This is technically a super-long, alternate-deleted train of thought from Galadriel's perspective, strongly tied to The Lost Dunédain in pieces of chapter 31. These are pieces of what was going through her thoughts when coming face to face with certain young (OC) descendants of a historically unknown Maiar from thousands of years ago.
Contains some major plot spoilers for my OC characters in TLD (but not all of it, rest assured) so ye be warned.
However innocent and simple the question had been, voiced by the youngest and smallest person among the seven present in the pavilion, the moon shining upon their young faces full of such unknowing awe, it turned out that the answer was a long and complicated one. Not so much, really, but for these young lost children of an already-diminishing race, it was something entirely new.
Since the moment they had first entered the Belt surrounding the borders of Imladris, their blood sang with magic. Magic only a certain few in both Elrond and Galadriel's lifetime had ever been familiar with, and even so with Saruman and Gandalf, if the latter had already long suspected.
There were few left alive who contained this type of theme in their blood, Galadriel mused, or as far as her knowledge extended and her visions would allow. But there was were only three types of bloodlines known to have inherited such and survived through the Third Age...And so it was because of one of these bloodlines of these children were given away. The other possibilities were already very slim at best, but there was no mistake of who they were. She did not know how or why she didn't see it long before, or even know, other than foreseeing this "chance meeting", but an ill-boding idea nagged her heart, for the possibility could only be founded through one possible way...
The Istari radiated with its power, though she knew it did not have the might their true forms had once maintained. Not while tied down by their mortal hroä. If Mìthrandìr had been in his spiritual form, the one she had grown up knowing in the lands of her birth, she had often wondered if the power she had been spent millennia building up would still be able to outrank his own, if not for the silver-white ring she wore on her finger.
Her former teacher and Queen, Melian, even when shackled down in her solid form (though Elvish rather than Mortal), also thrummed with such power, enough so that her own Magical Belt effortlessly doubled the amount, compared to the one surrounding Imladris.
They were all Maiar, after all.
Her second cousin, Lùthien Tinùviel, had echoed at least half the amount of Arda's Music her mother did..and she had accomplished more deeds against Morgoth within a year than Melian had done within a thousand. The things she could have accomplished, the queen she could have been...
Sadly, though, she had only ever used the full might of her power a mere handful of times within a short span of months. During which, she had escaped Doriath, won the love of Oromë's (and Celegorm's) great hound, defeated Thuringwethil, taken down Sauron's great fortress, and then sang Morgoth and his servants to sleep, all before choosing to give up her immortality for the love of a mortal.
Even still, her Maiar blood lingered and passed on to her son, Dìor, who while mortal would have still been able to live far longer than any of the Edain, if he had not been killed so early in his adulthood. For how long, or whether he would have been given the Choice if he had lived, it would never be known now.
His precious twin sons, Elùred and Elùrin, had shown early signs of inheriting the power of the Maia. Silver hair and eyes like the cold stars of the night, the twins of Dìor had already awakened the gift of song like their grandmother, Lúthien. She, who had surpassed even her own unworldly mother, the first to have claimed the title of Nightingale. Whether or not they would have grown to awaken more of their Maiar blood was not to be, for they were lost (long presumed dead) at only the age of six within the wilds when Menegroth fell to the sons of Fëanor.
There had been rumors of their survival. Tales spun from theories long passed over into minor legends, untold or unfinished. For those who would not accept the little ones' deaths, some say they were led and raised by the birds of the wild, while others claim they were led so far into the East by an unknown guardian of the wild that they have passed into Ossiriand to join the Laiquendi, where Beren and Lúthien spent their last days alive. There they would dwell among the Green-elves under different names, and eventually passed over the mountains with the people of Oropher to resettle in Lindon during the Second Age...or so it was rumored. But like many things unexplained about the First Age, such theories were not granted definite proof.
The Wood-elves, at best, were so secretive that even the most thorough of scholars (including Elrond and Erestor) found it next to impossible to extract any true record of their history, to prevent exposure to any listening ears outside their kingdom (save for perhaps a few close kin of the royal family).
Unsurprisingly, Elu Thingol's old isolationist policies would continue their practice among the Laiquendi, who eventually departed in separate groups from Lindon, until one group would settle in Green-wood and the other in Lothlorien. They would shut out the world altogether, labeling any strangers on the outside who approached its borders an enemy to the Sindar.
But even Thranduil was kind enough to relay there had been no proof on his part of the silver twins' whereabouts among his people (not when it was unlikely he would recognize them as grown Nér, when they had all been Elflings at the time of the Second Kinslaying). And so hope had been lost for the two silver-haired twin Peredhel princes.
Their little sister, Elwing––Dear Elwing, she thought––Dìor's youngest child and only daughter, had also grown with the power of the Maiar singing though her blood. Not unlike her brothers, though it had slumbered throughout most of her childhood and adolescence.
According to some eyewitnesses in Sirion, including the eldest sons of Fëanor, Elwing's sons, and then Eärendil (who had been on his ship when he witnessed the transformation of his wife), it had not been until Sirion had fallen-or rather, that Elwing had let herself fall-and apparently with the helping hand of Ulmo, that her Maiar blood had appeared to have awakened.
Her ability to transform, and her spiritual form being that of an albatross.
