Lind's Story


Chapter 79 Aftermath


She stood there for several minutes watching him as he strode away. She
rubbed her arm where he had grabbed it, a subtle if unintentional reminder
that Elladan would always have far greater strength than she would ever
have. Her initial anger was fading, but she was uncertain of what she was
feeling. She had been furious when he had grabbed her and started shouting
at her but when his tone had changed, she had felt embarrassment, shame,
remorse, fear, loss….so many emotions in such a short time. Confusion
covered them all at the moment.

She had been surprised to see him so angry. She had teased and tested
Elladan before, but he had never lost his temper. She had been hurt and
angry that she had not been permitted to go on the hunt. It was something
exciting and new and she had never been on a hunt before, but now after
hearing Elladan’s concerns, she felt very small-minded. She HAD forgotten
that just yesterday she had been ill, though now that the day’s journey was
done, she was a bit sore. She walked slowly into the encampment to the
pavilion she, Isilya and some of Arwen’s ladies would share.

Isilya stood by warily as her mistress entered the pavilion. Lindorië noted
the girl’s concern. “Don’t worry, Isilya, I won’t bite your head off, though
I’m not sure if my own is still on my shoulders.” She did not elaborate and
Isilya continued to keep her distance after bringing her mistress water and
soap so that she could clean the dust of the road from her face and hands.

Elladan’s words kept sounding in her head. Was she really as prideful or
stubborn as he had said? Her father had always called her headstrong and
seemed to take a certain pride in it. She had never considered it to be a
negative thing, not until now. Was she trying to prove something to herself?
How could that be? She knew her strengths and abilities. Yet much of what he
had said rang true, though it pained her to admit it.

It had been stupid of her to lose her temper with him. He was right, of
course, in not allowing her to hunt, yet. She was sore now after several
more hours of riding, and tired as well. She had thought of looking for
Elladan and apologizing earlier, but when she had seen him coming toward her
she had panicked and turned away. Now what had been a bad situation had
become much worse. She could not face him again, not yet.

Isilya informed her that she was expected to dine with Aragorn and Arwen
that evening. That meant changing from her breeches do a gown, which she did
without enthusiasm, then made her way to the pavilions of the King and
Queen. The meal was good, but Lindorië found that she was not particularly
hungry and only picked at the food before her plate was taken. She had
feared that Elladan would be present, but only the younger of the twins was
at table. She could tell that he was watching her, but she avoided any eye
contact or conversation.

After a suitable amount of time, she requested and was given permission to
go, giving fatigue as an excuse. She was not in the mood to make charming
conversation or listen to tales and songs. She had almost reached her
quarters when she heard her name called from behind.

“Lindorië, are you well?”

She turned and saw Elrohir coming toward her. “Yes, I’m fine but I am not
very good company tonight.”

He nodded slowly. “You are not in pain or anything, then? Elladan asked me
to check on you for a while.”

Her gaze turned downward and she sighed. “Is he so angry, still that he
doesn’t want to be near me?” Her voice was barely above a whisper but
Elrohir could hear a quiver in it.

“He is not angry, tithen min, not at you, anyway. He is angry at himself for
losing his temper with you, but for you he has feelings of concern and love,
and confusion.”

“Confusion? Why is he confused?” She looked at him with eyes that were
bright with tears unshed. “And why has he asked you to watch over me? Am I
so much trouble that he…” She could not finish. The words stuck in her
throat and the first of the tears spilled onto her cheeks.

Elrohir took her in his arms and held her close as she wept. “Little one, he
has never taken care for a mortal woman such as yourself. He is learning
just as you are. He told me only that he needed some time to himself, time
to think and clear his mind. He is going to ride ahead of the company for a
few days on an errand for the King.”

She pulled back from him abruptly but before she could speak he gently
pulled her close again. “Do not worry, little sister, he will not be gone
long. He will return long before we reach Edoras.”

Lindorië hugged him gently. “Other than my father, Elrohir, I have never
really had friend or family that I have felt close to, not since I was very
small anyway. I love you all as my brothers but Elladan has become my best
friend.” She withdrew from him and looked at him with a puzzled expression
on her face. “How is it that the two of you are so much alike and yet he…,”
she paused to consider her words.

Elrohir laughed. “How is it that one twin is a brother and the other is both
best friend AND brother? Is that what you would ask?”

She felt her cheeks redden. “I don’t mean that I love him more than you,
Elrohir, truly I don’t. I just…”

“The reason is obvious, Lindorië, and I never said that you loved either of
us more or less, did I?” She shook her head silently. “You have spent more
time with him. He has been your healer since you first were brought to him
before the Gates. When you first awoke, he took care of you and guided your
progress. It is only natural that you are closer to him. In truth the two of
you are similar in many ways, as well. He was nearly as stubborn as you can
be, he still is actually, though he doesn’t show it as often.”

