Author's Note--I know, I know, I've never been this long updating before. But my muse flounced off in an outrage ("How could you do that to that nice man!") and then real life intervened in various ways calculated to keep me from my computer. Hopefully, it won't happen again.
A little before noon, we were riding hard for the Limlight when Gwaenaur returned, swooping low over our heads. Nimfaun and Alagos were unmoved, but I had my hands full with Caerith and Fortune. Elrohir chided them sharply in Elvish, and they stopped their jibbing and jumping about. I dismounted, tossed the reins to him, and walked forward a way. Gwaenaur backwinged into a landing before me. I bowed.
"Greetings again, Windlady. My kill is yours."
"And mine is yours, nestling."
"Did my chieftain survive his journey through the upper airs?" I tried to keep my voice even, but this question had preyed upon my mind for hours now. She cocked her head slightly to one side.
"He lived still when I left him at the gates of Caras Galadon," she replied, "and the Elves took him swiftly within. If the Lord Elrond is in fact present, then perhaps he may yet be saved." I sagged a bit in relief.
"Thank you so much for agreeing to bear him there." Her beak clicked a couple of times, and I got the distinct impression that she was amused.
"Thank you for the opportunity to remedy an ancient wrong," she said, then, swiveling her head towards where the twins waited, she called--"Remember your oath, son of Elrond."
Elladan muttered something I was certain was anything but polite, by Eagle standards or anyone else's and Elrohir chuckled. Gwaenaur turned her attention back to me.
"You should come North, nestling. North, and to the mountains. It would give us joy to have one of your family among us again."
"My time is not my own right now, windlady. I have sworn to the King to spend the next two years in Dol Amroth, learning the skills of a Swan Knight." Gwaenaur nodded understandingly.
"If you are sworn, then you are sworn." The Eagles, it seemed, took oaths and vows almost as seriously as good manners. "Mayhap you will learn some valuable things there. But when you are done, we hope to see you one day."
"I should very much like to come to you. I have never met my kin in the North. And there is much there I have heard of but never seen."
"Much there is in the North that has been forgotten. Perhaps it will be remembered now that Aragorn is King. I must be off--to fly so low and slow was tiring, and I've not fed today."
I gave her a guilty look. "I am sorry, windlady, that I have no kill to offer you." She fluffed herself, then settled her feathers and preened them a bit.
"That is of no matter now, nestling--there will be time enough for that later. There are only rabbits in these parts in any event--and I could eat a dozen rabbits and barely taste them! I shall hunt stag closer to the mountains, or ride the winds westward and try to find some wild kine--that would be a feast indeed!" She took a step forward, bent her head, and gave me a gentle nudge with her beak, the force of which knocked me onto my rump quite easily. There was an amused glint in her golden eye which told me that had probably been her intention. Just a little reminder that the power with which I dealt was nothing to be trifled with.
"May you fare better on the rest of your journey, nestling," she said warmly. I struggled to my feet, and bowed.
"Fair air to you, windlady," I replied, and she gave her head an odd little bob, and launched herself into the air, the grass flattening under the force of her wings. I watched with my arm raised in salute till she was far away, then turned to the sons of Elrond, who'd been watching silently.
"If he was alive when she got him to Lorien, perhaps he'll be waiting for us when we get there, Snowsteel," said Elrohir. "Take heart." I looked at Elladan for a confirmation, but his face was grave.
"If he arrived at Lorien in the same condition as he was when he left, I would say that Father could save him. But we know not how the journey affected him. You should raise no false hopes, Brother." Elrohir gave him an ironic look.
"I'll raise no false hopes if you agree to cause no unfounded despair, Brother." He smiled suddenly at Elladan. "Wet blanket!" he declared fondly. "Speaking of which, we near the Limlight, and there is much laundry to do."
We crossed the Limlight without incident. I was careful to keep the King's message dry, and once again we were successful at not dampening our essential things with river water. We made camp as soon as we reached the other side, in a little copse of trees well above the river, and began doing our washing up. Or rather, I started washing clothes downstream of the twins, who were bow-fishing again. I had found a handy rock, and Elrohir had given me some Elven soap, and I was soon busy with both my things and the Prince's. Eventually, Elrohir joined me, while Elladan built a fire and prepared the fish. He found me furiously scrubbing at a blood spot on the neck of one of Imrahil's shirts.
"Have a care, Snowsteel, you'll wear a hole if you keep at it that way," he commented good-naturedly. "Here, let me help you wring out what you've already done, and spread them out to dry." We did that, then he joined me in washing the rest of the things. For an immortal orc-hunter and warrior of renown, he didn't make a bad launderer, and he didn't rub holes in things. We took a break when the fish were done to eat a hot meal, then after we'd finished with the garments, Elrohir produced small containers of saddle-soap and oil, and he and I worked on the water-stained tack, a task much more to my liking. I paid particular attention to the Prince's gear, as if maintaining that meticulous man's equipment as particularly as if he were doing it himself would guarantee his survival. Elrohir knew, of course, exactly what I was doing, but he made no comment other than to say he thought I was an admirable esquire, and he was very glad that he didn't serve Imrahil himself.
"And why is that?" I asked with a frown, for, I thought to myself, if he was going to insult the Prince while the man was possibly on his deathbed, then he and I were going to have words. Elrohir merely smiled sweetly.
"As you are the only available member of his household, it falls to you to deal with the Scum Monster of Dol Amroth on the morrow." And he gestured to the river bank below us, where Caerith was wallowing in the scummy verge, grunting in pleasure, all his legs waving in the air. I leapt up, dropping the Prince's bridle, and charged down to the river bank, screaming at the stallion in my rapidly expanding collection of Rohirric curses, while the silvery laughter of both the twins floated in the air behind me.
It was while I was repacking the Prince's things in his saddlebags that evening that I found the picture. Everything had been placed exactly so, by someone who was an experienced campaigner, and I was having trouble making things fit back in the way I imagined they'd been in the first place. I had tipped the bags to one side, trying to stuff a shirt back in, when a small, flat, silver case rolled out, and almost into the fire. I snatched it up immediately, singeing my fingers a bit in the process. It was slightly larger than the palm of my hand, and was oval in shape. There was a swan ship chased on it, which was no particular surprise--the man had them stamped on everything but his underwear. I looked at it curiously, wondering what it could possibly contain.
"Go ahead, open it--you know you want to," said Elrohir from across the fire. Elladan, who was going to take third watch, had already rolled up in his cloak by the fire, but was not asleep quite yet, though he'd been staring raptly into the flames.
"You really should stop encouraging her to follow her baser instincts," he told his brother. Elrohir gave him the eyebrow.
"And how, precisely, is not encouraging her to follow her baser instincts supposed to benefit me?" he inquired. Elladan refused to answer, and turned his back on both of us.
I examined it more closely, trying to determine how and if it could be opened. There were a couple of cunning hinges upon one of the longer sides, and an indentation on the other. When I cautiously pressed a fingernail into the indentation, the case popped open.
"Oh, my," I breathed, as I looked upon the contents of the case. "Elrohir, look at this." He came around the fire and knelt beside me.
"That is lovely, Snowsteel."
It was a portrait, a very small one, but very detailed for its diminutive size, of a young woman. I thought at first it must be Lothiriel, for the dark, wavy hair and grey eyes with just the tiniest hint of violet were the same, but after a moment I realized that the shape of the face was different. Lothiriel was actually more beautiful than this woman--she'd inherited some of her father's more chiseled Elven facial features. I looked at Elrohir.
"I thought it was Lothiriel at first, but I don't now. Could it be his wife?"
"That would be my guess. Elladan, come look at this." Elrohir seemed rather more fascinated by the picture than I'd thought he'd be, and Elladan, once he got over his initial grumpiness at being disturbed just as he was drifting off to sleep, was also very intrigued.
"Look at how the artist has absolutely captured her personality," he commented, shaking his head. "Mortals are the only ones who can do this--perhaps it comes of their desire to create things that survive beyond their own deaths." I looked at him in surprise.
"Surely the Elves can do this--your people make even ordinary things so beautifully." Elladan shook his head.
"Oh, we make very beautiful things indeed. But it tends to be a perfected, idealized beauty. We tend to avoid passionate feelings of every kind. It is not that we cannot experience them--quite the contrary. Elves can be moved by passion in a way Mortals simply cannot comprehend. But an Elf in the grip of a great passion of any kind is a tragedy looking for a place to happen. Do you remember when I spoke to you of our great mistakes? They were almost all of them the result of intemperate passions."
"Like your sister's?" I asked softly. Elladan sucked in his breath, and Elrohir gave me a sharp look.
"Yes, I suppose you could use Arwen as a good example," Elladan said after a moment's silence.
"What do you think it's painted on?" I asked, thinking I'd best change the subject. "It doesn't look like wood."
"I think it's Mumak ivory," replied Elrohir, seeming equally glad to speak of something else. Elladan took another long look at it, murmured "Extraordinary," then went back to the other side of the fire and rolled himself up again. Elrohir wondered aloud if he could find someone to make something similar--I gathered he had it in mind to make a present to somebody. Then he wished me a good night, and joined his brother--the evening was cool, and we'd sent all of our blankets with the Prince. Cloaks and shared body heat were going to have to suffice us this night.
