Aside from Gimli's commentary, the Company was silent as they followed Aragorn through the woods. Occasionally the Ranger would pause, as though seeking some unseen trail, and then proceed in the same winding manner as they had been walking before.

Barbossa listened to Gimli's claims with a detached sort of interest, only halfway paying attention to what was being said. He did not know whether there was truly an "elf-witch" in these woods, nor had he given the subject much thought. He knew only that Gandalf had spoken of a Lady Galadriel who would be able to aid them in returning to their own world. If this elf-witch and Lady Galadriel were one and the same, then he cared not how terrible her power might be, nor what sort of spells she might wield. If it meant returning to Isla de Muerta and finally lifting this curse, then he was willing to try anything, at this point.

He certainly could not deny that the air felt fairer here, as though some invisible barrier warded off both the chill of winter and the bleakness of the surrounding landscape. He could not call it pleasant, though he suspected it would be very pleasant under normal circumstances, but it was at least a considerable improvement over the dark mines and barren slopes. The ground was soft and easy to tread upon, and the entire land seemed encompassed in a soft golden glow. Above their heads, leaves drifted lazily through the air -though the massive trees looked no barer for it- and a gentle breeze rustled through the lofty branches, and...voices. Or a single voice; he could not tell. Barely distinguishable from the sounds of the forest, whispers lingered tantalizingly just on the edge of his perception, slipping away whenever he attempted to concentrate of them. He knew not what they said, nor their nature, but they were inexplicably peaceful. Perhaps there was some merit to this "elf-witch" talk, then.

The dwarf was just saying something about the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox when the entire company came to an abrupt halt, finding themselves suddenly face-to-face with the bows of a group of blonde-haired strangers. From the uncanny resemblance that they bore to Legolas, Barbossa quickly surmised that these were elves as well.

Aragorn slowly raised his hands in a display of peace, glancing at the others to ensure that they would comply as well. From the midst of the elves came their leader.

"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark."

Rather unlike Aragorn, Legolas' hands had sprung in a blur to his bow, notching an arrow in the space of a blink. He lowered it not a fraction when the leader sauntered forward, looking generally unimpressed. Perhaps his eyes flickered momentarily toward the Elven prince, but the rest of the party seemed utterly below his notice - besides, of course, the offending dwarf. Legolas glanced sideways - other elves, previously unseen, emerged from the trees with their bows likewise drawn. He found himself admiring the workmanship exceedingly for a split second before shifting his attention back to the elf who seemed to be the leader.

Elizabeth froze, gaze likewise shifting from elf to elf. She wished fervently that she could even make the appearance of readiness, as Legolas seemed to - as it was she had no weapon, and could only stand as still as possible and wonder, in a detached sort of way, what would happen if she died here, and if they would wonder what happened back home.

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At the Elves' bidding, the company ascended up a tall ladder to one of the many talan that adorned each tree. Haldir waited until the last hobbit had reached the top, then quickly surveyed the group once more. "Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion," he said as his eyes came to rest on the only elf in the company. Turning slightly, he addressed the others, speaking slowly and carefully in the Common Language. "We have heard rumors of your coming, for the messengers of Elrond passed by Lorien on their way home up the Dimrill stair. Who among you will speak for your company?"

Aragorn, who had until now been observing in respectful silence, stepped forward from the others. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he said, inclining his head slightly. "I am the leader of this fellowship."

"Your name is well known in Lorien," Haldir replied, returning the gesture. "You have the favour of the Lady. We would befriend you, as Elrond asked, save for the Dwarf. We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days. They are not permitted in our land. He may go no further."

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((Considering Melda and I talk to her on MSN every day, yes, we're perfectly aware. She was playing Gimli, and as soon as I see FM on MSN again, we shall figure out which one of us is going to take him. No big deal. ))

[guys, I'll be taking on Gimli]

A look of extreme indignation crossed Gimli's face as he caught Haldir's words, "And you know what this Dwarf says to that? <i>Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!</i>" he growled, just before Aragorn caught his shoulder and jerked him back.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

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Aragorn glanced down reproachfully at Gimli before turning his gaze back to Haldir. "We are all enemies of the one Enemy," he insisted. "Gimli is no more a threat to you than we are."

