Chapter Four – A Time for Peace

Laurè lifted her head from the door, already missing the cool wood against her skin as she once more pushed away the pain and hurt from those early battles, consigning them to the locked away part of her heart where all the grief was stored for that elusive someday when she would have the time. All those lives lost, for what? A chance to live a little longer under the darkness that grew with each century that passed them by? A hope that the knowledge she carried was the right path for them to take? She didn't know, but as she had told so many others when it seemed like the darkest days had come, there was always hope, even when the night is so dark you can't seem to see beyond the next hour.

And as always when her memory turn dark and hopeless, and the lives of those lost seemed to drag her soul down into a private hell made only for her, she remembered everyone who had died to bring them all to this point. Those lost in battle, those murdered in their sleep, those who had lived and died in peaceful times, knowing nothing of the struggle going on around them.

'They shall not grow old, 'she murmured to herself, blinking back the tears that came with the memory she dredged the words from, 'as we that are left grow old; age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn; at the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we will remember them.'

She had been forced into a position of command after that battle, when commanders were so thin on the ground, and the men looked for someone they could follow. Her actions both during and after the battle had convinced the Elven soldiery that she was a natural choice, and word had come swiftly from Lindon that Rìel was to take command of the armies, giving over command of the Galadhrim to Laurè. They had marched hard to join the other Elven armies, before beginning to march on the Orcish strongholds in the East. The rallying cry that she had screamed out in the heat of battle had become their own over the months of that long war, and she could only imagine how it must have sounded to their enemies, thousands of Elves shouting the name of their leader and the rank she had risen from to take command. It had warped slowly over the seventy or so years of war as well, becoming the name Ríel was now known by across Middle-earth, the name that had come as such a shock to them both; Galadriel, Lady of Light, who was once known as Ríel, saviour of the Galadhrim in their most desperate hour.

Laurè could still remember the yell of consternation when her old friend realised exactly what her new name meant in the grand scheme of things …

Ríel glared up at her from her bed, shock radiating from her in waves. She had taken some bad wounds in the last few battles, which had caught up with her in a big way, forcing her to take to her bed for some much needed rest. As such, the first she had heard of her new title had been when Laurè had bounced into her bedroom and announced the startling news in an infuriatingly impish tone of mischievous glee.

'What do you mean, I'm Galadriel?' Ríel demanded of her as she thumped down onto the bed by her feet.

Laurè grinned. She knew it was a shock – it had shocked her – but she had spent a long time considering the implications and the good, in her opinion, far out-weighed the bad.

'Exactly what I said,' she told her friend. 'You're being hailed as the saviour of the Galadhrim, the hero Ríel. They've just conveniently shortened that title to a name.'

'A name that means a darn sight more than they know!' Ríel snapped. 'Why couldn't it be you?'

Laurè shrugged.

'They know you, Ri, they trust you,' she said softly. 'You've led them to victory over and over again. I'm just their commander, you're their lifeline.'

She received a withering glance for her words.

'Thanks, that makes me feel so much better,' came the sarcastic reply.

'I'm serious!' Laurè protested.

Ríel sighed.

'I know,' she admitted. 'And I'm touched that they think so much of me, but … it's just so much.'

She seemed to sag in the bed, and Laurè was inappropriately reminded of when she used to do exactly the same when faced with the usually monumental task of the washing up. Swiftly telling herself that now was not the time, she suppressed the amusement that came with the picture, and lifted her eyes to her friend as Ríel spoke again.

'I can't do it,' she said, sounding small and vulnerable. 'You're the one who knows what's coming in any kind of detail. I've tried so hard to remember the books you told me about, but I just can't. I can't be Galadriel, I'll never be able to do everything she can or know everything she knows. It'll be a disaster.'

Touched by this moving admission, Laurè moved to embrace her, mindful of the wounds that covered them both. For the first time in centuries, the two friends held each other close, one offering comfort that the other was grateful to accept. After a moment they leant back, looking at one another with completely honest eyes.

'Listen to me,' Laurè said quietly, her voice firm. 'You can do this. You have everything you need to make a start on becoming the Lady of the Wood. You had a teacher in Doriath who taught you all you need to know, and you can practise it all in the years to come. The Galadhrim love you and they'll welcome you back with open arms. You have centuries to become the Galadriel we know, and you will be fantastic.'

Ríel didn't look convinced.

'But –'

Laurè raised an eyebrow.

'I said listen,' she berated gently, cutting off whatever her friend had been about to say. 'Of course it's going to be hard, we can't expect it to be easy, but there'll be good times as well. Don't worry about what might be, because we're going to make what will be. Even if you do fall along the way, I'll always be here to pick you back up and set you on your feet again.'

Ríel managed a weak smile.

'Don't make promises you can't keep,' she joked half-heartedly.

'This is one promise I intend to keep,' Laurè said firmly. 'You're not doing this alone, I'm going to be right there with you all the way.'

'But it's not just us anymore, is it?'

