He remembered his last days under the golden trees of Lorien; the sun dawned as it had for the last two centuries, following its eternal course through the sky, chasing the moons' pale light. Laitheryn recalled the slivers of gold dancing on the leaves, cascading down in shadows to the ground and those that stood watching the display. As the waking trees drifted in the soft breeze the shadows danced in a symphony with the songs echoing through the trees.

He lived above ground, in homes that stretched throughout the treetops and connected with shimmering white bridges to other dwellings. It was not necessary to walk on the ground; you could easily reach your destination by following the bridges through the passageways made by the trees and never touch the earth. Laitheryn preferred to make his own path, jumping from tree to tree and sometimes the ground. His independence had been encouraged by those around him.

He had been living there for around two centuries; each day was filled with new discoveries. The elves around him had gradually switched from speaking the common tongue, to their own languages and his vocabulary in both Sindarin and Quenya grew. High elven was not as common now as it had been in the long past with most elves only having a rough understanding of the lost language, but both the lord and lady insisted he become fluent. Rising to the occasion, but not understanding their resolve, he had exceeded their expectations. Quenya was not a common tongue, even among elves anymore; instead it was only used for high matters, among royalty and for song and lore.

He also learned of the first born's past, and the separate tribes they had split into during the call from the Valar that broke the race apart, some in Valinor and some staying in Arda. And their return and seeming fall from grace of those that followed Feanor out of Valinor, wishing the return of the lost silmarillion after the dying of the trees of light. Laitheryn learned their most painful past the one all wished no part in, their involvement in the kinslaying on the shores of Valinor. The high elves were now exiled in Arda.

Assuming he did hale Greenwood as birth home, then Laitheryn had no problems tracing his possible ancestry, save the exact knowledge on how he came to be where he was, with no one the wiser. There were few reports between Greenwood and Lorien, and none that entailed a lost elfling as he had once been. There was no mention of any youth lost from the great forest.

Along with his intense studies into the far past, Laitheryn had learned the traditions of the three elven realms in existence, as well as the customs that existed in the realms of the other races that lived on Arda. He was skilled in diplomacy and, with much patience on the part of his teachers, politics.

Laitheryn had been given private lessons by his tutor so his presence would not disrupt the younger ones during their lessons. He had known that when starting this journey to knowledge he would be behind his age in knowledge, but this had not stopped him from trying. Because of the near millennia he had spent with the humans, he had lost that time to learn and was just now beginning to make headway. The Lord and Lady always took a great interest in his studies, as if they were preparing him for some task or role in life that they alone were aware of.

But he had not spent all of his time buried in a book, only the mornings and up to the early afternoons. For the rest of the day he would train with off duty members of the scouting party, who were perpetually guarding the lines of Caras Galadhon. They had continued his lessons in swordsmanship and with sharp daggers and knives. Despite their expert instruction Laitheryn still preferred daggers to swords and soon he had progressed enough that he could easily fight with both hands. They had introduced him to the bow and arrow, and eventually he became a better shot then the majority and tied with their best. A bow and arrow became his favourite weapon, and soon he learned to store his daggers in the quiver he specifically made for them.

But life was not all work, without play. Elves loved dancing and singing, and when the mood hit them, small parties would gather to exchange stories and song over food and drinks. These small parties would soon overwhelm the gentle treetops with their chatter and soon all of the elves would find themselves joining in with their songs, dancing and merry making. There were moments of laughter, of joy and of sadness.

Laitheryn recalled one moment, when in a strange mood Rumil and Orophin played a trick on him and dumped what seemed to be an entire pond of water on him. What he had not known at the time was the water was dyed with herbs and plants, turning his skin, hair and clothes pitch black. Laitheyn had been relaxing under a shadowing tree, who had been a second to late in its warning and when he awoke he was soaked to the skin and very unhappy about the situation. He had been scaling back to his dwelling when he passed Haldir, returning from patrol. Both had been distracted and landed nearly in the same spot in the same tree. Laitheyn avoided the collision by jumping up to the next branch, moved by the responsive tree to his aid. Haldir had not been as lucky and due to his shock of seeing a shadow come to life, had missed the branch landing and slammed into the tree instead. He would have fallen, had Laitheryn not caught him and swung him up to his level; where the stunned, and obviously confused Haldir, stared at him for barely a second before yelling and going for his sword, hanging at his waist. It had taken Laitheryn several minutes to convince the spooked warrior that he was who he said he was, and not some enemy. Eventually Haldir had his answers and both had sworn revenge on the brothers.

