Chapter 10: Loves
Year 40 of the Sun, Hithlum
When Nerwen told Itarillë of her betrothal, her silver-footed cousin turned away her face to hide her feelings, but more would be needed to prevent the older lady's ability to read hearts.
"I am sorry," she said, "and I sincerely promise to do my best to visit as often as possible."
"Yet it is hardly going to be as often as it was now, is it?" Itarillë replied, still not looking at her. "And not even that had been enough for me..."
This was precisely the reason Nerwen had not told Itarillë about Celeborn sooner, guilty as she had felt about it. Because she felt even guiltier about abandoning her friend. "No," she said, "but it is my intention to come to the Noldorin lands at least once a year, and spend a few months here. At least some weeks of that could surely be spared for your father's house."
Itarillë sighed. "It is me who should be apologizing to you," she said, finally turning her eyes to Nerwen, who could see pain in them. "I wish to be happy for you, for I know that in spite of everything, you often felt lonely. It is just that...I feel so, too."
Nerwen's heart constricted, and she gripped the railing of the balcony they were standing on a little harder. "The One has a place for you in his plans too, beloved, do not despair," she said the only words of comfort that came to her mind. "I cannot say how soon, of course, since only He knows, but then, I have lived for hundreds of years without you, I am certain you can manage a year in one stretch."
"Something tells me it had been easier in Aman, and without Irissë in your household," Itarillë replied in a lighter tone.
Galadriel laughed. "I concede that is true, but then, she is away so often you hardly notice her, do you?"
"That only makes it more marked when she is here," Itarillë pointed out. "But no, you are right, it could be so much worse. It is just that I know I will miss you bitterly."
Nerwen looked deep into her eyes. "It is not just that, I sense," she said. "You also feel that I am betraying my people. That I said for years that I cannot leave them more often even to visit you, and yet I am willing to move to Doriath now, only because I fell in love."
Itarillë seemed in agony. "I am deeply ashamed of those thoughts, and said aloud they sound even worse. Do not take them seriously, I beg you."
The older lady shook her head, leaning over the railing to stare towards the sea. "Do not be ashamed, when I feel the same things myself, often. And yet it is not enough to make me change my mind. I do not believe this can be explained. When you feel the Flame yourself, you will understand."
"Is it like that, though?" Itarillë asked, and there was worry in her voice now. "It was enough for my mother to attempt to follow my father over the Ice, but not enough for our Queen to go. Is it always equally strong?"
Nerwen turned to look at Itarillë fully and replied: "I believe it can be extinguished when your heart darkens – that is, I think, what happened to Fëanáro and Nerdanel. As to your grandmother...it has not gone quite that far, but the Enemy affected us all to some degree, and my Aunt and Uncle were no exception. Indeed, he was one of those hit more heavily. Their love is not dead, but in the darkness of the hour, it was...shadowed, I would say? Concealed from their own minds. I know that your grandfather regrets Anairë's absence deeply now, and I imagine she regrets letting him go as well."
Itarillë listened attentively, and then she laughed suddenly. "Will I ever be as wise as you are?" She asked.
"I hope you will be wiser," Galadriel replied.
"Now you are lying," Itarillë pointed out.
"See?" Her older cousin noted dryly. "It is approaching already." Then she grew serious. "You are right that I was not being honest, but it is what I wish I hoped for. I am prideful, but I am aware of it, at least."
"Is that a jab at Irissë?" Itarillë asked with a smirk.
Nerwen tried to look innocent, and failed. "Maybe? Though I think she knows too, really, she just does not find anything wrong with it."
"And you do?"
Another laugh. "A little. I am trying – but it is hard when people around me are so foolish!"
They laughed together at this. "I expect King Elwë is not helping in this, from what you have told me..." Itarillë said.
"No. I fear living in his kingdom will make me more insufferable than ever. Fortunately Lady Melian is there to keep me at bay, and Lúthien, too, in some ways," Nerwen added, smiling.
"You never mentioned wisdom when you talked about her..."
"She does have her own kind of it, but that is not what I meant. No, she keeps me modest in other ways – as regards my beauty!"
Itarillë's laugh tinkled again. "So the stories are not exaggerated? You never talked about that part..."
