She didn't have the heart to leave him there.
He stopped crying eventually, but didn't say another word at all, even when she tried. He wouldn't look at her, head turned away, breathing so quietly and shallowly that it was hardly audible at all. And Galadriel sat there for a long time, thinking about going up and telling Melian what she had seen.
It would make no difference, of course. He'd still done what he had done. But that was justice; that was what she wanted, wasn't it?
How long would it be? A week, or two? She looked across the cell; her cousin was huddled in a silent heap where he had escaped her, his face invisible in the dark. The torchlight had gone out.
Galadriel suspected he would not even understand what was happening when they came. That he would not even manage to go to his death with any kind of dignity, any kind of pride. She did not want to wish that ending on anyone. Not really.
And there was the thought of a war that could be averted, or at least more enmity avoided. If they had their brother back, the Fëanorians would have no reason to come here.
She closed her eyes and tried not to feel guilt – for letting him stay here and die, for thwarting justice and letting him go.
He's not yours to save.
But I'm mine, she thought, defiantly, and it's for me. Not for anyone else.
Galadriel moved in her cousin's direction. "Tyelko?" Not a sign of recognition, and she wasn't even sure if he was ignoring her, or didn't hear, or didn't understand. When it came down to it, she didn't know what had happened at all. Only that she hadn't meant it to, and what it had caused.
She reached out and touched his arm, her grasp featherlight so he wouldn't jerk away. "Come with me," she said, very quietly. "We're leaving now."
There was no way to conceal their passage, but if they were quick and quiet she could probably distract the guards. There weren't many: Thingol did not anticipate escapes.
Celegorm looked at her dully, head turning slowly to stare. She swallowed hard, and managed not to apologize. "We're leaving now. Come with me." She saw a brief light flicker on in the back of his eyes, and then just as quickly flicker out, and she knew he thought he understood. Galadriel blinked, hard, once.
His head went down and he rose slowly. She took his hand with a sigh and led him toward the door. He followed her without a fight.
Up the stairs, then, and she breathed out when they passed the last of the guards without comment. She knew very well that even with her friendship to Melian there would be no getting away with this much of an overstep of her power here. But the woods were quiet, dusk was falling, and no one else was looking.
It didn't take them long to reach the edge of the circle of watchtowers. Beyond here, there would be almost no one to run into. Little danger, if any, of being caught and pulled back; not as long as Thingol believed his prisoner secure – and if she was careful, if she minded who she spoke to, that might be some time.
Galadriel thought of her brother again, and wondered if he would be ashamed of her for this. He'd always believed in mercy. Would he believe in it now?
He wasn't here to decide. She was.
Celegorm's voice surprised her, nearly made her jump. More than just rough, more like the edges had eroded away. "Are you going to kill me?"
It was so soft, so resigned, that her calm almost cracked. She reached for the chains and unlocked them, dropped them to the ground. "No." He didn't respond to that, only nodded. She hesitated a few moments before venturing her own response. "—you can go. Go home. To your brothers."
He shook his head, and she could almost hear it, no, no crawling home to your brothers. "Go," she said again. "There's nothing else you can do."
She waited, almost wanting him to apologize, to say something. He swayed, a little, like he was dizzy, and closed his eyes again. Galadriel made her voice a little sharper. "Leave, Tyelko. Go back and – no more. It's over now. Go to them and rest."
His head lifted at that, looked at her blankly, as though he hardly knew what that meant, but she could see the longing deep in his eyes, and nodded.
Celegorm looked her in the eyes for the first time since she had seen his thoughts, and swallowed. I'm sorry, she expected him to say, or something, but he said nothing and she could bear it no longer. "Go," she said, and he flinched, and turned, and vanished.
She looked out into the dark. Maybe he would just lie down a few miles away and die there. Or out on the plains. Perhaps he'd follow the seductive offer of oblivion to the north. But it wasn't hers now. It wasn't hers now.
**
She woke up Melian.
"Galadriel? My friend, what is it," she asked, in the softest of voices, half rising. "Why are you awake?"
"We need to be ready," she said, and heard her voice shake, for the first time all evening, and could feel herself trembling.
"My – what is it?" Melian frowned in earnest, sat up. "What do we need to be ready for? Galadriel, what have you been doing," and Galadriel looked up and met Melian's eyes, and let her see everything she had seen.
"We need to be ready for him," she said, "I think it's time we fought the right enemy." And Melian slowly paled, then nodded.
"Of course – Galadriel," Melian reached out with one hand, and she pulled back away from it. "If I can offer you anything… you are so young, to bear so much."
"I am not young anymore," Galadriel said, and lifted her head. "But I think I must be alone."
"Will I see you again?" Melian murmured, her expression worried and pained.
"You will see me again," Galadriel managed to whisper, and fled before she could break. She needed this time, to chase away the images of those who had died and those who would die. She needed to hope that the years to come would not prove her wrong.