Big thanks to LalaithElerrina for being my first reviewer and for giving me great advice on how to proceed with the story!
The thought crossed Gorlan's mind as he made his way south. There was no guarantee the Lady of the Golden Wood would even bother to speak with him. After all, she was a great Elvish queen, and he was not one of her subjects, but a simple warrior under the rule of her son-in-law. Even if she did speak with him, would she have any answers? What if the trip was in vain? What would he do then?
These thoughts swirled around in his head all day. The more he thought about it, the more reckless and pointless the quest seemed. What could he possibly do for Anaya to help her that another couldn't? Perhaps the best option would simply be to return home and let her sail. Accept the fact that she would not be with him they way he wanted her to and let her go.
But, alas, his heart simply refused to think that way. Whoever said following your heart was the best thing to do, must have never been in such predicaments. Or they were an idiot.
He stopped in a small clearing at midday. He removed his pack and sword and loosened the saddle girth and removed the bit, so his horse would be more comfortable. Being an elf, he carried very little with him. Some lembas wrapped in leaves and a small bit of grain for Voronwer, a clean tunic, a waterskin, a whetstone for his blades, and the necessary equipment for his bow and arrows.
While Voronwer rested, Gorlan mulled over Aragorn's offer, wondering if he should have accepted it. He reminded himself he had nothing to do with the council and their concerns were not the same as his. No, it was better that he refused. He had to follow his own path.
Speaking of paths, what would be the fastest route to Lorien? It would take a couple of weeks to reach Lorien and he needed to cross the Misty Mountains before the snow on them got worse. If the snows were too bad, he'd be trapped on the west side of the mountains for weeks until the thaw. Well, if it was that bad, he could always send Voronwer home and cross on foot. The ability to walk on snow could be pretty useful. But traveling on foot would still slow him down, meaning it would take just as long, if not longer, than if he made it through the pass without any delay.
He mounted and set off again, heading south, traveling in the shadow of the mountains. He knew the Fellowship was leaving tomorrow night, so he would have a day or two ahead of them. Especially because of their large group, and the inexperienced hobbits, they'd have to make more stops, and their travel would be hindered.
Some time later, the sound of clashing weapons interrupted his thoughts. As a precaution, he loosened his sword and took an arrow from his quiver, laying it on the string. The sounds grew louder as he headed forward. In a clearing in the woods, half a dozen orcs gathered around a single man, who crouched on the ground, clutching a knife. A bay horse paced nervously around him.
Gorlan realized the person would never be able to fend off all the creatures on their own. With a Elvish war cry erupting from his lips, he shot the nearest orc through the throat. The foul creature fell and Gorlan had another arrow on the string before its companions even realized what happened. Another fell. The person, who'd still been on the ground, took advantage of the distraction to leap up and stab two orcs. There were two more remaining. One rushed at Gorlan, a massive battle-axe in its hand. Realizing it was too close for a proper shot, Gorlan dropped his bow and drew his sword, simultaneously urging Voronwer forward. With a yell, he swung the blade, slicing into the creature's throat. It froze for the briefest moment, then dropped face down, lifeless. Turning Voronwer around, Gorlan saw the traveler had dispatched the remaining orc and was wiping his blade clean.
He nodded to Gorlan. "Thank you for the aid." He grinned. "I thought for a moment I was going to be orc-meat."
Gorlan returned the nod. "You're welcome." He studied the person. He was obviously human. The man was tall, though not at the stature of an elf, and sturdy. He had a short, dark beard and shoulder-length hair that was streaked with sweat. Dark hazel eyes watched the elf under thick brows. His clothes were dark brown, rough, and stained, suggesting he'd been on the road for a while. Along with his knife, a hatchet hung from his belt. A larger axe was attached to his horse's saddle.
"May I ask who you are?" the man asked. He went over to check his horse and glanced up, waiting for an answer. Gorlan considered him. He had no idea who the man was or where he came from. For all he knew, he was a spy. But the man's question seemed out of genuine curiosity and there appeared to be no maliciousness towards him. Normally, Gorlan would feel unsettled if the person was indeed evil, but he felt none of that here. He decided to answer truthfully.
