In the arms
of the angel
Fly away
from here
From this
dark, cold hotel room
And the
endlessness that you fear
You are
pulled from the wreckage
Of your
silent reveries
You’re in
the arms of the angel
May you
find some comfort here
- Sarah
McLachlan
Katie’s mind whirled as she and the remaining
members of the Fellowship climbed up the glowing stairway to meet
Galadriel. Under normal circumstances,
she might have found herself entranced by the serene beauty of the inner
forest, the springing arches and almost Celtic twists of the Elves’ most sacred
home. However, all things being as they
were, she was in no condition to do anything but follow the one called Haldir,
her eyes anxiously blind to the splendor.
First those savage, brutal orcs and the cave
troll in Moria… then the Balrog and… losing Gandalf like that… the Lothlorien
archers coming out of nowhere… she’d been in Middle Earth for less than a week
and she’d already had her life severely threatened at least three times a
day. Now, she wasn’t certain if they
were guests or prisoners of this “Lady of the Wood”. All she knew was that her only game plan was to plaster herself
to Legolas until she was back in Jersey where she belonged. Even now, she walked a half a step behind
him, troubled by his tense posture. To
hide her undoubtedly frightened expression from the curious wood elves, she
pulled her cloak closer, thankful for its concealing hood.
Her knees shook as they finally came to stand
on the landing of what appeared to be a receiving area, although whether from
fear or exertion, she could not be sure.
She took little comfort in the fact that she was not the only one
distressed. Gimli was silent as a
stone, the hobbits were pale, their faces tear-streaked… even Aragorn looked
apprehensive.
She was unable to resist the urge to hide
behind Legolas when the Lady finally appeared, radiant and ethereal in flowing
white. The tall elf at the Lady’s side
was the first to speak, addressing them all sternly and without anything
resembling a traditional preamble.
“Nine set out from Rivendell and yet I see
only eight of those before me.” He began in a scolding tone. “Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much
desire to speak with him. And who are
these strangers you seem to have swept up from some forest floor?
Silence.
The Fellowship alternated between looking at each other furtively and
staring at the pain-stakingly tiled floor.
The elf looked about to say something else when Galadriel spoke.
“He has fallen into Shadow… our beloved
Mithrandir.” She said in statement.
“The quest stands upon the edge of a knife… stray but a little and it
will fail.”
“Oh, that’s comforting… no pressure…”
Katie mumbled under her breath, ignoring the harsh look she earned from the
male elf. Legolas squeezed her hand in
mild reprimand.
Galadriel only smiled gently and
continued. “Yet hope remains… while the
company remains true. We must do what
we can to comfort our weary guests at this mournful time.”
Her husband nodded thoughtfully. “And who are
these wanderers with you… the human and the elfling?”
Legolas very nearly sputtered. “With all due respect Lord Celeborn, I have
not been an elfling for almost two thousand years.”
“I was not speaking of you, Prince Legolas of
Mirkwood… therefore your offense is misplaced.” Celeborn’s eyes narrowed.
“But he is the only elf among us,
sire.” Aragorn stood forward as the troop’s leader.
Galadriel smiled faintly. “In that you are mistaken.”
Any further explanation she might have given
was cut off by the sudden flurry of high-pitched barks and growls issuing from
Katie’s shoulder bag. Maximus had woken
up and was apparently not thrilled by the rampant smell of elf all around him.
“Max, hush!” Katie vainly tried to control the
min pin. Instead of obeying, he jumped
from her arms and scurried across the floor to Galadriel’s feet where he
feigned nipping at the hem of her dress.
“To whom does this irritating creature
belong?” Celeborn demanded, looking as though he would kick the dog in one more
second if it continued to bark in such a manner. Maximus growled at him in response, the Fellowship looked at
Katie pleadingly.
“Maximus, you’re embarrassing me! If you don’t stop this instant, I
will never feed you again!” Katie jumped forward to scoop the little dog
up. The movement was so swift, it
caused her hood to fall back to her shoulders.
A strong silence observed even by the dog
followed as she slipped him back into her bag, broken only by Jason whispering. “Katie… Katie!”
