*。☆。
★。＼｜／。★
˚ ₊ ♡ ❰ BALLAD OF BROKEN SWORDS ❱
*✧ ─── ❝ ❪ PARTING GIFTS ❫ ❞
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ACT TWO ── audentes fortuna iuvat 🏹 ⁺⑅

═════════ ☆•° °•☆ ═════════
CHILDREN OF ARDA DUOLOGY ⋆ ☄
. ♯ ❝ WE MUST FACE ITS DARKNESS ❞
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
˚ ₊ ♡ the third age ─── year 3019
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

━━ ˚ ₊ ♡ 🏹
❝ 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨
𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝙨𝙤𝙛𝙩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 ❞

*✧ ─── WITH HER WOUNDS HEALED, THEIR TIME AT LOTHLORIEN HAD ENDED, DESPITE THEIR WISHES TO STAY IN THESE PEACEFUL WOODS forever. its enchanted lands a welcoming reprieve to rest and grief the loss of Gandalf. But Aragorn, who had braved to shoulder the weight that Gandalf left, had announced their departure.

The day was growing, fog lifted and a watery morning sun just about manages to peak through the leaves of the Mallorn tree. The weight of her armor was a welcoming feeling, as she and the others had gathered at the riverside, where the elves of Lorien would bid them a final goodbye, with the Lord and Lady at the front, shining bright like a beacon of hope.

The plan was to row down the Anduin River until they would reach the falls of Rauros. From there, they would enter Mordor.

The Galadhrim had prepared boats from the lightest of woods to carry them across the water. They had also gifted them with Lembas bread. An Elvish waybread that could keep them fed for days with a mere bite. But before they were allowed to leave, the Lord and Lady of the woods had wanted to speak with them all.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," Celeborn' voice carries over the clearing, then gestured for several Elves who'd been waiting in the shadow to step forward. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

The Elves place an identical robe on all of their shoulders. Woven from the same light material the cloaks of the guards were made from. When it moved, it seemed to change color with its surroundings but when it was still it had a soft green color. The cloaks were clasped with a brooch in the shape of a green leaf with delicate silver lines. As it was fatened around her shoulders, Gyda could barely feel its presence, and yet it's material shielded her from the crips morning air.

Then the Elves move aside and the sun itself seemed to have entered the small glade. Lady Galadriel smiled with radiance as she approaches them. She was once again clothed in white, her hair like spun gold in the sun as it hangs unbound over her shoulders. A delicate crown was placed on her head, glittering like stars.

Galadriel first approaches Legolas and handed him a masterfully crafted bow that surely would have made Galion jealous. "My gift to you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim. Worthy of the skill of our woodland kin."

Gyda's heart warmth at the smile that graces Legolas' lips at the sight of the well-crafted bow, almost delicately pulling the string backwards, feeling its weight.

"To you, Merry and Pippin, I gift you the daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war." She smiles warmly at Pippins rather frightful expression. "Do not fear, Peregrin Took, you will find your courage." At those words he glimpses at Gyda, who nods assuredly at him.

Then Galadriel walks towards Sam, who barely seemed to be able to look at her. "And to you Samwise Gamgee, Elven rope made of hithlain."

"Thank you, my Lady," he stammers, then added with a slight blush. "Have you run out of those shiny daggers?"

Galadriel laughssoftly and the sound rang through the glade like a thousand tiny bells, pleasant and warm. Though she did not answer him and moves instead towards Boromir. "To you, Boromir of Gondor, I gift you this golden belt."

Boromir takes it with shaking hands, careful to avoid her gaze, Though, well-mannered as he was, he still managed a small bow.

Then the Lady approaches Elgarain. "You have gathered all the healing supplies you need and so my gift to you is this." She hands her a brush, made of light and silver wood. "This brush is made from the wood of the Mallorn tree. It shall not break, no matter where you take it."

Gyda watches as her hands curl tightly around the delicate brush and she smiles. "Thank you, my Lady."

Galadriel nods and then steps towards Gyda. "To you, Gyda of the Queens guard, I gift you these armbraces. They're made from mithril and shall keep you safe from harm."

Slowly, Gyda reaches for the armbraces, a gentle smile on her face as she held them close to her chest. "le fael."

Galadriel continues down the line. "And to you Aragorn, I grant you this sheath. The blade that is drawn from this sheath shall not be stained or broken even in defeat."

The sheath was decorated with delicate lines of gold and silver, with green jewels forming flowers and leaves. Aragorn accepts it with a bow of his head.

Then she reaches Gimli. "And what gift would a dwarf ask of the Elves?" She woners, her voice warm and genuinely curious.

