Perchance to Dream
Doriath: 21st Chapter
"Here must all distrust be left behind;
all cowardice must be ended.
– Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy
Author's note: I promise there will be more Melian soon guys. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten about her. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! I love reading your reviews! They make me so happy and inspire me to write. Thanks to all the new readers and the old ones too and thank you to new reviewers Luna and Leeza.
I hope you enjoy this chapter. It is really long and I have more long ones on the way! Thanks for reading!
"Galadriel!" She had just barely heard the quiet hiss but the sound of it nearly caused her to drop the basket of laundry she was carrying. Celeborn. They had not spoken since they had dueled that night in the courtyard and she wondered what on earth he could possibly want, especially given that they had agreed in their previous conversation that they ought not speak to one another publicly. She glanced around, her eyes darting down the corridor, but the hallway was empty and her only company was the light of the early morning sun shining through the ornately crafted ivory grates at her back behind which lay a courtyard.
"Why are you speaking to me?" She whispered. "Do you not know that even the walls of this palace have eyes and ears?" His quiet laughter was the only reply she received.
"Where are you?" She demanded to know.
"Not so very far," he replied. "Only in the courtyard on the other side of the grate here. There is no one here, I assure you." Galadriel huffed in response.
"I do not know what you can be thinking," she murmured, her words coming out in a frustrated rush. "Madam Laineth would flay me alive if I were seen speaking to you, or anyone of any standing really." Her mind ran to the far more terrible punishments that Paniel could doubtlessly dream up.
"You? Imagine what they'd do to me," he said.
"How did you know I would be here?" She queried.
"As you said yourself, even the walls of this palace have eyes and ears," he quipped.
"Celeborn, I'm being entirely serious here," she said, exasperated, desperately glancing down the hallway, praying to the Valar that no one would appear.
"As am I," he replied. Galadriel hesitated for a moment, trying to discern whether or not that was true. It was far more difficult to do when she could not see his face and she was, after all, nearly 150 years out of practice.
"No you're not," she replied finally, in a huff. His soft laughter confirmed it.
"You are," he said, "the most impertinent servant I have ever encountered."
"Anyone who was born a princess of Valinor would be!" She hissed, marveling at how he could be so casual with her so quickly after all that had passed.
"That is an attitude you would do well to leave behind," he said, not sounding as jovial as he had a moment ago. She bristled at his comment even as she felt guilty for her ire.
"You have yet to give me any reason for stopping me and I shall most certainly be sorely punished if found out," she said. "I am sorry, Sir, but the pleasure of your company is not enough to retain me! I bid you good day!" And having so said she began to stalk off but Celeborn called her back.
"Wait you silly thing!" He hissed, laughing, and she paused. "Drop your laundry basket," he whispered.
"What?" Galadriel asked, having had quite enough of his antics and her embarrassment.
"Drop the basket," he said, his voice hurried.
"Why?" She queried.
"Why must you be so stubborn now?" He exclaimed. "Drop it because I am the High Prince of Doriath and I have commanded it!" He heard her huff, as if it was beneath her for him to command her, but he also heard her steps coming closer once more until he could hear the basket fall on the other side of the grate. "Now bend down," he instructed.
"Excuse me! Just what sort of game are you playing at?" She protested.
"I am trying to help you!" He exclaimed. Finrod had once told him of his frustration when Galadriel was being difficult and Celeborn now found that he could not agree more. "Now bend down and begin folding the clothes you have dropped. If anyone passes you will look inconspicuous, merely a clumsy girl remedying her mistake."
"I am hardly clumsy," she protested but he could hear that she had obeyed.
"Of course. You are the picture of grace," he said, rolling his eyes, hoping that the sarcasm in his voice did not come through as strongly as he felt it or she might very well stalk off again.
"Why would you want to help me?" She asked suspiciously.
"And to think that when last you were in Doriath you were so innocent of court intrigues." He heard her snort with laughter at that.
"I was," she mused, "but I was ignorant not only of those of Doriath, but of my own people as well and I trusted where I ought not to have done so. I know better now."
"Do you?" He asked and she paused, then cleared her throat loudly to signal that someone was coming, for there were footsteps in the corridor and, shortly, a small group of ladies passed by, barely pausing to notice Galadriel folding her spilled laundry upon the ground. When at last they were gone he spoke again.
"I have heard that you had words with Venessiel," he whispered. "She has taken an interest in you. Be careful what you say to her." The words startled Galadriel and she wondered how Celeborn would have come to know that if Venessiel had not said something of it to him herself.
As if he had read her mind Celeborn said, "she has been working with me on an important diplomatic matter and she tells me things from time to time."
"Then if she is your ally I do not see why my speaking to her should bother you," Galadriel said, a bit hurt in truth, for though she had her own doubts regarding Venessiel, she wanted so desperately to believe that the Sindarin lady truly did empathize with her, that she had meant what she said about everyone making mistakes and needing to help one another.
"I know that she can be very charming and it may very well be that she means well and has the best of intentions regarding you but it would behoove you to be cautious where she is concerned," Celeborn murmured.
"You do know that she said nearly the same thing about you," Galadriel replied. "Why ought I to trust you over her?" She could practically feel Celeborn's frustration, nay, she nearly believed that she could actually feel it. She heard his hands slap against the grate.
"I am not saying that she is a bad person," Celeborn groaned, frustrated. "You ought to know by now that no one is either wholly good or wholly bad." That had been a patronizing thing to say and he took it back. "Look, Galadriel, I did not mean that and I can give you no guarantees or assurances that I deserve your trust more than she does. It is only that I am concerned for you." He heard her humph and could well imagine how put off she was.
"I crossed the Helcaraxe," she said. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
"That is your pride again," Celeborn shot back. There was silence on the other side of the grate and he half feared that she had snuck away.
"And that is your quick mouth," she said, it was a poor comeback and he knew she knew it.
"I will see you broken of that pride, Galadriel," he said, frustrated, "come hell or high water. And you will thank me for it in the end."
"Your arrogance knows no bounds, your highness," she scoffed.
"I assure you my hand will be far gentler than this world's," he reprimanded her. She was silent. "Galadriel," he sighed, understanding that she needed reason to understand, "I am not saying that I am better than you. I am not trying to be patronizing or condescending."
"That isn't how it feels," she grumbled.
"I'm sorry," Celeborn replied. He meant it too. He ought to have explained to her and instead he had taken cheap shots at her as if this were some political debate.
"I accept your apology," he heard her murmur.
"Galadriel, Venessiel can be extraordinarily kind and thoughtful but she has a past that you don't know about. You are free to do as you like, of course, regarding her, but I am only trying to make as much information as possible available to you so that you can make an informed decision and that is because I thought we had decided that we would be friends."
"Well that is understandable," he heard Galadriel admit. "But I wonder if it is not the case that we all have dark things in our past. Still, we must move forward."
"I…I have some suspicions about her," Celeborn said, "nothing I will voice seeing as I have no evidence, but I would hate to see you caught up in her schemes."
