As the Leaves of Lorien Fall, (8?)
Rating: PG 13
Pairing(s): Legolas/Gimli (unrequited so far); Narvi/Celebrimbor; Galadriel/Celeborn
Warning: If you have read up to this chapter and haven't realized that this is a slash story, you may be blind, deaf and completely unaware of the world around you! Seriously, this story has slash and interspecies (see above), don't like, don't read. Is simple.
Disclaimer: As usual, Tolkien owns all these lovely beings, and their universe too! I just stole them…I mean, borrowed without asking, but with every intention of bringing them back…
A/N: Sorry about the long time between updates... I blame the fact that I had to write Galadriel, and she is very, very difficult to write convincingly. Honestly, I think the Galadriel POV part is crap, but I couldn't figure how to make it better, and anyway, its just a transition piece. shrug Any way, hope you enjoy this chapter...
As the Leaves of Lorien Fall, Chapter 8
"Yes" Gimli had said, his rich voice resonating like, like … well, Legolas couldn't really think of a suitable simile at the moment. It had so sounded happy, joyful, so full of …everything, that Legolas could almost forget the raptured words that followed, "yes, we must go and see the lady."
Legolas knew he was being silly. The Lady Galadriel was well over 6000 years old, was a grandmother, and married; and anyway, she wasn't Gimli's heart bonded. But Gimli, his dwarf, he thought grimly, had looked so overwhelmingly happy at even the briefest mention of her name. He was being unreasonable, he knew, to be jealous of Gimli's response to Galadriel; that Gimli still mostly tolerated his presence – he wanted Gimli's eyes to light up for him, for Gimli's voice to bubble for him alone.
Galadriel looked up from her weaving, as she became aware of the approaching guests. She smiled – sensing from the aura of worry around the two what it was they had come to discover. As she finished a row, she called out to her maidens, and told them to leave her for a time – she knew that this audience would require privacy.
She stood, and extended her arms in greeting as Legolas and Gimli entered the clearing. She smiled as she saw Gimli's eyes light up at the sight of her – she had missed being friends with Dwarves – they were so real, so intense; there was no artifice, just the three of them in this moment; but then, she noticed Legolas trying to repress a grimace, and not succeeding very well at all. It seemed this elf wasn't all that skilled at artifice either.
"My dear Gimli! And Legolas too! To what purpose do I owe the honour of this visit? Please, sit; take lunch with me, and we will talk." Gimli accepted with exuberant joy; Legolas followed in his acceptance – considerably more subdued. Galadriel smiled to herself, knowing that his reluctance was over the strength of Gimli's acceptance, and not through any unwillingness at spending time with her.
As they worked their way through the meal, Legolas relaxing considerably with the wine and the pleasant conversation; Gimli telling them a funny story about a duck, three fish, and a greedy merchant from Dale, with Legolas adding details, based on some of the experiences of Thranduil's agents in Dale and Esgaroth, who, it seemed, had been equally amused by the incident; Galadriel turned them, gently, back to the subject that she knew, despite the levity of the meal, was still playing heavily on their minds.
"Are you finding Narvi's diary an interesting read, Gimli my friend?" she asked, smiling.
At her words, she noticed that Gimli's face turned a very interesting shade of red – she hadn't seen quite that shade in millennia – and Legolas' eyes immediately flicked over to Gimli before looking quickly away.
Galadriel laughed, silently. It seemed her young friends had discovered, at last, the true nature of Narvi and Celebrimbor's relationship, and were still terribly uncomfortable about it... hopefully, she could repair that, today.
Meanwhile, Gimli had cleared his throat; and, deep voice somewhat huskier than usual, with embarrassment, replied:
"Indeed, milady. It is, in fact, on account of Narvi's diary that we have come to speak with you."
"Indeed." Galadriel was careful to keep her voice gently questioning. Males, regardless of species, tended to get a bit uncomfortable when they realized that she already knew everything. Inside, however, she was silently congratulating herself – the fish had caught her bait, it only remained to reel them in.
