Chapter 25: Grace

Year 465 of the Sun, Doriath

Artaresto welcomed them to Narogrotto in Ingoldo's place. Where Galadriel's eldest brother had stood in easy confidence of his kingdom, welcoming her always with a sincere smile, his nephew was now, as if huddled into himself, his face and his entire posture grief-stricken. The whole of Narogrotto seemed to be permeated by a strange kind of nervousness and a sort of fear, a striking contrast to the normally joyful halls of this beautiful realm. Losing its king made its mark on it, Galadriel saw, and there was guilt in the air as they waited as if for a judgement from the sister whose brother they sent to his death.

No one escaped that guilt, she saw. Ever Artanáro was unwilling to meet her eyes, and Tyelperinquar looked smaller than ever before. Guilin was nowhere to be seen – and a good thing, too, for there her control might have failed her – but Gwindor stood by Artaresto's side, seeming to have aged by a millennium.

Galadriel took a deep breath and resolutely pushed her own grief and pain aside, going to greet the new king. There were too many new kings lately, she thought. The look Artaresto gave her scared her, too. He had never recovered from Ohtarwen's loss, and his parents and Aikanáro's death had reopened and deepened the wound, and now that his last uncle had departed this world in such tragic circumstances, he, himself, was clearly only holding on by a thread once again. But his pain was not the only thing she saw as she spoke to him. His resentment towards her was still there as well, to be felt in the slight defiance of his broken glance, in the bitten undercurrent of his quiet voice. She could not see his mind, but he was not well enough to hide his thoughts from her even when it was closed. She longed to help him from his pain, but knew she was powerless in such circumstances, that she would, instead, only deepen it. Artaresto needed someone else – who, she did not know.

Findoiolosse, she knew, was the one light that shone in her nephew's darkness, but she had been hit heavily by the recent tragedies as well, and was not strong enough to pull him out of his despair. And there, too, Galadriel felt resentment, resentment inherited from Artaresto, and in this case made demonstrable by eyes that avoided her and by a tightness to her lips whenever the young elf looked at her. Findoiolosse and her father both needed help, and were too weakened by the tragedies to offer it to each other, or to offer it properly. Galadriel sighed. Ingoldo, she knew, had been able to give it. But Ingoldo was gone now.

She pushed the pain away once more and went to speak to Artanáro. He, at least, had not been broken by the most recent loss, as he had not been by the ones before. Even as he missed his great-uncle bitterly and grieved for his death, it only gave him more certainty that the enemy needed to be fought relentlessly. He had been, she learned, instrumental in casting Curufinwë and Tyelkormo out of the city. "I feel like I should have been able to prevent their rise to influence in the first place," he said, shamefaced, when he told her about it the day after she and Celeborn arrived. "Or at least freed your friend before she found her own means of escape."

"My friend?"

"Princess Lúthien."

"Lúthien was here?" Galadriel asked, shocked.

And Artanáro, thought hindered by guilt, told her the incredible story of the half-Maiarin princess of Doriath being captured by Turkafinwë for the same purpose Irissë and Midhel had been captured by their husbands, and the story of her escape with the help of Turkafinwë's faithful dog.

"What was he thinking?" She asked, outraged. "How did they even capture her?" The same question as with Irissë emerged here, but this time it was perfectly certain it could not have been by simple overpowering. They must have tricked her – something, she had to admit, that would have been entirely too easy. Why had I not told Lúthien more about my disgraceful family, she asked herself in frustration. There never seemed good enough reason to do it, and so shame had held her back. How foolish. One never knew these things for certain. Warnings could always be useful later.

"I am sorry," Artanáro said. "I should have done more."

"Beloved," Galadiel replied, smiling at him, trying to ignore the new pain at what Lúthien had to suffer at the hand of her cousins. "You are only a little over two hundred and fifty years old, and were a newcomer to this city. They have more than a millennium on you, there are two of them, they came first, and they had two thousand of their own people here. I think you are being just a little too hard on yourself."

She spent a long time with him, listening to what he had to tell her about the events in Narogrotto with great attention. As Ingoldo had hinted, Guilin had indeed taken the side of the two accursed sons of Fëanáro, and under his leadership, many others followed. "Curufinwë used Gelmir's capture most cruelly to make Guilin loyal to him," Artanáro explained, attempting to make excuses for the elf who used to be Ingoldo's Chief Councillor. "He blamed Uncle Ingoldo for it. He made it seem almost intentional, and promised his protection to Gwindor, guaranteeing that Guilin would not have to witness another of his sons dying. At least this is what Guilin admitted to us after he heard of Ingoldo's death and came to tell us all in remorse."

