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Lie Down in the Darkness, Rise up from the Ash: 7. Riven
In the Rift, in the Void, Silence began as Silencing – the melody of the song meeting its inverse, the two notes silencing each other. Thus the Company of the Ring journeyed still down Anduin, towards the Falls of Rauros, and the orcs, wandering upon the east bank, were aware of them. The Nazgûl still rode the skies above them, to be felled by the bow of Legolas. And decision still loomed before them as an oppressive shadow, but it echoed with the horror of the Void which engulfed all the world….
"Parth Galen," Sam muttered, raising a brow as he surveyed the green sward, with its two hills rising up above them. "Well, it's a nice spot, Mr. Frodo, if we have to stop. Never thought I'd say it, but if those orcs are on our side of the river, I'd rather be floating in the middle of it than sitting alongside it!"
"I know, Sam, but I am afraid we must halt here awhile," Frodo murmured, gazing about and then up at Aragorn who joined them at that moment, as the rest of the Fellowship gathered round. "Do I not guess rightly, Aragorn, that we must decide our path ere we journey farther?"
"Yes, for we are come now to Tol Brandir and the falls of Rauros. The path to the Morannon lies straight east, just north of the mires of Nindalf. Few are the soldiers of Gondor who come so far north, so the risk of detection and detention is slight. He who follows the river beyond Rauros though, will find his journey will become more difficult, if he wishes to pass unseen, as he shall be forced to backtrack through Ithilien and the southern reaches of the fen."
There were some dark and anxious looks exchanged among the Fellowship at that, but none spoke, and eventually, all eyes were turned once more to Frodo. "I fear it falls at last to you, Frodo," Aragorn continued gravely, pinning the hobbit under his sympathetic gaze. "Whither shall you turn? For by your choice, we all are ruled: shall we take the eastward path, or the route to Minas Tirith or elsewhere, if that seems good?"
Frodo was silent then, and the stares of the others pressed heavily upon him, yet he could not speak. Not yet! Looking up once more at the midmorning sky, he sighed. There is no choice before me, truly, but the choice to accept. But the others... shall I command them to come with me? To go? To choose as they will? And where shall I go from here? Through Gondor, or shall I take the path Aragorn advises for those who would be secret? What truly is best?
"Give me some small while to think," he said at last. "At noon, I shall declare myself." With that, he turned and walked a short distance away, followed by Sam.
The others gazed after the two of them a moment, and then by unspoken accord, separated, withdrawing naturally into pairs. Merry and Pippin hovered together just far enough from Sam and Frodo to give the latter two privacy; Legolas and Gimli retreated to the banks of the river some small distance upstream; and though Boromir stared at the hobbits in frowning concentration, seemingly oblivious to all others, Aragorn came and stood at his shoulder.
"Boromir," the Ranger spoke softly, and Denethor's son turned quickly, as if startled. One who knew him well might have recognized the flash of nervous loathing in his eyes, but if Aragorn noticed it, he gave no sign, saying only, "Walk with me a ways, please."
"If you wish," Boromir replied after a breath's hesitation, turning to follow the other towards the woods that lay all about the feet of the hills.
Legolas, standing with Gimli, stiffened as he noticed the two Men departing, and his eyes narrowed.
"At last!" the Elf breathed, laying a hand on his companion's shoulder by way of warning, and Gimli turned to look as well. Just ere the two passed out of sight into the trees, Aragorn paused and glanced back at the others, as if to fix their positions in his mind, and his eyes met Legolas's bright gaze. An almost imperceptible nod answered Legolas's expectant regard, and the Elf raised his chin slightly in acknowledgment.
"Mayhap we shall soon learn what ails Boromir," Gimli muttered, stroking his beard contemplatively.
"Yes… mayhap." Minutes passed, and neither Elf nor Dwarf spoke. But after a time, they began to move unerringly towards the forest eaves.
Aragorn glided through the woods ahead of Boromir with an almost elvish grace, and perversely, Boromir found that unconscious ease irritating. He felt clumsy by comparison, and though he knew it was a ridiculous sentiment, he suspected every bush and clinging weed of slapping or clawing at him. All such annoyance, however, merely cloaked the deep uneasiness that stirred in his heart, for he guessed the other's purpose in bringing him here, and he wanted nothing more in the world than to run. But the Heir of Denethor of Minas Tirith had not the habit of retreating from his enemies.
And besides, Aragorn, Elf though he seems, is mortal as any Man, and no enemy! So reason claimed, and he knew the truth of it, yet that knowledge did not soothe the fear that settled within his breast.
They did not go very far, for the fear of pursuit lay heavily upon all of them after that night upon the water beneath the Winged Shadow – just far enough to ensure that no others could overhear them by accident. Then Aragorn halted and turned to face him, just the two of them alone in a small clearing. For a moment, neither spoke, but Boromir felt tension rise in him as they locked eyes and he felt the other's searching regard like a brand pressed hot against his soul.
Let him read it, the thought entered suddenly into his mind. Let him read all, if he will, and rid me of this festering guilt! Almost, Boromir yielded to the temptation to speak, to confess and let the wounded part of his soul bleed clean through his words. But he had lived with it now too long, and though a part of him keened in horror, pride and distrust reasserted themselves, grinding that impulse back down. His eyes hardened and his jaw clenched as he waited, determined that the other should speak first.
For his part, Aragorn noted the flicker in the other's grey eyes, the sudden tension that rippled through the other's frame, and he sighed inwardly. Now do I regret the more that I let wait this matter for so long. I should have made the time earlier!
But recriminations could change nothing, and so, girding himself unobtrusively, he said, "I think we have both waited on this day for long – to have his path and every other's clear before him. I do not know what Frodo will decide, but if we two should soon part, I would do so in friendship, and with nothing left unsaid between us."
"You say 'if,'" Boromir countered, deliberately ignoring the invitation to speak as a friend, to speak freely of his troubles without fear of scorn. Instead, he focused upon the conditional, trying still to hold Aragorn at arm's length. "Surely you shall go with Frodo?"
"If he will have me," Aragorn replied,as levelly as he could, refusing to rise to the bait. "Of late, I suspect he leans to the lonely path. And above my judgment, I trust that Sam's anxious looks are not for naught."
I trust Sam's anxious looks…. Boromir grimaced slightly as those words pricked deeply at his conscience, arousing envy of that easy trust, and sharp disgust and fear at the reminder of the peril in which all now stood.
"And if Sam's anxious looks prove not for naught?" Boromir demanded.
"That would be a hard choice for us all, should Frodo choose to go eastward alone."
"Hard choice!" Boromir echoed, his voice pitched low but sharply. "A hobbit alone in Mordor… that is not hard, that is madness!" He could not restrain that bitter condemnation, though he rebuked himself the moment it escaped his lips.
"Madness it may be," said Aragorn, slowly, watching Boromir closely now with darkened eyes
"Perhaps it is even truly hopeless, but if so, then no choice of mine can mar or mend the powers that shape these times. Nor can any of yours, Boromir, nor even Frodo's."
"Then are we puppets, and not Men!" snapped the other, fighting against a snarl of disgust that covered over a deeper terror.
"Is that what has troubled you of late?" asked Aragorn, frowning as his eyes searched Boromir's face intently.
"I don't concern myself with useless questions," Boromir snorted, but even as he said it, he felt a sudden thrill of doubt, if only for the way Aragorn was looking at him. Unsettled, he turned away. "What matters it to you what worries I conceive?" he demanded.
"Do you hear yourself?" Aragorn asked, then, tone tinged with alarm. There followed an uncomfortable silence, ere Aragorn said quietly: "I know that we do not agree concerning how we should decide our course. But shall our differences drive us so far from each other that we shall not be concerned for the other?"
"So say you now, yet you have been silent these past weeks – silent since Moria, unless pursued," Boromir retorted.
"I have been remiss," Aragorn admitted, and Boromir silently cursed him for it. "But I would mend my error, if you will allow it." And when still, Boromir said nothing, he continued: "I know you doubt the Council's decision. I do not grudge you that – think you I cannot understand whence stems fear?"
Reasonable the words and reasonable the tone, if one discounted the urgency of the appeal, yet at these words, Boromir turned on the other. "What do you know of my fears?" he snarled, as the resentment of the past weeks came spilling forth then. "You are Isildur's Heir, Aragorn, yet you would gamble that inheritance and the last of our people on this foolish errand? On the teary hopes of fading Elves? If you were any part a Man you would not sit idly by and wait, or trail after Halflings to your death and theirs!"
"What, then, would you do in my stead?" Aragorn asked quietly.
With an hysterical bark of laughter, Boromir shook his head—in denial, in horror, in disgust… he could not say which coursed more strongly in him. Emotions twined themselves so tightly together he could not separate them out. The voice of sanity wailed thin and piercing protest, and yet was impotent before the maelstrom that boiled over. Into his mind blossomed suddenly and with frightening clarity, the image of a thin, golden circle clutched in Frodo's trembling hand.
