Chapter 24: Fate
Year 464 of the Sun, Doriath
Galadriel had gone North as soon as she saw the Enemy's most recent attack in Findekáno's mind, and so, for the first time, saw the direct aftermath of a truly bloody battle. When she had come after the Battle of Sudden Flame, most causalities were already dead and buried. Now, they were all laid for her to see, and it took her two years to heal all that could be healed, two years of exhausting, relentless work. Only when winter threatened to make the way even more dangerous than it now was once again, she returned to Doriath, accompanied to its borders by a strong guard her cousin sent with her.
She welcomed the bliss of the forest after the exhaustion and grief she was leaving behind, even as she despised King Singollo for hiding in it while her people suffered and bled – and did so for his safety, too, for not even the Girdle of Melian could have withstood it for ever had the Enemy's eyes turned solely upon it.
This, she felt, is what Doriath should be – a refugee for those too exhausted by the war efforts, to regain their strength; for Midhel to recover, if she would finally agree to leave Narogrotto for Doriath with her – not a place too hide for those too cowardly to play they part in ensuring that Middle-Earth was as free of the shadow as possible. How simpler her healing could have been if she could have done it here, in the blessed forests! This time, her pride did not even mind that her healing art would have, in such a case, taken second place to Queen Melian's. She had seen too much suffering for anything to overcome her compassion.
Nevertheless, she would have been glad to enjoy the quiet refuge of the forest, but as it was, she did not have long to do so, for when she returned, Lúthien came to her with a serious matter on her mind.
There was something at the same time joyous and fearful in her face that made Galadriel immediately alert, since there was usually nothing but serene bliss – and sometimes, the anxiety of one being confined into this world as if it were a cage - to be seen in her friend. "Come with me to the forest," said the Princess of Doriath, and so Galadriel hurried across the bridge from Thousand Caves, uneasy with her premonitions. She grew even more so when Lúthien walked on deep into the woods, deeper than she normally would, before she spoke for the first time. Then, she turned to her friend and declared: "Galadriel...I've fallen in love."
The sounds of battle and dying and weeping filled Galadriel's mind, the strength of the vision crashing so strongly into her that she had to reach out a hand to steady herself against the nearest tree to avoid falling. She saw Singollo's wrath, and she also saw Lúthien's suffering. The faint foreknowledge of this that she had had from the start of her stay in Doriath, since she met King Singollo, almost, was now turned into certainty, and she knew, also, that it would lead to the end of all they knew, for good or bad.
Nevertheless, it always seemed like almost a sin to spoil the simple joy that usually dominated Lúthien's world with worries about the future, and what she just announced should surely be a happy occasion, so Galadriel mastered her expression and said: "I'm very happy for you."
"You don't exactly look like you are," Lúthien observed, looking at her with an unflinching gaze.
"I'm a little worried about your father's reaction, that is all," she replied, thinking that this must surely be the understatement of the age. "Who is the happy one?"
"His name is Beren, son of Barahir, of the House of Beor," Lúthien replied.
Strangely enough, the first though through Galadriel's head at that moment was: who knew Eru had a sense of humour?
She fought against the darkness that threatened to engulf her, for she knew, now, why there was no escaping the tragedy that would follow – though she did not know yet why the whole world should be pulled into it.
She also understood in that moment that a union between the two kinds had always been part of Eru's plan and that when her brother had turned against it, others were meant to take this place. When one of the brightest flames of the Noldor did not join his fate with a mortal woman, the most beautiful flower of Singollo's kingdom would join hers with that of a Man. Or she would die in the attempt.
The knowledge that fate had a hand in this was reassuring, because otherwise, she would have worried if the man truly returned Lúthien's love, or if he was just enchanted by her beauty. But she supposed that the doom of the world was not habitually changed by a mere fancy...at least she hoped so.
"The flame must be strong," she said simply, to Lúthien.
"Yes. It's bright and wonderful and I've never been so happy before, and yet...I'm afraid."
