Robb jolted awake in the middle of the night.
At first, he did not know why—he had slept surprisingly well up until now (at least as far as he remembered), the nightmare for once not reaching his mind. But as he looked around, he saw that he was not the only one awake. Frodo was crouching at the edge of the platform, next to one of the Elves. Both Legolas and Aragorn had their eyes open, although they had not moved from their sleeping place.
A few seconds later, Robb became aware of a shuffling and sniffing at the base of the tree, and knew that was what had woken him.
Ordinarily, he would dismiss it, thinking it to be an animal, perhaps even an Orc, but somehow that did not feel… right. Not when there were four people (five, including Robb himself) who were awake and alert. Were it an animal, they would have ignored it. Were it an Orc, they would have slain it.
No, this was something else.
Robb turned his gaze to Aragorn, who was closest to him, and jerked his chin in the direction the noises were coming from, furrowing his brow.
Aragorn, quiet as a shadow, moved closer to him and whispered, “It is the creature Gollum. He has been following us since we entered Moria.”
“What kind of creature is he?”
“Gandalf thinks he was some kind of Hobbit, originally. But he found the Ring—or, the Ring found him—and it corrupted him. Now, he shares few traits with Hobbits. Gollum lost the Ring to Frodo’s uncle some sixty years ago and now all he wants is to get it back. It sunk its claws into him and even now he cannot escape.”
Robb frowned, mulling this over. “So he’s not truly sinister, is he? More of a pitiable creature.”
Aragorn tilted his head. “He may have been the victim of the Ring, yes, but we cannot ignore him on that account. On the contrary, we must stay wary of his viciousness. He would do almost anything to have the Ring come back into his possession and should that happen, we would all be doomed, for he is too weak to resist Sauron’s call. We should pity him for what the Ring has done to him, but you must never forget or underestimate the power of a desperate being.”
“I suppose that makes sense.”
They sat in silence for a time, listening to the quiet mutterings of Gollum.
Just when Robb’s eyelid’s began to droop, there was a slightly louder curse, the cracking of branches and then silence. A short few seconds later, Haldir’s head became visible at the top of the ladder.
“The Orcs have been taken care of,” he stated, climbing onto the platform. He cast a quick look at Robb, who could not decipher the emotion behind it, but assumed it meant Grey Wind had played no small part in the killing. “It is safe to go back to sleep.”
❄
The next morning brought a new headache for Robb (and, he was sure, Aragorn as well) in the form of Haldir’s distrust of Dwarves.
"I will not walk blindfolded, like a beggar or a prisoner,” Gimli barked. “And I am no spy. My folk have never had dealings with any of the servants of the Enemy. Neither have we done harm to the Elves. I am no more likely to betray you than Legolas, or any other of my companions."
Robb was inclined to agree with Gimli, but said nothing. He was sure Haldir already disliked him enough. Backing Gimli up would most likely lower both of their images in Haldir’s eyes, and Robb would prefer not to make enemies of presumably good people quite so quickly again.
It had not gone too well last time, after all.
Additionally, Robb doubted Gimli would appreciate being patronized, regardless of Robb’s intentions.
“I do not doubt you," Haldir sighed. "Yet this is our law. I am not the master of the law, and cannot set it aside. I have done much in letting you set foot over Celebrant."
Gimli was still enraged and made to gather his things, intent to leave Lothlórien if he would be mistrusted the entire time.
"You cannot go back," said Haldir sternly. "Now you have come thus far, you must be brought before the Lord and the Lady. They shall judge you, to hold you or to give you leave, as they will. You cannot cross the rivers again, and behind you there are now secret sentinels that you cannot pass. You would be slain before you saw them."
Robb rolled his eyes and decided to let go of his reluctance. “Do you not think it would have been wise to warn us of that before we reached the point of no return? Gimli has done you no wrong and this,” Robb tilted his head, “was either ignorance or deception.”
He could feel tensions rising around him and softened his tone somewhat.
“I understand that you have your laws and that visitors must keep to them, but if we are to do that, we must first know them.”
There was a beat of silence, until Aragorn sighed.
“Have all our eyes be blindfolded, Haldir. None of this Fellowship shall be singled out thusly; we shall all share the same burden, even if it makes the journey slow and dull.”
Gimli began to laugh.
❄
Being led through the woods blind as a bat, Robb thought back to his childhood.
He had played such games before, with his siblings and Theon. Sansa had always been the most reliable guide, never deliberately leading him astray and always careful to warn him of roots and stones in his way.
