I haven't been particularly good at the "updates every Thursday" bit lately, have I? Sorry about that. Hopefully the next one will be on Thursday, but what do I know…

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Chapter 14: Bitterness

Year 66 of the Sun, Doriath

Galadriel was hearing strange rumours lately, rumours that made her uneasy.

Most of them were brought to her ears by Lady Ernil, to whom people came with it because they were used to coming to her with all their worries, and it did not occur to them that her having a grandson married to a Nolde should change it. It was not anything tangible yet, simply talk about some dark deed that lay in Noldorin past. It was true enough, of course, only the hints and suggestions made it seem somehow much more menacing, as a sinister plot instead of a terrible tragedy, and some seemed to imply that there was something dark going on even now – there was one who came directly to Celeborn to suggest that his wife was an attempt by the Noldor to infiltrate the forest realm and that she will be the fifth column of an upcoming attack. It resulted in one of the occasions when the prince did not quite manage to keep his temper.

"You should try to control yourself better, beloved," Lady Ernil told him then. "We don't wish for them to stop telling us of this, do we? Or worse, to start doubting our loyalty."

"Did you expect me not to defend my wife?"

"Well, did it do any good that you defended her?" Lady Ernil smiled. "Your wife, of all people, can take care of herself. You need to take care of politics."

Galadriel rather liked the idea of Celeborn defending her, in fact, even though she did not strictly speaking need it – but rationally, she knew Lady Ernil was right. "Is the king listening to them?" She asked.

"It hasn't quite reached him yet, but if it goes through Saeros, he will. I've tried my best to prevent that from happening, from the word reaching him or any of his circle. If Daeron heard of it, for example, it'd be a disaster. The whole realm would know within days. Fortunately for us, these circles are those that are the least in touch with the outside world. Mablung is the biggest of my worries at the moment – he's not exactly their man, but he's not exactly ours either, and if he heard the smallest indication of this, he wouldn't hesitate to go to the king." Lady Ernil gave Galadriel a sharp look. "It'd help, I think, if you told me the actual truth behind these rumours."

Galadriel sighed. "I don't think I can, my lady. It's a difficult matter to speak about, for me. But..." She hesitated, then sighed again. "Celeborn knows. I extracted a promise from him not to tell anyone, but," she turned to him, "my love, if you judge it wise, tell your grandmother. I leave it up to you. I only ask that you don't do it in my presence. It was hard enough telling you, I don't need to go through it again."

She left them alone after this, to discuss what they needed. From the way Lady Ernil avoided her in the days and weeks that followed, she would have known Celeborn decided to tell her even had he not informed her himself.

Galadriel knew the secret would not last long now, and tried to consults with her eldest brother. It did not really concern her northern relations much, given that they lived in mostly Noldorin realms, but it could very materially affect her, and Ingoldo as well, given that he was given the land for his new realm by King Elwë's leave. As she should have predicted, however, her brother was as unshakeably optimistic as ever and insisted that the king trusted him and once he did find out, there would be no backslash again them.

He had no time for her concerns. There was the construction work on his city, which was in full swing now, with hundreds of dwarves employing their craft to create a place of beauty for the Noldorin prince to dwell in. Ingoldo had finally settled on a name as well – it was to be called Narogrotto. "But will such an obvious name not make it rather easier for your enemies to find you?" Nerwen asked him when she was first told. "I thought the idea was to have a secret, well defended place."

"Oh, I have no intention of hiding entirely," he replied cheerfully. "That would be absurd. I will have a vast area to control, as you know, so if course the Enemy will know roughly where I am. It is only that he will find it impossible to get inside."

Nerwen gave him a hard look. This cockiness was rare in her eldest brother, and reminded her more of Aikanáro, or Findekáno when he was in a teasing mood. But of course Ingoldo said it differently, without a laugh, simply as if he was stating a fact. "Pray that it is true," she replied simply.

But apart from this ever recurring topic, Ingoldo had a different, new matter to talk about. That matter was Lord Ciryatan. Galadriel had never met him in person, because the journey to his lands from Hithlum was long and she had not liked the idea of leaving them for so long before she married; and now, she felt she spent quite enough time away from Celeborn with her frequent journeys tot he North without travelling to the Sea as well.

