Aiër Chapter Nine
When Shëanon woke up the next morning, Legolas was no longer there. She had started awake as she became aware of the rays of sunlight falling across her face, flitting into the room through the filmy curtains hung in the windows, but she sat up to find an empty space on the bed beside her. Surprised and slightly disoriented, she ran a hand over the place where he had been and found that the sheets were cool—he must have been gone for a while. Shëanon frowned and ran her fingers through her hair, blushing alone in her room as she drew her knees to her chest and rested her head upon them. What on earth had gotten into her? She could not decide what to make of what had transpired the night before, but she could not help but feel incredibly disappointed to wake up alone. On the other hand, maybe it was better that he'd left, for she couldn't imagine what she would have said had he still been there. Perhaps it had been foolish of her to expect him to stay until morning, and it was probably absurd in the first place for her to have asked of him what she had. Forcing the thoughts from her mind, she got up and dressed. Her body and mind were well rested; she had slept well past sunrise.
The day was clear and crisp as she went down to the company's camp. Legolas was not there when she arrived, having gone off somewhere with Gimli, and Shëanon did not see him all day. She had hardly had the time to eat a quiet breakfast with Boromir and the hobbits before Aragorn had placed a hand on her shoulder and motioned for her to follow him.
They spent the next several hours up in the trees, looking over maps with Lord Celeborn and Haldir. While Shëanon realized that her presence probably hadn't been requested, Aragorn had brought her with him and no one protested when they'd arrived. She mostly listened quietly as Haldir indicated various places on the map where his wardens had spotted patrols of orcs, and the three debated the pros and cons of several possible paths the fellowship might take upon their departure from the Golden Wood. Eventually it was decided that they would leave by way of the river.
"Every league you travel south, the danger will increase," Celeborn told them, speaking very seriously in his wise voice. "Orcs from Mordor now hold the eastern shore of the Anduin, but neither will you find safety on the western bank. Strange creatures bearing the white hand have been seen on our borders. Seldom do orcs journey in the open, under the sun, yet these have done so; you are being tracked. By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the falls of Rauros."
Shëanon could not help but shudder as she processed this information. Lord Celeborn himself seemed disturbed by what he was telling them, and she did not miss the look of disgust that flashed across the Marchwarden's face. Aragorn frowned as he leaned over the maps strewn across the wide table, his knuckles pressed against the parchment.
"It is the army that Gandalf spoke of," he said at last with distaste. "Saruman has crossbred goblins and orcs. They are a race that can travel great distances at speed, and they are not hindered by sunlight."
Every word spoken increased the unease that Shëanon felt growing in the pit of her stomach. She inched forward, peering at the maps over Aragorn's shoulder.
"Just how swiftly can they travel?" she asked slowly, studying the long stretch of the Anduin.
"That is unknown to us," Aragorn said grimly, and Shëanon frowned.
"Then we do not know how great our advantage will be, nor if the creatures on the borders of this land are the only ones that pursue us," she acknowledged anxiously. "Saruman seems to have known our course thus far. What if there are more of these things waiting for us?"
"That is a chance you must take," Haldir said gravely from where he stood across from her. "There are no other paths left to you."
"We will leave in two days," Aragorn agreed. "With any luck, our departure will go unnoticed."
They spent a very long time discussing preparations and routes and the details of passing through Emyn Muil, and it was late in the day when Shëanon finally found herself descending the spiraling staircases once more, following Aragorn back to the others. Her foot had hardly touched the forest floor, however, when she drew to a stop. Her hand still resting on the rail of the stairs, she felt the distinct feeling that someone was watching her. Aragorn, too, halted, seeming to notice that she was no longer following, but he had just met her eyes when she watched his gaze move past her, behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see what had drawn his attention.
Lady Galadriel stood in the grass not far from the base of the stairs, her golden hair gleaming in the fading light of the day, and Shëanon could tell from the gentle smile she gave her that she had been waiting for her. Wordlessly, Aragorn laid his hand on her shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and turned and strode off toward the camp.
