Burning trees.
Thousands of trees, burning.
Branches splintering, falling.
The gentle rain of leaves turning into a horrid snow of ashes.
Light, breaking through the treetops, turning into a red gloaming.
Green underwoods crumbling, fading in the blaze.
Trees, tall trees, old like the breath of time, burning like torches.
The fire is growing, roaring. Higher and higher it gets.
The trees are falling down, shattered by the storm of flames.
Soon, fires will consume whole Arda...
"Lestanórë!"
he uttered this name, as he suddenly woke up.
He felt a burning sensation on his face.
Instinctively, he had grabbed his warhammer.
He leaned the back of his head against the bark, and let go of the weapon.
"You fool" he thought. "Letting yourself become confused by those damn dreams."
Ráolor looked up.
The Malinornë he was leaning at, was tall. Taller than most trees of Eriador or Rhovanion.
The sculptor stood up. He was not overly fond
of trees, but nonetheless, the Malinornë impressed him.
He had slept on the ground, but he knew that some had climbed the ropes and had rested on the Telain.
He did not trust a Talan.
Looking up, he saw the rope moving slightly.
He would never climb that thing.
Ráolor was pretty sure about that.
A few moments later, an elf, clad in brown and green, descended gracefully.
He looked at the sculptor; his eyes rested upon the necklace, showing the Star of Fëanor.
Then, with a frown, he went over to his friend.
Ráolor wasn't overly surprised.
The Galadhrim had no reason to like a Fëanorian.
In fact, they had reason enough to cast him out of their realm.
Him and Makanare.
Still, they had not done so, and he did not know why.
The sculptor shrugged.
In the end, the journey had ended.
After many days of hardship, the company had finally arrived at the Golden Wood.
"You look ready for a climb!"
Makanárë made a face at Ráolor.
"Has Annúngil been giving you ideas?"
"Of course."
Makanárë was not overly fond of trees and climbing - just as the sculptor.
But Annunghil, Ráolor's brother-in-arms, looked innocent.
"We can take safety measures. Additional ropes, for example!" he suggested.
In the meanwhile, an elf, clad in deep blue, had approached the company.
His bearing was formal, yet friendly and calm. Of truly herculean physique, he quickly drew attention of those assembled under the Telain.
"I am Alcartano Macilenca, emissary of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, in their name I bid you welcome."
He bowed his head curtly.
"We trust to find you rested after your long journey and offer you housing, provision and the protection of the Golden Wood, be your stay short or long.
Free reign to come and go within the Golden Wood is granted you and all rights and privileges as kin are bestowed upon you.
We ask in return only that you aid us, your kin in anyway you are able to, be it in matters of craft, lore, war and ought else for the greater good of the Galadhrim."
The sculptor had not expected such a friendly greeting and such a generous offer.
But looking closer, it seemed that this emissary belonged to the Noldor himself.
Could that be the reason?
Annúngil answered:
"That is more than we could have expected, Alcartano. We are, indeed, thankful for your help, and for speaking on our behalf."
Ráolor raised an eyebrow. Apparently, his brother-in-arms knew this emissary.
"You are welcome old friend" said Alcartano.
"What has the Lord and Lady bid you do, friend? Will you guide us further into the woods?"
asked Annúngil.
"I am to take you by way of the path behind, to the homesteads provided old friend... Flet life is not for all, so the lady and lord have provided housing for your entire company" answered the emissary.
The sculptor glanced at Maltariel, who was standing next to him.
"So, that will be our new guide?" he said in a low voice.
Speaking softly, she answered:
"So it seems - perhaps you will be lucky, and this one will let you keep your feet on the ground!"
Indeed, the news were good, and Ráolor's face brightened.
"We shall set off shortly, please bring your belongings.. I shall await you here" said Alcartano.
The path they took was gentle and even.
The forest was illuminated by a golden morning light, and the mighty Malinornë were rustling.
Heading to the east, they arrived at a bridge that was leading north.
Here, Alcartano stopped, and said:
"The bridge leads north... and there is Yrch encroachment on the borders of the Golden Wood..any warriors among you would find fighting there and be most welcome by Galadhrim."
Orcs?
Ráolor furrowed his eyebrows.
He knew about the threat from the east, from Dol Guldur beyond the river Anduin.
But Orcs coming from the north...
Was Lórien under siege?
He had not the impression of being under a siege.
Where were the soldiers to defend the realm?
The forest seemed quiet and peaceful.
Alcartano lead them onwards, deeper into the forest, along the river Celebrant to their left.
Leaves were falling gently, providing a golden carpet under their feet.
They passed another bridge, that was leading towards Caras Galadhon.
But the city of trees was not their destination, for Alcartano took the road to the east.
Wherever they were going, Ráolor was sure of one thing:
This forest was extraordinary.
