I do not own The Lord of the Rings or its characters.
Page 4
Many hours later, Kalin became aware of a change in the air, a cool, sweet scent that she couldn't quite place. Then suddenly it was as though they had passed through a gate into another world. The ground below them became soft and pliant. The air was cool and refreshing. There was a feeling of time slowing down, of an ancient awareness, as though the very air about her was alive. Her surroundings became quieter, and their movements and speech were more muffled. Well, at least hers were quieter; Aranel moved without a sound anyway. As Aranel's pace slowed, Kalin felt something lightly fall in her hair. She reached up to retrieve a small leafy object. It smelled of flowers. Was this then the Golden Wood that she had so longed to see? "Feel," offered Aranel, and guided Kalin's hand to the bark of a tree. "Mellyrn." Kalin gasped as she moved her hand along its surface. The bark was smooth, but there was something more. Kalin felt a presence, as though the tree was whispering to her.
* * * * *
"The trees still speak, but not as strongly as they did before the One Ring was unmade," a commanding voice nearby said. "Mae govannen, Aranel."
Kalin's guide responded in Elvish, and a soft conversation ensued in which she could pick out a few words from at least four new voices around her. The owner of the compelling voice then spoke again to her, "Aranel speaks little Westron, and as you were in need, I forgive him for bringing you here. He tells me your name is Kalin. But tell me now where you are from, and what business you seek with us. We rarely have dealings with men."
Kalin tried to choose her words carefully, for she knew this first impression would be critical to the Elves' acceptance of her presence in their domain. 'Tell them only as much as they need to know for you to gain their trust, but speak of me only to Lord Celeborn,' she heard Tirendil's warning in her mind, 'Do not tell them any untruths, and show no weakness. Your entry, and perhaps your life, will depend upon it.'
"Kalin touched her brow in respect, straightened, and with head raised high, began steadily: "Mae Govannon. My name is Kalin of Enedwaith, Cardolan of old, daughter of Beligund. I seek audience with the Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, should he still reign here. I bear an important message and gift for him that I have carried from afar. And you are..?"
"My name is Haldir, march warden of Lorien. What message and what gift would the Middle People have for the elves? Your lands lie close onto those of Dunland and Isengard, do they not?" he asked mistrustfully.
Kalin bristled. "My people were not puppets of Saruman, Haldir march warden. We are descendants of the Dunedain, though long separated from our kinsmen in the North. Yet elf-friends we remain, and true."
"Give me your message then, and your gift, and I will deliver them to him. There are no Dunedain in Cardolan; they were destroyed by darkness long ago. I know not of your people, and will not allow you to pass."
This was becoming more difficult than Kalin had expected, and the aloof voice of the march warden was wearing her patience. "It is not known to others that remnants of the faithful remain in Enedwaith, because we desire it to be so. To surrender my message to another I cannot do, for I swore an oath to speak of my errand only to the Lord Celeborn himself. Doubtless you see that Aranel carries my gift, as well as my own weapon. Is this the way the elves of Lorien greet all of their guests? To fulfill my oath I have journeyed for months from the western sea by dangerous paths around what remains of Isengard, gained passage through the Gap of Rohan, skirted the forests of Fangorn, crossed the plains, been attacked by highwaymen to whom I have lost my most trusted friend and my sight, and practically starved to death before kind Aranel found me and brought me to you. I did not suffer all of this, and more, to stand here at last and be denied the completion of my task by a....a self-important..watchkeeper of trees!" Oh that was a grave mistake, Kalin thought to herself.
The march warden's anger could not have been more palpable had she seen it cloud his face. He paced back and forth before her, then halted inches from her face, his words beating down upon her like stormy ocean waves on a rocky shore. "Your fate, daughter of man, is in the hands of this 'watchkeeper of trees.' Do not imagine that I do not recognize the bow of Lorien that you carry, nor by whose hand these arrows were crafted. Gifts! They are the weapons of a traitor to this land and thus to all of Elvendom. How do you come by them, and to whom did you give your oath? Speak now the truth, and wisely, or the arrows that have been trained on you since you arrived will find their mark!"
