An Unexpected Ring
Chapter 21
The Lady of Light
A remedy for feeling terrible.
Not terrible in the sense of illness. Uncle Henry insists that is something different.
A remedy for sadness.
A remedy for sorrow.
First experiment: two parts bottled sunshine. One part dandelion petals.
Three dashes of cinnamon sugar.
It's a nice tea.
But, it didn't work.
Leaves crunched beneath Boromir's boots. Above him, a canopy of gold shrouded the twilight sky. White trunks stretched as far as the eye could see, growing more numerous in number with each step he took. The narrow trail Aragorn led the fellowship down winded, twisted, and turned, snaking through the forest until the fellowship had to walk in a single file line. No one spoke. No one wanted to speak.
He grimaced as he shifted Morgan in his arms. He briefly glanced down, his grimace falling away as he looked at her tear-stained cheeks beneath closed eyes. His heart ached for her. He heard her screams within Moria. He heard what she cried. Tiki's behavior made sense now, and at the same time, it did not.
She was Morgan's mother, yet she attempted to avoid her daughter. Boromir stepped over a root jutting up from the trail's soft soil. Why? Was it fear? What for?
He flicked his eyes up. Ahead, Legolas moved closer to Aragorn, the pair whispering in hushed tones something elvish. Gimli grunted just behind them, the dwarf leaning heavily on his ax as he kept pace. Just behind him marched all four hobbits. The little folk had lost all of the cheer and wonder that Boromir had so admired. Gandalf and Tiki's deaths struck them hard. He could not blame them. The two powerful beings had been watchful guardians and friends of the Shire for years. The hobbits probably knew them since they were just babes.
He brought up the rear, and he preferred it that way. His large shield covered his back, and his eyes scanned the deepening shadows of the forest, watching for anything that could waylay them that Aragorn or Legolas may have missed. But even as he tried to remain focused on watching the end of their small column, his mind wandered.
Tiki was not an elf. She was a dragon. He had seen it with his own two eyes. One moment, the woman stood there, radiating power unlike any he had ever seen before. The next, a dragon, with scales so green they shimmered like the finest emeralds, roared through the cavern to battle the Balrog of Moria alongside Gandalf. It was an awe-inspiring sight, even if now, it was only a memory. It also made the horror of Moria hit harder for him. For all the power Gandalf and Tiki wielded, they both succumbed to the darkness and flame. They prevented it from chasing them, but they perished in the process.
Is this what we truly face then? He wondered, his steps faltering a little. Morgan murmured in her sleep. He kept his hold on her tight. Is this the power the enemy wields? Are we to see more Balrogs, but not in the dark, deep places of the world. Rather, will we see them upon the fields of our lands, torching, burning, and killing with such terrible wrath that all we can do is stand still with fear?
Despair lingered in his heart. He did not show it. He could not. The hobbits needed him to remain the stoic shield of the Fellowship. Morgan needed him to be a sturdy pillar she could lean on. He kept his lingering sense of hopelessness to himself. He knew it would fester. It had been festering for years. Ever since his first battle in Osgiliath as a younger man, when he watched the orcs of Mordor attempt to cross the Anduin for the first time, it had grown. And now, when he realized that he stood frozen in fear, unable to do anything against the most powerful monster the enemy could possess, it made him wonder what could he do? What could any of them do? They all barely escaped with their lives, and they lost two friends doing so.
"Boromir," Gimli hissed from ahead, "stay close. This is not a friendly wood."
It was the first words spoken since they raced away from the Misty Mountains. The hobbit's eyes rose from their feet for the first time as well. Pippin and Merry drew closer as Gimli gasped for breath, the stout dwarf clearly weary from their rapid flight away from the mountains.
"They say that a great sorceress lives here. An elf witch, of terrible power. All who look upon her, fall under her spell."
"Is this really the time for such words, Gimli?" Boromir asked. The Hobbits did not need more fear. He did not need more fear. What he needed was a moment of peace. A cup of mulled wine, perhaps. A chance to clear his head and remember home. Remember why he joined this doomed mission in the first place.
You still have hope. A fool's hope, but you still have it. He glanced at Morgan again as she muttered unintelligible words in her sleep. You must keep it.
"Not to fear," Gimli replied. "There will be no sneaking up on this dwarf. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox."