Several moons later, Rumil and Orophin discovered it was not worth the effort to try to match wits with the intelligent pair. It had taken the revenge prank weeks to set up, including convincing all the elves around, who had heard of the unfortunate first victim and having been on the receiving end of jokes too, to help them out. It had started with getting the pair quite drunk, helped along with a brewed sleeping potion and then switching their rooms and wardrobe around, even switching the individual elves around too. For the entire day after Rumil was called Orophin and Orophin by his brothers' name, despite their protests. When they did speak up, they were stared at as if they had taken leave of their senses. It had taken the practical joke duo hours to figure out exactly what had occurred.

Of course his stay in Lorien was tempered by visitors from the other elven realms; including to his dismay the visit of the twin sons' of Elrond, who were the Imladris versions of Rumil and Orophin. When the four of them were together, Laitheryn swore the entire population of Caras Galadhon winced. He and Haldir, the most obvious targets of their jokes, made themselves very scarce during that visit. He had also met the daughter of Elrond, Arwen. She too took great interest in hiding from her brothers' pranks and soon the three were well acquainted.

Another visitor from Greenwood gave brief acknowledgement to the curious elves gathered to see him and nothing else. He was here, on duty to discuss trade and relations. The only interesting thing Laitheryn discovered during that visit was he and that strange elf had a similar tone of honey gold hair. Another proof that led him to believe he originally descended from an elf in the great forest.

The final visitor; and one he was quite fond of, who turned up quite unexpectedly and quite often was Mithrandir, the grey pilgrim. When the odd, but extremely friendly human made an appearance, despite the reason it threw the entire residence into a party. One day Mithrandir had sought him out exclusively and they spent several hours talking together and sharing experiences of the outside world. The Istar had left in the company of Celeborn. Laitheryn had overheard some of their conversation as they bade him farewell and the words had puzzled him. Mithrandir had remarked to the lord of Lorien that he was alike to someone in appearance and temper, but different in his acceptance of others and patience.

Laitheryn was happy here, content in the knowledge that he had friends and almost a family here. Haldir, Rumil and Orophin had become his brothers and close friends. The Lord and Lady seemed to view him as an esteemed nephew and treated him as if he had some title that cast him into a similar role as they. He was comfortable here and this was a home for him and he would always be welcomed here and treated as family, but this was not the home he was looking for. Despite belonging here his heart longed for the nearly forgotten dream image of green leaves dancing in the dark shadows of the noon day sun. And when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the shadows of the green leaves on his uncovered face and the scent of the living forest. It was time he move on in his search for his past.

He would head to Greenwood first, as this is what he recalled in his fondest and most distant memories, to seek answers of his own. As a foreigner with no knowledge of his past and no real reason to enter their guarded borders, it was likely he would be asked to leave or sent to be questioned by the Elvenking. Laitheryn had decided he would press his topic and his odd reason for entering their realm without permission until he was allowed to speak his part. However the king's ill temper would probably see his insistence paid off by a trip to the dungeons. Haldir stared at him in consternation when he spoke of his plans while Rumil and Orophin both mentioned something about his needing to discover a path out of the prison on his own. Their jokes did nothing to soothe his nerves.

As he had reached his decision, he had approached the lady Galadriel in the last moon with his plans. She, naturally, was not surprised with his choice and had stated she had expected him to leave at some point and would not force him to stay against his will and see him trapped here when his spirit wanted to fly.

It was her that had given him his second elvish name, on the eve of their second meeting. She had stated he had a spirit unmatched by those around him and needed not to be caged but rather surrounded by trees and the wilderness to keep him content. And as they communicated on his plans to leave, she approved of his decision and soothed his doubts and fears on abandoning what was the only home he had. She had smiled at him, as if pleased with his decision and he had felt his fear and worry quell and his heart still.

