Part 3 – Arrival
As soon as Amarië felt sufficiently recovered, she moved to the edge of the flet and peered down. Below, she could see the two injured men being attended by a pair of elves. Both men appeared to be asleep; the body of the one who had died had been removed. Rúmil and Orophin had departed, leaving her alone with Haldir. She could feel the Marchwarden's presence behind her; he had moved nearer, perhaps thinking she would tumble over the edge.
"Do you wish to descend?" he asked her in a neutral tone. "You may stay here and rest, if you like. A message has been sent to the Lord and Lady. The Orcs are being burned, as you can doubtless smell. Your dead have yet to be buried."
"I should go down. It is my duty."
"Tell me, why does a woman lead this group of men?"
"Why not?" She lifted her chin. "Is it so difficult to believe?"
"Do you have special powers? Or is it only that they think you do?" he added shrewdly.
"Perhaps they admire my prowess with a bow," she replied with flippancy.
"And well they should. A more unimpressive lot of fighters I've yet to see. It's a wonder they weren't all slain, and you with them."
The disdain in his voice came through clearly, irritating her. "They were not trained to be fighters! These men are farmers and smiths, not warriors. They have done as well as they were able."
He probed her with a look as hard as mithril. "Then why do you travel with them? What in the name of Elbereth are they doing here?"
Unnerved, she looked away. "That is information I will only reveal to Lord Celeborn. Right now I must see to the men, and speak to my brother."
She heard him sigh, and knew that he also was annoyed. "I had better carry you down. You are still weak."
"I am not weak," she corrected through gritted teeth. "Perhaps the she-elves that you know would be so, but—"
"The she-elves that I know are not children," he cut in, "therefore they do not behave as such."
Rounding on him, she itched to slap his arrogant face, but did not quite dare. After all, she still needed his help. "You seem to be forming the bad habit of transporting me about," she said instead. "I would not want you to get used to it."
"You are not heavy," he replied, as though that were the issue. His careful gaze encompassed all of her. "You do not eat enough."
"I'm sorry you do not find me pleasing." She meant to be sarcastic, but instead the words came out sounding stiff and huffy. She turned away in embarrassment.
"I did not say that, Amarië. You twist my words."
She forced herself to glance up at him. "You seem to delight in causing me discomfort."
"Discomfort?" His dark brows arched. "Did I not heal you?"
"You know that is not what I meant." She cleared her throat and gazed down through the leaves toward the men huddled in the distance. Her eyes picked out Ennis, for he had just risen to his feet and was marching toward the forest with swift and purposeful steps. "I must go down now. My brother wishes to speak to me."
"And to assure himself that we have not caused you harm," Haldir added with irony. "That one does not like our kind."
"No, he does not." She turned toward the opening in the center of the flet. "I assume this is the way?" she added dryly.
He made a slight, mocking bow. "But I will go first."
"I will try not to fall on you."
A gleam of humor entered his eyes. "I will catch you if you do."
xxx
A pair of elves had halted Ennis at the edge of the wood, politely yet firmly barring him from going any further. Amarië could hear his heated protests before she even set foot upon the soft forest floor, and although she doubted they could understand his words, his meaning was certainly clear enough.
Cringing inwardly at his conduct, she walked over to him, trying to convey with her frown that he should leave off his complaints. To her dismay, Haldir followed her. It seemed he intended to hear what Ennis had to say.
Ennis looked muddy, dismal and drained. "Where have you been?" he demanded. "I've been worried."
"You need not have been. I am quite well."
He glared at her. "You did not answer my question, Amarië." His gaze moved past her, his eyes chilly as they settled on the Marchwarden. "I thank you for your rescue, Elf, but I must warn you, my sister is not to be trifled with."
"Trifled with?" Haldir's voice could have frozen water. "And when do you imagine I might have time for such things? My rangers and I have been occupied with saving your hides and caring for your wounded."
Ennis had the grace to blush. "Aye, I know it. And I am grateful. But I still want you to know—"
"Ennis!" Amarië said sharply, "for pity's sake, leave off!"
Being several years older, she had long been in the habit of speaking thusly to him, and he was used to it. However, this time he cast her an angry look that spoke volumes. "I would like to attend our wounded," he said harshly. "Might that be allowed?"
The Marchwarden stepped aside and swept out a hand. "Enter," he said haughtily. "See for yourself that they are well tended."
With a brooding look, Ennis stomped past, heading the short distance to where the two men lay on spongy moss and fallen mellyrn leaves, their heads cushioned by gray elven cloaks. One had been sliced open from his collarbone to his hipbone; the other had a broken arm and had been stabbed in the shoulder. Both were covered with blood, but their faces and hands had been washed clean.
Amarië shoved her hair from her face. "Ennis is young and hot-headed, but also valiant and good. Please don't be offended."
