13. forest - 133
The woods of Arcady are dead,
And over is their antique joy;
Of old the world on dreaming fed;
Grey Truth is now her painted toy
Lothlórien is dying.
Celeborn tries not to see it, and for him she wills Nenya to ever greater spells, wishing that the golden leaves will never fade. The mellyrn bloom later every year, the white trunks of her trees becoming like bones. The people see nothing wrong; she is torn between wanting them to notice and wanting to shield them from such a sight. It is a terrible thing to watch one you love succumb to the shadow.
Then she realises: Lothlórien is dying.
The forest is not.
The beeches, oaks and elms will continue on without the golden leaves striking highlights in the foliage. The people will go on, even Celeborn, an it grieve him.
But the golden dream, so nearly gone, was for her, and she will follow her dreamflower home.
AN: Thank-you, everyone, for all the lovely reviews - I'm glad you're enjoying these little snapshots into Galadriel's life. This is the point at which the prompt numbers get weird, because I've written them out of order. This is the thirteenth prompt, as you can see, but it was the next that I wrote. I hope I haven't confused anybody. Galadriel, Celeborn, Lothlórien and everything else in Arda belongs to Tolkien. The quote is from the beginning of a poem called 'The Song of the Happy Shepherd' by W.B. Yeats.