"It might be easier for me to avoid that if you would tell me plainly what it is that you speak of rather than being so cryptic about things," Galadriel said. "It is very unlike you to beat around the bush in such a fashion." Celeborn bit his lip and sighed.
"You must not say anything to anyone," he said. "I believe she has reformed herself but…still…Galadriel, Venessiel is a terrible gambler."
"And Thingol allows her control over all of the money?" Galadriel said as though this were unbelievable.
"She is also extremely gifted with mathematics and matters of the economy," Celeborn said. "After all, what is an economy anyway but one big gamble. The vast majority of the time her gambles pay off, she wins, she makes excellent financial decisions….but when she loses she loses a fortune, and not an individual fortune, enough for an entire kingdom."
"So long as she is gambling with her own money and not the crown's then that is no one else's business," Galadriel said. "But that has not always been the case, has it Celeborn? Else you would not be speaking to me now." She had been very quick to catch on, she always was.
"That is…what ended things between us," Celeborn whispered, embarrassed that he had to tell this tale. "It was a long, long time ago when I was young, younger. I…I countersigned on a loan for her. I trusted her. I thought I loved her, that I would marry her. And she…she gambled it away, she defaulted, she took me for all I was worth. Thingol gave me the position of counselor not because I deserved it necessarily, but because I was penniless, having squandered my inheritance, and he had enough mercy to take pity on me, undeserving though I was."
"You could not get any of it back?" Galadriel asked.
"No. I had signed my name, freely," he said. "That was that."
"Was she sorry about it?" Galadriel asked him.
"She was," Celeborn said. "She did not want things to be over. She begged me, pleaded, offered to pay me back with interest but I knew by then how she would get the money for me, she would do it by gambling with someone else's money. When I left her though it seemed to change her, she worked hard to reform herself, to right what wrongs she had done, to be rid of her old habits. Still…I cannot quite trust her. She came far too close to ruination for my comfort, and took me with her." Galadriel hung her head, though he could not see her, for she almost felt as though she had done much the same thing to him. If only she had known…but no, regardless of whether she had known or not, what she had done had been wrong.
"Thank you for telling me," she said and heard Celeborn grunt in affirmation. He was embarrassed, she knew.
"Do not get offended with me if I say that I worry her interest in you may not be entirely genuine then," Celeborn whispered. "Yes, I believe she has been reformed for thousands of years now but I have my suspicions. I played off of her gambling habits in order to encourage her to vote for Finrod's bid to build Nargothrond and it worked. She may have put her gambling days behind her but perhaps those old habits die very hard. It…your penchant for pride is no great secret Galadriel. She knows that and she knows how to play to prideful people. If she is concealing some secret, some debt, she may try to rope you in, to involve you in it so that you could not reveal her treachery without dooming yourself as well. And, it would not be an illogical plan for her to come up with. That is precisely what your brothers, what the Feanorians encouraged you to do regarding the kinslaying. She may believe she can force you into a similar position." Celeborn half worried that Galadriel would grow angry with him for having brought that up but she did not.
Galadriel could feel her heart quaking, for there was some hint of truth in what Celeborn was saying, as though it rhymed with the initial distrust of Venessiel that she had sensed. And yet she was sad, for she had so badly wanted to believe that the Lady had truly had sympathy for her, that she had genuinely wanted to be her friend in a place where she had none.
"I thought that she wanted to be my friend," she whispered and it was such a disheartening and genuine thing to hear her say that Celeborn felt sorrow for her. Her pride of earlier had been so inexorably crushed and not in a gentle way.
"Your true friends will not use you," he whispered and he thought he heard a sniffle.
"I know," she said, "Finrod told me as much after…well after that business with the kinslaying and then with Celebrimbor."
"But do you really know it in your heart?" Celeborn asked her.
"I don't think I have any true friends," she said. "Everyone here hates me. Everyone in Valinor hates me. All of my own people hate me."
"Well you have me," Celeborn told her, "even though that might be very little consolation. I have heard I can be difficult and ornery and extraordinarily cross." His words drew a small laugh out of her.
"It is very little consolation," she said. "You're an arrogant ass Celeborn Galadhonion." He knew she meant it, but in a friendly way, and so he smiled, though she could not see him.
"Beware of anyone who offers you everything you desire Galadriel," he told her. "Everyone acts as though we must fight over pieces of the same pie, but it is possible to bake your own pie."
"What on earth do you mean, Celeborn?" Galadriel asked him. Sindarin idioms were still so strange to her and Celeborn's speech was littered with them, but he seemed to have stepped away.
"Prince Celeborn!" She heard a faint voice exclaim, "it has been a while has it not? How pleasant to find you here." Someone else had entered the courtyard with him and so Galadriel fell silent.
"Trust me," she heard him whisper. "I know you believe yourself cursed but you must do this on your own, and it must be by your hand that it is initiated."
"That what is initiated?" She whispered back frantically, her heart pounding, but he was gone now and she heard his voice in the distance, speaking to whomever it was who had entered the courtyard now.
In the weeks and months after, her head was filled with what Celeborn had said and the questions ran back and forth in her mind. Why had he sought her out? Was it really to help her? And, if so, then why? Was something happening of which she was not aware? And what had his warning meant? What was it that she must initiate and why? Celeborn was usually very plainspoken but, on those rare occasions when he was not, he was more cryptic than anyone else she knew. The more she thought on it the more frustrated she became.
"So," Galadriel had still been lost in those thoughts some years later as she was mending her apron and the sudden voice to her left had caused her to start, pricking her finger. She sucked on it, staunching the flow of blood, and then pressed it against the navy blue wool of her overdress. There was a girl lying on the bed next to her but she had her head propped up on her hands and seemed not to mind at all that she had caused the Noldo to prick her finger. She recognized her as the wild-haired girl those years ago who had tried to help her pick up her laundry before Paniel had forbid it. Galadriel eyed her suspiciously.
"Yes?" She asked, wondering if this was some trick to provoke her, if this girl was in league with her tormentor.
"So I have been wondering - how old are you anyway? If you were exiled for a century then you are certainly older than a hundred years."
Galadriel plunged her needle back into the apron, drawing it through. "Nearly 1,500," she said, wondering why the girl should care, "that's in years of the sun, of course. It is less if we count in Valian years."
"1,500!" The girl parroted back incredulously. She began laughing. It was an unattractive laugh, Galadriel noted, halfway between a snort and a choking sound. "Ooooohhh!" She rolled onto her back, folding her arms behind her head and quirked a brow at Galadriel. "1,500? Really?"
"Yes." Galadriel said, a bit curtly. She found the girl's manner of speaking to be a bit strange, but then again, all of the younger elves sounded strange to her ears.
"Well you don't have to be nasty about it. Why are you always so testy? If I were in your position I'd be trying to make friends," The girl said, still smiling, as if Galadriel's foul mood had not put a damper on her spirits at all.
"My apologies," Galadriel ground out, not really meaning it. She was still busy wondering what Celeborn had meant and the interruption bothered her. "My recent interactions with you Sindar have been less than pleasant." Paniel's sneering face came to mind.
