Chance Encounter

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognize. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of putting them back where they belong after I'm through with them.

Chapter 14: A glimpse beyond the present

The elves had erected a pavilion for the Fellowship on the ground, knowing that they could not sleep in trees. A meal had been laid out for them. They ate in silence while around them, elves sang. "A lament for Gandalf," explained Legolas.

"What do they say about him?" asked Merry.

"I have not the heart to tell you," replied the elf. "For me the grief is still too near and it is a matter for tears, not songs."

The elven song was melodious and although it was melancholic, no one could deny that it was beautiful.

"I bet they don't sing about his fireworks," said Sam, laying out the bedding. "There should be a verse about them." With that, the little gardener started to recite:

The finest rockets ever seen

They burst in stars of blue and green

Or after thunder silver showers

Come falling like a rain of flowers

"No, no," muttered Sam, sitting down after his recital "that doesn't do them justice by a long road."

Legolas sat alone, leaning against a tree and staring at the stars which shone like diamonds woven to a piece of black silk. Balian approached him quietly, not wanting to disturb the trance that the elf seemed to be in. He watched the stars with Legolas for a while before opening his mouth to speak.

"Legolas," he said carefully. The elf turned to him, wearing an emotionless mask. "I apologize for what happened in the mines. It was wrong of me to interfere with something that I did not understand. Forgive me."

For a while, Legolas did not react. He just stared at the man with his burning gaze, making Balian very uncomfortable. He wished the elf would lash out at him, shout at him, do anything but stare at him with eyes that had as much emotion as the jewels that they resembled. Finally, Legolas looked away.

"You know what, Balian? You are the most humble, compassionate and generous person I have ever known," he said. "Here I am, wanting to protect my pride and you come and apologize for something which was entirely my fault. I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you."

"You flatter me," said Balian softly, inclining his head.

Legolas put a hand on Balian's shoulder. "It is I who should be asking for forgiveness," he told the man.

"I never faulted you," said Balian with a small smile of relief.

"So, err, I guess you do not hate each other anymore," said Gimli, who happened to overhear the conversation. He turned to the blacksmith. "And Laddie, do you really intend to sleep covered in orc blood and other filthy matter which I will not name?"

Balian grinned bashfully, looking down at himself.

"Come," said Legolas, getting to his feet. "You have even more talent for attracting dirt than Aragorn. There is a decent pool nearby. I'll show you."

Balian returned to the others devoid of dirt and wearing garments of elvish design. His other clothes had been washed and were now drying on some branches.

"Make way for the Baron of Ibelin!" declared Pippin happily through a mouthful of supper that the elves had prepared for them. "My, don't you look splendid!"

Balian fidgeted uncomfortably. "I don't know," he said. "These garments seem to fine for one such as me."

"Didn't you wear any finery as a baron?" asked Boromir.

"Only when I had no choice," replied the younger man.

"Hear, hear!" shouted Aragorn, raising his cup. "Come now, enough talk about the fashions of elves and noblemen. Have some food before the hobbits eat it all!"

Balian's eyes flew open. What had woken him? No one else was awake. Gimli lay snoring to his right and Aragorn slept with one knee bent and his mud-encrusted boots still on his feet. 'Who sleeps with their boots on?' thought Balian wryly. A soft rustle caught his attention. He lay very still with his eyes half-closed; trying to fool whatever it was that had made the noise.

A pair of furry feet passed by. Slowly, Balian lifted his head. Frodo? What was he doing up? Silently, he got out from under the blankets. His bare feet made no noise on the dew covered grass. He looked behind him. No one had been disturbed. They were all too tired. He waited until Frodo was out of earshot before following the hobbit. The cold wet grass was soft beneath his feet. He kept a constant distance between himself and the hobbit to avoid being seen. Frodo was following a white figure; the Lady.

Balian stopped and hid behind the trunk of a large tree when Frodo and the lady entered a clearing. Water flowed into a depression in the rocks from a spring. A silver basin sat on a stand of stone in the middle. The Lady picked up a silver pitcher and dipped it into the water in the rock depression. After having filled the pitcher, she turned to face the hobbit and spoke to him in low tones. Frodo replied warily. They were too far and their voices were too soft for Balian to make out what was being said.

The lady smiled as she approached the basin and poured the water from the pitcher into it. As she poured the water, she spoke, her voice growing louder, then soft again. Balian watched this with curiosity. There was something about the Lady that intrigued him. She was powerful and dangerous.

The Lady stepped back as Frodo went up to the basin and peered in. At first, nothing happened but then, Frodo's expression began to change. Balian watched on with concern as the little hobbit's face took on a horrified expression. He was ready to spring to Frodo's aid should the Ringbearer need him, although he doubted that he would be of much use against someone as powerful as the Lady or the supernatural things that dwelt in Middle Earth.

The Ring slipped out from inside Frodo's shirt and it dangled on the hobbit's neck precariously by its chain. It seemed to be pulling the Ringbearer into the basin. Frodo was fighting it but it was too strong. The water began to steam and boil. Frodo's face was lit up by an unnatural orange glow that reminded Balian of the balrog. Frodo looked as if he was seeing something terrible beyond words.

Just when Balian was about to leap out and pull the hobbit away, Frodo grabbed the Ring and fell back immediately. The water stopped boiling and steaming. The Lady gazed at Frodo through narrowed eyes. "I know what it is that you saw," she said "for it is also in my mind." She looked into Frodo's eyes deeply and held his gaze for a long time. Then Frodo opened his hand. The Ring lay on his palm, glinting in an alluring manner. It called to Balian, asking him to take it. Balian ignored its call the best he could. That ring was evil.