“What? What’d I do?” she
spun around to find everyone staring at her in awe, as though she’d suddenly
grown another head.
“You… you are a…” Legolas gasped.
“I’m a what?
Out with it!” she was getting paranoid now.
He swallowed.
“An elf.” It came out in a hushed whisper.
“Elf?
I’m no elf!” she insisted.
“Ahem.
It would seem that you are, young one.” Galadriel pointed out. “Do not be troubled…”
“Don’t be troubled?” Katie replied in
disbelief, running her hands over her ears to find that they were indeed
pointed. “I was a human last I checked
and now I’m an elf and you want me not to be troubled?”
Galadriel did not bat an eyelash at the
outburst, but Legolas stepped forward, holding her shoulders. “Kate… calm yourself. Be patient.
We will unravel this riddle.”
Katie looked down and remained for a split
second before falling to her knees, the tears suddenly overflowing. This was too much! Legolas knelt with considerably more grace, pulling her into a
gentle embrace and letting her cry against his chest. Galadriel’s hand rested lightly on her shoulder.
“Hush, young Katyrial… you and your friends
are weary with sorrow and much toil.
Tonight you may sleep easily within our protected realm. All of Lothlorien will welcome and comfort
you.” Her voice was soothing and quieted Katie somewhat. “May the stars shine kindly upon your rest.”
“Thank you.
We are eternally grateful, my Lady.” Aragorn said before motioning
everyone out.
“Come, Kate…” Legolas whispered gently in her
ear. “You need rest… we all do.”
Soon, Katie found herself resting against a
tree on the forest floor, the grass and leaves surprisingly soft underneath
her. The others, even Jason, had left
her to her own devices for the most part, each confronting his own grief in his
own way. The open weeping of the
younger hobbits had lessened and they sat in a huddled circle, leaning on each
other’s shoulders with thoughtful expressions.
Aragorn and Boromir were talking a distance off, Boromir looking
particularly upset. Gimli sat not far
from the hobbits, slowly sharpening his axe, his gaze distant. Jason had perched on top of a boulder,
laying on it with one arm flung over his eyes.
Maximus, disturbed by the stiflingly somber mood, lay on Katie’s lap
nuzzling against her hand to be pet.
Legolas appeared shortly, stripped down to his
silvery under-tunic and carrying a gracefully designed pitcher of water with
him. A voice softly rose through the
trees, over the other singing voices that she had not noticed until just
then. Her nerves already raw, Katie
started.
“What is that? It’s beautiful.” She asked.
Legolas’ eyes shone. “A lament for Gandalf.”
“What do they say about him?” asked Jason
softly, his expression one of wonder as he listened to the achingly beautiful
song. Elves were known throughout
Middle Earth as the creators and singers of hauntingly exquisite music. Katie wondered vaguely why Jason hadn’t been
turned into an elf… he was the musician after all.
“I have not the heart to tell you.” Legolas
replied gently. “For me the grief is
still too near.”
Katie swallowed, closing her eyes and
listening to the song intensely, intrigued by the mournful sound and unfamiliar
language.
A
Olórin i yáresse
Mentaner
i Númeheru
Tírien
i Rómenóri
Maiaron
i Oiosaila
Manan
elye etevanne
Nórie
i melanelye
Mithrandir
Mithrandir A Radir Vithren
ú-reniathach
i amar galen
I
reniad lín ne mór nuithannen
In
gwidh ristennin, i fae narchannen
I
lach Anor ed ardhon gwannen
Caled
veleg, ethuiannen
The words slowly wrapped themselves around her
mind and heart, becoming strangely familiar as they soothed her wounded spirit
like no herbal balm could. She could
almost make sense of them. They were
not one language, but two… the speech of the wood elves and of the high elves…
Quenya and Sindarin, like Gandalf had taught her. Only now, it was as if she needed no translator or tutor… she
could almost feel the vibrations in her throat… as if she too were singing the
lament to honor his memory and appease the hurting souls of her friends.
No… she wasn’t imagining it… she was
singing! The Elvish music had pulled
her from the ground and she had joined it.
