AN: Warning: elven homophobia discussed in the second part. Also, end of April is here, so it'll be one chapter per week again from now on, every Thursday (roughly...).

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Chapter 39: Flame

Year 90 of the Second Age, Grey Havens

It was a long wait until Elros came for the first visit to Lindon after he became king, and it was made longer because he did not wish for Galadriel, or any other of his elven friends, to come to Númenórë just yet. Elrond travelled to his brother every year, and he brought back news and made it possible to exchange letters, but that was what Galadriel had to make do with for years.

She knew why it was, of course, and understood – what was more, Elros was partly acting on her advice. He was raised among elves, and he needed to show his people that he was fully one of them now. That meant he had to stay in Númenórë during the first years, and it was better if he did not have overly many elven visitors either. Galadriel accepted all of this, but she still missed him, and it hurt even more because she knew that the lost years were part of the very short life Elros had ahead of him now. Given all this, she could not help but think he could have received her in his realm before now.

But finally his ship appeared in Grey Havens, and he stepped out for a welcome.

He did not quite run, since the visit was somewhat official and his people on board were watching him, but he walked speedily towards her and held her in very tight embrace. "Aunt," he said. "I have missed you so much."

"And I you," she replied. "But some evils, I suppose, are necessary – or mostly so."

He smiled sheepishly. "Yes," he admitted, "it is impossible to keep anything from you. I did begin to consider inviting you a decade or so ago, but then I started to wish you would only come when the palace and the capital were completed, and you could see it in all its splendour. I confess my sins."

Galadriel shook her head. "This is your decision, beloved," she said, "and of course I understand you want to be proud of your realm. It is only that, as I have said, I missed you."

"I know. I promise to come here more often from now on, at least, but I could not have before."

Galadriel was well aware of that. He waited till the basis of his realm was firmly established, and until all of his children were grown. It was a good decision, and one of the many that showed he was a good ruler who put the needs of the realm before his own.

Elros went to embrace his brother, then gestured to the younger man who had disembarked the ship behind him. "Allow me," he said, "to introduce my oldest son, Vardamir."

"It is a great pleasure," Galadriel replied, smiling.

The younger man seemed mostly overwhelmed, and his eyes darted to Elrond as if in search of a rescue. Elrond smiled and stepped closer to him. "Welcome, Vardamir," he said. "Now finally you will be able to see all the things you longed for when you heard my tales. Would you like to meet Lord Ciryatan?"

Shyness warred with curiosity in the young prince for a time, but curiosity won and Elrond gestured to the other elf standing on the embankment. Soon, the three of them were in deep conversation and Elros turned to Galadriel once again. "My son," he said, "is a great scholar."

"Yes, so I have heard. Elrond loves him dearly."

"He does, and has helped him in his endeavours in many ways. I only worry that...well, he is to be king after me. I am not certain he has the nature for it."

Galadriel laughed. "You worry too early. Or do you hasten off this world already?"

"Not for a long while yet."

"Well then. Your son might still change, and if he does not, you have another son, do you not?"

He frowned. "Would you have me rob my eldest of his kingship?"

"If he is wise and he is not suited, he will not see it as robbing, but as a relief," Galadriel pointed out.

Elros smiled at this, a little. "Have you ever known a prince to see it thus?"

She thought back to all the princes she had known. "No," she admitted. "I do not believe I did, not fully. Artaresto never desired the rule nor enjoyed it, but even he never as much as considered giving up his kingship to Artanáro...though that might have been only because of me. But my father, I believe, would have in such a situation, and so would Angaráto."

"What sounds good in thought might well become distasteful in deed."

"You may be right, yes." She smiled at him. "I see you have grown truly wise in your absence."

He smiled back, but then said: "The crown weights heavily sometimes."

Galadriel's smile turned ironic: "Yes, I have heard it was so."

Elros looked immediately mortified: "Forgive me, I-"

She laughed. "No, no, it is fine. It is very kind of you to have so much regard for my hurt pride, but I swear it is the truth that it does not matter any more, and mostly when I complain now, I am jesting."

"Are the plans for your own realm progressing, then?" He asked.

"Not in the slightest," she answered cheerfully, the vision of her beautiful kingdom flashing through her mind. "We are glad that we have the lands of this realm mapped, we have but the most general idea of what lies beyond its borders. But there is no hurry."