Frodo slowly extended his hand and offered the Ring to the Lady. Her eyes took on a dangerous gleam as she looked at the Ring and reached out with a shaking hand. "You offer it to me freely?" she asked in disbelief. "I cannot deny that my heart has greatly desired this." Even as Balian watched, she transformed. All the lights dimmed until she was the only thing that shone. No longer was she the gentle lady who had welcomed them into her domain. She had turned into something much more powerful and sinister, and Balian feared for Frodo's safety.

"Instead of a dark lord you shall have a queen!" she cried, lifting her arms. A great wind whipped her robes about her and they were not white anymore but of many colours. Her voice had become deep and it seemed as if there were two voices. "I shall not be dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Treacherous as the Sea! Stronger than the foundations of the Earth! All shall love me and despair!"

Even as she spoke the last word, the wind dyed down and light returned to the woods. The Lady was her normal self again, a slender elf woman clad in white. "I pass the test," she said. "I will diminish and go into the west, and remain Galadriel."

"I cannot do this alone," said Frodo in a pleading tone. He wore a troubled expression.

"You are a Ringbearer, Frodo Baggins," said the Lady. "To bear a ring of power is to be alone."

She lifted her head and gazed in Balian's direction. "Come out," she called. "I know you are there. You have been watching us."

Balian emerged nervously from his hiding place. His muscles were tense, ready to fight or flee. Warily, he approached the Lady.

"Will you look into the Mirror?" she asked.

"What will I see?" demanded Balian.

"Even the wisest cannot tell," she replied with a smile "for the Mirror shows many things. Things that are, things that were, and some things that have not yet come to pass."

Cautiously, Balian approached the Mirror and peered in. At first he could only see his own reflection then images appeared in the water…

…Jocelyn was hanging by her neck from the rafters… Her lips were blue and her eyes were glassy… Balian was screaming for help… He cut her down, but she was already gone... He went mad as they dragged him away from his wife's cold body… His brother screamed in agony as he drove the piece of red hot metal into flesh and pushed him into the flames of his forge… The priest clawed at him in his death throes… Balian reached into the flames and pulled his wife's cross from his brother's neck… Sibylla looked into his eyes, imploring him to stay, but she did not speak…she looked like a queen again… she was not in Jerusalem…Her kingdom was falling…she fell ill, her face was pallid… her eyes slowly closed…A golden city stood beside the coast of an azure sea. There were hundreds of galleys in the water. A noble man stood before the city, his sword of bronze was drawn…A black ship was sighted on the horizon…there was blood, they were fighting a war…A wooden horse… and then the city was no more, in its stead, burnt ruins…

Balian jerked away from the Mirror. "What does it mean?" he demanded. "What does it all mean?"

"I do not know," said the Lady. "You're purpose here is a mystery known only to the Valar and the One. I think you have seen a glimpse of what they want you to do."

Balian went away troubled. His thoughts dwelt on his visions. The visions of Jocelyn and of his brother Guillaume were visions of the past. What about his visions of Sibylla? Was she dying? And the golden city? How was it relevant?

After staying a month in Lothlorien, Aragorn decided that it was time to leave. The elves had provided them with boats, clothing and other provisions for which the Fellowship was grateful for. Balian shared a boat with Pippin, who had eaten too much of the elvish waybread on the first day.

Before they left, they had all been given gifts by the Lady herself. Balian's gift had been a fine mail shirt which he now wore beneath his tunic. "You are a warrior, a man born to shape the world," she had told him. "Do not hide from your destiny, for I know that you will be of great importance before the end."

Pippin was examining his gift, a dagger of the Noldor elves. "I wish we could've stayed longer," said the little hobbit with a sigh. "The elves are wondrous folk, and I've never tasted such fine cooking."

"Maybe you can persuade Legolas to make dinner then," said Balian. Being with the cheerful hobbit lightened his spirits immensely.

"Maybe," said Pippin doubtfully "but he's a warrior. His cooking might taste like Aragorn's, and that would be a disaster, not to mention a tremendous wasted of food. Do you cook, Balian?"

"My culinary skills do not extend beyond the occasional half-cooked rabbit, Master Pippin," said Balian. "As for my knowledge of herbs and seasonings, it is sorely lacking, as my wife always said."

Pippin shuddered. "'Tis fortunate that we have Sam with us then," he said.

The Fellowship made camp when the sun began to set. Balian was busy building up a fire and gutting the rabbits that Legolas had shot while Aragorn and Boromir went off to find more firewood. Gimli chewed on a piece of dried meat, looking wistfully in the direction of Lothlorien while Legolas scanned their surroundings for any sign of a threat. Sam came back from the river with a pot of water. He put the pot on to boil and started to cut up the meat and put it into the pot for a stew.

Just as Balian was going off to bury the offal, he heard Aragorn call out.

"Balian, come help us! We've found a man in the forest!" The ranger shouted. The blacksmith quickly abandoned the offal and went towards the other men. Aragorn and Boromir supported the stranger on either side. As they drew nearer, Balian's eyes widened in recognition…

A/N: This chapter's slightly short. I've been busy with school and all. And who did Aragorn and Boromir find? It's a sort of evil cliffie, I know. Please review! I want to know what you all think!