"Because she does not particularly like people gushing about it," Galadriel explained, leaning back on the railing. "She is not self-conscious or falsely modest, but she thinks that compared to the beauty of a forest in spring, no one should be paying her any attention. But she truly is the most beautiful of all the children of the One. If only I inherited my grandmother's people's gift of composing poems, I would present you with one, but as it is, I have to make do with one of Dearon's, Elwë's chief minstrel." Nerwen paused, and then sang the tune of one of the ballads she heard Daeron sing most often in the halls of Thousand Caves: "'She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that's best of dark and bright meets in her aspect and her eyes.'"
She did not have the gift to compose songs, but she did have a musical voice, and as she sang the bard's words, the vision of beautiful Lúthien rose before Itarillë's eyes. She sighed softly.
"I tried to present to father the idea that I would visit Doriath," she said after a moment, watching the sea, "after you bothered me about it so relentlessly, but he got very upset by the mere thought, just as I knew he would. Perhaps Princess Lúthien will come here for your wedding?"
Galadriel shook her head. "Her father is much like yours in this," she said, "he will not let her outside the borders of his realm, and even though she is certainly powerful enough to disobey him, she loves him too much for that."
"I always thought you were too perfect to be real," Itarillë noted. "But she sounds even more so. Beautiful, powerful, wise and modest, and a princess to boot? Where is the justice in that?"
"That is what happens when your mother is a Maia, I am afraid. But you are one to complain, given that you all all of the above, too, though I will not deny she is more powerful, and her beauty has something otherworldly in it."
Itarillë frowned, turning around to lean her back against the railing next to Galadriel. "And her wisdom? You said she had her own kind...what does that mean?"
"There are many kinds of wisdom," he friend replied. "Your father is wiser in some ways than Findekáno, I acknowledge that when I am truly honest with myself, even though Findekáno is closer to my heart. In some other ways, though, he is foolish. It is so with Lúthien, too. She knows much, some of the things I do not, and she would not make some of my mistakes. But she would make some of her own, and she has a particular kind of selfishness about her, one of the differences between you."
"What do you mean?"
Nerwen smiled at her. "Simply that while you never desired to be Queen, I believe you would make a good one, though it would not make you happy; but Lúthien would not. She does not have it in her to take on responsibility for others."
"Like Irissë?" Itarillë asked, for they both knew such description fit this relation of theirs perfectly.
"A little, yes. I mean, they are very different, but in this selfishness, they are similar." Galadriel frowned, then laughed again. "Now I feel bad for saying that of my friend!"
"Perhaps you should feel bad for thinking this way of Irissë, then," Itarillë said with her eyebrows raised. "She is not wholly bad."
Galadriel sighed. "You know I know she is not. I simply...personally dislike her."
Itarillë smiled and put an arm around her cousin's waist. "I do know, and you know I complain of her incessantly as well. I simply sometimes realize that she must be as lonely here as I am, and then I feel guilty." She paused, and her smile widened. "But I still hope her current visit with the sons of Fëanáro will take as long as possible, for her sake as well as mine – except I wish it had not pained my father so."
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Leaving Turukáno's house, Galadriel came across Lord Laurefindil in the door, and as he bowed, she smiled at him.
"My lady," he said.
"Lord Laurefindil. I am surprised to see you have not been selected to accompany my cousin on her journey this time," she said, laughing internally.
There was an answering twinkle in his eyes as he returned: "Lord Turukáno decided that I needed to rest occasionally, too. Ecthelion went this time."
"I congratulate you on your reprieve, then," Nerwen said.
"Thank you, my lady." He stepped aside to allow a servant to pass, and asked: "How fare you? I have not talked to you for a very long time, and there is a rumor going around that you are to leave us for good."
"I would not put it as strongly myself, but yes, I see the grapevine is as efficient as ever. I am engaged to Lord Celeborn of Doriath, and I will spend the majority of time there after my marriage," Nerwen confirmed. "I will be returning north regularly, though," she added, "and I am not getting married sooner than in some years, so the day I would depart is not upon us quite yet."
"I am glad to hear that, my lady," he said seriously, "and let me only say that we will all miss you here once you do. I sincerely wish you happiness, but your wisdom is needed here all the same."
"I will never truly leave the North, and I have every reason to believe your king will continue consulting with me." She smiled: "Do not try to make me feel guilty, Lord Laurefindil." Eru knows I manage well enough on my own.
"I would never flatter myself to think that my saying anything would influence you in your decisions, my lady," he replied.
Nerwen raised her eyebrows at him. "I am not entirely sure if that was a compliment or an insult."
He bowed his head. "Perhaps to some other, it might have been a hidden insult, but to you, only ever a compliment."
