The Border of Lothlorien

The descent from the mountains gave the company little trouble, and the landscape quickly shifted from barren crags to green fields, dotted with evergreen trees and carrying the scent of blooming flowers. The babble of a nearby stream could be heard, its peaceful sound lulling many of the company into a state of ease. Gerithor remained vigilant however, as did Haldir and Gilian, both of whom walked by the warrior's side.

"You legend has precedes you, Varonwe," Haldir said admiringly as his sapphire eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of danger. "Even our lady speaks of you with great favor, and she has not yet met you."

"In the flesh, no," Gerithor replied. "But she has spoken to me in my dreams I think." He could not be sure that it was she that had spoken to him, but it seemed as though she were the only being of good that had the power to do so.

"Ah, yes, the gift of foresight," Haldir nodded. "Few still possess that lost art. What did my lady tell you in your visions?"

"Dark things," Gerithor replied hesitantly, as if reluctant to speak of them. "She spoke of loss, and grief... But I have seen another in my visions as well. A great elven warrior, perhaps from a time long past. It is he that has told me most clearly how to progress."

Haldir's eyebrows furrowed together, as if he were remembering something. "The Lady spoke of such a person... Perhaps it is best if you discuss your visions with her. I am merely a Marchwarden, and not well versed in lore or visions."

"Perhaps, though I am not sure that even she could help me. Many of my visions have turned dark of late, as if they are being intruded upon by an outside force. A servant of the Enemy, perhaps."

Haldir's expression grew suddenly dark, and his stance changed to one of watchfulness. "The answer to that riddle lies within Mirkwood. But it is not safe to discuss here, for the eyes of the Enemy are everywhere."

Suddenly a bow twanged from beside Gerithor, and he swiftly turned to see Gilian loose an arrow into the sky. A large black bird fell from the air, its feathers falling with it like rain. The younger ranger ran to the body of the bird and crouched beside it.

"Captain, come here!" She exclaimed. Gerithor and Haldir quickly ran to her side and looked down at the bird. It was a raven, a very large one. Attached to one leg was a white piece of paper.

"Well done Gilian," Gerithor said approvingly as he gave her a pat on her shoulder. She handed him the paper and he carefully unfolded it.

"It's in the common tongue," Gerithor said, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I suppose they did not expect us to intercept it so easily."

"Indeed, your ranger has good eyes," Haldir nodded. Gerithor gave Gilian a wry smile, which she returned.

"What does it say?" Gilian asked curiously.

"It's a poem of sorts," Gerithor said. "Strange...

Over mountains tall went he,

Not under, as did we,

To land of golden pillars,

Where dwell the orken killers,

Under leaves of grey we wait

Watching the elkhorn gate."

"We're being tracked," Caledorn suddenly said as he appeared behind Haldir. "It's excellent prose for an orc, but it's easy enough to interpret. The 'he' is you of course. It seems that 'we' must be the spies, and they took some sort of passage below the mountains. The 'land of golden pillars' is clearly Lothlorien, and 'orken killers' are the elves. The last part eludes me though. Elkhorn Gate is in Eriador, as you well know. So it seems odd that they would be watching that. They must be speaking of something else, perhaps a code word of some sort."

"I know not what they speak of either," Haldir replied. "But I have no doubt that the Lady will know. We should hasten to her at once."

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Soon the verdant fields gave way to more and more trees, until the company was in the midst of a forest. Though the winter months were just ending, the forest appeared to be in an eternally autumnal state. Golden leaves adorned both the trees and the ground, giving the entire forest a magical air. The earthy scent of damp earth and the fallen leaves reminded Gerithor of the forests that were his home in the West, though something about this place was drastically different. It was utterly silent. No birds sang their songs, no woodland creatures scurried about the forest floor. It was eery.

Suddenly Haldir stopped, and his wardens formed a line beside him. They were not threatening, but it was clear that they did not intend to let the company continue further.

"We cannot yet pass into Lothlorien. For though the Lady knew of your coming, she did not know that... Certain folk would be accompanying you." At this he glanced furtively at the dwarves, and Gerithor narrowed his eyes.

"Tolo," he said as he pulled the elf away from the group. "The dwarves must not know this is the reason we are tarrying here. Tensions are high enough as it is."

Haldir's face contorted into what appeared to be a sneer of disgust. "Why? Do they think themselves entitled to the hospitality of our Lady? Does their greed truly reach that far?"

Gerithor frowned disapprovingly. He did not feel that he should have to explain, as their errand was urgent enough to warrant an exception in this case. But the diplomatic side of him won out, and he took a deep breath before explaining the dilemma to the Marchwarden. "They and the elves in our company have had... difficulties. Old feuds that started long ago, as you well know, have not been easily discarded. A slight such as this may tip them over the edge of this sharp blade that is our alliance."

