Title: The Weeping Wraith, Chapter Two

Author: Katharine the Great

Summary: "What were the Riders trying to do?"  "They tried to pierce your heart with a Morgul-knife which remains in the wound.  If they had succeeded, you would have become like they are, only weaker and under their command.  You would have become a wraith under the dominion of the Dark Lord…" --Frodo and Gandalf at Rivendell

Notes: This is getting even more A/U as it goes on, and is still somewhat rooted in the movie's portrayal of characters. 

Disclaimer: Some of this story is quoted directly from the trilogy itself.  I will note these excerpts with italics, so pay attention and don't sue me for plagiarism!  I wouldn't dream of such an offense against the great JRR!!

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            The Company was exhausted and sorrowful when they sighted the much-missed golden boughs of Lothlórien.  Not even the glittering beauty of the Silverlode River could dispel the gloom that had settled over everyone in the boats.  Gimli moved stiffly, having forgone sleep for six days straight.  Aragorn and Boromir paddled, but neither Frodo nor Sam could even think of slumber.  Pippin, too, was quiet.  Legolas' light heart and steady voice were sorely missed, and even Gimli the Dwarf felt the loss of the chirpy Merry.

            They rounded a bend in the River, and there in slender boats akin to the ones given to the Fellowship was an assemblage of fair-skinned Elves.  Aragorn gave over his paddle to Frodo, then stood up in the boat, which rocked only gently in the still waters.  He waited respectfully for the Elves to speak first.

            A slender, willowy Elf stood in the prow of the nearest boat.  "Greetings, Aragorn son of Arathorn," he said, his smooth tones a strange relief to the travelers' ears.  "And to all of you.  I am Evanen, brother to Haldir.  The Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim are both glad and disturbed at your return, so near to your departure!"  The Elf gave them a welcoming smile that was tempered by the concern in his gray eyes, and in that moment the members of the Fellowship could see some of the resemblance between this Elf and Haldir, who had been their guide when they had first reached Lorien.  "Come," Evanen said, "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel have commanded that you be allowed to rest and eat before you speak with them."

            Aragorn bowed.  "Thank you, Evanen of Lórien, for your kind words—they are surely a relief to us all, after these days of trial!  But I must speak briefly with the Lord and Lady ere I rest.  I would not ask such except that the life of Legolas of Mirkwood may hang in the balance."

            Evanen's fair face was shadowed with worry.  "Yes, Léhulai told us as much before he returned to the southern border.  I will bring you alone to the Lord and Lady, but the others must first ease their burdens for the night."

            Pippin was unable to restrain himself any longer.  "May we go to see Merry?  Is he all right?" the hobbit asked hurriedly.

            The Elf's expression turned to one of bemused compassion.  "Yes, Master Hobbit, Meriadoc is well.  He has done nothing but chatter on about the Shire and all of you since Lady Galadriel healed him of his wound."

            "That sounds like Merry!" Frodo laughed, despite his weariness.

            "My companions will lead you to him," Evanen said, "whilst I and Aragorn go to the Lord and Lady.  Come, all of you.  We have set up a small camp at Egladil, not far from here, and there you will see Merry."  The Elf's bright eyes moved to Aragorn.  "Are you certain that you will not rest a little before we journey to Caras Galadhon?" he asked.  "The weight of trouble is heavy upon you, it seems, and sleep will lighten your load."

            "Thank you, Evanen, but I cannot rest while one of our number remains missing," Aragorn replied with a faint, grim smile.

            "Nor can I," Gimli put in, his voice made gruffer than usual by his exhaustion.  "I would go with you to see the Lady, Aragorn, but I fear I would faint on the way, and no Elf is going to witness such a thing so long as I am a Dwarf of the Mountains!"  The words would have been spiteful if the old Gimli, the one who had not been the friend of Legolas, had been speaking them.  But Gimli the Elf-friend spoke in jest, as he often had done with Legolas, and none of those present were in any way offended.

            "Then sleep, Master Dwarf, and you shall see the Lady in due course with the others," Evanen replied graciously.  "Come with us, Elf-friends.  You are once again the guests of the Golden Wood of Lórien."

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            Frodo felt as though he was stumbling through a particularly pleasant dream as he and the others followed the Elves to the camp at Egladil.  The forest around them shone with an ethereal light, for the sun's golden beams passed through every leaf and branch in the canopy above and created dancing patterns of light on the forest floor.  The great mallorn-trees rustled gently in the breeze.  Small flowers nodded to the weary travelers as they passed.  Lothlórien had grown even more beautiful since they had last beheld it, if that were possible.

            The hobbits, especially, were in sore need of rest.  They had not stayed awake for most of the journey as had Gimli, but their small bodies were not at all meant for such stresses as they had encountered.  The Elves walked alongside them, and steadied them when they stumbled.  Frodo was at the same time grateful to have returned to the Wood, and worried that every moment they delayed was another in which the Dark Lord advanced his plans from Barad-dûr, the Tower in Mordor.

