River of Stars

Chapter Eleven

Caras Galadhon was beautiful. Sun beams shone down from between branches of great trees, who's roots curled around the ground in enchanting patterns. Paths and stairs wove around them, covered in fallen leaves that glittered where the light hit them just right.
The Fellowship was led up one of the winding staircases that curled around the giant tree trunks. At the top was a platform, which they spread across and stopped on.
From down the small set of steps two glowing figures came. One who must be Galadriel and the other who must be her husband. Abis had, in fact, already forgotten his name.
"The enemy knows you have entered here," Galadriel's husband said gravely. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."
Galadriel looked to Strider, and realization seemed to dawn on her.
"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow," she whispered.
Her husband looked at her in surprise, but Strider nodded confirmation.
"He was taken by both Shadow and Flame," Legolas said from next to Abis near the back. "A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."
"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," Galadriel said. "We do not yet know his full purpose. Do not let the emptiness of Khazad-dum fill your heart, Gimli son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril... and in all lands love is now mingled with grief."
She looked across each member of the Fellowship as she spoke, and her gaze settled last on Boromir. When he finally broke in a sob, Abis realized he had been one of the only ones not to cry when Gandalf had died, or when they had passed through the mines of Moria.
"What now becomes of this Fellowship?" Galadriel's husband asked. "Without Gandalf, hope is lost."
"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all." Galadriel looked to Frodo, near the center of the group. "Yet hope remains while the Company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep."

They set up camp on the ground. A tent was set between two of the large trees, a fire lit, all of it by a fountain and with any supplies they could ask for.
Abis himself withdrew again. He sat against the edge of the fountain, putting his cloak beneath him, and began pulling gently at the edges of his blood soaked shirt. It had, in fact, dried to the wound.
A soft song swept through the trees, not words Abis could understand, but ones he recognized as Elvish.
"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas said softly. The other members of the Fellowship looked up at the sky or at Legolas.
Except for Strider, who flashed a look of disappointment and exhaustion at Abis as he saw the deep cut on his arm.
"What do they say about him?" Merry asked.
"I have not the heart to tell you," Legolas responded gently, kneeling beside Abis with water and a cloth, reaching over to help. "For me, the grief is still too near."
The cool and damp cloth pulled gently at the dried blood on Abis's shoulder, making him wince.
"I bet they don't mention his fireworks," Merry said. "Should be a verse about them."
Everyone stopped what they were doing, looking up again as Sam rose from his seat and made a verse of his own.
"The finest rockets ever seen," he started. "They burst in stars of blue and green.... Or, after thunder, silver showers... Came falling like a rain of flowers. Oh that doesn't do them justice but a long road."
Sam sat, looking dejected.
"It was perfect, Sam. Sometimes there is no describing the fullness or beauty or something... No matter how many words you use." Abis found himself drawn to look at Legolas, just from the corners of his eyes.
The beautiful elf was bathed in soft silver moonlight, curving along his delicate features, accentuating every soft angle and making him shine like the lights of the forest around them. It was like the night sky itself was caressing him.
Legolas looked up from his work on Abis's shoulder, and for just a moment their eyes met. For a perfect, terrifying moment. Then Abis looked away.
"Ow!" He yelped as Legolas pulled away one of the edges of his torn shirt.
"You can't leave it on. It's completely dried to your skin, it's going to hurt," Legolas chided. "If you didn't want to deal with this now you should have dealt with that earlier. Problems don't just go away."
"Apparently neither does pestering, it just changes forms," Abis grumbled, relaxing back down. Legolas stopped and glared at him through his lashes.
"Do you want my help?" He asked.
"Yes..."
"Then sit still and stop complaining." Abis did as he was told.
Strider walked past them and sat next to Boromir, a little ways away, and they struck up their own conversation. Legolas finished cleaning the dried blood off of Abis's shoulder, and finally got his shirt unplastered from his skin after much protest.
"Good. Now you need a clean shirt," Legolas said. Abis sat there awkwardly.
"I, uh, have one in my pack. I'll be right back."
Before he could leave Legolas put a roll of bandages in his hand, then he was waved off as the elf cleaned up behind him.

They packed up and set out again the next morning. Before they left, the elves gave them supplies and cloaks.
Despite his protest, Strider eventually convinced Abis to change from his usual one into the green elvish ones, if only until after they left.
"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people." Galadriel's husband said, there to send them off. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."
After the cloaks, Galadriel herself gave them each gifts. A bow for Legolas, daggers for Merry and Pippin, rope for Sam, and a book in Elvish for Abis. Apparently they had caught wind that he wanted to learn, and enjoyed reading.
When Galadriel came to Gimli, she asked what he wanted, and he answered low and gruff.
"Nothing," he said. "Except to look upon the lady of the Galadhrim one last time, for she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth."
Galadriel smiled at him and laughed high and light, like soft sunlight in the morning when the birds sang loudest.
"Actually, uh, there was one thing. No, no, no, no, I'm talking nonsense. It's quite impossible. Stupid to ask."
And still he did. And with him Gimli took three of Galadriel's fine hairs.
The Fellowship went to prepare their boats, also gifts from the elves, and the others worked around the hobbits (who were not much for the work).
Legolas dropped one of the two heavy parcels into the boat Merry and Pippin sat in and Abis followed behind with two more for the next boat.
As something slipped out of the wrapping Legolas picked it up with a look of delight on his face.
"Lembas, Elvish waybread," he explained to the hobbits. "One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."
He dropped the other and walked off to grab more. As Abis walked by he heard Merry whispering to Pippin.
"How many did you eat?" He asked.
"Four." Pippin replied shamelessly. Abis snorted and kept walking.
Once they were set in the boats Strider came back from the woods with one of the elves. Abis was pretty sure it was Galadriel's husband but it was honestly hard to remember. They whispered quietly between each other, too low for Abis to hear.
"Strider," he called. "We packed the boats, come on. You're with me."
And so they set upon the water, rowing along the river in silence.
They eventually broke from the small break off they towed upon, joining the much greater and cleaner river ahead.
After they had been on the water some time, hideous roars broke the calm of the journey. Birds flew screaming from the trees, and none but the hobbits did miss them.
They were being followed, and their enemies were growing bolder.