Laurè paused, feeling the sudden weight of the years of duty she had placed upon herself settle heavily on her shoulders. She smiled sadly.

'No,' she agreed. 'It's not just us anymore; it's everything we see and know around us as well. For better or worse, you are Galadriel, and I'm not going to let you fall.'

Ríel stared at her helplessly, clearly wrestling with the enormity of her position.

'I'm trapped,' she muttered finally. 'I'm trapped, and you're insane.'

'What?'

'I mean it, you've finally lost that loose screw you've always had,' Ríel babbled. 'And you're going to force me into this, and I can't do it, I won't do it. You're stark raving bonkers!'

Laurè looked into her eyes, and saw a fear there that had never been there before. The sight shocked her, that her oldest and dearest friend was afraid of her and of what she might do to force her into something she clearly wanted no part of. Bitter disappointment filled her mouth as she leant back, inwardly berating herself for her foolish hopes.

'Then I'll just have to do it alone,' she murmured, her mind lost in sudden loneliness and despair. 'I'll never force you into anything. You are my friend, and I hope you always will be.'

She rose and left, angry more at herself than anything for the unsympathetic way she had tried to convince her friend to give up her life for the life of the world around them. There was no guarantee that any of it would come true, that any of what she remembered would become truth in the years to come. She had no right to expect others to share in a future she personally believed was coming, no more than she could show them that future herself. She thumped down onto a boulder, imagining a city that had not yet been built in this forest as the world began to fall into darkness once more.

Caras Galadon, the great city of what would be Lothlórien, where the structures wound up and around the great girths of the mallorn trees that would continue to grow, taking the hallways and galleries with them. When it would be built, the city would be only a few feet from the ground. Years later, it would weave back and forth between the trees, far above the greenery that made up the forest floor. What a sight it would be. But for now, she was content to sit and gaze around at the trees, and imagine what it would look like when Lothlórien was finally founded. She could feel the life in this place, the beauty of peace and comfort beside the vibrancy of victory that sang in every elvish heart tonight. But despite knowing they had won, despite having seen the Orcs break and run from their line, Laurè could not quite bring herself to feel the relief and joy of her fellows. In her mind's eye, she could see centuries of warfare, of fear and darkness, and her heart grew heavy with the thought of it.

As she sat in the growing darkness, she found herself humming an ancient tune that was almost as old as she herself, and long forgotten by the world as it turned through the ages. Pausing mid-hum, she searched her memory for the words, finding them strangely comforting as she let them flow in the silence of forest.

'… when the future passes into our hands … are we really strong enough to fulfil what the future demands …'

Laurè smiled to herself, albeit half-heartedly. Bring on tomorrow, she thought, I'll make it shine, even if it kills me.

That had been a dark night, she recalled, leaning against the window as she looked out at the advancing night. All those doubts and fears that she had thought buried had resurfaced, finding a voice in those ancient songs she had once found solace in during her youth and had somehow never forgotten. And strangely, from the depths of her despair had come hope, kindled in the knowledge that she had chosen the right path. The thought of walking it alone had been a disheartening one, but she had been a stubborn soul even back then, determined to do what she believed was right, even if it meant being alone …

Laurè stared down at herself in a mixture of awe and disgust. She still could not quite believe that after over ten thousand years of wearing tunics and hose, she was seriously considering appearing in public wearing a dress. At least it's long, she thought, lifting the hem to look down at her bare feet. This was one thing she had not objected to when she had been ambushed by giggling Elf-girls earlier in the evening. The feeling of warm wood beneath her feet was a welcome one, and soothing to her. Beneath her window, she could hear the young children and teenaged Elves playing between the trees, obviously excited about the grand party that was being held to celebrate the end of the war with the Orcs.

She bent her head to look down at her dress once more, and swore as her hair fell forward, obscuring her vision. Again, she had always worn her hair in a braid, yet now apparently she had to allow it to fall down her back loosely. It really was extraordinarily long, she realised, lifting a hand to find the ends where they brushed her backside. She twisted to try and see for herself the length, and almost passed out from the pain that emanated from her side. Breathing deeply, she laid her hand upon the last wound she had taken, the one they had been certain would kill her. It was barely begun healing, padded over with soft linen to protect it from harm, and extremely painful, as she had just reminded herself. She laughed softly, ignoring the twinge. It would certainly be a party to remember, given that almost everyone who was attending was wounded one way or another.

Returning to her examination of the gown she had been forced into, she had to concede it was at least becoming, if she could only get over the feeling that she wasn't dressed. And the colour, a deep green, was kinder to her features than the bright colours everyone seemed to think Elves should wear. But still, it was a dress, and that was more than enough to condemn it as a piece of clothing in her mind.

'Bloody hell, are you actually wearing a dress?' a familiar voice exclaimed behind her.

She turned, surprised, to find Ríel leaning on her doorframe, looking far more at home in her own gown of pure white. Laurè laughed faintly, ignoring the slight indignation at being barged in on.

