1)roses
2)Mithril
3)pipeweed
4)Elven wine

Read the Opposition

�Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?� the elf in her mirror asked, and Galadriel sighed.

�Always,� she answered, though he could not hear. She carried the memories of far too many lost friends and family, all sacrifices to this one Quest: the defeat of the Shadow in Middle-earth.

And now she watched as the last hope for that Quest wound its way toward her realm. They were a motley company: four halflings, two men, an elf, and a dwarf. And Mithrandir� who did not leave Khazad-Dum with the others.

Another dear friend lost? Galadriel could not tell, for his mind was ever hidden from her.

So now there were eight. Did they know the danger they would soon face? Would they save themselves, given a chance?

She looked into the faces of these representatives of the free peoples of Middle-earth. Brave companions, each. But she would test their resolve; she must be certain that these warriors would succeed where so many others had failed.

For this last chance to succeed, this fellowship must be strong.

Before the Elf Queen, Aragorn spoke softly of their travels, not taking his eyes off her. Her face was white, pure, and her smile seemed to fill him with warmth. She was very kindly while listening to the weary ranger; she did not move her attention to other things, but focused on only him.

When he was through talking, he sighed. It had indeed been a long and perilous journey, and the current loss of their dear Gandalf did not help things much in the matter.

His ears soon were graced with the musical voice of the Lady as she spoke. Her peaceful words seemed to calm his nerves the slightest bit.

He was not paying much attention to the Lady, though. His mind was on something else, or rather, someone else. The Queen sensed his yearning and turned her attention to him once more.

The Ranger�s eyes met the Lady�s. He soon became lost in them: soft grey, as the clouds that held a delicate spring shower, never ending pools of majesty. He heard her kindly words as she spoke to him, privately sending messages that only he could hear.

�Brave Aragorn, you have suffered much on this Quest for the Ring, I feel your spirit weaken as the long days pass. I know the person you long to see, the one that you love so much. I know how it pains you and scares you to know that you may never return to her. If you would like to stop, to end this Quest now, I could reunite you with your lover.�

She paused for a moment, then continued. �I could arrange for you two to be married in secret, without Lord Elrond�s objections.�

Aragorn closed his eyes and found himself once again with his dear Arwen. He saw himself sitting at a small round table in the privacy of her chambers. She was sitting next to him, smiling. Her eyes seemed to light up the room as they danced and sparkled.

�Aragorn, is this not exciting? Our last night as just lovers, for tomorrow we shall be wed!� The laughter and joy in her voice filling the room with warmth. He saw himself laugh and put an arm around her,

�Yes, my Lady, this is a most memorable night, as every night with you is. I have a gift for you, Princess.�

He watched in awe as he followed himself across the room.

�What is it? Tell me what gift you have for me Estel!� Arwen asked, knowing that she would not get an answer from the man no matter how much she pestered him.

�Ah no, my lovely, if I told you, it would not be a surprise, and I want you to be surprised� I have found it!� He pulled out a small slender box made of the finest wood; it shimmered in the dim candle light of the room. Grinning, he walked over to the other side of the room where his angel was watching him with eager eyes.

He stopped half way and looked at the princess with loving eyes, �I miss you,� he heard himself say. Aragorn�s heart yearned so much for the vision he was seeing to be true, but he silently continued watching.

�You miss me? How is that when I am right here with you?� asked Arwen, curiosity evident in her musical voice.

Aragorn spoke, �I miss you here, twelve feet away from you, because you are not at my side.� Pausing for a moment to look in Arwen�s soft eyes, he continued to the table.

Kneeling down onto the soft carpet he opened the box. �Here my lovely,� he said as he lifted up a small necklace. It had a silver chain that glimmered in the soft light, but what the chain was holding took the maiden�s breath away. It was a small rose. The petals shone pink and red and the stem emerald green. The rose was outlined with a small plate of gold. At the center of the rose, there was set a small sapphire.

�A rose for my rose, you are so sweet. Here a necklace to grace your fair skin. Do you like it?�

�Like it? Aragorn, I love it, it is so beautiful.� She gently took the necklace and fastened it around her slender neck. �I will wear it always; never will I take it off.�

Aragorn smiled and looked up at his love. She looked down and leaned over. Their lips met, and they shared a long, passionate kiss. Then it was over.

