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There were fates worse than death.

If Olórin had ever doubted that, the remaining days of their journey to Lórien very clearly proved it to him.  During his time in Arda as an emissary of the Valar, he had been sent on many perilous journeys. Some lasted but a brief time, others spanned hundreds, even thousands, of years as they were counted in the mortal world.  He had helped in the great effort of shaping the physical world, had undertaken tasks too menial or repugnant for many others to feel them worthy of their time.  He had seen the first terrors Melkor had inflicted upon Arda, had trembled in fear of them, yet had somehow found within him enough courage to aid those who desperately wished to put an end to the Great Enemy’s plans of destruction because he wished it, too.  He did not think there was any kind of pain he had not witnessed, no fear he had not felt, no sorrow he had not experienced.  He had given all that was in him to help see the full vision of the ancient Music made real, and he had lived through and suffered much to achieve his part in it.  He even knew what it was to know death as the mortals experienced it, and to fear it, not because of the uncertainty that lay beyond, but because of how final an end it made to any plans and hopes and dreams one might have had in life.

Yet there were far worse fates one could suffer.  He knew that now beyond question.

He had thought a surly, sulky, peevish, and petulant Aránayel would be difficult to bear, but predictably tolerable.  He had not stopped to consider how much worse it could be if she suddenly and unexpectedly turned solicitous.

The change had not come about in a matter of moments; indeed, if there had been any change at all in her behavior during the feast in Yavanna’s halls, he had been blissfully unaware of it.  From what he had noticed, she had been remarkably quiet through the evening, speaking if spoken to, but otherwise remaining unobtrusive, sitting back to observe and enjoy the celebration.  The following evening when they set up camp — the last time they would need to spend the night out of doors before reaching Lórien — he noticed that she was unusually helpful, even bordering on cheerful, but he had supposed it was nothing more than a pleasant aftereffect of their time in Yavanna’s home.  The Valië was a very sensible person, and while she did not brook bad manners among her servants, she was also quick to recognize honest effort.  Aránayel’s behavior had been exemplary that night, better than it had been during the farewell feast in Nienna’s house, for there had been much music and other entertainment for the guests, of the kind she had always loved so well before her exile from Ilmarin.  Olórin presumed that her improved spirits were the result of both the rather large social gathering and some word of approval from Yavanna, so he had simply accepted her improved temperament, and her willing assistance, with polite gratitude.

The next night, two days before they were to arrive in Lórien, they came to a settlement in a hilly area of wide fields, small streams, and scattered but graceful trees.  This was the land where dwelt many of the servants of Vána the Ever-Young, Yavanna’s sister.  Although she made her usual dwelling with her husband Oromë in the forests and windswept plains of southernmost Valinor, there was a special grace to the clime and the earth in this region that favored the growth of many flowers.  They were her especial province and love, and here, her people tended them with great care, encouraging them to ever more beautiful shape and color.  From afar, they shone like a glimmering rainbow spread as a veil across the green earth; the wind carried their sun-warmed fragrance to the travelers as they approached, headed for the village where the local Maiar and a small enclave of Eldar made their homes, and where they were expected for the night.  Through Melian and his own occasional dealings with Vána herself, Olórin was well acquainted with a number of these folk, who came out to greet the riders as they entered the small but pleasant town.  Aránayel was again helpful when it was time to unburden the horses, and if she made her helpfulness somewhat more obvious, he suspected it was an attempt to make a positive first impression upon the residents, with whom she was not acquainted.

It was only after the twins had gone to sleep, when the Maiar remained in the airy hall where they had supped to converse with their hosts that the Istar began to feel strangely disquieted by Aránayel’s politeness.  He could not yet place a finger on the reason, but the sensation did not abate as the night grew older.  He might have chosen to remain with their hosts and talk until the children woke and they were ready to move on, but they had been warned that he was still recovering from his long illness and should be encouraged to rest if he showed any signs of weariness.  Not long after midnight, he did, and he could not deny that the sleep would be welcome.  He was not exhausted from the rigors of travel, but from chasing after the uneasiness inside him, a stress that was more wearying than running a hundred leagues across inhospitable country.  Fortunately, Aránayel did not follow when he was shown where he could rest, and for that, he was intensely grateful.  She was up to something, and his heart whispered with utter certainty that this was not a turn for the better.

During the remaining two days of the journey, that certainty deepened.  Experience had taught him many things, and among them was how to recognize the signs of duplicity.  He had failed that particular test on one exceptionally notable occasion, failing to see beyond Curumo’s skillful misdirection that had coaxed others to pay heed to his lies.  But his own folly, exacerbated by an all too mortal confusion, had combined with Saruman’s tricks to prevent him from acting upon what he had known deep in his heart long before his fellow wizard’s treachery had been made plain to him.  If anything, that incident had sharpened his awareness of such things, for what had followed had been a bitter and painful lesson in learning to trust his own instincts.  He was not about to make that same mistake with Aránayel, whose hostility toward him was of even longer standing than Curumo’s.  When they were once again in the wilds, he noted that she became less overt in her civility, though it did not entirely abate.  When they reached their next destination — a settlement along a river that they would follow into the heart of Lórien and thence to the hill country — her pleasantries again became more pronounced.

