...
~ Onward ~
When the company at last halted to catch their breath in the bright sunshine outside, she was among those who stood quiet, shocked numb by all that had just happened. Elraen had at first stood hunched over, holding herself up with her hands on her bent knees, but now she stood back up and turned to face the gate they had just fled, which now looked just a tiny hole from where they stood. She was so sure that moment had been it, the whole reason to tag along, but all had gone astray. She was now full of doubt again, for they lost their beloved leader anyway, and at that moment it seemed all had been for naught.
Elraen felt a bewildering desire to go back in, as if there were some help she could yet do. She stared at the gate with such a focus she did not hear Aragorn bid the wizard farewell nor spur them to keep moving. She felt a hand lightly touch her shoulder. "Lady," a voice said softly. "We must move on."
She looked over her shoulder. Boromir. Elraen looked up at him, then cast down her gaze and turned to follow the others.
For his part the great champion of Gondor pondered the curious young orphan and all he'd seen and heard about her since Rivendell. She was a maid, and yet very young, but even he had to admit she had earned the use of her priceless weapons. A thought sprang into his mind unbidden, the old memory of a fireside story from his youth: the legend of a child warrior who once challenged alone the powerful enemy of an age long past, and fell but did not die, later returning to take up the hunt to help the gods bring him to justice. The hero never had a name.
They set off to continue on, and as Elraen trod along she quickly fell into a silent gloom from which none of the fair sights they passed could stir her. Finally they stopped for a break so Aragorn could tend to Sam and Frodo. The princess helped gather wood for the dwarf and the hobbits to make the fire, and at last sat down to rest. As Aragorn tended to Frodo's wounds Legolas finally asked, "What was that thing you tied to the arrow, Lady Elraen?"
She had been sitting, staring sullenly into the fire as if in a trance, holding against the wounds at the back of her neck a handkerchief dipped into the athelas water which Aragorn had handed her. After a silent moment she stirred, looked up and replied wearily, "That? Just a piece of silver." She turned her gaze back to the fire.
"Nay, Lady!" said Gimli, "That was something very special. It glittered like the Arkenstone of Thrain, the Heart of the Lonely Mountain."
"And the air about it was pure and wholesome," added Legolas, "there was a strong power I felt from it, of pure light and good. How came you by it?"
"It was a gift," she replied quietly, without lifting her eyes again, "from the Lord of the Havens."
At that the two Men also looked up with some wonder, for they both knew of the Havens and the Shipwright.
"It must have been difficult to part with so precious a gift," said Gimli.
Elraen sighed. "A small price to pay," she said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
Now Frodo looked up at that response, then turned away in thought. Aragorn's face softened, and he almost smiled. "Indeed, lady!" he said, "the smallest paid today. Without that token the creature may well have won the bridge."
At last they came across the Nimrodel stream. On Legolas' suggestion Elraen took her boots off to wade across in her bare feet. The water though cold was indeed refreshing to her after such a long, weary, and grievous journey, and she felt her spirits lift a little.
"I have some experience sleeping in trees," Elraen said quietly once the Company reached their place to stop for the night. "But these branches are high. Did any among us bring rope?"
Just then they discovered the Elf watchmen, from whose speech she could only make a few words. "And a maiden," Legolas told them at the end of his list of companions, "also of Westernesse, hailing from the country of Rohan."
She wondered at the news the Elf relayed to them that companies of Orc troops had recently arrived at Moria from the south. Then up on the second flet they ate what the Elves shared, and she took a little cheer in the wind and air in the heights of the great tree.
"The breeze is fair up here," said one of the elves to her, after noticing her lift her face to take it in. "But it can be cold at night in winter, even for an elf. But do not worry, we have blankets enough to spare."
"They seem friendly enough folk," Elraen said to the group after the elves had left them, though it was more directed toward Boromir, for she had found his protest against entering Lorien rather foolish for several reasons, and found herself getting annoyed.
At this Legolas gave them more on the relations between the Elves of the Great Forest and the Golden Wood. Aragorn gave only a light smirk in reply, but was also much relieved, for he had begun to worry about the burden of her grief weighing too heavily on her. She tucked in and rolled over to gaze at the stars hanging above the mountains, and at last drifted off to sleep thinking about the great eagles.
In the morning as Haldir led them along she at last seemed to feel her spirits lift a little more, as the wholesome air of Lothlorien could be sensed before them, and she felt easier at the sound of the wind in the trees; it had always been a beloved sound that stirred her heart. Surefooted since childhood she crossed the rope bridge with ease, but slowly for she was behind Sam, with a hand held out ready to grab his pack should he slip.
As they walked along Merry noted to their guide that Elraen had seen the Havens once for herself. But she would not speak. "Another time, perhaps," she said. "I have not the heart to recall the fair and joyous sights of the Gulf of Luhn."
Haldir wondered at this, for he could perceive plainly some level of grief on all their faces, hers most clearly, and said no more.
But she still remained in grim silence even as she walked, even as their blindfolds were removed and they could at last see the fairness of the realm.
At last they came to Caras Galedhon and climbed up the great tree, and came into the hall of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. As soon as she set her eyes upon them, Elraen felt another stir of recollection come over her. She felt as though she should know them, like she recognized them both, especially the Lady.
All through the tale-telling Elraen sat still and silent. The telling of the news about Gandalf renewed the sting of his loss, and her spirit dispaired now of its purpose. As Aragorn told his story, he came to the part about her little rod of silver, an instrument of magic, apparently, gifted to her by the Shipwright. Both their hosts looked over to her in curious wonder, the Lady now puzzling in her turn over the girl.
