They would start for Imladris on the morrow.
Fairlain looked at the grey elf with perplexity. None of this had turned out the way she had imagined it in her thoughts, and it troubled her. It was not so surprising that lady Gladaewen served the White Lady of Lorien, for there were many mysterious things in the Mallorn forests, not the least being the thoughts of the one who ruled there. It was curious that the grey elf had been sent specifically to look after Fairlain, but given how the meeting with the trolls could have ended she was grateful for it.
Cynraede was a different riddle entirely. She had not expected to be followed from Arrowhaven, and judging from the fresh scars and bruises on the young man's face he had done so at some cost to himself. He had made it clear that his choice was not because of some foolish lover's gallantry, yet to have gone to such lengths for someone he had only spoken with once or twice confused her. Oh well, if he would not be dissuaded best have him travel with her and keep him out of harm's way. Perhaps the stillness of the Golden Wood would lend his unhappy spirit some peace.
"Lady Gladaewen...tell me again, my Daysey waits at...Thinglad?"
"Yes child," the Woodlark smiled gently at the childish, mannish name she had given her horse. "She had not forgotten the place where she was foaled."
Fairlain had been given the steed as a gift of gratitude for hunting the orcs that pressed the borders of Lorien. The elves of that place rode steeds of purest white, but Daysey's coat was mottled silver white and gold like Telperion and Laurelin, they had said. At the time she had not understood, but now more than ever it endeared the little horse to her.
Fairlain nodded and said, "So...Rivendell tomorrow. Does Master Elrond know?"
"He may. He knows of my task and will give us peaceful lodging."
Fairlain bit her lip, "And what of Cynraede? Will he be welcome? I know they hide from strangers..."
"He will be welcome, child. He has a destiny as well as you do."
Fairlain knitted her brows.
"Every creature has a destiny to become what it was meant to be, Faerlhain. We all have a destiny in that manner."
Fairlain shuffled her feet, but tried to remain polite. Elvish philosophy was not something she had ever had much dealing with.
"Well, as long has he hasn't snuck out of camp to sleep in a badger hole somewhere..."
Gladaewen smiled once more. "No, he is here."
Fairlain paused, "Why is he so sad lady? He tries to laugh but..."
The Woodlark of Lorien stepped gracefully up to Fairlain and put her hands on her shoulders. She turned Fairlain towards the torch that burnt on the stone rampart so that the flame flickered in front of her face.
"What do you see?" asked the grey elf, gently.
"Flame....light."
Gladaewen turned the girl around so that the torch stood behind her.
"Now what do you see in front of you?"
"Shadow..."
The grey elf met Fairlain's eyes.
"Your friend does not yet realize the light that touches him. He must learn to turn around. Now go and rest, we will start at the sun's first light."
