Stories of Arda - Lord of the Rings Fan-Fiction Archive

That night, vivid dreams visited many sleepers in Mirkwood. Mithrandir was trying to sort through the many dreams that flowed through his consciousness on there way to their home. In particular, Mithrandir was trying to locate the dreams of one stranger, in the hopes of finding out more of her story. If found he knew her dreams would be telling as she was under the spell of elven medicine.

As he searched the flowing rivers of dreams that traversed the night, Mithrandir happened upon dark visions, lost in a blackness of confusion. *Ah, I have found you, my stranger, but you are even lost in your dreams. But in this ethereal world I can guide you for I am not encumbered by an old body*

Mithrandir closed his eyes, concentrating on joining his mind with the stranger’s open unconsciousness. He cradled the stranger’s sleep with soothing and lyrical whispers, coaxing her unconscious to safely lead him to the road that brought her to where she was found. Slowly Mithrandir began to see figures and shapes running and yelling all about, but the vision was still scared. Mithrandir embraced the stranger further, asking her to travel fully into the beginnings of her road.

A mother held up a baby towards the rising sun in the east, softly chanting words the old wizard did not understand. ~The rays of the sun, let them bathe her essence in all that is good, in all that is of sun and earth.~

The sound of a flute wove its way through the first sun rays that spilled on the earth, both touching the baby’s forehead at the same instant. ~Lenmana , Taiowa, the creator has blessed you with a name. Let you be known as Lenmana from this day forth.~

The mother returned her baby to her bosom and held it close to her. The woman gazed down at the infant that slept peacefully. A man approached the woman, stopping next to her to admire the infant lovingly held in her arms, ~ Chu-si, our daughter is beautiful, but I sense there is sadness in you, ~ the man spoke to the woman.

~On this morning we have been gifted with her name, but I also see that her road will be difficult. I do not want her to have to choose a people, yours or mine. I want her gift to be the knowledge of belonging to all. I want her to be able to throw her spirit in the air and let it float with the winds. But these times we live are hard, and the shadow rests fully upon us.~ The young mother’s words rang lyrically in the air.

~She is Diné from her father, and she is Hopi from her mother, let us hope that there is strength she can find that we alone cannot give,~ the young father added. (1)

The couple stood on a mesa that overlooked a vast valley below them, framed by large mountains on the eastern border. The suns rays filled the valley and mesa with its morning light. Behind the couple the people of Oraibi were tending to their daily tasks. There was a heaviness and sadness surrounding these people. Their time on earth seemed to be fading although it was not their time, but the last hundreds of years had proven to be painfully revealing.

Lenmana was the daughter of a fierce Chiricahua Apache and a beautiful Hopi maiden that had met by chance when trading for supplies. The journeying Apache were sometimes foe, raiding the sedentary pueblos, and yet they were sometimes ally, joining in trading with the pueblos and sometimes assaults against the encroaching Spanish and Anglo armies. Their meeting was hailed by both peoples as a glorious event as it brought peace to the village of Oraibi, protecting it from further Chiricahua raids.

It was said that only the noblest and bravest warrior could win the beautiful Hopi maiden named Chu-si. This handsome brave was called Benjamin, and he was the son of the great Mimbreňo Chiricahua chief, Mangas Coloradas . Beauty is after all in the eyes of the beholder, and the eyes of the beholder hold the power to lay that gift upon what they see. (2)

At first the warrior chief was not happy with the union of his son with the Hopi woman because his son would have to leave their band for a time to dwell with the woman, as was her people’s custom, but the peace the union would bring weighed heaviest for the chief, and as chief all his people were his children. And so he considered what was best. Both Benjamin and Chu-si were tall and strong, and their wedding spread joy and hope amongst the two nations. Many hoped that the offspring of this union would be ensured a fighting chance at life, but many also secretly hoped that the medicine strong in the union would bring about new magic so needed during these harsh times. Such was the hope born in all who dared to love and seek out futures and in every child that awaited to be conceived during such dark times.

And so the young stranger, now known as Lenmana grew loved despite the bitterness of life in her lands. As more was taken from them, more these peoples took all that was sacred and hid it in the center of their hearts. Lenmana grew up in both the Hopi and Diné ways of life. Her parents, lovingly and patiently gifted the girl with all that was within them, hoping that this was enough to protect her from the pains that would surely try to kill her.