Having only seen Galadriel in the formal setting of the majestic talan at the height of the city, Shëanon might have expected her to look out of place standing on the ground amid the trees and the plants, but Galadriel looked even more resplendent than usual as Shëanon approached her. Her expression was calm, and Shëanon was rather surprised when she brought an arm around her shoulders and drew her around a bend and down a delicate set of stone steps. The billowing sleeve of her silver gown fluttered near Shëanon's back as she allowed herself to be led and waited for Galadriel to speak.
"You seem to have slept well last night," Galadriel observed after several moments, breaking the silence in which they walked. Shëanon knew that even if she had not seen the image that had just flashed across her mind, the Lady had probably noticed the sudden stiffness in her back or the color in her cheeks, but Galadriel's face remained impassive.
"Yes, my Lady," Shëanon replied, with perhaps a little too long of a pause, but Galadriel only smiled knowingly.
"I have given much thought to what you asked me, Shëanon," she told her, her voice becoming serious and pensive once more as she guided her into a small glade surrounded by enormous mallorn roots, isolated from the rest of the wood. Shëanon felt the light touch of her fingertips leave her shoulder blade. "I cannot deny that this matter has been weighing heavily upon my mind. It is impossible to tell what you might see, but I offer you this chance, should you wish to take it."
Galadriel turned her attention away from Shëanon's face, who followed her gaze to see a silver basin resting on a carven pedestal in the very center of the glade. Realizing at once what it was, she felt her mouth go dry.
"You would have me look into your mirror?" Shëanon asked in shock, tearing her eyes away from the carven stone to look instead into Galadriel's face. Her expression had become somber, and Shëanon instinctively retreated back a step before the piercing blue of her regard.
"I give you the choice to look if you will," she stated soberly, "but be warned. The mirror shows many things, and you will be unable to take back your decision once you have looked upon the water."
"But I… I might learn something about my past?" Shëanon asked hesitantly, her voice starting to shake and her heart to pound. Would the mirror tell her who her parents were? How she had come to be born and abandoned?
"It is possible, but not certain," Galadriel said firmly. "Choose wisely."
Shëanon did not take very much time to think, for she knew that no matter what she saw in the mirror, she would regret for the rest of her life passing up an opportunity to find out where she came from. She swallowed thickly.
"I would like to look, please, my Lady," she breathed, her eyes drawn to the mirror once more.
Galadriel observed her in silence for one more moment, and then she turned and glided gracefully over to a fountain set against one of the trees where water was trickling gently over the bark. She lifted a pitcher of burnished silver which matched perfectly the silver of the mirror, gleaming with the light of dusk that shimmered on the surface of the water, and held it beneath the fountain's stream before turning once more and stepping up to the pedestal. Shëanon watched with her heart in her throat as Galadriel poured the water into the basin, lifting the pitcher into the air so that the water fell in a shimmering arch that did not splash but instead fell in a smooth stream, leaving a ringing, echoing trill in the glade as the metal bowl was filled. The mirror was between Shëanon and the setting sun, which shone through the falling water and cast crystals of dazzling light around the garden until finally Galadriel lowered her arm and stood watching her patiently.
Shëanon felt that she could hardly breathe as she approached the mirror, which was smooth and unmarked except for the slanting runes engraved around its rim. There was not so much as a ripple on the surface of the water, and she looked up at Galadriel anxiously. The Lady's gaze bore into her for a moment before her celestial blue eyes fell back to the basin between them, and so Shëanon grasped the edge of the pedestal, rose up onto her toes a bit, and peered down into the mirror. For a moment, she saw nothing but the shining bottom of the bowl, but then…
For some reason, Shëanon had expected something akin to one of her visions, such that the images would fill her entire mind. She was therefore surprised when instead she saw faint colors and shapes moving on the surface of the water. She squinted, trying to concentrate, and although she did not immediately realize it, the longer she looked, the larger the surface of the mirror seemed to become before her eyes until indeed it was all she could see, all she was aware of. She saw at first only dark shadows and silhouettes, many figures that she could not decipher, but then out of the gloom there burst flames so bright that she almost closed her eyes; there were great structures burning, and the fire was reflected everywhere. The blaze changed then to a dark forest where blood was seeping into the earth, and then to a shore of white sand where waves were crashing and frothing, and Shëanon felt a moment of shock, for she had never before seen the sea. The image changed again, and she saw to her horror that she was looking again at Gandalf on the bridge with the Balrog, but he had not yet fallen and the image changed again, swirling and writhing until she looked at more flames, this time in what appeared to be a furnace in a dark room, and then finally she saw an enormous tower of black, jagged rock upon which there was the flaming eye, and in her fear Shëanon tore her gaze away, panting and shocked. Trembling and bewildered, she looked up at Galadriel. The Lady's expression was severe and Shëanon hastily stepped back from the mirror, having understood nothing of what she'd seen.