An arrow protruded from the shadows. Followed by two more. Boromir froze when he heard bowstrings grow taut. His head whipped around. He gasped as an arrow jabbed toward him from behind. An elf in gray and green attire stared at him from the other end of a bowstring. Three of his kinsmen flanked him.
Boromir turned to the rest of the Fellowship. The hobbits were frozen in place. Aragorn had his hands raised. Legolas already had his bow drawn, ready for a fight. Gimli stood stock still as an arrow quivered near his nose.
Morgan snored.
"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," an elf said as he broke away from the others that surrounded the fellowship. His golden hair swept from the crown of his head in long locks, and he carried himself with authority and confidence that Boromir had only seen from Elrond and the other elven lords of Rivendell. It made him uneasy.
Aragorn swiftly bowed his head. "Haldir," then he did that thing where he spoke in elvish, and Boromir frowned.
I wish they would bother to realize not all of us can understand them.
After Aragorn finished speaking, a grave look passed over Haldir's face. His sharp eyes snapped to Frodo.
"You bring great evil here… and you will go no further."
Boromir huffed.
Somehow, the elves became the most frustrating obstacle of this entire journey.
Hours passed. Aragorn stayed away from the rest of the fellowship as he negotiated with Haldir and his soldiers. Boromir kept one ear open, listening to what little conversation he could make out. Of course, most of it was in elvish, so he understood little. However, that was what Legolas was for. The woodland elf remained quiet, but his face spoke all the words Boromir needed. Every furrow then raise of his brow told him the direction of the conversation. And, when Legolas rose, slinging his bow over his shoulder, Boromir pursed his lips and waited.
Do we stay or go?
Haldir moved toward the rest of the fellowship with Aragorn beside him. Boromir was the only one not to rise with the others. He remained seated beside the still-slumbering Morgan. Her murmuring had stopped. Whatever nightmares plagued her had passed, thankfully. She needed proper rest after her ordeal in Moria.
"You will follow me," Haldir ordered. "Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel await."
Boromir's brow rose. Those two names he did know. Most in Gondor had heard of the Lady of Light and her husband, the rulers of Lothlorien. It was hard not to, with the exploits of both living up to legends told of the heroes of the First Age, Numenor, and even the War of the Last Alliance. They were two people he never imagined he would be able to meet in person, for they rarely ventured from their home in today's age.
So, he rose. When he did, he reached down to pick up Morgan, only for a pair of elves to come up to him with a litter. They paused, waiting for his permission. And, with a weary nod, he helped them place Morgan into the litter. She murmured then rolled over, oblivious to the start of a new march further into the golden wood.
This time though, their march proved brief. Haldir led them along broader trails through the woods. As they walked, they passed by guard posts where soldiers bearing the standards of the Ghaladrim kept watch. The further they ventured, the more radiant the wood became, until finally, they reached a cliff that overlooked a valley as well as a grove of gargantuan trees rising amidst the forest.
"Caras Galadhon," Haldir said, a ghost of a smile creasing his lips. It was the first Boromir had seen from the elf. "Home of elvendom on earth."
A bold claim to make. Boromir had seen Rivendell. He had walked its bridges and catwalks over the flowing rivers and past rushing waterfalls. He had heard the sweet music of the House of Elrond flowing through the calm, crisp air that wrapped their realm in a cocoon of serenity. At the time, nothing could have rivaled its majesty, except for Minas Tirith when it was at its height.
Then he stepped foot into Caras Galadhon, and he realized that Rivendell may as well have been an outpost. The trees here towered over them all, making Boromir feel like one of the halflings for the first time in his life. Stairs circled the massive trunks. Lights from soft lanterns illuminated the paths on the ground and the bridges spanning the trees, bathing the entire city in a pale, silver light that reminded the Boromir of the moon. The sight was enough to take his breath away, and almost enough to chase away the sorrow that gripped him at the loss of Gandalf and Tiki.
Upward the fellowship marched, circling the tallest of the trees until they reached a regal palace suspended within the branches. There, Haldir told them to wait. As they did, Boromir glanced around. The elves that carried Morgan had left their litter beside them. Not a few moments after they set her down, Boromir heard her grumble and mutter. A low yawn sounded near his feet. He glanced down, watching as Morgan blinked sleep from her eyes.
"Where are we?" she mumbled as she rubbed one eye.
"Caras Galadhon?"
"Carrot what?" Morgan replied with a yawn.
Boromir nudged her with his boot. "On your feet."