I looked at the portrait a moment or two longer before I put it away. The artist had captured the lady's kind demeanor, and she had wise eyes. She looked like the sort of person who had liked to curl up with a good book. I wondered if she had read bedtime stories to the children as well, if she had enjoyed the public life of being the Princess, and if she had loved her husband the way he seemed to have loved her. Then I closed the case carefully, and resumed my packing.
The next morning I groomed Caerith while the twins fixed breakfast. I stood close enough that we could converse, but downwind so the dirt wouldn't fly over them. He was grunting in pleasure at the scratching of the brush, and I reflected again upon how the Prince was a man of extreme forbearance--I wanted to kick him hard in just such a place that he'd spend the rest of his life as a gelding.
"If we ride swiftly until a little after dark, we'll reach Lorien this evening," Elrohir said. "Snowsteel, we'll do as we did when you were carrying Imrahil--you trade back and forth between the two stallions, and that should enable them to keep pace with us." Having decided thusly, we packed, saddled and rode as the sun had just finished rising fully above the horizon.
That day was the day I decided I was finally recovered from my various injuries, for we rode as couriers did, hard and long, with only occasional pauses to breathe the horses. The land through which we passed was pleasant and rolling, with scattered copses of trees, but it was uninhabited. The Misty Mountains climbed skyward upon our left, and to the south and east of us lay the Field of Celebrant, where Eorl the Young had ridden to Gondor's rescue so long ago. I asked Elrohir at one stop why no one had settled here, and he waggled his hand.
"Too close to the vile magic of the Golden Wood," he intoned sepulchrally, and Elladan snorted. There was little further speech between the three of us that day, and that suited my mood well enough, for my mind was on the Prince and whether he'd lived or died or lived and lost his leg, and what might happen in each of those three events. The weather was perfect for a hard ride, sunny but cool and breezy, and cottony clouds floated above us as we rode. One rather large one actually sprinkled us a bit sometime after midday, but it was a scant shower, hardly enough to dampen us, and rather refreshing. But by the time night was falling, that brief, invigorating respite was forgotten, and I was weary to the bone. The stallions, too, were beginning to flag. But we'd made very good time and the eaves of the Wood were before us. Despite my weariness, I looked upon the trees with interest--Elrohir had spoken of mallorns when he told the Prince and I of the Golden Wood, and they were every bit as impressive as he'd said. They seemed to be bearing golden flowers amongst their glossy new green leaves, and their trunks were silver grey. As we rode beneath their branches, a golden leaf or flower would from time to time part company with its parent tree and drift softly to the forest floor, which even with the approach of darkness gleamed pale gold.
"Do you like the mallorns?" Elrohir asked. I looked about and smiled.
"They are lovely. Do I remember rightly--the golden leaves are from last year?"
"Aye--they remain on the trees till the new leaves grow. We're a bit past the loveliest time of spring, when the golden flowers are at their best, and the forest is a hall crowned and floored in gold with silver pillars, but this is almost as nice."
"Indeed." I sighed, and almost as if my breath had given them form, we were suddenly surrounded by elves. They were clad in silver-grey, and so were able to go ghostlike among the silver-trunked trees. They carried bows longer than the ones the twins bore, or that Elrohir had given me, and they had grey-fletched arrows to hand, but not drawn. The leader among them greeted the sons of Elrond in a tongue that was obviously Elvish, but which I did not understand, and I was dismayed, for it looked as if all my hard study would be of no use in this place. Elladan caught my expression and smiled kindly at me, while Elrohir continued to converse with the Lorien elves.
"Mortals have their Rohirric, and their Haradric and their Westron, and Dunlandish--why should you be surprised that the Elder Kindred have more than one tongue? Have we not told you we are of more than one kind?" I grimaced.
"I understand that, it's just that I've apparently been studying the wrong one for this."
"Not necessarily. There are those here who speak Sindarin--the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood do, as does Father, of course, and Arwen. It is true that few of the Galadrim do, for they are a folk that keep much to themselves these days, but of those few, some even speak the tongues of men. We will try to see that you have someone about you who can translate."
"What are they saying to Elrohir?" Elladan listened for a moment.
"Well, as to that, the conversation started with speculation on the trouble we'd gotten into in the outside world since our last visit, then moved on to you, and your reason for being here. Elrohir has been describing your exploits in the most fulsome terms, which would only embarrass you were I to translate them, and vouching for you as Aragorn's kinswoman and a Ranger of renown."
"What exactly has he been saying about me?" I demanded, giving Elladan a suspicious look. He, however, was unmoved.
"As I said, it would just upset you to know, so don't trouble yourself about it." His expression was bland, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, and realized that, as usual, one of the twins was having fun at my expense. The best way to deal with such things was to simply endure until they were over, so I ignored him, and slumped in my saddle a bit, waiting for Elrohir's negotiations to end.
Eventually, he turned to us.
"We walk from here on, Snowsteel," he said. "The warders will take the horses to some stables they have hard by. You needn't fear--they will be well cared for. Gather your things, and the Prince's and come." I did as he commanded, and after giving Caerith and Fortune a final pat, allowed them to be led away. Caerith, who had been restive ever since we sent the Prince away, seemed to suffer the attentions of the Elves most willingly, and that reassured me. Elladan and Elrohir took some of the Prince's things from me, then I spent a little time slinging the remaining saddlebags and food sacks about me in a way that allowed full movement and followed the twins further into the Golden Wood.
Dusk became full night as we walked, Elrohir to the front and Elladan to the rear that I might not stray. We walked for a long time, and while at first it had been something of a relief to use muscles other than those used for riding, in time my weariness began to increase. After we'd been walking for what I felt was more than long enough, I began to hear the murmur of water, and smell the moisture in the air. Eventually, we came upon the bank of a river of good size, the waters spangled with fallen golden leaves and flowers.
"This is the Celebrant, or Silverlode in your tongue, Snowsteel," Elrohir told me. "Take heart--we are only about seven miles from Caras Galadon once we cross." I gave him an irritated look.
"Seven miles? After we cross the river? How exactly are we to do that? Were you perhaps proposing a refreshing swim?" He shook his head, unmoved by my ill humor.
"Leave that to me." Moving to a tree near the river bank, he suddenly leaped for the lowest branch, and seized it, and grabbed something in the fork of the tree in his other hand. When he'd dropped to the ground, I saw he carried a small silver lantern. Kindling it in some manner I didn't quite see, he waited a moment for the light to strengthen, then holding it aloft, began to flip a shutter on its side, which caused intermittent blinks.
"Rest a bit--this may take a little time." I did as I was told, dropping my bags immediately, pulling my cloak around my shoulders, and seating myself at the base of one of the huge mallorns. Ranger-style, I drifted off to sleep almost immediately, and it seemed almost immediately that I was wakened by Elladan's hand on my shoulder.
"The boat comes." I shook myself a bit blearily, looked up and saw a graceful, grey elven boat approaching the bank, a silver lantern like to the one Elrohir had signaled with attached to the high, curving prow. There were two elves rowing, and the one in front jumped onto the shore, and dragged the boat up onto the bank a little, greeting the twins in the other elven tongue. Elladan immediately got in and seated himself in front of the rear rower, then indicated that I should sit in front of him. I did so with some trepidation, stowing my bags about me, for I'd little experience of boats save for the Cair Andros Ferry, which was large enough to carry horses. A much more stable platform it had seemed than this slender elven vessel.
Once we were seated, Elrohir threw his things into the boat, then he and the front rower shoved it back into the current, leaping gracefully in as they did so. The rowers took up their oars, the twins an extra pair that had been produced from beneath the seats, and with four sets of arms rowing now, we slowly turned about, then proceeded back across the Silverlode. I was the only one not rowing, and tried to decide if I felt like a parcel or a princess as we moved silently across the dark water.
On the opposite shore, there was actually a small harbor, with docks, at which were tied other, similar boats. Elrohir climbed out first, then gave me a hand up. His brother followed, and they exchanged what seemed to be courteous words of thanks with the rowers, who busied themselves with mooring their vessel. Then Elrohir clapped me on the shoulder.
"Just a little farther, Snowsteel. Up the path a way, then we'll be at Caras Galadon." I shouldered my baggage and started trudging.
"Will your sister still be awake when we get there? Or should I wait to deliver the King's message until the morrow?" Elrohir chuckled.
"It is a fine spring night, not far advanced, and the stars shine very bright. I suspect that Arwen and many others will be awake a while yet." Elladan sniffed the air appreciatively. I remembered suddenly the Elvish affinity for starlight, and realized that most elves probably did not do the early to bed, early to rise routine of a farm family.
"Indeed, brother, it is a fine night for singing." And with no further ado, they started to do just that, voices constantly tossing the melody and harmony back and forth between each other. The song they sang was in the language of the place, so I understood it not, but the music was enthralling, and lightened my steps on the last leg of the journey. Then the forest ended, and we came out into an open space under the night sky. I saw the city, and wonder made me forget my weariness altogether.