Had he witnessed such behavior in anyone else of a sour mien, Olórin would have been gratified by the improved temperament, but in Aránayel, it made him suspicious.  The changes had come too suddenly and were too obvious to be unintended.  Moreover, every time she treated him with unusual politeness, he could sense something about her that left him feeling disquiet rather than pleasure.  It was true that before the beginning of this journey, he had not seen her for many years, but from what others had told him of her, much of the person he had known all those centuries ago remained the same.  Flattery and kindness and civility were tools to Aránayel, things to be used in her dealings with others for express purposes that would be to her profit in the end.  Knowing this, he could not help but feel that she was definitely up to something — but he could not decide if it would be wiser to question her about it or remain silent.

He finally chose the latter course of action, deciding that there was far too great a danger that she might take poorly any questioning of her motives, to the undoing of whatever good might come of the situation.  He was being suspicious, perhaps far more than he had any right to be.  Instinct had never betrayed him, though he had sometimes betrayed it by not heeding its warnings, and though he knew there was something more to Aránayel’s behavior than could be easily perceived, the precise nature of it continued to elude him, as moonlight evades the hand that would seek to capture it.  Nonetheless, her strange politeness toward him continued to disturb him, for reasons he could not clearly see.

On the morning of the final day of their journey — which would bring them to Lórien’s hill country late in the afternoon — the obscuring mists at last began to lift.  They had spent their final night of travel in a village alongside the falls of a great river that fed many of the streams and pools of Lórien to the south and east.  Both Eldar and Maiar made their homes here, the latter primarily people of Ulmo, who delighted in the waters of the magnificent river and falls.  By comparison, they made Rauros and the Anduin seem as small and insignificant as the trickle of a half-dry stream over a precipice of pebbles.  The twins had been entranced by it, as they had never seen anything like it, but Olórin had fully expected Aránayel to complain about the natural humidity of the region, as she had complained of the dampness brought by the rains during the nights they made camp in the wilds.  But she did not, and though the Istar was glad that they were being spared her complaints, he could not help but feel that there was some ulterior motive, even to this.  One — especially one such as Aránayel — did not have such a complete change of heart in a matter of mere days.

Their horses had been allowed to run free in the grasslands along the riverbank while the travelers rested; the following morning, Olórin called the beasts together so that they could be prepared for the last leg of their journey, while his traveling companions collected their other gear and had their breakfast.  He had just finished fitting them with the tack and was checking one of the saddlebags to be certain that a gift Lady Yavanna had sent for Frodo was still intact and unharmed when Melui joined him, her own pack in hand and a deeply perplexed look on her face.

“Mithrandir,” she said as she handed him the satchel, to be secured on the back of her steed, “are we to make a permanent home in Lórien, once we arrive?  Did Lady Nienna send us away so that we would no longer be a nuisance in her house?”

A puzzled frown creased the Maia’s brow as he took the pack from the child, pausing before he secured it with the others already attached to the saddle of her horse.  “I cannot say where you will make your permanent home in the end,” he said, “but I can assure you that Lady Nienna did not send you away for any reason, least of all because she considered you a nuisance.  Wherever did you acquire such notions?”

Melui flushed with chagrin, but only faintly.  “By listening — but not on purpose,” she added quickly, lest he think ill of her.  “I was in the room where we’d slept during the night, making ready to leave when I accidentally spilled some of the things from my pack.  When I knelt down to pick them up, Aránayel and some of the people who live here went by.  They were talking, and I heard Aránayel tell someone — Celussëmel, I think, the very pretty lady who lives under the waterfall — that we wouldn’t be coming back because we were going to be staying in Lórien.  I thought at first she meant that she just didn’t know how long we’d be there, but when Celussëmel said the same thing, Aránayel said no, it wouldn’t be temporary.  Arrangements had been made for all of us to stay in your house, though she expected Lére and I would be sent to join the Elves in Lórien before long.  Is that true, Mithrandir?  Are you going to send us off to live with people we don’t even know, and will we never have a chance to see Helyanwë again?”

Her expression was stricken.  Olórin paused before answering, first collecting his thoughts, then setting down the pack before he crouched to speak with her more directly.  “I shan’t lie and say that I know for certain what the future holds for you, Melui, for I do not.  But I do know several things, and you may take them as truths: Helyanwë is as fond of you as you are of her, and no matter what home you may eventually find, she will forever be your friend.  It is true that she is a servant of Lady Nienna, but her mistress knows of her affection for you, and I do not think she would ever insist that you be parted simply because Helyanwë is in her service.  I myself am a servant of Lord Manwë, yet he does not insist that I make my home in Ilmarin.  The very things that make Lady Nienna so patient and compassionate would not allow her to keep Helyanwë from going to you, if that is best for your happiness, and hers.”

It was Melui’s turn to frown. “But Aránayel sounded quite certain....”

A soft sigh whistled past his lips.  “I have no doubt that she did, as she herself wishes very much not to return to Lady Nienna’s house.  But she spoke without full knowledge, I believe.  Arrangements have been made for all of you to stay in Lórien, but my house is not large enough for all of you to be my guests at the once, especially since there is already another who resides there with me, awaiting our arrival.  I had sent word to him that you and Lére would be joining us for a time, since I felt you would be most comfortable in my home, but one of my neighbors will provide accommodations for Aránayel.  As you have doubtless noticed, she and I are not on the best of terms, and I have no desire to make you, your brother, or Frodo — or even Aránayel — ill at ease by exposing you to the friction between us, both day and night.”

