VIII. Life in Lórien

            “You wanted to see me, my lady?” I asked Galadriel. I had been in Lórien for at least two weeks now. Adjusting was much easier than I had expected, though I could not say the same about swallowing the news about my parents. If only they knew I am still alive. They should have remained here, somehow knowing that their lost daughter would return home one day.

            “Yes,” she said loftily. “Please, walk with me.”

            I felt like I had to take an extra step or two to match Galadriel’s pace. This was perhaps the first time I had gotten a break from Nikita—not that I did not appreciate her company, but her fretting over her wedding seeped into me, and I wanted to get away from her. Galadriel provided me that outing, as if she had known I wanted change.

            “What did you want me for?” I asked cautiously.

            “I have not had the chance to talk with you one-on-one, to assess you.”

            “Assess me?” My eyebrows came together.

            “I possess certain gifts that allow me to see your character and quite possibly your life in the past.”

            “My lady, I do not think you should waste your time looking into my past.” I laughed nervously.

            “You are afraid of what I will find. Nimalia, I know you were taken from here when you were very young. What I may discover will not stun me like you think it will. It will also most likely not change my opinion of you.”

            “What is that, if I can ask?”

            “You are someone who wants to live the rest of your days content, to try and forget what horrors you have seen and endured.” She cut in front of me, abruptly halting me. She held my gaze, deep blue meeting ice-blue. I did not have the will to look away from her.

 It was like she was piercing through my very being, as if she was able to look through my mind and pick out details from my past.

            For the love of the Valar, I hoped she did not find the things which I buried.

            She raised an inquiring eyebrow. “What are you hiding from me?”

            “Things I am not willing to share.” My voice trembled. “Please do not put a spell on me that will make me tell you my darkest secrets.”

            She laughed. “Even if I could, I would not. I am not one who would abuse such a gift. But I do sense you feel remorse for some things you have done.”

            “Can you please stop staring at me? It is very unnerving.”

            “This is my way of seeing who you are,” she explained calmly. “Most find it uncomfortable, more so when they have something to hide from me. You, I am afraid, fall under the latter category. Whatever you are hiding was something you did not want to do willingly.”

            My eyes widened. She cannot dig through my memories. She cannot know about the river.

            I do now, a voice in my head spoke. I jumped back, still wide-eyed.

            Y-you can read thoughts too?

            I have many gifts.

            So I can see.

            “What involved the river?” she asked quietly.

            “I cannot say it, it will ruin me. The mere knowledge that I did it tears me apart, but reminding myself of it, it will hurt even more. I am sorry, my lady, but I am not willing to tell you.”

            “I do not expect you to,” she admitted. She dipped her head. “You will tell someone in time, I am sure. If it troubles you enough, you will.”

            “I—I can still stay in Lórien?”

            “Of course, Nimalia. I cannot see why you would not. Your past may play a small part in your future, but whatever happened, it does not seem like it has changed you drastically. Your past aside, you are the person you and your parents wanted you to be.” She smiled thinly.

            If I do let something slip about my past, you promise you will not mention it to anyone unless I say so? I asked, feeling ashamed to ask her through my thoughts.

            Of course.

*      *      *

            “What do you think you are doing?” I laughed as I snuck up on Nikita. She slid across her flet with grace, but the picture was somehow wrong.

            She stopped, her blue eyes widened. “I—I was…dancing.”

            “It looked strange,” I noted. “Why are you doing this?”

            “The wedding.” She said this as though I was oblivious to the event. “I want to impress Legolas by knowing how to dance.”

            “You do not know?”

            “No, but he does. I do not want to embarrass him or myself.”

            “Why not ask him for help?” I suggested.

            “No, I want to surprise him,” she insisted, smoothing out her grey gown. “Would you be willing to help?”

            I giggled. “What makes you think I would know how to dance?”

            “You do not have to; I just need a partner so I can practice. Dancing with air looks quite silly.”

            “It does.”

            She waved me to her. “Come here.” I crossed the floor to stand in front of her. “Now, I do not know how he plans to hold me, so we will see which way works best. Take my hand and put your other on my waist.”

            “Wait, what other ways are there to hold someone while you dance with them?”

            “I do not know. We may end up discovering them.”

            Since we were almost the same height, it worked out nicely. It was a bit awkward, though, having to stare at each other. We threw uncomfortable looks in any other direction, and when we looked at each other, we burst into giggles. For Elves who were thousands of years old, we acted like we were barely centuries old.

            I was not the most ideal test for Nikita to practice with, as I was completely hopeless in dancing as well. Still, we did get some fun out of it. To me, that was all that mattered. It made me forget my talk with Galadriel from earlier.

            “I believe the air is a much better partner than me,” I said as we continued to practice. I let Nikita spin under me.

            “You are not so bad. At least we both are coordinated somehow, even if it is not the prettiest,” she commented. “I just hope my dress does not get in the way. I definitely do not want him to step on it.”

            “That would be a shame. If you do not mind me asking, how did you two meet?”

            “Oh, goodness, I think I have not told that story much. All I can really say is that he came here to Lórien one day to visit, and I happened to see him roaming around. I was watching over some children at the time.”

            “Do you want children?” I asked.

            “The thought has come up,” she admitted, “but I do not think we share the same views on parenthood. If I could convince him to have the wedding here, I could most certainly persuade him to start a family.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, which made us burst once again into furious laughter.

            “You have lived here all of your life too?”

            “No, I am afraid I have not. I am from Mirkwood—well, it has its old name of Greenwood back again, but it will always remain Mirkwood to me. I was an orphan at a very young age. My parents were slaughtered. It is a shame that they are not alive, they would have definitely been here.”

            “I am sure they would have,” I chimed. “I am sure they will be watching from the heavens, proud that their daughter found a suitor.”

            “I hope to have a good marriage like they did.” We ceased dancing. She tossed her dark brown locks. “This is the time of prosperity and peace; everyone deserves a happy ending unless they have done so many bad things that strip them of that right.”

            I could think of many beings that did not deserve this happy ending Nikita was alluding to. I knew it was time for mine; I had been staying in the darkness for far too long. I knew being courted by someone was the last thing on my mind, but knowing that Nikita was to marry Legolas soon; it made me want to find someone who I could spend all of eternity with. If anyone can accept me after what I have done while in capture, I will be surprised. They may not believe me and say that I joined the Wild Men because they had corrupted me.

            I did not think trust would be the issue, more so the fear of being rejected because of my past.

            “How is your shoulder, by the way?” Nikita’s question brought me out of my thoughts.

            “It feels pretty good.” I rolled my shoulder to test it. “I have forgotten about my wound sometimes while here.” I cleared my throat. “I—I know it is not my business to pry, and I should ask him instead, but, did Legolas ever suffer any injures during the War of the Ring?”

            “Oh, I would not know. He does not really talk about the War with me, he prefers to focus on the afterwards.” She shrugged. “You should ask him that, but do not expect him to talk to you openly about it.”

            I remembered the deal I had made with Nikita’s betrothed. I say that if I open up to you—whenever that happens—then you will have to tell me about your past, particularly the horrors in it. Legolas had agreed to it. I did plan to go through with the offer at some point, but the big question was when. Would I run out of time to tell him of my past so that in return he would tell me his? Would I see my guardian as much once he got married to Nikita? Would I be forgotten about?

Would I never see him again?

**Yet another little insight to Nimalia's past. Don't worry, what happened at the river will come in time. Remember, if you've got a ship and are gifted in any way, show it through a graphic!**