Perhaps it had been too much of her reliability on the Silmaril in her possession (the last treasure she had of her parents), along with the grief for her family, or the lack of confidence in herself. Her people had given the Silmaril back to her on her wedding day, claiming it be her birthright as Queen of the Sindar, and she had clung fiercely to its light ever since.
A mistake, Galadriel realized that day, when she watched the change begin to take root in Elwing's gray eyes. The same look that took hold in Dìor, in Thingol...in Fëanor. But one, like all the other times, she had failed to prevent.
Newly wedded right after surviving their own tragedies in Doriath, Galadriel and Celeborn had not been at Sirion at the time, having been at the Isle of Balar with Erenion Gil-Galad and Cirdan, when the Third Kinslaying had happened.
She had long foreseen Elwing's doom, should she have refused to give up the Silmaril in favor of her people's survival. It was the same foresight Melian had consorted with her in Menegroth, not long before Lúthien escaped her father's bondage...and still, her pride and inaction had come at a terrible cost.
It was so easy to blame Fëanor and his sons for everything, as she had always done for most of her life, whenever things had turned for the worst. It was so easy to turn her anger on something other than the victims of the attack, other than those who failed to do what was necessary in order to prevent it. So easy to justify the pride over wisdom when it came to keeping the Silmarils to spite the Fëanorionath.
But such foolish behavior, looking back on it now, was merely the thoughts of a spiteful and angry child, the Lady of Light mused sadly, who was too proud to admit that the world was not always black and white.
Now older and wiser, to this day, Galadriel held partial blame toward herself for not being able to do more to help the young Peredhel Queen beforehand, or to at least help make her less attached to the the jewel she had never stopped wearing around her neck. If she had, then perhaps Elwing would have focused more on her own health, her own people, and the wellbeing of her twin sons.
If she had, then maybe Elwing would not have so easily abandoned her children, for fear and hatred towards the remaining sons of Fëanor, and for her unhealthy obsession over the Silmaril she wore. Or even for her desperate desire to be with her husband, Eärendil, whom had already left them alone long before this tragedy even began.
If she had, then maybe Elwing's sons would have have grown up knowing the love and attention of their mother, rather than the love of her two eldest cousins. Therefore, those same little boys wouldn't have grown up with this resentment towards their parents for choosing a jewel over their own children. For choosing to to believe the sons of Fëanor had killed the twins, for choosing to sail all the way to Valinor, never to return, rather than going back to Sirion and checking on their whereabouts for themselves.
The boys wouldn't have had to choose Maglor and Maedhros for their parents instead, Galadriel thought bitterly.
But then, if it hadn't happened, as Galadriel had long foreseen before she had on Sirion's fall, then Middle-Earth would not have Gil-Estel, the "Star of Hope." The Valor would not have come for aid, the War of Wrath would not have fought and then won, and Morgoth would not have been brought to his ultimate defeat.
Perhaps, when looking back on all that happened since then, even with all the needless bloodshed and tragedy, everything had somehow played out as Ilúvatar saw fit. As little might be thought.
It hadn't been until years had passed that Galadriel confirmed the whole truth behind the closed doors of Elwing's tower.
The young Dorathian Queen had barely ever paid much attention to her children, whether she was too busy ruling the Mouth of Sirion in Eärendil's absence or finding time alone, looking overseas out the window of her tower, holding the Silmaril she wore close to her breast as if were a newborn babe. Even when Eärendil had been home the one brief time in between his voyages, she had barely even let her husband spend enough time with the twins, paranoid and proud the great-granddaughter of Thingol had lately become.
With Sirion's destruction still so fresh a wound to all the Eldar, the young Galadriel had been so focused on what the sons of Fëanor had done to Elwing and the survivors, that it had taken more years than it should have before accepting how neglectful both Eärendil and Elwing (two people, two heirs to fallen kingdoms, she had known since they were small children) had been to their own children even before the kidnapping. And for that reason, it had taken even longer for everyone with the reign of High King Gil-Galad's (including herself) to accept Elrond and Elros' requited and undying love towards their kidnappers-turned-adopted-fathers.
It had taken even longer for the grudge towards anyone remotely Fëanorion to fade. Even now, well into the Third Age, survivors and descendants of victims from the kinslayings who still remained in Middle-earth never did let it fade.
She herself had been so fueled by the grudge she had toward the Fëanorionath for so many years that the contempt she felt often blinded her judgement for most of that time.
Her perspective had only begun changing after her daughter, Celebrìan, had fallen in love with Elrond Peredhel.
For a while after she and her husband learned of Celebrìan's private dalliance with the king's herald, back when they lived in Eregion, Celeborn had not wanted his still-young daughter courting one who was not only raised by kinslayers, but one who still held them close to his heart (albeit privately).
Galadriel was not much different, having raised her daughter on knowing about the kinslayers' terrible deeds. She suspected, a bit bitterly, that Celebrimbor (who by then accepted Elrond as his adopted first cousin) had something to do with their introduction.
And yet, Galadriel had kept having visions: of them holding each other, raising their children together, in a valley full of beauty and light, surrounded by gardens and waterfalls...they were quite lovely to behold. In spite her pride, she had softened towards these visions when her daughter kept defying her parents' will to spend whatever time she could steal with Elrond Peredhel, especially after the death of Gil-Galad.
