Chapter 16: Wisfulness

Year 116 of the Sun, Doriath

Itarillë was keeping a secret.

In fact, she had been keeping a secret for many years now.

At first Nerwen had thought her friend and cousin met her true love and tried not to hold her silence against her – after all, she had not told Itarillë about Celeborn at first either – but it had been going on far too long for that.

Of course it could be unrequited love, but Itarillë was not grieved enough by far for such a tragedy. No, the secret she was keeping was clearly not good news, but it was not completely devastating either.

The images that Nerwen saw in her mind lately were mostly of tall walls and lonely, isolated places, and of ropes being cut and bitter farewells. That did not help at all, and while Itarillë did not attempt to keep her friend out by closing her mind, it was clear she did not wish for Nerwen to poke further, so she refrained.

When asked about the matter, Itarillë unhappily explained that loyalty forbade her to speak of it.

And so Galadriel worried, and her worry grew exponentially when, at the end of her last visit to Hithulm, Itarillë embraced her fiercely for a long time, crying bitter tears. Yet the younger lady still refused to say anything, and her mind was now filled solely with grief.

Nerwen's disquiet was further increased about a month after she returned to Doriath, when she felt anger and grief from Findekáno, accompanied by images of Itarillë, Irissë and Turukáno departing for a journey. Yet she had arrived to Thousand Caves too recently and could not quite justify travelling back North without there being some urgency, and there appeared to be none. So she stayed, and tried to learn what was the matter by mind-speech instead.

Findekáno appeared in too much of an emotional upheaval to give her any particular answers, so she turned to her uncle instead. She found what she had been looking for there, but once she did, she wished she had not.

Apparently, Turukáno was building a hidden city, the location of which would be unknown and which no one would be allowed to leave or enter. He planned to leave for that city with his sister and daughter, as well as the entire people of Nevrast, and live there, not seeing the rest of his family and friends until the Enemy was defeated, not taking part in any wars.

When Nerwen read this in her uncle's mind, her anger flared so brightly that she could feel him sense it and react. He was attempting to calm her, but he was angry himself, and so Nerwen withdrew from his mind and rose from the settee in her rooms, beginning to pace furiously.

Turukáno had a way of proving to her she had been right about him all those years every time she started to doubt it.

There were many reasons for her anger. The chief among them was, of course, the thought of losing contact with Itarillë. Nerwen wished she could hope to convince her friend not to depart with Turukáno, but the younger lady's love for her father had always been deep and unshakeable, and especially after Elenwë's death, she would not abandon him. What she could perhaps do would be to convince Turukáno to allow her to enter his hidden city – he would hardly think she would betray him.

And it was true that apart from the way Itarillë would miss her grandfather, uncle and Nerwen herself, there was no reason to suppose she would be unhappy with the situation, so it should not be impossible to convince her father to make three exception to ensure the perfect happiness of his daughter.

The one who was certain not to enjoy the city, on the other hand, was Irissë.

Irissë hated cities in general, and was happiest when she could ride through wide and open lands, racing Tyelkormo and hunting wild creatures. A city she could never leave would be her idea of punishment. In fact, Nerwen was quite certain that before Elenwë's death, Irissë would have flat out refused to follow her brother. But in one of the strangest close relationships known among the Noldor, Turukáno's sister loved him very dearly and was protective of him, in spite of how profoundly different they were from each other. Now, when he was still dealing with his grief, Irissë would follow him – especially as had she not, she would have gone to live with her half-cousins instead, and that would have hurt Turukáno deeply. It was known that both Tyelkormo and Atarinkë took part in the burning of ships that should have brought Ñolofinwë's host to Middle-Earth, and thus contributed to Elenwë's death. Irissë did not stop her friendship with them on this account, arguing that they had not known Helcaraxë would be the path of those who remained behind, but she knew it hurt her brother and would not wish to give him such a blow as to go and live with these very cousins of hers.

Now Nerwen had no special love for Irissë beyond that which one had for all of one's kin, but she certainly did not wish for her to suffer in what would appear to her as a cage. And, also, she had no faith in Irissë's patience. Sooner or later, the White Lady would demand being allowed to leave the city, and sooner or later, her brother who could never refuse her would allow her to do so – and then his already troubled soul would grow even more so, the loss of his sister's company added to the loss of his wife's life.

Nerwen knew she should have compassion for Turukáno, who had been struck by such terrible tragedy, and that she should understand his need to protect what remained of his loved ones, but when grief turned into foolishness, it should not be given free reign. Nerwen decided to attempt to convince her uncle to forbid Turukáno to do as he planned if he could not be persuaded to make exceptions for Itarillë and Irissë.