            "We have reached the edge of Egladil," one of the Elves announced encouragingly.  "There, do you see your friend?  He is coming to meet you!"

            Just as the Elf had spoken, Merry's cheerful voice reached the ears of his companions.  "Hallo, there, fellow Frodo followers!" he called, grinning so widely it seemed that his face would split in two.

            "Merry!" Pippin cried, breaking into a run and tackling the other hobbit to the ground.  "I was worried all the way here!  Are you well now?"

            Merry untangled himself from his friend and stood to embrace Frodo and Sam, who eagerly inquired as to his health despite their exhaustion.  "I am very fine now, my friends, very fine indeed!" Merry replied.  "The Elves have been very kind, especially the Lady Galadriel.  She healed me from the poison on the arrow that struck me, you know, nasty thing it was."  The hobbit gave Boromir and Gimli a bright smile, but then his expression faltered.  "Oh!  Where are Legolas and Aragorn?  Have they gone to see the Lord and Lady ahead of us?"

            Gimli did not speak, but Boromir answered, "Aragorn has gone on to see the Lord and Lady of the Wood, but our friend Legolas is missing since the attack of the Nazgûl."

            Merry was much subdued by the news.  "Well, come along, all of you, and eat something before you fall over and perish.  After that, I wager you will all sleep for a long time.  Come!"

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            When Frodo next awoke, he was lying in a soft nest of living tree branches.  The sun was shining brightly, but he and the others of the Company were lying in the shade so they would not overheat.  He heard singing nearby, and recognized the mellow voices of the Elves.  They were sitting in a group nearby, singing in their own language.  Frodo sat up, being careful not to disturb the others sleeping around him.  Sam, Merry and Pippin were still fast asleep, as were Gimli and Boromir.  Aragorn had not yet returned from the City of the Galadhrim. 

            Frodo rose and picked his way through the sleeping hobbits around him, then quietly went over and sat down with the Elves.  They smiled in greeting, and the nearest inquired in his native tongue as to Frodo's health.

            Frodo knew some Elvish, so he replied carefully in that language.  "I am well, thank you," he said softly.                                                                       

            "We are pleased," the Elf said in Westron.  "You slept all through the afternoon and the night, and it is now morning."  He glanced over at the rest of the Fellowship.  "I believe your companions are rousing as well.  Breakfast is all set out there on the pavilion, and after you have eaten we shall go on to Caras Galadhon to meet the Lord and Lady."

            Frodo stood and bowed.  "Thank you, Master Elves, for your renewed hospitality."

            They nodded sagely.  "The pleasure is ours," one of them said.  "It has been long since we entertained such diverse and diverting guests."

            Merry, Pippin and Sam traipsed over to join the conversation.  "Good morning, afternoon, and night," Pippin said, yawning.  "Whichever we have missed in our sleep."

            "Is Aragorn back yet?" Sam asked.

            "No, I think we are going to meet him at the City after breakfast," Frodo answered.

            "Go and eat, Master Hobbits," the nearest Elf told them.  "We will set out afterwards."

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            It was late morning when the Company and their Elven escorts at last began the journey to Caras Galadhon.  The Elves asked if any of the Fellowship had songs to share on the way, since the Galadhrim had sung during breakfast. 

            "Come on, Frodo, you're the best singer of us," Merry said.  "Let's have a song, one of Bilbo's maybe?"

            Frodo felt lighter-hearted than he had for many, many days.  The Ring's weight at his neck seemed to have lessened.  He felt well enough to sing, he thought.  "All right," he said.  The he began to sing the song that Bilbo had taught him at Rivendell:

Eärendil was a mariner

that tarried in Arvernien;

he built a boat of timber felled

in Nimbrethil to journey in;

her sails he wove of silver fair,

of silver were her lanterns made,

her prow was fashioned like a swan,

and light upon her banners laid.

In panoply of ancient kings,

in chained rings he armoured him;

his shining shield was scored with runes

to ward all wounds and harm from him;

his bow was made of dragon-horn,

his arrows shorn of ebony,

of silver was his habergeon,

his scabbard of chalcedony;

his sword of steel was valiant,

of adamant his helmet tall,

an eagle-plume upon his crest,

upon his breast an emerald.

Beneath the Moon and under star

he wandered far from northern strands;

bewildered on enchanted ways

beyond the days of mortal lands.

From gnashing of the Narrow Ice

where shadow lies on frozen hills,

from nether heats and burning waste

he turned in haste, and roving still

on starless waters far astray

at last he came to Night of Naught,

and passed, and never sight he saw

of shining shore nor light he sought.

The winds of wrath came driving him,

and blindly in the foam he fled

from west to east and errandless,

unheralded he homeward sped.

There flying Elwing came to him,

and flame was in the darkness lit;

more bright than light of diamond

the fire upon her carcanet.

