A/N: As always, thanks for the reviews. Please continue to review!! Aryne, I think this story will end up better than the one I first wrote if only for your ideas and input. I have updated chapter 7 in light of your suggestions. Hopefully I haven't made it too sappy.

Ch. 8: Lothlórien

The weary travelers reached Lothlórien. They had only reached the borders by nightfall, but were too weary to go further. The Company was divided in their opinion of this place. Aragorn and Legolas were eager to enter the place, but Boromir and Gimli were set against it. Boromir believed some danger lurked there, but Aragorn convinced him to enter; there was no other option. Gimli thought an Elven sorceress waited to ensnare them. Worf was again thoroughly confused, but knew better than to ask anyone's opinion in this divided group.
They came to the Nimrodel stream and rested there; the stream had a strange power to refresh. Legolas made to climb a tree for shelter, and was surprised by Elves there. They had been watching the party for some time, and gave aid and shelter to the party, though very reluctantly to Gimli. They demanded he be guarded by Legolas and Aragorn They were also unsure of Worf, but they treated him with respect. Worf wondered again at the distrust between Elves and Dwarves; they would treat an alien with greater respect than a native of their planet on a noble quest, who was well spoken of by Legolas and Aragorn, who was himself an Elf-friend. They rested in the trees that night, and there was a scare when a large party of Orcs tramped by below them, but the Elves drew them off. It was then that Worf became certain they were being followed; he could not see the creature, but it tried to climb the tree. The returning Elves scared it off.
When they set off after resting the night, they crossed the river Celebrant, and the Lothlórien Elves insisted Gimli be blindfolded. In the end, the entire fellowship had to be blindfolded to satisfy tempers. Legolas was offended by the condition, but in the end yielded. Worf was ready to yell at him to submit before he did, but held his tongue. As they walked and talked, Worf learned a little more of the Elves. They were sad, and though their land was still safe, it required constant defense. If they would pass to the Havens beyond the sea, it was a perilous journey. Even if the war ended, their kind would pass out of Middle Earth. After a while, word came from the Lady that all could walk without blindfold, and their eyes were unbound to the sight of a wonderful forest, golden and in bloom with flowers, even in the midst of winter.
Coming to the city, Caras Galadon, they were brought before Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Worf was struck again by their ageless wisdom. Celeborn greeted each of them by name as they entered the room. When Worf entered, he said, "Welcome, Worf, son of Mogh, warrior from another time and place. You are welcome in this land, though it must seem strange to you. Yet, we are grateful for your presence, for we need strong arms to give what aid they may." To Aragorn fell the task of telling them of Gandalf's loss. Galadriel reached out to Gimli, and with kind words gained his respect, and Worf's.
After holding each in her gaze for a very long moment, Galadriel sent them to their rest. They spoke later about the encounter. It seemed that she had offered each of them a choice between the evil times ahead, and something he desired greatly. For the two young Hobbits, it was returning home to a quiet life. Gimli, Boromir, and Frodo were close-lipped about their choice. Worf didn't speak aloud about it, either, but for him the choice had been very different. He had been given the choice not to return to the world of technology he had left, but a fast, honorable death in battle, and a quick journey to Sto-Vo-Kor.
The Fellowship rested in this peaceful land, and to Worf's surprise, Legolas and Gimli soon became friends. Time seemed meaningless in this place. For his part, Worf came to know Boromir better. The Man was the son of the Steward of Gondor, Denethor II. The Stewards had ruled Gondor for many years, since the last of its kings was killed and no heir stepped forward to claim the throne. Boromir was his father's favorite, and was in an awkward position balancing between his father and his younger brother. He was a proud warrior and a man of great courage, but also great pride and a fair dose of superstition. They practiced together with their respective weapons, and Worf quickly came to admire his skill with a sword. Misguided as it was, his desire to use the ring stemmed from a desire to protect his people. The strength of Gondor was failing, and he was frustrated and losing hope. Worf came to respect him, despite the nagging suspicion that the temptation of the ring might overcome him.
Galadriel came to them after a time, and brought Sam and Frodo before her mirror. She noticed Worf watching, and beckoned him, as well. Sam saw the destruction of the Shire, and Frodo images of the journey ahead, and the evil Eye. Worf saw images of his life—his father, his son, Jadzia. He saw himself surrounded by Orcs, fighting alone, and then fall—an honorable death, but an empty one. After that, a great battle, and a city of seven walls overrun by Orcs and other evil things, a great Black Rider ruling over the city. Then he saw himself standing in a celebrating crowd as Aragorn was crowned King of Gondor. Frodo offered the Ring to Galadriel, and Worf watched her struggle with the temptation. In the end, she chose to fade into the shadows of history. Worf knew now that her honor was greater than any he had met in all his life before the transporter accident that brought him to this place. For that is what it had become—a past life, now gone. Any desire he'd had to return was gone. The revelation startled him. This world would become his home. Even though the cause looked hopeless, he would not choose an easy death, even though it be honorable. He would spend every last drop of strength defend it, and to fight the forces of Mordor.