Bluestar | Legolas x OC

Chapter 26: The Golden Wood

January 15th TA 3019

After everyone had been patched up, the Fellowship hastily made for Lothlórien. Aragorn's words lingered in their minds - by nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs; they weren't safe by the Misty Mountains. They crossed a clear stream from the Dimrill Stair that opened up into the Mirrormere. Though Merry and Gimli had just collected water from it, they still looked at the lake in wonder. It was perfectly still, a natural mirror circled by rich, green grass. The Fellowship peered into its deep blue hue, seeing themselves reflected back so clearly.

They trudged along the edge of the oval Mirrormere before they came across a column with a broken top - Durin's Stone. At this very spot, Durin the Deathless, founder of Khazad-dûm, looked into the Mirrormere, seeing a reflection of seven stars above his head. They formed a crown, and Durin took it as a sign to establish the city of Dwarrowdelf under the Silvertine.

Gimli stopped for a moment despite the hurry of the Fellowship. He stood by Durin's Stone as he peered into the lake, just like Durin did. And sure enough, above his head was a crown of seven stars, perfectly reflected from the sky above. Dwarvish pride bloomed in his chest before he joined the rest of the Fellowship on their way to Lothlórien.

They were silent, the weight of dealing with Gandalf's death heavy in their hearts. Aragorn scouted ahead, boots splashing through the icy water as he crossed the shallow dills of the start of the Silverlode. There, he saw the woods of Lothlórien, a smile briefly inhabiting his face. This was the woods where he and Arwen plighted their troths to each other on Cerin Amroth.

The Fellowship followed the Silverlode as it winded through the grassy plains and into the Golden Wood. It was getting dark, the sun itching closer to the West. They jogged through the grass, the blades brushing against their pants and rustling under their boots. The Hobbits were barefoot, however, so they felt the grass slightly tickle their feet. Soon, they entered Lothlórien.

The trees were tall, slender, and sturdy and stood rooted in the rich dirt. Yellow leaves drifted through the air as they descended to the forest floor. They remained on track with the river Celebrant as it weaved through the forest. They stepped over mossy rocks and ivied roots of the trees, soon coming across a fork in the water. The Fellowship had reached the river Nimrodel. It was a smaller stream, named after the lover of the last King of Lothlórien, Amroth. After both never returned to Lothlórien alive, the current Lord and Lady took rulership over the Galadhrim Elves. The clear water rushed over the pebbled riverbed, soothing to their ears.

"Come, little ones. Dip your feet in, trust me. It's not cold," Eluin urged, placing her gentle hands on their shoulders. The four Halflings trusted her word and stepped into the stream. Their shoulders immediately relaxed, the tension in them easing away. The weary look that clouded their faces faded into ones of peace. They exhaled as their bodies grew less tired.

Eluin stepped closer, inhaling the smell of moss as pebbles clacked under her boots. She crouched before placing her right hand in the clear river, not caring about the water soaking her fingerless leather glove. The stinging on her upper arm faded as she sighed in relief. This river had always been her second favourite place in the Golden Wood, the first being a certain small glade in the heart of the forest. With Rivendell being the first, Lothlórien was her second home.

The rest of the Fellowship also began to touch the water, though Boromir and Gimli were more hesitant. Their concerns washed away as they soaked their hands in the stream. Aragorn, being no stranger to this river, felt the cool rush of the water against his skin. Legolas, the Elven Prince who had heard stories of Nimrodel, was fascinated by the river that healed the weary.