Chapter 4 - Belonging
The following day was much like the previous, except this time she carried her weapons and braided her hair in one long plait down her back. Galadwen met Toron at the King of All Trees at dawn. They spent most of the day walking around Caras Galadhon talking in the minor languages of Middle Earth. Some of the languages took a while to pick up, but others were easier. They passed many elves on their walk, all acknowledged Galadwen and Toron, many even stopping to offer a word of greeting. It felt strange to Galadwen, but not unpleasant.
She did not tire as much as the previous day, but they still stopped at the Great Tree.
"Come, let us stop and rest a while," Toron said, taking a seat on the bench under the Great Tree.
"Thank you Toron, but I feel quite well," Galadwen replied. "Can we not continue my tuition?" she asked.
"Learning the languages will help you, but it will not protect you or save you from orcs. We are waiting for you to be fully recovered before the real training is to start. So please, let us rest awhile. Besides, I wish to practice talking to the Great Tree."
Galadwen relented and took a seat beside Toron.
After a few hours rest, Galadwen opened her eyes to feel stronger, quicker and more alert than she had felt in years. She felt the full strength of her people flow through her, every muscle lithe and ready, every sense tuned and alert. The world was brighter, louder, and more alive. Or more accurately, she was more alive. It was almost overwhelming in its intensity as Galadwen sat still on the bench adjusting to it.
"Are you well Galadwen?" Toron asked from his spot beside her.
"Quite, Toron," she replied. "I am now only just realising how poorly I have been looking after myself. I have been living in a world of fog and did not realise. That fog has suddenly cleared, leaving me blinking in the brightness of a new day."
"It seems you are nearly back to full strength. Your recovery has been quicker than I ever imagined, with thanks to the assistance of the Great Tree."
"Yes, I owe him many thanks," Galadwen replied, placing her palm on the trunk and silently sending him her gratitude.
Now her sensors were heightened to their full strength, it was like being born again. Everything felt new. The feel of the bark under her palm told her a story of strength and life. And of the memories of rain trickling down over it, and the many elves to have sat on the bench. She could see the shape and colour of every dust speck as it floated past in the dappled sunlight. She could hear her own heartbeat and that of Torons, and the insects scurrying along the forest floor. But that was getting drowned out by the voices. So many voices, of all the elves nearby, filling her ears with noise. Not used to the heightened sensors, it started to become overwhelming. But before panic could set in, Galadwen drew her focus back in, as every elfling was taught at a young age. Focusing on Toron, she was able to let the other sights and sounds fade into the background. Dark eyelashes framed brown eyes. They weren't looking at her, but into her. She felt herself being intensely studied and strangely, she didn't feel disconcerted. He was her friend.
"If Nestor agrees, perhaps tomorrow we can start with your combat training. There is much you need to learn in very little time," Toron said.
Galadwen shivered. "I never thought myself a warrior. I do not know if I can kill another living being."
"You are not a warrior Galadwen. But to leave here without an escort, even while you are hunted by orcs, you must become one to survive," Toron said with earnest.
Glancing at the weapons leaning against the trunk beside her, Galadwen sighed. "So it will be."
"Then come," Toron said, standing. "Before I teach you how to use your weapons, you must first know how to look after them."
Galadwen collected her weapons and followed Toron. He led her to an area of the city she had not been. Here, long low buildings of wood frame and mud brick stretched between the mallorn trees. They approached one of the buildings with a door and small window about every five yards along one side. Toron opened the seventh door and entered. Galadwen hesitated then followed him in.
Inside, Galadwen's eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness of the small room. On the right were a desk and stool below the window and on the right wall, shelves full to overflowing with books and scrolls. To her left were baskets of food on the ground and hanging from the low ceiling. Down the back, Galadwen could see in the gloom a sleeping mat and a couple of large chests. Toron was opening one of the chests.
"You live here?" Galadwen asked in surprise.
"Yes of course," Toron replied as he searched in the chest.
"Why?" she asked. Galadwen knew the question sounded rude, but she could not understand why someone would live here in this small dark room when they could live in a majestic mallorn tree.
At her question, Toron looked up from the chest. He sat back and considered her for a moment before answering. "There are more elves in Caras Galadhon than there are mallorn trees. The trees are given to those with families first, and still, there are some families who do not have a tree to call home. It is true that being a member of the Royal Guard, I could live in a tree if I wished, but I could not enjoy such an honour knowing that others with more need than my own went without. I am content to live here for now. I have all I need."
Galadwen dropped her gaze, ashamed at her own naivety.