"No, of course not." He shook his head. "I have only been gone half a century, and already I am forgetting. In Númenórë, there is hurry for everything."

Galadriel sighed. "Now I feel like I should apologize."

He took her hand. "Do not, and trust me I am not bitter either, except perhaps about the fact that I will need to leave you and Elrond one day. I do not fear death as such, or dread it."

"It is...a relief to hear it," Galadriel admitted. "I was not sure..." He was raised by the elves and taught to always regard death as tragedy, and she had feared he would find it hard to face his own when it came. She remembered Bëor, and the resentment with which he spoke of death. The idea that Elros would live thought that terrified her.

"I think I might have feared it, at the beginning, a little," Elros admitted. "When I first made my choice. I mean, I found it difficult to see it as good. But now, in my kingdom...I see my people growing to two hundred years of age and choosing death, as a release from the pains and hardships of this world, I see them longing to meet The One. It helps me understand."

Galadriel nodded seriously. "Perhaps I should see that as well," she said. "It would help me understand...and accept."

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It was evening, and the welcoming feast was in full swing, the mood universally joyful. Galadriel was sitting with Celeborn, Lord Laurefindil and Lord Ciryatan, and teasing the Noldo about his dedication to duty. "And what if you fell in love?" She asked. "Would you follow the elf of your heart even if it clashed with your obligation to Elrond?"

"I'm not sure I could even feel the Flame for someone if it was not in accordance with my duty," he replied, smiling.

"Whoever the elf of his choice was," Lord Ciryatan added, "surely she would understand that and be willing to accommodate it."

"Not she," Lord Laurefindil corrected him. "He. I'm one of the Select. But otherwise I agree with you."

Seeing the Sinda's expression, Galadriel frowned. "What is it?" She asked.

"Forgive me, my lady, only sometimes I forget how openly you Noldor speak of these things."

Galadriel sighed. "Was it equally bad in Falas? I had hoped it was only a matter of Doriath, because of Thingol's foolishness."

Lord Laurefindil seemed confused. "What was?"

"Oh, of course, you don't know." She hesitated. "It's quite terrible and will spoil your mood for the feast, I fear. I'd have really much preferred if you hadn't found out."

"Now you've only made me curious."

Celeborn answered for her, in a heavy tone of voice. "Celebrating weddings of the Select was not allowed in Doriath, and even making such a relationship public or speaking about it was discouraged."

Lord Laurefindil looked as astonished as she must have when she first learned of it, and as if he did not know whether to laugh or rage. To calm him a little, Galadriel took the word: "I actually thought, for centuries, that there were no Select among the Sindar – I had assumed it was because they have never been to Aman -"

Now it was Celeborn who seemed confused. "You believed it was connected to the Blessed Lands?"

Galadriel shrugged. "Well, I didn't know of any better explanation. We were never informed what the One's intention was with making some of us Select, but our tradition says that they were selected for a special purpose, that's why we use the word Select."

"Well, that's chiefly said about the ellith," Lord Laurefindil remarked.

"Yes, of course." She turned to Celeborn. "You see, the Select ellith won't have their own children, naturally, and so they're free to create things in the same way Noldorin ellyn are. It's said that the Select ellith are intended to create, that the works they make will be important in some way, as important as other ellith's children are." She smiled at the memory. "With Lady Elemmírë, at least, this is very easy to believe." For Lord Ciryatan, she explained: "She was the best bard among the Vanyar."

"It's less clearly understood with the ellyn," Lord Laurefindil added, "but it's generally assumed there's some purpose, too."

"In fact, your duty could be a brilliant example of that," Galadriel observed. "But, in any case, that's what our tradition says, and the Valar never contradicted it at least."

"From what I know, it seems there was quite a number of Select couples in Aman. Am I correct?" Lord Ciryatan asked.

Galadriel was caught off guard by the question. "Yes, of course, but – well, I'm surprised by you being so well informed." Celeborn certainly was not.

He hesitated. "Arminas told me."

"Oh, of course. Yes, it's entirely true. There were many Select couples everywhere I've ever dwelt, except for Doriath." She frowned at him. "Was Falas really the same?"