Her shoulders slightly trembling, Kalin forced herself to raise herself up in dignity to this tall, spirited elf. "Haldir of Lorien, pardon my foolhardiness. My purpose is not to speak words of insult to you or your fair land, or to carry any evil here, but to bring words of truth and love, dispatched to you by grief. As I will die ere I break my oath of confidence, you must now choose, and wisely," she countered. "Shoot me, if Lothlorien has become so fearful of all strangers, even a blind woman with no weapon or hope of defense, or take me now to the Lord Celeborn." Kalin reached out heedlessly grasped the first strap that she felt upon the elf's chest, and clung to it. "I will not be turned back into the wild to starve, with my promise broken. If I must," she said, kneeling, still grasping the strap, a wave of humiliation reddening her proud features, "I will beg you to take me."
Haldir looked down at the bedraggled, desperate woman in bewilderment. One second she was battling her will against his, the next she was begging to him yet challenging his honor at the same time. How was he to understand this woman, or any woman? Clearly she was not accustomed to submitting her will to another. Her blindness was no ruse, and he pitied her for it. And she was determined; if he sent her away she would doubtless return.
Haldir admitted to himself that he had become severely cautious of late. Over time as the elves had felt the protective power of the Lady of Light diminish, his people had increased their vigilance over their home. The march warden and his guards had become more critical to its safety than ever before now that Galadriel had departed into the West. Haldir was determined to preserve his beloved home and his people. Though Sauron had been defeated, evil still lingered in the world. Even King Elessar could not banish it from the hearts of all men, and treachery came in many guises. Worst of all, Haldir told himself, sometimes it came even in the guise of an elf.
Kalin held her breath as Haldir and the other elves spoke together again quietly.
"Arise, Kalin of Enedwaith," he said, prying her fingers from his chest but keeping her hand in his to steady her. "Although the breach of faith that these pieces represent lies with great bitterness in our hearts, we believe that you yourself intend no harm, and we do not fear you or your message. I will guide you to Lord Celeborn the wise. He will hear your words. You will make good your oath, and he will be your judge."
Helping her up and taking the bow and quiver from Aranel, Haldir spoke once more with his guards. Then, releasing her hand and allowing her to grasp his arm, he led Kalin toward Caras Galadhon.
Page 4
Many hours later, Kalin became aware of a change in the air, a cool, sweet scent that she couldn't quite place. Then suddenly it was as though they had passed through a gate into another world. The ground below them became soft and pliant. The air was cool and refreshing. There was a feeling of time slowing down, of an ancient awareness, as though the very air about her was alive. Her surroundings became quieter, and their movements and speech were more muffled. Well, at least hers were quieter; Aranel moved without a sound anyway. As Aranel's pace slowed, Kalin felt something lightly fall in her hair. She reached up to retrieve a small leafy object. It smelled of flowers. Was this then the Golden Wood that she had so longed to see? "Feel," offered Aranel, and guided Kalin's hand to the bark of a tree. "Mellyrn." Kalin gasped as she moved her hand along its surface. The bark was smooth, but there was something more. Kalin felt a presence, as though the tree was whispering to her.
* * * * *
"The trees still speak, but not as strongly as they did before the One Ring was unmade," a commanding voice nearby said. "Mae govannen, Aranel."
Kalin's guide responded in Elvish, and a soft conversation ensued in which she could pick out a few words from at least four new voices around her. The owner of the compelling voice then spoke again to her, "Aranel speaks little Westron, and as you were in need, I forgive him for bringing you here. He tells me your name is Kalin. But tell me now where you are from, and what business you seek with us. We rarely have dealings with men."
Kalin tried to choose her words carefully, for she knew this first impression would be critical to the Elves' acceptance of her presence in their domain. 'Tell them only as much as they need to know for you to gain their trust, but speak of me only to Lord Celeborn,' she heard Tirendil's warning in her mind, 'Do not tell them any untruths, and show no weakness. Your entry, and perhaps your life, will depend upon it.'
"Kalin touched her brow in respect, straightened, and with head raised high, began steadily: "Mae Govannon. My name is Kalin of Enedwaith, Cardolan of old, daughter of Beligund. I seek audience with the Lord Celeborn of Lothlorien, should he still reign here. I bear an important message and gift for him that I have carried from afar. And you are..?"