Galadriel inclined her head. "Guilin is to be pitied," she admitted, "but still, you know a truly loyal elf would never turn against their king. He is not to be judged...but he is also not to be trusted, not entirely."

Artanáro seemed to hesitate.

"What is it?" Galadriel asked.

"Father made him the new Chief of Diplomacy, after Inglor," he replied. At her shocked look, he added: "He repents, and my father appointed him to appease his many friends at court. I thought it was a good decision. We needed to show the realm was healed after we cast the sons of Fëanáro out."

Yes, it might have been a politically good decision, but it still seemed like an affront to Galadriel that one who betrayed her brother would be treated hat way. "He did not even had the courage to show himself when I arrived," she said bitterly. "I thought it was because he was in disfavour, but clearly..."

Artanáro gave her a sad smile. "I barely had the courage myself," he replied. "We have all failed your brother, and we all feel guilt, and are ashamed in front of you."

Galadriel gave a sigh, and embraced him. "Never be ashamed in front of me," she said. "I find it hard to imagine something I could not forgive you."

In spite of her personal preference, however, there were other kinsmen that required her attention and so after she heard all the important news from Artanáro, she set out to see them. Tyelperinquar had renounced his father, she had learned from her nephew, and stayed in Narogrotto with his mother, and so Galadriel went in search of Midhel. She had spoken with the lady frequently in the last ten years, and she had watched her freedom of mind and spirit slowly and timidly return in the somewhat safe haven of Narogrotto. She hoped that now her abuser was gone for good, the recovery would become faster.

The lady welcomed her with a weak smile, already looking better for the absence of her husband. "I am very happy to find you here," Galadriel said. "Did you choose to stay?"

"I...yes. My...my son came to me after your brother departed to his death, hurt and confused by what his father had done. He didn't know what to do. In the end, I...told him. The truth about our marriage. I...I don't know if it was the right thing to do, or..."

In her mind, Galadriel gave a relieved sigh. She had been softly urging Midhel to do just that for years, and preparing Tyelperinquar to hear it for the same amount of time. She hoped her assistance had helped somewhat. "I'm sure it was," she said aloud. "He's an adult now, or almost one, he should know the truth. How is he?"

"I...I hope well. I don't know. He...he always says he's well, but I don't know if it isn't only to avoid making my burden heavier," Midhel admitted, looking away.

Galadriel sat down next to her. "And how are you?"

"Better...I believe," Midhel replied, playing with her bracelet. It was beautiful. Tyelperinquar must have made it for her, Galadriel surmised. "I'm...getting used to my freedom. It's not always easy. I still rarely leave these rooms."

Galadriel pressed her hand. "Should you need anything – anything at all, anything in the world – just tell me, please. I'll do anything I can to help you heal from the hurts my kin has dealt you."

"It was hardly your fault, my lady."

"Neither was it yours, and yet you still suffer from it."

"But it was. I shouldn't have walked beyond the border..."

Galadriel gave her a hard look. "Never say that. Never think that. The one to blame is Curufinwë, and then my other cousins who had the opportunity to help you and didn't. You're not to blame."

She sat with Midhel for quite a long time after that before she sought out her son in the forge. "Tyelperinquar," she said, quietly, but with emphasis. "I wished to thank you."

He left the necklace he had been working on and rose to greet her. "My lady," he said. "There is no need. What I did was only just, and my only regret is that I did not do it earlier."

"He is your father. It was never going to be easy. I am very grateful. How are you? After hearing the truth, I mean."

"It is difficult," he admitted, "but I will be fine in time."

"Do you wish to talk about it?"

"No," he said, very decisively, with a tone of embarrassment.

Galadriel sighed. He had a tendency to do that, to pretend he was all strong and grown up in front of her. "Is there something else I can do?" She asked.

He seemed to hesitate. "Do what you can for my mother," he said then.

Galadriel gladly agreed to that – after all, it was something she had been attempting to do for years now. Celeborn, too, had naturally much interest in helping his brother's sister-in-law, and made it the primary task of his stay in Narogrotto. Thanks to his patient influence, Midhel was soon willing to leave her chambers in his company. Galadriel could see that she found it easier to be open with him, her kin, than with her, and so redirected her primary efforts to Tyelperinquar, making sure he was coping with his difficult situation as well as possible. She wished some of her family who were true masters of craft could be here to help him in his interests, but as it was, she at least introduced him to the dwarven craftsmen she knew when they were passing through the city.

