The Gift

By Fianna and Julie

Disclaimer: All characters of Arda belong to JRR Tolkien and no profit is being made.

A/N: This co-authored story is written round robin style by Fianna and Julie. This means that the story was tossed back and forth between us and the plot developed as we went, surprising us as we discovered it. We think it's turning out well enough to share.

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Part 1 by Fianna

They said the Golden Wood was a frightful place. Sariel had heard all the rumors, had shivered at the tales woven by firelight about the legends of Galadriel and her magick, her mirror, her ability to devour one's soul. The stories that once one entered the Wood one never left, of warriors guarding the borders with a zeal unmatched in Arda.

The very thought gave her the shivers.

Facing that border now, looking up at the line of trees shadowing the depths beneath, Sariel could imagine just how terrifying the wardens of Lothlórien might be.

"It is just as the stories say," Namoriel said from beside her. "Imposing."

Sariel glanced at her sister. "I suppose we will find out soon enough. Are we foolish for wishing to seek out the Lady of Light? I know Lothlórien has always been a haven of knowledge. The tales speak of elves who can speak nigh all the languages of Arda."

"Aye, even that of Mordor," Namoriel agreed, her expression one of distaste.

Kanyth, one of the elves riding with them, shifted on his horse, drawing their attention. "Haldir has traveled much of the world. He speaks many languages."

Sariel turned to look over her shoulder. "I would doubt an elf like Haldir would be among those on the border. He is far too important for that."

The elf shook his head, one brow lifted in amusement. "Then you do not know Haldir well. He guards this realm as if it were his own, with both vigor and diligence, as well as a bit of testiness when it comes to silly ellith like you."

Namoriel sniffed. "We are not silly, but very brave to come to this place with only a simple guardian or two. He cannot be that bad, not like the rumors say."

The guard grinned and Sariel looked at her sister. "What do the rumors say?"

Namoriel leaned closer. "He is as cold as the winter snows, sister. Eyes like ice, but so handsome as to make an elleth weep."

Kanyth snorted rudely from behind them.

Sariel knew they would find out soon enough as their scout appeared from within the wood, unharmed. He rode to the small party waiting and stopped next to their leader, Fineldion. "I have contacted a guard and we have been given leave to enter the wood, if only a short ways to be met with a contingent that will take us further."

Fineldion smiled, but he still looked uneasy. "Let us continue then for the day grows late. I care not to be on the border at night, we are too close to Mordor."

Sariel had to agree, nearly trembling at the thought of the creatures that might haunt the night. "But the elves are ever diligent here, are they not?" she asked.

Namoriel gave her the `look', the one that told Sariel she had asked a foolish question. Indeed, Lothlórien stood strong against the forces of Mordor and Sauron, but it was a daily battle it was said, one that would never end. It was a rather sad tale and it made her wonder if the elves of Lórien ever despaired of having peace, or being able to drop that vigil.

One that was immediately apparent as soon as Sariel entered the wood itself.

She could feel the eyes upon her, although she could see nothing among the trees but leaves and branches. She had prided herself on her wood lore, thought her training quite impressive. Yet here she felt like a novice, her sight hindered by the shadows and leaves, her nerves quivering in both anticipation and fear of the elves of Lothlórien.

They had to be a fierce lot even disregarding the rumors and tales.

Sariel's party rode a short ways beneath the trees, the light dim, almost gloomy. Sariel could almost compare it to the horrific forests of Mirkwood, another realm fraught with the beasts of evil, but then decided it was more her imagination and expectations than reality as a shaft of light broke through the branches to illuminate the wood beneath.

It arced through the leaves turning them gold like their name, trembling, fluttering in the breeze that whispered among the branches. The light danced along the ground, and then seemed to settle on an elf standing in their path.

Sariel felt the breath leave her lungs when he lifted his head to look at them, bow still strapped to his back, his sword at his hip.

"You can go no further."

(back to Julie)