The Lord of the Rings Omnibus (1-3) (54 page)

‘Say not
unscathed
, but if you say
unchanged
, then maybe you will speak the truth,’ said Aragorn. ‘But lore wanes in Gondor, Boromir, if in the city of those who once were wise they now speak evil of Lothlórien. Believe what you will, there is no other way for us – unless you would go back to Moria-gate, or scale the pathless mountains, or swim the Great River all alone.’

‘Then lead on!’ said Boromir. ‘But it is perilous.’

‘Perilous indeed,’ said Aragorn, ‘fair and perilous; but only evil need fear it, or those who bring some evil with them. Follow me!’

They had gone little more than a mile into the forest when they came upon another stream flowing down swiftly from the tree-clad slopes that climbed back westward towards the mountains. They heard it splashing over a fall away among the shadows on their right. Its dark hurrying waters ran across the path before them, and joined the Silverlode in a swirl of dim pools among the roots of trees.

‘Here is Nimrodel!’ said Legolas. ‘Of this stream the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, and still we sing them in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. I will bathe my feet, for it is said that the water is healing to the weary.’ He went forward and climbed down the deep-cloven bank and stepped into the stream.

‘Follow me!’ he cried. ‘The water is not deep. Let us wade across! On the further bank we can rest, and the sound of the falling water may bring us sleep and forgetfulness of grief.’

One by one they climbed down and followed Legolas. For a moment Frodo stood near the brink and let the water flow over his tired feet. It was cold but its touch was clean, and as he went on and it mounted to his knees, he felt that the stain of travel and all weariness was washed from his limbs.

When all the Company had crossed, they sat and rested and ate a little food; and Legolas told them tales of Lothlórien that the Elves of Mirkwood still kept in their hearts, of sunlight and starlight upon the meadows by the Great River before the world was grey.

At length a silence fell, and they heard the music of the waterfall running sweetly in the shadows. Almost Frodo fancied that he could hear a voice singing, mingled with the sound of the water.

‘Do you hear the voice of Nimrodel?’ asked Legolas. ‘I will sing you a song of the maiden Nimrodel, who bore the same name as the stream beside which she lived long ago. It is a fair song in our woodland tongue; but this is how it runs in the Westron Speech, as some in Rivendell now sing it.’ In a soft voice hardly to be heard amid the rustle of the leaves above them he began:

An Elven-maid there was of old,

A shining star by day:

Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,

Her shoes of silver-grey.

A star was bound upon her brows,

A light was on her hair

As sun upon the golden boughs

In Lórien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,

And fair she was and free;

And in the wind she went as light

As leaf of linden-tree.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,

By water clear and cool,

Her voice as falling silver fell

Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,

In sunlight or in shade;

For lost of yore was Nimrodel

And in the mountains strayed.

The elven-ship in haven grey

Beneath the mountain-lee

Awaited her for many a day

Beside the roaring sea.

A wind by night in Northern lands

Arose, and loud it cried,

And drove the ship from elven-strands

Across the streaming tide.

When dawn came dim the land was lost,

The mountains sinking grey

Beyond the heaving waves that tossed

Their plumes of blinding spray.

Amroth beheld the fading shore

Now low beyond the swell,

And cursed the faithless ship that bore

Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-king,

A lord of tree and glen,

When golden were the boughs in spring

In fair Lothlórien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,

As arrow from the string,

And dive into the water deep,

As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,

The foam about him shone;

Afar they saw him strong and fair

Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,

And on the Hither Shore

No tidings Elven-folk have heard

Of Amroth evermore.

The voice of Legolas faltered, and the song ceased. ‘I cannot sing any more,’ he said. ‘That is but a part, for I have forgotten much. It is long and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothlórien, Lórien of the Blossom, when the Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains.’

‘But the Dwarves did not make the evil,’ said Gimli.

‘I said not so; yet evil came,’ answered Legolas sadly. ‘Then many of the Elves of Nimrodel’s kindred left their dwellings and departed, and she was lost far in the South, in the passes of the White Mountains; and she came not to the ship where Amroth her lover waited for her. But in the spring when the wind is in the new leaves the echo of her voice may still be heard by the falls that bear her name. And when the wind is in the South the voice of Amroth comes up from the sea; for Nimrodel flows into Silverlode, that Elves call Celebrant, and Celebrant into Anduin the Great, and Anduin flows into the Bay of Belfalas whence the Elves of Lórien set sail. But neither Nimrodel nor Amroth came ever back.

‘It is told that she had a house built in the branches of a tree that grew near the falls; for that was the custom of the Elves of Lórien, to dwell in the trees, and maybe it is so still. Therefore they were called the Galadhrim, the Tree-people. Deep in their forest the trees are very great. The people of the woods did not delve in the ground like Dwarves, nor build strong places of stone before the Shadow came.’