An odd wryness crept into the girl’s expression.  “I don’t think that’s what she wants, Mithrandir,” she said softly, wary of being heard by the wrong ears.  “She hasn’t been arguing or complaining or saying nasty things, ever since we left Lady Yavanna’s house.  I think she wants to stay in your house, because... well, not because she likes you, exactly, but....”  She paused, then shook her head.  “I’m not sure, but I think she wants people to think you like her.  I heard her say something like that to Celussëmel, just a few minutes ago.  That years ago, you told her you loved her when she couldn’t stand the sight of you, but now, things are different, and maybe could be the way you’d wanted.”

It took several moments for Melui’s observations to fully register; when they had, Olórin paled.  He had considered that Aránayel’s improved manners might be an effort to impress upon others how she had changed by being the soul of politeness toward someone whom she had long despised.  He had not considered that she might take this attempt a step farther and try to use the common knowledge of what had happened between them so long ago as the means to make others believe there was more to their improved relationship than met the eye, all for the sake of gaining the freedom she so desperately craved.  He suddenly understood why he had been so uneasy in Aránayel’s presence these past few days, but for Melui’s sake, he swallowed the groan that began to rise in his throat; he schooled his expression to one of polite curiosity rather than overt discomfort. 

“Did she?” he said mildly, forcing a faint smile.  “Well, then, perhaps I need to discuss the situation with Aránayel, to make certain there are no unfortunate misunderstandings between us.  I am not the same person I was in that long ago time, but she has seen very little of me since, and may not realize all that has changed for me.  Thank you for mentioning this, Melui.  I shan’t tell Aránayel that you told me of it, for she would surely accuse you of eavesdropping.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she vowed, afraid that he would disapprove.

Instead, he smiled, a bit more earnestly.  “I know.  But I think it was good that I heard of it, before it causes any unpleasantry.  I offered you and your brother the hospitality of my house for as long as you might wish it, and I will not allow anyone to send you away without my leave — which I assure you will be quite difficult to obtain, unless I have not the slightest doubt that such a departure would be best for your well-being and happiness.  And you have only to ask my friends in Lórien just how stubborn I can be when my mind is made up.”

Reassured, Melui smiled back.  “Helyanwë said as much the night before we left Lady Nienna’s house, when she took us to our rooms to sleep.  Lére’s never liked Aránayel at all, and he was afraid she might be able to convince you to send us off to Eldamar before we even had a chance to see Lórien.  I don’t think he remembers you as well as I do.  Helyanwë said you wouldn’t have invited us to come if you didn’t really want us there, and if you did, nothing Aránayel could say would make you change your mind.  Do you think Helyanwë might come to see us in Lórien, once she’s finished her errands for Lady Nienna?”

“I think she might,” he answered, relieved by the change of subject.  “I don’t know the specifics of her tasks for Lady Nienna, but when we spoke before she left, it seemed to me that she did not expect them to be exceptionally difficult.  If she is right, I have no doubt at all that she will wish to join you in Lórien, and she will certainly be welcome.  With both her and I to defend you, none will dare send you to any place you do not wish to go.”

She sighed, pleased.  “I thought as much, but I’m very glad to hear you say it.  Now I can tell Lére he’s just imagining things, and there’s nothing to worry about at all.  Thank you, Mithrandir.” 

Impulsively, she embraced him.  Olórin smiled, returned the affectionate gesture, and sent her on her way.  He watched her go, then turned back to the task of securing the pack she had brought to the saddle of her horse.  He nearly dropped it again as he lifted it from the ground and an unexpected voice spoke, uncomfortably near.

“It would seem that you have more skill with such young ones than I had heard you felt was within your capacity,” Aránayel said, her tone droll.  “Is there any resident of Aman whom you cannot befriend so easily?”

The Istar snorted softly as he took firmer hold of Melui’s pack to fasten it to the saddle.  “Without a doubt.  Curumo and I were never particularly close, nor was I especially well-liked by many of the Noldor who supported Fëanor.  I fell out of his favor well before he led his revolt, and I have often suspected Lindarinë bears me some ill-will because I could not help him as he once helped me.  Even among our own people, I know I am not universally loved, for one reason or another.  I have been a friend of Aulë, if not as close as some, and I have met with a fair amount of friction and distrust among his servants — possibly because I have always had unusual gifts in regard to the beneficial aspects of fire, and some view it as a claim upon their purview which they themselves have difficulty mastering.  Also, unless there have been changes of which you have not informed me, when last I looked, we were not friends by even a very loose definition of the term.  In coming to understand the truth I would not see in my youth, I came to know that we never had been friends.  It was but a fantasy of my overactive imagination.”

She did not respond defensively or angrily, for which Olórin was grateful, but that she also did not agree with his assessment of the situation disturbed him.  “Much has changed since that time,” she said simply, in a tone that might be described as studiously neutral.  “Would you prefer that our relationship remain unfriendly?”

His eyes slipped toward her in a sidelong glance.  “If it is not based in honesty, yes.  I have not failed to note that you have been treating me somewhat more... charitably since our departure from Lady Yavanna’s house,” he added, deciding to throw caution to the wind and speak openly.  “If more than ten thousand years of separation was not enough to temper your disposition toward me, what could have happened to change it in one night?”

