Disclaimer: All characters here portrayed belong to Tolkien. This fic was written for WatcherChild's birthday, and it is inspired by chapter 12 of "A Father's Wish," a fic written by WatcherChild. A passage in that chapter describes how Celeborn related the tale of the Sun and Moon. This story is the account of how Celeborn first learned that tale. Thanks to you all for reading, and hope you enjoy. Happy Birthday, Watcherchild!
A NEW KIND OF LIGHT
"... Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion."
"That is a new song."
Artanis ran her fingers over the surface of the railing's cool marble, taking her gaze away from the flickering stars. "I had not noticed you were here." Her back straightened, and she pursed her lips. "I do not sing."
"You were singing just now, my lady," he said, amused, observing a slight glow on her otherwise pale cheeks. "I think I have never heard you sing."
"This song is unfinished."
"Why so? It is a beautiful song," he knew she would be angered, but could not prevent himself from teasing her.
"Yes," she said gravely. "It should be."
The brisk tones of her voice did not escape Celeborn. He was used to receiving short, blunt answers like those from her whenever she wished to escape enquiry. He walked closer to her, observing her features carefully. Sometimes, it was easier to read her manner than to make attempts at getting her words. Artanis was a lady with many secrets, and, as he had learned, she liked to be.
"You sing in our language," he said, arching a brow, "Is this a song you learned from our minstrels?"
"It is a song for myself," she answered dryly. "No Sindarin minstrel could have sung about... that song."
"I see. So, you must have made it up."
Celeborn noticed that she smiled. It had been only a slip of a smile; the corners of her mouth had twitched slightly into a gesture that softened her countenance, the only sign of a pleasant emotion that she had shown since dinner. 'This will be harder than I had foreseen,' he thought.
The night was chill, but very black; even more so, perhaps, under the thick leaves of Doriath. Over this dark mantle, the stars seemed to shine like fiery beacons, ever brighter and so close that they apeared to be within an arm's reach. The breeze that stirred the trees at whiles played with her hair, swaying it like a golden banner.
Artanis had been standing under the full moon for a while, and the light bathed her countenance with a very uncommon glow, so that she looked both fair and stern, both tender and strong, and he could not decide which fitted her best. She remained silent, even though she was aware of his presence, but Celeborn saw how she gripped the balcony's railings so tightly that her arms trembled. He allowed himself to watch her, as she stood under the stars. The line of her back was almost perfectly straight, a little too much, perhaps, and her shoulders were tightened in a way that made her look either queenly or proud, or defiant. Her eyes had not lost their usual fire, a smouldering glance that Celeborn had never seen, that he could not compare to any other thing; yet, deep within her stare, he noticed a strange flicker. It troubled him.
She was very fair, this valinorean cousin of his; so different from his own kin, not only in features, but also in mind. She was like a mystery to him, so open at times, and yet sometimes she could be so private. The utmost self-posession with which she carried herself disturbed him, yes, but now he was more bothered by the way she seemed to be struggling to keep her emotions checked. He followed the direction of her stare, west to the horizon where, as he narrowed his gaze, he was able to distinguish a dim, white beam of light, far off against the dark night.
"Your mind wanders away," he said, "That might not be good, Galadriel." He saw how she winced at hearing herself so named. Even though she had never said it, sometimes he fancied that the milder sounds of her new name were unpleasant; he thought it pained her to forsake the only reminder of her home, of her father, but it was such a brief moment, he would not have been certain about her dislike had it not been for her paled knuckles. 'Always in control,' he thought, curling his lips.
"Your mind sometimes wanders off, too, Celeborn. I do not see how it can hurt. One should be allowed to keep her own dreams and feelings," she began in a neutral tone that melted quickly into a reproach, "and her own private thoughts. I do hope the ways of your people will not prevent you from doing this."
'The ways of your people?' he thought. "If you have been bothered by something either I, or any of my kinsmen have done, lady, you should speak your mind frankly, " he said, trying to remain calm, without succeeding. "There is no business in delaying this kind of things."
