Chapter 21: Pains

Year 380 of the Sun, Doriath

Singollo's ego was bruised.

That was always a particularly dangerous time to be in Thousand Caves.

His ego was bruised because the Noldorin lords had accepted the Second born in their lands and allowed them to settle there, without asking the High King of the Sindar first. There was no earthly reason why they should do so, of course, but Singollo never quite stopped considering himself king of all Beleriand – even though he did absolutely nothing to protect the lands beyond the borders of Doriath – and was convinced that everyone should consult every step they did with him. At least he never could be bothered to leave his safe halls, so he did not try to force the others into submission. The last thing they needed was another kinslaying.

Ingoldo always tried to consult everything he did with Singollo like a good vassal, something that irritated Galadriel a good deal. She understood diplomacy, of course, but it had to be balanced with a sense of one's own pride. She herself had to get on with the king, since she lived in his realm, but it did not mean she pandered to his every whim. Sometimes she thought she was less subordinated to him than his wife, a thing she found highly ironic.

A case in point was when Singollo's nerves finally gave and he pronounced, in a fit of anger after hearing some new stories of the Second born spreading into what he saw as his lands, that "into Doriath shall no Man come while my realm lasts, not even those of the house of Beor who serve Finrod the beloved." Galadriel could sense plainly what Melian thought of that pronouncement, and the king should have certainly been able to, too – but either his mind was too clouded by anger, or he simply decided to pay his wife no mind, as he often did. She did not say anything, and Galadriel felt a pang of irritation as she frequently did on those occasions. They left the room to preserve the peace, and once outside, the queen said: "Do not look at me like that, beloved."

"You know this is one thing we shall never agree on, my lady. I attempt not to say anything, but you cannot change my thoughts."

"I would not wish to, but surely if nothing else, you can see that if I protested every time you think I should, I would spend a good portion of time arguing with the king?"

Galadriel sighed. She would have liked to ask why Melian married him, then, but she knew very well why. Sometimes she felt that with some placings of his flame, Eru was putting a great burden indeed on those concerned. Even though, she had to remind herself, Melian did not feel it as much as she would have. Eru knew what he was doing, after all.

Ignoring the question, she instead said: "You did seem more disapproving than usual of the king's statement today, though."

"Yes, for I have Seen. Now the world runs on swiftly to great tidings. And one of Men, even of Beor's house, shall indeed come, and the Girdle of Melian shall not restrain him, for doom greater than my power shall send him; and the songs that shall spring from that coming shall endure when all Middle-earth is changed."

That made Galadriel turn grim, for she knew the great tidings would not be good ones, and she hurried North soon afterwards, to attempt to urge Ñolofinwë into action once more, and to speak with her brothers there, and perhaps Maitimo.

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Her relentless insistence finally had some effect on the High King of the Noldor in Middle-Earth, but not quite the one she had imagined.

He was thinking of attacking Angamando.

"Have you not been listening to me all these years?" Nerwen cried angrily. "I said that we are wasting our time, that we should be preparing better weapons to be able to keep the siege intact after another attack, and instead, after giving the enemy three hundred years to prepare himself, and us having no better weapons then before – and indeed, being weaker, with Turukáno now hidden safely in his secret city – you plan to attack the Enemy? What madness is this, Uncle?"

"You are out of line, Artanis," he replied, frowning at her.

At this attempt to subdue her, Galadriel sprang from her chair and paced to the window, too angry to contain it. "Do not try to control me with your royal authority," she spat over her shoulder, "it never worked, and you know it never shall, least of all now that I am formally a subject of Singollo. Your plan is folly, and I shall not call it by any other name than such as it deserves."

Her uncle remained seated, though his eyes were flashing as well. "You said we have been wasting our time," he argued. "Aikanáro and Eldalótë think so as well."

Here Galadriel almost snorted. It would have been the first time her uncle paid any mind at all to Aikanáro's or Eldalótë's opinions, and she had no doubt that they were merely a convenient support for his argument. No, if someone had truly convinced him, it was her – suddenly a terrifying thought, given what he was proposing. Still, it was strange. She had been trying to persuade him for two hundred years without any success, so why did he change his mind now? She asked the last question aloud, in a somewhat sharp tone of voice.

