Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. They all belong either to Tolkien or to Decipher.

Author's Note: First off, the whole story is meant to be just a chapter in the story Lord of the Rings. It takes place in the movieverse of Fellowship of the Ring when the company is in Lothlorien. It doesn't have a name yet; I'm still working on it. But, the prologue starts off like a chapter in the middle of a book. It's supposed to. I just telling you that.

The Light of Lorien

By The Huntress

All around them, the scions of the Mallorn trees of Lorien embraced them, welcoming them to a haven of peace and recovery, however short-lived it may be. The Company, having recently lost their beloved Gandalf, had not been within the golden wood long; they had only just arrived a few hours prior. The stale air of Moria and the stench of the foul Orcs still lingered in the nostrils and the black image of the dower Balrog remained emblazoned in their minds' eye.

All welcomed the serenity that was "The Land of Sleeping Dreams." They had met with the Lord and Lady of this tranquil land earlier and had succumbed to the Lady's Test. All had passed, but not all unscathed; yet, that is a different story. Fore this tale-within-an-epic is not dark or brooding, but loving and filled with hope. It is the eye at the center of a hurricane.

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

Legolas Greenleaf knew he must get away. He was inherently inclined to yearn for seclusion, and the past two months had been very tiresome. He'd been constantly surrounded by and had traveled with eight other people. One of which he had pledged his bow, his lively-hood, too. These people, this Fellowship, was not his kin; not his blood, yet, at the loss of Gandalf, the great Mithrandir, his heart had become heavy. Such things as death were hard for the immortal elves to cope with. And so, Legolas slipped away.

He moved through the trees much as a predatory cat moves through the tall grass of the African savannah; silent and unseen. As he brushed them, the trees expressed their remorse for the loss of the Grey Wizard and offered their comfort. Legolas acquiesced his acceptance. He loved dearly the trees as all the Firstborn did, but these trees were strange and unknown to him. They were as strangers in a crowd consoling a nameless face.

The laughing of a brook came to Legolas' ears and the sound warmed him. Long indeed had it been since he had last heard such a merry sound! He found his feet were taking him nearer, and soon he came to a clearing. The beauty that unfolded before him filled his elven heart with exuberance and eased the weight therein. Moonlight poured down through the canopy and washed unabated over the rippling waters of the brook he had heard and all the rocks and stones skirting it. A light breeze blew here, tossing his spider-silk tresses about his shoulders.

As his eyes made their rounds of the clearing, he noticed a lithe form perched atop a small rock not far from him. Her gown was of blue silk and a silver sash accented her slender waist. Golden tresses spilled down her back as they glinted in the lunar light. This enticed him fore her back was all he could see. She breathed then and turned to regard him. Her eyes were blue ice framed by curtains of gold. Legolas' breath caught. He looked upon the face of an angel.