Lothlorien
The entrance was uncertain, fading from grasslands below the mountainous scenery of the snowcapped peaks of Caradhras. All was green and bright. Mist blanketed everything in this early morning hour. The sun shone out from the branches and hit this forest's leaves and springs. All who came there were struck with awe at the sight of this last fortress of the elves. For this was Lothlorien, and somewhere in the center of this enchanting forest lived the elf lady Galadriel and her people. The only thing known about this race of high elves was myth, passed down by word of mouth, and distorted over the generations. Suddenly, an elf stepped out from behind one of the trees. And then from all around Eleanor, others appeared from behind bushes or rocks, encircling her and her horse on all sides. They were clad in green, with golden blond hair, silver cloaks and redwood bows strung to shoot. Fearlessly, one of these elven warriors stepped forward. He had a silver star embroidered on the front of his cloak. "Who walks here in the land of Lothlorien of the high elves?" he inquired.