It was different from all forests he had ever seen. It was full of something mysterious, something that seemed to manipulate time and make the real world look like a vision itself.
He had neither encountered such a thing in Greenwood the Great that once had been, nor in Taur-in-Duinath of old, not even in Doriath, the Fenced Land.
The elves of the company seemed to react differently to this strange energy within the Golden Wood.
Vorongwe, at the rear of the company, walked thoughtfully. From time to time, his eyes lingered at the statues that could be found along the road, covered with ivy.
Eliriael the healer seemed to be strangely taken in, as if being in the presence of some fair dream.
The more time passed by, the merrier Maltariel became, for she was familiar with the Golden Wood, and obviously loved taking a walk in midst of the golden Mellyrn.
Following Alcartano, Ráolor felt strangely bewildered.
Eyeing a leaf that was slowly falling, he suddenly saw flames ascending...
The leaf was burning? Impossible. He looked down at the ground, and then glanced at the leaf again. The flames were gone, and the leaf gently fell upon the ground.
The sculptor closed and opened his eyes. Was this some fancy trick?
Suddenly, he saw something big, something brown moving into their way.
The large animal was moving slowly, but his back was at flames... the smell of burned flesh filled the air...
Ráolor grabbed the hilt of his short sword and unsheathed the blade, ready to face the strange beast.
But Annunghil lifted his arm, speaking in a low voice: "Peace, brother."
The words of his friend brought the sculptor back, the vision was gone at once, and he saw a wild moose, eyeing them peacefully, with interest.
Alcartano patted the visitor gently.
Soon after, the moose continued it's way, leaving the road.
Ráolor sheathed his sword again, confused.
"This forest is strange."
"The Lady's grace still holds sway here" said Maltariel, smiling.
"That provides peace for more than just us."
"Beasts and birds seem to be tamed completely" said the sculptor.
But in fact, he was suspicious, and the image of the animal's burning back did not fade from his thoughts.
He knew, these images were not invention. He had seen them, long time ago... in Doriath.
He glanced at Makanárë. She had been there to, she had seen the same.
"We should still be careful. We still do not know what they think about our...past" he said, in a low voice.
Makanárë nodded empathetically.
"The river Anduin...and beyond beleaguered Malledhrim and Mirkwood" said Alcartano.
"Soon we shall see it closer than we do now... friends."
They had arrived at the western shore of the Anduin.
Gazing upon the large river, they could see the trees of Mirkwood on the other side. They were not golden and tall like the Malinornë of Lórien but looked dark and twisted from afar, as if they were fighting each other.
But the light of dusk was still upon the Golden Wood, and even if some of the company would cross the river one day, for now they all lingered in Lórien.
At all times, Alcartano did not grow tired to introduce them into the special features of the realm. He told them about a place that was filled with merriment and laughter, and good food and wine.
"The Banquet Lawn..a place of joyous revelry where Wines from yonder vineyard are consumed and food aplenty" he said.
"Wines?" said Ráolor. "Good! I knew there was something special about this forest."
Maltariel laughed.
Makanárë snorted. "Well, I suppose I will have to try them sometime, then, Alcartano."
"Maltariel, are there any other places with wine?" asked the sculptor.
"Well, the city of course" she replied. "And when there are festivals... you can find wine almost anywhere."
"Sounds like an interesting place" said Makanárë, with a grin.
"Too many trees for my taste. But still" argued Ráolor.
Makanárë shrugged. "As long as no one asks me to live IN one, I will not complain."
Through swift paths, Alcartano lead them north along the Anduin, and during night time, they found themselves in front of two massive stones, with a graceful gate in between.
"The hidden way...the way to your homestead my kin...to Vinyalondë " said Alcartano.
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Translations and notes:
Lestanórë - another name for Doriath (Quenya)
Malinornë - another name for Mallorn, kind of a large tree growing in Valinor, Númenór of old and Lórien mostly (Quenya)
Talan, pl.Telain - Flet, platform built in the trees by the Elves of Lórien (Sindarin)
Star of Fëanor - an emblem symbolizing the house of Fëanor. With the Second Kinslaying in Doriath that was lead by the sons of Fëanor, some wood elves grew hostile towards the remaining Fëanorians
Galadhrim - the Tree People, mostly Silvan Elves, inhabiting Lórien (Sindarin)
Yrch - Orcs (Sindarin)
Caras Galadhon - city and fortress of the Galadhrim in Lórien
Greenwood the Great - former name of Mirkwood
Taur-im-Duinath - a vast forest in the southern region of old Beleriand
Doriath - the Fenced Land, realm of Melian the Maia and Elwë Thingol, king of the Sindar
Malledhrim - the host of the Galadhrim, positioned in southern Mirkwood
