Shadow of Memory and Doubt ~ Chapter III
by Nickel S
May - July 2002
Disclaimer: All characters, languages, and locations are the wonderful creations of JRRTolkien. This is my own, perhaps blasphemous, rendition of his mythology.
Author's Notes:
I apologize for the wait on this third and final chapter. As compensation, this chapter is longer than I had originally planned it to be.
( Blame it on Galadriel who ran off with Celeborn; when they came back Galadriel refused to be a good muse and Celeborn was too afraid to do anything without her; then I was so caught up with real life; it also didn't help things when I had found 3 versions of the same scene that I'd written and forgot about. ^_^)
Assume all dialogue in the flashback italicized section (first chunk) is in Quenya.
Words in normal text in the flashback italicized section are individual names/ words also in Quenya.
All italics in the present setting represent thoughts.
"You must rise, Turucáno!" Finrod pleaded, staring helplessly down at his cousin huddled in the snow.
But Turgon remained oblivious and only stared out at the stark, empty expanse of the Helcaraxë that had claimed his wife. "Elenwë…," he hiccupped, his tears freezing in their tracks even as they inched down his face.
Seeing his pain almost made Galadriel stop and join Turgon in his mourning, but both she and Finrod knew it was unwise to linger much longer. She also knew that just as Elenwë was not the first to perish in the crossing, she would not be the last. The blizzards and fathomless mists had relented but a little. For now, their greater concern was the shifting ice and snow. They had to make progress before the weather -or Fingolfin- halted them again, and the march would be long. Galadriel followed Turgon's line of sight into the hazy distance of endless glaciers. She then looked down at Idril who wept quietly against her shoulder.
"Enough of this," commanded Galadriel gently, directing her words to Turgon rather than to his daughter. "This is no place to grieve over long."
"She is right," Finrod added grimly. "For the sake of others, put aside your grief. You must continue to lead your people..."
Turgon's expression twisted in despair. To what Doom!
"… and look after Itaril."
Turgon winced visibly. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath before he reached up to grasp Finrod's extended hand. Finrod hauled him up and hugged him in encouragement, saying:
"Strength such as yours will carry many of us through, káno."
Turgon nodded mutely but his eyes remained downcast and his shoulders stooped. At length, he turned his sad eyes upon Galadriel and his daughter.
"Itaril."
Immediately, Idril left Galadriel's comforting embrace for her father's. Both wept again, but this time they would recover more quickly. Finrod caught his sister's attention and they moved off to rejoin the moving host.
The harrowing journey across the Helcaraxë was far from simple though the environment was barren and unchanging. Too often, the Noldor had to retrace their steps or journey far to find suitable areas to cross between glaciers. The snow and fog made it difficult for even the keenest elven eyes to pierce. Always the cold and desolation groped for them, trying to weaken mind and body.
However, the worst was when the harsh winds came and howled with the voices of those that were lost.
"Daro…"
Galadriel withdrew from the memory, conscious once more of being in her physical body, seeing through her eyes. She shuddered a little from the aftershock, not noticing that Celeborn had reverted to speaking Sindarin in his distress. In fact, he was so disturbed that she found him clinging to her, his cheek against her own.
Whose tears are these? She wrapped her arms around him in an attempt to comfort, although there was little that she could offer to appease such a betrayal.
Celeborn… Her thought reached out tentatively but was deflected by the barrier that her beloved had retreated behind. Though she had expected as much, Galadriel felt her jaw clench, her throat constrict and her chest tighten in pain. She felt his body tremble against hers in an uncontrolled sob. But as she hugged him closer, he suddenly pulled away, completely, the back of his arm and his hair concealing his face from her.
Reeling with the odd sensation of sharing her memories, Celeborn felt as if his heart and mind would collapse, being laden with too much raw emotion. He turned away, partly to sever the connection he could no longer bear, but more so to hide his tears from her, though they were justified. The silence of the room was punctuated only by his stifled sniffling as he tried to regain control of his breathing.
He understood now; everything about her demeanour and history was laid bare with frightening precision for him to absorb and know. Only a few minutes had passed, but it felt as if he had relived an age, and, in a way, he had. Gradually, the anger and fear subsided, but the hurt remained.
