The Shadow Walker

78. Difficult Choices

Since we would be passing Lothlòrien on our way to Erebor, I figured Dwalin wouldn't mind a quick visit with Galadriel so I could drop off Haldir's weapons and demand why in Mordor she'd directed Dwalin to me. And more importantly: why she'd sent Haldir into harm's way.

Dwalin didn't fancy the idea.

"Have you gone daft?" he snapped when I brought it up.

"Was I ever not?" I grumbled, recalling all too quickly how many degrading titles Dwalin had assigned to me in my youth. Well, earlier in my youth.

"Bloody excellent point," Dwalin conceeded, his tone biting.

"It won't be a long visit," I promised, trying to ignore the sting of his words. "I just need to talk to Galadriel for a few minutes."

"And how do you know she won't make you set up an appointment and wait for a few years? Elves love making 'lesser' people wait."

I ignored the last comment. "Because she knows I'm coming," I stated matter-of-factly. Dwalin scoffed, and I added, "You don't have to come in. Stay at the boarder, and I'll rejoin you when I'm done talking with her."

Dwalin muttered something under his breath that I couldn't quite hear, but if I had to guess, it was probably something along the lines of how my Elvish blood was smothering my common Dwarvish sense and addling my brain.

I, however, took this as a victory. He hadn't threatened to turn me over his knee and/or whip me senseless. I concluded that time had done me many favors, and him none at all.

So the next day, when we reached the edge of Lothlòrien, Dwalin stopped his pony. I guided my steed to the packhorse and took Haldir's bow and sword, then trotted toward the woods without a backward glance.

"Don't dilly-dally," Dwalin called after me.

As I moved between the trees, they began whispering amongst each other. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could hear a mournful melody sifting through the branches far above. A lament for Haldir, as well as his fallen comrades.

"You have come with a great burden on your heart," Galadriel murmured in my mind.

"And many things to say to you," I replied grimly. "And while you probably already know what I'm going to say, I would like to say it anyway. In person."

"I will not deny you the right," Galadriel answered softly. "I am on my throne, with Celeborn. Come, and we will speak face to face."

"Thank you."

I urged my horse into a canter, pressing through the somewhat-familiar paths of Lothlòrien. There were few Elves out and about; those that were gave me questioning looks as I passed. I ignored them.

It wasn't hard to find Galadriel's throne, stationed in the heart of Lothlòrien and at the center of attention. And it wasn't hard to see why. The Lord and Lady of Light spoke with various Elves, seemingly eager to help solve whatever problems plagued their people.

As I drew near, Galadriel's eyes lifted to meet mine. She gave a polite farewell to those she had been speaking with, then she glanced over at Celeborn. He gave a nearly-indecipherable nod and stood, beckoning the others to come with him. Soon, Galadriel and I were alone.

I dismounted, leaving the horse to its own devices and carrying Haldir's weapons to the platform Galadriel stood on. After jogging up the steps to her, I unceremoniously handed her the sword and longbow.

Galadriel took the weapons, not saying anything or even bothering to look at me. With startling ease, she lifted the sword to examine characters etched into the blade. The Lady's eyes deliberately shifted to me.