Caras Galadon was like no city I had ever seen (not that I had any great acquaintance with cities outside of Minas Tirith); being in form a great hill covered with huge mallorn trees, and surrounded by a what looked to be an earth-work wall of great height, and a fosse or moat. There were hundreds of white, green and gold lights in the trees, so that the leaves glowed as if lit from within and it looked as if the boughs of the trees had netted the very stars of the sky in their branches. I could hear many silvery elven voices raised in song.
Elrohir looked at me standing there with my mouth slightly agape, and, as he'd done not so long ago upon the occasion of our first meeting, put a finger under my chin and pushed it closed.
"So, what do you think of Grandmother's house?" he asked with a grin.
When I'd recovered myself somewhat, we proceeded up the path to the gates. As we crossed the white bridge before them, I could see no water beneath me. A fosse then, rather than a moat. There were many silver lanterns hung about the gate, but no guards that I could see. Elladan knocked and spoke something, and they opened, seemingly by themselves, for no one stood guard on the other side that I could see. They closed behind us as soundlessly as they'd opened, and we proceeded a short distance between two earth work walls until they ended and the path continued into the city proper. There were no elves walking about beneath the trunks of the trees, but I could dimly see the outlines of platforms and walkways in the branches of the great trees, which were the most massive in girth of any I'd seen, and certainly wondrous in and of themselves.
Voices would sound above my head from time to time, and there was a sense and sound of movement. Truly, an entire city was there in the very boughs of the trees, and though the twins had described it as such, the reality was still a bit hard to absorb. Above my head, elven families were having supper, and telling tales, and fletching arrows, and doing whatever other sorts of things filled elven days. As we walked up the rising path, climbing stairs on more than one occasion, I craned my neck and gawked like a curious young child--which, in this company, was exactly what I was. Then we reached the summit of the hill, and I stopped feeling like a child, and started feeling like a dirty, raggedy crow.
A beautiful, wide lawn stretched out before us, a smooth expanse of grass glowing greenly in the light of hundreds of the silver lanterns hanging from boughs overhead. There was a beautiful fountain in the middle of the lawn, with a basin that looked as if it had been made from silver, and the water sparkled in the lantern light as it spilled out of the basin and became a stream that flowed down the hill. The lawn was covered with elves, reclining on chairs or cushions, standing and conversing, or congregating around musicians who made sweeter music than any humans could. There were tables heaped with food, and servant elves who circulated with pitchers. We had apparently arrived in the middle of a celebration.
The elves of Lorien were for the most part pale-haired, a bit of a surprise to me, who was used to the twins' sable-tressed beauty. Not that these weren't unearthly and comely as well--and they were dressed in their party best. Dainty filigree crowns, rings and necklaces, belts and girdles of cunning workmanship, most things having leaf or flower motifs, adorned their slender bodies and exquisite heads. They moved in a whisper of silk or brocade in muted forest hues and patterns, mostly grey, gold, green and white, and gems of white or green glittered on hands or heads or about waists. I was suddenly aware of every particle of dirt upon my person, every wrinkle in my much-abused black tabard, which had forded two rivers on the trip here, the fact that my boots were scuffed and muddy from the riverbank, my fingernails had grime beneath them, and my hair was a windblown mop with the shorter bits sticking out in a disordered frill in the back.
"Couriers are expected to arrive with the dust of the road on them, Snowsteel," Elrohir said to me, sensing my embarassment. I gave him a grateful look, and he smiled wryly. "After all, no one would believe their tales of dangers weathered and travails endured if they arrived all pressed and polished."
"I think the Prince would somehow manage to arrive in better condition than I have," I replied.
"The Prince is an unnatural gentleman," declared Elrohir. "Unnaturally polite, unnaturally tolerant, unnaturally wise for a mortal, and unnaturally tidy. And he has esquires to keep him all buffed and polished. Of course you would fall short of his standard."
"I'm supposed to be trying to achieve it nonetheless, I think," I commented mournfully. Elrohir grinned.
"Well, tidy is a lost cause today, and wisdom will come with age. But you are tolerant in the extreme--look how you put up with me!--and you are polite enough for the Eagles. It will suffice for now."
We moved forward through the crowd, which parted before us. Many of the party-goers greeted Elladan and Elrohir in their language, and one laughing lady ran lightly up and placed wreaths of mallorn flowers on their heads, then stared at me a moment, and ran back to a group of other ladies, which erupted into much quiet chattering upon her return. Close by the fountain was a silken canopy, and it was towards this that the twins moved. As we drew closer to the canopy, I could see that a couple of large, carved chairs were set under it, and that a pair of elves sat in those chairs. They stood up as we came near, and they were both tall, and incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful people I had ever seen. The Lord Celeborn's hair was moonlight on silver, Lady Galadriel's sunlight on gold. They were robed in white, and wore crowns of cunningly wrought garlands of leaves fashioned in silver and gold. Their eyes gleamed more brightly than did the crowns.
"Elladan! Elrohir! Glad we are that you return to us unscathed!" the lord of Lorien exclaimed joyfully, and he stepped forward to embrace his grandsons, who met him halfway.
"Grandfather, we are relieved to find you safe at home as well--we heard there had been trouble here," said Elladan with a smile.
"Indeed there was, and we will speak of that another time--tonight is a victory celebration."
"Who is your companion?" the Lady Galadriel inquired in a low, beautiful voice. I bowed.
"Hethlin daughter of Hallaran of the House of the Eagle, my lady," I replied slowly, so as to not stress my limited command of Elvish overmuch. "I bring you the most respectful greetings of the King Elessar and a message for his betrothed, the Lady Arwen." The Lord Celeborn arched a fine silver brow, as the twins embraced their grandmother.
"The House of the Eagle? Well, that would explain the Prince that arrived at our gates yestermorning." I looked at him hopefully.
"Does he still live, my lord? For I have spent much of the last two days in fear for him."
"He lives," answered Lord Celeborn, "and is the charge of Lord Elrond, who is caring for him even now, I believe, along with his daughter. I will not presume to speak to you of his condition, for I have not tended him. Elrond will be able to tell you what you need to know. Elrohir, Elladan, if you will escort the young woman to the West Flet, perhaps her mission may be accomplished and her questions answered all at once. And I know your father and sister will be glad to see you."
They nodded and spoke their assent. Then the Lady Galadriel spoke again.
"You are well come to Lorien, Hethlin daughter of Hallaran. When you have accomplished your task, should you wish to rejoin us here and enjoy the music, you will be welcome. Or we will see that you have a comfortable place in which to take your rest. Have you a difficulty with heights, as do many Men?"
"No, my lady," I assured her. "Heights trouble me not in the least. I think it has something to do with my bond with the Eagles." She actually smiled faintly.
"Well, that certainly simplifies our care of you. Go now, and complete your mission." I nodded, took a step back and bowed to the two of them once more. Elrohir took my arm. "Come, Snowsteel, we will show you where to go. It is not so complicated once you've walked around the place a bit."
It wasn't complicated at all--we simply started climbing the stairs that wound round and round the trunk of the largest mallorn at the top of the hill. Lots of stairs, going straight up, after a fourteen mile hike and eighty mile ride. Only my stubborn determination to deliver the King's message and my overwhelming worry about the Prince kept me going. Elladan and Elrohir looked somewhat weary, but nowhere near as bad off as I was. And now that I thought upon it, they had seemed relatively untouched by the dust of the road as we stood before their glittering grandparents. Their hair had even fallen about their shoulders pretty much untangled after a windy day spent riding hard. There were times, I thought as I panted my way up the stairs, that I could almost dislike Elves. I resigned myself to at least a week of feeling clumsy, grubby and inferior.
We finally reached a level where there were several platforms. I paused for a moment and leaned against the huge trunk to catch my breath. The twins stopped and looked over their shoulders at me.
"I need a moment, if you don't mind," I told them, closing my eyes. Elrohir came over and took me by the arm.
"Oh no you don't! Do not close your eyes just yet. But a little further now, and after that, I will tuck you into bed myself if it becomes necessary." The prospect of that had the bracing effect upon me that he had hoped it would--I shook his arm off, and continued on.
The West Flet was a treehouse when all was said and done, but a large and very nice one indeed, with high arched windows that were open to the air. A silken curtain served as a door, and we pushed past it to enter a pleasant room lit brightly by more of the silver lanterns. In the middle of the room was a bed which seemed almost to have been grown out of a silvery wood, clothed and canopied in white, and in the middle of the bed lay the Prince of Dol Amroth. He lay clean and combed upon on a pile of soft white pillows and was covered with bedcovers stuffed with down and others of the finest white wool.
The bedcovers were pulled back from his leg, which was propped upon pillows, and was being poulticed or bandaged by a tall, black-haired elven man and a younger, black-haired elven woman. They were conferring quietly as we entered, and the woman looked up.
