Chapter 9: Love

Year 38 of the Sun, Doriath

This time, Nerwen waited longer before returning to Celeborn – the uncertainty was difficult for her, but she dreaded coming and learning he was not yet sure, and so, remembering his words that he might take longer than she did, she gave him time.

She tried not to think about him overmuch, too, if only to avoid giving herself away to those to whom she had not confessed her situation, but it was no easy task. His green eyes haunted her, and every time she glanced at the Moon, she was reminded of the silver of his hair. When she met one of the rare Sindar that were to be found in Hithlum, too, she remembered him, and every time she saw a husband treating a wife in a commanding manner, she thought of their talk.

It was very inconvenient when she needed to concentrate on helping to run a realm, but quite apart from that, it was driving her to insanity with longing and fear and hope. Finally she could take it no longer, and so she departed for Doriath and entered the Thousand Caves, days later, with nerves fluttering. The whole journey, with no duties to distract her, her mind had been plagued by insecurities. Are you, with all that blood on your hands, worthy of him? She asked herself. How can he not look in disgust upon one such as you, who contributed to so much suffering of your people? How can he tolerate that you are still friendly with Findekáno, who killed in Alqualondë – worse, with Maitimo?

The gnawing doubts eased off somewhat when she entered Doriath, and she tried to remember that she was, after all, accounted wise and beautiful by many, and while her conscience was not perhaps as clear as his, surely that was not why one chose a spouse. One does not choose at all, a small, cynical voice in her head added, and she did not know whether it gave her hope or despair. She wished to believe that Eru would not be as cruel as to let her live the hell of unrequited love, but did she deserve his mercy?

In such thoughts, she arrived to King Elwë's court and allowed herself to be welcomed and distracted by Queen Melian until it was time for the welcoming feast. As before, Celeborn left the meal directly after his great uncle, but this time, he waited for her by the hall door and without having to utter a word, they both headed to the forest.

There was long silence between them, and in it, Nerwen's patience was stretched as thin as never before, the suspense almost impossible to bear, and she fought the impulse to turn to Celeborn and demand he stopped and gave her the answer immediately. She noticed that her hands were shaking, and was irritated beyond measure by this discovery. You are Artanis Nerwen, a Noldorin princess, and your hands do not shake, she told herself.

It had limited success.

She gritted her teeth, dug her fingernails into her palms, and walked on.

"My mind has cleared," Celeborn said, when they were quite deep in the forest already.

She turned her eyes to him, full of question. He stopped and took her hands in his, and looking directly at her, said seriously: "I love you, Artanis Nerwen, daughter of Arafinwe and Earwen, and I always will, to the end of the world."

Her head spun, and for a short moment she could not understand his words, could not entirely take in what they meant, and then she felt joy fill her heart, such violent, explosive joy she wanted to start laughing aloud or dancing through the forest and shouting it out to Queen Varda's stars. She made herself calm down, however, at least enough to reply, with a bright smile: "And I love you, Celeborn, son of Galadhon and Gelvil, more than anything and anyone, apart from Eru Illúvatar himself."

He embraced her, and they stood under the trees for a long time without movement, their minds resting in each other, entwined in easy companionship of no secrets kept. She saw the memories of his childhood in Doriath before the darkness returned, and he admired the stairways and white houses of Tirion. She saw their desperate fight in the first battle against Moricotto, and he saw their suffering on the Ice. And then they returned to pleasanter thoughts and memories, to their mutual love and the happiness they hoped to find in the future.

At length, they judged it would be prudent to return, and as they walked, he asked: "Should I visit your brothers to ask for permission?"

Nerwen laughed at that. "None of my brothers would think of withholding their permission from me, or, indeed, even pretend they have the right to give it at all. I think they'd be more likely to ask for my permission if they decided to marry. But it's probably a good idea for you to see them, yes. I believe that it'd be best if I told them after I return North, and then brought them with me when I next come, so that they can get to know you a little."

"When do you believe we should marry?" Celeborn asked, with a touch of longing and even impatience in his voice.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It'll be hard for me to leave the Noldorin lands, and I'll have to say my goodbyes properly before I do. No sooner than in a few years, I'd say. What do you think?"