Aragorn opened his eyes giving a confused look to the Elf Queen. �Do you wish to leave, dear Aragorn?�

The question was for him, and he turned and looked at each of the fellowship members. How much he wanted to be with his love. He considered Galadriel�s question. There was no way that the fellowship could go on with out him, was there? With no Gandalf to lead them, it was up to him. Her offer was so tempting though�

After a long pause, he sighed and gave his answer.

�No, my Lady. I wish to stay. The others do not know the way, and no matter how much I wish to be with Arwen, this Quest is more important than what I want. If it failed, then I would never forgive myself for my stupidity. I wish to stay.�

They Lady smiled, �You have made a wise choice Estel. Very well. You shall stay, but if you desire to give a message to Arwen, find me and tell me the message and I assure you that she will receive it the next day.�

Aragorn smiled, and watched as the Lady�s gaze moved onto the next member of the fellowship. He had passed the test.

Legolas breathed in and slowly let out a sigh of relief. The woods of Lothlorien were strange to him, but he felt comfort among the fair trees.

After travelling in the company of men, hobbits, and a dwarf, he was delighted to see his own kindred once again. But these woods and the elves that lived in them were different in many ways from the elves of Mirkwood.

The forests of Lorien were bright and golden, filled with a light that never went out, unlike the dark Greenwood, which became pitch black at night. And the Lord and Lady of the wood were dressed in white, opposed to his Silvan shades of mossy green and birch-bark grey.

But though the Galadhrim were different from him, he felt unmistakable pleasure in their company, and it awoke a longing in him to return back to the home of his people in the forests of Mirkwood.

�Welcome son of Thranduil!� Celeborn, the Lord of the Wood said, pulling Legolas from his thought. �Too seldom do my kindred hither from the North.�

Legolas bowed slightly at the waist to show his respect and agreement before Celeborn turned to greet Gimli.

That was when Galadriel, the Lady of the Wood, turned and looked his way.

Her face was fair, and she appeared extraordinarily young. Yet when she gazed deep into his eyes, he could see her age buried down in their depths. He could see all the sorrows, joys, wonders, and horrors she had seen in her lifetime. And somehow, she could see into him, too.

It was a strange sensation, as her eyes peeled through the layers that were body until there was nothing but his heart and his soul remaining, visible for her to see. He was afraid, afraid of what she might say about his hopes and weaknesses, which now felt very visible. Legolas found himself hating this feeling of vulnerability. But then she spoke.

�Welcome, Legolas Greenleaf.� Her words were comforting and soothing, for they were not spoken out loud, but instead, somehow transferred from her mind to his as she held his gaze.

�I am sure you will find yourself comfortable in Lorien, among my people, the Galadhrim.�

Legolas felt a shard of guilt touch his heart at the truth of her words.

�You miss the forests of Mirkwood. You long to be around other elves; you long to see beech trees again. And you are afraid that may not happen.�

Legolas trembled under her gaze. He did not want any stranger to know that he was afraid of not returning from this Quest alive.

�You know what I speak of.�

Legolas did not move a muscle as he continued to hold her gaze.

But suddenly he was slipping away. In front of him were no longer the woods of Lothlorien, but his father�s home, the Halls of the Elven King. He saw the great cave, with its stone doors and the river that ran out of it. Legolas was filled with the vision of the place that was his home, the brightly lit caverns and its many passages leading to countless smaller caves.

He was reunited with the sight of the forest he had spent so much time in. Legolas saw himself sitting at a feast. Many other wood elves were sitting all around him; the night air was warm and bright, filled with the soft orange glow of torches. They sat around a big fire and sang and laughed merrily while drinking elvish wine and dining on roasted meat.

He himself was sitting on a fallen tree, just as every other elf in the circle was. Legolas was smiling and singing softly, along with the other elves. Yet, as the vision felt more and more real, he heard the voice of the Lady Galadriel coming from somewhere near him.

She appeared suddenly before his memory, so he could still see the merrymaking in the background, but her gaze prevented him from seeing it clearly.