However, she knew Lord Ciryatan was very old – older than king Elwë, in fact, for he awoke at Cuiviénen before him, and so certainly older than any of the Noldor who came back from Aman. Apparently, he was very wise as well. Ingoldo seemed enchanted. She knew he had felt lonely ever since he left the North, without his brothers, but mainly without Turukáno, and now he found a friend to his liking, someone who seemed to be like a father to him, much like Ñolofinwë was to her. She was happy for her brother, and curious about the shipmaster. She was decided, now, that as soon as Narogrotto was finished, she would make a trip to the sea from it, even though she expected a lot of painful memories would emerge that way.

Or at least, that had been her plan before the messenger from Ciryatan arrived in Doriath.

Ingoldo was visiting and he was full of fresh news about the old Sinda; Angaráto was there for once, too, come to see his sister and share news with his eldest brother. They were sitting together with King Elwë and Queen Melian when the messenger arrived, and implying that it was important, made the king leave the room.

When he returned, there was great anger in his face and Galadriel pressed Celeborn's hand even as she looked at Queen Melian. She knew what was to come, and could not stop it.

The king turned his wrathful eyes to Ingoldo and said: "I'll have you done to me, kinsman, to conceal so great matters from me. For now I've learned of all the evil deeds of the Noldor."

Ingoldo chose to pretend ignorance, of all things. His lapses in wisdom were rare, but they tended to be all the more fatal when they happened – after all, that proved best in his departure for Middle-Earth. As could have been predicted, that enraged Elwë even more. "I marvel at you, son of Earwen," he said, "that you'd come to the board of your kinsman thus red-handed from the slaying of your mother's kin, and yet say naught in defence, nor seek any pardon!"

Ingoldo did not have an answer to that, unsurprisingly, and Galadriel was just searching for a way to say something to placate the king without revealing too much when Angaráto spoke, moved to emotion: "Lord, I don't know what lies you've heard, nor whence; but we came not red-handed. Guiltless we came forth, save maybe of folly, to listen to the words of fell Feanor, and become as if besotted with wine, and as briefly. No evil did we do on our road, but suffered ourselves great wrong; and forgave it. For this we're named tale-bearers to you and treasonable to the Noldor: untruly as you know, for we have of our loyalty been silent before you, and thus earned your anger. But now these charges are no longer to be borne, and the truth you shall know."

Come to think of it, Galadriel mused, the failings of her brothers were often like this – Angaráto was rarely moved to act impulsively, but when he was, it was monumental. She understood, of course, why he of all her kin would be the most outraged at the accusation, he who least wanted to go and bore the slaying of Alqualondë most painfully. And to be accused of such by Olwë's brother, too... As Galadriel listened to him listing all the evils of Fëanáro, powerless to stop him without forcing her will on him, she pressed Celeborn's hand again and looked into his eyes, where she found the support she needed when such painful memories were brought forward.

Angaráto, meanwhile, got to the sufferings of the Helcaraxë and words failed him. He only said: "Wherefore should we that endured the Grinding Ice bear the name of kinslayers and traitors?"

Galadriel mused that it probably was exactly this black and white to his mind; but the Queen of Doriath was one of the wisest to ever come into Ea, and she could not keep silent as she said: "Yet the shadow of Mandos lies on you also."

Galadriel decided to tell the story in more detail, and in somewhat more balanced form, to Lady Melian later. For now, however, she would keep silent. She did not like to tell it in front of the king – even though she knew his wife would retell him every detail later, in this way she did not at least have to endure his comments – and she did not want to remind her brothers of every part of the painful tale.

