Chapter 9
The Fellowship had decided to spend a few days in the elven city, just enough time to restock on supplies and rest. Sierra spent the early part of the first day keeping Gimli from losing his sanity in the elven city. Simple things mostly; checking inventory, making sure tools and bags were still trustworthy, sharpening and tuning weapons, and even just talking nonsense. In wandering the city, the two discovered the armory and smithing tools. Gimli was elated to find something he could relate to and the dwarf proceeded to light the forge and shoo all but the most knowledgeable elves from the room, Sierra included. She would try to poke her nose into the room over the stay in the elven city, but Gimli was ever vigilant and shooed her from the chamber any moment he'd sensed so much a whisper of her presence.
So Sierra moved on from the smithy, eventually finding the hobbits enjoying some lunch. Frodo was still somewhat somber, but he had felt much better after having eaten, bathed, and sat in the company of his closest friends. He especially laughed when the others moaned about there being so little meat offered at meals. Sierra blamed it on this place being a home to elves, people bent on the protection of their forest homes with minimal damage, which included managing the population of the wildlife.
Sierra kept herself busy and by late afternoon had explored only a little of the city, not daring to go far without a guide, and found herself lost on stepping beyond her comfort zone. She'd decided to sit and wait in that spot for a while; it was one of the few places she'd seen in the city that had a window to the land outside the massive copse of trees. Also, she knew it was wisest to wait for someone to come along and help when one got lost. Wheather by fortune or curse, she didn't find herself alone in this peaceful place for long.
"Greetings, dear guest." Sierra turned and recognized the elf, it was that Faroth, the one she'd met at the business end of an arrow. Preferring to not be rude, she hummed a brief greeting to the elf, silently hoping he'd leave her alone as she stared out the portal. Instead, he came closer and hovered near her right side, "Pray, are you alright, my lady? You seem bothered."
"I don't know if you've heard, but a dear friend of mine has recently passed from this world." Sierra jabbed tartly.
"Ah…yes, I do know." the elf spoke softly, "Mithrandir, or Gandalf as you know him, was a dear friend to many people. Losing him is a great travesty for all of us." Sierra glanced at him and studied his face. She eventually nodded, taking his words for true grief. It was a moment of silence before he spoke again, "I enethen Faroth. Dhe nathlam hi."
"Pardon?" Sierra turned to him with a questioning expression. He smiled a little and chuckled.
"My name is Faroth. You are welcome here." Faroth supplied with a small smile, "Do forgive me, I believed cund Legolas and Elessar had taught you some of the Elvish tongue."
"I am assuming 'cund' is a title and by 'Elessar' you mean Aragorn." He nodded with a small smile, "No, neither of them have taught me any Elvish. Though I have caught them and…what did you call him? Mithrandir? I have caught them whispering." Sierra had been put off many times by hearing the whispered poetic words and not understanding a thing aside from names. Her spirit came back to her then, "And while we speak pleasantly, do not assume all is forgotten from when we first met."
"Goheno nin. Forgive me." Faroth awkwardly grinned, "It was the command of Haldir. We are ever watchful for strangers in the wood and some are more...conniving than others." Sierra could understand that. The elves that had met the Fellowship in the wood must have been a patrolling party as the Rivendell party that had met her, Aragorn when he was still known as Strider, and three of the four hobbits all that long time ago. Sierra eventually nodded her forgiveness and another quiet passed between them before Faroth again broke it, "Man i enethedh?"
"You seem to insist I can understand you." Sierra said flatly, prompting a chuckle from Faroth.
"'Man i enethedh' means 'what is your name.'" He prompted, "I have not yet gathered it."
"Oh…it's Sierra. Uh, Sierra Brander." She answered, "Call me what you will, but I am not any sort of polite or kindly lady." In his mind he took her remarks as a sort of teasing. Suddenly, they both heard distant calls of one of Sierra's companions, the elf prince Legolas.
"Ah, there you are miss Brander." Sierra turned and nodded, sending a relieved smile to her friend. Faroth quietly watched the brief exchange, noting how stiff and closed off the little human woman was toward him and how openly she carried herself in the presence of Legolas. Said elf stated he'd come to find her to escort her to Lady Galadriel. Apparently, the Lady had some business to do with her. Sierra was the first leave the space and Legolas quickly turned to Faroth, a strange look in his blue eyes. "Avo garo, Faroth." And with that, he went to escort Sierra to her destination. Faroth found himself unnerved at the elf prince's warning, worrying what the royal elf had meant. The undefined implications unnerved him. Faroth huffed as he watched the elf and Sierra, miss Brander he reminded himself, walked off around the corner.