"Don't rush me," Morgan grumbled. "I'm a bit stiff."
When she said that, Merry and Pippin reached out to help her. She gratefully took their outstretched hands, and the two hobbits hauled her to her feet. She nodded her thanks, and then she stayed quiet, which was unlike her. Boromir remembered all the frantic, excited questions she peppered him with when they arrived at Rivendell. There were moments where he, shamefully, wished she would stop talking and give him a moment to rest his mind.
Now, he missed her being a chatterbox. She, like she had been when she slept, remained silent, her gaze focused on her feet. He reached out and brushed her back, but she did not respond. His hand then fell, and he folded both in front of his body.
Before he could try anything else, the doors to the palace opened. His mouth opened as well as two beings more regal and resplendent than any he had ever met before descended the pearl-white stairs. To the left stood a tall elf with blonde hair and a stern look in his blue eyes. Unlike many of the elves, he wasn't slender as a reed. He was built a bit sturdier, the mark of a warrior. Still elegant to look upon, as all elves were, but Boromir knew a fighter when he saw one. Despite his appearance, Boromir's gaze did not remain on him long.
His attention turned to the other elf descending the steps. Boromir found himself at a loss for both words and breath. She had to be one of the fairest beings he had ever laid eyes on. Blonde hair cascaded from her head like a river, the waves and curls resembling currents with the waters. Icy eyes, cold as a winter chill, gazed upon the fellowship. She wore a white gown that seemed to glow in the silver lantern light. Not only that, when Boromir gazed into her eyes again, he swore he saw something glowing within them as well. A light that did not match the lanterns, the sun, or the moon and stars.
Before he could wonder further, a voice, soft, like a whisper, hit his mind.
"Welcome, Boromir of Gondor. A last scion of a doomed house."
Sweat beaded on his brow. He watched the she-elf look upon the rest of the Fellowship. Their expressions were a mixture of awe, wonder, and a healthy dose of fearful respect.
"You have come far, and you have fought hard, but know that doom does come for Gondor."
An image flashed in Boromir's mind. He saw Osgiliath in ruins, smoke towering from what remained of the city as Orcs flooded across the river Anduin. He watched the men of Gondor swatted away like flies by black spears, axes, and blades. He saw the White Tree of Gondor, the standard of his people, hewn to the ground. The banners that bore its likeness were torn and scorched. Screeches of the dead and the orcs that slew them swarmed his ears. He trembled where he stood.
"The doom of men knocks upon the gates of Gondor. Who will answer it, I wonder?"
I will. Boromir raised his eyes. I will meet it.
"Eleven there were that set out from Rivendell, yet nine are here," Celeborn began. "Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I would very much like to speak with him? And where is Tiki Emerald Dragon as well?"
Boromir watched a shocked look pass over Galadriel's face at the mention of both of their names. Her voice, her presence left Boromir's mind. He uttered a gasp under his breath before her voice hit his ears with a soft, clear tone.
"They have fallen into shadow…" Galadriel breathed.
Legolas nodded grimly. "They were taken when we entered Moria by a Balrog of Morgoth."
Celeborn flinched at the mention of the beast. "So, Durin's Bane remains."
"Remained," Morgan said, causing Boromir and Celeborn to snap their eyes at her. "I refuse to believe that my-" she hesitated - "That they died without taking that monster down with them."
"Morgan," Boromir whispered. His eyes roved over the rest of the fellowship. Aragorn appeared troubled. Gimli was quiet as he avoided meeting Galadriel and Celeborn's gazes. Legolas stood at rest. Three of the four hobbits stared at the two ancient beings with wonder.
Frodo gazed upon Galadriel with the same look of fear that marked Boromir's face moments before.
"You have traveled far, and endured great hardship," Galadriel said. "Go now, and rest. We can speak more when your bodies are strengthened, and your minds renewed."
Boromir grimaced. A short meeting, but he did not mind. After what rushed through his thoughts before, he was grateful to be guided away from Celeborn and Galadriel.
Haldir and his soldiers led the Fellowship to a small clearing at the base of one of the great trees. There, tents and hammocks had been set up for them. And there, Boromir dropped his sword and shield before sinking to a seat upon a moss-covered log. He ran his hands over his face, wiping away cold sweat. The images that stormed his mind when he stood before Galadriel continued to appear in his thoughts. It was as if they taunted him. Dared him to take up the defiant challenge he thought when asked if he would answer the doom that knocked upon the gates.
