Chapter 18: Enjoyment
Year 201 of the Sun, Doriath
Not half a century after Artaresto's wedding, Galadriel was to attend another. Celeborn's brother Galathil was getting married, to a lady who was kin to his mother's people and who he met during his frequent visits to Neldoreth.
"Galathil had hoped they'd move to Neldoreth after the wedding," Celeborn confided in Galadriel, "but he was shocked to discover that Doroneth actually preferred to move to Thousand Caves."
Galadriel was glad of it. While no particularly strong friendship bound her to Galathil, who barely spoke a word to anyone and so was not an easy person to get to know, she liked his bride, and would be thankful for one more member of Singollo's court she could talk to.
The ceremony took place in the throne room, performed by the King and blessed by the Queen. Doroneth was a pretty bride and Galathil a handsome groom, proud as he took her hands to say the vows, which, Galadriel noticed, were a little different than those of the Noldorin tradition. The Valar played a much less crucial part in them. She should have, perhaps, expected that.
At the feast they were seated between Lúthien and Prince Elmo, and as Celeborn used the opportunity to discuss some political matter with his grandfather, Nerwen turned to her friend. "Did you enjoy the ceremony?" She asked.
"I was moved by the depth and strength of the vows, as I always am," Lúthien replied. "But if I was to marry, I'd wish it to be outside, in the forest."
"Imagine my surprise," Nerwen commented drily.
"No, but truly – how can someone choose these halls over the incomparable beauty of our forest in spring?"
"I suspect it feels like this to you because you grew up in these halls, and so you cannot fully appreciate them."
Lúthien shook her head. "I grew in the forest as much as I did in the Caves," she replied, "and I can still enjoy its beauty over and over again. That isn't it."
"Well, then Doroneth simply has different preference than you do."
The Sinda sighed. "I should have known you wouldn't agree with me – you enjoy being contrary in this matter."
Galadriel smiled. She did not enjoy being contrary, she truly loved the beauty of carved halls as much as she admired the one created by Yavanna, but Lúthien found that very had to believe or understand.
"But still your wedding took place outside, didn't it?" She continued, confirming that once again.
"It did," Nerwen conceded, "but only because my house doesn't have a room big enough to contain all of the guests."
Lúthien frowned at her. "Stop teasing me, Galadriel – I know you don't enjoy living in caves."
"No," the Nolde finally admitted, for that much was true, "but I don't detest it, and the forest is always only a few steps away."
"You still miss the open horizon of your Northern house."
"But when I'm in the North, I miss the forest." She paused. "You seem particularly insistent on this topic today. Why is that?"
"Because in preparation for the wedding, I've been kept inside for a long time, and it's making me miss the trees very bitterly."
"Ah," Galadriel said in understanding. The long time Lúthien mentioned was, as far as she knew, not above a week, but she also knew that was often enough for her friend. "Well," she continued, "I'm sure that after a few days, not one will blame you if you take at least a short walk outside."
Lúthien smiled at her. "Will you come with me?"
"Only if it takes no more than a day or two. I don't wish to be impolite."
Lúthien smirked. "Don't forget that I can see your mind – I know perfectly well that you want to know how long it will take Galathil and Doroteth to emerge from their bedchamber!"
Galadriel laughed. "Very well then. Yes, I am curious – this is the first Sindarin wedding I've seen, and I'm curious about the differences from the Noldorin ones. All of my relations assume the Sindar are less fiery, and I'm curious to see if it'll be borne out in this case at least."
"Isn't Celeborn enough of an answer in this?"
Nerwen smiled a small, secret smile, but then shook her head. "Well, he's a Sinda who married a Nolde. He's bound to be a deviation from the norm. The more fully Sindarin wedding I see, the more likely I'm to have a reliable answer."
"And why don't you simply ask some Sinda at court?"
Galadriel smiled. "Where would be the fun in that?"
Lúthien sighed. "Some of your hobbies," she said, "are truly obscure."
"Says the lady who can spend days staring at a single flower!"
"It's not as if you'd get bored doing the same," Lúthien pointed out. "It's simply that you always feel you have some responsibility to attend to, even if it's only entertaining my mother."
"Which is your fault – if you weren't out in the forest so often, I wouldn't feel so obliged to keep her company."
"What use are you to me in the forest if I am in the Caves myself?" Lúthien asked.
Her mother, who was sitting on the Princess' other side, turned to Galadriel. "There's no reason for you to cut your entertainment on my account," she said. "I'm always happy to see you, but you know that time flows differently to me. You can't stay away long enough for me to start missing you."
Galadriel blushed, and Lúthien laughed. "Don't ruin her excuse, Mother!"
"It's not an excuse, exactly," Galadriel defended herself. "I sometimes mention Celeborn and sometimes you when I leave Lúthien in the forest, but the reason is usually the same: I miss people when I am out there too long with only her. And I never hid my feelings about this," she added. "It is only that Lúthien doesn't usually look for them, being too caught up in something else."