After a long silence, King Elwë spoke. "Go now!" he said. "For my heart is hot within me. Later you may return, if you will; for I'll not shut my doors for ever against you, my kindred, that were ensnared in an evil that you didn't aid. With Fingolfin and his people also I'll keep friendship, for they have bitterly atoned for such ill as they did. And in our hatred of the Power that wrought all this woe our griefs shall be lost. But hear my words! Never again in my ears shall be heard the tongue of those who slew my kin in Alqualondë! Nor in all my realm shall it be openly spoken, while my power endures. All the Sindar shall hear my command that they shall neither speak with the tongue of the Noldor nor answer to it. And all such as use it shall be held slayers of kin and betrayers of kin unrepentant."

Nerwen was the first of Arafinwë's children to raise, and she left the king's halls, her brothers following behind her. They crossed the bridge from Thousand Caves before they spoke for the first time. "Can we never escape the shadow of Feanor?" Ingoldo asked with despair in his voice, breaking the silence.

Nerwen personally rather thought this had little to do with the shadow of Fëanáro and a lot to do with Singollo's own particular idiocy, but she knew her brother liked the king and would not agree with her. So instead, she said: "Queen Melian was right. The Doom of Mandos lies on us all."

They headed to western borders of Doriath, since Angaráto, his visit to Thousand Caves cut so unexpectedly short, decided to see his brother's unfinished city instead. "Do you believe," Angaráto asked, "that the king meant for you to leave as well?"

"I know he did not," Nerwen replied. "It was me who wanted to quit his halls, at least for a time."

"So are you going with us to Narogrotto?" Angaráto asked in surprise.

Nerwen actually considered it for a moment, thinking that this was precisely what Ingoldo had foreseen, the moment when she would need to leave Singollo's realm quickly. But then she shook her head. "No. I do still have a husband here. I will see you to the edges of this land, and then I will seek him out."

"You should speak Sindarin," Finrod interrupted them in that language. "Remember the king's ban."

That particular reminder made Galadriel so angry she stayed silent for a long while.

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She was not very surprised to see that Celeborn was waiting for her only a few hours' journey from the border, and that she came across him after she turned back.

"I'm sorry," he said simply.

"I don't know if I'm ready to return to Thousand Caves," she replied. "Your king often makes me angry, but never before as much as now."

"I was afraid it'd be worse," he admitted.

It certainly could have been, but Nerwen was in no mood to be conciliatory. "Quenya is the tongue of my parents, Celeborn! The language of my first home, of my childhood, of my family, of all the art I love. I've been reduced to living in a land where I can't even speak the words I love most. And if it was at least just! But no, this is the most absurd royal decision I've ever heard of. Instead of punishing the guilty, we ban the language of art and culture and lore, the language the murdered spoke almost as much as the murderers." She shook her head. "I wonder if your king hadn't wanted to do this for a long time already, and this merely served as a convenient excuse."

Celeborn frowned. "My love..."

"I apologize. I don't know whether it's better to simply believe him so very foolish, or to ascribe to him some darker motives."

"To my mind, it was neither." he sighed. "It was simply the first way that occurred to him to vent his anger. But such is the nature of our king that once the decision was made, he'll not take it back."

"I didn't imagine he would." Valar forbid that Singollo be ever forced to admit his mistake. "I didn't like your king before, for various reasons, but know this: if it wasn't for my marriage to you, I'd never have set foot in Thousand Caves again after this decree. My friendship with the Queen and Lúthien would probably have been enough to bring me to oriath, but I would have come with distaste, and it is with distaste that I stay now."

Celeborn looked away. "Do you wish to..."

"No. I'd have asked. I considered it on my way from the border, but it wouldn't be just to make you pay for his foolishness by making you leave your family. However, I will probably depart for the North soon, to stay there some time, for I find the idea of being near the king impossible at the moment. I'd...appreciate it if you accompanied me."

"Of course, my love."

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When they at length returned to Thousand Caves, Nerwen went to see the Queen, who welcomed her with understanding and apology in her eyes. "I would not take the chance to use your father's tongue away from you," she said, in Quenya. "Whenever you are with me, and only with me, you may speak it."

"My lady, I'd not wish you to go against the king's orders," Nerwen replied in Sindarin, hesitant.

Lady Melian, however, did not change her tune. "Do not forget that I am Queen of this land, too. I do not often use my power in such manner, but in this thing I am decided."