"My name is Haldir, march warden of Lorien. What message and what gift would the Middle People have for the elves? Your lands lie close onto those of Dunland and Isengard, do they not?" he asked mistrustfully.
Kalin bristled. "My people were not puppets of Saruman, Haldir march warden. We are descendants of the Dunedain, though long separated from our kinsmen in the North. Yet elf-friends we remain, and true."
"Give me your message then, and your gift, and I will deliver them to him. There are no Dunedain in Cardolan; they were destroyed by darkness long ago. I know not of your people, and will not allow you to pass."
This was becoming more difficult than Kalin had expected, and the aloof voice of the march warden was wearing her patience. "It is not known to others that remnants of the faithful remain in Enedwaith, because we desire it to be so. To surrender my message to another I cannot do, for I swore an oath to speak of my errand only to the Lord Celeborn himself. Doubtless you see that Aranel carries my gift, as well as my own weapon. Is this the way the elves of Lorien greet all of their guests? To fulfill my oath I have journeyed for months from the western sea by dangerous paths around what remains of Isengard, gained passage through the Gap of Rohan, skirted the forests of Fangorn, crossed the plains, been attacked by highwaymen to whom I have lost my most trusted friend and my sight, and practically starved to death before kind Aranel found me and brought me to you. I did not suffer all of this, and more, to stand here at last and be denied the completion of my task by a....a self-important..watchkeeper of trees!" Oh that was a grave mistake, Kalin thought to herself.
The march warden's anger could not have been more palpable had she seen it cloud his face. He paced back and forth before her, then halted inches from her face, his words beating down upon her like stormy ocean waves on a rocky shore. "Your fate, daughter of man, is in the hands of this 'watchkeeper of trees.' Do not imagine that I do not recognize the bow of Lorien that you carry, nor by whose hand these arrows were crafted. Gifts! They are the weapons of a traitor to this land and thus to all of Elvendom. How do you come by them, and to whom did you give your oath? Speak now the truth, and wisely, or the arrows that have been trained on you since you arrived will find their mark!"
Her shoulders slightly trembling, Kalin forced herself to raise herself up in dignity to this tall, spirited elf. "Haldir of Lorien, pardon my foolhardiness. My purpose is not to speak words of insult to you or your fair land, or to carry any evil here, but to bring words of truth and love, dispatched to you by grief. As I will die ere I break my oath of confidence, you must now choose, and wisely," she countered. "Shoot me, if Lothlorien has become so fearful of all strangers, even a blind woman with no weapon or hope of defense, or take me now to the Lord Celeborn." Kalin reached out heedlessly grasped the first strap that she felt upon the elf's chest, and clung to it. "I will not be turned back into the wild to starve, with my promise broken. If I must," she said, kneeling, still grasping the strap, a wave of humiliation reddening her proud features, "I will beg you to take me."
Haldir looked down at the bedraggled, desperate woman in bewilderment. One second she was battling her will against his, the next she was begging to him yet challenging his honor at the same time. How was he to understand this woman, or any woman? Clearly she was not accustomed to submitting her will to another. Her blindness was no ruse, and he pitied her for it. And she was determined; if he sent her away she would doubtless return.
Haldir admitted to himself that he had become severely cautious of late. Over time as the elves had felt the protective power of the Lady of Light diminish, his people had increased their vigilance over their home. The march warden and his guards had become more critical to its safety than ever before now that Galadriel had departed into the West. Haldir was determined to preserve his beloved home and his people. Though Sauron had been defeated, evil still lingered in the world. Even King Elessar could not banish it from the hearts of all men, and treachery came in many guises. Worst of all, Haldir told himself, sometimes it came even in the guise of an elf.
Kalin held her breath as Haldir and the other elves spoke together again quietly.
"Arise, Kalin of Enedwaith," he said, prying her fingers from his chest but keeping her hand in his to steady her. "Although the breach of faith that these pieces represent lies with great bitterness in our hearts, we believe that you yourself intend no harm, and we do not fear you or your message. I will guide you to Lord Celeborn the wise. He will hear your words. You will make good your oath, and he will be your judge."
Helping her up and taking the bow and quiver from Aranel, Haldir spoke once more with his guards. Then, releasing her hand and allowing her to grasp his arm, he led Kalin toward Caras Galadhon.