Chapter 11: Fixing

Lothrinna found herself away from the Fellowship for the first time since leaving Rivendell, walking quietly alongside Haldir. She knew of him by reputation, the brave Warden of Lórien, as steady as the great mellyrn trees themselves, and though her spirit was still bruised from her encounter with Legolas, there was something in Haldir's calm demeanor that eased her.

They walked beneath the golden canopy of Lothlórien, Haldir seemed to observe her closely, noting each tentative step she took, every slight stumble. At one point, when she nearly tripped over a root, he steadied her with a hand on her elbow.

"Your balance seems…" he hesitated, choosing his words carefully, "unusual for one of our kind. Has no one ever… guided you?"

Lothrinna's cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze. "I suppose I've always been a bit…" she trailed off, searching for the right word, "unsteady. But I do try my best, my lord."

Haldir gave a small nod, his expression inscrutable. He seemed both perplexed and curious, as though trying to reconcile her gentle spirit and earnestness with the elven grace she seemed to lack. "You need not call me 'my lord,'" he replied, his tone softer. "I am simply Haldir."

They walked on, the silence between them broken only by the occasional sigh of the wind through the leaves. Haldir, glancing at her from time to time, finally said, "Tell me, Lothrinna, what is it that steadies your heart? What gives you peace?"

She thought for a moment, casting her gaze toward the distant glow of the Fellowship's campfire. "Well… in truth, I'd have said being of help to my friends. But," she swallowed, her voice soft, "I fear I am more of a burden to them than I'd care to admit."

Haldir's brow furrowed, but he said nothing. Instead, he waited, and in the quiet patience of his gaze, she felt a strange courage stir within her.

"There is one thing," she continued, her eyes lighting up. "Honey cakes. Baking them. I used to bake them for the hobbits in Rivendell. They're fond of sweet things, you know. And with… all that has happened, perhaps they could use something sweet to lift their spirits."

Haldir raised an eyebrow, surprised by her answer. "Honey cakes?"

She nodded, a faint smile breaking through her sadness. "A simple thing, I know. But it can bring such warmth, a small comfort amidst darker days."

The corner of Haldir's mouth lifted in a slight smile. "Honey cakes, then," he repeated, as though testing the sound of the words. "Come, I know where you may find all you need."

They walked through the golden woods toward one of the kitchens nestled among the trees, where a few elven maidens were quietly tending to their tasks. When Haldir requested that they make space for Lothrinna, they nodded with polite curiosity, and as Lothrinna gathered flour, honey, and spices, the maidens exchanged glances and gave small, approving nods.

As they worked, one of the elven women looked at Lothrinna with a gentle smile. "It has been long since we had a visitor in our kitchens, and even longer since someone sought to bake such a simple, sweet thing. What brings you here, Lothrinna?"

"Oh, it's for the hobbits," Lothrinna said shyly, glancing down at her hands as she sifted the flour. "They're quite dear to me, and… well, they've had much to grieve. I thought a bit of sweetness might do them good."

Another maiden, her hair like spun silver, chuckled softly. "Ah, those halflings and their love of food. I have heard tales of their appetites! But honey cakes—now that is a treat even we do not often make."

Lothrinna smiled, encouraged by their interest, and her hands moved with more certainty as she mixed the ingredients. Haldir, watching nearby, leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed, a faint smile on his lips as he observed the scene.

One of the maidens came to her side, passing her a small jar of finely ground cinnamon. "A touch of this, perhaps?"

"Oh, thank you!" Lothrinna replied, accepting it gratefully. "The hobbits will love it."

As she worked, Haldir came over, watching her mix the dough with surprising skill, considering her earlier clumsiness. "You seem more at ease here than on the road, Lothrinna," he observed, his tone both gentle and curious.

"I suppose I am," she admitted, kneading the dough with practiced hands. "It feels… familiar. And I know the hobbits will enjoy it." She looked up at Haldir with a shy smile. "Sometimes, in the midst of great journeys, it's the small comforts that make us feel truly at home."

Haldir inclined his head, a glint of admiration in his eyes. "Wisely spoken, Lothrinna." Then, with a hint of warmth, he added, "It is not often I see one who finds joy in such simple acts of kindness. Perhaps the Fellowship is fortunate to have you among them, even if they have not yet realized it."

His words filled her with a quiet happiness, and she turned back to her work, emboldened. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the warm, golden aroma of honey and cinnamon, the scent drifting through the air like a balm.

