Author's Note--I had a bit of a puzzle here, about the exact distance of Cerin Amroth from Caras Galadon. In Karen Wynn Fonstad's Atlas of Middle-Earth, she shows it being almost ten miles away. But when Tolkien describes the Fellowship's walk from it to the city, they start as night is falling, and arrive when it is barely past dark. So I'm thinking it's two or three miles. If anyone knows information to the contrary, feel free to tell me.
A big thanks again to all the reviewers and readers who have hung in with me this far--I hit the big 30 next, which is about twice as many chapters as I thought this story was going to be! My husband keeps asking how many chapters are left, and I keep telling him "two or three". Now he rolls his eyes when I say it. Heck, I'm starting to roll my eyes.
"Father, it is not a marriage-bond!" Elrohir protested. His hand on my arm had prevented my moving back towards the door as Elladan had done--now, I rounded on him.
"Marriage-bond! Soul-bond! Is there something you'd like to tell me while you're about it, Elrohir?"
"I did tell you, Snowsteel," he said testily, while keeping a wary eye upon his father. "Do you not remember when I told you our souls had touched, and that was why I could converse with you?" I wrenched free of his grasp.
"'Touched' is what you said had happened. You never mentioned 'bound together for all of time'!"
"It could hardly be for all time, Snowsteel-you're not immortal. The bond will last until your death."
"Or until it is severed," said the Lord of Imladris ominously. He closed his eyes for a moment, and knitted his fingers together, then without looking, said, "Stay where you are, Elladan. I am sure you will have interesting insights to contribute about this......situation." Elladan halted his stealthy progress towards the door, and gave his father what was supposed to be a beguiling smile. The actual result was more queasy than beguiling.
"Really, Father--I am not the bonded one here. You do not need to talk to me."
"I think perhaps I do. The occasions upon which one of you has acted singly are extremely rare. But this is a sickroom, and not the place for such a conversation. All of you, follow me." He left the room, and we followed after, like contrite cygnets trailing a very ruffled black swan, back to the main platform, and across a walkway to another platform, then into another flet, this one furnished more like a parlor, with low couches, carved chairs and tables, and still more of the silver lamps. Seeing that I had lugged my baggage with me, Lord Elrond indicated that I should set it by the door, and then gestured to the couch he preferred that I sit upon, which was directly across from the throne-like chair he took for himself. Elladan and Elrohir were directed to sit in chairs on either side of the room.
A young elven man, clad in the elegant but simpler garments I had begun to associate with servants here, entered the room. Lord Elrond beckoned him forward, gave him some order the rest of us did not hear, and the servant bowed and left. He then turned his attention fully upon me.
"First of all, young woman--has my son entered into any contract of marriage with you as humans understand such things? Has he made you any such promises?" The couch was temptingly soft, and under other circumstances, I'd have already been lying down upon it, snoring. I wondered suddenly if his seating me there was an attempt to get me to lower my guard. If so, it was a wasted effort--I could not imagine telling Elrond of Imladris anything but the truth.
"No, my lord, he has not promised me marriage, or entered into any such contract with me."
"Then how is it the two of you have become soul-bonded?"
"It happened by accident, my lord, when he saved my life. My spirit was in the Grey Lands. At least that is what I thought of the place as. You might have another name for it." His face darkened somewhat and he steepled his fingers together once more, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair.
"And how was it that your spirit came to be in these Grey Lands?"
"The Witch-King sent me there." The Lord Elrond was not a person who surprised easily, I suspected, nor did he seem the sort to appreciate surprises. One of his delicate, black brows gave a quick jerk, the only indication of any startlement. He gestured imperiously.
"Tell me this tale. Begin at the beginning." So it was that for only the second time, I told the tale of my encounter with the Witch-King of Angmar, this time to a far more hostile audience. It was slightly easier to tell it this time, but not by much, and I realized that I had been trying very hard to forget all about it. Lord Elrond stopped me in a couple of places, and asked questions about some small details. When I mentioned the black eagle amulet, I saw his eyebrow jerk again.
I was shaking by the time I got near to the end of the story, where I repudiated the Witch-King, the amulet broke, and he cast my spirit away. It was then that a presence moved into the room and seated itself beside me. The Lady Arwen took my cold hand in her warm one, and smiled at me. The elven man I'd seen earlier also came in, leaving a tray with a pitcher, goblet, a clear glass cup of what looked to be water, and another bottle of dark glass on Lord Elrond's side table. He promptly poured some liquid from the dark bottle into the glass and drank it swiftly with a grimace, then followed it with a goblet of what looked to be wine from the pitcher. The twins gazed longingly at the wine, until their father gave them a quelling look. I could have really used some wine as well, but knew better than to ask. "Continue," he commanded me.
So I described briefly the Grey Lands, and how incredibly glad I'd been to hear Elrohir's voice in that timeless, hideous place.
"And then he clasped my hand, and told me we had to run, and we ran till we reached Elladan, and then we all walked back. They were very kind to me, and told me all that I had missed while I lay ill." Lord Elrond's eyes narrowed of a sudden, and seemed to bore into mine.
"That is the truth, but not all of it, I think. What is it you are hiding from me?" I shrank back against the couch a bit, but before I could answer, Elrohir rose gracefully to his feet, his head tilted at its most arrogant angle.
"She merely omits the fact that I overtaxed myself, Father. I had given too much of my strength to her, and before we could reach Elladan, I began to fail. It was then that she grasped my spirit, and did what few mortals can do, and guided me back to my brother." Arwen gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Thus the soul-bond, for I had given of my strength to her, and then she returned the gift. Now that you know the truth of it, for Valar's sake, let her rest!"
"Indeed, Father, it ill becomes you to question a weary guest so," agreed Arwen. "This bond has been in place for some time now. It will harm nothing to wait till tomorrow to discuss this further." She took me by the elbow, and helped me to rise. Her father sighed, and nodded.
"Very well, Arwen, show the lady to her room if you will, and then retire yourself. The two of you, remain here with me." Arwen helped me collect my things, and we started to the door, but she paused before we left.
"I will return when I have seen Hethlin comfortably settled, Father."
"That is not necessary, Daughter. This does not concern you." Her grey eyes glinted steel of a sudden.
"Quite the contrary, Father. This is all about me." Their glances crossed for a moment, then he dropped his eyes to his goblet.
"Return if you wish then, Arwen. Though I think you would be better served to rest well before the journey." His index finger traced round and round the rim, just as Elrohir's had the night he told my story at the Ranger's campfire, and rather to my surprise, I found myself speaking.
"I know what it is you fear," I said softly. He looked up at me for a moment, his eyes dark and weary.
"Do you?"
"Aye. And I can tell you, it's not going to happen." His dropped his brooding gaze back to his cup.
"So you say now." Arwen gave me a gentle nudge, and we left.
"Are we going far?" I asked once we'd left. I was tired and dirty and to my embarrassment, close to tears after having to relive one of the worst experiences of my life.
"Not far at all," Arwen assured me, and indeed, we crossed a bridge between branches, and walked up the new limb a way and we were there. Another flet, not unlike the one the Prince was housed in. It held a similar bed, though this one's hangings were pale grey, and on the floor was a silver tub filled with steaming water. I set my things down, and Arwen showed me a screen that could be made to enfold the tub and give me some privacy.
"For I am told that Men are more particular about such things," she commented.
"It depends upon the situation," I replied. "But certainly, I am particular, so I thank you for the screen." Her consideration was comforting. Still a bit shaky, I unbuckled my sword belt and laid it beside the bed, then bent over and began to struggle out of my hauberk. Suddenly, a pair of slender, strong hands was assisting me, carefully guiding the links so that they did not snag my hair. When I had straightened up, and draped it over a chair, I gave Arwen a tired smile and a wag of the finger.
"Thank you, my lady, but it is not appropriate for you to be helping me thusly. You will be my Queen soon."
"Soon, but I am not so exalted yet. Besides, according to Estel, you are his kinswoman." Unlacing my gambeson, I put it with the hauberk with a sigh of relief.
"The connection is a rather distant one, lady. Third cousins at best, I think."
"Estel has not so many kinsman that he can afford to ignore any of them, no matter how distant." I sat down on the bed and pulled my boots off.
"Oh, he hasn't ignored me. Trust me on that." Another elven servant, this time a woman, appeared suddenly, gave Arwen a armload of cloth, bowed and left. She smiled, and draped the cloth which turned out to be a night shift and a couple of the wonderful towels, over the screen. She then settled herself into another chair that held none of my dirty clothes. I gave her an inquiring look, and she smiled kindly.
"I think I had better stay and talk to you while you bathe, if you do not mind. Otherwise, I fear you will fall asleep in the bath and have to be put to bed by someone, and I suspect you would not like that." I shivered at the thought of one of the oh-so-perfect elves seeing my naked, scarred form. Elrohir had, of course, but he was different. These elves were strangers, and not particularly friendly ones, from what I could see.
"Indeed I would not. Thank you, lady." She nodded, and I stepped behind the screen, undressed, and sank gratefully into hot water. She had been right, of course--all that warmth relaxed me almost immediately. The shakes began to subside, and my eyes closed momentarily, before I forced myself to wake up once more.
"Oh, this is marvelous! I've been bathing out of basins and rivers for a couple of weeks now. Cold river water is just not quite the same thing." Her chuckle was as musical as her laugh. I began washing off vigorously, so that I could finish things myself and not have someone have to scoop me out of the tub.