He smiled. "I would marry you here and now if I could, Galadriel, but then my decision is easier, I'm not leaving anything. I'll wait however long you want me to."

"Thank you." She paused. "Is that your name for me, Galadriel?"

"Yes. Or Alatáriel, if you wish, for that is how I first devised it and it is closer to your tongue. You do wear a radiant crown, after all, and are daughter to one who does as well, kin to kings and more queenly yourself than any I've ever known. And I see nothing of a man in you to call you Nerwen."

Nerwen smiled brightly at him, for in fact she loved the new name dearly, and it bore some resemblance to the name she would have taken as her chosen one, had it been appropriate. Nevertheless, she could not resist saying: "I always rather liked that name."

Celeborn kissed her hand. "But it was given to you by one who assumes girls are always less proud and weaker and more subdued. I do not believe it's so, and in my mind, those things make you more of a female than all the others."

Nerwen, or Galadriel, laughed at that. "Now I know this is the flame The One put in you speaking."

"No flame in me," he returned, "only very deep roots."

She grew serious. "You know that is not true."

"Perhaps not entirely," he conceded, "but it is what I wish was true. Not as regards my love for you, of course, but in...other things."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Strange of you to say so, after you promised yourself to me. I was told by many that the fire in me could be matched only by Feanor himself, of all the Elves they knew."

"But your fire gives you strength, makes you great and proud," he explained. "My fire, when it manifests, only makes me say foolish things on impulse."

Galadriel smiled again. "Fire always has the potential to do both. My fire whispers the same to me, it was only by long Valian years spent listening to the soothing councils of Lady Estë and Lord Olórin, and my Vanyar relations, that I learned to temper it with wisdom and mercy and compassion and patience."

"I note you do not count your mother's kin among those who helped you," he said with an answering smile.

"No," she admitted. "I love my mother dearly, but I never had much in common with her. Nor with my father, particularly, but with her even less so. I visited her people occasionally, but of all her children, it was only Angrod who felt true kinship with them. They loved the sea, and the only reason I was ever attracted to it was for the thought of what lay beyond. They cared not for the worries of the wise, something that interested me most of all. For a long time, I though I had nothing from my mother's side of the family, except my voice."

"And now?" Celeborn asked curiously.

Nerwen extended one of her arms to encompass the forest around her. "Now I see that the trait I inherited from the Teleri stayed on this side of the sea. I have a deep love for trees, and things that grow in general."

He smiled at her again and there was a short silence, then he noted: "Well, I don't have Lady Estë or any of the others to help me calm my fire. Though you might."

She chuckled. "If Lord Olórin ever heard I was asked to teach anyone patience and prudence, he'd have laughed out of his bodily form, I believe."

He kissed her hand in response, then asked: "Who's this Lord Olórin you keep speaking of? An ancestor who stayed behind?"

"Oh no." Galadriel heaved a sigh. "He's one of the Maiar, and they said he was the wisest one, though I'm not sure they counted your queen in that, for she was already departed from Aman. I used to meet with him in Lórien and talk to him and listen to his advice. He was one of my dearest friends."

Celeborn heard the sadness in her voice, and the longing, and took her hand again. "I can't replace the friends you've lost," he said, "but I can endeavour to make sure you'll never feel lonely again."

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Nerwen respected the rights of her eldest brother enough to tell him of her betrothal first, after returning North. He was still holding her hands from welcoming her as they stood alone in the courtyard of his house, after all the officials left, and now he pressed them, looking into her eyes, and asked: "Have you felt the Flame?"

"Yes."

He smiled. "Then there is nothing else to be said, is there?"

"Thank you for trusting me," she replied, for he had not always done so in the past.

"My dear, if you could not tell if it was real, no one could," he pointed out with a smile. "Tell me of him, though. What is he like?"

"He is wise, thought not perhaps as much as you, and he respects me, likely more than you do-"

Ingoldo's smile quickly disappeared at that, and she pressed his hand. "Do not take it too much to heart, brother. He does not have the disadvantage of being my older sibling, so it is not really a fair comparison."

"I have always respected your advice, Artanis," he said very seriously.

