Chapter 3: Lifeforce
Galadwen and Toron soon continued their walking through the city, but now Galadwen had the weight of the sword, bow and full quiver on her back. Their pace slowed as her body tired.
"Can you tell me about Master Halon's wife?" Galadwen struggled to say in Khuzdul.
"What do you wish to know?" Toron asked her smoothly in Khuzdul as he led her into a small garden.
"He talked of her in the past tense. What happened to her?"
Toron gestured for them to sit on a stone bench by a trickling stream that wound through ferns at their feet. Once they were seated he brought out a couple of apples and some lambas bread for them to eat before he replied in Khuzdul. "Halon and his wife Pelinelbes were a couple of the steel. Him the smith and she the warrior. After a few centuries of blissful marriage, they had a daughter Filegeth. She was not unlike you with her long dark hair, full of adventure and wanderlust. She was killed before her 100th year on her first journey from here to Rivendell. She was travelling with a company of elves who were set upon by a large force of orcs. Two of the company were killed, the rest fled. In the confusion, she went missing. Her body was found weeks later, twisted hideously from the torture. The pain of the loss of Filegeth was unbearable for Pelinelbes, who blamed herself for not going on the journey with Filegeth to protect her, or at least for not giving Filegeth her sword. Many, including myself, tried to convince Pelinelbes that her daughter's death was not her fault, but she faded away a few years later. Since then Halon has thrown himself into his craft. It is probably the only thing keeping him here. His swords are widely considered the best swords out of any crafted east of the Blue Mountains and west of the Iron Hills."
Silence fell between them as they ate their food, both lost in thought. Galadwen was both amazed at Halon's resilience at such pain, loss, and deeply saddened by Pelinelbes's death. It was a great loss when someone died, but even more so when they faded out of grief. It was the greatest danger for an elf who allowed themselves to love deeply. Galadwen felt a love for many elves, some even who were her family that she had never met. But there was only one who she truly loved deeply, and Galadwen knew that although Nestor was starting to tire of this world, she would never leave until Galadwen was ready. To truly love any others deeply was a danger Galadwen was determined to never put herself in. She had too much danger to face already.
Looking over at her teacher, Galadwen could see a terrible sadness on his face. To break him out of it she spoke in Khuzdul. "Would you tell me about your family Toron?" she asked. He looked at her questioningly. "I don't have much of family as such, well none that will acknowledge me. So I would very much like to hear about your family and what it is like to be a part of a typical family."
A look of sadness and pity flashed over Toron's eyes before he gave her a warm smile. "My family is not what we would consider typical, but yes I will happily tell you about them." He shifted on the bench to get more comfortable, turning towards her. "My parents grew up in Rivendell. They discovered their love for each other at a young age. My mother was not yet in her second century when they decided to have me. Being so young, they still had a strong desire for adventure, so I spent my childhood travelling around Middle-Earth with them as they traded songs and news for food and lodging. A couple of centuries later, when they settled back in Rivendell, they had Cullas and then our two younger brothers Lithanar and Eludor.
When my parents settled down, I continued travelling around Middle-Earth. I never really spent much time with my siblings until the years before the last stand against Sauron. Middle-Earth had become too dangerous to travel alone, with orc raiders stretching as far west as beyond the Misty Mountains. I returned to Rivendell and was quickly recruited into their army as a scout. Callus had discovered her love and skill for carving bows by then so she too was recruited. I finally had the time to get to know my sister and we became close. Those were probably the only days we were a typical family. Then Cullas and I headed off to war, the details of which I'm sure you know."
"I have heard the songs," Galadwen confirmed. "But I would like to hear your tale if you would honour me."
"It is not one to write a song about, but I will tell you." Toron's eyes lost focus as his mind returned to the past. "I remember feeling such pride as I watched the army depart Rivendell. Being a scout, we left first and watched from the high road. The many banners flapping vigorously in the wind, the glint of armour, and the sung farewell that echoed around the valley spoke of hope and victory. It filled my heart with such pride and honour.
"We crossed the Misty Mountains and met the Wood Elves at the Anduin. With our combined strength, we followed the river south. It was strange for me to travel with the army. I was used to travelling by myself or with a small group, where we would eat when hungry and walked until we wished to stop. The strict schedule and orders of the army ground at me, particularly when we were on the road.