"Estel wrote me about you," came Arwen's voice from beyond the screen after a time. "I wish to thank you for what you are doing for me."
"You are welcome, my lady. I am glad that I could be of service to you in such a way." There was a moment's silence while I stood up and began to towel off, then I asked, "What exactly did he say about me?" Another chuckle.
"I wondered when you would ask that. He quite likes you actually. He says you are one of the few people who appreciate his lineage for what it is." I groaned.
"He is never going to let that rest!"
"Is there a tale there?"
"Indeed, my lady, and when I am not so weary, and we both have the time, I will tell you of how I met the King."
"I should enjoy that very much, I think. But I am saddened by one thing, Lady Hethlin."
"And what is that, my lady?"
"Estel obviously sent you with the message so that we would have an opportunity to get to know one another better on the journey to Minas Tirith. Yet once we get there, you will have to leave, and it will all be for naught--the one person I know will not be there. Is it truly necessary that you leave?"
Goodness, but she was a charmer. It was extremely flattering to think that the exquisite Lady Arwen might enjoy my company. I wondered if she were merely being polite. I pulled the nightshift over my head and found that it actually fit, coming all the way down to my ankles and wrists. It was made of some silky grey material, opague enough for modesty, but not so heavy as to be confining or hot. I smoothed it over my hip, enjoying the feel of it, then stepped outside the screen.
"I won't be leaving immediately, my lady. I am sworn to my lord, and I believe he intends to remain in Minas Tirith for a time. Though I doubt I will have much time to linger about court--I hear that the training to be a Swan Knight is very taxing."
"One would think it would be," Arwen agreed. "Is it necessary that you become a Swan Knight to be my bodyguard?"
"Not really. I think that it is more that the people the Prince has in his household training his knights are the ones who have the skills I need to learn. I rather doubt he actually intends to let me be knighted. The whole point of me being your bodyguard was that an enemy would not expect your lady-in-waiting to be able to fight. If it gets about that I was knighted, that advantage would be lost." I grimaced a bit as I said that last, for it saddened me that I could find myself completing the training only to be refused the accolade. Arwen gave me a sympathetic smile. Another of those huge yawns came from me then, and the lady stood up.
"I think that it is time I let you get some rest." I nodded, and turned the bed covers back.
"And I am keeping you from rescuing your brothers, lady. I thank you for your care--but by all means, go to them before it is too late!" I got into bed and pulled the covers up while she moved to the lamp, opened a door on its side, and blew it out.
"My father is not such a terrible person as all that. He is simply very grieved right now and he was badly frightened this evening, in a way that has not happened in some time. You were unfortunately caught in the middle of it. I hope that you will forgive him--he is actually very pleasant when you get to know him."
"Please do not take this the wrong way, lady, but I think avoiding him is going to be my strategy for the next little while." There was a dim glow of light from other lanterns outside the flet within the room, and in it I could see Arwen's slender figure as she moved to the door, or more properly door curtain.
"You must of course do as you see best, Lady Hethlin, but I think you would be the poorer for such a strategy. I will see that you awaken in the morning in time to be with the Prince. Good night."
"Good night, my lady." The words had scarce left my lips when my head dropped onto the soft, forest-scented pillow and I slept as one dead.
By the sun filtering through the mallorn leaves, it was close to midday before I awoke. I found that all my clothes and boots had been removed and that a set of clothes had been laid upon the chair--underthings and stockings of what looked like white silk, a pair of charcoal grey leggings, light leather boots of the same color, and a high-necked tunic of a lighter grey in some sort of nubby, sheeny material. I put the garments and boots on, and found that they fitted me well. I found myself wishing for the fancy silver mirror in the room Aragorn had given me at Minas Tirith, for I had the feeling that this sort of clothing might actually look good on me. I'd just found my hairbrush in my saddlebags, and was doing what I could to master my unruly mane, when the elf woman from the night before brought in a laden tray and set it upon a small table. I thanked her in the Elvish that I knew, and she gave me an expressionless look, bowed, and left.
The tray contained a bowl of strawberries and cream, which reminded me of Elladan's flippant comments upon the road. To my amazement there were slices of melon, too early by a month at least in the outside world, pieces of toast, and a large pile of lacy things that turned out to be the elven version of pancakes, except that they were much, much better. They melted on the tongue in a delightful explosion of honey, and I started with them first, practically inhaling the whole stack. The rest of the meal followed in short order, and I was contentedly dabbing my lips with a napkin, and quaffing the light cider that had accompanied the meal, when the Lady Arwen rapped on the door frame and stuck her head into the room.
"Good morning, Lady Hethlin. Have you broken your fast sufficiently? Did they bring you enough food?" She was wearing a lavender dress this morning, and the color brought out a purple tinge in her grey eyes.
"The breakfast was wonderful, my lady, and there was certainly enough of it." Something occurred to me, and I gave her a questioning look. "Did Elrohir tell you I ate a lot?" She smiled.
"He said I should feed you twice as much as an elf-maiden, for you were still a growing girl." I looked at my polished plates, and blushed a bit.
"I'm going to kill him," I muttered, "always supposing your father hasn't done it already. Is he all right? Where is he this morning?" Arwen sighed, and her expression darkened.
"He is well enough, though the conversation grew.....contentious last night. He and Elladan are on the river with Grandmother today. She felt a sudden need to commune with her grandsons. Are you ready to go see the Prince?" I rose to my feet.
"Aye, my lady." Starting to the door, I suddenly remembered that seeing the Prince also meant that I would be seeing the Lord Elrond, and I slowed my steps. Perceiving my thought, Arwen gave me an encouraging look.
"You may consider the Prince's sickroom neutral ground, Lady Hethlin. There will be no untoward scenes while my father is functioning as a healer."
"All right then--I'll just avoid him the rest of the time." We started along the walkway towards the West Flet, and Arwen shook her head sadly.
"You cannot evade him indefinitely--you will be traveling back with us to Minas Tirith, will you not?"
"Not if the Prince stays behind, my lady. My place is with him."
"It would still be best if the two of you would talk." Anger suddenly overcame me. I stopped walking, and she turned back to look at me questioningly.
"I did all the talking I am going to do last night," I growled, "Left weary and thirsty while he quaffed wine and questioned me like I was some sort of grubby thief that had dared to lay hands upon one of his treasured possessions. I have said all that I have to say upon the matter." She gave me a long, considering look, then nodded a sad acknowledgment.
"For your lord's sake though, do try to at least appear civil. The Prince should not be troubled in any way at this point in his healing." I gave her a grim look.
"You need not fear, my lady. I may have grown up on a farm, but my father and mother taught me well. I am quite capable of courtesy. And I would not harm the Prince for anything." Lady Arwen looked taken aback for a moment. Her hand made a hesitant gesture.
"I am sorry, Lady Hethlin. I did not mean to offend you, or imply that your manners were lacking." Her apology was genuine, and gracefully made. "Is he dear to you then?"
"It is more that he is dear to someone who is dear to me," I explained, somewhat mollified. "And that he has this family.......he's an extraordinary person. You weren't there of course, but when he thought he was dying.......he was more worried about how I felt than what was happening to him. I'm very, very glad that your father was able to save him. I can be as civil as you like because of that." She smiled wryly.
"It would appear that Prince Imrahil is an able diplomat even when unconscious." I snorted a little laugh.
"Aye, I suppose he is."
"I find myself becoming more and more eager to meet this paragon. Let us go to him." And we started on our way once more to the West Flet.
Save for the sunlight streaming in the windows, the scene in the West Flet was much the same as it had been the night before. The Lord Elrond was just finishing dressing the Prince's leg when we entered. He was wearing a wine-red robe, instead of the pale colors favored by the Lorien elves, and an enigmatic expression.
"Arwen. Lady Hethlin. You are just in time." His voice was quiet, with no rancor, but no particular warmth either. I moved to the other side of the bed from the Lord of Imladris, and he nodded, then began pulling the covers back down over the Prince's leg.
"Lady Hethlin. I do not know how familiar you are with the healing arts, but you should not be concerned if he wakes for but a brief time, then goes back to sleep. This is natural. He will be unable to do much but sleep for the next couple of days--his body was sorely taxed by the poison, and he lost a fair amount of blood." I took the Prince's hand.
"I understand, my lord." Arwen moved to stand beside her father. There was no fanfare, no elaborate preparation. Lord Elrond simply laid his hand upon the Prince's brow.
"Imrahil, awake."
For several long moments, nothing happened. I expected Elrond to say or do something else, but he merely waited, his grey eyes intent upon the Prince's face. Then the Prince stirred beneath his hand, and sighed. His eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused, and a bit blank. He turned his head towards Lord Elrond, and saw Arwen. The corners of his mouth curled up slowly in a sweet and joyous smile.
"Nimrien?" he whispered almost inaudibly. She gave me a puzzled look, and I shrugged my shoulders slightly.
"I think he may be confusing you with his wife," I said softly. "She died many years ago." I squeezed his hand, and he turned his head slowly and looked at me.
"My lord, how fare you?" Imrahil's gaze was uncomprehending for a few moments, then I saw awareness start to filter slowly back in. He blinked a couple of times, then murmured a bit croakily, "Hethlin? Then I'm not dead yet?"