She glanced away as she considered her response.  “Realization, perhaps, one I could not reach so long as I remained in an isolation not of my choosing.  A bird that is kept caged may cease to sing and be silent for many years, and yet regain its voice in one day after it is released and allowed to be free again.  There were things Lady Yavanna said to me that gave me such hope.  Should I continue to sabotage my own chances for freedom by maintaining a demeanor that will only prejudice others against me?”

Olórin considered her reply.  What she said was in keeping with some of his own suppositions, that Yavanna had somehow complimented Aránayel for her good behavior during the feast three nights ago, and the Maia had taken it as encouragement.  For that he could not fault her — but neither could he dismiss the persistent feeling that this was not the whole of the truth.  “And you would not, of course, resort to exaggeration to enhance a positive perception among others?”

“Of course not.  I am not a fool, Olórin.  Whatever I do now is bound to be weighed and judged sternly.  I have no desire to return to a life of exile, and exaggeration once won me harsh punishment that made my life even more unbearable.  If I am making an honest effort to improve relations between us, would you begrudge me that because of what happened in the past?”

“No,” he admitted, “so long as it is honest.  For all that you have been known to have a quick temper, you have not been mercurial in your habits, apt to change your ways at a moment’s notice.  As far as I am aware, I have done nothing to warrant such a change of heart.”

“Perhaps not.  But I have been told by many that showing kindness is more apt to win the approval of others than nurturing bitterness, and as it is approval I require in order to be freed of my long punishment, I have realized that the best place to begin changing that attitude is with you.  Though I still believe I did not act wrongly those many years ago, I now begin to see why you have so many staunch defenders.  You seem to attract the trust and respect of others without much effort.  I do not quite see what it is about you that they find so very admirable, but I can see how, feeling as they do, they would not understand why I do not share their attitudes.  If I cannot change their minds or open their eyes to my point of view, then my only option is to attempt to understand theirs.  Do you find this intolerable?”

He hesitated, almost imperceptibly, then shook his head.  “I do admit that I did not understand you those long years ago; I did not even understand myself.  Lady Nienna did not speak clearly of why she chose you to accompany the children to Lórien, but I have suspected that some part of her intent was to deliberately place us in such close proximity that friction between us could not be avoided, and thus would have to be dealt with more directly for the sake of the youngsters with us, so that we might derive some mutual benefit from it.  It would seem that you have better availed yourself of this education than I.  Forgive me if I have been overly suspicious.”

A wry smile tugged at one corner of her lips, though its warmth did not extend to her eyes.  “If you had acquired that trait before your ill-advised confession, it might never have come to pass, nor any of the grief that has since come between us.  I should be angered that you waited so long to learn such common sense, since I have suffered for it longer than you, but instead, I will give you the forgiveness you have requested.  I am not, after all, incapable of showing tolerance, or offering a conciliatory gesture for the sake of making peace that is perhaps long overdue.”

Something in her words made the Istar uneasy, but as it seemed to him that it had less to do with Aránayel and more to do with his delayed forgiveness of Lord Manwë, he said nothing of it.  Aránayel set about preparing her own steed for departure, and Olórin was glad, for it put an end to their strained conversation.  The children returned with the remainder of their things, and they were soon on their way.

**********

They rode easily, following the meandering river until at last it reached the northwest outskirts of Lórien.  There its main course took a turn to the east, while a smaller branch and the travelers continued in a generally southward direction.  “This land has changed little since last I saw it,” Aránayel remarked when they paused to water the horses before venturing away from the stream toward Lórien’s wooded heart, which shimmered like a golden haze on a not too distant horizon.

Olórin did not hide his surprise.  “I was unaware that you had ever seen it.  In all the years I have made it my home, you have not visited — or was this hidden from me as another ploy of well-meaning friends?”

She shook her head, her hair shining in the midday sun like dark copper leaves in autumn, dancing on the wind.  “No, I have not visited since you settled here.  In years before, when I still served as a handmaid to Lady Varda, I was sent twice or thrice as her messenger to Lady Estë.  If Estë has not mentioned this to you, then I suppose she does not remember me, or thinks ill of me, as so many others do.”

“She thinks ill of no one,” Olórin said with confidence, “although she is perhaps more able to forget than many others of the Ainur.  She is well familiar with all the blessings of sleep and rest and healing, and often, forgetfulness can help one to heal more quickly by lightening the burdens on one’s heart and soul.  Lady Estë and Lord Irmo do not bear grudges, which bodes well for your time here.  You should be able to begin your stay with a clean slate in the eyes of both the Lord and the Lady, and if they have a good report for Lady Nienna, it will carry considerable weight when she pleads your case to Lord Manwë and Lady Varda.  She has great faith in the opinion of her brother.”

Aránayel sniffed softly, as if she doubted that such trust would extend to her, but she said nothing more.  The horses were soon ready to continue their journey, and they moved on.

The creek widened as they neared the central wood, and before long, the lake of Lórellin became clearly visible, sparkling brightly like a diamond amid the greens and golds of the woodland.  This was not so great a forest as Yavanna’s, the trees tall but not as incredibly high; what lay beneath the canopy was dappled with both sunlight and shadows, which flickered and shifted like images in a dream as the winds blew through the graceful branches above.  The path they had been following broadened as they passed beneath the trees; it was lined on either side by myriad shrubs and flowers of many shapes and colors and sizes.  Here and there, placid pools and beautiful fountains graced and cooled the land.  It was a place of great peace and stillness, and even the birds that sang amid the trees kept their songs to a soft sweetness that pleased the ear without disturbing the sense of calm and quiet.