"If you would have it plainly said, Celeborn, I would ask why does your people dislike the Moon and Sun?" anger tainted her voice. He had not expected her to be this frank. He thought for a moment, trying to craft an appropriate way to answer this question. She turned to him and glared. "You are one of them, are you not?"
"I am trying to think of a fitting way to explain this to you."
"I do not want a fitting answer," she said, withdrawing her eyes from him unto the stars again, "I want the truth."
Celeborn sighed, and she turned a puzzled, scrutinizing glance toward him. Celeborn did never sigh. And he never spoke something if it was not the truth. He straightened the collar of his shirt and leaned over the balcony, looking down, and then, upwards. "You are right," he said. "I perceive now that Ilwe's comments angered you."
"They did not!" she was quick to protest.
"They sure did, Galad-" he hesitated. "And you deserve to hear our true reasons, even if I do not speak in the name of all my folk, and even," he looked fully at her, "if it will be unpleasant to you."
He paused to take a breath, yet the silence was long enough to allow her to begin an argument, "They seem to be upset, even angered by their presence! What could possibly be better than to have light, such great light as to allow you to see and distinguish things more clearly? Every thing, every single particle in this world, with all its hues and textures!" She spoke with such passion that he wished not to restrain her, "How could you shun the light of the great luminaries, and be content with the stars' weak beams instead?"
"You understand not our customs," he said, "our traditions. You would not be so quick to condemn our feelings if you tried to put yourself in our place. It is not that hard."
"I am sorry," she said, ignoring the traces of chagrin behind his words, "Apparently I fail to see it."
"Think for a moment," Celeborn began, "that you have lived all of your life under the stars, in a world where you have learned to recognize every shadow, where every single leaf and twig speaks to you, where all you need to do is look to the skies to have the stars show you the way to any place you wanted to go," he paused, allowing some time for the image to be fully formed in Galadriel's mind. "Then, one good day, you wake up to find that there is a bright sphere in the sky, and it has dimmed the light of the stars you so much love! And, as if it were not enough, an even brighter body crosses the heaven, shutting out all starlight for half of the day... every day!," he frowned, and his voice rose above the rustle of the wind, "And when you look up, trying to find your way, you discover that you cannot, and you must forever remain lost from Elbereth's stars. Some people," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eyes, "did not like that."
"Do not scorn gifts that are so graciously and unselfishly bestowed!"
"Why do you speak thus, and are angered so easily? I confess I have never seen you like this!"
Celeborn's words made her step back. She was about to walk away, but instead turned and fixed her gaze upon the distant beam. "You know not what you say, Celeborn. I still have a hard time getting used to this world of shadows." He noticed her faltering voice and her absent stare, and knew that her eyes strayed toward her home.
"And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree," he whispered, recalling the tales his uncle had told him, about a fair tree that grew in the lands of the Valar, whose golden beams lighted all things that were in Aman, and beyond.
Artanis nodded. "By the walls of Tirion," she said, "My home."
Celeborn looked keenly at her, trying to find a sign to confirm his suspicions. Her eyes were full of longing, and her face had drooped. She looked sad, infinitely sad. But, this was the first time during the whole of their acquaintance, where she had not been reluctant to talk about her past. He was not willing to miss this chance to learn more about her reasons to have made the long journey to the east, so far from her home and loved-ones. This was the opportunity he had been expecting, where he could get a real explanation of her motives, and he would not let it pass, "That was before the moon came, was it not? What happened?"
"Many things happened," she said, veiling her eyes. "The shadow reached us, and shattered our world." He perceived that there was more to her words than she chose to reveal. "After that, there was no turning back."
"You never told... me what happened," he risked to say. "Why did the moon appear?"
"The Dark One destroyed the trees," she said, struggling to conceal her hatred, "spilling away all the light we had. I remember the darkness," she whispered, closing her eyes, "it was unbearable."
