Nerwen the Green and the Search for the Entwives #wattys2019

Chapter XXII: Taking Leave

(This chapter has not yet been edited, pls forgive mistakes and oddities)

Chapter XXII: Taking Leave

A few days passed, as Nerwen prepared for her journey to Fangorn. Celeborn suggested taking a packhorse to carry enough provisions for a couple of months.

"There are only two days on horseback until the northern border of Fangorn." he pointed out, "but you don't know how long you'll have to stay away, or if you'll find shelter. Besides, even if the season is good and you'll be able to sleep outdoors, there's always the possibility of rain, and a small tent is surely advisable."

Nerwen approved: she had slept outdoors on the whole way from Bree to Rivendell – except the first night – and then from Rivendell to Lothlórien, and even if she had been lucky and had never run into rainy weather, it couldn't be that way forever. Also, in the forest it's always very damp, and a tent would protect her.

Galadriel told her she would bake a supply of lembas, the Elven crackers; she learned the secret of its preparation from Melian, during the time she had lived in Doriath. Nerwen, who knew the recipe, too, offered to help her, and therefore the two old friends spent a good number of hours alone in the kitchen, kneading and baking and talking.

Nerwen spent much time with Arwen, too, who had plainly become attached to her and was sorry to see her going so soon. The Aini comforted her by promising she would return: Fangorn wasn't very far away, and if she decided to go to Thranduil's Wooden Realm or head for Wilderland, eastward Anduin to look for the red mountains she saw in the Mirror of Galadriel, in both cases she would stop by Lórien.

In her spare time, Nerwen met with Beriadir; usually they walked along the streets of Caras Galadhon, at the market or at the park; or else they took a ride in the wood. Beriadir wooed her pleasantly, and in his company, she felt as euphoric and carefree as a young girl. Surely, the quality of the place – blessed by the power of Nenya – had something to do with it; but Nerwen acknowledged that the most credit went to the handsome Silvan Elf, his kindness, humour, witticism. And, of course, his bright smile, too.

OOO

Two days before her departure, Beriadir took her on a trip on the Celebrant, the tributary of the Anduin coming from the Misty Mountains. Nerwen had always liked water, in every form: brook, river, lake, sea; and indeed in her garden in southern Valinor, there were many streams and even a small mere, not to mention the hot spring heating her house, where in a room carved into rock, she and Melian liked to spend time in complete relax, enjoying the warm vapour.

At the dock nearest to Caras Galadhon, about half an hour on horseback, Nerwen and Beriadir took a boat, a long and narrow canoe in flexible ash wood, painted in green and gold, with paddles shaped like leaves. They paddled upstream; the river was swift but its current not exceedingly strong. The rowed to a small wooden jetty leading to a semicircular lawn covered in countless flowers: Nerwen recognised mallows, daisies, clematises, cornflowers and periwinkles. Mellyrn and alders surrounded it, as well as shrubs of thistle, box and elderberry, which made the access from the landside difficult.

"This is the Picnic Lawn." Beriadir revealed, helping Nerwen to get off the canoe, "Actually, there's a table and some wooden benches for those who want to stop here and have a bite, and lie in the sun and bathe." he looked at the river, which in this point formed a quiet cove, "Too bad the water's still too cold to bathe, otherwise we could dive." he concluded on a light note, winking to ease what would otherwise look like a too audacious suggestion.

Nerwen's stomach fluttered at the thought of the two of them swimming naked in the pristine water.

She would have liked to do it.