Something had changed. There was an excitement in the faces of the elves of the Golden Wood as if at any moment they would burst into delighted laughter. Fairlain asked one of the elves in carefully worded Sindarin what was happening.
"The winds are changing," was the reply.
The lady Gladaewen explained more when the young huntress saw her later that evening.
"It is the festival of the West Wind. During the course of the seasons there are times when the winds of heaven change their course and the wind blows upon us from the blessed West. It shakes the tops of the trees and reminds us once again where our true home is..."
Fairlain knitted her brow slightly, but continued to listen politely. The Woodlark continued,
"It is a time of great joy and merriment. All those who profess any skill with a bow gather outside of Cerin Amroth, and when the wind shakes the highest bows of the trees it sends down thousands of leaves as their messengers. The bowman who can gather the most leaves with a single arrow is said to have an extra blessing for each leaf, and his aim will never miss. Would you like to see this thing?"
"Oh yes!" said Fairlain, her eyes twinkling. "I would like to see this."
It did not take long before they were riding under the golden canopy of the Mallorns towards Cerin Amroth. Fairlain rode without saddle and bridle now and Daysey had proved quite expert at finding the safest and swiftest paths though she often looked back at her girl as if to reassure her that everything would be fine.
There were many elves at the clearing, and a low murmur of excitement as many readied their bows, tightening the string and smoothing the fletching of their arrows. Truly, there was a different feeling to the air even though no breeze yet stirred. The grey elf and the little huntress left their horses a little ways away and walked to join the bright gathering. Fairlain had brought her bow and quiver along at the insistence of lady Gladaewen. The Woodlark had said,
"The winds of Manwë touch all in Middle Earth. This blessing is as much for you as any other here."
Fairlain looked at the bow that Wilbe the Carver had made for her in Bree. It seemed small and very plain, yet it had served her well. Standing a little to the side of the largest group of archers, she checked the bowstring and, holding the bow up as if she was aiming, she drew the string back to feel its tension. As she lowered the bow a hand was placed over hers and she looked around to see a tall elf with blue-grey eyes. An almost imperceptible smile played about his lips, but his face was kind. He gently lifted the little wooden bow from her grasp with one hand and offered her the bow he held with the other...a bow of the Galadhrim. Reaching into the quiver he wore upon his back, he lifted a golden fletched arrow and held it towards Fairlain until she gingerly took it from his hand. With a polite nod of his head, the tall elf stepped back into the throng, lifting his head with the others as the sound of the wind rising began to create its own song.
Leaves began falling as the treetops were touched and stirred. One...three....ten...a hundred...a hundred hundreds....and even more, until the air itself was filled with a swirl of gold. A voice gave one joyous shout and all the archers drew back their bows, aiming for the centre of the maelstrom. The great bow of the Galadhrim trembled as Fairlain nocked the arrow and drew back the string. There was power here that would pierce the fiercest armour and send a shaft with lightening speed to its mark. The triumphant call came, "Si!" and all the arrows sprang to life, to disappear momentarily then arc back to earth carrying golden treasure. All walked forward to retrieve their arrows, Fairlain with them, and it was not long before she found the gold fletched arrow...filled to its length with golden Mallorn leaves.
Walking back to where the lady Gladaewen waited, Fairlain searched for the tall elf. He was standing to the side still holding her small, birch bow. Drawing near she offered the bow and arrow back to him. The blue-grey eyes took in the wealth of bounty the arrow had caught and a brief smile passed across his face. He shook his head.
"They are yours," he said, and gave her small bow back to her as well. With a respectful nod, he turned and walked into the crowd of elves who happily rejoiced with the leaves still swirling about them.
"Lady, who was that?", Fairlain asked.
Gladaewen smiled, but a certain stillness had crept into her eyes.
"That was Orophin, the brother of Haldir", she said.