"You need not apologize," Haldir replied. "You are not responsible for his behavior. Only for your own."
She did not know how to take that, but before she could analyze his meaning, Ennis spun around and hurried back to stand before Haldir, his fists on his hips. "They've cast some kind of spell on them! How else could they sleep as they do?"
"And exactly what is your objection?" the Marchwarden asked sardonically. "That we have made them comfortable? That they do not feel suffering? Or that they heal while they sleep?"
"I object to the use of magic. I do not trust it." Or you, the words implied.
Haldir looked down his nose at Ennis. "Remember that when you are wounded and an Elf is near. You might change your views."
"And remember who it is you speak to," Amarië urged in a meaningful tone. "Remember our purpose, Ennis."
She felt Haldir's eyes on her face, but she avoided looking at him for fear that he would see too much.
Ennis thrust out his jaw in an aggressive manner. "I hold you responsible for their well-being, Elf. And for my sister's well-being also. Meanwhile, I will see to the burying of our dead."
"I will send elves to assist you," Haldir said in a level tone. "We elves respect the dead, even if they are not our own. Later, a lament will be sung to honor them."
Ennis stared at Haldir in seeming uncertainty, then nodded curtly in acceptance. Turning, he stalked back in the direction of the encampment, the set of his shoulders betraying to Amarië his confusion and weariness.
xxx
"Trouble?" Rúmil asked quietly, appearing at Haldir's elbow as soon as Amarië left to sit beside the two wounded men.
"Bravado and bluster," Haldir scoffed. "The young cockerel is her brother."
"At least he's not her husband."
Rúmil watched Amarië take out her comb and pull it through her tangled hair. She really was a comely lass, he reflected, and though she was a human, she had a quality that made him think she might be worthy of Haldir's notice. Haldir could certainly use a little pleasure; he had been far too sober lately. Besides, there was a little matter of a wager.
Almost as though he read his thoughts, Haldir cast him a look that should have silenced him, but of course it did not. Rúmil 's thoughts had flown on to Ennis.
"Men!" Rúmil continued, shaking his head. "No wonder we elves avoid them. They're so uncivilized. And unsubtle."
"There are a few that transcend their species."
"Perhaps the occasional woman," Rúmil conceded with a nudge.
Haldir turned to look at him, his lips finally relaxing into a smile. "It is not only men who are unsubtle, brother. I have no intention of seducing her, much as I would like to. I suppose you and Orophin have made some kind of wager? Ah, so I thought."
Rúmil tried to look innocent. "In any case, I came to tell you that word has come in. Lord Celeborn has agreed to see her. Not only that, he wishes you to act as her personal escort. Orophin and I are bidden to remain here and oversee the men's safety."
"I see." Haldir appeared to find this of note. "I wonder why?"
"Well, you certainly got the better part of the bargain. I don't see why you shouldn't seduce her—if she is willing, that is. Females seem to find you irresistible, though I personally don't share their views."
"Thank the Valar for that," Haldir replied with a hearty laugh.
xxx
Amarië heard Haldir's laugh and wondered what he found so humorous. She studied him covertly, loath to admit even to herself how intriguing she found him. His laughter was deep and rich, soothing and agreeable to the ear. At the moment, he was turned so that she saw him in profile, his expression more benign than she had ever seen it. He was certainly pleasing to look upon from any angle. More solidly built than either of his brothers, he seemed a compelling figure, muscular and able in battle, yet also lithe and elegant. And virile. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. Too much time spent in the Marchwarden's company could prove very dangerous to whatever peace of mind she still retained.
Perhaps 'twas just as well they found each other so annoying.
She glanced down at the wounded man at her side, seeing the serene look upon his face despite his dreadful injury. How could Ennis not see this as a blessing? What would it be like to be able to cast spells, to unburden another living creature of such ghastly suffering? Would a half-Elf be able to learn such things?
Quickly, she stifled the thought before it went too far. She had had enough disappointments in her life without creating the potential for a new one. She sighed and rubbed a hand over her face, fixing her gaze upon the golden leaves of the mellyrn trees mixed in with the more familiar birches and oaks. Emotion tugged at her heart. She felt that old familiar yearning for a sense of belonging, but this was not the time to dwell on it.
Suddenly, she grew aware that Haldir was approaching. "Come, Amarië," he said, holding out his hand. "We must be on our way. We have a long walk ahead of us."
She hesitated, trying to read his expression, but it told her nothing. Not wishing to rekindle his annoyance with her, she accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "Where are we going?" she asked, not daring to hope.
"Where do you think?" He arched a brow, and she realized that he was gently teasing her. "You wanted your audience with the Lord of Lórien. Apparently, you are to have it, and I am your escort. The rest of your group will remain here under the protection of my rangers . . . if you feel well enough to make the journey, that is."
