Chapter Three – Caras Galadhon Past and Present
'Welcome to Caras Galadhon,' Haldir's words hung in the air as Arlannis watched the eyes of her companions fill with awe at the shining tree-city of the Galadhrim.
She had reacted in a similar fashion the first time she beheld the beauty of her Elven cousins' home. It had not changed, the lights still glimmered and sparkled through the branches and an air of serenity was all-pervasive. The forest was wisely and lovingly ruled and gave of its best to please its ruler; the Lady Galadriel.
Arlannis had noticed the fleeting looks of puzzlement that had passed across the features of her companions on their journey to the city. She guessed that in each in their own way had their private exchange with the Lady. But not even this could prepare them for her majesty and beauty as she appeared before them with her husband, Celeborn.
Only Legolas and Aragorn could bear to meet her eyes as Galadriel looked at each of them in turn. Boromir of Gondor shook and flinched away from her gaze and Arlannis herself could feel the heat of an old shame mounting within her, as Galadriel's gleaming eyes seemed to flay her thoughts bare…
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Nothing escaped the notice of the Lady of the Trees. She had known at once that Gandalf had not passed the borders of Lorien just as she had known who had returned unbidden to her domain. It had been twenty years since last she had set eyes upon this unhappy daughter of Elrond's. Arlannis had changed remarkably in that short span of years. Her glorious golden hair was now short as a soldier's and her eyes, once a clear window to her thoughts, showed nothing to the world beyond its own reflection, much like the Mirror the Lady herself kept.
And her thoughts were carefully hidden, as were the secrets of her heart. Galadriel's keen otherworldly sight could not pierce the shield that Arlannis had perhaps unknowingly constructed. Only the Elves who had lived from the First Age and the wizard-kind had ever been able to shield their minds from hers.
When last Arlannis had stood before the Lady, her thoughts had been painfully clear to all. That horrifying moment of discovery still had the power to make Galadriel shudder when she allowed herself to dwell upon it.
For though Haldir had abandoned the girl and thoroughly shamed her, no one had ever imagined that the effect would be so terrible. Sometimes, even still, the Lady's mind would grapple fruitlessly with the idea that a living being would choose to end its own life.
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Just the sight of the Lady's eyes was enough to bring back Arlannis' last encounter with her when she had been formally banished from Lorien for the sin of blasphemy. All the people of Lorien had witnessed this rare event. Elrond had stood beside her and given his solemn oath that his daughter would not set foot within Lorien's border again on pain of his own banishment.
Arlannis had remained silent with hopeless eyes fixed on the ground. The wounds she had inflicted on herself were painful still but not as painful as the emptiness within.
What high hopes she had when first she arrived in Lorien. The joy of Haldir's proposal coupled with the knowledge that she would not always walk through life alone and on the very edges of Elven society had made her happier than she had ever been. Her utter despair when he rejected her had sent her spirit spiralling lower than ever before.
Even her own father had little sympathy to offer when she told him her marriage was renounced all for the sake of her birth. Arlannis could not understand how he received the news without feeling slighted by Haldir. After all, she was being rejected solely for being the daughter of his own beloved wife. But Elrond had said calmly, 'Haldir has the right of this matter, Arlannis, you must release him from his bond. You cannot keep him in a snare of half truths and omissions.'
'I omitted nothing!' she had cried, 'I thought he knew, Father, I thought all knew of my birth, just as all know of your mortal heritage.'
Elrond stared at her, ' I made my choice many Ages ago, daughter, I chose the Elven life over the mortal one, and you have the power to make a similar choice.'
'I have chosen, Father, I wish for the Elven life but it is not as simple as that. Elvendom has to accept that choice and they have not!' Arlannis had cried in despair.
To this her father had no answer and she crept away to spend long days alone in the forest watching the skies. Slowly but surely Arlannis' grief had grown unchecked with nothing to assuage it.
From time to time she could hear the voices of the Lorien archers as they went about their duties patrolling the borders of their realm. Sometimes, she could overhear entire conversations and the betrothal that had gone amiss was a popular theme. As the days crawled past, Arlannis began to realise the extent of her isolation as the archers unwittingly revealed their opinions to their hidden, heartsore listener.
Arlannis learned that though Elrond was held in the highest respect and the daughter of Galadriel herself had been his first wife, the Lorien elves had never approved of his second marriage. To marry a mortal woman had seemed insulting after having been the husband of such a glorious being as Celebrian. The arrival of Arlannis some years later had given further offence. Arwen Evenstar had been the last child born of an Elven couple and her beauty and grace was seen as the final fitting word in Elvish perfection. Arlannis was seen as a pitiful afterthought and it was their view that she should never have been born. Her birth went unrecorded and un-celebrated in Lorien. No wonder then, that Haldir had not known of her origins.
Arlannis remained in the forest for a season, unlooked for and seemingly unmissed. Sometimes she could hear Haldir with his brothers in the forest and when she did Arlannis ran as fast as she could from the sound of his voice.
And so after her months wandering amongst the trees, Arlannis had returned to her room in Lorien and removed from her belongings the one object she had left of her mother. A beautiful short sword that Gilraen had been taught to wield by her mortal husband.
It sang brightly as she drew it from its leather scabbard. The blade still had a keen edge for Arlannis had treated it as a relic and kept it as sharp as the day it had first been whetted.
She paused for just a moment to admire its cool beauty one last time and then drew it swiftly down upon her left forearm. The edge bit deep and though Arlannis felt nothing the blood sprang from her white flesh and flowed freely. In a daze she repeated the same action on her right arm. She dropped the sword and sank to her knees, watching the red flood as it spread out upon her bedraggled gown to soak the ground. She closed her eyes gratefully and waited for the pain to end. Darkness closed around the edges of her sight and awareness rushed away from her. Oblivion beckoned.
She woke in a comfortable bed, her injured arms outside the covers swathed in white dressings. With a rush of sick horror Arlannis realised that she was still alive and cursed inwardly, for she knew beyond any doubt that she had committed an act that no elf could ever comprehend, much less forgive.
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