�You can go back there,� her thoughts were loud and clear in his head. �You do not have to remain true to the Fellowship, if you do not desire it. You wish to go back to your people, before they are all gone from Middle-earth. I can see it in your eyes. Will you choose to leave and return there?�

Legolas looked at her and then looked back at the scene of the forest. He was torn inside. Galadriel was absolutely right. He did wish to go back to Mirkwood. But he would not abandon his Quest. Would he?

The time of elves was ending in Middle-earth. Soon they would all have to journey to the undying lands across the sea. But if he gave up now�

�No,� he said suddenly, maybe out loud or maybe in his head, he was not sure. �I cannot give up now! They need me!� After his words were spoken, the image of the feast disappeared and he was surrounded by an inky blackness.

Galadriel smiled mockingly at him. �Why do you say that? In a short amount of time, Frodo will have to try to make it on his own. No bond that the eight of you share can change that.�

�I am a warrior,� Legolas answered, his eyes gleaming with particular intensity, never leaving her gaze. �I will remain true to my companions. I will fight to the death if I have to. I will not give up now. I do not wish to return home.�

The Lady of the Wood simply smiled and bowed her head gently to him. �You have made a wise decision. They will need your help. I am glad you have chosen to help them.� With that, she turned, and the blackness was no more. He could again see the other members of the fellowship around him.

Legolas watched as Galadriel turned and looked at all of his companions in turn, holding their gaze for as long as possible. At first he was confused, and then a second later, it all made sense. It had been a test. And he had passed.

This was as close to flying as a dwarf had ever come: teetering in on a silver platform high above the ground, flanked by nothing more solid than creaking wood walls and mallorn leaves. Gimli felt just a little sick. He clasped his hands tightly in his lap, determined that no one else should see them quiver.

Especially not the Lord and Lady of the wood.

Gimli scowled, little liking the tenor of Lord Celeborn�s words: Was the silver-haired elf insinuating that dwarves were to blame for the shadow in the north? Preposterous. And if he weren�t unfairly surrounded by twitchy elven archers, Gimli Gloin�s son would show Silverlocks a thing or two about stirring up evil.

He felt a glower coming on, roiling up from his belly, and he frowned darkly, gathering his anger about him like a mantle�

Until she spoke, and he was perforce silenced.

�Dark is the water of Kheled-z�ram, and cold are the springs of Kibil-n�la�� Her voice invaded him, soft and cool, slithering down his throat and dispelling the anger there. Gimli could hardly stand to look at her, for suddenly she seemed to him the most beautiful thing in all Arda. And she was smiling. Just at him. She spoke to his very soul, as if it were laid open and bare before her.

The flying sensation deepened, but Gimli was no longer frightened of the air.

He rose from his chair and bowed elaborately to the Lady of the Wood, saying, �Yet more fair is the living land of Lorien, and the Lady Galadriel is above all the jewels that lie beneath the earth!�

Elves, men, and hobbits paused, staring at him wordlessly. Gimli felt their astonishment, and his face grew warm. But the Lady smiled gently down at him, and he felt no shame. After a brief moment, she turned and spoke to Frodo, warning of the dangers to their Quest, but Gimli still felt the force of her within him, searching.

At last, she must have found what she was looking for, because she turned to Gimli again, and this time, she did not speak. Not out loud, at any rate.

Instead, her eyes captured his, and he saw beyond the golden roof of the Caras Galadhon. Indeed, it seemed he saw beyond the stretch of time, and though the image of the Lady remained constant, everything surrounding them changed. He saw verdant moors stretching far in all directions, and a road passing westward from the clefts of Zirakzigil. At the end of the road rose a stone-delved elvenhome, fashioned after famed Menegroth. And, there, in a long hall, stood the Lady Galadriel, her golden hair glowing, as the brightest light in the chamber. Other elves stood with her, and dwarves, Durin�s folk. Before them, on a table, lay works mithril-wrought, gleaming and beyond price.

Gimli knew that this was Eregion, the elven city of Ost-in-Edhil, in the time before Durin�s bane, when elves and dwarves shaped together perfect beauty from stone and metal.

