AN: Warning: after the first break (well, second if you count the one below this AN), this chapter deals with what is discussed in Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth (published in Morgoth's Ring). I am not sure what degree of sense it makes unless you have read that, or unless you are a theologian/philosopher/something similar. It is also mostly a theological discussion between the siblings, so in case you are not interested in that kind of thing, you can simply skip it without losing much in the way of story. I am also warning you that that passage is unavoidably and almost explicitly Christian (as much as Athrabeth is). Writing canonical Tolkienverse, I assume the basic theological tenets he worked with to be objectively true in the same way Manwë is, and work with them accordingly. So if that makes you uncomfortable, just skip. :)

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Chapter 22: Distant Hope

Year 400 of the Sun, Doriath

The attempt to rescue Midhel did not go well.

Galadriel had not known about it in advance, and in fact, only found out when Lady Ernil requested a private talk with her. It turned out a small group of elves, headed by Midhel's father and brother, had secretly travelled to Himlad to try and get their beloved back.

None of them returned, and now Lady Ernil wanted Galadriel to travel to Himlad herself and attempt to at least find out their fate.

"Curufinwë won't receive me," Galadriel answered when she heard the suggestion. "The most I can do is go to Himring and send Maedhros to find out."

The Sindarin lady curled her lip. "As if we could rely on a son of Feanor to report to us truthfully."

Galadriel sighed. "It's the most I can do," she repeated. She was not certain Lady Ernil believed her, however.

Doroneth had been told about her sister's fate, so that was where Galadriel headed next, to beg forgiveness for being unable to do more. She found the lady surrounded by family, and her heart grew heavier. Galathil was there, as were Nimloth and Oropher, but not only them. Amdír, Doroneth's nephew, was also present, there with his mother. His father was one of those who had gone to Himlad. The whole family was dressed in mourning.

"Sister," Galadriel said softly to the lady, "I'd speak to you." She gave a look to the children by her side as she said so. Some things should only be heard by adults.

"Then do," Oropher replied for his mother.

Galadriel controlled the scathing look she wanted to send him, and Doroneth sighed softly and looked at her other sister-in-law. "Filegil," she said, "would you take Nimloth, please? She truly is too young for this, but the rest should hear and..."

Filegil only nodded, and taking the girl by the hand, led her out of the room.

"What is it, then?" Doroneth asked.

"Lady Ernil came to me with the request to find out the fate of your father and brother," Galadriel replied, her eyes darting to Amdír as she did so. "I...wished to tell you personally that it's impossible. Curufin won't receive me in Himlad. I've tried before, as you know."

"You'll just do nothing, then?" Oropher asked.

"Beloved, please," Doroneth said in a soft voice, giving Galadriel an apologetic look.

"Amdír's father went there!" Oropher retorted with some spirit. "My uncle! And my grandfather as well! How can you be so placid?"

"Believe me that I'm not," Doroneth said, some sharpness returning to her voice, and Galathil laid a calming hand on her arm.

"I thank you for your concern, cousin, and appreciate it," Amdír added, "but please don't speak for me. My father and grandfather might well be dead. I wouldn't wish to push Lady Galadriel into any course of action that might be risky to her as well."

Oropher immediately subsided. "I only thought she could..." He muttered, trailing off.

"I promise you I'll do everything in my power," the Nolde replied, while lamenting that it had to be so little.

Nevertheless, she stayed true to her word, and found out through Maitimo that the Sindar were not, as a matter of fact, dead, merely imprisoned. She would have felt relief that her cousins had not sunk that low yet, if it had not been for what she witnessed in Maitimo's house. His flashes of temper were getting worse, and he was meaner than he had ever been before. He always apologized afterwards, but still, Galadriel felt that his mind would not withstand the pressure of the Oath much longer – and dreaded what would happen after it crumbled.

So that fear joined her pain over Doroneth's kin, and over Midhel. Of her, Maitimo had some news as well, delivered in such bitter tones she would have felt sorry for him if she had not, sometimes, glimpsed hints of scorn for her supposed weakness in his speech. "She crumbled to my brother's will," he had said. "She barely speaks now, and seems afraid to as much as raise her eyes from the ground except to look at her son. Tyelperinquar is strong and fair, at least. Atarinkë says he shows talent in craft as well. But his mother is a ruin of a nis, an empty shell. She gave up the fight."

"Do not dare blaming her," Galadriel replied fiercely. "It was your brother who did this to her, and you do not get to feel better about it by telling herself it was her fault for not being strong enough."