It did not seem that any homes had been built here, yet from time to time, they would spy someone who smiled and waved at the passersby.  The twins glanced all about, looking for places they could identify as residences, but saw nothing.  “I don’t understand,” Lére finally admitted.  “You told us that this part of Lórien was much like our father’s home, but it doesn’t look at all like he described it.  He said there were great houses built up in the branches of the trees, not like the houses in Mithlond, but simpler and more open to the sky and the wind. I don’t see anything at all, not on the ground or up above us.  Are we in the right place?  Lady Yavanna’s forest seemed much closer to what Father spoke of, and it wasn’t really like that at all.”

Olórin chuckled.  “I’m sure your father knew his homeland well, and that he was also well acquainted with the tales which told of the Lórien that is here in Aman.  But he had never seen this place with his own eyes, nor had your mother or any of their kin in Middle-earth.  The realm of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel was indeed a remarkable attempt to capture what Galadriel had loved best of this place, which she knew from her childhood and youth, but though their power combined with that of Nenya could slow the decay of the mortal world, not all the power of the Elves could have stopped it entirely, nor purged more than the smallest corner of Endorë of the worst evils of Melkor.  They did their best, and their skills were considerable, yet even the greatest of their craftsmen did not have the skills of some of my people, who have lived here since long before the first of the Eldar awoke at Cuiviénen.”

He drew his horse to a halt when the boy’s expression told him that he was saying too much.  He laughed at his own long-windedness.  “I beg your pardon, I’m sure that wasn’t the answer you were seeking.  See there?” he said when the others had also come to a halt.  He gestured toward three women who were walking in the glade a short distance to the right of the road.  They soon reached a spot where there grew several well-grown trees with smooth silver bark and broad branches that spread close to the ground.  They were situated near one another, and their lower limbs overlapped as they often do in the thicker regions of a wood.  But as they watched, the women stepped lightly upon those low-slung branches and used them as one would a flight of stairs, following a path that led up and around and between the trees, until at last they reached an open platform high above the ground.  The talan had been so cunningly fashioned, it was almost impossible to discern it from the natural growth of trees all around, unless one could see the persons upon it.

Thus given a clue as to the nature of the local dwellings, the twins now glanced all about, finally able to see what they had missed before.  “Oh, that’s so terribly clever!” Melui exclaimed, unabashedly delighted by all there was to see, if one knew what to look for.  “Is this the same as Lóthlorien, Mithrandir?”

“Similar,” Olórin replied.  “This is less obvious than the city that was built amid the trees of the Golden Wood, but both have their own beauty.  Each place reflects the ways and the arts of the people who inhabit it, and as my folk walk upon the world unseen if we do not choose to clothe ourselves in a fana, so too are the homes of the Maiar who dwell in Lórien simple and unobtrusive.  Their art is in the tending of those things which grow here, as the art of the Elves of Lóthlorien was in the shaping of what the natural world provided them as material with which to ply their crafts.  Lord Irmo’s home on the shores of Lake Lórellin is very similar in its artistry to the Elven dwellings in Lóthlorien, as is the house of Lady Estë on the isle at the center of the lake.”

“Will we pass near them?” Lére wondered.

The Istar smiled.  “Very near.  Few visitors are allowed upon the isle, but we will stop at Lord Irmo’s home before we continue on to mine, so that he and his lady may welcome you to their land.  Then, I think, you will be able to better imagine Lóthlorien as your father described it to you.”

The twins were both delighted and mildly apprehensive, and asked many questions about the lord and lady and how they should behave toward them as they continued along the road toward the great lake.  Aránayel said nothing, but appeared to be listening with interest.  The inquisition ended when at last Irmo’s home, known as Murmuran, came into view.

For a time, the youngsters were struck with wonder by the graceful beauty of the place.  More than any of the other settlements they had visited while in Aman, this spoke of the craftsmanship of the Elves, even though it was home to a lord and lady of the Valar.  It was as if a world of trees and water had been brought into the land of dreams and there shaped into something that grew and flowed as they did.   The whisper of the wind, the rustle of leaves, the soft song of water flowing over glass and stone all spoke of healing and visions that are seen only in the night, during the hours of sleep. 

Yet there was no lethargy about the great hall; it held power and strength as well, that of life and spirit and dreams renewed by well-earned rest.  The house was not lifted up among the branches like Caras Galadhon, nor was it beneath the roots of the forest, like Yavanna’s hall.  It stood at the edge of the lake, sheltered by trees on one side and open to the sun and moon and stars upon the other.  It flowed between the trees like the carven, winding stairs of Lothlórien, the trusses of its roof bowed in the fashion of Elven arches that imitated the arms of spreading elms.  Water lapped against its southern wall as rain caresses the roots of tall mallorns; and the silver voices of fountains mingled with the song of birds and wind in a tune of peace and joy.  The children drank in the beautiful sights around them, and for a moment felt nearer to their father than they had in all the years since his death.

