The Lord of the... whatever, Book II, Chapter 8:
Fare Badly, Lorien
That night the Company was again summoned to the ramshackle tree
hut of Galadriel (and Dullborn the Wise). There Dullborn the Wise spoke
to them and bade them to hasten their departure for "the time to leave
draweth nigh," as he said. "But before thou leavest (and we can
finally get rid of this bothersome dwarf) thou must decide where to
make for when thou set forth."
Then Galadriel looked at each of the Company and said "They are as
yet undecided, every one of them."
Aragon at once spoke up. "As leader of this Company I deem it best
if we make directly for ... eh ... for ... eh ... Mordor! Yes! Mordor!
We have to destroy the Ring. It is too dangerous a thing for Elf or
mortal to wield. And we have to claim Frodo's inheritance, of course."
At the mention of his name Frodo looked up smiling. "Inheritance.
Oh yes. Blue niphredils in high fields of green. Purple waters of
Nurnen reflecting the starlight of Varda in clear skies. Horses
thundering over yellow fields of corn..."
Into the ensuing silence Pipsqueak peeped, "But what about
Isengard? What about Aruman's subpoena? Don't we have to go there
"Well, yes," Aragon said. "Isengard. Of course we are going to
make for Isengard first. Never meant to do anything else."
"Subpoena. You're gonna bow before some stupid law? I'll do this
to your stupid subpoena!" Morrie brawled and flashed one of his knifes
menacingly while Lego-lass asked, "But how do we know Aruman is still
in Isengard and hasn't been summoned to Mordor?"
Boromir declared firmly, "I think we should make for Gondor,
for my home town of Minas Tirith."
Giggly giggled excitedly. Arwen nudged Aragon sideways and Aragon
decided that he best reassert his authority and fast. He spoke up and
decisively said "Eh... I... eh ..."
"At least thou shouldst decide which side of the River thou wantst
to take," Dullborn the Wise's deep voice broke into the confusion.
Everyone looked up at him except Frodo who was studying the ceiling
"Well, that's easy," Aragon declaimed firmly, "we will take the
west side... No, I meant the east side... Or west?"
Galadriel spoke up. "Well, apparently you need time yet to decide.
But my wise husband has thought of a way to help you.." Dullborn the Wise
looked perplexed. "They will be travelling along a RIVER," Galadriel
nudged, "and don't know which SIDE to take." Dullborn the Wise stared
blankly at her. "With RIVERS you don't need to take SIDES." Galadriel
looked imploringly at her husband. "With the right EQUIPMENT you can
delay the choosing." Still nothing. "You can just FLOAT along..."
"Ah, yes," Dullborn declared wisely, "we will lend thou rafts. Then
thou canst travel ON the river and needest not make so portentous a
decision hastily as which side thou wouldst take."
Galadriel sighed, "What the wise and noble Dullborn meant is we
would have lent you rafts if we still had enough trees to fell and
build them with. Instead Dullborn the Wise generously lets you take
some of our fast elvish rowboats. They need rowers, yes, but we can
bind three of them together and then your manservant, Sam, can row
all of you."
They accepted the offer gratefully (except for Sam who muttered
something about imperialist opressors and revolution).
"All, that is," Galadriel amended, "except for you, Arwen." She
looked at her granddaughter. "Your father El Rond has sent an Eagle from
Rivendell with a message ordering you to come home at once."
"Eagle," Boromir cried, at the same time that Giggly, jumping
excitely up and down, asked, "Is it still here? Is it?"
"Why, no, I sent it back." Galadriel looked flustered. "Did you
want to send a message back?"
"We thought," Aragon began, "We could have... Oh, never mind."
Arwen's face had darkened during this conversation. Now she spoke
up. "I am definitely NOT going back. Now when things get interesting
and I even might become the heroine of the upcoming movie instead of a
sidekick, I'll definitely NOT be going home!"
Galadriel smiled benevolently at her. Lights played on her hair
and the soft music of violins welled up from the background. "Well,
yes, I can see that a chance at fame cannot be passed over," she said.
"I will write a letter to El Rond and explain. He will understand."
"And now," Galadriel continued, "it is time for presents." She
clapped her hands and fair Elf maidens entered bearing the presents of
Galadriel and Dullborn for the company of the Ring. To Aragon as
leader of the party she gave a green gem, and said, "This is the
Elfstone foretold of old, heirloom of the House of Gil-Gallamine. May
it bring you more luck than its last bearer and may it be a warning to
you: The time of relaxing is not yet at hand. Beware of Orc maidens!
"And I have something else to give you," she continued, "something
that might save your sword from breaking again." She smiled and handed
him a small silver key. Aragon blushed furiously, then a big smile
crept across his face. He bowed deeply and then beamed at Arwen who
winked back at him.
Galadriel then turned to the rest of the company. To Boromir
she gave a Golden Warhorn of Summoning, and Morrie and Pipsqueak were
gifted with a Silver Belt of Restoration each while Lego-lass received
a Composite Elven Long Bow +3. Her granddaughter Arwen she presented
with Winged Leather Boots of Speed.
Then she looked at Giggly. "And what gift would a Dwarf ask of the
Elves?" she asked.
"None," Giggly giggled, "for I already received more than I ever
dared to hope."
