There it lay, in his hand hanging so heavily even though it felt like he was carrying naught but a small child's chain of silver jewelry; such a perilous thing lay in his hands, yet the sunlight that shimmered on its surface inflamed his eyes, it called to him,I am yours by right, he that wields me holds the power of the Blessed Realm…
The voice sounded so beautiful, like the sound of Daeron's music flowing in the trees of only a few years ago, before all this had happened, before the coming of these lighted Eldar from across the sea, who were too proud to allow him to marry their kin, who became too high to realize the kin they left behind now ruled this land…And then he heard a laugh so cruel, a laugh he heard before, only then it was coming from a red-haired insolent who spent so small a time upon the ground of Beleriand; the laugh took him from his dream and gave him time to cover the cursed jewel from the light of the sun, in haste he gave it to Mablung saying,
"Take it…"
The gates of Menegroth stood before them, still opened wide by the tempests wrought from the hands of the queen; many walked to and fro cleaning the halls from debris erecting lamps that had fallen and hanging tapestries that had blow away from their places of honor. And they dismounted their steeds and entered their tattered home, before them lay a place of confusion and sorrow, for in the midst of the grand hall of the king stood two things in complete and utter solitude; a table of richly carved stone and marble, bearing the runes of Daeron around it and on top of the table lay a figure cold with death covered in a rich, deep colored linen cloth, bearing the embroidered emblem of the fallen king. Beside him sat a lonely stooped figure, whose once vibrant brown hair now seemed dull as the hair of an aged mother turned crone, her eyes were heavy with grief and long life, their sea-gray light bubbling beneath the surface of tears.
Yet queenly she remained, and in distant thought, looking ever on at the figure before her upon the marble table, her hands holding a cold lifeless palm, stroking it, hoping to feel any semblance of warmth. To her love of long years she whispered words that were said at their troth; she spoke of happier times beneath the trees, and the raising of their only child. She spoke of the greatness of their kingdom, the power and majesty of their presence, even now in death; her words were heard only by the mournful figure lying upon the rich table, cold from sorrowful death. Around them stood in silent mourning all of Menegroth, the noble lords and ladies were silent, and the servants wept for love of the fallen master, gentle and harsh, strong and empathic. With Mablung at his side the Silver-haired prince of Doriath came before the weeping queen, and spoke in a whisper upon the edge of tears,
"Rianneth nin? Man naeth darthar ammen, I esteliannem minlu Nogothrim? Ceno! I dagnir dhelu sed min… agarwaen na Dhornhoth minlu estelui."
My Queen-mother? What woes remain to us, who once trusted the Dwarves? Behold! The hateful bane of our peace…bloodstained by the once trustful Thrawn Folk
And in anger and mixed sorrow he threw the jewel upon the floor of the hall, and himself fell to his knees and buried his face into the lap of the seated queen; her charcoal-silver gown soft as the down of a swan and smelling of the mournful smell of funeral wood. In her lap he once wept as he did, long ago, when he was orphaned and only a child, his family passed beyond the confines of the world. With a mother's gentle touch she stroked his hair, giving him comfort when her own strength had left her, lifting his gaze unto her own she spoke in a silent whisper,
" Hinath lin harthan cened aen, Celebornen, harthan annad meleth nin aen."
I had hoped to see your children, my Celeborn, I had hoped to give my love to them
And with that she stood tall among the others and with a lasting long embrace of her eyes she glided away from the grand hall out into the gray sky covered land and into the dimness of the wood. All stood silent for a brief moment, the prince of Doriath taking in her words, confused and bewildered at how dooming they sounded; his wife on the other hand watched from behind the crowd surrounding the scene, hearing the words of this matriarch she followed her into the darkness of the wood, where trees once ancient and hale and inviting to all, now seemed angry and inhospitable; their gnarled branches blocking her from her desired target.
"My Lady?"
She called out from the blockade of gnarled, woven limbs, and then before her appeared a light it seemed as if from the shadow world came forth a spirit of the stars; she could not tell the face of such a being yet the image felt familiar. It called to her in a tongue she knew from her youngest years,
"Where now Artantis, do you go? What see you now before you?"
The light seemed to dim as if the figure merely stood before a bright and blinding light, the face cooled and the eyes became their silver-gray. The song of the nightingales was heard in the distance and the wood that was once hostile and dark now regained its presence of the world beneath the twilight; standing before her was the image that first greeted her in this land, the first image in Endor to take her breath from her lungs- the image of Melian the Maia, Queen of Doriath and protectress of the land of Neldoreth. Tall she seemed, yet her aged eyes spoke of tears unending, their hollowness revealed to her the reality of who indeed this being was, a forceful spirit within a shell of life and beauty. And the image before took hold of the barrier of branches and as if they were nothing more than the ends of tapestries moved them aside and upon taking her hand led her into this cathedral of trees, cut-off from all life.
