Chapter 13: Nenya
Galadriel breathed deeply, her eyes shut, as she let the spirit of the forest and the magic of the adamant ring overtake her. The sounds around her slowly warped as though she were hearing them echoed and amplified through a great cavern. Only then did she open her eyes.
The forest was dim, shrouded in a dim mist while the trees nearly glowed with life. Meanwhile the battlefield behind her had lost the sharpness of its lines and colors, appearing a great shadowy mass.
The power of the ring was upon her.
Another breath, and Galadriel forced herself to look beyond the unmoving grey masses and the light welling from within the trees. Where were the orcs? Where had they traveled from this place?
She cast her gaze beyond what she could see. Listening to the trees, tasting the sunlit air, feeling the flow of the wind upon her skin. There, somewhere to the west of her, was a mass of life, twisted and stained—the orcs.
She forced her awareness away from them and closer to her current location. Insects and birds fluttered around, and a rabbit disappeared into the undergrowth. Just north of her was another sound, another life, bigger than the rabbit.
Galadriel moved on silent feet through the trees, letting the awareness brought by Nenya guide her steps. Time and distance passed strangely in the fog. She had walked forever and covered no distance, yet the expanse of Middle Earth was all but a step away from her.
The lights resolved into the shape of an old man before her. He sat huddled against a tree, nearly invisible against its more vibrant life force. A younger pair sat near him, one light stronger than the other, but both clearly alive.
A quick glance around indicated no other creatures nearby larger than birds, so Galadriel forced her awareness back out of Nenya's power. One of the three before her, a young woman, cried out softly.
Galadriel could see the three clearly now. The eldest man was likely younger than most of those she'd met of Númenor, but his winters laid heavily on his wrinkled brow. The other two were much younger, scarcely older than Theo, but their eyes were dulled with pain beyond their years. The woman sat upright, watching fearfully, while the man laid still in her lap.
"You survived the orcs." It was not a question but a gentle statement, yet the woman flinched back.
"Are you going to kill us?" She asked softly, voice steady despite the obvious trembling in her hands.
Galadriel frowned but the old man answered before she could. "She's an elf. She hunts orcs, not starving men."
"Grandfather!" The woman cried in alarm. "Why's she here if she's not hunting us? And how did she appear from the air before us?"
Galadriel frowned at that. "I walked up to you through the trees and made no effort to disguise my approach. Regardless," she shrugged off her own questions and the woman's indignant response. "I was searching for you to direct you to safety. King Halbrand approaches with his forces to overcome the orcs but there is sanctuary nearby."
The old man's impassive face broke into a faint smile of satisfaction while the woman gaped. Galadriel turned her attention to the younger man who still had not stirred. "Is he injured?"
The woman curled protectively around her charge but nodded slowly. "The cut seemed shallow, but it won't close."
Galadriel knelt slowly before her, pulling a small medical kit from her satchel. She forced the woman to look at her before nodding at the injured man. "Let me try to help him."
The woman glanced back at her grandfather again, shoulders tight with nerves, before slowly rolling the man in her lap onto his back. She moved the stained and worn shirt away to display an angry gash across the man's ribs. Even several days after the confrontation with the orcs, the wound oozed languidly.
Galadriel began to clean and bandage the wound as far as she was able with her limited supplies, folding herbs into the bandages to prevent infection. Through all her ministrations, the man did not wake.
As she worked, Galadriel coaxed the woman, whose name she discovered to be Braith, into quiet conversation. She had been keeping company with her husband, Ysberin, while he was on watch the night of the attack. Stationed on the far side of the camp from the orcs, they had managed to rouse her grandfather and flee when the call was raised. Ysberin had sustained his injury while fighting off the orcs that pursued them.
"We walked the first day as far as we could. When Ysberin could go no further, we settled here. He was restless from pain that day and night but has been calm since. Grandfather tried to tend him, but neither of us know herblore."
Galadriel frowned. "We must try to get him to drink some water. We can only carry him so far if he does not wake."
Together the three managed to coax some water into his mouth and helped him swallow. His eyelids fluttered and his breathing seemed easier, but he did not stir. Braith twisted at her fingers, her worried eyes never straying long from her husband. Finally, her grandfather broke the uneasy silence. "We cannot make the vale if he doesn't wake, but we must begin the journey regardless. If it pleases the Valar, he may rouse from the movement."
Galadriel eyed the old man in surprise but agreed readily. Although Ysberin was not a large man, Galadriel and Braith were forced to move slowly supporting his weight between them. At a normal walking pace, Galadriel knew they would have less than a day's journey to the fortress in the mountains, but the sun was nearing its peak and Galadriel still needed to find her army. She prayed Ysberin would wake soon.
After an hour Braith and her grandfather were forced to rest. Galadriel set her charge down carefully and forced him to drink again. The movement behind his eyelids was more pronounced this time.
"Braith, he is near wakefulness. Man of the woods, listen to my voice. Your kin need you at this hour. Take your strength and rise for time is short."
Braith fell to her knees beside them and began running her hands across his face and shoulders, muttering quietly. Finally, his eyes fluttered open. "Braith?"
She sobbed, her arms coming around her husband in a desperate embrace. Ysberin looked at her in confusion, his eyes still cloudy from the pain, before his gaze rose to meet Galadriel's. They widened.
"You're an elf."
She felt a twitch of amusement at her lips. "Indeed."
Ysberin looked back at Braith then at her grandfather. "I'm afraid I've missed something important."
A watery laugh broke through Braith's quiet sobs. "We're saved. Perhaps the Valar still have some pity for the race of men after all."
Ysberin reached out a trembling hand and gently stroked her hair, holding his wife closer. He did not question Galadriel's presence further.
