AN: I'm so sorry! I uploaded the new chapter to FF net Friday morning and forgot to post it...oh well. You'll get two chapters in quick succession then.
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Chapter 46: Queens
Year 740 of the Second Age, Armenelos
Presentations of the Sceptre of Númenórë were always grand and beautiful affairs, but for Galadriel, this one was tinged with resentment.
At least, she thought, I had never been the eldest daughter.
No, even had she been a nér, she would not have been king, for her brothers and cousins came before her, being all older. But Silmariën...that was a different case.
She wondered whether her own involvement in this cause had made the situation better or worse. Apart from ensuring Elendil gave his daughter a lordship, it led to another thing as well: he gave her Ingoldo's ring.
"You are so close to Lady Galadriel," he had reportedly told his daughter, "I feel this ring, the sign of our friendship with her house, should pass to you."
On surface, it was kind enough. And yet...it also meant the ruling line of Númenórë was now giving up the token of the connection between their houses, the connection forged by her love for Elros, and his for her. Elendil, it was plain, had not taken to her forceful advice about Silmariën kindly and considered it improper interference. This was his way to communicate that. We are not close friends, he said by giving away the ring, and you cannot speak to me in this way.
It was just as well she was soon going to be much further from Númenórë, really – just as well, that was, except for hardly ever getting to see Silmariën.
Galadriel stood with Tindómiel at the celebration, watching it from the sidelines, and it took her a moment to notice the princess in question was approaching them now.
The Nolde smiled at her in greeting. "I brought something for you," she said after the welcoming platitudes were spoken, "to add to the treasures of your new house."
She reached into a hidden pocket of her dress and took out a jewel, perhaps the finest work Tyelperinquar had ever done. After he made his unlimited offer of his services, Galadriel asked him for a thing of beauty for Silmariën, something that would show without words that to Galadriel's mind, she was the rightful queen of Númenórë, that she should bear the Sceptre.
The jewel Tyelperinquar presented her with was beyond what she could have hoped for. It seemed to her as if an echo of the Silmarils gleamed in it, and Galadriel wondered that the distant memory of seeing those miraculous works centuries ago was enough for her cousin to create this exquisite piece of beauty and light. But there it was before her, pure and beautiful, untouched by the doom that always prevented her from sheer enjoyment of the greatest creations of Fëanáro.
Now she presented Tyelperinquar's work to Silmariën, whose eyes widened in wonder. "Aunt," she said then, slowly, "I cannot accept that."
"Whyever not? It was made for you. Tyelperinquar calls it The Star."
"But it is...it is too much, too beautiful, I-"
"Nothing is too much or too beautiful for you, beloved. I wish you to know that you are loved and appreciated, on this day more than on any other." Galadriel took her hands in hers, pressing the Star into them. She looked into Silmariën's eyes and said softly: "Do not let bitterness consume you, Princess."
"I am not-" the lady started, but Galadriel only shook her head at her.
"I can see your heart," she said. "And I understand it completely. There were many times that I have seen a crown upon a head of one of my family and thought, why is it not me? I would have been so much better for it."
Silmariën hesitated. "You really do understand, do you not?"
"Yes. More than anyone, I believe. But you are a great lady, and you will create a great house of your own, and-" here, Galadriel was hit by a vision, suddenly and unexpectedly, and she added in a more distant voice: "and from your house, the hope of Númenórë will arise."
Silmariën frowned. "Hope of Númenórë? What do you mean?"
It had been a long time since Galadriel had a proper vision, and she now struggled to put it into words. "There is...darkness in the future of this realm, though it is far away still by your count. But of your house, a hope for it will arise."
"Darkness? In this bright age?"
Galadriel was as worried by that discovery as Silmariën, for that was the first premonition she had of something like this. She had hoped they were done with darkness. Were not the pains that were part of Arda, like parting with Elros, not enough?
"At least there is a strong source of light as well," she said, thinking that with the Enemy, there had been none, except in the West.
Silmariën inclined her head to that, but Tindómiel was not distracted by the hope even for a moment. "What exactly did you see?" She asked.
Galadriel frowned. "It was very vague," she said. "There was...darkness covering Middle-Earth, and coming to Númenórë and swallowing it whole, except for a single stream of light that went and destroyed all of the darkness."
"But how?" Tindómiel insisted.
"I do not know. Perhaps the visions will clear up later."