"Yes...it seems ... I mean, we noticed..." Gimli swallowed, his cheeks cherry red above his beard, his dark eyes firmly fixed on the ground. Galadriel was slightly surprised (something that hadn't happened, in ... ages); Gimli was normally so eloquent.
"We were concerned as to whether the reason Narvi's name was removed from the Mazarbul scrolls was connected to his ... relationship... with Celebrimbor." Legolas' blue eyes caught hers – directly honest; and demanding honesty in turn. Not that she had any wish to lie to them, on this subject at least...
She was silent for a moment, gathering the correct words together in her mind. She looked at them both, each in turn, and then glanced away, into the forest, admiring the way the sun played on the mallorns' silver bark.
The time had come to tell her friend's story... a story that had been lost, in all but her memory, for nearly 6000 years...
"Well," she said, finally, turning her gaze back to Legolas and Gimli. "I suppose their relationship was indirectly responsible - but only indirectly. The real blame lies, as always, with Sauron."
She smiled sadly at the look of shock and horror that filled her guests' eyes, and she could not help but be drawn back, to the last time she had sat in friendship, with Elf and Dwarf together, before jealousy and anger tore them all apart.
"It all started," she began, settling more comfortably in her seat, "when a Maia named Annatar arrived in Ost-in-Edhil, desiring to work with the greatest Elven-smith of all time, Celebrimbor of Eregion..."
Galadriel laughed merrily. The sun was shining – Celeborn had sent her word that construction was nearly complete for their new home, across the Mountains. Laurelindorinan, it was to be called, "The Valley of the Singing Gold". She could nearly see it already. But for now, she was in the lovely garden in Ost-in-Edhil, her friends around her.
Narvi was sitting across from her, on the bench, and Celebrimbor was on the ground, nestled in between Narvi's knees, head on Narvi's lap; and Narvi's calloused hands were running through Celebrimbor's hair, the silky threads flowing through coarse fingers.
Galadriel smiled at the sight of them, her heart warming at the unlikely pair. She thought of the early days of Celeborn's courtship of her, could almost feel his skin on hers once more, his delicate fingers tracing patterns on her jaw... just as Narvi's were doing now, to Celebrimbor... her heart gave a lurch, and she ached at the suddenly renewed realization that it would be months before she saw her husband again.
She considered clearing her throat, to remind her friends of her presence – they seemed to have forgotten: Narvi had leaned forward, and the two kissing deeply, slowly, with all the self-contained joy of a new couple. She doubted they were even aware of her existence, they were so wrapped up in each other, in their love, that she rose, to take her leave – and sure enough, they did not see her go.
As Galadriel re-entered the main hall, she noticed that quite a crowd had gathered around the entrance hall. She approached, and as she drew closer she realized that all were gathered around the figure of... well, quite simply, the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His dark eyes were enchanting, his smile dazzling, his skin flawless, his form possessed of grace and strength and symmetry.
"My Lady Galadriel" called out Nardil, an elf in her service, "may I introduce you to Annatar, one of the Maia, who has come here to work with Celebrimbor."
Galadriel couldn't help but smile. It seemed her kinsman's fame had spread. Annatar smiled at her in turn, and she felt her heart begin to beat a little faster ... Oh, when would Celeborn return!
" 'Giver of Gifts'?" She laughed, lightly, merrily, and extended her hand in greeting. "Welcome to Ost-in-Edhil, I am sure Celebrimbor will be delighted to work with one of the Maia. You gift us already, with your presence."
Galadriel looked around at her guests. Gimli was at the edge of his chair, dark eyes glittering with interest, smoldering with intensity. Legolas, too, looked interested in her story, but his expression held wariness not present in Gimli's; Galadriel suspected that he, at least, had guessed at the ending of this tale.
"Celebrimbor was indeed delighted to work with one of the Maia. Annatar was a gifted smith, and he taught Celebrimbor as much as he learned from him. They became friends fast, for Annatar possessed the ability to win hearts with little more than a smile, or a laugh, and Celebrimbor, who had often in his life felt alone, fell quickly into the chasm of Annatar's charm. But there was one over whose heart Annatar held no power, whose mind was not fooled by wit and glittering smiles – one for whom the coming of Annatar came as the herald of doom...Narvi warned us both, not to trust Annatar, but he did not live to see his prophecies come to pass."