"Fortunately I had scouting duty, which allowed me to escape the commotion for the peace of the wild. I would head out further than required, as far as I could in the time I had until I needed to report back in. It became a game on how far I could get from the army until it was time to turn back. After a week, I was scouting out twice as far as what I was ordered to do. Most times I was scouting to the west and could often make it into the foothills of the Misty Mountains. On one such night, I had climbed a spur of the foothills and was looking back the way I had come across wooded rolling hills at the lights of the army cook fires in the distance. The army was only two days march from Lothlorien, having stopped for their final rest before reaching the fair elven realm. The moonlight cast dark shadows in the wooded valleys, but in one valley to the south-east, I could see the slightest flickering of a fire. Wary of encountering orcs alone, so far from the army, I contemplated ignoring it and returning the way I had come. But something would not let me. I would like to say it was my conscience and my honour, but I suspect it was only my curiosity of the unknown.
"No matter the reason, I was soon warily creeping down the said valley. I was anxious of traps, as by now I could smell the wood fire smoke and the sickly smell of burning flesh. The forest was dense, dampening any sound, so I was nearly upon them when I heard the muffled screams and manic laughter. I now knew it to be orcs. I inched my way forward as terror filled me. I was terrified of being too late to help the one who was screaming as much as I was terrified of being caught and tortured next. But what scared me the most was the possibility that I would be unable to help.
"When I did finally reach the clearing, I saw a horrific scene that will stay with me forever. They had an elf strung up between two trees on the far side of the clearing. He was naked, his matted hair hung over his lolling face. All his skin was black from bruising. That is, except for his left hand. It had been flayed. Blood dripped from the red flesh in a steady patter, and more slowly from where his fingernails and toenails had been on his other limbs.
"There were six orcs lounging around the fire in the centre of the clearing. One was cooking something over the fire. It sizzled in the pan, the smell of burning flesh reaching my nose. As I watched, the orc plucked a strip of cracked flesh out of the pan and crunched into it. All the orcs had crude ugly weapons within their reach. I figured I could shoot down two, possibly three of the orcs before they attacked, but the numbers would still be stacked against me. I had just decided to sneak around to the elf and try to untie him to make a stealthy getaway when one of the orcs stood up and crossed over to the elf. He took out a knife and slowly cut off the elf's flayed index finger. The night was filled with the poor elf's screams of agony.
"I tried to tell myself that there was nothing I could do, but before I knew what I was doing, I had an arrow notched and aimed at the orc mutilating the elf. I let fly, not even waiting to confirm it hit home before eyeing up the orc closest to me while notching my next arrow. That arrow too was loosed before the orcs realised they were under attack. The next arrow was for the orc on the far side of the fire. With his weapon at the ready, he had seen where my last arrow had come from, but he wasn't quick enough to completely dodge the next arrow. All the remaining orcs were standing now, weapons in hand. The last orc I had shot was down on one knee with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder, he shouted something at the others, pointing in my direction. They turned and I had time to get one more arrow off before the last two were upon me. I dropped my bow and stepped out into the clearing with my sword in hand, but I was not as skilled with it as my bow. The orcs came at me from each side. They pushed me hard. Although orcs have the advantage of greater strength and we have the advantage of greater speed. But with two of them, my speed was not a large enough advantage. It took everything I had to keep their weapons off me. Fortunately, the orc on my left stumbled on one of his dead comrades. I took the opening and downed him, but it left me open. The remaining orc slashed at my right thigh with his jagged sword. It knocked me off balance and I went down heavily. The orc was on my back, his steel fists pummelling into my head. I am fortunate that he did not wish to kill me quickly otherwise, he could have cut me down with his sword. Instead, we struggled on the ground. I managed to turn around, but we both knew he had the advantage in weight and strength as more blows landed on my head and torso. I remember hearing him laughing between blows, a snorting grunting laugh. As I cowered with my hands protecting my face, I grabbed the dagger hidden in my left vambrace, then as another blow came down, I stabbed it up under his armpit. I remember his grunt in surprise as it went in, but it wasn't enough to kill him instantly. Surprise turned to rage. The orc went crazy, scratching, biting, ripping, and tearing at me. I did the best I could to protect myself. Fortunately, it only lasted a few seconds as he quickly bled out, covering us both in his dark blood. He stopped as suddenly as he started, then collapsed, dead, on top of me.