She smiled. "In that case, thank you, and I wish you to enjoy your reprieve, and may it last as long as possible."
"I am ever grateful, my lady," he said and bowed to her in farewell.
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Galadriel felt strange returning to Doriath with all of her brothers. It made the visit very official, something that made her uneasy – her stays here have always been about finding shelter from the burdens of Middle-Earth and drawing strength for her continued work in the North. Now, she was a little nervous instead – she wanted her brothers, especially Ingoldo, to like Celeborn, and him to like them. She was more uncertain about the second part. There were some on her side whose approval she was not sure he would gain, Ñolofinwë first among them, but her brothers were open-minded and accepting. Celeborn she was not so confident about. But the chances were not bad – Ingoldo and Angaráto were both mostly mild-mannered, and there was small chance they would particularly irritate Celeborn by anything. For once, that what she always found frustrating about them came in handy. As for Aikanáro, Celeborn actually knew him best of her brothers and had talked to him beyond pleasantries, so she had no reason to worry there.
They were all welcomed warmly by King Elwë, who, as was his habit, arranged a welcoming feast for them, where they would all be sitting as guests of honour. While Galadriel was certain he knew from Lady Melian about her betrothal, nothing had been announced officially, and so he treated this as merely another courteous visit, though of a slightly larger group than before. That was a good thing, she supposed, but it also meant she was seated next to Lúthien, as usual, while Celeborn was long way down the table. On her other side was Lady Ernil, which, while common enough, was also probably no accident.
Lúthien was not being precisely sympathetic either. She looked at Galadriel, frowned a little, and said: "You're in love with Celeborn!"
"Yes," Galadriel agreed easily.
"Why haven't you let me see before?" Lúthien asked in a surprised and slightly hurt tone of voice.
"We've hardly talked properly since I realized," Galadriel defended herself, "I was only here twice since then, and for a short while, and I spent most of those visits with him. It didn't seem like the sort of thing to show you in passing."
"Still, my mother knew, didn't she?" The princess insisted.
Galadriel smiled. "Yes, well, she was rather easier to find in Thousand Caves than you had been during my two visits. I haven't seen you at all during the first one, and only glimpsed you leaving for the forest during the second."
"And did you send a bird to me to let me know you wished to speak to me? Did you send a message by the trees?"
Nerwen sighed. Sometimes, Lúthien tended to forget that these things were not as easy for everyone as they were for her. "No," she said, then hesitated. "You're...actually hurt?"
The princess turned her bottomless eyes to her. "Yes," she answered simply.
"I'm sorry. I...didn't think you'd be so very interested."
"Why?" Lúthien seemed honestly uncomprehending.
Galadriel thought about how to phrase it without giving more offense. "You're not always...so very interested in Elves," she said at length. "The forest holds the first place in your heart."
"That is true about most elves, but you are my friend," Lúthien returned, again with traces of pain in her voice. Galadriel's guilt was mounting.
"I know, but even with me," she still tried to defend herself, "you are more interested in sharing the beauty of Lady Yavanna's creations than in talking about occurrences in my life. I don't mind this," she hastened to add, because she truly didn't – she had plenty of other friends to discuss politics with, and not enough to accompany her for forest walks. "But this is why I didn't think you'd so wish to know so soon."
"I don't care about little trifles happening to you too much, you're right," Lúthien replied, "but you have felt the Flame of Eru! That is entirely different!"
Galadriel rather thought that Lúthien's opinion on what were little trifles was rather different from most people's, given that worry about the future of entire kingdoms was apparently in that category. She also thought that had Lúthien been less self-contained, she would have been fully capable of discerning the Flame in her even during the short time they saw each other on her last visit. Then she remembered her talk with Itarillë, and felt mildly ashamed of her thoughts. That, in turn, recalled to her mind a long-ago conversation with Lord Olórin, in which she had confessed to something she was deeply ashamed of – always judging people very harshly, it seemed to her, even when others around her only admired them. He had asked for examples, and she, even more ashamed, recounted some. He smiled at her then and said: "And are you judgments untrue?"
"I do not believe so," she began uncertainly, "but..."
"Then do not be ashamed of them. What you would have to be ashamed of is if you treated people unkindly because of this. Only remember that no one beside the One is perfect, and you have no reason to worry."
She missed Lord Olórin's advice bitterly here in Middle-Earth, even in the presence of Lady Melian. After all, the Queen was more like Lady Estë, and there, Nerwen always sought a different kind of advice.
