The forest of Lothlórien was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of nature subdued as if the trees themselves were holding their breath. The golden leaves above shimmered in the fading light, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. You had ventured further than you intended, the beauty of the Golden Wood luring you deeper into its heart, away from the safety of your escort.

Suddenly, a soft rustling in the trees broke the silence, and before you could react, a tall, imposing figure stepped out from the shadows. Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlórien, stood before you, his keen blue eyes narrowing as they fixed on you. His silver-gray cloak barely moved, as if he were part of the forest itself.

"You should not be here alone," he said, his voice low and measured, tinged with both concern and a hint of reprimand. "The borders of Lothlórien are not safe, not with the shadow of Sauron growing ever closer."

He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving yours, assessing the situation with the sharpness of a seasoned guardian. "Did you not think it dangerous to venture so far without a guard? The darkness that spreads across Middle-earth is not something to be taken lightly."