Her voice while pleasant beforehand, now held a trembling, finer quality
to it… like the difference between glass and crystal. She blinked in confusion as the others stared at her, but she
continued.
It was not long before she could no longer go
on, the grief stealing her voice. She
gasped, stepping back to lean against a tree, pressing her cheek against its
smooth bark and panting gently.
“Kate… what… how did you… know the song?”
Aragorn asked disjointedly.
“I… I don’t know. I just knew.
Gandalf taught me a little Quenya before… but just a few words.” She
answered shakily. “What’s happening to
me?”
Jason rested a hand on her shoulder, the touch
oddly heavy to her. “You’re an elf,
Kate… it’s in your blood.”
She broke.
“No! I am not an
elf! Stop saying that!” she yelled,
jerking away from him.
“Kate… Jaycen is… we all are just
trying to help you.” Boromir approached slowly.
“No!
Leave me alone! None of you can
help!” Katie cried out before dashing away as fast as her legs could carry
her. She could not bear them right now…
what she needed was Gandalf to change her back. But Gandalf was dead!
Being transported from her nice, safe home to this savage place was
enough… but to suddenly go from mortal to elf… that sent her over the
edge. Wishing to be an elf from the
familiar confines of a mortal’s form was one thing… but to feel her spirit
settling into an Elvish body was disturbing.
Her hearing was almost painfully acute… her eyesight too sharp… her
movements too fluid. All of her insides
felt changed, as though each organ was now constructed of material stronger
than mere flesh. Her heart should have
been pounding furiously as she ran; yet its beat was only slightly elevated
with effort. Her lungs felt as though
she could hold her breath for fifteen minutes without getting dizzy.
She kept running, vainly hoping she could
outrun the elf inside and out. A fountain
came into view and she slowed, not tired but weakening with sorrow and
confusion. She sat on the white stone
edge, biting her lip and staring at the leaf-littered floor.
Did she look as different as she felt?
With a gulp of nervousness, she leaned over
the edge to catch sight of her reflection.
To her relief, it was recognizably Kate that looked back, although she was
altered somewhat. Her hairline formed a
bit more of a widow’s peak than before and the once frizzy locks now flowed
over her shoulders and back in burnished waves of silk. Blue eyes that were just a shade too pale
looked back at her with an expression of worried wonder. The few tiny blemish scars that she had
retained from adolescence had smoothed out on her porcelain pale skin. Her ears were more pronounced thanks to the
newly pointed tips.
It was Kate maybe… but not Katie… what had
Galadriel called her… Katyrial? Looking
at her reflection, she had to admit that she looked more like a Katyrial than a
Katie. She bit back a sob and closed
her eyes, wishing that she could wake up already and end this surreal
nightmare.
“Kate?” Legolas’ voice stirred her and she
looked up at him wearily.
She sniffled in a somewhat un-elvish
manner. “I guess… this explains… why I
had the sudden urge to climb trees earlier…”
He sat next to her gingerly, his hand seeking
hers with the tenacity of an anxious suitor, his face concerned. “Kate, I know this is difficult… but is
being an elf truly so reprehensible?”
“Legolas, it’s not that.” She sighed, her
shoulders slumping. “I’m not an elf… I
don’t even know how to be an elf. And
without Gandalf, I’m stuck like this; far from all I know, no longer even the
correct race. Immortality is all well
and good to wish for… but to actually be immortal? That’s downright scary!”
“To live forever… to never know illness… to be
a creature of the Light… to have the most finely-tuned senses… to have
centuries to devote to whatever skills you wish… these are things to be
feared?” he asked, gently cupping her face in his hands and forcing her to meet
his eyes.
“To have to endure the inevitable deaths of my
mortal friends and beloved cousin… to be overwhelmed by scent and sound… to
have to face endless years ahead of me… yes, it’s very frightening to one who
is used to a mortal’s limits.” She whispered,, leaning into him as he slowly
brought his arms around her. “How can
you do it? You say you’ve lived for
nearly three thousand years… how does life still hold any interest for you?”
He smiled tenderly. “It is second nature to us.
