AN: Thanks for the reviews! All of you rock! I'm sorry for the slow update
but I just started school and I have two really nutty professors---one
who's prone to emotional breakdowns and the other just came back from
triple bypass surgery. As soon as I get everything on track, I'll up date a
bit quicker.
Kerla: How so? Where have you read this before? I'm just curious.
pixie88: Thanks! This story got its start in my other story---well, one of the characters did anyway. I hope you like this story.
Saralitazie: I always appreciate a good guess! You might be right, you never know. The mystery lady's identity will be revealed shortly.
Hobbitgirl11: Well, you're very welcome and thanks for the compliment. Here's the next chapter.
sunni07: All will be revealed in time---faster than you know!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Galadriel, the Lady of Light and one half of the couple that ruled in the Golden Woods, waited nervously in her quarters. She had been expecting her granddaughter's arrival for several hours and the elven maiden had yet to arrive within the borders of Lothlorien.
She feared not only for her granddaughter, lest she befall the same fate as her own daughter did, but for the child her granddaughter was carrying. The ancient elf was one of the few who knew the real reason why her granddaughter had fled the confines of Rivendell and sought our refuge in Lothlorien. The elven maiden had found that she was expecting a child and was afraid of how her father would react. She had requested asylum in Lothlorien and her grandmother could not refuse the request.
"My lady," a clipped voice prompted, snapping the elven maiden out of her reverie.
The ancient elf looked up and took notice of Haldir, the march warden of Lothlorien, waiting to be recognized.
"Yes, Haldir," she said, "Come foreword."
The march warden, weaponless as he approached the Lady of the Woods, walked a few paces foreword and dropped into a formal bow. The elven female motioned for the march warden to straighten up, which he did with swift grace.
She cast a concerned glance at Haldir. He had been acting very cold--- colder than usual---and had become obsessed with his position since the apparent deaths of his wife, Vanye, and two daughters, Litsetaure and Marille. This condition concerned the Lady of the Woods but, at the moment, it was not utmost in her mind. That place was held by her granddaughter.
"My lady," Haldir repeated, "something has happened."
"What has happened?" Galadriel requested, "Has there been word from my granddaughter?"
The march warden, suddenly, looked very uncomfortable. It appeared he had news but he was unwilling to share this news with Galadriel.
"Haldir," she warned, "has there been word from my granddaughter?"
The march warden knew, full well, that she could peer into his mind and discover the information he was, currently, withholding from her.
Deciding that discovering such information in that manner would do no good fro any party involved, Haldir divulged, "Arwen was found nigh on three hours ago. She was badly wounded and taken by two of my corps to outermost healer's house."
Galadriel blanched whiter than her usual complexion. Unlike her daughter, who had been taken by the orcs and her spirit so thoroughly destroyed that she decided to leaves the circles of Middle Earth and sail to West, Arwen had manage to get to Lothlorien. The injury worried Galadriel the most, especially considering the condition she knew her granddaughter was in.
"What type of injury did she sustain?" Galadriel questioned, fighting to keep her voice calm.
"She was injured, my lady, by some type of arrow. The two who saw her off said that there was far more blood then there should have been for such a simple wound. The lower parts of her dress, they said, were wet with blood," Haldir replied, fighting to keep his own emotion out of his voice.
For him to properly do his job, he would have to remain icy calm at all times. He did not want to think about what was happening to Arwen lest thoughts of his own missing daughters begin to surface.
If it was at all possible, the ancient elf blanched even whiter. The state her granddaughter was found in could only indicate one thing and one thing only.
She shook that thought free of her mind; there were skilled healers within the confines of the Golden Woods. Healers skilled enough to save a life that was being forced to make an early entrance into this world. She was also aware of the fact that Arwen would use any means available, even if she was not aware she was using them, to save the life of her child.
"Will you go to her?" Haldir questioned, in a measured voice.
"Of course, I will. Can you lead me?" the ancient elf answered.
"It would be my pleasure and we will go with haste," Haldir replied.
Time seemed to move slowly as the pair walked the long distance from Caras Galthon to the outermost healer's house. This one, specific, outpost was reserved mainly for the injured coming from the fields outside of Lothlorien, whether that person be Eldar or Edain.
"I can only take you this far, my lady," Haldir said, gesturing to the doorway of the healer's house.
He would not go any further, he could not bring himself to, and Galadriel was aware of that fact. His wife had been a healer and, since her loss, he had not yet found the strength to enter into any of the healer's houses in Lothlorien. It took a great deal of strength for him to have taken her this far.