She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, surpassing even her grandmother downstairs. I stared for a moment, but fortunately my rudeness went unnoticed, for her grey eyes sparkled joyfully as she looked upon Elladan and Elrohir.
"Brothers!" she cried, and stood, and they stepped quickly into the room and into her embrace. The elf-lord stood after a moment, and went to join them, and he was tall and stern and fair to look upon. He too embraced his wayward sons, and as he did so, I was struck by two thoughts--that I was in the presence of the third legend I'd met this evening, and, that like Imrahil and his children, it was very obvious to any who looked upon them that these people were a family, for there was a very strong resemblance between them all.
The Lord Elrond noticed me standing there, all hung about with saddlebags and sacks, and raised an eyebrow, releasing the twins.
"I see the rest of the escort from Gondor has arrived," he commented in a soft, deep voice. I bowed deeply.
"Hethlin, daughter of Hallaran, of the House of the Eagle, my lord," I said carefully once more. "I bear a message from King Elessar for your daughter, the Lady Arwen." Somewhat awkwardly, I set my various encumbrances upon the floor, till I found the saddlebag that held the pouch, removed it, and held it out to the lady with a respectful bow. Arwen smiled gently as her fingertips brushed mine and took the pouch. Eyes downcast as she undid the clasp, she asked, "And how was Estel when last you saw him?"
"He was well, my lady, and very busy with his kingly duties. And looking forward eagerly to your arrival in Minas Tirith." There, that was a diplomatic answer. The message had been delivered, and I felt a weight lift from me, though I was still burdened by my worry over Imrahil. The lady pulled a sheaf of paper from within the pouch, covered with closely spaced writing, and smiled. "Oh, good. A long letter!" She then gave me a rather pointed look.
"How was he really?" There was a bit of a mischievous gleam in her limpid, grey eyes, and I decided to take a chance.
"Ready to hang his secretary from the walls, because the man keeps giving him schedules for every moment of his day, with carefully written instructions on how to get to places he already knows." She laughed, and it was like a pealing of bells, or a symphony of birds, or any other comparison that meant melodic beauty. She was so incredibly lovely that I actually minded her less than I might have a woman who was a lesser beauty. I suffered by comparison to her, but so did every other woman in the world, so it wasn't so bad.
"Now that sounds like my Estel!" she exclaimed, laughing again, and for just a moment she wasn't an almost three-thousand-year-old paragon of wisdom and beauty, but simply a young woman in love. "Father, I should like to go and read this, if you do not mind."
"Go on, Arwen, I was all but finished here in any event." She gave me a grateful smile, and I blinked, glad I was not a man or I would have been lost indeed.
"Thank you for bringing this to me," she said, and I nodded.
"You are most welcome, my lady."
"I will see that a room is prepared for you."
"That would be most appreciated." She left the room in a sweep of grey silk skirts, and the twins looked at each other mournfully.
"We're gone for months--" Elladan began.
"--riding with fire and sword to the very end of the world--" Elrohir continued.
"--and she all but ignores us in favor of a few sheets of paper from Estel," Elladan concluded. They looked at each other sadly.
"Love is truly a terrible thing," declared Elrohir. The Lord Elrond shook his head in tolerant forbearance.
"Bide but a few moments more, my sons, and we will go below to the celebration, and you may regale me and your grandparents with tales of your errantry. Or at least as much as you feel is safe to tell. I am sure I will hear the full tale eventually-- from other sources." He looked at me.
"You are Hallaran's daughter?"
"Aye, my lord."
"You have inherited his gifts, it seems. How fares he?" I looked at the floor for a moment--that grey gaze was very hard to take for long. In that, he reminded me of Aragorn.
"Dead these last four years, my lord, along with my mother, brother and sister. An orc raid from Mordor."
"I am sorry." And he did indeed sound so. "Has Aragorn taken you into his household then?"
"Not exactly, my lord. He felt that I might acquire a better education in Dol Amroth, as his own household is somewhat unsettled as yet. So I am sworn as esquire to the Prince." I peered around him at the still figure in the bed. "Is he going to recover, my lord?" Lord Elrond turned, moved back over to the Prince, and resumed laying cloths upon his leg.
"Nothing is certain, but it is my belief that he will recover completely in time. You may approach him if you wish. He will not wake--I have kept him in a deep sleep since his arrival. Much of what I had to do initially would have been painful for him, and I deemed it best to spare him that in his weakened condition."
"Will he lose his leg? Elladan was afraid that he might." From the looks of things, Lord Elrond had made cuts up and down the length of the prince's leg--I saw one of the incisions briefly as he bandaged it. Whatever he'd done seemed to have worked--the leg was now only slightly swollen rather than almost twice its size as it had been before. There was still much hideous bruising upon it, particularly about the original wound, but it looked greatly improved otherwise. The Lord of Imladris gave his son a look of approval.
"Elladan did a very good job with the materials he had at hand. You would make a healer, my son, were I able to keep you home long enough to instruct you." Elladan gave his father a slightly embarrassed smile.
"Thank you, Father."
"Still and all, it is just as well you waited no longer to send him to me. I was hard-pressed to neutralize the poison in time." I moved slowly over to the opposite side of the bed from Lord Elrond, who, having finished dressing the leg, was tucking the blankets back about it. Prince Imrahil's hand lay outside the cover, and I took it gently. It was neither hot nor chill. His face and lips were almost as pale as the coverlets, but he no longer had the sunken look about his eyes that had frightened me so badly before I summoned Gwaenaur. Still, I was not entirely reassured about his recovery.
"What sort of poison was it, Father?" asked Elrohir. "Certainly not the usual run of orc stuff--we tried what we had for spider venom, and it didn't work."
"Some Southron serpent venom was the base of it," Lord Elrond replied. "But I suspect there was more to it than that. If, as you say, the Uruk was one of Saruman's, it may have been magically blended in some way. I should have liked to have had the other arrows to study, but I understand that you were all a little busy at the time." That statement sounded just like something I would have imagined Prince Amrothos saying, and I smiled a little despite myself. Lord Elrond looked over at me as if he'd divined my earlier doubts.
"It is truly my belief that he will recover, Lady Hethlin. We will be letting him wake up tomorrow morning. Would you care to be present? It might calm him to have someone with him he recognizes."
"I should like that very much, my lord." To my horror, a large yawn erupted from me. I set the Prince's hand down to cover my mouth.
"She's very weary, Father," said Elrohir. "She carried his lordship before her in the saddle all day the day before yesterday, summoned the Eagle unanchored yesterday and rode a good distance, then rode a much longer way today. Let us find out where our laggard sister has bestowed you, Snowsteel." He took me by the elbow, and was turning to lead me out of the room when his father stopped him with a raised hand.
"Did I hear you aright? She is untrained? And did the summoning unanchored? I should examine her before she sleeps." He gave me a concerned look. Elrohir gave me an uneasy smile, then said, "I'm sure she's well enough, Father. I've been watching her for headaches." Lord Elrond moved around the bed to stand in front of me. Elrohir was looking even more apprehensive, and when I threw a glance in Elladan's direction, he looked worried as well, instead of enjoying his twin's discomfiture. I wondered what was going on.
"Have you had any headaches since calling the Eagle, my lady?" Lord Elrond inquired. I shook my head.
"No, my lord. I had a very bad head ache and a chest ache as well when I first did it, but Elrohir healed me very nicely, and I haven't had any trouble since."
"I see. You are in all likelihood in perfect health, but it sounds as if you pushed yourself to the very brink, and I should like to insure that you are well. Aragorn would not thank me if I returned both of his envoys to him injured." With some trepidation, I asked what was involved in the examination. Lord Elrond smiled reassuringly.
"I will simply touch you thusly," and he laid a gentle hand upon my forehead, "and I would ask that you look into my eyes."
I did as I had been asked, and raised my eyes to his. Mine widened without my willing them to do so, and I found myself drowning in a sea of grey. I sucked in a quick breath. The sensation was not as invasive as when the Witch-King had read all my secrets; nonetheless, I felt something within me struggle against the Elf-lord's intrusion. But the lord of Imladris was a master in the art of healing bodies and minds, and he deftly quieted the part of me trying to push him out. A dull ache started behind my eyes, then vanished as quickly as it had come. The examination took no more than a few moments, then I was reeling slightly from a momentary dizziness as he withdrew. I sagged rather heavily against Elrohir, wishing with all my heart for a bed, and wondering if they'd mind if I just curled up on the floor right there. Then I saw Lord Elrond's face and was jerked back to full wakefulness.
He had stepped back from me and dropped his hand, and as he'd done so, his expression had altered from one of serene concentration to pure fury. No more the healer, this was the warrior who had helped besiege Barad-dur itself. Behind me, I heard Elladan take a step backward. Elrohir's hand tightened painfully on my arm. Silky-dangerous, I had called Elrohir's angriest voice. Smoothly petulant was what it was when compared to his father's.
"Elrohir Peredhil, were you intending to mention to me at any point that you'd gone and soul-bonded yourself to a MORTAL?" Dunedan that I was, I quailed before Elrond of Imladris' rage, and wanted very badly to be someplace else. Any place other than Lorien.