"Oh, how typical," the curly-haired brunette scoffed, scowling for the first time. "Just making assumptions about me are you? Who ever said I was a Sinda?" Galadriel stopped stitching, struck mute for a moment by the realization that her foul mood had caused her to do exactly what the girl had just accused her of. And, moreover, that she had made fallacious assumptions once more, just as Celeborn had cautioned her against.
"My apologies," she said, somewhat stiffly. She was embarrassed. "What are you?" It seemed an indelicate way to phrase the question but the girl seemed not to mind.
"I'm a green elf," the girl said proudly, "name's Bainwen."
"Galadriel." Galadriel said.
"I'm not calling you Galadriel," Bainwen laughed. "That's no sort of name for a laundress."
"It is my name," Galadriel said, testy once more, but Bainwen shrugged it off.
"I know what your name is. Everyone knows your name. They told me about you when I first got here, said you were a princess, a Noldorin princess, and you killed some elves and then lied about it."
"That's…that's what you know about me?" Galadriel asked, astounded. Bainwen nodded. The thought that Thingol may have considered her assignment far more carefully than she had previously assumed began to dawn on her. "So how old are you?" She asked, intrigued now.
"I'm 85," Bainwen said. "And I'm one of the oldest. Well, I'm the oldest except for Paniel. Paniel's the oldest really. She's 130 something, or at least that's what she said. But she's different."
"You weren't even born when last I lived in Menegroth. None of you were," she mused aloud. Of course, the younger elves would be more forgiving. They were much further removed from the kinslaying, they had never known the Teleri of Aman, never known her during her previous stint in Menegroth, and everything they had heard regarding her would have been second-hand knowledge.
Bainwen nodded. "I'm not from Menegroth anyway," she said.
"But if they only know what they have heard about me from others then why do they hate me so?" Galadriel asked, her mending completely forgotten now. She turned about, sitting cross-legged on her bed so that she could face Bainwen and the chestnut-haired green elf sat up.
"Mostly because of Paniel, the blonde."
"Yes, I learned who she was rather quickly," Galadriel said with a wry laugh.
"Well so does everyone," Bainwen said. "She…" the girl's eyes darted around as if to make sure no one was listening. "She has a bone to pick with you. That's why she is always provoking you and bullying us into bullying you."
"Well I've never done anything to her so…" Galadriel began.
"Your cousin, he lives at Himlad," the girl said.
"Curufin?" Galadriel asked. A thought was beginning to dawn on her now and she remembered what the healer had said to her after she came to, something about what Curufin had done to some Sindarin girl at Himlad.
"Maybe, that sounds right. It started with a C, I think. He's one of Feanor's sons, or so I heard. She's from one of those Sindarin villages up there but she was brought into service at Himlad. She doesn't talk about it; some people say she went there for work, others say that she was conscripted against her will. Apparently the working conditions are terrible there. That's what I hear from the Sindar who come to the capital from that region. Abusive, they say it is. But anyway, Curufin beat her, beat Paniel I mean. That's why half her teeth are missing and she has that scar on her head."
"What happened?" Galadriel asked, horrified, though she certainly did not put it past her cousin. She was even more horrified to contemplate the notion that she too had dealt violence to someone Curufin had abused.
"I heard it was not too long after you left, ten years maybe, that Thingol sent the Prince Celeborn, you know, the handsome one with the silver hair."
"I know," Galadriel supplied, wondering how this could possibly have escaped Bainwen's notice unless she had not been present when Paniel had been reading her letters aloud. The incident was something that had never been mentioned afterwards and she wondered what Madam Lhaineth had done or threatened to get such compliance from the other girls. Even Paniel had not caused her much trouble in the years after that, though she had not stopped entirely, and, given time, had resumed her reign of torment.
"Yes, him, Celeborn, and the Princess Luthien. Thingol sent them to Himlad to issue his decree banning the use of Quenya in Beleriand. And Curufin was outraged so he commanded Paniel in Quenya but she refused to hear him so he beat her with the pommel of his sword. The prince and princess rescued her and brought her back here. Is it true do you think?"
"I don't doubt it," Galadriel replied and within her heart she felt sudden and unexpected pity for Paniel. "Curufin has a horrible temper and a tendency towards brutality. And besides, I know that Prince Celeborn was in the region at that time." She said.
"Oh do you?" Bainwen grinned like a cat about to scarf down a delicious morsel of food. "How's that?"
"He came to Nargothrond a few years before I returned to Menegroth and it was then that he told me," she replied.
"He spoke to you, personally?" Bainwen nearly squealed in excitement, bouncing slightly on her bed. Galadriel nodded and the younger elf collapsed on her back. "Don't you think he's so very dreamy?" She asked in the voice of the lovelorn. "Oh, if only he would just speak my name but once! Ah!" She giggled and turned on her side. "You know," she said conspiratorially, "I sometimes have the most fantastic dreams of him, and sometimes of Mablung too." She quirked a brow and grinned in a manner that caused Galadriel to laugh.
"What is a young green elf like you doing here?" Galadriel asked, eager to move the conversation away from the topic of princes and romance.
"I'm just a poor country girl come to the big city to seek my fame and fortune," Bainwen said.
Galadriel could not help but laugh at that. "That, Bainwen, is the most horrid cliché I have ever heard," she said.
Bainwen laughed. "But I love clichés!" She exclaimed. "Anyway, that's how we all are, all the maids, just girls looking for opportunities. It's a good starting position. You can do really well here, you know, if you work hard. I mean, I know the work is wretched at first, but if you put in your time and do good service then you'll get promoted. You're in the laundry now so that's good." She said and Galadriel nodded.
"See, you haven't done so bad and, if you're good and they like you then you can move up to be something like a dancer or a musician or something. And from there maybe one of the more well-to-do families will take notice of you and you'll be granted a position as a servant in a household. And, once you do that, you get a room of your own in the household and you don't have to live in a dormitory anymore." She flopped onto her stomach and Galadriel marveled at how she had managed to say all of that without taking a single breath.
"You can do that?" Galadriel asked, her mind seemingly lit aflame. "You can attain position in that way?"
"Of course," Bainwen laughed as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"And then, people who work really hard, and who maybe have a few connections or make some powerful friends, those people sometimes become handmaidens for one of the noble ladies." Bainwen's eyes glimmered. "That's how Lady Venessiel, you know, Prince Oropher's wife…" Galadriel laughed at the younger elf's enthusiasm but at the same time she wondered then if Venessiel was perhaps genuine in her approaches. If she had risen to such a high position from the bottom then perhaps she did genuinely have empathy for her plight.
"Yes, I know her. It is just that I did not know that a servant could attain advancement, position here. It is not so among my people," Galadriel answered. "Servants stay servants. They don't become…ladies or, or members of the king's council or anything like that."
