To the reviewer called Varda (nice choice, by the way..) : The Valar have been part of my plan since the beginning, but the topic won't be looked at properly until The Two Towers. The Stars are a relatively passive race – Baramaethor and Maethoriel are exceptions; they're probably the most invested in other worlds than any other Stars/Emberlings. Generally, the Stars let things be as they are and don't question them, so they've never really investigated how they came into being, or how Rhovanion of the Wild has the power to summon creatures for Emberlings while no other Star seems to have power of that magnitude. So, to answer your question: yes, I will have the Valar come into the story, but not for a while yet.
To everyone else: I am terrible and consistently slow in bringing you new chapters. I sincerely hope the story is still enjoyable for you all.
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Chapter 14 –The Calm Before the Storm
Maethoriel was led back to the Fellowship, where they had been given a space to sleep under the roots of one of the many thick trunks in the forest. She was thoroughly exhausted, her mind simultaneously trapped in a moment of inertia and running through thoughts faster than she could comprehend. Her grief for Gandalf blocked her head like sludge that she struggled to wade through while she chased her illusive thoughts of Galadriel's words, incapable of processing either significant moments.
She sat herself down a few metres away from her friends, needing a moment to collect herself – she had to admit, she was feeling a little lost. Her father had sent her down with a mission, but she had not expected herself to have grown attached to her friends so quickly. It was something she was entirely unfamiliar with, and so having one of her newfound friends taken away from her so soon into their quest felt as though the ground had been pulled out from under her feet, and she was falling into a chaotic abyss. It was the first moment she truly wished her father was with her to speak encouraging words, but when she looked up, all she could see were the leaves at the top of the trees. Her father was nowhere to be seen.
She closed her eyes and gently rested her palms beside her, one curving around the end of a root, the other slipping between blades of grass. She took a deep breath, paying attention to how it travelled through her nostrils and down into her lungs, expanding her chest. Letting it out, she felt her shoulders relax, her muscles untensing. She inhaled again, feeling the rough bark underneath one set of fingertips, and soft soil underneath the other. Slowly, breath by breath, she felt her mind calm, her body merging with the nature around her. The soft voices of elves from undetermined directions floated through the air into her ears, their sadness palpable.
"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas' voice sounded from behind her.
"What do they say about him?" Merry asked.
"I have not the heart to tell you," their elf replied. "For me, the grief is still too near."
"I bet they don't mention his fireworks," Sam piped up. "There should be a verse about them." Maethoriel listened as Sam stood, her eyes remaining shut. "The finest rockets ever seen; they burst in stars of blue and green. Or after thunder, silver showers, came falling like a rain of flowers- Oh that doesn't do them justice by a long road," he finished, muttering to himself irritably.
Maethoriel smiled softly, almost hearing the chuckle Sam's poem would have brought out of Gandalf if he had been there. Vaguely noticing something small and wet trailing down her cheek, she listened again to the voices of the elves and lost herself in their song.
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For the first time since her arrival in Middle Earth, Maethoriel slept entirely through the night. When she woke to the sounds of the Fellowship gathering their belongings, she felt fresh and renewed. Grief still hung in the air, but hope seemed to emanate from the land around them, and she felt optimistic that the company could still get Frodo to Mordor, even without their wizard.
"You look rested," Legolas smiled softly as he crouched next to her.
"I feel it," she replied, mirroring his smile.
"A messenger came by while you slept. We are to see Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel here once more before they escort us to the River." He glanced down at the silver clothing he wore. "I assume we will find our clothes washed clean for us with them."
"You must be reluctant to leave your kin so soon," she said, rising to her feet.
He rose with her, looking around at the forest. "We do not travel as much as we should. Most who travel now are going to the Undying Lands in the West, never to be seen again."
Maethoriel nodded sympathetically. She wondered if or when Legolas would follow his people there. "It will be a sorrowful day for Middle Earth when the last Elf leaves its shores."
Legolas closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at her once more. His smile was sad. "It will be a sorrowful day for the Elves, too."
Aragorn's voice called out to them all from the stairs next to their sleeping quarters. "Come, my friends. We must not make the Lord and Lady wait."
They packed up their belongings and followed Aragorn and Legolas up the stairs. A few elves came to bid farewell to them, or bowed their heads as the company passed. Maethoriel's friends barely said a word to each other, quietly memorising the land around them, or facing their grief with a fresh mind. Eventually, they came to the same platform they were greeted upon the day before. Celeborn and Galadriel were descending the steps together again, the impact of their grace and beauty unwavering.
