Chapter 17

That night they were camped beneath the great trees. Rhian, lying on the fragrant grass beside her sister, shifted restlessly- it seemed impossible for her to be still, but every movement sent harsh pain through her shoulder, preventing comfort or sleep. She drew carefully away from Erin, and sat up. The wound was red and swollen- it looked angrier than before, and when she touched it, it was warm. With a grunt she rolled to her knees and stood, all her muscles and joints protesting. This being wounded business was not to her taste. So far she had been about as much use to the Fellowship as, as...Snow in summer, she thought grimly. Or any other unwanted thing. Walking in a somewhat crooked line, she passed among the trees, standing like silent sentinels in the falling dusk. Every few yards she paused, resting against one of them, drawing strength through the bark, imagining the roots twisting deep into the earth, far below. She came to the foot of a hill and stopped. Her shoulder ached insistently and her throat felt raw and harsh. She sank down onto the gentle grassy slope, laying back, and put her head down on her arm. Useless useless useless- the resentment building up in her chest weighed her down and pushed the peace of Lorien aside. She couldn't wield sword or draw bow, she couldn't even walk properly, much less carry out a quest. She realized she was crying like a baby but couldn't stop. Her shoulder hurt, and her temples throbbed, and her muscles ached, and she was doing no good to anyone and she hated it. Eventually she ran out of things to cry about, and her mind blanked numbly, and she opened her stinging eyes to stare at the ground under her face.

A tiny golden flower, like a star, poked out of the grass just beyond her nose. She lay staring at it, the pushed herself up a little and looked around. The yellow stars carpeted the ground around her, rubbing shoulders with another white flower. They glowed with loveliness, almost shimmering in the last bits of light- At least, she thought, I have not been weeping all through sunset. She sat up all the way and stared at the blossoms until the sound of a footstep brought her back into the world of mortal thought.

It was Aragorn- she wondered at him, for he seemed younger, and less worn as he breathed the air of Golden Wood, though his face was grim as always when he looked down at her.

"Surely, little bird," he said, "you have not been weeping here, of all places."

She shook her head silently, and he went on, as though answering what she had not said. "Your shoulder will heal, songbird. And I have not thanked you for your service in Moria." She looked up, surprised. "You did not see?" he smiled at her. "You prevented an orc from gutting me, at least once. And I daresay Gimli remembers that the orc who would have knifed him fell to your sword. And even had it not, we would be glad to have you in our company." He stood up and reached down to aid her. "Aria is not the only one to bring light with her. Perhaps when we march again, you will finish your story. You will recall, that your princess was left unrescued."

So it was that Rhiannon Fiachra and Raithnait Erin O'Connor came into the presence of the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim. Rhian was expected, and a carved wooden bench was lowered for her, and for Aria, for the climb was very long indeed. A rope was passed around their waists to bind them to the seat lest they fall, but they were lifted slowly and steadily, and the seat barely swayed. Rhian looked down as they were raised up, waving to Erin, and Frodo stared up forlornly at Aria's dangling feet. Pippin laughed at him. Erin waved back to her sister before started up the ladder. It seemed to take forever, but when her hand touched the tree by accident she found her weariness slipped away and she climbed a little more. She came to the top, very far away from the ground below, and stepped up onto a great flet like the deck of a ship, with a house built on it. She turned just in time to see Rhian and Aria untying themselves from their swing.

"They lifted us very slowly," Rhian said, coming to stand by her sister. "We didn't even sway at all. Very boring."

Erin shook her head at her. "Haven't you had enough excitement for a while?"

The two fell silent as they entered the hall. The others had already passed in before them, and Frodo sat near Celeborn's chair, with Aria beside him. Each was greeted by name as they entered; "Welcome, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Welcome son of Thranduil! Welcome, Gimli, son of Gloin. Welcome, Boromir, son of Denethor." Rhian and Erin entered last and he raised his eyebrows. "And welcome, Lady Rhiannon. We were told of your coming, but who is this that comes with you?"

"I am Raithnait Erin O'Connor, my lord," Erin said quietly. "I come with my sister. I am known simply as Erin."

"Indeed? Then welcome, Lady Erin."

The travelers were seated, and Lord Celeborn looked from one to another. "We were told," he said, "of the coming of nine, and then of ten, but you bring eleven and yet still are missing one. Where is Gandalf the Grey?"

"He set out with you," said Galadriel. Her voice was clear and musical, but lower even than Rhian's. "But he did not pass the borders of our lands. Tell us where he is, for I much desired to speak with him. I cannot see him from afar unless he comes within the fences of Lothlorien. A grey mist is about him, and the ways of his feet and mind are hidden from me."

Rhian stared at the lady. What did she mean by that? Aragorn answered her, saying "Alas! Gandalf fell into shadow and did not escape the darkness of Moria."

Grief she had thought already old pierced Rhian's chest as the elves filling the hall cried out at the ill tidings. She turned her face away as Aragorn began the account of their travels.

"If it were possible," Celeborn said at last, "one would say that Gandalf fell from wisdom into folly-"

"Do not speak so!" Erin's harsh cry cut through whatever the elf lord might have said. "Had the need not been great he would never had taken us near. And at the last he gave his life that we might escape. Surely even you do not dare to speak ill of such as this!" and her voice with a choked, gasping sob. Rhian clasped her sister's shoulder- both their faces were streaked with tears. Erin turned and hid her face in Rhian's cloak. There was silence for a moment.

The Lady Galadriel spoke then, and the air quieted. More words were spoken, but neither Rhian nor Erin heard them. Erin's sobs stopped, and their tears were dried. As they lifted their heads as one, the Lady's gaze passed over each of the company- only Aragorn and Legolas, it seemed, could bear it for long. Sam quickly blushed and bowed his head, and terrible grief passed over Aria's face. Rhian saw Boromir scowl darkly. Then Erin found herself caught in the Lady's eyes- it seemed as though she heard Galadriel speak to her, but her lips did not move and her gaze did not waver.

You could have what you wish for. And suddenly she seemed to be standing at a crossroad, where she could look down either path and see what might come. There can be no happiness on such a quest as this. Her eyes were led down one way and she saw herself, all alone in the darkness, without Rhian, without Legolas. She could hear somewhere out of the sight their voices, her friends voices, the voices of her family, crying out, suffering, but she could not go to them. She heard little Rosie's high shriek. She jerked back from the way with a violent force of will. You see? the voice murmured softly in her mind. Only a fool would choose such a path. But you may have all that you desire...and she was looking down the opposite way, and saw her parents, alive and strong, her mother's eyes bright and laughing, her father's great booming laugh and broad shoulders, the giant, gentle hands, and the hands like white swans, fingers twining as they smiled at her and reached out. She saw herself, her white costume shimmering beneath the lights as she held the massive audience captive with the beauty of her dance, and they rose, the applause thunderous, and roses were cast at her feet. And there was Legolas, waiting for her in a wood, and he stretched out his hands to draw her to him for a kiss, and his eyes said she was his only.

She looked into Galadriel's face, and it seemed to her that surely such a one could do all these things, did she only choose as she was bid.

"I hold the keys to death and Hades."* Mentally Erin pulled back. No. Not even this elf woman held dominion over the dead. The dead were in the hands of God and only He could bring them back. She did not want someone to love her because someone else had told him to do so. Fame was false and fleeting. But you did not undertake this quest the voice said softly, persistently, trying to draw her back. It is not your quest. You do not belong in this place. "No," Erin said, though she knew she did not really speak aloud. "I do not belong there." And suddenly Galadriel smiled, releasing Erin from her gaze.

*Revelation 1:18, New International Version of the Bible