Chapter 37: Desire

Year 8 of the Second Age, Lindon

It was strange, Galadriel mused, that wedding customs of the Second born were so very similar to the elven ones.

She led Elros through the rows of guests in place of his mother and stopped in front of an elder – a humorous notion, that, since he was barely older than Elros himself – and they both turned and waited for Adanel to appear.

She looked beautiful, her pastel-coloured dress made in the Mannish style, but by the best elven seamstresses that remained in Middle-Earth, and her jewels borrowed for the occasion from among the remaining treasures of Narogrotto. Her blond hair shone in the sun as she approached, and Galadriel thought fleetingly of Itarillë. It was a pity none of her grandchildren inherited her golden hair, but perhaps through Adanel, a shade of them would live on.

Adanel's father released her to Elros and both he and Galadriel stepped aside, to allow the elder to start the ceremony. The vows were not as solemn as the elven ones, for the name of the One was not mentioned, but what they promised to each other was beautiful and eternal, and when they kissed to officially seal the marriage – a hint of the true sealing that would come later – they both shone with love and joy.

They had been impatient to marry for years, Galadriel knew. Especially Adanel. Originally, they wanted to wait until after their arrival to the island that had been promised to them, but when Elros realized how much more time the preparation to leave would require, they changed their mind. It was good they did, she thought. The Second born lived longer now, but they were not immortal.

The feast preceded the dancing with Men, so after Galadriel offered her heartfelt congratulations, she followed the newly married couple to the long, beautifully decorated tables set out not far away, under the open sky. She was seated between Elrond and Celeborn, and as the younger of the two elves watched his brother's pure bliss, he sighed and told her, very quietly: "Sometimes I envy him, just a little."

Galadriel pressed his hand. "You too will feel the flame or the One in time, my beloved, do not fear. I waited for over a thousand years for Celeborn – there will still be eternity before you after you find your love, so there is no need to hurry. Or are you lonely?"

"Not now," he admitted, "but once Elros leaves, I fear I will be. I know you are always by my side, Aunt, and I love you with all my heart, but..."

"But it is not quite the same? Do not worry, I understand. It is hard to match the intimacy you have with your twin brother, and at any rate, the difference in our age is great still. I am in many ways like your mother – and like your grandmother in others. You will need someone who can be simply a friend after your brother leaves." She smiled. "Artanáro, at least, is better in this way, is he not?" She asked, giving her great-nephew a look out of the corner of her eye. He was sitting on the other side of Celeborn and talking to him and Gildor at the moment, and hopefully not listening.

"Yes; though he is older, too, and of course...well, he is the High King."

"Surely you would not allow that to spoil your friendship?"

"No, no, I only meant...well, he is very busy."

Galadriel smirked at that. "Tell me if he does not make enough time for you, and I will give him a stern talking to."

Elrond laughed, and then his eyes roamed across the other guests at their table of honour. "There are others whom I could learn to spend time with, others whom I would like to get to know better. I admire Lord Ciryatan very much."

"Who would not admire Lord Ciryatan?" She returned with a smile. "Though understanding him is harder sometimes," she added, thinking of his new-found tendency to avoid her and to cut conversations with her short. He did it skilfully enough, but she still noticed.

"What do you mean?" Elrond asked, sounding surprised.

Galadriel had no wish to share that particular detail with Elrond. "His love for ships and sea, for example, is completely foreign to me," she said instead.

"Oh! Yes, there I am at a loss as well."

"Artanáro, I believe, understands him better in this. Perhaps he could explain the mysterious matter to us."

Elrond shrugged. "With me, it might be that I have never known anything but the sea, not outside of war, so I cannot appreciate it properly."

"Once this realm is established more firmly, we will go exploring together," Galadriel promised him.

Artanáro heard this last sentence, and said: "Are you trying to make a poor monarch jealous? I would love to go exploring with you, yet I fear I will not have the chance." He paused, and then he looked at Galadriel and shook his head, closing his eyes. "I apologize, Aunt," he said. "That was thoughtless of me."

She smiled at him. "No, no, it is of no matter. I am not bitter any more, truly, not now when I know we are free and I can, in fact, found my own realm. If something, I would be regretful for the past. And in any case it would never be bitterness against you – it would be...against the doom, I suppose."

