Chapter 29 - The lady of the golden wood

The ground seemed to shift beneath him as Faramir turned his back on Legolas and Frodo. The forest floor tipped, and the trees lurched closer. He tried to appear unaffected by the pain ripping across his shoulders, but once out of their sight he slumped against the nearest tree, breathing hard. Closing his eyes he focused his mind on the rough bark beneath his fingers until the nausea faded. He was relieved that there was no one nearby to see him in such a state and cursed his own weakness.

Breathing slowly he thought back over the conversation he had held with Legolas and realised with some satisfaction that the Elf had never received the answer to his question. Since leaving Rivendell, Faramir had tried not to ask himself whether he would have the strength to stand with Aragorn against his family... for he thought he already knew the answer.

"Faramir?"

His eyes flew open, and he turned swiftly, ignoring the burning sensation across his shoulders. Pippin stood before him, staring up with wide, concerned eyes. Faramir breathed a quick sigh, relieved that it was not Legolas or Frodo who had caught him off guard.

"I came to bring you to the council," the Hobbit began, staring at Faramir in a way that made him feel uncomfortable. "Merry is searching for Legolas and I..." he stopped suddenly. "Faramir, are you well..."

Faramir nodded quickly, though already he could feel the pain of old wounds and fresh terror overtaking his thoughts.

"You are bleeding," Pippin said, reaching up to touch the young man's back.

Faramir glanced down at the sleeves of his white shirt and realised the blood drawn from his wounds must have shown through for Pippin to see.

He turned away from the Hobbit's concerned ministrations, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Let us go to the council."

The Hobbit watched him closely as they walked, and Faramir at last consented to rest his hand upon the Hobbit's shoulder for support.

The glade beneath the trees was cool and flushed with golden light. As Faramir moved with Pippin out from the shadowy trees, he saw that the other three Hobbits had come there before them.

Merry came to Pippin's side as they approached. "I could not find any sign on Aragorn or Legolas," the breathless Hobbit told his cousin. "And Gimli would not come when I asked him."

"I simply said, Master Hobbit, that I would not be drawn away ere I had finished my pipe." Gimli spoke from behind, and they all turned to see the Dwarf emerge from the trees. "So where is this Elvish Lady then? If this is a ploy, young Hobbits, to draw me away from my lunch then you will regret..."

Gimli's threat remained unfinished as the sound of soft voices and gentle singing wafted through the trees towards them. The Dwarf raised his hand to where his axe hilt should have been and narrowed his eyes. None of them spoke, and Faramir felt a strange sense of awe envelop him in the silence.

Then it seemed as if the sky was suddenly a shade lighter and as though the trees before them were bending their boughs to give passage to the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim.

Both were clad wholly in white, and as they approached the small group everything else seemed of a darker colour.

Celeborn held the arm of his lady and together they took the chairs brought forth for them. Faramir felt his heart lightened by the sight and forgot awhile the pain of his wounds.

A woman's voice, spoken not aloud but seemingly within his mind, said, "So we have come together at last under the trees of Lothlorien." The words were of his own tongue, yet seemed more gentle and beautiful when spoken by the melodious voice of the Elf Lady. He looked up to meet her eyes.

Faramir had known men of strength and loyalty who had traveled in secret to Lórien. Most did not return. The majority of those who did return did so only in body, for there was something in their eyes that showed where their hearts had truly remained. Faramir had long wished to see her with his own eyes, the Lady that died not, though he had also been afraid of what such beauty could make one forget. And he wondered, at that moment, whether the wildly beautiful lands of Ithilien or the magnificent White Tower would still seem so beautiful after such a meeting.

And as the Lady looked away, he thought he could then understand a little of the hearts of those who had remained in Lorien, for it would take a strong will to leave such a place even in winter. But he thought that he also understood those who returned. Too much remained uncertain in a place where time slowed, and a man would find himself ever wondering and unsure of what he had left behind.

Faramir hardly noticed the arrival of Aragorn and Legolas, so bewitched he was by the voice and face of the Lady. But it was what he had seen in her eyes that most affected him; deep wisdom and understanding beyond that of mortal men.

Aragorn took his place by Frodo, placing a reassuring hand on the Hobbit's shoulder. Briefly speaking with Aragorn in the Elvish tongue, Celeborn stood. "Guidance we of the Galadhrim cannot give, but if you seek council we may aid you. Time is flowing swiftly, and every day the hand of Sauron tightens its grip. If your quest if ever to be completed, you must harden your hearts to leave this land on the morrow."

Faramir listened to the Hobbit's protests with pity, and thought he saw Aragorn's influence in the decision. Perhaps the news of Gollum, which Legolas must by now have revealed, had forced Aragorn to act swiftly.