Mistaking his confusion and embarrassment as a sign of rejection, Galadriel let her hands drop down to her sides, her close physical proximity to him now an infinite divide. It seemed to her that she was now terribly and utterly alone; and her mind cried out in wordless sorrow to the emptiness where he was before.
As if in reply, she heard Finarfin's voice once more, a sad echo of memory:
"May you find happiness beyond the Sea, if any happiness there can now be."
All the grievous events suffered by the Noldor passed through her mind. But it seemed to her, suddenly, that they would be as a precursor to even more sorrow to come.
"I wish," she said quietly, "that you would never have to see the like for yourself." But her tone was dead, hollow, crushed under the full weight of the Doom of Mandos. "But I fear that no elf in Doriath will be untouched by this horror." She turned away sadly. "If I had known this doom of ours could spread to all the peoples of Beleriand, of Middle-Earth, I should not have come to see it."
Celeborn finally looked up and stared thoughtfully for a moment at her upturned profile. A part of him had to agree that nothing, himself not least, would ever be the same again. Even so, a single word escaped him.
Kinslayer…?
He had not meant to direct the word at her, for he was merely considering the idea; but Galadriel winced visibly, drawing further away from him. Seeing this, and despite the fact that she had done the unthinkable, Celeborn realized he did not like the possibility of never having met her. More importantly, he hated the fact that he was driving her away, when all he really wanted to do was comfort her (If only she would cry…) and be comforted in return. He gently took her hand, and Galadriel successfully refrained from being too startled.
Their eyes did not meet, both unsure of how the other felt.
After a lengthy pause, Celeborn finally asked: "What would you have me do, knowing what I do now?"
"Do what you will," came her dull reply, but to herself, Galadriel thought, I would have you love me as you did before.
"And what if I told my King and Queen?"
She tensed and her hand seemed ready to pull away. "You would reward my betrayal with another betrayal? How appropriate." She looked up at him then, her eyes hard though her face was already tear-streaked. However, she only saw a mixture of pain and sympathy in his pale eyes.
"Proudest and most fair lady of the Noldor," said he, "the choice was your own to share this sorrowful history with me. When you did, it was no longer solely your secret to keep." His hand closed more firmly about her own as he paused, searching her eyes for something, searching for something within himself.
The Noldor princess frowned slightly, confused by the different messages that his words and his eyes were telling her. As she watched him, Celeborn came to his conclusion:
"But I will not tell anyone against your will."
Only then was she no longer afraid. There was so much more behind his words that she silently thanked Ilúvatar for. Galadriel bowed her head in acquiescence as her wonderful Celeborn lifted her hand to kiss it, leaving a pleasant tingling sensation where his lips touched her skin.
There was a soft knock on the wooden door, and though the wood was so thick that the sound barely came through, they were startled nonetheless. Reluctantly breaking each other's gaze, Galadriel sighed and Celeborn cleared his throat.
"Allow me," he said getting to his feet. She looked up at him again as their fingers slid apart when he released her hand, his arm outstretched as he moved away. Celeborn's preoccupation with the feeling of her eyes on him vanished when he opened the door and blinked at the person waiting on the other side.
Melian smiled warmly up at the young elf lord, who looked positively shocked to see her.
"Good morning to you, Celeborn," she greeted in her gentle voice.
Celeborn recovered himself and bowed low. "Good morning to Your Highness."
The light of humour danced in the queen's eyes as he straightened, still looking bemused. "May I enter?"
He hurriedly glanced over his shoulder at Galadriel even as he spoke, "Of course." He stepped back, adding, "How may we attend you, my Queen?"
Melian stepped in the room and looked at Galadriel who was now standing, eyes clear, her expression guarded, hands clasped – a little too tightly – in front of herself. The queen turned slightly towards Celeborn; his expression, too, was blank, but she could discern his apprehension whereas Galadriel hid hers better.
"If Galadriel will permit it," her eyes left him briefly, then returned, "I should like to speak with her alone. We shall not be long."
"As Her Highness wishes. Excuse me." He bowed his head and quickly cleared the unsightly dishes from the table. Both ladies watched in amusement as he balanced the silverware and turned to leave.