One of the elven maidens, her voice soft, looked at Lothrinna as she placed the dough in the oven. "It is good to see someone who remembers that kindness is a strength, not a burden."

Touched by the words, Lothrinna glanced at Haldir and the other maidens, grateful for their acceptance. And as the honey cakes baked, filling the kitchen with their warmth, she felt, if only for a moment, that perhaps she wasn't such a misfit among her people after all.

The Fellowship gathered near the fire as the song of lament for Gandalf rose softly into the golden boughs of Lothlórien. Legolas leaned against a nearby tree, his eyes distant and troubled. The grief weighed heavily on him, not only for Gandalf but for the uncertain path ahead.

Aragorn sat some distance away, speaking in low tones with Boromir, who appeared restless, casting frequent, uneasy glances at Frodo and the Ring. Though their words were hushed, Legolas caught snippets, and each phrase tightened the knot of dread in his heart.

Evelyn, meanwhile, looked around the camp, her expression tense. "Where's Lothrinna?" she murmured, her gaze sweeping the clearing.

"Not here, apparently," Merry muttered, glancing around.

After asking several members of the Fellowship if they'd seen her, Evelyn's gaze finally settled on Legolas. She approached him, a questioning look in her eyes. He barely glanced at her, and his voice was curt when he spoke. "She's with Haldir."

"Haldir?" Evelyn asked, her brows lifting. "Where exactly are they?"

But Legolas merely shrugged, his gaze returning to the distant stars above. "I know not. She has her own way, does she not?"

Evelyn, sensing his reluctance to discuss it further, persisted. "Did something happen? I mean… she's not often gone long."

The tension in Legolas's expression tightened, and he gave a humorless laugh. "What could happen that has not already happened, with her?"

Sam, listening nearby, frowned slightly. "You're always hard on her, Legolas. Why is that? I mean, she's no more trouble than we hobbits, and you've never seemed to mind us."

Legolas looked down at Sam, as though surprised anyone would question his attitude. "She is an elf," he replied coolly, his tone carrying a sharp edge. "And I would think that means something."

Sam's brow furrowed, clearly not understanding. "I don't see what you mean. So she's a bit different. She's just… well, she's Lothrinna."

A faint, ironic smile tugged at the corners of Legolas's mouth. "Different, you say? It is not her differences alone, Samwise. I have lived among elves all my life, in dark times and fair, but I have never seen one like her." He hesitated, then added, his voice lowering, "She has… stopped trying."

Evelyn and Sam exchanged puzzled glances, and Evelyn asked, "Stopped trying?"

Legolas shook his head slightly, looking past them. "Elves are taught grace, discipline… to rise after each fall, to hold themselves with dignity. But Lothrinna—" his voice grew harsher, "—she allows herself to slip, to stumble, and she does nothing to recover. Every step, every action... she has surrendered to her faults. It is… unbecoming." He paused, a flicker of irritation sparking in his eyes. "And it is more than that—it is a reminder that she should not be here, that her presence is a hindrance."

"But," Sam objected gently, "maybe she's just different. She might be clumsy and, well, not like the rest of you, but that doesn't mean she's useless."

Legolas's gaze hardened as he spoke, his voice low and cold. "In this quest, there is no room for one who abandons herself to weakness. Lothrinna stumbles as though it is her nature. She eats like one who has forgotten the virtues of restraint. And to stand beside her, to see her falter… it is to witness a failure of our kind."

As he finished, a quiet, uncertain shuffle of feet was heard near the edge of the campfire's light. Lothrinna had returned, her arms carefully cradling a small basket lined with cloth, from which a faint, sweet scent drifted. Honey cakes, golden and warm, each one shaped with a delicate hand, lay within. She had clearly put care into each one, a rare look of pride softening her features.

But as she approached, her smile faltered. She had caught the last of Legolas's words, the disdain that laced his tone. For a moment, she stood very still, as if frozen by some invisible blow. The gentle firelight flickered over her expression, and her eyes lowered, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the basket.

Legolas, still unaware of her presence, continued with a bitter edge, "It is as if she is content to be less than she could be. To walk among those who strive while she… she drifts. It is shameful."

Aragorn, looking up from his conversation with Boromir, noticed Lothrinna standing at the edge of the firelight, her head bowed and her face obscured by the loose golden strands of her hair. He gave Legolas a warning look, and Legolas, following his gaze, finally saw her there.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The harshness in Legolas's gaze faltered slightly, but he did not speak.