A little before noon, we were riding hard for the Limlight when Gwaenaur returned, swooping low over our heads. Nimfaun and Alagos were unmoved, but I had my hands full with Caerith and Fortune. Elrohir chided them sharply in Elvish, and they stopped their jibbing and jumping about. I dismounted, tossed the reins to him, and walked forward a way. Gwaenaur backwinged into a landing before me. I bowed.
"Greetings again, Windlady. My kill is yours."
"And mine is yours, nestling."
"Did my chieftain survive his journey through the upper airs?" I tried to keep my voice even, but this question had preyed upon my mind for hours now. She cocked her head slightly to one side.
"He lived still when I left him at the gates of Caras Galadon," she replied, "and the Elves took him swiftly within. If the Lord Elrond is in fact present, then perhaps he may yet be saved." I sagged a bit in relief.
"Thank you so much for agreeing to bear him there." Her beak clicked a couple of times, and I got the distinct impression that she was amused.
"Thank you for the opportunity to remedy an ancient wrong," she said, then, swiveling her head towards where the twins waited, she called--"Remember your oath, son of Elrond."
Elladan muttered something I was certain was anything but polite, by Eagle standards or anyone else's and Elrohir chuckled. Gwaenaur turned her attention back to me.
"You should come North, nestling. North, and to the mountains. It would give us joy to have one of your family among us again."
"My time is not my own right now, windlady. I have sworn to the King to spend the next two years in Dol Amroth, learning the skills of a Swan Knight." Gwaenaur nodded understandingly.
"If you are sworn, then you are sworn." The Eagles, it seemed, took oaths and vows almost as seriously as good manners. "Mayhap you will learn some valuable things there. But when you are done, we hope to see you one day."
"I should very much like to come to you. I have never met my kin in the North. And there is much there I have heard of but never seen."
"Much there is in the North that has been forgotten. Perhaps it will be remembered now that Aragorn is King. I must be off--to fly so low and slow was tiring, and I've not fed today."
I gave her a guilty look. "I am sorry, windlady, that I have no kill to offer you." She fluffed herself, then settled her feathers and preened them a bit.
"That is of no matter now, nestling--there will be time enough for that later. There are only rabbits in these parts in any event--and I could eat a dozen rabbits and barely taste them! I shall hunt stag closer to the mountains, or ride the winds westward and try to find some wild kine--that would be a feast indeed!" She took a step forward, bent her head, and gave me a gentle nudge with her beak, the force of which knocked me onto my rump quite easily. There was an amused glint in her golden eye which told me that had probably been her intention. Just a little reminder that the power with which I dealt was nothing to be trifled with.
"May you fare better on the rest of your journey, nestling," she said warmly. I struggled to my feet, and bowed.
"Fair air to you, windlady," I replied, and she gave her head an odd little bob, and launched herself into the air, the grass flattening under the force of her wings. I watched with my arm raised in salute till she was far away, then turned to the sons of Elrond, who'd been watching silently.
"If he was alive when she got him to Lorien, perhaps he'll be waiting for us when we get there, Snowsteel," said Elrohir. "Take heart." I looked at Elladan for a confirmation, but his face was grave.
"If he arrived at Lorien in the same condition as he was when he left, I would say that Father could save him. But we know not how the journey affected him. You should raise no false hopes, Brother." Elrohir gave him an ironic look.
"I'll raise no false hopes if you agree to cause no unfounded despair, Brother." He smiled suddenly at Elladan. "Wet blanket!" he declared fondly. "Speaking of which, we near the Limlight, and there is much laundry to do."
We crossed the Limlight without incident. I was careful to keep the King's message dry, and once again we were successful at not dampening our essential things with river water. We made camp as soon as we reached the other side, in a little copse of trees well above the river, and began doing our washing up. Or rather, I started washing clothes downstream of the twins, who were bow-fishing again. I had found a handy rock, and Elrohir had given me some Elven soap, and I was soon busy with both my things and the Prince's. Eventually, Elrohir joined me, while Elladan built a fire and prepared the fish. He found me furiously scrubbing at a blood spot on the neck of one of Imrahil's shirts.
"Have a care, Snowsteel, you'll wear a hole if you keep at it that way," he commented good-naturedly. "Here, let me help you wring out what you've already done, and spread them out to dry." We did that, then he joined me in washing the rest of the things. For an immortal orc-hunter and warrior of renown, he didn't make a bad launderer, and he didn't rub holes in things. We took a break when the fish were done to eat a hot meal, then after we'd finished with the garments, Elrohir produced small containers of saddle-soap and oil, and he and I worked on the water-stained tack, a task much more to my liking. I paid particular attention to the Prince's gear, as if maintaining that meticulous man's equipment as particularly as if he were doing it himself would guarantee his survival. Elrohir knew, of course, exactly what I was doing, but he made no comment other than to say he thought I was an admirable esquire, and he was very glad that he didn't serve Imrahil himself.
"And why is that?" I asked with a frown, for, I thought to myself, if he was going to insult the Prince while the man was possibly on his deathbed, then he and I were going to have words. Elrohir merely smiled sweetly.
"As you are the only available member of his household, it falls to you to deal with the Scum Monster of Dol Amroth on the morrow." And he gestured to the river bank below us, where Caerith was wallowing in the scummy verge, grunting in pleasure, all his legs waving in the air. I leapt up, dropping the Prince's bridle, and charged down to the river bank, screaming at the stallion in my rapidly expanding collection of Rohirric curses, while the silvery laughter of both the twins floated in the air behind me.
It was while I was repacking the Prince's things in his saddlebags that evening that I found the picture. Everything had been placed exactly so, by someone who was an experienced campaigner, and I was having trouble making things fit back in the way I imagined they'd been in the first place. I had tipped the bags to one side, trying to stuff a shirt back in, when a small, flat, silver case rolled out, and almost into the fire. I snatched it up immediately, singeing my fingers a bit in the process. It was slightly larger than the palm of my hand, and was oval in shape. There was a swan ship chased on it, which was no particular surprise--the man had them stamped on everything but his underwear. I looked at it curiously, wondering what it could possibly contain.
"Go ahead, open it--you know you want to," said Elrohir from across the fire. Elladan, who was going to take third watch, had already rolled up in his cloak by the fire, but was not asleep quite yet, though he'd been staring raptly into the flames.
"You really should stop encouraging her to follow her baser instincts," he told his brother. Elrohir gave him the eyebrow.
"And how, precisely, is not encouraging her to follow her baser instincts supposed to benefit me?" he inquired. Elladan refused to answer, and turned his back on both of us.
I examined it more closely, trying to determine how and if it could be opened. There were a couple of cunning hinges upon one of the longer sides, and an indentation on the other. When I cautiously pressed a fingernail into the indentation, the case popped open.
"Oh, my," I breathed, as I looked upon the contents of the case. "Elrohir, look at this." He came around the fire and knelt beside me.
"That is lovely, Snowsteel."
It was a portrait, a very small one, but very detailed for its diminutive size, of a young woman. I thought at first it must be Lothiriel, for the dark, wavy hair and grey eyes with just the tiniest hint of violet were the same, but after a moment I realized that the shape of the face was different. Lothiriel was actually more beautiful than this woman--she'd inherited some of her father's more chiseled Elven facial features. I looked at Elrohir.
"I thought it was Lothiriel at first, but I don't now. Could it be his wife?"
"That would be my guess. Elladan, come look at this." Elrohir seemed rather more fascinated by the picture than I'd thought he'd be, and Elladan, once he got over his initial grumpiness at being disturbed just as he was drifting off to sleep, was also very intrigued.
"Look at how the artist has absolutely captured her personality," he commented, shaking his head. "Mortals are the only ones who can do this--perhaps it comes of their desire to create things that survive beyond their own deaths." I looked at him in surprise.
"Surely the Elves can do this--your people make even ordinary things so beautifully." Elladan shook his head.
"Oh, we make very beautiful things indeed. But it tends to be a perfected, idealized beauty. We tend to avoid passionate feelings of every kind. It is not that we cannot experience them--quite the contrary. Elves can be moved by passion in a way Mortals simply cannot comprehend. But an Elf in the grip of a great passion of any kind is a tragedy looking for a place to happen. Do you remember when I spoke to you of our great mistakes? They were almost all of them the result of intemperate passions."
"Like your sister's?" I asked softly. Elladan sucked in his breath, and Elrohir gave me a sharp look.
"Yes, I suppose you could use Arwen as a good example," Elladan said after a moment's silence.
"What do you think it's painted on?" I asked, thinking I'd best change the subject. "It doesn't look like wood."
"I think it's Mumak ivory," replied Elrohir, seeming equally glad to speak of something else. Elladan took another long look at it, murmured "Extraordinary," then went back to the other side of the fire and rolled himself up again. Elrohir wondered aloud if he could find someone to make something similar--I gathered he had it in mind to make a present to somebody. Then he wished me a good night, and joined his brother--the evening was cool, and we'd sent all of our blankets with the Prince. Cloaks and shared body heat were going to have to suffice us this night.