"No, my lord, not yet. You're in Lorien. You've been asleep these last two days." Lord Elrond poured him a cup of water from a pitcher on the bedside table, lifted his head, and put it to his lips. He drank slowly but with obvious appreciation. He looked brighter and more alert when he had finished and sank back against the pillows once more. I smiled down at him in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.
"This is Lord Elrond of Imladris, and his daughter, the Lady Arwen." His eyes widened slightly, and after a moment, his head inclined in a polite nod to Elrond. "My lord." He then rested his gaze upon Arwen for a time, and the inclination of his head was even deeper and more respectful. "My Queen." Arwen smiled her dazzling smile, and clasped his other hand gently.
"Estel wrote to warn me that you were a charmer, my lord prince."
"Unfair of him to forewarn you, my lady," protested Imrahil, speaking more slowly than was his usual wont. "Though I must say it has been worth the pains this trip has cost me to be one of the first to lay eyes upon my new Queen." Lord Elrond laid a long hand upon his forehead, and took his hand from Arwen's so that he could check his pulse.
"How are you feeling? Have you any pain or discomfort?" His voice was cool and clinical.
"No, my lord, I am quite at ease, and most relieved to be so. Have I you to thank my care?"
"Yes. You have been a most cooperative patient thus far. If you continue thusly, you should be completely recovered in a couple of months." Imrahil glanced in the direction of his leg, and Lord Elrond, releasing his hand and head, actually smiled.
"Your leg is doing well. The swelling is much abated. You may be using a stick for a time and you may lose some skin before it heals, but it will heal." The Prince let out a relieved breath.
"Then for my leg and my life, I thank you, Lord Elrond."
"There is no need for thanks, Prince Imrahil. I am a healer--it is my duty to succor the sick and injured."
"That is as may be, my lord, but you have them anyway." He turned his attention to me.
"Hethlin, you look well. The elven fashion suits you." I blushed a little.
"Thank you, my lord."
"Have you seen much of the Golden Wood yet?"
"No, sir." I didn't want to go into the details of how he'd arrived here just yet--he was already beginning to look weary. He squeezed my hand feebly and released it, making a small shooing motion with his own.
"Then get you gone, out into the sunlight. Go explore and enjoy yourself. That's an order. You can come back later and tell me of the wonders you've seen. I would enjoy that." I stood and bowed to him.
"As you wish, my lord. Lord Elrond. Lady Arwen." I bowed to each of them as well, Arwen acknowledging me with a smile and a nod. Lord Elrond was busy preparing some sort of medicine for the Prince, and I took advantage of the opportunity to make my escape before he could corner me for further interrogation. As I tucked my figurative tail and fled, the last thing I heard was a plaintive comment from the Prince.
"If that tastes half so bad as it smells, I think I would rather be asleep again before you give it to me......"
I returned to my room to collect my bow, quiver and sword, determined to explore the city and the forest and enjoy myself. I spent the early part of the afternoon walking through the city, observing the Galadrim as they went about their day-to-day activities. For the most part, they took little notice of me--I could not speak their language, so questions about the things that intrigued me were not possible. I would get a quiet smile from time to time, but many more of them openly ignored me. It was as if I were walking in a dream, or was a spirit wandering among the living and futilely trying to get their attention. That last mental image reminded me rather uncomfortably of the Witch-King, and by the middle of the afternoon I grew tired of feeling wraith-like, and decided to explore the forest instead while the light lasted. So I made my way down out of the trees, and onto the long path, and eventually through the gate and over the white bridge. In the daylight I could see before me a road paved with stone that ran away around the edge of the city to my right, going north. I was curious about what it led to, so I started following it.
The city was greater in circumference than I had thought in the night, and it took some time to reach the northern side. There the paved road abruptly stopped, though there was a trail that led from the end of the road into the trees. Continuing on the unpaved trail, I relished the feel of the soft elven boots on the loamy forest floor. It seemed forever since I had walked unarmored and silent in a forest. After a time, I spied a shaft of sunlight off to my right, a break in the tree cover, and it looked so pretty that I decided to leave the trail and explore in truth, as a Ranger should. I strung my bow and carried it in hand, not that I particularly expected any trouble, it was simply how I'd been accustomed to traveling in Ithilien.
I had wandered through the mallorn glades for about an hour when a patrol of the Galadrim came upon me, appearing phantom-like as they had before. This time, I was not so weary as I'd been the night before, and sensing someone's eyes upon me, had nocked and drawn. This did not please the patrol, and I soon found myself looking down the points of six different arrows aimed directly at my heart. Four more elves hung back behind the rest. One of them uttered a sharp command in their tongue--I didn't understand it, but the meaning was clear in context. I lowered my bow carefully, and dropped the arrow to the ground. One of them lowered his bow as well, slung it on his back, and was stepping forward, hand out, presumably to seize me, when a quiet command was uttered from among the elves that had kept back.
Another elf, taller, cloaked, hooded and clad in the same woodland grey as the patrol, gave what sounded like a long series of orders or instructions in the same calm and quiet voice. The six elves who had apprehended me slipped back off into the woods. One of the other four with the tall elf made a protest of some sort, and was overruled. Another handed the tall elf a bag he was carrying slung across his chest, then the four all bowed and departed towards Caras Galadon. The tall elf put his hood back, and molten silver fell about his shoulders, caught close to his head in an intricate braiding pattern. I bowed deeply.
"Lord Celeborn. I apologize for drawing on your patrol."
"No apology is necessary, Lady Hethlin," the Lord of Lorien replied in flawless Westron. "We are all of us still somewhat unsettled by recent events. Though I had not thought to see you in the wood today. I had assumed that you would be spending your time in the Prince's company." I bent and picked up my fallen arrow, and replaced it in my quiver.
"I was with him when Lord Elrond awakened him a little before noon, my lord, but he did not want me to stay. He told me to go out and look around, then come back later and tell him what I'd seen."
"And a good esquire does as she is bidden," he said with a gentle smile. "Well, what have you seen so far, and how do you like the wood?"
"I spent some time in the city earlier, but it was lonely, for I could not speak to anyone, and most of them seemed to wish to ignore me." Lord Celeborn regarded me gravely.
"The Galadrim keep more to themselves than others of the Elder Kindred," he said after a moment. "The Elves of Mirkwood, for instance, do much trade with both the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and the Men of Dale. And Elrond opens his house to folk of all kinds. But the Galadrim guard the borders of Lothlorien, and are content to remain within them. Mortals are not of very much concern or interest to them. I am sorry if your welcome was less than you had hoped for." I shook my head in quick denial.
"Oh, I have no complaints, my lord. The Lady Arwen has been kindness itself, and my comfort has certainly been seen to." I lifted my head, and turned in a circle, admiring my surroundings. "And the forest is marvelous. It's been months since I was able to walk in a wood, and this one is so beautiful." There was a faintly pleased expression upon his face when I looked at him again.
"Were you just wandering at random, or was there something you wished to see?"
"I started out at first on the path that led north from the city--I wished to see what lay at the end of it-is there another city? But later I decided to simply explore the wood."
"No. Caras Galadon is the only city in Lorien. But there is something there worth seeing, particularly given who your lord is. It is not so far--we can be there within half an hour's time, if you would care to go there--and we will return to the city at dusk, or a little after dark." I blinked at the exalted escort I was being offered, and nodded.
"I should like that very much, my lord." He smiled one of his quiet smiles, and started off into the wood. He was a long-legged elf, and I had to walk quickly to keep up with him. He made absolutely no sound as he moved through his forest home, and I endeavored to remember my Ranger training and move quietly as well, but I felt like a Mumak charging through the underbrush compared to him. We would stop from time to time so that he might point out some plant or animal of interest. I remember how pleased he was to find a rare fern at the foot of one of the mallorn trees, his slender hands folding about it gently as he showed me the delicate fronds and explained its way of growing. He asked me questions about Ithilien, and I endeavored as best I could to describe the plants and trees that grew there.
"It sounds a lovely wood as well, not too tainted by the Shadow, for all that it lies so close to Mordor," he said at length. "When we go to Minas Tirith, perhaps I shall have the opportunity to explore it."
"If the Prince and I return with you, I should be glad to show it to you, my lord," I declared. "And if we do not, perhaps Lord Faramir would do the honors. For he was the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, and is now the Prince of Ithilien. He knows every tree and stone of it. And his Elvish is very much better than mine." Lord Celeborn laughed softly.
"Yours is not so ill spoken. You make yourself understood well enough."
"Lord Faramir used to give me lessons, but I've not had the time for it lately."
"It is difficult sometimes, to find the time to learn all the things you would wish to know," Lord Celeborn agreed equably. I gave him a sidelong glance.
"Surely you, my lord have had more than enough time to learn everything!" His lips twitched slightly.
"There are any number of things I haven't done yet, and some of those I will never do, should I live to twice the years I have now. I have yet to be a potter, for instance."
"I've done that one," I volunteered.
"Have you now?"
"Aye. When the King was crowned, I was working with the City Guard, keeping the crowd in order. Minas Tirith was very full of people from the Outlands, and in the excitement, this little girl got separated from her parents, and then she nearly got crushed by a wagon carrying wine up to the Citadel. I got her up on my horse, and started talking to her. She was a very little girl and it took a while to figure out that her parents were potters, but when I did, I took her to Potter's Street, and rode up and down until we found them. They were very grateful and invited me to dinner the next night. We had a nice supper, and when I said I was interested in how pots were made, they burned some extra candles and let me have a turn at the wheel. I provided them an evening's amusement, if nothing else." In the Elf-lord's ancient eyes was a glimmer of mirth.