"I have considered the matter in detail and decided that I should listen to you," Ñolofinwë replied, clearly attempting to keep his tempter in check as well. "We should not give him any more time."

Galadriel looked at him in incredulousness. "We were not strong enough to attack him after we came directly from Valinor, still full of light and in full numbers – how do you imagine we would be strong enough now?"

"There are more of us now than there were then," Findekáno interceded. "Almost twice as many, in fact."

"Yes – but half of these people is too young to be sent into battle, and even those who are old enough are weaker for never having seen the Trees. You both know this. They would be the first to die in such a hopeless endeavour. Are you so eager for that, to have the children of your kingdom perish?" Galadriel asked pointedly.

"What would you have me do then," Ñolofinwë finally exploded, pushing his chair away from the table as well, "simply wait until he comes for us?"

"You have done it long enough!"She retorted, not backing down, even as Findekáno winced. "I would have you develop new weapons, as you know, and prepare our defence," she continued more mildly.

Ñolofinwë shook his head as he rose and joined her at the window. "Weapons would take time, and he has the head start on us – even if we started now, he has been doing so for hundreds of years and we would only give him more time by waiting while we prepare our own," he said, gentling his tone as well, and lightly touched her arm.

Galadriel, however, was not calmed by this. "So you would rather we attack unprepared?" She asked.

"So you would rather we do nothing, now, all of a sudden?" He returned the question, some sharpness returning.

"I would rather we do nothing than die in vain!" She exclaimed, and feeling, suddenly but with certainty, that there was no agreement to be reached here, she shook her head mutely and left the room.

Findekáno followed after her. They walked a long way in silence, until he said: "I agree with you, but do not judge my father too harshly, I beg you. He has some premonitions, I believe, and feels deeply guilty now for not listening to your earlier, and is trying to do what he can now to avert the catastrophe he senses is coming. I know he chose a strange way to do it, but he is close to despair, and fear grips him tightly."

Had an echo of the same premonition Lady Melian had had reached her uncle? Galadriel herself was not aware of any more swiftly approaching doom, but while it was rare for her uncle to See something she did not, it was possible – and besides, his premonition might only be of the same thing that she had known for centuries, that they cannot win. Perhaps it had finally reached him as well. It would certainly explain his sudden change of opinion. "How long has your father felt like this?" She asked.

"I believe it has been coming on gradually," Findekáno replied. "Even when last you were here, he was second-guessing his insistence that no action was needed, but...well, pride prevented him from saying it then, I believe. But not long after this, he began to feel ashamed of that sentiment, and as soon as he allowed himself to fully contemplate that you and our kin from Dorthonion were right...the full seriousness of the situation unwrapped in front of him."

"So you agree with me, then, that it is dire?"

"It will not be easy, no," he agreed, "but I believe that we can overcome."

Galadriel sighed. Of course he did. "I will not judge your father, then," she said, "but I cannot stay here without saying something unforgivable in anger, sooner or later."

"You, cousin? I thought this was only a failing of other, lesser Noldor."

He said it with a smile, and so Galadriel took it in the spirit in which it had been intended. "Usually, yes," she replied equally lightly. "But I think we can agree that this is a bit of an extremis...with hundreds of thousands of lives at stake," she added, all lightness gone.

He sighed profoundly. "I do not like thinking about that."

"Neither do I, but we have to face the truth."

"The responsibility is...crushing."

"Yes. That is why I think it might be understandable that I am a little more on edge than usual. I will go to my brothers now, but promise me you will not allow your father to do anything harsh."

He pressed her hand. "I will try my best to prevent it."

She gave him a wan smile. "I suppose that is the most I can ask."

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If Nerwen thought her visit with her brothers would improve her spirits, that there, she would find minds that shared her view that something should be done, but not a direct attack...she was to be sorely disappointed, for the rulers of Dorthonion agreed with Ñolofinwë. "But living so close to the Enemy," she said, "surely you must know how futile that attempt would be!"