She tried to touch her dear friend's mind to let her know that she was aware of the plan now, but Itarillë's mind seemed somehow strangely distant and clouded. Nerwen judged it to be another attempt to keep the secret of the prepared departure, and so left her friend's mind alone.

It was not until two months later, when Angaráto came to visit Thousand Caves, that she found out Turukáno had already departed, and Irissë and Itarillë with him.

When she heard the news, she could feel her heart turning cold and the blood draining from her face. Her hands, she knew, were shaking, and she could not speak.

Abruptly, she rose from the table. "Sister?" Angaráto said, confused.

Unable to reply, she marched from the room, and from Thousand Caves, out to the trees.

Celeborn found her there, staring into the distance.

"Your brother is worried," he said softly.

"Tell him I'm all right," she replied.

"But you aren't," he pointed out, embracing her from behind.

"No," she admitted, "but would it do any good to tell him that? He can't bring her back."

Celeborn frowned. "She isn't dead, my love."

"No," Galadriel laughed bitterly, "if she was, perhaps I'd meet with her sooner."

"Don't speak like that," he said sharply.

"Forgive me. I don't want to upset you, but I...my very soul weeps, Celeborn."

"I know." He paused. "Would the presence of Lady Melian help?"

"Not at this point, I'm afraid. I'd only...I'd only compare her to Idril, and find her wanting." She sighed. "I won't be able to talk to Lúthien for some time either, I'm afraid."

His embrace tightened. "I know you love her very much."

"More than myself...more than anyone except you, my love, and sometimes I'm not even certain of that." Galadriel closed her eyes. "But I'm actually sorry for Íreth as well."

"You'll miss your cousin?" Celeborn asked in understandable surprise, and so Galadriel explained the problem there.

"And even with Idril," she added, "it's not only about me. She'll miss me terribly, I know, as I'll miss her, but Fingon and Fingolfin are both very dear to her as well, and she..." and now Galadriel could See, and she said in dread, "she'll never see them again on these shores." With this pronouncement, her tears started to fall.

"Does she have no friends among her father's people?" Celeborn asked, when Galadriel was a little calmer once again.

"Some. Lord Glorfindel will be there, and her handmaidens, and she adores her father, so she won't be entirely lonesome, but...I know what she said to me, every time I came to visit. That without me, she was lost in solitude that she didn't desire. She already left half of her closest friends in Aman, for they were Vanyar...she didn't deserve to be robbed of almost all the rest." Her mind turned to Turukáno, and some of her sadness turned to anger again. "He shouldn't have given her the burden of concealing it from me, on top of all else," she said. "I now understand why she cried so much when we were saying goodbye the last time. She wished so very much to at least be able to tell me, so that I knew it was a goodbye, but she would not betray her father."

Her father, who in his attempts to protect the two remaining women he loved had caused them both intense pain. Yes, Nerwen was sorry for that family.

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No one in Doriath except Celeborn knew Itarillë at all. They had never even met her.

That was unbearable for Galadriel at the moment, and so she departed North, even knowing that everything in her house was going to remind her of her dearest friend, with whom she spent so much time there in the last century.

Findekáno had been expecting her arrival and awaiting it in her house, and upon seeing her, embraced her tightly. "She is gone," Nerwen said hollowly, after he let her go.

"Yes," he replied simply, because for the moment, there was nothing more to say.

"Turukáno should not have kept it such a secret," he commented once they were seated in one of Galadriel's parlours.

"Do you know where the city is?" She asked.

"No. Not even my father knows."

Nerwen turned her shocked eyes to him. "And to think that for a moment, I believed I had been wrong about your brother," she commented bitterly.

Findekáno sighed, leaning his head back on the settee. "I am in two minds about this, he said, staring at the ceiling. "On one hand, it is very characteristic of him, on the other, I would never have imagined he would go this far in his over-protectiveness and...well, cowardice."

Nerwen pressed his hand. "You are right that I have not been precise just now – I did not really think I was wrong in essence, just that I underestimated the other sides of his character, those that are truly wise, because of the ones that are not, and that I cannot agree with. And at this time, it is very difficult to remember the good ones once more." She paused. "How is your father?"

Findekáno closed his eyes. "He is not taking it well," he admitted quietly. "He is the only one who knew in advance they would leave, but still...you know how much he loves Itarillë."

"As much as me?" Nerwen asked hollowly. She knew she should not, but she was a little angry with her uncle for not telling her in advance. Of course, Turukáno had likely sworn him to secrecy, but he was the High King, and his father. He had no need to obey his son's commands in this respect.