And, just like her parents, Galadriel mused fondly, it had also taken Celebrìan a long time to find solid ground with the Ellon she loved whenever the topic of his foster-fathers came up. Or, more specifically, Elrond's strong desire to reunite with his father-of-heart, Maglor Fëanorion.
Apparently, during their time in Eregion, no matter how strong the chemistry between them had been, those two had terrible arguments on the subject of the Fëanorion.
Celebrìan, having grown up under the influence of her mother and father's resentment towards the Fëanorionath, argued over why it was that Elrond should feel any desire to seek out the murderer of his own people. As he had with others over the years, Elrond argued with her on how he had already forgiven his fathers, over how Maglor (whom he felt was still alive) was probably suffering all alone in his grief, and how for so long, after parting with Elros, he only ever wanted to find the only father he had left and to bring him home.
Then Celebrìan, in her ignorance, would point out that Eärendil was true Elrond's father, not Maglor. She had even pointed at the Star of Hope as she said this.
She had insisted that it was a son's duty and right to honor his father of blood for the sacrifices he had made, and that it would be an insult to both of his parents if he let himself love a murderer and a kidnapper in their place. She then suggested that if Elrond was smart, he'd do well to forget about Maglor Fëanorion, let him be rightfully punished for his sins, and focus on his own people.
Galadriel could hear her own words repeating themselves from her only child's lips. Her very young and oh-so-foolish daughter, who said this in the face of the nér who loved her...who had begun to trust her more than he did most people in those days. As if her argument alone would justify the words of so many of their other surviving kin of the three hidden kingdoms that had fallen: they, who were strongly convinced the sons of Eärendil had their minds wiped in captivity under torture by the heartless sons of Fëanor, and they (for political reasons) who wanted to put one of the Peredhel on the throne of the Sindar.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
As if Galadriel, or Celeborn, or even the King of the Noldor himself, had not already said the same exact thing, repeatedly, only for them to earn a cold-shoulder, a more strongly blocked mind, or a cool and polite show of 'thank-you-but-no' at his best and an angry, outright 'get-thee-gone' with strong defense for his foster-fathers at worst, from both him and his brother. Because of these futile attempts, it took many years before any of them would truly find equal grounds with Elrond Peredhel, and then eventually a good enough relationship to maintain that was considered reasonably comfortable. Even for Celebrimbor.
So naturally, Celebrían's words had only infuriated Elrond even more. He had become even more defensive than ever, forsaking his peaceful nature in that moment.
In retaliation, he told her that it was no business of hers, or anyone else's, of whom he and his brother should choose to love and respects, and that he was so sick of having to endure everyone's endless nagging––from Gil-Galad, Celeborn, Galadriel's, Celebrimbor, and now Celebrìan, of all people––that he should be rejecting any connections of the oldest sons of Fëanor, who despite their faults made sure he and Elros were healthy and loved with everything they had!
And to add fuel to the fire, he was so tired of having to hear from others that he should instead be taking up the crown of the Sindar, that he should rightfully follow the example of his forefathers, and rebuild a kingdom with both Thingol and Turgon's old isolationist policies back in place! That he should be forced into becoming something that he wasn't because his supposed-people would rather resurrect the past through him rather than accept changes for a future that included anything remotely connected to kinslayers!
Hypocrites, he had called them.
Furious, Celebrían naturally defended her kin by calling him a hypocrite as well, calling him unjust and heartless to be turning against his own people in such an arrogant way.
In turn, Elrond had accused her of being no different than any other he and his brother had to deal with for so long.
Celebrían retaliated by calling him names that were less than ladylike, right before the two stalked away from each other, not looking back.
Circumstances had kept them apart after that, and the regrets would come later.
Peredhel would later regret yelling at her so harshly, feeling that he had mishandled the situation in an immature way, but he never regretted speaking his mind to her in that moment. He had hoped getting the Elleth he loved to at least understand, if there was to be any hope between them, but the old protective instincts he felt for his foster-father had gotten the best of him and caused him to lash out in a way he hadn't done in years.
Celebrìan, once her own anger faded, had been devastated with their fall-out, but she was even more angry and embarrassed for her own brash judgement on Elrond and, to an extent, his beloved foster-fathers. In fear that their feudal exchange would stir their wrath on the Peredhel, she hadn't told her parents what had occurred until they had already moved well into Lothlorien.
It wasn't until much later, in SA 1701, when the two of them reconciled in Rivendell, Elrond's newly founded city. The visions of Galadriel foresight had at long last unfolded.
Together, while still grieving for the death of Celebrimbor, the sight of one another, rather than bringing up awkwardness or uncomfortable memories, brought a sense of relief and old love re-awakened.
History would record their reunion as their first meeting instead, but it was too late to change that small error. It seemed a good place to start anyway, to make it look more romantic for the settings of Imladris, if historians wanted to leave out the lovers' youthful spats in the past where Eregion still stood.
Since then, Elrond and Celebrían had never let each other go again.
Not until the day her only child had been forced to sail, due to severe injuries to the hröa...and to the fëa.
The two of them had better words to say by then, a better understanding than they did before. They were both older and wiser, and more willing to listen if it meant they could breathe in each other's presence after being so long apart. Celebrían was more open-minded to the world around her and Elrond was more patient with it.
