Returning From The Dead

by Elf Eye

Another in "The Nameless One" series. Set after "Revenge."

11. The Mind And Mirror Of Galadriel

Kudos to Joee for noticing that I had (again!) mixed up the names of Elrohir and Elladan.  I have corrected the problem.  Joee, some people have 'beta' readers.  I apparently need an 'epsilon' reader to help me keep straight ElrohirElladanErestorElrond.

Thank you to the following people who responded either to the last chapter of "Returning from the Dead" or to the separate story "Really Bad Eggs" (or to both!):  dd9736, Dragonfly, ElfChic, Farflung, Jebb, Joee, Karri, Kitsune, and Ky.

Farflung: Hmm, now you mention it, since Galadriel arrives at Rivendell at the end of "Really Bad Eggs," it really would be a shame not to make some use of her presence there.

Joee: You still want Erestor to explain to Anomen where milk comes from?  Hasn't poor Erestor been through enough!?  ^_*

The elven company set out from Beorn's lodging within a protective cordon of horses that ringed them in all directions.  They only rarely caught sight of their equine escorts, but ever so often they would hear neighs and the thunder of hooves.  Soon afterward the Elves invariably would come upon the trampled bodies of Orcs.  Occasionally a few warg carcasses, likewise trampled, would be scattered amongst the goblins.  Long before the Elves reached Lothlórien, they had developed a deep respect for their hoofed guardians.

So it was that in safety they approached the land of Lórien.  Once they were within sight of that fabled realm, Beorn's horses gathered behind them and began to graze upon the plain.  Apparently they intended to await their return in order to escort them back to the northeast.  The Elves loosed their own horses amongst the herd, trusting that they would be safe, and continued on foot.  As they passed beneath the eaves of the forest of Lothlórien, they heard laughter and singing.  They knew that their progress was being marked but also that they had been recognized as friends and kindred.  They set a leisurely pace for the city of Caras Galadhon, enjoying the beauty of the forest as they walked.  Some of the younger of the company began to sing in response to their hidden hosts, and soon a light-hearted and teasing musical dialogue had begun.

"Why do you trod upon the ground, brothers?" sang a Lórien Elf.  "Are you Men?"

"Why do you perch upon the branches, brothers?" a Greenwood Elf sang back.  "Are you birds?"

The Elves came at last to a river.

"Oh, brothers," chanted one Lothlórien Elves melodiously, "mayhap you are fish?"

"We are Elves, not fish," the Greenwood Elves sang back.  "See you not our pointed ears?"

"Fish fins they must be, so large they are!" giggled one of the Lórien Elves.

Everyone laughed.  A young Elf stepped out from behind a tree.

"Tawarmaenas," he called.  "Mae Govannen!"   

            "You know that Elf?" said Thranduil, surprised.

            "Oh, yes," replied his nephew.  "He was one of the three Lórien Elves who followed Mithrandir past the secret entrance into Dol Guldur, he and his two brothers.  Rúmil," called Tawarmaenas, "you are well, I hope."

            "Oh, yes.  You are well yourself?"

            "Very well, I thank you.  Rúmil, this is my uncle, Thranduil."

            The young Lórien Elf successfully hid his surprise as he politely greeted the monarch.  This smiling Elf was the reputedly dour King of Mirkwood?

"Where are your brothers?" asked Tawarmaenas eagerly.

"Orophin should be back tonight.  He has been on patrol to the south this past fortnight."

"And Haldir?"

            "The Lord and Lady sent him with letters to the Lord of Imladris.  He has been gone several weeks; mayhap he will return before you leave."

            Tawarmaenas was disappointed.  He had been looking forward to seeing Haldir, who, oddly enough, given his all-too-often serious demeanor, was actually the most entertaining of the three brothers.  It was his very earnestness that made him endearing, perhaps.  Certainly, of the three brothers, it was easiest to get a rise out of Haldir by telling the most outrageous tales with a straight face!

            While Tawarmaenas had been renewing his acquaintance with Rúmil, other Elves had appeared on the far side of a river and flung across a rope.  After each end was securely fastened to a tree trunk and the line pulled taut, one of the Lórien Elves tested it by running lightly back and forth across the river.  Convinced of its safety, he invited the Greenwood Elves to cross, and all did so as nimbly as any of the Lothlórien Elves.