He wasn't one to be put off of the intriguing human woman so easily.
"I do hope Faroth isn't bothering you too much." Legolas said to Sierra as they walked away from the sunlit alcove, "He is still young, he only just saw his three-hundredth summer." Sierra almost laughed. Three hundred years was young for an elf? She speculated Legolas was also somewhat young, perhaps one thousand years old? No more than three or four thousand, she assumed.
"Faroth is no bother, he is well-mannered, though a bit…flippant at times." Sierra assured Legolas. Elves were generally polite, or so she'd gathered from the elves she'd met, and generally got the idea quickly if there was something you didn't like or didn't want to do. The two companions shared several topics of conversation on the way to where Lady Galadriel wished to see her, each very carefully avoiding anything to do with Gandalf. That wound was still very raw. Eventually they came to a dimmer place of Lothlórien: the place was seemingly cast in a blue light, the narrow path they traveled led off into the blue and around a corner.
"I will wait for you here." Legolas assured Sierra as she walked along, taking care to dust off her tunic before appearing before the Lady of Light. She would be lying if she wasn't nervous. Galadriel was a very unnerving woman, both for being in charge and for just having this eerie aura around her. Further down the path, Sierra found a rounded space and descended the stairs to find Galadriel at the fountain at the far end of the rotunda, filling a long-necked pitcher.
"Welcome, young Sierra." The Lady greeted, turning towards the pedestal in the center of the space, the full pitcher held gracefully in her hands.
"Lady Galadriel." Sierra responded with a curtsy, "You summoned me?"
"Tell me young one, have you heard of this mirror?" Galadriel gingerly filled the bowl on the pedestal with water and when she was finished and glanced at Sierra, waiting for the human's answer.
"No I have not." Sierra answered truthfully, "Though I believe it holds a greater purpose than simply reflecting one's face." Galadriel smiled at that.
"Indeed it does." The Lady confirmed, "This mirror can show what has been, what is, and what may yet be. None yet have seen the same vision twice." Sierra marveled at the bowl and then returned her gaze to Galadriel, who motioned towards the pedestal. "Will you look into the mirror?" Sierra recognized the words as a polite command rather than a question, carefully stepped towards the bowl, and stood on the small step at the base to get a better vantage.
For a moment, Sierra saw only her face, but then the mirror gave her a muddled and mixed vision. The first she would remember as a peaceful one of a stone bench in a green, grassy field, but every image after seemed to blend together in a rage of color. There were images of flames, black-skinned and blooded warriors, the sound of a woman crying in her ears, and the corpses of many men and horses surrounding her with weaponry strewn about. The visions had scared her and Sierra pulled herself back from the bowl, a choked and muffled cry erupting from her.
"I see." Galadriel said softly as Sierra gathered her wits, "You have fears of many things, though mostly fears of failure of your adventure. Some fears may come to pass, but all of it, including your journey home, is dependent on this adventure. It is something that must be accepted." Sierra's eyes widened and she was about to ask Galadriel how she knew when the she-elf answered the unasked question. "This is my mirror, the Mirror of Galadriel. Already I can see into the hearts and minds of those who will allow it, or rather those who are unknowing if this skill. I knew you spoke truthfully to Celeborn and myself when you appeared before us. The mirror merely grants me an additional knowledge of those who look into it." She spoke gently, so as to soothe Sierra, "You have a good, strong heart young Sierra. Follow it always." And with a deep nod, Galadriel dismissed Sierra. Remembering her manners, the human woman shakily curtseyed a farewell and proceeded to where Legolas was still standing. He didn't say anything, but he noted the slightly shaken appearance of his companion. He knew of the Mirror of Galadriel and its powers. It had unnerved him too when he had first glanced into the mirror many decades ago.
"Well…" Sierra said as she reached him, "that was an experience."
"The Mirror can surprise you if you are not prepared for what it shows." Legolas responded sagely. The two then walked in comfortable silence as they journeyed to the dining hall, dinner would be served within the hour.