She let them rest for a few more minutes, long enough for Ysberin to drink more and Braith's tears to cease, before she roused them to their journey. Ysberin was still weak from his wounds, but he could stumble forward with their assistance now, speeding their progress. Galadriel and Braith took turns supporting him as they traveled east toward the line of mountains.
When they finally arrived at the foot of the mountains, Galadriel passed Ysberin back into his wife's hold and pointed south. "Stay close to them on your left. When you see the slopes give way to a swathe of meadow, turn into it and follow the valley to the fort. Ask for Lord Isildur and tell him Galadriel sent you."
Braith thanked Galadriel and, readjusting her grasp on her Ysberin, began the slow trek southward along the mountains with her grandfather behind her. Galadriel watched them fondly for a moment before turning back to the forest. With a deep breath, she allowed Nenya to overtake her again.
Once again, the forest descended into that preternatural fog, sun dim and cold while the trees glowed with life around her.
She could sense the mass of orcs, still off to the south and west of her. Beyond them, a new mass of life had entered the bounds of the forest. Halbrand's familiar presence was like a beacon compared to the men and horses that surrounded him, even at this distance.
Galadriel began to drift toward both armies. The orcs were in her path, but she could scout their numbers before circling them to reach her companions. The ground flew past under her feet like water even though she felt herself to be hardly moving. She was scarcely aware of the distance she'd covered until she found herself flitting among the outermost twisted orcish lives. They made no movement toward her as she scrutinized the hazy shapes glowing with a sickly pale light.
Cautiously but with the power of Nenya still pervading her thoughts, Galadriel moved further among their number. She languidly counted as she walked among them, listening absently to the muted murmurs of their conversations. When she reached the far side of their company, having noted their number as in the hundreds, she was struck by the realization she had passed through an entire army of orcs unmolested.
She looked back at them in surprise but noted no shifting in the lights to her back. She thought back to Braith's comment about her "appearing from the air" and wondered suddenly if Nenya hid her form while she wandered under its power.
The trees kept flowing by around her as she approached her own army, still deep in contemplation. Only when the verdant light of the forest was intermingled with the subtler life of men did she return her attention to her immediate surroundings. Not a man flickered with recognition as she made her way past the vanguard to the pulsing light of the sole Maia in the company. There she finally released the power of the ring.
"My lady!" Tindómëon yelped in shock, the men around him muttering about witchcraft and elvish magic while their horses danced back in surprise.
"Peace, Men of the South." Halbrand chided softly, his eyes fixed on hers. "Elves among all living beings know best how to move unseen beneath the trees. Be glad of this feat, as I'm sure Galadriel comes with news."
She inclined her head, eyes passing swiftly across the surrounding men before fixing back on Halbrand's. "Indeed, I do, but I fear there is little to be glad of. The orcs have destroyed the woodsmen, leaving nothing behind. I found a handful of survivors and sent them on to Lord Isildur, but it is only a fragment of their number. The rest of my party had already returned to the fort, as I suspected the orcs lay between our forces. Indeed," Galadriel paused, gaze fixed on Halbrand, but aware of the stares around her. "The orcs are currently camped to our northeast, less than half a day's walk from us. They will likely resume their path toward our city at sundown."
The muttering increased as Halbrand's brow furrowed. "What of their numbers? Will we be able to overcome them?"
Galadriel nodded. "They are numerous, outnumbering our own forces, but we have strength enough to defeat them. We have the advantage of information. I do not believe they know we are here. They expect to meet us on the open planes by the city, not here amongst the trees."
Halbrand nodded, a grim smile decorating his face. "We will be ready for them. You know their trajectory, yes? Let us find a position to fortify and await them. We must attempt to take them by surprise."
The word spread through the men rapidly and their casual conversations petered out into anxious silence as they resumed their march. When the sun had disappeared in the branches behind them, Halbrand finally called a halt. Galadriel looked at the dip in the ground before them, giving their current position the advantage of elevation over an approaching force. "This is where we will set up camp. They will likely reach us in the night, so prepare piles of wood at the bottom of the hill that we can light from above. Any who can use a bow should take refuge in the trees where they will have the best view of the enemy."
The men nearby saluted Halbrand and began to spread the orders. Galadriel watched them go before turning back to her companion, keeping her voice low. "Will you fight amongst them?"
He smiled, teeth glinting in the fading light. "Although I doubt Adar marches with these orcs, I admit I am looking forwarding to relieving some stress. Besides, I know the tactics of orcs better even than you, Galadriel."
She laughed and dropped her voice further. "Indeed, you do. I more wondered if you felt any regret or discomfort considering the past."
The smile slipped from his face and his volume dropped to match hers. "Orcs have never been more than a means to an end. A weapon that could as easily gouge out the wielder's eye as his enemy's. I had no love of orcs even when I was their master. I will spare no regrets for the black blood to be spilt in this place."
Galadriel nodded once and reached forward to press a hand to his shoulder. "Then let us ensure it is their blood, not ours, that stains this ground."
Halbrand's responding grin was all teeth.
AN: Tolkien's rings of power. Where to begin? I originally planned to mimic the descriptions of the One Ring from the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings for how Nenya would feel since the One was made as a perversion and extension of them. I realized quickly that Tolkien doesn't describe them all that much and most of what I imagine is how the movies portrayed the power of the ring. In addition, Gandalf indicates when talking to Bilbo (I think) that there are other rings of power that can render the wearer more or less invisible, though they are not as powerful as the one. Finally, by the time of the LotR, Gandalf himself bears one of the three. We know he seems to become visible with no warning, but he is certainly not invisible at all times he wears the ring. All of that together brought me to this version of the rings. Writing fanfiction for stories with low magic systems that abide by and stay true to the originals is exhausting. I hope you feel I've toed that line well enough.