The gnarled trees gave way to tall straight pines, cedars, and oaks, and there within this refuge for the powerful and weary there stood a fountain that was made of simple black marble and engraved upon the fountain was written in the Cirth of Daeron
"Guren Neldoreth"
Which in the tongue of the Sindar was the Heart of Neldoreth. The hale and wise queen sat defeated it seemed, by time and the present, she spoke in a vanished voice,
"What now remains of Doriath, once proud and grand of all the Kingdoms of Endor? What now remains of my love's kingdom when no ruler sits upon its noble throne? Tell me Artanis, called in love Galadriel…who stands to lead this kingdom?"
"My lady, surely you will sit upon the throne of Doriath? No other can command the will of the Sindar greater than you, their love of you will rebuild this shattered kingdom, and return it to its beauty."
The Queen of Doriath smiled a hopeless smile, mixed with sorrow and knowledge of the unknown that lay before her feet. She looked at her hands, now radiant with life, teeming with blood and warmth; looking around her she heard the gentle song of the woods, the melody of the life surrounding her, the music of the Ainur that she took part in…
I never thought it would be so beautiful…and so harrowing.
Tears rolled down her noble cheeks, and beads of salty-tears became rivers upon her living alabaster visage. Looking at the daughter before her she furrowed her brow and whispered in a tear-soaked voice,
"I have no strength to rebuild this kingdom… you beheld me before in my ancient form, it is the last time I will ever appear so, my weighted heart cannot be what it once was. I loved Galadriel, I loved him with all my being and in doing such a foolish thing I chained myself to him, his fate is my fate, his loss of breath, my loss of power…You showed me Galadriel, I was not who I once was…"
"It is the sorrow Melian, it drives us all to madness at times…"
The Queen stood from her fountain-throne, the light of the full moon filtered through the woven trees and the lights of Elbereth danced upon her golden-brown crown of hair, that shimmered like wheat of the fields at the rising of the harvest moon. She seemed beyond the Noldorin she-elf now, in a world beyond where she now stood, for her eyes peered into the future, seeing many things: the flowing of the river into the sea, the darkening of the skies and the tearing of the fabric of the earth, its black-blood purged to extinction, her gentle beauty of the forests shorn from their foundations. Hopeless she stood upon the brink of time, alone in a world full of life, harrowing her voice was raised from her breast, already her spirit flew away from Endor and a piece of it remained there with Galadriel for a brief and final moment.
"This age is now yours Galadriel, for the old world is falling away and soon the land you stand upon with wither and die…The stars will fade from the sky and the veil between the earth and the void will be shorn away… towers and kingdoms will fall and the earth will fail and pass beneath the hands of men. The silken blood of the earth will be drawn from its body and the mists of the ancient world will pass away. The forests will crumble beneath the devices of the Dark lord and all will come to ruin, for the valor of old will die away and the fire of the ancient heart will forget the power of the earth they live upon and the glory of time when valor meant something beyond riches and wealth and fame."
"Not all of this will come to pass…it cannot all be without hope."
The voice, fey and far away laughed and spoke with sage-like wisdom and as she spoke a smile came to her face and faded into contemplation and emotionless sincerity, love flowed from her eyes as the tears ran down,
"No my dear pupil, it will not all pass away in one moment, and there will be a time of glorious banners and bright shining hope to flow before the world comes crashing down. The moon will shine brighter than the sun and the stars will burgeon the sky with their beauty before the end of all, and silver will at long last be counted more precious than gold…And you, my dear child, the time will come for you to enter the annals of history… before you comes the storm that will sink the earth in sorrow. Find strength Galadriel! Find strength in him, for you will need to pass a test more harrowing than any skills you now possess…if you loose him, you will fail…and ruin will come sooner to your time, and the curse of your brethren will flow unto you, though you took not the oath that was sown in kindred blood…remember always Galadriel, the smallest of hopes, can light the sky beyond the void and the smallest of beings can change the course of the future."
With a kiss of farewell and blessing upon the other's forehead the queen stepped back and for a brief and final moment she was Melian, the Queen of Doriath, powerful and wise matriarch of the Sindarin clans, mother of the Eluwaith and bearer of light that faded beyond the world of the Eldar. Then as quickly as the light of an ancient star fades away after its last and final brillance is lost to time and song her form faded from the world. Yet before she faded from Endor, a call came forth from the shadows and standing before the two stood Celeborn, the prince of Doriath and falling to the shades feet he begged her return, yet she only raised her hand in blessing and was gone from the world. And wife comforted husband, as his tears did flow, nourishing the earth, and the fountain of Neldoreth ceased to flow, for it stood upon the meeting-place of Elf and Maia, in love and passion that gave to world such beauty that it would never know again for many eons to come. And the couple held one another in love, the final words of Melian echoing through Galadriel's mind. And the forest of Neldoreth was filled with dread and sorrow for the Girdle passed away and the mists that hid the land, beautiful with gray-starlight, was torn away by the wind from the sea.