"Not quite," he replied slowly. "It wasn't shunned to quite the same degree, but it wasn't seen as equally valuable as non-Select relationships either, like it seems to be among the Noldor. There were no big weddings for the Select."

"Why?" Lord Laurefindil asked.

"Because such weddings were not seen a reason to celebrate," Lord Ciryatan said hesitatingly. "Such relationships, when they existed, were mostly kept to privacy of one's home. It was seen as a kind of...disability, I suppose. All knew such couples existed and who it was, but it was seen as in bad taste for them to display their love in public or discuss it, and weddings were simply a small, private matter for the closest friends and family, just a dinner that is a little more formal to mark the transition from single to married. If you told someone you were Select – Different, as we called it - the most likely reaction from them would be to pity you and say that they were sorry but that they hoped you can be happy nevertheless. Having a Select relationship wasn't seen as wrong, simply as something of lesser value."

"I still don't understand," Lord Laurefindil muttered.

"I don't think we can, not entirely," Galadriel agreed. "It's just so absurd to us. But it does seem very similar to Doriath, in spite of what you said, my lord."

Lord Ciryatan gave Celeborn a look. "Perhaps it might, from your point of view, yes," he agreed then. "To the Sindar, I believe every small difference mattered."

"And what did you think?" Lord Laurefindil asked the Sinda, a little sharply.

There was a bitter smile. "I used to think the same way as my people," he said, "but...not for a while, now. The Noldor have convinced me of their point of view."

"It's reassuring we brought something good to Middle-Earth at least," Galadriel muttered.

"There is something I've been wondering about for a long time, though," Lord Ciryatan said. "Do you know how this approach even occurred to your kin? Arminas doesn't know, and I don't remember any Select couples from the time of the Great Journey, though it's true that there were few enough marriages in the first place."

"I don't know either," Galadriel admitted. "It was always simply normal to me, it never occurred to me it hadn't always been this way."

"Well," Lord Laurefindil said slowly, "there were Select couples among the Maiar – though I suppose there is no sense in using the word about them, given that they don't have children – so perhaps that is what made our grandparents realize there was nothing wrong with it."

At the notion of Select couples among the Maiar, Celeborn's eyes got so wide Galadriel was a little afraid they would fall out of their sockets.

After they went to bed that night, he seemed hesitant about something, and at length, he said: "This evening...Lord Glorfindel mentioned hoping to feel the Flame one day. I...hesitate to ask you about this, but you told me to never keep a matter of this sort from you again, so...do you, as well, believe that the Select can feel the Flame?"

"Yes, of course. What did you think being a Select means, to the Noldor?"

He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Elves who...who feel attraction to...well, ellith to ellith and ellyn to ellyn."

"That, too, apparently, as I've discovered from Lord Glorfindel, but chiefly, it means elves who feel the Flame for their own gender."

He seemed astonished. "But...the Flame is for marriage."

"Well, yes, of course." Galadriel did not see what that had to do with anything.

"I mean for actual marriage. You know just as well as I do that it's not the ceremony that marriage makes. It's the joining, and...come, my love, without meaning the slightest offense to these couples, surely you must see that it's impossible for them to do that, and so their love, however honest it might be, can't have anything to do with the Flame?"

"I see no such thing," Galadriel said sharply. "There are other kinds of physical joining."

"But, I mean...well, the One established all of this, gave us this special kind of Flame we feel towards only one person, for children, to create a sacred scape for new life to be born into-"

"Well, yes, among other things."

"I always assumed this was the main reason."

"Have you, truly? I never knew, and I don't agree. The Select are, in fact, a proof that you're wrong-"

"If they can truly feel the Flame."

"Celeborn," Galadriel said, her voice getting truly dangerous now, "thread very carefully. My great-aunt was dear to me, and now you're implying she lied about the Flame she felt?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to doubt your loved ones, it's just hard to...well, all around me have always regraded it as something that is in the nature of Arda Marred, an unfortunate predisposition that prevents them from feeling true love, and only leads to...well, to the longings and attractions of the sort we're to avoid. Of the kind Lord Glorfindel spoke to you about."

"What, because he was attracted to three different neri through his almost two millennia of life, you decide that he's only capable of base longing? Do you judge me the same way, for my attraction to Lord Olórin?"