At last, they came to a halt where the forest road ended before a broad plaza of silvery stones, artfully laid before what was clearly the main entrance to Irmo’s mansion.  They had just stopped and had not yet begun to dismount when someone emerged from the shadows of the entranceway, a tall fellow garbed in dusky blues and silver with long plaited hair that shone like fiery copper in the midday sun.  He chuckled as he strode forth to meet them.

“Well, now,” he declared in tones as bright as the sunshine, “here I had begun to think that for once, I might win a wager with Lord Irmo because you had chosen to tarry on the way, or had gotten a late start on the day, but truly, I should have known better.  Your reputation for punctuality continues to remain unblemished, pityandil, but for those few occasions on which you arrived late by design rather than poor planning.  And are these the young Elven guests whom my lord and lady have been anticipating with such great delight?”  He bowed deeply to the youngsters.

The children laughed at his manner; Aránayel favored him with an expression that doubted the motives of such expansive good cheer; and Olórin simply smiled.  “They are indeed, Ványalos, and you know it well, as you also know that Lord Irmo and Lady Estë are already acquainted with Melui and Lére, so you need not go to such great lengths to appear ingratiating.”

“Not on their behalf,” Ványalos agreed cheerfully as he assisted them in dismounting.  “But though they have met my master and mistress before, it was not here in their home, nor have they had the opportunity to converse with them, as their voices were still lost when last they were together.  That is what they are anticipating so eagerly, to hear the fair Elven voices that could not speak during their other meetings.”  Melui laughed as she accepted his assistance; her brother did so less willingly, believing himself quite capable of dismounting on his own, though he allowed it when Ványalos did not presume to help more than was necessary to retain his dignity.

“Are you a friend of Mithrandir’s?” Lére asked as Ványalos subtly helped him make a steady final step to the ground.

The tall Maia lifted one eyebrow at the boy’s use of the Elven name, but made nothing more of it.  “Alas, yes, we have been acquainted for many long years, during which he has patiently suffered my presence as his nearest neighbor in the hill country.”

His words piqued Melui’s interest.  “Oh, then are you the one who has lodgings prepared for—“

”Melui, did you remember to bring the flowers you gathered at our last stop along the riverbank?” Olórin asked, his tone casual but his glance toward the girl pointed.  “I believe you said you wanted to make a gift of them to Lady Estë.”

Melui’s answering glance was puzzled, but she quickly understood the meaning of the Istar’s interruption when his eyes briefly flicked toward Aránayel.  Abruptly understanding that she was about to mention something better left for others to discuss, she accepted the change of subject without complaint.  “Oh, yes, I’d almost forgotten.  I wrapped them in a damp cloth and put them in the outer pocket of my pack, there.”  She pointed to the place, too high for her to reach from the ground.  “I didn’t want them to get crushed or wilted in the sun.”

Ványalos, who was closest of the three adults, easily reached into the pocket in question and withdrew them, a fistful of small blue-white blossoms that looked much like the elanor of Lothlórien, but for their color.  Ványalos smiled as he inhaled their fragrance before handing them to the child.  “Ah, eliminyar.   That is what your people call them, first stars, because as the stars they resemble do in the evening skies, they are the first flowers to open in the morning, and the last to close at night.  Did Olórin tell you that giving them to another is a custom of welcome to a guest among the Eldar of Lórien?”

Melui shook her head.  “No, I didn’t know.  Would it be wrong for me to give them to Lady Estë, if they’re supposed to be given to a guest?”

“Not at all,” she was assured.  “They are a much-prized flower, for they do not grow in all parts of Lórien, and here beneath the trees of its heart, they are seen only when others bring them as gifts.  Lady Estë is quite fond of them, and she will be pleased to accept them, I’m sure.”

Having relieved the girl’s concern, Ványalos turned his attention back to his neighbor.  “I will see to the comfort of your horses while you visit the Lord and Lady.  And I will make certain Frodo knows that he may expect you at the time you anticipated.  He was surprised at first to hear that you would be returning from the north with guests, but he is delighted by the chance to welcome them.  His people truly are the most hospitable I have ever known.”

“They are indeed, and I think there is much that the people of Aman might learn from the hobbits, while they are with us.  I am relieved to hear that he did not take the news poorly.  He has not been long in the West, and his time thus far has been filled with many difficulties not of his making.”

“Which are all well in the past, and behind him, as you know.  May I assist you, my lady?” the redhead asked Aránayel ever so graciously, noting that she had not yet dismounted.  “Seven days of travel across the open country can be wearying, even for the most experienced rider, and the lands in that part of the west never quite seem to lose all of winter’s chill.”

Aránayel gave him a measuring glance, attempting to gauge his sincerity.  Ványalos was wearing his most ingenuous expression and had spoken politely, so that not even she could tell if he was in any way dissembling.  After considering this for a moment, she accepted his offer with a brisk nod.  “So you are Olórin’s neighbor, of whom we have heard so many colorful tales,” she said neutrally.

Ványalos laughed.  “Have you?  Then I am justly rebuked for all the many colorful tales I have told of others.  I trust you did not find these stories too boring.”

She sniffed.  “Too fantastic, perhaps, but I am not well acquainted with any of the people of the Master of Dreams.  I only know of him through his lady sister, and from what I have heard, they are not similar in their habits.”

“On the surface, no, I believe you are quite correct.  In any case, he and the Lady Estë are awaiting all their guests, and so you may soon judge for yourself how he and his sister are unique.”