I looked at the portrait a moment or two longer before I put it away. The artist had captured the lady's kind demeanor, and she had wise eyes. She looked like the sort of person who had liked to curl up with a good book. I wondered if she had read bedtime stories to the children as well, if she had enjoyed the public life of being the Princess, and if she had loved her husband the way he seemed to have loved her. Then I closed the case carefully, and resumed my packing.
The next morning I groomed Caerith while the twins fixed breakfast. I stood close enough that we could converse, but downwind so the dirt wouldn't fly over them. He was grunting in pleasure at the scratching of the brush, and I reflected again upon how the Prince was a man of extreme forbearance--I wanted to kick him hard in just such a place that he'd spend the rest of his life as a gelding.
"If we ride swiftly until a little after dark, we'll reach Lorien this evening," Elrohir said. "Snowsteel, we'll do as we did when you were carrying Imrahil--you trade back and forth between the two stallions, and that should enable them to keep pace with us." Having decided thusly, we packed, saddled and rode as the sun had just finished rising fully above the horizon.
That day was the day I decided I was finally recovered from my various injuries, for we rode as couriers did, hard and long, with only occasional pauses to breathe the horses. The land through which we passed was pleasant and rolling, with scattered copses of trees, but it was uninhabited. The Misty Mountains climbed skyward upon our left, and to the south and east of us lay the Field of Celebrant, where Eorl the Young had ridden to Gondor's rescue so long ago. I asked Elrohir at one stop why no one had settled here, and he waggled his hand.
"Too close to the vile magic of the Golden Wood," he intoned sepulchrally, and Elladan snorted. There was little further speech between the three of us that day, and that suited my mood well enough, for my mind was on the Prince and whether he'd lived or died or lived and lost his leg, and what might happen in each of those three events. The weather was perfect for a hard ride, sunny but cool and breezy, and cottony clouds floated above us as we rode. One rather large one actually sprinkled us a bit sometime after midday, but it was a scant shower, hardly enough to dampen us, and rather refreshing. But by the time night was falling, that brief, invigorating respite was forgotten, and I was weary to the bone. The stallions, too, were beginning to flag. But we'd made very good time and the eaves of the Wood were before us. Despite my weariness, I looked upon the trees with interest--Elrohir had spoken of mallorns when he told the Prince and I of the Golden Wood, and they were every bit as impressive as he'd said. They seemed to be bearing golden flowers amongst their glossy new green leaves, and their trunks were silver grey. As we rode beneath their branches, a golden leaf or flower would from time to time part company with its parent tree and drift softly to the forest floor, which even with the approach of darkness gleamed pale gold.
"Do you like the mallorns?" Elrohir asked. I looked about and smiled.
"They are lovely. Do I remember rightly--the golden leaves are from last year?"
"Aye--they remain on the trees till the new leaves grow. We're a bit past the loveliest time of spring, when the golden flowers are at their best, and the forest is a hall crowned and floored in gold with silver pillars, but this is almost as nice."
"Indeed." I sighed, and almost as if my breath had given them form, we were suddenly surrounded by elves. They were clad in silver-grey, and so were able to go ghostlike among the silver-trunked trees. They carried bows longer than the ones the twins bore, or that Elrohir had given me, and they had grey-fletched arrows to hand, but not drawn. The leader among them greeted the sons of Elrond in a tongue that was obviously Elvish, but which I did not understand, and I was dismayed, for it looked as if all my hard study would be of no use in this place. Elladan caught my expression and smiled kindly at me, while Elrohir continued to converse with the Lorien elves.
"Mortals have their Rohirric, and their Haradric and their Westron, and Dunlandish--why should you be surprised that the Elder Kindred have more than one tongue? Have we not told you we are of more than one kind?" I grimaced.
"I understand that, it's just that I've apparently been studying the wrong one for this."
"Not necessarily. There are those here who speak Sindarin--the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood do, as does Father, of course, and Arwen. It is true that few of the Galadrim do, for they are a folk that keep much to themselves these days, but of those few, some even speak the tongues of men. We will try to see that you have someone about you who can translate."
"What are they saying to Elrohir?" Elladan listened for a moment.
"Well, as to that, the conversation started with speculation on the trouble we'd gotten into in the outside world since our last visit, then moved on to you, and your reason for being here. Elrohir has been describing your exploits in the most fulsome terms, which would only embarrass you were I to translate them, and vouching for you as Aragorn's kinswoman and a Ranger of renown."
"What exactly has he been saying about me?" I demanded, giving Elladan a suspicious look. He, however, was unmoved.
"As I said, it would just upset you to know, so don't trouble yourself about it." His expression was bland, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, and realized that, as usual, one of the twins was having fun at my expense. The best way to deal with such things was to simply endure until they were over, so I ignored him, and slumped in my saddle a bit, waiting for Elrohir's negotiations to end.
Eventually, he turned to us.
"We walk from here on, Snowsteel," he said. "The warders will take the horses to some stables they have hard by. You needn't fear--they will be well cared for. Gather your things, and the Prince's and come." I did as he commanded, and after giving Caerith and Fortune a final pat, allowed them to be led away. Caerith, who had been restive ever since we sent the Prince away, seemed to suffer the attentions of the Elves most willingly, and that reassured me. Elladan and Elrohir took some of the Prince's things from me, then I spent a little time slinging the remaining saddlebags and food sacks about me in a way that allowed full movement and followed the twins further into the Golden Wood.
Dusk became full night as we walked, Elrohir to the front and Elladan to the rear that I might not stray. We walked for a long time, and while at first it had been something of a relief to use muscles other than those used for riding, in time my weariness began to increase. After we'd been walking for what I felt was more than long enough, I began to hear the murmur of water, and smell the moisture in the air. Eventually, we came upon the bank of a river of good size, the waters spangled with fallen golden leaves and flowers.
"This is the Celebrant, or Silverlode in your tongue, Snowsteel," Elrohir told me. "Take heart--we are only about seven miles from Caras Galadon once we cross." I gave him an irritated look.
"Seven miles? After we cross the river? How exactly are we to do that? Were you perhaps proposing a refreshing swim?" He shook his head, unmoved by my ill humor.
"Leave that to me." Moving to a tree near the river bank, he suddenly leaped for the lowest branch, and seized it, and grabbed something in the fork of the tree in his other hand. When he'd dropped to the ground, I saw he carried a small silver lantern. Kindling it in some manner I didn't quite see, he waited a moment for the light to strengthen, then holding it aloft, began to flip a shutter on its side, which caused intermittent blinks.
"Rest a bit--this may take a little time." I did as I was told, dropping my bags immediately, pulling my cloak around my shoulders, and seating myself at the base of one of the huge mallorns. Ranger-style, I drifted off to sleep almost immediately, and it seemed almost immediately that I was wakened by Elladan's hand on my shoulder.
"The boat comes." I shook myself a bit blearily, looked up and saw a graceful, grey elven boat approaching the bank, a silver lantern like to the one Elrohir had signaled with attached to the high, curving prow. There were two elves rowing, and the one in front jumped onto the shore, and dragged the boat up onto the bank a little, greeting the twins in the other elven tongue. Elladan immediately got in and seated himself in front of the rear rower, then indicated that I should sit in front of him. I did so with some trepidation, stowing my bags about me, for I'd little experience of boats save for the Cair Andros Ferry, which was large enough to carry horses. A much more stable platform it had seemed than this slender elven vessel.
Once we were seated, Elrohir threw his things into the boat, then he and the front rower shoved it back into the current, leaping gracefully in as they did so. The rowers took up their oars, the twins an extra pair that had been produced from beneath the seats, and with four sets of arms rowing now, we slowly turned about, then proceeded back across the Silverlode. I was the only one not rowing, and tried to decide if I felt like a parcel or a princess as we moved silently across the dark water.
On the opposite shore, there was actually a small harbor, with docks, at which were tied other, similar boats. Elrohir climbed out first, then gave me a hand up. His brother followed, and they exchanged what seemed to be courteous words of thanks with the rowers, who busied themselves with mooring their vessel. Then Elrohir clapped me on the shoulder.
"Just a little farther, Snowsteel. Up the path a way, then we'll be at Caras Galadon." I shouldered my baggage and started trudging.
"Will your sister still be awake when we get there? Or should I wait to deliver the King's message until the morrow?" Elrohir chuckled.
"It is a fine spring night, not far advanced, and the stars shine very bright. I suspect that Arwen and many others will be awake a while yet." Elladan sniffed the air appreciatively. I remembered suddenly the Elvish affinity for starlight, and realized that most elves probably did not do the early to bed, early to rise routine of a farm family.
"Indeed, brother, it is a fine night for singing." And with no further ado, they started to do just that, voices constantly tossing the melody and harmony back and forth between each other. The song they sang was in the language of the place, so I understood it not, but the music was enthralling, and lightened my steps on the last leg of the journey. Then the forest ended, and we came out into an open space under the night sky. I saw the city, and wonder made me forget my weariness altogether.
