AN: Merry Christmas/Yule/holidays, and happy new year!

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Chapter 17: Fortune

Year 155 of the Sun, Hithlum

Galadriel learned of the Enemy's attempt to attack Hithlum from the West almost by the way, from Findekáno, who sent her the image of his victory tinged with pride and happiness. She hurried North nevertheless – it might not have been a great battle, but there were still some who were injured, and she wanted to make sure the best possible care was available to them.

Her healing work was done quickly this time, and she was free to spend her time with Findekáno and her uncle. It was not as pleasant as it usually was, however – they were both arrogant in their defeat of Moricotto and confident that he posed no danger if this was what his attack looked like. To Galadriel, it seemed clear it was merely a test of their readiness and defences, and she worried what he might send the next time. The king and his son, however, refused to listen. "You both like to tell me," she said bitterly, "how you admire my wisdom, yet it does not show in you following my advice!"

"Come, niece, do not be bitter against us. You thought of the Siege of Angamando, after all."

Only I did not call it by such preposterous a name, the thought, but did not say. "Yes, but I think it is not a goal, it is an opportunity. The enemy does not sleep behind our guard, and neither should we. He is ever planning new ways to defeat us – and what are we doing?"

"I have to think of the people too, beloved," the king argued. "It is peace now, and they want to enjoy it. I cannot force them to only ever think of war."

"But when war comes, it will be too late already," Galadriel replied. Seeing, however, that her words were in vain, she left them and kept to the upper chambers of her house for some days, frustrated and worried, before she decided to visit Artaresto in Tol Sirion. She would be happy to see her nephew, she had not been there for a few years, she had faith that he, at least, would listen to her advice, and there, memories of Itarillë would be less pressing.

Artaresto welcomed her gladly, but as soon as she laid eyes on him, she could see there was something great on his mind. She did not turn to him often in her thoughts when away, for they were not so close and so it was not easy to communicate this way – the images he sent were ever unclear and confused. So now, as soon as was politely possible, she retreated to his chambers with him, to talk in privacy. "What is it that weights on your mind, dear nephew?" She asked. "It does not appear to be a bad thing, and yet it troubles you."

"Yes. I worry about your approval, though I believe I have some hopes of gaining it. You see, I have met my true love."

Galadriel's face was brightened by a radiant smile. "Does she feel the flame for you as well?"

"Yes."

"Then allow me to offer my warmest congratulations!" She embraced him and held him for a moment, smiling, before asking: "And how did you meet this lady?"

"She is of Fëanáro's host." Seeing Galadriel's astonishment, he hastened to add: "But she is not like him or most of his sons at all! Her loyalty is to Maitimo, which I hoped you could find value in..."

In truth, Galadriel's astonishment was mostly over the fact that Artaresto, of all that crossed the Ice, would be the one to choose a bride from the host of Fëanáro. Truly, Eru's intention in these things was clearly often that the couple balance each other out. "Have we known her in Aman?" She asked.

"No – we couldn't have. She is very young. She was born in Middle-Earth."

"Can I meet her?"

Artaresto's face brightened. "Yes," he said. "She is here at the moment, and will be for a few more days, before she is obliged to return to her lord. I will introduce you at the evening feast."

True to his word, he seated the lady of his choice next to Galadriel. The was tall and handsome, with somewhat austere features, and looked every inch a Nolde. "Aunt," Artaresto said, "meet Lady Ohtarwen, daughter of Lord Herúsea, one of the chiefest lords of our cousin Maitimo, Lord of East Beleriand. And Lady Otharwen, I introduce to you my aunt, Princess Artanis Nerwen, daughter of Arafinwë, the High King of the Noldor in Aman, and wife to Lord Celeborn of Doriath."

Galadriel smiled at the young nis at her side. "And daughter of Eärwen of Alqualondë, I would add, if I introduced myself in this way. Though it would probably tell you more about me if he said I was an advisor to King Ñolofinwë, and a friend – at least I would like to count myself as such – of your Lord Maitimo."