Something in his words appeared to please her, but Olórin spoke before she could say a word.  “In which case, we should not keep them waiting.  Aránayel, would you mind taking the children into the hall?  I require a moment to make certain Ványalos properly sees to the needs of our horses.  His skill with beasts is pitifully meager compared to his skill with words, and I would not wish to have our hosts wait to meet their honored guests.  They know me entirely too well, and will not suffer for a minute or two of my absence.”

Aránayel cocked her head as one might when studying some unexpected curiosity; there was a hint of displeasure in her face.  “I had expected you to properly introduce us to our hosts.  Or is it not the custom here for the guest who is best known to present those who have not yet visited the house?”

Her reaction seemed strange to Ványalos; he cast Olórin a questioning glance once his back was to Aránayel.  The Istar did not respond to him openly, but Ványalos noted something in his tone of voice that seemed oddly disquieted.  “It is, but I shan’t be long.  No doubt I will rejoin you before you reach the place where the Lord and Lady are wont to receive visitors.”

A shadow of doubt flickered across her face, but Aránayel offered no further protest.  When she and the twins were gone, Ványalos turned to his neighbor.  “I can see now why you once tricked yourself into believing that she might harbor some interest in you, pityandil.  There are few who can boast of such beauty even among our people — yet I can also understand why you were warned to stay away from her.  She could stand for a century in the full heat of the heart of the sun and still show no sign of warmth.  But has there been some change in the climate between you?  I had expected her to wish some other person to present her to my Lord and Lady, not you.”

The breath Olórin loosed was nearly a groan.  “So had I.  My feelings toward her have not changed, Ványalos, and I suspect that she likes me no more than she did on the day of my unfortunate confession, all those years ago.  But it would seem that she is not above manipulating how others perceive the current situation, if it will be to her benefit.”

“How so?”

The Istar ran his fingers through his pale hair before answering; as they brushed against the narrow band of crystal, he knew that his suspicions were not mistaken.  “The fact that I once believed myself to be in love with her and actually wished for her love in return is something I have never attempted to hide, even after I realized that it was a fantasy that had no basis whatsoever in reality.  The pain I felt over my own foolishness was longer-lived than the affection I imagined I held for her.  And I know beyond doubt that she is aware of this, for I spoke of it quite plainly before we left Nienna’s house, so that she would not fear that I might still harbor some hope of kindling such a relationship.  She seemed pleased to hear it, because indeed, she was no more fond of me than she had ever been — less, if anything.”

The explanation did nothing to relieve Ványalos’ confusion.  “Then why would she prefer that you be the one to present her to Irmo and Estë?  Would she not rather they viewed her as a governess of these Elven children than claim any connection with you?”

This time, Olórin did groan as he shook his head.  “Apparently not.  Over the course of our journey here, she came to realize several things, most importantly that I am not the same naive person she remembers from our youth, that I have at the very least gained some respect from those whom we all serve, and in particular that I have managed to win the approval of Lord Eru.  She desperately wishes to be free of her exile in the north, and for that I do not blame her, but I fear that from all that has happened during our travels, she has decided that the best way to achieve that goal is through me.  She has been unusually solicitous toward me ever since we left Yavanna’s house, and Melui has overheard certain remarks that seem to indicate that Aránayel has been fostering the notion among others that our relationship may be developing in the ways I had once desired, and she had once refused.”

Ványalos’ mobile face suddenly went still.  “You cannot be serious...!”

“I wish I weren’t, but I’m afraid I am, quite serious.  There was never any reason to discuss the particulars of the lodgings which had been arranged for her and the children here in Lórien.  She has developed a notion that she will make some kind of long-term residence in my house, and will send the twins off to live among the Eldar, as soon as may be.  What she intends to do with Frodo, I have no idea.”

The redhead grimaced.  “And you have done naught to disabuse her of this nonsense?  I have not relished the thought of having her as even a temporary guest, but I like even less the thought of having her in my home, displeased with her lodgings because she had not been told that her presumption of where she was to stay was in error!”

“I realize that, but I discovered this particular detail only this morning, when Melui mentioned things she had overheard to me.  Since then, there has been no opportunity to take Aránayel aside to discuss it privately, and I did not want the children to witness her fury if she took such news poorly.  They have already seen more of her ill temper than I would wish on anyone, especially a child.”

Ványalos’ annoyance vanished as quickly as it had risen.  “Then I forgive you for not warning me sooner, since you have had little warning of your own.  She may think her ploy a clever one, but you know as well as I that here of all places, it will not avail her.  You are well known to every resident of Lórien, especially to those in the hill country, and whatever she says of your relationship, unless it is confirmed by you, they will know it for a lie.”

Olórin grimaced, irritably pushing errant windblown strands of hair out of his eyes.  “I know, I know, and if this were nothing more than a case of Aránayel telling falsehoods to garner sympathy for herself and undermine my reputation, I would dismiss it without a second thought — as I would have many years ago, when the rest of you conspired to keep the knowledge of certain words she spoke at an autumn festival from ever reaching my ears.”

The taller Maia cleared his throat, unsuccessful in suppressing the color from rising in his cheeks.  “I admit I have been a party to that secrecy, but it truly was done as gesture of compassion, Olórin, and for no other reason.  You were not yet recovered from the abuse you had suffered under her tongue, and since we did not have the power to silence her utterly, we were determined to make certain she never injured you again, even through gossip.”

