We rode into Lórien at the end of six weeks' hard travel, all of the Walkers bone-weary and sick of the road. Our Plains horses held up well, but I desperately wished I was at the end of my journey and need never mount again.
Aragorn told me that the last time they had come to Lórien they were met by Galadhrim archers, escorted through the deep forest to the halls of Galadriel. There were no guards to greet us, no escort, no whisper of movement in the trees as we passed. The forest was empty and still.
We saw the first Galadhrim as we approached the hall itself, two or three slender Elves wafting among the trees. No one stopped us or questioned our presence there. Legolas and Aragorn grew more and more solemn as the extent to which Lórien had diminished was revealed.
Niquë reined her horse close to me as we dismounted. She clutched my sleeve, drawing me aside from the others, and whispered to me in Avarin.
"Sister, I thought Legolas said that his people were plentiful and their cities thriving." She glanced around her, tucking a few strands of dark brown hair behind one ear. "This place looks like our home."
I nodded and placed my hand over hers on my arm. "My thoughts are of the same, sister. He has told me that his people are leaving this land for the Undying Realms; perhaps this city's inhabitants have passed already."
We were welcomed finally, at the base of the winding stairs that spiraled into the treetops. Galadriel herself greeted us, her eyes shining like stars with the wisdom of millennia. She embraced Aragorn and Legolas in turn and bent to place a single kiss on Gimli's broad forehead. Then she turned to us, standing in the rear like, I thought, stormcrows at a wedding. She extended her hands to the others, beckoning them into her presence. She took each of their hands in turn, whispering into each ear for a brief moment. Our Warriors were awestricken, as children meeting our own Twilight Mother again. I hung in the back, still apart from the others, shy of this wondrous creature who looked so like a goddess among us.
I saw her eyes on me and turned away from her. I felt the touch of her in my mind and covered my face with my hands. Niquë touched my back and I shook off my sudden fear, smiling at her from the safety of my hood. A male Elf appeared before us, motioning us to follow him. As we filed out of the clearing, Galadriel placed a slim hand on my arm, holding me back. She smiled reprovingly.
"Why did you turn away, Shadowwalker? What cause have you to fear me?"
I could not bring myself to look into her eyes. Her fingers brushed my hair, a whisper of contact. "Perhaps it is not fear. I sense a great sadness in your heart. You mourn what your people cannot have, or what you believe they cannot have. I have seen your thoughts, troubled as they are. You carry a great burden of Blade and Blood, ties to your people and to a calling you do not understand. And yet, there is great desire within you, the desire to change the course of history, your own and that of your people. I must think on your cause longer ere you leave this place." With that, she pushed me gently in the direction the others had taken and ascended the winding stairs.
~***~
"Where are your companions from?" The bright-haired Elf turned to me across the low table, his blue eyes questioning. My companions clustered at a table of their own, unwilling to mingle with our Western companions. I sat silently, apart from the rest, wrapped in my thoughts, until Legolas spoke. I smiled slightly; these foreign Elves were inquisitive, curious almost to a fault. I shook the brooding from my mind.
I leaned back in a soft chair, adjusting my body into its gentle curves. "We are from the Deep Forest near the Sea of Rhûn. My home settlement is further away from the sea's edge; the others are from other settlements within the Forest. Ango is from the Plains, as was my mother." I shifted again, pushing a cushion behind my head.
Legolas frowned slightly. "You speak Westron very well. And you're learning Sindarin quite quickly."
I smiled again. "You forget, I am a scholar. Your Elvish is not so very different from our own tongue. And I was chosen because I have an aptitude for languages. My Teacher was a traveler and taught me bits of the languages he learned abroad." I lifted a silver goblet and drank deeply of the cool wine; now that Midsummer had passed, we could once again indulge, until Midwinter.
He was still studying me. "How do you come to be Shadowwalkers?"
"Ah. Now, that's a story long in its telling." I sat up again, feeling my back stretch deeply after weeks in the saddle. "The magic in our country has gone strange; there are too many who are captivated by dark power to be safe as a magic-wielder there. Those with any amount of talent are given the choice to bind ourselves to a particular deity. The Shadowwalkers are like priests, I suppose you might say, bound in service to the Twilight Mother." The other Avari bowed their heads briefly, making a sign of respect and obeisance at the sound of her name.