"Not against the Noldor?"

"Is it the fault of those alive today that we have such laws and customs as we have? No. It was the doom I raged against." There was a short silence, then Galadriel said: "But I apologize for spoiling a wedding with such heavy topics."

Elrond chuckled. "I did that first, I believe."

Artanáro gave him a look full of understanding and said, this time in Sindarin and with an apologetic glamce to Celeborn for not doing so sooner: "Time to change the topic, then. While I know working at a wedding is scarcely acceptable, it's still the better alternative, so I'll ask: has Lord Círdan consulted with you about the havens he wants to build?"

"Yes, and it seems the perfect solution to me," Galadriel replied. "We looked for a way to be closer to the rest of Middle-Earth, and havens in the mouth of Lune are a great opportunity for that, as well as a very good location for a port – even though I have to trust him on that, of course. In provides us with the perfect entrance inland. It's going to be especially important given Oropher's decision to leave."

"Is it definite, then?"

"Effectively, yes," Celeborn answered for her. "He won't stay in a country ruled by the Noldor, the clan that butchered his family, where their twisted laws rule, and so on. They're waiting for Elros to depart, out of respect for the fact that he's a descendant of Dior -"

"I venture that wasn't Oropher's idea," Artanáro observed.

"Probably not, no. My guess would be Amdír convinced him, though he didn't say so directly. He...sees Oropher's folly, in some ways."

"Yet he still intends to leave?"

"Mostly out of love for Oropher, I think. That's what many of them are doing, anyway – they're loyal to Oropher and will follow him, even though they might not agree with him."

"It's their right, of course," Galadriel remarked.

"Yes," Artanáro agreed, "and most Sindar remain, in any case."

Celeborn nodded. "Even from Doriath, he doesn't have more than a half going with him. I think their gratefulness for the fact that you saved Elrond and Elros, my love, erased the doubts some of them had about whether more couldn't have been done during the Second Kinslaying."

"Even as some others see my departure with Maedhros and Maglor as proof of my complicity," Galadriel pointed out.

"Yes," Celeborn admitted. "But they are mostly those who've been set against you ever since our escape from Doriath, or even before. So except the very few who are extremely bitter, only those with personal ties to Oropher and Amdír are going."

Artanáro sighed. "I'll miss Thranduil, and even Amdír and Amroth I came to like, despite our many differences."

"What does Thranduil think about all this?" Galadriel asked him.

"He won't say anything directly – he's loyal to a fault – but he's uncomfortable with leaving for distant, wild lands under his father's leadership, I know he is. I worry about him. How will he fare, getting more strongly under Oropher's influence? It was miraculous he was saved from the dragon's flame; I don't wish for him to be lost to his father's dark moods."

"We have to trust in his strength, then. If he was strong enough to survive dragonfire, he should withstand his father's character as well."

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Lord Laurefindil danced readily enough at the wedding, laughing and being merry, but when Galadriel joined him on the floor in person, it seemed to her that his mind was not quite in the moment. She had observed such behaviour in him before, and she also knew he was hardly close to anyone in the new kingdom but her and perhaps Elrond and Artanáro. It worried her a little, especially combined with some of the things she had heard from the survivors of the Hidden City.

"You are rather pensive tonight, Lord Laurefindil," she observed.

He hesitated, then said: "I do not want to spoil the mood, but I shall be honest: I am thinking of the fate Lord Elros chose, and that he will never get to see the Blessed Lands."

"Do you miss them?" She asked, getting to her actual point. "I hope you do not regret staying."

"No," he said. "On the contrary, I find the new realm enchanting, and the new king as well. He reminds me of your uncle, King Ñolofinwë, and you know how well I liked him. And there is so much work to be done here, too. It is enough to keep me busy. I have little to miss."

"I am glad to hear it." She hesitated, but then decided that these things were always best tackled head on. "I heard some rumours, and though I of course try not to pay them any attention..."

He seemed amused. "What do they say about me?"

"That you left the West because you felt great admiration for Itarillë, and could not bear her being there with Tuor," she said plainly. She knew she could do so with him, and though rumours were, as a rule, almost impossible to stop, making their subject aware of them helped a little at least.