Galadriel paused, with her hand on the door to Celebrimbor's room, when she heard the shouting within.
"By Aule's hammer, Narvi, you're being ridiculous!"
"Ridiculous, am I? It isn't me who is fawning at all hours over that, that, false jade! He's naught but fool's gold, and I'll be damned if I'll be fooled by him!"
"Watch your words, dwarf! Annatar is my friend, and a valiant one, and I'll not hear him slandered, even by my lover!"
"He's no friend! Behind those smiles is a cunning beast – can't you see it! I'm not certain yet, what he really wants... but it doesn't bode well, for you, or for any of us! I see the gleam in his eyes, when he looks at you!"
"Oh, now we come to the heart of the matter! You are jealous, because I have been spending time with Annatar that I used to spend with you? Oh, why didn't I listen to the warnings against the jealous hearts of dwarves! "
Furious growling.
"I am not jealous, you pointy-eared, frivolous... He means your downfall... but I will not be here to see you destroy yourself with him! Farewell! I will return when that creature is gone, and not a moment sooner!"
Galadriel found herself thrown back from the thrust of the door, as four and a half feet of furious dwarf stormed out of the room and down the hall, without a backward glance. She tiptoed into Celebrimbor's room, in time to see the very elf, throwing parchment (letters, perhaps, or plans for some future project) into the fire, with a look on his face that was more terrifying than all the hosts of Morgoth.
"Celebrimbor, what's wrong?" she asked, gently. Years spent with her friend had taught her that it was always better to get him to talk at once – he had a tendency to brood, if allowed to think too long.
He turned to her, grey eyes twin flames in his pale face; then the furious lines relaxed in a determined attempt at control, at forced gaiety as he said, calmly (but with a current of anger even two thousand years of control could not mask), "Nothing, my lady – is it time for supper? I feel in the need of some refreshment..."
"Celebrimbor." She spoke firmly, silencing his attempt at diversion with practiced ease. Taking his hand gently in hers, she led him over to the edge of the bed, and sat down next to him.
"Celebrimbor," she said, again; tone gentle, but with an edge of steel, demanding an honest answer, "cousin, what happened with Narvi?"
A look of pain flashed across her cousin's face: anger still, but mostly heartbreak; confusion mingled with sorrow.
"He is angry because I am spending so much time with Annatar. He is jealous. Celeborn warned me against the jealous hearts of dwarves, but here, there is no reason for Narvi to be jealous – Annatar is nothing more than a friend to me. I tried to get them to be friends – Annatar holds nothing but the greatest desire for friendship with Narvi – but Narvi just grew more silent and furious. He claims that Annatar is dangerous, that he cannot be trusted. I tried, cousin, I tried so hard to reconcile them." His eyes closed in pain.
"They are two of the most important relationships in my life," he continued, finally. "My lover and my best friend... but the more I tried to persuade Narvi of Annatar's worthiness, the more jealous he became... and now, he has left me." Celebrimbor swallowed, and when he started talking again, his voice was husky with barely suppressed pain. "He's gone, and he isn't coming back, I know it."
Galadriel held tightly on to Celebrimbor's hand, but it was an empty gesture, and she knew it.
"I shall talk to Narvi," she said at last. "Surely if someone else tells him that Annatar can be trusted, he will see how silly he has been, and will return."
"Perhaps," Celebrimbor gave her a slight, bitter little smile, and squeezed her hand in turn. "We both know of the stiff-necks of the dwarves. But I thank you for trying, and for your friendship."
Galadriel paused in her story telling, to refill her glass. Gimli was looking down at his boots, deep in concentration. Legolas was looking at Gimli, with an embarrassed flush on his cheeks – no doubt, remembering his own hasty comment about the stiff necks of dwarves, on the borders of Lothlorien.
Silence descended on the group, broken only by the soft murmur of the leaves high above them. She sipped her wine, carefully, savouring the sweet taste, and relishing the quiet, somber moment, before she would have to finish her story; pensive with the memory of friends long dead.
