Chapter Two
Another Realm
I woke to a woman bending over me. Tall and fair, she wore a flowing white dress that shone only slightly less than the golden hair that fell in waves past her waist. I stared up at her, bewildered, and possibly the stupidest thing I had ever uttered popped out of my mouth: "Where am I, and who-" The answers appeared from the back of my mind, as if I had known them forever, and forced themselves out of my mouth. "My lady Galadriel." Inexplicably, I felt like curtseying. Looking down, I found I had the clothes to do it, too. A dress similar to hers had replaced my sweatshirt, jeans, and hiking boots. I was barefoot.
I glanced up as the Lady began to speak, her voice soft and full of power. "You come to my woods in a curious way, but there will be time to speak of this later." She helped me to my feet with a strong, slim hand.
Light came from everywhere and nowhere all around us. I looked up at the giant golden trees, and knew their names: Mellyrn. "The spring of all Middle Earth pales beside the winter of Lorien, lady." The syntax and the compulsion came again from the back of my head.
"And the words of a stranger may not be counted fair until their true purpose is known," she countered gently, leading me away from a pedestal on which stood a silver basin. I did not want to think about what it contained, so I followed, or attempted to. My foot caught on the hem of my dress, and I went sprawling.
Galadriel watched me untangle myself, a small smile on her lips. "Your attire suits neither your spirit nor your purpose, daughter of the earth. My ladies will find you something better." Somehow, I didn't think she meant shorts, which I really would not have minded just then.
She led me up to a great platform enclosed completely by leafy branches. Half a dozen women lounged about it on divans and benches, two reading, three spinning, and one playing softly on a flute. They wore flowing pastels, and their timeless faces were achingly beautiful. Rising as one, all six came forward when we entered.
Galadriel turned to me. "My ladies will give you all that you need or desire, child, for your road is long and your errand hard. My work lies elsewhere now. Namarrie." She turned back down the stairs and disappeared.
"The Lady speaks truth," said the one in lavender, "and the clothes of a maiden will not aid you." Good, they didn't have a problem providing me with pants. She half-turned away from me and brushed her long honey hair over her right shoulder. I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to sit down.
I had seen her ears, and what my head had known all along collided into my heart: they were Elves. Elves was the wrong word. It conjured up images of small men in green hats making toys. I was among the Galadhrim, and in truth they were the people of light. Light of foot and light of speech and light-bearing. I sunk onto one of the carved couches and breathed deeply, feeling ugly.
My personal appearance had never worried me before. I have dishwater brown hair and dishwater green eyes, and I'm too tall, but I'd never really been overwhelmed by it, except for that time last year when I'd dyed my hair orange. Now, however, the contrast washed over me.
The ladies in green and yellow had begun to lay out clothes, beautiful things that looked strong and soft, too. Tunics that were not baggy shirts, but closefitting garments that hung to just above the knee came first. There were brightly colored inner ones of light silky stuff with long sleeves, and short sleeved outer tunics that looked like leather but weren't, in more muted shades. Trousers more like leggings than pants and the most beautiful pair of russet red boots I had ever seen followed shortly. I knew everything would fit perfectly. The thought was oddly calming.
Suffice it to say that they got me dressed in two tunics, russet over copper, faintly reddish leggings, and the boots. I walked back and forth a few times, getting used to the delicious feel of Elvish garments.
The ladies glided away after I thanked them, leaving me alone with a bag half full of clothing similar to that which I wore. They had packed it while I was dressing, so as not to embarrass me.
I swung the knapsack up onto my shoulder. As I did, the wind changed, perhaps signaling great things begun. It whispered through the great trees, bringing with it the smell of . . . bacon? I sniffed again. Yes, definitely bacon. Not an Elvish food, to my mind. I followed the scent down the stairs, wondering vaguely if I should ask someone's permission.