Galadriel had reason to believe Lúthien had never been afraid before, either. She pressed her friend's hand. "I understand," she said. "Whatever you do, don't tell your father. You can go to your mother though – she knows anyway."
Lúthien thought about it for a moment. "Yes," she said, "I suppose she would."
Galadriel smiled, in spite of her grim visions. "She'd known this for a long time before it happened, perhaps even from the very beginning. Don't worry, she won't betray you to the king, even though she tells him everything otherwise. But don't tell anyone else."
"Not even Celeborn?" Lúthien sounded surprised.
"Do you particularly wish to tell him?" They had never had an especially close friendship. "I'd rather you didn't, in any case – he wouldn't betray you, but it's cruel to make him go against the loyalty to his king when it isn't necessary. That's why I tell you not to tell anyone else. They're all your father's subjects, and they might feel it was their duty to make it known to him."
"Are you not his subject, too?" This seemed to be the first time Lúthien contemplated the problem.
Galadriel smiled again. "Strictly speaking, yes, but you know I've never felt or acted that way. If I was somebody's subject in this kingdom, it'd have been your mother." Her smile grew sad and melancholy. "Your father, I mainly used as an excuse to get out of listening to the High King of the Noldor in Middle-Earth." Then she embraced her friend, and despite herself, said: "Don't let anyone spoil the beauty of love for you, beloved. There is nothing more wonderful in this world." She paused. "Tell me about this Man of yours."
Lúthien did, at length. Afterwards, when she went back to see him, Galadriel returned to Thousand Caves, searching out her brother's and cousin's mind. "Prepare for trouble," she warned them as clearly as she could. Useless as this kind of information was, unfortunately, she could not give them a more detailed warning. Her foresight did not go that far.
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They continued like this for a short while, but Galadriel knew it would not be indefinitely. She made Lúthien promise that if her father ever found out, she would make him swear not to hurt Beren, if there was still time for that. Lúthien looked a little bewildered that Galadriel thought her father would go that far, but she promised nevertheless. The Noldorin princess worried, however, that once the king did find out, there would be no time for any promises.
It seemed to be a summer day like any other, but Galadriel was plagued by dark foreboding since the early hours of the morning. She was restless, and was glad to see Lúthien coming back from her meeting with Beren, for she would want to tell her about it and that would serve as a nice distraction. So she welcomed her and was just suggesting a walk in the forest after they ate something when Oropher stood before them, looking rather frightened. "The King wants to see you, my lady," he said to Lúthien.
Knowing with ice-cold certainty that this was the hour when the fate of the world will be decided, Galadriel stood and went with her friend, pressing her hand in silent support. She did not need to say anything. Lúthien knew well enough what this meant. She was not, strangely enough, gifted by much foresight – but perhaps it was not so strange, Galadriel never met anyone else who could become so entirely focused on the present moment – but if nothing else, she saw it clearly in Galadriel's mind.
They arrived to the throne room, which was a bad sign in itself. Singollo and Lady Melian were both there, and the Queen looked like despair had touched her, something Galadriel had not thought possible before.
The king turned his eyes to his daughter. "The strangest news have reached me," he said. "It's reported that you've been seeing a mortal man in my lands. What possessed you, beloved, to give any of your attention to such an unworthy object, instead of warning me that there were intruders in my kingdom? Do you want to forsake your father and his realm, and leave it open to all kinds of danger? I don't understand you, and it grieves me greatly to hear of such a thing that I can only call betrayal. Does your own kin mean nothing to you? Would you forsake them for such that is unworthy to even walk in the halls of Thousand Caves?"
Galadriel never thought she would be grateful for the selfishness she knew was in Lúthien, but she was now, for it meant that the form of pressure Singollo was attempting to exert would never work. She exchanged a glance with her, reminding her of her promise, and Lúthien turned back to her father and said: "I'll not say a word, father and king, unless you swear to me that you'll neither slay nor imprison him."
Singollo was visibly upset by this reaction. Clearly, he had been hoping that it was just a rumour, or perhaps a passing fancy. Nevertheless, he said: "I swear this to you, my daughter."
