Nertë

[galadriel]

Eight breached our borders and were brought forth to Caras Galadhon. Eight, yet I was told to expect nine. Messengers had reported an elf, a dwarf, two man, and four curious creatures stunted like the dwarf, yet far more amicable and pleasing to behold. Hobbits, Mithrandir referred to them and from them did he obtain the foul substance with which he would pollute our air and choke our mallyrn. Mirthandir, I was expecting you to be counted among the batch of intruders but you are not.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn was recognized, as well as a son of Thanduill. The child of Mirkwood's King was certainly one I had little hope of meeting though talk of him has reached my ears. Fair and enchanting, from the ellyth. Dangerous and skilled, from the ellyn. From Mithrandir, noble and amusing.

Mithrandir. I am still expecting you.

[galadriel]

Many things had I heard about Thranduil's child, yet it is a far different glimpse of this Greenleaf that I am now presented with. There is confusion, there is a certain level of despair, but it is the innocence to him that captures my attention.

It is from his mind that I had learned Mithrandir's fate. Aragorn's thoughts were blocked from me, he had learnt that trick early on. The other man, the southern man, was focussing more clearly on the future instead of the past, or even the present. The Dwarf dwelled not on Mithrandir's fall long enough for me to divine what had happened; his discomfort with his current predictament was the prevailing thought in his mind. And the hobbits...too intense were their emotions, I could no more than glimpse at their thoughts before feeling overwhelmed. It was from Legolas that learned what I needed to. He feared Boromir, he thought Gimli blistered and rash and it was those qualities that had begun to endear him to the Dwarf. More than that, though, he felt a small sense of betrayl.

He had now experienced what no Elf is truly meant to, he had no experienced death and he felt the enormity of the situation impossible to grasp.

I ached to reveal my mind to this young one. I wished nothing more than to tell him my suspicions that Mithrandir had survived the fall, that Mithrandir would be returned to us. I could not tell him this, though. Too much was at stake and it would be cruel of me to toy with the emotions of one so obviously distraught.

Instead, I offered him a smile and my optimism, expressed primarily through my eyes. And, spontaneously, I inclided my head slightly to the left and, with my eyes, encouraged him to follow me as I took leave of the formal platform with which official duties are performed and began to walk to a place where few have been; a place where what was, what is, and what could be can be seen and interpreted.

((OOC: Would you like to continue here or jump right into a thread at the Mirror of Galadriel?))