Title: The Weeping Wraith, Chapter Five
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 now completely A/U, and has elements of the books and the movies within.
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!!
Replies to reviews:
Staggering Wood-elf: I'm glad you're enjoying this leetle venture of mine! And as to the question…I might turn Legolas back, or I might not. It depends on Francine's mood. Thank you for your review, and keep 'em coming!
Raen: Oh, don't smack your forehead on the screen! That sounds unhealthy! I have to say that I greatly appreciate your chapter-by-chapter reviews. Francine is going to become a fat little Plotbunny by the time this story is finished!
AJ Matthews: Francine says her happy endings are few and far between, but she might come up with an idea for one if lots of people feed her reviews…
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Caras Galadhon, the City of the Galadhrim, rose before the remnant of the Company just as the fiery globe of daylight began to slip below the earthen horizon to the west. Green, gold and silver lights danced merrily among the countless branches and waving leaves that comprised the great City's scaffoldings. The Elves led their charges to the white bridge at the northeastern edge of the realm, and from there they entered the gates. As on the eve of their first entrance, the Company saw no one upon the paths below, but detected many fair voices in the trees above.
Frodo breathed a sigh of deep contentment, straining his ears to catch the first faint notes of the Elvish songs floating unceasingly amidst the great mallorn-trees. He felt a profound sense of home and belonging, though in his heart he knew that he could not remain with the burden at his neck. The Ring's destruction was his ultimate purpose, and the longer he bore it, the more urgently he felt the call to rid the land of its evil. Not even the serene calm of Lothlórien could divert him from that task for long. "I fear the beauty of this place will cause a tarry far greater than is prudent," Frodo murmured, so softly that only Sam walking by his side heard it.
"Don't worry, Mister Frodo," Sam replied in an equally low tone. "Lady Galadriel is awful wise. She'll know what to do, I'm sure of it."
Frodo said nothing more, but gave his friend a wan smile. Lórien was too fair a locale for such worrisome contemplations, and so he resolved not to think too much on the matter until such time as the issue was broached by the Lord and Lady of the Wood.
"Look! We have come to the dwelling of Celeborn and Galadriel," one of the Elves told him.
Frodo and the others looked ahead, and saw once again the great smooth silver tree with its lofty stature and thick-leaved boughs. The white ladder remained unaltered, and a threesome of Elves in white cloaks stood at the foot of it. They spoke some mellifluous words to the leader of the Elves conducting the Company.
"You are granted admittance by order of the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," one of the Elves said to Frodo, casting his bright glance among the rest of the group. "They and Elessar await your arrival."
Pippin shrugged his long cloak back and mounted the ladder. "Come on, then, all of you, let's go find out what's happened in our absences!" he beckoned the others.
Frodo went ahead of Pippin, who followed behind with great eagerness. Then came Gimli, most anticipative of the Lady's fair and wondrous gaze, and Merry and Sam, then Boromir at the end. The Elves departed with a burst of cheerful laughter at the sight of the short-legged hobbits clambering up the ladder-rungs, which were spread further apart than any the hobbits were used to.
The stairs were many, and the Company paused to rest at various intervals along the way. So great was their haste to rejoin the companion that the Elves had spoken of, however, that they rested little in comparison to their first ascendance to the home of Galadriel and Celeborn. And so they came to that large hall set in the massive branches, and entered into the softly-lit oval chamber where the elders of Lórien were assembled.
Gimli drew in a soft gasp upon seeing again the Lady of Lórien in all her beauty. Galadriel of sun-stirred golden hair, together with Celeborn, the Elf-lord with silver locks and starlit eyes, rose from their chairs to greet their guests. Aragorn was with them, dressed in gray raiment similar to that worn by the Elves.
"Lórien again welcomes all of you in turn," Celeborn said gravely. His sculpted features were more somber than Frodo had ever seen them before; evidently the news of the Nazgûl attack had greatly distressed him. "Frodo, Meriadoc, Samwise, Peregrin, Gimli, and Boromir, six of the nine who set out, and Aragorn as the seventh. The attack of the Nazgûl Riders was unforeseen, even in the light of Galadriel's Mirror."
