A Lady’s Tale – Part Eleven

by Mar 6, 2003Stories

Part Eleven
The Mirror of Galadriel

A battle raged…

The Orc’s short sword got past her and gored her side…

Carandae twisted and turned…

Her leaf glowed…

She left the battle…

She was alone on a plain…

…a tree ahead…she was there

Analsiel’s thoughts were scattered, cloudy. She did not really think her thoughts. It was more as if her thoughts thought her, as if they used her as a vessel for their plans. She remembered the future and as she walked closer to the tree, her thoughts began to get thicker, so her head hurt and it was like slogging through thick mud to even blink. Her side no longer hurt, but still bled profusely staining the plain white of her dress. But all she could pick out from her mess of thoughts was that she had to get to that tree.

The tree seemed to be getting farther away and farther away every time she stepped forward. She tried stepping backward, but fell over. As she rolled over to get back up, her side wound seemed to reopen. Gold fire blazed through her body, heating it to where she felt on fire. Her eyes glazed over and she grasped her suddenly parched throat.
Her fingers rested on the silver leaf at her neck. The fire subsided, cooling out from inside her body as if torrents of cool rain washed down upon her. Her eyes leaked tears of the pain and exhaustion that seemed to have found her again. But along with these, came the ability to see straight, think and walk. The tree was not far at all, and she was well enough, human enough to walk there.

It was only minutes before she reached the tree. The air was calm, but there was a powerful presence in the boughs of that magnificent plant.

Analsiel walked to the bark of tree and placed her hands on it trunk. A silver fire seemed to flow from the tree and reach toward her, telling her that it had been waiting. Waiting for what? she asked the tree. For you, it said, and then it bent all it’s branches for her to ride up on. She climbed to the first one, and rode the tree to its crown.

What awaited her at the top was not what she expected to see. An enormous silver pavilion rested upon tree branches as if it was light as air, but the whole terrace was covered with cushions and silver couches. Leaves grew in and among the candle holders and mosses and roots shimmered with their green light. But most surprising was the rocky waterfall that dripped into a small pool with a wet ledge holding a silver pitcher. Analsiel stood and marveled at these strange things until a noise caught her attention.

A woman clad all in white with white-blonde hair flowing out behind her approached Analsiel. Her ears were pointed in the shape of an Elf’s and she was tall. But when she came nearer, all Analsiel saw was her eyes, a color so blue as to be unreal. They were like no other eyes Analsiel had seen before, and when she looked into them, she immediately knew the name of this goddess.

All in Middle-earth knew of her, but few had seen her. Supposedly, she had sailed for the Gray Havens long ago. But here she was, and Analsiel was looking into her eyes.

“Welcome,’ said Galadriel. “I have been waiting for you since that night when you received my gift.”

“What gift?” asked Analsiel, genuinely curious. “And why are you here? And why has everyone been waiting for me? First the tree, now you. Why am I so important? Forgive me, lady, but I do not understand.”

Galadriel actually smiled. “I shall answer your questions in order. The gift you received from me is the leaf you wear around your neck. I am here because this is the Gray Havens, or at least the part of it where I live. We have been waiting for you because I have to tell you many things. But I cannot tell you now,” she said seeing the look of questioning still on Analsiel’s face, “Why you are so important.”

“Now,” she said, and her smile disappeared. “Come to the mirror.”

Analsiel had not noticed the mirror before, but it was tucked behind the waterfall. She stepped towards apprehensively.

Galadriel dipped the silver pitcher into the pool and poured the water into the shallow silver dish until it reflected back Anslsiel’s face. Then she bade the girl look into it. Analsiel could not refuse.

Images clouded the mirror. The first one she saw was of Carandae, wild-eyed with fear to have lost his rider. Then she saw Firnciliath, sitting dumbstruck upon her own steed as tears rolled down her cheeks. Astianen screamed with anger when she saw her friend stabbed, saw her fall. Legolas and the king cried out as one and tried to get to her body, but they were surrounded. The chaos of battle was all around. Then she saw other images, quieter images. There was Lhunidil sitting with the other ladies as they practiced their instruments. And the queen sitting alone in a window seat, staring out at the hills leading in the direction her husband had gone. But she was surprised to see Firndil writing her name on the mist outside on his window with the same sad, dreamy expression that the Queen wore.

So surprised in fact, that she woke out of her revery and stumbled. She blinked and touched her side. It was bound up and no longer bledding. The white dress was no where to be seen, but instead she was dressed in her armor and the purple gown that marked her as a Queen’s lady. Her sword was cleaned and the silver leaf at her neck blazed out brightly. Galadriel stood over her.

That is what is happening now as we stand here, she said in the girl’s mind.

Analsiel swallowed. I must go back, she said in the same way.

I know, was the only reply.


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