The information appeared to amuse Lord Laurefindil even more. "Will people not always assume this of any close friendship between a nis and a nér?" He asked. "Surely you have known this yourself." He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Although...perhaps not. Most of those close to you were your brothers or cousins, or like children to you, from what you have told me."

"It is true," she agreed. "Except for Lord Olórin. Kinship is no definite obstacle for attraction, of course, as I am certain you know, but it is true that there has not been a case of a true Flame being felt by such close relations, as far as I know."

"No," Lord Laurefindil agreed, "and so people do not tend to assume there would be any interest, it seems to me. I certainly never heard any rumour of you being in love with King Findekáno, or he with you. You escaped the idle talk, then."

"Of this sort, yes. I am glad it proves to be no more in your case as well."

"Indeed." He still appeared like he was barely preventing himself from laughing.

"Forgive me, but you seem excessively diverted. I understand the rumours are not true, but if they were, it would not have been a very humorous matter, and it was not impossible after all..."

"No, of course, you are right. It is only...Itarillë would have been very unlikely to catch my interest." At her still confused look, he added plainly: "I am one of the Select."

"Oh!" Now she started to smile as well. "Now I see why the idea was diverting." She paused, and another horrifying thought occurred to her. "It was not unrequited love for anyone else that drove you to stay here, was it?" He and Lord Ehtelion had always been close, but she had assumed that was seen as friendship on both sides…

"Valar, no!" He cried. "Do I require a tragic love to wish to remain?"

Galadriel shook her head. "I am sorry, no, of course not. It is perhaps because you are the only one, so people search for reasons why you, of all, should make this decision to come back here and stay. And I, personally, was surprised just now because...well, I do not mean to pry, but how do you know that you are of the Select? When you have not felt the Flame, I mean?"

"Well...there are attractions, beside true Flame. Appreciation for beauty."

"Certainly, but you can appreciate the beauty of both nissi and neri, can you not?"

"Well, yes, of course, but...there is a difference, is there not?"

"Not that I can observe."

He sighed. "Well, perhaps your mind is purer than mine, my lady. But at least theoretically, you must be aware that other elves have attractions beyond the Flame. That Dark Elf had a reason to ensnare Lady Irissë, and so had Turkafinwë with your friend Princess Lúthien."

Galadriel gave him a look out of the corner of her eye. "Well certainly I cannot say that I have ever felt the slightest inclination to kidnap anyone, so..."

He chuckled. "Do not tease me, my lady," he said. "I never have either, as I am sure you know, but I do understand what kind of feelings drove them. I have felt it a few times through my centuries, usually towards those older and more skilled than I was."

And Galadriel thought of Lord Olórin, and suddenly she did know. "Yes," she said. "I do see what you mean." It had never, to be honest, occurred to her to look at it in this light, because Lord Olórin was simply so outside the normal sphere of things...but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. "But do you truly feel so only with the neri? I mean, it happened to me only once, and yes, it was a nér, but I do not know if that is significant..." She thought of Lady Arien. Was what she had felt towards that lady the same sort of admiration she had felt towards Lord Olórin, or different?

"Take it from me, then," Lord Laurefindil said. "There have been three or four such elves whom I have regarded in this way, and all have been neri."

Galadriel thought of what Celeborn had told her, about the injustice the Select faced in Doriath. Would Lord Laurefindil have been shunned by the king if he had lived there and expressed his admiration for another nér, she wondered? Or would Thingol have overlooked it for the benefit or keeping such a great warrior loyal to him? Had he known about Beleg and Mablung, and simply pretended he had not, for the sake of keeping them in his service?

"Now it is you who is pensive, my lady," Lord Laurefindil said with a smile.

"Forgive me, I am a bad dancing companion. You made me think."

"About?"

Galadriel did not much feel like telling Lord Laurefindil about Celeborn's revelation – no need to sow discord – so she said: "About whether I admired Lord Olórin the same way I admired Lady Arien."

He raised his eyebrows. "I do not recall hearing of such a case," he said, "but everything is possible, I suppose."

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They were gathered in the large house that had been built as a temporary palace for Artanáro before the actual one was completed, looking over the plans. "I don't have any particular wishes about the building itself, I think," Galadriel said, "except that I hope there will be enough balconies and terraces...but I would love to have some proper gardens."

