Chapter 3: Into the Unknown
Night-time had fallen in Lothlórien, and the Fellowship had settled down. The elvish voices lamenting for Gandalf had not yet ceased, but they had quieted and become even more grief-stricken than before. When earlier the younger hobbits had questioned Legolas about the words they sang, the elf had looked at them with pained eyes and refrained from telling them by saying:
"I dare not say, for the grief is too near to my heart."
None had the heart to push the forlorn elf further, and they quietly settled down in their dormitory. Aragorn and Boromir engaged in a quiet conversation, but it was not long before they too retired to bed. The others drifted to sleep, but Frodo was restless and found sleep evading him. He finally rose and and started for the main hall. He climbed down the stone stairs and walked by a stone pool filled with clear liquid.
"I knew you would come."
With a start, Frodo realized he was not alone, for the Lady Galadriel had a silently walked down the other stairs leading into the hall.
"Do you wish to look into the Mirror of Galadriel, Frodo Baggins?"
"Why? What will this mirror tell me?"
"Things that were, things that are, things that are yet to become true. The Mirror depicts possibilities. The question is, young Ring-bearer: do you have the courage to see?" said Galadriel as she poured more liquid into the water pool. She stepped back and urged Frodo to glance at the glimmering water.
The hobbit neared the Mirror warily. He drew a breath and forced himself to look into the water. At first, he saw nothing but the bottom of the pool through the transparent liquid. Then, images began to form. He saw himself leaving the Shire with Sam, and he saw himself and the others traveling to Rivendell. The flood of images stopped abruptly and startled the hobbit. The Lady Galadriel stood by, regal and unattainable, silently observing him.
Then the water began to whirl again. and new images formed. Frodo saw familiar faces. The Fellowship, he realized, like one just fully woken. He saw the faces of his friends; he saw Legolas the Elf look at him in pain and Aragorn bow his head just a moment too late to conceal his eyes, burning with anger and something Frodo did not quite recognize. The water began to whirl more and more wildly with every second and the images became distorted. They appeared and dissipated rapidly, and it was nearly impossible to make sense to them.
Frodo stared at the Mirror with horror, and still Galadriel did not speak. The things Frodo saw were not to be described with words; they were images of misery, pain, and hopelessness. He saw raging fires, a white city being burned to the ground, and then he saw a man who hid his face. He only guessed it was a man since the figure was tall and dressed in a warrior's clothes. There was something familiar about the figure, but Frodo could not identify him.
Then the man turned around, his sword raised, and Frodo found himself drawn to his fiery eyes, blazing brightly as a raging fire. Suddenly, Frodo felt himself being drawn to the image bodily. The Ring was pulling him to the Mirror so forcefully that the hobbit could feel burning marks form into his neck. Frodo pulled himself as far away from the Mirror as possible, and the last image he saw before falling on his back was the image of the man being covered in a dark shroud.
Frodo lay on the ground, panting, when Galadriel spoke: "You see now, Frodo Baggins? You cannot fail. Unless you destroy the Ring, the evil will prevail."
"I do not understand, fair Lady. How am I to accomplish that?"
"You must find a way. Neither I nor any other can help you with that. If you do not find a way, no one will."
"I—"
"I know the uncertainty in your mind. Fear not, young Ring-bearer; when the time comes, you will know what to do."
With that, Galadriel left before Frodo had the chance to further question her. He sat for a while, thinking about what had just happened, before returning to the dormitory. He silently lay on his bed and let out a sorrowful sigh. Samwise had woken up earlier, wondering about the absence of his Master, but had not dared go after him. Now he reached out to Frodo and whispered quietly:
"Mr. Frodo? Where have you been at this hour?" Upon receiving no answer, he whispered again with a bit more urgency:
"Mr. Frodo?"
"What is it, Sam? You should be soundly asleep," said Frodo, thinking of sleep as a luxury he himself could no longer afford.
"What is wrong, Mr. Frodo?"
"Nothing," replied Frodo, though he wanted to say, "Everything."
After resting a fair number of days in Lothlórien, the Fellowship continued on its way by water. They gathered their gear into three Elvish boats. Aragorn, Frodo, and Sam occupied the first boat; Boromir, Merry, and Pippin occupied the second, and Legolas and Gimli, the third. The Lord and the Lady of Lothlórien stood on the bank, along with Haldir and other elves to bid them a safe journey. As the boats drew away from the safety of Lothlórien, Frodo gazed at Galadriel one last time and heard the elvish sorceress whisper in his mind, Farewell.
