AN: Warning: Some metaphysics here. Not too much, but canonical afterlife in Tolkienverse is discussed.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Chapter 20: Curiosity
Year 311 of the Sun, Doriath
The last half a century had not been a precisely cheerful one.
Galadriel still felt grieved over Ohtarwen, and worried about those she left behind, especially her nephew. Artaresto was still unhealed, and though there was some improvement over the last years, and he was now taking some interest in ruling his lands again, the healer in her knew he was unlikely to be cured entirely entirely on this shore, and that it was only his children, especially Findoiolosse, who were keeping him from fading.
Not that Artaresto had turned against Artanáro entirely, something she had feared for a while. But there was a new coldness there, more distance than before. Artanáro felt it as well, and missed his father. In some ways, he had lost both parents at the same time, and Galadriel tried to give him all the more of her attention for that and took him with her to Hithlum whenever she could. He had recently taken on his first responsibilities in Tol Sirion, though, so it was less often than before – and Galadriel saw that he missed that as well. Friendship had grown quickly between him and Findekáno and Ñolofinwë, and every time Artanáro could not go with her, he entreated her most earnestly to give his regards, and letters. While Galadriel though it a good thing that he was given responsibilities he was so well suited to, his desire to see his relations tore at her and she had to sternly remind herself that he was not a child any more, and should not be treated as such.
And then there was Findoiolosse. A young lady now, the loss of her mother at such an early age and her father's following overprotectiveness left its marks on her. She was shy and almost fearful, and in Galadriel's presence barely ever spoke a word, even though Artanáro assured her it was better when she was not present. "She fears you, I think," he said, "and even to me, she does not always speak plainly. But with Father and her friends, she can be open and cheerful, and she is one of the few things that can bring a smile to his face." So Galadriel had to accept that, and trust in others in the family, especially Eldalótë, to provide for the young girl in a way she could not.
Because of all of this, her mind was far from easy, and in addition, she was worried about her brother now. Her eldest brother, to be precise.
After her last visit to Narogrotto, he went with her to Thousand Caves and then continued east, planning to see Maitimo and Macalaurë, and later Angaráto, Aikanáro and Artaresto, visiting the High King before he returned home via Thousand Caves again, to take his sister with him.
It had now been over a year.
She had visited Hithlum and Tol Sirion in between, and Dorthonion, too, and did not worry when they told her Ingoldo had not appeared yet – it simply meant that he got held up by Maitimo and would appear a little later.
However, she was worried now, because it was quite a bit later already, all images she received from him in her mind were strangely jumbled, and she understood from Findekáno that he still had not appeared in their lands. So she was rather amazed when Lady Melian told her that she sensed him waiting at the eastern borders of Doriath – what made him change his plans and not journey North? And why was he not coming in?
She set out to meet him in the forest, and once she did, her amazement grew at the sight of the creature that was with him
It was clearly no elf, and yet he looked like one, much more so than like a dwarf or orc or any other being she had ever encountered in Middle-Earth. So that meant it had to be... "The Second-born?" She whispered.
"Yes, sister," Ingoldo replied in Sindarin. "Allow me to introduce Bëor, head of one of the great houses of the Second-born – or so he was before he pledged his service to me. And Bëor, my friend, this is my sister, Princess Artanis Nerwen, in Sindarin known as Galadriel, wife of Lord Celeborn of Doriath, this realm at borders of which we are, and daughter of Finarfin, High King of the Noldor beyond the Sea."
Bëor bowed very low, and he said in a rather shaky voice: "It's an honour to meet you, my lady."
She smiled at him, because he seemed so nervous, and said: "And I'm honoured to meet you. We've been expecting you for a long time."
"I'll be going to Nargothrond with Bëor now," Ingoldo said, "because I don't expect King Thingol would let him enter, and I'll not leave him alone outside. Will you accompany us?"
"I have to take my leave of Celeborn, but if you're going around, then perhaps we can meet at the south-western border?" Galadriel replied, thinking quickly.
"Look for us where Sirion leaves the forest," her brother affirmed and they parted, Galadriel hurrying back to Thousand Caves to share these great news.