"Well Lady Venessiel is a minister and I heard, but I don't know if it's true, that that's how she rose to power. Of course, usually handmaidens are noble ladies but it is not unheard of for a servant to work her way up. You see, if you can become a handmaiden in one of the royal households then you will earn a very good wage and have not just your own room, but a whole slew of chambers to yourself. Imagine such a thing! And," she stopped to take a breath, "then you will have the money to buy your own rooms if you wish, and leave the service, and set up your own household, your very own. Can you imagine that? That's what I'm going to do."
"Are you?" Galadriel could not help but laugh at the girl's enthusiasm.
Bainwen nodded. "What about you? Do you want your own household too? It's awfully strange to have a princess being a maid."
"Well I'm no princess as far as Doriath is concerned," she said. "I have precious little money. And besides, I'm on a sort of probation so I doubt anyone would want to take me into their household. Although yes, that would be nice I suppose." But her heart was fluttering in her chest, for she had been intent on serving her sentence, on proving that she could stay in Menegroth, on lasting this out, but it had never occurred to her that this might be an opportunity to grasp everything she had ever wanted, to establish her own household here in Doriath, one that was not dependent on a brother or a husband. It could be a start, a start for greater things. Perhaps…no, this must be what Celeborn had meant. But what was that to him? Why should he care?
"You don't sound very excited," Bainwen said, furrowing her brow. "What are you planning on doing, running back to live off of your brother's wealth?"
"No!" Galadriel exclaimed. "I mean to make my own way, thank you very much." But Bainwen merely exploded in laughter.
"Hah!" She crowed before burrowing beneath the covers of her bed. "If I had a rich brother you had better believe I would be living off of him," she said. "Well I'm off to sleep then. Good day Naneth."
"Naneth?" Galadriel queried.
"Because you're so old." The girl replied and Galadriel snorted with laughter, shaking her head, but already remorse was growing in her heart regarding what had passed between she and Paniel for now, having spoken to Celeborn, and having heard of her history from Bainwen, she found that there was no place in her heart where she could any longer harbor resentment or anger against her.
Thus it was not so many years later that Galadriel, having managed to set aside some of her pride, and sincerely feeling remorse for what she had done to Paniel, came to be determined that she must make some sort of apology to her. However, how to go about doing that was a different matter altogether and, once she had decided to go through with it after all, it was a matter of a few weeks before her courage and her fortune in catching Paniel on her own managed to coincide.
At last, one day as the sun had already begun its ascent, she had the luck to find herself alone with the taciturn Sinda. It was strange, she mused, that she should now consider it fortune, for ordinarily she would have considered it a curse.
"Paniel," Galadriel said by way of beginning and Paniel visibly stiffened as though she could hardly believe that the Noldo would dare speak to her but she continued to wash the clothes that she was tending to and said nothing.
"I…I wanted to apologize for all that has passed between us," Galadriel continued. "I am sorry for having attacked you and for having shown you ill will. And, I am very sorry for what my cousin did to you. Believe me when I say that I despise him with all my heart."
But Paniel showed no signs of having heard her and merely threw down the clothes she was washing and took up a basket of clean clothes, exiting the laundries. After a moment, Galadriel followed her.
"If…if there is anything I can do to make things good between us…" she said, following the Sinda through the empty corridors.
"Oh, enough with that!" Paniel hissed, stopping and turning towards her. "That's all you are good for, apologies. After all you have done I can hardly believe that you have the audacity to come back to Menegroth," her eyes were hard. "Every time I look at you I am reminded of the torment I suffered at the hands of your cousins, how I was treated like a lesser being in my own native land, like I was an animal, not even an elf."
"I am sorry for –" Galadriel began to apologize for her cousins out of habit before recalling that Paniel had just said how much she despised her apologies, and she stopped.
"I am not who I was then," she said instead, yet this seemed to inflame the Sinda even further.
"That's the problem with you!" Paniel cried, seeming to have lost all patience as she threw down the laundry basket, stepping over it to stand directly before Galadriel, wrapping her arms about herself as if she feared she would shatter. "You think you can fix things, fix yourself, fix me, fix everything you've done. Sometimes things are broken, they are just broken and there is nothing you can do about them, Galadriel. So just let them be, just let them be broken. Nobody wants you and nobody wants you to fix things."
"I am willing to try!" Galadriel said, growing frustrated as she and Paniel stared one another down. "Do not consign yourself to despair, Paniel! There is hope! Can we not at least try to be friends or at least be cordial to one another? Perhaps it will not work but what is the use in not trying at all? Let us help each other!"
The Sinda scoffed. "You are truly insufferable," she said. "Ten times my age and you still believe in myths, and hopes, and goodness. Do you not know how ridiculous it is that someone like you, someone so soiled, so marred, could ever hope for anything, could ever believe in promises and beginnings?" She shook her head as though she thought that Galadriel was the biggest idiot she had ever had the misfortune to lay eyes on.
"Stay away from me," she said, shaking her finger at Galadriel. "I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want anything to do with anyone. Keep your stupid apologies and your inane dreams for the future to yourself." And with that she took up the basket that she had thrown down and stormed off but Galadriel stood there for a long while, sighing as she slowly trailed her fingers through the clear waters of the courtyard fountain. I should have expected, she thought to herself, that an apology could not fix everything.
Suddenly, she gasped, startled, having seen a face in the water appear opposite her and she looked up to see the Lady Venessiel standing there. She was watching the Noldorin maid with her dark eyes. "My Lady! I hope that I have not disturbed you!" She gasped. Madame Lhaineth would be horrified if she knew that Galadriel had wandered inadvertently into the presence of royalty and, what was more, most likely had a fight before her very eyes.
"Peace," Prince Oropher's wife said with a small smile. "Such quarrels will sometimes happen. This, it seems, is not your fault."
Galadriel was silent for a moment, wary, for there was something off about those words and Celeborn's warning still echoed in her mind, even as it warred with her curiosity as to whether Venessiel truly did have empathy for her, if she was one who had reformed herself seeking to help another do the same. "But…it is my fault, your highness," Galadriel admitted. "I got into a wretched fight with her some years ago."
Venessiel smiled again. "Anger is a poison," she said. "And her anger is poisoning her. I am glad to see that you have let yours go."
Galadriel shrugged. "It…it seemed to not be profiting anyone at all and so I saw no sense in clinging to it any longer."
"That, I think, is a wise decision," Venessiel said. The two women were silent for a while. Galadriel's mind was busy, trying to puzzle out what had just happened and why, yet again, she had managed to happen upon the Lady Venessiel. It all seemed too odd to be mere chance.
"My Lady," she said, raising her head to meet Venessiel's gaze, "might I be permitted a question?"
"You may," Venessiel replied.
"Are you…are you following me?" Galadriel said. It seemed rather rude now that it was out and she rushed to explain. "It is only that it seems rather odd that I find myself coming across you so often, and not only you, but sometimes I think that Celeborn is following me and, at times I have glimpsed others who disappear into the shadows when my eyes light upon them." Venessiel smiled mysteriously in response to what she had said.
"Sit, Galadriel," she invited the Noldo and they seated themselves upon the broad marble lip of the fountain. "It seems that Celeborn has been remiss in telling you. Perhaps he has sought to spare your feelings, perhaps he has other interests, Valar knows I gave up trying to understand that elf ages ago. My heart is not as kind as his and so I will tell you, though sometimes I believe unkindess can in itself be a mercy."
