An Elven-maid there was of old, a shining star by day. Her mantle white was hemmed with gold, her shoes of silver-grey. A star was bound upon her brows, a light was on her hair as sun upon the golden boughs in Lorien the fair. Her hair was long, her limbs were white, and fair she was and free; and in the wind she went as light as leaf of linden-tree. Beside the falls of Nimrodel, by water clear and cool, her voice as falling silver fell into the shining pool. Where now she wanders none can tell, in sunlight or in shade; for lost of yore was Nimrodel and in the mountains strayed.  drunk hobbits in the flower field