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little but eat and drink and rest； and walk among the trees； and it was enough。
They had not seen the Lord and Lady again； and they had little speech with the Elven…folk； for few of these knew or would use the Westron tongue。 Haldir had bidden them farewell and gone back again to the fences of the North； where great watch was now kept since the tidings of Moria that the pany had brought。 Legolas was away much among the Galadhrim； and after the first night he did not sleep with the other panions； though he returned to eat and talk with them。 Often he took Gimli with him when he went abroad in the land； and the others wondered at this change。
Now as the panions sat or walked together they spoke of Gandalf； and all that each had known and seen of him came clear before their minds。 As they were healed of hurt and weariness of body the grief of their loss grew more keen。 Often they heard nearby Elvish voices singing； and knew that they were making songs of lamentation for his fall； for they caught his name among the sweet sad words that they could not understand。
Mithrandir； Mithrandir sang the Elves； O Pilgrim Grey！ For so they loved to call him。 But if Legolas was with the pany； he would not interpret the songs for them； saying that he had not the skill； and that for him the grief was still too near； a matter for tears and not yet for song。
It was Frodo who first put something of his sorrow into halting words。 He was seldom moved to make song or rhyme； even in Rivendell he had listened and had not sung himself； though his memory was stored with many things that others had made before him。 But now as he sat beside the fountain in Lórien and heard about him the voices of the Elves； his thought took shape in a song that seemed fair to him； yet when he tried to repeat it to Sam only snatches remained； faded as a handful of withered leaves。
When evening in the Shire was grey
his footsteps on the Hill were heard；
before the dawn he went away
on journey long without a word。
From Wilderland to Western shore；
from northern waste to southern hill；
through dragon…lair and hidden door
and darkling woods he walked at will。
With Dwarf and Hobbit； Elves and Men；
with mortal and immortal folk；
with bird on bough and beast in den；
in their own secret tongues he spoke。
A deadly sword； a healing hand；
a back that bent beneath its load；
a trumpet…voice； a burning brand；
a weary pilgrim on the road。
A lord of wisdom throned he sat；
swift in anger； quick to laugh；
an old man in a battered hat
who leaned upon a thorny staff。
He stood upon the bridge alone
and Fire and Shadow both defied；
his staff was broken on the stone；
in Khazad…d？m his wisdom died。
‘Why； you'll be beating Mr。 Bilbo next！ ' said Sam。
'No； I am afraid not；' said Frodo。 'But that is the best I can do yet。'
'Well； Mr。 Frodo； if you do have another go； I hope you'll say a word about his fireworks；' said Sam。 ‘Something like this：
The finest rockets ever seen：
they burst in stars of blue and green；
or after thunder golden showers
came falling like a rain of flowers。
Though that doesn't do them justice by a long road。'
‘No； I'll leave that to you； Sam。 Or perhaps to Bilbo。 But…well。 I can't talk of it any more。 I can't bear to think of bringing the news to him。'
One evening Frodo and Sam were walking together in the cool twilight。 Both of them felt restless again。 On Frodo suddenly the shadow of parting had fallen： he knew somehow that the time was very near when he must leave Lothlórien。
‘What do you think of Elves now； Sam？ ' he said。 ‘I asked you the same question once before…it seems a very long while ago； but you have seen more of them since then。'
'I have indeed！ ' said Sam。 'And I reckon there's Elves and Elves。 They're all elvish enough； but they're not all the same。 Now these folk aren't wanderers or homeless； and seem a bit nearer to the likes of us： they seem to belong here； more even than Hobbits do in the Shire。 Whether they've made the land； or the land's made them； it's hard to say； if you take my meaning。 It's wonderfully quiet here。 Nothing seems to be going on； and nobody seems to want it to。 If there's any magic about； it's right down deep； where I can't lay my hands on it； in a manner of speaking。'
'You can see and feel it everywhere；' said Frodo。
'Well；' said Sam； 'you can't see nobody working it。 No fireworks like poor Gandalf used to show。 I wonder we don't see nothing of the Lord and Lady in all these days。 I fancy now that she could do some wonderful things； if she had a mind。 I'd dearly love to see some Elf…magic； Mr。 Frodo！ '
'I wouldn't；' said Frodo。 ‘I am content。 And I don't miss Gandalf's fireworks； but his bushy eyebrows； and his quick temper； and his voice。'
‘You're right；' said Sam。 ‘And don't think I'm finding fault。 I've often wanted to see a bit of magic like what it tells of in old tales； but I've never heard of a better land than this。 It's like being at home and on a holiday at the same time； if you understand me。 I don't want to leave。 All the same； I'm beginning to feel that if we've got to go on； then we'd best get it over。
'It's the job that's never started as takes longest to finish； as my old gaffer used to say。 And I don't reckon that these folk can do much more to help us； magic or no。 It's when we leave this land that we shall miss Gandalf worse； I'm thinking。'
'I am afraid that's only too true； Sam；' said Frodo。 ‘Yet I hope very much that before we leave we shall see the Lady of the Elves again。'
Even as he spoke； they saw； as if she came in answer to their words； the Lady Galadriel approaching。 Tall and white and fair she walked beneath the trees。 She spoke no word； but beckoned to them。
Turning aside； she led them toward the southern slopes of the hill of Caras Galadhon； and passing through a high green hedge they came into an enclosed garden。 No trees grew there； and it lay open to the sky。 The evening star had risen and was shining with white fire above the western woods。 Down a long flight of steps the Lady went into a deep green hollow； through which ran murmuring the silver stream that issued from the fountain on the hill。 At the bottom； upon a low pedestal carved like a branching tree； stood a basin of silver。 wide and shallow； and beside it stood a silver ewer。
With water from the stream Galadriel filled the basin to the brim； and breathed on it； and when the water was still again she spoke。 ‘Here is the Mirror of Galadriel；' she said。 'I have brought you here so that you may look in it； if you will。'
The air was very still； and the dell was dark； and the Elf…lady beside him was tall and pale。 'What shall we look for； and what shall we see？ ' asked Frodo； filled with awe。
‘Many things I can mand the Mirror to reveal；' she answered； ‘and to some I can show what they desire to see。 But the Mirror will also show things unbidden； and those are often stranger and more profitable than things which we wish to behold。 What you will see； if you leave the Mirror free to work； I cannot tell。 For it shows things that were； and things that are； things that yet may be。 But which it is that he sees； even the wise