Findekáno opened his eyes again and raised his head to look at her. "They may not spend long in the city," he said, attempting his usual optimism.

Nerwen, however, shook her head. "This city," she said, "will prevail the longest of all realms of the Eldar in Beleriand. And as long as it lasts, Itarillë will not leave it."

That made Findekáno sit up straight. "So you know you will not see her again?"

"I do not know – that is hidden from me. However, I know that you will not, not on this shore...and neither will your father."

Findekáno blanched, and Nerwen pressed his hand again. "Itarillë..." he whispered, and then asked shakily: "Are you certain?" He paused for a moment, but before she managed to reply, continued: "No, forgive me, of course you are. It is only...very hard to accept." He rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "Losing Turukáno would have been hard enough, but it is his own choice, and you know we have never been particularly close. Irissë...well, chiefly, I feel sorry for her. She did not feel she could refuse Turukáno under the circumstances, I believe, but I saw her before she departed and she did not wish to go."

"I expected something like that, yes. She would hardly be happy in a city, and in fact, I believe she will leave after some years pass."

"Have you Seen that as well, or…?"

"I have not," Nerwen admitted, "but I do know her, and so do you. Can you imagine her sitting there meekly as centuries pass?"

"No," Findekáno conceded, "but if she does leave...it will break Turukáno's heart all over again."

"I would feel sorrier for him if I was not so angry," Nerwen replied.

"Yes." Findekáno gave another sigh. "Which brings me back to Itarillë. Even though she lived so far for the last hundred years and I hardly ever travelled to Nevrast, the knowledge that I cannot expect to see her here on your next visit is making me miss her almost painfully."

Nerwen nodded absently, but her ever-practical mind caught on an important point in Findekáno's speech. "What will happen to Nevrast now?"

"I do not know. It does not appear Father plans to give it to anyone else..." He straightened. "He should make it yours!" He said, some excitement creeping back into his voice.

Nerwen, however, shook her head. "The reasons why he denied this wish of mine still stand. I do not have the people with whom I could defend the land."

"Surely if he assigned you a part of his own host..."

"Yes, and then I would rule over people who do not truly respect me as one capable of it. No, that is not what I wish for. Besides, Uncle has enough noblemen that he could repopulate the area had he truly wanted to. If he does not, I suspect it is out of respect for your brother's memory."

Findekáno frowned. "I try to have understanding for my brother," he said, "but he certainly does not deserve that."

"Perhaps not, but he is still your father's son. It is not for him that Uncle does it, not truly. It is for himself."

Findekáno contemplated that statement for a while, then asked: "Will you go see him while you are here?"

"Yes...but only after I calm down a little."

"I admire your selflessness, cousin, I truly do. Even in your grief, you respect his own pain."

Nerwen laughed self-deprecatingly. "Oh, it is not that," she said. "But I am angry with him, even though I know I have very little right to be, and until it passes, I do not wish to see him and bother him with my anger."

"You are angry with him? Why?"

"Because he did not tell me...because he did not give me one last chance to say goodbye, even though he knows how much I love Itarillë. Because he kept his word to Turukáno."

Nerwen buried her head in her hands, and Findekáno put his arm around her shoulders, attempting to offer some degree of comfort.

She looked up at him, and saw her own pain reflected in his eyes. "Why do we have tu suffer such things, even in times of peace?" He asked.

"It is as Queen Melian said – the shadow of Mandos lies on us all," Nerwen replied.

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When Galadriel next came to Narogrotto, a year later, she had another opportunity to feel ashamed of herself. In her grief, she forgot that Ingoldo had lost a great friend too, in Turukáno.

He did not need her to tell him he would never see him again either – he already knew. "I have always defended him," he said, "yet even as I try hard, I find it difficult to understand – or entirely forgive – that he did not tell me in advance he would be leaving. He was like a brother to me in many ways, and I feel it keenly."

"I know how you feel," Galadriel said and pressed his hand.

"I need something that would please my spirit," he said resolutely. "Come with me."

He led her to his chambers, and on the way, commented: "The dwarves have finally finished a work of jewellery they have been making for me. It is...precious. It rivals many of the works of Fëanáro."

They entered his rooms and he unlocked a jewellery case, and Galadriel stood in awe. Ingoldo's most precious stones were set into this work of art, and it blazed brilliant, forming a thing of extraordinary beauty. The light from the candles in the room reflected in it, and it glittered like sunlight.

"Come here," he said, and when she approached him, he took off her own necklace and put on this dwarven one in its place.

"Ingoldo," she said, "you cannot give this to me."