“Elladan is stubborn?”

“Stubborn and prideful, both. He was determined to be the best at
everything. The best archer, the best horseman, the best scholar, the best
warrior; he drove our father and our teachers crazy, always pushing to learn
more, to gain just a bit more from them than the rest of us would get.
Sometimes it worked. He would get a private lesson on how to parry our blows
or trim the fletching so that his arrows flew truer by an inch or so, but
other times he was not so successful. No matter how hard he tried, there
were some subjects which he could not be best at. If told to write an essay
or poem, he struggled with the words and how to order them. His work was
good, but not the best and it grieved him.”

“What happened then?”

Elrohir smiled and guided her to a couple of stools placed outside the
entrance to her tent. They sat and he continued his tale. “Unfortunately for
me, I was much better at the things that he was not, and not quite so good
at the things that he did well. When I received a higher mark than he did, I
generally found myself trounced at archery, or more likely the loser of a
rather vigorous wrestling match.”

“He would beat you up?” She looked at him with amazement.

“I suppose you could put it that way, but I knew that he never really meant
to cause me harm. He never really did. A bloodied nose or split lip once in
a while, but usually once I was pinned to the ground his frustration was
spent and the pride he felt he had lost would be restored. In a way I gained
satisfaction from these battles, too. I always  kind of enjoyed being able
to make him feel that way. I do not suppose as an only child you could
understand that. It is part of being a brother. There are times that goading
one another into a fight is a favorite activity.”

“I can’t imagine either of you fighting like that,” she said with disbelief.

“It has not happened for a long time, little sister. We have outgrown it for
the most part. We still have our disagreements, like any two people, but we
have learned to discuss things instead of wrestle over them, and we have
learned to be proud of each others skills and accomplishments rather than be
jealous of them.”

“He said that my stubbornness and pride would keep me from doing what I want
to do, Elrohir, and that it would be the death of one of us.” She spoke
these words to the ground in front of her feet.

“You are young, Lindorië, and have much to learn, but it is perhaps time for
you to consider such things. He wants you to be happy, little sister, and
well. There is much that we can help you with and do for you, but there is
much you must learn and do on your own.” He stood and stretched, looking at
the barely visible sliver of moon rising over the mountains. “It grows late
and the morning will come early enough. Will you be able to sleep, little
sister, or shall I have something prepared for you?”

She was suddenly very tired and stifled a yawn as she rose from her seat.
“Thank you, brother, but I think I will sleep alright, now.”

“Then I will take my leave of you,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“Quel kaima, tithen seler, sleep well.”





Chapter 80 …And what of the Future



By the time she arose the next morning, the sun had already risen above the
horizon. Isilya shook her to pull her from the depths of sleep. “My lady,
already the camp is being dismantled. You must hurry if you hope to take
bread before it is time to take to the road.”

The morning was not starting well. As she had lain on her cot before sleep
took her, Lindorië had planned to find Elladan before he departed on his
errand. At this late hour, he would probably have left already. She hoped
that he did not think that she was still angry with him.

The sky was clear to the east, but from the west and north there were wispy
clouds that streaked overhead. They thickened in the distance and a breeze
from the northwest carried the promise of rain before nightfall. It was cool
for a day in high summer. Lindorië made sure that both she and Isilya had
their cloaks with them before their luggage was taken to be put on the wains
again.

They rode on past the time when they usually stopped for a break at midday
and stopped several hours short of their usual time, the sky as grey and
heavy as Lindorië’s heart. Already the rain was beginning in fits and starts
and the pavilions were erected with difficulty in the wind. The rain began
in earnest shortly after Lindorië and Isilya had been able to take shelter
in their pavilion. The rain continued into the night, though by daybreak it
had stopped and the sun rose warm and bright.

The riders sent ahead to check the road reported that the stone-paved road
was passable to the west, but that there were several small fords that were
running high. The decision was made for the company to remain encamped here
for the day and to proceed the next day when the waters had receded. The day
would be put to use by washing clothing, mending equipment, and doing
whatever chores needed to be done. Lindorië had brought materials and book
that Master Berelach had suggested for her. She chose to study and read for
most of the morning but by mid-day was ready to take a break and stretch her
legs.

Isilya rose from her sewing to go with her mistress, but was told to remain
behind. Lindorië still found much grist in Elladan’s last words to her and
her mind continued to work them over and over. She felt badly that she was
of little company for her maid, but idle chatter and questions would have
made her cross and then the girl would have suffered more. Instead she
released the girl from her duties for the afternoon and told her to wander
on her own.
Near the part of the encampment where most of the elves were lodged, Elrohir
espied his foster sister. She did not see him approach as she was deep in
her thoughts.