With that in mind, they were able to communicate on better terms, no matter how hard it would be to first accept the other's opinion on the matter.
When they were courting once more, not too long before they were betrothed, they had to face the biggest obstacle that had stood between them and had become the main reason for their fallout: Elrond's adopted family.
But when that Celebrían had proven that she was willing to listen without judgement (having done a little soul searching herself from their centuries apart), Elrond was finally able to explain for himself, in much more calming surroundings, his own reasoning for why he continued to carry the beliefs that he did, despite almost everyone's opinion against it.
He explained that while the line of Thingol and Turgon may have been his relatives of blood, they were not his relatives of heart. And true, despite the lingering bitterness towards Eärendil for his absence, he had no reason to dishonor his blood-father's heroic deeds for Middle-earth's behalf (so he admitted Celebrían had been right in that part). But it did not mean that he would let himself be pressured into such a deluded pretense by denying he and his twin had much better relationship with Maglor and Maedhros than they ever did with Eärendil and Elwing.
Because, the simple fact was, their blood parents gave up on them.
With Celebrían remained silent, Elrond continued, albeit in softer tones.
He said to her that yes, while Eärendil was his sire by blood, he never truly had any real relationship with the Mariner. He was never there to raise him and his brother, never stuck around to make more than a scarce handful of memories with his toddler children, or even with his own wife. Worst of all, he and their mother had never even tried to come back for them after learning of the attack at the Mouth of Sirion.
When they found and taken the children, Maedhros and Maglor had been more than ready to bargain with Earendil and Elwing. Twice. They were more than ready to return the boys to the couple, healthy and alive, if only they were given back was rightfully theirs, as their Oath had continued to demand. In that time, little Elrond and Elros had waited, in hope and in fear, that their mother would bring their father back and rescue them together.
But it was not so. A star had appeared in the sky one night, years into their captivity, and the answer was already known before it was spoken: the Silmaril became Gil-Estel, the Star of Hope.
The only good news to be had was that it meant their parents were still alive, that the sons of Fëanor had not scared off Elwing directly to her death..but it also meant they were not coming for the boys any time soon...if at all.
Maglor had tried his best to reassure them otherwise, had even told them stories and sang them songs of legends revolving around their Elvish and Mannish descendants. At some point, he even told them stories about his own family, his own little brothers. His own parents, before the sundering. By then, it had not taken long for little Elrond and Elros to warm up to Maglor. Maedhros had taken longer to connect with, but once he had opened his heart to his new little family, his love for them, though expressed differently, had been no less powerful than Maglor's.
It was not long after that night that they started calling them Atya and Atar.
It wasn't until they met the Host of Valinor, decades later in the War of Wrath, that the twins officially learned about why their parents did not come for them.
For the first reason, the Valar had forbidden them from ever returning to Beleriand once they had stepped foot into the Blessed Lands. It was an unfair law, given how plenty of other Elves from Aman were sent back along with a gathering of armies, but this reason was only one out of a few others to forgive them for not coming back to rescue their children.
However...
Long before they even arrived in Valinor, Elwing in her bird-form had found Eärendil and his crew a mere day's worth from Sirion, still carrying the Silmaril within her feathers. When she was able to transform back into her Elvish form in her husband's arms, she was finally able to tell them about the attack on their home.
She had told him everything that had transpired: of the letters she received, of the tragedy that befell Sirion under the swords of the Fëanorionath, of how she had been forced to flee to keep Silmaril out of their hands, and how their sons were left behind in the mercy of the kinslayers...even then, she had been strongly reluctant to part with Silmaril in her hands when Eärendil tried to encourage her to put it away (for the whole time Elrond has known his mother, she had never once taken the damn stone off).
Then came their fateful decision. One of which ended up sacrificing one for the other, and became the real reason for the twins' determination to permanently be acknowledged as the sons of Maglor and Maedhros.
So quick were they to lose all hope for their children, that rather than even bothering to go back and check, Eärendil and Elwing had already assumed that their sons had been killed by the sons of Fëanor. Their parents had mourned for them together and instead decided to continue their search for the Blessed Lands, in the seemingly endless seas without looking back on the horrors left back in Beleriand. Taking the Silmaril with them, and with it, the surviving sons of Fëanor's last hope in being released from their accursed Oath.
Finarfin, the High King of the Noldor West of the Sea, had spoken of the pair's faithful determination with a show of admiration. He and Eonwë had told the twins that they should be proud of what their parents had achieved for Middle-earth, in order to convince the Valar to send their hosts to Middle-earth, to defeat the Dark Lord and free the thralls in his stronghold.
These heroic deeds were all good and well for the people as a whole, a legend to be remembered in many songs and poems for generations to come.
But the young Peredhel twins had an entirely different understanding what they had been told, and it was not pride or admiration.
Maybe they had been proud once, at first, during the War of Wrath just before it ended...but then Maedhros and Maglor had recently stole the Silmarils from the camp of the Host, and not long after, word had gotten around that Maedhros had committed suicide, taking one of the Silmarils with him, and Maglor had disappeared with the other.
Elrond and Elros had been devastated, and grieving, and angry at the world. And, unfortunately, it had happened right after they had learned the full details of their biological parents' absence, which did not help in recovering any good thoughts toward them in the slightest, despite that being the messengers' intentions.
