Chapter 5 - The Student
Galadwen pulled the bow back as Toron had shown her. She held the drawn bow, feeling the tension across her back and shoulders.
"Good," Toron said from behind her. "Now check your weight is centred." She shifted her weight between her feet, carefully placed just over a shoulder-width apart, letting her body find it's centre. "Lower your elbow slightly," he said as his fingers gently touched her elbow and moved it to the required location. "You should feel comfortable holding the bow drawn. Every time you draw it, I want you to hold this exact position, letting your body become familiar with it. It needs to become an instinctual reaction."
She did as he asked, feeling like she was carved from stone, except for her slow controlled breaths. Breathing into her stomach to stop the breaths moving the bow, her only movement was the flutter of the arrow's fetched feathers next to her cheek with every breath. With her renewed strength and senses, Galadwen could tell by the smell that filled her nose that the feather had belonged to a blue-billed duck.
"Focus down the arrow's shaft. See the direction it will go. Picture the curve of flight, allowing for the distance it must travel, aim it at the target. Then between breaths, fire when you are ready."
Galadwen watched the arrow speed away from her. It didn't follow the exact path she had pictured and landed a few yards from the distant target.
"Good," Toron said. "Again."
Galadwen thought the shot, like all her others this morning, was far from good, but without comment, she reached for another arrow in her quiver and reloaded the bow. This time, Toron adjusted the position of the bow and her drawn arm. When she loosed the arrow, it flew too high, sailing over the target and into the bushes beyond.
"Your weight was too far back that time," Toron said as Galadwen reached for another arrow with a sigh. "Remember to settle your balance before you let fly."
With the last arrow in her quiver, Galadwen drew the bow, settled her balance, imagined the track of the arrow, then let loose. It nearly followed the line she had imagined, coming to land with a thud on the very edge of the top right corner of the target.
"Hah!" she exclaimed. "I hit it."
Toron was grinning at her. "Well done Galadwen! We may make a warrior out of you yet."
Galadwen's heart sung. She wanted to sing, spin, jump, and dance for joy. But as was appropriate for the elves of Lothlorien, she settled for a smile.
"I think that is enough archery for today," he said, still smiling. "Collect your arrows and then we will move on to the sword."
After all her arrows were back in the quiver, Galadwen stood opposite Toron as he gave his instructions.
"Usually, we would start with practice swords to prevent any unintentional injury," he said. "But you do not have the luxury of time to learn with a practice sword, then become familiar with your own sword. So we will go carefully."
He drew his sword and indicated Galadwen do the same. The curved sword felt alien in her hand, but so had the bow at first. After showing her how to hold it and how to position her body, the clearing was soon filled with the slow, steady clang of metal on metal. With each stroke, Toron offered a word of encouragement or correction. They ran through the same few steps and strokes again and again, until well into the afternoon. After so much repetition, Galadwen felt she could have done those steps in with her eyes closed.
The sword was just starting to feel less awkward in her hand when Toron called a halt to the weapons training.
"Although time is of the essence, I am cautious of draining you of your strength, so we will stop for today," he said as he led them out of the training clearing. "But the rest of the afternoon will not be wasted. You may have seen the collection of books in my quarters. They cover the bare minimum you will need to know about the plants, animals, peoples and their cultures. I expect you to read them all before you leave Lothlorien. Every few days, we will make time to discuss what you have read."
"That sounds easy enough," Galadwen replied.
"Perhaps, but they are not all in Sindarin or Quenya. How are you at reading Khuzdul and Westron?" he asked.
"Oh," said Galadwen, realising the full difficulty of the task he had set for her. "Do you not have translated copies?" she asked.
"Things are always lost in translation," he replied. "And there will be no translator for you out in the world, particularly if you're travelling alone. You must learn these languages. But I am here if you have any questions."
"Thank you Toron," Galadwen replied with a smile. As Toron returned her smile, Cullas's words ran through her mind. She didn't have a lot of experience with having friends, so didn't know if his feelings were as platonic as her own. Perhaps there were signs he was giving her that she was missing because she didn't know what to look for. Or perhaps it was as she believed, a friendship between student and master. There was only one way to know for sure.
"Toron," Galadwen said.
"Yes?" he asked.
"Are we friends?" she asked.
"Yes, I would like to think so," he replied. "Why do you ask?"
"I have not had a friend before," she replied, looking away in embarrassment. "I am not really sure what it is."
"Well you have a friend now," he said, taking her hand and putting it in the crook of his elbow like he had done before.
When they arrived at his quarters, Toron picked a couple of books and a scroll for her. Both books were in Sindarin. One was a large book on the plants of Middle Earth and the other was on the geography.
"The Plants of Middle Earth is very extensive and quite accurate. The Natural Land and Formations of Middle Earth was written many centuries ago, so is a bit out of date. The scroll is full of my own observations, and is to be read in conjunction with it," Toron said. "When you're done with those, we will discuss what you have learnt before I give you the next lot."