Nerwen allowed the queen to feel her gratefulness fully, and Melian smiled: "Is it so strange than I would wish to help you in this?"

"No, it is only that...you do not often go against the wishes of your husband."

"No." Lady Melian paused. "It occurs to me that we have not discussed this matter since you married. Do you understand me better now?"

Galadriel thought about it. "Not truly," she said then. "Celeborn does not often make me very upset – usually it is only some trifling matter of Doriath politics that we disagree on – but when he does, it never once occurred to me to conceal it from him."

"I do not conceal my thoughts from the king either, you know that. I hardly could. It is only that my upset is gentler than yours, and my husband, I suspect, more headstrong."

And less respectful, Galadriel though but did not say and managed to conceal. "You found it very easy to get used to married life, did you not?" The Queen continued.

"The married part of it, yes. Living so far from the North is still difficult, though."

"Is there something you miss apart from your loved ones?"

"The wide, open skies," Galadriel replied immediately. "And perhaps the Noldorin wonders of craft sometimes, though Ingoldo's dwarven friends almost make up for it, truly."

The Queen smiled at this, and rose. "Come, then," she said. "Let us spend time like frivolous court ladies for once."

She led the way to the large rooms carved close to the entrance to Thousand Caves that were reserved for merchants and craftsmen, displaying their goods for the inhabitants of Thousand Caves to browse and buy.

Galadriel felt that the Queen was doing her best to cheer her, and went along with her plan quite willingly, grateful for any distraction. The merchants were all aflutter when the two ladies appeared, since the normal procedure was to have the most interesting pieces brought to them instead. There was a flurry of bowing and reverential mutters, and the common people of Doriath hurried to get out of the way.

Lady Melian smiled at them kindly and bid them not to be disturbed in their routine – in vain, of course. All other activity was interrupted as she slowly walked among the stalls with Galadriel at her side, looking for beauty.

The Queen led the way to the chamber where jewellery was to be found, but Galadriel soon discovered that it was no match for what the dwarves of Nogrod could make for her, and so they passed to where the different fabrics were displayed.

Here she found true beauty to her eye, for in weaving the skill of the Sindar was incomparable to that of the Noldor, except perhaps for her grandfather's first wife. She wandered among the rows of silk and satin and muslin and soft wool, touching it and imagining the different dresses that could be made from it, and which of her friends and acquaintances would look well in them.

In time, she became aware that the Queen probably expected her to choose something for herself, and so, though still not much in the mood for dress and fearing that whatever she chose on this day would prove to be too glum and tinged with bitterness later, she went in search of fabrics in her favourite colours, green and red.

As she was examining some rich green brocade, Lady Melian, regarding the rolls of white muslin close to her, remarked: "Why is it that you never wear my favourite colour?"

Galadriel smiled at this. "There are several reasons. One of them is my cousin. Íreth, I mean."

At the Queen's inquiring glance, she continued: "Íreth made it into her trademark colour. She never wears anything else, and is even called The White Lady of the Noldor for that. I have no intention of competing with her in this." She laughed. "Besides," she said, "she looks better in it, and I look better in green."

"Yes, it goes well with our eyes. It brings them out. Though blue would probably work as well..."

Nerwen felt a brief pang of pain of longing as she replied: "Blue is popular with my kin. Fingon and my uncle most often clothe themselves in royal blue, as befits their station, while Idril...her eyes are blue as summer skies, and no one could ever look as good in bright blue as she does. I don't even try." She paused. "And of course, very dark blue is your daughter's colour."

"Yes," the Queen agreed, taking out one muslin roll. "You'd probably look good in dark colours, and still I can't quite imagine it."

"No, neither can I. Noon is the time of day I love the most. I'll leave twilight to your daughter."

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Travelling North, Nerwen decided to do her duty first and so she stopped on Tol Sirion on the way, to see how Artaresto was doing.

He welcomed them at the gates with a soft smile. "Aunt! And Lord Celeborn. What a pleasant surprise."

"How are you doing? Ingoldo has not been here for quite some time..."

