Daughter of the River (fiction)

Once, long ages ago, before the west of Middle-Earth was ruined and drowned, Galadriel, long before she gained a crown, walked in the shadow of a will and wisdom that far surpassed her own. In those days, she had never a chance to search the corners of that mind, but instead found her own subtly guessed at, so that she had, not by her own intent, laid bare the fell deeds of her kinfolk, and roused the suspicion of a hidden kingdom against those who could have been its stronger allies.

Since those days, she had learned well to guard her own mind, and to look through those of others -- thus she had not been caught off-guard by the Giver of Gifts, but had concealed her heart from him, and thus made safe the Ring of Water, and ever after had made safe her woodland kingdom, turning aside the ever-searching will of Sauron, permitting him no entry to the forest of the Galadhrim.

The world was coming to a time when that matter would have to be decided for good, one way or another -- as the shadow in the east had so swiftly grown, it would not be content to let the golden wood remain. Galadriel had taken counsel with Gandalf and Elrond, and agreed that Bilbo's ring must at least be examined in Imladris, with the possibility that, if it proved to be the One Ring, someone would need to risk its destruction. Privately Galadriel believed it was, indeed, the very ring – yet among her own people, nor over all the wide lands of Middle Earth, she knew not who could complete such a quest without falling to the ring's temptation, or being seen by the great searching eye.

So there stirred in her heart the possibility of another choice, one that would permit her to avenge her brother and all her people directly. If she were to take up the ring herself, she would cast Sauron down, and reign as queen over all of Middle-Earth, and make many wonders of beauty and might, and at last none would threaten her family and her kinfolk again –

She knew this was the worse course, and yet she had not been able to remove it from her thought, ever since the rumor of the ring’s return had come to her. Two paths lay before her: to wield the ring, and become fair and terrible, in greater might than any in Middle Earth...or to let the ring go, in hopes of its destruction, with the certain knowledge that, even if such efforts were victorious, it would mean an end to what power she had gained. It would mean an end to the Eldar in Middle-earth, the fading of their last kingdoms, the final failure of the efforts of the exiles to hold onto this beloved, broken land.

She knew which was the right choice, perilous though it was. Yet knowledge did not bring acceptance. The ring called to her, even from this distance. It would be easier, far, far easier, to use it, and not to risk it falling into the worst hands.

So she had to gain whatever allies she could to increase the odds of the right path’s success. She had to ally with whatever powers might aid that cause. Even those she had only heard scant rumor of.

Thus it was that she stood in dappled, wavering sunlight, beneath the boughs of a great oak, whose branches stirred in a steady wind. In the rush of the air through the countless branches, and the rippling melody of the river as it flowed over the rocks, Galadriel had hoped that she could find, just for a moment, a true peace...and yet, and yet, there was some alien mind, some smothering will that lay over this river valley. Something that she had felt watching her, since she had made her way into this forest. Elrond had warned her of it, that she may well not be welcome under its boughs.

The place felt a bit similar to Fangorn, that sense of malice lurking in the deep shadows...yet there, under the careful shepherding of the Ents, the forest kept the peace. Here, among the crowded trees, it felt more like a lord urging all his subjects to war, and all murmuring their agreement.

And was it here before her that she had found the source of that discontent? Here before her sat a golden-haired woman who looked for all the world like she was of the race of Men, yet whose mind was not remotely so easy to read. Men were open books, not puzzle boxes. Yet the thoughts of this one could not be grasped. They slipped away, like water through fingers. Worse, the more Galadriel attempted to seek the depths of what should have been a shallow pool, the more she felt in her own mind a sensation not unlike the creeping of water into a submerged boot.

And yet, the woman seemed comparatively ordinary. She was clad, not in raiment that befit one of high station and long-honed wisdom, such that they would have had the might and the will to resist her own power, but rather simply, in a grass-green gown, and a leaf-golden belt. Nor had she even stood tall to greet Galadriel, as was proper, but had remained seated on a great root of a willow tree, her bare feet in the water, and had watched Galadriel’s approach silently, looking only curious. Was this the power that lay over the river valley? It had grown greater as Galadriel had come close – was it coming from this seeming nobody? "Goldberry," whispered Galadriel, utterly forgetting the customary greeting of the Eldar. "What are you?"

The woman frowned, perplexed. "That is an odd question. Clearly you already know who I am. Why ask after anything else?"

"I had expected to treat with Iarwain Ben-adar. I have some guess of what he is. But as for you, I was under the impression that he had simply married a woman of the race of Men, and somehow blessed her with long life. I see I may have been mistaken."

Goldberry now looked nonplussed. "That is strange talk, my friend. My dear Tom does no such thing, nor do I think he would know how! Nor would I. I do not know what you would want with him, but he will be a while in coming along anyway. Might I suggest you sit and rest a while? It might do you good to lay aside whatever important business you have, at least for a moment."

Almost against her will, Galadriel sat in the shade of the tree, between two great roots. She did not relax entirely, however, keeping her eye on Goldberry. The woman still hadn’t answered the question of what she was, and it was looking like she wasn’t going to.