"My Lady?" Shëanon asked anxiously, for Galadriel was looking at her very oddly. Shëanon could not help but be reminded of the way her father had looked at her in Rivendell on the night before the council, when she had heard first Sauron's voice in her mind. The cut in her palm burned as she balled her hands into fists.
"Do you know what you saw?" Galadriel asked her after a silence in which all that could be heard was the gentle splash of the fountain, but the sound was loud in Shëanon's ears. She shook her head.
"Just—I saw Gandalf, and Barad-dûr, but the rest…" her voice trailed off hesitantly and she stood waiting for Galadriel to explain, but the Lady of Lórien was frowning at her.
"You saw events from the past, from long before you were born, and then glimpses of what has not yet come to pass," Galadriel said slowly, and Shëanon's heart was pounding.
"I do not understand," she said, but Galadriel's frown only grew more pronounced.
"Nor do I," she murmured, and suddenly she strode around the mirror and brought her hands to Shëanon's shoulders. Wide-eyed, Shëanon held her breath as Galadriel looked into her face, feeling for one startling moment the long-forgotten fear that she was about to be struck, but Galadriel's fingers were gentle and her eyes were not harsh.
"Elrond knows nothing of your birth?" she asked, and Shëanon shook her head, wondering what on earth the mirror had shown her that seemed to have intrigued Galadriel so much, for she had not discerned anything terribly striking beyond the balrog and Sauron, both of which she was accustomed to.
"I fear that we will find no clarity yet," Galadriel said at last. She offered her a gentle smile, but still her eyes were pensive and Shëanon did not miss this. She realized that she had seen Galadriel look at her like this before, when she had first arrived in Lothlórien, and she did not know what to make of the expression on the Lady's face. She appeared to be deep in thought. Galadriel stepped away from her.
"Go now and rest your mind, child," she told her. Her voice was calm and pleasant once more. "You will soon leave the safety of these lands, and you will need to focus on the task at hand."
Shëanon had found the entire encounter very unsettling, but she bowed her head respectfully before doing as Galadriel bid and hurrying back to the camp. The sun had set while she'd been gone, and her companions were finishing their dinner, although Legolas and Gimli were still not there. Shëanon decided that she had learned her lesson in the mines, and so she hovered awkwardly by Aragorn's side as he finished his meal. He raised an eyebrow at her that caused her to blush and sit down, but he seemed to have seen the emotion in her eyes for he rose as soon as he was done eating and allowed her to lead him off into the dark to explain what had happened. To her dismay, he seemed as perplexed as she, and could shed no light on what she'd seen, though his eyebrows drew closer and closer together the longer she spoke.
"If Galadriel understood what you saw and did not explain, then it was not without reason," he said after a moment, a reaction which Shëanon had been expecting.
"Thank you, I had not reached that conclusion," she muttered sarcastically, and Aragorn sighed and shook his head.
"I understand your frustration," he murmured, and Shëanon knew that he did. They stood alone in the darkness for several moments, listening to the sound of the forest and breathing the cold air. Shëanon idly ran the end of her braid between her fingers as she looked at Aragorn, whose face was shrouded in darkness but whose blue eyes shone even without light. The front of his shirt was open to his collar bone and her eyes were drawn to the pendant that hung there against his skin. The delicate necklace looked fragile and small on his broad body, but Shëanon had grown accustomed to the sight of it there.
Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her and she whipped around, peering through the shadows, her heart beating fast, for no elf would have walked so heavily, but then Boromir emerged from around a tree and strode toward them.
"There is an Elf looking for you," he said stiffly to Aragorn, who had also looked up at the sound. His words and posture were casual enough, but something in his eyes glinted with suspicion and Shëanon could not help but feel that Boromir had drastically misinterpreted the situation he had found them in, whispering together in the dark, away from the others, and she found herself regarding him with caution.
Aragorn nodded, uncrossing his arms and turning to leave, but he caught Shëanon's eye before striding back through the trees with his companion beside him. Shëanon did not follow. Instead she remained standing in the shadow of the mallorn for several moments, deep in thought, until eventually she strode off in the direction of her talan. She took her time, reflecting on the words of Celeborn, on what she had seen in the mirror, on the flash in Boromir's eyes as she climbed the staircase and walked along the suspended path. Vines wound here and there along the rails, looking like creeping tendrils of smoke in the night, but she was sure that in the spring and summer they were flush with green and flowers. At last she came around the final bend and to the door to her talan. Shëanon stopped mid-step, realizing that she was not alone on the landing; a dark figure stood with his back to her, leaning against the railing, but hearing her approach he turned and stepped into the light of the lantern by her door.
"Aiër," Legolas acknowledged neutrally, with a nod towards her talan.
Shëanon blinked in surprise and watched as Legolas crossed the terrace and opened her door for her. Blushing and confused, she shot him a dubious look before stepping past him into the room. He followed and crossed to the table they'd sat at the night before, swinging his leather pack from his shoulders and setting it down on one of the chairs. Bewildered, Shëanon stood in silence as he began rummaging through his belongings, and then he glanced up and raised an eyebrow at her, seeming to see her confusion.
"I promised I'd tend to your hand," he reminded her as he set a roll of gauze and a small jar down on the table top, gesturing for her to sit.
"Oh," Shëanon murmured, blinking down at her palm before taking the seat he had indicated.
"I apologize for leaving it until now," he said as he unscrewed the lid of the jar and took her hand in his, gently dabbing the balm within onto the small wound with his thumb. "I would have seen to it this morning, but I did not want to wake you and Gimli was waiting for me," he glanced up at her and something in his eyes glinted. "You were sleeping soundly."
Shëanon shifted anxiously. Was he saying that he had stayed with her all night? It certainly seemed so.
"Yes, well, thank you for that," she said quietly as Legolas began bandaging her hand, seeming to take care not to bind the wound too tightly and knotting the end when he was finished. Shëanon cradled her bound hand gingerly in her lap; already the skin of her palm felt less tender.
"I was glad to help you," he said dismissively, offering her a little shake of his head. He tucked the balm and bandages back into his bag, and to her consternation, he moved towards the door.
"Are you leaving?" she blurted out, her voice sounding rather high even in her own ears, and Legolas looked at her in surprise, pausing near the doorway.
"Is there some reason for me to stay?" he asked her calmly, his brow drawn slightly together. There was something teasing in his voice, but Shëanon could tell that he was taken aback by her tone. She was taken aback herself, but his visit had been so businesslike and brisk and he had only just gotten there, and she had slept curled against him in the night and she was confused by the strangeness of it all. She opened her mouth to respond to him, but she found she was at a loss.
"I—No," she stuttered. "Thank you." She lifted her bandaged hand as she spoke, indicating his handiwork in a very awkward manner, and waited for him to go.
Instead of turning back to the door, however, Legolas stood for a moment unmoving. He seemed to be debating something and Shëanon tried to decipher his expression, but his face was impassive as he looked at her.
"Come for a walk with me," he said finally, again taking his pack from his shoulders and setting it aside. If it weren't for the serious way he had spoken, she might have thought he was kidding.