I stopped, looking away from Legolas. "I had a calling, even as a child, that the people of my home settlement did not understand. I am not a magicwielder, not of any consequence, and I am not inclined to combat, but I was Chosen by the Mother despite that. I was a student first, then became my Teacher's secretary and researcher. I expect that I shall see out my life as a teacher or an assistant somewhere." Although the thought had formed itself in my head many years before, somehow it sounded so bleak, spoken aloud amongst strangers. Was my life destined to be so small, despite my wishes to the contrary?
Aragorn lowered himself to a cushion beside me. "Lady, how did you come by such a horse? I have never seen its like before."
I smiled, grateful for the distraction. "You would not have, hopefully. She is a warsteed from the Plains. They sell very few of their animals-other than the culls- and even then they rarely sell to Outlanders. I have her because Ango is one of the Plainspeople. His people gave us the horses to speed our way to Gondor."
"It's the ugliest beast I've ever laid eyes on." Gimli's voice was low and gravelly. Several of the Warriors started to protest, but I only laughed. He still did not trust us, but I tried not to let his dislike upset me.
"That she is, Master Gimli, that she is. But what she lacks in beauty she more than makes up for in strength and heart and brains. The Plains warriors train their warsteeds to be a partner in battle- she can fight with me on her back and defend me if I fall. She's more trustworthy than many people I know."
Legolas turned back to me. "Tell us more about the Shadowwalkers, Mornië. You said they live apart from the other Avari-why is that? "
I sighed. I did not want to speak of my people that night. Every thought of them in this place only highlighted how desperately necessary our presence in Rhûn was while at the same time making me reluctant to return to my home.
Aragorn saw the frown cross my face, and tried to distract Legolas from his questioning. "Isn't Mornië a Sindarin name? What does it mean, and how did you come by such a name?"
"Darkness. It's an ill-favored name, I know." I chuckled to myself. "It's appropriate, though, for all the Shadowwalkers are similarly named." I reluctantly drew breath to talk about the Walkers, but Aragorn interrupted me again. His eyes on me were gentle and compassionate; he knew that I was upset and deliberately steered the conversation away from my personal history.
~***~
Sometime around midnight, I excused myself from the conversation and wandered further into the forest, following the ethereal lights of Galadriel's hall. I strolled among the trees, touching the silvery bark, gazing up at the stars.
A soft voice behind me caused me to jump. "Lady, you must take care, wandering in Lórien. Many have done so and been lost to the world forever." I turned and met Legolas' blue eyes. I smiled nervously, looking away. Blast the Elf- why did he make me so uncomfortable?
He fell into step beside me as we moved among the trees. I studiously ignored him, hoping that he would go away and leave me with my thoughts. Instead, he stopped at the foot of a gigantic tree. He grasped the sleeve of my robes, forcing me to stop in front of him. His face was troubled, his eyes dark.
"I wish to apologize, my lady. I did not intend to upset you earlier. Sometimes I am too curious of others and do not heed how my words may hurt them." I waved my hand, trying to cut him off, but he persisted. "Please. It was unkind of me to continue to ask you about yourself when you clearly indicated that you did not wish to discuss such things. Please forgive me."
I turned away from him again, staring at the stars. "There's no need to apologize, my lord. It was but a little thing, not worth dwelling upon." I kept my back to him so he would not see the tears in my eyes. Why would he not go away?
"I disagree, lady." He was in front of me, so quickly that I did not see him move. He gently brushed a tear off my cheek. "I would not have wished to cause you such pain."
I wept, ashamed of my weakness before this calm being. He did not touch me, this time, merely stood and let me weep. I wrapped my hands in my cloak, keening an old mourning song. The notes rose, eerie and full of pain, weaving amongst the strange trees and unfamiliar stars.
The grief surged up in me, strong and relentless, driving me to my knees with racking sobs. I was no longer sure for whom I wept- my fallen companions, my people, or myself. I tore at my robes and hair, overwhelmed with loss and fear and loneliness. I drew my Blade, prepared to continue the ancient mourning tradition even to the ritual bloodletting. I was aware, dimly, of wiry arms around me, fingers prying the Blade from my hand, a musical voice murmuring soft Elvish words in my ear. I turned my face into the Elf's shoulder and wailed like a bereft child. He stroked my hair, rocking me under the canopy of leaves.