And yet he was leaving. Laitheryn reflected as he gazed over the balcony and watched the dawning of the sun for the last time. As he watched the muted golden colour of the leaves come to life and seemingly dance in joy as the suns' rays hit the dozing trees. To him it was as if the sun knew he was soon to leave and it shone less brightly today. Indeed the trees' dancing in the morning seemed slower and somehow mournful. All knew he was leaving, there was no escaping the fact that he had to continue on and discover who he was; and it saddened them that they were losing a good friend. But they all rejoiced his decision, and wished him luck to find the past he had lost.

There had been a celebration, on the last days of his stay; starting the noon before, in the small dwelling that Haldir stayed in, including his brothers and other close friends. Soon they were called forth and below the trees a feast had been arranged, with song and dance as well as a good amount of wine and other drinks. They stayed awake, past the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon and spoke and danced together for hours. Eventually the party died down, as some excused themselves for the night, not without one last goodbye and returned to their own dwelling. It was then he spotted her, Galadriel was watching him with a soft smile on her features, her dark gold hair spilling over her shoulders, untamed by the soft wind blowing behind her. She wore a pale white dress open at the shoulders, with a shawl cloak hanging over her creamy skin. Both the cloak and the silky dress had a faint pink cast to them. She beckoned him, turning and walking away without waiting for his answer, knowing he would follow. And follow he did.

The golden lady led him past the streamers of golden leaves and past the large trunks of trees, leading him further and further away from the center of her city. He had never followed this path before, and wondered how he had missed it, now that it was so obvious that it led somewhere important. He continued following her, now on a gentle slope down a hill and as the light vanished beneath a shimmering white staircase entwined in the trees above they had reached their destination. Laitheryn looked around to gain a sense of where he was. Off to one side of the glade, his eyes were drawn to a trickling waterfall of the clearest water he had ever seen, near which a golden dipper was. The water stemmed down the short distance and added a sombre note to the dark area they were in. In the whole of Caras Galadhon, this was the only area that Laitheryn had seen that did not shine like the sun; instead it seemed to be distant and cold; more like the moon than the sun.

He followed the line of the waterfall around a complete circle and then moved his gaze to the center of the circle. Spreading up from what appeared to be a natural support of dark earth was a golden mirror, situated loosely in the center of the structure. Laitheryn was sure that no force on Arda could remove this mirror from where it lay. He knew where he was; Galadriel's' glade. A place only rumoured to exist, even to the elves that lived here. Many had searched for this exact spot, all unsuccessful; he also had doubted its existence, and yet it existed.

"Those that are not meant to find this place, shall not enter, Penneth." She addressed his thought.

He was used to this occurring now, but it still caused him some distress when she did read into his private thoughts. "I do not understand, my Lady."

"You know of this place and of the dangers it may contain, if one unguided looks into its depths. That is why it is not discovered by those only curious. Only I may decide who has access to this place."

Laitheryn had, indeed, heard the rumours of this magical glade, its secrets and the powers that all attested to the hidden location. It had been told to him within a week of his arrival. The glade of Galadriel could show you future events, the present or the past; but it was a guess on which it was. Also it could show great events, but terrible ones too. It may force you to view something you wished not to see, and the knowledge would stay with you forever. It was like a double sword, which cut both ways. The knowledge could be useful, if you could interpret it properly, or it could darken you as you watch; a curse hidden in a miracle. Laitheryn wondered how many times the golden lady had viewed something she did not wish to view. Galadriel left his side and drew some water from the pond beneath the waterfall, but did not return to his side.

"And now, Penneth, would you risk a glimpse at the mirror to see what you search so fervently for? I will not force you, if you do not wish it."

"The mirror may witness me to something I do not wish to see."

"Aye." She returned. "But it may show you what you wish."

"It is a gamble then?"

"All things are a series of gambles, Penneth; including life, death and hope."

"You know who I am, do you not?"

They both studied each other intently. Laitheryn could feel her penetrating eyes on him as he asked, as if she were searching him for some sign she alone was aware of. For as long as he could recall residing in Lorien he had always had this impression that she knew all, but that was tempered by the control not to ask the fateful question. Now he could not resist, as this would be the last opportunity he could ask. A moment of silence passed, and she smiled gently once more.

"I do. I have been aware of your identity since you arrived and before as I watched you grow in the protection of the village."

"Why not say something?"