"It showed me so many visions." She said quietly, "And…I think I heard my mother. She was crying." Sierra frowned. Back home, she would probably be deemed dead by now in terms of police searches. It had been many months. Her rent was due a couple days after the day she vanished, so she wouldn't be gone long before people would miss her. But what after that? She had no idea what was going on at home, and she was scared of it. Legolas could do nothing to comfort the woman but place a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezing. It was not an act common of elves, but he'd seen humans and other peoples do this as an act of comfort and companionship. When she cast a thankful smile up at him, he deemed his task a success.
The Fellowship's second day in Lothlórien was much like the day prior, though Sierra hardly had any time to even wish Gimli a good morning before he scampered off towards the armory for the day. What the excitable dwarf was doing in there, she had no idea. Everyone else had also taken to their own thing: pouring over maps and planning what routes to take, repairing and replacing necessary items, and sometimes just thinking. The woman decided to wear a casual coppery dress, the same one she wore on the day members the council arrived in Rivendell, and let herself explore. In wandering the city, Sierra soon found herself being followed by a small flock of small elf children, whispering Elvish words.
"I can hear you." Sierra called as she turned to the children. They all squeaked and ran to hide around a corner. Sierra had seen kids do this before, it was all playful behavior. "You can come out, I don't bite." Shyly, a little girl with finely braided hair came forward and Sierra kneeled to her height.
"De vaethor veleg dî. Y-you're the…the warrior w-woman." She said, struggling through the common tongue. She must have only just begun learning it.
"Yes, I am." Sierra answered, then wracking her brain for what it was Faroth had said to her the day before, "I enethen Sierra Brander. Man i enethedh?" It was considerably more clumsy and ill-pronounced than if an elf had said it, but her words had the desired effect. Immediately the little girl brightened up and introduced herself: Anatuiel. She was a mere forty-five years old, barely beyond a toddler in terms of elf years, though Sierra would equate her age to about six or seven years were she a human child. She had pretty blue-hazel eyes and long honey blonde hair pulled back in a thick braid with fine accent braids along her temple. The two elf children that were with her came out of hiding and stood beside Anatuiel: one was a little brunette girl with blue eyes named Lasedrien and the last was a little redhead boy with pale blue eyes named Nasaion. Both the second little girl and little boy were thirty-seven, not fraternal twins but simply children who share the same birth year.
It was some time later when Boromir and Aragorn wandered by and found Sierra in the middle of having her hair carefully and skillfully braided back by Anatuiel while she told inane stories to the two younger children. Sierra very much enjoyed revisiting the stories of games and cartoons she'd played and watched at home and the two in front of her seemed most enthralled as she finished her story of a great warrior-mage who could speak the language of dragons and brought peace to an icy, war-torn land.
"It seems you are making friends, Brander." Boromir called from a short distance off. Sierra was trapped with her head facing forward while Anatuiel worked but sent a sideways grin at her travel companion.
"What can I say?" Sierra said, "I turn to butter when I'm around children. Would you like to join us? You've got plenty of hair for Anatuiel to braid." The children all laughed as Boromir quickly guided Aragorn away from the four, determined to keep his and his companion's greasy long locks free of braids. Soon enough, Anatuiel finished and pulled Sierra to a nearby fountain where she could check her reflection. The human knew the braids weren't all even, but she was more than satisfied and thanked the little girl pleasantly as an older elf woman called Anatuiel, Lasedrien, and Nasaion away. Their tutor? Or a mother of one of them? Sierra didn't know, but she'd then wandered back to her tent, hoping to ask the hobbits if they'd join her for lunch.
Sierra was conversing with Frodo and Sam into the afternoon and they all agreed to write two letters. One would be addressed to the pretty barmaid in the Shire that Sam had taken a liking to, Rosie Cotton was her name, and the second would be sent to Rivendell, addressed to Bilbo. Sierra figured that if Bilbo had left Rivendell, Elrond or some other elf would know where he'd gone and pass the message on. Sam and Frodo then headed out to find Merry and Pippin to encourage them to send like letters to their families back home and Sierra rubbed her now almost numb scalp. She loved Anatuiel's braiding, but they were much too tight and needed to come out. She struggled for a short time before Legolas found her in her tent.