            "You are not Men, you are not birds, you are not fish," said one of the Lórien Elves with mock seriousness.  "Mayhap you are squirrels, for you balance as well as any squirrel I have ever seen."

            "As many of our foes have learned to their peril," replied Gilglîr.  "There is no better perch for Orc-hunting than the bough of a tree!"

            "True, true," called back several of the Lothlórien Elves.  "And, now," added one, "we know that you are truly of our kindred!"

"Yes," said Rúmil.  "We acknowledge kinship with all who hunt Orcs!"

"Even Dwarves?" teased Tawarmaenas.

Rúmil looked scandalized.

"Dwarves!?"

"They have been known to hunt Orcs, and you did say that you acknowledge kinship with all who hunt our foes!"

"You know perfectly well that I meant Elves!" huffed Rúmil.  "Of course," he added thoughtfully, "we did combine forces with Men at the battle for Dol Guldur.  I suppose it is conceivable," he mused, "that Dwarves could become our allies—but no!  I simply cannot imagine that happening!"

"I can," declared Tawarmaenas.  "Elves and Dwarves fought side by side once before, at the Battle of the Five Armies."

Thranduil cleared his throat.

"Tawarmaenas," he said gently, "we are guests here.  Mayhap you should leave political discussions for another time."

"Yes, uncle," Tawarmaenas said reluctantly.  He had been thinking much of the Dwarves since his visit to Erebor, and he had lately become convinced that Elves and Dwarves had much in common, however different they might be in appearance.  But, he was learning, such sentiments did not meet with much approval even on the part of the most unprejudiced of Elves—and his uncle was not the most unprejudiced of Elves!

 That night the Lothlórien Elves entertained their Greenwood brethren with fine food and drink, singing and tale telling until only a few dim stars stood guardian against the coming of the dawn.  Orophin had returned during the midst of the festivities and he and his brother and Tawarmaenas immediately vanished, betaking themselves to Haldir's talan.  Even in Haldir's absence this was still the location for his brothers' gatherings, for it was the largest of their flets and located near enough to one of the outdoor kitchens to make forays for food and wine a pleasant rather than a tiresome diversion.  Thranduil had seen his heir absconding with the two Lórien Elves, but he made no move to stop him.  He had marked with pleasure how much Tawarmaenas had enjoyed the company of Bard, and he was equally pleased to see him laughing in the company of Rúmil and Orophin.  "I wish," he thought to himself regretfully, "that I had afforded Legolas such opportunities to enjoy the company of others."

Gilglîr also marked the departure of Tawarmaenas, but his thoughts tended in another direction.  Tawarmaenas had privately told him of Beorn's suspicion that a young Elf his father had once protected had been trying to reach Lothlórien.  Once Gilglîr had realized that Tawarmaenas was a friend of Rúmil and Orophin, he had urged Tawarmaenas to ask them if they had ever seen such an Elf.

"But do so discretely," he cautioned.  "It would not do to set tongues wagging, even Silvan ones."

Gilglîr was also resolved to do a little probing of his own, but he had selected a most formidable target—the Lady Galadriel.  The Lady of Lothlórien was related to Elrond by marriage; moreover, she had the gift of foresight.  Perchance she would have knowledge of Legolas' fate.  If she did——and if Gilglír could persuade her to share her knowledge——it would be good, for then Gilglír would be better prepared for his meeting with Elrond and his sons.  With anticipation, Gilglír watched the rising of the sun, for it was then that the remaining Elves began to drift away from the clearing in which the celebration had been held.  Gilglír fell into step beside Galadriel.  Several paces behind them, Thranduil was safely absorbed in conversation with Celeborn.

"My Lady," Gilglîr began, "during the battle for Dol Guldur, a young Rivendell Elf was wounded in the chest by an Orc arrow whilst coming to the defense of King Thranduil.  I believe that the young one was taken to Lothlórien to recuperate under your care.  Was this not so?"

