AN: So, this is the bonus chapter for Legendarium Ladies April! From next week on till the end of the month, updates should be twice a week.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Chapter 33: Wilderness
Year 534 of the Sun, New Havens
"Aunt?" Ardamírë said hesitatingly, sicking his head in the doorway of Galadriel's chambers.
"Yes?" She asked, rising from her desk. "Do come in. I have just been going over some crops calculations for Artanáro, I will be glad for any disturbance."
He laughed, but then grew serious. "I am not certain that what I wish to discuss with you is so very cheerful."
"Come then and sit, and I will pour us some wine and we will talk."
She did as she said, and Ardamírë drank is silence for a while before abruptly declaring. "I wish to find the way my father found."
"To the West?" Galadriel assured herself.
"To the West."
She sighed. "Beloved...I understand your wish, and yet...your father felt the call as a special grace of the Valar. Do you feel the same?"
"No," he admitted. "But I think our need of the help of the Valar to be desperate – if they do not come, it is only a matter of time until we are destroyed – and if my parents were granted the way, then why not me?"
"Ways of the Valar are mysterious to me, and there is more than one decision I do not understand. And, while I believe it, remember that we do not know for sure if your parents are safely in the West. You have a wife and two sons barely out of their cradles. What will become of them if you should be struck down for your presumption?"
"Elwing can take care of herself," he insisted.
Galadriel would be amused, if the topic was not so serious. "I know that – I raised her. It is her broken heart I speak of, her and your sons'. Your parents waited until you reached adulthood and found love and support in Elwing before they left."
"But do we have that much time?"
"Do you see any signs of the Enemy closing up on us? Has Elwing perhaps Seen something?"
"No," he admitted, "but it must be any day now, these is nothing holding him back."
"And yet for over twenty years, the most we have had to fight were small, independent orc raids."
"That cannot last, surely you know that."
"I do, but what I do not know is that it will not last for another twenty years, or more. My advice is to wait. When your sons are grown, well then, take Elwing and go and pray."
Ardamírë nodded, but she knew it was a nod of acknowledgement, not agreement, and her heart grew heavy and her mind worried, and she was not surprised when, not long afterwards, Ardamírë announced he would be sailing.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Galadriel had an acute sense of having lived through this already when the letter from the sons of Fëanáro reached New Havens.
A messenger brought it to her and she immediately found Artanáro and went with him to see Elwing. "We must give them the Silmaril," she said. "I don't wish for any more blood spilled."
"Neither do I, but I'm still reluctant to give up this memory of my parents' and grandparents," Elwing replied. "Let's wait until Mîr is back from his journey to make that decision. I need more time to decide, and I wish to consult him on this."
"Beloved," Galadriel said sharply, "there are three who have any claim on that jewel apart from the sons of Feanor, and they are all in this room. Rodnor and I on the dwarven necklace, and you on the Silmaril. It's our decision."
"And my sons'," Elwing said equally sharply, looking towards her little boys drawing at their small desk and whispering quietly. "It's their heritage, and as such, Mîr has a right to comment on it as well. Let's wait."
"We have to respond," Galadriel insisted. "Your father didn't, and many died."
"Let's ask for more time, then," Artanáro said, though his face was worried and Galadriel saw that he was as unhappy with the decision as she was. "We could write to them that we need Mîr n'Ardhon, as Lord of the Havens, to decide this."
Galadriel shook her head. "Maedhros'll never believe that I found it impossible to make a decision."
"Not of you," Artanáro agreed, "but he doesn't know Elwing, does he? If she signs the letter...he might."
And so, with a very heavy heart, that was agreed on. Galadriel looked at Elros and Elrond once again. She worried. She worried a lot, and decided that certain measures were to be taken just in case. She had no faith in the patience of the sons of Fëanáro. She did not wish to believe that they would do such a thing, that they would attack without a just cause under Maitimo's leadership, but ever since the fate of Eluréd and Elurín became known, she trusted nothing. And so she planned, and plotted, and organized and trained, and all the while prayed it would never be needed.
She was walking by the shore just beyond the edges of the town with Celeborn when she realized the New Havens were under attack.
Her reaction was immediate. "My love," she said, "take those who can't fight to Lord Círdan." Then she turned her mind to Artanáro, and sent the image they had agreed on, an image of a wall of shields. He was to organize the defence to cover the retreat and then follow Celeborn to the Isle of Balar. She hesitated for a moment and added a "Don't get killed," as strongly as she could. In his mind, he only nodded grimly.