"I lay there for a moment, hardly believing I was still alive. As my racing heart slowed, I shoved the orc off me. I tried to stand but my injured leg collapsed underneath me. Through the torn leggings I could see my thigh was a mess of torn flesh and muscle. I used what was left of the bottom of my leggings to roughly bandage it. A quick scan of the clearing showed five dead orcs. One was gone. The one who had first spotted me. He was injured, but I feared he'd be back with reinforcements soon, as we were not far from the mountains.
"Somehow I managed to stumble over to the elf and release his bindings. He hit the ground in a heap, letting out a small moan. I clothed him in my cloak and reluctantly bandaged up his left hand. Even the soft cloth of my undershirt would cause no relief against the bare meat of his hand. But the bleeding needed to be stopped or he would not have gone far. As I gave him a drink from my waterskin, we heard the hunting howl of wargs. With the realisation that the orcs were coming, on wargs no less, I knew we would most likely not live out the night. But at the same time, a determination to at least try filled me. With that determination, a new strength filled me. It seemed to radiate from my chest, giving my muscles strength and dulling the pain of my injury. Without taking time to question it, I hurriedly collected my weapons, hoisted the elf over my shoulder and set off at a steady run.
"I knew it was about a 6 hour run back to the army, but time seemed to have no relevance as I ran. My world shrunk down to just the steady breathing of the elf on my shoulders and the movement of my body as it took one step after another. My new strength didn't waiver. In fact, at every new howl of the wargs, as they gained on us, my strength fortified and my body moved lighter, swifter. I kept moving, one foot in front of the other. As the new day dawned, I realised that by some miracle we had survived the night. With the dawn, the warg howls ceased, but I still kept running. I was afraid of what would happen to my body if I did stop. That mysterious strength was still there, but I could feel it slowly ebbing away.
"When I finally came over the last hill, I remember feeling such joy and overwhelming relief at the sight of the army camp. I was so focused on my destination, of making it back to camp, that I didn't even notice the sentry guards. I was told later that they dared not stop me. I looked like the walking dead, covered in orc and elf blood, seeing or hearing no one. They thought I had gone mad, so they followed me into camp, as I continued running. The last thing I remember is reaching the healers' tent and carefully lowering the elf onto a stretcher.
"I woke up five days later here in Lothlorien to my sister Cullas and another elf keeping vigil over my body. That other elf was missing two fingers from his bandaged left hand. His name was Salab, a scout for Lothlorien, and the elf who later gave his heart to my sister. I was considered too injured and weak to continue with the elven armies when they left two days later. So that was the extent of my participation in the war."
Toron turned to Galadwen, giving her a small smile. "Like I said, nothing to write a song about."
"I disagree," Galadwen replied. "To say such a thing is to undervalue Salab's life and the love he shares with Cullas."
"What you say is true," Toron admitted, "but my reason in agreeing to tell you my tale was not to discuss what makes a heroic deed. It was to share my experience of our life force with you. After many discussions with the healers, while I recovered here, I slowly gained a knowledge and understanding of our life force. It is not often talked about so no one is sure what it is exactly. Theories range from some form of power, or magic, or even our spirit or soul. What is known is that it is the power that makes us immortal, gives us heightened senses, speed, and grace. It is also what allows us to feel emotions keenly, more than any other beings. Making it our greatest gift, but also our greatest weakness.
"As I discovered on that fateful day, we are able to tap into that power in times of great need."
"The strength that allowed you to outrun the wargs?" Galadwen asked, fascinated.
"Yes," Toron agreed. "It saved my life and Salab's."
"But if this force can help us achieve great feats, why is it not talked about? Why do we not learn about it and learn how to use it?"
"Because, Galadwen, it is also how we die."
Frowning up at him, she could read the meaning in his face. "When we fade," she said.
"Yes," he confirmed. "To depart from this life, we must consume all of our life force. There is no danger to consume a little, as long as we allow our bodies to recover, which they must do in a state of unconsciousness. Hence why I slept so long after I collapsed at the healers' tent. It is also why you slept for seven days. When we arrived back with you, I had only just lifted your lifeless form off the stretcher when Lady Galadriel swept into the room, light spilling from her closed hand. I think perhaps on that day I joined a small list of people who have seen the ring of power, Nenya. From her glowing hand, she produced a tiny vial of equally bright liquid. You had used up all of your life force, your laboured breaths had stopped and the slow beats of your heart were so far apart I feared they had ceased. A moment later and I think you would have gone." Toron paused, letting his words sink in. "From what I can understand, the liquid she gave you forced a little bit more life into your body. As far as I am aware, an elf's life force can only be gifted to another as they depart this world. As our Lady is still with us, I can only assume she used the power from Nenya."