"I should probably warn my brother," Silmariën mused.
"You can, of course," Galadriel replied, "but it might not be in his lifetime. You need to convince him that he needs to tell his children, and they need to tell theirs."
"Let us hope my nephew will be capable of passing such an important message down," Silmariën muttered, and at Tindómiel's look, she immediately said: "I am sorry."
Tindómiel did not reply. She was not very close to young Anardil because she tried very hard not to be, but she liked him. She felt a kindred spirit in him, and their friendship deepened when the Prince came to Lindon fifteen years ago, and then during his other visits. Galadriel knew that in his case, it cost her some struggle to keep at least a modicum of distance. She herself had been markedly less charmed by the young man showing up unannounced in their lands, but she did understand why Tindómiel liked him at least.
"Do not be," she replied for Tindómiel, "but tell us why you think this way."
Silmariën sighed. "I am aware that you do not know him much, Aunt," she said, "given that while here, you always spend most of the time with the king or me or Meneldur...but with apologies to my great-aunt once again, my nephew's character is one of the reasons I resent my brother's inheritance a little. I have never mentioned this before, hoping that his faults would disappear with age, but they do not seem to do so. I have full faith in my brother's ability to rule-" she raised her hand to forestall Galadriel. "Yes, I do believe I would be better at it, perhaps, but he will be good too. He is very much like Father, and Father was not a bad king, though he was perhaps no Elros or Amandil. But my nephew...he is an adventurer."
"There is nothing wrong with adventuring," Tindómiel observed.
"No," Galadriel agreed, "but it might not be the best quality in a king." She frowned. "I fear Elrond is not so very close to this young prince either, and if what you say is true they are unlikely to be in the future, for their character differences, so there is not much hope of a positive influence there...yet if the darkness is coming, it could matter a great deal who rules. Silmariën, could you perhaps attempt…?"
"I could," she replied, "but we do not like each other much, the prince and me."
Galadriel frowned. She truly did not wish to ask this, but… "Could you at least try to speak to him, then, Tindómiel? About his beliefs and values, so that we know what to fear? I mean, I assume that is not what you normally discuss, and he might be open with you..."
The princess sighed. "I will do my best."
Being a lady of her word, she went to try just that soon enough, and Galadriel bid goodbye to Silmariën and went in search of Elrond.
She found him watching the new king with melancholy eyes as he was talking to Artanáro. He was almost as close with Elendil as he had been with Vardamir, and regretted his approaching passing bitterly, even though he loved Meneldur as well.
"I am here to pull you out of your meditations," Galadriel said with a soft smile. "I have just heard the most interesting things from Silmariën. I gather you have not grown any closer to the king's son since his first visit to Lindon?"
"Anardil? Or, as he prefers, Aldarion?" Elrond asked, surprised. "No. I have never felt the immediate closeness with him that I did with Vardamir, or with Aldarion's father and grandfather."
"Silmariën has some worries about his ability to rule."
Elrond smiled. "He is only forty years old. Is it not a little too early to judge?"
"To judge, yes," she agreed, "but not to try and influence him in some way. Especially as...I have had a vision, and it seems darkness will come again in some form, though it will not be within this king's lifetime."
Artanáro and Elrond were both alarmed by these news. "What kind of darkness?" Artanáro asked.
Galadriel sighed. "Tindómiel already asked. I do not know. Perhaps the visions will become clearer in time, but so far, I only know it poses danger...especially for Númenórë, but for us as well. We will need to work together closely on this."
"You know I became somewhat friendly with Aldarion when he was in Lindon," Artanáro murmured. "Perhaps I could try to exert some influence?"
Elrond seemed to consider. "Yes, I think the prince would be more likely to listen to you, and you are closer in character, too."
Galadriel laughed. "Silmariën criticized Aldarion for being an adventurer. Are you calling Artanáro one?"
"No," he replied. "But more so than me."
"I will try," Artanáro agreed. "I can invite him to come again, at least, assure him he is always welcome, since I cannot go to Númenórë often enough by far to form any kind of meaningful friendship."
He departed to join Tindómiel in her efforts with the prince, and Elrond gave Galadriel a look that was tinged with despair. "I promised my brother I would protect his children," he said, "but if darkness is coming for them...what can I do?"
