Lothlórien, fairest and most secretive of the Elven realms in Middle-earth, lay between the Misty Mountains and the broad river Anduin. At its heart spread the Golden Wood, where time itself seemed to falter beneath the eaves of ancient mallorn trees.
Once, like the Woodland Realm to the north, it was ruled by Sindarin lords, with Silvan and Nandor elves forming the greater folk beneath them. Its founder had been Amdír, a Sindarin noble who, like Oropher of Greenwood(later Mirkwood), survived the drowning of Beleriand and led his people eastward into Wilderland. Yet Amdír fell in the Last Alliance, slain in the Dead Marshes. His son, Amroth, reigned after him, though the tale of his love for Nimrodel ended in grief and fading.
Later, Galadriel and Celeborn came with Noldorin and Sindarin kindreds. Their wisdom, strength, and deeper lore won them the hearts of the people, and they became the rulers of this realm. With Nenya, the Ring of Water, Galadriel warded Lothlórien against the long shadow of the Enemy, and the Golden Wood endured unmarred.
…
Kaen and his companions made their journey as travelers, not conquerors. Though mounted, they did not hasten; they lingered to admire the land, moving with unhurried grace. A road of but one day's ride they stretched into three, and so at last came to the banks of Anduin opposite the Golden Wood.
Word was sent by swift bird. After half an hour, white boats came gliding from the far bank. The foremost vessel bore a tall Elf, dark of hair and richly clad, a Noldorin noble of high bearing.
As he set foot upon the shore, he bowed and spoke in a voice measured and fair:
"On behalf of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn, I greet you. Welcome, King Kaen of Eowenría, Mithrandir the Grey, Lady Artemis of the Maiar, Lady Cathril the Bold, and the warriors of the King's Guard. Welcome to our realm."
Kaen inclined his head with a smile. "My heart is eager to tread your boats and pass into this ancient and hidden kingdom. Long have I wished to behold with my own eyes the city of a thousand trees—Caras Galadhon."
"It is our honor," the Elf replied, smiling. "Pray board these vessels. Greater barges shall bear your steeds across the river, but you shall sail with us in swan-prowed craft, ascending the Celebrant into the very heart of the forest."
So they embarked.
The boats slipped over the broad waters, and soon the Silverlode joined them, flowing swift and clear from the mountains. They entered its shining stream, and as the Elves at the oars chanted in lilting tongues, Kaen and his company passed beneath the eaves of Lothlórien.
It was unlike the living green of Kaen's own Ashenwood or the deep gloom of Greenwood. Lothlórien was beauty woven with dream.
Its waters ran like crystal glass; one could see the flick of fish, the dancing fronds of weeds. Along the banks, flowers of every hue bloomed, golden moss caught the sun, and drifting spores shimmered like dust of stars. Squirrels leapt, deer moved softly among the boles, and many-colored birds flashed between branches.
Even the sunlight seemed enchanted—gold, silver, and green beams mingling as though it were a living spirit.
As the company's boats glided deeper, Elves appeared upon the banks, fair and curious, warriors with spears in hand, maidens with flowers in their hair. Their eyes followed Kaen with wonder.
"It is the Elf-king of Men!" one voice rang.
Though most had never looked upon him, songs from the North had spread far: Kaen, High King of the Caladhîn, called by others the Elf-lord among Men.
"Can it be? Is he truly mortal? He is fairer than the Eldar themselves!"
"See how his light shines—it is beyond price, a treasure of the world itself."
"That must be his queen beside him—though I have heard the King of Men is famed for his many brides!"
"And look—the Maia-lady who rules the white birds, bringing hope and freedom with her wings."
"Hark! Even the trees sway to welcome them. Let us sing!"
And so voices rose on both shores, songs of welcome flowing like the river itself. Last year's leaves drifted down with blossoms in the spring breeze, whirling in golden shafts of light. The boats passed on beneath a canopy of song and fragrance.
Kaen answered the love of the people with the warmth of his own light. Gold and silver mingled, radiance spreading outward in gentle waves.
Still, the way was long. Lothlórien was greater than even West Eowenría, and though no foe barred their path, three full days passed before at last the boats came to the core of the realm—Caras Galadhon, city of a thousand trees.
There the Silverlode was halted by a wall of enchantment.Beyond the wall none could see, for elven magic veiled what lay within.
Before it stretched a quay, filled with waiting folk in rich attire. Among them one shone brightest of all.
She was tall and slender, clad in violet, her skin pale as ivory, her face of surpassing beauty. Black hair like a midnight river fell unbound to her waist. Upon her brow gleamed a crown of white gems, glittering like stars caught in the sunlight.
This maiden fixed her gaze upon Kaen as his vessel drew near. Curiosity at first filled her eyes, then wonder, and at last something deeper, harder to name.
For Kaen's light was not like the light of mortal men. He was wreathed at all times in mingled gold and silver, as though humanity and divinity intertwined within him. His beauty, noble and unearthly, compelled even the deathless Elves to awe.
In that instant, her gaze and his met across the waters, and the name leapt unbidden into his heart:
Arwen Undómiel—the Evenstar.