We Elves take joy in every aspect of life, whether it is the simple
pleasure of warm summer rain on your face or the endless delight of eternal
love.”
She calmed at this thought… when was the last
time she had truly enjoyed anything before Jason had brought this elf crashing
into her life? As a child, she’d been
enthralled by the grass between her toes, a well-spun story from a
leather-bound book, and the laughing sparrows of her bird-feeder… but the life
of a grown-up had interceded. Perhaps
this change was her chance to recapture childhood pleasures and enjoy them as
an adult.
“There are a few drawbacks, I suppose.” He
continued thoughtfully. “If I wanted to
be critical, I might point out the ongoing animosity with the Dwarves… and although
we are immortal, we can be slain in battle… or…” he paused. “We can… die of a broken heart.”
She nuzzled against him, touched by the tender
hush to his voice. “Is that something
you fear, Legolas? A broken heart?”
“I can think of no more painful way to leave
this world.” He nodded solemnly, kissing the top of her head.
“What… what was that for?” she raised her face
to his, her eyes questioning.
He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving
her. He could drown in those blue eyes
as easily as he could drown in the blue of the ocean she loved so much. “Kate… I have been noticeably less than
successful at hiding my feelings for you from the others… how is it that you
have never noticed?”
Her breath caught and she looked down
self-consciously. “I… Legolas… what are
you trying to tell me?”
The hint of a smile. “I had never feared a broken heart before… because I had never
felt such things for a mortal before. I
did not want to… far too many Elves have and have suffered the agony of losing
their mortal mates. It is not a
pleasant thing to watch… let alone experience.
Such a thing would undoubtedly kill me more certainly than any orc.”
“Legolas…” she whispered, holding him close,
her heart all but bursting. “I had… no
idea…”
“Nor did I… not until we returned to Middle
Earth. The dark halls of Moria made my
heart quail before… as they would any elf.
But with you there as well… so frightened… I would sooner have fought
the balrog myself than leave you at the bridge.” His voice was softer than usual,
with a gentle rasp to it.
“I know… I nearly got you killed… all because
I was clumsy and afraid of heights…” she bit her lip guiltily.
“I do not regret that risk… I would not regret
it even if it had cost me my life, for I would die to protect you, Katyrial…
never forget that.” Was his quiet reply.
“Katyrial…” she echoed. “What is that? Galadriel called me that earlier…”
“The closest Elvish approximation of your
name.” He explained. “I believe it
suits you… however, if you prefer to remain Katie, I will oblige you.”
She leaned over once more, now looking at
Legolas’ reflection as well as her own.
Her head rested over his heart, his cheek nestled against her hair. Pale golden blonde against brilliant auburn
created the illusion of flame between them.
She had to admit that they did look perfect together, like two halves
now made whole. Two elves now… rather
than the impossibility of elf and human.
Perhaps… if he felt about her as he said he did… immortality was not so
scary a thing.
“Katyrial… will do.” She answered at last.
“Our reflection…” he commented, following her
gaze. “We suit each other… do we not?”
“Yes… as deftly as our hearts mirror each
other.” She whispered, her eyes searching his through the water.
His eyes closed briefly, as though cherishing
the admittance. “Katyrial… mel nya… vanya quen nya[1].” He turned back to
her, lifting her face gently, their lips scant inches apart. She could feel his warm breath.
“My prince...” she smiled, girlishly pleased
by the idea of her own Prince Charming.
“Yes.” He smiled. “Your prince… although it will be a very long time before I am a
king.”
“King?” she echoed in surprise. “But Jason said you were a princeling…
doesn’t that mean that you are not Thranduil’s heir apparent?”
“I am a princeling because I am not his eldest
son, true… but my brother has already declared a reluctance to accept the
throne when my father chooses to go over the seas into the Undying Lands. He has asked me and I have told him that I
will accept the crown when he is ready to pass it on.” He explained. “It will be a very long time before he will
decide to go to the West.”
“Undying Lands… Elvish laments… new names… it
seems I have a lot to learn about being an elf.” She sighed.
“Do not be anxious. I will help you.” He insisted, kissing her forehead.
“Promise?”
“On my immortal life.”