She was pleased that both Midhel and him seemed to be doing as well as could be expected after the blows fate dealt them, and there was another source of joy, too, to be found in regards to her family. Findoiolosse and Gwindor were in love, it seemed, with the true flame of Eru. Not many other things could have given her so much joy, for both lovers needed consolation sorely. Findoiolosse had father with a sick soul, a father who, had he not had the Finwion strength, would have faded already, and who needed all of her support, but she barely had enough to give. Gwindor, while he had his own pain in his brother's capture and in witnessing his own father turn against the king he loved, was not broken and could lend her the strength she needed, while being consoled by her. Together, they could hopefully find some happiness.

Artanáro, meanwhile, took as active a role in the ruling of Narogrotto as he had before of Tol Sirion, and became his father's Chief Councillor. Given her objections to Guilin's appointment, Galadriel had no wish to have an official place on the council herself, even though Artanáro assured her that the elf was very subdued now, and that the main voice in the council were his, Gwindor's and Gildor's. Gwindor became the new commander of Nargorotto's armies after Edrahil, who died with Ingoldo, and Gildor was Inglor's son, a son who took on the position of captain of Narogrotto's guards after another who had died in Tol-in-Gaurhoth. Those members of the council Galadriel had full faith in, but she had no desire to be obliged to argue with the rest. And Guilin had never apologized to her, something most other high standing courtiers did soon after her arrival, even those who bore almost no blame. Gwindor tried to do so in his father's place, but while the Nolde appreciated the effort and liked Gwindor all the more for it, it did nothing to warm her feelings towards Guilin. And she had one additional reason for wishing to avoid the council: every time she was present there, even as the informal – but all the more influential – advisor to Artanáro and Artaresto she was, she was reminded of the times she used to sit there next to Ingoldo, him with his crown and her with the dwarven necklace, as joint rulers running their city. It had been an illusion, a farce, but she missed it now nonetheless, for she missed her brother. So she only went rarely to the council, but in privacy with Artanáro, they spent most of their time thinking of ways to do Moricotto harm, and to gain Artaresto's approval for them. The new king of Narogrotto was more fearful and did not wish to take risks that could be avoided, but he was also more easily convinced unless a matter of particular import to him was at stake, and rarely could withstand the united wills of his son and Galadriel.

So as months went by, Galadriel and Celeborn both settled into a rhythm, doing the tasks they appointed for themselves and their mind only sometimes straying to Lúthien. Galadriel had not felt her friend perish, and believed it meant she and Beren had abandoned the quest for the Silmarils. She was glad of it. When she thought of them now, she imagined them living quietly and peacefully somewhere, removed from all the terror Singollo doomed them to.

They were reminded of Lúthien's fate by the outside world only once during this time, when spies from Singollo were intercepted, and brought to the king's hall, fearful, Amdír among them. In recognizing Galadriel and Celeborn, their fear turned to surprise. "Lord Celeborn," they said, bowing. "Lady Galadriel."

Galadriel smiled at them. "Don't fear," she said, "and tell your king he could have send messengers instead of spies. What is it you seek?"

"My lady, we've received word from this realm that you keep Princess Lúthien here. The king demands she be returned," Amdír said in a voice that shook a little. Perhaps he thought that her presence here, where Lúthien was said to be held captive, was the final proof that she had always wished to betray the Sindar for the Noldor. She knew, at least, that some of those close to Saeros still believed that, and she was aware that the sympathies of many of Midhel's kin laid with Saeros' group ever since her kidnapping. It may be that Amdír was among them.

Galadriel frowned. "What you speak of were deeds of two sons of Feanor, who betrayed the rightful king of Nargothrond and were cast out from here as a punishment. But Lúthien, your princess and my friend, escaped even before this took place. I haven't seen her since she left Doriath's borders, but I know that she destroyed Tol-in-Gaurhoth by her power not two months ago. You can tell your king that we don't keep her from him."

What she did not say, of course, was that if Lúthien came here, they most certainly would keep her from the Sindarin king, or rather, would not hand her over if he asked. She imagined Singollo could gather as much, in any case. Perhaps Amdír as well.

This, however, was a precious opportunity, so while the other spies were offered refreshments and generally treated like messengers, Celeborn and Galadriel took Amdír to see Midhel.

