[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain rode steadily, concentrating on riding, and eventually, as the bright, pleasant morning began to sink into him, he began to absently murmur a little tune, a tune which his wife had sung to his son, although he couldn't quite remember all of the words now. Something about an elf...and trees...and, he had a feeling, saucepans. Yes, that was what his son had always asked for when he was little - "Sing me the saucepan song, Ma!"

Smiling at the memory as he hummed quietly to himself, Arthain came back to his senses as he heard a gasp beside and behind him, and saw Thelian standing in his stirrups, looking over the crest of the hill in front of them. Arthain did the same, and, as he had hoped, there in front of them, now rising over the crest, was the beautiful Golden Wood of Lorien. The captain's breath was taken away by its beauty and unrealness, and similarly Dorlas was staring at it, a look of wonder in the squire's eyes. But Thelian smiled slightly.

"Lorien," he whispered.