And she looked him straight in the eyes as she said: "Yes, father, he is a mortal man and I love him."
Galadriel almost groaned. Clearly, they should have talked the future scenarios through in little more detail. There had been ways to soften the blow, but of course Lúthien, inexperienced in these things, did not know them, or even realize how much they were needed. Though she would, and soon, because Singollo stood up from his throne, his face turned to cold stone, and said to his servants: "Go! Bring this presumptuous mortal to my halls, but not as a guest."
Hearing these words, Lúthien ran out of the hall before them, the desire to get to Beren first foremost in her mind, and after she left, the king turned to Galadriel. "What," he said, "did you know about this?"
She sighed. It had been too much to hope he would not make the connection, really. He knew she and Lúthien were friends, and he also knew she did not feel any loyalty to him that would make her tell him. She took a step forward and decided that, all complaints that Lúthien was not discreet enough notwithstanding, there was no point in denying it and she might as well face the situation with dignity. Looking him in the eye, she said: "I knew that Lúthien was in love."
"Did you know it was with a Man?"
"Yes."
He approached her, his anger apparent: "And why didn't you tell me?"
"Because, King Thingol, Lúthien is a dear friend of mine."
"And so you'd have her tie her life to a mortal? Strange friendship indeed!"
"I've felt the flame of The One," she replied, looking briefly towards Celeborn, who stood next to her in silent support, "and so I know not to try and keep anyone from the one to whom they are thus bound." She would have to apologize to Queen Melian later for the insinuation that her husband did not know what love was.
"The flame of The One! Can mortal men even feel it?"
She was not certain about this, actually – but there was one thing she did know. "Your daughter can."
"My daughter believes herself in love, yes, doubtless because that lowly creature charmed her in some dark way," Singollo said and Galadriel wanted to laugh at the idea that a Man could use spells on the daughter of Queen Melian. "But she's inexperienced in the world and doesn't recognize the reality of her situation."
If the matter had not been so serious, it would have been greatly amusing how much this resembled the tens of talks with upset Noldorin fathers Galadriel had gone through over the years. "You don't trust your own daughter, and daughter of Lady Melian also, to recognize the flame of The One when she feels it?"
He did not reply, aware how absurd it would have been to assent. Those who could not recognize it were those that lived in deceit and denial, and no one would believe anything like that about the straightforward, open Lúthien.
The king returned to his throne, and they waited in silence and suspense for hours, until Lúthien entered with her chosen husband. He was fair enough, Galadriel had to grant – she had not seen him before, for Lúthien was unwilling to share her time with him. He looked, however, rather struck by the halls of Thousand Caves.
"Who are you," the King asked, "that come here as a thief, and unbidden dare to approach my throne?"
But Beren was silent, still in awe, and so Lúthien spoke: "He's Beren son of Barahir, lord of Men, mighty foe of Morgoth, the tale of whose deeds is become a song even among the Elves."
That was not going to impress Singollo, Galadriel knew, even though it should have. "Let Beren speak!" He said, and turned to the Man with a barrage of insults disguised as questions.
Beren looked at Lúthien, and seemed to find some strength there, and then he looked at Lady Melian and it was enough to give him courage to speak. "My fate, O King, led me here," he said, and his voice was slowly gaining strength, "through perils such as few even of the Elves would dare. And here I've found what I sought not indeed, but finding I'd possess for ever. For it is above all gold and silver, and beyond all jewels. Neither rock, nor steel, nor the fires of Morgoth, nor all the powers of the Elf-kingdoms, shall keep from me the treasure that I desire. For Lúthien your daughter is the fairest of all the Children of the World."
Galadriel's vision grew dark. Would that he had stayed silent... A humorous thought appeared in her mind, as it often seemed to in these dark situations lately: she could see where they were well matched. Neither of them was worth anything as a diplomat.
Celeborn stepped closer to her, fear evident in his mind.