"True though that may be," Haldir replied evenly, "we cannot make exceptions. We live now upon an island amid many perils, and our hands are more often upon the bowstring than upon the harp. He may go no further."

The discussion continued in this manner, eventually drifting into Elvish and leaving the other members of the company with nothing to do but sit and wait. They did so for quite some time, until at last the argument seemed to have reached some sort of resolution.

Haldir cast one last wary glance over the fellowship before announcing, "You will follow me."

He, along with several other silent elves, led the company back down to the soft earth and along winding paths. They walked for what felt like an eternity, and yet no time at all, until they at last reached a break in the trees and found themselves gazing upon what seemed an island in the midst of the forest. Surrounded by gently sloping forest, there was a single tall hill crowned with the tallest trees Barbossa had even laid eyes on.

"Caras Galadhon," Haldir said, though the sheer majesty of it left little need for introduction. "The heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

The heart of Elvendom on Earth. Once Legolas had disputed it, declaring that nothing was more beautiful than his native Mirkwood, but beholding the golden city, a crown of trees topping a hill lit radiantly by the brilliant sunrise, even the Prince of Mirkwood could hardly argue. Even Mirkwood in autumn, colored scarlet and orange and gold, paled next to the ethereal beauty of Caras Galadhon. His eyes lit, standing there with the panorama laid out like a brilliant tapestry, and for a moment it was even more evident than usual that Elves were ancient and mystic, a race rarely understood and even more rarely appreciated.

Elizabeth found herself breathless. Her world contained nothing like this, nothing even palely reflecting this. She could have drunk it in for hours, just sitting to look at that hill crowned with gold. She caught an ephemeral glimpse of her sentiments in Legolas' face and that alone rendered her momentarily speechless. Until now she had though Elves were merely humans with a few incongruent features - but they were no more human than the trees that arched above the Fellowship.

Sam found himself recalling his first reaction to seeing Elves. "We're going to see the Elves, Mr Frodo!" he'd exclaimed. But they hardly inspired the magical power he'd expected; pretty sparkles like Gandalf's fireworks, perhaps he'd thought to see, but this was far different...something hung in the air, something utterly intangible, that rendered him happily speechless.

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Even Gimli's stubborn heart weakened at these breathtaking things; because for all his knowledge of dwarven structures and wonders, nothing had come close to <i>this</i>. Closely behind Aragorn he followed, as the elf led them up the enchanted stairway. The younger hobbits eyes were wide with wonder as they climbed, scarcely daring to believe what they saw. "It goes straight up to the sky!" Merry whispered incredulously to his cousin, moving his eyes upwards as he spoke.

But behind all the rest Boromir lagged, not at all eager to meet the elf-witch. The strange foreboding in his heart only increased with every step, and strange thoughts pressed themselves upon him without his consent.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

The staircase wound ever on, far beyond what should have been possible. The trunk of the great mallorn tree around which it was built was wide enough that the turning was gradual, but even still, it was a dizzying experience for any newcomers - especially if one paused to take into account that the only thing between oneself and a fall of a few hundred feet was a wooden plank held on by a few nails. Of those ascending, only Jack dared peek over the edge, and only once for a few seconds before he, too, decided that there was no harm in sticking a bit closer to the trunk.

"Let Frodo and Legolas come first with me," Haldir said as they finally neared the top, motioning for the two to join him at the front of the company. "The others may follow as they wish."

They continued from there, until at last they came to a wide talan, large enough to have served as the deck of a ship. On it rested an equally large house, which seemed to literally glow from the interior. The company followed Haldir into a massive oval chamber through which the trunk of the mallorn itself continued to grow. Everything possessed a simple, ethereal elegance, being adorned in silver, gold, and varying shades of green.