Next her thoughts turned to Tyelperinquar. She sent him an image of seating Midhel onto a boat. He knew what that meant as well. His task was to see his mother into safety before joining the fight, to make sure she did not encounter Curufinwë.
Galadriel was tasked with ensuring Elwing's and the boys' safety before she helped to defend the city, and so she started to run, run as the battle was beginning around her, run even as she saw the first elves fall, as she saw the death and destruction emerging around her.
She found Elwing and her sons in their chambers on the top floor of their house The princess was looking out to the sea, the dwarven necklace around her neck. "You have to go now," Galadriel said quickly. "Take your sons and find Celeborn, he is organizing the retreat. You-"
But she stopped and turned around when the door to the room flew open.
The two eldest sons of Fëanáro were standing there.
Of course, she thought. Macalaurë's capacity to hide whom he chose to, used to get around the guards, as in Thousand Caves. She had expected this, but she had hoped it would take them more time.
For a moment, it was as if time stopped as she thought with terrible clarity, Elwing could give them the Silmaril now and it would all be over. But then, equally clearly, But she will not. And immediately after that, I do not want her to. They do not deserve to have it, not after this.
Without turning, Galadriel said to Elwing: "Go now. It's what's around your neck that they want. Without it, we'll be safe. I'll take care of your boys."
She could hear Elwing take one shaky breath, and then her footsteps headed to the balcony. The water was just deep enough here that the fall would be safe for one who could swim well – so for Elwing, but not for the twins. The eldest of the sons of Fëanáro moved to follow her, but Galadriel stepped in his way. "Has it come this far, cousin?" She asked. "Are you going to kill me?"
"You are keeping the Silmaril from us," he replied, not moving.
"I am not keeping anything. You sent your messenger, and we told you to wait till Eärendil returned because we will not make such a major decision without him. You chose to slaughter your own kin instead. Have you lost all sanity, Nelyafinwë?" He flinched at being called by his father-name by her, and she continued. "Like your father, spilling blood only because it seems to you that you would have to wait to reach your goal?"
"Eärendil does not have a say in what happens to the Silmaril."
"Elwing is his wife, and he is the grandson of the previous High King of Noldor, whose subjects you were too, by right. I know how your oath binds you, but it was just and reasonable to ask for you to wait for his return. I believe he would have heard your request, too, even though he would have despised the tone, as I have." She paused. "I admit my wisdom was faulty here. I did not believe you became as fell as you clearly became."
"Whatever our reasons, we are here now, and we demand the Silmaril."
"Demand what you want. As I said, if you want to go any further, you will have to kill me."
Nelyafinwë raised his sword. "Brother!" Macalaurë cried, horrified. Nelyafinwë raised it higher, looking Galadriel in the eye...and then put it back down.
"Could I even do it?" He asked. "I mean, if I had the will, would I be strong enough to hurt you?"
"I do not know," Galadriel returned. "I used to believe you would, but turning from the light makes our power fail, as you know."
They just stood there, looking at each other, for a long time, until Galadriel said: "I believe she is gone now. So, what is your plan?"
The brothers looked at each other. "Let us see the balcony," they said.
Galadriel cautiously moved between them and Elros and Elrond and let them pass. Hearing the agonized cry from the outside, she looked...and her heart bled.
New Havens were in ruins, fires burning everywhere, and streets and piers lined with dead bodies of elves. She had not felt Celeborn, Artanáro, Tyelperinquar or Midhel die, so she had faith they were still alive, as well as Elwing, but it was certain that many she had loved and that were of her people were lost. Another city that fell, another nation she had not managed to protect...but at least Itarillë, she believed, was safe in the West. That would be a source of comfort to her for many years to come, she knew.
The brothers came back inside after a long time, and looking at Galadriel and the boys, Nelyafinwë said: "Let us leave."
"And go where?" She asked.
"Away from here. We...we will have to bury our people, but then, we will go somewhere where we do not have to face reminders of our terrible deeds all the time. You will go with us."
"Am I your captive now, then?"
Nelyafinwë shrugged. "I will not have you plotting revenge and organizing those who escaped. I want to keep an eye on you. And besides, where else do you want to go?"
She stayed silent. She knew perfectly well where she wanted to go, but she was not going to lead the remaining sons of Fëanáro to the Isle of Balar. She would always choose captivity over that.