"Death you have earned with these words," the King said, "and death you'd find suddenly, had I not sworn an oath in haste; of which I repent, baseborn mortal, who in the realm of Morgoth has learnt to creep in secret as his spies and thralls."
Oh, well done. Galadriel, continuing in the irreverent thoughts that saved her from despair, considered that she now knew how this could turn into a conflict that encompassed the whole world. If it continued escalating at this rate…
As if he heard her, Beren said: "Death you can give me earned or unearned; but the names I won't take from you of baseborn, nor spy, nor thrall. By the ring of Felagund, that he gave to Barahir my father on the battle field of the North, my house hasn't earned such names from any Elf, be he king or no." And he raised his hand with her brother's ring.
Galadriel's chest tightened. Please, she begged, do not drag my brother into your doom – and yet even as she thought it, she knew it was in vain, for this here was the oath that would cost Ingoldo his life, as he had foretold.
She saw Lady Melian whisper something to the king, but she knew it would be in vain, as must have the Queen. Galadriel did not blame her for trying nevertheless, for she could doubtless see that their own doom was swiftly approaching. The Nolde herself was attempting to control her raising anger. That this man with his foolish words and this pretence of a king would cause the death of her brother, the most kind-hearted and good of all the elves in Middle-Earth, was beyond tolerable. And through that anger, she heard the next words the king spoke: "I see the ring, son of Barahir, and I perceive that you're proud, and deem yourself mighty," the king said, almost sneering. "But a father's deeds, even had his service been rendered to me, avail not to win the daughter of Thingol and Melian. See now! I too desire a treasure that is withheld. For rock and steel and the fires of Morgoth keep the jewel that I'd possess against all the powers of the Elf-kingdoms. Yet I hear you say that bonds such as these don't daunt you. Go your way therefore! Bring to me in your hand a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown."
He spoke on, but Galadriel no longer heard him, for the moment he pronounced the name of the jewel of Fëanáro, the weight of her visions obscured most of her senses – and the rest was clouded in anger. How dare he, this Sindarin lord, to as much as speak the name of the gems the Noldor have suffered so much for? She despised many of the sons of Fëanáro, but the heritage was theirs, and stealing from thieves did not make ownership. Singollo had no right to ever as much as set eyes on the Silmarils unless Maitimo allowed it.
She knew, of course, that this was merely the king's attempt to get Beren killed without breaking his oath – something that would have been quite repulsive enough – but he knew about the oath of Fëanáro, and he should have known better then to drag his own lands into their doom. If he cared for something in this world, she had thought he cared about Doriath and his daughter. Now it seemed, however, that it was only ever about himself.
She saw clearly, now, why it was that this love would change the fates of the world – for were they not, as Mandos had said, interwoven with the Silmarils?
Some of her senses returned to her, and she heard Beren promise to undertake this quest, mocking Singollo as he did so. When I return, he said, the Silmaril will be in my hand. Then he looked at Queen Melian, said farewell to Lúthien with only a few words, a press of her hands and a look into her eyes, and left Thousand Caves without a backwards glance. Oh Lúthien, Galadriel though, what a fool your heart had decided on! Now, he had no hope.
Then she heard Lady Melian speak to her husband in bitterness for the first time, as she said: "O King, you've devised cunning counsel. But if my eyes haven't lost their sight, it's ill for you, whether Beren fails in his errand, or achieves it. For you have doomed either your daughter, or yourself. And now Doriath is drawn within the fate of a mightier realm."
Singollo was, as ever, unconcerned by his wife's advice. "I sell not to Elves or Men those whom I love and cherish above all treasure," he replied. "And if there was hope or fear that Beren should come back alive to Thousand Caves, he wouldn't have looked again upon the light of heaven, though I had sworn it!"
At those words, Lúthien turned and left the hall, and Galadriel followed behind her.
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Galadriel had considered going after Beren to beg him not to drag her brother into this, but decided against this. She knew it would ultimately be in vain, and feared above anything the possibility that she would, by her entreaty, only remind Beren of her brother's possible help, and so his demise would ultimately be her fault.