"Several young Elves were brought to Lothlórien, for, if I remember correctly, the number of casualties at last exceeded the resources available in Mirkwood for their tending."

"This one is called Durrandîr, and he was being fostered by Elrond."

"Ah, yes, Durrandîr."

"I am trying to recall his appearance, my Lady.  Did he have brown hair or golden?"

"As you have said," replied Galadriel gravely, "he was called 'Durrandîr'——'dark wanderer'."

It did not escape Gilglîr's attention that she had not in fact answered his question.

"Is Durrandîr still in Imladris, Lady Galadriel?"

"I do not know."  Strictly speaking, this was an honest answer.  Given the young Elf's propensity for wandering, it was never possible to know to a certainty whether, at any given moment, Anomen was in residence at Rivendell.

Gilglîr tried again.

"I do not recall ever hearing his father's name mentioned.  What was it?"

"I, too," Galadriel replied gravely, "have never heard his name mentioned."

Of course, this answer begged the question of whether Galadriel knew the father's name, but Gilglîr feared to press her too closely.  It would not be wise to offend the Lady of Lothlórien.  He would have to be roundabout as he tried to learn more.

"Strange that no one seems to know the young one's father," he mused.

"In Middle Earth, many things are strange," replied Galadriel.

Another answer that was no answer.  Gilglîr thought that he would soon be in danger of grinding his teeth flat.

The Lady turned toward him and smiled gently.

"You will have to seek elsewhere for the answers to your questions, Gilglîr.  No doubt your curiosity will at length be satisfied."

They had come to the base of the tree in which the Lord and Lady's talan was to be found.  Galadriel bowed gravely in parting, but Gilglîr could see that her eyes sparkled with merriment and that the aura surrounding her seemed to shimmer as if it shook with hidden laughter.  He smiled politely and bowed in return, but he did not share her amusement!  Still, he mused, as he walked toward his own flet, the Lady had said that 'no doubt your curiosity will at length be satisfied'.  Galadriel uttered no word lightly.  Gilglîr therefore still allowed himself to hope.

Tawarmaenas, meanwhile, was to fare no better in his attempts to pry information out of Rúmil and Orophin.  He did not know that those two Elves had been summoned to the talan of the Lord and Lady before the feast had commenced.  The Lady had been remarkably direct——direct for the Lady of Lothlórien, that is.

"I am sure that you have learned that it is by no means necessary to tell all that you know," she had begun.

"Ye-es," replied Rúmil, wondering why he and his brother had been sent for.  "In trade negotiations, for example, it would be folly to tell your counterpart what you are willing to offer."

"Aye," agreed Orophin, "else we would have to pay thrice as much for Dorwinion wine as we do!"

Celeborn frowned, but the Lady smiled.

"Allow them their quips, Lord Celeborn," she said softly.  "They have so little time left for such pleasantries."

Orophin and Rúmil did not dare to think what she meant by that.

"You are good friends with Tawarmaenas, are you not?" she resumed.

"Oh, yes," replied Orophin.  "We did not like him at first, but during the Battle for Dol Guldur and in the days after, we became better acquainted with him.  As we learned more about him, we discovered that we had been mistaken about his character."

"He is a good-hearted and loyal young Elf, well worthy of your friendship," said Galadriel.  "He is also very curious about some matters.  I do not think it would do any harm to satisfy his curiosity were it not that another's curiosity would thereby be satisfied as well."

Rúmil and Orophin took a few minutes to work that one out.

"And you wish, Lady?" Rúmil finally said cautiously.

"I wish you to tell Tawarmaenas nothing about a young Elf who has from time to time visited in Lothlórien, an Elf who hales from Greenwood but who now dwells in Imladris."

"Oh," said Orophin, "you mean——"

"I mean," said Galadriel severely, "a young Elf who has from time to time visited in Lothlórien, an Elf who hales from Greenwood but who now dwells in Imladris."  Then she smiled sweetly.

"As we have agreed, it is by no means necessary to tell all that you know."

"Yes, of course," replied Orophin, chastened.

The Lady of Galadriel inclined her head, dismissing them.