The Ring! It glittered with an inner fire, seeming to waver almost coyly, aware of its splendor as Boromir bared his teeth in a soundless snarl. So small a thing, and yet the foundation of Sauron's might: the thread upon which they dangled now, and the menace of the world. A mad light, infected with lust and despair, gleamed sickly in his grey eyes, and he drew his sword as he answered with sudden and disturbing calm:
"Take what is mine!"
Aragorn dodged the first blow, but could not clear his own weapon before Boromir sprang at him, slamming him against a tree and pinning him there. Still, he managed to catch the other's wrists in an iron grip and he pushed back, locking the two of them into a grappling stance in which neither could move. The sword's edge lay against Aragorn's throat, but it moved no further: for though Boromir was the broader in build, Aragorn had not less strength for his leanness. Evenly matched, they gazed at each other over the length of steel, and then Boromir leaned closer to whisper in his ear in an obscene parody of intimacy:
"Against Mordor there is but one tower, and one weapon alone can wound the Dark Lord." Aragorn closed his eyes, fairly sick with sorrow and frustration as Boromir went on with smooth urgency:
"The Ring! It shall never reach the Fire in Frodo's hands – you know this! And yet Frodo is our only hope, they say. Let it not come to that then, my friend! Take the Ring. Take it, or I shall!"
"Think you that the Shadow on high shall come again?" Gimli asked, squatting on his haunches under the eaves of the woods and gazing moodily out at the east bank of the river. Legolas had already vaulted to the lowest branch of the tree at his back, seeming to need the comfort of a familiar environment, and the Dwarf fought a smile. Often he forgot that the elven prince was yet accounted young among his people, and he supposed that this eager flight to the treetops was a sign of the other's youth.
Rather like a child who runs immediately to find a spot near the fire whenever storms threaten, he thought. It was an odd insight into the other, but a dear one as well. For ere Lórien, Legolas had remained always earthbound, though he had oft raised his eyes to the treetops with longing. That he gave in to the impulse now, and in Gimli's presence, struck the Dwarf as a compliment of sorts – as if the Elf had permitted him this glimpse into a little-seen part of his soul.
"I know not," Legolas's voice drifted down in response. "But my heart warns that we shall see more of these fell creatures ere the war ends." A pause. "Whither will you go once Frodo has made his choice?"
The Dwarf blew a large, considerate sigh through his mustaches, and scowled thoughtfully. "When we left Rivendell, I swore that I was willing to go whithersoever I was needed, yet I had never looked further than the mountains. Now we are come far south of Erebor, and Mirkwood, too, is many leagues behind. 'Tis a hard choice. What of you, Legolas? Will you return to your home?"
"Once I thought to turn aside after the gate of Caradhras," the Elf confessed. "Yet I remain here with this company, and I do not regret the choice. Indeed, the world is wider than I thought, and there is much to see, even in dark times. Much to see, and more to do, and more still that needs doing."
"I think that if Frodo decides for Mordor, I would go with him, if he asked," Gimli said at last.
"Ah," Legolas replied, and a half-smile curved his mouth, "There you find the heart of the matter. If he asks us to go, who would refuse? Save Boromir, but he has other duties that he may not lightly abandon."
At that, both fell silent once more. Merry and Pippin wandered nearer, and Gimli sighed softly, wondering whither their deliberations led. Of a sudden, there was a blur of motion in the corner of his eye as Legolas landed on the ground beside him. "What is it?" he asked, startled by the other's abrupt descent and even more so by the arrested expression on the Elf's face.
"Listen!" Legolas replied tautly, and the Dwarf followed his gaze into the woods, whence emerged, in a muffled fashion, Boromir's voice, sounding harsh and angry. Gimli bit his lip hard as the words became intelligible:
"— you know of my fears? You are Isildur's Heir, Aragorn, yet you would gamble that inheritance and the last of our people on this foolish errand? On the teary hopes of fading Elves? If you were any part a Man you would not sit idly by and wait, or trail after Halflings to your death and theirs!"
Aragorn's reply was too low and shrouded to make out, but Boromir's response was clear enough: "Take what is mine!" And then came the slither of steel, which all the members of the Fellowship knew too well. Gimli and Legolas shared a horrified look with each other, and then darted into the woods.
"Pippin!" Merry clutched his arm tightly, pointing after the Elf and Dwarf, who fled into the trees.
"I don't like that!" Pippin replied, glancing anxiously at his friend.
"Nor I!" Sam and Frodo had come running up, having seen the other two depart in haste, and now the hobbits hesitated, wondering what might have occurred. And where were Boromir and Aragorn?
A moment longer they wavered, uncertain, and then all plunged after their companions into the woods.
"Take it, Aragorn!" Boromir hissed in his face, eyes alight with an unholy desire, and Aragorn swallowed a groan as he opened his eyes once more.
"No!" he replied, and gritted his teeth, feeling the blade press harder against his throat as Boromir leaned into him. "Are you blind, Boromir, that you do not see whence this comes? I am not your enemy, but the Ring is!"
"Is it?" Boromir snapped. "I see clearly enough the choice before me, and I say that the Ring is less an enemy than are indecision, mad schemes, and blind trust! But I can act, and if you seek to stop me, then…."
"Then?" Aragorn ground out through his teeth when Boromir hesitated. "Will you kill me for this accursed trinket? Is that truly your wish?"
"I warn you again, do not presume too much!" Boromir snapped. "Think you that there is anything that I would not do for Minas Tirith? What is your life, or even Frodo's, weighed against a kingdom?"
"What worth has a kingdom, if it is founded upon murder?" countered Aragorn. But ere Boromir could respond, there came the sound of running footsteps, and for a moment, the other was distracted. Boromir glanced swiftly over his shoulder just as Legolas and Gimli appeared, coming swiftly through the trees towards them.
In that instant, Aragorn attacked. With his back braced against the tree, he drove his knee into the other's groin, then pushed hard as Boromir gasped. Retaining his hold on the other's wrists, he shoved away from the tree trunk, then used momentum to swing round and reverse their positions, driving Boromir back now against the tree. And he pinned the other's sword arm between their bodies, leaning in as if lunging against him, leverage and protection at once. Boromir, though, did not surrender easily, possessed of some strength in that moment whose source Aragorn would not have liked to guess.
Happily, at just that moment, Legolas and Gimli burst into the little clearing, and seeing the struggle afoot, Elf and Dwarf swept quickly forward and lent Aragorn their aid, restraining the swearing, writhing Boromir with their weight.
"Boromir, let it go," Aragorn spoke urgently. "Let it go!"
Whether the others understood his meaning, he knew not, but the sword fell from Boromir's hand as he gazed past Aragorn, stricken with sudden and rigid immobility. With Gimli and Legolas helping to hold the other back, the Ranger risked a brief glance over his shoulder and saw the hobbits, all four of them, standing and watching in uncomprehending horror.
Except for Frodo, Aragorn noted grimly as he turned back to Boromir again. He knows. How could he not?
Denethor's son must also have felt his treason under the hobbit's agonized regard, for he hung his head, and there were tears in his voice as he gave a low, wordless cry. Then, without warning, he slumped to the ground, and Aragorn staggered under the sudden weight as he awkwardly broke the other's fall.
"Do not touch me!" Boromir muttered, drawing his knees up to his chest and hiding his face in his hands, withdrawing as much as he could from the others. Dead silence fell as all hovered about, immobile with shock. Legolas and Gimli looked away, ashamed before the other's shame, but Aragorn could not turn from him. More, he would not – not after he had failed the other so singularly, refusing to see clearly the danger that lay before his eyes.
"Wh-what happened?" Sam's voice, gruff with worry, sounded then, but none could speak. What, indeed, could any one of them have said when each knew the answer to that question? Among the Fellowship a guilty complicity settled, as each saw now in Boromir's fall his own failures, recognizing the divisions that had perhaps blinded them to a companion's need.
"I will go to Mordor," Frodo spoke suddenly, and his voice was grave and grieved, and all turned to look at him. He stood there, clutching the Ring tightly in one hand as it hung upon its chain, and there was no sign of doubt or disquiet, only determination. "I will go, and alone, for I see clearly now that I can delay no longer, for all of our sakes."
"If you're going, then I am coming, too!" Sam spoke up fiercely, and wagged a finger at his master when Frodo began to shake his head. "No, you listen to me a minute, Mr. Frodo! You're right about the danger, but alone in that ugly place, you'll need help. This… thing… it feeds on us most when we're as low as we can get, and you can't get no lower than Mordor, that's for certain. It needs another to help you along."
"I think Sam speaks wisely in this, if I may say so," Aragorn added, lending his support unexpectedly. "Any of us would go with you, Frodo, if you but named him."
"Yes," Legolas said, "You need only ask, or failing that, choose!" There was a heavy silence, as the Fellowship awaited a response. Frodo glanced about, searching each face in turn, even Boromir's, though Boromir would not look at him, ere he sighed and glanced down at the earth.