"Your hands are apt to a bow, but not the clay?"
"It's harder than it looks, let me tell you."
"Many things are, though that has always looked as though it might be entertaining. Like a child making mud pies."
"That's what the cup I made looked like. A mud pie. The potter was going to fire it for me, but I wouldn't let him. He's making me a really pretty tankard--the handle is a hawk with its wings folded. I'm to pick it up when I return to the City." Lord Celeborn smiled a quiet acknowledgment, and we walked silently for a little while. Then we came out into an open space in the trees, and I sucked in my breath in wonder.
"This is Cerin Amroth," said Lord Celeborn. "Amroth's high seat when he dwelt here. The beginning, if you like, of the tale that ends in your lord's demesne."
A great mound lay before us, clad in grass as soft and green as velvet, and starred by flowers in the myriad colors of spring--gold, white, pink, violet, blue. The long shadows of late afternoon fell across it and two rings of trees surrounded it. The outer ones were slender and shapely, and had bark of blinding white. Their pale green leaves danced upon the breeze and were a contrast to the inner ring of mallorns, who were coming into their full dark green foliage. At the top of the mound was the largest mallorn I'd seen yet, save for the one at the crest of Caras Galadon. I thought I could see a flet high up in the branches.
"Would you like to go up?" asked Lord Celeborn, and I nodded. As we stepped onto the mound, it seemed as if the very air itself changed, became fresher, newborn. The grass, the trees, the flowers--all seemed the most perfect ones that had ever existed. A gentle breeze lifted my hair and the Lord of Lorien's sheened silver strands. I climbed slowly, breathing in the air and staring about me raptly; Lord Celeborn was picking flowers, a pink one here, a blue one there, with a grace that made it almost a dance. He had a large handful by the time we reached the top of the mound, and the base of the large mallorn.
There was a ladder there, and he gestured that I should proceed him, so I began to climb. Eventually, the ladder ended at a very large platform indeed, roofed and walled with the gently whispering green leaves and dusted with falling golden flowers. Lord Celeborn sank to the floor like a falling leaf, unslung the bag and his bow and quiver from his shoulder, and taking up some of the flowers, began weaving them together. I went to the edge of the flet and looked out through the rustling branches. Looking to the South, I could see clear down the Anduin a great way. There was a smudgy grey blur in the distance. I wondered if I were seeing the Emyn Muil, or all the way to the Ephel Duath. When I turned and looked eastward, I could see a great expanse of dark green forest.
"Mirkwood," I murmured quietly.
"Eryn Lasgalen," Lord Celeborn corrected me quietly.
"My lord?"
"Come. Sit." I did as I was told, and settled myself down close by him. A gesture of the hand not holding the flowers indicated that I should open the bag. I did, and pulled out a large silver flask and some leaf-wrapped objects.
'If you hunger or thirst, by all means, partake," he told me. I undid the leaf wrappings of one of the objects, and found a fair cake within of a pale golden color. Taking a bite, I found it to be better than the finest bread I'd ever tasted. Eyes wide, I ate it with relish, then uncorked the bottle and found it contained some sort of liquor. The two of them were very invigorating, and I found myself wide awake, very alert, and feeling able to hike or swim down the entire length of the Anduin that lay beneath me. Enjoying the incredible view, and the beauty that was all about me, I ate and drank, and listened to Lord Celeborn's soft voice.
The Lord of Lorien began to twine together the flowers he'd collected, and as he did so, spoke to me of what had been going on while Minas Tirith had been besieged. Evil forces from Dol Guldur had attacked Lorien three times. There had also been massive battles beneath the trees in Northern Mirkwood, where Thranduil son of Oropher had had the victory, and battle had been brought to Dale and the Lonely Mountain by the Easterlings. Both King Brand of Dale and the King of the Lonely Mountain, Dain Ironfoot, had fallen there, and their followers had been besieged in the Mountain itself, before they had been able to drive their attackers back after Sauron's defeat.
He and Lady Galadriel had repelled Lorien's would-be invaders, and in their turn, had crossed the Anduin and thrown Dol Guldur down, cleansing the forest of its foul influence. I had always been primarily concerned with Gondor's survival; as he spoke, I finally understood the enormity of the doom we'd faced. Had the Ringbearer not succeeded, truly there would have been nowhere to hide.
"So now it is renamed Eryn Lasgalen, the Forest of Green Leaves," Lord Celeborn concluded, "and perhaps I have finally been a warrior for the last time. I would wish it so." His eyes grew distant, dwelling perhaps on memories of battles in ages past, as his hands deftly wove the flowers into a comely garland. I looked upon him, careful not to meet that bottomless stare, and suddenly shivered a bit. Seeming to sense my discomfort, he came back to himself, and looked upon me kindly. The sun was beginning to set, and the light seemed to caress the planes of his face, neither old nor young.
"What troubles you, Lady Hethlin?"
"I do not wish to offend, my lord," I said softly, "but I should like to know. How old are you?" He did not seem affronted, but gave me a considering look.
"I have walked the world since before Anor and Ithil rode the skies," he said matter-of-factly, "as has my lady wife. And the lands of my birth were whelmed beneath the waves before Numenor was ever raised. How many years that is exactly, I no longer count or care. Why?" I simply stared at him for a long moment, trying to comprehend the enormity of all he had seen and experienced, and failing utterly.
Finally, I asked, "Why would you want to spend time with someone like me? I must be to you as a mayfly is to a man."
"The answer to that, child, is a question. And the question is--what is it that you did not see in your exploration of Caras Galadon this afternoon?" I frowned, and thought upon this matter for some time, and in the end, declared myself perplexed. Lord Celeborn gave me a sad smile.
"There are no elven children, and there have been none born for many years. And though the Firstborn are bound to Arda, and have an almost endless appreciation for its beauty, there can come a time when one becomes....weary. You have given me the opportunity to see the world through young eyes again, and I am grateful for it. I have quite enjoyed our afternoon." He looked up at the last rim of the setting sun, and the first pale star of the evening, and sighed.
"We must be going back now, I fear. My household guard were loath to let me wander alone, and they will come forth and comb the woods if we are not back in Caras Galadon by full dark." He reached out and gently set the garland on my head.
"A memento for you. I noticed that you did not get one last night." I thanked him sincerely, noticing that I could smell the flowers even when it was on my head. He then took up the bag and his bow, and I did the same with mine. We descended from Amroth's flet, and started down the path towards Caras Galadon in the deepening dark, silent now, but companionable. Lord Celeborn set a swifter pace returning, and wondrously strengthened by the elven food and drink, I had no trouble keeping up with him.
We reached the City before the Lady sent his guard out, and parted company cordially at the base of the giant mallorn. Full dark had come, and the stars peeped from time to time through the leaves as I made my way to the West Flet. I peeked quietly through the curtain before I entered, for I did not want to disturb my lord if he were sleeping. But when I looked within, I found the lamps glowing golden, and the Prince awake, with the Lady Arwen sitting at his bedside. There was a small chessboard on a little table between them.
"My lord? May I come in?" I asked before I entered. There was a distinct note of pleasure in his voice as he answered.
"Hethlin! Of course!" I pulled back the curtain, and stepped into the room. A sudden breeze made the lanterns flicker a bit. Prince Imrahil looked up at me, and what little, hard-won color he had drained from his face. I saw his eyes go dark and wide, like Faramir's when he was dreaming. He took in a quick, sharp breath, then after a long moment, let it out in a long sigh. His head drooped, and he shivered. Arwen took his hand, and I rushed to his other side and took up the other one.
"Shall I get my father, Imrahil?" she asked him.
"My lord, are you all right?" He nodded after a moment, squeezed both our hands gently, and looked up.
"It was nothing. A momentary.....pang. It's gone now." Arwen stood up, and made to leave.
"I think I may have overwearied you this evening. Shall we take up where we left off tomorrow? That way, perhaps you may yet dream a way out of your dilemma." Her eyes were glinting with amusement as she surveyed the board, and the Prince, recovering himself, smiled ruefully.
"I fear I would need a week to plot a way out of the mess you've put me in, my lady. Aragorn should have had you on the Pelennor and at the Morannon."
"At least he will be able to consult with me on future conflicts, my lord prince. A good night to you, and to you as well, Hethlin."
We chorused our goodnights to her as she left, and then the Prince looked at me. His free hand made a small gesture at my flowers.
"It looks as if you have had a good time today. Where have you gone, and what have you seen?" I grinned at him.
"Does my lord require a bedtime story?" He smiled tiredly back at me, and I was relieved to see a little color return to his cheeks.
"That would be lovely. You have a very.....soothing....voice. But please do not take it amiss if I drift off before you are finished."
"I thought that was the purpose of bedtime stories."
"Indeed." So I told him of my wanderings in the city, and in the woods, and as I did so, his eyes returned to their normal sea gray, and his eyelids began to droop. I softened my voice when I began to describe Cerin Amroth, and they closed completely, and the fingers tangled in mine went slack. When I had finished the tale, I spoke to him quietly.