"Do not be ashamed Galadwen, at your lack of knowledge or at your own circumstances. You have grown up in one of the tallest trees in the forest as suits Nestor's prestige and your lineage. We all have our own paths to follow in this life, and yours has not been without significant trial. Do not compare your path to that of others. Instead, give help where you can, for then you will truly be able to enjoy the pleasures of your path, knowing you have done what you can to ease the paths of others."
Galadwen thought over his comments. "You speak wise truths Toron." He nodded and turned back to the chest, pulling out a couple of small bundles.
"Come, let us go out into the light," Toron said as he led her outside. He took a seat under the window, leaning against the mud bricks. Galadwen took off the quiver and its attached sword and bow before taking a seat beside him.
Toron took out one of the bundles. It was a soft leather cloth. "This," he said, holding the cloth up for her to inspect, "is all you need to take care of your sword. Being of quality elven make, the blade will never dull or weather. It only requires a clean with a soft leather like this after every use." He unsheathed the sword at his hip and gently laid it across his lap. Taking the leather cloth, he started at the hilt end and with big long strokes, cleaned the blade. "Although the blade will not dull, some things, such as orc blood, will damage it if left to set on the blade, so it must be cleaned," Toron said as he worked. After a dozen strokes, he flipped the sword and did the same to the other side. "If the sword does not get enough use, the leather grip will need oiling, but if you practice with it every day, your hands will keep it conditioned." He lifted the blade and inspected both sides in the light. Satisfied, he sheathed it. "Here," he said, passing her the cloth, "now you can clean your blade."
Galadwen took the offered cloth and for the first time, hesitantly unsheathed her sword. It was heavy in her hand. Not so much a physical weight, but more a heavy dread at the thought of having to use it. She slowly laid it on her lap, then very carefully began to clean it with the same long strokes Toron had used. After a dozen strokes, she turned the blade over and did the same to the other side, under Toron's watchful gaze. Once completed, she lifted the blade to inspect it. It had been spotless before she started, so she was glad to see it still was. She looked to Toron who gave her a small smile of encouragement. Galadwen sheathed her sword.
"Good," he said. "Keep the cloth. If it gets dirty, rinse it in water. Now on to the bow."
Toron took out the other bundle, unwrapping the soft leather cloth to reveal a small glass vial full of a golden liquid and a stiff cloth smelling of beeswax.
"The bow itself does not need much attention, just a wipe down, like the sword, when it gets dirty. The bowstring requires the most care to ensure it stays strong and supple. Two drops of this," Toron said, holding up the vial, "on your finger. Rub your finger and thumb together then rub them along the string in the direction of the grain." Toron passed her the vial. Unstopping it, Galadwen let two drops fall onto her index finger, rubbing them into her thumb. Then passing the vial back to Toron she took out her bowstring and ran it between her finger and thumb.
"Good," Toron said. "Do this half a dozen times, each time turning the string so every side is coated." Galadwen did as instructed while Toron continued to talk. "Treat the bowstring once a week to protect it from drying out or absorbing moisture. Even with this treatment, prolonged moisture like rain is not good for it. It will significantly shorten the lifespan of the string. If you must use the bow in the rain, the only way to protect the string is to coat it in beeswax." He opened the stiff cloth to reveal a small bar of wax.
"To coat the string, rub the bar of wax down it in the direction of the grain at least a dozen times when the bow is strung. It depends on how warm the wax is. You want it thoroughly coated, but not so much that it loses its suppleness. The wax will not stay watertight with prolonged use and must be reapplied regularly. When the wax is no longer needed, it must be cleaned off the string to prevent it absorbing which will cause the string to stiffen. The easiest way is to scrape it off with a knife, then use a rough cloth to wipe off any remaining. It is a lengthy process so is only done at times of great need. Unfortunately, I do not have time to show you now." He wrapped the wax and vial back up and passed her the bundle. "Here, these are spare, so they are now yours."
"Thank you Toron," Galadwen replied as she accepted the bundle.
"The final thing is your arrows," Toron said, taking an arrow from her quiver. "After each use, if you able to retrieve them, you must carefully check their condition. Check the tip is straight and secure," he said, inspecting the tip. "Check the shaft is free of any cracks or chips, and finally check the fletching. The feathers should be completely symmetrical for a straight flight. If anything is not perfect on your arrow, I would advise to not use it, but in the wild, you may not have a choice. Ideal conditions are a rarity." He returned the arrow to her quiver.
"There will be a lot you will learn over the next few weeks, but if you only take one thing away from it all, it should be this. Care for your weapons as if your life depended on it because one day it will."
"Thank you Toron," Galadwen said. "I will," she replied earnestly.
He smiled at her reply. "I still have a little time before sunset if you would like to sit and talk with me," Toron said in what Galadwen recognised as a dialect of Westron.
