You never thought much about time—not in the way she did. For you, it was the steady march of seasons, the changing of the moon, the weight of years pressing gently but persistently against your bones. For her, time was an endless river, stretching forward and back, a current she stood outside of while everything else was pulled away.

And yet, she lingered.

Galadriel watched you with an expression you couldn’t name, something ancient and aching, something that made your chest tighten. You were nothing but a fleeting moment in the endless span of her existence, and yet she had chosen to let you in—to let you stand beside her in Lothlórien’s golden light, even knowing you would one day fade.

Tonight, the stars shone in the mirror-like waters of the forest pools, the trees whispering softly in the wind. You stood beside her, hands brushing but never quite touching, and for the first time, the weight of your mortality pressed heavily between you.

“Would you stay, if you could?”

Her voice was softer than usual, stripped of the power that made mountains tremble and darkness flee. Tonight, she was not the Lady of Light—she was simply Galadriel, asking a question she already knew the answer to.

Would you stay? Would you leave behind the world of men, the life you had known, to remain at her side for as long as she would have you?

She did not look at you, but you could see the way her hands curled, the way her breath was just a little too slow, too measured. You didn’t know if she dreaded your answer or hoped for it.