On one side of the bole, chairs had been arranged, and many elves were already seated. The pair of the elves seated directly beneath one of the living boughs rose to greet their guests in elven fashion, and even Barbossa felt his breath taken away. They were exceedingly tall, to begin with, the Lady no less than the Lord. Both were robed entirely in white, with hair of the purest gold and the brightest silver, respectively. Neither possessed any sign of age, save for the profound depth of their eyes, but they were gravely beautiful.

Frodo was presented first by Haldir, and Celeborn greeted him in his own tongue. "Come sit by my chair, Frodo of the Shire," he said, indicating the seat with a wave of his hand. "When all are seated, we will speak together."

Celeborn greeted each companion by name. "Welcome Aragorn, son of Arathorn! The years lie heavily on you that have passed since you last entered this land, but the end is near, for good or for ill. Lay aside your burden for this time....Welcome, son of Thranduil. Far too seldom are we visited by our kinsmen from the North....Welcome, Gimli son of Gloin. It is long indeed since we saw one of Durin's folk in Caras Galadhon. But today we have broken our long law. May it be a sign that though the world is now dark, better days are at hand, and that friendship shall be renewed between our peoples."

Galadriel said nothing as the entire company was presented, but gazed long upon each individual's face. Celeborn continued with his greetings until the eight Fellowship members had been seated, and they came to the four 'pirates.' Haldir knew no names by which to present them, and indeed there was a somewhat pregnant pause as he and Celeborn exchanged glances. Celeborn had just opened his mouth to inquire when Galadriel spoke for the first time. Her voice was clear and musical, but deeper than was typical for a woman. "Welcome, Hector Barbossa, Jack Sparrow, Elizabeth Swann, and William Turner. You have traveled far indeed to visit our land. May you find sanctuary here, if only for a period of time."

Celeborn appeared content to add nothing more and merely inclined his head graciously, then indicated that they be seated with the others before his chair. The Lord slowly surveyed the company before speaking again. "Twelve there are here, yet nine set out from Rivendell, so said the messengers. Four who are present I do not know, and one who is not, I had expected. Was there perhaps a change of counsel? Elrond is far away, and the darkness gathers between us. It is possible that I did not hear."

"Nay, there was no change in counsel," said the Lady Galadriel at length, still looking from member to member. "Gandalf the Grey set out with the Company, but he did not pass the borders of this land. Tell us where he is, for I much desired to speak with him again.

"Alas!" said Aragorn, his eyes dark. "Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained in Moria and did not escape."

All the Elves in the hall cried aloud in grief and amazement, and Celeborn appeared troubled. "These are evil tidings," he said slowly, "the most evil that have been spoken here in long years full of grievous deeds. Tell us now the full tale!"

Aragorn obediently recounted all that happened upon the pass of Caradhras, and in the following days, though he selectively omitted certain details concerning two of their newest companions. He spoke of Moria, and the book of Balin, and the ensuing fight, and the narrow bridge, and the coming of the Terror. "An evil of the Ancient World it seemed, such as I have never witnessed before," he concluded, his voice steady but thick with grief. "It was both a shadow and a flame, strong and terrible."

"It was a Balrog of Morgoth," said Legolas. He had not yet spoken, and now stood looking at the Lord and Lady, who mirrored the strange aloof manner that only he in the Fellowship possessed. "Of all elf-banes the most deadly, save the one who sits in the dark tower. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

Sam glanced up at him, a little abashed by the ethereal quality of every elf he'd seen - even Legolas was changed, here in Lorien. He recalled the avalanche of Caradhras. Surely Moria had not been needless? For a moment, the thought seemed insulting to Gandalf's memory. To lose the wizard had been grievous, but had there been another way? He shifted from foot to foot, uneasy, but could not summon the courage to speak.

Will, however, looked from the Lord and Lady to the grave Fellowship, and took a step forward. "Both a shadow and a flame," he repeated, studying their faces in wary curiousity. "What was that thing?"

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