Chapter Twenty-Two: Haldir
A/N: I like this chapter, it's cool, and fun to write. Buttloads. I think you're all going to like the chapter that is going to come out a few after this one. I don't know what number it is, but I have it pre-written, and it's really cool, but since I lost all of the stuff between this chapter and that chapter, I have to rewrite it, so I don't know the chapter number it is, or else I'd have thirty chapters already done, maybe forty. So oh well. R/R! You all may have noticed, but I don't update until I have at least one review … just so I know people are reading and I'm not updating for no reason, you know? And the more reviews the better I'll write it!
Disclaimer: check out the first chapter, and then all the chapters after that one for the disclaimer. Those are pretty good … except for the disclaimer with the Green Day lyrics in it … what was I smoking? Oh yeah, that's right -- banana peels. (Personal joke)
…
"Alas! I fear we cannot stay here longer," said Aragorn after they had wept for Gandalf for some time. "Farewell, Gandalf!" they each cried. "Did I not say to you: if you pass the door of Moria, beware? Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you?"
"There is hope yet," said Aila, looking up from comforting the hobbits. "We may be without Gandalf for the moment, but he will be with us."
"In spirit, perhaps," said Frodo, sniffling back tears.
"In more than just spirit," she replied calmly. She had shed no tear and had only shown little remorse of Gandalf's demise.
"How can we trust you?" accused Boromir. "Are you not from the enemy, as you seem now? Our leader is dead! Gone! And you were his friend, or we thought you were; do you not shed a tear or even feel gentle depression?" Aragorn looked harshly at Boromir for his hard words and he was about to remonstrate him when Aila held up a restraining hand.
"Do I not know what is to become of this Company?" she asked quizzically. Boromir's face sobered and he backed up a few steps from her, no longer challenging her. "I do mourn Gandalf's demise, but this is not the time for it! We must push forward to Lothlorien!" She broke away from the rest of the Fellowship and started along the path on her own, a solitary gentle figure among the harsh world around her. Behind the mountains smoked and before her the plains swept unforgiving and bland. But still she walked on, so singularly good against so much evil.
Aragorn called the fellowship forward and they caught up with her.
"Aila," Aragorn said to her. "We must stop to tend to the wounded, Frodo and Sam are both injured."
"Of course, how could I forgot, let us stop and boil some athelas leaves for their hurts."
"I am all right," said Frodo, reluctant to have his garments touched.
"No," said Aragorn. "We must have a look and see what the hammer and the anvil have done to you. I still marvel that you are alive at all."
"It is no marvel," replied Aila, pulling Frodo close to her. "Here is a hobbit-skin pretty enough to wrap an elven-princeling in, as you would say, Aragorn," she laughed, stripping his old jacket from him and pulling his tunic over his head. There shined a silver corslet of glossy ringlets that glittered like the sun's lights playing upon the salty sea waves.
"I have often wondered what you and Bilbo were doing, so close in his little room," said Merry. "Bless the old hobbit! I love him more than ever. I hope we get a chance of telling him about it." There was a dark bruise on Frodo's right side as well as left side where he had been tossed against the wall. The pungent fragrance of the athelas leaves filled the area of their camp and any who bent over the concoction would feel immediately refreshed. Aragorn also bathed Sam's skull where he had been cut, which was thankfully un-poisoned.
Aragorn was just about to dump the remaining concoction into a small hole he had dug when he saw Aila's right shoulder, still dripping with blood.
"Ah!" he cried, "Aila, I did not realize you were hurt as well. Come, and I will tend to it, to stop the bleeding." But because she was a female, he could not take off her shirt and tunic like she had for Frodo, so he gently ripped off her sleeve and washed it, then used it as a bandage to wrap her wound. He bathed the cut in athelas, marveling that it was not very deep.
When he had finished, he took her face in his hands to kiss her forehead, but she winced and cowed her head, pulling her face from his grasp. "What is it?" he asked, and she smiled slightly before turning her head so that he could see the bruise that formed on her jaw line. It was black and blue, splotched and looked quite ugly. It scored underneath her jaw and slightly outwards towards her chin, hugging a loose circle. As Aragorn also bathed that in athelas to ease the pain, Legolas came and sat near her.