"My lord?" There was no answer, but a small smile was curling the corners of his mouth. So I carefully pulled my hand free, and tucked the bedcovers up about him. Then I rose, quenched all the lanterns save one, and sought my own rest.
A big thanks again to all the reviewers and readers who have hung in with me this far--I hit the big 30 next, which is about twice as many chapters as I thought this story was going to be! My husband keeps asking how many chapters are left, and I keep telling him "two or three". Now he rolls his eyes when I say it. Heck, I'm starting to roll my eyes.
"Father, it is not a marriage-bond!" Elrohir protested. His hand on my arm had prevented my moving back towards the door as Elladan had done--now, I rounded on him.
"Marriage-bond! Soul-bond! Is there something you'd like to tell me while you're about it, Elrohir?"
"I did tell you, Snowsteel," he said testily, while keeping a wary eye upon his father. "Do you not remember when I told you our souls had touched, and that was why I could converse with you?" I wrenched free of his grasp.
"'Touched' is what you said had happened. You never mentioned 'bound together for all of time'!"
"It could hardly be for all time, Snowsteel-you're not immortal. The bond will last until your death."
"Or until it is severed," said the Lord of Imladris ominously. He closed his eyes for a moment, and knitted his fingers together, then without looking, said, "Stay where you are, Elladan. I am sure you will have interesting insights to contribute about this......situation." Elladan halted his stealthy progress towards the door, and gave his father what was supposed to be a beguiling smile. The actual result was more queasy than beguiling.
"Really, Father--I am not the bonded one here. You do not need to talk to me."
"I think perhaps I do. The occasions upon which one of you has acted singly are extremely rare. But this is a sickroom, and not the place for such a conversation. All of you, follow me." He left the room, and we followed after, like contrite cygnets trailing a very ruffled black swan, back to the main platform, and across a walkway to another platform, then into another flet, this one furnished more like a parlor, with low couches, carved chairs and tables, and still more of the silver lamps. Seeing that I had lugged my baggage with me, Lord Elrond indicated that I should set it by the door, and then gestured to the couch he preferred that I sit upon, which was directly across from the throne-like chair he took for himself. Elladan and Elrohir were directed to sit in chairs on either side of the room.
A young elven man, clad in the elegant but simpler garments I had begun to associate with servants here, entered the room. Lord Elrond beckoned him forward, gave him some order the rest of us did not hear, and the servant bowed and left. He then turned his attention fully upon me.
"First of all, young woman--has my son entered into any contract of marriage with you as humans understand such things? Has he made you any such promises?" The couch was temptingly soft, and under other circumstances, I'd have already been lying down upon it, snoring. I wondered suddenly if his seating me there was an attempt to get me to lower my guard. If so, it was a wasted effort--I could not imagine telling Elrond of Imladris anything but the truth.
"No, my lord, he has not promised me marriage, or entered into any such contract with me."
"Then how is it the two of you have become soul-bonded?"
"It happened by accident, my lord, when he saved my life. My spirit was in the Grey Lands. At least that is what I thought of the place as. You might have another name for it." His face darkened somewhat and he steepled his fingers together once more, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair.
"And how was it that your spirit came to be in these Grey Lands?"
"The Witch-King sent me there." The Lord Elrond was not a person who surprised easily, I suspected, nor did he seem the sort to appreciate surprises. One of his delicate, black brows gave a quick jerk, the only indication of any startlement. He gestured imperiously.
"Tell me this tale. Begin at the beginning." So it was that for only the second time, I told the tale of my encounter with the Witch-King of Angmar, this time to a far more hostile audience. It was slightly easier to tell it this time, but not by much, and I realized that I had been trying very hard to forget all about it. Lord Elrond stopped me in a couple of places, and asked questions about some small details. When I mentioned the black eagle amulet, I saw his eyebrow jerk again.
I was shaking by the time I got near to the end of the story, where I repudiated the Witch-King, the amulet broke, and he cast my spirit away. It was then that a presence moved into the room and seated itself beside me. The Lady Arwen took my cold hand in her warm one, and smiled at me. The elven man I'd seen earlier also came in, leaving a tray with a pitcher, goblet, a clear glass cup of what looked to be water, and another bottle of dark glass on Lord Elrond's side table. He promptly poured some liquid from the dark bottle into the glass and drank it swiftly with a grimace, then followed it with a goblet of what looked to be wine from the pitcher. The twins gazed longingly at the wine, until their father gave them a quelling look. I could have really used some wine as well, but knew better than to ask. "Continue," he commanded me.
So I described briefly the Grey Lands, and how incredibly glad I'd been to hear Elrohir's voice in that timeless, hideous place.
"And then he clasped my hand, and told me we had to run, and we ran till we reached Elladan, and then we all walked back. They were very kind to me, and told me all that I had missed while I lay ill." Lord Elrond's eyes narrowed of a sudden, and seemed to bore into mine.
"That is the truth, but not all of it, I think. What is it you are hiding from me?" I shrank back against the couch a bit, but before I could answer, Elrohir rose gracefully to his feet, his head tilted at its most arrogant angle.
"She merely omits the fact that I overtaxed myself, Father. I had given too much of my strength to her, and before we could reach Elladan, I began to fail. It was then that she grasped my spirit, and did what few mortals can do, and guided me back to my brother." Arwen gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Thus the soul-bond, for I had given of my strength to her, and then she returned the gift. Now that you know the truth of it, for Valar's sake, let her rest!"
"Indeed, Father, it ill becomes you to question a weary guest so," agreed Arwen. "This bond has been in place for some time now. It will harm nothing to wait till tomorrow to discuss this further." She took me by the elbow, and helped me to rise. Her father sighed, and nodded.
"Very well, Arwen, show the lady to her room if you will, and then retire yourself. The two of you, remain here with me." Arwen helped me collect my things, and we started to the door, but she paused before we left.
"I will return when I have seen Hethlin comfortably settled, Father."
"That is not necessary, Daughter. This does not concern you." Her grey eyes glinted steel of a sudden.
"Quite the contrary, Father. This is all about me." Their glances crossed for a moment, then he dropped his eyes to his goblet.
"Return if you wish then, Arwen. Though I think you would be better served to rest well before the journey." His index finger traced round and round the rim, just as Elrohir's had the night he told my story at the Ranger's campfire, and rather to my surprise, I found myself speaking.
"I know what it is you fear," I said softly. He looked up at me for a moment, his eyes dark and weary.
"Do you?"
"Aye. And I can tell you, it's not going to happen." His dropped his brooding gaze back to his cup.
"So you say now." Arwen gave me a gentle nudge, and we left.
"Are we going far?" I asked once we'd left. I was tired and dirty and to my embarrassment, close to tears after having to relive one of the worst experiences of my life.
"Not far at all," Arwen assured me, and indeed, we crossed a bridge between branches, and walked up the new limb a way and we were there. Another flet, not unlike the one the Prince was housed in. It held a similar bed, though this one's hangings were pale grey, and on the floor was a silver tub filled with steaming water. I set my things down, and Arwen showed me a screen that could be made to enfold the tub and give me some privacy.
"For I am told that Men are more particular about such things," she commented.
"It depends upon the situation," I replied. "But certainly, I am particular, so I thank you for the screen." Her consideration was comforting. Still a bit shaky, I unbuckled my sword belt and laid it beside the bed, then bent over and began to struggle out of my hauberk. Suddenly, a pair of slender, strong hands was assisting me, carefully guiding the links so that they did not snag my hair. When I had straightened up, and draped it over a chair, I gave Arwen a tired smile and a wag of the finger.
"Thank you, my lady, but it is not appropriate for you to be helping me thusly. You will be my Queen soon."
"Soon, but I am not so exalted yet. Besides, according to Estel, you are his kinswoman." Unlacing my gambeson, I put it with the hauberk with a sigh of relief.
"The connection is a rather distant one, lady. Third cousins at best, I think."
"Estel has not so many kinsman that he can afford to ignore any of them, no matter how distant." I sat down on the bed and pulled my boots off.
"Oh, he hasn't ignored me. Trust me on that." Another elven servant, this time a woman, appeared suddenly, gave Arwen a armload of cloth, bowed and left. She smiled, and draped the cloth which turned out to be a night shift and a couple of the wonderful towels, over the screen. She then settled herself into another chair that held none of my dirty clothes. I gave her an inquiring look, and she smiled kindly.
"I think I had better stay and talk to you while you bathe, if you do not mind. Otherwise, I fear you will fall asleep in the bath and have to be put to bed by someone, and I suspect you would not like that." I shivered at the thought of one of the oh-so-perfect elves seeing my naked, scarred form. Elrohir had, of course, but he was different. These elves were strangers, and not particularly friendly ones, from what I could see.
"Indeed I would not. Thank you, lady." She nodded, and I stepped behind the screen, undressed, and sank gratefully into hot water. She had been right, of course--all that warmth relaxed me almost immediately. The shakes began to subside, and my eyes closed momentarily, before I forced myself to wake up once more.
"Oh, this is marvelous! I've been bathing out of basins and rivers for a couple of weeks now. Cold river water is just not quite the same thing." Her chuckle was as musical as her laugh. I began washing off vigorously, so that I could finish things myself and not have someone have to scoop me out of the tub.
"Estel wrote me about you," came Arwen's voice from beyond the screen after a time. "I wish to thank you for what you are doing for me."