"I wonder what that was about," said Orophin as they descended the steps from the talan.  Why may we not answer questions about Anomen if they are posed by a 'worthy' Elf, as the Lady has called Tawarmaenas?"

"I wouldn't wonder if I were you," warned Rúmil.  "It might not be healthy!"

"Huh," scoffed Orophin.  "You make it sound as if the Lady Galadriel were as dangerous as a wizard!"

"Which she is," said a familiar voice.

Rúmil stumbled, and Orophin would have fallen outright if a hand had not reached out and stayed him.

"Well, well, I never thought to see an Elf in peril of falling out of a tree!"

"Mithrandir!" gasped Orophin, too startled to be embarrassed.

"Very perceptive of you, Orophin.  Yes, I am he."

"What are you doing here?" cried Rúmil.  "We had heard that you were in Rivendell."

"Does the fact that I was in Rivendell make it so surprising that I am now in Lothlórien?  Erestor would have a thing or two to say about your logic."

Rúmil and Orophin had heard all about Erestor.  They could imagine what that Elf would declaim.

"I mean," said Rúmil, "that we did not expect you, Mithrandir.  We had not heard that you were coming."

"As you know," said Gandalf gravely, "I am not in the habit of sending ahead word ahead of my arrival."

"True," agreed Rúmil.  "Ever you come unlooked for.  But welcome nonetheless," he hastily added.

Gandalf laughed at his confusion.

"Are you coming to the feast, Gandalf?" Orophin asked eagerly.

"No, I am afraid not.  I have but lately come from festivities involving young Elves at Rivendell, and it will surely be another century before I can be enticed to attend another such gathering.  The pheromones in the air gave me a headache."

"The phero-whats?" asked a bewildered Orophin.

"Never you mind," said Gandalf tartly.  "Now, if you will excuse me, I have some news that I would like to exchange with Galadriel and Celeborn."

Rúmil and Orophin stood for a few minutes watching Gandalf ascend the steps leading to the talan of the Lord and Lady.  The wizard looked like one of the ancient among Men, but he mounted the steps with alacrity nonetheless.  To the watching Elves it suddenly seemed as if the Istar were as graceful as one of the Eldar.  He was certainly as wise and as powerful as any Elf.  With renewed respect for their friend and mentor, Rúmil and Orophin began once again to descend the steps.

Later that evening, after Rúmil, Orophin, and their Greenwood friend had slipped away from the feast, Tawarmaenas did indeed begin to pepper them with questions about Anomen.  He did not ask after him by that name, however.  Instead, he asked about an Elf called Durrandîr, for that is what he had been told to do by Gilglîr.  Rúmil and Orophin were as familiar with that name as with Anomen, for they had heard the Rivendell Elves using it during the siege of Dol Guldur.  But no matter what the name, they were resolved to follow Galadriel's 'instructions' and reveal as little as possible about a certain Elf who haled from Greenwood.

"Yes," said Orophin, "there was an Elf by the name of Durrandîr at the battle.  Wasn't that so, brother?" he said, turning to Rúmil.

"I believe——yes," agreed Rúmil, after thinking about it a while.

"And is he here?"

"Oh, no," Orophin assured Tawarmaenas.  "Durrandîr has never been here."

This statement was at least arguably true.  Anomen had not adopted the name Durrandîr until after leaving Lothlórien.  When he returned to Lórien to recuperate from the injury he suffered during the siege of Dol Guldur, the Elves who tended him had never addressed him as Durrandîr because they had never heard that name.  To them, the young Elf was Anomen.

"Never in Lothlórien!?"

Tawarmaenas looked so crushed that Rúmil could not help but feel bad.

"Of course, Tawarmaenas," he hastened to add, "an Elf could come and go without our being aware of it.  We do not know all that transpires under the eaves of Lothlórien."

This assertion was very true, for Galadriel made sure of that.

Tawarmaenas once again looked hopeful.

"Gilglîr says that Durrandîr was usually seen in the company of Rivendell Elves.  Mayhap he lives in Imladris!"

"Durrandîr fought with the Rivendell Elves," Orophin conceded, "but I do not believe he lives there."

This was just as true as saying that Durrandír had never come to Lothlórien.