"No, of course not! You never acted on it, and we're together now-"

"Lord Glorfindel never acted on it either. What do you take him for?" Galadriel shook her head.

He sighed. "I'm explaining this all wrong," he said. "I don't believe these things, not anymore, but it's what I was taught when I was young, and even though I've accepted now that there can be genuine love, not just desire, felt by the Select, and ever since you told me they lived in Aman, I also accepted their fate is not only part of Arda Marred...accepting that it's the Flame of the One is another thing still. I might need some time."

"Then I'll attempt to give it to you." She took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled. "Forgive me if I'm being to harsh with you, but I just...as I've told Lord Glorfindel, this is impossible to understand."

"Yes," he agreed, "it must be. I spent centuries trying to understand your point of view, after all, and as you can see, I haven't managed so far."

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Galadriel found Lord Ciryatan again the next day, as he was strolling along the portside. "Good morning, my lord," she said, "how fare you today?"

"Well, my lady, thank you. And you? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Apart from my desire for your company?" She asked with a smile. "I wanted to ask what you thought of Vardamir."

"He's very like Elrond," he replied, "though at the same time a Man without a doubt. Once he overcame his shyness, there was no end to his questions."

"It's a good thing that we've been working diligently on the palace library, then. He'll enjoy it."

"The library?" Lord Ciryatan seemed surprised. "But had not most books been destroyed with Beleriand?"

"Yes. That's why we encouraged all that remember the past age to speak to Pengolodh or some of this helpers, so that they can write down what they know, of elves and Men and the lost realms and lands, and songs of old as well. It was Elrond's idea, actually, to help Pengolodh by official encouragement. We'd be very grateful if you yourself found some time for remembrance."

"I'll do what I can, but surely you must be one of the prime sources for this endeavour?"

Galadriel pushed away the tangle of bitterness and pain that this observation brought forward in her, and answered: "I do help, but I don't have as much time at my disposal as would be required for this, and sometimes, too, it's hard to decide how much information should be made public."

"Secrecy, my lady?" He smiled at her, and she laughed in response.

"Caution," she corrected. "Also...loyalty, I suppose. How much should I say about my cursed cousins? I don't wish to hide their crimes, yet does the world truly have to know everything? I find myself too willing to hide the weaknesses and failings of my loved ones as well – my uncle Fingolfin chief among them, for I can't bear to write badly about him. And I don't like writing about my own part at all. There's little enough to boast of."

"Such self-deprecation from you, my lady, surprises me deeply."

For a brief moment, Galadriel wondered if he was mocking her. "I only mean that I hardly achieved anything with all my counsel," she said, "though it is true that when I did, it led to disaster."

"You're thinking of the Battle of Unnumbered Tears," he realized immediately. "You shouldn't allow one unfortunate circumstance to cloud your judgement."

So it seemed she would have to talk about the pain and bitterness after all. "It isn't only the battle," she explained, trying to keep her voice calm, "though it's the most glaring example. But every realm I've lived in, I've failed to protect, and sometimes even contributed to its downfall in a way. I have no particular wish for this to be recorded in history, and if it has to be, then a least I won't be forced to write it myself." At his look, she smiled ironically and added: "Don't fear, my lord, in spite of everything, I won't easily be convinced that my advice isn't valuable."

"A good thing, too, otherwise I'd worry about this kingdom."

She chuckled. "Don't you trust Artanáro?"

"I do," he said seriously, "but then he owes much of his wisdom to you. If your advice suddenly became worthless, what would that mean for our king?"

"It would, I fear, be even harder to convince Artanáro to disregard my advice than to convince me to stop giving it. As Oropher would say, I've moulded him well in my image."

"Surely you don't believe such talk, my lady?"

"I don't, and yet..." She thought about how to express it. "It's dangerous for me, I believe, to dwell where all are younger than me and used to regarding me with filial respect. I'm very glad you decided to stay, Lord Círdan, and sometimes very sorry that you don't dwell in the capital."

"There is Lord Glorfindel in the capital, isn't there? As well as your husband."

"Yes, and it's very important that they are, but...Celeborn I regard as my equal, and Lord Glorfindel as well, in many ways. You, on the other hand, are older than me and one of the wisest I've ever met."