They left to bury their people, and Galadriel was finally free to rush to the twins. "Are you all right, my beloved?" She asked.
"Mother jumped into the sea," Elros replied. "Why did she do that?"
"To keep you safe," Galadriel said.
"Did she go to find father?"
"Perhaps she did," Galadriel replied. It was not a direct lie – Ardamírë might well be at Balar by now. "Now come with me," she said, "I have a lot to do, and I do not want to let you out of my sight."
She took each boy by the hand and led them down the stairs. She wished to protect them from the terrible sight outside, but she dared not leave them alone, and so they went with her, wide-eyed, as she passed among the rows of corpses.
At least a thousand of her people lay there, slain, and almost as many of the Feanorian hosts. She looked and saw faces she knew, faces of her captains and assistants and servants. And then, most horrifying of all, she saw Brannor.
He cannot be dead, she thought nonsensically. He is a healer, he should have left for Balar, he should not have fought, why is he here? He was with me the whole time, since the Ice, through Hithlum and Narogrotto and Doriath, how can he be dead?
"Maitimo," she whispered. "He helped me heal you, do you remember? After Findekáno brought you from Thangorodrim...he helped me even though he crossed the Ice and knew the pains of it better than most, for he helped me care for the injured even there...and he had no reason to love you, and yet he still helped me. He helped me save your life. And now he lies there, slain by your people. That is his reward."
Maitimo appeared behind her like a ghost. He stayed silent for a long time, staring at Brannor's body. "And my youngest brothers are dead," he said then. "That is mine."
After that, he turned and left.
And so Galadriel buried all of her dead – there were few nissi among them, but Dílethil, Amdír's wife, was one, and if there was anything left of her heart to break she would have cried for another blow to Celeborn's family - gave one last longing look in the direction of Balar, and left to live with the sons of Fëanáro.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
It was the second night of their journey to Amon Ereb that Macalaurë came to her as Nelyafinwë slept and she watched over the twins.
"Be careful with them," he said softly. "Maitimo tried to convince me to kill them last night, when you fell asleep for a moment."
Galadriel was shocked. In spite of everything, she had not thought… "Why?" She whispered.
"I do not know. He said...he said he wanted to take revenge, to send a message, to make it clear no one could take the Silmaril from us and remain unpunished, but..." The desperation in Macalaurë's voice was clear, and it took him a moment to calm down enough o add: "He has changed, he is not the brother I once knew."
"He has not been himself since before the Battle of Unnumbered Tears," Galadriel replied. "But even then I would not have expected him to suggest such a monstrosity."
"Neither would I. The Oath has been eating at him for a long time – at me as well, but I at least am not the oldest – and he never made peace with Lúthien taking a Silmaril from Moricotto. But even in Doriath still...do you know what happened there?"
"I know you slaughtered them all," Galadriel replied coldly.
"Yes," Macalaurë agreed in a tight voice. "But the little princes...it was Tyelkormo's servants who took them to the forest and left them there, after Dior killed him, in revenge for their slain master. When Maitimo found out, he exiled them and ordered our people to look for the princes...but to no avail. He had been devastated, then. And now, mere few decades later...there was no reason to it, all the bitterness just overpowered him, I believe. I convinced him otherwise, and the moment passed and he apologized later, but still. I took them under my protection."
Galadriel gave him a measuring look. "Thank you," she said. "And thank you for telling me also. I do need to sleep at times, unfortunately, and I would ask you to watch over them then. If such a moment came once, it can come again. As you say, we must guard them closely."
He inclined his head, and sat down next to her. There was silence for a long time, and then he started to hum softly. She recognized the melody, and when the words appeared, she joined him, almost against her will, in singing the Noldolantë, its words carrying much more weight and tragedy now than she could ever have suspected.
She slept as little as possible the rest of the way to Amon Ereb, and never let the boys out of her sight in waking.
The fortress was a strange place. It was haunted by hundreds of widows and daughters without fathers and mothers without sons now. Of neri, only twenty or so remained, and all there were grieving. Their loyalty to Nelyafinwë, she now saw, was mixed with hate, and there was grim determination, but also hopelessness in the way the nissi trained themselves to fight for him, when there were no others left to do so.
The twins, at least, were growing to Galadriel's full satisfaction. Not distracted by ruling a city, she could devote all of her attention to them, and to her joy, it showed.
