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Ch. 9: Interlude in Lórien
As the fellowship rested in Lórien,
they had their first opportunity in a long time to slow down, to rest,
and to grieve. Each went about this in his own way. The Hobbits
talked among themselves, but the others kept to themselves. Along
with talk of Gandalf, the Hobbits also discussed their strange Klingon
ally.
"What do you think of Worf, Mr. Frodo?"
Sam asked.
"I'm not sure I know what to think,
Sam..."
"Well, I, for one, am glad to have
him along." Merry said. "He's a great fighter, and we'd have
been in even more trouble than we have been without him. He saved
me from that Black Rider."
"He just seems so...I don't know,
strange. He's sad, like the Elves, but I don't really know why.
And I've never seen nor heard of the likes of him before. Even Strider
doesn't seem to know what to think." Sam said.
"Pippin, what do you think about him?"
Merry asked. Pippin had remained quiet and withdrawn since Gandalf's
fall, and everyone was trying to draw him out of his melancholy.
"He's nice. He's been really
good about trying to make me feel better. He's even tried to help
me with my sword, but he doesn't know how to use a sword much better
than me. He's really good with that big, um, thing he carries, though.
What is it he calls it, a bat lit? It sounds like you're letting
bats into the pantry to me."
After a moment of silence, Merry spoke
up again. "You haven't said much, Frodo. What do you think?"
"I'm trying to figure that out, Merry.
I'm glad to have him along, but I guess I think he's here more for his
sake than ours. I think there's a reason he's here, but I can't
really sort out any more than that. I don't even know if it makes
sense to me."
Aragorn sat with Boromir and Gimli
on the ground where the fellowship rested. Gimli broke the silence.
"Where is Worf? He has been keeping to himself much of late."
"That should surprise no one, Gimli."
Aragorn replied. "He needs solitude, as do we all at times."
"Yes, but he is strange. He
has the heart of a Dwarf warrior and the strength of an Elf, but he most
reminds me of Men."
"Do any of you know how old he is?"
Boromir asked.
"I do not." Aragorn replied.
"He seems like in age to me. He seems to have worn many heavy years,
but as one of us would count it. He is young yet, compared to the
Elves."
"What do you know of him?" Boromir
asked.
"Little more than you. I know
that he is from a far-off land, and that he was brought to us by some sort
of magic. I cannot think it an accident. He came on us just
as the Nazgûl attacked, and he saved Merry's life. At first,
I thought he was some new breed of Orc, but he has proven himself a valiant
ally. He has not spoken to me about his home. He is reluctant
to speak of it. I think he discussed it a little with Lord Elrond
and Gandalf, and maybe the Lady knows a little more. In these days,
I am willing to accept whatever help comes my way. The days are coming
when we will need all the strong arms possible."
Legolas was standing in a high flet
looking up at the stars. The Lady Galadriel came up quietly to stand
beside him.
"Your thoughts dwell on the visitor
from another world."
"Yes, Lady. I do not know very
much about Men or Hobbits, or even Dwarves, but they are at least understandable
to me. Worf is something altogether different."
"He does not belong to this world.
He has come from a realm as far removed from this one as lost Númenor."
"Is it in your power to send him back
to his home?"
"Even if it were, I do not think he
would choose it. There is a great sadness to him. I, perhaps,
have yet the greater claim to grief, but his short years have been difficult.
The world that was his home holds nothing more for him. His wife
was murdered and his homeland is in ruins. He will not return to
it. The task that remains for him is to make a new home here in Middle
Earth. For the moment, that is with the Fellowship, but that will
not last forever, nor even long. Worf will not be the only one who
must decide his fate in the days ahead." With that, Galadriel turned
and left Legolas to his thoughts.