"A walk?" she asked blankly, wondering where such a suggestion had even come from, but Legolas nodded and opened the door, waiting for her to stand.
"You have spent these past days in grief and worry, have you not?" he asked when he saw her hesitation.
"Yes," Shëanon admitted.
"I have, as well," Legolas responded neutrally, but still Shëanon was in her chair. "Come, aiër. I think we could do with some fresh air."
Shëanon had half a mind to point out that he would have plenty of fresh air on his cot at the camp, but instead she rose and slipped back into the night with him. Aimlessly they wandered the paths of Caras Galadhon, sometimes speaking quietly to one another, but mostly they walked in an amicable silence.
"Was Mirkwood ever like this?" Shëanon asked softly as they passed together beneath the silver branches of the mallyrn. The pale glow of the Galadhrim lanterns seemed to bathe the city in starlight, and indeed she could see some stars if she craned back her head and peered up through the many layers of dark leaves high above. Being raised in Imladris, in the valley with the dancing river, she had often wondered how a mysterious forest could surpass the beauty of her homeland, and the majesty of the Golden Wood had shocked her. Legolas did not answer for a moment, and she feared that her question might have upset him, but when he spoke, his voice was thoughtful.
"Once the forest was very fair," he said pensively, leading her over a spindly bridge, "but I do not think the green of the land ever compared to the gold that falls here, even when the wood was still untouched by shadow."
"Your father seemed to like the green well enough," Shëanon observed. "Did he not name you after it?"
Legolas grinned. "An interesting choice, for I doubt that I was green or bearing any resemblance to a leaf when I was born."
Shëanon glanced up at his face, enjoying the sight of his sarcastic smile, but before her eyes his expression became somber.
"My father has great love for his realm and his people," he told her quietly as they stepped silently under a smooth stone archway. "His every decision has always been made to best benefit his kingdom, but the forest grows darker with each passing day. The land to the south is overrun, and our people live now as on an island in a sea of shadow. Rhovanion is not like Eriador; we have no Dúnedain Rangers to keep the evil at bay, and my father has no ring of power with which to protect our borders. We have only enough strength to defend our own people, but we are now entrenched beyond the Emyn Fuin and it is only with great wariness that we deal with other races. My father says nothing but I can see how heavily this strain weighs on him. I fear that our realm will not long survive this darkness should we fail in our quest, and in my heart I know that my kindred would sooner fall defending their homes than seek the sea. The Elves of Imladris and Lothlórien already are leaving these shores, but I do not think it will be by boat that my people come to the Undying Lands."
Shëanon felt her throat tighten as she listened to these words. Legolas had spoken to her of his homeland before, but never with such bleak words, nor with such grim resignation in his voice. He said that his father bore this burden heavily, but Shëanon could sense that Legolas felt the strain as heavily as he. She was not ignorant of the fact that her people were sailing west, but it had never occurred to her what effect this had on the rest of Middle Earth, nor even on the rest of Elvendom. She could see now very clearly what would happen should the Woodland Realm be assailed in the future; if too many of the Eldar were gone, there would be no allies to come to their aid.
"I am sorry," she whispered to him.
Legolas smiled at her sadly. "It is a fate now shared by all the free peoples of Middle Earth," he murmured, but this fact was no consolation.
"We will not fail," she told him firmly, both for his sake and for her own. "We will destroy the Ring and restore peace. We must."
Legolas looked down at her in surprise.
"I can see you've recovered your conviction," he noted wryly.
"It was you who said that we must not lose hope," Shëanon reminded him, and the way he looked at her then was the same as his regard had been in Moria, his eyes dark and discerning.
"It was," he agreed seriously. "And I have not yet lost faith."
Shëanon was not at all sure how it happened, or if he had intended it before, but when they returned to her talan, Legolas accompanied her inside and lay again with her until she fell asleep that night, and then again the night after. Neither of them said anything of it, and Shëanon tried very hard not to think about it, but some understanding seemed to have passed between them without her having been aware of it. When Shëanon woke on the morning of the company's departure, she was indescribably comfortable and warm. She kept her eyes closed, clinging still to the sweet reprieve of sleep, for her rest had been undisturbed and deep.
