A/N: Wow, ain't fan fiction great… you completely ignore a story for six months, then write an entire chapter in one sitting. While desperately searching for a way home because your flight was cancelled. And while repeatedly listening to the theme from Top Gun and a techno remix of the Braveheart theme. Sleep deprivation can be so much fun.

I guess this is the part where I suddenly become very interested in the floor and mumble an apology about taking so long to write this chapter. I've got more than writer's block; I've got a whole Lego set. Hopefully I'll be able to accomplish more in the world of fan fiction over the three weeks Christmas break than I did in the half-year since my last update. In other news, Freelancer-the-astrophysics-major did freakishly well in her classes this semester, which is one of the reasons she didn't write. (97.5 test average in Calculus III!! BOO-YA!!)

Chapter Eleven: Big Brother's Words of Wisdom

At dawn the next day, the ships departed, taking the Sindar, Finrod, and his sister back to Menegroth. Fingolfin, Maedhros, and the other Noldor remained in the pass to keep it occupied until Finrod could assume control. Finrod had already begun to formulate his plans for constructing a stronghold in the pass, and he wanted King Thingol's opinion of them before beginning construction. Finrod knew they had a very strong potential ally in Doriath, and he wanted to give something back to the Sindar as a show of gratitude for all they had done for him and his kin thus far. Combining forces would certainly be beneficial to both parties; in return for aiding Finrod in the construction and occupation of a fortress in the Pass of Sirion, the Noldor would have a critical point from which to launch their attacks on Angbad, and Thingol's people would have further defense against the evil of Morgoth. Finrod was sure than when he presented the logistics of this plan to Thingol, Doriath's king would agree to this alliance.

And if not this way, Finrod mused as he pondered his plans in the main cabin of the largest ship, there are other ways of forming treaties.

That in mind, his thoughts turned to his sister. He had not had a chance to speak to her yet – he'd been too busy with plans for the occupation of Tol Sirion – but it was a good two days' voyage now to Menegroth. He could afford a few minutes to express his concerns to her and get an idea as to what he'd witnessed yesterday was leading to. Hopefully she would view Doriath – and Celeborn – as politically, no, sensibly as he did.

Finrod did not have to look far. She loved water and boats, and he found her on the ship's prow, watching the waves as they splashed against the hull. The wind was whipping her golden hair and green traveling cloak all around her frame, but she seemed to neither notice nor care. She was so absorbed in her surroundings that she didn't even notice him come up beside her.

"Artanis," Finrod said as he approached, "we must talk."

She was unaffected by his serious tone, and when she turned to face him, her face and smile were more radiant than they had been at any point during their exile. "Oh, Finrod," she said, "I am so happy. The battle is won, and-"

"We must talk," he repeated, cutting her off. "This is a matter of great concern to me, Artanis."

Her smile did not waver. "Of course, brother," she said. "And please, I must ask that you no longer call me by that name. Another name has been given to me, and it is my wish to be known by this one."

"A new name?" he said suspiciously. "What might this new name be?"

She told him.

"Galadriel," Finrod repeated. He reflected on it a moment before offering his opinion. "It is a beautiful name, but I cannot see why you would rather be called Galadriel than remain Artanis, daughter of Finarfin, princess of the Noldor-"

"It is my choice," Galadriel said simply. "Furthermore, if we are to become part of this land, it is only fitting that I take a name in the Sindarin tongue. I would hope that you would honor my decision."

Finrod was beginning to get annoyed. This was not the subject he wished to speak with her about, and he could not understand her logic. "'Honor your decision'?" he repeated. "You are changing your name. What do you want me to say, 'Congratulations'? Like you are having a child? 'Congratulations, you are having a new name.'?"

Galadriel rolled her eyes. "Finrod-"

"Who is the father of this new name?" Finrod continued, unable to stop his sarcastic landslide. "I knew the father of the old one – he's the king of the Noldor!"

She waited a moment to see if he was finished, then said, "If you must know, the 'father of this new name' is Celeborn."