She tightened her fists, and frowned, and her breathing became uneven. The frightened gleam in her eyes made him feel guilty of accusing her, of ever doubting or mistrusting her, having been right or not. For the first time, he saw her as a vulnerable girl.
"And then," she turned her eyes to meet his, "in that dreadful hour of fear, the Valar worried about the children who had remained by the distant shores, and they were afraid lest the Dark One would harm them, and they pondered long what was to be done. After that..."
"What?" Celeborn raised a brow and leaned forward.
"After that," she said, her hands fidgeting, "I could not be certain as to what happened." Celeborn's frown increased, but she chose to disregard this, and thus continued, "Suddenly, above us all rose a new silver light. Tilion."
"Tilion?" he asked, puzzled, mumbling under his breath all the quenya words Artanis had taught him, trying to find out the meaning of this new sound.
"He was a hunter, one of Orome's company. He traveled much, being able to gaze upon all the marvels of Aman and the Middle Earth, beholding the beauty of the firstborn. When he rose to the realm of the stars, we recognized him." She narrowed her gaze, "I fancy that, forsaking his own self, and all that was dear to him, he offered to climb up into the skies, bearing any light that was left, so we would not have to suffer because of the evils that Mor- Melkor had caused." Her head lowered and her arms fell at both sides. "I did not know whether to rejoice or lament his choice. I knew I would miss him."
Celeborn said nothing, but looked at her, up at the moon, then back at her. 'Full of secrets,' he thought. He felt that he wanted to discover all of them.
"Then, after a time, we saw over our heads a light like a red fire. There was no doubt in my mind that this was Arien, guiding the vessel of the Sun. She would not have been separated from her beloved," she said, more to herself than to him.
"Arien?" he asked, "The sun?"
"Indeed. She was a Maia, and her spirit was so strong that she was the only one who could bear the radiance of Laurelin. She was also sent up to traverse the sky, every day, to bring us the light that had been taken away. A hope from the East. Silver and Gold to light us, as it had once been. Silver and Gold," she said, "I knew them both."
The sad tones of her voice grieved him. They had talked and, sometimes, fought, about many things, and at times they simply said nothing; but, as he saw the quiver on her lips and her drooping head, he realized just how much it hurt him to see her sad. Celeborn remained silent for a moment, but his eyes were fixed on her, an odd expression in them. In front of him stood a beautiful, strong-willed, brave, lost, fearful girl, all at once. Had he ever thought about Artanis that way? Had he, about Galadriel? "You have wandered too far away from home, princess. Are you certain you have not erred the way?"
She turned abruptly to him, and in her fiery eyes he saw doubt and fear flash in a blink, and then, longing. "I told you before," she said ruefully, "for us, there was no turning back," and as she withdrew her eyes from him, they seemed to be filled with bitter tears against her will. Artanis did not cry, but it did not mean that she could not. Perhaps, Galadriel did.
"Even now?" he asked, but inwardly shuddered. For the first time it entered his mind that she could go away. The thought distressed him.
"Even now," she softly answered.
Celeborn, prince of Doriath, glanced up at the sky, where a bright, full moon seemed to smile down on him. "Do not be sad, Artanis," and with his eyes, he bid her look up, "He is happy tonight."
"Artanis?" she asked, and she was pleased. A radiant smile appeared on her lips, and a slight blush on her cheeks. She tilted her head, "What happened to 'Galadriel'?"
"Oh, she can wait," he said, laughing, "at least for tonight."
Author's Notes:
· The poem at the beginning is a fragment from a song by Galadriel, found in "Farewell to Lorien," The Fellowship of the Ring. I am unsure as to when this song was composed, but the words seemed appropriate for the moment and, at least the first verses of the song, could have been composed at this time.
· 'Galadriel' is a name given to Artanis by Celeborn.
· The coming of the Sun and Moon happened after the Noldor had left Valinor. The Silmarillion tells that "even as the Moon rose above the darkness in the west, Fingolfin let blow his silver trumpets and began his march into Middle-earth, and the shadows of his host went long and black before them." (Chapter 11, Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor, The Silmarillion.) For this story, I am assuming that Galadriel already knew Arien and Tilion, and when the Noldor saw them in the sky, they inferred what had happened.