Instead, she went after Lúthien and tried to calm her, joined soon enough by Queen Melian. Galadriel could see that the Queen had tried reasoning with her husband once more, in privacy, and when she saw it was fruitless, went to console her daughter.
That was rather bothersome, for Galadriel had advice for Lúthien she would rather not give in front of her mother. As it was, she had to conceal her thoughts and wait until some duties recalled the Queen before turning to the princess and saying: "Lúthien, go after him now."
The Sindarin princess seemed confused. "What?"
"Your father sent him to his death, and he foolishly accepted the challenge. At best, he'll die; at worst, he'll drag others down with him, those he'll ask for help and who love him too much to refuse, even in such a helpless task. Leave Doriath now and go to him. I'll go with you, and we can go to my brother in Nargothrond or my cousin in Hithlum. They'll welcome you," that was close to a lie – they would have hesitated to accept a daughter of a powerful king against his wishes – but Galadriel knew she could convince them, "and you can live there in peace, and what is more important, live at all, be together, without your father's grudge reaching you."
But Lúthien had never before left Doriath, and she was loath to go. "Beren said he'd achieve this quest," she replied, "and I trust him. He said he'd return."
"You don't know the Enemy, beloved. I've met him in Valinor, and I have seen him through my uncle's eyes when he faced him in combat. The High King of the Noldor, come from the Blessed Lands, was slain by him. How can your Beren prevail?"
"You are like my father, underestimating him. He is not weak!"
Galadriel straightened to her full height. "Never," she said, "compare me to your father again. My love for you is the only reason I stay in Doriath, for I feel you need my support in these hard times. Your father did a terrible thing to you, and he dared to extend his hand to something to which he has no right. If it wasn't for you, beloved, no one would ever see me in his realm again."
Lúthien sighed. She was not cowed by Galadriel's speech, as most would have been, but she nevertheless saw the reason in it. "I'm sorry," she said. "But I still believe you are being unfair to Beren. Perhaps it's my fault, for not allowing you to meet him. He's strong, I swear to you."
Seeing that this line of argument was fruitless, Galadriel confessed to her fears about her brother. "The oath will be his death if Beren turns to him," she said, "so I beg you once more, come, leave with me and Celeborn and let us find Beren, so that I don't have to stay in these halls that have grown so repulsive to me."
"But if your brother had already foreseen his end," Lúthien replied, "then aren't our attempts in vain? And perhaps with his help, Beren might prevail."
Galadriel had to leave her friend then, at least for a time, for fear of saying something hurtful to her in response to that. Findaráto Ingoldo was not strong enough to defeat the Enemy single-handedly; he was, however, good and foolish and brave enough to die trying.
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It was only about a fortnight later that she heard clearly in her mind her brother's farewell. As it had been with Ñolofinwë, his approaching doom gave him power to communicate more clearly, and he said: "It is now time for me to fulfil my oath. I did leave my kingdom to Artaresto, as you foretold; it is, however, now under Tyelkormo and Atarinkë's control, with Guilin's blessing, and I did not want you to have to suffer their presence. It is not in any state in which I would feel it fit to be handed to anyone, and I only gave its rule to Artaresto because I had to leave my crown to someone. Please do not believe, my sister, that I do not value you. I always did, and now more than ever I am sorry that I did not listen to your councils. I set out only with Edrahil, Inglor, Astar, my captain of guards and a few others. Remember me well, and pray for Beren that at least he may survive."
She attempted to answer him, but she was not near death and did not have the strength to communicate clearly, so she expressed her love as well as she could, in the images she made appear in Ingoldo's mind. She did not want to distract him for long, however, lest he die before his time by some unfortunate incident, and so she soon retreated to her chambers, where she spent the next few days in quiet grief.
Lúthien was now given to wandering the woods alone in silence, when she was not being consoled by Galadriel or her mother. She was gone on one of those walks when Galadriel felt, from Ingoldo's mind, a great shadow, and not long later, spied Lúthien flying through the halls of Thousand Caves. Going after her, she discovered her in the Queen's room. "A weight of horror is upon my heart, mother," the Sindarin princess said. "And I fear for him. Has he perished, as Galadriel said he would?"