"I did not know Nenya had such power."
"The true extent of Nenya's power is probably only known to Galadriel herself."
"Yes, as it needs to be I suppose," Galadwen agreed. "Thank you for telling me this Toron, it has given me much to think on."
"I have not finished Galadwen, there is still more you must understand about the life force to survive outside the Golden Forest."
He gave her such a solemn penetrating look that Galadwen suspected he must have some skill at reading her thoughts or feelings.
"I am listening Toron," she said under his unblinkingly stare.
"That wound should not have nearly killed you, but it did so because you have unknowingly been draining your life force continuously for many years now. I discussed it with Nestor yesterday after I noticed you absorbing some of the Great Tree's life force before I interrupted you."
"I often borrow strength from the trees, but I did not know it was their life force. I should not take this life from them," she said, shocked to learn her relationship with the beautiful mallorn trees was one of a leech. "But how can you see this?"
"I have the gift to see the life flowing through and around all living things. Most plants have aura's so small I have to really focus to see them, but the mallorn trees are different. They have been woken by the elves. Immortal beings such as us elves have a strong aura that flows from a bright centre, the life force. Yesterday, I saw the Great Tree's aura flowing into your bright centre, replenishing your life force. I do not think you can forcefully take life force from anyone or thing. The life force must be given, so do not worry yourself about taking life from them. They will only give it if they are willing."
She could see Toron study her again. "I can see that I've pushed you too much today." At her questioning look, he explained. "You are currently draining your life force. So would you give me the honour of showing me how you are given strength from the trees?"
Galadwen nodded in agreement. "Let us go to the King of Trees and I will show you what I can," she said.
Toron stood with a smile, offering his hand to her.
"Thank you but I can do it," Galadwen said, refusing his offered hand.
Toron's smile only widened. "I know you can do it, but I can see you drawing on your life force. The more you do it, the longer your recovery will be. So I suggest, for your own sake, that you take the offered help."
Grudgingly Galadwen took the offered hand. Toron helped her to her feet then slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, letting her lean on him.
"I have never seen someone use their life force as much as you do," Toron said as he led them down the path to the Great Tree. "It is a very useful skill, but one you must learn to control or you may find that when you need it the most, there will be nothing left. Unfortunately, it is not something I can teach you, but I have found the best way to understand a subject more fully is to teach another. So I would like to put myself forward and ask that you try to teach me this skill."
Galadwen felt surprised at his offer. "It is hard to imagine that someone as young as myself would have anything to teach one as wise and travelled as you, but I would be honoured to try. Although please be warned, teaching is not something I have any experience in. I do not know if I have any skill in it."
Toron smiled down at her. "Well then perhaps it will be another skill I can help you learn." Galadwen smiled back up at him, feeling the strange warmth of companionship. Today had been the most conversation she had ever had in one day, with anybody, even Nestor. Not once had she felt judgement or disapproval, from him or any other elf they had talked to like she had feared for so long.
"These auras that you see. What are they like? Does it not get confusing?"
"I do not see them all the time. Only when I focus, otherwise yes it would be disorientating. When I do, I see a halo of moving light around every living thing. They vary in colour and brightness depending on the being. Elves tend to be the brightest, due to their life force, but the colours are different for everyone."
"What colour is my aura?"
"Silver white, but it is not very bright at the moment."
"What colour is your aura?"
"I do not know, I cannot see it. But I can tell you that Cullas has an orange gold aura, the Lady of Light has a pure white aura and Nestor has a pale green that is almost white. I have studied the aura's of all who live here," he said with a guilty look.
"What colour is the King of Trees?" Galadwen asked as they approached the tree.
"Silver green, like the other mallorn trees, just stronger."
Arriving at the bench, Galadwen gladly took a seat. After Toron sat beside her, she reached out her palm and touched the bench between them. Speaking aloud what she would usually say in her mind, Galadwen felt a little foolish, but she did it anyway. "Greetings mighty tree, King of All Trees. Thank you for the protective canopy above us, the support of the bench below us and the strength of your trunk behind us." She closed her eyes and felt the tree under her touch and listened to the life flow through it. Now she knew to look for it, Galadwen could feel part of that life start to flow into her as her body adjusted to the tree's rhythm. It eased her tired body and refreshed her spirit.