"Nothing," Gimli mutters beneath his breath. Then he carefully lifts his gaze. "Except to look upon the Lady of the Galadhrim one last time. For she is more beautiful than all the jewels beneath the earth."

Then, taking them all by surprise, Galadriel chuckles warmly.

Gyda has to hold back a smirk.

Gimli was about to walk away, seemingly embarrassed, but he spun back around at the very last moment. "Actually, eh, there was one thing. No, no, I'm talking nonsense. It's quite impossible. Stupid to ask."

Galadriel waits patiently for him to choose his words; her smile never once lost its radiance.

"I would ask, if I may, for a strand of your hair, my lady."

Gyda's eyes widen, knowing very well the last elf who had requested such gift had been denied. For Fëonors had had not been pure when he asked.

But then, to her surprise, Galadriel reches for her hair and grants Gimli his wish. Gimli holds it in his hands like he is carrying a rare gem, fingers curling strongly around the strands, as if afraid the wind will carry them away.

At last, she turns to Frodo. "Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star." She leans forward and kisses him softly on the forehead. "May it be a light for you in dark places. When all other lights go out."

The lady of Lothlorièn arose back to her full height, and gazes upon the company, her eyes like pools of moonbeams, full of encouragement. Celeborn approaches them, and leds them further through the green land of the Tongue, and towards the glittering water.

Gyda watches almostly solemnly towards the horizon where the next part of their journey will unfold. One by one, the Company take their places in the boats, the melancholy cries of farewell of the Elves of Lórien ringing in her ears as they are pushed forward. Thrusted into the flowing stream of silver as the rippling water guides them onwards.

Silence looms over them, and Gyda can only look at Elgarain in front of her. The High-Queen as her eyes casted ahead, taking in the last beauty of the Lothlorien woods. On the lush, green bank near the very point of the river, Galadriel stands silently, watching as they pass.

Like fog clinging to the morning dew, slowly Lórien slips away from sight, blurring in the distance as the warmth and safety they experience is replaced by a dread-filled feeling. As if they have left safe shores and are bracing a raging storm ahead.

Gyda breaths in, steadying herself as the stream grows quicker, water rustling against the sides of the boat. Sunshine warm on her skin, and yet it felt colder than the silver beams of light that filtered through the Mallorn leaves .

It makes her look back again, keen elven eyes far more equipped to do so. In the distance like a lone star in the sky, donning a white dress, Galadriel still stood, hand raised in a final farewell, and then, as if the wind had gained a voice, singing reaches her ears.

In front of her, Elgarain's head tilts, the small bit of tension that had made her muscles rigid, easing up at the music, words melodically spoken in the ancient tongue of the Elves beyond the Sea.

Suddenly, the river swept around a bend, and the banks rise higher upon either side, encasing them, and hiding them from the light of Lórien. Southward they went, and the Silverlode passes into the currents of the Great River.

"Do you remember how we used to take out our little boats on the Golf of Lhún?"

A fond smile graces Gyda's face. "I remember vividly, the way you stirred yourself down dangerous streams."

"Well, I knew you'd come after me," Elgarain chuckles.

"I couldn't very well leave you out to drown."

She throws a look over her shoulder. "Let's hope you still think that way."

Her eyes soften, "I will never let anything happen to you Elgarain." She clasps a hand on her shoulder.

"Too bad these boats won't carry us home," Elgarain sighs.

Gyda contemplates her words for a moment, "No. No they won't. But we'll find our way back. I know it."

"Yeah," Elgarain mumbles before straightening her shoulders. "Do you ever think about how Galion's doing? Or my mother and the Elflings you were training? Do you ever think..." Gyda can't see her face but she can picture her hesitating frown perfectly. "Do you ever think we made a mistake leaving them behind?"

"It is because I think of them, that I know in my heart, whatever may come, whatever may happen was meant to be the way it is now." Gyda states surely, "It is our destiny Elgarain. It is why I must face Mordor once more."

"Are you afraid to go back?" Elgarain mumbles.

"Terribly so." She answers honestly.

"Well, then it's a good thing I won't let anything happen to you either."

The confidence in Elgarain's voice warms her heart, "Then I shall never have to be afraid again. Neither of us need to."

Then silence encompasses them once more, and they continue on their long way, down the wide hurrying waters.

Towards Mordor.

"We may make camp for the night, twilight is upon us." Aragorn calls out, and the two elves look up to where he is ahead, maneuvering his boat towards the bank, green trees lining down across it, providing them a bit of shelter from the cold breeze.

With haste, the Fellowship works together in bringing the boats on to the bank, the four Hobbits working together as they struggle, whilst Gimli simply hauls his onto shore, glowering at Legolas who had not moved to help him.