"The Lady cares not for the dwarves' pettiness," Haldir scoffed. "They shall wait, regardless of how they feel about it. But if you wish I will not disclose to them why."

"That will have to suffice," Gerithor said gratefully. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"My pleasure," Haldir replied stiffly. "I shall send a scout to the Lady, so that she knows of your arrival and that of your... unexpected companions."

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The sun had passed to the western horizon, its fading rays peeking between the sturdy silver trunks of the mallorn trees, and still no word had reached the company from the Lady. Haldir and his companions were now mingling with the Rivendell warriors, while the dwarves grumbled amongst themselves in small groups.

However, aside from a curt greeting Caledorn stayed away from the Lorien elves. Though he knew Haldir and several of the others he felt no particular kinship to them. They were strange folk, and Caledorn thought that they were hopelessly naive. Their lack of contact with the outside world had left them unknowledgeable to much of what went on beyond their borders. On the other hand, many of them thought ill of Caledorn, for they saw him as grim and dark for an elf. 'Naysayer' and 'herald of doom' they called him, for he only set foot in the Golden Wood when he had news to bring to the Lady, or when she summoned him.

And so he stood away from the company, perched silently atop a fallen log. His piercing eyes gazed into the forest, watching every movement.

"What troubles you?" Taliel asked as she sat down beside him. It seemed that she too had difficulty speaking with the Marchwardens.

"Aside from our impending doom?" He asked, unusually wry. "This forest. It feels... unnatural somehow. Though I've set foot within its boughs many times, it is different today."

"I have noticed the silence. It's as if the trees are holding their breath," Taliel agreed as she took a deep breath of the damp air.

"Yes... the calm before the storm, as it were," Caledorn replied. His eyes shifted to the sky, which was now dark. The first stars had just begun to peer out of the black patchwork, and they glimmered faintly.

"Remmirath," Taliel murmured, following Caledorn's gaze to a particularly bright patch of stars. "The Net of Jewels."

Caledorn nodded. "Isn't it strange, that up there the light cannot be touched by evil? That even if this world falls, the stars will remain?"

"It's comforting, in a way," Taliel replied. "Though it is difficult to find comfort when the darkness surrounds us."

"The darkness will never conquer everything," Caledorn said. "There is light that it can never touch."

Taliel glanced over at the dark haired warrior, surprised that he would speak such encouraging words. "Though you are the last person I would expect to say that, it means the most coming from you. I only hope you are right."

"It is hope that will keep us strong during these times. Do not give it up." Caledorn rested his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before standing up.

"Where are you going?" Taliel asked. Caledorn glanced quickly at the Marchwardens before looking back at Taliel.

"This is taking far too long. I shall go to Caras Galadhon and tell Galadriel of our quest. Then by the time the rest of you arrive we shall not need to explain it all. Farewell."

The elf faded into the darkening forest, once more at home amongst the shadows. Taliel watched him disappear as she pondered his words. They had given her hope, hope that she had not been able to see before. Perhaps, even if they failed, there would be somewhere, some distant land that the darkness could not destroy.

She took another deep breath, taking in the scents of the forest. For once, she felt at peace.

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Caledorn, on the other hand, did not. His words had been meant to comfort Taliel, but they had done little to comfort himself. As he picked his way through the moonlit forest, his thoughts began to eat at his mind. What hope do we have? Death surely awaits us on the dark road ahead... 

Suddenly, he realized that he was surrounded by cloaked figures clad in black. They did not move, but it was clear that they would not let him pass. 

"Turn back," one hissed as it raised a wispy hand. The scent of death overcame Caledorn, and he stumbled blindly backwards. The mist that hung above the ground served only to make the figures more menacing, for when they moved the mist swirled angrily about them. 

"There is no cave that can hide you, no corner of the earth where we will not find you," another growled. 

"Stay back!" Caledorn cried, drawing his ebony blades and holding them defensively in front of himself. Part of him felt as if the figures were not real, but an unnatural terror had overcome him, casting all reason from his mind. 

"But why? You are alone... None will save you," the first figure seethed. "You are always there for your allies... But they never return the favor. In the darkest abyss of your heart, you know it to be true. You are utterly alone in the world. There are none like you."

Suddenly he felt a pressure that pushed him to his knees. The figures began chanting, their voices inhuman and eery. Caledorn recognized what they were saying; it was in the Black Speech. 

"Death comes soon, Death comes for you, Death comes soon, Death comes for you..."

His vision began to darken, and the last thing he saw before it went completely black was a blinding white beam of light...