Lenmana was not content to sit around at Oraibi and when the time came she joyously journeyed with her mother and father to join the Mimbreño Chiricahua of Mangas Coloradas. Unfortunately, Benjamin’s return was not out of pleasure, but of necessity. His father had begun staging campaigns against the foreign armies. Benjamin joined in the Apache resistance aiding both his father and cousin Cochise in extended war parties. (3)

Chu-si quickly adapted to the fast moving pace of Apache life, but Lenmana was not content to simply help her mother. She was Hopi after all, and Hopi women played vital roles in deciding how the affairs of the village would turn out. Mangas Coloradas loved his granddaughter and spoiled her dearly. His love was born out of a sort of desperation, for he knew he would not live to see her grow old. Worse, he feared that his granddaughter would not live to see her own long years, and if she did, he knew that as things stood, those long years would be ones fraught with the sorrows of a conquered people. He gave the young girl a foal of her own, a beautiful brown and white Appaloosa that had been given to him by the Nez Perce, the great horsemen of the Northwest.

Lenmana grew with her foal, and her riding skills were exceptional as was customary among the Apache. Apaches hunted and raided on horseback, using no saddle, and at times simple reigns. The dance performed by the horse and rider were spectacular. Riders would lean forward and off to the side, long hair streaming behind them, shooting at moving targets while their steeds danced in and out of danger. Riders could almost fully turn their torso, facing the rear of the horse, shooting arrows or rifles at rear advancing enemies, while encouraging their steeds to take flight. Many stories have been told of these horses and riders that move like roaring thunder across valleys and plains, only to swiftly and quietly disappear into the crevices of the mountains, and leave no trace of their whereabouts.

As their situation worsened Lenmana and other youth joined in the raids against the foreign armies. The luxury to choose was not hers, and so at a tender age of fourteen, she joined other able bodied youth, to aid in the survival of a way of life. She witnessed the decimation of many indigenous people’s ways of life and many peoples themselves. Her first great encounter with horrendous sorrow was when her grandfather Mangas Coloradas and father were captured and killed by her enemy.

Her anger and confusion were shared by many of the young warriors, and rather than surrendering they joined up with Cochise, continuing on the warpath, evading capture, but suffering many hardships for an entire decade.

One day, a message was brought to Lenmana. Her mother Chu-si had become very sick, and had returned to her native village of Oraibi. The last time Lenmana had see her mother she had been healthy, thin, but strong of spirit.

Lenmana had slipped quietly into Oraibi to spend the last moments with her mother. The Hopi medicine men were powerless against the shadow and evil that besieged the bodies of their patients. She returned to find a frail woman, lost in the grey lands between the world of the living and the spirit world. As her mother drew her final breaths, the storm clouds gathered outside let drop their precious waters. Chu-si’s chest rose with breath for a last time, and her soul was released from the hell that come to strangle Tuwa .

~Maybe now they are both, mother and father, truly free, walking in fields of green and gold spun by Spiderwoman herself.~ Lenmana wept and wept until her body was so tired from the sobs that coursed through her body that she could no longer cry. She wept with the skies this day, and the rain fell, attempting to soothe the grief that littered the ground below. Sleep tried to find its way in her but she dismissed it and left Oraibi, bidding a bitter farewell to her place of birth. The Shadow had finally begun to literally consume them, and the passing of Chu-si was greeted with great sorrow by many for in her hope had been planted. And like many other Indian youth, who held deep within them all that the elders could give, Lenmana returned to roaming the great lands of the desert, hiding and running in the mountains.

Clashes with the foreign governments became more brutal, but as happens to all, with time, the roving bands of Apache were slowly killed or captured. Lenmana learned that her uncle Cochise had died shortly after surrendering.

~Prisons can only kill us. I will not die that way,~ she thought to herself. So the maiden went off with other lost warriors in search of an answer, vowing that they would not die in reservations like caged birds. But promises in Indian Country are fleeting, broken by the fires of conquest.

The year was 1889 and many Indians faced a desperate reality. Poverty, hunger, death and removal were their only companions during these desolate times, but a medicine man by the name of Wovoka from the Paiute had a vision. A rebirth was revealed to him and from his visions was born the Ghost Dance, a new religion that spread like wild fire amongst many Indian tribes. A messiah thus had come to show himself to the meek and hungry, and many believed that he brought salvation from the foreign occupiers. And in northern and western Indian Country, they danced the Ghost Dance, welcoming the age of peace promised by the new messiah. This new age would punish those who had inflicted so much pain on the peoples and land.