"But she was not," he said, again with that hint of scorn. "You would never suffer such a fate."

Galadriel had left Himring after this, as she had many times before in the last two decades for similar reasons, but the words came to haunt her not long afterwards, when news of Irissë reached her – and this time, they were more grievous, and more definite.

She learned that day that not even the spell that lay on Turukáno's city was strong enough to block feelings as sharp as these, for she felt Turukáno's joy like her own, and too soon afterwards, his pain as well. There was no uncertainty in the last thought: Irissë was dead.

Galadriel could not know what happened at first, she only had the complete certainty that her cousin had perished, but soon, some sort of news started to filter in. A strange dark elf had appeared in the lands north of Doriath some days ago, and rumour coming from the east said that he had claimed to be Irissë's husband and the father of her son. Even later, it transpired that he was Eol the Dark-Elf, and that he had been pursing them.

Galadriel had no way of learning what happened in the hidden city that lead to Irissë's death, but there was a good reason to believe it was somehow connected to her sinister husband, since there was no one inside the city itself that would do her harm.

As for the rest, with knowing Midhel's fate, Galadriel knew enough to imagine what transpired in Irissë's case as well, and her mind filled with horror at this repetition. When Maitimo first told her, she had been shocked into incomprehension that her cousin could do such thing to another elf, and now she found out that another of her cousins was, at the same time, being subjected to it. Were there more cases like this, she wondered? How often did this happen and was kept secret, how many elves were married under duress, forced or manipulated into it? How many subjected to such terrible fate?

Did Eol kill Irissë as a punishment for leaving him, when she finally managed to do so? Would Curufinwë do the same, had they succeeded in helping Midhel escape? Had they rescued the lady, would it have been even worse? If they had helped Tyelperinquar escape? Was that why Irissë had waited so long to make an attempt for freedom, had she waited for her son to be old enough to manage the journey and not to be at risk?

And how was it possible that Irissë even found herself in this situation in the first place? For all she had despised Maitimo for the remark that she would have never suffered Midhel's fate, she had believed it in a way – no one would be strong enough to hold her against her will. And yet...from what she knew from Doroneth, Midhel was a beautiful and cheerful nis, but not particularly strong or powerful. It was no wonder a son of Fëanáro managed to overpower her. But Irissë...Irissë was a descendant of Finwë, and if she was not something, she was not weak. Galadriel could not imagine how Eol managed to capture her. It must have been a trick, perhaps something to draw her curiosity, but then...what? How would he force her, her whose will bent to no one, to become his wife? Galadriel could not see it, and yet the thought that it was a true marriage, made of free will, but ended by Irissë running away from her husband and the husband in question killing her...that was even more impossible.

Perhaps Irissë had thought that what she felt was the Flame, and only later found out it was not? But why would she then not have sent a message to her relations that she was well? No, she must have been abducted – but how was a mystery, a mystery that terrified Galadriel as few things did.

All of these thoughts chased each other in her head and she latched onto each and every one of them, trying to distract herself from her grief – grief and guilt. All of her uncharitable thoughts about Irissë now felt like the darkest sin, in light of her death. Whatever faults the White Lady might have had, her fate was so cruel it was impossible to remember them now.

To be caught in the middle of an undeclared war between your father and your best friend's family, to watch your most beloved brother lose a wife, to be locked up in a city when you love the wide open spaces, and then, when you finally escape, to be captured and locked up again, and married against your will...What very different life from what she must have imagined leaving the Hidden City her cousin had led...Galadriel hoped she had at least found happiness in her son, like Midhel seemed to, from what Maitimo had said. She hoped all of Irissë's years in Eol's realm had not been completely wretchedly unhappy, and mourned that her cousin had not been given at least a little more time with her beloved brother before her husband found her and killed her.

And most of all, she mourned the death of her cousin, the departure of a noble Noldorin lady who could find so much joy in life if only she had enough freedom to ride when she wanted, and prayed that her stay in the halls of Mandos would heal all of her wounds and that she would be allowed to return soon.

She grieved in privacy, and then went and asked the Queen's seamstresses for a pure white gown.

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The forest of Brethil was now inhabited by one house of the Second born.

There were many feelings Galadriel had about it, and none of them were entirely positive.

For one, while she was glad that Singollo had relented in the end, it was quite irritating and humiliating that her brother, king of the biggest Noldorin realm, had had to beg so much. Then again, if he had given them some part of his own lands, he could have saved himself that trouble. But he had been right – the forest of Brethil was uninhabited and unprotected, and it made no sense, and it was strategically a good decision to locate them there, instead of his own well protected lands. Still, it had been a struggle to make Singollo overlook his irrational dislike of the Second born to see this.