They found her in the forge with Tyelperinquar, one of the few places she went on her own except her rooms. She did not care for craftsmanship, but loved watching her son work. "It calms me," she had told Galadriel once, "to see him this happy. It means that his life hasn't been completely ruined." Now, Amdír watched in silence for a moment before he said, softly, carefully: "Aunt Midhel?"

She turned to him, and such brightness, such joy appeared on her face and she rose and ran to him to embrace him. Introductions to Tyelperinquar were made, and the happy family reunion seemed to dissipate any doubts Amdír might have had. The cheerful atmosphere was only broken when Amdír asked his aunt to go back to Doriath with him.

She turned away, her smile immediately disappearing. "I...can't," she said then, slowly. "Not yet, not...I can't."

"Why not?" Amdír asked. "It's your home!"

"Don't force my mother," Tyelperinquar immediately came to her defence, and Galadriel could see Amdír taking his measure, tracing his Noldorin features with his eyes as scorn appeared in them. "We'll take Midhel to Doriath as soon as she feels she can go," she interceded quickly, not wishing for the situation to deteriorate. Nevertheless, she knew that when Amdír left with his companions, some of his suspicions were reawakened.

Life in Narogrotto returned to its previous rhythm after this, except for Midhel. Amdír's invitation was constantly on her mind, as was his disappointment that she would not go with him. She was leaving her rooms more often now, and sometimes even the city – though always in strong company – in a clear effort to prepare herself for a future journey to Doriath.

It was at the point when she could stay outside only with Galadriel without getting too fearful and anxious that the news reached them of the madness of the terrible wolf Carcharoth and his escape from Angamando.

Galadriel's world grew dark once more as she knew, by her foresight, that Lúthien and Beren had attempted to claim the Silmaril after all.

She had not sensed her friend die, and there was only one other possible end to this attempt, too dreadful to contemplate. That Moricotto had caught Lúthien alive, and she was now being tortured in his dark cells.

Just the thought of this sent Galadriel to the brink of a pit of despair. No, she thought, raging against such fate, no, no, no… The memory of all the others she had lost recently, of all her dear ones being taken one by one, made want to scream this aloud in pain and anger. As with Ingoldo when he had been a prisoner in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, she could do nothing to help her friend now, not if she was tortured in the depths of Angamando...could she?

She though of Findekáno, going to rescue Maitimo from that very place. Should she do the same, then? Should she head there, against all hope, and try to save Lúthien? Should she choose to perish in the attempt, rather than know about her capture and do nothing?

Galadriel tried to pray, but no answer was forthcoming. She tried to touch Lúthien's mind, even though she was fearful of what she would find, but it seemed hidden, perhaps by Moriccotto's dark spells. She did not know what to do.

Celeborn, on the other hand, did. Under these circumstances, he wished to return to Doriath and stand by his family in this difficult time, and so Galadriel bid goodbye to Narogrotto for a time and went to accompany him at least to the borders. She did not wish to enter Thousand Caves again, but perhaps should could enter the forest at least and see if she could be of any use to the heartbroken Queen Melian, and seek advice on her course of action.

After some deliberation, Midhel decided to go with them as well, pushing aside her own pain and fear for this fresh one that seemed to have fallen upon their kingdom. Like Celeborn, she did not think she could leave her kin alone at such time.

It was a mournful procession from Narogrotto that reached the borders of Doriath, their only hope being of use to the mourning royal family. So their surprise was great indeed when, only a short way from the border, they came across Lúthien and Beren themselves, returning home.

Rarely before had Galadriel felt such joy as at this reunion, this completely unexpected blessing. She embraced her friend and held tight, grateful to Eru beyond anything that at least this one of her dear ones was spared, that Queen Melian would not have to face the choice between staying with her husband and following her daughter across the Sea, that Middle-Earth would not lose such a bright flower, such a unique force, such a wonderful elf.

"I sensed you," Lúthien said softly. "In the forest, and I sensed your grief, and I knew I had to find you."

"And why didn't I sense you?" Galadriel asked, still dazed by the delight of this meeting.

"I've been...concealing us," Lúthien replied. "We wished for privacy."

Galadriel though of Macalaurë and his skill. It was not, perhaps, surprising, that Lúthien could do the same, and better. What was more surprising was that she was here in the first place. "How?" Galadriel asked in a weak voice.