'Don't get used to it,' she warned, turning to face her friend. 'You look stunning.'

Ríel grinned, twirling on the spot.

'Well, you know, if I'm going to be Galadriel, I'll have to look the part,' she smiled.

Laurè stared at her.

'Don't look like that, it's not as if the world's ending,' her friend laughed.

'What changed your mind?' Laurè asked her curiously.

Ríel shrugged, her face becoming sombre.

'When you left last night, I was in a right state,' she said quietly. 'It was a huge shock, and I guess I got scared. I'm really not ready for this sort of thing.'

She turned to the window, looking out at the children playing below.

'I had a vision last night, though,' she murmured. 'And it made everything seem so clear.'

Laurè moved to stand beside her, curious enough not to interrupt as Ríel continued.

'I was lying in bed, thinking about how hopeless everything seemed, and I heard music from outside,' she said, her voice soft and introspective. 'But I couldn't see where it was coming from. So I listened, and the music became a song, and the words pulled me up short. I remember that song, I remember singing it, with you, and not understanding what it meant. I do understand now. What you're going to do made so much sense suddenly, and I knew I couldn't let you do it alone. So here I am, and you'd better not let me screw this up.'

Laurè smiled to herself, buoyed by the knowledge that she was no longer alone in the monumental task she had set for herself.

'Thank you,' she said, in a tone as soft as her friend's.

They stood in silence for a few moments longer, until Ríel seemed to shake herself.

'Well, we can't stay here all night, we've got a party to go to,' she exclaimed excitedly. 'Come on, grandma, let's get going.'

Laurè's indignant gasp was lost on her as she dragged her friend through the door and down to the hall, pausing before the great doors that led into the huge room. She glanced back at Laurè, and her expression seemed to be asking for help. Laurè reached forward, squeezing her hand gently.

'I'm right here,' she said softly. 'You're never going to be on your own.'

Ríel sighed abruptly.

'I'd better not be,' she muttered, straightening her shoulders.

And Laurè watched as her closest friend Ríel pulled open the doors, and Galadriel stepped into the Great Hall, to the welcoming cheers of their people. The long years of duty had begun.

And so it had started. They had gone together to Lindon after helping the Galadhrim pick up the pieces of their shattered kingdom, and Laurè had finally felt regret for having never met Melian, the Maiar queen and wife of Thingol, the king murdered by the Dwarves of Nogrod. She had returned to the Maiar after her husband's death, leaving the wood in the hands of friends. The ruler, Gil-galad, had readily agreed to allow them to stay among them, knowing of their reputation, but had stipulated one condition for their stay; that they would raise the young prince of Doriath, whose home had been destroyed by the Dwarves of Nogrod when he was very young. Laurè had been quite happy to agree with this one condition, but Galadriel had had other ideas …

Galadriel looked down at the child in disgust.

'I am not playing babysitter for the next god knows how many years just to earn my keep,' she declared, trying to wrest her finger from the child's grip. 'I don't care how cute you think he is.'

Laurè tried not to laugh at the sight of her friend wrestling with a tiny child.

'Look, you just have to visit him occasionally,' she said reasonably. 'I'll do all the looking after for you.'

'Didn't Gil-galad say it had to be me?' Galadriel asked, turning her nose up as the little he-elf burped with a grin. 'I hate children. They just make noise and smell and get in the way.'

Laurè laughed, despite seeing the truth in her friend's words.

'Oh, stop complaining,' she smiled. 'I told you, I'll look after him. You just need to make an appearance every now and then.'

Galadriel looked hopeful.

'You're sure?' she asked. 'I wouldn't want to impose on you.'

Laurè shook her head with a warm smile.

'I don't mind, honestly,' she told her friend. 'Besides, it'll give me something to do other than wandering around worrying about things that won't happen for years.'

Galadriel shrugged, trying not to look pleased.

'Thank you,' she said gratefully. 'I promise, I will help you out occasionally.'

Laurè grinned.

'Don't make promises you can't keep,' she joked, and laughed as Galadriel gave her a guilty smile.

She looked down at the child, who stared up at her with the disconcertingly honest gaze of all young children. She had to admit, he wasn't the best looking child she had ever seen, being somewhat on the podgy side, and possessed of unusually large teeth that stuck out slightly. But he was sweet-tempered and clever, by all accounts, and much in need of a mentor to raise him. She could see him growing out of his youthful ugliness into a handsome face and figure; at least, she hoped he would. She was just lucky Galadriel hadn't made the connection between the boy's name and her own future.

Laurè watched her friend pat the boy awkwardly on the head and wander off, no doubt to stare at her mirror of water once more. She smiled down at the boy.

'Come along, Prince Celeborn,' she said, taking his hand in hers. 'Let's get you settled in your new home.'

The tiny prince followed her trustingly through the woods, staring back over his shoulder at the golden-haired she-elf who had almost smiled at him.