"Better a futile attempt than doing nothing," Aikanáro replied.

"Too long," Eldalótë added, "have we simply let ourselves be killed, without striking any blows in turn."

Nerwen's worry grew. She could not see Eldalótë's mind, but from her speech and the pain in her eyes, she realized her sister-in-law was still consumed by the desire for revenge, revenge for Ohtarwen's death that had brought so much pain to Eldalótë's son, and that it was this she was thinking of when she spoke. Given an opportunity to strike against one who caused it, hse could not and would not hesitate.

Angaráto, Galadriel knew very well, would follow either his wife or his brother, and now his wife was consumed by dark thoughts and his brother...well. Galadriel was less surprised by Aikanáro's heedless wish to fight, but still, there was something wrong with his sudden disregard for death. He was worrying her as well. A darkness seemed to be lying on her youngest brother, a darkness that was clouding his judgement and was making him rush into death's embrace.

She took him aside and asked: "What is it, Aikanáro? Please, open your mind to me – perhaps I can help."

He looked away from her. Despair grew in her breast. "Why do you turn away?" She asked.

"I fear my noble sister's disapproval," he replied, and she was ashamed of herself once more, ashamed of the way she looked down on her brothers, that led them to hesitate in confiding to her.

"Whatever you did, I will never cast you away. I might disagree with you, but I will try to help you with all my powers."

He turned his eyes back to her, those eyes that were always sparkling with laughter or mischief or anger, and there was such a well of grief and despair in them that she trembled. "I have felt the flame of Eru," he said.

Surely that should be a joyous occasion...unless..."Has she died?" Galadriel asked fearfully.

"Not yet," he replied, with immeasurable sorrow in his words.

In spite of the seriousness of the topic, Galadriel almost smiled at that sentiment. "Do not give yourself to despair, brother," she said, "we might yet live in peace for many years, and even if we do not, your beloved does not have to perish in the battles to come, and perhaps the Valar will take pity on us one day."

He did not return her smile. "On us, but not on her," he said. "She will perish regardless of what comes of our war." He took a deep breath. "She is of the Second-born."

Galadriel's eyes grew wide and she stared at her brother, uncomprehending. "But...the flame of The One...how is that even possible?" She hesitated. "Are you sure...?"

She saw his face close down, and hurriedly said: "Forgive me, brother, I do not want to disrespect your pain and your love. But I do not...I do not understand how The One, the ever-good, could be so cruel. What plan of his is in this that I do not see?" Of course, there were many plans of The One that she did not see, but still...

He shook his head. "It does not matter," he said, "I did not...pursue her."

That caused Galadriel another shock. "But if the flame was true..."

"Have you not seen Artaresto suffering after the death of his wife?" He asked in despair. "I cannot enter marriage with the certain knowledge that I would face that, and soon, too, in what is merely a few years to us."

"But what will become of you, then? She will die and be freed from all this, presumably, but you, even if you die, will go to the Halls of Mandos and, if the Valar are merciful, be given a body again one day...but the flame, will it die?"

"I do not know. And yet, would it not be even worse had I married her?"

Yes, it would have. The Flame grew in intensity once the wedding took place, and once the couple laid together for the first time. "The One was merciful to our grandfather," she said, "and made him feel the flame again. We may hope he will be so to you, too, but...but I cannot help feeling that...if you felt it, if such an extraordinary fate had been prepared for you, then there is some intention in it, and you should not have spurned it."

His eyes were full of pain. "I cannot, sister. Do not force me into it, because I could not bear it."

She closed her eyes and pressed his hand. "I would never force you, brother. And I will pray to The One that he may make your burden easier, however you might decide in the end. Is it long since you met her?"

"No, I have but recently returned from that journey."

"And may I know her name?"

"Andreth. She is...she is so wise, sister, for one so very young...she is barely twenty years old, she should be a child by our standards, and yet..."

"They age differently than we do, though at that age I believe she is still very young even by their count. What house is she from?"