"The Mirror, ai, the Mirror," Galadriel said sadly. "Many grievous tidings it has brought in recent days, and strange visions of white, but none regarding the Nine of Minas Morgul. If they have truly resumed their pursuit, then the Quest is in great jeopardy, for it was only by the grace of Elbereth that you survived the journey to Rivendell when first you encountered the Wraiths," she told Frodo.
"The Ring cannot go on until the threat from the Nine is effectively nullified or in some way stayed," Celeborn said.
"Then we're staying here?" Pippin asked, his face brightening.
"For a time, yes," Galadriel answered, and her gaze was so solemn that it wiped all traces of mirth from the hobbit's face. "But the delay cannot be so long as the last one that was passed here, for every day the forces of Mordor grow in strength."
Gimli had not spoken before, so intent was his sight upon Lady Galadriel, but now he opened his mouth to address her. "My Lady, I humbly beg your pardon for this interruption, but I must speak or my heart will crumble within me," the Dwarf said. "Is there any news of our lost comrade and friend, Legolas?"
Aragorn was the one who answered him. "The Lord and Lady dispatched search parties five days ago, Gimli, as soon as Léhulai told them of our friend's disappearance. The parties have not returned as of yet, nor should we expect them to until they find something of import or have exhausted all hope."
Gimli's brow creased at the words, but Celeborn's clear voice cut in before any remark could be made. "Be not troubled, friend Dwarf," the Lord of Lórien said. "Hope is in large supply and is not easily exhausted. If there is any evidence of Prince Legolas' fate, my people will find it."
The use of Legolas' formal title caught Frodo by surprise. He had almost forgotten that his companion was one of the royal house of Mirkwood. Legolas was the youngest son of Thranduil, the Elven-king of that land. "Is there any way to let his father know?" Frodo found himself asking.
Galadriel's features bore faint sorrow. "Messengers have already been sent to Mirkwood, Frodo. Thranduil will learn of his son's disappearance within a day."
"The king will likely send his own search parties to places both near and remote," Aragorn remarked. "Between the Galadhrim and the people of Mirkwood, there will be no area left without investigation. Does this word bring you some comfort, Gimli?"
"Only of the paltry sort, but thank you all the same for your reassurances," the Dwarf replied. He gave Celeborn and Galadriel a low bow. "And thank you, my Lord and Lady of the Wood, for all you are doing on our behalf. The Dwarves shall not forget this kind favor as long as I live, I promise you that."
"And your concern for our kinsman shall long be remembered among the Elves, Dwarf Gimli," Lord Celeborn said graciously. "You are all welcome to join us for the evening meal, but I implore that no one speaks of these discomfiting matters during the meal. There must be some respite for the weary in these dark times, and I will have Lothlórien provide such relief for those who bear the Ring." The Elf-lord's mild gaze rested on Frodo as he spoke. His eyes were kind, and Frodo felt a swell of gratefulness in his heart.
"Thank you for your continued goodwill, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel," Aragorn said, stepping to Frodo's side and bowing to the Elves. "With your leave, I will retire directly after the meal. The weariness in my bones threatens to collapse me where I stand," he added with a rueful quirk to his lips. His posture was straight and tall, but exhaustion pulled at his eyes and added a century to his visage.
Galadriel smiled at Aragorn. "Nay, Elessar, do not feel obliged to dine just now. I see that you are in much need of rest, so much so that you do not feel the pangs of hunger. It would benefit you more to sleep through the night and awake refreshed and ravenous in the morning, I think."
"The Lady is perceptive," Aragorn replied with a small chuckle. Frodo realized that he had not heard such a buoyant sound from the Ranger's lips in many, many days. It was a heartening thing. "Very well, then, I will go to bed immediately. Dine and rest well, everyone." With those words and another slight bow, Aragorn turned and exited the great Elven hall.