Finally, after a long moment, he laid a hand upon Sam's shoulder, confirming the other in his station. No words, not even a final look at the others. Only that spare gesture which yet conveyed so much, and then he turned away.
Sam, following obediently and with obvious relief, yet hesitated, turning back to those friends whom he would leave now behind. He raised a hand hesitantly, offering a wavering half-smile in wordless, nervous farewell, and then he, too, was gone.
The remainder of the Company remained silent, unmoving as stones beneath the trees. Thus was the tale of the Fellowship of the Ring ended, though already, things moved that would drag them back into the struggle once more.
For things did move, even in the spreading Silence, and over the Sundering Seas came a small ship to dock at Tol Eressëa, whence strode Gildor Inglorien, bearing lament, and the tale of a woodland meeting, of a heavy charge and of threadbare hope by which hung all the world...
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What to Read for Teen Read Week?
Teen Read Week, the third week in October, is designed to encourage young adults ages 12-18 to enjoy some of the best and most popular books for young readers. Here are ten among teens' favorite books of the last year.
In The Reformed Vampire Support Group by Catherine Jinks, fifteen-year-old vampire Nina has been stuck for fifty-one years in a boring support group for vampires, and nothing exciting has ever happened to them--until one of them is murdered and the others must try to solve the crime.
Rebecca Stead won the 2010 Newbery Medal for When You Reach Me. As her mother prepares to be a contestant on the 1970s television game show, "The $20,000 Pyramid", a twelve-year-old New York City girl tries to make sense of a series of mysterious notes received from an anonymous source that seems to defy the laws of time and space.
Marcelo in the Real World by Francisco X. Stork has Marcelo Sandoval, a seventeen-year-old boy on the high-functioning end of the autistic spectrum, facing new challenges, including romance and injustice, when he goes to work for his father in the mailroom of a corporate law firm.
Sally M. Walker reports on the work of forensic scientists who are excavating grave sites in James Fort, in Jamestown, Virginia, to understand the people who lived in the Chesapeake Bay area in the 1600s and 1700s in Written in Bone: buried lives in Jamestown and Colonial Maryland.
In stunning graphic memoir format, Caldecott-winning artist David Small tells the story of his difficult childhood and his journey into adolescence and adulthood in Stitches.
Alan Bradley's The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie stars young miss Flavia de Luce, who is delighted with the discovery of a dead snipe on her doorstep and considers it a bonus when a human body is found in her cucumber patch.
In The Clearing, Heather Davis tells a haunting tale of Amy, new girl in town trying to forget unpleasant memories in Seattle, and Henry, the boy she meets in the clearing behind the house, living—and reliving—the summer of 1944.
The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind is the autobiography of William Kamkwamba who taught himself to build a windmill from scrap in order to bring electricity to his impoverished village in Malawi. This is an inspiring testament to the power of a single person filled with curiosity and determination to effect great improvements for a people, in spite of poverty and limited education.
In Going Bovine by Libba Bray, Cameron knew there was something wrong when he started seeing pillars of fire and angels, but he never imagined he had mad cow disease.
Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater is about Grace, who has spent years watching the wolves in the woods behind her Minnesota house, ever since being saved by a wolf as a child. She has been particularly drawn to one – a yellow-eyed wolf who, in turn has been watching her intensely. But the wolves are becoming restless and need Grace's help to save them. One of the wolves takes human form and falls in love with Grace — but as the weather grows colder, he'll turn back into a wolf, likely forever. Soon, he must make a life or death decision to stay with the one he loves.
For all these and more intriguing stories, visit us at www.tcplweb.org or call 988-2541.

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Look what I found today?
Calamansi. Or Calamondin, or sometimes spelled as kalamansi.
I didn't find the tree, because calamansi or calamondin trees are everywhere here in SoCal and can be bought at Home Depot and many Asian grocery stores. I don't have the patience nor do I have a green thumb to grow my own calamansi tree.
I found fresh, plump, juicy, fruity, and ripe calamansi—an ingredient that I have been trying to source for the longest time.
Words fail to describe how overjoyed and excited I was when I found these beauties at the Island Pacific Supermarket, in Cerritos, Orange County. Kudos to my reader David C, who tipped me on where to find them. Thank you so much David C, you're the best!
I rushed home immediately and made myself a glass of calamansi juice with ice, just like the way it's served back home in Malaysia. I took a refreshing sip and went on to prepare sambal belacan, with calamansi juice. It is the best sambal belacan I have ever made here in the US, only because I found calamansi.
The calamansi peel perfumed my fingers with its exotic smell; I brought my fingers to my nose, sniffing the fruity and citrusy fragrance and aroma. It is the smell of home. I then thought about all the possibilities with calamansi: Assam Laksa with a fresh squirt of calamansi juice, check; Mee Siam, check; Ikan bakar (grilled fish with banana leaves), check; Nyonya kerabu (salad) dishes, check.
I am happy.
I found calamansi.
Island Pacific Supermarket
11481 South St. Unit D,
Cerritos, CA. 90703
9:00 AM – 9:00 PM (Mon – Fri)
8:00 AM – 9:00 PM (Sat – Sun)
About Calamansi:
Calamansi is a variety of lime used in Southeast Asia cuisines, especially in Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, and the Philippines. It's also a key ingredient in Nyonya food. Sambal belacan is only truly authentic with calamansi juice. Period.
If you haven't tried calamansi, I can only describe it as a sort of hybrid between orange and lime. They have orange pulp but the juice is sour and tart, and there is no lime that can rival the citrusy fragrance of calamansi. I don't know why celebrity chefs haven't discovered the use of calamansi yet. In my opinion, it's better than yuzu.
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100 comments... read them below or add one
omg! we have this fruit in Mexico, but we call it limas, a cross between green lemon (or lime in English) and oranges. Amazing, a friend of mine just got back from a short trip to SE Asia (she's European) and was so surprised by the amount of *exotic* fruits she saw and tried. To my surprise and amusement most of the fruits she told me are pretty popular in Mexico.
What can I say.
We are lucky!
can feel the excitement reading what you wrote.
in Sg, the supermarkets usually sell them in packs. So we usually have lots of leftover because 1 meal would not need so many of it. but I found that storing them in a vacuum container, it won't turn yellow or brownish! it can last 2 weeks in vacuum containers in the fridge!
nice find! my favorite drink has to be the 桔仔酸梅 drink! Thanks for idea, perfect drink for this summer!
Add lipton tea and you'll get "teh o ais limau" :D
Ohhh.. how I love teh o ice limau.. with kalamansi, it's the teh o ice limau!! :)
Oh, I love this too! I agree, sambal belacan only tastes good with calamansi :-) You've inspired me to make this drink over the weekend!
Oh, wow! This drink looks very refreshing! Lovely photos, by the way! Your photography is exquisite! Are you sure you're not a pro? :D
I've only managed to find it at the Granville Island Market in Vancouver and they sell it for $.50 a piece, ouch! They freeze really well but somehow they lose most of the fragrance. Bee is right, this is indispensable to Filipino cooking just like in our other SE neighbours' cooking. In the Philippines, we use it as a souring agent to just about everything from broths to dipping sauces. It adds an extra layer of complexity, a sort of je ne sais qoui factor, freshness or something to the food. I don't even know how to describe it, the exotic fragrance of it is just incomparable to other citruses. It's a must try for sure if you've never used it before. It's great for cocktails.
Does anyone know where I could get a calamansi lime tree in Australia?
you can get from bunnings warehouse. it is under fruit tree section, called calamondin.
wow, looks so refreshing. And your photos are truly stunning. I didn't know fresh calamasi are so rare in US … but at least you get cheap oysters! hehe
I would love to get my hands on some, they look awesome!
I've been looking for these in Germany to no avail. I'm close to buying a tree, but even then there's no guarantee that I'll be buying the right one. They are a wonderful fruit & I'm happy you get to enjoy them. I'm also a little jealous.
Wow…indeed nice to find a glass of cold keat la drink over in your place. Only now I know it is known as Calamansi :)
We have 3 Calamansi trees out the back. It thrives in the Aussie Sun. I love it. In summer I squiz a few and make Calamansi juice. Its so darn refreshing. I also use it to make cocktails. Its great..
can you tell me how you keep them alive during winter in australia? i have 1 newly bought calamondin tree, still young, can see leaves growing, i'm waiting eagerly for it to bear fruit. and what fertiliser you use through the year? must i water it everyday?
Hi Katherine
I'm in Sydney and desperate to lay my hands on one of these Calamansi lime trees. Could you advise where I could find one of these trees?
many thanks
Hi June, I actually saw a few at Cabramatta. If you can make your way over there. There is a little nursery near the Fruit Market just outside BKK.
Thanks, Katherine, bought two plants. Much appreciated for your lead.
Hi we live in Toowoomba Queensland would you know of anywhere up here that we could purchase a kasturi lime tree
What a beautiful thing kalamansi lime is! lol. My tree has lotsa lime on it but it takes so lonnnnnggggg for them to get big. Sambal belacan with kalamansi is the best, best, best!