"Now is the time," Celeborn began, "when those who wish to continue the Quest must harden their hearts to leave this land. Those who no longer wish to go forward may remain here, for a while. But whether they stay or go, none can be sure of peace. For we are come now to the edge of doom."
Maethoriel could not imagine staying behind, despite the beauty and serenity, while her friends marched on into danger without her.
"They all resolved to go forward," Galadriel murmured, taking care to look at them each long and hard.
"On which side of the River will you journey? The way to Minas Tirith lies upon this side, upon the west; but the straight road of the Quest lies east of the River, upon the darker shore. Which shore will you now take?" Celeborn asked.
"Gandalf did not intend to visit Minas Tirith – we will follow the path he set out for us; we will take the east shore," Aragorn replied. Boromir shifted on his feet, sending a glance at his kin, but said nothing.
"Very well," Celeborn nodded. "Then I will furnish your company with boats, which may make your journey less toilsome for a while."
"You are very kind, my Lord," Aragorn replied sincerely, bowing his head.
"Legolas, Maethoriel," Galadriel spoke, "Before you leave here, your clothing shall be returned to you."
Maethoriel was escorted to the same hut she had changed in the day before, and found her clothes not only cleaner but softer too. She smiled sadly as she ran her thumbs over the material, cherishing the skill of the elves, knowing that soon she would have to fight again and their work would be undone.
When she remerged, sheathing her dagger and tomahawk, she found Legolas and Haldir, the elf who had been their guide since they entered the land, waiting for her.
"The others are already at the River," Legolas explained. He was back in his old clothes as well, without the fancy silver tunic he had been provided, and he seemed a little less soft and dreamlike, Maethoriel realised. She preferred him this way, she thought.
"Are you ready to join them, my Lady?" Haldir asked.
Legolas sent him a small smile while Maethoriel shook her head. "Please, my friend, no formalities. I am just Maethoriel," she said. When she walked up to them, Haldir bowed his head and turned to lead them to the River.
"My apologies, Maethoriel," the elf replied. "It struck me that I had barely taken the time to speak with you while you have been here, and perhaps I will have missed my only chance." Legolas fell into step beside Maethoriel as they followed their guide. "I was too preoccupied with the threat of the Ring, and Prince Legolas, admittedly, to sit down and have a conversation with an Emberling."
"You have no reason to apologise, Haldir. I can assure you, a conversation with an Emberling is not nearly as enriching as a conversation with the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien," she smiled.
"Ah, that is not for me to judge," Haldir replied diplomatically. "There are many minds far greater than my own; I cannot possibly rank them."
"I would think it unfair to compare any mind to another," Legolas said. "Each has been artfully designed over varying periods of time, by a range of life experiences and influences – I believe no one mind to be the same."
Maethoriel hummed thoughtfully. "Galadriel has been alive for less time than I, but I have done far less, having spent most of my life in the Night Sky with my own race."
"How often would you watch over the world?" Legolas asked.
"Whenever my father asked for me to join him," she replied. "I spent more time watching worlds than most other emberlings, but even then I did not spend the majority of my time doing it. In my younger years I thought it hardly worth my time, so I would be with my friends or my brothers."
Legolas looked at her curiously. "You have not mentioned your brothers before. If you wouldn't mind, I would be interested in learning about them."
Maethoriel sent him a smile. The company usually avoided asking her too many questions about being an emberling, worried that it would irritate her when she was lending aid as only an elf. But Legolas never hesitated, when the topic would come up; in a way, she admired him for it. "Perhaps another time," she said apologetically, pointing to their companions up ahead.
Aragorn and Celeborn were nowhere to be seen, while Galadriel stood off to the side, watching over the proceedings. Elves busied about, gifting the company with packages of food and aiding them with their belongings. Legolas moved over to a pile by one of the four boats tethered at the bank, insisting on helping. Maethoriel went to Boromir and Gimli, who were stood back a little, watching awkwardly.
"Has it been decided who will man the boats?" she asked, hoping to make them feel more comfortable.
"Aragorn will take Frodo and Sam," Boromir replied, "Legolas will take Gimli, and I will take Merry and-ʺ
"I can man one myself," Merry announced stubbornly, having appeared with Pippin beside them. "Not all of us look on boats as wild horses. My people live by the banks of the Brandywine."
Maethoriel grinned at the proud, little hobbit. "In that case, since I have no skill in a boat myself, I would ask you, Meriadoc Brandybuck, to aid me in this part of our journey."
He positively beamed, but Boromir quickly cut in. "You must be as light as an elf, too, Maethoriel? I'm sure you could join Legolas and Gimli."
"There are four boats here," Merry countered. "I can take us."
