A/N: I was looking back at my previous chapters and I realized I never really acknowledge the reviews you all leave for me, which is kind of awful of me because now I'm not sure if you guys know how much they mean to me. Feedback and such keeps me going, so thank you so much if you've ever left me a review, even if it was only a sentence long. Hugs and cookies for everyone. Yayy.

Also, to my faithful reviewer Aranel Mereneth, who brought it up, and for anyone else wondering, the romance in this story is going to be pretty slow-paced since ideally I'll be taking the story through the entire trilogy (Lol. Ideally. Ok. Ideally.), and I wouldn't want for such a huge part of the storyline to conclude before everything else does.

On that note about taking the story through the entire trilogy (HAHAHA IDEALLY GUYS OK), school is starting up pretty soon, and I started writing this out of boredom when school let out and I found myself with way too much free time. Admittedly, I have up until chapter 11 already written, but when I start getting bogged down with school work and classes I won't have as much time to write and I might stop updating until I find some time. So just a warning in advance-if I stop updating, I'm not abandoning anything, just busy with school. (Because omg so many AP classes I'm going to die ok die)

Anyways. I think that's it for my rambling.

After the silent trip out of the Misty Mountains, they came to a bubbling brook whose water ran clear. Miraleth smiled softly despite herself—there had been no running water in the dark mines of Moria.

"We will break here for a moment before continuing," Aragorn clapped Boromir on the shoulder and pointed to the forests of Lothlórien, which were visible in the distance.

Miraleth immediately ambled down to the spring and slipped off her boots to place her feet in the coolness of the water. She leaned down and splashed her face, keeping her eyes closed and simply breathing for just a beautiful moment before setting to the task of scrubbing the dirt and blood from her skin and clothes. Merry and Pippin went to sit by her, and they put their feet in the water as well, shrugging to each other.

The brook bubbled trough the silence until Miraleth spoke. "I did not See this." Her voice was a soft utterance of blame. "I did not See it. Perhaps if I had Seen it I—"

"Nonsense," Merry waved her words away. "You know Gandalf, there wasn't anything you could've done, even if you had…uh, Seen it."

"Was Gandalf always the way he is—erm…was?" Pippin asked her. "I mean no offense, you look very good for it, but we figure you've been around long enough to know. I mean—well, no that's what I mean."

Merry gave him a meaningful stare.

"Well, that's to say, we figure you knew him better than we did." Pippin said carefully and smiled, nodding to himself.

A grin poked at Miraleth's lips. "Well Gandalf seemed to spend all his time around you scolding you, Pippin." Her grin faded after a moment though. "I do not know how well you knew Gandalf the Grey, but I can remember him being there as long as I can remember. He's much older than I am, much older than Legolas. He was…very kind. Always. And where my father scolded me and sent me to my rooms for getting into trouble when I was younger, Gandalf turned everything into some sort of bigger lesson and sought growth instead of punishment." Miraleth gazed into the pond, looking at nothing. Her mind was a thousand years in the past. "I don't think I've ever met anyone more wise than he."

"Did you ever see his fireworks?" Pippin asked. "He gave Merry and I a run for our money, didn't he Merry?"

Merry shook his head. "No, Pip, now that I look back on it I think his fireworks make ours look like campfires. I…I'm going to miss him."

Miraleth shook herself out of her reverie and took Merry's hands, smiling at the little Hobbit. "Be strong now, Meriadoc Brandybuck."

"But you're crying."

Miraleth touched her face, where there were stray tears rolling down her cheeks. She hadn't noticed until Merry had pointed them out. "Then I will cry for you," She said. "And you will be strong. Both of you will."

After the Hobbits ran off to help Sam find an extra shirt for Frodo, Legolas sat next to Miraleth and took her injured hand, holding up another set of bandages when she looked at him. He had set the broken bones for her while they were walking, soothing every pained wince and cringe she made with gentle words and jokingly offering up Gimli's beard for her to yank in effort to draw a laugh from Miraleth, who had been quiet the entire time they walked.

But everyone had been quiet during the long walk out of the mountains.

After he had set the broken bones, though, she had insisted on wrapping it herself, so he had given her bandages and let her have at it. But now she had gone and gotten the bandages all wet like she wasn't supposed to, and he rewrapped the broken hand for her while she peered into the clear water of the brook. A fish darted out from under a rock and tickled the skin of her feet as it rushed towards the end of the brook, where the water spilled over the slope of the hill they were on and swept down the decline into a pond below.