"I am sorry," he said. "You must understand, I was not in my right mind, so desperate was I in trying to aid Gandalf."
"It is quite all right," she responded, smiling slightly at him. Legolas felt his stomach rise to his throat; had he not vowed to never allow her to come to any more pain, and there he had caused more himself. To the very person he was trying to protect. When Aragorn had finished, she thanked him and kissed his cheek. Then she stood up, with small difficulty due to her arm.
"It's funny, actually," she commented, turning her head to star at the now clean wound. "It's like a mirror image of the scar I have on my left arm." *The scar that I caused,* Legolas thought, and Aila looked sympathetically at him, knowing what he was thinking and knowing that he still hadn't forgiven himself. As she walked past him, she put a hand on his shoulder and met his gaze for a second, but then turned away to walk with Aragorn and Boromir at the head of the Company as Legolas fell to the back with Gimli.
"Must we go this way, to Lothlorien," asked Boromir doubtfully.
"What other fairer way would you desire?" asked Aragorn, slightly confused.
"A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords," said Boromir, trailing off slightly. "By strange paths had this company been led, and so far to evil fortune."
"Do not speak ill of the Golden Wood or its Lady," said Aila. "No evil dwells within Lothlorien unless you bring it yourself."
"Then lead on!" Boromir said to Aragorn. "But it is perilous."
"Perilous, indeed," he replied from Aila's other side, "fair and perilous; but only evil need ear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!" They had gone little more than a mile into the forest when the heard the gentle trickling of a stream not far from where they were. Smiling slightly against the soothing noise, Aila closed her eyes, allowing herself to be led by Aragorn's soft steps upon the grassy sward.
"Here is Nimrodel!" she heard Legolas say from the back of the group. She faintly heard him near her and she opened her eyes just in time to see his sprinting form disappear towards the water. "Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, and still we sing them in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary." The Company trotted forward to join him at the gurgling stream and Aila saw trees reflected in its waters as it dodged around rocks and river-ferns. "Follow me," cried Legolas. "The water is not deep, let us wade across. On the further bank we can rest, and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief."
The water rose to mid-shin for Aila, and the boots given to her by Arwen unpleasantly withheld the water so that even as she rose to the further shore her feet were swimming in pools of the sweet water within her boots. Partially disgusted, she did her best to drain them as they walked. They pulled off the road and sat for a while, talking and listening to the music of the waterfall.
"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?" Legolas asked, closing his eyes against the sweet sound. "I will sing you a song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived long ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron Speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it.
"An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-gray.
A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lorien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree."
As he sung the song, his voice soft and melodious. Aila leaned against a near tree, her legs thrust in front of her and she sighed as she listened to his beautiful voice. The notes danced within her head, mingling with the soft tinkling of the water, a perfect duet, the sweet water against Legolas' deep voice. It seemed like nothing else mattered while he sang of Nimrodel, though she heard not the words, the melody soothed her very soul.
"But from the West had come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore."
His soft voice faltered and stopped and Aila's perfect world fell about her ears and she was pulled back into the harsh reality.
"I cannot sing any more," he said. "That is but a part, for I have forgotten much. It is long and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlorien, Lorien of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains."
"But the dwarves did not make the evil," said Gimli shortly.
"I said not so, yet evil came," Legolas answered sadly, and there was silence for quite a while.
"We cannot build a house," said Aragorn after a while of silence. "But tonight we will do as the Galadhrim and seek refuge in the tree-tops, if we can. We have sat here beside the road already longer than was wise."
"What trees are these," asked Sam, ever thinking of his gardening.
"They are mallorn trees," answered Legolas. Legolas readied to jump into the tree so that he may see if it held any refuge for them.
"Whatever it may be," said Pippin, "they will be marvelous trees indeed if they can offer any rest at night, except to birds. I cannot sleep on a perch!"
"Then dig a hole in the ground," replied Legolas, "if that is more after the fashion of your kind. But you must swift and deep, if you wish to hide from Orcs." Lightly, he sprang from the ground as Aila laughed lightly at his slight joke. As he hung there, swinging gently to get further into the tree, a commanding voice spoke in the elven tongue.
"Daro!" Surprised and fearful, Legolas dropped back to earth and pressed his back into the tree.
