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Galadriel

Thranduil stood nearby, anxiety forcing his fingers to twitch.

"Do not weep," Thranduil implored. He reached up with a hand and wiped her tears from her cheeks. "Your daughter is safe now. She will find peace in Aman, I am sure."

Galadriel leaned her face against Thranduil's hand that cradled her cheek. The comfort did little to soothe her, but at least it provided some relief. Celeborn was also inconsolable, but at least he functioned better than she did. Galadriel barely found the strength to leave her bed.

And it was in this moment that she found Thranduil with an admirable quality. He possessed formidable strength, and he was loyal and firm like a mountain with roots deep into the ground; unshakeable and dependable. He provided her with endless patience and reassurances. Thranduil was the only who persuaded her to eat something from the food tray, or sit on the terrace when the weather was good.

"I should have sent more guards," Galadriel whispered. "I should have begged her to stay."

"Enough of this," Thranduil said firmly with a hint of steel. "We have spoken about this. It was not your fault. Foresight has its purposes, but you know better than I that it shows all roads that lead to different destinations. You could not have known."

His words were old; he spoke them so often that they echoed in her mind even when she was alone.

She did not answer him, and Thranduil did not press her. Instead they sat in silence until the evening arrived and the shadows grew long. It was blissful. Galadriel's mind always found solace in such quiet.

"You need to learn to smile again," Thranduil said quietly. The silence fractured and Galadriel was forced to return to reality. Bitterness welled in her heart. "Or for your daughter's sake, if not for your own. It will not do any of you good if you Fade in despair. This will only hinder your reunion with her."

"What is there in this life that will make me smile?" She asked softy. Thranduil leaned forward to catch her words. He stilled when he heard them. "I have lost all my joy when Celebrían suffered. What right do I have to smile?"

"A right of survival," Thranduil answered just as softly, "as all parents must, when they watch their children confront their heartaches. Your body has a right on you. Your life has a right on you. Your husband, your people, and your grandchildren all have right on you." Galadriel could not think of answer, so she did not say anything. Thranduil watched her until he sighed and excused himself.

When it was time to retire for the night, Thranduil surprised her by coming. He wordlessly sat a shallow bowl of milk on her dressing table.

"What is the meaning of this?" She asked, puzzled.

Thranduil did not have the time to answer. Instead, a small furry face peeked through the folds of his cloak.

She burst out laughing.

"Thranduil, there are kittens in your clothes!" She gasped.

She was right.

Thranduil grinned ruefully, as small furry heads appeared from everywhere; the hood of his cloak, his tunic, the pouch of his belt, his collar. Soon, the room was filled with loud, shrill mewling. She approached him, one hand reaching up and pressing lightly against his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered. Thranduil only smiled.