Frodo was glad for the Lady's kindness towards Aragorn; if any deserved a respite from hardship, it was him. Aragorn had taken on the role of leadership when Gandalf had fallen to his doom during his battle with the Balrog in the mines of Moria. Frodo deeply missed the gray-cloaked wizard, his friend and a friend of the Shire for such a very long time. Gandalf's absence was like a great wound, a tear in the fabric of the Company that could not be repaired. How I wish Gandalf was here with us, Frodo thought sadly. Perhaps he would be able to help defeat the Nazgûl and find Legolas.
Galadriel's eyes were on Frodo, and her gaze was at once understanding. "News of your lost companion will not be long in coming," she said softly. "Be assured, you will learn of it as soon as the search parties return."
Frodo swallowed and nodded. "Thank you, Lady Galadriel."
"The sun has set at last," Celeborn declared, taking Galadriel's hand in his own. "Come, it is time for the evening meal to begin."
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"I can't remember the last time I had a meal so fine as that one," Merry sighed contentedly.
"I can," Pippin said. "It was the feast at Egladil before we left Lórien last time."
"I think this supper was better, because we are not leaving the Wood right afterward," Sam said.
Frodo listened to his friends talking, but he himself stayed mostly quiet. He had very little to say. They were following their guide, a lone Elf with silent tread, to their sleeping quarters high in the trees. Hobbits were not accustomed to heights, and so were normally loathe to sleep so high above their native earth; however, Lórien's great City was built upon such massive trunks that the hobbits could imagine they were actually low on the ground, and thereby sleep without worry. Frodo was tired, not more so than before his rest at Egladil the previous night, but his steps lagged with weariness all the same. He would be glad to fall into his bed.
"Mister Frodo?" Sam had walked closer to Frodo's side, and looked with concern on the other hobbit's drawn expression. "Are you feelin' all right, sir?"
Frodo nodded, grateful that though the way was well-lit, the darkness of nightfall still concealed the woe in his eyes. "I am tired, Sam, and worried for our friend Legolas, but otherwise as well as I have been. How are you holding up through all this?"
"Much the same as you," Sam answered, shrugging his cloak closer about his shoulders. "I'm glad to be walking this way again, here where it's safe and all, but a little bit of me wishes we could have gotten further down the River instead of being driven backwards like we were."
Frodo looked at Sam with surprise. "You must be poking about in my head, Sam Gamgee, for that is my feeling, as well."
"Oh, no, sir, no poking here!" Sam protested. "I'm sure I couldn't poke even if I had a mind to."
His friend's anxious expression set Frodo to laughing. "I'm starting to think that there's an awful lot you could do if you had a mind to, Sam," he said, clapping a hand on the other hobbit's shoulder.
"Hold! What's going on up there?" Pippin asked in a whisper, drawing nearer to Frodo and dragging Merry with him.
The four hobbits looked ahead to where Pippin was indicating. Their guide Elf had paused and was speaking in low tones with a tall figure wrapped in a ragged gray robe. The figure was stooped slightly, perhaps with age, but its face was hidden by the darkness and by the hood pulled low on its brow.
"Who do you suppose that is?" Merry asked in a low voice. "Doesn't look like an Elf to me, though I can't see the ears from here."
Frodo saw that Sam was unconsciously fingering his sword-hilt. "I can't hear what they're saying," Frodo said softly. "I'm sure there's nothing to be concerned about; this is Lothlórien, where no evil can abide."
Their guide and his mysterious companion finished speaking, and the Elf walked back to join his charges. "I have been relieved of my duty here, Master Hobbits," he said. "The man you see ahead will take you to where you are going." Seeing the wary expressions on their faces, he continued, "Be not afraid, for he is no enemy. Indeed, he is a great friend to us all, and you would do well to treat him kindly."
Frodo nodded and extended a hand to the Elf. "Thank you, Master Elf, for your help thus far."
The Elf took the proffered hand and bowed slightly to them all. "May a bright star shine upon you in all your wanderings. Peace and good night." Then he left, and the hobbits peered ahead at the silent, still figure waiting on the path.
"I suppose we should say hallo to him, if he is a friend," Frodo decided. With his companions in tow, he approached the gray-cloaked figure. "Good eve, sir. If our former guide did not tell you as much, I am Frodo Baggins, and these are Sam, Merry, and Pippin. If it is not rude of me to ask, who are you, and why do you seek us out?"