The Silmaril she bound on him

and crowned him with the living light

dauntless then with burning brow

he turned his prow; and in the night

from Otherworld beyond the Sea

there strong and free a storm arose,

a wind of power in Tarmenel;

by paths that seldom mortal goes

his boat it bore with biting breath

as might of death across the grey

and long-forsaken seas distressed:

from east to west he passed away.

Through Evernight he back was borne

on black and roaring waves that ran

o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores

that drowned before the Days began,

until he heard on strands of pearl

where ends the world the music long,

where ever-foaming billows roll

the yellow gold and jewels wan.

He saw the Mountain silent rise

where twilight lies upon the knees

of Valinor, and Eldamar

beheld afar beyond the seas.

A wanderer escaped from night

To haven white he came at last,

To Elvenhome the green and fair

Where keen the air, where pale as glass

Beneath the Hill of Ilmarin

a-glimmer in a valley sheer

the lamplit towers of Tirion

are mirrored on the Shadowmere.

He tarried there from errantry,

and melodies they taught to him,

and sages old him marvels told,

and harps of gold they brought to him.

they clothed him then in elven-white,

and seven lights before him sent,

as through the Calacirian

to hidden land forlorn he went.

He came unto the timeless halls

where shining fall the countless years,

and endless reigns the Elder King

in Ilmarin on Mountain sheer;

and words unheard were spoken then

of folk of Men and Elven-kin,

beyond the world were visions showed

forbid to those that dwell therein.

A ship then new they built for him

of mithril and of elven-glass

with shining prow; no shaven oar

nor sail she bore on silver mast:

the Silmaril as lantern light

and banner bright with living flame

to gleam thereon by Elbereth

herself was set, who thither came

and wings immortal made for him,

and laid on him undying doom,

to sail the shoreless skies and come

behind the Sun and light of Moon.

From Evereven's lofty hills

where softly silver fountains fall

his wings him bore, a wandering light,

beyond the mighty Mountain Wall.

From World's End then he turned away,

and yearned again to find afar

his home through shadows journeying,

and burning as an island star

on high above the mists he came,

a distant flame before the Sun,

a wonder ere the waking dawn

where grey the Norland waters run.

And over Middle-earth he passed

and heard at last the weeping sore

of women and of elven-maids

in Elder Days, in years of yore.

But on him mighty doom was laid,

till Moon should fade, an orbed star

to pass, and tarry never more

on Hither Shores where mortals are;

for ever still a herald on

an errand that should never rest

to bear his shining lamp afar,

the Flammifer of Westernesse.

            When Frodo had finished the song, they all burst into applause.  The Elves in particular had enjoyed the words, as they spoke of Eärendil and Elwing, the sire and dam of Lord Elrond Half-elven of Imladris.

            "Well sung, Master Hobbit!" one of the Elves said laughingly, placing a hand on Frodo's shoulder.  "Perhaps you might repeat it for the Lord and Lady, if time and circumstance allow!"

            Frodo blushed a little.  "Thank you.  It was wrought by my uncle, Bilbo.  I heard it and learned its words at Rivendell before we set out for Mordor."  He spoke in a low tone, as though hesitant to speak of that dark and evil land in so bright and gay a setting.

            "I daresay your uncle is part Elf himself," the Elf said kindly, his eyes twinkling merrily. 

            "Then his Elven ancestor was the shortest Elf ever, for Bilbo is not taller than any of us hobbits," Merry said.

            Boromir was smiling, too, but his mirth was much subdued.  "Well done, Frodo.  If all the citizens of the Shire sing as well, then it is a wonder any of you could find the heart to leave!"

            "Singing is a good pastime in the Shire," Frodo said.  "One that we shall hopefully enjoy again someday." 

            "I am moved to sing as well," one of the Elves remarked.  "I do not know the words in the Westron tongue, but it speaks of the maiden Nimrodel, for whom the river at our northern border is named."

            A sudden wince ran across the faces of the Company, and their reaction did not escape the notice of their Elven escorts.  "Our apologies, Master Elf," Frodo said hastily.  "Our pain springs from memory, not from your offer of song.  Our missing friend Legolas sang to us of the maiden Nimrodel upon our first arrival in Lórien.  We are deeply troubled as to his fate."

            The Elf looked upon them all with compassion.  "I understand your worry.  I have no doubt, however, that Elessar and the Lord and Lady have by this time construed a plan to search out Legolas and bring him safely to you."

            "How much longer until we reach the City?" Pippin asked.

            "We shall arrive at dusk," the Elf replied.  "And then you will go to meet the Lord and Lady and learn what course of action you must take."

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End of Chapter Two.  It isn't a cliffhanger, but I hope everyone is still wanting to know what happened to Legolas!  He may not show up until Chapter Four, but I'll do my best.  Review, please!  Francine liked the reviews from Chapter One, so keep 'em comin'!