A NEW KIND OF LIGHT
"... Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion."
"That is a new song."
Artanis ran her fingers over the surface of the railing's cool marble, taking her gaze away from the flickering stars. "I had not noticed you were here." Her back straightened, and she pursed her lips. "I do not sing."
"You were singing just now, my lady," he said, amused, observing a slight glow on her otherwise pale cheeks. "I think I have never heard you sing."
"This song is unfinished."
"Why so? It is a beautiful song," he knew she would be angered, but could not prevent himself from teasing her.
"Yes," she said gravely. "It should be."
The brisk tones of her voice did not escape Celeborn. He was used to receiving short, blunt answers like those from her whenever she wished to escape enquiry. He walked closer to her, observing her features carefully. Sometimes, it was easier to read her manner than to make attempts at getting her words. Artanis was a lady with many secrets, and, as he had learned, she liked to be.
"You sing in our language," he said, arching a brow, "Is this a song you learned from our minstrels?"
"It is a song for myself," she answered dryly. "No Sindarin minstrel could have sung about... that song."
"I see. So, you must have made it up."
Celeborn noticed that she smiled. It had been only a slip of a smile; the corners of her mouth had twitched slightly into a gesture that softened her countenance, the only sign of a pleasant emotion that she had shown since dinner. 'This will be harder than I had foreseen,' he thought.
The night was chill, but very black; even more so, perhaps, under the thick leaves of Doriath. Over this dark mantle, the stars seemed to shine like fiery beacons, ever brighter and so close that they apeared to be within an arm's reach. The breeze that stirred the trees at whiles played with her hair, swaying it like a golden banner.
Artanis had been standing under the full moon for a while, and the light bathed her countenance with a very uncommon glow, so that she looked both fair and stern, both tender and strong, and he could not decide which fitted her best. She remained silent, even though she was aware of his presence, but Celeborn saw how she gripped the balcony's railings so tightly that her arms trembled. He allowed himself to watch her, as she stood under the stars. The line of her back was almost perfectly straight, a little too much, perhaps, and her shoulders were tightened in a way that made her look either queenly or proud, or defiant. Her eyes had not lost their usual fire, a smouldering glance that Celeborn had never seen, that he could not compare to any other thing; yet, deep within her stare, he noticed a strange flicker. It troubled him.
She was very fair, this valinorean cousin of his; so different from his own kin, not only in features, but also in mind. She was like a mystery to him, so open at times, and yet sometimes she could be so private. The utmost self-posession with which she carried herself disturbed him, yes, but now he was more bothered by the way she seemed to be struggling to keep her emotions checked. He followed the direction of her stare, west to the horizon where, as he narrowed his gaze, he was able to distinguish a dim, white beam of light, far off against the dark night.
"Your mind wanders away," he said, "That might not be good, Galadriel." He saw how she winced at hearing herself so named. Even though she had never said it, sometimes he fancied that the milder sounds of her new name were unpleasant; he thought it pained her to forsake the only reminder of her home, of her father, but it was such a brief moment, he would not have been certain about her dislike had it not been for her paled knuckles. 'Always in control,' he thought, curling his lips.
"Your mind sometimes wanders off, too, Celeborn. I do not see how it can hurt. One should be allowed to keep her own dreams and feelings," she began in a neutral tone that melted quickly into a reproach, "and her own private thoughts. I do hope the ways of your people will not prevent you from doing this."
'The ways of your people?' he thought. "If you have been bothered by something either I, or any of my kinsmen have done, lady, you should speak your mind frankly, " he said, trying to remain calm, without succeeding. "There is no business in delaying this kind of things."
"If you would have it plainly said, Celeborn, I would ask why does your people dislike the Moon and Sun?" anger tainted her voice. He had not expected her to be this frank. He thought for a moment, trying to craft an appropriate way to answer this question. She turned to him and glared. "You are one of them, are you not?"