Jon had been of a similar sort, even though he had sometimes seized such perfect opportunities to shove snow down the back of Robb’s tunic.
By far the least trustworthy playmate had been Theon, who had always found it funny to simply disappear or let Robb walk into a tree. After only two such occasions, Robb had refused to ever play the blindfold-game with Theon again, too suspicious of him by then.
And by the Gods, maybe he should have applied that to more than just that silly game, huh? It certainly would have saved Robb from a whole lot of trouble, not to mention the entire North as well as Bran and Rickon, so innocent, they had done nothing to deserve death—
In any case, Robb suspected that the Elves were better guides than even Sansa had been. The Fellowship had been walking for a long time—hours, certainly, although Robb could not be sure how many—and he had yet to stumble once. Going by the lack of cursing, so did the others.
When they finally stopped, Robb could hear new voices speaking in Elvish, then Haldir’s response, before his blindfold was taken off.
Robb blinked, blinded by the sudden light. It was a few seconds until he could see again, but what filled his vision then was truly extraordinary.
They had reached the edge of the woods. In front of them stretched a valley through which a narrow stream ran—the Silverlode again, perhaps?—gurgling and spluttering and glowing golden from the evening sun. In the midst of the valley lay a hill around which the river flowed, almost like a moat. The hill was fairly tall and large, but not so large as to be seen from farther away than perhaps two hundred paces from the valley’s rim, thanks to the forest around it.
Robb could see how some might call this a hidden kingdom—it was invisible from far away, unless you found a way to fly over it. And if anyone tried to enter unbidden, well, the Elven guards would stop them long before they managed to even cross the Silverlode, as they had the Fellowship.
“My Lady Galadriel has allowed for you all to enter her realm without a blindfold,” Haldir spoke. He made a sweeping gesture at the sight in front of them. “Welcome to Lothlórien. The heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of light.”
Only now, as his gaze returned to his companions, did Robb truly take notice of the newcomers. They were another contingent of guards, sent to welcome the Fellowship, perhaps. They looked much like every other Elf Robb had seen until now: blond, slender and pointy eared.
Did all Elves look like that, Robb wondered, or were there perhaps ones that looked more like the Dornish? Like Essosi, even? There had to be other hair colours, at least, no? The Dwarven corpses, as morbid as it was, had proven that there were blond- and black- and brown-haired Dwarves, not only redheads, like Gimli. Were Elves different, even in that?
He was woolgathering, Robb realized, and tried to refocus on the happenings in front of him.
Like Robb himself, the Hobbits seemed astonished at the beautiful sight, their eyes wide and mouths agape. Boromir looked like he wanted to stay wary, but could not find in him the will. Even Gimli’s face showed grudging admiration.
Legolas and Aragorn alone were relatively unfazed, if relieved to set eyes on their destination, even though it was not yet the final one.
“Caras Galadhon,” Aragorn murmured. “The chief city of Lothlórien.”
Robb found that easy to believe, as he had seen no other settlements in these woods. Then again, Haldir and his fellow guards had snuck up on them quite easily and Robb had been blindfolded for perhaps a third of the time, so maybe he should hold back his japes.
“Have you been here before?” Robb asked.
Aragorn glanced at him before returning his gaze to the sight in front of him with what might have been a wistful sigh.
“Once, yes. Long ago.”
“So you know the lady of this realm.”
“I do.” With a twitch of his lips, Aragorn folded his arms. “Do not take Gimli’s tales too seriously. While calling her harmless would be a grievous mistake, Lady Galadriel wishes only to help us.“
Robb’s shoulders sagged a bit in relief. Despite having known him for barely two weeks, Robb trusted Aragorn. Maybe he should know better, but for some reason, he felt some sort of kinship with the man.
Perhaps it was the fact that they had both been thrust in positions of leadership unexpectedly—Robb after his father’s death and Aragorn after Gandalf’s.
As they started their descent into the valley and after that, their ascent onto the hill, Robb became distracted by the beauty of his surroundings once again. The grass here was greener than any he had ever seen and flowers grew everywhere he looked. The closer they came to the city centre, the more people Robb could see and they, too, were incredibly good-looking.
His earlier question of diversity answered itself when Robb spotted Elves with darker skin than he had ever seen, Elves with freckles, with brown and even black hair, deathly pale Elves, heavy set Elves and Elves both taller and shorter than any he had seen before. Why, then, did all the guards and sentinels look so similar? Was it a question of security? To prevent the enemy from successfully assessing their numbers or from targeting one specific Elf?