"I will gladly put you in charge of that, Aunt, since I know absolutely nothing about it," Artanáro replied.

"Oh no, Celeborn'd be much better for that job. Or Amdír, if he could be convinced to help."

Celeborn seemed to consider her suggestion. "I'll ask him, and we can take care of the actual growing, but I'm sure you're better suited to design them."

"Idril would be," Galadriel muttered. "But I'll do my best. Perhaps Celebimbor will help?"

The young elf frowned. "I'll gladly do any work you want me to on decorating the palace interiors," he said, "but I'm not sure I'm the one to work on gardens."

"Don't worry," Artanáro said, "I'll certainly make use of your considerable skills. You're crucial for this whole project, in fact."

"Do you actually plan to do any work yourself?" Galadriel asked him with a raised eyebrow.

He puffed up his chest and said pompously: "I'm the High King! I have people for work."

"If you think you're too old to be spanked, you're sorely mistaken," Galadriel muttered, and Tyelperinquar smothered a laugh.

Artanáro just gave her an amused look and said: "Speaking of my kingship, and ways to punish me, do you still believe I should have an official coronation once the palace is complete?"

"Yes," Galadriel said immediately, and there were nods all around the table.

Artanáro sighed. "Very well," he said. "It still seems unnecessarily pompous to me, but I'll trust your advice. I have another, related idea I wished to discuss. It's about the official royal name I'll adopt."

"You're thinking of taking a new one?" Galadriel asked, surprised.

"Well...not exactly a new one, but...you know my mother gave me a name in Sindarin, feeling she should honour that heritage, but no one really ever used it because everyone always talked Quenya around me. I was thinking...Gil-Galad seems like a good name for a king, and...well, I think I'd feel better having a different name as king than the one my friends and family call me by. Also, it's...connected to another idea of mine, one I'm very uncertain about, but...what if I made the official language of the realm Sindarin?"

Galadriel had not expected his decision to go that way, and was struck speechless for a moment. Seeing her expression, he quickly said: "I know, I know, I'm the High King of the Noldor, but, well, I thought about what we said, that it could be regarded as in Nargothrond, where the Sindar lived without any share in the government, and I truly want to avoid that and make everyone feel at home here, as much as possible without compromising my own conscience...I very much feel that making Sindarin the language of the government would go a long way towards that. Everyone here can speak it, after all."

"No, no, you're right," Galadriel said slowly. "It's...not a bad idea. It's only that some of my experiences were...well. I was reminded of Thingol banning Quenya – though of course I know you are planning no such thing – and of Sindarin being spoken in Nargothrond under Túrin's influence. But my personal memories shouldn't influence your decision."

"The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable, Aunt."

She smiled at him. "I lived in Doriath for centuries," she said. "I think I'll cope."

No one else had any substantial objections, and even Lord Laurefindil said that at least he would learn to speak it better more quickly, and so the idea was accepted and the council ended soon after that.

Tyelperinquar joined her as they were leaving. "Do you mind very much?" He asked.

"About the Sindarin, you mean? Not truly. It was mostly surprised, really. I have simply assumed that after living for so long in a Sindarin realm, I would now be in a Noldorin one with everything that includes."

"So have I, really," he admitted, "but there is an upside to it, I suppose." He sighed. "It will be a memory of my mother, of sorts."

Galadriel pressed his hand. "How are you?" She asked.

"Oh, I am well," he replied. "I miss her, of course, but at least she is happy, am I correct?" He paused. "I do wish I could truly know that. I mean, I wish I could speak to her, or at least receive letters from her."

"I know the feeling well," Galadriel agreed. "But if nothing else, now you can write to her, next time someone chooses to sail. That is a comfort I did not have, for the longest time."

"I know, and truly, I am aware I should not complain. It was her who suffered, not I. It is simply that...I never expected her to leave, so I was surprised. She was always here before, as part of my life, the one constant through the years." He grimaced. "Himlad did not give itself to gaining friends."

"I would expect that, being the Lord's son, everyone treated you well enough."