"You are welcome, my lady. I am glad that I could be of service to you in such a way." There was a moment's silence while I stood up and began to towel off, then I asked, "What exactly did he say about me?" Another chuckle.
"I wondered when you would ask that. He quite likes you actually. He says you are one of the few people who appreciate his lineage for what it is." I groaned.
"He is never going to let that rest!"
"Is there a tale there?"
"Indeed, my lady, and when I am not so weary, and we both have the time, I will tell you of how I met the King."
"I should enjoy that very much, I think. But I am saddened by one thing, Lady Hethlin."
"And what is that, my lady?"
"Estel obviously sent you with the message so that we would have an opportunity to get to know one another better on the journey to Minas Tirith. Yet once we get there, you will have to leave, and it will all be for naught--the one person I know will not be there. Is it truly necessary that you leave?"
Goodness, but she was a charmer. It was extremely flattering to think that the exquisite Lady Arwen might enjoy my company. I wondered if she were merely being polite. I pulled the nightshift over my head and found that it actually fit, coming all the way down to my ankles and wrists. It was made of some silky grey material, opague enough for modesty, but not so heavy as to be confining or hot. I smoothed it over my hip, enjoying the feel of it, then stepped outside the screen.
"I won't be leaving immediately, my lady. I am sworn to my lord, and I believe he intends to remain in Minas Tirith for a time. Though I doubt I will have much time to linger about court--I hear that the training to be a Swan Knight is very taxing."
"One would think it would be," Arwen agreed. "Is it necessary that you become a Swan Knight to be my bodyguard?"
"Not really. I think that it is more that the people the Prince has in his household training his knights are the ones who have the skills I need to learn. I rather doubt he actually intends to let me be knighted. The whole point of me being your bodyguard was that an enemy would not expect your lady-in-waiting to be able to fight. If it gets about that I was knighted, that advantage would be lost." I grimaced a bit as I said that last, for it saddened me that I could find myself completing the training only to be refused the accolade. Arwen gave me a sympathetic smile. Another of those huge yawns came from me then, and the lady stood up.
"I think that it is time I let you get some rest." I nodded, and turned the bed covers back.
"And I am keeping you from rescuing your brothers, lady. I thank you for your care--but by all means, go to them before it is too late!" I got into bed and pulled the covers up while she moved to the lamp, opened a door on its side, and blew it out.
"My father is not such a terrible person as all that. He is simply very grieved right now and he was badly frightened this evening, in a way that has not happened in some time. You were unfortunately caught in the middle of it. I hope that you will forgive him--he is actually very pleasant when you get to know him."
"Please do not take this the wrong way, lady, but I think avoiding him is going to be my strategy for the next little while." There was a dim glow of light from other lanterns outside the flet within the room, and in it I could see Arwen's slender figure as she moved to the door, or more properly door curtain.
"You must of course do as you see best, Lady Hethlin, but I think you would be the poorer for such a strategy. I will see that you awaken in the morning in time to be with the Prince. Good night."
"Good night, my lady." The words had scarce left my lips when my head dropped onto the soft, forest-scented pillow and I slept as one dead.
By the sun filtering through the mallorn leaves, it was close to midday before I awoke. I found that all my clothes and boots had been removed and that a set of clothes had been laid upon the chair--underthings and stockings of what looked like white silk, a pair of charcoal grey leggings, light leather boots of the same color, and a high-necked tunic of a lighter grey in some sort of nubby, sheeny material. I put the garments and boots on, and found that they fitted me well. I found myself wishing for the fancy silver mirror in the room Aragorn had given me at Minas Tirith, for I had the feeling that this sort of clothing might actually look good on me. I'd just found my hairbrush in my saddlebags, and was doing what I could to master my unruly mane, when the elf woman from the night before brought in a laden tray and set it upon a small table. I thanked her in the Elvish that I knew, and she gave me an expressionless look, bowed, and left.
The tray contained a bowl of strawberries and cream, which reminded me of Elladan's flippant comments upon the road. To my amazement there were slices of melon, too early by a month at least in the outside world, pieces of toast, and a large pile of lacy things that turned out to be the elven version of pancakes, except that they were much, much better. They melted on the tongue in a delightful explosion of honey, and I started with them first, practically inhaling the whole stack. The rest of the meal followed in short order, and I was contentedly dabbing my lips with a napkin, and quaffing the light cider that had accompanied the meal, when the Lady Arwen rapped on the door frame and stuck her head into the room.
"Good morning, Lady Hethlin. Have you broken your fast sufficiently? Did they bring you enough food?" She was wearing a lavender dress this morning, and the color brought out a purple tinge in her grey eyes.
"The breakfast was wonderful, my lady, and there was certainly enough of it." Something occurred to me, and I gave her a questioning look. "Did Elrohir tell you I ate a lot?" She smiled.
"He said I should feed you twice as much as an elf-maiden, for you were still a growing girl." I looked at my polished plates, and blushed a bit.
"I'm going to kill him," I muttered, "always supposing your father hasn't done it already. Is he all right? Where is he this morning?" Arwen sighed, and her expression darkened.
"He is well enough, though the conversation grew.....contentious last night. He and Elladan are on the river with Grandmother today. She felt a sudden need to commune with her grandsons. Are you ready to go see the Prince?" I rose to my feet.
"Aye, my lady." Starting to the door, I suddenly remembered that seeing the Prince also meant that I would be seeing the Lord Elrond, and I slowed my steps. Perceiving my thought, Arwen gave me an encouraging look.
"You may consider the Prince's sickroom neutral ground, Lady Hethlin. There will be no untoward scenes while my father is functioning as a healer."
"All right then--I'll just avoid him the rest of the time." We started along the walkway towards the West Flet, and Arwen shook her head sadly.
"You cannot evade him indefinitely--you will be traveling back with us to Minas Tirith, will you not?"
"Not if the Prince stays behind, my lady. My place is with him."
"It would still be best if the two of you would talk." Anger suddenly overcame me. I stopped walking, and she turned back to look at me questioningly.
"I did all the talking I am going to do last night," I growled, "Left weary and thirsty while he quaffed wine and questioned me like I was some sort of grubby thief that had dared to lay hands upon one of his treasured possessions. I have said all that I have to say upon the matter." She gave me a long, considering look, then nodded a sad acknowledgment.
"For your lord's sake though, do try to at least appear civil. The Prince should not be troubled in any way at this point in his healing." I gave her a grim look.
"You need not fear, my lady. I may have grown up on a farm, but my father and mother taught me well. I am quite capable of courtesy. And I would not harm the Prince for anything." Lady Arwen looked taken aback for a moment. Her hand made a hesitant gesture.
"I am sorry, Lady Hethlin. I did not mean to offend you, or imply that your manners were lacking." Her apology was genuine, and gracefully made. "Is he dear to you then?"
"It is more that he is dear to someone who is dear to me," I explained, somewhat mollified. "And that he has this family.......he's an extraordinary person. You weren't there of course, but when he thought he was dying.......he was more worried about how I felt than what was happening to him. I'm very, very glad that your father was able to save him. I can be as civil as you like because of that." She smiled wryly.
"It would appear that Prince Imrahil is an able diplomat even when unconscious." I snorted a little laugh.
"Aye, I suppose he is."
"I find myself becoming more and more eager to meet this paragon. Let us go to him." And we started on our way once more to the West Flet.
Save for the sunlight streaming in the windows, the scene in the West Flet was much the same as it had been the night before. The Lord Elrond was just finishing dressing the Prince's leg when we entered. He was wearing a wine-red robe, instead of the pale colors favored by the Lorien elves, and an enigmatic expression.
"Arwen. Lady Hethlin. You are just in time." His voice was quiet, with no rancor, but no particular warmth either. I moved to the other side of the bed from the Lord of Imladris, and he nodded, then began pulling the covers back down over the Prince's leg.
"Lady Hethlin. I do not know how familiar you are with the healing arts, but you should not be concerned if he wakes for but a brief time, then goes back to sleep. This is natural. He will be unable to do much but sleep for the next couple of days--his body was sorely taxed by the poison, and he lost a fair amount of blood." I took the Prince's hand.
"I understand, my lord." Arwen moved to stand beside her father. There was no fanfare, no elaborate preparation. Lord Elrond simply laid his hand upon the Prince's brow.
"Imrahil, awake."
For several long moments, nothing happened. I expected Elrond to say or do something else, but he merely waited, his grey eyes intent upon the Prince's face. Then the Prince stirred beneath his hand, and sighed. His eyes fluttered open. They were unfocused, and a bit blank. He turned his head towards Lord Elrond, and saw Arwen. The corners of his mouth curled up slowly in a sweet and joyous smile.
"Nimrien?" he whispered almost inaudibly. She gave me a puzzled look, and I shrugged my shoulders slightly.
"I think he may be confusing you with his wife," I said softly. "She died many years ago." I squeezed his hand, and he turned his head slowly and looked at me.
"My lord, how fare you?" Imrahil's gaze was uncomprehending for a few moments, then I saw awareness start to filter slowly back in. He blinked a couple of times, then murmured a bit croakily, "Hethlin? Then I'm not dead yet?"
"No, my lord, not yet. You're in Lorien. You've been asleep these last two days." Lord Elrond poured him a cup of water from a pitcher on the bedside table, lifted his head, and put it to his lips. He drank slowly but with obvious appreciation. He looked brighter and more alert when he had finished and sank back against the pillows once more. I smiled down at him in what I hoped was a reassuring manner.