"There are many who seek you, Frodo Baggins, and not all are kind in their intentions," the man answered softly, in a rich voice deepened with age and experience. It stirred a chord in Frodo's heart, but he could not place its source. "But I am come to aid you in your quest, as I have done before and shall continue to do."
Frodo stared into the impenetrable shadow beneath the man's hood. "What is your name, then, as one who claims to help me?"
"My name?" The figure laughed lowly, and the hobbits shivered with inexplicable chill. It was not an unkind sensation, however, and not at all unpleasant. Frodo found himself trusting the stranger even with so little knowledge of his identity. "My name," the man said again. "You have heard it before, I know, but I will not speak it here and now. Come, let us go to your quarters; they are not far. There I will reveal more fully what my business is with you."
Then he turned and began to walk, his gait unhurried but purposeful. The hobbits followed behind, glancing at each other and seeing their own curiosity mirrored on their fellows' faces. A light melody in the Elvish tongue wafted through the air from somewhere above. Lórien never stopped singing; it was one of the qualities that made the Golden Wood seem so unreal a place, and also more real than any other. Frodo kept his eyes on the stranger's back as they went, though his heart collected the harmonies floating in his ears and treasured them with the many other lovely things he had seen and heard throughout the journey.
They reached the bough-chamber where the hobbits were to sleep. Four beds of living branches and golden leaves were within a squareish compartment, also comprised of thriving tree limbs. The leaves waved gently in a soft breeze, and the songs of the Elves filtered through the spaces between them. Woven with the limbs were softly glowing strands of a luminescent vine, which formed intricate patterns and cast a soft light within the room.
The strange guide entered first and sat between the two beds at the rear of the chamber. There was a flash of pure white beneath his drab gray raiment, as though the cloak was merely a disguise to hide whatever light shone within it. The stranger beckoned the hobbits, saying, "Come in, there is room enough for all including me. I am no threat; even less of one in this place, I daresay, for there are watchful marksmen all around us."
"Surely they cast no eye of suspicion upon us four?" Merry asked, glancing around at the trees and seeing no one.
The figure laughed again. "No, Master Hobbit Merry, I meant only that the Elves of Lórien are accomplished archers, and that should anyone seek to cause harm in this Wood they will find themselves at the points of many arrows in a short time. So you see, you are doubly safe here, from evils within as well as from without."
Frodo entered and sat down on one of the beds, being careful to keep a short distance between himself and the stranger. He wanted to trust his instincts, which told him that the man was indeed a friend to be welcomed, but his days of carrying the Ring had sharpened his wariness to a fine point. He waited until his friends were inside the bough-chamber, then said, "All right, we are under a roof now. Speak as you said you would, sir, and tell us your name."
"My name will be apparent in short time, Frodo, for you know me better than these others," the figure said. "Yet they will know me as well, for it is not such a long time since I was taken from your sight. I can see in your eyes that you have not forgotten me, and for that I am glad. Sad indeed is the life that is not remembered!"
"You talk as though we know you already, but we do not," Pippin said impatiently.
"I know you, sir," Frodo said softly, searching the air with his eyes. "But I cannot recall by what name I know you. It troubles me that there is a familiar person so near, and yet I cannot fathom his identity."
"Then I shall help you in your fathoming, young hobbit, for you have suffered enough without an old man's wiles to distract you further," the stranger said gently. He reached up with one nimbly-fingered hand and took hold of the edge of his hood. With a flick of his wrist, he revealed his face.
The four hobbits let out a cry and drew back in astonishment. They stared in wonder and terror at the man before them, for as he had said, they knew him immediately. But his was the face of one that they had long thought dead.
Frodo was the first to recover enough to speak. "Gandalf?" he inquired in a small, high tone.
The wizard smiled, his eyes crinkling in the way they always had, and his long beard moved with his lips. "Indeed I was Gandalf, and you may call me that still. Come now, don't look at me so! Have you no words of greeting for an old friend?"