"I am Gorlan, son of Laegal, and a warrior from the Elven-realm of Rivendell."
The man paused to digest that introduction. "Don't think I've ever met an elf before." He gave a slight bow. "I'm honored to be in the presence of an immortal."
Gorlan inwardly cringed at the man's reaction and tried to not let it show. Some mortals acted so in awe of the Elves, it both flattering and irritating.
The man spoke again. "I am Hafad, son of Argend. I was born in a small town in Gondor, but I've never really called anywhere my home, I've been travelling so long. I guess up North is the closest thing I've got to a home."
Gorlan now understood the man's dark clothes, how similar they were to Aragorn's. "You are a Ranger from the North, aren't you?"
"That I am. Not even sure why anymore. It's just what I do. Tell me, elf, why do you travel in these parts alone? It's dangerous."
Gorlan burst out laughing for the first time in weeks. "Dangerous, yes. But clearly I can fend for myself. You on the other hand…"
Hafad's face darkened before he realized the elf was teasing, then he too laughed. "Aye, what a warrior I am! Almost eaten by orcs!"
There was a pause in their conversation until Hafad spoke again. "So where are you headed, Gorlan, son of Laegal? I myself am headed south towards Minas Tirith. I wouldn't object to friendly company, if you're willing."
Gorlan considered this. It was dangerous times and a traveling companion could prove beneficial. They were both heading in the same direction and Hafad seemed trustworthy enough. Even if he proved otherwise, Gorlan felt confident enough in his abilities to care for himself.
"I would be glad of company, Hafad, son of Argend."
…
The remaining time traveling south was completely uneventful. The two saw no one else, though they were always on the lookout for possible orc patrols. Because of the threat, did not risk keeping a fire, and a sharp wind blowing over from the mountains did little to help the journey.
At last the border of Lorien came into view. A sea of green and gold stretched out before them, bathed in the light of the late afternoon sun. The two companions pulled up their mounts, overlooking the land.
"This," said Hafad "is where I will leave you."
The elf looked at him in surprise. "You will not enter? Do you not wish to see elves? You seemed interested in them."
"I do find your kind interesting, but I prefer the company of humans. Not that I haven't enjoyed yours!" he added as an afterthought. "It's just I don't think I could live among elves for an extended period of time."
Gorlan nodded. "Well then, I've appreciated your company. Perhaps we will meet again, Hafad. Good luck to you in your journey and Godspeed."
"And to you as well."
Though he'd only traveled with Hafad for a few days, he felt strangely lonely as he made his way towards the border. He hadn't realized how much he'd miss having companionship with someone. As he rode under the canopy of trees, he admired their beauty and strength, even in such dark times. He'd acted as part of Lady Arwen's escort before on her visits to Lorien, so the way wasn't foreign to him. Hopefully, those at the gates of Cara Galadhon would acknowledge him and allow him entry.
After about an hour's travel through the woods, Gorlan sensed the presence of other elves nearby. A scouting party most likely. Though he'd gotten along with the elves of Lorien well enough before, he loosened his sword anyway. It didn't hurt to be cautious, should they decide they did not want intruders.
It was a scouting party, as he'd correctly assumed; he could see them coming through the trees. Recognizing the elf at the front, he cried out "Mae govannan, Haldir of Lorien. How fares the Golden Wood?"
The elves paused in front of him, hearing their own tongue. The leader strode forward, his golden hair streaming over his shoulders. His gray eyes glinted in the light.
"Gorlan of Rivendell. It has been a long time. What brings you to our woods?"
"I have come to seek the wisdom and guidance of the Lady Galadriel. My friend, Lady Anaya, is mysteriously ill; not even Lord Elrond seems certain as to what plagues her. I have hoped to find some way to help her."
"And you believe the Lady of the Golden Wood will have the answers you seek?"
"I hope, for it is all I have."
