O, Lothlórien, where mallorn trees stand tall and blossoming! Always the home of my heart will be here, in your peaceful wake! Far I have wandered since last I gazed upon thy grandeur, and I wish to tell that I have returned and settled at my birthplace in Lindon, my wayward mind lost to Mithlond's blue seas and white sails. Ah, how captivating it is, to traverse the seas, bending sails to the wind's will, and to pull the vessel's ropes! To once again be in childhood's hour, walking its sandy beaches, picking seashells and smooth rocks tumbled by endless waves! To endure the storms at seaside; gazing through the windows of Mithlond's towers to catch a glimpse of mighty thunderbolts searching for the highest peaks, and see the drops of rain shatter against the crystal glass. To walk in open fields of wet grass with close friends and kin, the Loth-i-Lonnath, with sword in hand and a song upon our lips! A new purpose I have found, at long last.
But O, Lothlórien! Even with all my love for Mithlond and its harbor towers and the home I was born into; O Lothlórien, how I have missed thy dreamy scenery; the sunlight at midday glistening through thy crowns of majesty, that gleam of purest gold, and thy emerald meadows and vibrant blooms! How I have missed the starlight of Elbereth, reflected upon the lustrous silvery flets of Caras Galadhon where Lady Galadriel made her home, as I did once! To keep watch from atop the warden flets in the night, far and high in the tallest trees, hidden deep beneath their crowns with naught but your own breaths and bow as company! To sit in the remote and lovely groves where no sound is heard, save for the chirruping of morning birds and the falling of golden leaves in spring, when new leaves sprout in their place! To be guided by perfectly crafted lamp-posts, lighting up the dim paths throughout the woods, glowing with the light of red-hot brass and gold! To drink wine, sing and dance upon the banks of Anduin beneath starry skies, to the tunes of master harpers and bards, singing of ancient tales and legends to rekindle a worn warden's spirit! O, how I have missed sitting at Cerin Amroth and see the sunrise at dawn, when the first golden rays are slowly searching a path through the thick trees and branches, to fill every glade and hill with light and chase away the nightly gloom; and later walk through the misty morning as sparkling dew, like tiny diamonds settling on the leafy beds, and then inhale the cool and quiet air; so old and full of scents and trails, and too see with each morning that all is born again, anew.
For it was here, in these woods, where peace returned to me in the 2115th year of the Third Age. For two thousand, one hundred and fifteen years, my heart had been deeply troubled from the war, and flickers from the lifeless battlefield would haunt my dreams each night, and not even the calling of the sea could soothe the aching thunder in my chest. I feared that if I, too, took a place upon a vessel bound to the West, the ache would still be there, never forgotten, and never laid to rest. From the day I was old enough to understand words and until his passing, my father would pass me grand tales of his beloved home in Lórinand, even though he loved Lindon and the sea as much as I. When he at last completed his great ship and took it offshore to find the Western Lands together with my mother, whom he held highest of all, save for us children, my time to move to Lothlórien, as it was now called, had come. My dear and beloved sister Lothiavien resided there in the Lady's service, and from often being far apart from her, we found each other again there beneath the boughs, as brother and sister.
And, by the grace of the valar, I instantly fell in love with the Golden Wood, which had grown up and prospered from the seeds that Lady Galadriel had planted only years before, and never would it leave my heart again! I saw the woods blossom and age and the leaves turn to gold in autumn, and it awakened something long forgotten inside me - a heart long trembling from the horrors of old; rekindled at the sight of growing trees. "Let your tree grow." my mother said once to me! O, how long it took for me to understand her meaning and foresight of what was to come! While in Lindon bred and born and raised, Lothlórien I deem my heart-home forever, like a sweetheart won in a heavy battle and later absent and grown apart, yet never surrendered fully. Many are the things I love and cherish, some in more ways then others; but always shall the Golden Wood have a special place deep within my heart, where it shall be remembered as the home where I first found peace again, when all hope had sunk into the black and bloodied pools that festered beyond the Black Gate, where many friends and comrades fell, and I survived. When once again I leave to find my kin and home in Lindon, I know within my heart that Lothlórien remains here beyond the mountains, and that the mellyrn shall always be my guide, if hope should ever fail again.
O, Lothlórien, home of my heart, how I will miss thee!