A/N: I like this chapter, it's cool, and fun to write. Buttloads. I think you're all going to like the chapter that is going to come out a few after this one. I don't know what number it is, but I have it pre-written, and it's really cool, but since I lost all of the stuff between this chapter and that chapter, I have to rewrite it, so I don't know the chapter number it is, or else I'd have thirty chapters already done, maybe forty. So oh well. R/R! You all may have noticed, but I don't update until I have at least one review … just so I know people are reading and I'm not updating for no reason, you know? And the more reviews the better I'll write it!
Disclaimer: check out the first chapter, and then all the chapters after that one for the disclaimer. Those are pretty good … except for the disclaimer with the Green Day lyrics in it … what was I smoking? Oh yeah, that's right -- banana peels. (Personal joke)
…
"Alas! I fear we cannot stay here longer," said Aragorn after they had wept for Gandalf for some time. "Farewell, Gandalf!" they each cried. "Did I not say to you: if you pass the door of Moria, beware? Alas that I spoke true! What hope have we without you?"
"There is hope yet," said Aila, looking up from comforting the hobbits. "We may be without Gandalf for the moment, but he will be with us."
"In spirit, perhaps," said Frodo, sniffling back tears.
"In more than just spirit," she replied calmly. She had shed no tear and had only shown little remorse of Gandalf's demise.
"How can we trust you?" accused Boromir. "Are you not from the enemy, as you seem now? Our leader is dead! Gone! And you were his friend, or we thought you were; do you not shed a tear or even feel gentle depression?" Aragorn looked harshly at Boromir for his hard words and he was about to remonstrate him when Aila held up a restraining hand.
"Do I not know what is to become of this Company?" she asked quizzically. Boromir's face sobered and he backed up a few steps from her, no longer challenging her. "I do mourn Gandalf's demise, but this is not the time for it! We must push forward to Lothlorien!" She broke away from the rest of the Fellowship and started along the path on her own, a solitary gentle figure among the harsh world around her. Behind the mountains smoked and before her the plains swept unforgiving and bland. But still she walked on, so singularly good against so much evil.
Aragorn called the fellowship forward and they caught up with her.
"Aila," Aragorn said to her. "We must stop to tend to the wounded, Frodo and Sam are both injured."
"Of course, how could I forgot, let us stop and boil some athelas leaves for their hurts."
"I am all right," said Frodo, reluctant to have his garments touched.
"No," said Aragorn. "We must have a look and see what the hammer and the anvil have done to you. I still marvel that you are alive at all."
"It is no marvel," replied Aila, pulling Frodo close to her. "Here is a hobbit-skin pretty enough to wrap an elven-princeling in, as you would say, Aragorn," she laughed, stripping his old jacket from him and pulling his tunic over his head. There shined a silver corslet of glossy ringlets that glittered like the sun's lights playing upon the salty sea waves.
"I have often wondered what you and Bilbo were doing, so close in his little room," said Merry. "Bless the old hobbit! I love him more than ever. I hope we get a chance of telling him about it." There was a dark bruise on Frodo's right side as well as left side where he had been tossed against the wall. The pungent fragrance of the athelas leaves filled the area of their camp and any who bent over the concoction would feel immediately refreshed. Aragorn also bathed Sam's skull where he had been cut, which was thankfully un-poisoned.
Aragorn was just about to dump the remaining concoction into a small hole he had dug when he saw Aila's right shoulder, still dripping with blood.
"Ah!" he cried, "Aila, I did not realize you were hurt as well. Come, and I will tend to it, to stop the bleeding." But because she was a female, he could not take off her shirt and tunic like she had for Frodo, so he gently ripped off her sleeve and washed it, then used it as a bandage to wrap her wound. He bathed the cut in athelas, marveling that it was not very deep.
When he had finished, he took her face in his hands to kiss her forehead, but she winced and cowed her head, pulling her face from his grasp. "What is it?" he asked, and she smiled slightly before turning her head so that he could see the bruise that formed on her jaw line. It was black and blue, splotched and looked quite ugly. It scored underneath her jaw and slightly outwards towards her chin, hugging a loose circle. As Aragorn also bathed that in athelas to ease the pain, Legolas came and sat near her.