Goldberry regarded her with a critical eye. Galadriel expected to be feeling some kind of mental presence subtly contesting hers, as she was ever used to, but here, there was nothing. Just that innocent-seeming curiosity. Galadriel cleared her throat. "I suppose I should apologize for my assumption."

Goldberry shrugged. "Stranger things happen in this world, I suppose. And I have seen enough of them. You know...I feel as though I have seen you, a couple times, a while ago."

Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "When would this have been?"

"Oh...I cannot be certain, it must have been a brace of years. There used to be many more trees in this part of the world, you know, long before it was wide open fields...but the big road running east and west has existed ever since all those tall fair folks trod the path, heading west towards something. And then you were coming east with some handsome fellow of yours, a while after that. You seemed troubled. But you look as though you made out alright, with your magnificent garb and all. And you look so much like those tall fair folk...You must be among their kinfolk. Am I correct?"

Galadriel nodded slowly.

"Well," said Goldberry, "I sometimes meet such people, and they seem nice enough, but oddly reserved, and usually a little sad. I offer my house and hearth to them, but they always shake their heads and say that they are going away. They never even stop by my house. I find it terribly disappointing. But you, though, you came to see me. I appreciate it. Is there anything specific you wanted to discuss?"

"I…" Galadriel found herself at a loss for words, for the first time in years beyond number.

"Or maybe you could just tell me how you’re doing these days."

"Doing?" Galadriel sat up straight and proud. "How am I doing? The shadow arises in the east again, madam. Fell creatures creep in the dark vales again, and orcs roam the land with impunity. The great enemy of the world has come back to his place of power, threatening all with death and ruin, even you and your pretty little abode, and I am one of the few powers that stands in defiance of him. And you ask me how I’m doing?" The wind began to blow more fiercely in the branches, and stirred the water upon the river into low rolling waves. "I am striving to oppose him, unable to overcome him yet unable to lay my burden down, until some unknown hero can bring him to an end. I am seeking any ally I can find. And what is your Tom doing, exactly? He prances through his little forest and sings his little songs, and offers not his aid for the coming battle. I had to come and ask him myself, and instead I meet you, who acts as though I am nothing more important than another person. I who have lived in Arda through many long ages, countless years in exile – "

"What is a year?"

Galadriel’s next words died on her lips. The air stilled. In the hushed silence, she beheld Goldberry with utter bewilderment. "Pardon?"

Goldberry looked slightly annoyed. "You said something about years. It is a simple question. What is a year?"

"How in Elbereth’s name do you not know –"

"You could just answer the question."

Galadriel let out an exasperated sigh. "A full cycle of the calendar, encompassing a full cycle of the seasons."

"Oh, " said Goldberry, her face lighting up with genuine revelations. "Oh, I know seasons well enough, you could have just led with that. Countless, though? Do your people count the seasons?"

"Do you not?"

Goldberry shrugged. "I hardly see the point. They come and go, they turn and turn. I love watching it all, but if I had ever counted them, I would have lost track a while ago."

Galadriel had not relaxed. Goldberry’s impossibly ignorant question had made her sound like a little child of Men, yet her response had made her sound like...something else. Possibly one of the elves of the deep forests and the dark places, who had rejected the great journey west, and remained primitive...and yet somehow she had come this far West, and for some reason remained in this specific place for years uncounted, living under the shelter of Iarwain Ben-adar. If it were her will overlaying this wood, and her skill and wisdom had ever increased – wait, but what wisdom, if she knew not what a year was? Was this her power upon the valley then? She was immensely old, as old as only one of her own people had ever become, and yet still she remained a fool –

Goldberry’s voice interrupted her thoughts. "Your ring is lovely, by the way."

Galadriel froze. She could see the ring. The ring was supposed to be hidden. She could see the ring.

"I’m sorry," said Goldberry, her face apologetic. "You look like you just spotted a bear behind me. Did I speak out of turn?"

" What are you?"

Goldberry frowned. She rose from her seat on the root, standing in shin-deep water, seemingly heedless of how the hem of her gown was being soaked. " You have already asked that question, and I have already answered it." She folded her arms. "So let me ask you this. Do you actually want to know who I am? Are you actually interested in me, as a person? Because to me it sounds as though you simply wish to put me and Tom to use for this big fight of yours. I should think such behavior is terribly presumptuous."

Galadriel scowled. Who was this upstart to tell her that – wait, but it wasn’t Goldberry that was the young upstart here, she just acted like it. Galadriel shrank back against the tree. "Forgive me, Lady Bombadil, I see that I am hardly senior here. If you wish to cast me out of your realm, I will go."

"You speak strangely again," said Goldberry. She stepped out of the stream onto the bank. Galadriel would have expected the hem of her gown to soak the grass and the dirt, yet as the woman came closer, it did not even look damp. "Realm this, race that. Kingly business. Tom just calls himself the master, but only because the trees like his songs and listen to him. As for me I have more important things to do than worry about seniority."