"I do not need Lord Artaresto introducing you to know who you are, my lady," the girl replied. "Your name is known among the Noldor, even in eastern Beleriand, and Lord Maitimo speaks of you often."

"Do I dare to ask what he says?"

Lady Ohtarwen smiled. "Only good things, I assure you. Mostly, he remembers you when he is faced with a difficult decision – or when someone around him does something foolish."

Galadriel laughed. "The second part does not sound so very good after all!"

The younger lady blushed a little. "Oh, that is not what I meant – he likes to imagine what you would say to such a foolish person. It consoles him, I believe, to know he would not be the only one to be worried by the folly."

"Perhaps I should go with you when you leave here and visit him – I could use that kind of company at the moment, since I have had quite enough folly myself!" Though Maitimo was, unfortunately, not guaranteed to be so very wise on all occasions.

"Go to the March of Maitimo?" Artaresto said, surprised. "But will not Lord Celeborn miss you? It is a long way off..."

Nerwen gave him an amused look. "Yes, thank you, dear nephew, I am aware. Celeborn will miss me, I am sure, as I miss him, but we will both cope. I cut my visit North short anyway, so this will simply be a substitution."

Artaresto subsided, looking a little sheepish, and Ohtarwen snorted. "I see the rumours about you did not lie, my lady," she said.

Galadriel turned her laughing eyes to her. "Seeing that you are here – and considering your name – I do not imagine you would be one to get tied down by this sort of concerns either. Is that your father-name or...?"

Lady Ohtarwen smiled. "No, a mother-name, actually. She said she saw it in me immediately."

"It is often like that, is it not? In my case as well." Earwen never truly understood her daughter, but she always knew what Nerwen was like.

"You are blessed with two names that fit you, I would say, my lady," the younger Nolde replied courteously.

"Thank you. I confess that I do like them both, and on occasion I was even sorry that father names are usually considered too formal to let people call you by them on a daily basis."

Ohtarwen nodded in understanding. "Have you ever considered choosing a name?"

"Well, I have a mother name. It is not truly done, is it? Besides, the name I considered at the age when such things are expected...it would have been wholly improper."

Lady Ohtarwen looked curious, but restrained herself from questions, and Nerwen smiled. "Perhaps one day, when we know each other better, I will tell you. But I am quite happy without it, and I have another name now as well – my husband named me Alatáriel."

"I stand corrected – you have three names that fit you very well."

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Nerwen did accompany Ohtarwen to Himring, and the journey was pleasant, spent in friendly communications. The lady had no great degree of wisdom, but she was strong and fierce, and seemed willing enough to admit that Artaresto had better judgement, except he tended to be too careful, something they lamented together with Galadriel. The princess thought that the two would work well together, and she would be a good lady of Tol Sirion.

Maitimo was pleased to see his cousin, though surprised as well – that, however, was nothing compared to the surprise Nerwen suffered when she asked to be introduced to Lord Herúsea, who was to be her kin by marriage soon. She took one look at his silvery hair, and astonishment flooded her. She remembered him from half a century ago, but she had thought it was merely Maitimo having a guest, and it certainly never occurred to her that this lord, of all, could be the one who was father to Artaresto's love.

She acquitted herself as well as she could of the polite small talk that followed, but as soon as it was possible, she took Maitimo aside.

"Lord Herúsea is a Teler?" She asked in astonishment.

"Yes. Well, a Sinda."

"But how...Artaresto said he was one of your lords?"

"He is. He swore allegiance to me."

Nerwen stared. "Does he know about..."

"About Alqualondë? Yes. Did you truly believe I would have accepted his fealty without telling him?"

"Forgive me, I..."

Maitimo sighed. "He was the chieftain of a relatively large settlement not too far from here when we first arrived. We were clearing the area of orcs, and arrived just in time to save him and his people from being slaughtered in an attack where they were outnumbered. He decided to swear his allegiance to me then, with some words of scorn for those who called themselves High King of the Sindar without lifting a finger to help them. Not even the truth about kinslaying changed his mind."