Finally, Gimli seemed to grow impatient with the silence; he looked up, dark eyes bright as they looked upon her. "Well, milady," he said, softly, "did you speak with Narvi?"
"I did," Galadriel responded, with a sad half-smile, "but I found it more difficult than I had expected."
When Galadriel finally left Celebrimbor's rooms, she headed immediately to the guest quarters where Narvi had been 'staying' – when he wasn't in Celebrimbor's rooms – only to find that the dwarf had already left.
The elves that manned the gates of the city informed her that Narvi had left, with all his gear, half an hour earlier.
A few days later, she was able to make the journey to Khazad-dum: only to be informed that Narvi had been banished. Sent in disgrace from Khazad-dum, and forbidden to return, his name erased from the records.
"Banished?" she echoed, hollowly. "But why?"
King Durin scowled back at her, face hard. "That is a matter for the dwarves, madam" he said, gruffly.
"Why?" she asked again, blue eyes pleading.
King Durin looked saddened. "Because he put the treaty at risk, lassie. He came storming back here, roaring that he would not rest till the traitor who had come to Hollin was driven out and shown for the false ore that he is." The dwarf lord sighed. "This treaty is too important to allow the jealousy of one dwarf to ruin it." He looked sidelong at Galadriel, and she noticed the deep sorrow that had taken residence in his grim face. "Narvi is one of my dearest friends, and Celebrimbor one of the finest lads I have ever had dealings with. It was I who introduced them. But our country has to come first. If Narvi manages to reconcile with Celebrimbor, and forgets all this foolishness... but he won't. I know my friend, lassie; he's as stubborn a dwarf as they come. He won't."
He won't
King Durin's words were still echoing in Galadriel's mind, as she stood, preparing to knock on the door to Narvi's new home. It had taken all of her persuasion to convince Narvi's family to tell her where he had gone. It had also taken her two days, and she had put several of her retinue at risk, for the Misty Mountains were no safe place, to find the house at all. This had better be worth her trouble.
A young dwarf she had never seen before opened the door. He glared at her, his beard bristling fiercely, and demanded to know who she was. He scowled all the more when she asked to speak to Narvi.
"He's not here..." the dwarf began, but then Narvi's voice called out from within, tired and resigned,
"Nain? Let her in, please. She's a friend."
The dwarf, Nain, let her in, still scowling, then shuffled off to another room. Narvi rose from the chair he had been sitting in, bowed, then took her cloak. Galadriel took her place in another seat by the fire.
"Pay Nain no mind, he has always been rather protective of me. Insisted on coming with me. I'm sure he meant no offense." Narvi returned to his place by the fire.
"None taken." Galadriel tried to keep her tone light, carefree.
But there was too much between them for it to ever be that.
"I suppose you're here to talk about Celebrimbor."
"Yes" Galadriel said simply, knowing that that one word was all that was needed.
Narvi looked down at the fire, briefly, before glancing up at her; then down at the fire once more. He remained silent, as if in thought.
"You love him."
This brought his eyes back to hers, suddenly.
"Of course I love him," Narvi said at once. Then more softly: " He is my heart-bonded, I will always love him."
"Then why don't you come back? He misses you deeply, you know. He hasn't been the same since you left – why it's been all Annatar and I could do to keep him..."
Wrong thing to say. Narvi's eyes blazed at the mention of Annatar, and he interrupted Galadriel, fiercely.
"Do not mention that ... snake... in my house!"
Galadriel recoiled in her chair, startled. She had seen Narvi angry, before, but nothing could have prepared her for this, the full intensity of it. It was like a storm in the Misty Mountains, when all the stone giants were out – a terrible and awesome force of nature. It left her breathless.
"Why?" She kept her tone mild, and gradually Narvi's fierce anger seemed to melt away, though he was still tense with unhappiness. She continued: "What is it about Annatar that displeases you? He is a good and fair man, a gifted smith; and a loyal and devoted friend to Celebrimbor. Why do you dislike him so, that you would give up everything in order to declaim him?"
"He is not to be trusted. The dwarves do not lie, and so, fair faces and handsome words do not easily deceive us. There is falseness in him, hollowness. If you chance your future on him you will be left with nothing but cheated hopes and empty words. He will cheat you of your dreams and future. There will come a time when many will regret that the words of Narvi the dwarf were dismissed as jealousy."