"I understand, Haldir, and I thank you," she said, formally.
The march warden gave a stiff bow and darted off to return to his duty.
Galadriel, meanwhile, entered into the healer's house.
"My lady, what are you doing here?" questioned the first healer to spot the ancient elf.
"I have come to see my granddaughter," Galadriel answered, in a low voice.
Disturbing the others resting here would do her no good.
"Right this way, my lady," the young healer said, after whispering orders to an even younger looking apprentice.
The healer led the ancient elf to a curtained off area toward the back of the long structure.
"She rests here," the young healer pointed out, before bowing off.
Galadriel walked the rest of the way in silence.
Once around the curtain, she saw that three healers were still trying to treat her granddaughter. One was forcing some kind of bubbling concoction down her throat while the other tended to a deep puncture wound on her side. The third healer hurried off as Galadriel approached.
"What happened here?" the ancient elf requested, after taking in the semiconscious site that was her granddaughter.
"My lady," the third healer said, "perhaps it is best you sit down."
She allowed herself to be led to a chair. The healer lowered herself into the adjoining chair and sighed.
"It appears that Arwen was shot with an orc arrow coated with an abortative substance. This amount that she was attacked with was probably great enough to end her life as well as the life of her child. We believe that she may have tried to concentrate on sequestering the substance within her own being, as not to have any harm come to the child, but it seems to be in vein. She is ill, but will recover in time," the healer began.
"What of the child?" Galadriel wanted to know.
"The child-a little girl-was born alive but we are not sure for how long she will stay that way. We have tried treating her with the same substances we are treating Arwen with but it seems only to make her worse," the healer answered.
"May I," Galadriel began, but the healer cut her off.
"Of course," the healer, quickly replied, "perhaps there is something you can do for her that we cannot."
She hurried off, returning moments later cradling a blanked swaddled bundle. The blanket seemed to cove the entire length and breadth of the bundle, obscuring a figure from the ancient elf's sight.
"Here you are, my lady," the healer said, placing the bundle in the ancient elf's waiting arms.
The healer adjusted the blanked a bit and added, "If there is anything you can do to help the poor dear..."
She trailed off and headed back to tend to the child's mother.
Galadriel looked down at the tiny figure in her arms. She weight next to nothing, making it feel like she was holding pure air. The child was not breathing well and, from the dusky blue cast to her lips, was probably not getting enough air into her system. Her skin was clammy and cool to the touch. The ancient elf was surprised to note that the child's eyes were open, highly unfocused, but open nonetheless.
Intuition told her that this child was trying her best to fight whatever substance had entered her minute systems and was ravaging her body. The tiny figure before her was not succeeding, despite the best efforts that she was putting forth.
She watched the baby struggle to breathe for a long handful of moments. She seemed to be progressively getting worse. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable occurred.
"Perhaps," the ancient elf mused, walking over to cupboard and removing two flasks," the treatment was far to strong for you. Let us try it this way."
She poured half the contents of one flask, a thickish, yellow hued semi- liquid, into an earthenware bowl. The substance set as soon as it was exposed to air.
"How do they expect you to swallow this?" she mentally mused, allowing her question to seep into the mind of the figure resting in her arms.
The figure stirred ever so slightly, breathing becoming audibly rougher.
Galadriel noticed the change and began to work with more haste. She uncorked the second flask and mixed its entire contents with the substance that already rested in the bowl. The other flask contained water, heated and allowed to cool back to room temperature again. The water began to turn the yellow semi-liquid into a very thin, yellow tinged liquid.
Ripping a piece of linen cloth that had been resting on a near by stand, Galadriel began to, drop by painstaking drop; drip the thinned liquid into the ill child's mouth.
Like a sick small animal who would not take its medicine, she had to rub the child's throat to initiate swallowing.
Time seemed to pass with syrupy slowness, as every moment felt like a lifetime. At first, there was no discernable improvement in the ill child. It seemed, for a time, that she was getting worse. Then a change came over the way the child was breathing. It was no longer rough and painful sounding. It had evened out, normalized, driving the dusky blue cast from the child's lips.
Galadriel smiled, seeing the improvement. It would seem that this little one would live long enough to see her mother.
"Welcome," the ancient elf murmured, "to the land of the living."
The child's only response was a wide yawn and a shiver that coursed over its entire body.
Removing the thin blanket that had covered the small elfling, something she we have done earlier if not for the extenuating circumstances, Galadriel was surprised to notice that the child was wholly unclad. The thin blanket had been covering the child's form.