Her mind returned to the present, and to Lúthien, and she said: "I'm truly sorry, I misjudged how you'd see the situation. I hope you can forgive me, and I'll do my best to do better in future."
Lúthien smiled, pain leaving her face as suddenly as it appeared there. "Of course I can forgive you," she replied, "but since you're not going to be feeling the Flame again, I'm sot sure what exactly you mean by 'in future'."
Lúthien's list of noteworthy occurrences in her friend's life was apparently very short.
"To add to the list of those who felt neglected, you could have spared the time to come and speak to me," Lady Ernil said from Galadriel's other side. "My grandson told me, naturally, but you must have known I'd have wished to speak with you."
"I wished to tell my brothers first," Nerwen replied. "And you didn't seek me out either, my lady."
"You made it very difficult to, as you've just said yourself, staying only for a short time in Thousand Caves." Lady Ernil paused. "But let's not argue. I'd have appreciated an opportunity to speak with you earlier, but it's true that we'll have all the time we need after you marry, and it's not as if I had any intention to try and prevent the wedding taking place."
Galadriel was rather relieved to hear that. She would not wish to have to go against Lady Ernil. "I'll be happy to get to know you better, my lady," she said.
"Yes, and I you." Lady Ernil chewed on a bit of venison, then continued: "My grandson's choice is certainly extraordinary, but then, he's always been an extraordinary boy."
Galadriel smiled. "Do I sense stories?"
"Not anything particularly amusing, I assure you. But he's more given to idle consideration of possibilities and what ifs than others of our people, and he sometimes had trouble finding those willing to discuss things with him. He might have that in you, am I correct?" And Lady Ernil turned her piercing gaze on her fully.
They younger lady refused to be intimidated. "That was how we first talked, so I'd say yes, certainly. And his different point of view is very refreshing for me."
"Then we'll have to debate between ourselves one day as well, to see if you'd find mine equally so."
Galadriel tried to ignore the cold dread that spread through her at these words.
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King Elwë mercifully left his dining hall early, and Celeborn and Galadriel rose simultaneously immediately after him. She turned to Ingoldo and said: "Give us time. We'll come back, and then we can all talk together."
Her brother laughed. "From the way you act," he said, "everyone'd say you were the eldest brother."
It was not the first time he said this to her by far, so she merely raised an eyebrow and he laughed again and said: "Go. We're in no hurry."
On their way out of Thousand Caves, Celeborn asked: "Would you have stayed if he told you to?"
Galadriel laughed at this notion. "Oh, I wasn't really asking for his permission! More, I was letting him know we would be back this evening, so they they know they shouldn't go to sleep."
They entered the forest and stood there in silent embrace for a long time, enjoying each other's presence after the long absence. They opened their minds, and so ideas and emotions floated freely between them, and there was great closeness and harmony of thought. Galadriel showed him the images of her talks with her cousins and brothers, and he in turned uncovered how the announcement to his own family had gone. Then they turned towards the future, working together to spin imagine of the happiness that was to come, barring any thought of shadow from their mind for the moment, basking in their joy.
"My parents will wish to speak with you at some point," Celeborn muttered when, several hours later, they headed back to Thousand Caves.
"Yes, I had rather assumed they would," Galadriel replied, "given that your grandmother's already sought me out twice..."
Celeborn chuckled. "Yes, well, grandmother Ernil is rather more...involved than my parents ever are. She is a little like you, I'd say, whereas my parents, my father in particular...they trust me and are mostly happy to let me direct my life the way I wish. They aren't very people-oriented, and while they have nothing against you, their interest is mostly out of politeness – and because grandmother Ernil insists they should 'care at least a little about whom their son is marrying', as I believe she's put it. I think she thinks I might get offended otherwise."
"And would you?"
"No." He hesitated. "This might be difficult for you to understand, since from what I've seen, your family tends to be much more involved in each others' lives, but...we're used to a largely solitary existence. I'm a little more sociable than most of them, I believe, and so's my grandmother, but my parents, my brother and my mother's parents are all happiest when alone, or only with their spouse – as you might have gathered from the fact that you rarely ever see that at the feasts, and when they are present, they invariably retire soon."
Galadriel had indeed noticed that, and would have, in fact, sought them out before if it had not been for this habit. "And Prince Elmo?"