Singollo seemed rather worried than pleased, and asked her to tell her brother to come and discuss this new development with him after he sees to everything he needs to in Narogrotto. Queen Melian's eyes took on a distant look and Galadriel saw that she was looking into future, silent. Lúthien was out in the forest somewhere, and so of those who heard what she had to say, Celeborn and Lady Ernil were the ones most interested. They preferred to wait for her to bring them more news before they decided whether he wanted to go and see those wondrous beings for themselves, however, and so Galadriel set out alone.
She met Ingoldo where he promised she would, and accompanied him to his kingdom, listening to his tale of finding the Second-born on the way. Ingoldo sometimes encouraged Bëor to add his own point of view, but he only ever did so very reluctantly and nervously, which seemed very strange to Galadriel, for did not Ingoldo say that Bëor was, or used to be, a head of his own house? A ruler of people?
"Have you discovered," she asked her brother, not wishing to bother Bëor if speaking was so uncomfortable for him, "in what way they are so different from us, that they're a separate people in Eru's mind? Bëor looks a little different, true, but surely that alone wouldn't have been enough? It's not that much more than the difference between the Sindar and the Noldor, for example."
"The most important difference, without a doubt," he said, with a glance at Bëor, who kept silent, "is that their spirits aren't bound to Arda."
Galadriel frowned. "What do you mean?"
"They don't have it in their nature to last as long as the world does. Instead, they pass away in time – they can be killed, like we do, but if they aren't, they can die of old age."
"Of old age?"
"That is what they say, though to us it would certainly not be old – if one of them lived a hundred years, they'd consider him a long-lived miracle."
Galadriel stared, astonished. "A hundred years of the Sun?" She asked, to make sure.
"Yes."
"But that's...that's barely enough time to grow to adulthood!"
"Not for the Second-born – their children, I've observed, grow much more quickly, and are as adult at fifteen as ours would be at fifty."
"Still, that only gives them eighty years or so of full maturity!"
"Less than that, in most cases," Ingoldo admitted. "About fifty or sixty, and that, they say, only since they came to Beleriand."
"And then – what? If you say that their spirits aren't bound to Arda, I assume they don't go to the halls of Mandos, nor do they gain a new body."
"We can't know this for sure, of course, but they don't believe so, and if they were to do so, what would be the point in their dying? And there's something else, too – there's a difference, when you look at them, in the way they regard Arda. The best way I can describe it is that it's as if they were merely guests here, meant for different places, and this world was but a brief stop for them."
"But where, where do they go?" Galadriel insisted.
"I don't know."
"And what can the One intend by giving them such a short life? A hundred years – it's like the blink of an eye!"
"We believe, my lady," Bëor spoke unexpectedly, in a quiet, hesitant voice, "that it wasn't originally like that. We believe that we, too, were meant to be deathless, like you, but that the Nameless one has put this curse of death on us."
"Nameless? Do you mean...?"
"They mean Morgoth by this – they never name him," Ingoldo interjected.
Galadriel shook her head. "I can't believe that. Changing the fate of Children of Illúvatar isn't something he could do."
"Isn't it? His power is great..."
"But only over things that are in this world. Our souls come from beyond it, and so, I'm sure, do yours."
"But our bodies are of Arda."
"And so he could destroy them, and he does, and he could make your grow weary more quickly, as he does to us, but he couldn't prevent you being reborn, and he couldn't make your spirit leave the world. No, this is no work of Morgoth...but if it's the work of the One, then I don't understand it at all."
"You say yourself that he might have shortened their lives," Finrod pointed out. "If they lived longer at the beginning?"
"And how long would have been enough? Two hundred years, five hundred, a thousand? After how long would you yourself consent to leaving the world forever? No, that's not the answer. It might well be true – for a hundred years truly seems very short to me – but it isn't the answer."
And Galadriel did not speak much for the remainder of the journey, or, indeed, during her entire stay in Narogrotto.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
After she returned to Thousand Caves, Ingoldo went with her to tell what he knew of the Second-born to Singollo. "The king was not as pleased by the news as we were," he told her once the audience was over, and Galadriel almost snorted. "He seems unreasonably upset about these Second-Born."