Morgan sank to a seat beside him. She was quiet for a moment, her fingers twisting into knots in her lap. Then she spoke.
"She got into your head too, huh?"
Boromir whipped his eyes to her. "How did you-"
"Wasn't hard to figure out. You're not the kind of man that gets scared easily, and you went pale as a ghost up there," Morgan let out a long breath as she stared at her lap. "You're not alone. Pretty sure she got into all our heads somehow."
"And what did she say to you?"
"You first?" Morgan replied.
Boromir shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Before he could speak, Aragorn approached.
"Are you both alright? You appeared troubled."
"We're-"
"We're both a mess at the moment," Morgan bluntly replied, interrupting Aragonr before Boromir could reassure him they were fine.
Aragorn's lips thinned and he nodded. "I can understand."
"What did she say to you?" Boromir asked.
Aragon gave him a wary look. He drew in a deep breath, flicking his gaze to the hobbits for a brief moment. He relaxed when he spotted Frodo, then he spoke.
"Destiny," he answered, "and how I am a fool to turn away from it."
Boromir nodded. "It seems she had quite a few choice words for all of us then."
"For you?" Aragorn asked.
Morgan's ears twitched as she waited for an answer. Boromir swallowed before speaking.
"She spoke of the doom of men and Gondor. How we are doomed to fail. How the enemy will overcome us and destroy us, no matter how much we fight. She then asked who would meet this doom that knocked upon the gates? And, I answered her. I said I would. She said nothing after that." Boromir shook his head. "Everything she said, it made so much sense. It struck me in the heart. But… I cannot believe it. I refuse to. There is good and honor in the men of Gondor. There is strength and courage, I have seen it. If doom knocks, I will not be the only man to stand at the gates waiting for it. There will be others," he locked eyes with Aragorn, "and I will be proud to stand beside those men, no matter who they are or where they come from."
His eyes flicked to Morgan. She sat uncomfortably silent.
"Morgan?" He asked.
She rose then walked away. Boromir furrowed his brow, puzzled. Then he stood to go after her, only for Aragorn to stop him by placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Let her be."
"But she's clearly distressed. She needs-"
"Time," Aragorn answered. "We heard what was said in the depths of the mountains. We both know what she screamed when Tiki broke her dragonstone. This is not something that can be soothed with words and an embrace. Not yet, at least."
Boromir drew in a deep breath. He huffed, shook his head, then reluctantly sat back down.
"Do you have any idea how much you being right drives me mad?"
Aragorn cracked a small smile. His smile faded when singing filled the eaves of Lothlorien. His face fell, and Boromir swore he saw the ranger's eyes grow misty. Legolas, likewise, craned his head up, listening intently as he shrugged off his travel gear. The hobbits froze where they were. Sam and Frodo sat on their bedrolls, both listening with quiet reverence. Merry and Pippin looked around the trees, their mouths open in awe as they heard the music swell.
Frodo was finally the one to speak. "What are they singing?"
Legolas swallowed. "A lament for Gandalf and Tiki."
"What is it about?"
Legolas grasped a pitcher of water nearby. "I haven't the heart to tell you."
Aragorn uttered a shaky breath as well. He ducked his eyes before whispering good evening to Boromir. Boromir leaned back on the log, his eyes closing. But, he could not rest. Sleep eluded him. All that could go through his mind was the doom proclaimed by Galadriel, and worry for Morgan as she stepped away from the others. He wanted to go after her. Pull her into a hug. Tell her that the world would be alright somehow, someway. But, he would be lying to her then. The world, for her, would never be the same. Healing would be a long journey. The loss of a parent, a mother, was a devastating blow few could weather without breaking.
He couldn't even imagine what it must be like for her now. Because, only then, in Tiki's last moments, did Morgan remember her.
"Give her time," Boromir reminded himself. Aragorn was right, of course, and this time, he would listen. "Give her time."
The lament filled his mind. The sorrowful notes turned to soothing melodies. Slowly, Boromir was lulled to sleep.
Morgan wandered.
That seemed to be what she was good at, given that her first memory was wandering. Or, rather, that was the first complete memory. But, ever since she joined Boromir on his quest, ever since she left Rivendell beside him, fragments began to return. Small glimpses and glimmers. Flashes here and there. She would see a face, know that she knew the face, but be unable to place the name or importance. She would see a place, but not recall what or where it was.