Then there was the fact that a source of temptation was now situated so close to her. But she never really walked to Brethil, so at least she did not have to change her habits.

And lastly, and what she was most ashamed of: she was, in a way, jealous of Haleth.

It seemed to her strange that the Second born, whose women were apparently significantly weaker in body, had less trouble accepting them as leaders than elves did, even though there was no difference at all in strength between nissi and neri. Part of it, of course, was owing to the fragility of Men: it was easier for them to get in a situation when the only heir was a woman. Still, surely a distant male relation could have been chosen...but they have decided to follow Haleth instead. She knew that if her brothers all died – Eru save her from such a fate – the people of the House of Arafinwë would not follow her, they would follow Artaresto or even Artanáro, young as he was. It was difficult to bear that with equanimity, and once again, she had to fight the tendency to turn her envy into resentment. Her eldest brother's visit to Thousand Caves was very much welcome to her in such circumstances. It was difficult to resent him when he was present.

Ingoldo had taken the news that Aikanáro had fallen in love with a Second-born woman hard, just as she had, and took it upon herself to find the woman and get to know her and discover whether he could be of any assistance to her, knowing that his brother would never willingly see her again – the pain would be too much. He confirmed what Aikanáro had said, that she was wise among Men, and frequently went to see her while she lived, always bearing news of her back to Galadriel, who did not dare more than one brief visit.

This time, however, he seemed both excited and preoccupied at once after he returned. He did not say anything during his brief stay in Thousand Caves, but once they set out together to Narogrotto, he spoke. "I had the strangest talk with Andreth."

"Oh? What about?"

"Well, I expressed my grief at Boron's passing and, perhaps not entirely tactfully," he realized, "said how short the human lives seem to us. She reminded me that by the count of Men, Boron lived a long life, and so did his fathers before him, and that they could not have dreamed of such long lives east of Beleriand, which according to her lifted the shadow from them – she shares Beor's theory that it's through the fault of Moricotto that they die. I suggested to her what we have discussed together, that it was something they themselves did that angered The One so much he punished them in such a way – though it still seems an impossibly cruel punishment – and she did not deny it, but told me they do not tell anyone except other Second born what happened in the eastern darkness. Well, I can understand that – we do not boast of Alqualondë either, and hesitated to tell even our own kin."

He paused for a moment as they crossed a wide stream, then resumed his speech. "I tried to explain the problem with the idea that they were meant to be long-lived like us, I tried to explain how we see that their souls are directed as if outside this world, whence they came, perhaps. They did not have that idea in their own lore, but hearing my arguments, she had to admit that there was this kind of difference between us. She told me that they say 'there is no weariness in the eyes of the elves', and that they sometimes called us grown-up children – something that amused me greatly, though I can see what she means from their point of view. However, this was when the most fascinating part came. I suggested to her that before Moricotto poisoned death for them, it was more like a release of their spirit, that longed to return to its creator. But she chastised me, quite rightly, saying that that would be contempt of the body, seeing it as merely a form of prison, and that I would be denying to the Second born the harmony of body and soul that we find so crucial. But when I was forced to admit that she was right, there was only one possibility remaining: that in their original state, when their souls departed, they took the bodies with them, and thus uplifted some part of Arda to glory unknown!"

Galadriel, listening intently, turned on her horse to see him better. "Can such a thing be imagined?"

"Do you have a different solution?"

"No, and I see your logic, but the ways of the One are mysterious and can not always be followed in such a way. Why did he allow the Marring of Arda to occur at all? Unless we have an answer to this, the act that seems most illogical of all, we cannot presume to know the ways in which His mind works."

He frowned. "You are right that I was too confident in my deductions. Still, allow me to present to you the rest the conclusions we came to. I felt that perhaps, if this was true, then the whole of Arda could have been healed by this uplifting, remade through them, and that even us, after the world ended, could have found place in this new world, without any evil in it. And this new world would have been the home of the Men as this current Arda is ours, and we would have always remembered our past, but in that perfect world, it would not have been painful, only sweet."

Galadriel looked away. "Is it wise to think of such hope when...?"

