Chapter Thirteen
The Gifts of Galadriel
I started, nearly turning us over, but as our tiny fleet sailed closer I saw that it was not a real swan, but rather a boat carved in the likeness of that water bird. Its eyes and beak glittered in the afternoon sun, and its great wings were half upraised. The boat drifted toward us, bringing music. Two elves punted it, and on a throne in the center sat Lord Celeborn. The Lady stood behind him, like a tall white lily crowned with gold. She held a lyre, singing and playing a song so lonely and beautiful that I ceased paddling to wipe away tears. The rest of the Fellowship was similarly affected, but I still felt ashamed.
We stopped our boats beside the swan-ship. Galadriel finished her song and said that she and the Lord had come to bid us their last farewells and to speed us on our way with gifts from the land of Lorien.
Then Celeborn spoke, saying that that although we had been their guests, we had not eaten with them. He invited us to a parting supper on the long lawn near the river. Their boat drifted back to the cove, and we turned to follow it. A magnificent picnic had been spread on the soft grass, and we set to with a will, all except Frodo. I followed his gaze to the Lady. She seemed distant, like a marble statue set on a pedestal, gazed at but gone.
After our meal, Celeborn spoke to us again, laying out our path in plain terms. Farther down, the Anduin flowed into a barren land before splitting around the island of Tol Brandir at the falls of Rauros. There, the Lord said, We would have to choose our course: on the western bank lay the plains of Rohan, land of the horse lords, and the way to Gondor, but to the east of the falls were the hills of Emyn Muil, and the path to Mordor. He also warned us of Fangorn, the sinister forest on the border of Rohan.
At the mention of Fangorn, Boromir spoke. I sat up, listening as he told of his journey to Imladris, a tale I had been meaning to pry out of him. Four hundred leagues in one hundred and ten days, much of it on foot. I quite agreed with him when he said that he could find a way through Rohan and even Fangorn if he needed to. But this time he would not be alone.
After a final admonition from Celeborn, Galadriel stood. She filled a chalice with something foamy; presenting it to her husband, she spoke words of farewell, bidding us not to be sad. I privately did not see how this was possible. After Celeborn drank, she gave the cup to each one of us in turn. When Galadriel came to me she spoke softly while I tasted the drink. "Farewell, child. Go, and be strong." The honey mead rolled down my throat, thick and cloyingly sweet, as I nodded.
When everyone had had come, the elven retainers produced carven thrones for the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. One by one, Galadriel called each of the fellowship to her, saying she had gifts for us. Aragorn went first, which did not surprise me. He was presented with a jeweled sheath for his sword, Anduril. I could not hear Galadriel's words to him, but she also gave him a magnificent silver brooch, wrought like a swooping eagle that clutched a gigantic emerald in its talons.
As Aragorn pinned it to his dust brown jerkin, he . . .changed. The years fell away from his appearance, he stood tall and proud, a king among men instead of the stooped Ranger I knew. I looked from him to Boromir, but there was still a difference: Aragorn commanded my attention, but to Boromir I gave it willingly.
Boromir was called next, which I was glad for. Galadriel gave him a belt of linked leaves made of beaten gold. It suited him, I thought. I watched Boromir receive it, and then the Lady called on me. "For you, daughter of earth, I have only a small gift, for a great one you already bear." She looked toward the staff that lay on the grass beside me, and handed me a thin, cylindrical leather case. Taking it, I drew out a silver whistle, of the form of my old one, but beautifully etched with swirling designs. "The music in your soul has been too long contained, child." And then, in my mind: "Pray, Firiel, for one God made all Earths."
I sat back on the lawn, significantly closer to Boromir than before, cradling the instrument and ignoring everything else. Raising it to my lips, I blew softly, fingers covering all six holes. The whistle emitted a low, mournful sound, like the call of a dove. I dared not play anything louder, so I laid it in my lap, running a finger along the tracery and thinking songs.
Boromir touched my shoulder, and I looked to him, following his gaze to the now standing Galadriel and Celeborn. The Lord led us back to the cove. We resumed our places in the boats, Sam and Gimli silently this time. With shouts of farewell, the elves pushed us out into the stream. A minimum of strokes headed us into the Anduin's swift flow.
Galadriel stood at the point of the lawn, where the stream ran into the river, singing in Elvish. I stored the tune up in my head. As I turned back to look, she seemed to be drifting away from us, instead of the other way 'round, into a past that lived only in memory.