"Is it safe to assume you did not do this to yourself?" The prince asked teasingly.
"I met a little one named Anatuiel and her friends. She insisted, I bent." Sierra shrugged as she worked to free one particularly difficult twist. With a small laugh, Legolas gently swatted her hands away and guided her to sit as he stood behind her and worked to quickly and carefully release the taut strands. With as many years as Legolas had, Sierra found it expected that he'd know how to tie and untie hair braids. What she didn't expect was how nice it would feel having someone treat her hair so gently. The act reminded her of when she would visit a salon back home; they would always give her hair a soothing wash. Legolas asked her a question she didn't quite hear. "I'm sorry, can you say that again? My mind was elsewhere."
"I asked if you had known what meaning she had braided in your hair." Legolas repeated, gently stroking out the human woman's hair as he freed the many child-made braids.
"There's meaning in how your hair is braided?" Sierra asked, feeling another lock of hair come free.
"So, that's a no." Legolas murmured with a laugh, "Yes, there are meanings to the braids you wear: warrior braids as mine, Haldir's, and Faroth's, maiden braids, wedding braids, child braids, and there are braids that indicate availability and looking for a lover." Sierra hummed an acknowledgment, hearing what he was saying but also very much lulled by the prince elf's delicate and soothing actions. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, "The braids you wore just now were among that last group." That had Sierra blushing and unnervingly aware of her surroundings, the soothing lull gone and the laxness in her body replaced by awkward stiffness. Legolas then straightened to resume freeing the woman's hair.
"I am going to give Anatuiel the benefit of the doubt and believe she didn't do it on purpose." Sierra answered stiffly, staring pointedly forward as Legolas again ran his fingers through her now almost entirely free hair. There were new butterflies in her stomach, inspired by what Legolas had said and very possibly from how delicately he worked on her hair. Finally, the elf had freed the last of the braids and when he had finished combing out her mane, he stepped away and allowed Sierra to run her own hands through her hair.
"I finneg vain." Legolas complimented her and she turned to ask what he'd said. Rather than translate, he said instead, "Should you wish to have your hair braided appropriately, feel free to ask me." And with that, he left Sierra to her thoughts. It was some time before Sierra got up and left her tent, her hair slightly waved from the braided abuse it suffered earlier that day. She wandered from place to place, but eventually found herself lost among the paths of the elf city. Thankfully, not for long.
"Dhe suilon. Greetings." Faroth called as he came across the human woman from the day before. She seemed relieved to have found someone familiar in the maze.
"Hello Faroth…um…hey, you know how to get back to the city proper, right?" Sierra asked.
"Of course." Faroth replied with a nod and he politely offered an arm to the woman. Sierra hesitated a moment, still not quite used to the mannerisms of Middle-Earth, and gently laced her hand into the crook of the elf's arm. The elf escorted Sierra through the seemingly jumbled pathways, describing some of the layout the paths would take: some wound through the hardly used underground tunnels, this one would lead to that neighborhood and that one would lead to the marketplace. The two spoke amiably, some of what life was like in an elven city and how it compared to life in the Shire, but mostly about little things: what they liked to eat, what was fun, and what made them cringe. Sierra was surprised to find that Faroth had an unnerving dislike towards spiders, until she heard about how large the spiders could get in Legolas' home of Mirkwood. I was not long after that the two came upon a familiar path.
"Finally, some scenery I recognize." Sierra said in relief as she released Faroth's arm in favor of grasping her skirt, and glanced around the space excitedly to appropriately orient her location.
"I trust you can find your way from here, miss Brander?" Faroth asked her, folding his hands together behind his back.
"Ah! Yes, I can." Sierra answered, "Thank you for helping me get back here, Faroth. I dread thinking how long it would have taken me to find my way back on my own." The elf laughed gently at her awkward shuffling. She turned her head quickly when she spotted the dwarf Gimli out of the corner of her eye, an unconscious signal for Faroth to take his leave.
"That is good to hear. No vain i arad, may the day be fair to you." And with a returning nod from Sierra, he meandered off to another path and disappeared around a corner. Sierra then scurried off towards Gimli to interrogate him on what he'd been doing all day, unaware that Faroth had backtracked to watch as she made her way. Quietly, he hummed to himself as an idea came to him and proceeded the way he had intended to go before meeting Sierra.