"We must wake now, aiër."
She shifted sleepily; her mattress seemed to be steadily rising and falling beneath her, the movement lulling her foggy mind into an even deeper relaxation.
"Aiër."
"Mmm," she mumbled, snuggling deeper into the warmth of her blanket. Something beneath her ear was humming, and she liked it.
"Our companions will be waiting for us. Come now, we must get up."
Lightly something touched her back, a warm brush against her spine that felt quite nice, but this foreign sensation was enough to jerk Shëanon into awareness. Startled, she opened her eyes and sat up, the blanket falling from her shoulders as she did. It took her a moment to be able to focus, for the world was still bleary and her eyes protested the brightness of the room, but she hastily blinked away her weariness and looked at Legolas in shock.
"What are you doing here?" she squeaked in surprise. Her voice was high and raspy, having just woken up, but she hardly noticed. What she did notice was that Legolas was still in her bed, and that she had been lying across his chest, and that even now his hand was at the small of her back, the other bent casually behind his head. As always, he lay on top of the covers, but much of it seemed to have been wrestled out from under him, as it was twisted around her in a cocoon.
Legolas raised his eyebrows at her.
"Good morning," he said dryly, but she ignored this jab at her abrupt tone and continued to stare at him in bewilderment. She had grown accustomed to the fact that he would not be with her when she woke.
Frowning slightly at her expression, Legolas too sat up. His hair was slightly tousled from lying against her pillow, and she was inexplicably taken aback to see it thus.
"I would have left you, aiër, but you… seemed to have decided I was comfortable last night," he explained carefully, though he smiled a bit as he spoke. He seemed to find her stunned silence amusing.
Shëanon blushed as she absorbed his words, horrified to think that he had wanted to leave and could not because she was on top of him, and she drew even further away from him on the bed.
"I am so sorry," she stammered, but Legolas only grinned.
"Worry not, young one," he told her, not seeming the least bit bothered. "There are worse fates than serving as your pillow for one evening."
With that he rose gracefully to his feet.
"We leave within the hour," he told her, and suddenly Shëanon realized just how much sunlight there was in the room. Wondering why he had allowed her to sleep for so long, she quickly got up and got ready, flitting in and out of the adjoining chamber as Legolas stood in the doorway, looking out over the morning. She was glad to have prepared her things the night before, and hastily she strapped on her weapons and pack. Together they headed down to the company.
Everyone was up and milling around when they got to the camp, scrambling with the last of their belongings. Their companions looked up and greeted them as they approached, and Shëanon was stricken with the realization of what their entrance must have looked like to the others. Indeed, Aragorn cast her a very strange look as she drew near to him, appearing simultaneously suspicious and surprised, and she could not help but lower her eyes, pretending to adjust the strap of her quiver.
Haldir came to them soon, and the fellowship followed him across the forest floor to the banks of the river. Several small boats were waiting for them, and the company hastily set to helping load each one with provisions and supplies. Many elves had gathered to see them off, including several of the wardens who had escorted them into the city, and then finally came Celeborn and Galadriel. The two stood together among the fair mallorn trees, and at their coming the elves all gathered behind them while the fellowship assembled before them.
The Lord and Lady gazed solemnly over the faces of the company, their countenances not unlike those they wore on the eve of the fellowship's arrival, and Shëanon felt again that their hearts and purposes were being weighed and considered. At last, Celeborn finally spoke.
"Those of you that go forward must harden your hearts against the hardships you will face, for your paths shall not be easy. However, if any among you wish to turn aside from your quest, know that you may remain here for a time. I will tell you that it is not lightly that I say this, for the world grows perilous beyond the borders of this land, and should you not now depart, it would be to remain here either until the shadow is driven from this earth or to be called at the last to the final defense of this domain," he told them gravely, and Shëanon felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. It had not occurred to her that anyone would not wish to go on, though indeed her own father had told them that only Frodo was bound to his task. She held her breath as Celeborn continued to look them over, waiting to see if any would step forth, but to her relief it became clear that the members of the company were still steadfast to their words, and all remained in line side by side.