My fav drink back in KL is kalamansi lime with asamboi. Oh im drooling just thinking abt it. Im so dragging him to cerritos after raya. hehe.
Wow! Calamansi is a pillar of local cooking here in the Philippines too! And I also looove calamansi juice :) There are tons here at all the markets and groceries…I really wish I could send you some!
Even if they are all over here your calamansi juice photo is making my mouth water…will make some tomorrow!
congrats on finally finding yourself some kalamansi! i love using it in cocktails too, so I'm sure your kalamansi mojito will be awesome!
It's the first time I see that! we don't see calamansi in France! only traditional lime.. You're pictures are so beautiful!
One day, I will get to taste these.
How fantastic! Eis Limau is one of my favourite things to sip on at mamak when I'm back in Malaysia on holidays – and nothing is quite the same as having a couple of calamansi to squeeze all over a bowl of dry curry mee. I'll have to hunt some down for myself in Australia now!
lucky for us here in the Philippines we have abundant supply of calamansi all year round. And just outside my window, I have one calamansi tree growing numerous fruits. you can use calamansi to flavor your stir fried noodles(pancit) and it goes well with fish sauce. calamansi is also good as tenderizer if you want to marinate pork for bbq.you can rub it on your hands to remove the fishy smell whenever you handle seafood. you can also create a very appetizing dipping sauce for your grilled fish or squid by using calamansi, soy sauce, a bit of sugar and chili peppers.lastly, for sore throat, boil 3pcs of calamansi (skin on) in cup of water then drink the boiled mixture.
love that photo of the bowl of calamansi. my kids love calamansi-ade with salted dried plums. Just do as per your recipe and drop a couple of salted dried plums in.
I was all excited too when I found calamondin here in Australia.. bought the tree and it's been producing great fruits for us.. they are juicy and so refreshing..
My husband made similar icy drinks like yours and he adds one japanese plum (umeboshi) and I tell you it's one of my fav drinks on one of those hot summer days.. cold, sweet, sour and salty all in one glass! :)
You can buy calamansi trees at Home Depot? That's awesome!
Yes, all I did is I added one "semboi" – preserved plum, it becomes, sweet, sour and salty………..all in one refreshing drink on a hot sumer day………………AWESOME!!!
Awesome, thanks for the info! Now I can make all kinda of Sarawakian drinks ( I just returned from Kuching 2 weeks ago). Btw I found Mani chai plant in Montery park area
After many attempts I concluded you'll have to plant them indoor like mine. ( I got my stalks from Kuching,) California is way too dry. My friend's mani chai is growing well outdoor in Georgia
You have no idea how much I hate your right now! I've been looking for these forever. Well, I'm jealous that's for sure. :)
I miss freshly squeezed calamansi juice. The calamansi syrup just does not compare.
I love this collage! I love making Calamansi juice with brown or muscovado sugar. It's perfect with hot tea also! Best drink ever!
Hi. can any one recomended a good vegetarian site that i can visited as well.
Thank you
yes, this drink is very refreshing indeed! In Vietnam, these citrus fruits are called trai tac. A lot of vendors that sell sugar can juice in Little Saigon will add this ingredient into their drinks – try Nuoc Mia Vien Tay in Garden Grove. I think you can find them in the viet markets sometimes too, but they tend to sell the longer version and not these round versions.
Lucikly my dad has two of these large trees in his back yard and they fruit almost year round since we are in southern Cali.
It's my fave fruit juice. I grow my own, you don't really need a green thumb.
I bought the tree from Lowe's and right now it's 50% off. See my post on it last year at http://momgateway.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post_06.html.
Hi saw a bottle of calamansi "juice" (not a drink but a bottle of concentrated calamansi). It wasn't pure, there were some other ingredients and flavours I believe. It was in the philipino section of the grocery store. Have you ever tried using this kind of concentrated juice in cooking?
I'd love to try some calamansi. I'm already dreaming about the possibilities…mojitos, tarts, curds, ahh…but doing a quick search, I don't see any sources in NYC. If anyone knows a place to get it here, please let me know!
Haha No Problem :]
-David C
i have a kalamansi tree that was given by a friend. i planted it on a huge pot three years ago. i never run out of kalamansi because the little tree is always loaded all year round.
it's always good to have kalamansi when you need it and i use it a lot in my cooking.
I just found your site this evening while looking for some Chinese recipes – great site!
About the calamansi, is that the same or related to the Japanese/Okinawan shikuwasa? I lived in Japan for several years and really enjoyed the variety of citrus fruits they have there that I cannot find easily here in SoCal. The shikuwasa was my favorite, but its season is short – only early autumn.
Cant find any calamansi in Adelaide…Miss CALAMANSI!!!!!!~
I would kill for calamansi… they are tough to obtain in my part of the world. I learned to love the flavor while traveling Malaysia and Singapore – iced tea with calamansi was one of my favorites.
All this talk about calamansi is making me thirsty… must go and squeeze me a few, mix in some honey, drop the ice cubes and pour in cold water, shake my bootie to get some foam on the drink, reach for a straw, slice up a ripe papaya, and rest my feet on the sofa… simply heaven! Now all I need is a beach… =D
Calamansi (Kalamansi or Kalamunding as we call it) is a ubiquitous fruit in the Philippines. They sell calamansi here all year round, everywhere.
If a Filipino dish needs a souring agent, it's either vinegar or calamansi! That also applies for other dishes we inherited from Spain, China, Japan and America.
We love it especially with soy sauce as dip for grilled meat, chicken or fish. For marinades, calamansi is always used.
In my opinion, calamansi halves are much better for vodka than lemons!
In the supermarkets here, you'll find packs of fresh calamansi (about 1kg) that sell for less than a US dollar.
(An yes, it is shikuwasa, and it's different from the bitter orange from Mexico.)
I lived in Bangkok for a while and actually got a bit depressed because I could not find any calamansi, only limes. So I could understand your excitement!
My partner, who is British, has also learned to love this little citrus. On every meal, except maybe for pasta, he would have his little bowl of soy sauce, calamansi and chili as a dipping sauce.
Last month I got him a plant so that every time he needs just one fruit, he can just pluck it out of the bush :)
More power, I love your site!
If you guys need to buy kalamansi fruits or seeds, I could deliver to you.
Are you in adelaide?
I'm sorry, I'm in the Philippines. But it could done as along as your customs allows it.
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Hi Author of this wonderful blog,
I am Jo, and I am new to your blog. I really like the pictures and contents. I didn't know you are in SoCal but as I read your blogs, it seems to me that the ingredients and how to get them sound to familiar. Because I live in San Diego! I am a Malaysian and I moved here in 2008. But so sadly to say that, I do have a really hard time looking for a job here! Couldn't find a worse time to move to US :)
Anyway, where are you in SoCal? I had met a Malaysian so far, and now you, it makes me feel so happy, yay!
Totally cute sight – was looking for "shikwasa" recipes on line and found this! Nice Job – by the way in Okinawa, we call the calamansi, shikwasa. My eyes have been opened – I thought only kids that grew up in Okinawa and the Philippines sipped on homemade Shikwasa and calamsi juice!
I have a calamansi tree in my backyard here in orange county. Its weird because nobody waters the tree except maybe once or twice a month, yet it still produces a huge amount of calamansi. I was unsure what to do with this strange/sour fruit, so thank you for the recipe.
I live in san diego county and was wondering if anyone knows where to find shikuwasa juice concentrate
i know how u feel! i love calamansi juice, beats orang juice anytime, but can't find it here in limerick, ireland :( guess will have to wait till my next trip home to malaysia!
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Wow, the limau kasturi (calamansi) look gorgeous.
Mamak, limau ais satu! hehe
Im in Calgary, Canada. Is there someone who knows where I can buy a Calamansi/ Calamondin tree or any in Canada? I was searching and I found this posts. Maybe someone can help me look for it. Thanks so much! I really wanted to plant this one rather buying it frozen or fresh that is so expensive.
话梅 +limau kasturi + syrup + ice is the best drink !! My daughter's favorite !! 话梅 is sold in packet of dried salted plums from China !! Mostly pregnant women eat this !! Jane, plant yours with the seed if you can't find the plant !! Please, not the seeds of the frozen limau kasturi !!
Hey there, just wondering– on my latest trip to Malaysia, I drank this everyday, but sometimes (mostly in KL, but not Kuching) it had a faint bit unmistakeable hint of saltiness to it, and this little brownish nugget at the bottom if the glass. Was that some sort if dried plum or tamarind or something? It was amazing, but I can't find any info about it in English. I guess it doesn't matter, because I'd be shocked to see calamansis anywhere near New England or New York, so I'll never get to make this at home…


text:
Delightful Dwarf Stories
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In the Deep Places: 11. From Out of Knowledge
But this forest was too strange, too silent: the trees were too large and the tiny cold pinpricks of the stars seemed to emphasize how very alone the Company was. Gimli felt better with the raised earth at his back and sides. At least here nothing could slip up on him from behind or drop down on him from the high branches.