Galadwen thanked him for the books, then feeling her dismissal, excused herself from the hut.
She had thought to study at home but for some reason, she felt her body drawing her towards the King of All Trees. It had been over a day since she'd sat with him, and her body was obviously needing some of his strength.
She set herself up on the usual bench, tucked in between the large roots. Touching a palm to the Great Tree, she greeted him, before settling down to start her reading. While she read of the many plants of Middle Earth, she could feel the life force of the greatest plant in Middle Earth flowing through her.
When the sun had set and darkness was coming on, Galadwen was still only part way through the book, but her mind was swarming with different types of plants, their characteristics, properties and uses. Closing the book, she sent a thank you to the King of Trees before standing and heading home. Surprisingly, her body felt even more invigorated than before. The Great Tree had been blessing her with his strength while she studied, and now she felt as if she could run for days without needing to rest.
Nestor was out again, but she had left food out for her. While she ate, Galadwen noticed things about her tree that she had not noticed in a long time. The starlight lit the canopy above her in a soft glow, as a gentle breeze fluttered through the silver leaves. She could almost feel the tree stretch its limbs in a sigh as if tossing in it's slumber. But the tree was not completely asleep. The branches of her seat still moved for her, and the tree still gave her strength at her request. It was still conscious while it slept.
Galadwen wished she could do the same when viewing the future. Perhaps she could. It was not something she had tried before, but if she could master it, her safety would no longer be compromised whenever she viewed the future. To master that skill would be to turn a weakness on her journey into an unimaginable asset. But since it took years to learn the limited control she now had with her gift, she doubted it would be something that she could achieve in the limited time she had left in the safety of Lothlorien. Galadwen asked the branches of the chair to lean back, holding her more securely. Just because she may not succeed, was no reason to not try. She closed her eyes and entered the future.
When Nestor came home, midnight had passed. Galadwen sat up with an exhausted sigh.
"That boy better not be working you too hard," Nestor said.
Galadwen stood with a smile. "Nay Mam," she replied, embracing her in greeting. "I am working myself too hard. But I will rest now."
"Good," Nestor replied. "How does the training go?"
Galadwen told her of the days training and the challenge she had set herself.
"I agree," Nestor said. "Learning to remain conscious while dreaming of the future would greatly increase your safety. Without that skill, I would advise against any dreaming outside of these borders. The danger would be too high."
"Yes," agreed Galadwen, then changed the subject. "So am I well enough to begin your tuition?" she asked.
Nestor smiled at her. "I knew you would not let me forget my promise. But is it really worth your time? I do not believe you will have a use for it outside of these borders. Surely there are more important things you need to learn."
"Yes, my time is limited, and there are other things that are more important for my journey that I should be learning, but I love talking to the trees. I want to learn this for me," she said, holding her hand to her heart.
Nestor smiled. "And so I will teach you," she said, taking a seat at the table, having the small branches of the chair move to fit her form. "The first step is to understand the trees. When you talk to the trunk or branches of the tree, is it the same?"
"Nay," Galadwen replied. "But it is also different between each tree."
"Yes, each tree has it's own personality, but also, each part of a tree is slightly different," Nestor said. "They are the same tree, but at different ages. Take our tree Laerorneth. Her trunk is the oldest and wisest part of her. It carries her knowledge of the years past, back to when her first sprout emerged from the ground. When you talk to the trunk, it is like talking to a great-grandmother, full of strength and wisdom. Then the thick branches that have seen many years are like talking to an old parent. And up it goes, each smaller, younger branch is a younger version of Laerorneth. Right up to the smallest twigs that are like young children playing with their leaves in the wind.
"So when you talk to these branches," she said, placing a hand on the chair. "You are talking to an adolescent Laerorneth, not quite at adulthood. For trees to pass messages, you must talk to the children. But like most children, they will only do something because they think it will be fun. So you must convince them that it is a game."
Nestor closed her eyes and sung to the chair of new growth, causing small branches with new leaves to sprout around the edge. The tempo of her song changed to one Galadwen had not heard before. Her clear voice soon had the new twigs on her chair moving to the fast jig. Then the twigs on Galadwen's chair took up the dance, along with those above the table. She heard the leaves in the canopy start to move, travelling up to the highest reaches of Laerorneth. Then starting at Nestor's chair, the twigs stilled the leaves, until the whole canopy was quiet.
"I asked Laerorneth what story the wind has to tell on this night," Nestor said as she opened her eyes.
"And what did they say?" Galadwen asked.
"Nothing yet," Nestor replied with a smile. "The message was passed on, and now we wait to get a reply."
"How long do you wait?" she asked.
"It depends on the question," Nestor replied. "When Lady Galadriel asked the trees to look for you, it was nearly a day before she heard anything back. But I have asked Laerorneth a much simpler question which doesn't require her to pass it on to any other trees, so we should have an answer soon."
