Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters or settings from Lord of the Rings or Xena the Warrior Princess

Author's Note:

I: Prologue

Act III: Echoes of Darkness in Caras Galadhon

Lothlórien, 3019 TA, March 25

In the heart of Lothlórien, the once-glorious realm of the Elves, Lady Galadriel stood amid the golden branches of the Mallorn trees, her ethereal beauty contrasting starkly with the rapidly deteriorating world around her. The atmosphere was palpably heavy with an encroaching darkness, a shadow that had not existed before – a shadow that heralded the return of the Ring of Adamant to its sinister master, Sauron.

The trees, which had been a symbol of everlasting beauty and life, began to wither before her eyes. The golden leaves, which once shimmered like precious jewels, lost their luster, turning gray and brittle. The very essence of Lothlórien, nurtured by the magic of Nenya, was under siege, and it manifested in the fading of vibrant colors to a dull, lifeless pallor.

The gentle music of the forest, the whispers of the leaves, and the songs of the birds all fell silent. The air grew still and heavy, carrying with it a sense of impending doom. The very spirit of the land, which had thrived on the Ring's protection, was now in turmoil.

Galadriel, with her timeless wisdom and power, felt the loss acutely. The bond she had shared with the Ring was severed, leaving an emptiness within her that mirrored the desolation spreading through Lothlórien. She had been a guardian of this realm, a beacon of hope, but now she was powerless to stop the encroaching darkness.

Her once-bright eyes, mirrors of ancient wisdom, now held a deep sorrow as she gazed upon the fading beauty of her realm. The delicate scent of Mallorn blossoms, once intoxicating, had turned into a musty, foreboding odor. The very earth beneath her feet felt cold and lifeless.

As the light of Lothlórien dimmed, Galadriel's heart ached with profound sadness. She knew that the fate of Middle-earth hung in the balance, and the return of the Ring to Sauron's grasp marked the beginning of a dark era. The Lady of the Wood, with all her grace and majesty, was now a witness to the unraveling of her beloved realm, and her heart wept for the world she had sworn to protect.

In this moment of despair, Galadriel's own sense of self, her very essence, seemed diminished, overshadowed by the overwhelming weight of the impending darkness. She could only stand as a sentinel, watching helplessly as Lothlórien succumbed to the malevolent power of the One Ring, her heart heavy with the knowledge that the world was forever changed.

Lord Celeborn, the wise and noble Elf who had ruled alongside Lady Galadriel for ages, stood beside her in the fading twilight of Lothlórien. His usually composed countenance bore the weight of sorrow and concern as he too witnessed the harrowing transformation of their realm.

In the silence that stretched between them, the sense of loss and despair was palpable. The bond they shared, not just as rulers but as partners in love and wisdom, was a source of strength that had sustained them through countless ages. Now, that bond was tested as they faced a darkness unlike any other.

Finally, it was Celeborn who broke the silence, his voice carrying a mixture of grief and determination. "Galadriel," he began, his voice soft yet resolute, "we have seen the unthinkable come to pass. The Ring, that which we feared most, has returned to its master, and Lothlórien withers under its malevolent gaze."

Galadriel turned to him, her eyes reflecting the same sadness that weighed heavily upon his heart. "Celeborn, we have indeed reached a pivotal moment in the history of Middle-earth. Sauron's shadow darkens our very souls, and our realm is but a shadow of its former self."

She took a deep breath, her timeless beauty shining through her resolve. "But we must not falter in the face of this darkness. Our duty as guardians of this land, and as beings of great power, has not waned. We must stand together, not just for Lothlórien but for all the free peoples of Middle-earth."

Celeborn nodded, his features firming with determination. "You speak true, my love. We shall not let the darkness prevail. Our people look to us for guidance, and we shall not fail them."

As they gazed out upon their ailing realm, a renewed sense of purpose filled their hearts. The Lady and Lord of Lothlórien were united not only by their love for each other but by their unyielding resolve to face the looming threat of Sauron and his Ring of Power. In this moment of crisis, their bond and their wisdom would be the beacon of hope that Middle-earth so desperately needed.

The creeping darkness had not gone unnoticed by the vigilant Marchwardens of Lothlórien, Orophin, and Rumil, both brothers of Haldir, who served as the guardians of the realm's borders. As the foreboding shadow descended upon the golden woods, they felt its oppressive weight upon their very souls, a sensation akin to a heavy shroud enveloping their spirits.