"We will provide you with boats," Celeborn was saying, "for I can see that you have not yet decided your course. Though, in the end, the boats will not decide for you. You must choose... the east bank or the west."

A thick silence fell and in that time Galadriel gazed at each of the Fellowship in turn. None of them, save Aragorn and Legolas, could endure her gaze. Sam and Merry's faces flushed, and they quickly looked away. And into Frodo's eyes crept a great longing for something far away. Pippin too seemed troubled and disturbed by what the Lady revealed to him.

Through Gimli's shoulder Faramir felt the Dwarf start as the Lady's gaze came to rest on him. He was amazed to see Gimli's face actually growing red, not in anger, but in what appeared to be tenderness. He heard the Dwarf's loud sigh as the eyes left him and, in their turn, moved to Faramir himself.

Again he saw the depth of wisdom in those eyes, and was drawn into them until he was aware of nothing else. Then he felt her inside his mind, searching for something though he knew not what. It was not an unpleasant feeling because her whole being emanated trust and security; only it was strange for him to see a thing of story and myth become reality.

He gasped suddenly as her golden visage was overshadowed by another image, clear and familiar. It was an image of dreams, his dreams for peace and a life where no one need fear for the ones they loved. Upon a stone balcony, high above the land and the city below, were two figures. The wind tugged at their dark hair, and they laughed together about something he could not hear. Faramir knew the figures to be his brother and himself even before he had looked more closely and knew also that this scene might have been if Gondor had been at peace and the threat of Mordor never realised.

And at that moment it seemed more than a simple dream. It was a reality if he were to just speak one word of acceptance. But something held him back, and he knew inside that taking peace for himself and his family would force others to walk darker paths in his place. With an effort he dispelled the vision and dropped his gaze from that of Galadriel.

Afterwards the Fellowship took their rest together for one of the first occasions since entering Lórien. They lay long on the soft grass and spoke of the Lady Galadriel.

"It was hard not to believe she could just do what she promised," Sam was saying. "When you looked into her eyes she seemed, well, as though she could magic you back home and make it all disappear."

"And yet you chose to go on," Aragorn said, smiling slightly at the simple way Sam explained the feelings they had all experienced.

"I said to myself when this all began; I'll go with Mr Frodo til the end, and we'll return to the Shire... together."

There was a silence as all considered Sam's unwavering devotion.

Faramir did not feel ready to discuss his own choice; Boromir's face still lingered in his mind and he could not help wondering whether his brother would have made a similar decision.

He lay awake for many hours after the others had fallen asleep. The stars were bright above the treetops and, as he rested, he traced the well-known shapes and recounted their stories. He imagined standing on the battlements of Minas Tirith with a clear sky above and the promise of a fine day. Gondor had been too long at war, and the people had almost forgotten the meaning of peace.

"You often look to the stars, do you not, son of Denethor?"

The voice startled him, gentle though it was, and brought him back to the present. He raised himself to his elbows and looked up at the Lady standing above him. He rose quietly to his feet, so as not to waken the others, and bowed his head.

"The stars hold a special meaning for you, I see, as they do for the Elves who dwell here." The Lady turned and moved away across the green lawn. Faramir was compelled to follow.

Silently she led him down the southern slopes of Caras Galadhon, and through a tall arch shaped in a hedge. The Lady moved with silent purpose, and it seemed as though her feet barely touched the curving steps as she led him onwards into a bare garden open to the sky. Faramir lifted his eyes to the stars once more and saw that in that place, where the stream reflected them, the stars seemed more bright than any he had seen.

"The star of Eärendil, ever the hope of the Elves." As she spoke she lifted her white hand to the brightest of all the stars. "And when you gaze upwards, do you look for hope? Or perhaps contact..."

Faramir did not try to deny his secret reason for gazing at the stars, for he knew the Lady saw all things and had already seen into his own heart.

"When one of us was away from Minas Tirith," he began, realising that she was the first to whom he had spoken of this, "I looked to the stars as a way to reassure myself... It is a terrible thing to be in constant fear of losing a brother... I thought that perhaps if he were looking up too..." He took a breath and found her eyes upon him. Then he tried to smile. "Old superstitions remain, and I still look to the stars for comfort."

"You are afraid to return to Minas Tirith, are you not? Do you fear what you may find there?". Her voice remained ever gentle, and he did not feel the need to conceal anything.

Hoping she might ease his mind he said, "Since I left, I have dreamt many times of his death... I am afraid that I should never have left my city, and that dark deeds have come of it.

"You see with a keen eye," she said after a moment, and her words made his heart sink in that she could not reassure him it was not so. "That is why I have brought you here... That you may look, if you will, and learn what you may."

She went then to the stream, and filled a silver basin with the clear water. She breathed upon it and waited til it stilled.

"Will you look?"