Rúmil hastened to agreed.  "You are right, brother.  Durrandír has never set foot in Imladris.  He neither set out from Rivendell; nor did he return there."

"Then where does he live?" cried Tawarmaenas.  "And from whence has he come?"

"No one has ever said where Durrandîr lives," said Orophin carefully.

"Or from whence he came," added Rúmil.

Gilglîr had warned Tawarmaenas that the Lórien Elves might be reluctant——nay, may even have been ordered——to say nothing of their former guest.  Tawarmaenas was growing increasingly frustrated, and he had not yet developed Gilglîr's finesse as a diplomat.  At last Tawarmaenas blurted out, "Has someone told you not to speak of Durrandîr——the Lady perhaps!?"

Orophin looked shocked.

"Tawarmaenas, the Lady Galadriel has never named an Elf that we were not to speak of!"

"No," agreed Rúmil, "and she never would give such a command.  Those are not her methods."

"And she is much too wise to take such a step!" added Orophin.

Tawarmaenas was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely.  "I should have known that the Lady would never have commanded you to not talk of Durrandîr.  I meant no offense."

"And none was taken," Orophin reassured him.

Humbled by his foolish outburst, Tawarmaenas now dropped the subject entirely, and soon the three friends were laughing and singing as if the conversation had never taken place.

The next evening, Galadriel found Mithrandir waiting for her in her Glade.  The Istar was seated on a mossy berm smoking his pipe and sending assorted animals into the trees.  Only Mithrandir, mused the Lady, would have the temerity to light a pipe in Galadriel's sanctum.  She looked at him fondly.

"Mithrandir, if you would not mind, I believe the smoke affects the clarity of the mirror."

Mithrandir removed the pipe from his mouth.

"Your pardon, my Lady.  I have always found that the clarity of my vision is much improved when I smoke."

Galadriel wondered—and not for the first time!—how the Hobbit pipeweed was prepared and what it contained.   At the very least, it must be made up of something that soothed the nerves, but Galadriel expected that some additional ingredients were at work.  Well, well, as Mithrandir would say, magic takes many forms.

"I have been thinking, Galadriel," that wizard now said, "that it is a shame that Tawarmaenas must go on hoping so futilely."

"I was not aware that hope is futile before it has been altogether frustrated.  If he never finds what he seeks, then and only then will his hope have been futile."

Mithrandir looked at her sardonically.

"I believe that even Erestor could not quibble with the language as well as you do."

"I pray that you are mistaken," smiled Galadriel.

"You do not wish to exceed Erestor's skill?"

"In that area, no.  Now, what is it you wish?"

Mithrandir bowed deeply.

"My Lady, my pardon.  You are in fact capable of speaking with great directness——not like Erestor at all!"

"Mithrandir, I think the Third Age will be over before we conclude our business here."

"Very well, my Lady.  I feel for Tawarmaenas.  Is there nothing you can offer him?  A vision, perhaps?"

"Oh, if it is a vision he wants, you should give him your pipe."

"I didn't mean that sort of vision, Galadriel.  Now stop playing with me."

Well, someone should," teased Galadriel.  "You are much too serious.  Do not Men have a saying, 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'?"

"Never met an Elf who had that problem," grumbled Mithrandir.  "If you don't mind, I have to put up with enough cheekiness from Elrond's brood.  When I come to Lothlórien, I expect a more elevated atmosphere.  If you start in on me, I don't know where I shall go when I need a little peace and quiet."

"The Shire?"

Mithrandir shook his head and grew grave.

"I do not think it will be peaceful there much longer."

Galadriel grew somber as well.

"No," she said softly, "it will not.  Nor will any of the lands of Middle Earth know peace.  But for Tawarmaenas at least we may provide some peace——for a little while.  He shall look into the mirror."

"And what will he see, Lady?"

"You should know better than to ask that," the Lady chided him gently. 

 "I thought, as you were in such an antic mood, you might tell me."

Galadriel shook her head but smiled.

"I would not tell you if I knew——and I do not know."

"As long as you choose not to know."

Now it was Galadriel's turn to look sardonic.

"I am not the only one who sometimes chooses not to know, friend!  Have a care!"