Caras Galadon was like no city I had ever seen (not that I had any great acquaintance with cities outside of Minas Tirith); being in form a great hill covered with huge mallorn trees, and surrounded by a what looked to be an earth-work wall of great height, and a fosse or moat. There were hundreds of white, green and gold lights in the trees, so that the leaves glowed as if lit from within and it looked as if the boughs of the trees had netted the very stars of the sky in their branches. I could hear many silvery elven voices raised in song.
Elrohir looked at me standing there with my mouth slightly agape, and, as he'd done not so long ago upon the occasion of our first meeting, put a finger under my chin and pushed it closed.
"So, what do you think of Grandmother's house?" he asked with a grin.
When I'd recovered myself somewhat, we proceeded up the path to the gates. As we crossed the white bridge before them, I could see no water beneath me. A fosse then, rather than a moat. There were many silver lanterns hung about the gate, but no guards that I could see. Elladan knocked and spoke something, and they opened, seemingly by themselves, for no one stood guard on the other side that I could see. They closed behind us as soundlessly as they'd opened, and we proceeded a short distance between two earth work walls until they ended and the path continued into the city proper. There were no elves walking about beneath the trunks of the trees, but I could dimly see the outlines of platforms and walkways in the branches of the great trees, which were the most massive in girth of any I'd seen, and certainly wondrous in and of themselves.
Voices would sound above my head from time to time, and there was a sense and sound of movement. Truly, an entire city was there in the very boughs of the trees, and though the twins had described it as such, the reality was still a bit hard to absorb. Above my head, elven families were having supper, and telling tales, and fletching arrows, and doing whatever other sorts of things filled elven days. As we walked up the rising path, climbing stairs on more than one occasion, I craned my neck and gawked like a curious young child--which, in this company, was exactly what I was. Then we reached the summit of the hill, and I stopped feeling like a child, and started feeling like a dirty, raggedy crow.
A beautiful, wide lawn stretched out before us, a smooth expanse of grass glowing greenly in the light of hundreds of the silver lanterns hanging from boughs overhead. There was a beautiful fountain in the middle of the lawn, with a basin that looked as if it had been made from silver, and the water sparkled in the lantern light as it spilled out of the basin and became a stream that flowed down the hill. The lawn was covered with elves, reclining on chairs or cushions, standing and conversing, or congregating around musicians who made sweeter music than any humans could. There were tables heaped with food, and servant elves who circulated with pitchers. We had apparently arrived in the middle of a celebration.
The elves of Lorien were for the most part pale-haired, a bit of a surprise to me, who was used to the twins' sable-tressed beauty. Not that these weren't unearthly and comely as well--and they were dressed in their party best. Dainty filigree crowns, rings and necklaces, belts and girdles of cunning workmanship, most things having leaf or flower motifs, adorned their slender bodies and exquisite heads. They moved in a whisper of silk or brocade in muted forest hues and patterns, mostly grey, gold, green and white, and gems of white or green glittered on hands or heads or about waists. I was suddenly aware of every particle of dirt upon my person, every wrinkle in my much-abused black tabard, which had forded two rivers on the trip here, the fact that my boots were scuffed and muddy from the riverbank, my fingernails had grime beneath them, and my hair was a windblown mop with the shorter bits sticking out in a disordered frill in the back.
"Couriers are expected to arrive with the dust of the road on them, Snowsteel," Elrohir said to me, sensing my embarassment. I gave him a grateful look, and he smiled wryly. "After all, no one would believe their tales of dangers weathered and travails endured if they arrived all pressed and polished."
"I think the Prince would somehow manage to arrive in better condition than I have," I replied.
"The Prince is an unnatural gentleman," declared Elrohir. "Unnaturally polite, unnaturally tolerant, unnaturally wise for a mortal, and unnaturally tidy. And he has esquires to keep him all buffed and polished. Of course you would fall short of his standard."
"I'm supposed to be trying to achieve it nonetheless, I think," I commented mournfully. Elrohir grinned.
"Well, tidy is a lost cause today, and wisdom will come with age. But you are tolerant in the extreme--look how you put up with me!--and you are polite enough for the Eagles. It will suffice for now."
We moved forward through the crowd, which parted before us. Many of the party-goers greeted Elladan and Elrohir in their language, and one laughing lady ran lightly up and placed wreaths of mallorn flowers on their heads, then stared at me a moment, and ran back to a group of other ladies, which erupted into much quiet chattering upon her return. Close by the fountain was a silken canopy, and it was towards this that the twins moved. As we drew closer to the canopy, I could see that a couple of large, carved chairs were set under it, and that a pair of elves sat in those chairs. They stood up as we came near, and they were both tall, and incredibly beautiful, the most beautiful people I had ever seen. The Lord Celeborn's hair was moonlight on silver, Lady Galadriel's sunlight on gold. They were robed in white, and wore crowns of cunningly wrought garlands of leaves fashioned in silver and gold. Their eyes gleamed more brightly than did the crowns.
"Elladan! Elrohir! Glad we are that you return to us unscathed!" the lord of Lorien exclaimed joyfully, and he stepped forward to embrace his grandsons, who met him halfway.
"Grandfather, we are relieved to find you safe at home as well--we heard there had been trouble here," said Elladan with a smile.
"Indeed there was, and we will speak of that another time--tonight is a victory celebration."
"Who is your companion?" the Lady Galadriel inquired in a low, beautiful voice. I bowed.
"Hethlin daughter of Hallaran of the House of the Eagle, my lady," I replied slowly, so as to not stress my limited command of Elvish overmuch. "I bring you the most respectful greetings of the King Elessar and a message for his betrothed, the Lady Arwen." The Lord Celeborn arched a fine silver brow, as the twins embraced their grandmother.
"The House of the Eagle? Well, that would explain the Prince that arrived at our gates yestermorning." I looked at him hopefully.
"Does he still live, my lord? For I have spent much of the last two days in fear for him."
"He lives," answered Lord Celeborn, "and is the charge of Lord Elrond, who is caring for him even now, I believe, along with his daughter. I will not presume to speak to you of his condition, for I have not tended him. Elrond will be able to tell you what you need to know. Elrohir, Elladan, if you will escort the young woman to the West Flet, perhaps her mission may be accomplished and her questions answered all at once. And I know your father and sister will be glad to see you."
They nodded and spoke their assent. Then the Lady Galadriel spoke again.
"You are well come to Lorien, Hethlin daughter of Hallaran. When you have accomplished your task, should you wish to rejoin us here and enjoy the music, you will be welcome. Or we will see that you have a comfortable place in which to take your rest. Have you a difficulty with heights, as do many Men?"
"No, my lady," I assured her. "Heights trouble me not in the least. I think it has something to do with my bond with the Eagles." She actually smiled faintly.
"Well, that certainly simplifies our care of you. Go now, and complete your mission." I nodded, took a step back and bowed to the two of them once more. Elrohir took my arm. "Come, Snowsteel, we will show you where to go. It is not so complicated once you've walked around the place a bit."
It wasn't complicated at all--we simply started climbing the stairs that wound round and round the trunk of the largest mallorn at the top of the hill. Lots of stairs, going straight up, after a fourteen mile hike and eighty mile ride. Only my stubborn determination to deliver the King's message and my overwhelming worry about the Prince kept me going. Elladan and Elrohir looked somewhat weary, but nowhere near as bad off as I was. And now that I thought upon it, they had seemed relatively untouched by the dust of the road as we stood before their glittering grandparents. Their hair had even fallen about their shoulders pretty much untangled after a windy day spent riding hard. There were times, I thought as I panted my way up the stairs, that I could almost dislike Elves. I resigned myself to at least a week of feeling clumsy, grubby and inferior.
We finally reached a level where there were several platforms. I paused for a moment and leaned against the huge trunk to catch my breath. The twins stopped and looked over their shoulders at me.
"I need a moment, if you don't mind," I told them, closing my eyes. Elrohir came over and took me by the arm.
"Oh no you don't! Do not close your eyes just yet. But a little further now, and after that, I will tuck you into bed myself if it becomes necessary." The prospect of that had the bracing effect upon me that he had hoped it would--I shook his arm off, and continued on.
The West Flet was a treehouse when all was said and done, but a large and very nice one indeed, with high arched windows that were open to the air. A silken curtain served as a door, and we pushed past it to enter a pleasant room lit brightly by more of the silver lanterns. In the middle of the room was a bed which seemed almost to have been grown out of a silvery wood, clothed and canopied in white, and in the middle of the bed lay the Prince of Dol Amroth. He lay clean and combed upon on a pile of soft white pillows and was covered with bedcovers stuffed with down and others of the finest white wool.
The bedcovers were pulled back from his leg, which was propped upon pillows, and was being poulticed or bandaged by a tall, black-haired elven man and a younger, black-haired elven woman. They were conferring quietly as we entered, and the woman looked up.
She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, surpassing even her grandmother downstairs. I stared for a moment, but fortunately my rudeness went unnoticed, for her grey eyes sparkled joyfully as she looked upon Elladan and Elrohir.