Lady Melian smiled. "Do I hear criticism of my daughter in your words?"
"No! Truly, it wasn't intended as such." She smiled at her friend. "If I minded her love for all that grows, I could hardly be friends with her. And I do share the love, just not with the same...single mindedness."
"You know why that is," Lúthien said, serious now.
"Yes," Galadriel replied, feeling a little guilty for reminding the princess of how caged she sometimes felt in this world. The beauty of nature, she knew, could distract her. That, and her mother's memories – and Galadriel's. "I'll go out to the forest with you the day after tomorrow," she said, and Lúthien beamed at her.
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Some time later during the celebration, Nerwen found herself speaking with the newlyweds, Celeborn by her side.
"We will have a house at our disposal in Neldoreth as well," Doroneth was explaining, "but I'd simply much rather see Thousand Caves as our residence."
"My wife is charmed by these halls," Galathil commented drily.
"I am," she admitted freely. "But it isn't just that. They're also safer, should a war come."
"Do you have any particular reason to believe it should?" Galadriel asked curiously.
"Well, this cannot go on forever. From what I know, the Enemy is breeding orcs in his lands. Once he has enough, he will attack, and not even our Queen can withhold him forever."
Celeborn smiled. "I think you will get on wonderfully with our grandmother," he said.
Doroneth laughed. "I don't really intend to get involved in politics – it'd feel presumptuous, if nothing else. I mean, I've just moved here...And anyway, from what Galathil told me, I believe my opinions are actually closest to yours."
Celeborn raised his eyebrows. "I'm a little surprised my brother even knows what mine are, to be honest."
"I could have easily done without it, I assure you," Galathil replied, "but it is hard to ignore whenever you and Grandmother Ernil are in the same room."
"Don't be nasty," Doroneth said chidingly.
"He's not being nasty, I'm afraid," Celeborn replied with a rueful smile. "My and my grandmother's talks do tend to be rather monothematic."
"To be fair, it's not like I normally try to interrupt you," Galathil admitted.
"I don't think I've ever heard you interrupt anyone, my love," Doroneth said and pressed his hand.
"Speak of orcs and the orcs shall appear," Galathil muttered in that moment, and when Galadriel looked around to see what inspired this pronouncement, she noticed Lady Ernil heading in their direction. "Shall we dance, my love?" The groom asked his bride.
She laughed at him. "Don't be rude. At least speak a few words before you depart."
As it turned out, however, when Lady Ernil reached them, she said to the newlyweds: "Daeron is just preparing to sing a beautiful song composed for you. You should go and listen to it."
Obediently, they departed.
"I wasn't aware he composed songs about anything but Lúthien," Galadriel muttered.
"Very occasionally," Lady Ernil replied drily. "I wished to speak with you," she said then. "I know it is unseemly at a wedding, but unfortunately, Saeros plans to make use of the confusion of it to get the King to agree to some of his more ridiculous schemes, and so I'm forced to sink to his level once more."
"What is it, Grandmother?" Celeborn asked.
"I need your mother's influence," she said bluntly. "We need at least one more sympathiser. I need to convince either Amaron or Nanor not to support Saeros' proposal, but they won't listen to me, as you know very well. They might listen to you, however, and they certainly would listen to your mother."
"True, but my mother would know I was asking her on your behalf, so..."
Lady Ernil smiled. "Your mother knows very well you're not in my pocket. If you are willing to ask for this, she will know it's because you truly agree with me, and that will hold some sway with her."
"They you'd better tell me what it is about."
Lady Ernil launched into an explanation. Apparently, Saeros wished to turn Doriath into a fortress, and wanted to establish small fixed garrisons by the border to supplement the warden system that was in place now, in which there were always patrols on foot to be found just beyond the Belt. "It would require felling a number of trees to construct the keeps Saeros wants," Lady Ernil added, "so I think your mother might find a reason not to support the idea."
"She might indeed," Celeborn replied, "but why are you so firmly against it? It doesn't seem like Saeros' most offensive idea, to me..."
"And where do you imagine he wishes to pull the people for this guard from? Our contact with other regions of Middle-earth is to suffer for this. He wishes to cut down the number of envoys we have, to call back some of the garrisons we have provided to smaller settlements..."
"We hardly provide them with anything as it is!" Celeborn exclaimed.
"Well, yes, according to Saeros, if they wish to be safe, they can simply move to Doriath – we would be happy to welcome them."
"Does he also propose that Thingol gives up the title of High King of the Sindar?" Galadriel asked, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
Lady Ernil gave her a quick smile. "Not that I know of," she said, "but then again, sometimes I feel that the King would accept even that, from Saeros."