He hesitated. "In a sense...it was strange. I could tell there was a mix of respect for my father and disdain for my mother in their behaviour to me, and, of course, that hardly made me want to talk to them much. I think that is one of the reasons why I became so good in the forge – there was nothing else to do. Narogrotto was better, I suppose, but even there many looked at me with suspicion because of who my father was. And then in New Havens, my mother was always so sad...I hardly had thoughts for anything else. And Balar was even worse."

"After the Third Kinslaying...yes, it must have been."

"Everyone thought Elwing was dead, and you know how she was such an important symbol of hope to them all those years there. Elros and Elrond, the same. Celeborn did tell them that he seemed to read that they were alive in your mind, but not many believed it. They feared to, I think. Feared to hope."

"And you, did you believe it?" Galadriel asked.

"Yes," he said immediately. "I believed in you. But it was not enough to make Mother better, or even Lady Ernil. She was like a ghost in those last years. The difference from my first years in Doriath...it was staggering."

"Well, they are both well now, and with my kin, I hope."

Tyelperinquar only gave a sigh in answer.

"Are you happy with your new forge?" Galadriel changed the topic.

"Mostly, yes. I mean, it is not quite the same as it was in Narogrotto, but I could hardly expect it to be, and I suppose that once the palace is built, I will get a better one."

"Do you plan to settle in the palace, then?"

He seemed taken aback. "Well, I assumed..."

"Of course you may do so," she hastened to reassure him, "it is only I was not sure you would wish to."

"I wish to be close to you, cousin."

Galadriel smiled slightly. "I am happy to hear it," she said, "and if you ever need any help, you can always turn to me."

"Thank you, but as I said, I am well, truly. If you ever need my help, I am at your disposal."

Her smile broadened. "That is kind of you to say," she stated.

"But you do not believe that could ever be the case." He sounded a little irate.

She sighed. "Tyelperinquar," she said, "you are about two hundred years old. I know it feels like many to you, but from my perspective...well, let me simply say that I fully trust your expertise on crafting, and will always consult you on all matters of that."

"I rather think I have been an adult since I rejected my father," he said defiantly.

Another sigh. "That was exceptionally brave of you, yes," she admitted, "but life is not made or unmade in a single decision, and neither is adulthood. It was an important step, an important step in the right direction, and you have made many more since then. I hope you will continue to do so."

"But I will never quite catch up with you on that road, will I?" He asked with bitterness, and turned away from the path they walked together.

Galadriel sighed for the third time. She heard an echo of her brothers' complaints in his, but there was a different twist to it, somehow, a twist she did not understand.

She shook her head and stopped to wait for Celeborn, who was walking a little behind her. "Celebrimbor seemed angry as he left," he observed as he reached her. "What happened?"

"He's upset I don't see him as my equal."

Celeborn raised his eyebrows. "Isn't he a little old for that? Didn't he notice until now?"

"Perhaps he didn't mind until now. He might have thought that after his mother leaves...I don't know. He has a difficult past, so I won't judge him for being a little silly, and I'd ask you that you don't either."

"No, of course not. I didn't mean it in badly." He smiled. "You're protective of him, just as you are of your other almost-children."

"I think perhaps less of him than of some others," Galadriel replied. "Maybe because I didn't know him when he was truly a child? But yes, I'm protective nevertheless. If someone should ever criticize him, it can only ever be me!"

They laughed, and there was a short silence before Galadriel took a deep breath and said, looking at the sea they had reached: "Speaking of children...the Enemy is defeated."

"Yes," Celeborn said carefully.

"I promised you once the evil was gone, we'd have a child."

"Do you want to have a child, my love?"

She sighed. What a question. She had been gathering the strength to have this conversation for years now, and she would have preferred if Celeborn did not make it more difficult for her, even though she knew, of course, that that was not his intention. "I don't particularly desire it, but this is not only my decision to make," she said.

He took her hands. "I'd never force you."

"I know that, but it would hardly be fair of me to tell you that I suddenly changed my mind, would it? It's not a desire you can fulfil with someone else. I just..." She hesitated, but he could sense her conflict, so hiding it was pointless. "If it was up to me, I'd prefer for my child to be born in my own realm."

"Then we'll wait," he said simply.

She stepped closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. "Do you truly not mind, my love?" She asked.

"I would...find it hard to come to terms with never having a child, I admit that," he replied. "But waiting a few hundred years more for you is no hardship."