It swam quickly, freely. Free of the dark touches of the world.

"Legolas! Miraleth!" Aragorn shouted over to where they sat in grievous silence. Aragorn was lifting packs over his back and gesturing them to leave the hill.

Legolas pulled Miraleth to her feet and led her over to where the rest of the Fellowship was gathered, looking off into the mountains they had left behind. Aragorn pointed when the elves reached them, and when Miraleth turned to look, her heart sank even further. The gray color of the stony mountains had been nearly completely masked by black. Aragorn had been right. The sun was just setting, and the mountains were swarming with orcs.

"We need to move," Aragorn clapped Legolas on the shoulder, his voice grim, and led the Fellowship down the hill in a steady run over the grassy plain below, towards the golden forests of Lórien. Miraleth had left her boots off when she had withdrawn her feet from the coolness of the brook, and she carried them in her hands as they ran now, relishing in the feeling of the soft grass beneath her feet and the soil beneath her toes.

The orcs behind them were just running up the peak of the hill they had been resting on when they passed through the treeline of Lórien. The Fellowship slowed to a stop in the cover of the golden forest, panting for air as the fatigue of the day began to catch up with them. Miraleth turned to face the grassy plain before the forest. The orcs had stopped at the hill and were beginning to retreat—they would not dare cross the boundaries of Lórien. Even Saruman was not bold enough to provoke the power that lay dormant inside the forests.

"Come on," After a moment's rest, Aragorn wandered deeper into the forest. "We should keep a move on."

The longer they traveled through the wood, the more uneasy the Fellowship became. Their eyes roamed the forest around them, looking up and down and around, jumping at the slightest sign of movement. At one point, a rabbit bounded before Boromir, and he drew his sword with a surprised yelp. The woods were beautiful, no doubt about that. The trees were long and slender, and mosses and lichens grew at the bases. The autumn leaves swirled in the breeze as they fell to the ground around them, and the golden sun seemed to illuminate the surreal woods.

At the same time, the breeze was chilling and the trees seemed to tower above them, looking in on them. Gimli kept his axe drawn.

There was something in these woods.

When Frodo and Sam began to wander a bit too far from the rest of the group, Gimli gestured them back, his eyes wide. "Stay close, young hobbits!" His voice was hushed and his eyes surveyed the surroundings. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods, an Elf-witch, of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell…and are never seen again." His voice took on an ominous air, as if he was telling a ghost story. Frodo gasped and looked around him, his head whipping around as if he was looking for something.

Galadriel, Miraleth knew. The Lady was angry that her woods had been invaded by the evil of the One Ring. Miraleth could feel it in the way the breeze blew harsher and the trees creaked. But Miraleth smiled, amused, at Gimli's antics and wondered what her grandmother would think of her terrible reputation amongst the Dwarves. "You are far too easily swayed, Gimli."

He huffed and ignored her. "Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!" But the Dwarf stilled, eyes wide, when he turned to face forward and found the tip of a silver arrow pointed at his nose. "Oh." His voice rose an octave in surprise. The sounds of bows being drawn was suddenly seemed to echo throughout the entire forest as the Fellowship found themselves surrounded by elves in gray and brown cloaks, each with a bow drawn and an arrow aimed towards them. Miraleth was unworried—they would not shoot them—but she saw Legolas whip his bow out and nock an arrow, pointing it at the nearest elf.

Aragorn raised his hands in a surrender, and a tall, broad elf with golden-blonde hair leisurely strode forward, his hands behind his back. "The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," he mocked, his voice gentle and smooth.

Gimli growled and Miraleth sighed at the egos that surrounded her. Haldir glanced over and his eyes paused on Miraleth, jolted by her appearance there with the Fellowship. She gave an imperceptible shake of her head to shame him for his teasing of Gimli—what could she say? The Dwarf was beginning to grow on her.—and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly as he signaled his archers to lower their weapons. "We will escort you as far as the first outpost," He said to Aragorn and strode off ahead of them. The other elves surrounded the Fellowship and guided them to follow Haldir.

It was a long, quiet walk. Each time a member of the Fellowship tried to speak, an elf would reach out to prod them with their bow, shutting them up. It was nightfall by the time they reached the first outpost, and when they stopped in a small clearing, the hobbits were confused as ever until Legolas nudged them and pointed up. There, nestled in the towering trunks of the trees, were great platforms with silver lanterns lighting the way up.

