On the day he was given the name Sil Maethor by hir Elrond for his victorious mission fulfilled in Mirkwood...she handed him the arrow that now rest in his hands. Her words had been warm and full of the deep respect. Gently his fingers moved over the arrow as he recalled this profound moment in his life.
Hiril Celril whispered to him as he looked upon the gift that she gave him before the honorary ceremony took place, "The arrow's shaft is perfectly straight mallorn wood. It has been painted then overlaid with gold and silver in the images of swirling mallorn leaves. I had it made this way because of your deep affection for Lothlorien. The fletchings is from a rare tawny owl of Mirkwood. As a very young elf I found the feathers in the woods and I held on to them for I knew they were special. I had the fletching made of these special feathers because in my eyes they reflect your ancient wisdom. The mithril arrow head has been etched with the elvish words, "Garo Amdir." My deepest wish is for you to have hope Tahjun!"
Tahjun closed his eyes as he thought about this moment for he carried this arrow with him as he went to the ceremony. He recalled her last words, "This arrow is one of a kind…just like you." She now stood with him before the falls of Imladris. His gaze moved from the greatest gift given to him to her. Celril stood before the falls and he was struck to the core of his being. The falls behind her illuminated her fair skin…brilliant shades of white, silver, and blue radiated off her as her hair flowed in the breeze. She lifted her hand to him and caressed his cheek. It was at this moment he knew…the vision of hiril Galadriel had come to be!