And so long days were then spent there in the forest in re-acquaintance of friends, and Lúthien told her tale of being kidnapped by Turkafinwë and rescued by Huan, of defeating Sauron with song and Huan's help, of encountering the sons of Fëanáro as they were fleeing into exile, of dancing in front of the Enemy and of stealing the Silmaril, of the jewel being devoured by Carcharoth as he bit off Beren's hand, and of their rescue by the eagles. It was a tale of wonder and power, and Galadriel suddenly saw her friend in a different light. She had always known Lúthien had power, but under the guise of joy and otherworldly longings, she had perhaps never realized quite how much, not even after Lúthien's escape from the prison her father had made for her.

Then Beren spoke, and he told of Ingoldo's heroism and strength with pride and of his death with pain in his voice, and offered a sincere apology to Galadriel for involving her brother in his doom. There was much more wisdom now in this man than there had been when Galadriel first laid eyes on him in Singollo's Hall, and she accepted his apology and was glad to hear of her brother's last moments. At least Ingoldo had been able to save a friend by his final stand. That must have eased his parting with Middle-Earth.

When they had their share of friendly discourse, Lúthien remembered her mourning parents again, and they travelled on together, Galadriel abandoning her original intent of returning to Narogrotto. She wished to stay with Lúthien after this unexpected reunion.

Many elves joined them on the way, joyful, too, that their princess had returned, and even many of the ents of Region with their tress, so it was that there was a great host of them when they arrived to Thousand Caves. Galadriel was glad of it, for she thought that if Singollo intended to do Beren any harm, it would be more difficult in this state of things.

But seeing the king with her own eyes, she understood he would not attempt to hurt Beren now. There were deep lines of sorrow in his face, and while there was no love in it when he looked at the Man, there was no hatred either, only resignation.

Beren knelt before the king and said: "I return according to my word. I come now to claim my own."

"What of your quest, and of your vow?" The king asked, though he sounded more tired than demanding.

"It's fulfilled," Beren answered, and startled, Galadriel realized he was right, because... "Even now a Silmaril is in my hand."

Singollo stared. "Show it to me!" He commanded.

And Beren raised his right arm, and the hand that was not there.

Galadriel could see the pain in Singollo's eyes, pain and guilt, and he heaved a great sigh and said: "Sit before me, then, and tell me the story of your quest, so that I may judge whether you have fulfilled your oath."

And Beren and Lúthien sat and told their tale, and Galadriel listened again, still amazed by their great deeds.

With their story finished, Singollo seemed to wake from a dream that Lúthien cast on him with her telling. "Much you've suffered," he said then, and it still sounded as if from a distance, "and I'd be in breach of my word, or near enough, if I still tried to prevent your marriage. So, therefore, Beren, son of Barahir, I give you my blessing."

With these words, it was as if a great weight was lifted from everyone in the room, and Queen Melian smiled once more. Lúthien went and embraced her father for the first time since she left, and then she turned to the gathered elves of Doriath and said: "We shall be wed tomorrow at twilight, in the forest, under the stars. All of you that wish to celebrate our joy with us, come, you are invited."

And as she said, it was done. Almost the entire forest realm was gathered at her wedding. It was full of bliss and delight, as if to make up for all that suffering Beren and Lúthien had to go through together to get here. Lúhien's joy, in particular, had never been brighter, and even though she seemed to barely even know of anyone else's presence but Beren's, it still appeared to affect others as well, to spread like the most popular song. Galadriel saw its influence all around her, she saw Beleg and Mablung laughing together in a corner, she saw Celeborn's parents quietly holding hands, there was Amdír dancing with his betrothed, and most importantly, she saw Doroneth and Midhel, embracing and crying tears of happiness. They hardly let go of each other ever since Midhel returned, and their joy was matched only by that of the King and Queen at the return of their daughter.

"Why isn't Daeron here?" Galadriel asked Lady Ernil as she watched Beren and Lúthien dance to the tunes of other minstrels.

"He left after Lúthien did," Lady Ernil replied in a dark tone of voice. "Guilt drove him to search for her, I believe. It was him who betrayed her to Thingol - twice. He never returned."

Galadriel sighed, looking into the distance. "May be find his peace one day," she said softly, but then shook her head. She, too, wished to be joyful on this day, and so she took Celeborn's hand and went to dance.

Even in later years, the memory of Lúthien's wedding would be one of the brightest she had, in spite of all the tragedies that preceded it, because of the deep-seated happiness that the Sindarin princess felt and that made its way to every guest's heart, an echo of the bliss of Aman. But in Arda Marred, such bliss could not last, and not long after the wedding, the news reached Thousand Caves that Carcharoth was ravaging the forest of Doriath now, destroying the land that had until now been protected from every evil. And, a mere week after Lúthien and Beren had been joined together, the hunt set out, with the new husband at its head.