Robb shook his head. Whatever the reason, he had more important things to worry about—namely, the stairway that wound around the widest tree so far which Haldir was now leading them up. Robb strongly suspected they were to be brought in front of Lady Galadriel before all else, so this had to be the way to her throne room.
When they finally arrived at the top, the sun had set and lanterns illuminated the room before them with a soft silver light. As they entered, a door on the other side opened silently.
The two people who descended the stairs on the other side were… ethereal. Like all Elves, they looked youthful but had old eyes. The one with silver hair Robb identified as Lord Celeborn, since the other one's arm rested on his as was custom for a lord leading a lady.
The woman, well… Cersei Lannister had been called the most beautiful woman in Westeros and despite Robb's dislike of her, he could not disagree. She, however, looked like a reawakened corpse in comparison to Lady Galadriel.
(Mh. Perhaps he should not use that particular phrasing, lest he accidentally insult himself.)
Galadriel, in short, was the most radiant person he had ever seen—both literally and figuratively. She, unlike her husband, seemed to glow from within. Her eyes shone like they had caught and trapped the light of a long-extinguished flame. Galadriel was much taller than Robb. Her long blonde hair, adorned only with a silver circlet, fell down her body in gentle waves, almost reaching the floor. Unlike any other lady he had met, she wore a very simple white dress without a corsage or adornments.
Only when Celeborn spoke did Robb tear his gaze away from her. Realizing with embarrassment that his mouth was open, he quickly closed it and hoped nobody saw the blush that now undoubtedly resided in his cheeks.
"The enemy knows you've entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone."
Robb winced. It was logical and entirely unsurprising, but he had not even thought of that yet. This problem would undoubtedly complicate their mission in ways no one could predict. It was not something he was looking forward to.
Celeborn let his gaze wander over them, stopping at Robb.
"Nine there are here and nine set out from Rivendell, yet one of you is missing." His eyes returned to Aragorn. "Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar. "
Robb lowered his eyes, only to flinch when a voice started to speak in his head.
"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land…"
"...he has fallen into shadow," the same deep voice finished out loud.
Robb's eyes widened. After all he had seen in these past few weeks, he should not have been surprised at the fact that a powerful She-Elf could talk in his mind. Yet here he was, staring at her in disbelief.
He tried to calm down, skip the five stages of grief and arrive at acceptance as quickly as possible. He could deal with this at a later, more opportune moment, just like he would with all the other issues he had yet to address.
Galadriel's gaze was sorrowful. This, more than anything, earned her Robb's respect. For someone as old and powerful as her, empathy could become unnecessary, emotions a nuisance. The fact that she still allowed herself to feel pain was… reassuring.
He was not yet entirely comfortable in her presence, but no longer mistrustful either.
After a long moment, Legolas spoke up. His voice wavered in a way that was unusual for him.
"He was taken by both shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."
"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," Galadriel reassured them. "We do not yet know his full purpose."
Her eyes wandered over the Fellowship before pausing at Gimli.
"Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli son of Glóin."
The Dwarf looked up with tears in his eyes. With shame, Robb suddenly remembered that Gimli had lost far more than just Gandalf in Moria.
"The world has grown full of peril," Galadriel continued softly, "and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief."
Robb grimaced. He had no exact picture of what was happening to the people of Middle-Earth, but this statement did hit a little too close to home for his comfort. He himself was grieving everyone he had once loved and had been doing so for quite some time. Even when he had still been in Westeros, most of his family had been lost to him—except for Mother and Jeyne, the closest to not mourning someone's fate he got was by thinking of Jon. Even then, however, there had been sadness and homesickness and a deep sense of longing for his brother's company.
Now, of course, all of them were lost to him.
Next to Robb, Boromir appeared to have similar problems. The man was breathing harshly and was tearing up as he stared right back into Galadriel's eyes.
The sight was distressing for more than one reason and Robb tangled his fingers together to keep from putting his hand on Boromir's shoulder in support.
"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all."
She was right, of course. This, however, did not help either of their emotional dispositions. Robb pressed his lips together and got over himself to shift a bit closer to Boromir. He lightly bumped the man's shoulder with his own, hoping the comfort he wished to relay would be understood.
Boromir looked up and gave him a strained, teary smile before his gaze returned to Galadriel.
"Yet hope remains while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace."
She let her eyes drift over the company one last time.
Before Robb knew it, she was staring into his own, her head almost unnoticeably tilted to the side.
"You are not from this world, Robb Stark. We must speak soon."
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