"Hear all ye Elves!" Galadriel cried. "Let none ever say again that
all Dwarves are grasping and ungracious... well, not ungracious, at least,"
she amended. "Nonetheless a gift you shall have," Galadriel said and
handed him an autographed poster of herself (a VERY limited collectors'
edition, only genuine with a strand of original hair of Galadriel
interwoven into its fabric).
Giggly gasped, then started excitedly to jump up and down. "What joy,
what joy. I shall take it with me always and when I come home to the
Dwarvish Mines of Erebor at last, I shall encase this treasure in
imperishable crystal and it shall be a heirloom of my house!"
Galadriel then turned to Sam. "I don't have much I can give you to
help you serve your betters in this quest; and besides, it wouldn't be
proper, of course. Only by exhausting themselves in the service of
their masters can true servants show their worth, after all, and
receive praise. But I do have something that might help you ease the
life of your master after the quest is done." And she handed Sam a
small box. "In this box," she said, "is collected the essence of the
trees felled for constructing the famous Golf course of Lorien,
bespoken with potent spells. When your master settles down in Nurnen
after this quest he may be missing the woods of the Shire. Then open
this box and spread its contents. There a forest will grow such as the
deforested shores of Nurnen have never seen before. Elvish forlorn
trees will grow there, high and mighty, and no axe nor chainsaw may
fell them for the spells laid on the contents of this box protect them
from any harm. Eternally they will stand on the shores of the
beautiful Lake Nurnen and your Master will enjoy taking a respite from
the southern heat there while you faithfully toil in his service."
Sam silently took the box and bowed as well as he could.
Finally, Galadriel turned to Frodo who was still smiling at the
ceiling. "And you, Ring-Bearer," she said, "I come to you last who are
not last in my thoughts. For you I have this," and she handed him a
small white stone. "This is an old heirloom of the Elves and came to
us under mysterious circumstances from far away. It has waited here for
you since the beginning of time. It is a light imperishable that will
shine for you in the dark when all other lights have gone out. But you
must name it first."
Frodo smiled at her. "Al'Tsahir," he said and the stone glowed
brightly and leapt into his hand. "All the saws here," he corrected
himself, "endlessly cutting trees of golden forlorn. Lights glowing
brightly with neon colours of white. Pink slippers of glorious shine
on wandering Santas of rosemarin..."
At the mention of The Clause all fell silent. The festive mood
vanished. The spirit of the audience was broken. They dispersed and
the Company went to bed.
The next morning they were woken by Halfwit, Rummage and Orphan,
the Elves who had first met them after they entered Lorien. They led
them a last time through the fabled Golf course of Lorien and down to
the Silverlode where three boats had been readied for the Company (tied
together with the fabled Elven rope, a distant ancestor of modern
Nylon). They were stocked with food and water, and contained an Elven
Cloak of Near Invisibility for each of the Company. Pipsqueak at once
tried the food. "Hmm, crap," he said, "Good."
"Enough, enough," Halfwit laughed, "This is not crap. These are
twinkies, which are a lot more nutritionally balanced than crap.
You have already eaten more than you need in a whole day!"
The company then entered the boats. In one boat Aragon, Pipsqueak
and Morrie climbed; the second one was taken up by Boromir,
Lego-lass and Giggly. The third one (with the paddles) was manned by
Arwen, Frodo and Sam, who took up the paddles. They pushed off from the
Shore and the current at once swept them downriver.
As they drifted down the Silverlode and into the Great River they
saw the last edge of Lorien, a tongue of land between the Silverlode and
the Great River, coming towards them. There the players clubhouse was
situated and out on the lawn a big picnic had been readied. Galadriel
and Dullborn stood at a small pier waiting for them among a company of
brightly garbed Elves and waved at them. But just as the current had
swept them almost past Galadriel and Dullborn and Sam started turning
the boats around and making toward the pier they felt a tingle, a
golden flickering and suddenly time seemed to speed up. The current
of the River became a torrent. It swept them past the pier and down
the Great River. Before they could react they passed a bend in the
River and Lorien was out of sight. Frodo passed out.
"Well," thought Sam, "so much to the good. At least I don't have
to deal with those snobbish imperialist Elves again, and that's a fact.
Giving me a box of FOREST ESSENCE for the delight of my MASTER." He
shook his head. The ruse with the autograph hadn't worked, but this...
He smiled and took the box out of his pack. It was much lighter now.
Well, he had made good use of its original contents. Let them try to
play golf in a dense forest of uncuttable trees, those greedy
capitalists! After all, what did HE need forest essence for! No, he
had replaced this crap in the box with something far more useful...
This chapter of this epic work is presented through the courtesy of
Karim Arain <arain02-aaaaaaat-FSUNI-dawt-rz.uni-passau.de>.
Copyright © 2000 by the author. All rights reserved. Some variance between this
e-text and the original printed material by Professor Tolkien is inevitable. Using this
as an electronic resource for scholarly or research purposes may lead to a certain
degree of academic embarassment. All agree that the printed version of the text,
available from respectable publishers such as Houghton Mifflin and Ballantine Books,
is to be preferred.
Boromir, Minas Tirith and Gondor are trademarks of Saul Zaentz and Tolkien Enterprises, who hold all merchandising rights to Gondor and its subsidiaries.
This document is not sponsored by the Lothlorien Golfing Society.