“Good morning, little sister. Did you sleep well?”

His voice jarred her from her preoccupation. She looked up to see who had
spoken to her. For a brief instant she thought it might be Elladan. Elrohir
saw the flash of hope, then hope shattered, cross her face. He smiled
inwardly. So, his brother was not alone in his feelings.

“Is there something troubling you, little sister?”

Lindorië shook her head slowly and looked down at the muddy path she walked
on. “No, not really,” she paused for a moment then spoke again. “It rained
very hard last night.”

Elrohir raised an eyebrow and nodded his head. “Yes, it did.” He looked at
her and noted that he was looking downward again. Something concerned her,
it was clear. He had a feeling that he knew what, or who it was. “It’s lucky
that Elladan did not have far to go. He was, no doubt, warm and dry at the
garrison at Nardol enjoying good meat, good drink, and a warm, dry bed.”

Lindorië nodded. She said no word, but her expression relaxed noticeably.
Elrohir smiled. His guess had been correct. “So what have you been doing
this morning, tithen min?”

“I read for a time. Master Berelach sent some things for me to study, if I
had a chance.”

Elrohir nodded. “It is good that you will be continuing your studies.”

She frowned and sighed. “Not so much as I would like. When we return to
Minas Tirith, I will have to continue what studies I may, without the formal
instruction from the Schoolmaster.”

Elrohir laughed which caused her to look up at him in confusion. “Somehow,
little sister, I suspect that you will find a way to learn what you want
whether you get formal lessons or not. There are some ways in which your
stubbornness may serve you well.” He winked at her.

As they walked through the elven part of the encampment, a golden-haired elf
woman who spoke to Elrohir in elvish approached them. She may have spoken to
Lindorië, as well, as she nodded at her, but Lindorië still knew but a few
phrases of the language of her foster family. Elrohir spoke briefly to the
woman and then she she-elf nodded and left them.

“Is everything alright, Elrohir?”

“I’m sorry, Lindorië, I didn’t mean to be rude. Most of the elves from the
land of my mother’s family do not speak the Common Tongue. That was one of
my grandmother’s ladies. Grandmother has asked that I come by her pavilion.
Will you come with me?”

She looked down at her muddy boots and the hem of her skirt, which, despite
being hiked up and tucked into her girdle, was splattered with mud.
“Elrohir, I am not really dressed in a manner to pay a call on the Lady of
the Galadrim.”

“I promise you, that she will be far less concerned about your state of
dress than you are. Come. I know she will be pleased to see you.”

Within a few more paces, they had arrived at Galadriel’s pavilion. They were
told that the Lady would be with them momentarily and then the tent flap was
opened so that they could enter. Lindorië struggled to conceal a gasp.
Nearly everything within the fabric walls was of white or silver and seemed
to glow, somehow. There were finely woven and embroidered tapestries hung
everywhere. One, in particular caught Lindorië’s eye. It was of deep blue
cloth embroidered in silver and white thread with two trees. A silver ship
with its prow shaped like the head of a swan sailed on the sea between the
trees and the moon shone above on one side and the sun on the other. A
single bright star shone in the sky between them.

So engrossed was Lindorië in the study of the tapestry, that she did not
hear Galadriel enter. The elven queen smiled at her grandson and stood just
behind the young mortal, joining her in admiring the cloth. “It is lovely,
isn’t it?” she said with a quiet voice.

Lindorië jumped slightly and turned to face Galadriel, curtseying and bowing
her head in respect. “Forgive me, Lady, I should have been paying more
attention...”

Galadriel held up her hand to stop the young woman from continuing. “There
is no need, child. That is my favorite, as well. It draws me to it always
and gives me great peace. I suppose that is why I take it with me on the
rare times that I travel. Do you know what is depicted there?”

Lindorië shook her head. “No, not really.”

The White Lady smiled sadly. “So much of what was known has already been
forgotten. I fear that there will be so much more lost for all time, but
that is the way it must be, I suppose.

“The Trees you see are Telperion and Laurelin, who were killed by Ungoliant.
Yet before they died, Telperion bore one silver flower, and Laurelin, a
single golden fruit. From these Varda wrought the Moon, Isil, and the sun,
Anar, to light Valinor once again. The ship carries the exiles, the Noldor
back to Valinor from Middle-earth after they were forgiven by the Valar. The
star you see in the sky is that of Eärendil as he sails his ship, Vingilot
across the heavens wearing the Silmaril on his brow.” She sighed before
continuing. “Soon I will be permitted to return to Valinor once again. There
I will see my kin again and Galathilion, the white tree that took
Telperion’s place. It does not light Valinor as Telperion did, but it is a
reminder of the elvenhome that I left long ago and of the way that things
were at the beginning of time.”