Artaresto's smile broadened. "Do not worry, I can manage a realm for a few years, though I do not deny there will be some things I will wish to ask you about. But I have helped my father and uncle rule Dorthonion for almost half a century."

"Of course. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive – I am not trying to deny I have a lot to learn from you, simply attempting to assuage your worry. But in any case, I would not wish to exhaust you with work immediately after your arrival. Let my people show you to your chambers, and then come to the feast hall to get sustenance. We will talk tomorrow."

Nerwen assented to this, and they left. Once they were comfortably in her usual rooms, Celeborn said: "I haven't had the occasion to talk to your nephew much before, but he does seem very reasonable."

"Oh, yes, it isn't that that worries me," Nerwen replied, taking off her travel clothes. "He's truly his father's son, in everything, including often being easily swayed – though perhaps not as easily as Angaráto. That's my concern. He has Finrod's advisers here now, of course, so it's safe enough, but should the wrong kind of people manage to gain his ear...well."

Celeborn stepped behind her, caressing her naked belly. "Well, that's why we're here, isn't it?" He said. "To make sure that didn't happen. Now, how much time exactly do we have before we should be in the feast hall?"

She smiled at him. "I believe we can spare a moment."

They spared rather more than a moment, in the end, but Artaresto did not comment on it. "I apologize for speaking Quenya before," he said instead to Celeborn. "I didn't realize-"

"It's fine," the Doriath lord replied, though he kept to Sindarin. "I can understand it without major problems, it's speaking that gives me trouble."

"How come? I thought Quenya wasn't used in Doriath."

At this, Nerwen took a sharp breath and Celeborn's smile disappeared. Artaresto looked confused. "What's the matter?"

"I wanted to save this for tomorrow," Nerwen replied, "but I might as well tell you now. King Thingol," and there was distinct venom in her voice at the name, "learned about Alqualondë, and saw it fit to ban Quenya in Doriath, in response." She paused. "Well, actually I'm quite sure he intended the ban to apply to the whole of Beleriand, but fortunately his ability to enforce that – or willingness, really – is very low."

Artaresto seemed at a loss for words. "I..." He hesitated, and gave an uncertain glance to Celeborn.

The Sindarin lord realized the problem immediately. "I've known about it for years," he said, "and though my heart bleeds for it, those who are punished should be the killers themselves, and not the innocent, and least of all my wife, whose kin was slaughtered there, and yet she'll feel it the most, living as she is in my king's realm."

"It wasn't precisely just, no," Artaresto agreed cautiously. "But the evil of Alqualondë...it must have been a terrible shock to your king."

"It probably was," Nerwen agreed, "and not the least because of the way your father told the story."

"It was my father who told him?" Artaresto asked in some astonishment. "I though...I mean, he swore to Maedhros that he..." then Artaresto bit his lip, shot another quick glance at Celeborn, and looked down on the table.

"Your father told him only after Thingol accused Finrod and all of us of taking part in the kinslaying, for such were the rumours that reached him. Angrod could not quite keep his silence after that. I...understand why."

Artaresto could only nod, seemingly in pain. He had half grown up in Alqualondë, and the kinslaying had hit him almost as hard as Angaráto. "I don't know what to say," he said at length. "I've never spoken about Alqualondë with anyone who wasn't a Noldo – not that we speak of it much at all -, and well, on one hand, people mostly seem to think we should be apologising, but on the other..."

"Please don't," Celeborn stopped him immediately. "I know you didn't participate, and people you know died on that beach. For me, it's only a distant knowledge of kin. For you, they were family. It would be absurd for you to apologize to me."

Artaresto exhaled, clearly grateful.

"And don't worry about mentioning Maedhros in front of me either," Celeborn added. "He and Maglor admitted their guilt to me and apologized, before the wedding. I don't...like them, exactly – they're still murderers – but I don't hold a grudge either."

Nerwen pressed his hand in appreciation.

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AN: Like, forbidding someone to speak their mother tongue is a HUGE thing. But of course Thingol doesn't give a flying crap about Galadriel, so… (nor she about him, to be fair).