Chapter Twelve: Changes
"No question is so difficult to answer as that to which the answer is obvious."
Horses, the new bane of Rhiannon's existence. Not really all horses, just horses from Lorien that remembered when she had almost accidentally shot them with an arrow and was having fun trying to buck her off again. Beside her, the new and very shiny Gandalf the White sat on his horse, an amazing creature named Shadowfax. The eagle Gawahir had brought the body of Gandalf to the realm of Lorien. He had been reborn as Gandalf the White, what Saruman was supposed to be and had failed at. Gandalf did not have all of his memory back yet, having been in his true intangible form as a Meia, a god-like being. Anything in mortal form can be killed, and after the battle with the Balrog, Gandalf the Grey had passed and returned. Now they traveled towards Gondor; the realm of Men that bordered the dark land of Mordor. The Gandalf next to her appeared much younger, more full of mirth. And yet there was something more grave. The power that resided within him cackled under the surface, Rhiannon could feel his power. The intensity sent a shiver down her spine. He was quite talkative and having found out who Rhiannon was, and remembering her from his past mortal existence, he had not stopped questioning her. He was like a child and Rhiannon, when not begging the horse to not buck her off, was contemplating ways to shut Gandalf up.
"So, you bonded with Thranduil's son; why are you not with him now?"
"I am not a member of the Fellowship, I would be of little help to him."
"The battles of the mind are sometimes more trying than the wars of the battle field. You will realize this, you have so much growing to do. Oh, how I wish I could see you when you finally come into your own, finally mature. Then again, I will always be looking out for you, little one. We all will." Gandalf stopped that particular tangent and looked around him, listening to the whispers of nature.
Rhiannon watched him, confusion showing plainly on her pale face. What Gandalf was listening for, she herself could not hear. He raised his silver head and stared into her eyes, perceiving something about her, not visible to her sight. "We part here, young one. I must go into the forest, you must track the three hunters."
"The three what?" She asked in much haste.
"Seek him out, and he will guide you. Do not take the horse, we let them go here also. They know where to go." Rhiannon gave a nod, still confused but understanding what Gandalf was asking, what Galadriel had pushed her towards. Seek Legolas out, his presence, call to him, have him guide you to where he stands. Gandalf helped Rhiannon off her horse, they both watched as the two graceful beings rode off. Gandalf gave a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder and then turned towards the forest, leaving Rhiannon on her own. Rhiannon walked around the perimeter of the forest. She wondered which forest it was; she could feel it's age and it's anger. The age could not be placed by her in terms of years. She listened and heard the sounds of horses far off, however they were not the ones she had just been near. Rhiannon closed her eyes and let the warm sun shine down on her. The warmth helped to center herself in order to summon the mind of Legolas. She took many deep breaths, taking in the smell of the fresh and tangy air, so different from that of Lorien. She heard the secret conversations of nature around her, speaking of many things. Whispers of dark beings running day and night, having been destroyed. Legolas had informed her of beings like those, Orcs, she believed that was the name. Legolas. That was where she had to center her attention. Most would picture his face and try to call out to that, but Rhiannon needed to call out to his soul. She thought of many things, the playfulness and arrogance of the prince mixed together; the soft voice that explained traditions she was just learning, all in a voice full of mirth; the look of utter shock that came over his features whenever her powers came to the forefront. The little pretty-boy elf that she was apparently stuck with forever, a thought that filled her with a mixture of fear, happiness, and contentment. Suddenly it was as if a door opened within her mind, the visions playing behind her eyelids took her to where Legolas was, she once again witnessed what he was seeing. Aragorn and Gimli were also with him, the others missing. This did not weigh well with Rhiannon. There was an urgency in Legolas, a need to find something. They were on horses, Gimli riding behind the elf and complaining of the horse ride. They were not far from the forest she now stood near. She watched as they neared what seemed to be a battleground recently fought on. Rhiannon noted the area they were in and then closed the connection. She took a moment to regroup and then moved as quickly as her two feet would carry her to the area she was guessing the elf, the man, and the dwarf now searched, for what she did not know.
The night had come and dawn was near. Rhiannon had found her friends but chose to rest far from them. They had already encountered one visitor in the night, and where not happy. There was apparently an old man, they chose to believe as Saruman, that came in the night. The horses the three had traveled on had disappeared, but were not harmed according to the elf. Legolas was on watch now, needing less rest than the others he had taken more than one chance as the look-out for the night. If he had sensed Rhiannon, he had not shown a sign, had not come to find her. Rhiannon was waiting for the dawn; it was not far away. She watched attentively as the sun rose on the horizon; bathing the morning sky in pale pink light. Moments like these showed just how insignificant men, elves, dwarves, hobbits and all the like were. All their powers used together could never create something so beautiful. Would this be less beautiful if all elves left the world? Besides the Tree herders, called Ents, as Gandalf had told her on their travels, the elves seemed the closest to the true magic that is nature. Would Aragorn represent the true balance needed for elven magic and the beauty of nature to survive in the world of Men? Her long contemplation stopped suddenly. She heard a sound around her, someone walking, very quietly. Her whole body tensed and then relaxed as she recognized the presence of the person behind her.
"Well, look what I have found on this lovely dawn."
Rhiannon let a smile come to her face, "Hello, my friend."