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Galadriel prevented herself from thinking about her vision too much until she returned to Lindon, but there, in Celeborn's arms, she finally allowed herself to fully understand it as she retold it to her husband.
"Do you believe The Enemy will be back?" He asked her.
"No," she replied hesitatingly, "but...all the same, it'll be no trifling matter." She shook her head. "I'm truly worried. The vision was very definite. Whatever happens to Middle-Earth, I fear there might be no saving Númenor."
"Poor Elrond," Celeborn muttered.
"Yes...but poor kingdom of Men, too. You haven't been there, my love, you don't know it, but you've seen it in my mind at least. The realm is...truly exceptionally beautiful. More than anything to be found outside of Aman."
"That is why I haven't gone there," he pointed out.
Galadriel knew that, of course. It was difficult for her to leave every time, because of the beauty and because of the memories it awoke in her, but for Celeborn, who loved forests and things that grew even more than she did...it would have been like an open wound.
"So you understand," she said, "what a terrible idea it is for this land to be swallowed by darkness. It...it makes me think of the Darkening of Valinor again, and that's the most dreadful memory I have. Why, why should such a thing happen again? The Enemy was defeated!"
"At least it seems we'll be able to save ourselves this time," he pointed out. "Or the Second born will, anyway. No need to wait for help from the West in increasing despair."
Yes, Galadriel supposed that was a good thing. Only...only if they could hope in help from the West, she could at least dream of seeing some of those she loved once again.
Apart from terrifying her, however, the vision of darkness also made Galadriel realize that she should hurry if she wanted her kingdom, for nothing lasted forever. She had been tarrying for a few decades now, all work done, but no more. She wished to rule in Middle-Earth without darkness for a time at least, and once it did come, her kingdom would need to be strong and well-established to be able to withstand it. Artanáro was loath to give her up, and Elrond, it seemed to her, still needed her support after every visit to Númenórë, but she remembered Uncle Ñolofinwë's words: "Do not take too much responsibility upon yourself," and she knew they could do without her, as much as they would miss her.
And so, the date of departure was set. They would go.
The goodbye to Elrond was heart-wrenching. He clung to her in a manner not unlike when he had been saying goodbye to his brother, and he whispered in her ear: "I have never been without you, never, save those few short years in Balar, and then I had Elros by my side. I know you have desired to go for a long time, and you know I cannot go with you, but...I do not know how to do this, I do not know how to live without your guidance."
This, in turn, reminded her of Elros leaving for Númenórë. She embraced him tighter, but then said: "Do not lie to yourself, beloved, you know how perfectly well. You were never forced to, true – and perhaps that is another reason for me to go, so that you realize fully how ready you are to live your life by your own advice. As I have told you before, you do not need me, not in this way."
He withdrew a little to look at her, and his eyes were glistening with tears. "I am to take on your role as Chief Councillor," he said. "Is it not absurd? I am so young, and I do not feel ready for it in the slightest."
"But you are. Artanáro believes so, and so do I. When we discussed who would take my place, we both agreed on you immediately." She smirked. "I am more worried about Erestor taking yours."
He looked troubled. "Do you truly-?"
"No, I am only teasing you. My personal...issues with Erestor do not lead me to doubt is capabilities. Besides, the council meetings will surely become all the more amusing now. I am almost sorry I will miss it."
"I am sure Artanáro will let you join the council when you come to visit."
"And you? You will be the Chief of it, after all."
He grimaced, but laughed, and they embraced again before she passed to her other nephew who was like her son, and who was so much like her. To him, she said: "You are the best king we have ever had, beloved. Do not lose faith in yourself, and remember, if you ever need me, do not hesitate to call, for I will come. I may be leaving, but I will never abandon you."
Artanáro gave her a warm smile. "I would not begrudge you this, Aunt, not ever. You now I wanted to give you my entire kingdom. I will miss you, yes, but then I hope you will visit sometimes?"
"Yes – and I hope you will visit as well! Of course, only after the city is completed," Galadriel added, and they both laughed, remembering Elros, even though it was tinged with sadness.
"My realm," Artanáro continued, "will be even more Sindarin now than it was before. And yet my Sindarin advisor leaves me," he said, smiling at Celeborn.
"Don't let Amonel hear that," Celeborn returned, "or Oreth. You know that the sea-people are more numerous in your realm than those from the forests."