~***~
Legolas watched the pale woman leave the table, her dusty blue robes rustling around her ankles. He felt a pang of guilt, remembering the look on her face when he asked about her people. He truly had not meant to trouble her; he was curious about this woman, the odd guttural accent in her voice, her warm skin, the strange cinnamon shade of her hair, her frosty green eyes. She and her companions were so often silent, like stone statues on their massive horses, that the sudden pain on her weary face frightened him.
"Legolas." Aragorn leaned across the table, an amused look on his face. "Where are your thoughts, my friend?"
Legolas shook his head. "I was thinking of the task ahead." He picked at the hem of the tablecloth absently.
Aragorn laughed, a sudden burst of sound. "You lie poorly, friend. I would wager your thoughts just left this clearing with a certain female person. Admit it, Legolas. She is a beauty, and you've been watching her all evening."
Gimli joined the teasing gleefully. He turned to Aragorn, chuckling. "I would join that wager, my friend. You have seen his eyes, have you not, when she is not looking? It is all he can do not to walk into trees, he is so distracted."
Legolas scowled darkly. "I was merely curious about her. We know nothing about her, about any of them, save that they are Avari. That in itself is a condemnation to many. And her companions keep apart from us and do not wish to speak." He glared at their amused faces.
Gimli rumbled from across the clearing. "You could know more about her, lad, if you follow her." Legolas stared at him, stunned into silence. The Dwarf had maintained his initial attitude of distrust for the foreign Elves; this encouragement was completely unexpected. Gimli chuckled.
"Go on. Before she slips your grasp entirely."
Aragorn motioned at him with his cup, grinning into his wine. He slipped out of the clearing, followed by his companions' laughter. He could see her ahead of him, a dim, dusty figure in the pale starlight. He sped up to meet her, catching her sleeve, forcing out the words that could not express his regret. He watched as her granite demeanor dissolved into grief such as he had not seen in any person either Elf or Man. Stunned, he saw her draw a long blade from a hidden scabbard at her waist. The starlight danced on a delicately etched blade, her fingers wrapped around a carved bone handle. He caught his breath, recognizing her geas-blade.
She laid the Blade against her arm, preparing to slice into her tawny forearm. He grabbed at her blade hand, forcing her fingers off the hilt, driving the weapon into the mossy turf with a smooth motion. He gathered her into his arms, murmuring as to a child, running his slender fingers through her long hair.
~***~
We rose early on the third day, gathered our things, and prepared to journey further north by the river. Aragorn would be leaving us to return to Minas Tirith and his rightful place. Galadriel met us there, stopping each of my companions to speak a few words and offer a parting gift. She drew me aside, her chilly blue eyes boring into my soul.
"I have thought on your troubles for many hours. Your grief is very great, so great that it threatens to consume you. You cannot allow yourself to slip away into the shadows of your mind; you are needed in this endeavor." She touched my chin delicately. "Why do you hide your troubles, your self, from those who would befriend you?"
I fidgeted. "I cannot be vulnerable before them, Lady. I am unproven, a foreigner, a person of no great consequence. And I am a woman. How will these men respect or trust me if I am weak?"
She laughed, a bell-like tone in the still air. She fastened an enameled leaf to my cloak and hugged me. She whispered in my ear. "Do not trouble yourself. You will prove your worth yet. And there is one among you who would share your burden, gladly." I followed her eyes over my shoulder. Legolas glanced at us briefly before turning his attention to the bundles on his horse. She smiled at me, suppressing laughter. "Go, dark child, and do not forget that even in the midst of sorrow, there can be great joy. Do not let your name lead you away from happiness. And do not despair for the future, for true desire may overcome the curse of history."
I stared at her, confused. She laughed then and leaned to whisper again. "All that keeps your people from the Undying Realm is the belief that they may not go. If you should decide that you wish to go, speak the name of Galadriel when you come to the White Ships, and you shall have passage."
~***~