The Lord of the Rings: Farewell to Lorien; The Tale

The Tale

That night the Company is summoned to the chamber of Celeborn, where the Lord and Lady greet them. Celeborn says it is time for them to leave Lorien or wait there until the ways of the world lay open again or to fall with the Galadrim at the end. Galadriel can see in their eyes that all are resolved to go forward. Boromir announces that his way home lies onward. But is all the Company going to Minas Tirith? Aragorn states that perhaps even Gandalf did not have any clear plans beyond Lorien.

Celeborn asks on which side of the Great River will they journey? The way to Minas Tirith lies on this western side of the river, but the more direct way towards Mordor is on the eastern shore. Aragorn looks doubtful and troubled, but Celeborn tells them he will help them as he may. He will give them three light boats to travel along on the river; it follows their way for many miles. But in the end, they must leave them at the great waterfall of Rauros and decide for west or east.

Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas have some skill with boats, and even Merry, who lived on the shores of the Brandywine, has more watercraft than most Hobbits, though Sam is still wary of the idea. All shall be prepared and await them at the haven before noon tomorrow. He and Galadriel wish them a fair night. ‘Sleep in peace! Do not trouble your hearts overmuch with thought of the road tonight. Maybe the paths that you each shall tread are already laid before your feet, though you do not see them. Good night!’

The Company return to their pavilion and hold a debate among themselves before they go sleep. Aragorn’s original plan had been to go with Boromir to fight for Minas Tirith, but now that Gandalf has fallen, he feels it his duty to stay with Frodo if he does not choose to go to the White City.  Most want to go to Minas Tirith but would follow a leader into the shadow of Mordor, but Frodo speaks no word and Aragorn is divided in mind.

Boromir is going to Minas Tirith, alone if necessary, for it is his duty. If they want only to destroy the Ring, there is little help in war and the weapons of Gondor. ‘But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain; and folly to throw away…’ Boromir becomes aware he is speaking aloud. Throw away lives, he means. Aragorn is deep in his own thoughts, but Frodo looks hard at Boromir. He said something like this in Rivendell. Their debate ends and they all sleep; the night is growing old.

The next morning they are packing up when Elves who can speak their tongue arrive with gifts of food and clothing for the journey. ‘The food was mainly in the form of very thin cakes, made of a meal that was baked a light brown on the outside, and inside was the color of cream.’ Gimli is at first doubtful, thinking it a form of the tasteless cram that he is used to, but after tasting it he devours the rest with relish. The Elves caution him: this is lembas, the Elvish waybread, more strengthening than any food made by Men, and should be used sparingly. A little does much and should be used only when all other food fails.

As for clothing, they unpack grey cloaks and hoods, made to size for every member of the company, made of a light silken stuff. ‘It was hard to say of what colour they were: grey with the hue of twilight under the trees they seemed to be; and yet if they were moved, or set in another light, they were green as shadowed leaves, or brown as fallow fields by night, dusk-silver as water under the stars. Each cloak was fastened about the neck with a brooch like a green leaf veined with silver.’ Pippin asks if they are magic cloaks; the leader of the Elves says he doesn’t know what he means by that. They are good and made with the love of the land. They will help them keep out of sight of enemy eyes but will not turn arrows or blades. The cloth was woven by Galadriel and her maids, and ‘never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people.’

After their morning meal they leave the lawn by the fountain where they’ve spent so many days. Suddenly they see Haldir approaching, he has returned from the Northern Fences and is again to be their guide. He reports they could not have returned northward: ‘The Dimrill Dale is full of vapour and clouds of smoke, and the mountains are troubled. There are noises deep in the earth.’

They walk through the empty streets of Caras Galadon, but there are many murmuring voices and singing in the trees above. They pass through the gate and over the bridge, then take a path through the golden mallorn trees, moving down southeasterly toward the river. They have gone about ten miles and noon is near when they come to a high green wall. Passing through an opening they come suddenly out of the trees. Before them is a long lawn of green grass, studded with golden elanor flowers. The lawn runs into a long tongue of land between the Silverlode and Anduin rivers. There are no mallorn on the other side; all beyond is bleak and bare with winter.     

On the Silverlode side there is a hythe [landing place on a river; small harbor or port] of white stone and white wood. Among many boats and barges are three small grey boats prepared for them, and here the Elves stow the Company’s goods. To Sam’s delight they add three coils of grey rope, light and strong and silken to the touch, to each boat. Sam asks what they are made of, ‘knowing a bit about rope-making: it’s in the family as you might say.’ They have only time to tell him the material is called hithlain (‘mist-thread’) before they have to practice getting in and out of the boats. The craft are good, but wayward if mishandled.

Aragorn, Frodo and Sam go in one boat; Boromir, Merry and Pippin in another; and in the third are Gimli and Legolas (now fast friends) with most of the goods and packs. They take a practice run down the Silverlode, Sam clutching the sides of the boat and looking wistfully at the shore. They turn a sharp bend in the river and are surprised to see what seems a swan of great size; then they realize it is ship, wrought with elven-skill into the likeness of a bird. Two elves clad in white steer it; in its midst sit Celeborn, and Galadriel stands beside him. There are flowers in her hair. She carries a harp and sings a sad sweet song about her years in Lorien and how she foresees their end.

‘But if of ships I now shall sing, what ship would come to me,

What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?’