"Such as?"

Goldberry pointed at a swath of reeds in the distance, where insects were swarming. "Watching dragonflies buzz around. A great task, you know, someone must do it."

Galadriel laughed. "I suppose someone must."

Goldberry pointed to a great willow that bent over the water. "And I watch the leaves turn and fall and spring out again. Someone has to do that too."

"I should hope someone does."

Goldberry pointed up the river, to where it vanished around a bend. "And I have to keep track of the source of this water. I do not know where I would be without it." She turned to Galadriel, folding her arms. "So you see, I am fairly busy myself, and I hardly have time to get into the business of who is lord over who. Do you understand?"

Galadriel nodded, feeling for a fleeting moment as if she were in her ancient home once more, listening to her mother’s stern lecture.

"Now I will ask again," said Goldberry. "Do you want to know who I am."

"If...if you would be pleased to tell me."

"Then I will start by asking you who you are," said Goldberry. "Clearly you know my name, but I do not know yours." She waded back to her root and sat herself down. "So who are you? Where do you hail from?"

Galadriel took a deep breath. " By my Father I was named Artanis, and by my mother, Nerwen, in the days of my youth, in lands far from here. The blessed realm, where the days and nights were lit by the greatest and most beautiful trees in all of Arda. Long destroyed they are, and that land is long separated from this world...and though I am one who could take the straight road to it, I am barred from it, until I am at last pardoned. The full tale of the loss of the trees, and the tragedy of my people, is too long to tell here."

"I have plenty of time," said Goldberry.

"And yet the world does not," said Galadriel. "For while the chief enemy of my people was overthrown and his fortress destroyed, his chief lieutenant escaped to the east, and as he has wrought much cruelty in Middle-earth since that time, he returns to wreak it again. Ever I have opposed him, and sought his end. I must strive against his will now, and do whatever I can, for whoever would stand against him. In a land long lost I was named Alatáriel by he whom I have loved most, and speaking the tongue of the grey-elves of that land, I named myself Galadriel. That is who I am. I am Galadriel, Lady of Lothlorien, the Golden Wood, and it is my power that keeps it alive, never to fade, as the world fades and diminishes all about my realm."

"Well how about that," said Goldberry. "Nice to meet you, Galadriel. My name is Goldberry." She rose from her seat once more, and extended her arm out towards Galadriel.

Galadriel glanced down at the arm. This was a very Mannish custom, this...shaking of the hands. She stood, and gently took Goldberry’s hand, half-expecting it to be as damp and clammy as a frog, but though it was a little cold, it was perfectly dry. She gingerly shook it up and down a few times. "A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, Lady Bombadil."

Goldberry looked up towards the sun. "A very large one, apparently. Well, my friend, you certainly sound as though you have important work to do yourself."

"Yes...yes, you might say it that way." Galadriel let Goldberry’s hand go, sitting back down against the tree.

"And you wanted Tom to help with all that?"

"In any way he might! Surely, if he is eldest –"

"Eldest of all," said Goldberry, folding her arms. "And you believe that means he is the most powerful. Or something of the sort."

"Does he not at least have some might? If he is master here –"

" He is master here ," said Goldberry, "but that doesn’t mean everywhere, does it? And never have I known him to try to lord anything over anyone, even me! Nor would I over any creature. It all seems fairly foolish. I think this evil shadow fellow of yours seems fairly foolish as well. Spending all of his time causing trouble! He could be watching the butterflies."

Galadriel laughed again as she thought of Sauron, in his dark tower, casting his searching eye over all the land and getting distracted by butterflies. "Perhaps he ought to, for once in his long existence. You offer the most amusing images, Lady Bombadil. I believe I am coming to know you, if not fully understand you. Would you be so kind as to speak of who you are?"

" Oh," said Goldberry. "Well." She rolled her eyes. "Lady Bombadil this and Lady Bombadil that. I am Goldberry."

"Yes...I know that, at least."

"And I am the daughter of the River Woman."

Galadriel frowned. "And who or what is this River Woman?"

"If you find her," said Goldberry, "she will tell you. Although if you start with her the way you started with me, she might take as long to get to the point, or even longer."

Galadriel chuckled. "I know of creatures that can take a very long time indeed to get to the point. You are not half as ponderous and roundabout as they are, I assure you."

Goldberry looked back up the river to where it turned around a bend again. "I can do my roundabouts well enough. Now where was I? Right. Daughter of the River Woman, and I have no idea when it was exactly she gave me life. Somehow I feel like things have...sped up, a bit, ever since that one large star began traveling over the sky."

Galadriel looked up at the sun, then back at Goldberry. The woman did not look as though there was a trace of age upon her, even in her eyes. An elf of such age would look as fair as ever, but their eyes would show a depth of wisdom and care that spoke of how much they had seen...but Goldberry’s green eyes were as youthful as ever. No indeed, this woman was no elf, not at all, not remotely. "You are correct," said Galadriel, "the cycle of seasons under the days of the sun pass more swiftly than the slow turning of the world in the years of the stars."