What they had only understood, at the time, that both their mother and father had given up on their six year-old children almost instantaneously, before they were even forbidden to go back to Middle-earth. All because they found it unfathomable that the sons of Fëanor were nothing more than the heartless monsters everyone believed them to be. All because they refused to give them back the Silmaril and help them fulfill their dreadful Oath...and prevent any more kinslaying from having to occur.
So many things could have been prevented, and all the Elves and the Ainur had to do was give up the Silmarils...but when Eonwë finally let them take the remaining two, it was already too late. And he knew it. The sons of Fëanor had committed too much evil against their kin to be worthy of the stones' touch, and so they were burned. Perhaps they did deserve it, that they weren't worthy or the Silmarils...but it did not change the cruel fact that the twins lost the only parents that mattered to them and nobody seemed sorry for letting it happen.
Eärendil had been among the Host, somewhere in the sky on Vingilótë, but the only time the twins had been offered to meet him was if they both Chose to walk among the Eldar and agreed to sail back to Valinor with him.
When Eonwë had offered the Choice, the Peredhel made different decisions. Elros Chose to be a Mortal, and Elrond an Immortal...but Elrond refused to sail to Valinor with Eärendil.
Worst of all, Elrond could never forget how almost everyone within the camp surrounding him, from followers of both Finarfin to followers of Gil-Galad, had seemed so gleeful about this tragedy. They would laugh and voice it with an air of celebration, while adding crude insults and curses on the murderous kinslayers, spitting out that they got what they rightfully deserved!
It had been even worse that when Elrond learned that Gil-Galad, the king who had been trying to get Elrond and Elros to swear fealty to him, had shown signs of not being the least bit sorry for his foster-fathers' fate (though this had been long before Elrond and Gil-Galad found any sort of trust with one another).
Something had seemed to snap within Elrond, as surely as he felt the same reaction happen within Elros. Something that would set them forever apart from all the rest of their kinsfolk in that dying generation.
With the grief still so fresh for their foster-fathers and their lividness still so fierce toward everyone's cruel lack of sympathy for their fates, Elrond and Elros had already long given up any desire to see either Eärendil or Elwing. They would stay the sons of Maglor and Maedhros forevermore, and no one would tell them otherwise.
Elros had Maedhros' sword and Elrond had Maglor's harp, and they both had the eight-star pendants (both of which belonged to their fathers' youngest brothers, who were also twins, and were now entrusted to them like no other would). These were the only things they had left of them, and these the Peredhel brothers would cherish whenever they were alone.
It made Galadriel recall how Elrond had disappeared for a while after Elros had sailed to Numenor. There were a few rumors that he had found Maglor and spent plenty of years exploring with him...until the young Peredhel made a surprise re-appearance in the beginning of the Second Age, more mature and skilled in the ways of healing. Where he had been, and what he had been doing, he was never fully clear.
By then, he had been ready to swear fealty to Gil-Galad, so long as his connection with Maglor Fëanorion remained an unspoken topic within Court.
When Elrond was done, Celebrían had better understanding of Elrond then. She had even wept for the fates of Maglor and Maedhros, for his sake. In the future, after their marriage, she had even allowed him (despite Celeborn's strong disapproval) to teach their children about their other grandfathers on Elrond's side.
It had also been mainly because of her that a certain exiled wanderer may or may not have been there to watch their wedding in secret. That Elrond may or may not have introduced his new wife to a supposed uninvited guest hidden in the trees of Imladris. And that Galadriel may or may not have had a small hand in slipping a certain someone in secret to honor such a truce for that one time...but if anyone asked her, she would promptly deny it.
Galadriel will now admit that, once more, that it was partially her fault that her daughter ended up repeating her old mistakes when it came to the sons of Fëanor.
Like so many others, Celebrìan had been raised for centuries under the belief that the sons of Fëanor and their followers had been nothing but murderers and monsters of legend, known for lusting for gems, manipulating people, stealing children, and doing and saying anything in order to gain power (she perhaps recalled the story Galadriel had once spoken to her on the death of her Uncle Finrod). Even when she met Celebrimbor, her daughter had only known he had rep uted the deeds of his father and therefore had to have been an exception, especially when her mother made it clear that he was a friend to the family.
It was when she met Elrond Peredhel and realized her feelings for him that she had started to question her own beliefs. Soon after, she began to question all the teachings she was fed her whole life through one side of a whole argument, even by her own parents. Elrond was the first Elf she had met who had stated an entirely different opinion on the sons of Fëanor than the rest of her people, and with such passion not fed through hatred either.
Some years after their fallout and before moving to Lothlorien with her parents, Celebrían had apparently spent much time in both Eregion and Lindon trying to figure out the perspective of Elrond Peredhel, gathering information from other sources who might also have a slightly different opinion on the kinslayers.
She had a private audience with Erenion Gil-Galad in Lindon, the only son and heir of Fingon the Valiant, who was well-known to be the closest of friends with Maedhros Fëanorion. She was shocked to learn from him, for a time in his childhood, that he had also briefly known the loving side of Maedhros Fëanorian before he had been sent away. He had been a small child back then, and it was a faint memory, but it was one that stuck to him like an unwanted sore after all these years.