It was entirely coincidental that the small cavern also hid him from view of the Elves overhead.
Legolas had vanished up one of the giant trees some time ago, taking Frodo and Sam with him. Gimli thought it had been at least ten minutes, but less than half an hour – it was difficult to feel the passage of time properly in these woods. Boromir was pacing back and forth in the small clearing: his shoulders were hunched and he stared at the ground as he muttered to himself in a low monotone. Merry was seated cross-legged at the base of one great tree trunk and eating an apple. Strangely enough, Pippin had not joined him. Aragorn was cleaning his dagger absently, occasionally glancing up at the tree that Legolas had climbed.
Gimli wished that Aragorn had not left it for the Elf to negotiate their passage. He had no illusions about the way that most Elves regarded Dwarves, and this border guard was haughty and condescending enough to make Thranduil seem warm and open-minded. Legolas had translated a small portion of their conversation before he had vanished up the tree, and Gimli bristled at the memory. They had threatened to shoot the Fellowship, and passed it off as a joke. They were obstructing Frodo's quest and Gimli had no doubts about their reaction when they learned that a Dwarf traveled with the Company.
He did not entirely trust Legolas not to simply abandon him here. Oh, the Elf had been loyal enough in Moria, where he had been disoriented and dependent on Gimli's expertise, but he was clearly comfortable here in these Elven woods. Who was to say that he would not take the easiest path and agree to leave Gimli behind? Or consign him to the Elves' dungeons? Balin had always been one to do justice to a good story, and the tale of his imprisonment in the halls of the Wood-elf king had grown over the years in the Lonely Mountain.
And yet… Glóin had never publicly contradicted Balin's stories, but he did tell Gimli in private not to believe all of them. "They were cellars, really, not so much dungeons. I don't think the Elves would know a proper dungeon if Durin himself built one for them. And they didn't bring in spiders to torment us, or feed us on rotten rice and well water. Actually the food was quite good. And I've never had better wine. But they did try to rob us, and they brought an army to lay siege to us after Smaug's defeat." His father had paused then, and rubbed the side of his nose with one thick finger. "Elves are funny folk. They're good people, for the most part – at least they fight against the Enemy, same as us. Elrond was very helpful to us, though of course he's only half Elf. Full Elves are, well, they're something else. Too tall and skinny, so you'd think they'd blow over in a high wind, but they're strong too. And they sing the most maddening songs, and are the flightiest things you ever saw, but then they'll get very still and dangerous, too, when the mood is on them. You never can be sure what they'll do. It's best not to get involved with them, if you can avoid it. They think differently than we do, and they don't care about things the way we do. Don't trust them. Don't rely on them. They have their world, and we have ours, and it's best not to go mixing the two together."
But here Gimli was, mixing in as Elvish a forest as could be imagined, and even now his fate might be decided by the son of Thranduil. If that spoiled princeling tries anything I'll hit him with my axe. But surely Aragorn would not let Gimli be left behind. He had better well not let the Elf abandon me. I'll hit him, too.
Gimli was pulled from these thoughts by a slight shifting in the weight of soil and roots over his head. Ever sensitive to changes in the earth, he immediately tensed. He looked up at the tangled roots and crouched slightly, ready to roll out from under them at a moment's warning. There was no real stability here, and he dared not risk a cave in.
But the roof did not fall, and after a moment there was a scramble along the side of the bank and Pippin jumped down in front of him. Gimli blinked and relaxed.
"You ought to be more careful, young Hobbit," he said. "This bank won't take much weight."
Pippin started. "I didn't see you there, Gimli. I'm sorry." But he spoke perfunctorily, already turning away from the Dwarf.
Gimli frowned. There was something wrong. Pippin's voice was dull, his movements subdued. And, a clear warning signal: Merry had now finished the last of the apples and was starting on their remaining cheese rations and Pippin had not made the slightest effort to claim his share.
"Are you all right, Pippin?" He asked the question casually, but shot the youth a keen glance to see his reaction.
Pippin shrugged, his back to Gimli. "Oh, yes. Tired, I suppose." He started away, walking toward the edge of the small clearing.
Gimli straightened in alarm. "Hold now! Where are you going?"
The Hobbit did not look back. "For a walk. I am going for a walk."
Gimli left his small shelter and started after him. "These woods are perilous. You ought not to go wandering alone."
Pippin did not stop. "I'll be fine." His voice seemed oddly strained, thin and choked in his throat.
Gimli grabbed his arm to stop him, catching him at the shadowed edge of the clearing, and Pippin whirled suddenly around, trying to jerk free. "Leave me alone!"
Gimli saw Aragorn glance over at them, and he shook his head slightly, trying to indicate that he had things under control. The Man nodded and looked back up at the branches overhead. Gimli lowered his voice, aware that Merry and Boromir were also nearby. "You cannot go running off into the woods by yourself. It's dangerous."
Pippin made a strangled noise, like a half-swallowed laugh. But he made no reply, and only pulled harder to get free. Gimli tightened his grip on the thin bicep. "No one, not even Aragorn, can go exploring the forest by himself right now. We don't know what's out there."
He was afraid that he'd have to bruise the Hobbit to make him listen, but Pippin abruptly stopped struggling and stood still, his head bowed and his narrow shoulders heaving. Gimli waited a moment and then slowly released him. Pippin took a shaky breath but did not look up. "I'm sorry, Gimli. I know this isn't . . . isn't a Hobbit walking party. I just, I just needed . . ." but he did not say what he needed, and swallowed hard.
Gimli shook his head, not sure he'd heard properly. "A Hobbit what? Why would you think –"
Pippin threw up his hands. "It's what he said! By the well! He said it wasn't a Hobbit walking party, and I knew that, I did, he didn't need to tell me!" The boy's voice was shrill, his eyes bright with unshed tears, and Gimli was at a complete loss. But Merry was now looking over with concern, and even Boromir had paused in his pacing. Gimli hesitated and then put a hand gently on Pippin's shoulder, guiding him away from the forest edge and toward the relative privacy of his shelter.
"Hush, now," he said awkwardly. "Just take a few deep breaths and think on for a bit. Who said this? What well?"
Pippin's chest and shoulders were shaking, but he did breathe slowly for a minute before speaking, and he seemed to regain some control. He sat down under the earthen bank and drew his knees up to his chest. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke. "Gandalf. At the well in Moria, after I dropped the stone, he said that it wasn't a Hobbit walking party, and that I could take first watch, but then he relieved me, and then the Orcs came, and –" His voice choked off, and he blinked rapidly.
Gimli remembered then. Strange, with all that had happened during those long days, he had nearly forgotten Pippin's stone. But surely the boy couldn't think that…
"What's this foolishness, then?" he spoke gruffly, but tried to make his eyes twinkle the way Gandalf's had. The effort was wasted, however, because Pippin did not look up. "So you were curious about a well and dropped a pebble to see how deep it was. I've done that and more, on occasion. Once I dropped a bit of flint down an air shaft, only my uncle Óin was down there, and it hit his head. Knocked him cold for three hours, and he had the nastiest lump for days. My father wore out his birch rod on my britches, and then I had to clean Óin's forge every day for a week, and I'm sure that he deliberately used the very worst quality iron during that time, so there was a tremendous amount of waste slag . . ."
But Pippin clearly was not listening. Gimli faltered and fell silent. His words seemed terribly inadequate for the weight of grief and guilt that the young Hobbit carried. There was a long pause, and Gimli settled down to sit next to Pippin, his hands on his knees. He felt the damp earth cool against his back, and heard the faint creak and shift of the living roots overhead. He breathed deeply and tasted the scent of rich soil and loam and the crisp tang of the winter night.
"Pippin, look at me," he said finally, and the words seemed to echo in his mind: a strange sense of doubling, as if he had been in this moment before. But Pippin did look up, and Gimli shook off the memory and spoke firmly. "You did not cause Gandalf's death. Your stone had nothing to do with naught. The Balrog would have found us in any case. And Gandalf, being the stubborn old wizard that he was, would have insisted on fighting it alone. There was nothing you could do, nothing any of us could do, to prevent it."
Pippin shook his head, and Gimli saw the tear tracks in the grime on his face. "You don't know that. And the others, they think it was me."
"What!" Gimli was shocked. "No they don't."
"Yes they do! Merry won't even look at me –"
Gimli frowned. "What are you talking about? He's been with you every minute since we came off the Dale!"
Pippin drew a gasping breath, and his chest heaved. "No he hasn't. He hasn't talked to me, or smiled once, and when Sam went up the tree with Frodo he opened the food pack without even asking me –"
Gimli threw up his hands. "When was the last time you needed to be asked to share food? And you can't expect him to act normally – he's lost a friend too. Give him time."
