Fields of golden flowers spread ahead of them, covered by rich yellow leaves above, and it gave a brief peace to everyone that treaded lightly upon it, even the fellowship who had experienced a devastating loss not long ago. [Y/n] continued to hold Frodo's hand, Sam had long gone to the front, carefully stepping between the delicate flowers with his nose pointed to the floor. She inhaled a long breath of that pollen rich air, taking in the scent of the flowers and the white wood surrounding them with a look of great disturbance.
[Y/n] couldn't grasp the concept of Gandalf's death just yet. For the moment, her mind was jarred like she had been hit; still able to walk, but unable to think. She thought he would be with her till the end of her days, and she realised now that was a very wishful thought. All things eventually decay, even those you planned your whole life with. It was too sudden to comprehend, so she walked on without a word to wail.
"Ah, Lothlórien. The fairest of all the dwellings of my people. There are no trees like the trees of this land, for in autumn the leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. So still our songs in Mirkwood say." Legolas muses, him too taking in his surroundings with a look of nostalgia. [Y/n] sighs, not sure if she should continue listening to him ramble on or drown him out with her own musing thoughts. No one was really in a mood to speak apart from him and Gimli, who had expressed his condolences to each and every one of Gandalf's closer associates respectively. Legolas speaks so poetically, despite being such a mischievous and snide man, being around him was never a bore.
She instead, looks out to the horizon of grey pillars before them, sighing to herself as the air left her lungs painfully, her chest still stinging from her heartbreak. Tears began to brew once again for the millionth time, but she forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat and leave her emotion for a more appropriate time — specifically when they're not on a quest.
Aragorn admires the flowers too, mumbling something to himself and briefly giving a warm smile to her and Frodo. She doesn't return the smile, but instead stares blankly back at him.
Gimli hastily jogs over to [Y/n]'s side, and she slows down to keep pace with him. One long stride for her is two steps for the dwarf. He nervously scans the area, a light sweat on his nose when he meets [Y/n]'s eyes.
"Stay close, young ones, they say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell." He addresses the hobbits, but looks at [Y/n] most of the time. Merry and Pippin listen closely to hear the dwarf better, as he spoke in a cautious whisper. After he spoke, [Y/n] could feel Frodo's hand twirl tighter around hers, and she looks to him in concern.
"And are never seen again!" Gimli distracts her, and she has a feeling he's talking about Galadriel, a witch she admired since she's read about her briefly in an archive. Otherwise, she doesn't know much about the witch... she gulps nervously, now looking around cautiously. Frodo let's go of her hand, and goes forward, his eyes wide and scanning the woods frantically. It seems Gimli's tale got him uneasy, too— or so she thought.
"Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!" He declares strongly, and she almost laughed if it wasn't for her numbing sadness.
Something moves beside her, and she snaps her head to her left.
The tip of an arrow, centimetres from her iris comes into view. She gasps, and nearly trips over her boots, instead grabbing Merry's head aggressively to balance herself, who exclaims in protest but freezes when he realises what she's startled by.
Armed elves pointed several deadly arrows to each of the fellowships heads, causing everyone to halt in their step.
"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," a particular elf comments, his voice low with bitter disappointment.
Night had deepened into a mysterious blue amongst the trees. [Y/n] couldn't put her finger on it, but something was amiss with these woods. The way everything looked and felt seemed unnatural to her. There's no way that nature made this forest, I sense that magic was involved in these roots. She theorises in her head, looking around with fascination.
The fellowship were brought forth to a platform high up in the trees and she couldn't stop gazing at the moonlight that shone from above, it made everything look blue despite the entire place being solely grey or white.
A particularly authoritative Ellon greets Legolas with a respectful bow, and he does the same in return.
"Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion,"
"Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien," Legolas replies in elvish, and the fellowship that didn't speak it stood there awkwardly, trying to decipher what was being said.
The elf then turns to Aragorn, meeting him with eyes that recognised an old acquaintance.
"Ah, Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen," he says, smiling faintly.
"Haldir." Aragorn bows, and from the back, Gimli huffs sassily, pushing to the front so he can berate the ellon 'Haldir'.
"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can also understand!" He demands, waving his fist at him.
"We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days." Haldir replies, his calmness unwavered.
"And you know what this Dwarf says to that? Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!" (I spit on your grave!) He shouts, and is scolded by Aragorn who takes him strongly by the arm. Gimli never takes kindly to any sort of elf, even those that show peace. Ignoring the dwarf, Haldir moves to study Frodo, who stares back up innocently.