"Beor...that is how I met her, she came here with messengers from their lands, though I did not know. I first saw her reflection in Aeluin, and I knew from that moment that...that all hope was lost."

Galadriel embraced her brother, and though in that moment that her uncle was right, that darkness was truly upon them.

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The news she received in Himring were not any better.

She told Maitimo of Ñolofinwë's latest insane idea, and they lamented it together. "At least Tyelkormo and Atarinkë should be happy with it," she said, but the expression that crossed Maitimo's face at the second name was such to give her pause. "What is it?" She asked.

He avoided her eyes. "I do not wish to add to the shame of my family," he said, "I would rather you did not know."

"I can promise not to tell anyone beside Celeborn if you wish..."

He gave a bitter laugh. "Do you think I do not know Melian sees your mind? And she shares everything with Singollo, and before you know it, all of the Sindar will know of our latest dark deed and will hate us even more than before. And you will pay for it, cousin, so do not ask me to speak."

Nerwen gave him a hard look. "I have kept the truth of Alqualondë from Queen Melian for years," she said sharply. "I do not think Atarinkë's latest escapade is going to prove more of a chore than that."

Another laugh that had no mirth in it. "Well, if you insist...you can be the judge of that." His mouth stretched into a terrible grimace. "My brother found a wife."

Galadriel's eyes grew wary. "Surely that is not..."

"Found is very much the proper word, really," Maitimo continued as if he had not heard her. "A pretty Sindarin lady taking a walk just beyond the edges of Doriath. She missed the open horizon, I gathered, and so she sometimes walked like this. Perhaps my brother decided that with such unusual preferences for the Sindar, she really needed to be rescued and relocated to the Noldor, who had much more appreciation for open space. At any rate, he was determined to make her his wife. She was not at all enthusiastic, especially after learning who he was – the fool told her in the hopes of convincing her. Well, you know how much Curufinwë dislikes being denied things. His will overcame hers in the end, and now she is his wife, expecting the first grandchild of Fëanáro, I hear."

Galadriel stared, disbelieving. "That is not possible," she said in the end, flatly. "No one can marry someone else against their will. That is the whole basis of marriage, the freely given consent of both sides. That is what marriage means."

"Well, of course, you cannot directly make anyone marry. But there are plenty of indirect ways to do that – surely you have enough imagination for that? Curufinwë kidnapped her and imprisoned her and probably threatened violence to her and her kind if she did not consent to become his wife. It did not take too long to get what he wanted."

"How long ago was this? How long have you kept it a secret?"

"A few months. But I suppose it will have to come out, after the child is born at the latest. People will ask who his mother is, and they are unlikely to believe a Sinda went with my brother willingly."

"They might," Galadriel muttered, "simply because everything else is too unbelievable."

Maitimo gave a great sigh, and she saw his eyes were full of pain and despair. "Could I have prevented this, beloved?" He asked. "There must be something I could have done...I have seen her, my brother's new wife. He...he actually invited us to Himlad, to present her. It was dreadful. She is truly beautiful, her hair like molten silver and her eyes as bright as grass in spring, but she is wilting in my brother's company, and she will fade in time, I fear, unless the child gives her a reason to live."

"Can you not help her, then?"

"How? Perhaps if she was not with child, but then my brother is too clever for that. She was already expecting when he invited us. He knows what Macalaurë and I would try to do otherwise."

"I see. So you wish to help her, but not enough to take his child from your brother."

The pain in Maitimo's eyes deepened. "You know I could not do that," he said. "To hide a child from its father..."

"Not even to save a woman who is being held against her will?"

Maitimo did not reply, and Nerwen left Himring soon afterwards, unable to stay.

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She did not escape the tragedy of Curufinwë's wife by returning to Thousand Caves, however. She found both Doroneth and Oropher, her young son, dressed in mourning. "What happened?" She asked immediately, alarmed. "Something with the baby?" When she had left Thousand Caves, Doroneth had been pregnant.

"Oh no," her sister-in-law replied, "Nimloth is fine. A healthy, blooming child. But my sister's disappeared."