Celebrían had even gone so far to ask the Noldor king the boldest question of all: of whether the not-so-subtle ancient rumors of Fingon and Maedhros being secret lovers were true.
Gil-Galad, to his credit, didn't show offense. He merely told her that it was not for him to say, because even he didn't know whether the obvious affection that Fingon had toward the eldest Fëanorion was brotherly or romantic. Fingon had been killed when Gil-Galad was barely in his teens while being fostered by Cirdan, and Maedhros had fled with his brothers when everything fell apart, so he never found out the truth (nor had he any desire to).
But despite his resentment towards them, and his previous attempts to try to get the twins to renounce any kinship with the kinslayers before swearing fealty to him (both of which Elros refused to do, and Elrond as well, up until many years later, after reappearing mysteriously for the second time in row), Gil-Galad did admit that if Maedhros and Maglor kept Elrond and Elros alive this whole time, and had raised them to be as they are now, then there must have been some good left in them after all, because those Peredhel boys had been raised to be the best among them. Celebrìan had agreed.
She did not ask where Elrond had wandered off to the whole time after Elros and his people sailed to Numenor. She likely already heard enough from Elrond during their time together.
Then, she had met up with Celebrimbor in Eregion, whom it turned out that, for all his anger towards his former family's terrible deeds, he actually still grieved for them. He grieved for his father (who was perhaps known to be a worse parent than his two oldest brothers had ever been to the Peredhel twins), and had even shown such through his works if one looked closely.
He had even told her the truth, one that both Galadriel and her husband had hoped would never be brought up, about Curufin's death. That he had been there to see his father fall. Even held him in his arms as he died, before he was forced to flee undercover with some of the surviving Nargothrond refugees in Menegroth before his uncles discovered him.
In hindsight, it had seemed cowardly to hide himself from both sides, but at the time, like on the day he reputed his family in Nargothrond, he had only been thinking of his own survival, his own independence. Something, as it turned out, that would have left him feeling ashamed of for the rest of his life.
For a while, especially after Dagor Brogollach, there had been a brittle tension between Celebrimbor and Curufin, which had nothing to do with the former's supposed-romantic pining for Galadriel (which had taken decades and a few visits from Galadriel, and then the presentation of Celebrían as an infant, to soften the hostile barrier between them).
Celebrimbor always had a tense relationship with his father. By the time he reached his majority, Curufin had become more distant with him, more bitter, more obsessed with gaining power and fulfilling his grandfather's dying wish, to the point when the young smith started to believe that there was no love left in Curufin's heart for even his own son. After years of living in Nargothrond, the youth smith just wanted to break away from it all and find his own independence.
And break away he did, in public, for the whole hidden kingdom to hear while his father and uncle were banished.
But, in spite of what he claimed and everything that been done, it had later turned out, based on a letter Celebrimbor refused to read until years later, that Curufin had done everything he did because of the love he had for his son, not just his late-father. Because in the end, when Curufin had fallen, his last words, his last thoughts, had been for his "Tyelpë."
Celebrimbor could still remember the small shadow of a smile his father gave at the sight of him before the light faded from his eyes.
Celebrían had learned in that one meeting that Celebrimbor had been at Menegroth during the Second Kinslaying, that he had been one of the Nargothrond refugees to be brought into Doriath, using a different name and a disguise. For this, it meant that surely her parents should have known he was there as well.
And so, by the time they were already in Lothlorien, it was Celeborn that she confronted next, alongside Galadriel.
She had learned from them, that day, that it had been Celeborn who had been the one to slay Curufin in Doriath.
Curufin had been on a mad rampage after seeing his brother Celegorm fall under Díor's sword, who in turn had been slain by his cruel followers surrounding them. The same followers who would grab his twin sons and chase them off into the woods.
Galadriel had not managed to reach Elùrin and Elùred, but she had found the three year-old Elwing hiding under the throne with the Silmaril, whom her father had passed on to her moments before his fatal fight with Celegorm and fought to distract him from her.
Her mother, Nimloth, had been slain by Curufin, in the attempt to avenge her husband and to protect her children, so then Curufin had then come charging at Galadriel, who had her arms full of Elwing and not enough time to defend herself. Somewhere admits the screams and clashing blades, Galadriel could hear Celebrimbor's shout and Elwing's scream in her ear.
Before her half-cousin could land the blow on her, a vengeful Celeborn had jumped out of the bloodied fray and stabbed Curufin in the back.
She could still remember the sound of ripping flesh and bone with that single thrust, and the cut-off choke that followed.
She had seen the confusion on Curufin's face when he received the killing blow. She had seen the hatred fade in his eyes and cloud up with something like tears. She had seen him look around as though looking for someone, reaching his arm out to a dark-haired child that had been hiding in the corner, and smiling, his mouth filled with blood. He stumbled toward the child, still reaching out, whispering, "Tyelpë," and then he had fallen...right into a charging Celebrimbor's arms.
Galadriel remembered being frozen where she stood, still holding Elwing in a vice-like grip, unable to breathe. Just staring. Unable to think, to speak, or even curse. She had not felt this helpless in a very long time.
She knew that Curufin got what he deserved, but...Celebrimbor shouldn't have had to seen it. He shouldn't be here...