"You bring great evil with you." He turns to face Aragorn sternly. "You can go no further," and after that, he walks away, leaving the group in a dumbfounded discomfort.
Aragorn spoke elvish, and she could pick up a few bits of what he's saying here and there, but otherwise she was in the dark. He called out to Haldir, begging for his help and the elf only whispers for him to hear. The rest of the fellowship watched in silence as the two debated, all while Frodo looked to everyone who avoided his gaze like the plague. He got the feeling that he had become a scourge for this predicament, but it wasn't his fault that he bears the ring for greater good.
[Y/n] hadn't noticed Frodo's diminishing courage, and instead was fixated on the argument between Haldir and Aragorn, hoping Aragorn could convince him to let them through. Legolas watched as well, knowing full well that nothing leaves this forest without the permission of Galadriel herself. The good thing about being here meant that they were protected, but their journey was already at nigh, they should be quick on their feet before the evil forces grow stronger.
Sharing a mutual look of disdain to Gimli, who was offended by the fact that our capturers didn't even have the courtesy to speak in a language we can all understand, [Y/n] finds herself having a moment of ambiguity. It never occurred to her that she should be able to understand Sindarin.
Shaking her troubling thoughts away, she realised that Boromir approached Frodo to deliver a word.
"Gandalf's death was not in vain, nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden, Frodo. Don't carry the weight of the dead," his words uplifted the hobbits hopes only a bit, and [Y/n] admired the man for such an act of genuine kindness. He had shown nothing but affection to the hobbits since they've met, and she could tell that if he were ever to take his fathers throne, that Gondor would be a bit brighter.
"Very well. Here we will stay awhile, and come to the city of Galadhrim on the morrow," Haldir approached them once more, and she feels a sigh of relief escape her now that they have a chance of leaving. On the plus side, they get to rest well guarded tonight.
Setting a bed for herself was an easy task; the ground was already so soft, she could practically lie down anywhere and doze off without a worry. When she had finally finished, she admired her work quietly, but her sadness soon came back when she realised this would be her first sleep without Gandalf snoring nearby. Some may find snores annoying, but to her, they were always a comforting sound — knowing a loved one was peacefully sleeping by your side meant that she wouldn't have to be alone in the darkest hours of the night. She fought back her tears, but couldn't stop the stinging aches in her chest from her painful grievance. Getting into bed, she looked up to the moonlight above her, hoping to distract herself with the magnificent nature before her.
However, a strange sound catches her attention. Legolas sat close behind her against a tree, the others were in their own makeshift beds beside her, already fading into slumber, but he occupied himself with cleaning his weapons.
She slept comfortably, listening to him softly scrub his materials and occasionally blow dust out of some crevices, falling asleep with him being the last thing on her mind.
Day came with a brisk cold, but it felt nice against her wakefulness, stretching upon her bed, looking around to see if anyone else had gotten up. Aragorn stood not far to her left, calmly muttering a song under his breath with eyes that looked far into his imagination. She decides against disturbing him and packs her things into her bag, putting on her boots and cloak before gently nudging Gimli, who snored loudly against a tree. He coughed and awoke with a start, seeing [Y/n] with surprise.
"Already morning?" He cracks his back, as [Y/n] nods back.
"A beautiful morning at that," she sighs, putting on her gloves now that her skin began to be nipped by the cold.
"Have your aches rejuvenated?" He inquires, getting up. [Y/n] shakes her head, frowning.
"I'm afraid not. My back still hurts from a night ago," she explains, but her thoughts run elsewhere when she sees Legolas walking to Aragorn with Haldir. They spoke, and soon turned to the her and Gimli.
"Wake the others. We head for Caras Galadhon," Aragorn informs and [Y/n] jumps to action by waking the hobbits. Frodo's eyes were puffed red, obviously the aftermath of a strong crying before sleep.
Gimli conversed with Legolas, and oddly enough they seemed to be getting along. Perhaps Gandalf's death had lulled the tension between each of them a bit. Even Boromir had spoken to her, previously thinking he hated her, but it turns out he was merely staying cautious of her but, otherwise admired her powers; saying that they would come useful in Gondor very much. She smiled to that remark but, didn't let it show.
Pippin handed her a small thing wrapped in leaf, then toddled away to Merry with a whole stack for them to share. Merry didn't consume any, but Pippin ate more than she could count. [Y/n] tried to bite it, but it had for some reason made her lose her appetite with just one portion. Shrugging, she stuffed it in her bag.
Seeing Sam ready, she hoped to speak to him a bit while making their way to their next destination in Lothlòrien, but he was occupied with himself.