"No question is so difficult to answer as that to which the answer is obvious."
Horses, the new bane of Rhiannon's existence. Not really all horses, just horses from Lorien that remembered when she had almost accidentally shot them with an arrow and was having fun trying to buck her off again. Beside her, the new and very shiny Gandalf the White sat on his horse, an amazing creature named Shadowfax. The eagle Gawahir had brought the body of Gandalf to the realm of Lorien. He had been reborn as Gandalf the White, what Saruman was supposed to be and had failed at. Gandalf did not have all of his memory back yet, having been in his true intangible form as a Meia, a god-like being. Anything in mortal form can be killed, and after the battle with the Balrog, Gandalf the Grey had passed and returned. Now they traveled towards Gondor; the realm of Men that bordered the dark land of Mordor. The Gandalf next to her appeared much younger, more full of mirth. And yet there was something more grave. The power that resided within him cackled under the surface, Rhiannon could feel his power. The intensity sent a shiver down her spine. He was quite talkative and having found out who Rhiannon was, and remembering her from his past mortal existence, he had not stopped questioning her. He was like a child and Rhiannon, when not begging the horse to not buck her off, was contemplating ways to shut Gandalf up.
"So, you bonded with Thranduil's son; why are you not with him now?"
"I am not a member of the Fellowship, I would be of little help to him."
"The battles of the mind are sometimes more trying than the wars of the battle field. You will realize this, you have so much growing to do. Oh, how I wish I could see you when you finally come into your own, finally mature. Then again, I will always be looking out for you, little one. We all will." Gandalf stopped that particular tangent and looked around him, listening to the whispers of nature.
Rhiannon watched him, confusion showing plainly on her pale face. What Gandalf was listening for, she herself could not hear. He raised his silver head and stared into her eyes, perceiving something about her, not visible to her sight. "We part here, young one. I must go into the forest, you must track the three hunters."
"The three what?" She asked in much haste.
"Seek him out, and he will guide you. Do not take the horse, we let them go here also. They know where to go." Rhiannon gave a nod, still confused but understanding what Gandalf was asking, what Galadriel had pushed her towards. Seek Legolas out, his presence, call to him, have him guide you to where he stands. Gandalf helped Rhiannon off her horse, they both watched as the two graceful beings rode off. Gandalf gave a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder and then turned towards the forest, leaving Rhiannon on her own. Rhiannon walked around the perimeter of the forest. She wondered which forest it was; she could feel it's age and it's anger. The age could not be placed by her in terms of years. She listened and heard the sounds of horses far off, however they were not the ones she had just been near. Rhiannon closed her eyes and let the warm sun shine down on her. The warmth helped to center herself in order to summon the mind of Legolas. She took many deep breaths, taking in the smell of the fresh and tangy air, so different from that of Lorien. She heard the secret conversations of nature around her, speaking of many things. Whispers of dark beings running day and night, having been destroyed. Legolas had informed her of beings like those, Orcs, she believed that was the name. Legolas. That was where she had to center her attention. Most would picture his face and try to call out to that, but Rhiannon needed to call out to his soul. She thought of many things, the playfulness and arrogance of the prince mixed together; the soft voice that explained traditions she was just learning, all in a voice full of mirth; the look of utter shock that came over his features whenever her powers came to the forefront. The little pretty-boy elf that she was apparently stuck with forever, a thought that filled her with a mixture of fear, happiness, and contentment. Suddenly it was as if a door opened within her mind, the visions playing behind her eyelids took her to where Legolas was, she once again witnessed what he was seeing. Aragorn and Gimli were also with him, the others missing. This did not weigh well with Rhiannon. There was an urgency in Legolas, a need to find something. They were on horses, Gimli riding behind the elf and complaining of the horse ride. They were not far from the forest she now stood near. She watched as they neared what seemed to be a battleground recently fought on. Rhiannon noted the area they were in and then closed the connection. She took a moment to regroup and then moved as quickly as her two feet would carry her to the area she was guessing the elf, the man, and the dwarf now searched, for what she did not know.
The night had come and dawn was near. Rhiannon had found her friends but chose to rest far from them. They had already encountered one visitor in the night, and where not happy. There was apparently an old man, they chose to believe as Saruman, that came in the night. The horses the three had traveled on had disappeared, but were not harmed according to the elf. Legolas was on watch now, needing less rest than the others he had taken more than one chance as the look-out for the night. If he had sensed Rhiannon, he had not shown a sign, had not come to find her. Rhiannon was waiting for the dawn; it was not far away. She watched attentively as the sun rose on the horizon; bathing the morning sky in pale pink light. Moments like these showed just how insignificant men, elves, dwarves, hobbits and all the like were. All their powers used together could never create something so beautiful. Would this be less beautiful if all elves left the world? Besides the Tree herders, called Ents, as Gandalf had told her on their travels, the elves seemed the closest to the true magic that is nature. Would Aragorn represent the true balance needed for elven magic and the beauty of nature to survive in the world of Men? Her long contemplation stopped suddenly. She heard a sound around her, someone walking, very quietly. Her whole body tensed and then relaxed as she recognized the presence of the person behind her.
"Well, look what I have found on this lovely dawn."
Rhiannon let a smile come to her face, "Hello, my friend."