When Galadriel turned her gaze to the young maiden, Elraen almost thought she saw a slight, nearly imperceptible hint of confusion flash across the Lady's face. For the Lady herself sought to uncover some deep desire in the girl's heart, yet detected naught but confusion and loss and wandering.
Elraen for her part felt from the Lady the same recognition in return, and the kind of wonder and confusion she felt from the Black Riders - not so sinister but not so different either. Then the girl perceived just one question: 'Who are you?'
That Elraen found unnerving, even frightening. For she had asked herself that many times, and even now deep down the answer remained the same: she still had no idea. She cast her gaze back down in alarm and distress.
But Elraen was not present to hear the others discuss their experience of the Lady's probing gaze. For she had been shown a fair little tent of her own nearby, with many provisions already supplied for her comfort, including warm water and towels and fresh dress in which to sleep. She bathed and changed and sank into the cushions and fell at once into a deep sleep.
When she woke Elraen found some lovely dress garments such as elf women there were accustomed to wear laid ready for her. A few days later there was left for her a fine grey dress and a pair of very beautiful gold and silver pins for her hair, wrought in the shape of leaves with fine strands of silver adorned with white gems that mingled with the wearer's hair. They were wrought in the First Age in the great elf kingdom of Doriath, and could catch the light in such a way that it cast about with a dazzling sparkle. Wearing it all she indeed could almost blend in among the fair folk of the Golden Wood.
At breakfast it was Pippin who asked her of the Lady's test.
"I perceived no such test," she replied. Those companions who were nearby to hear looked over, curious. "Perhaps because I still do not quite clearly know what I want, not really. I thought I knew, but, well, I don't know how to describe it. She seemed to stir something in my heart and mind, you might say, maybe to unearth something with which she could provide such a test, but I think she could find no more than I have."
Like the others Elraen mostly spent the time there trying to rest and recover. She spent much time quiet, sitting alone in thought, as if her mind were fixed on a puzzle or riddle she was working out the answer to. Sometimes the elf prince would invite her along with him and the dwarf, for the story of her connection to the Shipwright had spread quickly and many elves of Lorien were curious about her. Of this she would tell only what she had told Gandalf and Elrond before, saying that she guessed Master Cirdan had some foresight that she might need the little silver rod he gave her. She felt the temptation to regale them with the story of her adventures at sea with his mariners, but the Shipwright's warnings for secrecy returned to her mind, and so she revealed no more.
The elves also noticed a persisting melancholy, which many guessed to be little more than grief over the company's lost comrade. But some of the older and wiser of the Sindar, and the few Eldar Among them, perceived an anxious spirit, as if she were waiting for something important to happen or urgent news to arrive.
Nearly every evening Elraen found herself up high on a hill at sunset gazing intently at the western horizon, half expecting something to appear on it. She began to feel a strengthening desire to walk toward it, like an unseen force pulling on her spirit. And throughout their stay the Lady's question also sat heavy on her mind.
After many days the son of the Steward began to notice this. He thought of his mother, who was descended from the noble families of old Numenor, and who would gaze ever southward toward her home by the sea. But there the similarities ended, for this young maiden had faced many evils with a steadier hand than many a green young soldier back home could hope to manage. Then he thought of his father, who in recent years grew anxious for more heirs and began pressing him to marry. The Steward's heir resisted this at every turn, for his passion had only ever been combat, and the battlefield his only mistress.
The girl was quite young, and looked younger; a better age for his brother, he thought, whose temperament would be better suited in any case. At the same time he also began to think about how important heirs could be, if you cared for continuity of rule and good order.
The fearless champion was suddenly aware of how long his mind had strayed into thoughts of marriage. He rebuked himself sharply with a shake of his head. Considering the way things were now going, there looked to be no point left anyway.
On one of the last nights of their stay he had many dreams, several dark and dreadful, of the Enemy's vast forces sweeping over the Pelennor fields and besieging the mighty Tower of the Sun. The last thing he dreamt was sitting upon the grass there in Lorien, his heart heavy over the great darkness and loss of the days to come. There the girl appeared and sat nearby and said simply, "Please my friend, do not despair, and have faith in the wisdom of your friends and leaders." Then a voice called out, a request from the Elves to visit with the Lady, and the girl stood and departed. Boromir awoke bewildered to learn that Elraen had been summoned to see the Lady Galadriel.
Days and weeks had drawn on, and it was nearly time to move on. Galadriel invited Elraen to look in the mirror. "It may offer an answer to the question that has weighed on you the whole of your life: who are you, really?"
Elraen looked at the Lady a moment in wonder, and her eyes grew hopeful. She walked over and looked in. Several scenes flash by, her old homestead on the high plains, armies bustling about Orthanc Tower, stark white walls looking over a vast open field swarming with Orcs and armies of men with torches under a black sky, looking up at her foster father as a younger man, the lonely wedding of a young couple in the moonlight. Then suddenly the scenes were very different, the landscape did not look like anything she'd seen in Middle-Earth. There were vast and wondrous mansions of stone cut right into mountain sides, endless forests of brilliant and everlasting green trees, and finally an enormous mountain of terrifying beauty, taller than anything else anywhere in the world. Elraen could scarcely breathe, feeling the memories surfacing. Then one more scene: an old tower atop a fog-covered hill, and inside a young man with long pale brown hair dressed in grey, presenting a leather pouch with a gleaming silver rod inside.
It all came flooding back. Everything she ever knew, everything she had ever done, going back all the way to sitting in emptiness, singing in chorus with her kin and kind. Elraen looked up, her face showing a mind and heart submerged in and overwhelmed by the past. Then though no sound came from her mouth her mind let out a cry of such a force that the Lady heard it loud and clear. Just one word: "Olorin!" she cried, and with a flash of bright firelight that was able to startle even the Lady of the Wood, fainted upon the ground.