"What troubles you, dear Samwise?" She squeezes his shoulder, and he finally snaps out of his trance, looking at her in surprise.
"Nothin' my lady, I just believe there should be an effort for Gandalf, to honour his memory through song or poems, and I want to make my own of that," he confesses, and she understood completely. She was never talented in poem writing, and couldn't wait to see what the hobbit comes up with.
Walking to their next location felt no different than when they walked into Lothlòrien, except this time, Aragorn was no longer as silent as he was before. This time, he spoke to himself as he admired the yellow flowers, even conversing with Frodo to show his affection for this place — but, [Y/n] couldn't relate to his muses. These golden flowers will always remind her of her first day grieving for Gandalf, and now the second day. She hopes to never see this place again, or smell these scents that waft from the vast flora.
Eventually, Haldir leads them all onto a hilltop, overlooking a vista. Several miles ahead, there laid mighty trees that stood taller than any others. [Y/n] gasped at it, feeling an inch of fear for such large things being able to exist so plainly before her. However, in the crown of these trees rests a city, gleaming beautifully in the now late afternoon sun.
"Caras Galadon. The heart of Elvendom on earth. This is the city of Galadhrim where dwell the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." Haldir points, making [Y/n] grow more anxious at the thought of meeting Galadriel — Gandalf always spoke so highly of her, but she also recognised how powerful she is, and that scared her more than the thought of Sauron.
She can only hope that the Lady Galadriel will look upon her with the same empathy that Gandalf did so many years ago.
Now stood upon a wide ivory wooden platform with soft incandescent lights glowing blue upon the green and silver walls, [Y/n] found herself staring at the infamous lord and lady of Lothlòrien, hand in hand stepping before them to meet the fellowship. Her breath hitched when she saw the timeless beauty that Galadriel held, soft like a doe, but striking in her high cheekbones, attaining a kind yet easily commanding presence. Her entire body had seemed to stop functioning in that moment and she felt like she was going to faint at any moment just for being in front of the famous Galadriel. She clenched her trembling hands tightly in attempts of hiding the fact that she shook like a mad cow. A light sweat had begun to form on her forehead, and her eyes wouldn't blink once while staring at the Lady of Light.
"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar," Celeborn spoke first, interrupting her from her rude staring. She clears her throat and pays attention to her shoes, feeling too devastated by the sound of Gandalf's name alone to even lift her gaze.
Tears already began to brew, and to calm herself, she took in a deep breath. There was a deafening silence, that no one dared interrupt. Not even the brave Aragorn, who stood before them.
"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land... he has fallen into Shadow." She whispers softly aloud, and it didn't miss anyone's ears.
At that point, [Y/n] couldn't even hold herself anymore, a tear dropped to the floor with a quiet plip.
"He was taken by both Shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria," Legolas shared, and she couldn't agree with the last part.
"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose," Galadriel speaks, and [Y/n] cocks her head in confusion. She surveys the fellowship, till her eyes fall upon Gimli. Gimli looks back with great distraught, unsure what she means.
"Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart Gimli, son of Glóin. For the world has grown full of peril, and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief," Galadriel's words hit him deep, and it was astounding that she was able to put aside her own deep emotions to comfort this dwarf, and for this, [Y/n] already founded a strong respect for the lady, seeing why Gandalf loved her so dearly as a friend. Gimli almost trembles his lip, but he looks to the ground with closed eyes in respect for his kin.
Galadriel's stare then lingers to Boromir, who was already shaking under her watch, her eyes piercing through him like an arrow, he couldn't take it and shook his head away from her, softly crying to himself. Immediately, her gut dropped when she saw this, fearing what she could have possibly done to make this noble man so afraid.
Her eyes then shifted to Legolas, and feeling her power, he adjusted his posture into a taller one, staring back with a respectful yet strong glare. He frowned soon after, and looked to his side where he saw [Y/n], staring back with the same intensity. She was worried Galadriel was striking fear in him, but he let out a deep breath and looked away, not a visible emotion in sight.
"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost," Celeborn deplores, voicing the thought that everyone had.
"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the company is true," the fair lady speaks, facing Sam now.
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil," she smiles, turning to Frodo for one last gaze to give.
They all take their leave after that, following Haldir to a destination they can set camp upon. As [Y/n] took her steps towards the exit not before bowing to them in respect, she heard something in her head, a voice that doesn't belong to her, and it alarms her firstly, but recognising who it was only caused her heart to drum faster than before.