"Thank you very much, Celeborn." The queen nodded her head in acknowledgement. "When you are ready, King Thingol would speak with you as well."
Celeborn tried not to look overly surprised. "Understood. By your leave, Ladies," he said, backing carefully out of the room and managing to close the door behind himself.
When Celeborn had finished with his errand to the kitchens, he slowly made his way to the king's receiving hall. He was quite lost in thought over the summons, Melian's impromptu visit, and Galadriel's memories not least. It was no wonder that Luthien came upon him unawares.
"Why Celeborn!" the princess exclaimed, slipping her arm under his as she came up alongside him, "On a beautiful morning such as this, you look like the Shadow of the North lies too heavy upon you!"
Trying not to be too overwhelmed by her sudden enthusiasm, Celeborn forced a smile. "I beg your pardon, Princess. You should not jest so lightly about such things."
Luthien pouted before sighing and enquiring seriously, "I know, cousin, but you do look a bit, well, depressed. Are you not well?"
Celeborn did not look at her directly as they continued walking, though the king's daughter had fixed her curious gaze on him. "Oh, I am fine," he managed with an air of nonchalance.
"That is well, then," she replied, although she did not believe him for a moment. Instead, she asked, "Where is Galadriel?" It was not often that she saw one of them without the other, much less one of them alone and unhappy.
He sighed, and subsequently hoped that Luthien could not read anything from it. "Your mother is with her now. I was told to go and see your father. Odd, is it not – for him to call upon me at this time of the day?"
"A little," she consented, and added a little mischievously, "But if my mother is with Galadriel now, and she told you to see the King, perhaps Father has finally decided to speak of marriage plans concerning the two of you."
Celeborn nearly tripped in surprise. "Marriage plans?"
Gripping his arm more firmly, Luthien threw him a vexed look. "Do not tell me you have never considered the idea!" She continued to glare until he blushed visibly, then she grinned.
"It is much too soon; everyone knows that."
Luthien groaned, "She has been here enough years to void the argument of any critic. I fail to understand why you should wait."
"Even so…," he trailed off in thought as the princess rambled on.
"You loved each other nearly upon first sight," she began, "You cannot tell me that it was not so; I was there! Almost like Mother and Father and they married immediately – if you neglect the several years that they stood enthralled with each other. You and Galadriel make such a wonderful pair Ilúvatar Himself must have woven your fates together so you cannot make an excuse against that can you Celeborn? …Celeborn?"
"Pardon?"
Luthien would have started an angry tirade at him, had she not been trying to recover her breath from her previous speech. He laughed then, the way he thought he would not be able to in the wake of Galadriel's revelations.
"You must indeed speak the truth, Highness, as it seems you know so much about such love."
"Do not mock me, Celeborn. I only hope to be as fortunate as you," she said with a far-off, dreamy look in her eyes as she leaned into his arm a little.
Celeborn smiled down at the top of her head. "I am sure you will be."
After reaching the Hall and waiting for the previous audience to leave, Luthien entered with Celeborn and went straight to her father. Thingol smiled broadly at the sight of his daughter and exchanged a few words with her. When they finished, Luthien added:
"Before I forget, Daeron has announced that he has composed a new ballad and will be performing it for me after the evening meal. Will you and the court not come and listen, Father?"
Thingol's expression was quizzical. "Doth he not wish to play it for you alone, as is his wont?"
His daughter smiled angelically. "But it is not my wont to listen alone for him."
The king sighed, "Then it shant be so."
Luthien kissed her father, thanking him, and turned to leave. As she passed Celeborn she spoke, "You and Galadriel will come, too, of course?"
"Of course," he replied knowingly.
She beamed gratefully at him and glided out of the hall.
Thingol turned his attention to Celeborn. "How fare ye, son of Ghaladon?"
Celeborn bowed. "Well, if Your Majesty fares so."
"And so we do," the king replied, but his eyes regarded the younger elf thoughtfully behind his smile. "The audience is finished for this morning," he said, motioning for Celeborn to follow him into the smaller adjacent sitting room, where they could speak less formally.
