OK, guys. I apologize very, very much for the long delay in updating. I was really busy for a while there-Thanksgiving break, over which there was of course a bunch of work to do, having a cold on top of that, then finals, and now some kind of poison ivy or oak or something. The doctor doesn't even know exactly what it is; she just called it "some kind of contact dermatitis" and gave me Prednisone. _ But it seems to help the itching, so who am I to complain? Anyway, as recompense for my absence, I give you my longest chapter yet (OK, it's not actually all that long, but still it is longer than the others). I confess to having been a little burned out with these characters for a while, but then I got back on here and looked at all the followers/favorites/reviews I've gotten and became re-inspired. So please, remember to review. It helps me to remember there are actually people out there reading and enjoying my story. It helps, it really helps. (Professor Lupin's chocolate, anyone?) So without further ado, I present to you my latest installment. *bows fancily and backs out of the room*
As Alagos neared Caras Galadhon, he slowed until he came to a stop, so as not to wake the girl in his arms with a sudden halt. The Elf considered his options. Sneaking into the City of the Galadhrim was more or less out of the question, encumbered as he was by an unconscious youth. Someone would surely spot him; and though Ski's appearance had indeed changed, she still looked enough like an Orc to elicit disgusted fascination at best and violent hostility at worst. No, Alagos decided, keeping Ski secret was still in her best interests for the time being. He needed to get her to Galadriel; the Lady would know what to do. But how to reach her without entering the City?
She had great spiritual powers, Alagos remembered. Lady Galadriel always seemed to know what was happening throughout the Golden Wood; perhaps she knew of Ski's need already and was sending a few trusted Elves to help. Alagos couldn't be sure, though—so he needed Galadriel to touch his mind and hear his thoughts, as she had done before. He only needed to get her attention.
Alagos took a deep breath and concentrated, closing his eyes and focusing all his energy on the words in his mind. O Lady Galadriel, please hear me! I have found my friend, and she is wounded and spent. I am in need of your wisdom and help, my Lady!
A soft cough close by startled the young Elf, snapping his eyes open. Instinctively drawing Ski protectively to his chest, he turned quickly to face his possible enemy.
"Having difficulties?" said the newcomer in a low, dry voice. Alagos relaxed when he realized it was only Idhren. The older Elf was smirking slightly. Alagos gently adjusted his hold on Ski, shifting her head to his shoulder. "Difficulties? Whatever do you mean, Idhren?"
"The look on your face a moment ago suggested intestinal distress. Shall I fetch a laxative?" Idhren shook with quiet laughter at Alagos's expression. The young Elf's cheeks were so brightly red the color could be easily seen even in the gloom. "I was concentrating!" growled Alagos. "On mentally contacting the Lady Galadriel!" He was not the least bit amused at—as he perceived it—Idhren's flippant attitude toward his efforts to help Ski. Seeing his scowl not abating, the senior Elf sobered. "Of course," he intoned solemnly. "A wise course of action, and a noble effort." Alagos eyed him suspiciously, sure he had detected a note of sarcasm. Finding Idhren's face calm and impassive, though, he let it go.
"I need to enter Caras Galadhon unseen," explained Alagos. "Further, Ski is wounded. I thought that the Lady would be the best person to approach for help; she will know how to handle this situation."
"I am sure she will," agreed Idhren. "But I must advise you, Alagos, that the Lady's skills lie not in the healing arts. Young Ski's wounds do not appear deep or poisoned, though," he murmured, stepping closer and peering at her face, "so I would not doubt Lady Galadriel's ability to heal them."
"I have no doubt, either," said Alagos rather shortly. He was more than ready to get Ski to safety. "So will you help me enter the City unseen and carry her to the Lady?"
Idhren nodded. "Aye. You can enter by way of the Fountain Stream, through the culvert where it passes through the Green Wall as it flows from the City. The culvert opens directly into the Lady Galadriel's Garden; though open to the sky, the Garden is bounded by a high hedge, and is concealed from prying eyes."
"Very well. That seems a sound plan." Alagos quickly calculated his position. He was approaching Caras Galadhon from the North-west; the Fountain Stream flowed out of the City on the South-east, while the official entrance, the Great Gates, was at the South edge. He decided to follow the road North and East, circling the City and reaching the culvert without crossing the main entrance road.
He looked down at Ski. Even in the darkness, he could tell that her skin just wasn't quite "right"; definitely not Elven. "Idhren," he said, "could I use your cloak? I think I should cover Ski, in case we meet someone along the road." The older Elf hesitated, looking doubtfully at the sleeping girl. Alagos huffed impatiently.