"[Y/n] Izalith, the last of the chaos witches. You harness great power within yourself, which I have seen firsthand from when I've met your mother long ago — this power may bring doom upon all if put in the wrong hands. Gandalf spoke of your turmoil, and I have seen what it holds for you. Meet me in the gardens tonight, and I will bestow upon you a gift few can ever come across in their life,"
She trembles in fright, thinking more upon what had happened just now. She was able to witness such a powerful old being that gazed upon her with intensely wise eyes — the same eyes that had apparently seen her mother and that fact only spooked [Y/n] further.
In the end, the fellowship had been granted to rest and pass through the witch's forest, and she was glad that they could have a genuine moment to themselves. Sam recited a poem for Gandalf, but he couldn't find the right words and gave up, sitting on a tree stump with a frown. [Y/n] found the poem beautiful, and he was getting somewhere at first, if only he wasn't so troubled then maybe he'd be able to finish it.
An eery song was in the air, which pricked at [Y/n] like an annoying thorn. Why is there music at this time of grief?
"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas speaks, having emerged from his barrack with new clothes that shone silver under the lights.
"What do they say about him?" Pippin asks, while Frodo looks up to the vast branches, hoping to catch a glimpse of the choir.
"I have not the heart to tell you... for me, the grief is still too near," he admits softly, and [Y/n] sighs at this. She's glad she doesn't know the lyrics, but she'd wish to hear what Lady Galadriel is listening to as well, perhaps to connect to her grievances like [Y/n] is with the fellowship.
Everything played out like a dream; Gandalf passing away, meeting Galadriel without him next to her, and Legolas being kind to her despite being an enemy of his father — it was too surreal to grasp. There's no way she has managed to get herself into this situation by herself, knowing that Gandalf aimed her to be here the entire time but, for what purpose? He doesn't let her - no... he used to not let her use her magic, because it evidently takes a great toll on her health, but then she's useless without it! Such woe that Galadriel speaks of is true, [Y/n] couldn't find a proper way to practise her magic without having to suffer the consequences.
Scoffing, anger fired in her chest while pondering this predicament, it appears that her grief had left her completely and instead been replaced with an ire she's never felt before. It was the type of anger you feel when you cry, when you damn everything that's happening to you, kick a rock into a tree or hit your table with your fists till they sting, but alas you cannot do anything about it. She stroked her arms, the bruises caused by her magic slowly fading yet still stuck to her skin stubbornly, reminding her everyday what Gandalf feared so much.
"Why did you have to leave me like this? It should have been me that sacrificed themself. Without you, this fellowship is already..." she looks to Frodo, who hugged himself against the cold. "Lost." She whimpers, tears streaming down her cheeks without her wanting it to.
Getting up from her little corner next to Gimli, who snored away beside her. She decided to take out a tiny little pocket knife of hers, remembering Gandalf gave it to her after he finished carved a new pipe for his staff, telling her to keep it safe. She always wore it on her belt, proving to be handy when she would prepare firewood or if a string got caught in her clothes. However, she never fathomed to apply it to its true purpose; woodcarving.
"Woodcarving can't be that hard, can it?" She shrugs her shoulders softly, and sets off the find a stray branch, not knowing Legolas watched her closely the entire time.
Ending up high in a tree, she managed to carve away at a small piece of wood aiming to make a cat, but it resembled a strange lumpy frog more than anything else. She had accidentally cut her fingers multiple times, but she soldiered on feeling like she had to prove a point to herself, carving away until it resembled a small cat. It made her giggle because of the face she gave it, mischievous and full of life despite being inanimate. Wiping the shavings off her clothes, she realised hours had passed — which lucky for her was enough for her to feel tired enough to sleep.
Walking back to the area she thought they were camped at, she had unsurprisingly lost her way and managed to arrive at a completely secluded area, probably yards away from the fellowship. She grows nervous, since the lament for Gandalf had finished ages ago, so she can't even follow the direction of that sound anymore.
"Damn this forest! Everything looks the same!" She seethes, but jumps when a familiar head of hair comes into sight. It's Legolas. Why is he here? No matter... I must be going the right way if he's here and perhaps he could lead me back... she thinks, mustering up the courage to speak with him.
"Legolas?" She squeaks, and instantly damns herself for reducing to such a nervous wreck despite only having seen him for a minute.
"Lady [Y/n]." He doesn't turn to face her, and the way he addresses her was bizarre. His arms folded over his chest and he was tightly fixed upon the view before him. She looks to where he's looking and frowns, wondering why he's brooding by himself here in the silence. She didn't think that Gandalf's death would take a toll on him like this, if anything, she didn't think he'd react at all.