Beyond the table of treasure, Galadriel looked at him. She spread her fair hands over the table, in offering.

�I remember the glory of Kazad-dum and the Elder Days, and I laboured beside Celebrimbor, the great smith of my people,� she told him in the vision. She spoke the secret language of Durin�s folk, and Gimli swallowed hard, overcome by the sound of his tongue in that silver elven voice. �Like your fathers, you are a great craftsman, Gimli. You will craft the finest works of the next Age; this is already known.�

The vision spun, and suddenly Gimli was standing beside her, at the top of the Endless Stair. Cold wind lashed him from all sides, and the sense of vertigo leapt in Gimli�s stomach. Only now, it brought elation. This was his rightful place, here atop the world.

�I would give you the knowledge to rebuild it, Gimli,� she promised, softly. And he saw the walls of Durin�s Tower rise about them, stone by stone.

He turned to her then, knowing at once that it was dangerous to stare too deeply into the eyes of Galadriel. But he could not resist.

�Tarry here with me, Child of Aul�,� the vision urged, holding out a slender hand to him. She was very close now; if he but moved a breath toward her, he would touch her pale fingers. And be bound to her, as student to master.

Gimli watched his hand move of its own accord.

Yes. With her help, he could remake the glory of the Elder Days. From the fires of his forge, the dwarven mansions would rise again. It was all very clear to him.

And then Gimli frowned, stilling his hand with great will and pulling it back to his side. He looked up at her beautiful face, feeling the force of his hopes and longings press against the backs of his eyes. Tears? But Dwarves did not weep.

�Lady, I believe, you,� he told her, haltingly. �But you are not the first to so tempt a dwarf. There was a matter of seven rings, and a promise. And not for the wealth and vein of Kazad-dum could I let the free peoples fall into shadow. I am bound to this Quest and cannot stay with you. I am sorry, my Lady.�

Gimli felt his most secret hopes hewn crudely from his soul; the pain was unbearable, and he closed his eyes tightly, blocking out her luminous silver gaze. He could not breathe or speak.

But he heard her voice again, this time softer, and kind.

�Well met, brave Child of Aul�. You were wise to refuse me. So now I offer you a lesser gift, freely: while you stay here in my garden, come to me, in secret. I will teach you a little of what I know, in this short time we have. Though we shall not forge such works together, you shall know some of my skill. Beauty of craft should not be for elven eyes alone.�

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the highest flet of Caras Galadhon. The tree swayed a bit, but Gimli was steady.

Pippin was tired.

He was tired, and he was hungry, and he was tired of being hungry. He huddled beside Merry on the silver floor, trying not to listen as Strider told the story of their journey. When he didn't think about it, he could almost forget that Gandalf was gone ... he could almost forget about the Black Riders and the Orcs, and fancy himself on quite an enjoyable adventure, like a story-book or one of Bilbo's tales ...

Almost.

Anyway, there in the flet everything was all very grand and pretty and he didn't much see the use of dwelling on the gloomier parts of their trip.

The Lady was talking now, and the inherent command in her voice forced Pippin to look at her face, grave and strange in a beauty that was somehow lofty, distant. He tried not to fidget. He told himself it was only because he had been sitting still for so long-- certainly not because her words made him uncomfortable.

�But this I will say to you: your Quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little, and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while all the Company is true ...�

Pippin was startled when the Lady looked right at him, feeling as if someone had suddenly thrust a piece of ice against his spine. Curiously drawn to her gaze, he looked back at her, tilting his head. They were like wells, her eyes, grey and bottomless, yet he felt that if he looked deep enough he would find there things fair and splendid beyond his imagination.

Instead he only saw a reflection of his own face, leaning forward and peering suspiciously.

The reflection distorted before his very eyes, growing taller and larger until he was enveloped by it. A world began to take shape around him, colourful and alive, more vivid than his most cherished memories. Soft turf passed beneath his feet, a grassy field that stretched to the Green Hills of Tookland, nodding with small yellow flowers that smiled and bobbed in a silent wind. The field ended and he passed into the town of Tuckborough. Hobbits bustled busily around him, the womenfolk herding their children, the menfolk exchanging what passed for news-- perhaps a rumour or two from Bree, or the latest young couple to court.