“For which I am grateful, not angry.  I am no longer so fragile, but I shan’t deny that I am not yet fully healed of my more recent hurts.  And that is why I wished to speak with you, before privacy may become difficult to obtain.  Aránayel has tried to be subtle in her machinations, most likely to prevent me from interfering before she has gained at least a portion of the result she wishes, and so long as she does nothing overtly dishonest or harmful, I will let her be as solicitous as she likes.  If I neither encourage nor hinder her, when others see through her ploys, she will have no one but herself to blame, and thus might learn from the experience.”

Ványalos snorted as he took the reins of horses.  “I may not know her as well as you, but from the little I have seen and heard, I think you may be asking for something beyond her ability.”

“Perhaps, but I see no harm in allowing her such a chance.  Yet over the last three days, I have sensed something more to her behavior, something I cannot lay my finger upon.  When Melui told me of what she had overheard this morning, for a time, I thought this might be the cause of my anxiety, but my heart insists it is not.  Before we parted company, Helyanwë warned me that Aránayel’s anger toward me has not diminished, that she would attempt to harm me if she could.  I felt she was mistaken at the time, but the more this feeling of disquiet persists, the more I cannot help but suspect that she may be right.  I want to help these children as best I am able, but if I must remain wary for new treachery from Aránayel....”

“It would be quite impossible,” Ványalos finished for him, suddenly smiling.  “Worry not, my old friend, this at least is a matter we have considered, and taken steps to help remedy.  Until now, I had no notion of the full nature of the difficulties you were facing, but we have been given warning that there may be greater trouble ahead.”

Olórin did not hide his surprise.  “By whom?  Helyanwë?  Lady Nienna?”

The tall Maia shook his head, his long queue dancing with the motion; his grin was impish.  “No, though I have discussed the situation with both of them since the message was received.  The warning came from one of Lady Yavanna’s people, Ornedil.”

The Istar’s eyes widened at this even more unexpected revelation.  “Ornedil?  But... why?  I did speak with him for a time at the feast in Yavanna’s house, but not of Aránayel.  To be truthful, I was more concerned about how he had been affected by what became of his brother.  Why would he have warned you of any difficulties I might face with Aránayel?”

“Because he is more perceptive than most folk would believe.  Aiwendil had greater knowledge of Yavanna’s birds and beasts, but much like yourself, Ornedil has quietly studied things that generally do not interest others of his people.  You forget that he and I are also friends, as we have both long served our masters as a favored messenger.  Not the most prestigious of orders, I do grant, but one that serves a useful purpose.  In truth, I have often thought that you and he have a great deal in common, though his interests are less broad and his wisdom far less deep.  That was why he worried for his brother’s safety as one of the Istari in Endorë, and why he noticed certain things at Lady Yavanna’s feast which you did not.  Ornedil saw and heard things that you were too busy to see, and he told me of them so that I might warn you.  He considers it a small repayment on behalf of his brother, who became a disappointment rather than a supporter of your mutual mission.”

After taking a few moments to digest this, Olórin sighed, his faint smile rueful.  “Someday, I must make myself better acquainted with Ornedil — and sooner than that, I must thank him for this.  But I still do not know precisely what may happen.  What preparations have you made to deal with this situation?”

Ványalos’ own smile broadened as they brought the horses to the water’s edge, removing their reins so that they could graze freely on the lush grasses that grew between the path and the lake.  “One you have already seen.  Originally, I had not planned to be here to greet you, and if you had not attempted to draw me aside to speak, I would have asked for a moment alone to confer with you.  Frodo is well prepared to deal with any trouble Aránayel might attempt to cause in your household, while I am prepared to debase myself in whatever ways are necessary to prevent her from harassing you.”

“I sincerely hope you are not speaking literally,” the Istar said, reacting to his peculiar choice of the word debase.

Ványalos laughed.  “Not if it can be avoided.  Others have said that I can ingratiate myself to anyone, given the opportunity, and I will do my best with her, for your sake.  If she can at least come to accept my hospitality because I flatter her vanity or some such, then it will make matters easier for you.  In my own house, it will be much less difficult to watch her for signs of trouble or treachery, and it is no bother at all for me, since she and I have no distressing history between us.  Also, there are other plans already set in motion that should shorten all our trials, but I think it best if I tell you no more than that.  You cannot be blamed for what you do not know — or, rather, you might be blamed by her, but she will tarnish her own image in so doing, not yours, for you will remain innocent.  If it is acceptable to you, I will accompany your party on the remainder of your journey to the hill country, to begin in earnest my part of these designs.”

Olórin hesitated, not certain he wished any of his friends to become ensnared with Aránayel and her scheming tempers, until he realized that they were already involved.  “I suppose that there truly is no other option, since I had already agreed to allow the children to come as my guests before I was told who was to accompany them as their tutor.  I still do not quite grasp the full wisdom of Lady Nienna’s choice, but I am grateful for your help.”

“And how could any of us refuse to give it?  Our aid is as much a means of assuaging our curiosity as it is a means to assist you in a difficult situation — mine in particular.  After all, I have long been told that my greatest gift is in making mischief, yet you have always dismissed my taunts and teasing with ease, while the effect of Aránayel’s misbehavior has been vastly more permanent.  I have often felt that my efforts are but the trifles of an apprentice, and I would very much like to see a true master at work.”