Galadriel mused about it for a moment. It was certainly a unique situation. "That still does not explain why he – and his daughter – have Quenya names. Or were they simply translations for my benefit?"

"No – he and his closest advisers accepted our culture to a large degree. He married a daughter of one of my lords very soon after he swore himself to me, and his children were raised in Himring."

"But technically, Lady Ohtarwen is a Sinda?"

"Not only technically – she lives mostly in their border fortress, with their Sindarin people around. She speaks both languages, and is part of both cultures."

Nerwen wished to see this place, and Maitimo took it as an opportunity to show her his lands, which she had not visited for half a century. "Of course," he said, "we do not have as much time for building and improving as Ñolofinwë does in his lands..."

Galadriel sighed. "I thought you would be of one mind with me, yes. You too, I expect, believe that we are wasting the time of peace if we are not preparing for war?"

"Yes. As much as you might not want to hear it, I miss my father these days – he would have been able to come up with some weapons that would keep our advantage, I am sure of it. Unfortunately, none of us have quite his skill, and the king seems unwilling to allocate much resources and many people to these experiments."

"I have tried to convince him, too, but he insists his people want to enjoy peace."

"They would be able to enjoy it longer if he bothered to prepare some good defences for when the attack comes."

Nerwen shook her head. "You do not have to explain this to me, Maitimo. I know it well. But the king and the crown prince are full of pride at their last defeat of the Enemy and feel safe."

"It is days like this when I wonder if I did the right thing, giving my kingship up to Ñolofinwë."

Galadriel gave him a sharp look.

"Oh do not look at me like that, Nerwen, in the end I always know I did. But it is...frustrating."

His cousin nodded. "For me also. When I was getting married, Uncle told me not to feel too responsible for the Noldor, that I was not their Queen..."

"...that must have gone over well," Maitimo muttered.

Galadriel laughed. "Oh no, he did not meant it like that. Effectively, he said they did not deserve me to worry over them, because they did not choose to follow me. However, it is not that easy. My loyalty cannot be broken, and I constantly think about whether it would have been different if I had not moved to Doriath."

"You spend a third of every year in the North anyway, as far as I know. It is not that much less than when you lived there and were visiting Doriath and other lands regularly."

"Maybe. I still worry."

"Unsurprisingly. Ñolofinwë was right in a way, but in his phrasing he was completely wrong. What he meant is that you are not our people's king – because you have effectively been their queen ever since we left Middle-Earth."

Galadriel gave him a confused look.

"Do not pretend you do not know what I mean," he said. "Anairë stayed in Aman, Findekáno has no wife, and Turukáno's died in the Ice, may the One forgive us our sins. Of your brothers, only Angaráto is married, and Eldalótë truly is the lady of Dorthonion, but as for the rest... Turukáno's people see Itarillë as their queen, but they keep themselves apart. For those of Ñolofinwë, Findekáno and Ingoldo, it has always been you."

"Rather unfortunate, is it not, that I wanted to be the king," Galadriel replied, understanding finally what he meant.

"Yes, but then, your mother has not called you Nerwen for nothing."

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Galadriel returned to Himring in a few years, for her nephew's wedding. It was traditional in all ways, except that it was the bride's father who put her hand in the groom's, not the mother. Galadriel commented on this when she found herself sitting next to Angaráto at the feast. "Had it occurred to me to speculate on this," she said, "I would have thought Lady Ohtarwen to be the kind to insist on no one giving her away, as I did."

This made her brother smile. "Perhaps you would have relented too, had your father been here. It is easier, I believe, to oppose your brothers."

"I see you do not remember the days of Valinor too well!" Nerwen said with a laugh.

"You are right, perhaps the cause is different and I should have said – had Ñolofinwë been your father. Lord Herúsea certainly does not lack in fire, in spite of being a Sinda."

"What did he think about the marriage, then?"

"I do not think he likes Artaresto very much," Angaráto admitted, "or me, for that matter, but he respects his daughter and the One too much to put up resistance. And he and Eldalótë truly like each other, I believe."