Then Moria happened. Then Tiki died. Then she remembered her mother.
Her throat tightened as she trudged beneath the silver moonlight flitting through the branches of Lothlorien. Her green eyes stared at her feet. She wanted nothing more than to think of something else. Ponder a different problem. However, her mind could not shake the shock that had gripped it in Moria. Between the flashes of memories wandering the darkness, then Tiki…
Mom…
Her knees shook, then her legs gave out from beneath her. Morgan slumped against a broad tree trunk. She slid down the smooth bark until she curled into a ball between its roots. Tears dripped down her cheeks. Both her hands went to her hood. She pulled it over her head and then tucked her knees closer to her chest. A shiver ran down her spine followed by a shuddering breath that made her body shake.
I barely knew her.
Faint humming hit her sensitive ears. They twitched beneath her hood. She tried to ignore it like she did the lament. Although, the lament for Tiki and Gandalf had been easier to ignore since she couldn't understand a word of it. But humming, that she could understand. She liked to do that herself when she was deep in thought, or even when feeling quite empty-headed.
The humming grew louder, but it still sounded gentle. Slowly, she raised her head and peered over the tree limbs. She watched as Frodo staggered up some steps nearby, glanced over his shoulder, then continued walking, his face pale as a ghost. He didn't see her. He didn't even bother to look in her direction. She knew the look on his face. It was one she shared now. One of turmoil and fear. Yet still, he walked on and returned to the others. Morgan remained where she lay, unwilling to move.
Humming. Morgan blinked as Lady Galadriel emerged from the same path Frodo came from. At first, Morgan sank behind the tree root, content to not be seen or noticed. However, she found herself unable to escape the Lady of Light's gaze. She gulped when her eyes locked with hers. Then, without a word, Lady Galadriel moved toward her, seemingly gliding over the golden path beneath her feet until she reached the small nook Morgan hid within.
No words were spoken. The Lady of Lothlorien took a seat on the tree root, which somewhat surprised Morgan. For all the reverence everyone treated her with, Lady Galadriel looked awfully normal away from her palace. In fact, she appeared older somehow, if that were possible for elves. Not physically, at least. Morgan already knew elves didn't physically age much, if at all. There was a presence to Lady Galadriel. A weight that hung in the air and rested upon her slender shoulders. She bore it well when they first met, but now, she appeared tired more than anything else.
"It has been some time since tears were shed within this realm," Galadriel finally spoke, her voice slipping into Morgan's ears. She glanced down at the young Manakete. "Even more time since I have shared in such a thing."
Morgan blinked. She wasn't lying. Morgan saw faint tracks of tears beneath Galadriel's eyes. They were carefully hidden. Barely noticeable. But they were there.
"Draw back your hood, Morgan," Galadriel said again. Morgan frowned as she watched her lips move. "There is no need to hide your grief."
Morgan's hands trembled to her hood. As she drew it back, she found herself sitting upright.
"Didn't think you could talk. You know, with all the mental word salad ya spewed at all of us back there," Morgan grumbled.
"Some words are better left unspoken, yet still delivered," Galadriel answered.
Morgan snorted. "Could've used a note instead of freaking us all out."
"And how did I disturb you, Morgan?"
Morgan frowned at her. She tilted her head. "Tell me something, how long does it take for an elf to lose common sense?"
"About as long as it takes for a Manakete to learn wisdom."
Morgan nodded. "Touche."
A small chuckle slipped from Galadriel's lips. "Your mother was fond of that saying."
Morgan blinked. A wave of sorrow crashed into her, making her eyes misty. "You knew her?"
Galadriel nodded. "We spoke often, whenever she passed through this realm. After all, she was a wanderer herself. Going from one land to the next, always searching yet never finding."
"Looking for what?"
Galadriel gave her a gentle glance. "A way back to you."
A knot formed in Morgan's throat. "Then, how come when she found me, she didn't say anything?"
Galadriel shook her head. "I cannot speak for the actions of your mother. Whatever reasons they may be, she alone knew them, and I can say this with certainty: they were likely decent reasons. Unreasonable ones perhaps, but not all good reasons are reasonable. However, I can speak for her intentions, as she shared those often. She wanted nothing more than to return home and find you. She loved you dearly, Morgan."
Morgan sniffed hard. "I… I know."
Galadriel gave her a sad look. "That you do, now."