A servant came in bringing tea and cakes and Galadriel indicated that they
should sit and partake of the food. Lindorië was painfully conscious of the
mud splatters on her skirt and tried to tuck them beneath her. She tried to
remember her posture and to behave in as lady-like manner as possible. The
three of them chatted about the weather and the trip for a time. Galadriel
asked how Lindorië was feeling, whether her injury continued to trouble her.
After a while, Galadriel told Elrohir that his grandfather, Lord Celeborn
wanted to speak with him for a short time.

“Leave Lindorië here with me. I will not bite the child’” she said with a
mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Besides, we will have little enough time to
visit before we part. Go and leave us for a bit.”

Elrohir left them after a quick look at his foster sister. It was clear that
she was not comfortable being left alone, but it would be impossible for her
to leave now, and Elrohir’s instructions were clear. He tried to reassure
her with his eyes, but there was little else he could do.

“And so, now we are alone,” Galadriel said as she turned to the mortal.
“Something troubles you, child. Are you well?”

Lindorië, whose eyes had rested on her hands clasped tightly in her lap,
looked up sharply. “I am fine, I told you, already, my lady. My ribs hardly
ever hurt now unless I sneeze or cough especially hard, or someone squeezes
me.” She looked down again. “There is nothing else.”

“Lindorië,” Galadriel said softly. “There are some things that are obvious
to another woman, though they are not so obvious to others. Something is
troubling you, dear, and your heart is heavy for it. Perhaps I can help you
with the burden it carries.”

The young woman wrung the hands on her lap until they were warm and pink.
Neither young mortal nor elf said anything for long moments and then the
young woman spoke.

“Elladan and I had a terrible row, night before last. I am afraid that he
hates me now, and already I miss him terribly. If he sails with his father,
I don’t know how I will bear it.” Tears shone in her eyes.

Galadriel smiled. “You love your foster brothers greatly.”

Lindorië nodded and the first tear spilled onto her cheek. “I love them all,
lady, I do, as much as if they were my blood kin, but Elladan is my best
friend and my mentor. He said that I am too stubborn and prideful, and I
see, now that he is right, but I am afraid that he will not be around to
help me learn not to be so.” She signed deeply, a tremor in her voice. “I
acted like a child and I fear I will not have the chance to make it right.”

“Come here child,” the White Lady said softly. Lindorië rose from her chair
and knelt at the Galadriel’s side. “Elladan does not hate you, he never did,
and he never will.” She took the girl’s hands in her own. “Do you ever
wonder what the future holds for you, child?”

Lindorië nodded and looked up at the radiant face above her. “Sometimes I
do, but I am afraid of what is there.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes with
her sleeve. “I always seem to end up alone, everyone I have loved has been
taken from me, until now.” She dropped her head again and spoke softly.
“Sometimes I fear that even the King and Elrohir and Elladan will be taken
as well, that by knowing me, they will be lost.”

“That is a heavy burden to carry, tithen min. I do not have my mirror here,
but I can tell you something about what will come for you. Will that help to
set your heart at ease?”

“I do not know,” the young woman said. “I suppose it depends on what you
tell me.”

Galadriel laughed, a sound like bells ringing or a brook dancing over
stones. “Well said, but I think you will find at least some measure of
comfort in what I tell you. Will you hear what I have to say?”

Lindorië nodded with only a slight hesitation. “I will, though I will admit
that I fear your words, as well.”

“You are wise, child, for to know of the future can be a two-edged sword,
yet what I will tell you should not worry you overmuch. You will not be
alone child, nor will anything happen to the King, for as long as you shall
live. For the twins, I cannot tell you because much will depend on the
choice that lies before them. For you, though I see one thing that is
troubling, a great sorrow, but it will be close followed by great joy. You
will know much happiness, Lindorië, and will find great joy and honor in
your life.”

“Thank you, Lady, but what of this sorrow? Is it to come soon? Will it be
because my brothers will sail?” She was about to ask another question, but
Galadriel put a finger to her lips.

“That I cannot say. It could come tomorrow, or a year from now or five, but
afterwards you will find happiness. Hold on to that, child, and not to the
sorrow.”


Note:

The tapestry in Galadriel’s pavilion may be recognized from Arwen’s room in
TTT. From the first viewing, I have been drawn to that tapestry. I would
love to have it for my own. I have borrowed it for my story. I believe that
Galadriel had a copy of it made for her granddaughter.