The morning dawned crisp, clear and warm. The sky was a soft blue and sprinkled with small wisps of white cloud. A gentle breeze ruffled the golden treetops and the sound of each leaf was its own unique note so that it seemed as if a song from the heavens had descended upon the people of Lothlórien.
Ithildin remained in the Golden Wood for many days. There was a mystery to it that she longed to solve, but always it seemed the answer eluded her. She was content to spend entire days wandering about the trees. Often, she could be seen by the Elves from a distance: a tall, lithe figure, with skin pale as the moonlight on a cloudless night, and hair of deep black laced with silver, singing softly to herself as she walked as one with the trees. And the Lórien Elves called her Brethilmin, which in the Common Speech means 'one silver tree', for it seemed sometimes that she herself became the silver trees she loved.
On the day she left Lothlórien, the Lord Celeborn bowed low and wished her luck on her journey. Galadriel, Lady of the Golden Wood, blessed her and gave her a gift: A necklace of delicate silver, and woven through it was a pendant of mithril-stone, a precious gem that was much beloved by all the people of Middle-Earth.
"This stone, which we call mithril, is not heavy; yet neither bow nor sword can pierce it. As your heart remains light and true, so shall the stone that hangs upon your neck. May it always be so, and may your heart know nothing but happiness," said the Lady.
Ithildin was sad to leave the fair realm, but her spirit would not be content to settle. She knew that she could never call Lothlórien her home, for it seemed more like a world of things lost and once glorious and in Ithildin's heart, she feared that one day, the golden light of this beautiful forest would fade. Haldir led her across the Nimrodel, towards Southern Lothlórien and on the eastern shore of the stream, they parted never to meet again.
Ithildin continued down south. In the far distance, to her left, there was ever the sound of Anduin, the Great River. She saw many sights of wonder and beauty as she walked through the Celebrant Field and her heart hurt at the breathtaking images before her. Little had she dreamed, in her home of Herth-Milui, that Middle-Earth could contain so much to love, and every step she took was a blessing and the mithril-stone upon her collar was never heavy. For she loved all that she saw: every pebble and flower and tree and stream. She knew not their names, but gave them names of her own.
She did not meet any other travelers save for a fox and a rabbit and birds from high atop trees that sang songs of greeting to morning day and songs of farewell to evening night. The road was not hard and could easily be taken, for these were the last remaining days of peace before the rise of the Dark Lord and much of southern Middle-Earth was still free and beautiful. The One Ring's possessor had not been discovered by the servants of the Dark Lord and much of the hurt and pain that would come to the free peoples of Middle-Earth had not been borne.
Time passed and slowly, Ithildin began to change. She began to develop a deep knowledge of the secrets of the world about her. Her soul became one with nature and she knew all the trees, flowers, rocks, birds and life about her. Her senses sharpened and she could hear things normal Men could not. Her reflexes were quick and her step was so light and soundless even deer were not aware of her approach. So it came that Ithildin developed into womanhood as she passed through the mysterious forest of Fangorn and the power within her grew ever stronger.