He smiled serenely. "Thank you for this praise, my lady, and I hope you'll forgive me if, in spite of it, I won't change my mind about staying in the Havens. I'm sending Amonel instead of me, surely that counts for something?"

Galadriel's face brightened. "Is she coming now, then? I didn't get a chance to speak to her yesterday."

"Yes, she'll be accompanying you on the journey back."

The Nolde was very glad of the news, and she went in search of her friend immediately. "I've heard the good news!" She said.

"I'm not sure it's so good," Ambë muttered. "I'll miss my uncle terribly, I know that already. But well, duty is duty. I'm glad you're here, however, for I had one question: would you mind if I took a guest with me to the capital?"

"No, of course not. Whom do you want to take?"

"Oreth. She is my cousin's daughter, a young elf who is curious about the world beyond the borders of our city, and my cousin asked me to take her. If you'd be her guide once we got there, I'd be even more grateful, since I suspect I'll be rather busy in my new position..."

"Of course. It'll be my pleasure."

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Faithful to her word, Galadriel found time to show Oreth the palace almost as soon as they arrived, while Ambë was busy familiarizing herself with her work. It was during a tour of the gardens that they came across Artanáro upon the shore. "Aunt," he said, smiling, and then his eyes alighted on the girl beside her...and Galadriel could almost feel the world shift.

She had never before been present when two elves felt the flame of Eru for each other for the first time, and she wondered whether this was what it always looked like. Her nephew and the young Sindarin lady could not look away from each other, and their eyes shone so brightly that Galadriel was reminded of the Silmaril.

She waited, giving them a moment, but before people around them could start talking, she broke the silence by saying: "This is Lady Oreth, daughter of Uilon, one of Lord Círdan's nobles. And Oreth, this is Rodnor Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor in Middle-Earth and King of Lindon."

Oreth bowed, and Artanáro turned his eyes back to Galadriel, seemingly with great difficulty. He gathered his composure and said: "It's a great pleasure, my lady."

"Perhaps you'd like to accompany Lady Oreth around the gardens?" Galadriel offered.

"No," he answered quickly, adding, "no, I have duties I must attend to. It's been a pleasure, my ladies."

Galadriel looked after him in confusion. His mind had been in such disarray that she could not discern what he meant by it, so she turned back to Oreth and said: "It appears, then, that we'll continue on our own."

"I apologize, my lady," Oreth replied, "but I believe I'd prefer to retire for now."

"Of course, if that's what you want, but...Lady Oreth, are you certain you don't wish to talk?"

"Perfectly certain, yes, thank you. Have a pleasant afternoon." And Oreth walked away with that calm grace of the Teleri that always reminded Galadriel of her mother.

Galadriel gave Artanáro a day to collect his thoughts, but then she cornered him in his rooms. "What," she asked, "are you doing?"

"Do you realize how old Lady Oreth is?" He answered with a question.

"Yes, I am aware, thank you. She might not be a full adult, but eighty years of the Sun is hardly a child, and I am not suggesting you marry her now."

He seemed to shudder at the very idea. "I am four hundred years older than she is."

"And Lúthien was three thousand and four hundred years older than Beren. I fail to see why it should be such an insurmountable problem."

"She is an adolescent!" Artanáro was almost shouting now.

"Yes, at the moment," Galadriel replied, still calm. "Like I said, no need to hurry with the wedding. But she felt the Flame as strongly as you did, there is no need for you to hide from her. Talk to her, get to know her."

He exhaled. "I feel dreadful about this," he confessed. "Like...like a monster."

"Yes, I can see that. But beloved, do not forget that it is not us who directs the Flame, it is the One. There is no point in being ashamed of feeling it, that would be nonsensical. It is how you act that could give you a reason to be ashamed. Also, do not make the mistake of assuming that because she is young, she does not get a say in this. She must be very confused at the moment, and she deserves to know what is happening, she deserves to understand. Think back to when you were young, about the ways you preferred people to treat you."

He smiled a little, remembering, she knew, how he had appreciated the respect she tried to pay him in spite of her age. "What were you like when you were eighty years of the Sun?" He asked.

