. "We must fly," Lorelle whispered as she placed the pack on the horse's back. "We must fly like the North Wind."
"But before saying your farewells?" The soothing voice of Galadriel washed over Lorelle, quieting her beating heart. Galadriel looked with concern upon the wide-eyed, pale hobbit. "What has happened to send you into flight?"
"I feel as if I have been touched by a great evil," Lorelle said as she secured the pack. "And I know in my heart that the ring bearer is in danger."
Galadriel walked with Lorelle as she led Abargon out of her stall. "Where will you ride too?" Galadriel asked as Lorelle put her cloak on, and fastened it.
"I shall ride West for the Dimrill Dale, and if I make it through the mountain pass, I shall ride North," Lorelle replied. "I do not know where he is—but I know I must find him."
Lorelle turned towards the Lady Galadriel, and Galadriel looked down into the hobbit-maiden's solemn face. "I wish that whatever journey I undertake returns me to Lothlorien," Lorelle said as she looked into the Lady's face.
"Whatever journey it my be, it will be a harsh one—I fear that even you might snap under the strain. Be strong, my little one, but not so strong that you break. Even a mighty tree must sway in the wind in order to stand tall."
Galadriel bent over, and took Lorelle's hand in her own. "I offer you this gift in parting," Galadriel said as she closed Lorelle's hand around the object she had just placed there. Lorelle opened her palm, and there laid a ring, a ring of such beauty that it gave Lorelle a sense of peace. It was a band of pure-silver, with a lavender stone set in its center that sparkled with it's on inner light.
"This ring holds no power—it will not protect you from the enemy nor make your path easier. But may it bring you hope when there is naught but despair, bring you peace when it seems you have failed, bring you light when all is but an endless darkness. May it remind you of what you have set out on this quest to do—by protecting the ring bearer, you protect all of Middle Earth."
Lorelle placed the ring tenderly on her finger. She tried to thank the Lady, but words failed her. She gently kissed the Lady's hand, and pulled herself onto Abargon's back. There was no bridle or saddle on Abargon, and yet there was no danger of fallen off—Abargon would not allow it.
"Farewell Lorelle Serilda—may you succeed, and come safely home again," said Galadriel, bestowing a final blessing.
Lorelle looked at the Lady of Lothlorien one last time, love and thanks in her eyes. Turning away, she spoke a soft command to Abargon, and was off, never once looking back at the Elven Queen that stood there until the moment she rode out of sight.