Goldberry blinked, as if taking a moment to comprehend Galadriel’s words. "So they have, then? But why?"

"I don’t...I don’t actually know," said Galadriel. "I do not know everything."

"And yet you act like you do," said Goldberry. "You come striding up to me all high and mighty, talking all formal and grave like you have all the wisdom in the world. Well, madam, I am glad that you can at least admit that you don’t know everything!"

Who in Elbereth’s name was this woman making her feel like she was as small as a Hobbit? Well,  this was Goldberry. She’d made that clear. Galadriel cleared her throat. "Returning to your tale of yourself, though?"

"Right," said Goldberry. She raised her eyes, lost in thought for a moment. "Now, what can I say about myself that I haven’t already said? Let’s see...Oh! How I met Tom. I pulled him into the water by his beard."

"You did what?"

"By his beard, I just said." Goldberry chuckled. "Must have made him like me, he asked the River Woman for my hand in marriage the very next day. Which was a formality, really, I had already told him yes. Who can resist a fellow who can sing?"

"You pulled the beard of Iarwain Ben-adar –"

"You keep calling Tom by that name," said Goldberry. "You keep being all fancy. Are they all fancy where you’re from?"

Galadriel was not sure how to answer this question. Among her own people she would have said everyone shone with their own light. Then again, compared to Men...but not the Dunedain, they had once possessed a splendor she sometimes envied. Even now she could see how some of them shone. She smiled. "There are more fancy people in the world than you might guess, my friend. I trust your marriage to Iar – to Tom Bombadil has been a happy one?"

"I would say it has worked out," said Goldberry. "We each have our responsibilities that we take care of, he the trees and I the water, but at the end of the day we come back together and have a lovely evening. So neither of us is lonely. I didn’t used to be lonely...I used to see more people passing by, you know, a while ago. Plenty of them taking down the trees – Bombadil had words with them, but did they listen? And it made my mother angry, and she flooded their fields, but they kept coming back."

"The men of Westernesse did much to alter Eriador," said Galadriel, "whether from fair Numenor or their later kingdom of Arnor. I didn’t like to see it myself."

"But did you say anything?"

"I...was willing to accept it," said Galadriel. "For the sake of their might, in the battles against Sauron and his servants."

"Hmph." Goldberry frowned. "Well, I have to tell you, even if you didn’t object to it, the trees have. They do quite a bit of grumbling lately, you know, feeling crowded here."

Galadriel felt the tree behind her vibrating, and something groaned deep within. She jumped, startled, toppling into the river with a splash. As she rose dripping from the water, she heard merry laughter, and another splash, and she looked up to see Goldberry’s feet resting atop the root where the rest of her had fallen backwards. The woman surfaced, spitting out water, laughing again. "Didn’t expect that did you? And I never expected to see a high-and-mighty lady covered in mud! Oh, I’m having a great day today."

The big root seemed to be twisting, slowly reaching for Galadriel. She backed away, but felt her feet catch on a root hidden below the surface of the water. She was stuck fast. She glared at the tree. "You insolent upstart! Release me this instant!"

The root, far from releasing her, felt like it was tugging her towards the bank. Goldberry splashed out of the water and stood at the trunk, putting her face against it, singing something indistinct. Very slowly, the root released its grip.

"There," said Goldberry, turning to Galadriel, giving her an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that, sometimes they need a reminder about being polite." She extended a hand to Galadriel.

Ah, the Mannish gesture again. Galadriel took her hand and shook it gently. Once more Goldberry doubled over laughing, and she toppled forward into the water this time, sending a wave over Galadriel – not that the gown wasn’t a lost cause, anyway. She folded her arms. "I seem to be inherently amusing to you."

Goldberry did not surface. Galadriel stooped, trying to see if the woman was simply hiding on the bottom, but though the murk made sight difficult, she could just see to the bottom – and there was no sign of her. "Goldberry?"

There was a splash behind her. She turned, to see the woman standing waist-deep in the river. Still smiling. "Do you know how to swim?"

In the days of Galadriel’s youth, the water had been one of her chief pleasures, and she had moved through them with the grace of any creature of the deep. It had been among the first of her athletic skills, and even when she lived in exile, in lost Beleriand or in Lindon or in Dol Amroth, she had taken her pleasure in the waves, wondering if, somehow, she could just swim right across them, and come back to her ancient home without needing any aid at all. It was, in some ways, a temptation as powerful as the ring itself – especially since she knew that, if she made the attempt and drowned, her spirit would return to the halls of Mandos anyhow. So she kept far back from the sea, in these later days, half out of love for her Celeborn, half out of fear of what she might find herself doing.

She blinked. Goldberry had vanished again. Then with a rush of water that soaked her front once more, there was the woman right in front of her, looking concerned. "Are you okay? You looked really distracted for a moment there."

"I – yes, Lady – Goldberry. Yes, I know well how to swim."

"Would you be willing to follow me, then?"