"I listen to the tree's life flowing through it and my body slows to its rhythm. Then I can feel the strength flow through me too," Galadwen said to Toron with her eyes still closed. After a long moment, she heard him move beside her and felt his hand next to her's on the bench. The rich smell of his leather amour mixed with his warm earthy smell reached her nose. His breathing slowed to match that of hers, but his heart did not slow to match the rhythm of the tree, instead it actually speed up.
"Can you hear the life flow through the tree?" she asked quietly.
"Nay," he replied hoarsely.
"Put your ear against the trunk. Close your eyes and listen to the noises around you. Then focus on the sound of my heartbeat. Try slow your heart to match mine."
Galadwen listened to his racing heart. It took a while, but finally, he slowed it to match hers.
"Do you hear the tree?" she whispered.
"Nay," he replied.
"Feel the bark under your hand and against your ear. Feel the life of the tree, feel its strength. Feel the age of it, with each year adding another ring of knowledge to it. Feel those years go back until you can feel the heart of the tree. Feel the life that flows through the heart, up and down the trunk, from the highest leaves to the deepest roots."
They sat on the bench under the King of Trees in silence as the world moved about them. Many of the elves who passed gave them curious looks, but none disturbed them. As the sun started to lower in the west, Toron opened his eyes. He had been trying for hours to feel the life flowing through the tree, but so far he had only felt the bark under him. Galadwen sat next to him, her eyes still closed, her chest slowly rising and falling with each meditative breath. She looked so peaceful, with a slight smile on her lips. He focused his mind on her and the aura around her came into focus. It was beautiful. The colour of starlight. Her life force core was brighter now, with the slightest of mallorn green to it as she continued to absorb the Great Tree's strength. He watched the hypnotic flow of the auras as the tree's flowed through her.
In seeing the aura of the tree, he could now feel its life under his touch. But it was separate to him. It didn't flow into him like it did Galadwen. He moved to get a better view of Galadwen and the Tree.
Galadwen heard Toron move. "How do you fair Toron?" she asked, opening her eyes to see him watching her.
"I can see and feel the life of the tree, but it does not flow through me."
"My only suggestion would be to talk to the Great Tree and the other mallorn trees, acknowledge them, build a relationship with them and perhaps they will listen."
"A relationship with the trees?" he asked. "How do you build a relationship with something that cannot talk back?
"They do if you are willing to listen," she replied.
"Do you talk to the trees often?"
Galadwen looked away in embarrassment as she nodded a confirmation. "Nestor told me the best tree singing requires a relationship with the tree. So I greet them, sing to them, thank them, and bid them farewell. They have been my friends." She paused, turning to look at him.
Toron smiled, but there was a sadness in his eyes. "Tell me, how do you know the trees listen when you talk to them?"
"They move of their own accord, without me asking anything of them."
Toron looked surprised. "That is something I would greatly like to see."
"I can show you if you wish, but first I should eat. Would you care to join me for a meal at home?" she asked shyly.
In one smooth movement, Toron stood and bowed to her. "I would be honoured Lady Galadwen," he said, offering his hand.
Galadwen smiled as she took the offered hand. "I am no lady my Lord Toron, for I have still not reached my hundredth year," she said as he helped her to her feet.
"Age is not a number my lady," Toron replied, tucking her arm into his elbow. "It is a state of being, and you have none of the carefree or mischievous thoughts of one your age. So please, allow me to call you as I see you."
She looked away in embarrassment but nodded her agreement.
"We should take this opportunity to continue your study," he spoke in Westron.
They walked to Galadwen's home tree, arm in arm, talking in Westron. This language had many influences from the elvish languages so it was easier to remember and pick up than Khuzdul. Galadwen found she was conversing relatively smoothly by the time they reached Laerorneth. She reached out her free hand and touched the tree in greeting as they ascended the stairs.
"What did you say to the tree?" Toron asked.
"I am pleased to see you, Laerorneth, the noble tree I call home. May your leaves bask in the sunlight and may your roots find all the nourishment you need."
Toron smiled, then closed his eyes and touched the trunk of the tree. His hand brushed the bark as they continued up the stairs, his eyes still closed. They had nearly reached the landing when he finally opened his eyes again.
"What did you say?" Galadwen asked, unable to hold back her curiosity.
"Merely a greeting, and then I took your advice and spoke to it."
"About what?" she pressed.