"I wish she didn't love me that much. You know, enough to stick around, but not enough to leave like that."
"That is the love any parent should have for their child. No greater form of it exists. Tiki knew what she was doing in the end. And now, she has entrusted you with the quest going forward."
Morgan blinked back some tears. "She has?"
Galadriel nodded.
"How do you know?" She glanced past Galadriel towards the set of stairs descending into a grove. "Does it have something to do with down there? What? You have a crystal ball or something?'
Another quiet chuckle slipped from Galadriel's lips. "Of a sort." she held out a hand. "Come. Memories are what you seek, are they not. Perhaps, some are a gift I give to you, should you look into the mirror."
Morgan gave Galadriel's outstretched hand a hesitant glance. Did she want to look? Did she want to remember now that so much pain would come with each memory? Or, was it better to try and forget all of it?
Her hand slipped into Galadriel's. With surprising strength, the Lady of Lothlorien pulled her to her feet. Golden leaves slipped off of Morgan's coat as she rose and followed Galadriel into the grove.
Once at the base of the stone steps, she found herself face to face with a stone pedestal filled with crystal-clear water. Small tendrils of steam curled up from the edges of the stone basin. She could feel heat radiating from it. Morgan gave Galadriel a puzzled look as the elf grabbed a pitch of water and poured it into the basin until it almost spilled over.
"Frodo looked, didn't he?"
Galadriel nodded. "He did."
"What did he see?"
"Things that were. Things that are. And things that may yet come to pass."
Morgan scoffed. "And what did you see?"
Galadriel was caught off guard. She pondered Morgan's question for a moment. "Things long passed and things that are currently present."
"But nothing for the future?"
"For nothing is there for me now," Galadriel replied. "My time comes to a close in Middle Earth, and the mirror has shown me as much. I will depart west soon, along with the rest of my kin. The future belongs to you, Morgan. However, only the mirror will show you the possibilities, if that is what you desire to see."
It was tempting, but memories tugged on Morgan's heart more. She inched toward the water, her face passing through a small ribbon of steam. She peered into the unmoving pool, her brow furrowing as her reflection stared back at her.
What kind of mystical riddle is this?
Ripples wave across the surface. Morgan thought it was a passing breeze until she watched her reflection fade away.
Her breath hitched when an image appeared. There was a cabin atop a small hill outside of a white city. Smoke rose from the stone chimney. She could smell the fresh bread baking within. Her heart hammered when the door burst open, and a smaller version of her surged out, wearing the same coat she wore now, only the sleeves billowed over her hands, and the hem of the coat dragged across the ground.
She was laughing, smiling, sprinting around the house with glee as a man with white hair, wearing a white linen shirt and dark trousers chased after her. He caught up to her, wrapped his arms around her, then spun her around, making the younger version of her squeal with glee.
Father?
Tiki emerged from the cottage. She leaned against the doorframe, smiling and shaking her head when a small puff of fire came from Morgan's lips, singing the hairs atop her father's head. A choking laugh left her lips, and a tear dropped into the mirror.
The water rippled. A new image appeared. She was older. The sleeves of her coat only covered half her hands now. She stood upon an immense wall, stretching as far as she could see east and west. Biting cold gnawed at her skin, turning her cheeks rosy. Armored men stood shoulder to shoulder in front of her as she marched behind them, hands clasped behind her back. She wasn't happy. She wasn't angry. She was nervous. Filled with anticipation. Quickly, she scaled the wall and was greeted with three visages.
The first was of a man with smiling eyes and a dangerous grin. She somehow felt welcome in his presence, and a slight smile creased her lips when she watched a crow land on his robed shoulder. Next to him stood another girl, a few years older than Morgan. She was slender and pale, her cheeks pink from the cold that chapped against her skin as well. Her steely gaze faced the north as one slender hand rested upon a sword against her hip. Blue hair ran like a cascading waterfall from her head, and a golden tiara sat upon her head. Someone royal. Morgan tried to remember her name.
Lucy?
Then she saw her mother. Tiki wasn't smiling. Not now. She wore an expression of pure determination as she faced due north. Her dragonstone rested in one hand. She didn't even wear a coat. The cold did not affect her. Morgan could not help but feel in awe as she gazed upon a woman who was the greatest power in the land. Or so she thought.