"Your past is clouded with a great pain, which you are aware of but cannot recall the event that caused such agony. You must discover the truth on your own; you must wish to remember, despite the past and your fear of that pain inside."

"I do wish my past, and yet my mind stays blank."

"In mind you wish your past, but in heart you fear the answers. You must find the strength to overcome that binding fear. If I were to tell you what I know to be the truth you may not recover from that. Laitheryn, you will need that strength you will achieve, in the future. Arda had need of you, the Valar have chosen you for a task and have placed their mark on you for those that have the means to see it. It will not be an easy road that you will follow, and you will need to be strong on your own to help in something so inconceivable that I wish it not so. But you will not travel alone, there will be others to walk with you, and the thoughts of your kin will be with you, now and in that distant future. Will you view from my mirror?"

He closed his eyes and looked away, pulling his thoughts together into the simple question she had asked. Would he look into the mirror…could he….did he dare? There was much it could show him, his time in the village, in Lorien. Or it could show him a hint on what the lady plainly knew to be his future, but if it sounded that bleak he was unsure if he wanted to know what she saw. What if it showed him something he did not want to see; a future pain, a loss, a death, an injury; what then? 'What if it shows me my past?'

Could he risk that, all the mysteries and warnings he had received, would he take the chance? Was there hope he would see what he wished? 'Do I wish to see?'

"Even if there is only a small chance of it succeeding, there is still hope. I will." He answered.

"As you wish, Penneth. Come forward, come to the mirror and look." Galadriel spoke as she poured the water into the golden mirror.

A moment later the moons' light reflected back up at him sending peculiar lights over what he knew to be his face. All he saw was the reflection of the glade through the glasslike water, with the shadowing trees above and the soft spears of lost stars above.

He blinked in confusion, as the image stayed a moment longer before it darkened unnaturally, becoming darker and darker. Laitheryn was tempted to look up to see if the moon had hidden herself behind some obscuring cloud and her gentle light lost.

But the scene dimmed past what he would expect until it was near pitch in colour. At first there was nothing, just the deepest colour of black he had seen, and then a shimmer of gold appeared. Laitheryn frowned and tried to peer closer at the flickering gold and as he concentrated further the image became clear; a simple gold ring, unadorned with any gem or markings, spinning in the darkness. As he stared at thering Laitheryn was struck with a thought; it was not a ring spinning in a made up darkness, but the spinning of this particular ring is what caused the darkness and it would be responsible for great evil. It seemed to call, as if it had a consciousness of its own. It had great power, but behind its grandness Laitheryn could just make out its malevolent intentions. He closed his eyes, not wishing to view this threat any longer, and the image almost seem to hiss in anger.

"You have passed your first test." Was all Galadriel would say. "There will be others."

"…That ring…" Laitheryn spoke, giving thanks to the Valar that the image faded when he opened his eyes once more.

"Is not worth dwelling on, Penneth."

There was not room for discussion as the mirror began to darken once more, Laitheryn hoped he would not be treated to another display of the ring; just one sight of it chilled his blood and he felt shaken by the evil such a simple thing could have.

A moment passed and the scene began to clear. He viewed himself aged not further in appearance but by knowledge, standing amongst a backdrop of dark walls, with drizzling rain soaking the ground just outside the cave in which his vision self stood with those in the vision. Laitheryn wore, in this vision a mid toned green tunic and brown leggings, and carried a bow shorter than the one he used now. It was more like the bow that the warriors in Greenwood used to patrol their borders. Laitheryn noted in passing that his hair was braided in the future, so that it would stay off his face and not obscure his eyes, this was not a style he wore it in during any part of his past he could recall. There he was, sometime in the future, in casual Greenwood dress and in possession of a Greenwood bow.

This was yet to occur, Laitheryn decided, as many aspects of the vision were not recall being in this mode of dress or weaponry at the age he was now, nor could he place himself with one of the two people in the vision. One he knew, Mithrandir, and the other was a complete mystery. He was a human that, even in the vision, Laitheryn could feel the quiet air of authority and knowledge emanating off of him. The unknown second born had ink black hair and serious silver - blue eyes and he wore black ranger clothes that looked as if they had seen better days. Indeed all three looked as if they had seen better times.

"I like not this darkness." Laitheryns' vision self stated and he could not help but agree with his future self's' assessment.

