A Peculiar Fellowship

Part Seven

They trekked to Lothlórien all the next day, accompanied by an Elven escort. After midday, but well before sunset, the company came to the top of a hill, overlooking the forest.

"Caras Galadhon," Haldir said, "The heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

As the sun had begun to sink below the horizon, they at last reached the outskirts of the city, a great realm built upon and within the great trees of Lothlórien. It was not like Mirkwood, with a great castle at the heart of the forest, but rather, the elves here had made their homes around the trees.

Statues lined smooth, carved pathways, and graceful wooden arches covered the winding staircases that spiraled around the great trunks like ivy. Dusk had fallen by the time they began to ascend the tree where Lady Galadriel awaited them.

The Fellowship gathered before a small set of stairs which led to a dais, from which a heavenly kind of starlight seemed to emanate. From the top descended two elves whom Laradel knew well, for they were her grandmother and grandfather.

Celeborn spoke first.

"The enemy knows you have entered here," he said. Not accusing, but warning. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone." He looked upon the faces of the group, his expression unreadable. "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."

No one answered. The heaviness which had been lost in their restless flight from Moria now returned, more burdensome than ever.

Galadriel needed no answer, however.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land... He has fallen into Shadow."

At long last, Legolas spoke.

"He was taken by both Shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria..." His grief, so well hidden under confusion and loss at first, was now evident in his voice.

Laradel longed to comfort him, but knew not how.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," Galadriel reassured them all. "We do not yet know his full purpose." Her eyes fell upon Gimli. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin. For the world has grown full of peril and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief."

Boromir turned from her gaze, stricken with fear, Laradel noticed.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship?" Celeborn asked them. "Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife," Galadriel said. "Stray but a little, and it will fail... to the ruin of all. 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 in peace."

An Elf came to lead them away, but Galadriel called to Laradel, stopping her from following.

"Laradel, come with me, my child. Let us attend to your wound."

As the others left, she followed Galadriel and Celeborn along the paths of the trees, to where a healer awaited. There, Celeborn bid her farewell, but Galadriel remained at her side. The healer began to change the bandage that Legolas had made.

"I sense a crossroads at which you stand," Galadriel said, taking her hand gently. "A matter of the heart..."

Laradel paused, then nodded. "Yes, Naneth Nanethenin. It is as you say."