I laid my bag over the front of the saddle and pet the animal quietly. It was time to leave, to do what was intended for me. I would say goodbye to Lorien, though I loathed to do it.
A large part of the reason I felt like a woman being split in half, of course, was him.
But I was only a mortal, after all. And I was a humble one at that. I had thought myself the daughter of a village blacksmith. I'd known little of the greatness of the elves, at the start, but for stories and legends. I would have been of no consequence to anybody, accepting for one thing...a great lie.
---
When Gandalf first arrived in my little village of Baynor in the North, he was on his own way to Lothlorien. It was as a favor to Rohan that he did this, and I hardly fathomed what was happening.
When he told me I was the daughter of a Lord...it was even more perplexing. But my wonderful parents were adamant that I should go with him. They felt it too much of a gift to decline, though I hesitated at first to leave them. They were aging, but strong and comfortable and insisted I could accomplish much more as the Lady of a fine kingdom than a soot covered aid to the smithy.
"I have snuck some extra sweet rolls into your bags, as they are your favorite. But do share a few with your guardian," she said, sparing a sad smile for the wizard. "Enjoy them. I hear the elves eat only crackers and leaves," she teased and I laughed through blurry eyes.
My mother had raised me in this village. She had been good and kind, as was the man I'd believed to be my father, who now stood dabbing his own eyes with a handkerchief covered in blacksmith soot.
But I was mistaken about my true parentage.
All along, the blacksmith had treated me as his own, but my real father was the Lord Aulomir, of the kingdom of Rohan. He had been a great knight of Theoden King for many years, but now was dead at the hands of orcs, and regretted terribly, at the time of his dying, having once abandoned my mother with child. He begged Theoden to send for me and grant me a place of honor in his kingdom. Theoden was known to be a good king, and he had readily honored his dying Lord's wish.
But the land of Rohan was no longer in any way safe for its people, most especially those without skill in defending themselves or others.
As Gandalf the Grey was already on his way to the great Elven haven of Lothlorien, which stood between my childhood home in the valleys of the North and the stronghold of Rohan, he would first bring me along to the elves, where I would be taught, with as much rigor and speed as possible, the best techniques with which to try and protect myself.
Lady Galadriel was said to dwell there, and Gandalf was close with her. He told me that she had spoken to him from afar, and that I was to be welcomed there.
I hardly understood why they offered a pitiable mortal such assistance. The Elves of Lothlorien--or any elves at all, really--were far beyond me. But regardless, here I was, full grown and of an age to make up my own mind. And I felt a push, as a hand on my back, toward the South.
So I said a tearful goodbye to the only parents I had ever known, and set off South with Gandalf.
"You are to be well prepared," he said as we rode along together. "There are no better fighters than the elves."
"I have heard."
"I will warn that hardly any of the Lorien kind speak our common tongue. Only a few. Thankfully, one of those few will be teaching you to wield your weapons."
"I see."
"Eh...I will also say that he does not always come off in the most congenial way, eh...their Marchwarden. But, he truly is a great and noble elf...if you'll but give it patience."