‘And even in these latter days dwelling in the trees might be thought safer than sitting on the ground,’ said Gimli. He looked across the stream to the road that led back to Dimrill Dale, and then up into the roof of dark boughs above.

‘Your words bring good counsel, Gimli,’ said Aragorn. ‘We cannot build a house, but tonight we will do as the Galadhrim and seek refuge in the tree-tops, if we can. We have sat here beside the road already longer than was wise.’

The Company now turned aside from the path, and went into the shadow of the deeper woods, westward along the mountain-stream away from Silverlode. Not far from the falls of Nimrodel they found a cluster of trees, some of which overhung the stream. Their great grey trunks were of mighty girth, but their height could not be guessed.

‘I will climb up,’ said Legolas. ‘I am at home among trees, by root or bough, though these trees are of a kind strange to me, save as a name in song.
Mellyrn
they are called, and are those that bear the yellow blossom, but I have never climbed in one. I will see now what is their shape and way of growth.’

‘Whatever it may be,’ said Pippin, ‘they will be marvellous trees indeed if they can offer any rest at night, except to birds. I cannot sleep on a perch!’

‘Then dig a hole in the ground,’ said Legolas, ‘if that is more after the fashion of your kind. But you must dig swift and deep, if you wish to hide from Orcs.’ He sprang lightly up from the ground and caught a branch that grew from the trunk high above his head. But even as he swung there for a moment, a voice spoke suddenly from the tree-shadows above him.

‘
Daro!
’ it said in commanding tone, and Legolas dropped back to earth in surprise and fear. He shrank against the bole of the tree.

‘Stand still!’ he whispered to the others. ‘Do not move or speak!’

There was a sound of soft laughter over their heads, and then another clear voice spoke in an elven-tongue. Frodo could understand little of what was said, for the speech that the Silvan folk east of the mountains used among themselves was unlike that of the West. Legolas looked up and answered in the same language.
*

‘Who are they, and what do they say?’ asked Merry.

‘They’re Elves,’ said Sam. ‘Can’t you hear their voices?’

‘Yes, they are Elves,’ said Legolas; ‘and they say that you breathe so loud that they could shoot you in the dark.’ Sam hastily put his hand over his mouth. ‘But they say also that you need have no fear. They have been aware of us for a long while. They heard my voice across the Nimrodel, and knew that I was one of their Northern kindred, and therefore they did not hinder our crossing; and afterwards they heard my song. Now they bid me climb up with Frodo; for they seem to have had some tidings of him and of our journey. The others they ask to wait a little, and to keep watch at the foot of the tree, until they have decided what is to be done.’

Out of the shadows a ladder was let down: it was made of rope, silver-grey and glimmering in the dark, and though it looked slender it proved strong enough to bear many men. Legolas ran lightly up, and Frodo followed slowly; behind came Sam trying not to breathe loudly. The branches of the mallorn-tree grew out nearly straight from the trunk, and then swept upward; but near the top the main stem divided into a crown of many boughs, and among these they found that there had been built a wooden platform, or
flet
as such things were called in those days: the Elves called it a
talan
. It was reached by a round hole in the centre through which the ladder passed.

When Frodo came at last up on to the flet he found Legolas seated with three other Elves. They were clad in shadowy-grey, and could not be seen among the tree-stems, unless they moved suddenly. They stood up, and one of them uncovered a small lamp that gave out a slender silver beam. He held it up, looking at Frodo’s face, and Sam’s. Then he shut off the light again, and spoke words of welcome in his elven-tongue. Frodo spoke haltingly in return.

‘Welcome!’ the Elf then said again in the Common Language, speaking slowly. ‘We seldom use any tongue but our own; for we dwell now in the heart of the forest, and do not willingly have dealings with any other folk. Even our own kindred in the North are sundered from us. But there are some of us still who go abroad for the gathering of news and the watching of our enemies, and they speak the languages of other lands. I am one. Haldir is my name. My brothers, Rúmil and Orophin, speak little of your tongue.

‘But we have heard rumours of your coming, for the messengers of Elrond passed by Lórien on their way home up the Dimrill Stair. We had not heard of – hobbits, of halflings, for many a long year, and did not know that any yet dwelt in Middle-earth. You do not look evil! And since you come with an Elf of our kindred, we are willing to befriend you, as Elrond asked; though it is not our custom to lead strangers through our land. But you must stay here tonight. How many are you?’

‘Eight,’ said Legolas. ‘Myself, four hobbits; and two men, one of whom, Aragorn, is an Elf-friend of the folk of Westernesse.’

‘The name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lórien,’ said Haldir, ‘and he has the favour of the Lady. All then is well. But you have yet spoken only of seven.’