As he entered, Celeborn was surprised to find the queen rising from her chair to greet them, apparently expecting their arrival. He quickly considered the time that had passed on his journey to the kitchens and back, wondering how Melian's visit with Galadriel could be so brief. Then, as Thingol took his seat and motioned for him to be seated, Celeborn swallowed. So it is to be me who is interrogated and not Galadriel.
Thingol's expression was as chiseled marble, "Is there anything you would like to tell us?"
Celeborn was slightly taken aback by the directness of the question. "Not that I know of. What is the meaning of these summons, milord?"
"You know perfectly well what it is," Thingol replied evenly, "Galadriel has not been at her ease in Menegroth since Melian spoke with her yesterday. We believe her behaviour and her unwillingness to explain are related and we are very concerned about her well being."
Celeborn thought the king's tone lacked sincerity. Choosing his words carefully, he said, "If there is something you wish to know, I believe you should direct your inquiry to the lady herself." He risked a glance at Melian.
The queen was silent, but her eyes never left him.
"Yet you would hide your knowledge from our sovereignty," the king countered shrewdly. "I have reason to believe that what the Lady Galadriel knows may be a threat to Doriath and our people. As such, I cannot allow this incident to go unnoticed. What have you to say?"
Thingol waited expectantly for a response, but the young elf remained mute and his eyes, at first meeting the king's with a steady gaze, were downcast.
"Nothing."
Finally losing his patience and expressing more emotion, Thingol, in his most haughty manner, raised his eyebrows and spoke as if in accusation: "Her influence on you has made you impertinent! Has your love for Olwë's granddaughter supplanted your loyalty to Doriath?"
"That is enough, Elu." Melian's calm voice punctuated the end of Thingol's outburst, and she placed a hand on his arm. Thingol appeared not to notice, keeping his eyes on his grandnephew.
Unsure of how, Celeborn managed to swallow the bitter insult and replied coldly, "Question not my loyalty nor my honor. My life and duty I owe to Doriath but it would negate any loyalty or honor I had to tell you what you wish to hear. I am no spy and neither is Galadriel."
Thingol nodded. "Well spoken," said he, mildly unsure whether to be pleased or disappointed with his nephew.
In the following silence, Melian regarded Celeborn with her profound, searching gaze. It was all he could do to keep his expression neutral. At last she released him from her probe, but her eyes remained fixed to his.
"Your silence does your love much credit, Celeborn," the queen said, and she smiled gently, sincerely, in approval. Thingol snorted, but remained silent.
Celeborn found himself smiling in return at the maia. He bowed his head slightly, accepting the compliment. Somehow he was reminded of a distant memory of his mother gushing, My my, look how tall you have grown to be!
He found her in the royal gardens atop the Thousand Caves, exactly where Melian had said she would be. It was early afternoon and the warm breeze drifted up with the scent of the flora to the highest tier where Galadriel, leaning on a railing, surveyed the gardens below her.
Celeborn stopped several paces before reaching her and waited. At first she did not seem to notice, but then she turned her head slightly, enough to align her right ear to his position, not bothering to look at him out of the corner of her eye. When he situated himself beside her, she faced forward again. He did likewise, and spoke as if addressing the air above the garden.
"Luthien is planning to foil another of Daeron's recitals to her this evening. She even convinced the King to attend with the court."
This managed to elicit a smirk from Galadriel.
Turning to face her fully, Celeborn continued, "Would you give me the honor of accompanying me to partake of the audience?"
She cocked her head at him, meeting his bright, hopeful, eyes. She did not sense any anxiety in him at all.
Celeborn?
Yes? His reply was automatic.
Her tone was a bit short of demanding. "Why are you being so formal with me?"
He blinked. "I thought I was merely being polite."
Sometimes, definitely now, she deemed his mannerism infuriating beyond endurance. Galadriel had come to realize it was a behavioural mechanism he deployed whenever he was uncomfortable confronting her. He had been acting thus far too often in the past day alone. She could not blame him, but she still did not know what he hoped to gain by being exceedingly polite at the moment. It seemed she would have to start the conversation.
Without any warning, Galadriel pulled him – a little roughly – into a kiss. Celeborn submitted to her quickly enough, his wonderment and love flaring into her mind momentarily before settling into a calm pulse. Though she reveled in the feeling with more than a little relief, Galadriel broke off to look at him gravely.