Pippin hardly seemed to hear him. "Merry never breaks into Sam's pack. Not ever. He says it's dishonest, when everyone in the Fellowship needs the rations. So he always lets me do it, and then he just helps out, to keep it even, you know. But he didn't wait for me, or even seem to care that I was there."
"That doesn't mean that –"
But Pippin rushed on. "And Legolas –"
That did it. Gimli reached for his throwing axe. "What has that Elf said to you? I'll kill him!"
Pippin stopped, and looked at him with wide eyes. "He didn't say anything to me! But at the well, when the stone dropped, he . . ."
Gimli had another flash of memory, this time of the Elf standing at the edge of the well, gripping Pippin by the wrist and nearly pulling him off the ground. He remembered the fear in Legolas' eyes, the fine wired tension that had run through every line of his body. And he sighed.
"That doesn't mean that he thinks you brought the Balrog on us. You just . . . startled him, that's all. Elves don't handle surprises well."
Pippin shook his head again. "That isn't what Frodo says. He says that an Elf almost always knows what he's doing. I know you don't like him, Gimli, but Legolas isn't as flighty as you make him out to be. He wouldn't grab me like that unless he knew I had done something dangerous."
Gimli looked down, slowly turning his small axe in his hands. Then he carefully set it aside. It was a moment before he could phrase his answer in a way that did not sound too biased. "No, the Elf isn't one to jump like that normally. But you must understand, Master Took, he was under a terrible strain down there in the caves. Elves aren't used to being underground like Dwarves or Hobbits." He deliberately refrained from elaborating further on Elven weaknesses.
But Pippin was looking at him skeptically. "We'd only been in the mines for a day. I don't think he'd lose control that quickly."
This was something that Aragorn had said, but Gimli had not given it thought at the time. Now, considering it again, he admitted that it did seem strange for Legolas to change his behavior so radically in so short a time. He remembered the Elf's fear before the three archways, and the horrible sense of dread that even he, Gimli, had felt there. He saw Legolas standing at the foot of a broken stair with head bowed, and heard again the words, It draws nearer. We have tarried too long. And Gimli thought that he understood at last.
He took a deep breath and looked straight at Pippin and said, "It wasn't just the mines, or the dark, or being away from his precious trees. The Elf . . . can sense things. I think that he knew the Balrog was there, maybe from the first moment we set foot in Moria. Maybe he didn't know what it was, but he still felt it. And he knew it was coming." Gimli repressed a shudder, remembering the Shadow, and the roar of flame, and the terrible resonant ache of Power. To have sensed that, drawing closer and closer for days and nights on end . . . how had the Elf borne it? How could anyone have borne it without going mad? Gimli remembered Legolas' near panic when they had been blocked by the gap in their path on that first day, it seemed a lifetime ago. And he remembered his own amusement at the Elf's all-too-obvious fear. There was a sour taste in his mouth.
Pippin was watching him. "You mean that Legolas felt the Balrog before I dropped the stone?" He hesitated, seeming to consider that. "But even so, maybe it wouldn't have found us. Gandalf could have avoided it."
Gimli sighed. "Maybe he could have. I don't know. But whether he could or not, his ability was not hampered by you. I'm as good at following echoes as any Dwarf you'll ever meet, Master Took, and I tell you now that I'd not have been able to track our position from that one dropped stone. I'm sorry Pippin, but you can't claim the responsibility all on your own. Maybe Gandalf should have chosen more wisely, and I should not have led him to go to Moria." I was so blind, so greedy and blind. I wanted to believe in Khazad-dûm, and I made Gandalf pay the price. "There is ample blame to share, if you go looking for it."
Pippin still seemed doubtful. "But the others, Boromir and Frodo –"
"Enough!" Gimli cried, and pushed to his feet. His knee popped as he did so. "Master Took, I have used logic and talked till I am tired, and still you refuse to see reason. If you do not stop this pointless wallowing now and start behaving like a proper Hobbit should, I will have to resort to my axe."
Pippin looked startled, but smiled weakly when Gimli hefted his large axe. "I'm not afraid of you."
"No?" Gimli stopped to consider this. "Well, you should be. I'm terribly frightening." He scowled fiercely and made his eyebrows bristle. Pippin smiled again, with a bit more warmth.
Then he looked down and trailed one finger in aimless patterns through the loose soil. "You really think that Legolas felt the Balrog even before we got to the well?"
Gimli shifted his weight. He'd have given mithril to avoid answering. But Pippin was looking hopeful, and there was no escape. Durin and the Seven Fathers! Gimli swore under his breath. Then he cleared his throat and spoke firmly and clearly. "Master Took, if you ever breathe one word of this to the Elf I will personally string you up by the hair of your feet." Pippin looked suitably impressed by this threat, though one corner of his mouth quirked. Gimli continued. "The Elf warned us, Gandalf and me, that there was danger coming on the first night we spent in Moria, and I believe that he felt it long before we reached your well. He senses things that we can't, and even in the Mines he had his uses. He was terrified, but he never lost his wits or forgot his duty, and he fought bravely and with skill." Gimli remembered how, in the aftermath of Gandalf's fall, Legolas had stayed hidden while the Company fled. He had been willing to stay, even in the dark stone passage still resonant with the demon's malice, rather risk the Fellowship. And Gimli swallowed. "He tried to tell us. He could hardly speak of it, but he tried to warn us. And maybe, if we had listened, we could have found another way. Gandalf might not have died."
Pippin was watching him. Gimli fell silent and looked at him. A long moment passed, and Gimli felt it stretch in the timeless forest. Then Gimli shook himself and lifted his axe again. "So are you convinced, Master Hobbit, or shall I instruct you further?"
Pippin smiled shakily and got to his feet. He bowed to Gimli and said, "Thank you, Master Dwarf. Your axe will not be necessary. You've done a good job with your words." He hesitated, and then added, "I wonder what Legolas would say, if he could hear you?" And with that he backed quickly out of the cavern, then turned and ran to snatch the last bit of dried meat from Merry's hand.
Gimli watched him go. Pippin was still far too pale, and his antics had a forced quality to them, as if he were putting on a show. But at least he was interacting with the others, and Gimli saw Merry protest as Pippin pushed past him to Sam's pack. The young Took said something over his shoulder even as he rummaged deeper in the bag. His cousin smiled briefly and sat down again.
Then Gimli looked past them and saw that Aragorn was no longer looking up at the flet above them, but talking to the Elf that stood at his side. Legolas had returned.
All the suspicion and doubt that he had felt came flooding back as he watched them. Aragorn did not seem to be protesting anything, but only listened to Legolas and nodded occasionally. Gimli narrowed his eyes.
The Hobbits had risen to their feet, watching. Pippin was still chewing on his strip of dried meat. Boromir had stopped his pacing and was also looking at them. Gimli came out from beneath his overhang.
Aragorn finished the conversation and turned toward them. Legolas went to the pile of packs at the base of the tree and began sorting through them. "The Elves of Lothlórien have offered us shelter for the night," Aragorn announced. "There is a large talan, a platform, in this tree. The Hobbits will stay there. Another flet is in a different mallorn," he glanced at Legolas, and the Elf indicated a tree about a third of the way around the clearing, "and the rest of the Company will sleep there."
Gimli was not sure how to take this information. It seemed that they had no choice but to trust the Elves for tonight, yet he was not at all convinced that this plan was their best option. But before he could object Boromir spoke. "Why are we to be split up? The Hobbits will be defenseless."
Aragorn looked at him. "The Elves will stay with them. They'll have the best defense imaginable."
Boromir crossed his arms over his chest. "We know nothing of these Elves. We haven't even seen them! They've interrupted our journey, and the first thing that they did was to separate the Ring-bearer from the Company. How can we trust them?"
Aragorn started to speak, but he was interrupted by a clear, cold voice. Legolas had straightened, and he looked every inch the Elven prince as he stared at the Man of Gondor. "I have spoken with the march-warden and his guard. They bear us no ill will, and you, Boromir, would do well to act with courtesy while you are a guest in this land."
Boromir met his eyes, but when Legolas fell silent and continued to stare at him, he dropped his gaze and a muscle of his jaw tensed. "It is not discourteous to act with caution."
"No," Aragorn said. "But I have journeyed here before, Boromir, and I know that these people can be trusted. The Hobbits will be safe." He turned away, but as he passed Gimli heard him mutter, "They may be safer, perhaps, than they would be with us."
Gimli wondered at that, but Aragorn had joined Legolas beside the packs and was looking at them. "We cannot carry all of this up to the flets. Some of it will have to be buried here for the night."
Legolas nodded. "I've pulled out Sam's pack, and yours. Those should go up. The others can stay."
Gimli remembered then, and started to protest, but the Elf glanced at him and pulled another bag from the pile. He set it next to Aragorn's and said quietly, "The Book of Mazarbul should also go up." Gimli stared at him in surprise, but Legolas met his eyes defiantly, as if daring him to say anything. After a moment Gimli blinked and looked away. He remembered his earlier suspicions, and heard his father's voice again. They don't care about things the way we do. His cheeks were hot with shame.