They paddled their boats along the great Anduin, making only the briefest stops before retiring for the night. The journey went downstream and they were able to travel a great distance in only one day. Their order remained unchanged, which brought certain tension to the Fellowship. After the blindfolding incident, Legolas and Gimli had revived the old spirit of hostility between their races, and they traveled in icy silence. The silence was broken by a warning cry.
"Beware of the rock! Quick, to the left!" Gimli cried with urgency in his voice. Had it not been for Gimli's warning, they would have hit a sharp rock. Legolas managed to avoid the rock, but still the sharp edges drew a cut on their delicate boat. Gimli, who was suspicious of the boat and distrustful of his companion, drew a sharp breath.
"Curse the Elves and their negligence. Give a Wood-Elf a boat, and you shall fear for your mortal life," he muttered angrily. Legolas did not turn but his stature stiffened. It was obvious that he had heard. The silence of the elf unnerved Gimli and he spoke again, this time with a louder voice, "Had it not been for my vigilance, we would have been killed several times already."
Legolas did not respond, which surprised Gimli. It was unlike the elf to let an insult pass. As the journey went on, they experienced more dangerous situations from which only Gimli's attentiveness saved them. The dwarf was getting frustrated and his words became harsh. Not even the memory of the fair Lady Galadriel could hold his tongue. Legolas was quiet and never returned the insults. He even apologized to Gimli, which seemed to unsettle the dwarf even more than his carelessness. Legolas' quietness eventually got to Gimli, and the cautionary, dispassionate remarks became routine in their boat.
Legolas was angry at himself. If his inattention continued, the dwarf would surely suspect something. Even a dwarf would have to notice. He tried to focus on the boat, but met little success. Sometimes he halted paddling to rub his temples briefly, being always careful not to let the dwarf notice. If Gimli did notice or have his suspicions that something was wrong, he never spoke of it.
The mood in Boromir's canoe was not so downcast. Not even the troubled atmosphere would quiet such cheerful hobbits as Pippin and Merry. As if by an unvoiced agreement, they did not speak of their task but of happier times. While the youngest hobbits shared tales of the Shire, Boromir would talk about Minas Tirith, the white town of his kin. He would speak passionately about the glory of Gondor before sinking into memories.
"I dare say you have never witnessed such glory as can be found in Minas Tirith. Not Rivendell of the Elves, not even the fair Lothlórien, can ever evoke such fire in me as the white town of my ancestors, the crown jewel of Men. It is a sight to see..."
Not much was spoken among the last three of the Company. Samwise would occasionally make a conversational remark to which Aragorn would reply absent-mindedly and which Frodo would most of the times let pass. Aragorn paddled with even strokes, leading the line of boats. At times, he would reward Sam's attempts and tell a brief story of the Elves, even hum a few lines of ancient tales, long-forgotten among most peoples of Middle-earth. The sight of the monumental statues of the Argonath led him to a brief reminiscence of his ancestry.
"Behold that sight," he cried. "Can you see the statues yonder? They are the Argonath, ancient carvings of the Númenoreans. They are the mighty kings, Elendil and Isildur."
"I see," replied Frodo curtly. He stared intently at the figures, especially at the one whom Aragorn had pointed out as Isildur.
"They are very impressive, Strider," said Sam quickly, glancing at Frodo reproachfully.
"They are, very much so." Aragorn gazed at the figures intently and whispered barely audibly, "They were the kings of Men..." He shook out of his reverie and, noticing the hobbits look at him quizzically, he laughed, abashed. "Long have I wished to see these monuments of my ancestors. This is one sight I have not witnessed on my many travels."
The hobbits smiled politely and faced the river ahead again. Frodo was fascinated by the sight of the Argonath, and would every so often return his gaze at the mighty figures. Apparently, so did Aragorn, who would have steered the boat into a half-hidden rock, had itnot been for Sam's outcry. His lapse was not lost on Boromir, who caught up with them and suggested that they should start seeking refuge for the night. Aragorn agreed with him and they waited for Legolas and Gimli to draw near. Together they all started searching for a suitable camping place. Finally, Legolas spotted a sheltered cove and suggested it to Aragorn.
"Very well. Tonight we shall camp on Amon Hen."
T.B.C.
The challenge: Who is it? Who will be the first to fall? The next chapter, titled "Falling", will shed light on the question, but do not hesitate to make a guess. Feedback is welcome and I very much thank the previous readers and reviewers for their attention.
Huge thanks to all my betas: Architeuchtis, for the excellent proofreading and suggestions which made me want to develop the fic further; Kitty-Rose, for coming to my help and doing the check-up beta'ing; al, (alliwantisanelfforchristmas) for yet another round of proofreading and a bunch of stylistic advice.
Revised September 2003. Revised 2010.