In jackets brown and trousers green the Hobbits whirled around Pippin, plump and cheerful, their bare feet padding noiselessly on the ground. He saw his father seated in their home, ankles crossed comfortably as he called for his favourite coonhound and reached for a frosty mug. He saw the Sheep's Horn Inn, smelt the ale, felt the laughter and the dizzying, smoky air, heard the Boffins arguing over a dance with his eldest sister. He felt a pipe in his hand, the wood carved long and smooth, brought it to his mouth to taste the weed as his friends called to him merrily from their table, motioning him to a seat.

�The Shire,� Pippin thought, his throat tight.

�Home.�

Then he heard her voice. It filled his ears, soft and rich, the dips and peaks of her words swirling and weaving about his mind like the rapid wings of a slender white butterfly.

She seemed to tell him that he could return to the Shire, if he wanted. He could leave now, put an end to this endless Quest, and follow his footsteps back to the warm hearth of Tuckborough. To the Shire, where things never changed.

�Perhaps she is right,� Pippin thought. �After all, what good am I to this Company? Strider leads, Boromir is brave with his sword, Legolas and Gimli also with their weapons ... What can I do? Even with this dagger I wear on my belt, I can do nothing to protect Frodo. Nothing at all, that's what I can do. If anything, I am just another burden.�

�Would you go home, Master Hobbit?� he heard the Lady ask in his mind, and her voice was kindly.

�I should like to, my Lady,� he answered in thought. �Bellies are never hungry there, you know. Beds are always warm. It is quite different, and quite marvellous, only I never realized just how wonderful it is until I left it.�

�Too often that is the way of things,� the Lady's voice was sad, yet somehow a comfort to him.

�Anyway, I'm not much use to anyone here, now, am I? What can you really expect from a Hobbit like me? A lot of bother and questions, that's all. When I think about it, they would be better off without me, really. There's no reason why I shouldn't return home, no reason at all.� He waited for her to speak. �Is there?�

�I will not answer for you, Master Hobbit. I only ask what you choose.�

There was no condemnation in her voice, no hint whatsoever that she appraised him. Yet Pippin felt that she was searching deep inside him, and would have his answer whether he willed it or no.

Pippin looked wistfully at the image of the tavern, his friends jesting and drinking, unaware of the perils that festered in the earth at its very roots, unaware of Orc-spears and Troll teeth, of great fiery demons and a noble wizard who had sacrificed his life for the Quest.

�I should like to go home, my Lady,� she found the answer in him at last.

�But I will not leave Frodo.�

A great warmth filled him, and yet he felt exhausted as the vision collapsed. Galadriel withdrew her eyes from his and Pippin shivered, edging closer to Merry and fixing his eyes on the floor.

Her voice called to his mind again, yet fainter. �You have chosen for yourself. And this I will tell you, Master Peregrin: that you shall not return to the Shire, until after you have given up all hope and care of doing so.�

Then the voice was gone, and he almost fancied he had imagined the entire thing. Pippin tugged at the throat of his cloak, glanced beside him, and finally leaned over to nudge his friend.

�Merry,� he whispered.

�What?� Merry answered, his eyes still following the Elf-lady.

�I'm hungry.�

Galadriel's gaze at last passed from the eight remaining members of the Fellowship, and her face softened in a smile, for they were weary, as much from her searching questions as from their long journey. The tension within her had not eased, for there was danger in the Company remaining with Frodo equal to the danger they would court if they deserted him. Not all hearts were as wise as Aragorn's, nor stout as Gimli's, nor unsullied as that belonging to Legolas the Elf.

Yet she could ask no more of them this night. And her thoughts and fears she shared with few save her husband and Mithrandir, who was lost. For few indeed would be able to bear them and continue.

Her eyes strayed to the Ringbearer. He alone she would test further, for it was he on whom the greatest doom was laid.

But not this night.

�Do not let your hearts be troubled,� she said to them, her voice light and glad. �Tonight you shall sleep in peace ...�

Fini.
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