In the west of Wilderland lay the mysterious land. The land of enchantments with many names. Laurelindórenan, Land of the Valley of Singing Gold, that was it, once upon a time. Now it is the Dreamflower, Lothlorien. The valley where the trees in a golden light sing musically, a land of music and dreams, shine like gold in the springtime.

Lothlórien was beautiful in a way that surpassed all lands east of the Sea at the time of the Third Age and it was the heart of Elvendom in Middle-earth. It' feel more real than real, a true callback to the world as it should have been, in contrast to the world as it is today. The sun was brighter here, the colors more vivid, the plants more healthy; realm preserved against the slow decay of years. Blessed realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light.

Powerful was the Lord of Galadhrim, the wisest of the Elves of Middle-earth, and a giver of gifts beyond the power of kings. Under the Lord and Lady, their people prospered, were able to make many wonders such as ropes of hithlain, slender, but strong, silken to the touch; and cloaks, who were able to hide the wearers, light, and warm or cool as needed. Yet, in the estimation of the Lady, his wife, and her maids, the most extraordinary and valuable of all the things housed in the Golden Wood did not belong to Celeborn himself. Lembas, the „Waybread”.

A precious gift from Yavanna herself, a bread that recovers the strength of the one who takes it. The Elves first got it from the Valar during the Great Journey to Valinor. It was made from a kind of corn which Yavanna brought forth in the fields of Aman, and some she sent to them by the hand of Oromë for their succour upon the long march. A secret originally taught by the Valar, known only to a few Elven women, Yavannildi, Ivonwin, the Maidens of Yavanna. Only the Yavannildi knew the process of making lembas from the special corn, and were allowed to handle the grain from the ear to the wafer. As the grain came from Yavanna, only the queen, or the highest among the elven-women, could keep and distribute the lembas.

That art, cherished and jealously guarded, was Gilfuin’s too, handed to her by her mother, who'd received it from her own mother, and that mother from hers. Down the misty roads of time it had come, from the dawn of the Great Journey to mother then to daughter, never fallen from the kindred, bearing its magic and hope across the ages. A day would come when Gilfuin would put the gift into her own daughter's hands.

The prince from Celondim married one of the Yavannildi, who left the forest for love of him. Their daughter Gilfuin was born as a symbol of the union between the land of the rivers and the Wood. She was born in the bliss of peace of the begining of the Third Age, but it was not long, in the reckoning of the Elves, before that was dimmed; and thereafter she had no peace within.

Centuries have passed in the Middle-earth. But for her, to have known eternity, moving freely from Celondim to Lórien, from Lórien to Celondim was like a carefree minnow between pond and stream.

But the world was changing. The destruction of the Refuge of Edhelion dealt a great blow to the hopes of the elves. Many of the Firstborn died. Great was the lamenting of Gilfuin; for though she had dwelt for many years on the green earth, still she was but a young maiden in the reckoning of her people and had known no griefs; nor had she any great tasks set before her, to give strength in that hour.

So she stayed in Celondim, the land of her father's kin to bring solace to those who remained there, where she did grow in grace and wisdom, bright and blessed among the ladies of Elf-kind. Though not as mysteriously beautiful as Lothlorien, nor as great as Rivendell, still fair was the town of the Firstborn located southernmost in Ered Luin on the river Lhûn, just south of Duillond. Celondim, Sindarin for "river dell", the major port which ferried wood to Mithlond where the white ships departed for the West, and even in these times it was a bustling city. A land no doubt elvish, for the forest was fair and green, and there were hills and rivers, and upon the soft wind came the voices of the Elves. The land iluminated with a heavenly light. There were flowers in great numbers. And when twilight came, the forest shone with silvery light. When night came, the forests of Celondim was a wonder. The stars shone full upon the sky, and the forest was kindling with their light. There were lights of silver, pearly white and pale blue. It was a feast of lights.

The stars were bright over Celondim. The white trees swayed gently in the breeze, gleaming in the moonlight, as the elven princess stepped lightly through the many stairs. Her dark hair flowed loose over her dark blue robes. She stretched her arms upward, and as so often in former times in the Golden Wood, she raised her voice in song to Elbereth the Star-kindler, accompanied by the gentle sound of the falling water in the fountain.

Her song floated over the sleeping city, blessing it with peace and rest. Those who were awake to hear it stood motionless as if spellbound; none had ever heard so sweet and clear a melody. And those who slept passed from old nightmares of battles and fire of Edhelion into quiet sleep, and the children forgot their dread of lurking shadows. She made the night beautiful, and the darkness came without fear.

Yet now she is gone, none knows where. In those days, the city was truly a place of enchantment; shall we see the light like again, now that it has faded?