Galadriel glanced at Goldberry, who continued to look as innocent as ever, as the woman was extending a hand to her. Here in the water, she felt, somehow, slightly less of the power of that smothering will that overlay this valley. Perhaps it was safe to take the woman’s hand, after all – or if not, she would at least be able to contest whatever power she might be subjected to, if she could withstand Sauron. She slowly took Goldberry’s offered hand.

In an instant she was dragged forward into the water.

What occurred then was not what Galadriel would have called swimming. As she was pulled along through the water, she felt as if she could see all of it at once – every hidden hole, every rock, every creature that swam or crawled. She could feel herself moving slowly in one direction, sweeping all along with her, even as simultaneously she knew she was moving in the opposite direction.

And then she was in her own head again, on a grassy bank of a smaller stream, in full sunlight, and her clothing was perfectly dry. And as she knelt in the grass, and tried to put her own thoughts back in order, she realized that whatever oppressive will she had felt was gone. Her heart was lighter, her mind was clearer. She looked up, to see Goldberry sitting beside a little spring, where it trickled out of the base of a knoll. Whoever this woman was...she wasn’t the power that had lain over the valley.

She looked up past Goldberry. In the midst of this great clearing, up the knoll, below a shoulder of bare stone, there stood a seemingly ordinary cottage. Thatched roof, walls washed white, even glass-windowed – something any Man might make.

Goldberry giggled. "Hey there. You look a little turned-around. Did you have fun?"

"I don’t quite know what I had," said Galadriel, rising to her feet. "Is this your house, then? Were you bringing me to meet your husband?"

"He is still out about his business," said Goldberry. "I just thought you might like to come to a place far from the grumbling trees."

"I...see…" Galadriel frowned. "So it seems you have some power, of a sort, though not of the kind I had thought."

"I mean I can do things," said Goldberry. "And I have things to do." She shrugged. "I am not sure what you mean by power."

"You might raise the waters up," said Galadriel, "and drown all fell creatures who dare cross it. You might speed boats along, you might shepherd your allies to safety if they fall in –"

"Allies?"

"In the coming war," said Galadriel.

"War?" said Goldberry. "Oh, yes, this fight of yours with your evil shadow. Battles, and all, I’ve seen those. They get the river all messy with blood and rusting iron, and I have to clean it up. No thank you! I have no desire to be involved in such awful business. So many trees were felled for – for opposing this Sauron fellow, like you said? Humph!"

"Lady Bombadil, please –"

"Goldberry!" shouted Goldberry. The water beside her began to pour down in a great stream. "It’s Goldberry, I told you, that’s my name! And look, I get that you want my help, but if you want rivers to do stuff for you, you could ask the River Woman and take the risk of getting her help. You know what floods sweep away? Everything. They don’t ask who’s who. They just grab whatever they can. What’s so evil about this Sauron fellow that you want to get me involved, eh?"

"He would befoul every stream with blood and filth," said Galadriel. "He would cut down every tree he could find. He would turn up all of your forest, turn out you and Iarwain Ben-adar, burn all the grass, devour every creature, not even because he needed to. Your forest and your river would become a stinking mire of pollution and heaps of ash. Is this what you desire?"

Goldberry shook her head.

"Then will you not help?"

Goldberry gazed out into the distance. "This Sauron fellow...he seems rather hasty. Is he some kind of king?"

"He is difficult to explain," said Galadriel. "What matters is that he is a great power, and...if I cannot gather as many allies to oppose him as possible, he my very well sweep over all of Middle-earth, and only your realm would hold out, until it did not."

Goldberry shrugged. "It might happen. At least Tom and I would still be here."

"Do you…do you not care?"

"The seasons still would turn," said Goldberry. "The water would still flow –"

"You act as though you have never heard of a dam, madam."

That brought Goldberry up short. "I hadn’t considered dams. Damned things. I will tell you, the water still creeps under and around them, but they’re a terrible nuisance. Still – I can deal with them, in my own way."

"But –"

"I should care more about your own fear," said Goldberry. "You do seem to be troubled. You really can’t deal with your enemy by yourself, then? I thought you said you’d opposed him before."

"I have defied him," said Galadriel, "I have stood against him, but...it has not always worked. It only works well enough now because of the ring that you noticed – which you were not supposed to notice – which gives me the power to hide my realm and its people from him. When he doesn’t have his ring, which, if he gains it, will spell the end of all freedom in this land."

"Ooh," said Goldberry. "Real rings of power, then, eh? What if you got the more powerful one for yourself? Could you deal with him then?"

The wind fell still, and all the birds about them fell silent. For a moment Galadriel stood frozen, unable to speak. "I...I could."

"Really!" Galadriel looked intrigued. "Despite how big and scary this Sauron fellow is supposed to be. Must be a pretty powerful ring, then!"

"It is," murmured Galadriel.

"Well maybe you should use it then, and stop trying to get me and Tom involved, eh?"