"Did he tell you why?"
"No. But..." He hesitated. "I was put in mind of the talk that could be heard in Aman before we left."
Galadriel remembered well what kind of talk he meant. That the Second-born were to take the land that rightly belonged to the elves from them. A bitter jealousy of a race they had not known yet. Her comparison of Singollo to Fëanáro sprung to mind once again, but she pushed it away. Ingoldo disliked hearing it, she knew. "What reason does he have?" She asked. "Surely he cannot worry that they will take his land from him, with Queen Melian's protection around it."
Ingoldo stopped his pacing around her chambers to look off into the distance. "No, but...he did not exactly say so, but you know I can see his mind..."
Galadriel nodded. Ingoldo was one of the very few who could – she suspected only the Queen, Lord Elmo and Lúthien. "What I saw," her brother continued, "was unclear, but it seemed somehow connected to Lady Melian."
Galadriel cast her mind back. "It is true," she said, "that I have seen her look somewhat concerned after I told them of the Second-born. It was some sort of premonition, but I do not know what. I can try asking, though I believe that had she wanted to tell me, she would have done so already."
"Nevertheless, do try. I wish to know what troubles King Elwë so. He must have a reason."
Galadriel did not reply. There was no sense in arguing.
She did go to Lady Melian once Ingoldo departed North to inform their uncle and the others, and just as she had expected, she did not learn much. "I've seen what the future will bring in regards to that, yes," the Queen said, "but I'll keep it private for now, and ask you not to look for it in my mind. I haven't even told the King."
"Then your warnings aren't the reason why he is so concerned about the Second-born?"
"My warnings, no. But while I can conceal the content of my visions, I can't conceal from him that I've seen, and not knowing what makes him fearful. Yet I can't tell him."
Galadriel accepted that. No doubt Lady Melian knew what she was doing, and she was impatient to discuss her observations of the Second-born with Celeborn anyway, so she left the Maia soon after that to find her husband. "So?" He asked, after welcoming her properly.
Galadriel told him of the scandalous discovery of the short lives and mysterious death of the Second-born.
"Well," he said after a moment's reflection, "if their souls are not bound to Arda, there's only one place where they can go."
He was, of course, right. Only the idea was so shocking she had been avoiding it until now. She had felt it in the back of her mind, festering, but avoided voicing it even to herself.
"Surely that wouldn't be fair?" She said. "Why would our souls be bound to this world for thousands of years, made to wait for Arda being remade, while they could join their creator after so short a time?"
"And would you leave the world so joyfully?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Not for nothingness," she replied, "but to be with The One? Not, perhaps, when I was young, but now?"
"Truly?" He gave her a very penetrating look. "You love the world, my love, as do I. I know the idea of The One waiting for us with his arms open is alluring, but be honest with yourself and imagine having to leave all of this behind. Would you be willing?"
Galadriel stood for a moment, looking into her heart, and then she slumped into Celeborn's arms. "No," she muttered. "No, I wouldn't. Do you...do you think he blames us for it?"
"No," he said decisively, and led her to a sofa where they both sat down. "He made the Second-born unattached to this world, not us. He must have had some purpose with that."
"Yet that purpose," she replied, "was no doubt made with Arda Unmarred in mind. What does it say about me – about us – that we love it as it's now?"
"It's still his creation, my love, his and that of the Valar. By loving it, you're fulfilling the calling he gave us. We aren't the Second-born, for better and for worse. Don't wish we were – for that would be blasphemy."
Galadriel put her head on his shoulder and pressed his hand. "Thank you," she said. "You keep me steady on my course."
"And you me," he replied.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Galadriel attempted to go on with her life in Thousand Caves, but she was burning with curiosity and so, a year later, she met with Ingoldo and Bëor on the eastern border of Doriath once again and went to visit the camps of the Second-born.
