Note:
I always found the scene in the film with Galadriel's mirror to be rather odd. So I liked writing Nelwen questioning Galadriel.
Galadriel calls Nelwen, Nelladel, which is a nick-name/ honorific, like Arwen Undomiel.
Nelwen had always been an excellent sleeper. It was an odd skill to brag about but over her 800-years of living she had gradually come to realise that it was a truly invaluable talent. While others complained of fitful sleep leading to unproductive days, Nelwen could smugly declare that she had never had a bad night's sleep. And she could find restful sleep anywhere: propped upright in a rickety wagon, curled up on her favourite windowsill in the Rivendell library, even wedged between rocky moraine that one time she foolhardily decided to summit Dwimorberg (Haldir had said it would be an adventure; Haldir was an idiot). And so it was with great consternation that Nel found herself tossing and turning on the plush floor of the Lothlorien clearing. Perhaps she had become too accustomed to hard ground and biting wind; perhaps the grass of Lorien was too soft, the gentle breeze too temperate, the songs of birds too calming.
Deciding that there was little to be gained from lying on the ground and staring impatiently at the leafy canopy above, Nelwen rose from her bedroll and walked away from their clearing with no particular destination in mind. Her heavy leathers were replaced with a silken dress of powdered blue, and for the first time in months, she walked barefoot. It had been a long time since she had felt so unencumbered and she marveled at her increased agility, at the lightness of each step.
After walking for a time, Nelwen came across Galadriel, standing at the head of a staircase as if she had long been expecting Nel's arrival. Perhaps she had. Galadriel gave no greeting, made no gesture, but as she descended the staircase, Nelwen knew she was to follow. With each careful step, Nel entered a small, sunken glade. It was surrounded with a circle of downcast statues holding glowing crystal lanterns and in the centre stood a low, carved pedestal. At the far end of the glade, a small stream tumbled down across knotted roots before disappearing underground. Galadriel bent down with a silver jug to capture some of the falling water before turning to face Nel with the same expectant look as before. Nel just looked at her with confusion. She had always found Galadriel intimidating, but never outright cryptic.
"Will you look into the mirror?" asked Galadriel
Nelwen was a vain creature, had happily looked into many a mirror, but somehow felt like this was a trick question. "What will I see?" she asked, embarrassed by the slight waver in her voice.
"The wisest cannot tell. For the mirror shows many things," Galadriel poured the water from the jug into a wide, shallow plate lying on the pedestal, "things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass."
Well that was unhelpfully vague.
With poorly hidden trepidation, Nelwen stepped forward to regard the mirror. At first the flat surface of water showed nothing but her own confused face. Then, one-by-one, her companions' faces appeared, all showing the telltale signs of fatigue and growing hopelessness. Then she saw Rivendell: the glittering falls of the Bruinen River; the white, tree-lined roads winding between tall, elegant buildings; the gardens filled with fragrant flowers at every street corner. For the first time since their journey began, Nelwen felt homesick. Then the water seemed to sizzle and spit as Rivendell was consumed by fire before her eyes. The streets were trampled by the armoured boots of orcs, the elegant spires were pulled to the ground, and the gardens were filled with burning bodies. Nel found herself strangely transfixed by the horrible images before her and as she watched her home burn, the chain around her neck started to weigh heavier.
With great effort she stepped back from the mirror, grasping at the Ring under the neckline of her dress and praying for the whispering in her head to stop. She looked up at Galadriel, confusion and pain evident on her face. She thought of Galadriel as a teacher and a friend, why would she bring her here, show her these things, stare at her so coldly?
After a long silence, Galadriel said, "I know what it is you saw for it is also in my mind. It is what will come to pass should you fail. The fellowship is breaking; it has already begun. One-by-one, the Ring will consume them all."
She paused, stared at Nelwen with a strange intensity then spoke so softly it was almost a whisper, "she will try to take it. You know of whom I speak."
Nelwen furrowed her brow, feeling strangely angered by Galadriel's criticism of the fellowship. Sure they were a somewhat disheveled bunch but they had reached Lothlorien relatively unscathed and there was no reason to believe that misfortune would imminently befall them. "With all due respect, my lady, you are wrong. You think the race of man is weak, that they too easily give in to their lust for power. But I know the men with whom I travel far greater than you, even with all your wisdom and insight. They will not take the ring. They will help me bear this burden because they know that I cannot do it alone."
"You are a Ring Bearer – to bear a ring of power is to be alone," Galadriel answered, looking down at Nenya wistfully.
Nelwen was finding this conversation increasingly frustrating. Galadriel spoke with her usual solemn, even tone, as if imparting some great wisdom to the young elf. But Nelwen found no wisdom in Galadriel's words, only defeatism. Galadriel didn't know her companions; Galadriel didn't know what it felt like to carry the Ring of Power.
"I don't understand why you warn me so. What is it you want of me? Do you want the Ring?" asked Nel, slowly unclasping the chain from around her neck and holding out the Ring.
Galadriel looked startled but stepped forward to peer at what Nel held ensconced in her hand. "You offer it to me freely? I do not deny that my heart has greatly desired this." Galadriel's voice crescendoed to an uncharacteristic boom, "with this power I will wield a queenly might, towering like the mallorn of Valinor! As eternal and terrible as the dawn! Stronger than the foundations of the earth! All who look upon me will exalt and despair!"
Nelwen quickly stepped back at Galadriel's outburst, curling her fingers over the Ring to obscure it from view. Galadriel herself stepped back, eyes wide and breath laboured, clearly startled by her momentary frenzy.
"I pass the test," she announced, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards in a poor facsimile of a smile.
Nelwen scrunched up her nose with disapproval; Galadriel still didn't understand. "There is no one test. Every day the Ring whispers to me. Every day I don't listen. Every day the fellowship doesn't take the Ring from me. Every day, a hundred little tests. You have succeeded this night; my companions have succeeded for many months. Don't underestimate us."
Galadriel's smile became genuine then, "so much wisdom from one so young, Nelladel. You hold such strong convictions. I hope you are right and that you succeed in your quest. Should you fail, no one else can finish what you have begun. This I have seen."
For the first time that night, Nel felt herself warming to Galadriel, realising that her old teacher was speaking out of concern, not just to scare her. She stepped forward and pulled Galadriel into a hug. "I will not fail. For you have shown me what will happen if I do. Besides, you have always called be proud, and I am too proud to fail."
Galadriel chuckled; her student was hopeless.