Chapter 24

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It was a misty day by the shores of the river Celebrant. The Fellowship stood in a circle with their heads bowed as elves, handmaidens of the Lady Galadriel, came forward and fastened cloaks around their necks. Beruthiel lightly fingered the cloth of hers and found that it was lighter and thinner but much warmer than her Ranger cloak. It had the same green-brown-grey patterns dyed on it, but they were done with much more skill than the Ranger cloaks, and they actually shimmered and seemed to shift position and color as one watched.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our people," Celeborn said gravely as he stood to the side, hand in hand with Galadriel. She had insisted on giving them these cloaks to speed their journey, but he had disagreed. Celeborn tipped his head to the side. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

Three boats, white and elegantly shaped, were waiting for them at the small dock. A pile of supplies was in front of each: mostly lembas, elvish waybread. "I have prepared gifts for you," Lady Galadriel said in her dreamy voice. She stepped forward and a servant bearing many items came forth.

"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of our woodland kin." She handed to him a bow carved from white mallorn wood, with intricate designs on the wood. The bowstring was made of elf-hair, a material that would never break. Legolas smiled, accepting the gift, then tested the draw. He grunted with exertion — it was heavy — then slowly brought the string back to normal, smiling and bowing to the Lady.

Lady Galadriel smiled back, then turned to Merry and Pippin. From the servant, she took two identical daggers, small enough to serve as a knife to both the hobbits. "These are the daggers of the Noldorin," she said. "They have already seen service in war." The two fastened them onto their sword-belts, beside their Barrow-blades. Galadriel smiled again, sensing something in Pippin's mind. "Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage."

"And for you, Samwise Gamgee: Elven rope, made of hithlain." She handed to him a coil of grey braided rope. He took it, bowing and mumbling something about ropemaking being in his family.

"Thank you, my lady," Sam said in a steadier voice, then looked sideways at the blades Merry and Pippin were admiring. "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?"

The Lady of Lorien gave a tinkling laugh, and turned to Boromir. "To you, Son of Gondor, I give a belt of golden leaves." She handed him a delicately crafted belt fashioned of mallorn leaves crafted of gold. An early wedding gift, she silently said in his mind. Boromir blushed and turned away as he fastened the belt around his waist.

"Beruthiel of the Rangers." Beruthiel swallowed and met the Lady's eye. "For you, I have a set of cloaks." Beruthiel's eyes widened. Her own Ranger cloak had been badly ripped and burned in Moria, but she had assumed that the cloaks that the whole Fellowship had been given was a replacement for it.

Galadriel brought forth a stack of cloaks, all made of the same fabric as the Fellowship's cloaks. She fingered a white-and-grey cloak. "For the winter." A sandy brown one. "For the desert." A black-grey-white one with irregular geometric patterns. "For the cities of Gondor." A yellowish-brown-and-green one. "For the plains of Rohan." A heavy cloak with mottled red, black, and grey patterns. "For the wastelands of Mordor."

Beruthiel swallowed again and accepted the stack with a bow. They were light and folded easily, meaning that they would fit in her pack. This was the most amazing gift she had been given, second only to the bow and quiver that Aragorn gave her. Rangers were occasionally issued special cloaks for special missions, but only if it suited their tight budget. This was like a grant from heaven.

Galadriel finally turned to Gimli, the last person in the line. Beruthiel frowned. Where was Aragorn? She thought she had seen him slip away with Celeborn when the Galadhrim first showed the Fellowship their boats.

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