"Yes of course, as long as you have nothing more important to do," Galadwen replied in what she thought was correct response for that dialect.
"Not at all," Toron said with a smile as he leaned back against the mud bricks. Galadwen moved to sit beside him. The bricks, although rough, were warm and sturdy at her back.
"Tomorrow, the hard work will start," Toron said in the same dialect. "Let me warn you now that it will be boring, monotonous practice. You will practice the basics over and over until they are a reflex. It will be a test of your mental strength as much as your physical strength."
"I am ready for the challenge," Galadwen replied. "I would not dishonour your generosity by giving anything less than everything I can towards the training."
"That is good to hear. It may also be a good time to work on understanding your life force so you can recognise when you start to draw on it and stop yourself."
Galadwen nodded in agreement. They talked about her training until the sun had nearly set.
"If you would excuse me Galadwen," Toron said looking towards the canopy above with its soft golden glow of the setting sun. "I must get ready for duty. If you are willing to wait a moment, I would walk you to the King of Trees." It was a statement asked as a question.
"I'll wait," Galadwen agreed.
She watched as Toron quickly but gracefully rose and disappeared inside his quarters. With her newly heightened hearing, Galadwen felt uncomfortable at the intimate proximity to Toron getting changed into his armour. She tried not to listen, instead focusing on the noises in front of her. Listening to a beetle scuttle across in front of her, she extended her hearing out beyond the immediate area. The renewed strength of her hearing amazed her as she listened to the sounds of every insect move about the clearing, identifying them as she went. Galadwen watched a swallow fly past and listened to the beat of its wings. Stretching her hearing, like stretching a muscle, she listened for things beyond the clearing. She could hear three elves talking on the other side of a mallorn tree some distance in front of her. Not wanting to listen in on a private conversation, Galadwen was moving her attention elsewhere until she heard her name mentioned.
"Galadwen should never have been allowed to stay in the first place," said a female voice.
"It is not her fault she was conceived the way she was. Our Lady is the one to blame, not Galadwen," said a second female voice.
"You are right, we should not blame the poor girl," a third voice said. "But it is treachery to accuse Our Lady of what you are implying. If Lord Celeborn could forgive Our Lady's transgression, then so should we."
"Lord Celeborn is too good for Our Lady," said the first voice.
Galadwen knew she should not have been listening in on a private conversation, but now she was, she couldn't stop.
"But even he did not completely forgive Lady Galadriel," said the second voice.
"Why do you say that?" asked the third.
"He still refused to raise the child as his own."
"But there was no prerequisite for him to do so," replied the third. "And if he had, many would have refused them as leaders."
"We all know the arguments, but the truth of the matter is that both Our Lord and Lady chose their own power over Galadwen. She has been all but shunned since birth."
"And look what good it has done us," said the first. "Orcs within our borders for the first time since Sauron. Galadwen should never have been born, and she will bring us nothing but trouble. The sooner she leaves here, the better."
"No!" exclaimed the second.
"How can you say such things?" demanded the third.
The door beside Galadwen opened, and she jumped at the noise. At the small fright, she could feel her body drawing on her life force, enhancing her senses and reactions. With her renewed strength, it was quite overwhelming. The thousands of noises she could now hear were deafening. Her eyes were blinded by all the extra colours. She could feel every muscle and nerve of her body all at once, overwhelming her mind with information.
"Are you all right?" Toron asked. The sound of his voice was so loud she wanted to block her ears, but it helped to drown out the other sounds. Galadwen focused her mind on him. Listening to his steady heartbeat and focusing on his concerned eyes, she was able to stop herself drawing on her life force. The world dulled back down to a manageable level.
"I think you're right about studying my life force. I seem to draw on it without meaning to. And now that I'm stronger, it is a little overwhelming when I do."
Galadwen accepted Toron's offered hand as she stood up. He put her hand in the crook of his elbow. "Well it is a good that you can now recognise when you draw on it," he said as they started to walk towards the Great Tree. "I am excited to see you learn to control it."
"Do you think I will?" she asked.
"Did you not just stop yourself from drawing on it then?" he asked.
"I did."
"So then you are already halfway there," he replied with a kind smile.
After watching Toron start up the stairs of the Great Tree, Galadwen wandered the paths of Caras Galadhon, thinking on all she had learned of herself, Toron, and the people of Lothlorien. Thinking of the conversation between the three women she had overheard earlier, Galadwen realised that she had always known her mother had chosen the people of Lothlorien over her own daughter. But it had been hard to hear, none the less.
On a happier note, she was starting to see that not all the other elves of Lothlorien hated her like she had always believed. One of the women had even taken Galadwen's side against her companions. And the elves that she had met since Toron had taken her under his wing had been nothing but kind. As if to emphasize her realization, a small group of elves, passing her in the opposite direction, offered her smiles and greetings in passing.