"A-an old friend who has been d-dead for many weeks!" Pippin stammered out, and his eyes were like great saucers. "How have you come back from that quiet sleep, Gandalf sir? We all saw you fall with the—"
"Do not name him!" Gandalf said. "Such creatures should not be spoken of in these surroundings. Nevertheless I shall tell you this: I did not perish in my battle with the evil you saw at the bridge of Khazad-dûm. As you see before you, it takes more than an unearthed creature of legend to destroy one for whom the flame of Anor still has use!"
"But Gandalf!" Frodo exclaimed, finding his natural voice again. "Gandalf, you are alive! We thought you dead, and it was the cause of terrible grief to us all!" Then, so overcome by emotion was he, Frodo flung himself at Gandalf and wrapped his arms around the wizard's neck. He clung tightly, afraid that Gandalf would disappear into the realm of dreams if he loosed his grip.
"Here, here, Frodo," Gandalf laughed, patting the hobbit's back. "Let me go! I will not disappear before your eyes, my young friend. I am here now, and I do not intend to leave as I did before again." When Frodo drew away, his face was streaked with tears of joy, and Gandalf smiled. "It fills my heart with warmth to see such concern on my behalf, you four. Tell me, how are the others faring? Aragorn has led you thus far, I assume?"
"Yes, Gandalf, Aragorn took the lead after—well, he's been leading us anyway," Merry answered. "Doing a good job, too, but he missed you just as much as anyone else!" he added hastily.
"I do not doubt that, Meriadoc," Gandalf answered with a wink. "I shall visit him later, I think. But what of Gimli and Legolas and Boromir? Are they still with the Company as well? I have been in the quiet on these matters, I'm afraid, and I have only some snatches of information. What is the tale since I left you?"
The hobbits proceeded to tell Gandalf all that had occurred since his fall in the mines of Moria. The wizard was mostly silent, only speaking now and then to comment on what he had heard about the events surrounding their journey. When they reached the part about the attack on the River, Gandalf shook his head sadly.
"Then you were forced to retreat here?" the wizard said. "These are ill tidings indeed, yet not worse than those of Legolas. He is missing still, you say? And the Lady has sent her people to search for him?"
"Yes, yes, and yes," Sam answered. "We haven't heard anything yet, but Lady Galadriel said we'd know as soon as anyone came back with news. Didn't anyone tell you that we'd come back? Léhulai and Merry came here some days before we did."
"I have not been inquiring as to the outside world much as of late," Gandalf admitted. "I was resting and healing from my ordeal, and the Elves were kind to spare me such grievous tales as those coming from the outside. I know that Sauron grows in power, but as long as the Ring is out of his grasp, the land will not fall completely into shadow."
"I fear that the longer I delay, the harder my journey into Mordor will be," Frodo said gloomily.
"Do not fret so, Frodo, it ill befits a Baggins," Gandalf chided kindly. "Your path is no more or less barred today than it was yesterday. And you have one more ally restored to you today besides!"
Frodo did not say it, but he thought that he would rather have both his missing allies returned. He was glad indeed to see Gandalf alive, but his heart still worried for the brave Elf who had vanished into darkness just as the wizard had. Frodo yawned. "I am tired now, Gandalf. May we all go to sleep, and think no more on our troubles till tomorrow?"
"Yes, you should all sleep tonight," Gandalf said, rising and ducking out of the chamber. He turned back to face them. "I shall go back to the place where I have been sleeping for tonight, but perhaps I will stay with you tomorrow evening. Good night, Frodo, Meriadoc, Samwise, and Peregrin. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow!" With that, the wizard pulled his hood up around his face and retreated into the darkness, and was gone.
Frodo sagged down onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling. The light-producing vines still shone, but their glow was fading as the night progressed. "I hope that was not a dream of some sort," he mumbled drowsily, his eyes falling shut. Sam said something in reply, but Frodo was already fast asleep.
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End of Chapter Five. I like Gandalf's reintroduction a little better in my story, I think. It was cruel to send Frodo off to Mordor still thinking that his old friend was dead! Francine agreed with me on this, but I think she's biased…review, please!