On the third day, the last day the Fellowship intended to stay in Lothlórien, Sierra had asked Legolas to help her figure out the appropriate braids for her, though not without some fidgeting. What had happened the day before still rang long and loud in her mind, but she wanted to learn what braid would be most appropriate to her. In the end, the elf and woman decided on a simple, practical braid that Legolas had called a rogue's braid. Sierra recognized it as a French braid. The braid was short, Sierra didn't have much hair to work with compared to many of the elves, and began at the crown of her head and the ends tickled at the nape of her neck. It was a tight and well-crafted braid.
She had met Anatuiel and thanked her again for the braids from the day before, though the little girl had a somewhat devious giggle as Sierra walked away. The woman ran into Sam during the day and he assured her that there would be four letters sent out later that day, three to home and the fourth to Bilbo, wherever he was. For the first time that day she had seen Gimli outside of the smithy. He assured her he was hard at work and she would see what he had been working with on the day they all left. He was a strange little dwarf. Bormir and Aragorn were found to be practicing with the four hobbits in the afternoon, keeping their skills sharp. Soon, she found herself wandering back to the alcove she had been in on the first day and soon she'd found herself in familiar company.
"Gi suilon, Brander." Faroth greeted Sierra as he approached. She sent him a small smile and nodded a polite greeting in return. "I see you wear your hair differently today." Faroth commented appreciatively. The braid was smooth and carefully crafted, reflecting almost coppery in the light of the space.
"After a near social debacle yesterday, Legolas was kind enough to undo that mistake for me when I struggled to undo it myself. This morning he helped me put my hair into this." At the mention of Legolas, Faroth twitched slightly, glancing down at the woman beside him carefully. Judging by how calm she was and how innocently she mentioned it, Faroth figured the action didn't imply what he thought it did.
"Who, may I ask, was responsible for this 'debacle'?" Faroth prompted amicably.
"A young one named Anatuiel." That seemed to explain everything as Faroth tried and failed to muffle a snort of laugher. He supplied that Anatuiel was notorious for pulling tricks on people, though it was considerably more difficult to pull a trick on an elf, especially after you had tricked them once. A female human stranger was almost too easy a target. The two conversed aimlessly until once again they had a block of silence between them.
"I finneg bain." Faroth said with a smile. Sierra realized it sounded very similar to what Legolas had said to her the day before and when she looked questioningly at Faroth, he loosely translated, "Your hair looks nice this way." Sierra blushed a little and turned to look out the window at the trees. She brought her right hand up to grasp her left elbow and hunched up a little with a small smile on her face. In the corner of her eye, she saw Faroth reach into a pouch on his hip and he pulled out a small pearly white stone, smooth and rounded and just a little bit flattened with an intricate elven symbol embedded on the flatter side. "Savo hen, take this. It isn't much, but I would be honored if you would keep this with you on your journey, miss Brander." Faroth gently took her hand and placed the stone in it, "It is a stone from one of our many rivers. It should bring you good fortune in your travels." He gently curled her fingers around the stone and Sierra stared down at the elf's hand, a blush growing on her face.
"Faroth, I…thank you." Sierra couldn't put together words and the elf released her hand.
"No dirweg. Na lû n'i a-goveninc mellon." With a smile and a polite bow, Faroth dismissed himself and wandered away from the stunned Sierra. She had stood there for a short while after, blushing and incapable of doing anything other than stand and try to process what the admittedly handsome elf had said and done. It was a conundrum, did Faroth foster a liking for her? Or was he just being polite? She needed to remember to pester Aragorn and Legolas to teach her Elvish so she could at least know what everyone was talking about.
It's good to be back home, though I admit I didn't do as much writing as I would like to have done. I had too much fun playing games and putting responsibilities off to the side for a while.
Anyway, I completely made up what was said about braids. I do believe there is meaning behind the braids elves and dwarves wear, but no two sources seemed to agree on meanings for the people of the Tolkien world. So I decided to wing it.
I'm tempted to leave most of the Elvish I put in without translation. I think it gives a better feel to how Sierra feels about strange Elvish being used around her. Just so you know, I am not fluent in Tolkien Elvish, so I apologize if any of this has been butchered. I found quite a few sources for the Elvish I've typed, but the most complete and believable reference I've found belongs to realelvish. Feel free to check it out.