She could hardly see or hear anything that moment other than the buzzing in her ears, but she did remember Celebrimbor looking at her in wide-eyed shock and despair, cradling his dying father...and then shouting at her to run now.
Curufin had still been choking on his blood when Celeborn grabbed Galadriel's arm and two of them fled with little Elwing to the nearest exit. If they hadn't done what Celebrimbor said, she did not want to know what her young cousin would do in that moment.
It wouldn't be until years later that she would see Celebrimbor again, who for a while pretended that he still wanted nothing to do with his family name. Not until he connected with Elrond, anyway. To protect Celebrimbor's reputation, history kept his name out of mention from the Second Kinslaying.
It wasn't until they were out that they found out, to their despair, that Elwing's twin brothers had not been among the survivors, and so while Galadriel could not forget to look Curufin had before he died, her sadness had then resumed back to a boiling hatred. One that had been no greater than her then-lover had been.
Celeborn had become a kinslayer to save her life. Her's and Elwing's.
As a loyal Sindar Prince of Doriath, his action felt justified...but as an Ellon who lived by the belief that to kill another Elf for whatever reason was evil in itself, he felt the blood of his wife's half-cousin stain his hands to the point when he felt dirty, hypocritical, and no longer worthy of Galadriel's love. He would, perhaps, never be worthy to join her in Valinor after this, if she was ever allowed back.
They had walked with the survivors all the way to Sirion, taking turns holding Elwing on the journey. And when it seemed that Celeborn tried to drift further away Galadriel, even after all they had been through, Galadriel knew then it was no longer an option just let him go. Her ambition to become a Queen in her own realm now seemed like a foolish dream compared to the unexpected one that had walked into into her life, as her earlier visions had once tried to show her.
She had known he was the one before they had even met. Even with all their spats and clashes and dalliances in their earlier years together, she had already known. But had remained unmarried. Out of pride? Out of self-preservation? Out of fear? Well, no longer.
He was her Telperion and she was his Laurelin.
She would choose him over any dream, any blessed realm, and any paradise if they were all not one they could build and share together. They had waited too long, being two stubborn elves with deflecting philosophies, but had slowly burned for one another from the moment she stepped on the shores of Beleriand.
Nobody knew when or how Galadriel and Celeborn truly got married. Many believed that they had done so in Doriath, in its early prime and with all the laws and customs of the Eldar provided as the perfect example of a married couple. Some believed that they waited until reaching Sirion, and few others believed they waited until after the Second Age began, just like when they waited before having a child.
The truth was: they bonded on the road to Sirion in the cover of darkness, still covered in grime and blood from their near-death, away from the caravan. She remembered the stars showing as their witness, feeling his fëa bind with hers as he moved inside her, and she had never felt so alive, even in one of the darkest times of their life.
If anyone asked, they had performed a ceremony in Doriath, but whether it had been a huge ceremony or a private one was left to the imagination.
Arda and the remaining people of the First Age had been saved and won the war...but the few who had suffered the most from it paid the price and even fewer still survive to this day. Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond, Erestor and Cirdan were those few (Glorfindel had died and come back to life healed, so he didn't necessarily count).
There was many things that Galadriel regretted during the First Age, many mistakes she made, but most of them having to do with her lack of involvement in much of its struggles.
Young and ambitious, Artanis Nerwen Arafiniel had always ever wanted to be a Queen among her people, for even among her kin she had been unusual in her ability to read the heart of others, through both osanwè and foresight with the near-ease of a Maiar.
Up until the beginning of the Second Age, she had been so focused on exercising her own strengths, keeping to Queen Melian and (to an extension) Doriath's choice of inaction for the outside world.
At the time, she herself had been drawn to its beauty and power, but after seeing Doriath fall, she had been at the peak of such hatred towards the remaining sons of Fëanor that she used it as a channel to make herself stronger. To face the rest of world with a will of iron and ice, unforgiving towards those who are responsible in marring it, leaving nothing but ruin and despair. Leaving her to start again from scratch with her husband and his people, determine to build a new realm go her own...So focused was she on these goals, on these long-lasting grudge, that it was not until the Second Age that she was able to see more clearly the bigger picture.
It was the same reason to why she had not taken the Noldoran crown when she had the chance, when Gil-Galad had fallen and Elrond refused kingship.
Because, if she was being honest with herself, what did she do to earn the ruling title among the Noldor? What did she do when she had been too busy hiding herself among the Sindar for the better part of the First Age while her own family-her own brothers-had fallen around her while attempting to fight the Darkness? What did she do when a Silmaril became a danger to her people, when it could have the key to her half-cousins' freedom from their Oath?
For centuries she carried this ambition. This crave for power, for beauty, for respect. To be a Queen, despite being one of the youngest of Finwë's grandchildren.
But when the offer to become the Noldor's first ruling Queen was granted to her, she knew herself now changed. She did not want it, nor did she need it.
She was adopted among the Sindar now, who acknowledged her as the Lady of Light. Nenya's power coursed through her, spreading her influence around the borders of Lothlorien and all those who approached her even with a farsighted distance.
She was already a Queen, because the people who loved her named her so. Because she had earned it. Because Celebrimbor entrusted her with the power he made to wield it. And for this reason, no longer for her own gain, she would be determined to not let any of them down.