"He is very good, you know," Pippin piped up, "He might play tricks and make jokes, but he won't put you in any danger, I can vouch for that."
"You'll come with me, then, Pippin," Boromir said, smirking, "That way, we know for sure that the two of you will behave."
Pippin pouted, but Merry stuck his hand out to Boromir. "Deal," he nodded definitively. At Pippin's betrayed look, Merry shrugged. "He's got a point, Pip. You're a bad influence."
Just as Pippin opened his mouth to defend himself, Celeborn and Aragorn returned. "Come," the elven Lord called, "We have gifts for you all before you depart from these shores."
They lined up next to each other, and had an elf each place cloaks with hoods on their backs. They were secured round the neck by a green leaf broach, and they felt light as a feather.
"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," Celeborn informed them. Maethoriel looked at her shoulder, in awe of the impossibility of the colour of the cloak – it seemed green and yet grey, blue and yet silver, all at once. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."
Then Galadriel came to stand at the opposite end of the line from Maethoriel, in front of Legolas. "My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim. Worthy of the skill of our woodland kin." One of the elves at her side came forward with a bow and a quiver of arrows, which Legolas took gratefully, testing the string of the bow with a look of joyful amazement.
She moved down to Merry and Pippin, and another elf came forward with two sheathed daggers and handed them to the hobbits. "These are the daggers of the Noldorin," Galadriel informed them. "They have already seen service in war. Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage."
Next came Sam. "And for you, Samwise Gamgee, Elven rope made of hithlain."
He took the thin, silver rope, and bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, my lady. Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?" he asked innocently.
Galadriel merely smiled in amusement while he blushed, and moved then to Gimli. Maethoriel's curiosity sparked, wondering what on earth Galadriel's gift would be. "And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the Elves?" the Lady asked.
"Nothing," Gimli answered, quick and gruff. He shifted on his feet and looked up slowly. "Except to look upon the lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth."
Galadriel chuckled, while all those around her, the rest of the Fellowship included, gazed at the dwarf, completely stunned at his words.
Gimli growled and went to turn away, but seemed to change his mind. "Actually, uh, there was one thing. No, no, I couldn't. It's quite impossible. Stupid to ask."
He shook his head and replanted his feet. "Perhaps a single strand of your hair, which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine. I do not ask for such a gift. But you commanded me to name my desire."
The onlookers were stunned, holding their breath to hear Galadriel's verdict. She smiled. "It is said that the skill of the Dwarves is in their hands rather than in their tongues," she said. "Yet that is not true of Gimli. For none have ever made to me a request so bold and yet so courteous. But tell me, what would you do with such a gift?"
"Treasure it, Lady," Gimli answered. "In memory of your words to me at our first meeting. And if I ever return to the smithies of my home, it shall be set in imperishable crystal to be an heirloom of my house, and a pledge of good will between the Mountain and the Wood until the end of days."
Galadriel seemed more than satisfied, as she gathered three strands of her hair and cut them off to give to Gimli. The dwarf blushed as red as Sam and bowed his head, while everyone who saw what had transpired looked on in absolute wonder. Legolas looked overcome with joy.
Galadriel then went to Aragorn. "I have nothing greater to give, than the gift you already bear," she murmured, hovering her hand over the pendant around his neck. "For her love," she continued in Elvish, "I fear the grace of Arwen Evenstar will diminish."
"I would have her leave these shores," Aragorn replied, "and be with her people. I would have her take the ship to Valinor."
"That choice is yet before her," Galadriel told him, nodding to herself. "You have your own choice to make, Aragorn. To rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness, with all that is left of your kin." She took a moment, and smiled fondly. "Farewell." When Aragorn bowed his head, she lifted it back up by his chin. "There is much you have yet to do. We shall not meet again, Elessar."
Maethoriel felt guilty, wondering if Aragorn would have preferred to have had the interaction in private. But Galadriel was already moving on to Frodo. "Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star."
Maethoriel looked over, curious and confused, as the Lady handed Frodo a glass phial of clear liquid. It seemed to emanate a silver light between his fingers, and the emberling wondered how she had never heard of this until now. She decided to question her father on it, if she managed to survive and complete her mission.
Galadriel leant forward to kiss Frodo's forehead. "May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out."
Maethoriel watched as Galadriel then looked to her and came to stand before her. "A gift is as hard to think of for you as it is for a dwarf," she smiled.
Maethoriel shook her head. "To look upon your land is as great a gift as there can be."
