A thin stream ran murmuring through the darkened hollow.

There were times when Lady Galadriel enjoyed hearkening to it; finding solace in the carefree way it set forth on its long journey, and often drifting into a pleasant slumber. But today she could discern something strange in its voice: as if its song turned from merry to sorrowful, from wholesome to sick.

She sighed and filled a silver ewer with water. Hesitating for a while, she poured it into the shallow silver basin that stood upon a low pedestal shaped like a branching tree, and breathed on it.

She turned away, for something was telling her not to take a look. Not yet. She was not ready for the horrors the Mirror might reveal to her – not now, when the One had come back to Lothlórien.

She looked up the long flight of steps leading to her garden. A pair of Elves was descending it, half leading and half carrying what was left of the Fellowship.

Galadriel was wordlessly waiting for them to come down. She tried to smile away the gloom from their faces, but it did not work. They all knew the end was come.

They laid Frodo onto the soft ground, careful of the ugly wound on the top of his head. Sam sat down beside his feeble master. His eyes were empty as his helplessly clenched hands were clutching at the staff without whose help he would never have managed to come back.

Galadriel motioned the tired Elves away. When they departed, the eyes of the Lady of Lórien turned to Sam. The hobbit felt like someone was soothing and comforting him, but for his misery there was no cure.

"We have failed, my Lady," he blurted out shortly after. "Gollum brought Orcs and our boats were swarmed by arrows. The first one hit Aragorn! And then something terrible came flying... Legolas shot at it, but failed. Boromir and Gimli got torn up... Pippin and Merry were swept away by the stream into the rapids, but me and my master were saved by Legolas. He flung himself after our boat and dragged it to the bank. He stayed there to cover our escape.

"We didn't know where to go. Frodo wanted to go on, but then Gollum found us again. He fought with Frodo for the Ring. Before I could do anything, he hit his head with a stone. And I got so mad...

"I killed him. He nearly bit off my leg, but he won't never try that again, I'll warrant!"

Galadriel could see the wound in his mind that even time would never heal. She hung her head and tried to drive away all thoughts of the future. Her eyes were glistening with tears.

Sam watched her for a long time. His heart was bursting with sorrow, but he understood that the grief of the Lady Galadriel was hundred times stronger. He longed to tell her something, to find a way to make her feel better, but he could not find the right words. Everything was lost. There was no hope left.

He put his head in his hands, instantaneously falling asleep with exhaustion.

The Moon was wandering in the sky, more often than not hiding beyond the clouds, as if she did not wish her silver to get stained by the darkness that was swallowing up Middle-earth. It was not a cold night, but still Galadriel's soul was freezing.

That was how Saruman found her.

He descended the steps in a regal way, accompanied by five Elves who were watching him with awe and devotion, longing for each scrap of wisdom he might bestow upon them.

"Thank you," the wizard motioned them away with a benign gesture. "Your company has been exalting, my dear Elves. Now leave me alone with your Lady, for I must speak to her about matters of greatest import."

His melodious voice was smooth and the Elves fell completely under its charm. They turned away obediently and left, glad to have brought such an undeniably powerful and wise man from the borders of Lórien to the Lady: They did not doubt to have done an important and invaluable service to her.

Galadriel felt like she was staggering through a horrid nightmare she could not wake up from. She knew about Saruman the moment he set foot in her forest, and yet she let him come as far as hither. A feeble hope was smouldering inside her, or maybe it was just wishful thinking – that he might have come to offer help...

She raised her head wearily. She noticed how the wizard devoured the hobbits with his eyes before he could conceal it. Hope faded like a puff of smoke in the wind, to be replaced by horror and despair.

Yet Galadriel did not lose control. "Why have you come, Istari? Your wisdom is certainly needed elsewhere than in Lórien."

"It was my wisdom that directed my steps hither, O Galadriel," the wizard said in a soft and sweet voice. "And now my darkest fears are confirmed at the sight of these two poor creatures. The Council's plans have failed, have they not? It is time then to choose a different path."

His words were full of confidence Galadriel did not feel. The Lady of Lórien clung to it like it was her last resort, drawing lost strength from its steadiness. All of a sudden she could not understand why she had distrusted her visitor. Why did she not invite him earlier? Why did she not prevent so many mistakes, why did she let the Fellowship set out on a journey that was clearly doomed to fail? Everything might have turned out differently...

Saruman smirked. "Even now it is not late, my dear. Everything can be mended. Let us join our forces. You and I can put an end to all evil. We shall bring order to the world."

Galadriel was enchanted by the vision. For a moment she beheld Lórien in its prime, bursting with lushness and happiness. And such was the pleasure she suddenly felt that it almost made her spring to Saruman and embrace him joyfully.

It only lasted for an instant. The vision had faded and the grief was back. Galadriel shook her head. "You are mistaken, Curunír. The world is nearing its end. Gandalf would..."

"Gandalf!" Saruman spat out in disgust and his pretence was gone. "Gandalf is a fool! To destroy our only weapon... only an insane mind could come up with such an idea."

The Elven-Lady stirred from the spell cast by his enchanting voice. With horror she became aware how close to defeat Saruman had pressed her. Anger crept into her fair face.