"Tell me what?" Galadriel asked, feeling very nervous and wondering if it would not have been better if she had never asked. Was this a trick? But if it was then it was certainly an elaborate one and Venessiel seemed so kind, so forgiving.
"That girl you just quarreled with," Venessiel said quietly, almost as though she feared someone would hear, "do you find her harsh? Do you find her treatment of you unfair? Do you find her to be cruel?" Galadriel remained silent. "I can assure you that she is the least of your worries," Venessiel said. "There are those in this city who want you dead. There are those in this palace that would rip you limb from limb if given the slightest opportunity. There are those who believe you are in league with your cousins, that you seek to undermine Doriath from within."
"I would sooner die than aid them in any way!" Galadriel replied, her eyes hard with fury at the thought.
"But they will never believe it!" Venessiel told her, taking her hand, her eyes meeting Galadriel's imploringly. "If any of this becomes too difficult for you, if you are ever threatened, if you ever feel unsafe then come to me, go to Celeborn. We are under orders to arrange your safe passage to Nargothrond if such a situation arises."
"Doriath is my home and I will fight for her!" Galadriel replied, insulted by what she deemed as an insinuation that she would give up. But in her heart she was humbled by the knowledge that Melian and Thingol had set those they trusted to watch over her carefully.
Venessiel sighed and then smiled a small smile. "Well do I understand your feelings daughter of Earwen," she replied. A few minutes passed in silence during which Galadriel wondered why it was that Venessiel would tell her all of this, for it was true what she had said, that Celeborn had said nothing of this and Galadriel wondered if she had reason to doubt him. At last she voiced her concern.
"But why do you tell me these things?" Galadriel asked her and Venessiel sighed, suddenly looking quite sad.
"Because the hour is dark," she said, "and we have no light. Doriath cannot weather a war with the sons of Feanor, Galadriel, but the war hawks are circling now."
"What do you mean?" Galadriel asked her, confused, frightened.
"Has he said nothing of it to you?" Venessiel's eyes crackled with latent anger. "Curse Celeborn and his soft heart! We have been having letters lately from your cousins at Himring. In the wake of Menegroth's failure to address our northern people's problems with Maedhros they have taken matters into their own hands, sabotaging the Noldorin mining operations there, releasing their horses and farm animals into the wild, diverting streams to flood Noldorin settlements. Maedhros is angry. There will be war if Menegroth does not take action, and soon."
"Then why does the council delay?" Galadriel exclaimed.
"Because there are those in this city, in the King's own council who wish for war," Venessiel told her. "Long have they wanted war against the Noldor. Long have they wished to reclaim the lands that Thingol bequeathed to your cousins. They want to expand Doriath to its borders of old, to reclaim all of Beleriand for the Sindar and in their foolishness, and their hunger for war, and their rampant jingoism they never doubt that we could lose. But Celeborn has told me of the weapons of war that he saw at Himlad, of the superior armor that your cousins' soldiers wear. Perhaps before the Battle of Beleriand we could have won such a battle, even if the casualties were high. But now we have not the numbers and, what is more, asking our soldiers to kill other elves would be a terrible trial for them. Even if they returned victorious they would be defeated in spirit. And what then if we had to fight Morgoth? It would be the ruin of this nation, Galadriel." Her words spilled forth like a flood and Galadriel could see the worry evident in her eyes. Before she had doubted Venessiel's motivation, now she had no doubts of her sincerity.
"You want my help?" Galadriel asked.
"You are the only one with the knowledge, the power, the ties to do what must be done. Celeborn has said that you believe Maedhros and Maglor can be reasoned with. Is that true?" Galadriel nodded.
"They are rational," she said, "mostly unplagued by the madness that haunts their younger brothers. I believe a treaty could be arrived at if things are done in the correct fashion."
"Done properly, in the Noldorin way," Venessiel said, seeking clarification.
"Yes," Galadriel confirmed and then, haltingly, she said, "but I do not see how I can help."
Venessiel smiled. "Your help is indispensible Galadriel and I am right, aren't I, that you want to help?"
"I do," Galadriel affirmed.
"But you cannot, not yet," Venessiel cautioned her. "There is still the matter that you are not in a suitable position to do so. As much as we may desire your assistance, we cannot accept it unless you can attain a position that people see as suitable. It would not go over well if a laundress were suddenly appointed to a diplomatic position. I can help you," she said, "if you can attain a higher position, some position from which I could reasonably and without suspicion take you into my service." Galadriel nodded and Venessiel was glad to see the determination in her eyes.
"I will," Galadriel said, "I swear it. I will not see any harm come to this kingdom if I can help it."
"I was hoping you would say that," Venessiel said with a smile and Galadriel could not tear her eyes from her. The lady's wrists glistened with golden bracelets and her earlobes dripped with rubies the size of robins' eggs. She was, Galadriel realized, exactly what she herself wanted to be, what Bainwen had spoken of: a woman who had drawn herself up under her own power, who had risen to become a respected member of the King's council, who had established herself as a force to be reckoned with, who allowed no one to walk on her, who was kind, and generous, and fashionable to boot.
"I know you want to fix things, Galadriel, and together we can!" She squeezed the Noldo's hands. "I believe in that future too, with all of the peoples of Beleriand, Noldor and Sindar, Nando and Avari, working together for the good of all." Venessiel stood with a smile and, wonder of wonders, Galadriel found herself smiling back at an elf she had never expected to understand, never expected to like.
"No longer will I call you Finarfiniel, or daughter of Earwen," Venessiel said, "for I know myself what it is to wish for independence, and so I will call you Galadriel and Galadriel only," She said.
"It seems you have nearly read my mind," Galadriel told her with a smile.
"We are not so different, you and I," Venessiel told her. "Be well, Galadriel, until we meet again."
"Yes, your highness," Galadriel said, sinking into a quick bow as the Sinda swept away. She returned to the laundry to finish her work but Paniel never returned and, soon enough, the day began to dawn and Galadriel returned to the servants' quarters, feeling as though her mind were on fire.
Some of the other servants were still up and milling about when she returned and they nodded towards her in greeting as she moved to her bed, tugging off her uniform and pulling on the shift that she usually slept in. A glance towards Paniel's bed revealed that the girl was there, her back turned in Galadriel's direction, asleep already it seemed. Galadriel slipped into her own bed, eager herself for sleep but, upon hearing a now very familiar hissing sound, turned over and scooted to the edge of her bed. She found, as she had expected, Bainwen curled up on her own bed, facing her, eyes alight. She could not help but smile at how eager her friend appeared.
"Naneth! Paniel came back all in a huff!" Bainwen whispered.
"Yes, we had a bit of an argument," Galadriel confided. "I tried to apologize to her for how badly we have been getting along but she didn't want to hear any of it."
"She's just a bad apple," Bainwen quipped.
"I feel rather sorry for her actually," Galadriel confided in her friend.