The ship draws up beside their boats. Galadriel says they come to tell them farewell and bless their journey, and Celeborn says that they have not eaten together they bid them to a feast. They return to the hythe and the parting meal is spread. They eat sitting on the green sward. Frodo takes little but gazes on Galadriel and listens to her voice. ‘She seemed no longer perilous or terrible, nor filled with hidden power. Already she seemed to him, as by men of later days Elves still at times are seen: present and yet remote, a living vision of that which has already been left far behind by the flowing stream of Time.’  

When they are done, Celeborn advises them on their path. After many leagues the Anduin river comes to the island of Tol Brandir, the Tindrock, where it turns into the Rauros fall. Beyond the falls the river becomes the Nindalf, a wide region of sluggish fens, where the stream becomes broken and tortuous. The Entwash flows from the Forest of Fangorn in the west into the fens; on that side lies the Country of Rohan. On the other side are the bleak hills of the Emyn Muil. Beyond them are the Dead Marshes, then the Noman-lands, then Cirith Gorgor (where the mountain ranges of Ered Lithui and Ephel Duath meet)  and the black gates of Mordor. He warns them not to go too far towards Fangorn: ‘That is a strange land, and is now little known.’

Boromir has heard odd things of Fangorn in Gondor, but thinks they are just old tales. Celeborn says not to despise old stories ‘for oft it may chance that old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know.’

Galadriel arises and give them all a cup of mead to drink from in farewell. Chairs are brought for her and Celeborn and they sit to present the Company with gifts.

To Aragorn she gives a sheath for his sword Anduril, wrought with silver and gold, jeweled and traced with runes. ‘The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat.’  But is there nothing else he wants of her? He says that what he most wants was long in her keeping but is not hers to give. She lifts a large green stone set in a silver brooch shaped like an eagle. ‘Yet maybe this will lighten your heart … for it was left in my care to be given to you should you pass through this land … This stone I gave to Celebrian my daughter, and she to hers [Arwen, just to be clear]; and now it comes to you as a token of hope. In this hour take up the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil!’ Aragorn pins the brooch on and seems to stand taller and kinglier; he thanks Galadriel ‘of whom were sprung Celebrian and Arwen Evenstar. What praise could I say more?’

To Boromir she gives a belt of gold, and silver belts to Merry and Pippin to hang their knives on, each with a clasp shaped like a golden flower. Legolas is given a quiver of arrows and a longer and stouter bow, such as the Galadrim use, strung with ‘elf-hair’. To Sam she gives a small box of earth from her orchard, marked with a G-rune for Galadriel or perhaps for garden in the Common tongue. It won’t be of any use on the journey, but if what he fears about the Shire’s danger he can use it to restore his garden. Sam blushes and mutters thanks and bows clumsily.

She asks Gimli what gift a Dwarf would ask of the Elves? He stammers that it is enough for him have seen the beauty of the Lady of Lorien and heard her gentle words. She laughs and calls to her people to never say the Dwarves are greedy and grasping. Still, he must not be the only one not to receive a gift. When pressed, he suggests a single strand of her hair, ‘which surpasses the gold of the earth as the stars surpass the gems of the mine.’ Galadriel gives him three, and ventures to prophecy that if hope prevails and the Shadow passes, gold will flow from his hands, but it will have no dominion over him.

She come to Frodo last. ‘For you I have prepared this.’ She holds up a small crystal phial [alternate spelling of vial, a small glass bottle]. ‘In this phial … is caught the light of Earendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other light goes out. Remember Galadriel and her Mirror!’ Frodo takes it and as it shines between them he sees her standing once more like a great and beautiful queen, but no longer terrible. ‘He bowed, but found no words to say.’

They rise and return to the hythe and board their boats. All the Elves cry farewell as they push off into the stream of the river. Galadriel stands on the very tip of the land, watching them go. It seems to the Company that ‘Lorien was slipping backward, like a bright ship masted with enchanted trees, sailing on to forgotten shores, while they sat helpless upon the margin of a grey and leafless world.’ Galadriel is on the edge of sight when she lifts her arms in a final farewell and ‘far but piercing-clear on the following came the sound of her voice singing.’

It is a song in the ancient tongue of the Elves beyond the Sea, Quenya, and in the way of such words they stay in Frodo’s mind and long afterwards he translates them. They speak of things little known in Middle-earth, of Varda the Queen of Stars, called Elbereth in these lands of exile and the city of Valimar, the place where the Valar dwell in the Undying Lands. Namarie, she cries. ‘Farewell! Maybe thou shalt find Valimar. Maybe even thou shalt find it. Farewell!’ Namarie!  

The boats take a bend in the river and Lorien is hidden from their sight. Frodo never sees it again.

Their faces are turned to the west and their eyes are dazzled, because all are filled with tears at the parting. Gimli openly weeps. He had anticipated facing doom and danger on the quest, but not unexpected joy and then its loss. Legolas comforts him with the thought that he has remained faithful to his companions and will always have the memory of Lothlorien ever clear and unstained in his heart. The dwarf answers that memory is cold comfort; it may be different for Elves, for whom memory ‘is more like the waking world than to a dream.’ But mind the boat! ‘I do not wish to drown my grief in cold water!’

They travel between the banks of the river, bleak and leafless trees on either side. No bird breaks the silence. The sun rises high and turns misty, then fades into an early dusk, followed by a grey and starless night. They float far through the dark quiet hours of the night, the only sound the slap and gurgle of the river against the twisting roots of the trees on either hand.

Listening to this quiet sound, Frodo’s head begins to nod until he falls into an uneasy sleep.

[Bits and Bobs to follow.]