To her surprise, he laughed. "Andreth would agree with you here, for she cried when I spoke so, asking what to do now, when the Second born fell and this plan of The One was foiled. But you and I know that His plans are not so easily destroyed, and so I insisted, asking whether they had no hope...and she told me of those that call themselves of the Old Hope, and they...it seems too much to say in your presence, my sister, for your wisdom is great and I fear you will laugh at me, but I cannot keep such news from you...they say that Eru Illúvatar himself will one day enter Arda, and heal its marring."

Galadriel stopped her horse and looked into distance, her brother's words ringing in her ears. She was one for practicality and preferred what was probability, and always criticized Ingoldo for his vain, naive words, and yet... "It speaks to something in the soul, does it not?" She asked.

"Yes. Yes, it does, and so if you will not hear the argument of reason for this – how else could Arda be healed – because you say that we have no proof that The One acts according to reason as we understand it...then hear what your soul tells you, sister. Is not this hope that men brought us a real one?"

She hesitated. "It is absurd, and yet...maybe that is why I have more faith in it than if it was reasonable, for reason says that we shall all perish with Arda, and if it was up to reason we would, and is it only His love that may deliver us from that fate. A love that seems also absurd, as He is everything and we are nothing compared to him...so yes, it is fitting: it is by all means to be believed, because it is absurd, and it is certain, because impossible."

Ingoldo dismounted his horse and came to her, and she came down into his embrace. They stood like that for some time, on the edges of Doriath, before he said: "You surprised me, sister. Such leaps of hope are unlike you."

"Because ordinarily, we deal with this world, and in it, they are nonsensical. But He is beyond all that, and we cannot apply our normal standards on him."

Ingoldo nodded in understanding, and they let go of each other and rode on in silence.

Only after they sat next to to each other at a feast in Narogrotto did she ask: "Did Andreth speak of Aikanáro at all?"

"Yes; for the first time, I spoke openly to her about it, and it was bitter, even after the bright hope we shared just before. There are other differences between our kin than just our doom. She would have given up everything to be with him just for a day, and you know that such choices are not in our nature. She finds it hard to understand that. The memory he cherishes is not enough for her."

"It is not enough for him either," Galadriel pointed out.

"Yet her pain is greater, for they are less able to live off from memory than we are."

Nerwen sighed. There was no arguing with that. "May it be a consolation to us that she will have a shorter time to live with that pain."

"That is what she said, too – that at least, after death, she will no longer feel the sting of rejection."

Galadriel smiled at that. "She is proud, is she not?"

"Very. She called us lordly when she heard we called them guests in Arda, and complained we only saw them as children."

The lady's smile turned into a frown. "In that, then, her pride turns into arrogance – for how could we not?"

"They are our equals," Ingoldo pointed out.

Galadriel sighed and took a sip of wine. "In value of their souls, yes, and certainly you could not say that you would rather kill a man than an elf – that would be a great sin. Yet they cannot believe we would think them equal in wisdom, when they only spend such short time here! They learn more quickly than we do, true, but still not quickly enough to equal our thousands of years with their decades!"

Ingoldo smiled, softly but a little ironically as well. "Perhaps it is a good thing you do not walk among them, sister. They would not take kindly to such words."

"We do not consider ourselves equal to the Valar either, for all we do not believe The One loves us less."

He started at her: "Do you believe their relationship to us is equal to that of ours to the Valar?"

She laughed bitterly. "Perhaps I have spent too much time with the Sindar, and stopped seeing the Valar as elevated enough."

"Another thing on which you could agree with Andreth. She accused the Valar of leaving them to their fate."

"And did they not?" Galadriel asked with a raised eyebrow, and noticed Guilin, Ingoldo's Chief Councillor, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He was a careful and conservative elf, and would like such talk even less than Ingoldo, she knew. But Galadriel felt strongly about this, and so she continued: "Just think of what they did for us, and what they did for them. Left here to become easy prey for the Enemy, what do you think would have become of us? I am not saying that they should have been brought to Aman, but surely at least a messenger from the Lords of the West...? In this one way, we are like the Valar to them – we are the ones who bring the news of the Light beyond the coast."

Ingoldo sighed. "Your words worry me, sister, yet I cannot find fault in them. I can only use your own argument against you – are you not too logical, for the matter we are speaking of?"

Galadriel, however, shook her head resolutely. "The Valar are not the same as The One, brother. They are subject to reason. It is, I am afraid, your unbeatable and irrational optimism and blind trust in things being better speaking again."

He laughed in response to this, but Galadriel saw Guilin next to him shift uncomfortably once more. "Your Chief Counsellor does not approve," she said with a smile. "He thinks I'm being too disrespectful, to you and the Valar both."