With the rush of events that welcomed this elfling into the world and the fact this elfling was not suppose to survive very long, Galadriel was not totally taken aback by her great-granddaughter's appearance.
Rewrapping the small elfling, Galadriel carried the sleeping infant over to a chest that sat near the entrance of the supply room. The chest contained all manner of garments in every conceivable shape and size.
Resting the sleeping elfling in the crook of her arm, the ancient elf extracted the smallest garments she could locate. They would still be too large for the elven infant but they would have to suffice until she grew.
As she dressed the child, Galadriel allowed some of her thoughts to seep into the mind of child. Most were comforting, focused on keeping the infant from waking and crying out.
The rapport seemed to keep the child asleep and allow the ancient elf to gain insight into her own still forming mind. Disjointed images ran amuck in the infant's mind, owing to the fact this child had no grip of language. One thing was very clear, thought, and stood out from all the messy thoughts.
This child was half-elven; the idea already strongly rooted in her mind. Whatever part of the mind this idea came from was more aware than any other section. It knew what it was and how it was suppose to be. There was no telling it otherwise.
After dressing in the proper undergarments and a soft hued night outfit, Galadriel rewrapped the baby. This time, though, she used a proper blanket-- -one made of cotton and pale in color.
"My lady, what has happened?" questioned the third healer, bustling over to check on the ill infant.
"I do believe she has taken a turn for the better," Galadriel replied, placing the infant in the healer's arms.
Distancing the blanket from the child's face, the healer examined her with an expert's eyes. She nodded her approval as she continued her examination.
"Whatever you did, ma'am, it appears to have worked. She will live to see another day," the healer commented with a smile.
"And many more after that," Galadriel added, some satisfaction in her voice, "Leave her with her mother. I will be back sometime later."
The healer nodded but asked, "Why is she to be left with her mother?"
"I do believe that mother and daughter may help each other in the healing process. Please, make sure someone is present when Arwen wakes. She will want to know what has transpired and inform her that her daughter is half- elven," Galadriel replied.
"Half-elven? Her father is of the race of men?" questioned the healer, cuddling the infant close.
The ancient elf nodded, not answering any further.
"I will see that it done, my lady," the healer said.
"I thank you," Galadriel replied, taking her leave.
The healer set about her appointed task, as the elven infant drifted into an uneasy sleep.
(AN: Litsetaure and Marille are two characters who play a bit part in my other Lord of the Rings story. There, though, they are called Ice and Fire. Their story has yet to be told but is being worked on.)
Kerla: How so? Where have you read this before? I'm just curious.
pixie88: Thanks! This story got its start in my other story---well, one of the characters did anyway. I hope you like this story.
Saralitazie: I always appreciate a good guess! You might be right, you never know. The mystery lady's identity will be revealed shortly.
Hobbitgirl11: Well, you're very welcome and thanks for the compliment. Here's the next chapter.
sunni07: All will be revealed in time---faster than you know!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Galadriel, the Lady of Light and one half of the couple that ruled in the Golden Woods, waited nervously in her quarters. She had been expecting her granddaughter's arrival for several hours and the elven maiden had yet to arrive within the borders of Lothlorien.
She feared not only for her granddaughter, lest she befall the same fate as her own daughter did, but for the child her granddaughter was carrying. The ancient elf was one of the few who knew the real reason why her granddaughter had fled the confines of Rivendell and sought our refuge in Lothlorien. The elven maiden had found that she was expecting a child and was afraid of how her father would react. She had requested asylum in Lothlorien and her grandmother could not refuse the request.
"My lady," a clipped voice prompted, snapping the elven maiden out of her reverie.
The ancient elf looked up and took notice of Haldir, the march warden of Lothlorien, waiting to be recognized.
"Yes, Haldir," she said, "Come foreword."
The march warden, weaponless as he approached the Lady of the Woods, walked a few paces foreword and dropped into a formal bow. The elven female motioned for the march warden to straighten up, which he did with swift grace.
She cast a concerned glance at Haldir. He had been acting very cold--- colder than usual---and had become obsessed with his position since the apparent deaths of his wife, Vanye, and two daughters, Litsetaure and Marille. This condition concerned the Lady of the Woods but, at the moment, it was not utmost in her mind. That place was held by her granddaughter.
"My lady," Haldir repeated, "something has happened."
"What has happened?" Galadriel requested, "Has there been word from my granddaughter?"
The march warden, suddenly, looked very uncomfortable. It appeared he had news but he was unwilling to share this news with Galadriel.
"Haldir," she warned, "has there been word from my granddaughter?"
The march warden knew, full well, that she could peer into his mind and discover the information he was, currently, withholding from her.
