Eventually, the barren landscape gave way to lusher scenery. Trees began to appear; birds called out from high above and the browns and greys faded to golds and greens. The ground became easier to walk upon as the hard, cracked ground was filled with rich, soft earth. Ithildin breathed deeply and the green smell was like a cool drink after a long draught.
She journeyed many miles and did not stop often. As each day passed, the feeling within her to press on grew stronger. She needed little rest; the Lórien Elves had baked her many loaves of a sweet Elvish waybread called lembas as a parting gift, and in the cakes, she found all the sustenance she needed to go on. Everyday, the sun glowed against a creamy blue sky, its soft rays touching the whispering grass beneath her feet as pale, little flowers danced to the music of a gentle breeze. The world around her became filled with magic and the wonder of nature and finally, Ithildin was content at heart.
Soon, she approached the western border of a great forest. It stretched many leagues, as far as the eye could see. Entering it, Ithildin was filled with a sense of peace and welcoming such as she had never felt before. Not since Lothlórien had trees seemed so beautiful and felt so alive. Here, they grew dense and thick, and they were not golden as the mallorn trees; their leaves were greener than the greenest green and their great trunks were snow white tinged with silver. Tiny squirrels and chipmunks raced from branch to branch, and off in the distance, one could hear the soft babbles of a million streams. The golden light of the sun filtered in through a vast canopy of leaves warming even the remotest corners of the forest.
Such was the realm of Mirkwood, for in its glory days, it had been a safe, beautiful haven for the woodland Elves. Now, the shadows of the East had destroyed its southern counterpart, and the Elves had fled to the north, though their territory grew ever limited as the darkness spread. Yet, of all the Elven homes of Middle-Earth, here the Elves were most content, desiring not to sail across the Sea to the Blessed Realm beyond, as the Elves of Lórien and Rivendell did. For the time of the Elves was nearing to an end, and very soon, much of the beauty and majesty they had brought to Middle-Earth would fade as they themselves departed from the Great Lands.
Bilbo, the adventuring hobbit, had once entered Mirkwood from the west and in his day, the woods had seemed dark and dangerous. Since then, though, the Elves of the forest had driven out much of the evil in Mirkwood and spread their realm further west. As well, Ithildin rarely saw darkness when there was the possibility of light; so she did not see Mirkwood as a lonely, dangerous place as others did, but saw the works of the Elves and the gentle nature around her. She found much to sing about in this land and her clear, sweet voice echoed throughout the woods, scaring away the spiders and the flies, for they disliked anything of beauty and were afraid of this strange silver woman. Often, she sang in Elvish, for she had learned much in Lothlórien of the Elven-tongue, and always, the power of knowledge within her grew. Perhaps it was her singing that saved her from being killed by the guards of Mirkwood, but most likely it was her kind heart and gentle soul that could be sensed from far away.
As it was, after many days of wandering about the woods, Ithildin came upon an area that seemed more densely populated. Here, the presence of living creatures could be felt more keenly, but not just of woodland creatures. There was other life here and its magic could be seen and felt everywhere. Softly tread her feet, but the guards of Mirkwood had long since been aware of her presence. Iorkann, the leader of a troop stationed close to where Ithildin had wandered, now made himself known. A soft rustle was heard and Ithildin turned to it. There, she saw many Elves, all facing her. Their faces were fair as the Lórien Elves, but some of them had hair that was dark and rich, not golden and light. Their clothing was different from the Lórien Elves as well, for it was very green, similar to the color of the leaves. They each carried with them a long bow and a quiver of arrows upon their backs. Iorkann stepped forward and spoke now to Ithildin.