There, she understood better the things Ingoldo had said, and that she could not understand from only seeing Bëor. Their whole approach to the world was truly different, and not only because they knew their time was so short. It was difficult not to see them as impatient and in some ways like children, that they would grow bored of one thing so soon and turn to another – and yet they did so much more quickly than even the youngest of elven young. Their judgements tended to be snap, but their thinking was quick, and sometimes they took only a short time to come to a decision it would have taken elves hours to consider. It was not always the right decision, but often it was just as good as one the High King's council could have come up with, and, after all, the Elves were far from being always right.
Their songs seemed coarse and their poetry unpolished, but then, they were poor people living in camps on the edges of Beleriand. Galadriel knew nothing of the culture of the Silvan elves, but rather thought she might have found some things in common, had she ever travelled beyond the mountains to find out, or even to Ossiriand.
Yet there was something else as well, something separate. A shadow lay upon them, and sometimes she though this was what had attracted Ingoldo to them so much, what arose his love and interest – for they seemed not unlike the children of Arafinwë in being aware of a dark deed in their people's past which they kept secret, even though they themselves took no part in it. Bitter regret lay on their hearts, and they never wished to talk about their lives east of the mountains. At least for us, Galadriel though, Aman had centuries of happy memories before the darkness came.
She found it hard, too, not to adopt Celeborn's view of the Valar when she heard that the Second-born had never met them. What did this race ever do to deserve being kept without the light that guided elves to Valinor? Did the Lords of the West think that with such short lives, it was perhaps not worth it to show them beauty, when they would only stay in Arda Marred for such a brief moment? Were they guided by Eru in this, or was it their decision? Why did Men merit no protection?
In short, she had much sympathy for the Second-born, and would have wished to learn more about them – but, in spite of that, she did not stay long.
Men in these camps looked at her in wonder and seemed entranced by her beauty, and it would have been so easy to gain control of them she almost felt it on her fingertips. Just a little stretch of her will, the smallest, most minuscule one, and they would revere her – not all of them, perhaps, but enough that it would be of no consequence.
Her mind was strong and could, had she wished to, control even most elves by her will, at least for a time; but with these Second-born who had just emerged from darkness and who were weakened by it, it would have been so humorously easy to have them pronounce her as their queen, to even worship her, seeing the light in her and mistakenly believing it was her own...They scared her, because they awoke her own darkness, and so she left Ingoldo with them soon enough and travelled north. She longed to see the dwarves, who in many ways were the opposite of the Second-born – their minds were as hard and sturdy as their bodies, and they showed less propensity to be enchanted by her than elves, not more. With the dwarves, she always felt safe, and their presence calmed her mind in a way.
And yet...while she had been friendly with those that came to Thousand Caves and Narogrotto for centuries and her chests had many a piece of jewellery created by them, and her walls were decorated by their works of art and craftsmanship, she had never visited a dwarven kingdom in her life. She did not know if Maitimo had, and of those she knew, he was the most closely allied with the dwarves.
Nevertheless, he was her best chance, and so she rode to Himring once again.
"Beloved," Maitimo said, surprise evident in his face, when he came out of his fortress to greet her. "I did not expect you."
"Nor did I plan to come," she replied with a smile, dismounting. "But...well. I will tell you inside."
Maitimo was clearly intrigued by what she told him of the Second-born. "But you say they are weaker than us?" He asked. "Both in body and in mind?"
She sighed. "It is not that easy. In body, no, not weaker – they can be as strong as most of us, though perhaps not you or me. They live shorter lives, but that is not the same. And in mind...they are not weak, they are less wise, which is no wonder given the short time they have to gain wisdom. And they are by no means all foolish."
"Yet you say you could bend them to your will."
She avoided his eyes. "True," she replied. "They have just emerged from darkness. It is because of that, I believe, that it would be so easy to draw them to any kind of light."
Maitimo was deep in thought. Galadriel did not like some of the echoes of these thoughts that she caught, and said sharply: "I did not tell you these news to inspire you to make use of them in your plans."
"Given your own thoughts on the matter, you are hardly one to take a moral high ground," he replied equally sharply.
"That is why I left their camps," she reminded him, rising from the chair she occupied next to him.
"Is it?" He asked her in a slightly mocking tone, still sitting. "Or was it simply that being a queen of a small people holds no appeal to you, that it was not a prize worthy of you?"