She tried, when she watched them, to see traces of their kin in their features and minds. They had much of the form of Dior, and through him of Lúthien. Itarillë's line could hardly be seen in them, except that they both had the grey Noldorin eyes.
But what they lacked in Noldorin looks, they gained in character. Elros' fire was akin to her own and to Artanáro's – or, of course, to Itarillë's - but there was impatience in him, a fleeting quality, that seemed to Galadriel reminiscent more of Ardamírë – and perhaps Beren too, before his suffering. He never could stay long at one subject in their lessons, and it was always him who wished to move, to go, to act.
Elrond was harder to understand, to see though. There was an opaqueness to him, even as such a little child, that was reminiscent of Lúthien, though hers had always been hidden behind the veneer of pure joy. But then, Elrond had not know much pure joy in his life. He also had Nimloth's and his mother's curiosity, and something of Itarillë that she could not quite pinpoint, a certain quality of quiet persistence, of unobtrusively getting his way. And there were signs of Turukáno's privateness as well, but it did not, it seemed to her, go with that tendency to be overly cautious and cowardly.
She was teaching the twins about the Valar at the moment, and Elros asked: "Who is your favourite?"
Galadriel laughed. "It is like asking to chose one among many wonderful friends!"
Elrond frowned. "But people usually do that, don't they? I mean, they have a best friend or two. So…"
"Very well, then. I spent the most time with Lady Estë, I believe, for she was the one I needed the most, the one who taught me how to overcome my weaknesses. But the one I always felt closest to was The Queen of the West, Lady Varda."
"The Star-Kindler?" Elrond seemed surprised. "But, I mean...it seems strange."
"Why?"
"Well, you always said you loved the sun, and you just seem more a midday than midnight kind of person."
Galadriel smiled. "You are completely right," she said. "But Queen Varda is not at all like those who have never been to the West imagine her. We see the light of the stars from a great distance, and they appear to us small and relatively dim, like a muted moon. But from up close, I have heard it said, the stars are actually brighter than the Sun itself, as bright as the Trees once were...and that is what Queen Varda is like. Brighter than the Sun at midday, because the light of Eru lives in her face."
"So, she is really more like you than like our mother?"
"I would never dare to say that Queen Varda was like me, but I feel confident enough in saying that she will not be the Valië your mother will feel closest to. For Elwing, perhaps Lady Vairë or Lady Nessa." She paused. "Or even, I fear, Lady Nienna, as for all of us who have been to Middle-Earth."
"Why do you say you fear?" Elros wondered.
"What have I told you about Lady Nienna?"
"That she understands grief and sadness, and that she can bring consolation?"
"Yes. Your mother was like a daughter to me, and if I could, I would have protected her from every pain and grief in the world. But she was born in a time when that is impossible."
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
After two years in Amon Ereb, the expected attack of the Enemy finally came, and even as Nelyafinwë's people tried to make a valiant stand, Galadriel knew it was in vain. He recognized it soon enough as well, and they gathered their strength and fought their way out of the fortress, Galadriel carrying both of the twins on her horse. It was a bloody fight, and when they were finally in safety and far away, there was only about fifty of them left, of the thousand that had inhabited the fortress.
Nelyafinwë did not speak for a week, after this.
They became wanderers and dispossessed in truth, bereft of any permanent seat. It was a strange life. If Galadriel had thought before that she had fallen deep indeed, to move from royal palaces to the simple dwellings of Tol Galen and New Havens, she had no words for the direction her life took now. They stayed mostly at the coasts, for the Enemy and his creatures still feared it. They kept to the south so that they could dwell under the open skies, and when the weather turned black, they went back to News Havens and used the ruins of its buildings for shelter. But the sons of Fëanáro hated doing so, and Galadriel found little pleasure in it as well.
So mostly, they wandered, and in between their fights and hunting to survive, Galadriel tried to go on teaching the boys some wisdom.
History lessons were the hardest. "You say our great-grandmother died in the Ice," Elrond mused one day, "but if it was so dangerous, why did you not go across the sea, in ships?"
Galadriel considered how much to keep from them, but...they needed to know. "Some of us did," she said at length.
"But why not all, then?"
She took a deep breath and prepared to explain when suddenly Nelyafinwë approached the fire they were sitting by. She grew immediately wary, and silent.
He sat down next to them and said quietly: "Because we betrayed your people."
The boys looked at him, wide-eyed. "What do you mean?" Elros asked warily.
