Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings or its characters.
Pg. 3
As time went by, Kalin became increasingly attuned to the normal sounds of nature around her, instead of jumping at every stray sound. Waiting for the birds to awaken her and to feel the warmth of the sun on her face, each day Kalin arose and turned to what she thought was the north, keeping the rising sun on the right side of her face. She traveled as best she could manage until the warmth of the sun faded on the left side of her face, then stopped to drop in the tall grass and sleep. The dry, rocky hills had become flat meadows with grass waist-high around her, bending in the breeze, and she had lost the trail. Even though she had been fairly confident of her direction, she should have found Lorien by now. Kalin calculated that she had been walking for three days. Three days without food or water, for no brook had she crossed or heard in all that time, and no plant did she dare consume lest it be poison. She felt exposed in the meadows, though no thing or person had disturbed her. Yet, she was thankful for the sun and open space, for if it had been overcast or if she had been in a thick forest all direction would have been lost.
Kalin's legs cramped and her dry breath rattled in her throat as she pushed her way weakly through the tall grass. Each step grew slower and shakier as she forced herself forward. She knew she was reaching the end of her strength. Malach and she had been so sure they were close to their destination when they had been attacked. But perhaps the ancient stories of the way had been corrupted as they had been passed down, or the land had changed. Tirendil had been too weak to confirm their accuracy before he died, when she sat by his bedside and swore to him that she would take his bow, and his words, home to his beloved Lothlorien. Lothlorien! Surely it still existed even though the Ring had been destroyed. Before he had been completely overcome by his wounds, Tirendil had told her it would fade only slowly, and that many Elves that loved their home dearly would remain to care for and protect it. Often in the past he had regaled her with stories of its beauty and goodness, and the greatness and wisdom of its people, until she had desired to see it and the Elves above all else. Near his end, she had promised Tirendil she would carry his words there as much for herself as for him. Words that would absolve her dear friend and mentor; words that would restore his honor.
* * * * *
As she finally dropped to her knees in exhaustion, Kalin became aware of a growing sense that she was being watched. Heart pounding, she fumbled for an arrow and fitted it to the bow. Trying to quiet her breathing and hoping that the tall grass gave her some meager cover, she listened intently. She heard nothing but the slight breeze, and the birds still singing; nothing had frightened them so far. Was her mind playing tricks on her?
"Mae govannen," a clear voice spoke from some yards away to her right. Quickly, Kalin shifted her aim to where she thought the voice had come. This was ridiculous, there was no way she could defend herself. Whoever it was obviously traveled silently and could easily shift position without her knowledge. Again the voice spoke, now slightly further to her right. Kalin shifted her aim again. She couldn't understand all that she was hearing, but some of the words, and the cadence of speech, seemed familiar. Hope rising in her for the first time since she had lost her sight, she lowered her arrow somewhat and tried some of the few elvish words she knew: "Mellon? Lorien?"
She jumped as a strong hand was placed on hers over the arrow, and another was laid gently on her shoulder. "Aranel. Lorien. Mellon." She had made it. She had found Lothlorien.
The elf removed Kalin's bow and arrow, and her own knife. Then, a piece of bread was placed in her hand, and a flask was offered. Kalin held it to her lips, then drank deeply of a water-like liquid. Almost instantly she felt refreshed, and some of her energy returned. She then rested, sitting in the meadow. She discovered that the word "Aranel" was the elf's name, and that he spoke only a few words of Westron. After a short time he helped her rise, and made known to her by touch that he would carry her weapons. Then, he placed her hand on her arm and led her on.
Pg. 3
As time went by, Kalin became increasingly attuned to the normal sounds of nature around her, instead of jumping at every stray sound. Waiting for the birds to awaken her and to feel the warmth of the sun on her face, each day Kalin arose and turned to what she thought was the north, keeping the rising sun on the right side of her face. She traveled as best she could manage until the warmth of the sun faded on the left side of her face, then stopped to drop in the tall grass and sleep. The dry, rocky hills had become flat meadows with grass waist-high around her, bending in the breeze, and she had lost the trail. Even though she had been fairly confident of her direction, she should have found Lorien by now. Kalin calculated that she had been walking for three days. Three days without food or water, for no brook had she crossed or heard in all that time, and no plant did she dare consume lest it be poison. She felt exposed in the meadows, though no thing or person had disturbed her. Yet, she was thankful for the sun and open space, for if it had been overcast or if she had been in a thick forest all direction would have been lost.
Kalin's legs cramped and her dry breath rattled in her throat as she pushed her way weakly through the tall grass. Each step grew slower and shakier as she forced herself forward. She knew she was reaching the end of her strength. Malach and she had been so sure they were close to their destination when they had been attacked. But perhaps the ancient stories of the way had been corrupted as they had been passed down, or the land had changed. Tirendil had been too weak to confirm their accuracy before he died, when she sat by his bedside and swore to him that she would take his bow, and his words, home to his beloved Lothlorien. Lothlorien! Surely it still existed even though the Ring had been destroyed. Before he had been completely overcome by his wounds, Tirendil had told her it would fade only slowly, and that many Elves that loved their home dearly would remain to care for and protect it. Often in the past he had regaled her with stories of its beauty and goodness, and the greatness and wisdom of its people, until she had desired to see it and the Elves above all else. Near his end, she had promised Tirendil she would carry his words there as much for herself as for him. Words that would absolve her dear friend and mentor; words that would restore his honor.
* * * * *
As she finally dropped to her knees in exhaustion, Kalin became aware of a growing sense that she was being watched. Heart pounding, she fumbled for an arrow and fitted it to the bow. Trying to quiet her breathing and hoping that the tall grass gave her some meager cover, she listened intently. She heard nothing but the slight breeze, and the birds still singing; nothing had frightened them so far. Was her mind playing tricks on her?
"Mae govannen," a clear voice spoke from some yards away to her right. Quickly, Kalin shifted her aim to where she thought the voice had come. This was ridiculous, there was no way she could defend herself. Whoever it was obviously traveled silently and could easily shift position without her knowledge. Again the voice spoke, now slightly further to her right. Kalin shifted her aim again. She couldn't understand all that she was hearing, but some of the words, and the cadence of speech, seemed familiar. Hope rising in her for the first time since she had lost her sight, she lowered her arrow somewhat and tried some of the few elvish words she knew: "Mellon? Lorien?"
She jumped as a strong hand was placed on hers over the arrow, and another was laid gently on her shoulder. "Aranel. Lorien. Mellon." She had made it. She had found Lothlorien.
The elf removed Kalin's bow and arrow, and her own knife. Then, a piece of bread was placed in her hand, and a flask was offered. Kalin held it to her lips, then drank deeply of a water-like liquid. Almost instantly she felt refreshed, and some of her energy returned. She then rested, sitting in the meadow. She discovered that the word "Aranel" was the elf's name, and that he spoke only a few words of Westron. After a short time he helped her rise, and made known to her by touch that he would carry her weapons. Then, he placed her hand on her arm and led her on.