She gave him a very sharp look. This was her own worst fear, and something that had troubled her mind all the way here, but she had not expected her friend to ask her these questions in such a mocking tone.
Maitimo felt her pain and disappointment, and his face immediately softened. He rose and extended his hands to her. She hesitated.
"Forgive me, beloved," he said, and she did take his hands then. "I...the Oath is eating at me. I should not have taken it out on you."
Galadriel was immediately worried. "The Oath? Is it becoming unbearable?"
"Not yet...for me, though some of by brothers are suffering acutely."
"Atarinkë?" She asked immediately.
"Yes. And Tyelkormo. I hardly recognize my brothers in them sometimes, lately. But it is getting more difficult even for the rest of us, and being locked here...there are few distractions."
"You should visit Macalaurë and Findekáno more often," she said in a soft chiding voice, ashamed of herself at the same time for only coming to Himring every decade or two.
At the mention of Findekáno, a spasm seemed to go through Maitimo's face. "What is it?" She asked immediately.
"Nothing," Maitimo replied. "Only...he has not been quite himself ever since he learned Ambë knew about Alqualondë."
There was clear pain in his voice. Galadriel knew he still blamed himself for Findekáno's involvement there, and so she now went and embraced him. "I know," she said, for she did, seeing Findekáno every year, and that was another of her many worries. "I will go to him from here, but first, I wished to ask...do you ever actually go to Belegost?"
It turned out Maitimo did not, but there were some envoys present at the moment, and so Galadriel at least had the opportunity to spend some time in their calming company before she headed west, to Hithlum through Dorthonion and Tol Sirion.
She did not find anything unexpected in either of these realms. Aikanáro and Eldalótë still bemoaned Ñolofinwë's lack of action, and Artaresto was still in pain. Artanáro, at least, was giving her joy. He now rode out with his father's soldiers from time to time, as his mother had before him, and while that added to Artaresto's train, his had proved himself to be a good commander, a great warrior in the making. Nerwen took him with her to Hithlum once more, and so had an opportunity to assure herself, in the months they spent there, that he was growing in wisdom as well. While the grief over his mother's death could be seen in his heart, it had not soured him. He and his father were much like Itarillë and Turukáno, Galadriel thought. But then, losing the one with which the flame of Eru tied you together must be something terrible. As dreadful as death of a parent must be, it was possible that death of a spouse was beyond compare. Galadriel only prayed that she need never find out.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Galadriel tried to keep to her resolution and so travelled more often to Himring in the following years, even as she felt guilty for neglecting her brother or Celeborn – for she could not, at this time, sacrifice any time with Artanáro. Both her time spent with him in Tol Sirion and the cheerful months he usually passed with her in Hithlum – for Findekáno, in his true fashion, usually managed to hide his own pain deep enough that only very few could sense it – were equally important to him, she knew.
But then, as if there had not been enough tragedies and blows for her family in the last five decades, a sadness crept into her mind from those of Ñolofinwë and Findekáno when she left Narogrotto after finally visiting it after a gap of years, and when she enquired what troubled them, received images of Irissë in return. However, anything more precise was impossible to glimpse, and she would have had to wait to have any idea of more if it was not for Melian taking her aside when she arrived to Thousand Caves.
"Your cousin Irissë was at our borders some days ago," she said.
Galadriel would have been more astonished had she heard any other name from Turukáno's household. This had only been a matter of time. Nevertheless, she would not have expected a visit to Doriath, and why were her cousin and uncle so saddened? "What was she doing here?" She asked curiously
"Seeking entrance and looking, she said, for the sons of Fëanáro. The king did not wish to allow her in and the border guards told her that if she wanted to reach her Feanorion friends, she had to go east – and, they said, she turned that way."
Now Galadriel felt more surprise, and alarm, especially combined with what she felt from her uncle and cousin. Many things could have happened to the White Lady along the northern borders of Doriath, though Irissë was certainly no easy prey. "I wish I had not been gone when she came," she said bitterly.
"I thought you and your cousin were not on good terms?" Lady Melian noted, seeming surprised.