She closed her eyes, relief washing over her. Praise Eru that for once things were going as she had wished and prayed. "Of course I feel well enough," she said, before a new thought struck. "What of my brother?"
"Do you need his permission?" Haldir's voice was dry.
"Of course not! I do as I wish at all times. It is the only way to live."
"No," he said quietly, "it is not." He turned from her then, and she realized how young and stupid they all must seem to the elves, who had lived so long.
"Even so, I should go and tell him. He will be anxious otherwise." She did not understand why she bothered to clarify; she owed Haldir no explanation.
He nodded. "Go then. I will wait."
She walked swiftly away from him, feeling his gaze on her back.
When told, Ennis did not argue with her, but rather expressed his own relief that their plans were finally moving forward. Yet she still felt guilty of deception, for she did not mention that Haldir would be her only guide. There seemed no point in stirring up her brother's antagonism toward the Marchwarden, especially since it was unfounded and foolish. She did not need a protector, certainly not from the Marchwarden. She could protect herself, just as she always had. Ennis was simply trying to compensate for other times, when he had been unable to prevent men from leering at her, and worse. He did not yet understand that the elves had a more refined and civilized code of behavior.
It was only men of whom she must beware.
xxx
An hour into their journey, and they had not yet conversed. Haldir eyed the girl, wondering what thoughts dwelled in her head that she could not express. Her face was set in a mask, her steps firm, and her eyes focused on faraway matters. As a matter of course, he kept his own thoughts veiled.
Unfortunately, since Rúmil had made his playful suggestions, it had become more difficult for Haldir to remain quite as detached as he'd intended. Something about this woman made indifference impossible. Yet even though she drew him, he sought to pull away. She was human. He was an Elf. And though there were indeed some elves who did not let such matters influence them, he had never been one of them. Long had he heard it advised that the two species should not intermingle their blood. He had always heeded that warning, and he did not intend to change his practices now.
Still, he could not deny that she was lovely. He studied the curve of her cheek and her pretty little ears. Never before had he found human ears especially attractive, so why now? He acknowledged to himself that this was a foolish line of thought, but he allowed it for a moment because it was becoming too hard to resist.
And what of the rest of her? She was thin from lack of food, but her womanly figure was evident and pleasing to the eye. She was tall for a woman, though not as tall as he was. And her hair—it was thick and exquisite, its color an unusual mingling of brown and red, glinting like autumn leaves when it caught the rays of sun. He longed to touch it, to drag it through his fingers and crush it against his mouth. Crush her against his mouth. Again, a dangerous and potentially frustrating path of reflection since he did not intend to go that route.
But none of this truly explained what drew him, and that was what puzzled him most of all. Once again, it came back to her courage, her essence. Silently, he cursed himself. What did he know of her essence? Nothing. And yet, he felt as though he did, and that was what was oddest of all.
At midday they stopped to rest and eat. Haldir produced some more lembas, handing a chunk to Amarië, then taking some for himself.
Weary of silence, he swallowed the bread and asked, "Is there anything you can tell me?"
"About what?"
"About your reasons for coming to Lothlórien."
"Oh." She looked down at her fingers. "No. Not yet."
He was tempted to move closer, but resisted the impulse. Curse Rúmil for putting ideas into his head! He was very conscious of their isolation, and of her nearness and femininity. So easily could he reach out and draw her to him, pull her onto his lap and take her lips the way he wished. Other sensual images ran through his head before he could stop them.
Reining in these thoughts, he leaned against the tree and studied her. "Perhaps you may find it easier to speak later on."
"Yes." She plucked at a fallen leaf, tearing it into tiny shreds. He wondered whether he made her nervous, or whether she felt the same tension that he did.
"At least you should be able to tell me how it is that you acquired such proficiency with a bow."
"Practice," she answered, her chin lifting in the rebellious manner he was beginning to find both charming and amusing. "Many, many hours. And you? "
"Years," he said, watching her. "Centuries."
"Yes, of course." She bit her lip, drawing his attention to its fullness. "You know, I was hoping . . ."
"What?" he prompted.
"Hoping you would help me gain knowledge of why I sometimes shoot so poorly. Usually my aim is accurate and my concentration focused. And then at other times I miss quite badly, even though I am concentrating just as hard. This morning it almost cost me my life."
"I cannot say, Amarië, since I had no time to watch your technique. I am willing to take you to a practice area later and observe you." He paused, still considering her question. "Perhaps you allow self-doubt to enter your mind."
Her lashes lowered to conceal her eyes. "How can I not doubt myself?"
He did not know the answer to the question and said so, wondering once more what it was that she so desperately sought. But she would tell him nothing, and perhaps it was just as well, for whatever it was, he did not think he could give it to her.