Lenmana was greatly moved by the words of Wovoka and the promise of the ghost dance for it heralded that the world would be recreated as before, and ancestors would return to live amongst the living, free from violence and pestilence. Lenmana traveled with a growing contingent of displaced peoples or those who refused to be caged, to search out the messiah, but the growing fervor of the Ghost Dance frightened those that wanted to keep Indians in reservations. But Lenmana like many others did not fear because the ghost dance protected them. The enemy’s bullets would bounce off her brightly colored ghost shirt, so it was promised by the ghost dance.

Lenmana and her companions had traveled far north and asked the people of Chief Spotted Elk, known as Big Foot by his enemies, if they could join in their dances. The chief and his people, the Miniconjou Sioux, consented for the ghost dance belonged to all Indian peoples. And they danced and danced, but Spotted Elk learned that another great chief called Sitting Bull had been killed by qochata. He led his people south to seek refuge, and they walked sick with disease, weak from hunger, shivering in the snow that lay thick around them.

Lenmana was sick, pneumonia consuming her. She trudged along side fellow travelers and the remnants of the Lakota Sioux tribes. Some were enemies of old, but now they faced the same ends, and sought to aid each other. Lenmana had fled the cage of the reservation, and now she was fleeing to one to find protection. If only they could make it safely to Pine Ridge. The world had turned upside down.

One cold morning as they fled south to safety, traveling along the banks of the Wounded Knee creek, the group found themselves surrounded by an army of qochata . Lenmana huddled alongside the women and children, wrapping her woolen blanket tightly around her body. A couple of horses mingled with the weak, nudging life into their master’s emaciated bodies. Her Appaloosa had wondered towards the stream, attempting to drink its freezing waters, and with the approach of the army he stood, looking bravely at the mass of armed men gathered around him.

Chief Spotted Elk and his advisors sat with the officers of the foreign army, attempting to come to a peaceful solution, but shots rang out in the sky and Indians fell bloodied. Warriors and braves gathered to fight but they were overwhelmed, and 300 men, women and children lay dead or dying there by the flowing waters of Wounded Knee. They never made it to Pine Ridge. The Ghost Dance was indeed a ghost dance for they danced for their impending deaths, and the freedom they found was one of ghosts. (5)

Lenmana was shot in the shoulder, and staggered towards the creek where the stallion stood unmoved, unscathed and waiting. What she saw around her was unspeakable. Babes clutched in their mother’s arms, riddled with the fire of the qochata. Old folks crumpled over besides sons and daughters, blood staining the deep snow around them a sorrowful red. Blood flowed from her own body, and she could feel her essence being drained, but she continued on, reaching her trusted friend.

In the midst of the commotion the young maiden went unnoticed. Lenmana thought to herself that maybe her ghost shirt was protecting her rendering her invisible from unfriendly eyes. With her good arm she raised herself upon her horse, aided by the rocks below her feet. Horse and rider waded into the creek and disappeared into the forest. Her head began to cloud and the sky above her grew dark. Now was the time for her to return from whence she came. Her weakened body could no longer ride, and she tumbled off her mount, landing harshly on the frozen earth.

~Spiderwoman, why have such sorrows been woven into your web? This world I no longer care for. I am lost and shall never be found,~ Lenmana exclaimed. As she looked up from where she had fallen she saw a hole in the earth. ~A cave,~ she murmured. After all, her people had come to this earth from caves below many moons ago. Yes this is what creation stories had told, ~and to this underground world I return, through the mouth of the earth, to places unknown, maybe I will find peace. Will you grant this to me, to return to a place where hope still remains, but I fear I am lost. I fear I am lost.~

Lenmana could not move, for too much of her blood had escaped her body through the gaping hole in her shoulder. ~Am I to come this close to peace to be so mercilessly denied it!~ Hot tears ran down her cheeks, and frustrated grunts escaped her weak mouth. Suddenly, she felt something take a hold of her clothing, dragging her. She looked up to find her four-legged companion dragging her towards the cave. She let her body go limp and gave into her life. ~My brave mount, you follow me where there may be only darkness, but let us hope that together the light shall find us.~***

Tears were rolling down the old wizards cheeks. He dared not look away from the scenes that flashed before him, and the last Mithrandir saw was the horse dragging the body of the stranger into the cave, and then all went dark. Mithrandir realized that somewhere in this bodiless journey he had come to understand the words and thoughts uttered by the stranger named Lenmana. Although he understood them he could not speak them. Understanding is after all very different than speaking. His thoughts wandered back to the stranger, *The darkness has claimed you, my lost soul, but harken now to the light! There is hope yet to be found and peace to be sought. Return from the shadow and bring your light forth!*

“Mithrandir,” a voice called from behind the old wizard, “is everything well with you?”