"And it's always been a mostly Sindarin realm, as you know," Galadriel added, "in spite of a Noldorin lord ruling it. What difference does it make that it will be four fifths instead of two thirds from now on?"
"You're correct, of course, as always. You, on the other hand, are going to have a properly Noldorin realm." Galadriel laughed almost against her will, and checked that Tyelperinquar was not near enough to hear and be embarrassed by this reminder of the mistake he regretted so bitterly.
"Don't say that!" She replied then, mock-horrified. "Or Celeborn will change his mind and stay here!"
But then their jokes ran dry, and they simply embraced in silence, each thinking of the years to come without the other's advice at their fingertips. Their minds were in synchrony only rarely found outside of marriage. "Eru be with you," he muttered into her ear.
"And with you, and all the Valar," she returned, before she very reluctantly let him go. Sarnel, after all, was waiting to give her last farewells to her father, and so Galadriel moved on to the others she would miss.
Of the goodbyes that remained, one of the more painful was the one to Lord Laurefindil. "Take care of Elrond for me, please," she entreated him.
"Of course, my lady. Always. That is why I came back, is it not? But I will miss your help in it."
She smiled. "I remember another farewell, when you said something similar," she said, thinking of that time over a millennium ago, when she was leaving Hithlum for Doriath.
"So do I, my lady," he replied, "and I hope that time will not prove the wisdom of what I said as well as it had then."
"Are you attempting to make me feel guilty, Lord Laurefindil?"
"I would never dare to attempt any such thing."
She laughed and shook her head at him, and moved on to Ambë.
"So we had a few short centuries together," one of her oldest friends in Middle-Earth said, "and now we are to be separated by miles of land again."
"Indeed, the distance is not unlike the one between Doriath and Falas," Galadriel observed, "but I do hope I will come here a little more often. I will have nowhere else to travel, after all."
"No," Ambë agreed, "but you will be Queen."
Galadriel only nodded. The idea that her dream, her goal, was within her reach was incredible. What she had hoped for for centuries, no, for thousands of years, finally coming true.
She went to say farewell to Maewel and her children. It was time to go.
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When her company laid eyes on the site of their new home, there was no small amount of exclamations of awe and wonder. Even Galadriel herself felt like she was enchanted anew by that place. Its beauty was arresting, and now it was high summer and the bright sky and the sharp sun made the mountaintops sparkle even more brightly than when she had been here before, the contrasts between the blue and the white more marked, and the rich green of the holly bushes more pronounced. It was simply so perfect, all of it. It was as if directly from a dream.
She felt Celeborn's touch on her hand and when she turned to him, he said quietly: "It's perfect."
She could sense the wonder behind his words and smiled at him, amused by the comeplete agreement of their thoughts. "You've seen it before, in my mind," she pointed out.
"The strength of your images is extraordinary," he admitted, "but it still can't quite rival reality."
No, it never could – that was why partings hurt, and why her missing loved ones would always be like an open wound. But that was not what Galadriel wanted to think of now.
She gave the weary travellers time to refresh from the sight before them, but when midday came, she said: "Sarnel, make sure there are guards set along the valley entrance, and that all others are within the perimeter. Tyelperinquar, find the elves best suited for the work and set out to strengthen the road leading here tomorrow. You will need to take care of the ford crossing and replace the bridge, too. Make sure Sarnel sends enough guards with you. Feliel, take care of distributing food. And you, beloved," she smiled at Celeborn, "make sure everyone does what they're supposed to and settles in for camp, if you can. I have an errand that can't wait."
And before anyone could question her, she disappeared in the forest. Celeborn knew where she was headed, of course. He did not entirely approve, but he did respect that this was, finally, he realm, and so it was her decision. She hoped his distant kin would be equally understanding.
Lost in these musings, she walked through the forest as the sun slowly approached the horizon. This part of the valley, too, was as beautiful as it had been before, and the trees were as welcoming. She crossed the river and ascended the path that led to the gates of Hadhodrond. The dwarf on duty frowned at her in a very unfriendly manner. "What do you want?" He asked.
"Many years ago," she replied, "I spoke to Skirvir, son of An, in this place, and I asked him to give a message to his son and to his king."
"Are you Lady Galadriel?" The dwarf asked suspiciously.
In answer, she let the hood fall off. "Yes," she answered simply. "Are you, perchance, Skirvir's descendant?"