Orophin, his keen Elven senses tingling with unease, exchanged a knowing glance with his brother Rumil amidst the dwindling golden leaves. They had trained for countless years to be attuned to any disturbance in their beloved realm, and this was a disturbance of unprecedented magnitude. Without a word spoken between them, they turned as one and, with a fluid grace that only Elves possessed, began their swift descent from the Mallorn trees. Their feet barely made a sound as they landed softly on the forest floor, their cloaks blending seamlessly with the shadows.

Their movements were both swift and silent as they navigated the winding paths of Lothlórien, each step taking them closer to their Lady and Lord. The urgency of the moment hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension that spurred them onward.

As they reached the clearing where Galadriel and Celeborn stood, the Marchwardens knelt before their rulers, their heads bowed in a gesture of respect and deference. The air around them seemed to quiver with foreboding, their eyes reflecting the inner turmoil brought about by the encroaching darkness.

Orophin, his voice laden with a sense of urgency, addressed Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, "My Lady, My Lord, the darkness has descended upon Lothlórien. We have felt it in the very marrow of our bones. The golden leaves of the Mallorn trees wither, and the protection of Nenya has faltered."

Rumil continued his expression grave, "We have come to you, not only as your loyal Marchwardens but as your humble servants, to seek your guidance in these troubled times. What course of action shall we take to defend our realm and stand against the looming shadow of Sauron?"

Galadriel and Celeborn exchanged a meaningful look, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. The Lady of the Wood, her timeless beauty now underscored by a steely resolve, spoke, "Rise, Orophin and Rumil. Your loyalty and vigilance honor us. We must convene a council, gather our people, and prepare for the trials that lie ahead. Lothlórien may be dimmed, but it shall not be extinguished. Together, we shall face the darkness with the light of our unity and determination."

As Orophin and Rumil stood, a renewed sense of purpose filled their hearts. The Marchwardens of Lothlórien, along with their rulers, would now embark on a perilous journey to defend their realm against the encroaching darkness, for the fate of not only Lothlórien but all of Middle-earth hung in the balance.

Amidst the canopy of darkened trees in Lothlórien, a somber dialogue ensued between Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, and the Marchwardens Orophin and Rumil. The weight of their concern for Middle-earth bore heavily upon them, and they sought to unravel the intricate web of challenges that lay ahead.

Orophin, his voice a measured tone of apprehension, spoke first, "My Lady, My Lord, the darkness that blankets our realm is not a mere shadow. It is the harbinger of a great evil that threatens not only Lothlórien but all of Middle-earth. We must be prepared for the coming storm."

Rumil added, his gaze unwavering, "The golden leaves of the Mallorn trees have lost their brilliance, and the magic of Nenya wanes. Our protection diminishes with each passing moment."

Galadriel, her eyes bearing the weight of centuries of wisdom, turned to Celeborn, her expression grave. "Celeborn, my love, the time has come for us to rally our people, to convene a council of the wise, and to stand united against Sauron's dark designs. We cannot afford to falter."

Celeborn nodded in agreement, his features etched with determination. "Indeed, Galadriel. We shall gather our allies, seek counsel with the great leaders of Middle-earth, and forge alliances that will withstand the coming storm."

Just as they were deep in their discussions, a sudden presence, like a gust of wind carrying an aura of divine beauty, swept into the clearing. Glorfindel, the legendary Elf-lord, renowned for his ethereal beauty and valor, appeared before them. His golden hair, radiant as ever, cascaded down his shoulders, and his piercing blue eyes held a wisdom that surpassed mortal understanding.

But it was not his physical beauty that commanded attention; it was the aura of power and the weight of experience that surrounded him. Glorfindel had been in the thick of battles, confronting the forces of darkness firsthand, and it had left its mark upon him. He stepped forward, his voice carrying an air of authority, "My Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn, I felt the darkness as I aided in the battles of Lothlórien. It is not merely a presence; it is a malevolence that seeks to consume all that is pure and beautiful in this world."

Glorfindel's words hung in the air, a chilling reminder of the peril they all faced. Lady Galadriel, her eyes meeting Glorfindel's with a profound understanding, spoke, "Glorfindel, your presence is a balm to our troubled hearts. We must unite our strengths and rally the forces of good. Middle-earth stands at the brink of darkness, and it is up to us to push it back."

Celeborn nodded in agreement, his gaze unwavering. "Glorfindel, you have witnessed the true extent of the threat. We shall heed your counsel and, together, we shall decide our next course of action. The fate of Middle-earth depends on our unity and resolve."