And so at last it came down to the surviving descendants of Melian the Maia.
Her son-in-law, Elrond Peredhel, and his twin brother, Elros Tar-Minyataur, had also inherited the blood of the Maiar, and still it sang strong, even if not as greatly as their ancestors.
The line of Numenorèans under Minyataur's lineage had carried that inheritance in various ways, though some had even skipped a generation or two, all the way down to young Estel. By now, it was faint, but the heir of Isildur had shown signs of having prophetic dreams a few times before. A power that Tar-Minyataur himself had inherited when he lived, coinciding with Peredhel's similar gift of Foresight.
Elrond's children, her own grandchildren, had also each inherited a portion of Maiar blood that still thrummed with power when awakened in a time of need. Elohir and Elladan's were there, but were very rarely shown. It was her granddaughter Arwen whose inheritance had thrived with time and serenity, making her the more spiritually-gifted among her grandchildren. She who earned her name 'Umdomiel,' the Even-star among her people, almost a mirror image to her ancestor, Luthìen.
Within the line of Melian, history had only ever known them to have a portion of Maiar blood.
But what history did not know was that there had been more than one Maiar that had bred a bloodline among the peoples of Middle-earth. And the even more shocking fact was that a very chosen few had known that this bloodline existed to begin with, for their ancestor had been long thought to been drowned in the rivers of Taeglin within Cabed Naeramarth before her descendants even became a notion.
Furthermore, the most shocking of all was that this bloodline had lesser Elvish blood than that of Elros Minyataur's, though their ancestor too had dwelled within the Kingdom of Numenor. Though far more powerful than even its king, it was ultimately more discreet, until eventually marrying and having his own children among the Dùnedain, not long before its fall.
Those children of the half-Maiar have been the few to have been among the Exiles of Nùmenor, where they later thrived in the Realm of Arnor in hiding. With their Maiar blood, they lived thrice as long as the other Dunedain, who already lived thrice as long as the Edain. But, like them, their lifespan gradually and slowly diminished over time.
Even after its few remaining remnants survived the Great Plague that had taken entire kingdoms, the forgotten bloodline was long thought to have finally died out during the end of the Watchful Peace. The orcs and goblins from the Misty Mountains had by then attacked a band of Rangers, led their Chieftain, Ragnòr son of Egnòr, near the borders of Eriador a little over two hundred years ago.
When Ragnòr had fallen suddenly and cruelly under the Goblin King, Golfimbul, his followers waylaid long before their foe charged passed the borders mid-battle to invade the Shire (ultimately meeting his end with the head knocked off by the club of Bullroarer Took).
His wife's body found with her throat cut near the river of North Farthing. Their eight year-old son had disappeared without a trace.
The poor child's fate was unknown, but many concluded that the boy was likely dead at the hands of the orcs, his body dragged down into their dark pits as they would other children of misfortune. Such a horrifying revelation had caused a wound among both Men and Elves that never fully healed. Not since the unknown fate of Elúred and Elúrin.
Long have they searched for him, but to no avail. Even Galadriel's visions seemed to have been blocked, in a way that seemed so deliberate that she first began to suspect that a higher and darker power began to linger within the shadows, having long gone unnoticed.
This fear she shared with Mithrandir, one of her oldest friends, who had never been one to live in ignorance if he could help it.
And if the White Council were correct on their suspicions, for their blood sang to them in a similar way that slumbered within Ragnòr son of Egnòr, and his young son, Aravìr, then these mortal children, who were born beyond the Void of Arda, were likely the last of the long-lost bloodline that should have ended with the death of Aravìr Ragnòrion.
I got completely carried away at some point while struggling to write Ch. 30 & 31 of TLD after being delayed due to a combination of a busy reality, chapter revision, and writer's block. It seemed too big a one shot to fit in Children of Two Worlds, but it did, however, seem to make a good Silmarillion one-shot of its own.
There's no specific plot here, other than a connected train of thoughts and memories from the only known character (other than Cirdan, Celeborn, and Maglor) who had lived and walked through all the Ages of Middle-earth.
My own canon version of Galadriel is to show that before she became the wise and powerful Lady of Lothlorien, she (like most of her family, both Noldor and Sindar alike) had too much pride, ambition, and biased anger that caused her to make many mistakes of her own, some of which had taken far longer for her to learn from. But learn them she did.
I like to think that the matrimony between Elrond, the adopted son of Maglor Fëanorion, and Celebrían, her only daughter, had helped open her mind up into looking past old grudges in order to truly move on.
Elven grudges, man:( It can really give a Dwarf a run for their money!
I had add a special mention of the familial relationship between Elrond, Elros, Maglor, and Maedhros. Also, the complicated father-son relationship between Celebrimbor and Curufin in my own version...because, what if Celebrimbor was one of the Nargothrond refugees that fled to Doriath and just went under a different name?
I also wanted to explore a little bit of Galadriel/Celeborn, giving it a little more juice on how they became husband and wife. It kind of connects to why Celeborn didn't leave Middle-earth with his wife until later, not just because he didn't feel like leaving.
Anyway, I hope you like it! I'm also looking forward to the TV series Rings of Power. I don't know what to expect from this new version, and it kind of scares me a little, but I'm excited!