"Oh, come, Idhren!" he snapped. "She no longer carries the Orcs' filth, even if she has not yet shaken off their form entirely." Idhren sighed, nodded, and unclasped his grey cloak. Carefully, without waking Ski, the two Elves covered her with the cloak. Alagos briefly shifted his grip so that the edges of the cloth could be wrapped around her sides, and then replaced his hands, holding the cloak secure. She stirred, momentarily disturbed, but did not wake fully. When Alagos began to walk once more, the rhythm of his smooth stride quickly sent Ski back into deep sleep.
The two Elves glided along the road. Though they moved quickly, their feet made no noise on the white stone. The only sounds for many minutes were the leaves whispering in the breeze, the faint chirp of crickets, and the deep, slow breathing of Ski. At some length the trio arrived at a bridge that crossed a steep-sided furrow, at the bottom of which was a clear, fast-flowing stream. They halted. "If you wish, I will accompany you through to the Garden, and aid you if you have need," offered Idhren softly. Alagos shook his head. "No, mellon. I thank you, but I would rather you went ahead into the City and alerted the Lady Galadriel to our presence in her Garden, and convey to her our need."
"Very well. I will beg a boon from her on your behalf. But know that if the Lady declines to meet with you, in her Garden or elsewhere, there is naught more I can do to that end."
"I understand." Alagos stepped off the road and took a pace toward the steep decline. "Do you need help descending the bank?" called Idhren quietly after him. Alagos turned and gave him a withering look. The older Elf chuckled, shrugged, and ran off lightly on down the road in the direction of the Gate Bridge.
Alagos watched him for a moment, and then took the last few steps through the grass to the edge of the bank. He began his descent. At first he had no trouble; but after several feet, the hill began to decline much more sharply. Worse, it was grassy, and the dew had already begun to form, making the grass slippery underfoot. Normally Alagos would have had no problem with this descent, leaping lightly down the bank. But he had underestimated the role his arms played in balancing him. With them entirely occupied by the sleeping Ski's dead weight, Alagos soon found himself slipping and sliding down the bank, much too quickly and precariously off-balance.
Thankfully, the ground was greatly flattened at the stream's edge, and the grass was sparser there. Unfortunately, though, the Elf's momentum didn't stop when he reached the narrow strip of even turf, and he came to a stumbling halt. Trying and failing to steady himself, he swayed and finally toppled sideways into the cool water.
"Rhaich!" cursed Alagos. "Phhah!" spluttered Ski at the same moment. Alagos's rushing, jerking descent had wakened her; she had just opened her mouth to ask what was going on when he fell, and she received a mouthful of water and sodden cloak. Spitting the cloth and water out, Ski shot to her feet, stumbling from the sudden use of her legs. Alagos who had also stood, steadied her; but she pushed him away and scrambled out of the water. She looked shaken.
Alagos was fully expecting a quip about him soaking Ski with river water yet again. To his surprise, Ski said nothing of the sort. She was staring at the water with an odd look on her face, a mixture of astonishment, fear, and consternation. "What's wrong with the water?" she gasped. Alagos frowned and looked at the stream, thinking Ski saw something strange taking place; but he saw nothing out of the ordinary in the clear, bubbling current. He looked back at Ski. She was now shaking herself like a dog, trying to dry herself.
"Ski? What do you mean? Nothing is wrong with the water. Are you all right?" He stepped out of the stream and drew close to her. She turned her wide, appalled gaze on his face. "Nothing's wrong with it? You mean it's supposed to feel like that?"
Now it was Alagos's turn to be confused. "What? Do you mean it does not feel as all other water does? True, the temperature is warmer than that of the Nimrodel, but—"
"No!" Ski broke in. "No, it's not that it's warmer—don't you feel it? That…stinging?" Alagos stared at her, bewildered. "No…did a river stone cut you? Perhaps that is what you—"
"No!" growled Ski, frustrated he didn't know what she was trying to say. "I'm not cut! Well, I mean, I am on my face, but that's not what I'm talking about! The water—it…it stings!" She thought for a moment as Alagos continued to stare at her in confusion. "Well…maybe it's…more like a tingle. But it's a strong tingle. It sort of hurts, especially on the cuts on my face, but it sort of feels good too. Almost kind of…refreshing, I guess. Kind of like mint!" Ski grinned at Alagos, relieved to have finally figured out the words to describe the sensation.
"Mint," repeated Alagos blankly. Ski snorted, a little exasperated that he still wasn't getting it. "Yes, mint! You know, it's a plant, smallish leaves, jaggedy sort of edges—"
"I know what mint is," interrupted the Elf somewhat peevishly. "But I do not understand how the water can feel like it."
"I mean it feels like the effects of mint. Like how it tastes and makes your mouth feel when you eat it—that tingly feeling, you know?"