"I am trying to think of a fitting way to explain this to you."
"I do not want a fitting answer," she said, withdrawing her eyes from him unto the stars again, "I want the truth."
Celeborn sighed, and she turned a puzzled, scrutinizing glance toward him. Celeborn did never sigh. And he never spoke something if it was not the truth. He straightened the collar of his shirt and leaned over the balcony, looking down, and then, upwards. "You are right," he said. "I perceive now that Ilwe's comments angered you."
"They did not!" she was quick to protest.
"They sure did, Galad-" he hesitated. "And you deserve to hear our true reasons, even if I do not speak in the name of all my folk, and even," he looked fully at her, "if it will be unpleasant to you."
He paused to take a breath, yet the silence was long enough to allow her to begin an argument, "They seem to be upset, even angered by their presence! What could possibly be better than to have light, such great light as to allow you to see and distinguish things more clearly? Every thing, every single particle in this world, with all its hues and textures!" She spoke with such passion that he wished not to restrain her, "How could you shun the light of the great luminaries, and be content with the stars' weak beams instead?"
"You understand not our customs," he said, "our traditions. You would not be so quick to condemn our feelings if you tried to put yourself in our place. It is not that hard."
"I am sorry," she said, ignoring the traces of chagrin behind his words, "Apparently I fail to see it."
"Think for a moment," Celeborn began, "that you have lived all of your life under the stars, in a world where you have learned to recognize every shadow, where every single leaf and twig speaks to you, where all you need to do is look to the skies to have the stars show you the way to any place you wanted to go," he paused, allowing some time for the image to be fully formed in Galadriel's mind. "Then, one good day, you wake up to find that there is a bright sphere in the sky, and it has dimmed the light of the stars you so much love! And, as if it were not enough, an even brighter body crosses the heaven, shutting out all starlight for half of the day... every day!," he frowned, and his voice rose above the rustle of the wind, "And when you look up, trying to find your way, you discover that you cannot, and you must forever remain lost from Elbereth's stars. Some people," he said, looking at her from the corner of his eyes, "did not like that."
"Do not scorn gifts that are so graciously and unselfishly bestowed!"
"Why do you speak thus, and are angered so easily? I confess I have never seen you like this!"
Celeborn's words made her step back. She was about to walk away, but instead turned and fixed her gaze upon the distant beam. "You know not what you say, Celeborn. I still have a hard time getting used to this world of shadows." He noticed her faltering voice and her absent stare, and knew that her eyes strayed toward her home.
"And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree," he whispered, recalling the tales his uncle had told him, about a fair tree that grew in the lands of the Valar, whose golden beams lighted all things that were in Aman, and beyond.
Artanis nodded. "By the walls of Tirion," she said, "My home."
Celeborn looked keenly at her, trying to find a sign to confirm his suspicions. Her eyes were full of longing, and her face had drooped. She looked sad, infinitely sad. But, this was the first time during the whole of their acquaintance, where she had not been reluctant to talk about her past. He was not willing to miss this chance to learn more about her reasons to have made the long journey to the east, so far from her home and loved-ones. This was the opportunity he had been expecting, where he could get a real explanation of her motives, and he would not let it pass, "That was before the moon came, was it not? What happened?"
"Many things happened," she said, veiling her eyes. "The shadow reached us, and shattered our world." He perceived that there was more to her words than she chose to reveal. "After that, there was no turning back."
"You never told... me what happened," he risked to say. "Why did the moon appear?"
"The Dark One destroyed the trees," she said, struggling to conceal her hatred, "spilling away all the light we had. I remember the darkness," she whispered, closing her eyes, "it was unbearable."
She tightened her fists, and frowned, and her breathing became uneven. The frightened gleam in her eyes made him feel guilty of accusing her, of ever doubting or mistrusting her, having been right or not. For the first time, he saw her as a vulnerable girl.
