Miril found herself at last nearing the edges of the trees. The familiar scent of the Golden Wood wafted through the air. It was, perhaps, more a tangible feeling than a scent, but it carried through the air like the latter. Whatever the case may have been, Miril took the precious moment to close her eyes and take a breath.

"Daro!"

She was snapped out of her daydreaming by a silvan voice floating through the air. She smiled and opened her eyes.

"Mae Govannen! I come in peace." She held out her hands in offering. "I am of the Dunedain and a friend to Lothlorien. Miril Lominzil is my name."

Silence followed before she finally caught sight of the two elves in the trees. In fact she only now glimpsed them as they swung down to the ground with bows out pointed at her chest. Their hair was golden like the majority of Silvan elves. One had green eyes, the other, blue. The one on the right with the green eyes was slightly shorter with somewhat more pale hair and a leaner build. This closer look allowed Miril go recognize the elf as a female. The other was taller, more muscular. His blue eyes twinkled in the starlight that filtered down through the leaves.

"State your purpose," he demanded in elvish.

Miril nodded. "I have come far tracking orcs and fear for my friends who have come before me. I ask only for shelter and rest."

"We know of both things that you speak of," the elven maiden nodded. "For many of our brethren are now hunting these orcs. And the captain of our guard, Haldir, is at this very moment returning from leading a company of outsiders into our great city."

The two elves conversed in whispers. They seemed to fade in and out of view as the moonlight danced on their silver-grey cloaks. Finally the elf male narrowed his eyes at Miril and nodded.

"The name Miril Lominzil is known to us. And you are clothed in our raiment. As such we will allow you to make your way into the Golden Wood to the city. My companion, Halloth, shall accompany you there."

"Much thanks." Miril bowed to the elves.

"Tonight we shall rest further in," Halloth told the half-elf. "A flet shall provide us shelter from the chill air and stray orcs alike."

The two maidens journeyed deeper into the forest by foot. Miril, despite her keen eyesight, almost lost Halloth multiple times in the darkened forest of silver Mellyrn. A few hours into their journey, Halloth told Miril it was time to rest.

"I can see that despite your eagerness to journey onwards, you are tired. Rest tonight, secure in the knowledge that you are safe beneath the bows of these trees. Come, climb the ladder I will lower for you."

Halloth scampered up a particularly large tree and vanished from view. Miril waited patiently at the bottom of the silver trunk for the ladder. She touched the bark of the tree and felt how alive the great plant was. The ancient tree had stood there longer than many an elf. How Lothlorien had managed to stay so well preserved for so long, Miril did not know, and could not even begin to guess.
The ladder was at last lowered. She climbed the rope ladder diligently and reached the wooden flet soon enough. It was placed in the branches of the large Mallorn tree and had a screen that could be moved around the edges to block the wind from any direction.

Miril sat down with her back to the trunk and closed her eyes. She did not sleep right then, however, as she could feel the elf maiden's eyes watching her intently.

"Yes?"

The maiden furrowed her brow, "You have elvish blood, this I can see now. How can this be? Elves do not court Men."

"Things are somewhat different, West of the mountains." Miril shrugged. "Stray elven companies wander the wilds alongside bands of Dunedain Rangers. And the elves of Rivendell often come in contact with my people."

"Your people," Halloth asked in confusion. "You are a half-elf. Are there many of you then? Enough to form a people?"

"Ah no." She shook her head. "No, half-elves are indeed rare. I consider myself a member of the men of the Dunedain, for I was raised from infancy by one of their leaders."

Halloth nodded in understanding. "I see."

The conversation obviously over from Halloth's perspective, the elf maiden turned to watch the ground around the tree. Miril, in turn, closed her eyes and wrapped her own cloak around herself, curling up into the folds of the tree. At last she slept.

When early morning came, Halloth roused Miril from sleep and offered her a piece of lembas.

"Eat."

Miril didn't argue and ate the filling bread. When she had finished, Halloth lowered the rope ladder down and allowed Miril to descend.

"It shall take a day and a half from here to reach the city." Halloth said this to Miril as the two women began their march. "Perhaps slightly less depending on how fast we travel."

"After my rest last night, I can travel through the night tonight," insisted Miril.

Halloth nodded. "Good. Then we should reach Caras Galadhon by morning."

The going was rather easy compared to her journey the many weeks previous. She felt safe under the silver branches of Lothlorien. She had been here a handful of times in her life, always accompanied by the Sons of Elrond. But this was her first time traveling beneath the bows without the constant teasing and laughing of the twins. It was nice. The hours they spent walking during daylight, however, weren't nearly as enjoyable for Miril as the walk in the moonlight and starlight.

Miril marvelled at the silver bark as it glinted in the light that filtered down. The shadows in Lorien were richer, darker, yet safer than anything outside that realm. The trees formed protective walls beside her as she journeyed deeper into the woods.

But nothing prepared her for the brilliance that was witnessing the sunrise in Caras Galadhon. The city of the giant Mellyrn.