"This is Lord Elrond of Imladris, and his daughter, the Lady Arwen." His eyes widened slightly, and after a moment, his head inclined in a polite nod to Elrond. "My lord." He then rested his gaze upon Arwen for a time, and the inclination of his head was even deeper and more respectful. "My Queen." Arwen smiled her dazzling smile, and clasped his other hand gently.
"Estel wrote to warn me that you were a charmer, my lord prince."
"Unfair of him to forewarn you, my lady," protested Imrahil, speaking more slowly than was his usual wont. "Though I must say it has been worth the pains this trip has cost me to be one of the first to lay eyes upon my new Queen." Lord Elrond laid a long hand upon his forehead, and took his hand from Arwen's so that he could check his pulse.
"How are you feeling? Have you any pain or discomfort?" His voice was cool and clinical.
"No, my lord, I am quite at ease, and most relieved to be so. Have I you to thank my care?"
"Yes. You have been a most cooperative patient thus far. If you continue thusly, you should be completely recovered in a couple of months." Imrahil glanced in the direction of his leg, and Lord Elrond, releasing his hand and head, actually smiled.
"Your leg is doing well. The swelling is much abated. You may be using a stick for a time and you may lose some skin before it heals, but it will heal." The Prince let out a relieved breath.
"Then for my leg and my life, I thank you, Lord Elrond."
"There is no need for thanks, Prince Imrahil. I am a healer--it is my duty to succor the sick and injured."
"That is as may be, my lord, but you have them anyway." He turned his attention to me.
"Hethlin, you look well. The elven fashion suits you." I blushed a little.
"Thank you, my lord."
"Have you seen much of the Golden Wood yet?"
"No, sir." I didn't want to go into the details of how he'd arrived here just yet--he was already beginning to look weary. He squeezed my hand feebly and released it, making a small shooing motion with his own.
"Then get you gone, out into the sunlight. Go explore and enjoy yourself. That's an order. You can come back later and tell me of the wonders you've seen. I would enjoy that." I stood and bowed to him.
"As you wish, my lord. Lord Elrond. Lady Arwen." I bowed to each of them as well, Arwen acknowledging me with a smile and a nod. Lord Elrond was busy preparing some sort of medicine for the Prince, and I took advantage of the opportunity to make my escape before he could corner me for further interrogation. As I tucked my figurative tail and fled, the last thing I heard was a plaintive comment from the Prince.
"If that tastes half so bad as it smells, I think I would rather be asleep again before you give it to me......"
I returned to my room to collect my bow, quiver and sword, determined to explore the city and the forest and enjoy myself. I spent the early part of the afternoon walking through the city, observing the Galadrim as they went about their day-to-day activities. For the most part, they took little notice of me--I could not speak their language, so questions about the things that intrigued me were not possible. I would get a quiet smile from time to time, but many more of them openly ignored me. It was as if I were walking in a dream, or was a spirit wandering among the living and futilely trying to get their attention. That last mental image reminded me rather uncomfortably of the Witch-King, and by the middle of the afternoon I grew tired of feeling wraith-like, and decided to explore the forest instead while the light lasted. So I made my way down out of the trees, and onto the long path, and eventually through the gate and over the white bridge. In the daylight I could see before me a road paved with stone that ran away around the edge of the city to my right, going north. I was curious about what it led to, so I started following it.
The city was greater in circumference than I had thought in the night, and it took some time to reach the northern side. There the paved road abruptly stopped, though there was a trail that led from the end of the road into the trees. Continuing on the unpaved trail, I relished the feel of the soft elven boots on the loamy forest floor. It seemed forever since I had walked unarmored and silent in a forest. After a time, I spied a shaft of sunlight off to my right, a break in the tree cover, and it looked so pretty that I decided to leave the trail and explore in truth, as a Ranger should. I strung my bow and carried it in hand, not that I particularly expected any trouble, it was simply how I'd been accustomed to traveling in Ithilien.
I had wandered through the mallorn glades for about an hour when a patrol of the Galadrim came upon me, appearing phantom-like as they had before. This time, I was not so weary as I'd been the night before, and sensing someone's eyes upon me, had nocked and drawn. This did not please the patrol, and I soon found myself looking down the points of six different arrows aimed directly at my heart. Four more elves hung back behind the rest. One of them uttered a sharp command in their tongue--I didn't understand it, but the meaning was clear in context. I lowered my bow carefully, and dropped the arrow to the ground. One of them lowered his bow as well, slung it on his back, and was stepping forward, hand out, presumably to seize me, when a quiet command was uttered from among the elves that had kept back.
Another elf, taller, cloaked, hooded and clad in the same woodland grey as the patrol, gave what sounded like a long series of orders or instructions in the same calm and quiet voice. The six elves who had apprehended me slipped back off into the woods. One of the other four with the tall elf made a protest of some sort, and was overruled. Another handed the tall elf a bag he was carrying slung across his chest, then the four all bowed and departed towards Caras Galadon. The tall elf put his hood back, and molten silver fell about his shoulders, caught close to his head in an intricate braiding pattern. I bowed deeply.
"Lord Celeborn. I apologize for drawing on your patrol."
"No apology is necessary, Lady Hethlin," the Lord of Lorien replied in flawless Westron. "We are all of us still somewhat unsettled by recent events. Though I had not thought to see you in the wood today. I had assumed that you would be spending your time in the Prince's company." I bent and picked up my fallen arrow, and replaced it in my quiver.
"I was with him when Lord Elrond awakened him a little before noon, my lord, but he did not want me to stay. He told me to go out and look around, then come back later and tell him what I'd seen."
"And a good esquire does as she is bidden," he said with a gentle smile. "Well, what have you seen so far, and how do you like the wood?"
"I spent some time in the city earlier, but it was lonely, for I could not speak to anyone, and most of them seemed to wish to ignore me." Lord Celeborn regarded me gravely.
"The Galadrim keep more to themselves than others of the Elder Kindred," he said after a moment. "The Elves of Mirkwood, for instance, do much trade with both the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and the Men of Dale. And Elrond opens his house to folk of all kinds. But the Galadrim guard the borders of Lothlorien, and are content to remain within them. Mortals are not of very much concern or interest to them. I am sorry if your welcome was less than you had hoped for." I shook my head in quick denial.
"Oh, I have no complaints, my lord. The Lady Arwen has been kindness itself, and my comfort has certainly been seen to." I lifted my head, and turned in a circle, admiring my surroundings. "And the forest is marvelous. It's been months since I was able to walk in a wood, and this one is so beautiful." There was a faintly pleased expression upon his face when I looked at him again.
"Were you just wandering at random, or was there something you wished to see?"
"I started out at first on the path that led north from the city--I wished to see what lay at the end of it-is there another city? But later I decided to simply explore the wood."
"No. Caras Galadon is the only city in Lorien. But there is something there worth seeing, particularly given who your lord is. It is not so far--we can be there within half an hour's time, if you would care to go there--and we will return to the city at dusk, or a little after dark." I blinked at the exalted escort I was being offered, and nodded.
"I should like that very much, my lord." He smiled one of his quiet smiles, and started off into the wood. He was a long-legged elf, and I had to walk quickly to keep up with him. He made absolutely no sound as he moved through his forest home, and I endeavored to remember my Ranger training and move quietly as well, but I felt like a Mumak charging through the underbrush compared to him. We would stop from time to time so that he might point out some plant or animal of interest. I remember how pleased he was to find a rare fern at the foot of one of the mallorn trees, his slender hands folding about it gently as he showed me the delicate fronds and explained its way of growing. He asked me questions about Ithilien, and I endeavored as best I could to describe the plants and trees that grew there.
"It sounds a lovely wood as well, not too tainted by the Shadow, for all that it lies so close to Mordor," he said at length. "When we go to Minas Tirith, perhaps I shall have the opportunity to explore it."
"If the Prince and I return with you, I should be glad to show it to you, my lord," I declared. "And if we do not, perhaps Lord Faramir would do the honors. For he was the Captain of the Ithilien Rangers, and is now the Prince of Ithilien. He knows every tree and stone of it. And his Elvish is very much better than mine." Lord Celeborn laughed softly.
"Yours is not so ill spoken. You make yourself understood well enough."
"Lord Faramir used to give me lessons, but I've not had the time for it lately."
"It is difficult sometimes, to find the time to learn all the things you would wish to know," Lord Celeborn agreed equably. I gave him a sidelong glance.
"Surely you, my lord have had more than enough time to learn everything!" His lips twitched slightly.
"There are any number of things I haven't done yet, and some of those I will never do, should I live to twice the years I have now. I have yet to be a potter, for instance."
"I've done that one," I volunteered.
"Have you now?"
"Aye. When the King was crowned, I was working with the City Guard, keeping the crowd in order. Minas Tirith was very full of people from the Outlands, and in the excitement, this little girl got separated from her parents, and then she nearly got crushed by a wagon carrying wine up to the Citadel. I got her up on my horse, and started talking to her. She was a very little girl and it took a while to figure out that her parents were potters, but when I did, I took her to Potter's Street, and rode up and down until we found them. They were very grateful and invited me to dinner the next night. We had a nice supper, and when I said I was interested in how pots were made, they burned some extra candles and let me have a turn at the wheel. I provided them an evening's amusement, if nothing else." In the Elf-lord's ancient eyes was a glimmer of mirth.