"I…" Galadriel slowly sat, staring out at the grass as it rippled in the wind. She could take the ring. She had come here looking for the harder path, avoiding the ring, and yet here she was offered it anyway. If she were to actually take down Sauron all by herself...would she need to go to the West to find peace? She could just make her own peace. And betray every single one her allies, so she would need to go quite far away...but if it could be done…

"You look troubled again," said Goldberry. "Tell you what, why don’t we talk about this over teatime?"

Galadriel was startled out of her reverie. "Teatime?"

"Or do you prefer something stronger?"

"You are offering me teatime," said Galadriel. "The Lady of the Golden Wood does not partake in teatime."

Goldberry smirked. "But does Galadriel?"

"Galadriel…" She thought for a moment, of what she had heard of Bilbo Baggins. He had introduced some of his strange customs to Imladris, and its people had been quite amused. She had never taken the opportunity to participate herself. "Galadriel is willing to partake in teatime." She rose to her feet, and followed Goldberry up the the path, into the house.

It was a little more rustic than Galadriel had expected. The main room, long and low, had a great table with rush-seated chairs – but the table was polished wood, and overhead hung lamps, and the candles on the table were of beeswax, though the light of day did well enough to illuminate the room at the moment. It had a great stone hearth at one end, and walls washed white just as they were outside. All in all, a simple but well-made place. Goldberry bustled into the kitchen and busied herself with the tea, as Galadriel slowly sat in one of the simple chairs.

It was not very much time before Goldberry came out bearing a tray. On it was yellow cream and honeycomb, and white bread, and butter; there was milk, cheese, green herbs, and ripe berries – and a porcelain teapot, and cups.

Yet when Goldberry poured out what ought to have been tea, it was perfectly clear water, no trace of vapor rising from it. Galadriel took a sip. Though she felt quite refreshed, the water was perfectly cool. "Ah, my friend, did you...forget to boil the water?"

Goldberry looked surprised. "Boil?"

"Yes, you – do you not know how to make tea?"

"I suppose tea is a part of teatime," said Goldberry, sitting herself at the table. "But I only heard about teatime from Tom, and I asked him what tea was, and he only winked at me, and told me I ought to discover it for myself. That’s his little game, I suppose. Alright, my fair friend, help me discover. What is tea?"

Asking one of the Eldar what is tea was a dangerous question. Any one of them could tell you all the minute details of steeping, of the craft of teapots, of the perfect breeding of the tea plant, of the myriad tisanes one could make, until you had spent an entire day just listening. It was one of the ways in which Celeborn had first charmed Galadriel, how passionate he was for his tea. It took Galadriel a moment to figure out how to simplify the answer. "You...let specific leaves and herbs soak in the hottest water, until it has flavored all of the water."

Goldberry frowned. "Hottest water...hm. I don’t like my water being hot, but I will give it a try. What leaves, though?"

"I would recommend these herbs," said Galadriel, gesturing to the tray. "If you can think of none other."

"Actually I have an idea," said Goldberry. She hopped up and dashed out the door, coming back in just a moment with a handful of blooms. These she took into the kitchen with the teapot, and Galadriel could hear some clattering and hissing, before Goldberry came out again with the blooms missing and the teapot emitting much vapor from its spout.

She poured her mysteirous concoction into a cup, and handed it to Galadriel. This time it was quite warm. Galadriel took a small sip.

Sunlight upon dewdrops in spring. The rush of the wind in the branches. The songs of many birds. The cool shadows beneath the boughs. The first frog-call of the season.

Galadriel shook herself, remembering that she was sitting here at a table, in a cottage. "Elbereth," she whispered. She looked up at Goldberry, who was sipping her tea and grinning. "Perhaps you might offer this tea to travelers, I think they would like it better than any tea they’ve ever had."

"Is tea not normally like this?"

Galadriel laughed. "Not even my dear Celeborn’s, my friend, not even his."

"Wouldn’t want to make him envious then," said Goldberry. She set her cup down. "Anyway, this is teatime, not simply tea. You’re supposed to have the rest as well." She took up a slice of bread and spread a pat of butter over it.

"Teatime," said Galadriel. "Very well." She took a honeycomb and nibbled at it.

And so they bided a while, letting their conversation rest. Goldberry was on her third cup before Galadriel had gotten halfway through her first, for Galadriel felt a rush of sensations with each sip, and had to pace herself. She was glad for the rest of the meal, if it gave her an excuse to take her tea slowly. And it all gave her an excuse to avoid meeting Goldberry’s unsettlingly innocent eyes.

Though eventually, her tea was gone, and she was feeling much warmer, and calm enough to speak again. "This whole business of teatime...my friend Gandalf tells me it was invented by the Hobbits. Did you hear of it from them?"

"Oh, Hobbits!" Goldberry smiled. "I find them easiest to understand, they’re more easily contented than Men. I was quite cross with some of them a while back, when the trees were trying to move closer to Hobbit lands and ease their overcrowding, and the Hobbits responded by cutting down a great many and burning them – but Tom forgave them, and so must I. Never had any trouble from them since, they’re nice people, although they don’t seem to visit me these days." She sighed. "I guess they’ve got their Shire, now, and maybe they don’t need me like they used to. Easily contented, like I said."