The Istar turned to find Legolas looking over him with obvious concern. He was not ashamed of the tears that stained his face, nor of the sorrow evident in his wrinkled countenance. After a momentary pause, the old man answered, “What is it little lässe ? Is all well with YOU?”

I was troubled by a dream and came to seek your counsel, but now I see that maybe I acted selfishly for I am not the only soul troubled this night.”

“Nonsense,” Mithrandir exclaimed, “ ‘twas not selfish of you at all. In fact your being here is as it should be. Please do tell, how has this dream burdened you for you wear the heaviness on your face.”

Legolas cocked his head to the side and looked at the wizard appreciatively, “But I do not want to burden one so already burdened with my own dilemmas.”

Mithrandir waved away Legolas’ words and patted the seat next to his bed for the elf to come sit in. Legolas obliged him and sat himself next to Mithrandir.

The elf spoke softly, “I will share with you if only you share with me, old friend.” The wizard nodded his head in agreement.

Legolas continued, “I am troubled by the arrival of the stranger, Mithrandir. That is my dreams have been wrought this night with confusion and darkness, and I felt a terrible sadness seep into our world. But strange indeed it is for it is a mortal sadness akin to our own.”

Legolas paused, and looked into the wizard’s knowing eyes before continuing, “In my dream I saw the young woman riding her steed down a precarious cliff side. Rocks and dirt tumbled about them, and suddenly from the summit of the mountain came more riders, dressed in her manner, whooping and galloping down the face of the mountain. But they were galloping madly into darkness and I yelled at them to stop their charge, but they heeded me not, for I knew they heard me because several of them looked towards me. They galloped, horse and rider as one, and they plunged into a black chasm in the earth below them, all engulfed by the darkness. ”

Mithrandir sighed, “Yes green lässe, we have been met by a terrible sorrow on this past day, and it comes with the stranger. But we must not fear it, it bears no malice. But your dream is interesting yes. Was it a hole in the ground they ran into Legolas?”

“Yes,” Legolas answered, “much like a cave opening in the earth.”

“Ah,” the wizard answered, “there is always hope.”

Mithrandir, seeing the confusion in the young elf’s face continued, “You see Legolas, caves are sacred for this young maiden and the lands she comes from. For these people arose onto their earth through the mouths of a cave, their creation stories tell that they dwelled in underground worlds until one day they were led to the world above ground, and were thus born onto earth. This return to the underground is important. I would dare guess that somehow they flee to the only place of safety they know- inside.”

The wizard continued rapidly, as the thoughts in his head spilled out, “Whether it be metaphorically or physically, they return to their beginning, to the inside, the inside of the earth, the inside of themselves. There to seek hope, there to find safety, there to live again.”

Legolas touched his hand to his heart, and sighed softly. “How come you to know all this? I am not surprised but curious all the same.”

“I visited her dreams on this night and much was revealed through the scenes that I visited, but much more I learned from the stories that revealed themselves silently. It comforts me to know that the goodness of life, although weak, is never defeated,” the Istari responded.

The wizard chuckled knowingly, “Erú, there is always a way for life isn’t there?”

Legolas gasped, “Ilúvatar, what does the One have to do in all of this?” Legolas caught himself, and chuckling as well, answered his own question, “The One has to do with everything.”

“Yes my dear Legolas, you speak the truth.”

Legolas then urged the old wizard to speak of the troubles that had caused him sorrow. Mithrandir then retold the story of Lenmana to Legolas, and both wizard and elf greeted the rising sun, immersed in the sorrowful tale.

***********************************

(1) Diné means, the people, and is what the Navajo and the Apache call themselves. Hopi tribe is an indigenous group currently found in Arizona, who are linked with Pueblo culture. Hopi means people of peace. (2) Mangas Coloradas was in fact a chief of the Mimbreño Chiricahua Apaches who is famous for his resistance towards settlers that were intent on removing Indians from their lands.(3) Cochise, nephew of Mangas Coloradas, is another famous Apache Indian who took on the warpath against the United States. Following the death of Mangas Coloradas, he continued in his resistance and evaded capture by the U.S. army for over 10 years. Finally, he surrendered after the creation of the Chiricahua reservation and died shortly after. (4) This a song composed for the ghost dance and the link to it and more information about the ghost dance tradition can be found on my bio page. Also see note (5).(5) Massacre at Wounded Knee occurred on December 29, 1890 in South Dakota. For a compelling account of American Indian History read Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, by Dee Brown.


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Creation Song of Ilúvatar by Fadesintothewest