Lothlorien

Whilst she waited for the preparations for her journey Druda went in search of Bilbo Baggins, who had been living at Rivendell since his departure from the Shire. Druda had been privileged enough to meet him on several occasions in the past and he always seemed pleased to see another Hobbit and was keen for any news from The Shire. Druda found Bilbo in his usual seat overlooking the gardens. It seemed as though he had heard of her journey because he had with him a small package which her gave to Druda. Inside the package there was a richly decorated bag of burglar’s tools.

"Shall we sing in our language? Perhaps he will cover his ears with his hands." The tall lean, athletic Elf-sire suggested, smiling at Daerundros coyly. He was garbed in the Hauberk of the Mirdirith, something which struck Daerundros as odd, being that the Mirdirith were centered in Lindon, and not so far East. Nonetheless, Daerundros grinned back at her companion, Cirdamir.

Druda had enjoyed many days in the Valley of Imladris, listening to the music, song and stories, riding her pony through the glades and relaxing in its beauty. Her thoughts had once again returned to the necklace in her room.  She removed the box from its place on the shelf and eased open the lid, the necklace shimmered in the light but there was also a new radiance to it that had not been present in Bree, a translucent blue sheen now played across its surface. It must have been a trick of the light.

A small group of Elves were making their way through the trees close to the borders of Lothlorien; their route meandered between the large Mallorn trees. A larger proportion of the group carried provisions for the outlying camps that guarded the realms borders. To the front and rear of the procession sentinels from Caras Galadhon watched over their progress. Although they were within the borders of Lothlorien Orcs had been pouring out of Moria into the surrounding countryside and had made numerous attempts to breach the defenses of the woodland realm.

A hazy night dimmed over the sleeping woods of Thinglad, the bare branches of the trees swaying in the chilly Breeze. Daerundros frowns as she slouches a fine bit, lazily grazing over the wood with her proud, fierce Mare, which tosses it's head in pride, despite her attention being, at large, ever-vigilant against whatever be her foe, for she knew that something was moving against her.

This song I remember my Mother sang for me, when I was a little child..

Often when I ride around the Vale..I can hear the song even if she is not around... It always remind me of her, but also how special we are...and how gifted and blessed I am to be the person that I am...My mother always reminded me about that.. I was never allowed to have low thoughts of myself, nor was I allowed to take my surroundings for granted..