"I am not giving it to you," he replied, smiling. "I want it to stay in Narogrotto, to be its jewel. But any time you are here, I want you to wear it, because no jewel here is more precious than you, sister, and it underscores your beauty and makes you shine more brightly than ever before – except, I should say, on your wedding, because on that day you were so radiant even Lady Arien could not shine brighter."

He led her to a mirror, and gazing at herself, Galadriel had to admit he was right in a way – she and the necklace seemed to go together well, and make each other more precious.

"Let us walk through the city," he said, "I want my people to see the esteem I hold you in, and share in the beauty."

And so they walked, and remembered Turukáno and Itarillë together, in the blessed days of Aman, before darkness came. "Itarillë has never lived through real peace," Galadriel remembered. "She was born the day the Silmarils were presented to us, already under the shade of the Enemy, though we did not know yet."

"You did."

"I did not know either, Ingoldo, I merely suspected."

"That is more than can be said of me. I did not want to believe something so bad, and I did not want to believe Manwë could be wrong."

She smiled. "Lord Ciryatan, I believe, would have some things to say to you about that."

"Oh, he already has, do not worry. He seems to be entirely of the same mind as you."

"On the contrary, I think we are different as day and night, quite aside from the fact that he is much wiser than I am. That we agree on you being entirely too naive for your own good is not such a great wonder, after all."

He laughed in response. "Perhaps you are right – even Turukáno agrees with this, even though for different reasons."

"Turukáno," Galadriel noted sarcastically, "would believe Lord Námo too optimistic and careless."

"I will test this hypothesis when I meet with him in this Lord's halls," Ingoldo replied, and the cheer dissipated, as both siblings realized that it would truly be only there the two friends would meet again.

"I envy you in a way," he said. "You at least have nothing to reproach your friend with. You can mourn the loss of her company in peace. But Turukáno...I do not know, truly, what would I say to him even if we could speak right now. I am almost grateful that the Hidden City cannot really be reached by thought communication."

"Do not be, for it is one of the things that make my own pain more acute. Do you know how this was achieved? I asked Uncle, but he could not tell me anything."

"I do not believe it was intentional, merely a side effect of the protections that are on the city."

"And their origin?" Nerwen asked as they turned into a smaller corridor that ran perpendicular to Narogrotto's main, wide one. "I have never known Turukáno to be skilled in this sort of thing."

"No. It is not his work, I believe." Ingoldo paused. "I...do not know for certain, but...do you remember that Turukáno was with me on that journey during which Lord Ulmo visited me in my sleep?"

"Yes..."

"Well, we fell asleep together. I did not know at the time, but now I wonder. He gave me the idea of building a well-protected realm...why could he not give it to Turukáno as well? This land has Lord Ulmo's protection thanks to Narog flowing through it. Turukáno's might have such protection as well, and in an even greater measure. It could cause the transference of thought to become more unclear."

"But why do you believe it was unintentional, then?" Nerwen asked. "Surely communication of thought is a danger – the city is full of people, and you never know precisely whom they trust. It is an added security measure."

"Do you believe any of Turukáno's people would betray him in such a manner?"

"Oh, Ingoldo." She smiled at him, the dwarven necklace making her smile seem brighter. "I did not think I would ever say it, and especially not now, but you truly should take a leaf out of your best friend's book. He only told his father about their departure, that was how much he feared someone betraying him."

"Surely you do not believe that is something to imitate, little sister?"

Nerwen tried not to flinch at the term, which was, after all, factually correct, and replied: "Not precisely imitate, no, but you could certainly inspire yourself. I cannot help feeling that this beautiful realm you have built could one day fall in danger because of your blind faith in people."

"A vision?" He asked, worried.

"No," Nerwen replied, "merely observation."

Ingoldo smiled again, and once again, Nerwen tried to mask her irritation. While her brother trusted her visions, he did not quite trust her wisdom, and that was somehow much more offensive than had it been the other way round. "If you will not listen do me," she said, "why do you not, at least, listen to Lord Ciryatan?"

"But I recognize there are bad people in the world," he replied. "I have been in Alqualondë. I simply believe that giving up my faith in them in general would be giving up. It would be letting the Enemy win."

"A noble sentiment," Galadriel conceded, "but you have responsibilities. You are a king now. What if your people suffered for this belief?"

"Fear can justify many things. It was what motivated Turukáno to hide in his secret city, and you do not approve of that. What is the difference?"

"Surely moderation..."

"Ah, but where is the golden middle ground? Wherever you declare it?"

Galadriel's eyes flashed. "No," she said, "clearly, wherever you do."

He sighed. "Let us not argue. I am frustrated with what Turukáno did, and not...at my best. Can we walk on in peace?"

She made herself smile, and nodded. "Of course," she said, and they did.