"And Lady Ohtarwen's mother?"

"Well." Angaráto paused. "She is...very clearly a Noldorin lady from Fëanáro's host. I confess I have not always found it easy, when we were in company with Ohtarwen's family, to...well. As I said, Eldalótë found much in common with Lord Herúsea, and of course Ohtarwen and Artaresto spent most of the time talking to each other, so I was expected to entertain Lady Tyulinis. It was a difficult task. She is proud, and full of fire."

"So rather like me, in fact?"

"Yes," said Angaráto candidly, "but you are my sister. In spite of all the differences between us, we have many shared memories, people we both love. Lady Tyulinis is as different from me as you are, but with no shared history to bind us together – and she does not, of course, quite have your wisdom. But then again, who does?"

With these words, Angaráto rose from the spot next to her and went to talk to some other guests, leaving Nerwen feel a little uncomfortable. Was there bitterness in his tone?

All of the sons of Fëanáro were present for the wedding, the first time Galadriel saw them together since the Feast of Reuniting. She had not missed them, and indeed, could have done without the pleasure even now, but the ceremony did take place in Himring. It would hardly have been feasible not to invite them, and if they had to be there, Galadriel would take the opportunity to observe, now that she was alone.

Her eyes turned to Macalaurë and Carnistir, who were talking to each other on the opposite side of the room. She was too far to hear, but she could see their expressions. Carnistir had a dark frown on his face, and was speaking to his brother clearly in anger. Macalaurë, on the other hand, was silent, an expression of immeasurable sadness on his face. Nerwen found this fairly typical, and it illustrated the different ways in which the brothers dealt with the tragedies of their lives. They were the only two among their siblings to be married, and she remembered Maitimo telling her that they got closer for that, often visiting with each other. But that, of course, had been before. Macalaurë's wife left him after Alqualondë – one of her grandmothers was from the Teleri and lived there. They said Quildawen turned back as soon as she saw Macalaurë plunge his sword in the first of their kin, long before Nerwen's own father made the decision. But then, he had only seen the tail-end of the slaying with his own eyes. They had not known, at the time, how it started. If Quildawen saw her own husband be one of those who began the attack...Galadriel was not surprised she had no wish to continue on this journey with him.

Carnistir's wife, on the other hand, died during the storm that caught Fëanáro's ships after the kinslaying. He had had a short temper even before, but ever since this – or so Maitimo said – his humour was so dark that even his siblings tended to keep away from him, as much as they tried to be compassionate. And, indeed, as she observed them now, Macalaurë turned away from his brother with a mournful look, but his brother caught him by the wrist, looking even more furious.

Her observation was interrupted by a loud bang, and her eyes turned to find the source of the noise. Tyelkormo. Of course. He had hit the table and was now standing, shouting: "I will not be relegated to a second-rate visitor in my brother' own house."

Nerwen rose fluently from her seat and walked speedily in his direction. Tyelkormo had taken a gulp from his goblet, giving her time to reach him before he said anything else. "What," she asked, in a voice that barely masked the steel behind it, "seems to be the problem?"

"Your thrice-damned brother-," Tyelkormo began, at volume.

"You are here," Nerwen interrupted him, in a quiet but intense voice, "as a favour to Maitimo. Insulting the father of the groom is extremely bad manners under these circumstances."

Ha laughed harshly, but sat back down. "As if I ever cared about manners," he said, and took another drink.

"No," Galadriel agreed, "but I do. So now – without the insults, if you may – what has my brother done to offend you?"

"He wants us to abandon the rooms we usually stay in, to make room for the 'chief wedding guests,' as he says," Tyelkormo said with a snort.

Nerwen raised her eyebrows. "And he told you so himself?"

"No – my own brother did. But it is clear where the wish comes from."

Her brows remained where they had been. "But surely – this is your brother's house. Not respecting his explicit wish in this shows first and foremost disrespect to him, not to Angaráto."