"What are you doing here?" She asks, and finally he turns to her. He flicks his eyes away when they meet hers though, confusing her further. He was always the one to hold the strong stare.
"My mind runs rampant in the night, especially in this place of sorrow. I cannot let myself slumber while I have no peace," he admits, letting his head hang solemnly.
"I see. I suppose I needed the same treatment," she kicks a rock lightly, and it taps his shoe. He watches it, unmoving, then looks up after a moment.
"How do you feel?" He asks, awkwardly. She had seen him paying respects to Gandalf, and mourning for his loss, but she thought he would still be hostile towards her in the end. They may be able to cooperate during battle, but speaking about personal things like this was completely uncharacteristic.
"Well..." she starts, gulping a growing lump in her throat.
"I'm still processing how I'm going to live without him," she shrugs numbly, playing with the cat carving in her hand. Her thoughts flickered back to Gandalf and his face, but she squeezes her eyes shut before any tears could come out. He nods, noticing the object but not commenting on it.
"I believe that is the most worthy set of action to take right now, Lady [Y/n]. Life will go on without him, and it's up to you to decide whether you want to continue living in the dark recesses of your grief, or strive to see the golden lights above you, where Gandalf can smile upon you from the afterlife," he gave a small smile, and for a second, [Y/n] felt that strange feeling creep up on her again, the same one she felt from the moment she noticed him in the council of Elrond.
The lights reflected in his eyes like stars, and if she were granted the chance, she would gaze in them forever.
"You're doing that thing again." She grins, folding her arms cheekily. Legolas tilts his head quizzically at this, not knowing what she was referring to.
"What am I doing?" He responds, his sympathetic eyes now replaced with one full of amusement.
"You speak like you're reciting a poem," she laughs, and he takes a step closer to her.
"I merely speak my mind. Do you imply that I resemble that of a poetic brilliance?" He teases, and [Y/n] scoffs, waving him off.
"Under no circumstance would I ever imply such a thing. Your head is as empty as a flower pot," she jabs, and he gives a comically joyless frown, like a disappointed friend that scolds you for embarrassing them. She laughs heartily, after what felt like forever. All her heartache had gone in this moment, like she had stepped into a bubble of happiness.
Silence takes over, and [Y/n] could feel tension rise the more time passed by with just the two staring at each other. She could feel heat radiate off of him, and without thinking, she doesn't cast her eyes away from his and maintains her position. It's he that breaks the silence.
"I bid you a good nights rest tonight, witch." He nods, but [Y/n] is taken aback by the tone of his voice. He didn't say 'witch' with fire on his tongue, but instead, it sounded like a jolly pet name.
"And I, you, princess," she smirks at her name for him, unfolding her arms to bow dramatically. She could have sworn she saw a smirk stretch on his lips, but he turned his head to the side before she can see it fully. Looking at the wooden cat in her hand, she wonders for a second, before speaking up.
"Would you like to have this?" She reaches it out to him, and he studies it with great confusion.
"What is it?"
"A cat sculpture," she rolls her eyes, thinking it was obvious.
"I know that," he rolls his eyes (badly) as well, taking the cat in his hand, unintentionally grazing his fingers against hers. [Y/n]'s heart raced just by that brief contact, and quickly retreats safely away from him.
"I made it," she explains, her voice shaky from a sudden wave of nervousness. It's only now she notices how close they stood together, and subconsciously leaned back to distance herself. Legolas was too busy studying the carving to see how red she had become, particularly looking at the silly face the cat wore. The carving was smaller than his hand, and it amazed him that she managed to even make it given the piece was so tiny.
"I'll keep it. Only because I hope this is a token of your apology for what you've done," he pockets it, and [Y/n] frowns at this, knowing what he was referring to.
"I won't apologise for something I don't remember," she retorts, and this irks Legolas.
"What could this possibly mean? How could one forget something that only happened a century ago?" He becomes a bit apprehensive at this, remembering how his father used to speak of her back then.
Legolas was abroad at the time of her wrath, and as soon as he had arrived back to Mirkwood, she was gone. He had only heard about her from his fathers view, but everyone he had spoken to always had a different story; his guards once said she turned the fruit into living creatures that ate wood, and the townspeople who say she showered them with honey rain then set a flock of hummingbirds after them. Her stories were zany, and unbelievable. It always ranged from attempted murder to ridiculous antics.