Although it was nice to feel as if she was finally a part of their community, Galadwen was only too aware that her time in Lothlorien was coming to a close. In a few shorts weeks, she would have to leave. Making friends and getting attached was only going to make leaving the only place she had known, that much harder. Especially since her mother had foreseen that she would never return.
Galadwen had just decided that she would return home to convince Nestor she was fit to start training when she heard someone call out her name. Surprised, she turned to see Cullas walking quickly towards her. No one had ever called out to her before. She felt an irrational desire to flee. But this woman was no threat. She was the sister of her tutor. She may be intimidating, but Galadwen was done hiding and running from those things that scared her.
"Good evening Cullas," Galadwen said as the woman approached. "Are you well?" she asked, puzzling over why Cullas wanted to speak with her.
"Evening Galadwen," Cullas replied with a smile. "Yes, I am quite well. How are you?"
"I am very well," she replied, hesitantly returning her smile.
"Good," Cullas said. "How is training going? How do you find the bow?"
"I haven't used it yet. We start combat training tomorrow."
"Oh," she said, looking abashed. "I heard in the market today that you will be leaving Lothlorien by yourself in a month's time. I had assumed you would be training right away."
"I could not train any earlier, as my body has been recovering from the wound I took at the hand of the orcs," Galadwen explained.
"Yes, of course." She stepped closer to her and lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "Don't leave because a few jealous old fossils threaten to make trouble. There are many here who feel you have been treated unfairly and will stand by you if you wish to stay."
Galadwen was surprised at her words and the underlying kindness. She had never imagined there would be elves in Lothlorien, other than Nestor, who would stand up for her against the high court elves. That thought filled her heart with warmth and gratitude. She took Cullas's hand in her own.
"Thank you for your kind words. They bring me a comfort I had long wished for," she said. "So please take some comfort in my words. I do not leave because of any pressure within Lothlorien to do so. I leave for my own reasons, for things that are taking place outside of our borders."
"What things?" Cullas asked. "I was not aware you had left Lothlorien before."
"I haven't," she replied. "But I do not believe that orc attack was random. There is a darkness building in the world outside of these lands, and I wish to do what I can to stop it."
"But you are not a warrior," Cullas rebutted. "You don't even know how to fight. What can you do to stop this darkness you talk about?"
"I don't know what help I can be, but I do know I must do something," she replied. "So I will learn to fight."
"But you cannot possibly learn enough in a month to survive beyond our borders alone." Cullas was talking in a quick, agitated tone. "My brother's other pupils trained with him for years before they travelled alone. Why must you go alone and so soon?"
"Please, ease your fears," Galadwen said, honoured at the concern Cullas was showing for her safety. "I do not go into the world blindly. I have the Sight, so I have seen when and where I am needed. Our Lady is giving me as much time as she can. I will honour her by learning all I can in the time I have, as failure is not an option. I will be ready when the time comes."
"But you are so young. How can you be so sure?" she asked.
Faced with Cullas's uncertainty and fear, Galadwen could feel her own certainty fortified. It was the reason she had been given her gift, the reason she had seen all the pain and suffering. All that death and despair had given her the determination to face down her own fears and do what she must. It was the reason her short years had been filled with loneliness and isolation. She had little to hold her back.
"In deciding to help stop the darkness, I have discovered my purpose in this life," she replied. "You honour me with your concern for my safety, Cullas. But do not waste your fears on me. Fear for what still may befall this world, even if I succeed."
"My concern for your safety is not as honourable as you believe," Cullas admitted. "I also fear what your death would do to my brother."
"Surely you do not think Toron so controlled by his emotions that the death of a student would drive him to do the unthinkable?" Galadwen asked in surprise.
"Not for a student," Cullas agreed. "But I have never known Toron to take walks, arm in arm, with any student, or friend. Not even myself, his family."
"You are mistaken Cullas," Galaden said. "Toron has helped me through the recovery of my wound, and has been very generous with his knowledge, but I have seen the one who my heart belongs to, and it is not him."
"You are sure?" she asked.
Galadwen nodded with a smile. "Ease your fears Cullas, I will not take your brother's heart then leave him."
"Thank you Galadwen," she replied with a mixed look of embarrassment and relief. "You are more gracious than many who walk amongst us. Please, if there is anything I can ever do for you, do not hesitate to ask. It would be my honour."
"Thank you Cullas," Galadwen said with a grateful nod of her head.
Cullas stepped back, took a small bow, then turned and walked back the way she had come.
Stunned at the conversation she had just had with Cullas, and then her abrupt departure, Galadwen turned and continued home.