"If it is not jealousy, Narvi, then what is he planning? What proof do you have to your words? These are serious accusations..."
"They are, for it is a serious situation; one that I will not be there to see. When Celebrimbor learns the error of his ways, and expels Annatar from his life, then I will return, but not before. I will not watch the ruin of the elf I love."
Narvi rose, and went to his room, returning with a bound book. Walking over to Galadriel, he placed it in her hands.
"What is this?" she asked, looking up at him. The anger was entirely gone from his face, replaced by sorrowful regret.
"This is the last time we will meet, my lady. I thank you for your friendship, and your care, and I hope that your fate will not, too, be bound up with Annatar's villainy. But, in remembrance of our friendship, and of my love for your friend, I would ask that you keep this book in your keeping. You may yet find someone for whom the words of a dwarf long gone may have some meaning. Keep it in your care, and give it to him? I would not have the story of Narvi and Celebrimbor forgotten, even if it ends in tragedy. Farewell."
And with those words, Narvi kissed Galadriel's hands, and walked out of the room, and out of her life, forever.
Silence descended upon the forest glade once more. The three of them, elves and dwarf, caught up in the tragic end to the story. Finally, Galadriel spoke again, speaking quietly,
"I believe it has been said, by two noble beings of my acquaintance, that the waning of the friendship of the elves and dwarves was not the fault of the elves, nor was it the fault of the dwarves – and they were both wrong. The stiff necks of both – pride, arrogance and stubbornness – resulted in a tragedy where there should have been romance. And years of heartbreak were their only reward."
"Then were Narvi's words proved right?" Gimli was quiet; for they all knew the answer to his question even as the words left his mouth.
"He was." She looked at them both, drawing them in. "That you are both here is a testimony to his foresight. For Annatar was none other than Sauron, and with the craft he learned of Celebrimbor, and the elves of Eregion, he forged the nine, and the seven, and the One. We three are living in the days Narvi spoke of; the days when all would rue that the words of Narvi were ignored. For had we not all been so proud of our own knowledge, and dismissed his warnings as jealousy, Middle Earth might not now be caught up in this gathering darkness from which none of us may escape."
"And Narvi and Celebrimbor? Were they never re-united?" Legolas' voice was tense, as if he dreaded the answer, but felt it needed, that it had to be asked.
She shook her head, sadly. "No, for the lifespan of a dwarf is not as long as that of an elf. By the time Annatar's treachery was revealed; by the time Celebrimbor realized just how great an error he had made, when the Dark Lord put on the One and declared himself – Narvi's bones were decomposing in his grave, and his victory was a hollow one. When Celebrimbor was killed, in the war that followed, when Eregion and Khazad-dum were destroyed, I brought his body back to Narvi's house, and found the grave that Nain had dug, centuries past, and I had them buried together. Narvi had said that he would not be rejoined with Celebrimbor until Annatar's treachery was revealed, and, unfortunately, those words proved prophetic as well."
Galadriel looked away, saddened once more by the memory of her friends, of the happiness wasted, of the Shadow that had stolen everything, and threatened to do so again.
Legolas rose, and thanking her for her courtesy, took his leave, signaling to Gimli that he should follow. The dwarf rose, but, rather than follow Legolas out of the glade, he turned once more to Galadriel.
"My lady," he asked softly, "why did you give Narvi's book to me? What meaning did you hope for me to draw from Narvi's story?"
She smiled. Really, males were so charmingly oblivious at times. "I hoped that you would see beauty in strange places, and love where you never thought to look. Every end is a new beginning, my friend. Pride and stubbornness may have conquered Narvi and Celebrimbor – but perhaps, forewarned, here, elf and dwarf can put those aside and find a joy the world has never seen since."
She kneeled, and taking his hand in hers, said softly, "Look for love where you only saw hurt, Gimli Elf-friend, and you will find a diamond more precious than anything in the depths of the earth."
Rising once more, she kissed the top of his head, whispered "Good luck" and left the clearing behind her.