Galadriel leaned over her mirror and waited…
Images came to her, flashes in time…Things that had been, things that would be, and things that may yet come to pass.
And as she gazed into the still pool of water, she heard a voice, a woman's voice, chanting in her head:
Dancer of the Stars, By the name of a flower,
Spirit of Fire, By the mark of the Sword,
Bitten of the Night, Cloaked in the Darkness,
Sent back by the Valar, Marked by destiny…
The voice faded into the background, and Galadriel watched, transfixed, as the visions in the mirror continued.
She saw a figure battling against innumerable foes, and suddenly, the figure turned, as though sensing it was being watched.
Galadriel could not tell if the figure was male or female, cloaked in the shadow as it was, but she caught the flash of emerald eyes as the vision faded into a pool of water once more.
Galadriel knew that the figure she had seen could well hold the fate of Middle Earth in his or her hands, and she waited through the ages for the one who could save Middle Earth to appear…