Before him, he watches the witch rub her eyes in frustration like she spoke the truth and he just couldn't comprehend it. Gandalf told him that his reasons for saving her were ones that he would find unreasonable. Is this the reason he had spoken of? That she has amnesia and therefore should not pay for her crimes?
"I promise you, I am unable to explain it because I myself cannot understand why I don't remember either," she sighs, getting more heated by the second.
"You lie." He glares, offended by the notion that she takes him for a fool. Her head snaps at this.
"I do not! I'm honest when I say that I would apologise if I remembered — but since I do not, I will not! And what will an apology do? It is nothing to anyone, and it should be the same for you," her eyes began to water, overwhelmed by grief, disappointment and anger that came rushing back.
"I do not believe you. You use amnesia as a ruse to escape your deserved punishment," he states frankly and coldly, even as she glowered before him.
"I would apologise from the day I woke up in that cell, if only I knew what I had done." She murmurs to herself, turning away with a sullen tremble in her lips, tired of repeating herself. Legolas couldn't even fathom what she was saying at this point.
"You are a strange one." He whispers, focusing to the direction of a sound, which she picks up too. [Y/n] recognises it's Merry and Pippin's voices, speaking loudly among themselves.
"So, it will be, that I am strange." She responds mostly to herself, walking to their campsite. Legolas watched her walk away, his fathers visage still relayed in his mind like fragments of memories. He wondered what the end result of this journey would be if they succeeded. Would he be able to take her to Mirkwood for his father? Perhaps. The image he conjured of [Y/n] being a witch of malice; who's intent was to corrupt the world with acts of evil, had slowly begun to fade away, and now replaced with her smiles from the moment he saw her, speaking to Arwen in the gardens, no hidden venom rested in those bright eyes — and he feared he no longer held a strong understanding of her anymore. A thousand words from his fathers tongue could not hold true to him anymore, as it is clear this girl is not what he said she is.
Galadriel's voice haunted him. What she told him will meet him in his dreams, so he stays awake to draw it away.
Making her way down the stairs, she was shocked to see that there was no one around. Had she taken a wrong turn? It can't be. She followed the voices. There was a fountain of water in front of her, surrounded by ancient stones and plants surrounding the water, all black with dirt and nature, except for the pail itself. The fountain was white, as if it couldn't be touched by time.
"Lady Galadriel!" [Y/n] exclaims, halting her feet. Like being shocked by an eel, her entire body stiffened at the sight of the beautiful witch.
"Calm, [Y/n] Izalith. You've kept me waiting," she smiles, walking to her with open arms. [Y/n] backs away on instinct but with the way Galadriel is smiling, she feels drawn to her like a moth to a flame.
"I have awaited our meeting for long years, [Y/n]," She says, giving her a graceful embrace, [Y/n] awkwardly returning it. Her head rests at Galadriel's shoulder, and she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to move until she does, so she remained stiff till Galadriel pulled away with an unmoving warm gleam.
"From an agent of chaos, to a student of all that is good, your growth exceeded our expectations greatly; and for that, it is my pleasure to finally have you before me, disciple of my dear friend Mithrandir, blessed by his guidance," she continues, and [Y/n] could only watch her with awe, trying her best not to let her jaw hang open in that moment. Being talked to by THE Lady Galadriel was an astonishing gift, but for her to express praise was beyond anything [Y/n] could have ever imagined.
"Come hither, for I have much to tell you," she walks, bare foot upon mossy stone, she makes her way to a bench, gesturing for her to sit upon it. [Y/n] quietly complies, not wanting to defy her. After [Y/n] sat herself, Galadriel placed herself at a comfortable distance beside her, somehow looking elegant in every movement she made, even the way her legs folded before her. [Y/n] felt like a child compared to her, and couldn't shake away the feeling that she resembled a stumpy little girl in her presence.
"Much that troubles you is what tormented him at night, he never rested for your sake." She begins, and [Y/n] shifted with guilt in her chest, her cheeks heating up in shame. "But, worry not, for that matter can be resolved by your own hand," to this, [Y/n] grows curious. Is it true she can do this alone?
"But, my lady, without him I am lost! My thoughts will get darker by the day, and I can only pray for it to end," [Y/n] urges, her face wrinkling into fear and sadness — saying it aloud makes her grieve harder for Gandalf.
"To doubt oneself is not unheard of, young witch. Seek comfort in your art, and take it as yours, for it is in your hand the answer that you seek," Galadriel takes her hand in hers, and opens her palm.
"Comfort..?" [Y/n] whispers, watching her it with a newfound fascination. "How are you certain, my lady?" She stutters, desperate for clarity.
