#isilivrin

“Nay, I have only read of it,” said Lailúva.  “But my great-aunt has lived here ever since she and her sister found the Vale after fleeing the sack of Brithombar and the destruction of Beleriand, and she has a great love for the place.”  Lailúva stood slightly in her saddle, her eyes scanning the horizon.  “She says no place in all Middle-earth is so beautiful, and there is no living being she favors more than her beloved mellyrn.”  She pointed ahead.  “We are almost to the border.”

Helwynn looked to where her companion pointed, and it was then she noticed the golden haze that hovered about the trees.  The leaves of the trees themselves were gold, but there was a golden light about them too, as if phantoms strayed between the trees.  She checked her horse immediately.  “That is Dwimordene!”

“Dwimordene?” asked Lailúva, turning her own horse to face Helwynn.  “I have not heard it called by that name.  Is that what it is in your tongue?”

“You said we were going to an Elven-realm,” protested Helwynn.  “Not to a place of ghosts and phantoms, where the witch within will put a spell on us!”

Lailúva laughed, though the sound was not cruel.  “Truly, is that what your people think of us?”

Helwynn felt her face flush, as though she were an errant child.  “No!  But it is well-known that those who wander into Dwimordene do not return, and are bespelled by the witch who lives within.”

“I have never met the Lady Galadriel, but I have heard nothing of her enchanting innocent Rohirrim,” said Lailúva merrily.  “I would not put it past my great-aunt, though.  But fear not, you are with me!  I shall let none of my kin bespell you, does this quell your fears?”

Helwynn considered.  The legends of Dwimordene were the sort told to frighten children, and while she had once feared to step foot in Rivendell, no evil had befallen her there, and she did trust Lailúva.  “I suppose it must do.”

“Good, because I am eager to see the terrors of Dwimordene myself,” said Lailúva, still speaking with kind humor.  “Come, let us ride!”

Elenant and Tuillinn carried them well, and if nothing else Helwynn saw that the elf-horses had no fear of the approaching wood.  The trees were more easily seen now; their silver trunks towered above, shining smoothly almost like silver, and each bearing a multitude of golden leaves.  More leaves were scattered on the ground, still a beautiful unfaded gold, and they were curiously shaped like three triangles connected together.  Helwynn had never seen anything like it.

They crossed a stream that seemed almost to sing merrily, the horses’ hooves splashing in the water.  They came to the very edge of the golden wood, and that was when Lailúva signaled to Helwynn to halt.  “Suilad,” she called up into the trees.  “Im Lailúva o Imladris, a adaneth na Helwynn Grimwight o Rohan.”

“Daro!” returned a new voice, and to Helwynn’s surprise a trio of Elves suddenly climbed down from the trees, clad in dark armor far different from that she had seen in Rivendell.  One stepped forward while the other two aimed their bows.  “We were not told to expect visitors,” said the Elf-guard in front.  “Not Elf, nor Mortal.”

“We have only just left the halls of Moria,” said Lailúva.  “I had hoped to receive better welcome from my own people.”

“You may be an Elf, but you are not of Lothlórien,” said the Elf-guard sternly.  “The Enemy is near to our borders, the orcs roam ever closer, and only those with the Lady’s leave may pass, Elf or not.”

“I may not be known to the Lady, but I am friend to all who oppose the Enemy,” said Lailúva.  “We have come here to aid in that fight however we may, and to bring information from Moria on the terrible events that happened there.”

“Such things are already known to the Lady,” said the Elf-guard haughtily.  “Nay, you must turn back.  Aid those at Mekhem-bizru if you will, and slay the orcs about our borders.  I cannot let you pass.”

At those words Lailúva seemed to accept defeat, and turned her horse aside.  “It is for the best,” Helwynn told her in a low voice.  “While I trust your word, I am not yet convinced that the Lady inside is wholesome, and not a sorceress weaving evil spells.”

“Then you betray your ignorance, child,” said a new voice, and Helwynn and Lailúva both turned to see a silver-haired Elf riding forward on a steed of copper-brown.

“A surprise to see you, Aunt,” said Lailúva.  “Or have you only come to mock us?”

“What brings you, Lady Isilivrin?” asked the Elf-guard in surprise.  “I had thought you were reinforcing the runes of protection about the city.”

“I bear a message from the Lady herself,” said the Isilivrin, pulling a letter from her saddlebag and passing it to the Elf-guard.  “The Lady has seen that my niece and her lesser companion approach, and has bade that they be granted entry to Lothlórien.”

The Elf-guard studied the letter, but then bowed slightly to them both.  “I must amend my statement, then.  The both of you are welcome in Lothlórien, and have been bade to see the Lady and Lord at once.”

Without waiting for further confirmation, Isilivrin turned her horse.  “Come.  I will lead you to Caras Galadhon.”

“I suppose we must not keep the Lady waiting, but will you let me stray a little, to see the mellyrn?” asked Lailúva.

It seemed to Helwynn that Isilivrin’s stern countenance almost softened.  “I suppose we might.  But it is the great tree in the city that you should behold, where the Lady keeps her talan.”

The two Elves started forward, but Helwynn hesitated.  The golden forest seemed lovely enough, but the stories of her childhood came back to haunt her nonetheless.  Who knew what truly lurked within Dwimordene?

“Helwynn?” called Lailúva, and she turned her horse back and returned to Helwynn’s side, where she took Helwynn’s hand with a smile.  “Helwynn, there is naught to fear, I swear it.  I shall let no harm come to you here, mellon nin.”

That word Helwynn did know in Sindarin.  Lailúva had been her friend for many days, had brought her to Rivendell and rode to battle with her in Angmar and walked alongside her in Moria, and she knew that if Lailúva said no harm would come to her, she meant it.

“Men norathon,” said Helwynn, haltingly, the words foreign on her tongue and probably incorrect.  But Lailúva smiled, and together they rode into the Golden Wood.

--