Lúthien shivered as it departed, and Galadriel knew that Beren would not return from that quest alive, and saw in the face of Queen Melian that she knew, too; yet neither said anything and they stood with Lúthien in silence for hours, there on the bridge that led from Thousand Caves to the forest, waiting for their return, each quietly, but with no less pain, mourning the tragic ending of so short a marriage. What did Lúthien do, Galadriel asked Lord Námo silently, to deserve such a fate? Even the most vile of the Noldor had been spared this kind of torment, to be denied the one they loved and then, when they finally had the happiness of being together, to have their life snatched away immediately. Singollo, who was the cause of all this suffering, had been blessed with long centuries with his wife. Why should Lúthien, one so innocent, suffer in this manner?

The hunting party returned after the night fell, Beren's body carried on the bier. Seeing it, Lúthien gave a short, sharp shout that pierced the soul, and then she ran to him and embraced him. "Await me beyond the Western Sea," she said, as if she forgot that her love was of mortal Men, and it was then that he died - and Lúthien collapsed next to him, her body spiritless.

In that hour Singollo let out a terrible cry and suddenly he looked like one of Men on the steps of death of old age, and even in her grief Galadriel saw that that was another sign of Eru's will, in which he was punishing Singollo's contempt of the Second born. And they put the bodies of Beren and Lúthien together, and the king and queen wept over them, and behind them, all the people of Doriath.

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It was hours later, and Singollo, unable to bear the sight of his daughter's body any longer, returned to his chambers with Queen Melian to mourn in privacy. But many others have stayed watching over the dead under the stars, Galadriel and Celeborn among them.

Galadriel had Lúthien's hand in hers, and she cried out as that which she was holding moved.

She raised her eyes, and to her astonishment saw not only Lúthien – for that could be believed, though it had not happened before to her knowledge – but also Beren come back to life, and it was something dreadful and wonderful. The people of Doriath behind them were shouting in amazement and fear, and Galadriel herself was a little unsure as she said: "How…?"

"Valar were merciful to us," Lúthien replied simply, and there was new depth to her words that spoke of one who saw the Halls of Mandos. Galadriel remembered them, and their lord, and thought that it must have been something wonderful indeed that made their unshakeable ruler release Lúthien so soon after she came, and back to Middle-Earth too. And what had happened to Beren required a stronger intervention still.

The dead that lived headed to Thousand Caves and she walked after them, still marvelling at this wonder. Lúthien went to her father, and by a touch of her hand healed his ruin and brought him joy again; but when she turned to her mother, look of such despair entered Queen Melian's face that Galadriel had never seen before, and she turned away from Lúthien. And it that moment Galadriel realized that what she had ignored before, for it had seemed impossible to her – Lúthien was mortal now. Not even Lady Melian had foreseen this, for it was grace of Eru given especially to the two who have been so brave and whose story was so tragic, a chance to live together. The Queen, however, was of the Maiar, the immortal spirits, and faced with true death, she could not bear it, and she left the room and the city, the echoes of her sorrow reverberating through its halls log after she was gone far away in the forest.

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Lúthien and Beren did not remain long in Doriath. The people feared them now, the Queen could not bear to look at her daughter, and Lúthien found it hard to forgive her father the terrible things he had done to her. It took only very few weeks until she realized that she could not recreate the easy bliss of her previous life any more, and that there was no place for her here.

"I wish to go far away from everything," she told Galadriel. "I've seen enough bloodshed and evil to last me the rest of my days, and I don't wish to be involved."

"You never wished to be involved, beloved," Galadriel replied softly, with a smile.

"You're right," Lúthien admitted, "but I used to feel a part of Doriath a least a little. Now this land holds nothing for me, and I can go dwell with my love, to be happy until the end of our days, as I know we can be. But for the help you offered me in my endeavours, and for that which your brother offered Beren, we will gladly see you and yours in our home at any time, even though we are leaving to find solitude."

"What help?" Galadriel asked. "The little I was willing to offer, you refused or I was prevented from giving."

"Yet even that," Lúthien replied, "was more than any other from Doriath have given me, for all that I was their princess and they claimed to love me with all their hearts. It wasn't our fate to have help, other than from Huan, but you have tried to offer yours, and I will never forget it." Then they embraced, and Lúthien was never seen in Doriath again.