"I suppose one could feel sorry for her," Bainwen said. "But then again, some people are just crooked as a dog's hind leg."
"That is true as well," Galadriel replied before sighing. She had already decided what she must do and now she had to make her excuses to her friend. "Look, Bainwen, I cannot suffer work in the laundry anymore," Galadriel whispered. "It isn't doing either me or her any good and I think the mere sight of me causes her pain. We simply cannot be around each other and I think I might be of more use elsewhere. Perhaps Madam Lhaineth can get me a transfer somewhere, anywhere I'll be of more use, where Paniel won't constantly be interfering in my work any longer, where I won't be bothering her."
Bainwen looked crestfallen, as she had expected. "Well I'll be very sorry if you go," Bainwen said. "But I can see how that makes sense. It isn't as if you can ever get anything done anyway, what with her constantly messing with you."
"That's just what I mean," Galadriel said. "And I want to do something good, something really useful. But I will miss working with you."
"It isn't as though we won't be able to talk though," Bainwen said, brightening. There was nothing that could keep her down for very long. "My bed will still be beside yours after all. What are you thinking? I do hope you'll do something fantastic."
"I think I would like to be a dancer," Galadriel confessed, "you know, the girls who go to parties and entertain."
"You're mad!" Bainwen gasped, her eyes going wide. "Those only go to the very best of the best, to the people who have put in a lot of time. And Madam Lhaineth is not particularly fond of you either!"
"I know!" Galadriel said. "But I used to dance all the time in Aman and I have been here now over 50 years, that must count for something. Besides, Madam Lhaineth doesn't have the final word, the dance master will."
Bainwen sighed, looking a bit concerned. "I don't know Naneth," she said, "perhaps it would not be wise to get your hopes up."
"Don't you worry about me," Galadriel said, reaching out to pat her friend's hand.
"Well then," Bainwen said with a grin. "Don't forget about me when you're livin in high cotton."
"I promise I won't," Galadriel assured her.
"Uncle?" Celeborn asked hesitantly, for he had merely entered the council chamber to retrieve a ledger that he thought he had left there the other day and, finding it dark, he had assumed it deserted, however, upon entering he had seen that a figure sat hunched at the head of the table and, as he approached, he had seen that it was Thingol, looking for all the world as if he bore the weight of all Arda upon his shoulders.
The king looked up at last at the sound of his nephew's voice, though he must certainly have been aware of his approach. "Ah, Celeborn!" He said with mock joviality. "How good to see you. You have been in such high spirits lately…" but his voice trailed off as though it was too much effort for him to preserve the façade of happiness any longer.
"Uncle, you told me to come to you if ever I was troubled," Celeborn began kindly, his heart disturbed by the sorrow that seemed to burden his uncle, "I would ask the same courtesy."
"Of course, of course," Thingol said, sighing, and Celeborn sat, waiting, but the King did not speak for a very long while, looking off into the distance, as if he dwelled in deep memory or in visions of what was yet to come.
"Sometimes I feel that we are all actors upon a stage," Thingol whispered, his voice hoarse, "and that our time is nearly played out."
"What do you mean?" Celeborn asked him.
"What sort of King am I that I cannot protect my people?" Thingol asked softly and Celeborn knew that he must tread carefully, for Thingol did not allow anyone to see him so doubtful and unsure, even those he loved most. "Our people in the north are suffering because of what Maedhros is doing and I cannot send them aid or support for fear of inciting war with the Noldor. How is it that I have become so weak that I cannot assist my people in need?"
"These Noldor, Celeborn…" he continued, "I have heard from my spies of the war machines that they have, great catapults and the like, trebuchets." The king sighed. "And their armor, you said, is of plate steel, nigh impenetrable, crafted by superior craftsmen. How can we compare to them? We are weak."
"Perhaps…"Celeborn ventured to say, "perhaps we could bring the dwarves back. They know how to craft such armor. And, if they are indeed hiring orc mercenaries to attack our wardens, such an offer could renew their alliance with Doriath and put a stop to all of this."
"Perhaps," Thingol said with a sigh. "I will not deny that the thought has crossed my mind.
"And do not think of us as weak," Celeborn said. "We were a great empire once, spanning all of Beleriand and we shall be so again. Do not lose faith, Uncle, for the Doriathrim fight with spirit and with a love of this land. They would not hesitate to die for it."
"I worry that they may have no other choice," Thingol whispered, "if things come to war with Maedhros."
"Let us not make any assumptions," Celeborn implored his uncle. "Maedhros has not made any threats. Indeed, we have had no communications from him at all. We cannot know what is in his heart. It may be that there is a middle ground we can walk, a way to make peace between our peoples rather than choosing one side or the other."
"If Maedhros's heart is anything like Curufin's then we have great reason to fear," Thingol replied.
"But Galadriel said that Maedhros and Maglor can be reasoned with. Perhaps we can do so," Celeborn said.
"If only that were possible," Thingol said, "but my hands are tied by the council in terms of international affairs."
"And if you were to overrule them, to issue a decree?" Celeborn asked but he knew Thingol's answer even before he made it.
"They are the representatives of the common people, Celeborn," the King said. "It is Doriathrin tradition that it should be so, that the common people should have that voice and Saeros, in particular, represents the rights of the green elves. When I look back, when I remember the attitude that I took towards Denethor's people at the Battle of Beleriand, towards the Avari I cannot think of it as anything other than an unpardonable sin. It took your disregard for your own life, charging in to save them when I would not, that reminded me of what was right, that showed me the error of my ways."
"What I did was reckless, and foolish, and nearly cost many lives, including yours and mine," Celeborn said.
"And it was the right thing to do," Thingol said. The two of them fell silent.
"Nay," the king shook his head, almost as though he were speaking to himself. "I will not revoke their rights, even if it means that others will die, for that is an assured path to tyranny. And, what is more, I fear myself, for it is easy to become a tyrant if one only takes a step in that direction, if one grows too accustomed to power and cares too little about the interests of others. The sons of Feanor are example enough of that." They sat in silence and then Celeborn spoke again.
"I do not want to raise your hopes only to have them dashed…" he began, hesitantly, "but Beleg and I have spoken of this matter on a few occasions and he believes that he may know someone who can assist us, a friend of his. Beyond that I do not wish to say but I want you to know that I have not forgotten, that I am seeking a resolution to this matter." Thingol nodded grimly.
"You will…keep me updated on the matter?" He asked.
"Of course," Celeborn replied. Thingol sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"And what of Galadriel?" He asked. "How does she fare?"
"Better than I would have expected," Celeborn said. "I know that there was some trouble at first, but it seems that she is settling in now. I spoke with her a few years ago and she seems to be doing significantly better after that."
"Did you?" Thingol asked, interested, and then he laughed softly. "So you do heed my advice on occasion."
"Yes," Celeborn nodded. "You were right. The anger…it was destroying me, and destroying her. It was time to let it go."
Thingol closed his eyes, nodding, and then opened them again. "That is good," he said. "That is very good. I am proud of you Celeborn. I could never have asked for a better son." The prince dropped his gaze, slightly embarrassed by the rare praise.