"I am sorry," he said. "You must understand, I was not in my right mind, so desperate was I in trying to aid Gandalf."
"It is quite all right," she responded, smiling slightly at him. Legolas felt his stomach rise to his throat; had he not vowed to never allow her to come to any more pain, and there he had caused more himself. To the very person he was trying to protect. When Aragorn had finished, she thanked him and kissed his cheek. Then she stood up, with small difficulty due to her arm.
"It's funny, actually," she commented, turning her head to star at the now clean wound. "It's like a mirror image of the scar I have on my left arm." *The scar that I caused,* Legolas thought, and Aila looked sympathetically at him, knowing what he was thinking and knowing that he still hadn't forgiven himself. As she walked past him, she put a hand on his shoulder and met his gaze for a second, but then turned away to walk with Aragorn and Boromir at the head of the Company as Legolas fell to the back with Gimli.
"Must we go this way, to Lothlorien," asked Boromir doubtfully.
"What other fairer way would you desire?" asked Aragorn, slightly confused.
"A plain road, though it led through a hedge of swords," said Boromir, trailing off slightly. "By strange paths had this company been led, and so far to evil fortune."
"Do not speak ill of the Golden Wood or its Lady," said Aila. "No evil dwells within Lothlorien unless you bring it yourself."
"Then lead on!" Boromir said to Aragorn. "But it is perilous."
"Perilous, indeed," he replied from Aila's other side, "fair and perilous; but only evil need ear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!" They had gone little more than a mile into the forest when the heard the gentle trickling of a stream not far from where they were. Smiling slightly against the soothing noise, Aila closed her eyes, allowing herself to be led by Aragorn's soft steps upon the grassy sward.
"Here is Nimrodel!" she heard Legolas say from the back of the group. She faintly heard him near her and she opened her eyes just in time to see his sprinting form disappear towards the water. "Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, and still we sing them in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary." The Company trotted forward to join him at the gurgling stream and Aila saw trees reflected in its waters as it dodged around rocks and river-ferns. "Follow me," cried Legolas. "The water is not deep, let us wade across. On the further bank we can rest, and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief."
The water rose to mid-shin for Aila, and the boots given to her by Arwen unpleasantly withheld the water so that even as she rose to the further shore her feet were swimming in pools of the sweet water within her boots. Partially disgusted, she did her best to drain them as they walked. They pulled off the road and sat for a while, talking and listening to the music of the waterfall.
"Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?" Legolas asked, closing his eyes against the sweet sound. "I will sing you a song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived long ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron Speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it.
"An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-gray.
A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lorien the fair.
Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree."
As he sung the song, his voice soft and melodious. Aila leaned against a near tree, her legs thrust in front of her and she sighed as she listened to his beautiful voice. The notes danced within her head, mingling with the soft tinkling of the water, a perfect duet, the sweet water against Legolas' deep voice. It seemed like nothing else mattered while he sang of Nimrodel, though she heard not the words, the melody soothed her very soul.
"But from the West had come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore."
His soft voice faltered and stopped and Aila's perfect world fell about her ears and she was pulled back into the harsh reality.
"I cannot sing any more," he said. "That is but a part, for I have forgotten much. It is long and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlorien, Lorien of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains."
"But the dwarves did not make the evil," said Gimli shortly.
"I said not so, yet evil came," Legolas answered sadly, and there was silence for quite a while.
"We cannot build a house," said Aragorn after a while of silence. "But tonight we will do as the Galadhrim and seek refuge in the tree-tops, if we can. We have sat here beside the road already longer than was wise."
"What trees are these," asked Sam, ever thinking of his gardening.
"They are mallorn trees," answered Legolas. Legolas readied to jump into the tree so that he may see if it held any refuge for them.
"Whatever it may be," said Pippin, "they will be marvelous trees indeed if they can offer any rest at night, except to birds. I cannot sleep on a perch!"
"Then dig a hole in the ground," replied Legolas, "if that is more after the fashion of your kind. But you must swift and deep, if you wish to hide from Orcs." Lightly, he sprang from the ground as Aila laughed lightly at his slight joke. As he hung there, swinging gently to get further into the tree, a commanding voice spoke in the elven tongue.
"Daro!" Surprised and fearful, Legolas dropped back to earth and pressed his back into the tree.