Aragorn's mouth was hanging open in shock. But he closed it after a moment, and managed to say evenly, "Yes, of course. Merry and Pippin can take Sam's pack up. I'll hide the others."
This took rather longer than one might have thought. Even though Sam's bag had been lightened considerably by the consumption of most of the food, it was still heavy and awkward. Merry and Pippin squabbled over who would carry it, and ended up by unpacking their own bags and dividing Sam's between them. This took some time, and the process revealed a good deal about Sam's organizational abilities and priorities. ("A trowel? Why would he bring a trowel?" "I guess it would be useful for digging roots, wouldn't it?" "We left in the middle of winter! What roots was he going to dig?" "Maybe he wanted to start a garden when we got to Mordor.")
Legolas left them to it and climbed quickly up into the second mallorn tree. After a few minutes another silvery ladder came floating down, and Boromir caught the end. He gave it some experimental tugs, but it held fast.
By the time Legolas re-joined them on the ground Merry and Pippin had finished with Sam's pack and were regarding the ladder that Frodo and Sam had climbed. Merry fingered the rope that fashioned it, while Pippin stood with head back and stared up the length that twisted and swayed with the faint breeze, and vanished into the shadowed branches far above. Gimli followed his gaze. He felt slightly queasy.
But Merry turned down all offers of assistance. "It isn't that different from the ladders we use for apple picking in Buckland. Just a bit higher, that's all."
"Right," Pippin said, though he was noticeably lacking in enthusiasm.
Merry grasped the rope ladder firmly and began to climb. After a moment Pippin followed him. The addition of Pippin's weight made the ladder sway and twist alarmingly, and both Hobbits clutched it with white-knuckled grips. Boromir steadied the base and watched them with concern. But they adapted quickly, and were soon climbing again. Their overly large feet seemed to help as they searched for each rung that swung with the rope away from their weight.
By the time that Gimli was convinced that the Hobbits would not fall, Aragorn had finished burying their packs in a shallow trench covered with a deep drift of leaves. Even in the night cloaked forest the leaves shone a faint gold.
"Will that be sufficient?" Gimli asked. "Won't the Orcs be able to smell them?"
Aragorn shook his head. "If Orcs manage to penetrate these woods they will be running panicked and pursued. They won't have time to scent anything."
With that Aragorn grabbed his own light pack and started toward the tree where Legolas and Boromir were waiting. Boromir was tense, fingering the rope ladder and glancing repeatedly up to where it vanished into the mallorn's branches. By contrast Legolas looked perfectly at ease as he leaned back against the tree trunk. Indeed, he seemed a bit too relaxed, and his open eyes had a glazed look to them.
Aragorn grinned and bumped Legolas' shoulder as he passed, pushing the Elf back a step. Legolas' head snapped up, and he straightened abruptly. Aragorn muttered something that Gimli did not hear, but Legolas shot the Man a cutting look that was easy enough to interpret.
Then Aragorn grasped the ladder and began to climb. He weighed more than the Hobbits, but seemed more accustomed to the task, and he did not hesitate as the rope twisted beneath him. Boromir and Gimli exchanged glances. Then the Man of Gondor took a deep breath and adjusted his shield again on his back. He seized the rope and set one foot in a rung about three feet off the ground. It immediately swung away from him as he lifted himself up, and the weight of his shield and sword fell back, so that he was left dangling with his feet nearly level with his hands.
With an effort he managed to pull himself vertical, but the ladder swung again as he reached for the next step, and he grasped it tightly to keep from falling. Legolas seized the bottom of the rope and pulled it straight. "You would find it easier," he gasped, "if you left your shield behind. The weight puts you off balance."
Boromir did not reply. He pushed one arm back impatiently to settle his shield from where it had slipped on his shoulders and began to climb again. With Legolas holding the rope he was able to make better progress, and soon had reached a considerable height.
That left Gimli. He took a deep breath and tipped his head back to look again at the distant tree branches. He was strongly aware of the weight of his own pack, axes, chain mail and other gear as he approached the flimsy rope. But it had held for Boromir, and Legolas was still holding it steady. Without looking at the Elf he grasped the ladder tightly and began to climb.
He immediately saw why Boromir had had such trouble. The rope was strong and light, and it swayed easily with every step he took. He had not been climbing long when it suddenly gave a great lurch and swung dangerously. Gimli nearly fell, and clutched the woven rungs close to his chest. "What in Mahal's name!" he swore, and locked his arms around the rope. After a few moments it stopped twisting and he dared a glance down.
Legolas had let go of the rope. He was standing at the base of the tree, clearly preparing to climb up, and he looked up at Gimli with poorly concealed amusement. "What are you doing, Elf?" Gimli demanded. "I could have been killed!"
"You are less than ten feet off the ground, Master Dwarf." Legolas said.
It was true. Gimli turned his face toward the tree trunk and closed his eyes, swallowing hard. The rope was still, but the world seemed to spin sickeningly. Without looking again at the awful distance he said, "You've no call to be upsetting the balance. Just because you –"
"Shall I stay here and hold the ladder still for you all night, Master Dwarf? If you speed your climb you might reach the talan by dawn."
Gimli growled beneath his breath and reached for the next rung. "You can practice patience, Master Elf. No one forced you to go last."
Suddenly the rope swung again, though less dramatically this time. Gimli closed his eyes and swore loudly. "Will you stop that!"
"Do you want me to hold the rope for you or not, Master Dwarf?"
"I want nothing from you, Elf, except that you stop upsetting the blasted ladder! I don't need your help!"
"Very well." The tension of the rope changed beneath his hands as Legolas released it. Gimli took a deep breath and began to climb again. It swung more freely without the Elf's weight as a stabilizer, but he soon found a rhythm in the swaying balance and he climbed steadily. He kept his eyes fixed on the tree trunk directly in front of him and did not look down.
There was movement at his side then, and a soft voice said, "You improve by the minute, Master Dwarf. Perhaps you should dwell in the trees more often." Gimli shot a quick glance to the left and saw Legolas looking back at him. The Elf was hanging from a tree limb a few feet away. He smiled at Gimli and then swung himself up onto the branch. Then he leaped easily through the air to catch another branch that grew a quarter of the way around the curve of the great tree bole.
Gimli watched him for a moment. Legolas used the tree branches as much as he could, but they were spaced widely apart and at times he seemed to actually scale the smooth trunk itself, digging his fingers into the bark and bracing his feet against it. There had to be some ribbing to the soles of the Elf's thin boots to allow him to do that.
Legolas had long vanished from sight when the shift in the ladder's tension told Gimli that the Men had stopped climbing. A few minutes later he reached the end and pulled himself gratefully up onto a large wooden platform in the tree branches. It was open and completely exposed save for the surrounding tree branches and one small woven screen that could be adjusted to block the wind. But it was level and solid, and did not sway beneath his feet. Gimli breathed a silent prayer of thanks and stretched cautiously. His back and shoulders ached, and his hands seemed to be permanently fixed in position from grasping the rope.
Boromir was also massaging his fingers, and he was bent slightly beneath his shield. But Aragorn was seated easily on the smooth boards. He looked perfectly comfortable, and had unbuckled Andúril and laid the sword at his side. Legolas was inspecting several large covered baskets that rested near the center of the platform. Gimli looked over sharply as he caught the scent of roasted meat.
"What is that?"
"Food, Master Dwarf." Aragorn said. "The Elves have left us some provisions." He rose in one smooth motion and walked over to the edge of the flet. He began to pull up the ladder.
Gimli's stomach abruptly reminded him that he had not eaten for several hours, and he'd been exerting himself considerably in that time. He followed Boromir toward the baskets. Legolas was laying out roast venison, apples, several wafers of some sort of bread, sausage, two pastries, a bottle of wine and, incredibly, some folded linen napkins. He looked at the feast and one corner of his mouth quirked in a slight grimace.
"Will you look at that," Boromir breathed. "It's a meal fit for a king."
"Or a prince," Aragorn said, and Legolas glared at him.
"More than that," Gimli said. "It's a meal fit for a Hobbit. We'd best eat quickly, before they come to claim it."
"Do not be concerned about that," Legolas said. He was looking through the branches toward the other mallorn. "They have their own. They will not be hungry tonight." He looked again at the food before him and muttered under his breath, "By Elbereth they had better well not be. I'll string Haldir up by his ears."
Gimli gave a snort of laughter which he quickly turned into a cough when Legolas looked at him. Boromir insisted on standing for a moment to face the west before eating, and Aragorn seconded him. Legolas stood respectfully to the side while they did this, but Gimli sat down. He was tired, his hands and back ached, and the Dwarves had their own customs at meat. He murmured a quiet prayer of thanks with the traditional blessing for the host, and privately wondered what Mahal would think of giving a Dwarven blessing to an Elf. He omitted the wish that "their beards grow ever longer," but could not think of a good phrase to substitute. "May their arrows always fly true"? Legolas at least didn't seem to need the Valar's help with that. "May their glow never go out"? Now he was getting silly. Valar, he was so tired.
