Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or any of that stuff. Or maybe that's just what I want you to think…*chuckles evilly*
Just so you know, the conversations between the elves are spoken in elvish…'cause, well, they are elves.
Galadriel stepped over to her window and gazed out, savoring the view of the many treetops intertwined in the twilight. Slightly below, the many flets gleamed, filled with light and love. Low voices could be heard murmuring, carried by the breeze to Galadriel's ears, the elven voices mingling to form a pleasant melody. Peace was a lovely thing, to be treasured when had, to be remembered with fondness and not regret when it fled. She smiled, yet even that was tinged with sadness. In her heart there loomed a shadow, casting its darkness over her quiet restfulness. Restfulness? Yea, and yet not, for it was ever accompanied by a watchful spirit, seeing but not seen. Yet for all her watchfulness, she could not fathom what was this…thing…monstrosity as it seemed…that was drawing near…
She shook her head and turned back into the room. Illuminated only by lamps filled with the glorious light of the morning star, it was her place of silence, where she came to reflect and be alone. Bearer of the ring Nenya, she oft had worries she could not impart to others, not even Celeborn, dear partner as he was. Troubles on an already burdened mind…the lady had much to tend to, much to oversee; she had knowingly accepted it all when gifted with Nenya. This bitter darkness upon her; foreboding filled her thoughts. More importantly, the arrival of the ringbearer upon that evening, upon the falling of dusk. She took it as an omen, that the light of day should so flee as the ring entered Caras Galadhon. She paused in her pacing and swept a cool hand over her brow.
Enough! She was wearied, greatly so, much more than she had cared to impress upon Celeborn and her maidens. Galadriel glided over and lowered herself onto a plain white bed, sumptuous in its simplicity. She lay back, hands clasped over her breast, eyes open and yet unseeing. Her mind forsook the realm of consciousness for one of blessed ease and joy…
"My lady, the fair light has appeared over yonder. It shines and it glows, calling all to awaken. Below, the fellowship prepares for their departure, all the while awaiting the farewell of thy Lady of Light." Celeborn stepped over the threshold, his stately robes brushing against the gilded floor.
"Waken…" He gazed down on her that lay unmoving facedown on the bed. He frowned. This was an unusual posture for the graceful Lady of Light. She must have been wearied beyond thought or care. Looking closer, his usual placid manner dropped for a second but he quickly regained his composure. He grasped her wrist and felt for her pulse. A second later, he called out to the guard who had accompanied him to the Lady and was now waiting respectfully just outside the door.
"The Lady seems to have stopped breathing. Send for the healers and do not falter, be it ever for a second." Celeborn tried his utmost to keep his voice steady, yet could not help but raise his tone in urgency at this last command. Startled and confused by this unexpected turn of events, the guard hurried away. Celeborn turned back to his wife, his distress increasing every moment.
All right, not very good. Review please! Suggestions on how to improve are welcome, so long as they are constructive.