Instead, he rose to his feet. "Come, let us continue. Lord Celeborn awaits."
xxx
Amarië's first sight of Caras Galadhon almost stole her breath away. They paused at the top of a hill as Haldir proudly pointed it out, saying, "Here it is, Amarië. Caras Galadhon, home of Lord Celeborn, and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." She glanced at him and saw the pride and pleasure in his face as he spoke. To him, this was the heart of Elvendom, his home, and clearly a familiar and beloved place.
To her, this exotic elven city represented the hopes around which she had centered her dreams for so long. They continued walking, and as they grew nearer, she took in the magnificence of the enormous golden mellyrn trees in which the walkways and elven structures resided, winding around the great trunks and lacey branches as though they had grown straight out of the trees themselves. Hundreds of twinkling lights, like stars or glimmering diamonds, illuminated the city, giving it a magical, mystical appearance that seared straight into her soul.
For some reason the sheer size of the place increased Amarië's nervousness. All at once, she felt like a charlatan. Of course Lord Celeborn would deny her heritage. He would tell her to leave, to go back to the humans at the edge of their land, and to take them away with her. It would all be over in a matter of moments—all her hopes, all her dreams, crashing into the dust. Her stomach cramped with apprehension even while she struggled to keep her face composed.
The Marchwarden led her up many flights of stairs, so many that her legs ached from climbing before they reached their destination. At last they came to an arched doorway that led into a room set near the very crown of the city.
"Be strong," Haldir said, looking at her intently. He touched her arm, his warmth reaching her through the sleeve of her shirt. "Enter now, and make your bow."
Then he left her there alone.
Amarië took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the room. The sight that met her eyes caused her to come to an immediate standstill. Two luminous beings, one male and one female, sat in carven chairs, their enigmatic gazes directed straight at her. While she stood, awestruck and gaping, they rose slowly to their feet, their faces set in kindly expressions, their statuesque figures garbed in robes of white studded with some substance that reflected light, or perhaps held the light within.
"Amarië." The male Elf spoke, reminding her belatedly to give a small bow.
Amarië nodded, her heart beating like the wings of a fleeing bird.
"Come here, child." He held out a hand. "I am Celeborn. It is I you have come to see."
Very conscious of her unkempt appearance, Amarië moved forward with hesitation, her gaze drawn to his handsome face as if mesmerized. Like all the other elves, he had long blonde hair, yet in all other ways he was greater—greater than Haldir, greater than anyone still among the living except, she sensed, Galadriel herself. Celeborn was both young and ancient, benevolent and formidable. Could he possibly be her grandfather? Even were it so, she knew at that moment that she could never speak of it. It seemed the most outrageous assertion that anyone could make, a sacrilege of the highest order.
"You are even lovelier than I foresaw." Celeborn's voice was deep.
Amarië swallowed. "You foresaw my coming?"
"We both did, " said the female Elf. She was radiant, her blue eyes filled with the wisdom of the ages, her hair a cascade of silver blonde waves reaching to her waist. "I am Galadriel. Be not afraid."
We will not renounce you, little half-Elf. The gentle words resounded inside Amarië's head as clearly as if Galadriel had spoken them aloud.
Deeply shaken, Amarië glanced from one to the other of them. "I…I should not have come," she said, taking a small step backward. "I was wrong. Forgive me…"
Galadriel came forward and reached out a hand to touch Amarië's cheek. "There is nothing to forgive, child. Do not fly away from us when you have only just arrived. Not when you have come so far and suffered so much danger."
"We know why you have come," Celeborn added, almost tenderly.
"You do?"
Celeborn nodded slowly. "You seek yourself."
"How . . . how do you know?" Amarië shook her head in bewilderment. "I don't understand."
"It is not important that you understand," Galadriel told her. "What is important is that you do not flee from the very knowledge that you seek. For now, you will stay here with us and allow us to help you heal. Answers will come in time. Answers come when the seeker is ready."
"Cormamin lindua ele lle, Amarië."
Amarië's gaze jerked back to Celeborn. "What?" she whispered in a faint voice.
"That is his greeting to you, is it not?" Celeborn asked. "Your father's welcome when he meets you in your dreams?"
"How can you know this?" Tears welled in her eyes; her knees felt as though they would crumple at any moment. "How can you know about my father, my lord? Who is my father?"
Celeborn's gaze locked with hers. "Your father was an Elf, Amarië. He was my son. And you, my dear, are my granddaughter."
Amarië's entire body started to shake. "So it is true . . ."
"It is true, child. As it is true that my son is your Teacher and Guide."
"My Teacher," she echoed through numbed lips.
"He has taught you many things, some you may not even recall until the time comes when you will need the knowledge."
Galadriel took hold of her hand and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Your father taught you how to speak our language."
Out of habit, Amarië opened her mouth to deny knowledge of their tongue, and then stopped as the realization hit her in a blinding flash. She could not possibly make such a denial because, since the moment she had walked into the room, the entire conversation had been conducted in the Elvish tongue.
tbc