The hobbits couldn't begin to imagine how they were to get up there—were they going to have to climb all that way?—but then Haldir started up a small, steep staircase grown into the wood of the thick, weaving trunks of the trees. The Fellowship carefully followed him up, staying as close to the trunk as possible so they would not fall.

After a hushed conversation with two other elves who were waiting on the platform, Haldir went to stand before the Fellowship, looking first towards Legolas. His posture was more relaxed and his voice was not as harsh now that he was safely up in the trees and knew that he had elven kindred amongst the members of the Fellowhsip. "Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion." Haldir placed his right hand over his heart and drew it outwards as a sign of respect.

"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien." Legolas mirrored the gesture, inclining his head.

Haldir smiled softly and turned to see Aragorn. "A, Aragorn in Dúnedain" Aragorn bowed slightly to the elf, holding his hands together in front of him. "Istannen le ammen." Haldir made the same sign of respect to the Man, though it was slightly smaller than the gesture he had given to Legolas, the Prince of the Woodland Realm.

"Haldir," Aragorn murmured fondly and returned the sign, grateful for the honorable compliment.

Gimli scoffed irritably. "So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves. Speak words we can all understand!" He demanded angrily. He couldn't believe Aragorn had led them into this forest. Arrogant lot, elves were. They had forced him to take off his helmet so that his eyes were not hidden beneath the leather and iron.

Haldir's nostrils flared as his attention was drawn towards the dwarf. "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the dark days," he all but sneered, looking the dwarf up and down.

"And you know what this Dwarf says to that?" Gimli challenged, his face set. "Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!"

"Gimli…" Miraleth sighed exasperatedly at the uttering of what she did not doubt was the only Elvish phrase Gimli knew, and Aragorn closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.

Aragorn turned to Gimli and grasped him hard by the shoulder. "That was not so courteous," he scolded harshly.

Haldir straightened, irritated and annoyed, but he moved to walk down the line of guests and found Frodo in the back of the group. Haldir tensed—he could nearly smell the evil coming off the hobbit. "You bring great evil with you," he told Frodo, his voice hushed.

Frodo did not say anything, and only stared at Haldir, his brow furrowed and eyes anxious.

Haldir observed the silent hobbit for a moment longer before drawing a breath and turning back to the rest of the group. "My brothers will take Lady Miraleth to Caras Galadhon. The Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn have been awaiting her arrival," he stated brusquely and turned to address Aragorn, who was clearly the leader of the group. "You can go no further."

Miraleth, slightly shocked by the coolness in Haldir's tone and more than slightly shocked that he would turn the Fellowship away, met his gaze. He inclined his head, reluctant apology in his eyes, before walking away to speak with a group of elves.

"Hiril nín," Miraleth heard a soft voice behind her and she turned to see Rumil and Orophin, Haldir's brothers. She did not know them as she knew Haldir, and had never been particularly close with either, but it was lovely to see familiar faces.

"Mae govannen, Rumil, Orophin," she smiled tightly. It was lovely to see them, but the last thing she wanted to do was leave her companions when they could be pushed out of the safety of Lórien and back into the danger of their quest.

Rumil inclined his head and put his hand over his heart. "We will depart as soon as you are ready."

She nodded and held up a finger to tell them to wait a moment, and went to Legolas, who was standing a little ways away from Aragorn and Haldir, where they conversed in hushed, angry tones.

"Miraleth," Legolas smiled softly despite his aggravation. "You will give Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn my greetings?"

She nodded and reached up to wipe at a smudge of dirt on his forehead. "Of course. I will see what I can do about Haldir allowing you into Caras Gladhon as well. He is only trying to protect his home, but…" She trailed off as Legolas gazed at her knowingly. She laughed. "Well. It is Haldir." She shook her head and looked down before turning her gaze, serious once more, back up to Legolas. "My grandmother will listen to me."

"I hope so. Those orcs will be waiting for us if we are forced to turn and leave by the northern border."

"I will do what I can," she promised.

Legolas took her small hands in his. "And if it is not enough?"

Then she would not see Legolas until the One Ring was destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom and her father deemed it safe enough for her to return home to Imladris. She knew Legolas had told her he would only be gone a few months, but something whispered in the back of her mind, where she forced all the knowledge from the dreams her Sight brought her, and it said that it would be a long while before she would return home. Much longer than a few months.

Home.