"Yes," said Galadriel, "and that is why, if the ring possessed by Bilbo Baggins is indeed Sauron’s ring, the Shire is the safest place to hide it. In the land of least ambition."

"The ring is ambitious?" said Goldberry.

"It...amplifies one’s ambition," said Galadriel. "Tempts one with power. Amplifies one’s own power. So if a shy and retiring person like a Hobbit gets the ring, they just turn invisible...but if someone like me gets the ring, well, everyone in Middle-earth will hear about it."

"Goodness," said Goldberry. "And I suggested you use it!"

"I might," said Galadriel. "I might, per your suggestion."

"Alright," said Goldberry, "why don’t you, then? You know who has the thing, you could just march right into the shire right now and take it. If you’re that big a deal."

Galadriel did not answer, but poured herself another cup of tea, and sipped it slowly, letting the taste of birdsong calm her nerves. "And betray a friend? Well...perhaps."

"You hesitate," said Goldberry.

"I am torn," said Galadriel. "On the one hand, yes, I could use the ring, and settle all things my way. On the other hand...I have been warned, many times, that all anyone does with the ring, even if intended for the greatest good, turns to terrible evil. And, on a personal level...when you asked me about swimming, I thought of the sea, and how my brother may be across it, long lost to me. Once he was in exile in this land with me...but he fell in battle against Sauron, and his spirit crossed the waves, to rest in the halls of the dead in that blessed land, where all our spirits rest."

"Oh," said Goldberry. "Go see him then, I’m sure he’s been missing you."

"It’s not...it’s not that simple."

"Just hop on a boat and –"

"I am forbidden," said Galadriel. "I who helped to lead my people in rebellion and secession from the rule of our gods, I who refused their pardon when they finally rescued those of us who had made it through the years of destruction...I was proud, in those years, and did not believe I had done wrong. I desired to remain with my dear Celeborn in Middle-earth. And I wanted a land of my own to rule. I would not say my love was a mistake, but the rest, well...the point is, a ban is set upon my return, and until I might prove I have changed, then it remains."

"So you can’t see your brother," said Goldberry. "That’s terribly sad."

"And I would certainly fail to appear reformed if I took up the ring," said Galadriel.

"Well then –"

"But I have my responsibilities here," said Galadriel. "I cannot simply abandon the free people of this land to be overtaken by the shadow of the enemy. Especially my own kinfolk...and I have been so frustrated to see my people dwindle, to see all our efforts fade and decay. I would like to think that there could be at least one realm of the Eldar in Middle-Earth that is actually enduring, instead of constantly falling to the corruption of Morgoth and his legacy. And what do we have left? A hidden valley with a nice house in it? A forest kingdom run by wood-elves? My own golden wood? The shores of the sea? Is that all that is left? It is as if Middle-earth itself does not accept us. We fade, and flower no longer."

"Hm," said Goldberry. "Enduring, eh? How long did you want?"

"Well…" Galadriel had not done any specific calculation on the subject. "Forever?"

"Forever!" said Goldberry. "What do you want with forever? If something lasts forever then you can’t get rid of it when you’re tired of it. I should hope there isn’t any such thing as forever around here! And here you go asking for forever. You think you’d be around long enough to enjoy it anyway?"

"I have been around quite some time," said Galadriel. "My spirit has not faded yet."

"Hmph." Goldberry spread some butter over another piece of bread. "You know, what it sounds like, to me, is that for all this talk of standing against Sauron and defending people, you’re actually most interested in the forever part. So maybe if you did take the ring, you’d impose some kind of forever on everyone else too. I sure wouldn’t like that."

"You wish to have your own end, then? And pass out of the world?"

"Oh no no," said Goldberry. "That will come someday, maybe, but what I mean is, well, a river changes its course, doesn’t it? Shifts its bed this way and that. If you try to hold it still it just gets angry. My mother always tells me, when people build up levees to try to hold a river on one course, it just bursts through them and floods the fields – and does even worse when it breaks through a dam. I bet you would do something like that to the whole world."

"I...hadn’t thought of that."

"I suppose there is much you have not considered," said Goldberry. "There could be a whole world of things you have not thought ot."

"And if I had forever to think of all of them?"

"Then you would get to the end and become bored," said Goldberry. "And you would never see your brother again, would you?"

"I would not," murmured Galadriel.

"Well then," said Goldberry. "I’ve made up my mind about the silly ring. Have you?"

Galadriel shook her head slowly. "For all that I find your words wise, my friend, the fact remains that the right course seems utterly impossible, when I consider it. For to have a true victory over Sauron, one must destroy his precious ring, and to destroy it, one can only take it to where it was made – well within his own well-watched, well-guarded land. Someone would have to either force their way in, which they could not do without the ring, and thus they would fall to its corruption – or they would have to sneak in, and I know not who could do such a thing, nor how. Who would Sauron overlook?"

"I don’t know," said Goldberry. She shrugged. "Who are you overlooking?"