"I have met your mother long ago in the marshes of her kingdom, and in her I saw a growing flame that could not be extinguished. In you, I see different. You seek no power, for you are repulsed by it, instead I see you fight an inner demon that plagues your heart." She squeezes her hand, and [Y/n] began to feel frightened. "Such a demon plagued your predecessors alike, and they have succumbed to the dark long ago for they remained blind to it till their ultimate demise," she further explained, but it still left [Y/n] questioning.
"So, I am plagued? My powers will kill me?" [Y/n] breathes shakily, scared of the 'demon' Galadriel speaks of. She couldn't figure out if it was a figurative demon, or a real one.
"Yes," is all she responds with, and [Y/n]'s breathing grew more distressed, like she was being choked by the air.
"You see? This is why I need Gandalf by my side, to ail this sickness and cast it away!"
"That is not the truth. This cannot be undone by someone else — you stand alone in this plight," Galadriel shakes her head, and tears begin to brew in [Y/n]'s eyes.
"I do not have it in me to fight," she solemnly hangs her head, tears streaming down her cheeks slowly. Hope was gone in her heart.
"You do. Heed my words, [Y/n]," she gets up, still wearing that incandescent smile, and with that, Galadriel left her sitting alone in wonder.
She gazed at her hand, at every wrinkle or vein she could find, and pondered what comfort in her power could feel like. She sighs softly, a burden still heavy on her shoulders, but now that guidance had been given from one of the wisest beings on Middle Earth, she sat till her eyes drooped and eventually, she fell asleep, peace at mind for what tomorrow holds for her.
If Galadriel believes in her, then she should at least do, too.
_._
"Wake, my lady! The morning is here!" Pippin shakes [Y/n] roughly, bearing a small but cheery smile, clear evidence of a good nights sleep. [Y/n] however, could barely open her eyes without feeling them closing into a comfortable sleep over and over again.
Wait. Pippin?
Now slightly more awake, she rose from her comfortable bed and looked around, astonished to see she had just been sleeping in her bed, even though she was sure she was going to wake up with a sore back and a disfigured neck after dozing off on a bench in Galadriel's glade.
"How did I get here?" She yawns, pinching her eyes closed when the sun shone through the leaves to greet her.
"Well, we came from Moria, then we met the Elf lady, then we-" Pippin began but, [Y/n] shushes him gently, her eyes still shut.
"Ah, right. Of course," is all she says, not having the energy to listen to the dopey little hobbit. Perhaps Galadriel was kind enough to take her to her bed — but she remembers clearly that she had left, so why would she come back and go through the hassle of tucking her in? There were no clear answers, and it slightly disturbed her.
"Slept peacefully, I hope?" Legolas appears in front of her, already dressed in new attire fit for travel, looking as handsome as he did before... somehow. Legolas always had a way with looking better each time she sees him, and it irked her how much prettier he looks than her, despite being a man.
"Yes. In my bed. And not on a bench," she slurs under her breath, attempting to fix her hair a bit now that the elf was in her presence. Pippin grabs a tuft of her hair and twirls it, while pondering what breakfast and second breakfast to have.
"A bench? That would have been terrible for your posture, witch. Be careful where you slumber, for that is where you gain strength in the greatest. Consider yourself fortunate that I happened upon you before returning here," he smirks, and [Y/n] gasps, mortified in realising it was him that bedded her! The way his eyes glinted with tease couldn't be more humiliating.
Getting up, already embarrassed in the first hour of her morning, she dressed in the gifted clothes specifically tailored for her, clad in fur for the cold, and symbols of Lothlòrien sewed into the intricacies of her cloak; she smiled at the quality of it. The last time she had been gifted new clothing was on her birthday, where Gandalf bought her a new coat and skirt. Unfortunately, she had lost them in a flood, and to this day, she can't find them.
"Isn't it wonderful, miss [Y/n]? They even offered me shoes, but I declined that offer," Sam comes up from behind her, startling her. She smiles back at the hobbit, who's eyes seemed brighter today.
"Indeed, I am surprised by this. I have never read anything like this happening before... this is truly a special gift," she sighs, her thumb caressing the cloak softly. If Gandalf were here, I'm sure he would reject the new clothing like it's bane. She chuckles, and walks with Sam to the rest of the fellowship, who let themselves enjoy a good meal before their ultimate next step. Aragorn and Legolas were absent, though, perhaps speaking with Haldir. Gimli, sat jolly with the food presented to him, even Boromir decided to spend this time with the hobbits, who ate heartily on either of his sides. He conversed with them happily, laughing at their silly jokes and admiring how much a hobbit can fit in their tummy.
