"What Will I See?"

[galadriel]

Of all the places in Lorien, the Mirror is truly my own. No one enters this place without my knowledge and permission. Not even the birds come to this place when I am not present.

I had not realized I would invite the son of Thranduil to look into the mirror until I had already begun to lead him here. That is strange for me, but I will not question it. The mirror is not only used for predicting the future, or plotting out our next moves; it is also a comfort to the fea. After many years, I now believe that the mirror shows you only what you must see; it shows you what is most relevant to your current state. I often came to the mirror during times of woe for it was the most efficient way of soothing my nerves.

I move from the fountain to the platform on which the mirror sprouts up and slowly spill the contents of the decanter into the basin, careful to spread the water evenly and spill not one drop.

"Will you look into it?" His eyebrows are knitted slightly and his lips seem tight. "Will you look into the mirror?"

[galadriel]

My eyes are open, but the quality of vision has lessened as I focus only on the mind of my current companion. He is curious, and nervous. He is blocking the images with his expectancy and I wait while he relaxes.

"What the mirror shows you, not even the wisest could say. The mirror shows many things. You are more likely than I to know what it is you will see."

And then my vision leaves me and all I can see are the images presented before him. He sees these things as if it were painting, but--for me--it is more like a panoramic, the vision engulfs me.

There is a throne, upon which a King sits and there are ripe berries and leaves crowning his head. His robes are richest of the green velvets and there is a hard line to his jaw. Determination.

The world is black and constricting and it is difficult to breathe. There is a cloud hanging low and it is not of natural origins. To the left, Aragorn fights with a creature my own eyes have never before seen. And there is a light, and spirit eminating from it and, at once, I recognize that presence for what it is: the Necromancer. Mordor.

Waves roll beneath my feet , pushing my vessel forward gently. Valinor. The light is unmistakable.

Again, I see Thranduil, but there is no throne here. There is a skittering above. A hiss. Leaves rustle. There is a sudden burst of wind and Thranduil opens his mouth to call out to his guard, but the breath is drawn out of his body in a great rush as the spider transfers the poision out of her body and into his.

Aragorn walking across a courtyard in Imladris.

A great rockface with a door underneath, bones marking the passage.

Gollum's voice overhead as several Elves stand guard to the isolated tree.

Mithrandir lying naked in the snow.

[galadriel]

Mirthandir lying naked in the snow.

N'uma!"

Mithrandir. Naked. Snow. He was at the top of the endless stair, he had smote his enemy. This was past. His future was now being decided in Mandos' Halls.

"N'uma... n'uma... Ada--"

The remaining haze that has obiliterated my periphal vision clears and before me, Legolas returns to a standing posture, his grace and breeding aiding him greatly. He whispers to himself, something which my elven ears do not catch though I wasn't attempting to hear it.

I replace the decanter to its spot by the fountain, I will have no more use of it at the moment. The mirror is dry now and I wonder idly if has noticed that fact. I turned and am faced with two perfect azure pools staring into my own eyes. There is a challenge in his gaze and my pulse quickens for a moment, subtly enough that only I know that it did so.

"It will not come to pass. I will not allow it."

It took me a moment to realize what it was he said. My mind feels crowded and I let myself listen to myself breath awhile to clear out the confusion and questions. Mithrandir in the snow. But, no, that is not what this majestic creature before me has his jaw set about. The sound of Thranduil's gasp as the spider sunk her weapon into him fills my mind and then, quite suddenly, is gone.

Mithrandir often travelled between the elven havens of this world and I remember his voice as he spoke of a young prince newly assigned to the Mirkwood guard and how he had felt such elation for said royal. Mithrandir had said that it was rare to find one of the first-born who appreciated forthright emotions and clear speech. Mithrandir speculated that it was from years of observing the court and disapproving of the courtesans.

In any case, I knew that my next words would either remove the almost accusatory glare from his eyes, or cause it to develop further in its darkness.

I did not much feel like being slain.

"Not all of which you saw will come to pass. Only the past is definite; the future is ever-changing. Even the present fluctuates as it becomes the past."

[galadriel]

I watch as he processes what it is he has seen. He has regained his bearing, however, and his face shows no sign of his inner thoughts that anyone save an immortal could see.

Nenya feels heavy on my finger and a dark wave washes over me and is gone. It is the Ring-Bearer, Frodo of the Shire, he has drawn the Eye to my forests. I look back to my companion.

"Not all of this shall come to pass... the present fluctuates as it becomes the past... but what of Gandalf? Why did I see him different than he was before, Lady Galadriel? Why did I see him at the top of the mountain, instead of under it?"

Mithrandir would have replied to this with a "All valid questions" and a brisk nod. That often was a response one would ellicit from the Maiar when he did not exactly know the answer himself.

"What you have seen in the mirror, was also in my mind. The mirror shows many things, and not even the wisest of all wizards could possibly feign all knowledge in everything it presents." I move closer the Prince and lock his gaze with my own. "The future is not set."

[galadriel]

My lips quirked of their own violation when he thanked me for allowing him to gaze into my mirror.

Few people have ever looked into its waters, but I knew instinctively that many more would before this fellowship left Caras Galadhon. Perhaps even Legolas would request a second glimpse into the mystical pool. Now, that's a thought...as Mithrandir would say.

I look up for the bottom of the stairs to where Thranduil's spawn stands at the top and capture his gaze as I ascend the steps. Reaching the top, I lower the lids of my eyes and open them again, focusing not on his blue gaze, but his face as a whole, studying the nuances of his expressions.

And, with my mind, I say to him: "Go now and allow your mind rest."