"No, my lady," Guilin immediately defended himself, "I would never..."

She shook her head. "I do not blame you," she said. "What I say about the Valar may well seem close to blasphemy, and as for my brother, I usually only speak this way to him in private, or at least more quietly. I should not have cast his authority in doubt in front of you."

"Please, sister," Ingoldo replied, "do not curb yourself. I am still wise enough to be aware that I need someone to tell me when I am wrong, and you have always been most diligent in this respect."

"Are you certain you wish for me to do it before your subjects, though?"

His eyes darted to the dwarven necklace at her throat. "I give this to you for a reason every time you arrive. You are the closest I will ever have to a queen, and you have such right. Guilin can take it...and some others are sure to appreciate it, are they nor, Inglor?"

The Chief Legate, who was sitting next to Guilin, smiled a small smile. "If I may, I would like to refrain from commenting on this, my king."

Ingoldo laughed again. "Ever the diplomat. Do not worry, I can see your mind, I know what you think."

Galadriel smiled as she watched the interaction. She liked Inglor, and was glad he had a place in her brother's council. In fact, she had expected he would gain the position of Chief Councillor – he was one of Ingoldo's companions, and the wisest among them. There was no doubting his loyalty and the quality of his advice. But in the end, Ingoldo had preferred Guilin, who was the oldest of his lords, deeming it more just. Galadriel was not so certain of that, but understood why her brother would wish to avoid the appearance of favouritism. Two of his three companions were members of the council. Very likely, he thought he should not make the preference even more marked by making one of them the Chief Councillor.

And there were upsides to having Guilin so elevated. Both of his sons were strong in body and in mind, and their prominence at court was doing Narogrotto good. Galadriel liked them, especially Gwindor, and decided there and then that it was time to take another trip to Falas to visit Lord Ciryatan, and that Gwindor would me a great companion for the journey.

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She found Lord Ciryatan in a state of unquiet. "Your king's plans to attack Angband cause me worry," he told her as they walked along the coast.

"I don't think they need to," Galadriel replied. "I think that by combining our forces with his son, Finrod and Maedhros, we convinced him of the folly of that plan." Even Artanáro had joined in, actually, clearly a little nervous to speak against the High King, but firm nevertheless. Galadriel had seen the words about him being in her pocket jump to the tip of her uncle's tongue, but he had restrained himself and Artanáro did not know his mind well enough to catch them, fortunately. He did not need to see his father's accusations mirrored in another, and least of all in one who served as another father to him. Galadriel did not hesitate to tell this to Ñolofinwë, either, and his shame contributed to finally conceding that they were right, and that attack at this time was impossible. Artanáro had been proud to be part of such an important decision, she knew. It helped him to concentrate on the world and on the present, and for that she was glad. His father would never be the same, but Artanáro still could, or at least not more broken. "He even finally started to focus on war research properly," she continued aloud, to Lord Ciryatan, "and new weapons are being made by the Noldorin smiths."

"And that is what worries me," the Sindarin lord replied. "Your uncle wishes to attack. You convinced him he cannot do so without new and better weapons. So he will spend some time developing them, and then, as soon as he has a few, he will do so, even though he still won't be well prepared."

Galadriel sighed. "You're right, that is a danger. Thank you for warning me, I'll do my best to prevent it, and warn Fingon as well."

Lord Ciryatan grimaced, as he always did when she mentioned Findekáno's name, and she asked: "How is Amonel?"

"Not well," he replied curtly.

The Nolde nodded, understanding he had no desire to discuss it, and instead said: "I had the most interesting news from my brother's talk with Andreth. I hope he'll forgive me if I don't wait for him to tell you, but good news should be shared as soon as possible, especially in times such as these, when there are so few to be had."

Lord Ciryatan listened with utmost attention to her report, and then nodded seriously, looking West. "Yes," he said, "yes, I can see how that would be the only way...but I don't know if I dare to hope in something so great."

"If we go West together one day," she said with a smile, a small, private joke, since neither of them expected to ever go there, "we can ask the Valar about it."

He smiled at that as well, but his smile was a little ironic. "And what makes you think they know?"

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AN: Why, yes, Galadriel is quoting Tertullian, why do you ask? Or rather, I should say that Tertullian was quoting Galadriel, given the chronology; maybe he was really Finrod in disguise?

Also, I never intended for Galadriel to take the protestant/fideist side of the argument (she doesn't quite seem the type), it just happened.