"We took the ships and sailed with our host, then burned them on the beach to make it impossible to go back."
The twins were astonished. "But...why? Why did you do it?"
Nelyafinwë kept silent, and Galadriel took the word again. "Nelyafinwë himself is the least to blame," she said. "He did not know, and he begged his father to return for us."
"Then why did he not do so?"
Another silence. "My father was...gripped by a strange kind of madness at the time," Nelyafinwë attempted to explain.
"So he regretted it afterwards?"
More silence, this one broken only by Macalaurë, who reached the fire in the course of the conversation. "I want to believe he would have, in time, but he never got the chance. He died soon after."
There was a longer silence this time, then Nelyafinwë exploded: "Tell them, then! Tell them of our greatest crime! They will learn of it sooner or later anyway, and your mind might be shielded from me, cousin, but I still know you well enough to be certain you intended to explain."
"Because they need to know."
"Why? So that they can look at us in disgust?"
"Do you think they do not, now? You drew a sword on me, cousin, in their presence; that was their first impression of you. What do you think they see, looking at you?"
Nelyafinwë's head dropped into his hands, and suddenly all fight seemed to desert him. "You are right," he admitted, "tell them everything."
"You do not need to listen to it," she offered mildly.
"No, I...I think I should. In fact, I believe I should tell them myself." He suddenly looked at her. "Do you know that I have never done that before? I have never spoken about it to anyone who has not known already. Even with Lord Herúsea all those centuries ago, I had a loremaster do it." He stared into the fire for a moment, then started to talk slowly, and as he did, the horror of Alqualondë rose again before Galadriel's eyes. In spite of everything, it was still one of her worst memories.
Nelyafinwë's voice trailed off at the end of his story, and the boys were too shocked to speak. Macalaurë took a few steps towards his brother, then he pressed his shoulder. "Can you forgive us?" He asked the twins.
The boys seemed taken aback at such a responsibility. "You have not wronged us," Elrond replied carefully. "It is not us whom you should be asking for forgiveness."
Nelyafinwë laughed bitterly. "This is exactly what Nerwen's husband said when we begged him. We cannot reach the ones we wronged, and you are the heirs of Elwë, brother to Olwë. If not you, then who?"
Galadriel gave Nelyafinwë a long look. Then she touched the edges of his mind with hers, and when he opened to her just a little, she sent him a memory of her escape from Doriath. He immediately looked away. He knew what she meant. That was one thing the boys could perhaps have the right to forgive, but it was also one they were very unlikely to, and one Nelyafinwë was still not ready to confess to them. Perhaps because there was no half-mad father to hide behind this time. "We have kept you alive and safe all this time," he said loudly, turning tot he boys, clearly trying to push that memory of Doriath from his mind. "We could have killed you, and we have kept you alive! You could show some little gratefulness."
"Leave them be," Macalaurë said sharply before Galadriel had time to open her mouth. "How can you say that, how can you say they should be grateful to us?"
"Should they not? Is this what captors usually do to their captives, caring for them? It is certainly not how Moricotto treated me!"
"Let us go," Galadriel said, quietly but insistently, to the boys, and took each of them by the hand.
"Where do you think you are taking them?" Nelyafinwë asked.
"Away from you," Galadriel replied. "Your brother can deal with you, and once you are calmer, you can go find us."
She turned to leave and heard Nelyafinwë rise, and also heard when Macalaurë stepped in his way.
"Come," she said, tugging at the boys' hands insistently, and quickened her pace. When her eldest cousin was taken by one of his bouts of madness, there were no traces of the elf she once knew to be found in him, and he was dangerous to be around.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
AN: I have been told that this inclusion of Galadriel is perhaps the least 'realistic'/in accordance with Tolkien of all, and while I don¨t intend to deny it, allow me to offer my reasoning: 1) Elwing would not have left her little sons if she wasn't confident enough that there was someone there to protect them, and 2) I am not buying that Elrond grew to be the extremely well-adjusted individual he was by being raised by Maedhros in the very formative age of 6-12 (and possibly 6-62, given that we have no clear timeline of when exactly they let the boys go). That guy was basically a psychopath by that point, and Maglor was only a little better, let's be real. They needed some sane adult who cares for them in their life. It didn't have to be Galadriel, obviously, but...well, you must have already noticed that this is a 'let's insert Galadriel into every Silm storyline' story.
About Varda, well, I have headcanons for this. barbarakaterina. tumblr post/132092187916