"Enough to hear it? Yes."

"But not enough to do what you said?" He tried to finish the thought for her.

"Not enough not to be dismissive of it," she corrected. "There is a difference. Findekáno does not always listen to me, let alone Uncle, and yet they can disagree without being patronizing. But you are too much like Father for that, I think." Though Arafinwë did give her some validation, in the end.

Ingoldo embraced her upon hearing that. "I promise to do better in the future," he murmured in her ear, heavy with apology.

"And I will try not to be so hard on you," she returned. "I know you have been treating me better ever since we came to Middle-Earth." Ever since the Ice, in fact. Ever since they worked together and supported each other and made sure than as many of their people as possible survived.

He let her go, and tugging on her hand to get her walking – not in the direction of his house, but outside, to the meadows of Tol Sirion covered with late spring flowers in bloom – he said: "But you distracted me. We were talking about your betrothed. I already know he is wise. Is he like you in other things too, as strong and proud and full of fire?"

Nerwen considered. "No, to be truthful. Celeborn is not what I expected when I dared to imagine what my husband might look like. I have always pictured someone like...Findekáno with more wisdom, I think."

"A cross between him and his brother, then?" Ingoldo suggested.

She grimaced. "You know what I think about Turukáno's wisdom. More between Fëanáro and our father, as absurd as that sounds – Ñolofinwë is somewhere between them, after all, and if if was not for him being so much older, not to mention my uncle, I would consider him the closest to my ideal, even though he occasionally made me feel he lacked both fire and wisdom, a little."

Ingoldo laughed. "You are not easy to please, sister."

"No, but you knew that already. But anyway, Celeborn is not at all like that. He is...different. I do not know him well enough to give you a very detailed description yet, but he is impulsive and passionate sometimes, but he considers things deeply when is not overtaken by that. He is modest-"

"One thing I seem to remember you found irritating about me and our brothers," he said with a raised eyebrow that was so much like her own.

"You are misinterpreting me. Intentionally, I think," she added, not willing to get entangled into another explanation of why exactly it was that she criticized her brothers so often. "Anyway, I think I can glimpse some of the reasons behind this choice for me – he can control my pride without limiting me in any way, with his calm consideration. He is not demanding in the slightest, and respects me fully, without submitting to me in any way."

"Give him time," Ingoldo murmured, and Nerwen smacked him playfully.

"The One knows what he is doing," she said confidently, "and you know I could not bear it if he did submit."

Ingoldo smirked. "Yes, but then again, you could not bear it if he did not. Perhaps I should warn him, really."

"Do not waste your breath, he has felt the Flame too," Nerwen replied smugly.

Ingoldo's face broke out into a warm smile. "So you told him about Alqualondë? I am glad."

Galadriel was surprised that had even been in question. "It would have been dishonest otherwise," she pointed out, "and besides, how could I expect him to make up his mind if he did not know what he truly felt for me and who I was?"

"I know. Perhaps I had some doubts about you being able to swallow your pride enough for that." He sighed. "You are right, I do not trust you enough, when I am the last person who should talk about pride when it comes to those we love."

This time if was Nerwen who embraced him, trying in vain to soothe away the pain of Amarië's absence.

"Do not worry about me, sister. I made my bed – ignoring your advice, I might add – and I will have to lie in it. An in truth, I have some doubts about the realness of the Flame I felt, if I was able to abandon her. But I am very glad you did not make a similar kind of mistake."

Findekáno, to whom her steps naturally led afterwards, was less so. "Was it wise?" He asked.

She raised her eyebrows. "What would you have me do?"

"I know," he muttered, clear and genuine pain in his voice.

She paused, amazed, as a thought struck her, one that could not have occurred to her before, as she had not had the experience with the Flame of Eru. "Is that why you do not have a wife?"

His eyes darted up to her, and then away again, but he stopped hiding a little, and she saw the brightness of flame of love in him, and the pain of knowing it will not be truly returned. "It is easier for you, you did not take part in it," he said heavily. "But what can I say?"

"You feel remorse, Findekáno. I am sure she would understand, whoever she is."

