Chapter Nine

The Lady of the Elves

The air of Lorien made me want to do nothing more than lie idle on the springy grass. So I did, after stowing my staff and sword in the talan. Carrying weapons around Lorien did not seem wise.

My mind chewed on Boromir's words as I rubbed my wrists back into use. I'd have to work him round to swordplay. Running through the staff blocks in my head was lovely, but it paled next to a lifetime of swashbuckler books and movies. Yet leaving the staff had been like putting aside a bit of myself. I remembered Aragorn's admonition to pair the defensive with the offensive. Boromir had rejected applying this to my study of weapons, and I wondered if his reason had been based on where the idea came from. I would have to see more interaction between the two men to judge, though.

Aragorn had been one of those who voted against journeying to Gondor, perhaps that was it. And he led the company now. Why and how I could not tell, for the man had a weary, worn attitude, dingy against the brightness of Lorien.

Boromir, on the other hand, was by his own admission a leader of men. His aura of brute charisma testified to it. But he seemed to think this not enough to save his city, since it could not even get him there.

And this Ring of Power. The phrase was nearly laughable, something cooked up by sci-fi hack writers. But I did not want to laugh, and asking outright questions seemed unwise. It seemed one rather didn't, in the same way one didn't carry weapons in Caras Galadhon.

I caught myself, as Amy termed it, spending too much time in my own head. And then I thought, 'Sod Amy', and went back to my thoughts, but something had been lost. My fingers itched for my whistle, to join in the music around me.

I played by ear: let me hear a tune a few times, and I can tootle it with a minimum of error. It's fun and distracting, but otherwise not much use.

I do not know how long I lay there, sounding out dirges in my head, translating them into movements. Twiddling, Dad called it, when my eyes unfocused, my hands drifted one above the other, and my fingers twitched.

It was this that occupied me when I became aware of two boot toes by my waist. A fine, aristocratic face with high, sharp cheekbones also drifted into my consciousness. I sat up, nearly laughing, noticing that the light around me had dimmed.

The Elf cleared his throat to speak in a light baritone. "I bear a summons from the Lady. She would speak with you." He extended a hand to help me up, but I stood on my own, and he withdrew it, face impassive.

The Elf turned on one heel and bade me follow him. I did, eyes on the silver-gray drapes of his wrapped tunic, narrowly resisting the urge to pester him with questions in an attempt to shake his composure.

We walked up the wide sloping lawn, past a tinkling silver fountain, to the greatest of the mighty mellryn. There my guide had words with the white-cloaked sentinels at its base, and after some business with a horn, we ascended.

The climb was over three times that of my vertical journey to bed the previous night, but rests along the way and a spectacular aerial view of Caras Galadhon rendered it doable. We passed many telain, going through some, like the last, a wide affair with a white house in the middle.

But up past this was a smaller platform, set off to the side. As I set foot on it, I found that my escort had disappeared. I shrugged, casting a glance around. The talan was trying to be an open-air sitting room, but, while its designers had had exquisite aesthetics, they'd never seen an actual parlor. Silver lamps illumined soft benches and carved chairs set on embroidered carpets.

As I looked, something in my mind gave a quarter turn, and everything fell neatly into place. 'This is the receiving room of the Lady Galadriel.' the words echoed in my mind as she stood to greet me. "So you have passed a night and day in Lorien, child. How do you find my land?"

She asked as if she already knew the answer, which would have irritated me, if it had been anyone else asking. Galadriel seemed now even more regal, as if she were wrapped an invisible cloak of power. I answered anyway. "The beauty of all Middle Earth does indeed pale beside that of Lorien, lady. And I hope now that my words may be counted fair."

She smiled with only her starry eyes. "They may. But how have you passed this time, since last we met? Or first, as it may be." She laughed, a low, rippling noise too soon gone.

"With the other strangers in this land, and I would know how they came to be here, lady." I wondered if picking the Lady's brain was allowed.

"By journey long and perilous, on errand of great import. But some of this you know, I think?" She asked me to sit, so I curled my feet under me on one of the couches.

"Some, yes," I agreed. "But less than I would."

"But that the company is divided as to its destination, that much is known to you?" Galadriel questioned, her voice shrewd.

I nodded. "It is, but not the reason for it."

The Lady began a story, and in the beginning I could not see what it had to do with Boromir and his companions. Many rings were mentioned, and their forging, then the making of another ring by a Dark Lord who wished to rule all of them. It soon became clear, however, that this was the ring everyone was interested in, the Ring of Power Boromir had mentioned. Galadriel explained that Frodo, whom I had met, bore this Ring, and that Elrond, a great Elf-lord, had chosen a group of people to travel with him. They were the strangers in Lorien. "Frodo has sworn to see the Ring destroyed, but not all, even some who count themselves his friends, would have it so. You know of whom I speak." Her gaze turned sharp as she finished.

I felt the need to stand up for Boromir and his motives. "Could it not be used one last time, for good?"

"Used, yes, but it would not be for the last time, and the times after that would be for evil."

"But Gondor will fall!" I protested.

"So you have been told. But I know his heart who said it, and he would save his land, and all Middle Earth." I smiled, thinking she'd come round, and then Galadriel continued. "And he would set himself King of Gondor, and then of other lands, and so the Ring would corrupt Boromir."

I stood up, my fists clenched, glaring at her. "It would not!" But Galadriel only sat, looking at me, and no queen on any throne was ever prouder or more stern. I subsided and sat, quelled but not convinced.

"He despairs, though I have told him his city shall not fail, for he thinks I try to trick him. So I charge you with this task, Firiel: show him hope, learn from him, and listen, for I think he will speak to you."

I drew myself up. "All this I would do without your bidding, lady, and gladly."

"I know, daughter of earth, but now you must." And with this cryptic statement, Galadriel rose. "Go now and sleep. Return to me at this time on the morrow, and we shall speak further."

The descent was oddly hard, as if my body resisted it. I found my way back through the twilight to what I had come to think of as my talan. Someone had tidied the place up, and left a tray of dinner.

I consumed the light meal absently, undressed, and lay down, but it was a long time before I found sleep.