The Gifts of Galadriel
I started, nearly turning us over, but as our tiny fleet sailed closer I saw that it was not a real swan, but rather a boat carved in the likeness of that water bird. Its eyes and beak glittered in the afternoon sun, and its great wings were half upraised. The boat drifted toward us, bringing music. Two elves punted it, and on a throne in the center sat Lord Celeborn. The Lady stood behind him, like a tall white lily crowned with gold. She held a lyre, singing and playing a song so lonely and beautiful that I ceased paddling to wipe away tears. The rest of the Fellowship was similarly affected, but I still felt ashamed.
We stopped our boats beside the swan-ship. Galadriel finished her song and said that she and the Lord had come to bid us their last farewells and to speed us on our way with gifts from the land of Lorien.
Then Celeborn spoke, saying that that although we had been their guests, we had not eaten with them. He invited us to a parting supper on the long lawn near the river. Their boat drifted back to the cove, and we turned to follow it. A magnificent picnic had been spread on the soft grass, and we set to with a will, all except Frodo. I followed his gaze to the Lady. She seemed distant, like a marble statue set on a pedestal, gazed at but gone.
After our meal, Celeborn spoke to us again, laying out our path in plain terms. Farther down, the Anduin flowed into a barren land before splitting around the island of Tol Brandir at the falls of Rauros. There, the Lord said, We would have to choose our course: on the western bank lay the plains of Rohan, land of the horse lords, and the way to Gondor, but to the east of the falls were the hills of Emyn Muil, and the path to Mordor. He also warned us of Fangorn, the sinister forest on the border of Rohan.
At the mention of Fangorn, Boromir spoke. I sat up, listening as he told of his journey to Imladris, a tale I had been meaning to pry out of him. Four hundred leagues in one hundred and ten days, much of it on foot. I quite agreed with him when he said that he could find a way through Rohan and even Fangorn if he needed to. But this time he would not be alone.
After a final admonition from Celeborn, Galadriel stood. She filled a chalice with something foamy; presenting it to her husband, she spoke words of farewell, bidding us not to be sad. I privately did not see how this was possible. After Celeborn drank, she gave the cup to each one of us in turn. When Galadriel came to me she spoke softly while I tasted the drink. "Farewell, child. Go, and be strong." The honey mead rolled down my throat, thick and cloyingly sweet, as I nodded.
When everyone had had come, the elven retainers produced carven thrones for the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. One by one, Galadriel called each of the fellowship to her, saying she had gifts for us. Aragorn went first, which did not surprise me. He was presented with a jeweled sheath for his sword, Anduril. I could not hear Galadriel's words to him, but she also gave him a magnificent silver brooch, wrought like a swooping eagle that clutched a gigantic emerald in its talons.
As Aragorn pinned it to his dust brown jerkin, he . . .changed. The years fell away from his appearance, he stood tall and proud, a king among men instead of the stooped Ranger I knew. I looked from him to Boromir, but there was still a difference: Aragorn commanded my attention, but to Boromir I gave it willingly.
Boromir was called next, which I was glad for. Galadriel gave him a belt of linked leaves made of beaten gold. It suited him, I thought. I watched Boromir receive it, and then the Lady called on me. "For you, daughter of earth, I have only a small gift, for a great one you already bear." She looked toward the staff that lay on the grass beside me, and handed me a thin, cylindrical leather case. Taking it, I drew out a silver whistle, of the form of my old one, but beautifully etched with swirling designs. "The music in your soul has been too long contained, child." And then, in my mind: "Pray, Firiel, for one God made all Earths."
I sat back on the lawn, significantly closer to Boromir than before, cradling the instrument and ignoring everything else. Raising it to my lips, I blew softly, fingers covering all six holes. The whistle emitted a low, mournful sound, like the call of a dove. I dared not play anything louder, so I laid it in my lap, running a finger along the tracery and thinking songs.
Boromir touched my shoulder, and I looked to him, following his gaze to the now standing Galadriel and Celeborn. The Lord led us back to the cove. We resumed our places in the boats, Sam and Gimli silently this time. With shouts of farewell, the elves pushed us out into the stream. A minimum of strokes headed us into the Anduin's swift flow.
Galadriel stood at the point of the lawn, where the stream ran into the river, singing in Elvish. I stored the tune up in my head. As I turned back to look, she seemed to be drifting away from us, instead of the other way 'round, into a past that lived only in memory.