The word was bittersweet in her mind.

She raised her chin and forced a smile on her face. "Then I will see you in a few months' time," she replied.

Legolas smiled and pulled her close to him in a strong embrace. Miraleth wrapped her arms around his middle, welcoming the warmth of his body against hers in the cool, breezy treetops of Lórien. Just as she lay her head over his heart, something jolted her mind into motion.

—Gimli fast asleep under the trunk of a white mellorn tree.

Aragorn.

Hobbits.

Frodo bent over the Mirror of Galadriel, the Ring straining against his neck.

Haldir.—

She opened her eyes and smiled, withdrawing from Legolas' arms. She could feel Rumil and Orophin growing impatient behind her.

Legolas inclined his head as she took a step back. "Until our next meeting then."

She shook her head. "It will be sooner than you think, Legolas." Her eyes danced with newfound knowledge—for once her Sight was good for something—and she went to join the two elves who were waiting to lead her to Caras Galadhon.

Rumil and Orophin were very different from Haldir in the sense that whereas Haldir stood tall and proud and commanded surrounding attention, his brothers were quiet, introverted, (though still quite tall and proud,) and they murmured quietly with each other as they escorted Miraleth through the forest. Despite their soft smiles and softer words, they shared the same sense of chivalrous kindness that was so deeply imbued in Haldir, and Miraleth was glad to have them as companions, even if she really did not need any in the safety of Lothlórien.

The deeper into the woods they went, the bigger the trees became. The trunks became thicker, the treetops higher, the branches broader, and it was not long before the golden mellyrn trees of Lothórien became visible in the thickets of oaks and birches. Miraleth smiled when she brushed her hand over one as they passed by, shivering pleasantly. Her second favorite thing about Lórien was the mellyrn trees. Never had she felt a tree pulse with such vitality and life before, and when they spoke to her, they spoke of the golden blossoms on their trunks and the sun on their top branches and the animals that took shelter under their nurturing roots.

The three elves made small talk with each other as they stepped through the foliage. Rumil asked how the woods of Imladris fared, and Orophin asked politely after the wellbeing of her sister Arwen. When talk of Elrohir and Elladan surfaced, Rumil and Orophin relaxed into jesting grins, and told Miraleth stories about her brothers that even she had never heard before. They were laughing and reminiscing with each other about the last hunting trip they had ridden on with her brothers (which, apparently, had not ended so well for Elrohir, who had gone and gotten himself stuck in a boar trap,) when they found the silver path into Caras Galadhon under their feet. Orophin clapped Rumil on the shoulder and grinned. "Mae tollen na mar," he said. Welcome home.

The elves of Lórien were treefolk, and lived on platforms high in the treetops. Rumil and Orophin led Miraleth up to the flet she would stay in. The flets in Caras Galadhon were not open to the sky, as the platforms of the outpost had been, but were covered and had walls. They were homes. ("Like treehouses!" Frodo would later remark in wonder.)

More than once Rumil and Orophin teasingly clicked their tongues at her to get her to continue following them. The mellyrn trees were her second favorite thing here, but as her eyes roamed the great city before her, she remembered what her first favorite thing here was—the way the forest lit up during the night. Silver lanterns were scattered here and there and lit the edges of the paths, and the light reflected off the trunks off the mellyrn trees and seemed to brighten tenfold. The moonlight spilled down through the treetops to kiss the surfaces it touched with liquid silver and the blossoms on the trunks of the trees twinkled like stars, and it was almost as if Lórien had its very own night sky there on the ground.

"The Lord and Lady await you whenever you are ready." Rumil bowed his head, and he and his brother placed their hands over their hearts in a farewell as they climbed back down the stairs that wrapped around the tree trunk towards the forest floor, leaving Miraleth to relish in the peaceful tranquility of the treetops. The breeze rustled through the leaves, but there was no shouting. No yelling. No battle cries.

Simply peace.

"Ah…there is the child," Galadriel's voice was gentle and she held out an arm towards Miraleth, whose face fell into an easy smile upon seeing her mother's parents again after what had seemed a very, very long time, even though it had perhaps only been a hundred years since she had visited Lórien.

"My Lord and Lady are gracious to aid me in this time of need," Miraleth thanked, inclining her head and placing her right hand over her heart. She had not felt so at ease in a long while. There had been a clean gown on her bed, and she had changed and washed the dirt and grime from herself before leaving to meet Galadriel and Celeborn.