Celeborn sighed. "I will try speaking to mother," he said. "This shouldn't be too difficult."
"Thank you, beloved."
As Celeborn and Galadriel went in search of Lady Gelvil, she asked him: "Why would your mother's fraction be even inclined to side with Saeros in this? Do they not trust the Queen's protection?"
Celeborn sighed. "This has been an issue ever since people of Doriath learned about Alqualonde. Until then, they believed in Lady Melian's protection, but now Saeros has managed to plant seeds of doubt. What if some of the Noldor came in and decided to do something terrible? Are we certain the Belt would stop them?"
They were separated by the crowd for a moment, and when Galadriel found her husband again, she observed: "Not that I think this would calm the people of Doriath, but I assure you, if some Noldor managed to get in, it wouldn't be the trees they'd go after. So your mother's fraction really has no reason to worry."
"I'm afraid such assurances, even doubtful as they are, would not be simply accepted from you. To hear Saeros speak, you need our trees to prepare some sinister weapons of war."
Galadriel almost wished it was true, for that at least would mean they were preparing for the inevitable moment the Siege of Angamando would be broken, but she refrained from saying so aloud. No need to give more food to the anti-Noldorin sentiments.
"Leaving me aside for the moment," she said instead, "given that I actually live here and am, formally speaking at least, a subject of Thingol now...I would have thought that my brothers' visits would skew the perception of the Noldor towards a somewhat more peaceful image." She knew that the Sindar of Doriath distrusted her and feared her, to a degree; but how anyone could distrust Ingoldo or Angaráto was beyond her.
"Exceptions are made for the House of Arafinwë, as you know – the King makes them, and so the others do as well. That also means you're not seen as representative of your clan. They hear about your nephew's marriage to a Sinda and are glad, but they do not see that as an indication that the Noldor don't see themselves above us."
"Well, in this particular case, they're right not to – Lady Maethorwen is more of a Nolde than most of us, in spite of who her father is."
"I thought it was her son in whom you saw everything you ever wanted your family to be?"
Galadriel smiled in response. Artaresto's son Artanáro was, truly, a child after her own heart. He reminded her of Itarillë in many ways, not least of which was that he, too, was such a mix of his parents' characters that neither of them understood their child properly. That alone would have ensured him a claim on her heart, and he was so bold and inquisitive without being careless and foolish that she could not help finding particular love in her heart for him, as much as she sometimes felt guilty about it, because she knew she devoted more time to this child than she ever had to his father. And, what was worse, the father doubtless knew it as well. "He is," she said, in answer to Celeborn's question, "or I hope he'll be. That doesn't diminish his mother's fire in any way, however. But there's a better example for our lack of prejudice against the Sindar, and one that doesn't even come from my father's house – you know my cousin loves Amonel."
"I do, but they do not. If he chose to marry her, it would certainly help the perception of the Noldor among my people."
Galadriel sighed. "That is not the main reason he should make that choice," she replied, "but you know how the situation stands."
Celeborn seemed to wish to answer in some way, but in that moment, they finally spotted Lady Gelvil and he fell silent, not wishing to remind her of the Noldor when he hoped to gain her approval for Lady Ernil's suggestion. Galadriel bade him good fortune, and went in search of the Queen.
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Two days later, Galadriel finally found it acceptable to leave the celebrations and accompany Lúthien to the forest.
These visits were always very different from when she walked there alone, or with Celeborn. Not only did Lúthien know the forest better than anyone else Nerwen knew, but the forest loved her in a way it did not love anyone else. Doriath already contained flowers and trees more beautiful than the rest of Middle-Earth, thanks to Lady Melian's influence, but where Lúthien walked, the grass was greener, blossoms brighter and trees taller. And when she sang and danced, everything bloomed around her, and Galadriel could only stand and admire the immeasurable beauty.
They wandered like this for days, far enough from Thousand Caves, lost in song and admiration. Then suddenly, when they were sitting on the banks of a stream, Lúthien turned to Galadriel and said: "Will you take me back to Aman in your memories?"
"Of course," the Noldorin lady replied. She had done this many times, ever since that day Lúthien came upon her in the Queen's chambers. She was not quite a substitution for Lady Melian's mind, but she was second best.
Now, she took Lúthien's hands and showed her, once more, the gardens of Lórien and Lady Estë in them. She walked with her through the paths that were now lost to her, and tried to find comfort even as she gave it.
She realized she had never showed Lady Arien to Lúthien in the past, and so with a tinge of curiosity about her friend's reaction colouring her mind, she turned there, to the Trees and the bright Lady gathering the dew of Laurelin.
Unexpectedly, Lúthien slipped out of her mind. "She's the Sun!" She exclaimed.
Galadriel blinked. "Lady Arien, you mean? It's occurred to me already that the brightness is of a similar kind, but I think it's only wishful thinking on my part."