"Well, well," said Mithrandir, arising, "we find ourselves in the same boat."

"As we will in the end."

Mithrandir looked inquiringly at her, but she merely smiled enigmatically as she poured water from a silver flagon into the basin that rested upon the plinth in the center of the glade.

  "Will you bring Tawarmaenas to me, my friend?"

"Of course, my Lady."

A short while later a nervous Tawarmaenas entered the glade in the company of Mithrandir.  The young Elf had heard of the magic of Galadriel's Mirror but had never dreamed that he himself would be called to look upon it.  He paused and looked about in awe.  Galadriel beckoned to him, and he approached the mirror hesitantly.  Galadriel stepped back a pace and gestured that he should look into the mirror.

At first Tawarmaenas saw only his own reflection, but then the image dissolved and reformed.  A horse galloped across the surface of the water.  An Elf sat gracefully upon its back, and this rider looked like an older version of Laiqua.  Suddenly Tawarmaenas realized that the Elf was not the only rider upon the horse.  Sitting behind the Elf and clinging to him was a Dwarf.  He did not look as graceful as the Elf!  Tawarmaenas thought of baby Gimli as he gazed upon this vision, for the Dwarf's hair and beard were of the same color.  Why, he wondered, was Laiqua sharing a horse with a Dwarf?

  The vision began to shimmer.  Once again it dissolved and reformed.  Now Tawarmaenas saw Thranduil's presence chamber in the Great Hall.  But the throne was empty, and Thranduil was nowhere to be seen.  He saw himself, however, or rather an older version of himself.  He was seated upon a chair.  Gilglîr stood behind him and slightly to the right.  Two Elves knelt before Tawarmaenas, and he realized that he was judging a dispute.

Tawarmaenas stepped back, bewildered.  How was it that he would someday mete out justice in the Great Hall if Laiqua were still alive and the future king of Greenwood?  Galadriel smiled at him.  She knew what he had seen and perceived his confusion.

            "Tell me, Tawarmaenas, where were you seated?  Were you upon the throne?"

            "No, Lady, I was not.  I was seated on a chair a little to the front and to the right of the throne——ah!"

            Now Tawarmaenas understood.  He would never be the King of Greenwood——but he would be its Steward.  Yes, that is what this vision must mean.  Gilglîr would be glad to know that he been right to insist that Tawarmaenas acquire the knowledge and skills necessary for leadership.  However, leadership may take many forms.  Laiqua would not always be in Greenwood——apparently at least some of the time he would be riding about in the company of a Dwarf!——and when he was absent from the realm, he would delegate authority to his cousin.

Galadriel and Mithrandir watched as a very happy Tawarmaenas left the glade to go in search of the Seneschal.  Mithrandir quirked an eyebrow.  Had Tawarmaenas broken into skips just then?  An unusual sight, to see an Elf skipping from Galdriel's glade!

After Tawarmaenas had left the glade, Galadriel beckoned to Gandalf with an urgency that she did not usually display.

"Whilst you were fetching Tawarmaenas, I looked into the Mirror and saw Orcs, many Orcs, in the Misty Mountains, and some whom we love in the midst of them."

"What did you see, Lady?"

"I saw Anomen and Elrohir, and then the scene changed.  When the waters were still once more, I again saw Anomen, but this time with Glorfindel.  Then I saw blood upon the water.  When Tawarmaenas and his escort depart for Imladris, you may wish to accompany them.  The Mirkwood Elves may have need of you as they cross the Misty Mountains.  And Anomen may have need of you as well."

Rarely was Galadriel so forthcoming about what she saw in the mirror.  Gandalf was more alarmed than he had been in a long time.

"When does Gilglîr intend to depart with Tawarmaenas?"

"I will urge him to set out immediately."

"Thank you, my Lady.  You may sure that I will be ready to join them upon the instant."

"You will have to become accustomed to sleeping with your boots on, Mithrandir.  In the days to come I foresee many sudden departures.  The time grows near."

Mithrandir thought of the dark forces that had lately been lurking on the borders of the Shire.  Gravely, he nodded his head.  Yes, the time grew near.