"Am I to know whom I am overlooking?" said Galadriel. "That seems a contradiction."

"Maybe you will find the answer soon," said Goldberry. She glanced at the tea set. "Lovely teatime, I must say, I suppose I thought to thank the Hobbits for coming up with this business."

"I might do it myself," said Galadriel.

The front door creaked, and there in the doorway was silhouetted a stout fellow wearing a hat. He laughed. "Hey dol, my merry doll! Who’s our guest then, eh?"

He stepped into the house, and Galadriel could see he wore a jacket of bright blue, and, of all things, yellow boots. Whatever Iarwain Ben-adar was, the sort of person who he was was someone that didn’t care much for anyone’s sartorial criticism. Galadriel rose from her seat to greet the fellow, in the custom of her own people, and gently shook his hand. "Well met," she said. "A star shines upon the hour of our meeting."

"This is Galadriel," said Goldberry. "She’s a very important woman, and she’s been telling me about all kinds of fantastic things. Some sort of powerful ring, too. She could use it to be queen of the world!"

"Queen of the world?" said Bombadil. "Goodness, that sounds like a lot of bother. I daresay it’s best to be queen of someone’s heart." He came to the table, and gave Goldberry a kiss on the cheek. She giggled and blushed.

"You may be correct," said Galadriel, following Bombadil to the table. "Though I might yet be tempted to see how it is for myself. Well-met, Tom Bombadil, Iarwain Ben-adar. I thought I might have either of your aid in certain battles of the future, but what I am seeing here is that neither of you is the type for them. Neither of you would be bringing any army at your command, I daresay." She nodded to Goldberry. "I very much appreciate the teatime, though, and the fresh perspective. I will keep it in mind."

As she moved to the door, she felt a tap on her shoulder, and she turned to see Goldberry looking concerned. "Yes? I suppose I ought to give a formal goodbye. My apologies, I might be getting caught up in the informality here."

"Maybe I would become formal if I visited your house," said Goldberry. "But you know what – maybe I don’t want to be able to visit your house. Because I want your house to be where your brother is. You understand? I want you to be able to see him again."

Galadriel sighed. "I will remember your advice, my friend."

"One more thing," said Goldberry. "If you don’t want to take the ring, and you do go west after all – come see me just once before you go. Alright? I have immensely enjoyed our time together."

Galadriel smiled, and nodded slowly. "In that you have my word."

So she turned, and made her way down the path, and out of the forest, taking care to avoid disturbing any tree she passed. As she moved in the shadows of the forest, she remembered what her mirror had shown her. It had shown her being bewildered, in some place far from her home. She had not known where any such thing was possible, or even if it was – but it had indeed come to pass, here in this quiet corner of the world.

…

In the golden light of the setting sun, in a gentle wind that blew her hair about her face, Galadriel stood upon the road, at the head of her small company of riders. She had dismounted to avoid looming too much over the much shorter golden-haired, green-gowned woman before her. But what she wished to say, in the standard greeting among her people, she found she could not get out.

"You let the ring go," said Goldberry.

Galadriel nodded.

"And now you go to see your brother?"

"If the sea be gentle," said Galadriel, "and the wind be kind."

"So this is the Goldberry you spoke of," said Elrond. "I would have expected a river spirit to be more mysterious and more retiring."

"She is the daughter of the river spirit," said Galadriel, "and what that means, well. Goldberry, perhaps you would like to inform him?"

"If he has the time!" said Goldberry. "But you all seem very busy."

"Suppose we are," murmured Bilbo. "There’s a ship we have to catch, you know."

"Well if you pass this way again," said Goldberry, "I might tell you all about it."

"Pass this way again?" said Elrond. "Well, now, I do not know if we ever will. We are going to the uttermost west, Lady Goldberry. There to spend our days forever."

Goldberry pouted.

"And yet," said Galadriel, "not even that lasts for all time, does it not? When Arda is healed at last...we may yet meet again, dear friend, and then, well, perhaps we will both be young, and we can come to know each other without the weight of years upon us. What do you think?"

"I think I still don’t know what a year is," said Goldberry, "but I would like that. I will miss you terribly, you know. I’m glad you didn’t take up the ring after all, I wouldn’t have wanted to have been frozen. Well. Besides winter ice, but you know what I mean."

Galadriel nodded slowly. "With your words in mind, I did understand, in the critical moment."

"Did you want a hug before you went? Because I do."

Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "One more Mannish custom? Oh, but the Lady of the Golden Wood does not do Mannish customs! However, since that realm and role is ended...Galadriel certainly does." She stooped, and put her arms lightly about Goldberry, who returned the gesture by throwing her arms about Galadriel and holding her tight for a moment. Galadriel laughed. "It seems you surely will miss me!"

"You taught me about teatime," said Goldberry. "I can't forget that. I shall never forget you."

As the company rode off, Bilbo spoke up again. "What was that about a ring?"

"Better to tell you in Valinor," said Elrond. "You might take offense to the details, and...It’s a very long story."