Galadriel moved with quiet grace along the twilight border of Lorien, a faint unease brushing her heart like wind through golden leaves. All evening, a presence had stirred on the edge of her perception — a ripple in the still waters of her foresight. Yet for once, she could not discern whom she was meant to find.

Her steps were unhurried, the hem of her gown whispering across the mossy path. Then, beneath the silver-filtered light of the mallorn trees, her gaze fell upon a shadow nestled amid a scatter of wildflowers. Not orc, no..such creatures would never reach this place unscathed. Nor would any of her people choose such a spot to linger, so near the outer bounds.

Galadriel approached in silence, her presence like the hush before dawn. There, seated upon the grass, was a child. A mortal child. Alone in the heart of Elven Kingdom.

She regarded the little one with both wonder and sorrow. How fragile, how fleeting, and yet... how brave to wander so far.

As she lowered herself to the ground, she allowed her voice to soften so as not to startle the young creature.

“Quel undome, little one... what strange fate has led your feet so far beneath the golden boughs of Lothlorien?”