Gyda and Elgarain both push theirs onto land, sharing an exhausted smile as the events of the day catch up with them. Gyda can see Elgarain's eyes trail towards the healing scar on her arm, opening her mouth to question her. "It's not hurting. I promise."

Parting on those words, both Nõldorn elves journey up the small bank towards the others.

"We'll rest here tonight." Aragorn announces. "Let us hope no danger lurks in these parts."

With those works, individual tasks were given and their camp was slowly formed. A fire was stoked, smoke rising up into the dark night, as Sam was puttering around with his pans and cooking supplies, muttering under his breath.

Pippin and Merry were seated next to one another, inspecting their new daggers. Ones of Noldorin descent. The very same ones she had once brandished on her hip herself during her last journey to Mordor.

Frodo stands at the water's edge, hands clasped behind his back, blue eyes staring at the dark night sky, like he was searching for something hidden in the stars. It made her own eyes flicker up.

A gentle breeze caresses her skin, lifting her hair. Goosebumps rise on her arms, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Rubbing her hand on the pommel of her father's sword in a calming manner, she decides to call out to the Ringbearer. "Frodo."

The Hobbit peers over his shoulder, right hand reaching for something she cannot see. "Come. Warm yourself by the fire."

Frodo drags his feet up the small slope, granting her an innocent smile and she pats him on the shoulder as he passes her.

Gyda follows after him after a moment, taking a seat next to Boromir who has busied himself with sharpening his sword, and accepting a small wooden bowl from Sam. It warms the skin of her hands.

She nudges Boromir who looks up, noticing Sam holding up a bowl for him as well. "Your thoughts. They're elsewhere." It's not a question.

He pauses, breath faltering for a moment before his eyes lift to meet hers. "You've seen these lands before. The sorrow that is buried like seeds. The evil that sprouts from the shadows."

Her gaze softens, and she bites the inside of her cheek. "The air is different there." It's the first thing she can think of. "Like smoke." She adds as her own eyes fall on the flickering flames of the campfire.

She blinks and the vast landscape of Mordor flashes before her eyes.

Steadying her heart, she shakes away the images and places a hand on Boromir's arm. "I wish you would have never had the need to wander onto those forsaken plains."

"We must face its darkness if we wish for the light to triumph."

A smile graces her face at those words, but she says nothing else. Hushed conversation flows between the Fellowship, crackling wood and the heat of the fire almost soothing.

Gyda watches the gathered companions with a certain peace in her heart, the way the waning moon casts a light on them. The way the Hobbits smile and their eyes crinkle in genuine humor. How Aragorn sits with his pipe, staring at the shore, puffs of smoke floating in the air like wisps of clouds. As Gimli is telling tales of his homeland to whoever listens. Elgarain, ever so polite, smiles at the dwarf, eyes twinkling with interest.

Her eyes meet legolas' over the flames, heat rising to her cheeks.

"We need rest." Aragorn breaks through the conversations and everyone falls silent.

Gyda nods, dusting of her hands on her trousers. "I'll take first watch. I've rested enough the last couple of days."

Some grimace at her words, as her unconscious form flashes before their eyes.

"I shall stay up with you." Legolas stands up as well. "We do not know what lurks in these woods. It'd be safer."

She wants to protest, claim she can handle it, but she reels those thoughts back. Gyda knows he does not underestimates her skill. She nods at him as the others work on grabbing their blankets and finding comfortable positions to lay down on the grass.

Gyda and Legolas are perched together on a small rock, a little bit away from the others, arms pressed together. It's not long before the others fall asleep, silence looming over the camp.

"What will you do, once we finish this quest?" Legolas whispers into the night.

Gyda interlaces her fingers together on her lap, staring ahead. "I'd say I'd go wherever Elgarain goes. So Lindon. Back home." Her thoughts drift to her friends, Galion, Cirdan, Daros and Ithel. To the elflings.

He hums, but doesn't say anything else for a moment.

"What about you? Will you return to Mirkwood?" She wonders quietly.

"Yes." He pauses, almost hesitantly looking at her. "you might...might come?"

She stops fiddling with her finger to fully face him with furrowed brows. "Come to Mirkwood? With...you?"

Legolas smiles at her. "yes."

"I-I."

"I want to show you all the places I love...places my father showed..." He trails off, hesitant blue eyes meeting hers. "I want to show you my home."

Gyda's heart warms at those words. It screams at her to accept the invitation, but then her eyes drift towards Elgarain's sleeping figure. "I can't leave her." She finally decides to say.

His eyes glimmer. "I know." He pauses. "Perhaps think about it?"

"Okay."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

ELVISH TRANSLATIONS
le fael — thank you

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
TWO MORE CHAPTERS TO GO BABY!
then onto act three it is 💪