Lothrinna, summoning what dignity she could, forced herself to approach. She held out the basket, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I made these," she said, her words trembling with restrained sorrow. "I thought… they might bring some comfort to the hobbits, and to… to all of us."

Sam was the first to respond, his voice warm and appreciative. "Thank you, Miss Lothrinna," he said gently, reaching into the basket and taking a honey cake with a grateful smile. "That's mighty kind of you."

Merry and Pippin eagerly followed suit, each expressing their gratitude. They were delighted by the small treat, savoring the sweetness with brightened spirits. For them, the simple joy of honey cakes seemed a balm to the sadness that had settled over them.

Legolas, however, did not take a cake, nor did he meet her gaze. Instead, he inclined his head slightly, his voice distant. "Perhaps… you might offer your skills in a quieter manner, Lothrinna. Not every kindness needs such attention."

Her face fell, but she nodded, quickly pulling back as if she feared causing further offense. She withdrew from the firelight, choosing a quiet spot beneath the trees, her heart heavy and her hands clenched tightly around the empty basket. For a long while, she sat alone, her gaze lowered, listening to the distant echoes of elven song and wondering if she had, indeed, lost her way among her own people.

Evelyn found Lothrinna seated beneath a great mallorn tree, her eyes rimmed with tears. The empty basket lay beside her, forgotten. She didn't notice Evelyn at first, absorbed as she was in her sorrow, the weight of Legolas's cruel words pressing heavily on her spirit. But Evelyn's voice broke the silence.

"Lothrinna, why are you letting this get to you?" she asked, looking at her with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation. "Legolas only spoke the truth. You don't have to be offended by it."

Lothrinna's brow furrowed, and she looked down, her fingers twisting the edge of her cloak. "I know he spoke the truth," she whispered, her voice shaky. "But… it's not as if I wanted to be like this. All my life, in Rivendell, I was just fine in my way. I loved baking, walking by the river, and reading tales of heroes from the past. I didn't have to be…" She trailed off, searching for words. "Perfect. I didn't need to be anything more than what I was."

Evelyn sighed. "That's true, back in Rivendell. But here, on this journey… well, maybe it's time to start trying harder. Eat less, walk more, practice balance. You could try to fix what's… out of place about you."

Lothrinna blinked, feeling a surge of confusion. "Fix me?" she repeated slowly, a spark of hurt flashing in her eyes. "You think I haven't tried?" Her voice grew soft and raw. "I don't enjoy tripping over every stone or stumbling along behind everyone else. I don't like being an embarrassment."

Evelyn raised a brow. "Then why don't you change? If you try to work on yourself here, in Lothlórien… maybe you could start practicing swordplay or take lessons from the elves. They'd help you become… well, less of a hindrance. More useful."

Lothrinna swallowed, feeling a prick of shame mingle with frustration. "I've tried to be careful," she murmured. "Tried to walk without tripping. Tried not to bump into things. But it's not something I can just… fix." Her eyes shone with a fierce vulnerability as she looked at Evelyn. "I didn't come here to be a warrior. I came because you wanted me to be with you, to help however I could, even if that just meant bringing you some comfort."

Evelyn frowned, unmoved. "Comfort doesn't help much on a journey like this, Lothrinna. You need to be useful. To have a purpose. Don't you see? This isn't just about helping me, it's about being someone who can hold their own."

Lothrinna's gaze dropped again, and for a moment, her lip quivered. "Maybe… maybe you're right," she said slowly. "I shouldn't have come. Maybe I've caused more trouble than I realized."

The thought gnawed at her, and her shoulders slumped. "I..." she continued, her voice almost a whisper, "I should stay here in Lothlórien. I could spare everyone the burden of my… of my clumsiness."

Evelyn gave her an appraising look. "Yes," she said softly, "that might be for the best. But it's up to you, Lothrinna. Decide what you want, and do what will make you.." Evelyn's voice trailed off as her attention shifted back toward the campfire, where the others were still gathered.

Just as they fell silent, faint laughter and conversation drifted toward them. Lothrinna instinctively reached for her basket, looking down at the crumbling edges of honey cakes she'd tried to share.

Evelyn gave her a faint, forced smile. "Don't take it too hard, Lothrinna. Just… think about what I said."

She returned to the campfire, leaving Lothrinna alone beneath the towering trees, her heart heavy with the weight of her doubts.