A feeling of dread spread in the Nolde's belly. "Your sister?" She asked carefully. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Have I met her? Was she at the wedding?"

"Oh yes. She sat next to my brother and Amdír. I'm sure you must have noticed her – she's very beautiful. Hair like molten silver, and eyes so light green they remind you of spring grass."

Galadriel's world grew dark for a moment, and she feared she would faint. "Do you have any idea where she might be?" She asked faintly.

"None. She liked taking long solitary walks, so for a long time no one was worried, but it's been several months now. And she'd have never missed the birth. There's no denying it, she's lost. Queen Melian says no stranger crossed the border of Doriath, so it means my sister must have left the safety of our realm. She did that sometimes, I'm afraid. She liked the open horizon."

Darkness crept upon Galadriel again, and she hastily excused herself and fled.

Fortunately, Celeborn was in their chambers. "What happened?" He asked as soon as he took one look at her face.

"I know where Doroneth's sister is," she said without preamble.

"Then we have to tell her at once! Come!"

"No," Galadriel did not move. "I was sworn to secrecy."

"What? Why? Where is she?"

"In Himlad...married to my cousin Curufin."

Celeborn sat in shock as she retold him the entire story she had heard from Maitimo. "What can be done?" He asked then.

"I don't know. Curufin'll never let me visit now, nor will he come with her to Himring. I don't see any way of getting to her."

"And you've been sworn to secrecy."

"I have, you haven't. But...think carefully about whether you wish to share this. Unless the information can help...Maedhros is right, you know. It'd increase hatred and mistrust."

Celeborn thought about this deeply for a moment. "We need to speak to grandmother," he decided then.

Galadriel agreed, though she did not look forward to that talk, and they walked the short distance to Lady Ernil's chambers in silence.

She seemed surprised to see them. "Come in, come in," she said. "I suppose it's a political matter of some urgency? Do take a seat."

Her light mood disappeared as soon as Celeborn told her of the problem.

"If our king was different," she said then, a distant look in her eyes, "I'd try to get him to threaten that spawn of Feanor with our army unless he gave Midhel back. But we all know that'll never happen. Yes, I'm afraid you might be right – it may well be impossible to help her."

"Surely you don't intend to do nothing, Grandmother?" Celeborn asked, more shocked than upset.

She looked directly into his eyes, and silent communication passed between them. Galadriel rose. "I'll leave you now," she said. There was no need to remain in the way of whatever private conversation they required to have. At the door, however, she hesitated. "Whatever you decide to do," she said, "be very careful. Curufin is...crafty, and clever. It won't be easy to fool him."

Lady Ernil gave her a long, measuring look, then she inclined her head. "Thank you for the warning," she said.

Galadriel nodded in return and left, unsure where to go. Perhaps visiting the ents could at least take her mind of things? She headed towards the forest half-heartedly. In times of turmoil, she would normally search out Lady Melian while in Thousand Caves, but now, forced to keep the reason of her upset from her, that was not an attractive option. She considered Lúthien for a moment, but it seemed like burdening her friend with such terrible news would be too much. She needed her uncle or Findekáno...or, better yet, some of those she had lost.

Her mind went to Itarillë, hidden behind the seemingly impenetrable walls of her father's city, consoling Turukáno, in all likelihood, after Irissë's departure. How she missed her! That longing was always there, at the back of her mind, but at times it became especially acute, and now it erupted like a long-suppressed stream. No one could have cheered and consoled her as well in this moment as Itarillë could. No one, that was, with one exception.

And now her mind went further back, to one she lost through her own foolishness, one who could have advised in this moment, as well as consoled. "Oh, Olórin," she said with a soft sigh, and returned in her mind to the gardens of Lórien.

She usually did her best not to think of that lost friend, because while Itarillë was still within her reach in some ways, Olórin was lost forever, and that knowledge was too painful to bear. But now the memories overpowered her, and as she blinked the tears away from her eyes, she was not sure if they were for Midhel, for Aikanáro and Andreth, or for herself.