"Brothers!" she cried, and stood, and they stepped quickly into the room and into her embrace. The elf-lord stood after a moment, and went to join them, and he was tall and stern and fair to look upon. He too embraced his wayward sons, and as he did so, I was struck by two thoughts--that I was in the presence of the third legend I'd met this evening, and, that like Imrahil and his children, it was very obvious to any who looked upon them that these people were a family, for there was a very strong resemblance between them all.
The Lord Elrond noticed me standing there, all hung about with saddlebags and sacks, and raised an eyebrow, releasing the twins.
"I see the rest of the escort from Gondor has arrived," he commented in a soft, deep voice. I bowed deeply.
"Hethlin, daughter of Hallaran, of the House of the Eagle, my lord," I said carefully once more. "I bear a message from King Elessar for your daughter, the Lady Arwen." Somewhat awkwardly, I set my various encumbrances upon the floor, till I found the saddlebag that held the pouch, removed it, and held it out to the lady with a respectful bow. Arwen smiled gently as her fingertips brushed mine and took the pouch. Eyes downcast as she undid the clasp, she asked, "And how was Estel when last you saw him?"
"He was well, my lady, and very busy with his kingly duties. And looking forward eagerly to your arrival in Minas Tirith." There, that was a diplomatic answer. The message had been delivered, and I felt a weight lift from me, though I was still burdened by my worry over Imrahil. The lady pulled a sheaf of paper from within the pouch, covered with closely spaced writing, and smiled. "Oh, good. A long letter!" She then gave me a rather pointed look.
"How was he really?" There was a bit of a mischievous gleam in her limpid, grey eyes, and I decided to take a chance.
"Ready to hang his secretary from the walls, because the man keeps giving him schedules for every moment of his day, with carefully written instructions on how to get to places he already knows." She laughed, and it was like a pealing of bells, or a symphony of birds, or any other comparison that meant melodic beauty. She was so incredibly lovely that I actually minded her less than I might have a woman who was a lesser beauty. I suffered by comparison to her, but so did every other woman in the world, so it wasn't so bad.
"Now that sounds like my Estel!" she exclaimed, laughing again, and for just a moment she wasn't an almost three-thousand-year-old paragon of wisdom and beauty, but simply a young woman in love. "Father, I should like to go and read this, if you do not mind."
"Go on, Arwen, I was all but finished here in any event." She gave me a grateful smile, and I blinked, glad I was not a man or I would have been lost indeed.
"Thank you for bringing this to me," she said, and I nodded.
"You are most welcome, my lady."
"I will see that a room is prepared for you."
"That would be most appreciated." She left the room in a sweep of grey silk skirts, and the twins looked at each other mournfully.
"We're gone for months--" Elladan began.
"--riding with fire and sword to the very end of the world--" Elrohir continued.
"--and she all but ignores us in favor of a few sheets of paper from Estel," Elladan concluded. They looked at each other sadly.
"Love is truly a terrible thing," declared Elrohir. The Lord Elrond shook his head in tolerant forbearance.
"Bide but a few moments more, my sons, and we will go below to the celebration, and you may regale me and your grandparents with tales of your errantry. Or at least as much as you feel is safe to tell. I am sure I will hear the full tale eventually-- from other sources." He looked at me.
"You are Hallaran's daughter?"
"Aye, my lord."
"You have inherited his gifts, it seems. How fares he?" I looked at the floor for a moment--that grey gaze was very hard to take for long. In that, he reminded me of Aragorn.
"Dead these last four years, my lord, along with my mother, brother and sister. An orc raid from Mordor."
"I am sorry." And he did indeed sound so. "Has Aragorn taken you into his household then?"
"Not exactly, my lord. He felt that I might acquire a better education in Dol Amroth, as his own household is somewhat unsettled as yet. So I am sworn as esquire to the Prince." I peered around him at the still figure in the bed. "Is he going to recover, my lord?" Lord Elrond turned, moved back over to the Prince, and resumed laying cloths upon his leg.
"Nothing is certain, but it is my belief that he will recover completely in time. You may approach him if you wish. He will not wake--I have kept him in a deep sleep since his arrival. Much of what I had to do initially would have been painful for him, and I deemed it best to spare him that in his weakened condition."
"Will he lose his leg? Elladan was afraid that he might." From the looks of things, Lord Elrond had made cuts up and down the length of the prince's leg--I saw one of the incisions briefly as he bandaged it. Whatever he'd done seemed to have worked--the leg was now only slightly swollen rather than almost twice its size as it had been before. There was still much hideous bruising upon it, particularly about the original wound, but it looked greatly improved otherwise. The Lord of Imladris gave his son a look of approval.
"Elladan did a very good job with the materials he had at hand. You would make a healer, my son, were I able to keep you home long enough to instruct you." Elladan gave his father a slightly embarrassed smile.
"Thank you, Father."
"Still and all, it is just as well you waited no longer to send him to me. I was hard-pressed to neutralize the poison in time." I moved slowly over to the opposite side of the bed from Lord Elrond, who, having finished dressing the leg, was tucking the blankets back about it. Prince Imrahil's hand lay outside the cover, and I took it gently. It was neither hot nor chill. His face and lips were almost as pale as the coverlets, but he no longer had the sunken look about his eyes that had frightened me so badly before I summoned Gwaenaur. Still, I was not entirely reassured about his recovery.
"What sort of poison was it, Father?" asked Elrohir. "Certainly not the usual run of orc stuff--we tried what we had for spider venom, and it didn't work."
"Some Southron serpent venom was the base of it," Lord Elrond replied. "But I suspect there was more to it than that. If, as you say, the Uruk was one of Saruman's, it may have been magically blended in some way. I should have liked to have had the other arrows to study, but I understand that you were all a little busy at the time." That statement sounded just like something I would have imagined Prince Amrothos saying, and I smiled a little despite myself. Lord Elrond looked over at me as if he'd divined my earlier doubts.
"It is truly my belief that he will recover, Lady Hethlin. We will be letting him wake up tomorrow morning. Would you care to be present? It might calm him to have someone with him he recognizes."
"I should like that very much, my lord." To my horror, a large yawn erupted from me. I set the Prince's hand down to cover my mouth.
"She's very weary, Father," said Elrohir. "She carried his lordship before her in the saddle all day the day before yesterday, summoned the Eagle unanchored yesterday and rode a good distance, then rode a much longer way today. Let us find out where our laggard sister has bestowed you, Snowsteel." He took me by the elbow, and was turning to lead me out of the room when his father stopped him with a raised hand.
"Did I hear you aright? She is untrained? And did the summoning unanchored? I should examine her before she sleeps." He gave me a concerned look. Elrohir gave me an uneasy smile, then said, "I'm sure she's well enough, Father. I've been watching her for headaches." Lord Elrond moved around the bed to stand in front of me. Elrohir was looking even more apprehensive, and when I threw a glance in Elladan's direction, he looked worried as well, instead of enjoying his twin's discomfiture. I wondered what was going on.
"Have you had any headaches since calling the Eagle, my lady?" Lord Elrond inquired. I shook my head.
"No, my lord. I had a very bad head ache and a chest ache as well when I first did it, but Elrohir healed me very nicely, and I haven't had any trouble since."
"I see. You are in all likelihood in perfect health, but it sounds as if you pushed yourself to the very brink, and I should like to insure that you are well. Aragorn would not thank me if I returned both of his envoys to him injured." With some trepidation, I asked what was involved in the examination. Lord Elrond smiled reassuringly.
"I will simply touch you thusly," and he laid a gentle hand upon my forehead, "and I would ask that you look into my eyes."
I did as I had been asked, and raised my eyes to his. Mine widened without my willing them to do so, and I found myself drowning in a sea of grey. I sucked in a quick breath. The sensation was not as invasive as when the Witch-King had read all my secrets; nonetheless, I felt something within me struggle against the Elf-lord's intrusion. But the lord of Imladris was a master in the art of healing bodies and minds, and he deftly quieted the part of me trying to push him out. A dull ache started behind my eyes, then vanished as quickly as it had come. The examination took no more than a few moments, then I was reeling slightly from a momentary dizziness as he withdrew. I sagged rather heavily against Elrohir, wishing with all my heart for a bed, and wondering if they'd mind if I just curled up on the floor right there. Then I saw Lord Elrond's face and was jerked back to full wakefulness.
He had stepped back from me and dropped his hand, and as he'd done so, his expression had altered from one of serene concentration to pure fury. No more the healer, this was the warrior who had helped besiege Barad-dur itself. Behind me, I heard Elladan take a step backward. Elrohir's hand tightened painfully on my arm. Silky-dangerous, I had called Elrohir's angriest voice. Smoothly petulant was what it was when compared to his father's.
"Elrohir Peredhil, were you intending to mention to me at any point that you'd gone and soul-bonded yourself to a MORTAL?" Dunedan that I was, I quailed before Elrond of Imladris' rage, and wanted very badly to be someplace else. Any place other than Lorien.