Celeborn smiled in return. "Aid can always be found here when the House of Elrond is in need of it.

"But…" Galadriel gazed upon Miraleth's face knowingly, her eyes alight with starlight and knowledge and mystery, as they always were. "There is something else you desire. Something not for you, but for those close to you."

"My lady is intuitive as she is fair," Miraleth half-smiled and Galadriel seemed to brighten with the compliment.

"Tell me what it is that troubles you so, child."

Miraleth drew a breath before speaking. "The Fellowhip of the One Ring also seeks the aid of Lothórien, and only wishes to pass through to the southern border."

Galadriel and Celeborn exchanged a long glance. "Yes," Celeborn looked away. "I felt them pass the borders. I was under the impression that Haldir went to meet them, and that he deemed it unsafe to have them travel any further into our forests."

Miraleth shook her head. "But it is not unsafe. The One Ring rests not on the finger but on a chain around the neck of a young hobbit. I have seen into his heart, and he good and pure and uncorrupted." Celeborn sighed, and Miraleth continued. "And if the Ring truly presented a threat around Frodo's neck, my lady's magic would not have allowed it or its evil to cross the borders!" Lothórien was one of the safest places in Middle-earth for good reason. Not only was it the heart of Elvendom, but the magic of Galadriel and her Ring, Nenya, nourished the forests and protected its borders with a magic so powerful only Sauron himself would have the ability to breach it.

Celeborn and Galadriel were silent, but everything about their body language screamed that they were communicating with each other.

"My Lady would do well to consider my words at least," Miraleth pleaded. "The Fellowship will perish if they are forced to return out the northern border."

At last, Galadriel spoke. "I will look into the Mirror and think on your words, child."

Celeborn was quiet—unless his wife fully supported this, he was going to remain the voice of caution, as he always did.

But Miraleth smiled, relieved, and bowed before Galadriel. "My lady is kind and good."

Galadriel nodded once, but fixed Miraleth with a solemn, knowing gaze as she stood to leave. "Just know that to rely on your Sight is to rely on a chance."

Miraleth stopped in leaving, her breath pausing in her chest.

"Be wary, my child." Galadriel smiled. "The future is but an outcome of the present, and the smallest of actions can have the direst of consequences."

Miraleth was quiet. She heard the care Galadriel took in choosing her words, and wondered what the Lady of Light was hiding from her. Her father's words from so long ago echoed in her mind. You don't understand the ways of the world quite yet, daughter. Those with Sight speak in riddles, for good reason.

"Ah, yes," Celeborn's voice was like the liquid moonlight that filtered through the trees. "Lord Elrond speaks the truth."

Miraleth did not bother to wonder or ask how he had seen into her mind. Where Galadriel's gift was in magic and power, her husband's was in infinite wisdom.

"Knowledge is dangerous, Miraleth of Rivendell," Celeborn continued. "And so the riddles must remain."

"But—"

"No buts," he calmly interjected. "Tell me, if you had the chance to change your fate, would you?" She did not reply—she knew what the right answer was. Celeborn nodded. "Fates are not meant to be changed…"

"…but accepted," Miraleth finished in a whisper.

Celeborn smiled and repeated, "Lord Elrond speaks the truth."

Legolas didn't know if it was Miraleth behind Haldir's sudden change of heart or all of Aragorn's arguing with him, but the day after Miraleth had gone, Haldir had brusquely appeared before the Fellowship and ordered them to follow him.

It been many hundreds of years since Legolas had been to Caras Galadhon, but one did not easily forget the sight of it from afar. Once the city came into view, Haldir's face lightened and the corners of his lips turned up in a small smile. "Caras Galadhon," he had presented it proudly to the Fellowship, reverence for his home in his voice. "Heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

"Say," Gimli muttered up to Legolas on the way down the hill they stood upon. "Exactly how magnificent is this grand city of yours, eh?"

Legolas smiled. "It is the fairest of all the dwellings of my people."

"Fairer even than Rivendell?"

"Fairer even than Rivendell, my friend. Lothlórien is second only to Valinor itself."

As they entered the city and night began to fall, the hobbits could barely keep up with Haldir. Rivendell had been beautiful, but this was something else. This was magical. They hadn't even been paying attention to where Haldir was leading them, and when they stopped, they collided into the backs of Aragorn and Boromir, who walked in front of them.