"But what if she would not?" He asked bitterly. "The thought of revealing something like this and then seeing the revulsion in her eyes is terrible. As it is, I can at least be her friend."

"And have you thought of her in this at all?" Nerwen asked, upset. "If the responding flame is in her, she will never know, because of your secrecy, and will spend eternity alone as well."

Findekáno frowned. "In Aman, your reasoning might have been sound, but here there is no guarantee that she would love me in turn."

Galadriel shook her head. "I have heard the same stories you did, but they are only occasional rumours. The majority of Elves still find their love returned. Do not do this to yourself, and to her."

Findekáno suddenly laughed, and rose from his chair to pour them both wine. "You are on a very high horse ever since you are happily engaged, are you not?"

"It does that to you," she replied with a smile. "Another reason I recommend it. It unlocks a very important aspect of our life to you, and suddenly, so many things make sense."

"For example?" He asked curiously, handing her a goblet.

"For example why Melian married Elwë."

He seemed impressed. "Perhaps the flame I feel is not real, then," he mused, sitting back down. "It still would not seem like a good enough reason to me, judging from what you have told me."

"You are thinking like a crown prince," Nerwen replied, sipping from her cup. "You could not in good conscience marry a lady who would be bad for your kingdom, but then I believe The One would not make you love one. It was different for Lady Melian – she did not have any responsibilities before marrying Elwë, and she is certainly good for his kingdom." She paused, and added: "And the Flame does gain in insistence once you know it is returned."

He raised his eyebrows. "What are you doing here, then?"

She laughed. "I do have some self-control, you know. And...despite everything, my heart feels heavy abandoning the North." She looked away from him, but he sensed there was something she was not saying.

"What is it, Nerwen?"

She placed the goblet down on the table between them. "I am wondering...whether I would have been able to do it at all, if it was not for some of the things that have happened recently. Ingoldo leaving Amarië behind, the younger of my brothers insisting on going, the tragedy at Alqualondë, your father not giving me a realm to rule, Itarillë living so far away...as responsible as I feel for the realm, the bitterness I feel over many of these things makes it a little easier to leave."

Now it was him who turned his face away. "I am sorry," he said.

"So am I," she replied, because she knew this wound on her soul would take a long time to heal. "And I am sorry, too, for being so hard on you, when I have enough failings on my own."

He laughed bitterly. "When you have blood on your hands, we will talk."

"And what else is Helcaraxë?" She asked angrily.

They had had this discussion before, several times. Sometimes he agreed with her, sometimes he did not. On this day, he said: "Do you think we would not have gone had you not spoken?"

"I do not know. I know that I have spoken, and you have gone, and many died. I can no longer look your brother in the eye, for I feel guilt for the death of his wife." It had been the same with Itarillë for a time, but the young princess could see her mind and she realized soon enough and made Nerwen understand, with her own open mind, that while she blamed many for the death of her mother, Artanis was not one of them.

"You never tried to convince him to go, let alone Elenwë!" Findekáno cried now.

That was what Itarillë had said as well, but still… "Yet he was convinced by my argument to your father, and we both know Elenwë would never let him go without her. She left her entire family behind, only to die, and she might not have, had I not spoken."

"She was innocent of any wrongdoings," Findekáno reminded her, "and I am sure the Valar will allow her to return from Mandos soon."

"Oh yes, the confidence my brother has. I envy him in this."

She saw in Findekáno's eyes that he did as well. "How long will I stay, do you think? Will they ever let me out?" He asked, a quiet despair in his voice.

Nerwen longed to reassure him. He uncovered his guilt and fear rarely enough, mostly hiding him under cheerful demeanour, and every time he did, it tore at her heart. But what could she say? "Sooner than me, I would wager," she replied, touching his hand in comfort.

"I doubt that." He sighed and was silent for a moment, then words seemed to burst out from him as he rose from his chair. "Do you not see that this is the true reason why I cannot confess my love?" He asked, striding to the window. "We are at war, and I will die in it sooner or later, and then I will be kept in the Halls of Waiting for ages. How could I condemn any nis to that?"

"If she feels the Flame for you, she will have to wait nonetheless, and with no certainty of your affection," Nerwen pointed out, startled by his vehemence.