"The sanity of the Pilgrim's mind I doubt not, Curunír-it is yours I worry about! You had studied the ring-lore too blindly. It did you harm..."

"It opened my eyes, my beautiful Lady!"

Sam was roused by Saruman's furious cry. The hobbit glanced up in terror. He saw the white Galadriel and a bent old man whose face shone with sheer lust. The old man yelled something incomprehensible in a loathsome, croaking voice. He swung his staff, knocking Galadriel to the ground. He stepped over her and drew a dagger from under his cloak.

Sam understood. He wanted to spring up and fling himself to his master's aid, but the hurt leg could not bear him and he fell down.

The wizard thrust the dagger up to the hilt in Frodo's chest. The old man grabbed at the chain the One was hanging on and wrenched it away.

Sam gave an anguished cry and threw himself at the wizard's ankles, bringing him down. The Ring slipped from its chain and fell into the grass. Sam grabbed at it and rolled aside.

Saruman shrieked an enraged curse and struggled to his feet. The panic-stricken hobbit leapt towards the helpless Galadriel and slipped the One Ring on her slender forefinger.

Galadriel vanished.

The old man froze; his fury turned to horror. "You killed us all... She cannot resist: Only I could have..."

Saruman's fear re-kindled Sam's anger. "Whatever you are, now you're finished! The Lady Galadriel, she'll use the Ring well! She'll save all of us!" His cry turned to dark growling. "Except for you, you murderer, because you'll have to deal with me!" He drew his sword.

The wizard smiled bitterly. "You want to kill me, little one? Make haste, then. But if you have some wits, you will first try to murder Galadriel – if she is still lying unconscious at the same place."

"You..." Sam leapt forward in a reckless assault, waving his sword. But suddenly a white, almost invisible figure was standing in his way.

"There shall be no more killing in the heart of Lórien!" cried Galadriel. Her voice made the hobbit's hatred go out like a fire-spark choked by water. "It cannot bring Frodo back! Do not stain your hands with the blood of a traitor."

Saruman grinned. "You cannot fool me, white bitch! You only stopped him to enjoy the pleasure yourself!"

Galadriel's face turned even paler. "Begone from my forest, traitor! I swear that if by dawn you are not beyond its borders, you shall meet your death."

The old man laughed once more and turned to leave when Celeborn and a group of armed Elves ran down to the lawn. "What is..." His eyes fell on Frodo and flashed with a terrifying anger. He pointed at Saruman. "Seize that..."

"No," Galadriel halted him. "He is no longer a peril to us. No more blood shall be spilled in Lothlórien!"

The wizard stopped. He turned back and his laughter echoed through the garden. "Why do you keep repeating that, Galadriel? Who are you trying to deceive, your husband or yourself? And you, Celeborn, are you ready to become a vassal of the Dark Queen?"

The Elven-lord wavered. "What is he talking about?"

His intense gaze made Galadriel hunch her shoulders. "The One has passed to me, husband. I could do nothing to prevent it."

Celeborn lowered his head. He motioned the Elvish warriors away. "Take it off, Galadriel. Give it to this hobbit. We shall send him with our best trackers to try his luck again."

The Lady of Lórien sat down on the stone overlooking the Mirror and buried her head in her hands. "You know I cannot! The Enemy knows about me and shall strike down with all his power! We can no longer fool him. If I send the Ring away, our land shall perish. I cannot let it happen."

Saruman nodded knowingly and walked away.

Celeborn stood silently for a long time. Then he kissed Galadriel, thoughtfully drew his dagger, and stabbed himself right into the heart. The water in the basin got stained with blood.

Sam was holding his dead master's body in his arms.

Galadriel ran her hand over the red water surface, staring at it through an endless veil of tears.

She saw Saruman being ripped to pieces by the enraged trees of Lothlórien.

The water rippled.

A fearsome dark shadow on a winged horror hurtling towards her forest, followed by nine black wraiths.

She was not scared.

Gandalf, Elrond and the rest of the Wise dead or broken. – The kingdoms of Men destroying each other in dreadful wars. – Tree-herds fighting in vain with raging Huorns. – The dead wandering aimlessly in the world, bereft of everlasting sleep. – The last hobbit family hiding from Orc-raiders.

Elves drinking the blood of their beaten enemies.

And herself, in a robe of whitened skulls and small children's bones, soaring above all that on the back of a red-golden dragon whose wings would stretch across the stormy sky, casting a dark shadow on all Middle-earth.

She raised her gaze to the stars and silently reproached the fate for its cruelty. And then she made the first of the Mirror's visions a reality. Saruman's agonized roar echoed through the entire forest.

She felt like weeping, but still she had to laugh.

Author's Note:

I was always fascinated with the way Galadriel looked like when she passed the Trial of the Ring... and when I had to write a fanfiction short-story from Tolkien's world (those were the terms of the contest I participated in) I finally let myself go. The golden Lady wouldn't take the Ring of her free will, though, so another way had to be found... Believe it or not, but I did my homework before I wrote this story and it really might have happened – Saruman could have made it there in time...