"Which brings me to why I came here," said Finrod, his tone dropping in severity. "Arta – Galadriel, recently, I have noticed that you and Celeborn have become rather… attached to each other, and-"

"I am fond of him, yes," she admitted. "And this is a matter of concern?"

"Of substantial concern," her brother replied. He placed a hand on her arm. "Dear sister, you certainly know that I love you and only want your happiness. I just do not believe the happiness you seek can be found in Celeborn."

"What do you mean, Finrod?" the mystified Galadriel asked.

"I saw the two of you yesterday morning," said Finrod. "It was by accident – I was only passing by – but what I saw aroused a great deal of confusion and concern in me. He was touching your hair."

Galadriel suddenly looked very guilty. Her fingers caught a lock of hair that had been blown their way by the wind and began to twirl it.

Finrod continued. "I have not mentioned this to anyone else because they would certainly think me foolish for being troubled, but they don't know you like I do. All your life, you have obsessively prevented anyone outside our immediate family, save for Amarië…" His voice broke slightly at saying the name of the love he'd left behind, and he had to collect himself before he could go on. "Save for Amarië, from touching your hair. Not even Fëanor."

Fëanor can burn, Galadriel thought. "And it raises concern in you that I would allow Celeborn this privilege?"

"Yes," Finrod said simply. "I was not aware that he obtained such status in your life so soon after meeting him."

"What are you implying, Finrod?"

"What are you, Galadriel?"

"Does it matter?" she cried. Any trace of joy was now gone, and in her eyes danced a sad desperation. "Whether I love him or hate him, it makes no difference. I cannot hope for anything more than our friendship. He is too far above me."

Finrod could not believe his ears. "How can you say this?" he said. "You are of the most noble bloodline in Valinor, and he is a blind Sinda!"

"We are not in Valinor anymore, Finrod!" said Galadriel. "Our bloodlines mean nothing here! And that 'blind Sinda' is a prince of the greatest kingdom in this land! He lowers himself by even considering me a friend!"

Finrod knew she was right, just as his suspicions were. "Anyone can see you greatly care for each other," he said gently. "But is it really the best thing for either of you? Suppose you and Celeborn were married."

Galadriel opened her mouth to protest, but Finrod held up his hand, signaling for her silence. She complied.

"Hear me out," Finrod said, lowering his hand. "Supose you and Celeborn were married. By marrying above your station instead of below, you are surrendering authority to him. Your spirit is far too strong to allow that. Your lives would be bitter, cold, and power-hungry, not like if you found someone who could not claim any authority over you. Regardless of how you may feel now, the two of you, logically, could not be more wrong for each other."

She closed her eyes.

"Artanis…"

"Galadriel."

"Galadriel. Listen to me," said Finrod. "Temporary unhappiness now will save you from a lifetime of it."

"You assume too much, Finrod," said Galadriel with a degree of coolness. She stepped away from the prow. "If I feel anything more than friendship for Celeborn, it is pity." She then turned around and proceeded to go below deck.

Finrod smiled, knowing that she was already taking his advice.

Now that he'd talked some sense into his sister, Finrod decided now would be as good a time as any to approach the other half of this inconvenience: Celeborn. He knew the prince would be resting, but it was unlikely that he would be asleep, so Finrod didn't feel incredibly guilty about going to Celeborn at this time. What he did feel a little guilty about, though, was what he was going to tell Celeborn. In retrospect, Finrod knew what he'd said to Galadriel probably wasn't the right thing; it was the truth, but it was not the best time to bring it or, nor the right way to put it. Finrod pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind as he approached Celeborn's cabin. Finrod cared about the people in his life, and if it meant coming straight out with his concerns, no matter how blunt they may be, would protect them in the long run.

Someday you'll thank me, Artanis, Finrod thought as he knocked on the door to Celeborn's cabin.

A familiar Sindarin voice bade him enter. Finrod came inside, and saw Celeborn lying down in the bed, but awake. Just as I suspected. "Good morning, Prince Celeborn."