As they continued their discussion, the echoes of Lothlórien's fading beauty and the ominous presence of Sauron's darkness lingered, but in their unity and determination, there was a glimmer of hope—a hope that would burn brightly as they faced the looming storm together.

As the discussion on defense and allies continued, the urgency of the situation compelled them to address these matters with a swiftness rarely seen in the timeless realm of Lothlórien. The darkness that enveloped them served as a relentless reminder of the imminent peril. Orophin, his voice resolute, said, "We must secure alliances with the neighboring realms, for Sauron's forces will not rest until they have conquered all of Middle-earth. Rivendell, Rohan, and even the Dwarves of Erebor may be willing to lend their aid."

Rumil nodded in agreement, adding, "Our scouts should be dispatched immediately to convey our dire situation and request assistance. The strength of our alliances will be crucial."

Glorfindel, his gaze unwavering, chimed in, "I shall personally journey to Gondor. The White City will be Sauron's first target, and we must ensure that it is prepared for the onslaught. Gondor's strength and resilience will be vital to our cause."

Lady Galadriel, her mind spinning with the weight of their decisions, finally spoke, "Indeed, Gondor must be fortified, for it is the linchpin of resistance against Sauron. We shall send a portion of our army with Glorfindel to aid in its defense, while the rest remains in Lothlórien to bolster our own defenses and maintain our alliances."

Celeborn, his gaze steady, concluded, "It is decided, then. We shall act swiftly to prepare for the dark days ahead. Orophin, and Rumil, organize our scouts and diplomats. Glorfindel, make haste to Gondor, and may your valor shine as a beacon of hope in its darkest hour."

Glorfindel nodded, his expression resolute. "I shall depart at once, my Lord."

Their dialogue had been swift, and their decisions resolute. The fate of Middle-earth hung in the balance, and as they set their plans into motion, they knew that the battles to come would test the very essence of their beings. In the darkness that loomed, they found strength in unity and the unwavering determination to protect the beauty and goodness that still existed in their world.

As preparations for the impending darkness continued, the members of their assembly bustled with a sense of purpose. Orophin and Rumil, the Marchwardens, were coordinating the deployment of scouts and diplomats, ensuring that their pleas for aid reached the far corners of Middle-earth. Glorfindel, the radiant Elf-lord, was preparing for his journey to Gondor, his armor gleaming like molten gold in the fading light of Lothlórien.

Amidst the activity, Lady Galadriel, her demeanor still and graceful, had fallen into a contemplative silence. She sensed a calling, an eerie resonance that beckoned her from the periphery of her thoughts. It was the Mirror of Galadriel, a mystical artifact of great power and insight, hidden within the heart of Lothlórien. As if guided by an unseen force, she made her way toward it, her steps measured and deliberate.

The surroundings seemed to shift and twist around her as she approached the mirror, the air growing heavy with an unsettling tension. Shadows danced on the periphery of her vision, and the once-peaceful sounds of the forest had grown distant, replaced by a disconcerting silence. When she stood before the Mirror of Galadriel, its surface was like a liquid pool of silver, reflecting the eerie, otherworldly atmosphere around her. With a sense of both trepidation and determination, she gazed into its depths, and the mirror came alive with visions.

What she saw was a sight that struck terror into her heart. Above Middle-earth, a swirling maelstrom of darkness extended like a suffocating shroud. It was far worse than she had ever imagined, a tempest of malevolence and cruelty that threatened to engulf the entire world.

The lands were bathed in shadow, and cities lay in ruin. The people of Middle-earth were besieged by hordes of monstrous creatures, and the very earth itself seemed to wither under the oppressive weight of Sauron's will. It was a vision of despair, a future where darkness reigned supreme, and hope was but a distant memory.

Galadriel's eyes remained fixed on the horrifying spectacle, her heart heavy with the knowledge of the trials that lay ahead. At that moment, the full extent of their duty and the gravity of the impending conflict became achingly clear. She knew that they had to stand together, not just for Lothlórien but for the entire world, and face this darkness with unwavering resolve.

As she withdrew from the mirror, the sinister surroundings seemed to recede, and the eerie movement of shadows retreated into the depths of the forest. Galadriel returned to the assembly, her regal bearing unchanged but her eyes carrying the weight of the vision she had witnessed. The time for action had come, and they would face the darkness with the strength of their unity and the hope that still flickered in their hearts.

((Upcoming Act Four))

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Feel free to Review - Follow - Favorite!