Atarinkë, who sat next to his brother and had been watching the exchange in silence until now, smirked. "Because you would care so much about any insults to out brother if they were not, at the same time, insults to yours."

She gave him an arch look. "I would venture a guess that more than you, at any rate."

Tyelkormo gave another loud laugh. "She got you there."

"True enough, I have little respect left for our eldest brother – though still more than for any of hers – but I have no illusions about her opinions. Cultivating an advantageous friendship is not quite the same as caring."

"You would do well, Atarinkë, not to judge everyone according to your own approach to life."

His smirk became more pronounced. "I was merely attempting to give you the benefit of the doubt. If you consorted with these cowards because of the advantage it brought you, that I could understand. But if you genuinely enjoy their company..."

"'These cowards?'"

"Ñolofinwë. Findekáno. Maitimo," Atarinkë fairly spat the names. "All the others who refuse to do anything at all about Moricotto!"

Galadriel tilted her head to the side. "Findekáno rescued your eldest brother - and king, at the time – from Angband while you hid from us on the other side of lake Mithrim. I find your use of the term coward...curious."

A spasm of pain went through both of the brothers' faces, and Atarinkë said through gritted teeth: "Do not rely on us hiding from you too much, dear half-cousin."

"We will rip the whole world to shreds if we have to, to fulfil our oath," Tyelkormo added.

Nerwen's eyes shifted to him. "You as well, cousin?" She asked. "Do you feel it burning inside of you as hot as your brother does?"

He laughed. "Every true son of Fëanáro does," he replied. "And we will have the armies of all elves one day to achieve it, by peace or by treason or by force."

But a vision came upon Galadriel in that moment, and she said: "You never will...but you will rip the whole world to shreds in your attempts."

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The wedding of one of her relations made Galadriel think of another's desire for it, and so during her next visit of Narogrotto, she took the trouble of journeying all the way to Falas. Lord Ciryatan welcomed her as warmly as usual, but she was distracted and declared her wish to speak with his niece soon enough.

"Ah," he said only, and called a servant to direct her.

Ambë was sitting on a balcony in her rooms, overlooking the sea. She did not turn when Galadriel entered, but she said: "I've been expecting you. Please, do sit down."

Nerwen did so. "How's Findekáno?" The Sindarin lady asked.

"As well as can be, under the circumstances."

Ambë gave her a look. "Forgive me if it isn't his well-being that's first on my mind, under the circumstances."

"You know, then."

"Of course I know. Did he expect I would never learn of it?"

"He...hoped, I think."

Ambë's mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "Such honesty," she said.

"It isn't easy to speak of this," Galadriel tried to explain. "It took me a great deal of courage to be open with Celeborn."

"Again, forgive me if I'm not feeling too sorry for you." Ambë paused. "I loved him, Galadriel!" She said then, with force. "I loved him, and I trusted him."

"And now?"

"Now...I don't know. Before I learned of this, I'd have sworn such evil couldn't be found among all the Children of the One. I...he can come to me, if he wants to speak with me again. He can beg my forgiveness for what he had done, and perhaps I'll grant it."

Galadriel heaved a sigh. "He can't leave the North for long enough to travel here, you know that," she said mildly.

"That is his choice, of course. I won't come to him – you can tell him that much."

Galadriel watched the Sindarin lady, pain in her heart. Ambë's words were laced with bitterness, and she saw that they were chiefly driven by disillusionment and disappointment. The Noldor, at least, had been prepared for the unspeakable evil of the kinslaying by watching the hatred fester the previous Valian decades. For the Sindar, finding out about it was like lightning coming from a clear sky, all the more dreadful for its unexpectedness.

Galadriel prayed that Ambë could forgive, because she knew that if the situation stayed as it was, she and Findekáno would never speak again.

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AN: The distinction Maitimo s talking about is sometimes termed regina vs femina rex by historians, regina being the wife of a ruling king and femina rex being a ruling queen. "Reginas" have a particular role in society as well, but it is very different from that of a "femina rex"…

Ohtarwen – Warrior maiden