"Come, we must take you before the Lord and Lady. They will confirm that you are Miril Lominzil." Halloth beckoned her forward towards the largest tree that Miril had ever seen.

Twice before she had made the climb that was to be required of her. She knew indeed what to expect.

"You may proceed. I will follow behind," Halloth instructed.

Miril began the arduous task of climbing the many ladders and flets up to the top. It took awhile but Miril hardly noticed. As always, she was too taken up with the area around her. The sun was now shining through the branches even more fully, dappling the flets she passed and glistening off the golden hair of the Silvan elves. When at last she reached the top, she straightened up.

The talan, as the elves referred to the extra large flets at the height of the trees, was so large that a great hall sat atop it. Through it ran the still large bole of the Mallorn tree.

The chamber was filled with a soft light; its walls were green and silver and its roof of gold. Many Elves were seated there. On two chairs beneath the bole of the tree and canopied by a living bough there sat, side by side, Celeborn and Galadriel. They stood up to greet their guests, after the manner of Elves, even those who were accounted mighty kings.*

Miril bowed, even lower, back to the two monarchs. She felt their gentle gazes on her head. Straightening up, she smiled a small smile.

"So you have returned, young one," Celeborn nodded.

"Unexpected to you, perhaps," Galadriel continued, "but not to us."

"My lady?"

"You're friends are here," Galadriel refused to answer the subtly posed question. "It shall gladden their hearts to see you. Aragorn especially."

"Where are they and who has come, my lady?" She asked.

"Elrond sent a fellowship of nine. Gandalf and Aragorn led them with the four hobbits, Legolas of Mirkwood, Gimli son of Gloin, and Boromir son of Denethor. I shall have you shown to them. I am sure you would like to see them," Galadriel gave a soft smile.

Celeborn nodded. "Rest. Regain your strength. Heal your wounds."

"Brethion," Galadriel beckoned to an elf standing in attendance, "show Miril to the company."

"Of course, my lady."

Miril bowed low to the monarchs once again before leaving the talan with her new elven guide. Halloth had left, apparently, to return to the patrols near the river.

Descending the great Mallorn tree was not nearly as taxing as the climb up. Soon enough she was on the ground once more and being shown to a great green space where she found large tents had been set up with lounging chairs and low tables. Several people were there, asleep. She counted seven. Gandalf was not there, but Miril was hardly surprised. No doubt he was somewhere in Caras Galadhon doing work for the greater good, as he always was. Legolas, as well, was not to be seen. Yet again this was of no surprise to Miril. He was likely exploring the great city.

She smiled as she looked upon the sleeping forms of the Fellowship before her. The four hobbits were sleeping peacefully on the ground atop blankets. Gimli, Boromir, and Aragorn were upon couches. Aragorn looked more calm than she had seen in a long time, yet... yet he seemed sad. Forlorn, almost.

Perhaps he felt her staring, because Aragorn opened his eyes and looked at her in confusion.

"Miril?"

"Yes."

Aragorn sat up so fast he almost felt dizzy. She saw the look of confusion on his face and smiled. She put a finger to her lips to quiet him and gestured to the others. He nodded and stood, coming over to her and leading her away from the group. He embraced her warmly.

"Miril what in the Valar's name are you doing here?"

She smiled. "I was tracking Gollum but lost his scent in Moria. Apparently the bridge collapsed after you went through because I had to find another way out. Anyways after his trail went cold I decided to track the orcs. They led me to Lorien."

Aragorn looked at her with sadness. "We know it collapsed. I watched it happen."

"Tell me, Aragorn, why are you sad?" Miril looked at him with growing concern in her heart.

"Mithrandir. He... he did not make it out of Moria." Aragorn looked at the ground in shame.

Miril gaped. She took a step back. Her mouth opened and closed in disbelief as she began to shake her head.

"Stop it Aragorn. Stop this jest immediately. It isn't funny."

"It is no joke, Miril. He fell in combat with a balrog of the original Dark Lord," Aragorn put a hand on her shoulder as he spoke.

Miril felt tears stinging her eyes. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. He was wrong. He had to be wrong. Aragorn was a...

"Liar!" She snarled at him in anger, her eyes flashing with fury and despair.

Aragorn took hold of her arm. "Listen to me, Miril, he's gone. We have to accept this."

"No!" She screamed.

She tried to wrench her arm free but, calmly holding on to her, Aragorn wouldn't let go. The outburst had woken the company, however, and they watched the exchange from the comfort of the tent.

"No," she said before whimpering a last, "no."

Aragorn made eye contact with the others and shook his head, trying to tell them to stay put.

Miril allowed herself to cry softly, before using a last shrug to get free of Aragorn and she hurried away despite his pleas that she remain.

Aragorn released a sigh and walked back to the tents as she disappeared from view. Merry and Pippin looked very concerned.

"Was that Miril?"

"Is she alright?"

Aragorn nodded. "It was Miril. She just wasn't... she wasn't prepared to find out the news about Gandalf." He paused. "But she'll be fine. Don't worry."