“Pinkfae, is that really you?” a female Elf stopped suddenly in her tracks in amazement.
Without saying a word, Pink hugged her friend. “Yes,” she answered as they released from their embrace. “I didn’t get on the boat to sail to Aman.”
“You’re not the only one,” Tuilinn stated. “There are many others who didn’t make the journey as well. I was just on my way to Cerin Amroth to pick the flowers that grow there. I thought I would make a bouquet and bring them to our kin defending the boarders. Would you like to help?”
“Certainly,” Pinkfae said as the two continued down the path towards a great mound covered with flowers. There was a lone, ancient tree on top of the hill. It was so beautiful that it almost seemed artificial. “Lady Galadriel wanted me to help those fighting back the Orc invasion. Bringing them objects of beauty will certainly help in restoring their mental state.”
“It will also remind them what it is that they are fighting for,” Tuilinn added.
The two of them reached the hill and could smell the sweet scent of the pale colored flowers. Cerin Amroth was a popular place for the Galadhrim to meditate and relax. There were a few Elves relaxing on the side of the hill and undoubtedly there were also some up in the flet enjoying the breeze that brings the scent up there as well.
Tuilinn began to pick some of the Elanor while Pinkfae picked some of the Niphredil. After they each had a dozen of each type of flower they arranged them into a bouquet. All of Pinkfae’s life she longed to leave Lothlórien and explore the world outside. Over the course of the past few months she has seen and experienced more then she has during the past two thousand years. Yet, it wasn’t until now that she realized just how much she missed her homeland.
After the flowers were arranged the two headed off to Imlad Lalaith. There Maliriel, the feast-mistress, was holding a great banquet for the many guests that were entering Lothlórien, something that hasn’t happened in many centuries.
“Tuilinn,” Maliriel exclaimed as she saw the two of them. “Did you come to join us?”
Tuilinn shook her head, “no, we came bring flowers to help brighten the banquet.”
“Oh!” Maliriel said as she took the flowers. “Thank you. These only grow in our lands, I’m sure our guests will be pleased to see them.” She went over to the banquet table and placed them in a vase.
She stepped back and looked at the flowers sitting among the food and wine already sitting on the table. “A festival in Lothlórien without flowers is like a festival in Rohan without horses.” She turned to face Pinkfae, acknowledging her there for the first time, “in fact Pink’s heraldic device is a pink lily. Even though there are none that grow here in Lothlórien. You know, I have always wondered why your House used a lily on its heraldic device. Many of the Houses use flowers that are native to our land. It is very unusual.”
There was a brief pause as Maliriel waited for an explanation. Pinkfae finally gave in and admitted with a shrug that she didn’t know.
“You mean in all of your studies in lore, you never looked into the lore of your House?” Maliriel asked with a hint of shock in her voice. Ancestral lore was very important to many Elves; even those who were not lore-masters knew the histories of their own House.
“Pink was always more interested in the world outside of Lothlórien,” Tuilinn interjected.
“Its true,” Pinkfae acknowledged with some sadness in her voice. “They always say that you don’t know what you have until you lose it. I’ve seen many lands since I left, but nothing is fairer then Lothlórien.”
Pinkfae and Tuilinn got off their horses at the Elven camp Echad Andestel west of the river. There they met with Ambendel. “What brings you out here so, Tuilinn?” the Elven woman asked.
“We bring gifts to brighten the hearts of the Galadhrim defending our boarders,” she answered, show her the bouquet of wild flowers.
Ambendel smiled brightly as she accepted the gift. “Thank you, Tuilinn. I’m sure your gift will brighten the hearts of Elves, Dwarves, Men and Hobbits alike.”
“Men and Hobbits?” Tuilinn asked quizzically.
Ambendel nodded her head. “There have been many Free Peoples coming out of the gates of Moria as of late and not just Elves and Dwarves. It seems that the Iron Garrison have been able to secure Moria from the Servants of the Enemy.”
“There is still much work to be done,” answered Pinkfae. “Although the Dwarves have been able to secure the Twenty-first Hall, the Orcs have not all been driven out.”
“The Orcs that have been retreating out of Moria have established a number of camps west of here,” Ambendel stated. “The Dwarves’ progress has sent them closer to our doorstep. Thankfully the Free Peoples of Middle-earth have been able to contain them as well. Yet, the greater threat lies to the north-east of here. You should bring some of your flowers to Bahanneth, the quartermaster at Talan Fanuidhol. His people are guarding the largest camp of Orcs near Lothlórien.”
“Be well,” Tuilinn said getting into the saddle of her horse. “May victory be swift.”
“Stay safe, both of you,” Ambendel called out as the two rode off to Talan Fanuidhol.
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