"Ah, grandfather Elmo." Celeborn smiled. "He's quite sociable, but mostly because of his love for his wife and our king, I believe. If it was up to him, he might well lose himself in the forest for years, but he cares for them too much for that." Then he smirked. "Also, grandmother Ernil would tear him to pieces after he came back."
They returned to Thousand Caves and, as they had hoped, found Galadriel's brothers alone in the feast hall. When they entered, Ingoldo rose to welcome them, smiling.
"So, Lord Celeborn," he said, "my sister tells me you are the most perfect Elf ever to walk under the stars."
"Actually, I never said anything in the least like it," Galadriel pointed out.
"I'd never believe you did," Celeborn assured her.
Ingoldo turned his eyes to his sister. "I was merely trying to help you. Or should I stick with my threat and try to warn him instead?"
"Do your worst," she said haughtily. "I don't fear you."
That made him laugh. "I can see she's very sure of you," he said, turning back to the Sindarin lord.
"And she's right to be," Celeborn replied in complete seriousness. "Nothing you or anyone else could ever say would turn me away from your sister, Prince Finrod...with the exception of herself."
"That might not a be a wise exception to make ," Ingoldo said with a small smile. "She might make you angry many times in the coming ages."
Celeborn shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I merely intended to say that if she ever asked me to leave, I'd not force my presence on her."
Ingoldo considered this. "You might be right in saying that," he said, "because my sister, despite all her fire, is not given to harsh words she would regret later. When she says something, she truly means it."
Celeborn smiled at this and kissed Galadriel's hand. "That's a good reminder," he said, "and, indeed, I'd consider it a rebuke if I wasn't aware that your brother didn't know me well enough for that – but perhaps he's a good reader of hearts, like you? In any case, my lady, please don't make such an exception for me. I'm given to exactly those failings he's just denied for you, and though it seems impossible to me now, I can't entirely deny the possibility that I'll one day say something to you only to regret it an instant later."
Aikanáro joined the conversation now, and in a cheerful tone, he said: "That won't throw her off. She's used to being friends with our king and crown prince, after all."
Celeborn gave her a questioning glance, and she admitted sheepishly: "Yes, they do it sometimes – though it's not in anger they act," she added, and her tone grew darker as she said: "It's others in our family who do that. No, it's usually a burst of a better emotion that inspires them to acts that are no – well – not always very well thought out, let's say." The memory of discovering that Findekáno had departed for Angband flashed in her mind.
Seeing it in her mind, Celeborn replied: "I have an unpleasant feeling that if your norm of ill-conceived acts is the High Prince's rescue of his cousin from Angband, you're going to be very disappointed in me."
"Celeborn, my friend," Ingoldo noted, "if she wasn't disappointed in you, you'd be the first Elf to ever achieve such honour." He paused. "Well," he added, "apart from herself, I suppose."
"Don't tempt me to throw something at you, brother mine," Galadriel said, only half joking, "You know I wouldn't be afraid of hurting you, since I can easily heal you afterwards."
"Are you truly that demanding?" Celeborn asked with a twinkle in his eyes.
Angaráto appeared to be seriously considering the question, and now said: "I don't believe Itarillë disappoints my aunt. And the Vanyar never seemed to either."
Galadriel nodded to this. "Angrod knows me well," she said, a little surprised. "But I have to be even harsher on myself: the Vanyar never disappointed me because I never expected so much of them. They were as wise as I could ask of them, and that was all I wanted. Of Noldor, I always ask both wisdom and fire, and am disappointed when they fail in either. And even with Itarillë, though she's very dear to me, I have to admit that her position is easier than our king's, or the princes' and yours, my brothers, and so it's easier for her not to give me any grief. For what are her duties, in which she could fail? No, I know I'm too hard on all of you, and I apologize."
"If you weren't, sister, how would we ever push ourselves to be better?" Ingoldo returned.
Celeborn spoke again. "And what," he said, "do you expect of the Sindar?"
She smiled at him. "I haven't had much time to learn to expect anything in particular yet, but given that you're going to be my teacher in this, I think the answer should be – everything, and more!"
"And that I promise to try my hardest to give you," Celeborn replied.
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AN: Yes, I misappropriated some of Byron's verses and made them Daeron's. This part of the poem has always seemed to me like the best description of Lúthien, in spite of being written a century before she was even conceived of (but maybe the poem was one of the inspirations?). If you want to hear it sung, search for 'She Walks In Beauty' and 'Sissel'.