The response must have been satisfactory for the Warden as he allowed Gorlan to accompany them back to the city.
"I will inform the Lady of your arrival and your desire to speak with her. But then you must wait until she summons you." Haldir stated as they entered the city.
Gorlan made sure Voronwer was comfortably stabled before retreating to the room provided for him during his stay. He was grateful for the chance to rest in a bed instead of the cold ground and for the chance to eat something aside from lembas and water that carried a leathery aftertaste.
Sometime later, one of Haldir's men informed him the Lady was aware of his presence, but that he would have to wait three days to speak with her. On the third day, he was to meet with her. She would send someone to him.
The three days were long. Gorlan tried to pass the time by thinking over and planning what he would do afterwards, honing his skills on the training field, and doing anything and everything to keep himself from thinking of Anaya.
Regardless of his efforts, he couldn't stop wondering about her. How was she faring? Was she worse? What if she had left for the Grey Havens? Deep in his heart he knew leaving was in fact best for her. He knew if he truly loved her, he needed to let her go. But his heart desperately wanted to cling to her; he wanted to cling to her and never let her go.
The third day finally arrived. A female elf came to him one evening and announced the Lady Galadriel was ready to see him. She led him silently through the dark halls into an area of the city he did not recognize. She stopped and gestured for him to go down a set of stairs. "At the bottoms of the stairs go through the arch of the right. She is there, waiting."
Gorlan swiftly followed the directions. Entering into a small, private grove he saw a fountain in the center underneath a massive tree. Standing off to the side, clad in glittering white, stood the Lady herself. She stood tall, fair, and proud, her golden hair flowing down to her waist. Blue eyes filled with wisdom reflected the starlight. She extended a long, pale hand to him in greeting.
Gorlan bowed to the Elvish Queen.
"I already know why you have come" Galadriel said. She spoke softly, though her smooth, deep voice filled the space of the grove. "You come here for the sake of one you love."
"Yes, my lady. She suffers and I wish to help her. I hoped you might have answers."
"Anaya's suffering is unnatural. I do not know how to help her."
Gorlan looked at the lady, forlorn. "But…you are the wisest of all the Eldar in Middle-earth. If there is anyone capable of knowing how to help her, shouldn't it be you?"
"Even the wisest have limitations. Not even I can see or know everything."
The dark-haired elf looked at her in despair. Was it really all for nothing?
Galadriel glanced away for a moment, then looked him in the eyes. "Would you care to look in the mirror? Perhaps it will show you answers for what you seek." She gestured to the fountain in front of her.
Gorlan nodded willingly. He did not know what the mirror would show, but it couldn't hurt to refuse.
The elf queen poured water from a silver pitcher as he approached. He peered into the water. At first, there was nothing but his reflection. Then it grew cloudy and swirled around. As it cleared, he saw the members of the Fellowship heading down the Anduin. He saw Anaya standing in Rivendell, still pale, looking as if death was ready to claim her. He saw a fierce battle on castle ramparts. Then there was Anaya again lying on her bed, still and lifeless. He wanted to call out her name, but no sound would come out.
He jerked away from the mirror violently, not wishing to see anymore.
"You saw her. It is her fate—" .
"It is her fate to die?!" Gorlan shouted, forgetting for a moment who he was addressing. "She is immortal as we are! Why does she suffer? Why must she die? I have seen no physical wound on her. Is her heart broken, because swear to Eru I would fix it!"
"It is neither your duty nor your fate to save her on your own. Some things will come to pass, no matter how we try. There are some things that are part of destiny. "
She turned and began to walk away.
"What must I do?" Gorlan cried after her.
The lady paused and turned to face him.
Soon, another will come. He will provide you with guidance. Do as he says. That may lead you down the path you seek."
If you're curious as to where the Fellowship is, they are going through the Pass of Caradhas at the time Gorlan arrives in Lorien, and are crossing the Bridge of Khazad-dum when he speaks with Galadriel.
Please review and let me know if there's anything I can do to make this story better!