Nerwen knew Lady Melian did not uncover the fates of the world for those who could not perceive them themselves; however, her daughter in anguish was clearly an exception. "Not yet," she replied, "but he lies in the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth without hope of rescue."
Lúthien turned her desperate eyes to Galadriel, and they both left the Queen's chambers. "You were right," the princess said, "I should have gone after him, and now might be too late; but I'll not abandon him and I'll go now, and I'd be glad if you went with me."
"My brother is with Beren," she replied, "and I'd go with you to rescue him, only a word I've given long ago holds me back, that and the knowledge that whatever I do, it won't save my brother, but might bring even more darkness. I will, however, see you at least as far as the borders of Doriath, and help you escape. Wait for me and speak to no one, I'll tell Celeborn our purpose."
Her husband was grieved by the news she brought, and gave her a short embrace full of quiet understanding before he wished her well for the journey. But when she returned from their chambers, she could not find Lúthien, and when she asked, the servants directed her outside the city. There, she saw a house being built high in the trees, and Lúthien held by her own father so that she could not escape before her prison was completed. In that moment, she knew that they were betrayed.
She knew, also, that once Singollo felt Lúthien was secure, he would direct his attention to her and seek to restrain her too, to prevent her assisting in his daughter's escape. And so she turned and disappeared between the trees.
She journeyed to the edges of Doriath, knowing there was not much hope of escaping the king in his own lands, but he sent riders on horses after her and caught up with her before she was out of the realm. When she heard the animals approaching, she stopped and turned, and suddenly she stood before them in her full height and glory, bright and terrible in her fury. "Tell your king," she said before any of the soldiers spoke, "that more than a few riders of his forest folk would be needed to capture a Noldorin princess come from the West when she does not wish to go. Tell him that he should never attempt to lay his hands on me, or have someone else do so, unless he wants to know the wrath of the Noldor. Tell him to continue sitting in his hidden halls and pray that the Silmaril he asked for never reaches him, or his kingdom will be turned into ruin. And tell him that, though Feanor had been as fell as him, he at least had been great! Now go."
And the riders turned and rode in speed back towards Thousand Caves, and Galadriel, after exhaling slowly and willing the wrath she felt to leave her, continued on her journey.
She reached the Girdle of Melian and hid among its spells, knowing the Queen would not betray her. There, she pondered how to help Lúthien escape when she, herself, was now on the run. That was where Celeborn found her.
"I went as soon as I learned that you left without Lúthien," he said. "What are we to do now?"
Galadriel caressed his face. "You didn't have to come," she said. "The King wouldn't have cast you out, and at present, I don't have much to offer you, for I don't want to depart for Hithlum just yet."
"You are waiting for Lúthien?" He guessed.
"Yes, or rather, I'm attempting to think of a way to help her escape."
"I can still enter Doriath without danger, I think," he replied slowly.
"I wouldn't ask that of you, Celeborn. Thingol is still your king, despite everything."
"He attempted to arrest you."
"Yes, and against that I certainly hope you'd have stood, but Lúthien is not me, and she is not your responsibility. No, there has to be some other way."
That possible way they were trying to come up with, when they met Lúthien herself.
She had a robe on her that had power of enchantment in it, and she was different, too, her strength, usually barely noticeable under the surface, somehow more apparent now. "Galadriel," she said with an otherworldly smile, "Celeborn. Have you been waiting for me?"
"We've been trying to think of a way to help you escape," the Nolde replied. "But I see you don't need our assistance."
"No," she agreed serenely. "It was unwise of my father to think he could keep me against my will."
Galadriel wholeheartedly agreed. She was glad that Lúthien was finally coming into her power, though it was in such unfortunate circumstances. But then, she never had any reason to use it before. "I'll go now," the Sindarin princess said, "to help Beren, if I can. You'll stay here?"
