(PTII)Defenders of Middle Earth: A Middle Earth Story(Book 4)

Chapter 8: In Galadriel's Realm

"Caledorn?" The voice came faintly, as if Caledorn were underwater and the voice came from above the surface, just beyond his reach. He attempted to respond, but his lips uttered no sound when he parted them. He felt disconnected, as if he was watching himself from afar.

"Caledorn!" The voice was more insistent now, and seemed slightly clearer. It carried a tone of urgency with it, and it was this that caused him to finally open his eyes.

"What? What happened?" He asked, his eyes darting around his surroundings in confusion. Taliel, whose voice had called him back to consciousness, gently pushed him back down.

"I do not know, but I heard a cry of pain and found you lying here, unaware. Your sword was a short distance away, as if you had thrown it."

Caledorn put a gloved hand to his head. "I... I do not remember any of it. But I feel as if someone hit my head with a rock."

"Well they didn't," Taliel replied, the hint of a wry smile tugging at the sides of her mouth. "But they might as well have. You would still be unconscious if I hadn't found you."

"I am in your debt," Caledorn said as he slowly sat up. "I do not know what ails me. I have not been myself of late."

"Perhaps the Lady of the Wood will know," Taliel shrugged, helping him to his feet. "Come. I think the company is ready to move once more."

============================

Gerithor and Haldir stood a short distance from the rest of the company in quiet discussion. The sun had set many hours earlier, and the pale moonlight lit the faces of the two warriors in an almost eery light. Haldir's warrior had returned from Caras Galadhon with words from the Lady on how they must proceed, and it was these words that they discussed now.

"All may enter," Haldir stated, though it was clear that he thought it a bad idea. "The dwarves must be disarmed first, however. Their weapons will be treated with the utmost care, the Lady promises them this. She also wishes for you and I to travel ahead of the company, for she desires to speak to you in solitude. It is a rare honor that she bestows upon few, especially now. Treat it as such."

Gerithor gave the elven warrior a slight bow before nodding his head toward the dwarves. "It would be better if one of their own tells them of the Lady's orders. I shall speak with their leader."

"As you wish," Haldir replied. "I and my warriors shall wait until you are all ready. But I must warn you: The forest, though it is the purest of all of Middle Earth's havens, is no longer safe." At this he pulled Gerithor close and his voice lowered to an urgent whisper. "Orcs were spotted crossing over the Nimrodel at dusk... Orcs that were unusually large and wore strange armor. They were tracking your company."

"Ai! That the filth would defile such pure waters!" A nearby elf exclaimed in dismay, seemingly overhearing their conversation. Several other elves began to murmur among themselves at this ill news.

Gerithor nodded in understanding. "We won't be long."

He departed from Haldir and made his way through the dwarven ranks. Several of them grumbled in annoyance as he passed.

"Why are the fairies makin' us wait so long? Huh?" One dwarf said impatiently.

"This forest is evil!" Another exclaimed.

"Aye, cursed by that elvish witch it is!" A third agreed.

Gerithor ignored their comments, seeking only for one dwarf. To his surprise, he found Kalan deep in conversation with Edhael of all people.

"You see, the strings are different thicknesses," Edhael explained as he pointed to his lute. "This allows them to resonate differently when played." He strummed the lute slowly, drawing an approving nod from the dwarf. "They're then tightened to produce different pitches."