The sky cracked. Lightning blinded her. Fire screeched. The ripples in the mirror trembled as if the earth beneath the pedestal shook. The sky above the wall turned black, then red like blood as fire and screams filled the air. Great winged beast soared over blood-stained snow. Men and women clashed against monsters with blackened, rotting flesh and an insatiable appetite for death. Even greater terrors weaved through the battle, picking apart the living with casual indifference. Morgan came face to face with one. Her blood ran cold as it swatted away her spells as if they were nothing.
Then it spoke.
"Fell Child, come with me."
Morgan cried. Tiki roared. The monster, a deadlord, crumbled to ash as fire scorched it into nothingness. She felt her mother's hands grab her. Then she was soaring as her mother transformed. Morgan fought against the heavy beat of dragon wings. She watched as what few survivors of the battle fled south, with Tiki leading them.
And in the distance, rising amid the smoke and ash, was the grim specter of a beast with six red eyes and six feathered wings. A dark laugh filled her mind, morphing between one with her voice, and one with a voice she did not recognize.
The shadow emerged over Gondor. Boromir's horn was cloven in two, and his shield lay shattered on the ground. Frodo's screams filled her mind. The hobbits were being taken! Aragorn was cornered with Legolas and Gimli! Her friends were dying!
With a cry, Morgan jerked her head back. The images evaporated from her mind. Steam rose from the mirror like a cloud. The water within bubbled to a boil. Morgan's chest heaved as she struggled to catch her breath. Cold sweat beaded over her face. Behind the cloud of steam, Galadriel stood unmoving.
"Wh-What," Morgan wiped her face with her hand. She staggered back. "Did you see it too?"
Galadriel looked down at her.
"You did," Morgan gasped for breath. "What was it?"
"I do not know."
Morgan swallowed and then exhaled. "That's less than reassuring."
"Indeed… and it is causing me to reconsider a great many things," Galadriel stepped around the mirror, "one of which is allowing you to gaze into the mirror. For the things you saw, at first, were good things. True memories, all of them. But the last, the six-winged shadow, the eyes the color of blood, trouble even me."
Galadriel stepped away from the mirror to a small stone chest next to where she grabbed the pitcher of water. From within the chest, she withdrew something that caused immediate fear to lance through Morgan. Galadriel held a black mask, face frozen into a permanent grimace. As she touched it, the edges crumbled away to ash. Morgan found herself panting as she gazed at it.
"You have fought these."
Morgan nodded.
"In your home?"
"Apparently," Morgan's hands trembled, "and here. Things wearing those ambushed me and Boromir along the Anduin."
A deep furrow formed along Galadriel's brow. She carefully replaced the mask and then sealed the chest shut.
"Troubling indeed," Galadriel muttered. "I must seek counsel from my husband, as well as from Elrond, if possible."
"About what?"
"About threats that continue to emerge in Middle-Earth. I fear Sauron and Saruman may not be alone in their battle for dominion over all. However, they are the only ones that have made themselves known. While that should concern us all, I do worry about the threats that prefer to stay unseen and lurk, waiting for the right moment, rather than the bold ones who think they can bash their way to power, as Sauron no doubt thinks he can do."
"And I know something, but I can't remember it," Morgan breathed.
"Yes," Galadriel answered. Then she stooped to Morgan's level. "But, these troubles are not for you, Morgan. Not now." A hand came to her cheek. Galadriel brushed away a tear. "Your own troubles are already great and they weigh heavily upon you. Do not carry them alone. Trust in your friends. Trust in yourself as well. Grieve for Tiki, but do not give up on the hope that she fought for every day of her life."
Morgan found herself nodding.
"Now go, rest. You will need your strength as you continue your journey."
And it was as if some sort of spell had been placed upon her. Morgan's eyes drooped. Her head grew heavy. She trudged back toward her hammock beneath the boughs of Lothlorien. When she reached it, she found Boromir, the Hobbits, Legolas, and Gimli, all sound asleep. Only Aragorn remained awake. He smoked on his pipe as he watched her return. Not a word was spoken. He gave her a gentle nod of his head.
Then, Morgan crawled into her hammock, curled into a tight ball, wrapped her cloak around her body, then drifted to sleep, tears drying upon her cheeks.
And chapter! The fellowship continues on without its two most powerful members, and Morgan's mind is slowly piecing memories back together. It's going to be interesting seeing where this goes. Anyways, let me know what you all think of this chapter. As always, I hope you all enjoyed it. Have a nice day!