Galadriel shook her head. "There is no place for me in Doriath for now," she said. "We'll go to Hithlum. We can go part of the way together, at least."
But Lúthien declined this. "I have this cloak that covers me, but I can't hide you with it. Go through Brethil to your goal, directly, while I'll travel hidden to mine."
Galadriel did not like it, but Lúthien insisted and would not be convinced, and so they set off with a heavy heart for a dangerous journey to Hithlum, for the lands between there and Doriath were no longer safe. The way to Narogrotto was more secure, but that was not where she was bound. In Hithlum, she hoped against all odds she could find help for her brother, that she could convince Findekáno to act in some way. She had great grief in her mind, remembering her words to Artanáro about the worst kind of pain, when one was forced to leave others to die. Her brother was even now lying in the depths of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, and yet she could not go directly to him. She knew she would not help, but it still hurt.
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It was shortly after their arrival to Hithlum, before she managed to talk to Findekáno in more than just a brief greeting, that she felt her brother die.
Some of its light was gone from Middle-Earth forever.
She stared into distance over the mountains, where she knew that his body lay, in what used to be his home. She found it strange that he should die there when it was now the seat of the Enemy.
She remembered his golden hair and his laugh and his good heart and his boundless compassion and his wisdom and quick mind, and from then on, hated Sauron as much as she hated his master.
She sat on the terrace of her house, her hand in Celeborn's, and her heart bled.
She had been grieving for Ingoldo for months already, ever since he set out for this quest, but it was still different to know that there was no changing his death now. All of her brothers were gone, all of those beautiful, kind souls. At least they will, perhaps, soon keep our parents company, she thought. Please, Lord Námo, she added, let them out of your halls early and allow them to walk in Aman again. Let Ingoldo meet with Amarië, and let her forgive him. Let them all be happy and together there, at least. Let uncle Ñolofinwë return as well, reward him for how he always did what he believed best for his people. Be kind to them.
Tears welled in her eyes again as she thought of all of those who were now lost. Only Findekáno, Celeborn and Lady Melian, were left to her now, for she feared Lúthien would not be long for this world either. Not if she planned to continue Beren's quest, not even with her newfound power.
The messengers arrived some days later, bringing the news that Sauron's fortress had fallen, and that gave her a brief hope as she felt the joy of that victory, but it flickered and died soon after that. Her friend's power was great and she wished she could have seen Sauron tremble before her, but she knew it was still not enough. Galadriel was happy for Lúthien's triumph, and that her friend did not perish in the same place her brother had, but it was not enough to defeat Moricotto and gain a Silmaril, and it was not enough to chase away her sorrow.
Nevertheless, as she though about it, she found a desire in her heart to see her brother's grave at least once, and Tol Sirion beautiful again. So she hurried to cross the mountains before winter started, with Celeborn once more at her side, and Findekáno as well – those two have been indispensable to her in the days of her latest grief, the ones who held her aloft. They came to Tol Sirion and saw the ruins of what used to be Minas Tirith, and found the grave. For weeks she wept there, until Findekáno came and put a hand on her shoulder. "It is time," he said softly, and she rose bid goodbye to her grief, to replace it with anger and cold resolve. She cursed Sauron there and then. "You will never achieve what most you desire," she said, calling to the sky in a strong voice that resonated in the mountains, "and your fall will always come just as your power seems greatest and your triumph most inevitable."
A menacing silence was her only response.
Then they bid farewell to Findekáno soon after and turned south, for they heard that the sons of Fëanáro have been cast out from Narogrotto, and Galadriel wanted to see what remained of her kin once again, and to make sure that Curufinwë had been forced to leave Midhel behind in his exile.
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AN: When I wrote the scene with Galadriel and Thingol's riders, I remembered a line from one humorous Czech song written by a member of our Tolkien fandom. It's about Aredhel's return to Gondolin, and when she explains how she escaped, she says something that's kinda hard to translate, but with a lot of poetic license, it could be something like: "What kind of daughter of Noldor would I be/if I could be hindered by every wannabe."