"But if she doesn't have to pass on the message, couldn't you have just asked her the usual way?" Galadwen asked.
"Yes," she replied. "But the method I used is the same for passing messages from tree to tree. Although to actually pass a message from tree to tree is significantly more complicated, as you must take into account the personality of the trees you are passing to, and whether they wish to play your game and pass the message on. It is not just your relationship with the other trees, it is also the tree you start with, and their relationship with the other trees. Because of this, many trees refuse to pass on the message, so the message often dies out before you have achieved your objective. The only tree within Lothlorien that all the trees will answer is Valief Tar-Vardarianna*. Any message passed through him will be carried by all the trees. That is how Our Lady is able to pass messages through the trees."
A flicker of leaves in the canopy above slowly travelled down, as if an invisible force was slowly falling through the tree canopy towards Nestor. When the flicker reached Nestor, she closed her eyes. Galadwen didn't know if she was listening or feeling what the twigs were saying to her, but soon they stopped their unusual movement.
"There is a westerly breeze, with a cold bite, fresh off the heights of the Misty Mountains," spoke Nestor. "A storm blows on the peaks and the smell of stone dust suggests the mountain giants are awake. The air whispers of filth and death. Of orcs in the mountains. Their numbers above ground are still low, but their stench is seeping out of cracks in the mountains where they are multiplying quickly. The wind cautions that if left unchecked, they will soon swarm the lower hills."
"The low lands?" Galadwen asked, concern giving a higher pitch to her voice. "They must be stopped before they spread. We must tell Lady Galadriel."
"She knows my child," Nestor replied. "And Our Lady will act when the time is ready."
"When?" she demanded. "When they are swarming at our borders? When the rest of Middle Earth is filled with death and destruction?"
"Orcs are tricky creatures, and to fight them in their mountains is dangerous, even for elves," Nestor calmly explained. "I suspect she is waiting for something, or a someone, to draw them out. I suspect she will split her army in two. One to cut off the orcs and protect that someone who drew them out, and the other half to flank them and prevent any retreat."
"She's waiting for me?" Galadwen asked, leaning back in her chair in surprise.
"I suspect so," Nestor replied.
In the ensuing silence, Galadwen contemplated the brilliance of the plan. It would allow her to travel the first part of her journey protected from the dangers from the west while setting a trap for the orcs so they could be cleared from the mountains. The fact that she was bait didn't slip past her, but neither would it slip past those who said Galadriel had in all but words acknowledged her. Therefore, Galadriel would be securing her ruling power, while clearing the threat from the west, and protecting her daughter. There was only one hole in the plan.
"Why would all the orcs come after me?" she asked.
"Whoever leads these orcs knew the company sent into our borders would not leave here alive," Nestor replied. "Whatever they were after must have been worth the large sacrifice, and not something they will let get away a second time."
"Assuming you are correct and it is me they were after."
Nestor gave a small nod in agreement.
"Now child," she said. "Do you wish to try passing messages through the children?"
"Yes Mam," Galadwen said. She closed her eyes and started singing the same tune Nestor had. It was of course slightly different, as she was not a mimic, but the twigs around her still started to twist their leaves. She asked her question, but there was no change to the beat of the twigs around her. After several attempts, she stopped singing and the leaves stilled.
"What am I doing wrong?" she asked Nestor.
"I do not know my child," Nestor replied. "They hear your song, but not your question. Perhaps you need to spend more time talking to the twigs and their leaves. You must know and understand each other for this to work."
"Yes Mam," Galadwen replied with a nod. She looked at the twigs and leaves by her right arm. When talking to the branches of the chair, communication was made clearer with physical contact. So she gently touched the twig. She could almost feel it twitch under her finger. Gently moving her finger up the twig and around the leaf and back down the twig. After repeating the movement a couple of times, the twig twitched at her touch.
"You are tickling it, my child," Nestor said with a grin from across the table.
Galadwen smiled down at the twig and stroked it again, making it twitch again. The leaves around her started to twitch slightly. They wanted to be tickled as well. So Galadwen complied, stroking each one. Soon both her hands were running over the leaves along the outside of her chair in smooth, graceful strokes. She started to sing an elflings lullaby to the twigs and they began to sway with her touch and voice. She imagined herself not singing to twigs and leaves, but a tutor singing to elflings, so small and innocent.
The twigs seemed happy with the comparison as all those around her joined in, rocking with the beat of the lullaby. When the song finished, the leaves continued to flutter, moving in waves away from her. Galadwen leaned back in her chair with a tired but content sigh.
"Well done child," Nestor said. "You will have them passing messages for you in no time. But for now, I think you should rest."
Galadwen agreed and retired to her sleeping mat, still on the platform in their living room. It was time to dream of the future.
*Translation: The King of All Trees