"And then," she turned her eyes to meet his, "in that dreadful hour of fear, the Valar worried about the children who had remained by the distant shores, and they were afraid lest the Dark One would harm them, and they pondered long what was to be done. After that..."
"What?" Celeborn raised a brow and leaned forward.
"After that," she said, her hands fidgeting, "I could not be certain as to what happened." Celeborn's frown increased, but she chose to disregard this, and thus continued, "Suddenly, above us all rose a new silver light. Tilion."
"Tilion?" he asked, puzzled, mumbling under his breath all the quenya words Artanis had taught him, trying to find out the meaning of this new sound.
"He was a hunter, one of Orome's company. He traveled much, being able to gaze upon all the marvels of Aman and the Middle Earth, beholding the beauty of the firstborn. When he rose to the realm of the stars, we recognized him." She narrowed her gaze, "I fancy that, forsaking his own self, and all that was dear to him, he offered to climb up into the skies, bearing any light that was left, so we would not have to suffer because of the evils that Mor- Melkor had caused." Her head lowered and her arms fell at both sides. "I did not know whether to rejoice or lament his choice. I knew I would miss him."
Celeborn said nothing, but looked at her, up at the moon, then back at her. 'Full of secrets,' he thought. He felt that he wanted to discover all of them.
"Then, after a time, we saw over our heads a light like a red fire. There was no doubt in my mind that this was Arien, guiding the vessel of the Sun. She would not have been separated from her beloved," she said, more to herself than to him.
"Arien?" he asked, "The sun?"
"Indeed. She was a Maia, and her spirit was so strong that she was the only one who could bear the radiance of Laurelin. She was also sent up to traverse the sky, every day, to bring us the light that had been taken away. A hope from the East. Silver and Gold to light us, as it had once been. Silver and Gold," she said, "I knew them both."
The sad tones of her voice grieved him. They had talked and, sometimes, fought, about many things, and at times they simply said nothing; but, as he saw the quiver on her lips and her drooping head, he realized just how much it hurt him to see her sad. Celeborn remained silent for a moment, but his eyes were fixed on her, an odd expression in them. In front of him stood a beautiful, strong-willed, brave, lost, fearful girl, all at once. Had he ever thought about Artanis that way? Had he, about Galadriel? "You have wandered too far away from home, princess. Are you certain you have not erred the way?"
She turned abruptly to him, and in her fiery eyes he saw doubt and fear flash in a blink, and then, longing. "I told you before," she said ruefully, "for us, there was no turning back," and as she withdrew her eyes from him, they seemed to be filled with bitter tears against her will. Artanis did not cry, but it did not mean that she could not. Perhaps, Galadriel did.
"Even now?" he asked, but inwardly shuddered. For the first time it entered his mind that she could go away. The thought distressed him.
"Even now," she softly answered.
Celeborn, prince of Doriath, glanced up at the sky, where a bright, full moon seemed to smile down on him. "Do not be sad, Artanis," and with his eyes, he bid her look up, "He is happy tonight."
"Artanis?" she asked, and she was pleased. A radiant smile appeared on her lips, and a slight blush on her cheeks. She tilted her head, "What happened to 'Galadriel'?"
"Oh, she can wait," he said, laughing, "at least for tonight."
Author's Notes:
· The poem at the beginning is a fragment from a song by Galadriel, found in "Farewell to Lorien," The Fellowship of the Ring. I am unsure as to when this song was composed, but the words seemed appropriate for the moment and, at least the first verses of the song, could have been composed at this time.
· 'Galadriel' is a name given to Artanis by Celeborn.
· The coming of the Sun and Moon happened after the Noldor had left Valinor. The Silmarillion tells that "even as the Moon rose above the darkness in the west, Fingolfin let blow his silver trumpets and began his march into Middle-earth, and the shadows of his host went long and black before them." (Chapter 11, Of the Sun and Moon and the Hiding of Valinor, The Silmarillion.) For this story, I am assuming that Galadriel already knew Arien and Tilion, and when the Noldor saw them in the sky, they inferred what had happened.