"I felt very much better immediately after I had spoken to her," Celeborn told him and Thingol smiled a little.
"That is good," he said once more. "Celeborn?"
"Yes uncle?" The prince replied.
"Do take care not to meddle in her affairs overly much. This must be her doing and hers alone. She needs this. She needs to make these decisions herself. Do not take that from her."
"I know, Uncle," Celeborn said, reaching out to touch his uncle's hand briefly, "I only converse with her, nothing more. I have not told her of Maedhros's threats of war or any of that business." They sat in silence for a while and Celeborn almost thought that Thingol had fallen asleep when the King spoke again.
"Celeborn, thank you but I believe I would like to be alone for a little while now," Thingol said and Celeborn stood.
"Of course, Uncle. If…if there is ever anything that I can do to help…"
"I will let you know," Thingol said with a brief smile, closing his eyes once more as Celeborn stood to quit the room.
"Celeborn?" He heard the King's weak voice once more as he set his hand upon the door and turned back.
"Uncle?" He asked, worried, for there was an uncharacteristic tint of fear to Thingol's voice.
"Do…see that you take care of yourself," Thingol said. "Do not take any unnecessary risks, no foolish gambles with your life." He sighed, feigning a smile. "You must forgive me my worry. I fear it comes with age."
"Of course, Uncle," Celeborn said with a nod, but the King's words had struck him as exceedingly odd and his worries did not cease once he had left Thingol. Instead, he found himself aimlessly wandering the corridors of the palace, though even now the day was dawning. The majority of his people had already gone to sleep and the peace and silence of the palace provided some comfort to his troubled soul. For he himself had often worried over the state of his kingdom since even before the letters from Maedhros had started arriving.
He wondered why it was so impossible for him to find even a moment of peace. It seemed he was always out of the skillet and into the fire. He felt as though the pressure of all of this was about to overwhelm him and he could not blame Thingol for feeling so disheartened, though it had rattled him to the core to see his uncle in such a state. Thingol showed no weakness, even to those he loved most of all. Trust, Celeborn mused, that was yet another thing that a King could not afford, yet another reason he did not wish to be one.
He sighed, staring up wearily at the edges of the sky tinged in soft pink and the sun, which was just beginning to traverse the horizon. He had wandered into a grove of stone beeches, their magnificent emerald leaves refracting the hues of the dawn and he closed his eyes against that color, feeling the glow of it soft on the inside of his eyelids.
"You must be deep in thought indeed to have failed to notice me," he heard the cool, calm voice behind him and, startled, turned towards her. Something in his heart cried out, reaching for her like a beggar yearning for water or an injured man wanting for healing, remembrance of comfort.
She was standing in a doorway of the courtyard, arms crossed over her chest as she leaned lazily against the doorframe. She was wearing her uniform and a white cap, her sleeves rolled up; it very much looked as though she had just come from work and he reminded himself that she most probably had. The light of the morning glinted across her golden hair. And, it seemed to blind him for a moment in which his vision turned to a searing white, giving way at last to open ocean, white tipped waves, gulls soaring overhead, and a young, golden-haired maiden piloting a sailboat with the expertise of a hardened sailor. She wore salt-stained breeches and a white cotton shirt that billowed in the breeze. She was barefoot, tanned dark by the sun, her hair a brilliant banner behind her and she leapt up to grab the rope attached to the boom, hauling it to the starboard side and they swept out across the water. Galadriel…he reached out, reaching for her, but his hand passed through her as though she were a ghost and then the vision was gone and he was standing once more in a courtyard, watching that same girl leaning against a doorway.
"Are you…are you alright?" She asked, concern flitting across her face.
"Yes, yes," he said with false confidence, clasping his hands behind his back as he schooled his features into a more serene look. "I simply did not notice you there."
"I saw you on my way back to the servants' quarters looking as though you were quite lost within your own palace," she said with a small smile as she moved to sit on one of the fountains. And, though he did not truly know why he did so, he moved to join her on the ledge there.
"I thought you were the one of us more concerned with being found out," he said. It was a deliberate distraction.
"They are all asleep," she said, "and anyway, let them say whatever they want about me. I don't care anymore." She shrugged. "To tell you the truth, it was no accident that I found you. I sought you out with the intentions of scolding you but, seeing you so troubled, I could not find it within my heart to speak angry words to you."
"Over what?" He asked her.
"I have spoken to Venessiel," she said, "and she told me everything, about the letters from Maedhros, about how the Sindar in the north have been antagonizing, and rightfully so, my cousins, how war may come upon us and, while there are those who delight in that prospect, both you and she believe that Doriath could not weather such a storm."
"Oh," Celeborn merely said, sighing, realizing that she knew everything Thingol had instructed him not to tell her, his shoulders seeming to fall under the weight of that wretched burden, confirming that everything Venessiel had told her was, indeed, true.
"It made me feel as if I could not trust you, Celeborn. You need not spare my feelings," Galadriel said gently. "I can take a hit just as well as you can. I am very aware of what your people think of me and my people. Do not think that you must protect me."
"It is only that I hate seeing you hurt so very much," he said. It was not entirely the truth, though part of it was true. Mostly it was that he, like Thingol, had not wanted to force her hand by making her feel as though there was a need to panic. It seemed that Venessiel had no such compunctions and Celeborn found himself feeling very agitated with the minister of finance. Still, he held his tongue, for Thingol was right: this was Galadriel's choice and hers alone; he would not rob her of it for all the world and, as she had said herself, he needed to trust that she was capable of making her own decisions and bearing the consequences of them. He had already told her what she needed to know about Venessiel, repeating it would not be of any benefit to either of them. And Galadriel knew her own faults well enough.
"I know," she told him, reaching out to rub his hand. The action comforted him somewhat but his heart was still very troubled. It was pleasant and different, he thought to himself, to share such a thing with Galadriel and receive understanding in return rather than haughty pride and anger. Perhaps it was possible, after all, for people to change and grow. "But I want to help you, to help Doriath if I am able," she said. "Despite my wretched pride, that desire to help is, after all, one of the things that most motivated me to return to this city. Will you not tell me what is the matter?"
"Oh, nothing, it is nothing," he said dismissively, for here she was again, asking him to take some leap of faith, to trust her, to breach some chasm that he was not sure he could cross. Did I not ask the same of her once upon a time? And yet, despite having forgiven each other, it was not so easy to overcome their past, not so easy to forget the horrid fights they had had and the volatile reactions Galadriel had once upon a time expressed to anything that made her uncomfortable.
Galadriel sighed, smoothing her hands over her skirt. "I would hope you would give me more credit, Celeborn," she whispered. "I know well enough when something is bothering you and, what is more, there is none who knows a lie better than I do," in that simple sentence she had managed to lay bare the crux of the issue. "However, I also know what it is to want to keep some things to oneself and so I will leave you if that is what you wish. For I can not blame you if you do not trust me."