"Oh, dreadful," Galadriel said with a laugh. "I was at my most insufferable at that age. I spent almost all of my time with Nelyafinwë and Findekáno, and was convinced we were the only proper Noldor in the whole of Aman. Well, along with Fëanáro and Ñolofinwë, I suppose. No one else was good enough for me, and I made it quite plain, I think, at that time."

Artanáro laughed with her. "I find it hard to believe that you were not always wise," he said.

"Well, that was just the problem you see – I was, in many ways very much so, and that was what contributed to my insufferability. I was simply better than everyone in all things, you know?" She sighed, and shook her head. "About the only thing that could take me from these heights were probably the visits to my great-grandmother's house. Fortunately, I never stopped those, at least, otherwise I really cannot imagine what a monster would I have become."

Artanáro smirked. "And yet you wonder why I hesitate to court an eighty years old lady?"

"I very much doubt Lady Oreth had my weaknesses," Galadriel retorted.

In spite of this talk, however, Artanáro continued in his avoidance and Lady Oreth remained impenetrably silent in the following days and weeks. When Galadriel tried to consult Ambë, she found out that Oreth didn't speak to her about what was clearly troubling her either. And so when months passed with no change, the Nolde finally turned to one she knew could break that barrier. "My love," she said to Celeborn," I need your help."

"What is it?"

"I wish you'd try talking to Oreth."

Celeborn frowned. "Are you certain? She might not wish to discuss what she feels."

"Well she certainly doesn't wish to discuss it with me or Amonel, she made that plain enough, but it's been going on for too long, and I worry about her and Artanáro."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"Yes." Galadriel paced their chambers. "He claims Oreth is too young, which might well be true, but it's no reason to act the way he does, and I don't believe he told her. She should know what's going on."

Celeborn gave her a look. "You believe I'm interfering," Galadriel deciphered it with no great difficulty.

"Yes."

"My love, I don't ask that you follow what I say in talking to her. I just ask that you try, and do what you consider best. She might talk to you. I don't understand her, but you may."

Celeborn stepped closer to her and kissed her forehead. "I'll attempt to speak with her," he said. "But don't blame me if it doesn't end well."

It did, however, and better than could have been expected. "I talked to her," Celeborn said some days later, "and I believe all will be well in time. She's young, but she's...less confused than she could be."

"How did you make her talk?" Galadriel wondered.

Her husband smiled. "I didn't make her do anything," he replied. "But if you expect me to share things she told me in privacy..."

"No, of course not. I'm simply glad you were so very efficient. Perhaps now she'll open up to Amonel as well."

"Perhaps," Celeborn agreed, "but they aren't close friends, you know. To Oreth, Amonel is chiefly a kindly cousin who took her to the capital. Not close enough to talk to, but close enough to be embarrassed in front of. I was easier, I believe, because she didn't know me."

"Perhaps she should get to. If this is true Flame, then she'll stay in the capital for some time, and it would be hard to live here without friends."

"I like her," Celeborn admitted, "and it'd be an honour if she chose to confide in me in the future, but I certainly won't push her."

"I'd never ask that of you."

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AN: I imagine that an elf who is 80 would be something like a 17 year old human. (I see 50 as 15 and 100 as 18).

For the idea that female elves who have children can't really create so much stuff, look no further than Laws and Customs Among the Eldar. Elves are said to give something of themselves to their children in its course, more so than Men, and with female elves, in fact, it's so bad that their creative abilities become stunted, because they pour all of their ability to create into their babies. If there ever was something that made me want to punch Tolkien, (if you want to see me go on a tangent, look no further than fandomfollowing women-in-middle-earth ) but I have to admit that is fits the worldbuilding very well, explaining Míriel and why elves do not have infinite children at the same time, so I decided to use it here.

And just to be clear, I don't intend the Noldorin approach to LGB as some kind of perfect model, I'm simply trying to imagine how a society that is fundamentally good could work with what, to the majority of them, would be something different/other. They're good, but they don't exactly have critical theory philosophers among them, so analyzing how putting a sexual identity on a pedestal can be harmful would, I think, be a little beyond them.

Oh and on a completely unrelated note, there's a ficlet about the beginning of Idril and Galadriel's friendship on my tumblr now. Barbarakaterina. Tumblr post/143574641675