The negotiations between the Galadhrim and the Iron Garrison are in progress and are almost immediately agreed upon. Celeborn has readily pledged a contingent of Elven archers to return to the Mines of Moria with Bosi, along with stock and provision for a prolonged siege. Bosi in turn provides the Elves with tidings of the progress in the Mines, and every priceless piece of news regarding the foes within. While these discussions continue, Galadriel takes Seregrían aside, and the two Elf-women discuss matters higher than, and far beyond the scope of Moria. For the Lady of the Wood, like Elrond, has planned a long campaign against the Shadow, and she means full well that Seregrían shall be a player in this high-stakes game.
“I have indeed had words and thought with Master Elrond,” Galadriel explains. “He reached out to me first, such is his concern for you; you have always been high in his thoughts and his esteem, doubt it though you might. And I have means and gifts that allow me sight beyond sight, and I have seen much concerning you.
“The Shadow is moving, this you know. The fingers of the Dark Lord’s hand stretch out towards many lands and peoples, seeking to cover all in a second Darkness. You have done great deeds and balked the Shadow in many ways and at many turns; but there are challenges ahead, and foes you have yet to face.
“Into all of these cares comes the greatest care of all, for you: the slightest chance that Thandwen lives, albeit in a cursed form. Her departure from you was the defining moment of your life, and changed you from Nauthira to Seregrían, in more than just name. Even now the change works upon you, and others have seen it: the Flame of Anor is as perilous to possess as it is to wield. Have a care always that the Flame does not consume you as well, that you do not immolate yourself in its glory.”
“You counsel me to hold back my own gifts,” Seregrían counters, “while expounding on yours, and the coming storm where all gifts great and small shall be needed to fight back the Shadow?”
“Not so much as that,” Galadriel says. “Only to be mindful that fire is both servant and nemesis and can devour its wielder along with its foe. Just as your fires have blazed a path to victory for you and your friends, even so fire forged the Rings of Power, to the doom of all.
“Now we must turn our thoughts to your new path. Up until now, you have aided Durin’s Folk in their endeavors, and done well by any measure. Have you given thought to where your labors may take you next?”
“I have had counsel from many voices,” Seregrían says. “Elrond bade me aid the Dwarves, before turning his thought to the Dunedain. The Dwarves beseech me to stay with them and carry on the fight. But Arwen bade me seek you out for knowledge regarding my mother, and what might be the truth – for I am still in doubt of all I have heard and seen. My own wisdom is still uncertain, though my heart draws me to find out the truth and forsake all other paths. But this I know, that I cannot abandon all else to find out if my mother may yet be returned to me.”
Galadriel smiles, “Then your wisdom has not become uncertain – merely conflicted, as any would when presented with such a dilemma. But together we shall solve it. Arwen, my daughter’s daughter, was wise to send you to me, for here in Lothlorien resides the lore of the Elder Days, preserved not in manuscript but in memory. Now let us examine what is at hand. Tell me everything that has come to pass, this revelation of Thandwen you carry as a burden.”
Seregrían embarks on a recounting of her adventures, her embassies to the Dwarves, her joining the campaign in the halls beneath the stone, and the final confrontation with the merrevail where the terrible secret unfolded. Each passage of words and arms is examined and questioned, either accepted as lore or put to flight as false. Eventually Seregrían falls silent as her tale winds down to the present, and Galadriel picks up the threads.
“Every solution to every problem has an origin, a source,” she says, “and for this we must cast our thought back through the Wars of the Jewels, even unto the Noontide, and beyond. The denizens of the Dark are mighty, and beyond count, but not beyond knowledge. As you are aware, the Shadow can only twist and corrupt, it has never and has not the power to create new things of its own design. I have seen and learned as much of the lore of these creatures, even the merrevail, as any have ought to learn, and I say to you this: once a living thing is touched by the Shadow, the corruption runs deep, and is unlikely to be uprooted save through death.
“Do not despair at this, young one! I said unlikely, not impossible. I speak of the origin of the dilemma, not yet the solution. For now, our wisdom must consider events where the corruption was indeed expunged and turned to redemption. Do you recall the name of… Narmeleth?”
(To Be Continued…)