"And yet I have soiled it with confusing words," she murmured, observing the emberling. "There is much you have to learn, though it is not my place to teach." Maethoriel felt herself frown, feeling a spark of jealousy that Galadriel seemed to know more about her race than she did. "Trust in your strengths, and do not give up hope. One day all will become clear; you will come to know yourself and the power you are capable of wielding." Galadriel took a step away from her then. "I have said perhaps more than permitted now. I am unclear of the details, but also it is not my place to say any more." She bowed her head to the emberling. "May your people watch over you and light the way for you in the darkness ahead."
Maethoriel bowed her head in reply, her mind racing once more.
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For a time, things had been quiet as their boats glided along the river and the Fellowship contemplated their time in the mystical land of Lady Galadriel. The further they travelled, the less tranquil the world became, and reality started to descend upon them once more. The knowledge that they would not likely come across such serenity again before their mission's end hung over them like an eternal dark cloud.
Maethoriel had given up trying to interpret Galadriel's words. She clearly knew far more about emberlings and stars than Maethoriel did, and the thought that her father had kept information about her own race from her unsettled her more than she cared to say. So, she pushed it all aside, and let Merry's stories consume her attention instead.
She found him delightful company, as she tended to find with any hobbits she spent time with – which were admittedly few, but the sentiment still stood. He was an excellent story teller, dabbled wonderfully in song, and had a wit that could cheer up even the worst of moods. It was hard not to grow fond of their small companions.
During a lull in their conversation, Maethoriel closed her eyes against the soft breeze and listened to the sound of Merry's oar gently parting the water and moving their boat forwards. She took slow, deep breaths, and hung her hand over the side of the boat so that her fingertips lightly trailed the surface of the water. It was cool to touch, but it was a pleasant coldness that she allowed to numb her fingertips and travel up her fingers to her knuckles.
All of a sudden, she noticed that she could not hear any birdsong.
Her eyes opened again and she lifted her hand from the water, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as an uneasy feeling crept up her spine. She glanced into the woods lining the riverbank, a frown contorting her features. Goosebumps arose along her skin, incited by the darkness she sensed the Fellowship approaching. She had no idea what was bringing such a feeling over her, but she at least knew it had nothing to do with the persistent presence of the Gollum creature behind them.
She glanced around at the other boats and their drivers, taking care to avoid showcasing her concern in front of Merry. She met eyes with Legolas, and immediately knew she was not alone in her feeling. The determined look Aragorn gave them told her he meant to continue on until further notice.
The next few hours went by excruciatingly slowly, but Maethoriel was able to continue her conversation with Merry, despite being on edge the entire time. She had yet to see any danger beyond the tree trunks, but she knew it was out there, somewhere, waiting to pounce. When the sun's descent was in full swing, Aragorn called out to stop at the next embankment.
They heaved the boats up far enough that they would not get caught in the current, and unpacked some of their luggage and food for the night. Maethoriel had been standing with Aragorn when they noticed Boromir peering around a rock on the edge of the beach, staring out into the river at a thick branch.
"Gollum," Aragorn explained, moving behind the other man. "He has tracked us since Moria. I had hoped we would lose him on the river, but he's too clever a waterman."
"And if he alerts our enemies to our whereabouts it will make the crossing even more dangerous," Boromir replied.
"Our enemies would not spare him," Maethoriel mused, "It is too great a risk for him."
"Even so, there is still a chance. Minus Tirith is the safer road," Boromir insisted, turning to Aragorn. "You know that. From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."
"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn retorted.
"You were quick enough to trust the Elves," Boromir snapped. "Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honour to be found in men. But you will not see that!"
Aragorn went to walk away but Boromir grabbed his cloak and pulled him back. "You are afraid!" the Gondor man accused. Maethoriel took a step closer, watching the interaction carefully, praying that Boromir wouldn't succumb to the influence of the Ring. "All your life you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are."
Aragorn detached Boromir's hand from his cloak and turned away again. However, he found it too hard to not retaliate, and hissed at Boromir, "I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city."
Maethoriel watched the offence on Boromir's face as Aragorn stalked away, and felt that she had to intervene. "You know he does not mean to be cruel," she said, struggling to claim eye contact. "He knew Gandalf for a long time – he warned Gandalf against entering the Mines. Grief twists the heart like nothing else."
"He meant what he said," Boromir retorted, spitting the words out like unappealing food. "Do not pretend you don't value his words over everyone else's."
He left her staring after him open-mouthed, astonished by his accusation. For a moment she felt so guilty that she wondered if her father had made her biased towards Aragorn and what he stood for; but she quickly dismissed her doubts, knowing that Baramaethor had observed Middle Earth objectively before his support of Aragorn developed.
She watched Boromir storm off to sleep away from the rest of the Fellowship, and a great sadness and dread clutched at her heart.