The darkness swam once more, and then began to lighten and become more like shadows in trees than the darkness in the cave. The image was growing stronger now, becoming lighter and lighter as if a reflection of the sun was shimmering through the image spawned by the mirror. With no pause the image cleared and Laitheryn recognized the shimmering of the sun through a forest of trees, casting shadows on the ground. Instead of viewing this outside of his future self, this image was in his own sight, as if it was a repressed memory, instead of a possibility.

The memory he was witnessing played forth and a small hand, much smaller than his own now, reached up towards one of the dark trees. Laitheryn knew that this small being, reaching longingly for the tree, was himself when he was young. A voice echoed from the memory – vision he was viewing and the scene switched as if his child self had turned to look at the owner of the calm voice.

"When you are older, Penneth, you may climb that tree." The voice continued, sounding amused. "Be cautious to ensure you try when your Nana isn't looking however, for she will surely blame me for your attempt."

The memory continued, with the vision focusing on the elder elf's face above everything else. This elf, whoever he may be, Laitheryn knew at some point in his past; and he seemed so familiar that he almost could put a name with who he was seeing, but the answer just eluded him. As if a secret kept his conscious from knowing what his unconscious knew all along.

The mysterious elf had long golden hair that was just a shade lighter than his own, fixed back in the same manner that Laitheryn had viewed his own hair tied in the second vision. His dark green eyes, seemed to stare intently into his own blue ones; but Laitheryn knew this mysterious elf was looking at the child he had been, and not who he was now. Their faces were similar, and Laitheryn could detect few differences between his face now and the stranger that stared back at him. He almost raised his hand, wanting very much to touch the face that was so similar to his own. And then it vanished.

"No…" He whispered almost to himself, feeling a flicker of sadness erupt from his soul and leaving his heart heavy in his chest.

He had seen the face of family, someone he was connected to in the past; perhaps an older cousin or brother, uncle or…or dare he hope; his Father. Yet he could not recall who exactly he had seen, or the name of that individual. For that moment in time, his own true name hovered tantalizingly above his consciousness, refusing to bridge the gap and spill onto his lips. It had been on the tip of his tongue, through the last vision, so close to being said. The elder elf had stated his name, when he had called, but it was lost to him.

He knew not, if this elf was still residing in Arda, or had passed to Mandros' halls or to Valinor. All he had was a face…and a sense of great loss. To this elf, his memories attached a great deal of the pain he had hidden from inside. They were connected and yet they were so far apart.

If he returned to Greenwood, like he intended would he even be recognized as the elfling that was lost so long ago? And what of the reports that came from that country, there were none that stated an elfling to be missing, and yet he was with no way of knowing who he truly was. His own family would not know him; he was not the child in the vision.

"And yet you are still he." Galadriel whispered to him, laying a soothing hand on his trembling shoulder. "Despite how you age, you still are he, and you will not lose that."

"I have lost my memories. How can I prove that I am he?"

"I cannot give you that answer, other than you will know when the time arrives. Be at peace, Penneth. The answers will come, do not force them."

"I wish to know, but I fear the pain."

"The fear will pass, when you meet. There was pain in your life, before what you can recall. But do not lose faith that there was happiness too."

"I will not. Who was that elf? I sensed a strong connection with him."

"You are correct. He is a close family member."

"Does he live? Does he reside in Arda still?"

"He does, but barely. Your loss affected him greatly. Do not tarry in your quest to Greenwood, he will have need of you to recover."

"My loss?" He questioned sharply, not missing her intent.

"They believe you reside now in the Halls of Mandros. And that knowledge haunts the one you saw from your past, his grief cuts a little deeper each day."

"He fades!" Laitheryn burst out, shaken at that.

"But slowly, he only holds on by the slimmest of threads. Your return will save him from his own grief. He has need of you, tarry not."

"He….I will not fail…We were happy, in that memory, not all of my past is haunted by the agony I fear."

"You were happy, and will be once more."

"I will not easily lose him, even if I do not remember who he is. If he believes I have passed from this world, than how am I to provemy past?"

"By memories." Galadriel answered simply. "Your memories willbe your guide."

"He seems so familiar and, for an instinct, I would call him Ada Nin."