"Why are we stopping?" Pippin asked, almost complaining as his eyes continued to roam. "We've only been walking for…for…" He trailed off and his voice stammered into a silence as he looked forward, his eyes wide at what was before him.

There was a star right there, in the middle of the forest.

But then the light began to dim just enough for the Fellowship to see that it was in fact not a star, but two tall, willowy, golden-haired elves, who strode towards them slowly, hand in hand. Aragorn bowed his head and touched his fingers to his forehead in respect towards the Lord and Lady of Lórien.

"The enemy knows you have entered here," Celeborn said, his voice solemn and deep and pure as he ignored the shell-shocked silence of the men, hobbits, and dwarf that stood in awe of him. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone."

Legolas looked away from the two elves, his attention drawn to an elleth who stood off to the side behind them, next to the grey-cloaked guards, her hands folded in front of her. Miraleth had changed out of her riding clothes into a white silken gown and her hair fell to her waist in curls, clean and shining. Like the Lord and Lady, the silver lights of Lórien illuminated her skin and the gown she wore, and it was almost as if she was a little star with eyes and ears, standing there amongst them. She smiled serenely at Legolas before giving her attention back to Celeborn and Galadriel, bringing him to do the same.

Celeborn observed each member of the group, his face set in a frown. "Eight there are here, yet nine there were that set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him." Celeborn's voice rung out in the silence. "I can no longer see him from afar."

Miraleth's heart skipped and the light upon her skin diminished as she looked to the ground, grief wrapping a cold, clammy hand around her throat and squeezing tight. The nearest guard to her gave her a troubled glance and offered his arm to her should she need the support—she grasped it gratefully—but he did not ask what was wrong.

Galadriel studied Aragorn's eyes. "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land," she whispered before anyone else could speak up, her face falling into a sorrowful expression of disbelief. "He has fallen into shadow."

Aragorn nodded imperceptibly, feeling awful to have to be the one to give the news to the grief-stricken Galadriel. Celeborn's gaze went to his wife, and he stared at her, the same disbelief that had been in her eyes now in his.

"He was taken by both shadow and flame," Legolas uttered into the stricken silence, his jaw set. "A Balrog of Morgoth." Celeborn said nothing, but his face was conflicted and it was clear that his mind was racing, and he looked down. The wisest being alive could not have foreseen this, and Celeborn certainly had not. It seemed impossible that someone such as Gandalf could be felled at all. Legolas continued, "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

Gimli's gaze fell to the ground also—he had been the one to insist on traveling through Moria. He had promised roaring fires and the great hospitality of his cousin Balin, and instead they had been met by a great tomb where the mines had once been, crawling with orcs and stinking of death.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his whole purpose," Galadriel said carefully, in spite of the grief that lingered, and turned her gaze to Gimli. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-Dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Gloin, for the world has grown full of peril." Her voice flowed over Gimli's soul like a cool water in the wake of a fire, and he looked upon the Lady, tears in his eyes. "And in all lands, love is now mingled with grief." She turned her blue eyes to Boromir, who met her startling gaze and looked away only seconds later, tears running down his face and a broken sob tearing from his throat.

Miraleth stirred from where she stood, her alert eyes upon her grandmother. The eerie lightness about Galadriel gave away the power she was exuding. Miraleth knew not what the Lady said to them in their minds, but even if the words were kind it would only be mere moments before she crossed the fine line into cruelty.

"What now becomes of this Fellowship?" Celeborn spoke again before Galadriel could. His face was hard, but the grief was still clear in his eyes. "Without Gandalf…hope is lost."

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife," Galadriel picked up her husband's words as his voice died. "Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all," she warned, her eyes turning to Boromir once more. She raised her chin slightly and her voice lightened. "Yet hope remains while company keeps true." Her eyes smiled serenely as she looked to sweet, faithful Sam. His company would always keep true. "Do not let your hearts be troubled; go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace."

As Celeborn began to speak, Galadriel looked upon Frodo, her smile falling from her lips and a shadow passing over her bright eyes. Miraleth paled when her words echoed not only through Frodo's mind, but through her own.

Welcome, Frodo of the Shire…one who has seen the Eye!

Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion.—Well met, Legolas son of Thranduil.

Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien.—Our Fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien.

A, Aragorn in Dúnedain. Istannen le ammen.—Ah, Aragorn of the Dúnedain. You are known to us.

Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul—I spit upon your grave

Hiril nín—my lady

Mae tollen na mar—Welcome home