When the Elves of Lothlorien sing her praises, Galadriel accepts them with the grace and experience of over six thousand years. Some of the accolades have been earned, others are exaggerations or distortions, but she understands that her people need this. They need to see their Lord and Lady as wise, powerful protectors and if the common Sinda needs to gloss over their flaws to bolster their morale, that's just the price of ruling. She smiles and applauds, but makes sure her counselors come from those who can see her clearly. It would not do to be blinded by her own pride as she had been in the First Age.
But there is one story that always makes her cringe and seek out those who truly know her. She turns to her husband's loving but still judgemental eyes or her cousin's cool, sardonic smile when he graces her realm. Maglor never lets her forget, the same as she does with him.
They always spin her defiance of Feanor as some wise premonition.
The first time is a jest, a dare. She's just been awarded her mastery of osanwe and is lively and laughing at the party her paternal grandparents are throwing in her honor. It's a happy time, with her entire family gathered together. Even her uncles Nolofinwe and Feanaro are there, tactfully ignoring each other for the sake of family peace.
As the evening winds down, Feanaro calls from across the room, "I was not expecting you to achieve mastery so soon, niece, so I have no gift to give you." She flushes with pleasure at the praise, she is indeed the youngest osanwe master among all the Elves in Valinor, having beat Makalaure's record by one whole Valian year. "But give me but three strands of your hair and I will forge the most wonderful coronet any have yet seen."
Her euphoria prompts her to challenge him. "How unoriginal of you, Uncle! Everyone praises my hair. Do something inspired by my eyes or my skin instead!" He laughs, eyes and jewels and spirit flashing brilliant red to her eyes and salutes her with his goblet of wine. They both turn back to their companions, and the brief exchange is forgotten.
Three months later she receives an unsigned package. The jewelry set inside (coronet, necklace, earrings, bracelet, two rings, and a pin) is made from the finest platinum and set with the highest-quality white pearls and small beads that catch and amplify the light. The set is only surpassed later by the Silmarilli and remains her favorite until the Great Darkness.
The second time is just after her uncle's completed his second Silmaril. Another party, although slightly shadowed by the release of Melkor, it is still a time of joy and laughter. This time her uncle takes her aside to speak to her.
"I think it's time for me to begin a new project," he tells her, smiling up at the coronet and earrings he made for her. "Niece, I would request three strands of your hair as inspiration."
It's an incredible honor. But all she can do is stare at the two jewels in Feanaro's coronet and wonder how anything made from her hair could possibly match what could be her uncle's greatest creation. "I'm flattered by your request, Uncle. But it seems to me that your most recent project is still incomplete." He actually takes of the coronet to look at the two Silmarilli.
"How so?"
She continues to babble, not really thinking about what she is saying. "In one jewel you have captured the light of Telperion, in the other that of Laurelin. Yet even together, they do not quite match the splendor of Mingling Hour."
He narrows his eyes in thought, abstraction casting shadows over his face. She feels his mind turn inward, already miles away from the party and back in his forge. "You are right, niece." His eyes, similar to her's in brilliancy, refocus on her face. "I would not have thought of it, but there is still more to be done before this work is complete. Thank you for your insight."
"You're very welcome, Uncle Feanaro." He returns to the party to give his leave to Grandfather Finwe, while Artanis warms herself with his praise. Then she knocks herself on the head, she'd had a great opportunity to be her uncle's muse for a project then she squandered it.
The last time is just after Alqualonde. All of Valinor has been plunged into darkness. Most of the Elves (barring the eldest who made the trip from Cuivienen) are panicking from the unfamiliar circumstances. The recent massacre has not helped, they are even more on edge and tensions between the three brothers' factions are threatening to dissolve into violence once again.
"Give me your hair, niece. But three strands. Our people need light and with those strands, I will create something to lift their courage in the face of the unknown."
It's not bravery nor precognition that makes her turn him down. Spite, anger, disappointment, all those play a part in what comes next. "Nay, Uncle. I defy thee and spit in thy face. Thou hast lost all of thy honor and my respect when thou raised thy sword against my Grandfather and kinsfolk. Ask not for my hair again lest I shear it all off and use it to feed the bonfires."
For a second she thinks he will strike her down and take what he wants anyway. Instead after a few minutes of fighting with himself, he turns away without a word. As he returns to his own camp, she sees him in her mind, a towering pillar of flame illuminating the world in bloody light.
Would her agreement at the end have changed anything? Her cousin says no, that his Father had been driven to desperation (madness) by their Grandfather's death, and that even had she acquiesced, he still would have abandoned them, charged the Balrogs recklessly and died. Her husband disagrees, that with Feanaro's abilities and her hair, the Noldor might have created something like the Girdle of Melian and more of their people would have survived the First Age.
Either way, it is long in the past and she's lived with the consequences for two Ages now. It is not something that bothers her anymore or that she even thinks about in the normal course of things. There is enough to concern her in the present day, and those issues are of course the Rings and Sauron.
But every time they sing of her defiance she's left wondering and doubting all over again.