Lúthien, however, was shaking her head. "No, aren't you listening? She is the sun."
"You mean...you can actually sense it?"
"Yes, of course! You cannot?"
"I sense...certain similarity, yes, but like I've said, I thought that was only my fervent wish..."
Lúthien frowned. "What a strange idea. Of course it is her. Ask my mother, she'll sense it as well."
Galadriel realized that she had, indeed, never done that. "I will," she said, "though I believe you, of course, it's just hard to...wrap my head around it."
"Around what?"
"That someone I knew – someone I spoke to many times – is now...well, a body in the sky."
Lúthien did not seem like this idea presented the smallest problem to her. "Well, she's a Maia, as you'd say," she pointed out. "I was chiefly surprised that you'd never talked about this, to be honest. It's very interesting. Do you think she could hear you, if you called to her?"
"I don't know – and there's no way to find out, really."
"Still, you should try – I'm sure she'd be happy to see you haven't forgotten your friendship."
"We were never exactly friends..." Nerwen muttered, still attempting to overcome the fact that she should be making sure she was not neglecting her social obligations to a heavenly body.
"Nevertheless. I could see you liked visiting her. You should talk to her from time to time. But now, allow me back in, I wish to see more of the Trees."
Galadriel was happy to oblige in this, and thy lost themselves for several more hours in the paths of memory. It was only when Lúthien came across the memory of Itarillë visiting Lady Arien with her that Nerwen gently pulled back.
"What is it?" Lúthien asked.
"This is too soon to the end," the Nolde replied. "To the darkness and pain. I don't think you wish to see that, and I certainly don't wish to show you, or remember."
"Well then." Lúthien smiled, unperturbed. "Let's head back."
She had never raised the topic of the kinslaying with Galadriel, and Galadriel was unwilling to do it herself. The princess had to know, of course – she saw Galadriel's mind – but never mentioned it, and never reproached her friend with a single word. The Noldorin lady accepted it as one of the princess' many unique character traits, and so now she smiled as well, and they left the stream to return to Thousand Caves.
On their way back, they came across Daeron. He looked a little guilty for some reason and Lúthien clearly wished to avoid him, but manners did not quite allow to do so, so they stopped. "What brings you out to the forest?" Galadriel asked after they exchanged greetings.
"I wished for some fresh air," he replied.
"In the midst of wedding celebrations?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "I understand it can be demanding to be the chief singer, responsible for all the entertainment, but..." She trailed off.
Daeron looked even more guilty now. "Well, the newlyweds are still in their chambers," he said, "so the demand for me is not high at the moment."
Galadriel gave him a very sceptical look. Wedding celebrations always lasted at least until the couple emerged again, and while some of the guests departed before that happened, it was certainly very strange for the chief singer to do so.
"Anyway," Daeron added, "I'll be heading back now."
Galadriel caught the flash of irritation in Lúthien's mind, but there was nothing to be done about it, Dearon would walk the rest of the way with them. They set off, and he turned to the Sindarin lady and asked: "And how are you on this beautiful day, my beloved princess?"
"Well enough, I thank you," she replied curtly.
"I have to say you looked marvellous at the wedding, a true joy for the eye."
Lúthien pressed her lips together, and Galadriel sighed. She understood why his open devotion made Lúthien uncomfortable sometimes, all the more so because she did not believe it to be true Flame. Galadriel sincerely hoped her friend was right, for the singer's sake. "Should one not especially praise the bride, on a wedding?" She asked.
"Of course," Daeron said quickly, "and I understand that, her being your sister, you would feel her elegance all the more. But I'm sure you'll forgive me if I say that no one, be it their wedding or not, can compare to my princess."
"Galadriel might forgive you," Lúthien said in a hard voice that it was very rare to hear from her, "but I might not. I don't wish to drive any attention away from the bride on her special day."
Dearon blushed. "Of course, my princess, forgive me. How was your walk in the forest?"
Lúthien's frosty façade immediately melted. "Very enjoyable, thank you for asking. There's a cluster of niphredil to be seen by the stream two days' journey from here, and they will only last a few weeks longer at most, so I warmly recommend you to go and see it."
Daeron smiled. "I'd dearly love to, but as your friend Lady Galadriel had reminded me, I'm needed at the wedding now."
Galadriel, who had never known Daeron to have any interest in the forest unless it involved Lúthien, mentally rolled her eyes. But the Sindarin princess was incapable of supposing someone would lie about their love for all that grows, and so she said: "I'm sure she'd forgive your absence if you had a good reason like this!"
With their eyes on her giving her no choice but to answer, the Nolde opted for the diplomatic: "I'm sure I have no right to judge Daeron's acts, and so there'd be no need for me to forgive anything."
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AN: Artanáro – Rodnor Gil-Galad
Maethorwen – the Sindarin version of Ohtarwen
Happy New Year!