Deciding that discovering such information in that manner would do no good fro any party involved, Haldir divulged, "Arwen was found nigh on three hours ago. She was badly wounded and taken by two of my corps to outermost healer's house."
Galadriel blanched whiter than her usual complexion. Unlike her daughter, who had been taken by the orcs and her spirit so thoroughly destroyed that she decided to leaves the circles of Middle Earth and sail to West, Arwen had manage to get to Lothlorien. The injury worried Galadriel the most, especially considering the condition she knew her granddaughter was in.
"What type of injury did she sustain?" Galadriel questioned, fighting to keep her voice calm.
"She was injured, my lady, by some type of arrow. The two who saw her off said that there was far more blood then there should have been for such a simple wound. The lower parts of her dress, they said, were wet with blood," Haldir replied, fighting to keep his own emotion out of his voice.
For him to properly do his job, he would have to remain icy calm at all times. He did not want to think about what was happening to Arwen lest thoughts of his own missing daughters begin to surface.
If it was at all possible, the ancient elf blanched even whiter. The state her granddaughter was found in could only indicate one thing and one thing only.
She shook that thought free of her mind; there were skilled healers within the confines of the Golden Woods. Healers skilled enough to save a life that was being forced to make an early entrance into this world. She was also aware of the fact that Arwen would use any means available, even if she was not aware she was using them, to save the life of her child.
"Will you go to her?" Haldir questioned, in a measured voice.
"Of course, I will. Can you lead me?" the ancient elf answered.
"It would be my pleasure and we will go with haste," Haldir replied.
Time seemed to move slowly as the pair walked the long distance from Caras Galthon to the outermost healer's house. This one, specific, outpost was reserved mainly for the injured coming from the fields outside of Lothlorien, whether that person be Eldar or Edain.
"I can only take you this far, my lady," Haldir said, gesturing to the doorway of the healer's house.
He would not go any further, he could not bring himself to, and Galadriel was aware of that fact. His wife had been a healer and, since her loss, he had not yet found the strength to enter into any of the healer's houses in Lothlorien. It took a great deal of strength for him to have taken her this far.
"I understand, Haldir, and I thank you," she said, formally.
The march warden gave a stiff bow and darted off to return to his duty.
Galadriel, meanwhile, entered into the healer's house.
"My lady, what are you doing here?" questioned the first healer to spot the ancient elf.
"I have come to see my granddaughter," Galadriel answered, in a low voice.
Disturbing the others resting here would do her no good.
"Right this way, my lady," the young healer said, after whispering orders to an even younger looking apprentice.
The healer led the ancient elf to a curtained off area toward the back of the long structure.
"She rests here," the young healer pointed out, before bowing off.
Galadriel walked the rest of the way in silence.
Once around the curtain, she saw that three healers were still trying to treat her granddaughter. One was forcing some kind of bubbling concoction down her throat while the other tended to a deep puncture wound on her side. The third healer hurried off as Galadriel approached.
"What happened here?" the ancient elf requested, after taking in the semiconscious site that was her granddaughter.
"My lady," the third healer said, "perhaps it is best you sit down."
She allowed herself to be led to a chair. The healer lowered herself into the adjoining chair and sighed.
"It appears that Arwen was shot with an orc arrow coated with an abortative substance. This amount that she was attacked with was probably great enough to end her life as well as the life of her child. We believe that she may have tried to concentrate on sequestering the substance within her own being, as not to have any harm come to the child, but it seems to be in vein. She is ill, but will recover in time," the healer began.
"What of the child?" Galadriel wanted to know.
"The child-a little girl-was born alive but we are not sure for how long she will stay that way. We have tried treating her with the same substances we are treating Arwen with but it seems only to make her worse," the healer answered.
"May I," Galadriel began, but the healer cut her off.
"Of course," the healer, quickly replied, "perhaps there is something you can do for her that we cannot."
She hurried off, returning moments later cradling a blanked swaddled bundle. The blanket seemed to cove the entire length and breadth of the bundle, obscuring a figure from the ancient elf's sight.
"Here you are, my lady," the healer said, placing the bundle in the ancient elf's waiting arms.
The healer adjusted the blanked a bit and added, "If there is anything you can do to help the poor dear..."
She trailed off and headed back to tend to the child's mother.
Galadriel looked down at the tiny figure in her arms. She weight next to nothing, making it feel like she was holding pure air. The child was not breathing well and, from the dusky blue cast to her lips, was probably not getting enough air into her system. Her skin was clammy and cool to the touch. The ancient elf was surprised to note that the child's eyes were open, highly unfocused, but open nonetheless.