How can you forgive me so easily?
Equally serious, Celeborn frowned slightly in consideration. Have I? He lifted a hand and massaged his temple with his fingers. I do not know. I only see that you carry the grief your knowledge entails… I have watched you bear it, everyday, since we first met, though I had no thought to what it could be. And you will continue to do so, even unto the end of days. He moved his hand from his temple to hers. Perhaps that is enough. His hand dropped and he shrugged. You do not need my resentment to compound your pain.
Galadriel tried not to bite her lip; if it were possible, her expression appeared to sadden even further. She leaned into him and turned her face away, confessing after a moment, I admit that… on occasion, I manage to make myself believe that it was all a necessary sacrifice that I chose to make in order to secure my freedom.
But? he prompted gently.
But… I was forced to make that decision… and yet it was my own to make and I was willing to accept whatever followed thereafter. Galadriel looked back at him and Celeborn saw such strength in her eyes as could only have served one who had to make such a decisive journey.
So you came into exile.
I… She looked to the Southwest, perhaps in the direction where Nargothrond lay. It was my pride that drove the House of Finarfin over the sundering Sea, but I exiled myself. There is no pride in that.
Celeborn nodded. You see? There was no need to ask.
The light in Galadriel's eyes softened.
You know exactly why I still love you, so - for your own sake - do not forget it. So thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her.
After a serene silence with only the sound of rustling forest leaves, Galadriel lifted her eyes back up to Celeborn's from where she was braiding a strand of his hair with her right hand.
What did they say? she asked.
They know more than we thought, and Thingol was getting all blustery when I would tell him nothing, he replied with a somewhat acerbic smile.
I am sorry (You have no reason to be) for that. I hope you are not in his bad graces simply because you sought to protect me.
He grinned, but without adding any tint to it. Do not worry. He declared that we would speak of this issue no more. Besides, he cannot for long stay mad at his favourite nephew – not that there is anything wrong with Galathil.
Galadriel smiled in response. So you would believe.
Celeborn raised an eyebrow. There is something wrong with my brother?
The lady laughed and shook her head. No. She yanked his hair hard enough to reduce his grin a little. You would believe that you are Thingol's favourite nephew?
Absolutely.
Galadriel rolled her eyes and decided to cease pursuing that tangent. Melian apologized to me, you know.
That was a short apology.
It is all right, she understands. She relaxed into his arms again.
Sensing the end of the conversation, Celeborn suddenly remembered Luthien. "You have yet to answer my original question," he said aloud.
"Which question?"
"My lady, 'would you give me the honor of accompanying me to partake of the audience' at Daeron's recital tonight?"
Perhaps his manners were not so annoying as previously thought. Galadriel took his hand.
"I will happily oblige, my lord."
[Fini]
Your Elvish Lesson for the Day:
Turucáno = Turgon(tur- = 'master[ful]; -káno = 'commander')
Itaril (or Itarillë, Itarildë wasn't sure which I should pick) = Idril
Daro = halt/stop (Sindarin) may be the wrong usage
Author's Post-Production Notes:
* Thank ye for reading (and reviewing too).
* Sorry if Luthien was a bit off, but she begged to be put in. And although I know she's one generation above Celeborn (and thus quite likely older than he is) I liked the way she turned out. Needed a little levity in there somewhere.
* Thingol is such a jackass, I love him ^_^;
* What next? Nothing really. I'm not very good at coming up with fanfic material and following it through (which is the hard part). I do have snippets of C&G stuff during/post LotR, but that probably will never see the light of cyberspace. Then again, there's still two more movies to go and I may be motivated enough to write again... next year. Until then, I leave the rest up to Oboe-Wan.
Thanks again for reading this fic.
LotR .959(?)
"Then Treebeard said farewell... and he bowed three times slowly and with great reverence to Celeborn and Galadriel."
Galadriel (to Celeborn): Let's try and make him touch his toes. You pull his left arm, I'll pull the right.
Celeborn: All righty.
[This twisted Celeborn & Galadriel moment brought to you by Nickel's muses.]
