A contribution by Holly41

Solemnity consumes the Company's hearts, darkening their dreams; Gandalf has fallen into Shadow, and the Elves play the most mournful of dirges.

"They sing of his passing," says the deep voice of the Lady of the Wood. "The loss of Mithrandir weighs heavy. Much as the Ring you bear." The Elven lament echoes amongst the Mallorns, the leaves scenting the air with the promise of rain.

She reaches for your outstretched hand. For the cursed gold you must bring back to Mordor. "I deny not that my heart has greatly desired this," says the Lady. You know the Ring whispers to her, though you hear it not.

"Lady, the Ring has spoken to you. Though I cannot escape the fate which lies ahead, nor can I change the past, I quake with fear to bear such a lonely burden." Your heart turns as Dwarven stone.

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future," she says, kissing your hair. "You are never alone. Not while Middle Earth yet holds life."

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