"Your hands are apt to a bow, but not the clay?"
"It's harder than it looks, let me tell you."
"Many things are, though that has always looked as though it might be entertaining. Like a child making mud pies."
"That's what the cup I made looked like. A mud pie. The potter was going to fire it for me, but I wouldn't let him. He's making me a really pretty tankard--the handle is a hawk with its wings folded. I'm to pick it up when I return to the City." Lord Celeborn smiled a quiet acknowledgment, and we walked silently for a little while. Then we came out into an open space in the trees, and I sucked in my breath in wonder.
"This is Cerin Amroth," said Lord Celeborn. "Amroth's high seat when he dwelt here. The beginning, if you like, of the tale that ends in your lord's demesne."
A great mound lay before us, clad in grass as soft and green as velvet, and starred by flowers in the myriad colors of spring--gold, white, pink, violet, blue. The long shadows of late afternoon fell across it and two rings of trees surrounded it. The outer ones were slender and shapely, and had bark of blinding white. Their pale green leaves danced upon the breeze and were a contrast to the inner ring of mallorns, who were coming into their full dark green foliage. At the top of the mound was the largest mallorn I'd seen yet, save for the one at the crest of Caras Galadon. I thought I could see a flet high up in the branches.
"Would you like to go up?" asked Lord Celeborn, and I nodded. As we stepped onto the mound, it seemed as if the very air itself changed, became fresher, newborn. The grass, the trees, the flowers--all seemed the most perfect ones that had ever existed. A gentle breeze lifted my hair and the Lord of Lorien's sheened silver strands. I climbed slowly, breathing in the air and staring about me raptly; Lord Celeborn was picking flowers, a pink one here, a blue one there, with a grace that made it almost a dance. He had a large handful by the time we reached the top of the mound, and the base of the large mallorn.
There was a ladder there, and he gestured that I should proceed him, so I began to climb. Eventually, the ladder ended at a very large platform indeed, roofed and walled with the gently whispering green leaves and dusted with falling golden flowers. Lord Celeborn sank to the floor like a falling leaf, unslung the bag and his bow and quiver from his shoulder, and taking up some of the flowers, began weaving them together. I went to the edge of the flet and looked out through the rustling branches. Looking to the South, I could see clear down the Anduin a great way. There was a smudgy grey blur in the distance. I wondered if I were seeing the Emyn Muil, or all the way to the Ephel Duath. When I turned and looked eastward, I could see a great expanse of dark green forest.
"Mirkwood," I murmured quietly.
"Eryn Lasgalen," Lord Celeborn corrected me quietly.
"My lord?"
"Come. Sit." I did as I was told, and settled myself down close by him. A gesture of the hand not holding the flowers indicated that I should open the bag. I did, and pulled out a large silver flask and some leaf-wrapped objects.
'If you hunger or thirst, by all means, partake," he told me. I undid the leaf wrappings of one of the objects, and found a fair cake within of a pale golden color. Taking a bite, I found it to be better than the finest bread I'd ever tasted. Eyes wide, I ate it with relish, then uncorked the bottle and found it contained some sort of liquor. The two of them were very invigorating, and I found myself wide awake, very alert, and feeling able to hike or swim down the entire length of the Anduin that lay beneath me. Enjoying the incredible view, and the beauty that was all about me, I ate and drank, and listened to Lord Celeborn's soft voice.
The Lord of Lorien began to twine together the flowers he'd collected, and as he did so, spoke to me of what had been going on while Minas Tirith had been besieged. Evil forces from Dol Guldur had attacked Lorien three times. There had also been massive battles beneath the trees in Northern Mirkwood, where Thranduil son of Oropher had had the victory, and battle had been brought to Dale and the Lonely Mountain by the Easterlings. Both King Brand of Dale and the King of the Lonely Mountain, Dain Ironfoot, had fallen there, and their followers had been besieged in the Mountain itself, before they had been able to drive their attackers back after Sauron's defeat.
He and Lady Galadriel had repelled Lorien's would-be invaders, and in their turn, had crossed the Anduin and thrown Dol Guldur down, cleansing the forest of its foul influence. I had always been primarily concerned with Gondor's survival; as he spoke, I finally understood the enormity of the doom we'd faced. Had the Ringbearer not succeeded, truly there would have been nowhere to hide.
"So now it is renamed Eryn Lasgalen, the Forest of Green Leaves," Lord Celeborn concluded, "and perhaps I have finally been a warrior for the last time. I would wish it so." His eyes grew distant, dwelling perhaps on memories of battles in ages past, as his hands deftly wove the flowers into a comely garland. I looked upon him, careful not to meet that bottomless stare, and suddenly shivered a bit. Seeming to sense my discomfort, he came back to himself, and looked upon me kindly. The sun was beginning to set, and the light seemed to caress the planes of his face, neither old nor young.
"What troubles you, Lady Hethlin?"
"I do not wish to offend, my lord," I said softly, "but I should like to know. How old are you?" He did not seem affronted, but gave me a considering look.
"I have walked the world since before Anor and Ithil rode the skies," he said matter-of-factly, "as has my lady wife. And the lands of my birth were whelmed beneath the waves before Numenor was ever raised. How many years that is exactly, I no longer count or care. Why?" I simply stared at him for a long moment, trying to comprehend the enormity of all he had seen and experienced, and failing utterly.
Finally, I asked, "Why would you want to spend time with someone like me? I must be to you as a mayfly is to a man."
"The answer to that, child, is a question. And the question is--what is it that you did not see in your exploration of Caras Galadon this afternoon?" I frowned, and thought upon this matter for some time, and in the end, declared myself perplexed. Lord Celeborn gave me a sad smile.
"There are no elven children, and there have been none born for many years. And though the Firstborn are bound to Arda, and have an almost endless appreciation for its beauty, there can come a time when one becomes....weary. You have given me the opportunity to see the world through young eyes again, and I am grateful for it. I have quite enjoyed our afternoon." He looked up at the last rim of the setting sun, and the first pale star of the evening, and sighed.
"We must be going back now, I fear. My household guard were loath to let me wander alone, and they will come forth and comb the woods if we are not back in Caras Galadon by full dark." He reached out and gently set the garland on my head.
"A memento for you. I noticed that you did not get one last night." I thanked him sincerely, noticing that I could smell the flowers even when it was on my head. He then took up the bag and his bow, and I did the same with mine. We descended from Amroth's flet, and started down the path towards Caras Galadon in the deepening dark, silent now, but companionable. Lord Celeborn set a swifter pace returning, and wondrously strengthened by the elven food and drink, I had no trouble keeping up with him.
We reached the City before the Lady sent his guard out, and parted company cordially at the base of the giant mallorn. Full dark had come, and the stars peeped from time to time through the leaves as I made my way to the West Flet. I peeked quietly through the curtain before I entered, for I did not want to disturb my lord if he were sleeping. But when I looked within, I found the lamps glowing golden, and the Prince awake, with the Lady Arwen sitting at his bedside. There was a small chessboard on a little table between them.
"My lord? May I come in?" I asked before I entered. There was a distinct note of pleasure in his voice as he answered.
"Hethlin! Of course!" I pulled back the curtain, and stepped into the room. A sudden breeze made the lanterns flicker a bit. Prince Imrahil looked up at me, and what little, hard-won color he had drained from his face. I saw his eyes go dark and wide, like Faramir's when he was dreaming. He took in a quick, sharp breath, then after a long moment, let it out in a long sigh. His head drooped, and he shivered. Arwen took his hand, and I rushed to his other side and took up the other one.
"Shall I get my father, Imrahil?" she asked him.
"My lord, are you all right?" He nodded after a moment, squeezed both our hands gently, and looked up.
"It was nothing. A momentary.....pang. It's gone now." Arwen stood up, and made to leave.
"I think I may have overwearied you this evening. Shall we take up where we left off tomorrow? That way, perhaps you may yet dream a way out of your dilemma." Her eyes were glinting with amusement as she surveyed the board, and the Prince, recovering himself, smiled ruefully.
"I fear I would need a week to plot a way out of the mess you've put me in, my lady. Aragorn should have had you on the Pelennor and at the Morannon."
"At least he will be able to consult with me on future conflicts, my lord prince. A good night to you, and to you as well, Hethlin."
We chorused our goodnights to her as she left, and then the Prince looked at me. His free hand made a small gesture at my flowers.
"It looks as if you have had a good time today. Where have you gone, and what have you seen?" I grinned at him.
"Does my lord require a bedtime story?" He smiled tiredly back at me, and I was relieved to see a little color return to his cheeks.
"That would be lovely. You have a very.....soothing....voice. But please do not take it amiss if I drift off before you are finished."
"I thought that was the purpose of bedtime stories."
"Indeed." So I told him of my wanderings in the city, and in the woods, and as I did so, his eyes returned to their normal sea gray, and his eyelids began to droop. I softened my voice when I began to describe Cerin Amroth, and they closed completely, and the fingers tangled in mine went slack. When I had finished the tale, I spoke to him quietly.
"My lord?" There was no answer, but a small smile was curling the corners of his mouth. So I carefully pulled my hand free, and tucked the bedcovers up about him. Then I rose, quenched all the lanterns save one, and sought my own rest.