The others appeared to share his exhaustion. Boromir and Aragorn soon joined him, and Legolas sat cross-legged a short distance away. He claimed not to be hungry, but when Aragorn suggested that they could call the Elves and tell them that the food didn't meet with Legolas' approval the Elf glared at him and snatched up a piece of venison and a wafer of bread. Gimli did not touch the bread, which looked something like cram. He had heard strange stories of Elven waybread, and he had no wish to fall captive to any spell that might be laid upon it. But he ate heartily of the rest of the food. Boromir and Aragorn also ate quickly. But Legolas only nibbled at his food, and sat and stared into space for long stretches of time with it forgotten in his hand.
The meal was soon over and Aragorn wrapped himself in his cloak and stretched out to sleep. For the first time that Gimli could remember there was no discussion of watches for the night. Aragorn seemed ready to trust the Elves to guard them. Boromir was less likely to leave their safety in the hands of strangers, but after sitting for a short time with nothing to do but listen to the faint rustling of the leaves he gave it up and lay down under his heavy cloak.
Gimli settled his gear in the exact center of the platform and positioned his pack as a pillow. But he could find no comfortable position. He was painfully aware of how very high up he was, and the thin boards seemed a poor protection from the tremendous drop beneath his feet. He felt horribly exposed on all sides, and he thought about the mysterious Elves that might even now be hidden in the branches, watching him.
Strangely enough, Legolas made no preparations to rest. Gimli would have expected him to be the first to sleep, for he was clearly comfortable here. And the Elf had virtually fallen asleep on his feet several times already this night. But now he perched easily in the crook of a branch that hung low over the platform. He drew his three remaining arrows and inspected them carefully.
It was quiet. Gimli could hear the Men breathing in slow rhythm and the faint dry rustle of the leaves overhead. His eyes burned and he ached with weariness, but sleep eluded him. Legolas drew one arrow slowly along his hand, turning the smooth shaft and lightly fingering the golden brown fletching at the end. It seemed a long time before he set it down and selected another.
Gimli watched him simply because there was nothing else to look at. Finally the Elf completed his examination of the arrows and paused for a moment. Gimli thought that he would now go to sleep, but instead he drew his bow and began running his hands over its smooth length. Gimli fancied that he could hear the brush of Legolas' fingers in the silence.
"What are you doing?" He heard the question, but it was a moment before he realized that he'd spoken it.
Legolas did not look up. "I've cracked my bow. I must repair it."
"When else would you have me do it, Master Dwarf? When the Orcs are upon us?" The Elf's voice was clipped.
Gimli stiffened. "I think we can manage. Our safety is not wholly dependent upon you, Master Elf."
Legolas paused. He sat still for a long moment, looking at the bow in his hands. Then he shook his head and said quietly, "I did not mean that. I am . . . I am weary. I did not think before I spoke."
Gimli stared at him in amazement. This was the closest he had ever heard the Elf come to an apology. After a moment he realized that his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it abruptly. He cast about for something to say. "I didn't . . . that is, I only meant . . ." he heard his own awkward speech and stopped. He took a deep breath and then said in a rush, "Your bow would be missed. The Fellowship is stronger because you are with us."
Legolas looked up at him then, and he saw surprise in the Elf's eyes. He flushed with embarrassment. But Legolas did not take advantage of Gimli's weakness. He smiled slightly and seemed about to speak, when suddenly he stiffened and leaped to his feet. This was something of an accomplishment, as the Elf was still perched in his tree branch rather than on the platform. The movement was nearly too fast for Gimli see, but he thought that Legolas pushed with his folded legs so that he sprang straight up several feet in the air and landed lightly down again to stand where he'd been seated only an instant before. Gimli blinked.
The Elf was standing straight on his tree limb and staring intently through the branches toward the ground. He was very still, but he clutched his bow in a white-knuckled grip. Gimli got slowly to his feet. His back and legs were still stiff from the climb. "What is it?" he whispered.
Legolas shook his head abruptly and motioned for quiet. He slipped along his branch and vanished into the surrounding foliage. Gimli waited for a long moment, straining his senses. He could hear nothing, but his instincts were on high alert. Then suddenly Legolas reappeared, dropping straight down from a different branch to land lightly on the platform next to Gimli. Gimli started, but Legolas only looked at him. His eyes were very bright. "There is a large party of Orcs approaching the Nimrodel. The Enemy has come to Lothlórien."
Cram: Waybread made by the Men of Dale. Mentioned in the Hobbit and the Lothlórien chapter of the Fellowship of the Ring.
A/N: So, 14 pages to get up a tree. Next up: Chapter 12. Hopefully we get down from the tree.
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Here is a list of websites of useful businesses including many in and around the Thame area. If you have a suggestion for a link or wish to share links to and from our website please contact us.
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I purchased a new property and the in ground pool is equipped with a Magna Sweep self cleaning system. The only problem is I can not figure out how to turn it on and I am unable to find a pool expert
my family is thinking about sprucing up our dull backyard with an outdoor kitchen/ pool & spa area. we want to utilize as much space as possible, so we are trying to get ideas of what different people


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• Post-style dangle earrings of sterling silver and copper for pierced ears
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Small-Bowel Obstruction on CT
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The small bowel is dilated and filled with air and fluid. Oral contrast is seen in some of the loops but has not traveled down to the distal small bowel. The collapsed cecum and sigmoid colon should be noted (arrows). A specific point of obstruction (transition point) cannot always be seen on CT, but the dilated proximal bowel and collapsed distal bowel are highly suggestive of the diagnosis.
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Wow, this is great news for those of us who would like to see electric cars go mainstream. Yesterday, Google switched on the 1.6 megawatts solar roof on its corporate campus. The roof will provide about one third of the company's electricity. Google also announced plans to accelerate the adoption of plug-in hybrid electric vehicles. […][Read More]
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I really wanted Vasquez to come in and play better than expected but he hasn't really. Gravy can be a great guard off the bench and a lockeroom leader, but not a starter on a decent team.
We cant win when defensive #1's are able to jump the point guard w/out fear, at half court: OR, until we get a point guard that doesnt immediately turn his back to the goal when pressured: OR until we get a point guard that can/will start the offense with more than 10 seconds left on the shot clock: OR a point guard that can GUARD another point guard: or a point guard that can attack with both hands: OR, a point guard that can see the entire court while dribbling !
Spacing is impossible when your offense is stagnant for 14 seconds on every possession .
Gordon will be able to camouflage Vasquez a little bit,but until we find a legit starting #1, Anderson, Gordon & Davis will be handcuffed a bit !
I really wanted Vasquez to come in and play better than expected but he hasn't really. Gravy can be a great guard off the bench and a lockeroom leader, but not a starter on a decent team.
I miss Jarret Jack
"I'm not going to allow my putative owner to answer that question, this is an NBA related press conference. Paul Tagliabue and Roger Goodell have collectively sung their praises of Tom and if uh ESPN has a problem with that tell Mr. Skipper to call me at my office."
Don't worry CP is coming back next year.
CP? Chris Parnell? *gasp* Another season of Archer?!
With purple and pinstripes from days gone by, I trumpet Hugo's name to the NOLA sky. When rebranders and posers abuse their might, beware my power, TEAL LANTERN'S LIGHT!
Forever hating the nickname, the logos, and the colors. Still backing the team I've loved since 1994.
Stolen name. Stolen colors. Stolen identity. Still the same old worthless Slobcats. Suck sludge, Charlotte.
I'm an advocate of getting a PG through trade or FA (versus the draft).... I think Jeff Teague might fit in here nicely and I am also thinking he will probably be attainable....
"we might make dollars, but we don't necessarily make sense"
"always be sincere....whether you mean it or not"
Lillard is playing out of this world, if we would have somehow got him and AD?! Mannn that would of been something. Also still wish we had collison that trade for him was garbage
Collison done fell off a good bit. How do you lose your starting job to 50 year old Derek Fisher?
I'd honestly take him, lou or Harris, obviously Harris being last but probably pretty easy to obtain at this point
Lillard puts up raw stats (he's really averaging 19 and 6, by the way), but he can't run an offense, his defense is terrible, his passes are offline (never hit where they should hit), and he is currently shooting 37% from the field over his last 10 games. That is horrible! Assists don't mean anything. Half of his assists come from feeding LMA in the post, and that doesn't require any skill on Lillard's part.
I don't understand why people are so polarized by him.
Do we have any 2nd round picks?Several NBA front-office officials believed Kabongo could have elevated himself into a mid-first round draft pick as a sophomore. As one Eastern Conference official said, "Maybe even a late lottery pick in what's going to be an average draft."
But after what most considered an ordinary freshman season and becoming ineligible as a sophomore, Kabongo's chances to getting drafted in the first round are improbable.
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