"Very well," Celeborn said finally. "We do not send you forth empty-handed," he announced, and at these words several elves came forward, bearing bundles of cloth in their arms. Celeborn himself took one from Haldir, and nine elves stepped up to the company to present them with cloaks of a greenish-grey, a color not unlike that of the forest itself.
"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," Celeborn continued as the elves fastened the cloaks around the necks of the companions. It was Silùen who drew Shëanon's about her shoulders, and the elleth smiled softly at her. The cloaks were secured with broaches in the form of the mallorn leaves, deep green inlaid with silver. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes," Celeborn said.
Next Galadriel gave to them many bundles of lembas bread wrapped tightly in the leaves of the mallyrn, and once more everyone set to loading these packages into the boats. Shëanon herself had never had lembas before, but well she knew what it was and what it did, and she thought it a truly welcome gift.
When this was done, she thought that it would be time to set off, but it seemed that there were yet gifts of the Galadhrim to be handed out. While the company stood amongst the small crowd that had formed, many of whom were offering them advice and bidding them take heart, Galadriel seemed to be drawing each member of the company aside to speak with them a moment, and it was not long before Shëanon was beckoned over to her. Cautiously, she left Aragorn's side and stepped beneath the trees with the Lady, smelling the sweet air of the Great River while she waited for Galadriel to speak.
"There is danger in your future, Shëanon," she said at last. "You will endure much before the fate of this world is decided."
Shëanon bowed her head. She did not imagine that any of them would make it through untried, but she had accepted this truth when she left Rivendell. Still, her experience in Moria had opened her eyes to just how perilous the road could be. She took a shuddering breath.
Galadriel smiled sadly.
"It is good that Elrond has raised you willfully, for you shall need your courage in the days ahead," she told her. "Two gifts I have for you, my child. Both, I think, will serve you well."
From a chest held by one of the elves behind her, Galadriel drew a small dagger, hardly bigger than a knife, and gingerly Shëanon took it in her hands. The dagger's handle was wrought of mithril and inlaid with several small pearls, and a swirling pattern had been pressed in silver into the sheath. Surprised, she slowly drew the small blade. It shone in the sun, and engraved into the metal there were the Quenyan words Ëar rùsë. Shëanon looked up at Galadriel in surprise.
"This dagger was made at the Mouth of Sirion in the First Age," she explained simply.
"Thank you," Shëanon murmured, both awed and confused by this gift, and watched as Galadriel turned again to the chest. This time she drew from it a small crystal vial that sparkled in the morning light. It was cylindrical in shape, but a design of leaves and branches had been etched into its surface and the stopper was wrought of gold. Inside, Shëanon thought she saw clear liquid.
"In this vial is water from the pure falls of the River Nimrodel. Bathing in this water heals wounds not of the body but of the spirit, and washes away the stains of grief and the weariness of travel. Use it wisely," Galadriel said gravely, and Shëanon looked nervously at the vial in her hand, wondering what need she would have of it.
"Thank you, my Lady," Shëanon nodded, slipping both the vial and the dagger into her rucksack, careful to tuck the tiny crystal bottle between the cloth of her clothes. Galadriel watched this action in silence, not speaking again for a few moments as her eyes roved over Shëanon's face.
"Lastly, I will tell you this," Galadriel said. "You are stronger than you think, Daughter of Elrond. Do not doubt your heart, and do not underestimate your own mind. You have power greater than you realize."
These last words surprised Shëanon more than any others that the Lady had yet spoken to her, and it was rather numbly that she bowed her head, placing her hand over her heart. Galadriel stepped forward and kissed her forehead.
"Namarië," she said regretfully, her hands cupping Shëanon's face.
"Namarië," Shëanon replied, and with a lump in her throat, she returned to her companions.
Translations:
Namarië- Farewell
A/N: It's been real, Lothlorien. Next chapter is up. They're kind of one big chapter but whatever they're separate enough.