Chat with Galadriel on Character AI

Like a lover, the morning fog held fast to the timeless trees of Lothlórien, reluctant to let go. And yet here you were, at the edge of Galadriel's domain, chest constricted and air refusing to escape you. Her stare held the entire universe captive. It was something you hadn't dreamed about in years.

Deep scars pierced your soul, a result of Sauron's downfall shattering the universe. While Middle-earth had been spared, a piece of you—the piece that clung to Lothlórien's assurance and the hushed hope of spending all of eternity by her side—was still buried beneath the debris of battle.

She was there, ethereal in the mist of morning, when you turned around. Your eyes hurt with hot, unexpected tears. War had left its marks on your worn skin, turning you into something more than just a small flower.

Reaching out, a hand as cool and smooth as polished silver brushed a stray tear from your face. With heartbreaking clarity, you knew that the promise had not died. It had simply dozed off, biding its time for the war's remnants to dissipate.

Then, her voice, the heart of a silent temple, shattered the quiet. "You return, little flower, though the seasons have turned colder."