"Good morning, Finrod," Celeborn replied, recognizing the voice at once. "May I help you?"

Finrod spied a chair near the bed and sat down. "I spoke to my sister a few moments ago. She says you have given her a new name."

"Yes, Galadriel," he confirmed. "I felt her hair yesterday, and it was like nothing I have ever touched before."

"It is like nothing nearly anyone has touched before," said Finrod, "because she has only ever let one other person aside from our parents and brothers touch it. Respectfully, Prince Celeborn, I do not believe you understand the magnitude of this seemingly simple gesture."

Celeborn did not, and admitted it freely. Then he asked what it meant.

"I believe," Finrod said quietly, "that my sister is in love with you."

Celeborn did not breathe until his lungs began burning from lack of air.

"Finrod," the Sindarin prince said, "how… certain are you of this?"

"Very certain," was Finrod's answer. "I will not ask you how you feel about her, but I felt I should bring at least that much to your attention. And please allow me to repeat to you what I have said to her: I know you are fond of Artanis, but if anything more were to become from your friendship, it would cause you nothing but pain. She is far too headstrong to marry someone above her station, and the two of you would constantly be at odds."

Celeborn blinked several times, and with each blink, his expression grew more and more perplexed. "Finrod, are you implying that I am 'too good' for your sister?"

"I am not implying, I am stating it outright," said Finrod.

"Do not say such things," said Celeborn. "I am blind-"

"A prince of Doriath-"

"And young enough to be her son," Celeborn finished, his voice quavering slightly. That statistic had bothered him ever since Galadriel guessed his age not long after they first met. Although an age difference like theirs would seem trivial in many years, right now, his one hundred years to her one thousand was a matter of great seriousness.

"Yes," Finrod admitted quietly. "Yes, you are still very young."

"But I have also endured more in my one hundred years than many do in ten thousand," Celeborn said, his voice regaining its confidence. "Finrod, I understand where you are coming from and why you have told me these things. Now it is my turn."

Finrod blinked, shook his head, and stared at Celeborn. "Your turn?"

"I am the oldest of my brothers as well," Celeborn began. "I do not have a sister, so I cannot fully understand the level of protectiveness you must feel for her, but Lúthien is like a sister to me, and I am very protective of the brothers of my blood. You have left your father and led your brothers and sister into a strange land, and you feel as though you must be a father as well as a brother to them. My father has been dead for fifty years. That is half my life. Like you, I feel that I must sometimes be a father to my brothers. At first, I felt it was my duty to protect them all the time, to make sure no harm came to them, and to never need their help in return." He paused, took several deep breaths, and continued in a softer voice. "And then Uncómien saved my life. If it were not for my youngest brother, I would not be alive."

It would be many years before Finrod would realize the full impact of Celeborn's words, but he was realizing a considerable amount as it was. "You think I was wrong to advise a course of action on your feelings for each other."

"No," said Celeborn. "Your only meaning in this action was to protect her, and, I suspect, to protect me. Exactly as I would have done."

"Exactly as you would have done?" Finrod didn't understand.

Celeborn nodded. "Yes. Exactly, in the interest of his own safety, as I would have told Uncómien not to risk his own life on the off-chance that he could have saved mine."

At that moment, Finrod swore to himself to never again question Celeborn or Galadriel and to never doubt or interfere with their obvious, unfathomable love for each other again.

A/N: I didn't mean for Finrod to be such a bigot in this chapter; it just kind of happened that way. (And admit it… that "who is the father of this new name" thing may have been out of character, but it was freaking funny.) I did like Celeborn's little speech at the end there though. Poor guy, being forced to grow up so fast.

Copies of Dr. Thomas's old tests to study off for my reviewers: Melkor, AngelQueen, Aenigmatic, Galorin, Arinya, Morelen, Bluebunny, chocchip, Nathalia Potter, gazebo, Celadriel, Dragon Confused, melian, and Tuxedo Elf. May you all get A's in calculus as I did.