Alagos nodded, finally understanding what his friend meant. "I see," he said slowly. "However, I do not know why the water should affect you so. I think…I think that perhaps it stings you because the stream originates from a fountain inside the City—hence its name, the Fountain Stream. Perhaps because the stream's source is located in the heart of Caras Galadhon, tended to by Elves, and the water is pure, it stings your skin due to your…heritage."
Understanding dawned on Ski's face. "Ohhh….You mean like how Elvish blades burn Orcs' skin? You're saying the water might be the same way? All right, that makes sense, but it doesn't really hurt me. Not like Elvish metal hurts Orcs."
"I suspect that is because you are no longer an Orc," said Alagos. "Yet neither are you an Elf, or one of the Free Peoples—so the water is reacting to the small bit of darkness still left in you."
"Huh?" Ski was taken aback by his words. "What do you mean, I'm no longer an Orc? I'm…" She looked at her arms. Her night vision was even sharper than that of the Elves, and so she could clearly see by the light of the stars and crescent moon the change that had come over her skin. "Whoa!" she gasped, and jerked backwards, as if her arms were a dangerous beast. "I'm…OH VALAR, I'm NOT an Orc anymore!" she cried, and whooped with delight.
"Shh!" Alagos hissed. "I am, in fact, attempting to bring you into the City secretly. Why do you think we are in this ravine?" Ski fell silent and made a face at him. "Well, just cut my celebration short, why don't you? How was I supposed to know where we were and why we were here? I was asleep!" As Alagos sighed and conceded the point, she grinned mischievously. "Yes, I was asleep…until you dumped me into the river, again! What's the deal with that, anyway? Is that your hobby or something—pushing people into streams when they least expect it?!"
Alagos laughed: now came the quip about unexpected baths. He held out his hand to Ski. "Come," he said. "You seem to be recovering, but your wounds still need tending to. I will lead you through the culvert and bring you into the Lady Galadriel's Garden."
Ski declined to take his hand, even though her legs were still achy from her flight. The two started off up the stream, keeping to the strip of dry ground next to the water. The strip was only just wide enough for Ski and Alagos to walk abreast, so the Elf kept to Ski's left, walking between her and the water since it affected her skin.
After they had walked a few yards, they passed under the bridge and came to the mouth of the culvert. Even that short distance had tired Ski out again, but she tried hard not to show it. She was grateful to Alagos for helping her when she was at her lowest, but still she was ashamed to have shown such weakness.
"It is not far now," said Alagos quietly. "See, the culvert is but six yards long." Ski gritted her teeth; her legs were shaking uncontrollably again, and she could tell from her friend's concerned tone that he noticed her exhaustion. "Right," she said tightly. Six yards wasn't far at all, but in this state it seemed an awfully long way—especially since her stride was half that of Alagos at most.
She huffed to cover her need for a deep breath. "Well, come on," she muttered, lurching forward. Ski could see Alagos out of the corner of her eye, watching both her and the path, and she could tell he was tensed and ready to catch her if she fell. He had the sense, though, to not lay his hand on her arm in an unwanted attempt to steady her. Part of Ski was touched that the Elf was so concerned for her, but the greater part of her being was determined to walk into Caras Galadhon under her own power. Enough with the poor helpless maiden, she thought fiercely.
Jaw clenched, she took two last torturous steps and arrived at the small opening of the culvert, over which there was an iron gate. Alagos quickly stepped forward and bent slightly to peer out through the bars, looking for Idhren or Galadriel. Ski took the opportunity to lean her back against the cool stone side of the tunnel. She wanted nothing more than to slump down into a heap on the ground and sleep for a fortnight, but she forced herself to remain more or less upright. Eyelids half-closed, she let her mind drift out of focus.
"Ah!" Alagos's soft exclamation jolted Ski back to the waking world. A minute could have passed, or an hour; she didn't know. "Hm? What is it?" she mumbled tiredly. Alagos turned to look at her, and a weak beam of moonlight fell across his face, casting the shadow of the bars onto his skin; his smiling mouth was perfectly framed in the center of a rectangle, and in her stupor Ski could only stare at the lips, the frame making them seem disembodied when she gazed at that particular section.
"The Lady deigned to come and help us," he said in a glad, relieved tone. Ski tore her gaze away from the fascinating spectacle of a talking disembodied mouth and heaved herself off the wall. Not needing to stoop, she too looked out the gate, and her jaw dropped as her eyes fell on the most resplendent woman she had ever seen. She had never even dreamed of such beauty existing in a being that walked on Middle-earth; this Elf-maid appeared out of place even in the loveliness of Lothlórien, and Ski thought she must belong rather in the undying gardens of the Valar across the Western Sea. The moonlight, faint enough to begin with, faded to a cold and barely perceptible light next to her radiant beauty.
This, then, was the Lady Galadriel.