"Frodo, have this," [Y/n] hands an bread loaf to him, not finding the appetite in her to finish it. He takes it hesitantly, and she came to the realisation that he hadn't eaten much of his food.
"I know you don't hunger now, friend, but take it lest you feel that pain later. I don't want you walking with an empty stomach," she jeers lightheartedly while pinching his little nose, hoping to bring his mood up, but he only gives a shy smile. Her eyes connect with Sam's, and he wore the same worry that she had for him. She relaxes, knowing that she is not the only one concerned for her friend.
Aragorn and Legolas arrive soon later, urging them to pack their things thoroughly and prepare to board the boats, setting them all into action. [Y/n] had already been prepared, and merely needed to grab her bag in order to leave, taking Frodo's hand and proceed to follow the squad to the misty Silverlode river bank, glistening like diamond in her eyes. Boats waited for them, and akin to swans, they floated smoothly across to meet them. Galadriel stepped off the boat, smiling as warmly as ever.
She pulls away each of the fellowship members individually, and after Legolas had returned from her presence, she is requested, too. Meeting her, Galadriel holds something golden in her hands, presenting it with pleased eyes.
"I gift to you the Mirror of True Reflections. May it guide your eyes to the right path, where you will thrive and live forever with oneself with joy," she spoke tenderly, and the sentiment almost brought tears to [Y/n]'s eyes.
Bowing deeper than she ever has before, [Y/n] tries to demonstrate her gratitude through polite gesture, but itched to embrace Galadriel tightly in her arms.
"I will never forget you, my lady," she croaks, officially on the verge of weeping. Galadriel bows back briefly, and to that, [Y/n] walks away content with what she has learnt here in this enchanting city. Lothlòrien will always have a place in her heart, and only because of the good memories here that served her.
A brooch was then given to each member, clasped to their new cloaks tightly, shaped like a leaf, it was a perfect symbol of the Elvish nature and [Y/n] studies hers in shock, feeling like their gifts never end this dawn.
"May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes," Celeborn blesses them, and [Y/n] bows her head with of pure gratitude. They have been so accommodating, and she hopes someday to return the favour, if ever possible.
Dusting her boots off, [Y/n] has difficulty trying to break them in. These boots weren't of her liking, in fact she'd say that her old manky boots had better comfort in them. Sighing, she wishes she wasn't so quick to throw them away, but her heart was racing with childish excitement when she received the new attire.
"Lembas bread." His voice comes from behind her, and she turns to face him. Legolas takes a bite from the crumbly Lembas, smiling cheerfully at the hobbits who watched him quizzically. "One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown Man," he then stuffs the remaining piece into the pack, and places it in the boat. Impressed by the delicacy, her eyebrows raise and her head nods, but her amazement shifts into amusement when Pippin picks at his teeth.
"How many did you have?" Merry asks him in a hushed tone.
"Four." He belches, and [Y/n] giggles madly in silence, trying not to make a sound.
As she watches the boats loaded heavier with the fellowship, she realises she had forgotten a bag that was perched in front of her by a tree. Rushing off to quickly grab it, she almost trips and meets the ground, but had just enough time to balance herself and swipe the bag (the bag being full of apples), she attempts to get back in but slips on a shale, almost face planting on the wet dirt. Dusting herself off, she gets up irritably, seeing that Legolas watched the entire time.
"Have you stepped one foot further, you would have plummeted face first into the waters," he teases, and [Y/n] sticks her tongue out at him childishly. "Typical," he chuckles, walking over to her to offer his hand.
She hesitated for a second, unsure if he was being polite for the sake of it, or if this was an underlying message, perhaps to tease her further. In the end, she took his warm and considerably large hand in hers, using it as leverage to climb into the boat.
"Hmph." She snottily huffs at him, and he only rolls his eyes (or at least tried to), then catered to other things.
Fighting a smile, secretly ecstatic that Legolas had just interacted with her so nicely, she sat down and set the bag away, growing aware of the gift Galadriel gave to her, taking it out to examine. Flipping it open, she witnessed a reflection not true to her own; a dark figure stared back, and did not follow her movements at all. She yelped, snapping it shut, terrified of what she had just seen. It was familiar to her. She had seen this thing in her dreams, and it was horrifying to see it greet her in reality.
Calming herself, she looked to Legolas, who helped Gimli board the ship as well. Smiling gently, she turns away before he could catch her.
Even with Gandalf gone, things were beginning to heal, and she had a feeling he'd be happy to know this.
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