Galadriel sighed. "Not particularly, but I have not seen her for two hundred years. Of course I would have wanted to speak to her. And she would have had news, too, of those I love dearly."
The Queen seemed saddened, and took her hands. "I am sorry," she said, "I sometimes forget how much time matters to you. I would have tried to hold her by our borders until your return, if the king could not be convinced to let her in."
Which they both knew he would not be. Galadriel shook her head. "Irissë would never have allowed herself to be held, except by force. May I speak with the guards who met her?"
She was directed to the north-western border and undertook the journey. There, she learned the description of Irissë's companions and almost wept as she deduced it had been Lords Laurefindil, Ehtelion and Aikambalotsë. She would have dearly wished to speak to Lord Laurefindil, not only for the news of Itarillë he could have doubtless given her, but also for himself. And while she never spoke to Lord Ehthelion much, their ways rarely crossing, she considered him one of the greatest among the Noldor and knew he had Itarillë's esteem and Lord Laurefindil's faithful friendship. She did not really know Lord Aikambalotsë, she only ever met him briefly, but all she ever heard of him was good. It was not surprising that Turukáno sent all of his companions with his sister, and Galadriel dearly wished she had been present to meet them, even more so, perhaps, than Irissë. She also knew that they would have been willing to wait for her return, but that they were obedient to the White Lady. Her hope grew when she knew these three brave warriors were with Irissë...and yet, once again, what of the sadness she felt from her kin?
For an answer to that question, she only had to wait for Angaráto to make the journey to her, so she spent a few days in uncertainty. But her brother understood she longed for news, and so as soon as he arrived, greeting Singollo only perfunctorily, he headed to her chambers to tell what he knew. Celeborn was with her when they heard of the Lady being lost, and grieved, she directed to him her remark: "Those are the moments when I truly don't relish being right."
"Your cousin seems to have overcome even your expectation, though," he replied. "You'd only suspected she'd leave, and that she'd go to the sons of Feanor. You didn't think she'd go through the Valley of Dreadful Death."
Galadriel could only nod. It was true, and it was why she was not only grieved – she was also angered. She herself travelled through the realms of Beleriand frequently, and she knew that in these times of peace, when one avoided certain dangerous areas, one was safe. Irissë, she knew, had been warned of the Valley, and besides, this was hardly the first time she had gone to visit Tyelkormo. She had gone through Dorthonion every time before, and Galadriel did not understand why she could not have done the same this time. Had she been afraid Aikanáro or Eldalótë would try and stop her? It sounded most unlike Irissë that she would think anyone capable of stopping her, but it seemed the only logical explanation. Or perhaps not exactly stop her, but slow her down and contact Ñolofinwë and Findekáno, and then they would stop her.
Had Irissë truly stayed so long in the Hidden City under Turukáno's protective and restrictive watch that she had not realized that in Hithlum or in Narogrotto, she could have gained a bigger entourage and continued to her ultimate destination in the east?
Well, perhaps not Narogrotto. Ingoldo would have tried his best to stop her from journeying. But both Irissë's brother and father would have helped her, in the end. But instead of going to them and asking, she stubbornly insisted to go her own way, and only the Valar knew where she was now. Turukáno must be devastated, and because of that, Itarillë would be too. Galadriel felt sorry for them, and the only bright thing about this all seemed to be that none of the noble company that went with the princess of the hidden city paid with their lives for her stubbornness.
She woke from her musing to find both her brother and her husband watching her closely. She gave them a wan smile. "I think I'll go seek out Lúthien now, if you'll forgive me, brother, for not spending more time with you. Her light joy is precisely what I need at the moment."
Both neri nodded, and she headed out. Queen Melian had asked her daughter to spend more time with her in Thousand Caves recently, so there was even a chance she would find her in the city. Lúthien, of course, was far from always being lightly joyful, but even if the confinement of this world was laying heavily on her today...well, an escape to Valinor in her mind would be just as beneficial to Nerwen as a walk in the forest. Perhaps she could even remember some of the time they spent together with Irissë as children – there were bound to be some memories more happy than frustrating.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
AN: Ehthelion – Ecthelion
Aikambalotsë – Quenyan translation of Egalmoth