Findekáno shrugged, attempting to force himself into calm and nonchalance. "Even if she does, she might still marry someone else," he said, still looking outside.

Nerwen stared at him, horrified. "Surely you would not condemn yourself to-"

"I wish to spare her, do you not see?" He exclaimed, turning, any pretence of composure abandoned. "Being bound to me would bring nothing but suffering."

Galadriel abandoned her wine and walked to him, embracing him tightly. "Oh, beloved," she said. "Why did you not tell me?"

"Because I feared you would see me as a coward-" He muttered into her hair.

"Findekáno, I could never see you as a coward. You are the bravest person I know."

He laughed hollowly, pulling away a little and staring out of the window once again. "Am I? I wish to believe that is if was truly only about me, about my fear of rejection, I would take the risk, but sometimes I am not so certain. But whatever the truth about this, I know my other reasons are true. We are doomed. How could I drag a Sinda into that?"

"Do you think I should not have pursued Celeborn, then?" Nerwen asked in sudden worry.

"No!" He exclaimed, his eyes returning to her. "No, that is precisely what I meant before, your guilt is lesser than mine, whatever you might think, and you are not the heiress to High Kingship. You might escape the doom, if you live in Doriath. But there is no hope for me, and so I cannot do this."

Nerwen wished dearly she could offer some good counter-argument, but there were not any. She still did not agree, but Findekáno knew all the reasons she did not and still his mind remained unchanged. She was at a loss: Findekáno was ever the optimist, always believing every situation would work itself out to the best. He went to Angband with that belief, and yet he could not have faith in his wife not being condemned to despair. She had known, of course, that his guilt had scarred him – they were all scarred – but she had not realized it was to this degree.

"Who is she?" She asked at length.

He frowned. "I do not want you to tell her," he said.

"Do you trust me so little?" Galadriel asked, hurt.

"No, I am sorry." He paused, and then said quietly: "It is Ambë."

Oh. Nerwen tightened her embrace again for a moment, at a loss for words."Does anyone else know?" She asked then.

"No. I would tell my father, but...I fear he would pressure me into marriage, to ensure there were heirs."

Nerwen tried to decide if her uncle would do such a thing, but in truth, she could no longer tell. She would have never guessed he would deny her her own realm either.

"Perhaps if the situation was truly dire," Findekáno continued, "the I might sway myself with the consideration as well. After all, concern for our people could, I believe, match concern for her in being a just reason for acting, or not acting. But there are enough heirs. My brother, and all of yours, and Artaresto. I do not feel...well, I do not feel truly obliged."

Nerwen pursed her lips. "You should not. That is not the reason why you should speak."

"Please, beloved, do not...I am decided not to, and so you will not change my mind, but you will make it heavier."

Obligingly, Galadriel stopped and simply stood with him in that loose embrace.

"I wish," he muttered at length, looking out of the window once more, "that there was no such thing as the Flame."

She frowned. "Would you live without love, then?"

He shook his head, letting her go. "No, not without love," he said, starting to pace the room, "but we love our siblings and parents and friends without the all-encompassing burn that comes with the Flame. While leaving any of them for duty hurts, it is nothing compared to the pain of long parting from someone whom you feel the Flame for, and I feel...I feel we would be freer, without it, if we could simply choose our wives and husbands the way we choose friends."

Technically, they could, of course, but it was useless pointing that out. It was clear that was not what Findekáno was talking about. "The One has reasons for everything," she said. "I am sure there are reasons for the existence of the Flame as well."

"...and we should not question it?" Findekáno smiled a little and shot her a look, not pausing in his pacing. "You sound like your father."

"Well, you can have many objections to him, but you cannot deny that he is wise," Nerwen said a little sharply.

"I do not-" He sighed, and now he stopped to look at her properly. "Nerwen, you left Aman after you heard the Doom of Mandos, while knowing clearly what you were doing. Surely you of all people must understand my unwillingness to simply bend to the will of The One without complaint?"

"It is precisely because of that," she replied, "that I think you should. Even if I have a hard time following my own advice sometimes."

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AN: I'm pretty sure this was originally intended to be a happy chapter, but that's clearly something I'm incapable of.