"That is between myself and the tree," he replied with a mysterious smile. Galadwen frowned at his secrecy. That was the first time he had refused to answer her question. She didn't like it, particularly because it was her home tree he had been talking to, and under her advice no less. But like the good elf of Lothlorien that she was, she was practised in letting her emotions go.
They reached the landing, walking through the arch to find Nestor putting plates of food on the table.
"Galadwen, Toron," Nestor said with a warm smile. "How do the lessons fair?"
"Well," Toron replied. "Galadwen learns quickly. We have conversed in all the major languages while getting her some weapons for when she is ready."
"It seems to have done her good. Galadwen, you are looking more revitalised than this morning."
"I am, but it has left me famished," she said, approaching the butterfly chair at the table.
"As I suspected. Please help yourselves," she said, gesturing to the food on the table. "I will be back later." With that, she slipped passed them and disappeared down the stairs.
"Is she usually in such a hurry?" Toron asked as he took a seat next to her.
"Only when she is up to something," Galadwen said, unconcern. Nestor would fill her in when she was ready. For now, food was her priority so she started on the fruit in front of her.
"How very strange," Toron replied, taking a seat beside her. "She acts more like an elfling than you."
Sometime later, after Galadwen had cleared the table of food, she looked up to see Toron smiling at her.
"I have never seen someone consume so much food in one sitting, and that is saying something. I have seen three dwarves consume a feast fit for a dozen people" he said in awe. "But you have outdone them all. Eating all of that including three lambas loaves. Where has it all gone?"
"I guess the years of feast then famine have trained my body to hold a large amount of food. Did you have enough to eat?" Galadwen asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed that she had eaten all the food, leaving nothing for her guest.
"Do not concern yourself, I have had my fill," he replied. "I am more eager to see you sing to the tree."
"Please do not judge my singing. I have no great skill," Galadwen said, feeling shy. She closed her eyes and focused on the branches of the chair around her. Galadwen began to sing of healing, growth, and learning. The branches began to move, gently swaying to her words.
As she sung, Galadwen's thoughts drifted, remembering the extraordinary day. Her tune changed as she sung farewell to her loneliness and celebrated the new acceptance she had felt. The branches were moving more vigorously now, gently shifting her body about. When Galadwen opened her eyes, she was a couple of yards above the landing. The chair around her had solidified into a mass of twisted, knotted branches, and a small canopy of silver-green leaves fluttered above her head. It was an impressive work even for her. She did not think the song had been that good so wondered if perhaps the tree was showing off to Toron.
Toron still sat in the chair below her, his mouth comically hanging open. Galadwen smiled at his surprise while she silently asked the tree to lower her down. The thick branches below her twisted in on themselves, bending out to form steps as she was lowered. Now only a couple of feet above the landing, Galadwen stepped down off the chair.
Recovered from his shock, Toron stood to admire the chair. "I have never seen or even heard of such a thing. When you said the tree moved as you sung, I imagined the branches would sway slightly or the leaves would flutter of their own accord. I never thought the tree would have such creativity."
"After decades of Nestor singing to her, I would be surprised if she had not learnt a bit of creativity."
"She?" Toron asked as he ran his hand over the knots of the chair.
"Does the chair not have a feminine feel to it?"
"Yes, it does," Toron agreed. "But I would not call this a chair. It is a throne. One of such grace and beauty to rival the two in the Great Tree."
Galadwen shifted uncomfortably at his comment. "I thank you for your kindness Toron, but I must remind you that this chair was the work of Laerorneth, not me. I have no wish for a throne."
"I did not mean to imply that you do. I was only commenting that perhaps the tree is aware of your heritage and has created this chair to honour it and you."
Galadwen did not know what to say to that. She turned away in embarrassment. Her relationship with her mother was not something that she was comfortable talking about.
"I must go," Toron said suddenly. Galadwen turned back to him in surprise. "It is near dusk, duty calls. I will see you tomorrow at dawn at the Great Tree?"
Galadwen nodded in agreement and then he was gone.
Now alone, Galadwen suddenly felt exhausted. Not as much physical exhaustion like she had expected, but a mental exhaustion. It had been a day like no other. Today she had felt a part of the community. Today she had discovered her life force. Today she had learnt a lot about and from Toron, and nearly as much about herself. Sitting down on her throne-like chair, Galadwen thought over the day, burning it in her mind. Today felt like the start of her future. It was a day she would never forget.