"No," he said, his throat dry, grasping at her fingers and catching them as she stood. She paused, looking down at him as though she could hardly believe it and then, slowly, she seated herself beside him once more. There was something about her that was comforting, that made him feel as though he were safe despite all that had passed between them. And perhaps it was because of what she had just said; he owed her nothing and neither did she owe him anything. There was no one who knew him better save his own family. But with her he did not have to be the responsible brother, or the wise counselor, or the concerned lover, or the battlefield commander; with her he just…was. It inspired him to give voice to concerns that he would otherwise have kept secret.
Galadriel looked up at the sun, closing her eyes, enjoying the warmth of its rays upon her face and Celeborn, he looked at her. "I fear…" he began, "I wonder if this kingdom has at last reached a breaking point of sorts. We have been fighting for so long, so very, very long and sometimes I cannot help but think that it is only a matter of time. A bridge can only bear so much weight and…" his voice trailed off, not because he had nothing left to say, but because there was too much to say and he knew not at all where he ought to begin.
"What inspired these thoughts?" Galadriel asked, a light and concerned touch upon his arm.
"To be perfectly honest, they have been there for a very long while," he admitted. "After the Battle of Beleriand our troops and resources were so depleted that we could not even send aid to Cirdan. Before that I had never worried about the stability of this kingdom but once the doubts began to creep in I was unable to stop them. I…" he sighed. "The kinslaying, that foolish blunder at Himlad, now this business with Maedhros at Himring…it all weighs too heavily upon Thingol, upon me. I do not know how we shall endure, how we can help this kingdom to recover when we are so deeply mired in such troubles. My people, they depend upon me for safety and I cannot give it to them. Indeed, things may come to war as Venessiel has said. It looks more and more likely with every passing year."
"Celegorm spoke of it to me when he came to Nargothrond while I was there, to celebrate its completion. While his words were harsh, I have great difficulty believing that Maglor and Maedhros hold the same opinions as he does," Galadriel said.
"So you still believe it would be possible to treat with them then?" He asked.
"Yes," she said, "I do, and I told Venessiel as much too." Celeborn sighed and then, simply because there was some wretched irony in knowing that they might achieve something if only they were allowed to act, he found that he could not help but laugh.
"Well, if only we could get Saeros to agree then we might really be on to something." Celeborn chuckled, beginning to feel a bit better after all for having spoken to her.
"Is that so?" She asked him. "I do seem to recall him being particularly unpleasant though he was never more than a passing acquaintance."
"He has six of the counselors in his pocket and, try though I might, I seem unable to pry even a single one of them from his clutches," Celeborn confessed. They were quiet for a long while, merely sitting in each other's company. "I need a two vote majority to pass the measure. I am only one away but it is an impossibility."
"I will look into his heart," she said then, turning to look at him, "and see what is there."
"No, Galadriel," he stammered, "I could never ask such a thing of you. I would not wish to interfere…"
"You do not need to protect me, Celeborn. I offer because I am willing," she said, "because I want to. I would not have done so otherwise. This kingdom is mine as well as yours and I would do her good, if I am at all able. What is more, I am doing it not only for you, but for myself, for Finrod, for Thingol and Melian and all of my friends here, though some of them are now estranged."
"Ah, my apologies," Celeborn replied, embarrassed at having assumed her decision hinged upon him, lapsing into silence. Perhaps he had presumed intimacy where there was none. Perhaps he had grossly overstepped his bounds in assuming that it was not improper for him to confide in her.
"No need for apologies," she said. "What was it that brought on all of these dark thoughts?"
"I happened upon my uncle," he told her, "and he looked so very weak, so very worn down that I almost did not recognize him for a moment."
"But I gave him the Elessar," Galadriel said, surprised, turning towards Celeborn, her eyes meeting his as a puzzled look creased her brow. "It should protect him from weariness…"
"He put it away," Celeborn said, shaking his head. "He does not trust gemstones nor Noldorin craft." It was rather an inflammatory statement. He had no doubt that two centuries ago she would have flown into a rage over such words but, to his surprise, Galadriel only laughed.
"Does he call it sorcery?" She asked.
"Aye," Celeborn nodded.
"The sorcerous elves," she said in mock seriousness with a hint of reminiscence. "I had almost forgotten that your people used to call us that." She laughed. "You must admit that there is something comical about him fearing a gemstone but having no trepidation whatsoever about sharing his bed with a Maia." That got a chuckle out of Celeborn.
"Yes," he said, "I suppose you are right."
"It might be the news I brought that troubles him then," she said.
"The information regarding the dwarves?" Celeborn asked.
"Well…yes," she said, looking a bit puzzled, "but more than that I meant the vision….Do you not know? Did…did he say nothing to you?"
"What do you mean?" Celeborn asked, suddenly growing even more concerned, for Thingol had said nothing to him of any visions at all, though he had seen, of late, that there was a certain sadness in the King's eyes when he looked upon him. Suddenly, Celeborn had the sinking feeling that this vision, whatever it was, concerned him. "What did you see?" He asked, his words quick, his throat dry, but it was Galadriel who appeared greatly troubled now and she wrung her hands in distress.
"Perhaps he was right," she stammered. "Perhaps it is better that you do not know. I would not have said anything at all but…I assumed he must have told you, that you knew."
"Nay," Celeborn said, taking her arm, "if it concerns me then I would know it. And yet, he already felt as though he knew what she would say."
"I…I foresaw your death," she told him, meeting his eyes with sadness. "I saw you dead in the halls of Menegroth, the walls painted with blood, and echoing all around the language of the dwarves."
"I have only just now encouraged him to bring them back to Menegroth," Celeborn said breathlessly. Galadriel could feel that his hand on her arm was shaking. "Are you sure?" He asked her and she shook her head quickly.
"No, Celeborn, I am not. I am not even sure that it was you, though I think it was. But the hair was silver, of that I am certain." His grip on her arm tightened. "Do not put too much stock in it!" She rushed to say. "I have had many visions that have not come to pass and, what is more, they are only possible outcomes. Perhaps history will not take that course!"
"Yes, yes, of course," Celeborn stammered, but he did not sound convinced. And, afterwards, as she walked back to the servants' quarters, Galadriel could not quite shake the fear that gripped her heart. She lay awake for a long while, staring up at the ceiling above her, and wondered if Celeborn was awake as well, if he was having the same thoughts as she. She half regretted telling him, for she had sought to comfort him and instead she had laid another burden upon his shoulders, but she knew him well and she knew that what he had said was true: he would rather have known.
Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of Finrod's dark oath and of the fear that had enveloped Celeborn when she had told him what she had seen. It was blasphemous, she knew, but in her heart she cursed the halls of Mandos for taking life from those who were loath to have it torn from them. And then there was the darker thought that haunted her, that Celeborn's association with her might have brought the curse of Mandos down upon him, that even though he was free of her now he may still be bound to her fate. Yet she was determined now, more determined than she had ever been that she must succeed, that she must find some way to turn the tide and perhaps Venessiel had offered her a chance to stop the war that was nearly upon them, a chance to save Celeborn's life.