Intuition told her that this child was trying her best to fight whatever substance had entered her minute systems and was ravaging her body. The tiny figure before her was not succeeding, despite the best efforts that she was putting forth.
She watched the baby struggle to breathe for a long handful of moments. She seemed to be progressively getting worse. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable occurred.
"Perhaps," the ancient elf mused, walking over to cupboard and removing two flasks," the treatment was far to strong for you. Let us try it this way."
She poured half the contents of one flask, a thickish, yellow hued semi- liquid, into an earthenware bowl. The substance set as soon as it was exposed to air.
"How do they expect you to swallow this?" she mentally mused, allowing her question to seep into the mind of the figure resting in her arms.
The figure stirred ever so slightly, breathing becoming audibly rougher.
Galadriel noticed the change and began to work with more haste. She uncorked the second flask and mixed its entire contents with the substance that already rested in the bowl. The other flask contained water, heated and allowed to cool back to room temperature again. The water began to turn the yellow semi-liquid into a very thin, yellow tinged liquid.
Ripping a piece of linen cloth that had been resting on a near by stand, Galadriel began to, drop by painstaking drop; drip the thinned liquid into the ill child's mouth.
Like a sick small animal who would not take its medicine, she had to rub the child's throat to initiate swallowing.
Time seemed to pass with syrupy slowness, as every moment felt like a lifetime. At first, there was no discernable improvement in the ill child. It seemed, for a time, that she was getting worse. Then a change came over the way the child was breathing. It was no longer rough and painful sounding. It had evened out, normalized, driving the dusky blue cast from the child's lips.
Galadriel smiled, seeing the improvement. It would seem that this little one would live long enough to see her mother.
"Welcome," the ancient elf murmured, "to the land of the living."
The child's only response was a wide yawn and a shiver that coursed over its entire body.
Removing the thin blanket that had covered the small elfling, something she we have done earlier if not for the extenuating circumstances, Galadriel was surprised to notice that the child was wholly unclad. The thin blanket had been covering the child's form.
With the rush of events that welcomed this elfling into the world and the fact this elfling was not suppose to survive very long, Galadriel was not totally taken aback by her great-granddaughter's appearance.
Rewrapping the small elfling, Galadriel carried the sleeping infant over to a chest that sat near the entrance of the supply room. The chest contained all manner of garments in every conceivable shape and size.
Resting the sleeping elfling in the crook of her arm, the ancient elf extracted the smallest garments she could locate. They would still be too large for the elven infant but they would have to suffice until she grew.
As she dressed the child, Galadriel allowed some of her thoughts to seep into the mind of child. Most were comforting, focused on keeping the infant from waking and crying out.
The rapport seemed to keep the child asleep and allow the ancient elf to gain insight into her own still forming mind. Disjointed images ran amuck in the infant's mind, owing to the fact this child had no grip of language. One thing was very clear, thought, and stood out from all the messy thoughts.
This child was half-elven; the idea already strongly rooted in her mind. Whatever part of the mind this idea came from was more aware than any other section. It knew what it was and how it was suppose to be. There was no telling it otherwise.
After dressing in the proper undergarments and a soft hued night outfit, Galadriel rewrapped the baby. This time, though, she used a proper blanket-- -one made of cotton and pale in color.
"My lady, what has happened?" questioned the third healer, bustling over to check on the ill infant.
"I do believe she has taken a turn for the better," Galadriel replied, placing the infant in the healer's arms.
Distancing the blanket from the child's face, the healer examined her with an expert's eyes. She nodded her approval as she continued her examination.
"Whatever you did, ma'am, it appears to have worked. She will live to see another day," the healer commented with a smile.
"And many more after that," Galadriel added, some satisfaction in her voice, "Leave her with her mother. I will be back sometime later."
The healer nodded but asked, "Why is she to be left with her mother?"
"I do believe that mother and daughter may help each other in the healing process. Please, make sure someone is present when Arwen wakes. She will want to know what has transpired and inform her that her daughter is half- elven," Galadriel replied.
"Half-elven? Her father is of the race of men?" questioned the healer, cuddling the infant close.
The ancient elf nodded, not answering any further.
"I will see that it done, my lady," the healer said.
"I thank you," Galadriel replied, taking her leave.
The healer set about her appointed task, as the elven infant drifted into an uneasy sleep.
(AN: Litsetaure and Marille are two characters who play a bit part in my other Lord of the Rings story. There, though, they are called Ice and Fire. Their story has yet to be told but is being worked on.)