"No; but we've been told to expect you for a long time now, by our kings."
"I'm honoured," she replied. "Would the current King ascend to speak with me?"
"Why should he?" Came the rude answer.
Galadriel shrugged. "I came to the entrance to his realm."
The dwarf grunted. "I'll take the message," he replied. "We'll see what happens."
Assuming that it would take some time to reach the depths of the city, Galadriel occupied herself by studying the statues just beyond the gate. She had to admit they were things of extraordinary beauty. It made her think of Thousand Caves and Narogrotto, of the beautiful things that could be achieved when elves and dwarves worked together. She very much hoped it would be possible once more.
"Lady Galadriel," came a voice, and she turned to see a new dwarf standing in the gates. "I'm Ai, son of Núr, son of Skirvir. The king's son will come to treat with you in a short while. I was sent ahead."
Galadriel inclined her head. "It's an honour to meet you, Ai, son of Núr. I've only now been admiring the craftsmanship of your people."
"And we've heard tales about that of yours," he returned.
"I hope," she smiled, "you'll soon have more than only tales, for we brought many skilled craftsmen with us."
"In direct neighbourhood, our skills can finally be clearly compared."
"Yes, but I'd hope it needn't be only competition that binds us. For have not the halls of Nargothrond been born out of cooperation between our races?"
"And those of Thousand Caves too, and the Dwarven Necklace," came a response from a different source, and what she was almost certain must have been the prince stood before her. "I'm not so certain such cooperation's been profitable to us."
Galadriel sighed. "The halls of Thousand Caves stood unmatched in their beauty for long years before the tragedy struck, and the Dwarven Necklace was worn for centuries by the rulers of Nargothrond before Glaurung cursed its treasure. The bitter ends of those meetings of our races don't need to cast a shadow on what came before."
"What do you know of it!"
"Much, for I've walked the halls of Thousand Caves and Nargothrond, and I wore the Dwarven Necklace on my neck, before and after the Silmaril was added to it, and the memory of them lives in me."
The prince seemed taken aback.
"Didn't you know who I was?" Galadriel asked mildly.
"We knew you were Maedhros' cousin," he replied, "and married to a nobleman of Doriath, and now an advisor to Gil-Galad. We had no idea of your connection to Nargothrond."
That amused Galadriel greatly. "Finrod Felagund," she said, "who now walks the lands of Aman, is my brother, and Orodreth, the king in Nargothrond after him, is my nephew. For a time, I was like Nargothrond's queen." Her mind drifted to memories, but she pulled herself back. "King Gil-Galad, who rules in Lindon now, is Orodreth's son, and I am his kin as well as advisor. As for Doriath, my husband is Thingol's great-nephew, like me, for my mother is his brother's daughter."
The prince seemed impressed against himself. "Then allow me to introduce myself as well," he said. "I'm Durin, son of King Farin of Hadhodrond."
"It's an honour to meet you, my prince."
"And you, I suppose, if only because you still remember some of our forefathers' greatest works. What do you want from us?"
"As you know, we'll be settling the lands close to here. I wish for us to live in peace next to each other, and trade with each other, and perhaps, in time, even work together." She hesitated, but it needed to be said: "Some of Doriath have come with us, and their families. Given their love for the forests, it may well happen that they will settle just across the river from you. They'll be suspicious at the beginning. Tread carefully."
Durin bristled. "Are you to tell us where we're allowed to go in lands that were ours until now?"
"Don't you live inside the mountains? I have no intention of limiting you in any way, sons of Durin. But I wish for peace, and I know the hearts of those elves are still troubled. It would be a tragedy if simple lack of care or forewarning ruined our growing friendship."
"There is no friendship between us, elf."
"No, there isn't. But I very much hope there might be one day."
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When Galadriel returned to Hollin proper, it was night already, and her people were gathered in small groups in front of their tents, speaking as they ate dinner.
She watched them from the shadows for a time. My people, she thought. They truly were, for the first time. They all abandoned their comfortable houses and security to go with her – she tried not to think about the Sindar who might have come because of their prejudice against the Select – and now they all rested, seemingly happy with the place she chose for them.
Please, let the darkness wait a few centuries at least, she prayed, not even knowing to whom. Let my realm grow strong before it comes. Let me be happy here for a time.
She looked at the people again, and as she did so, noticed Tyelperinquar looking around with a slightly worried glance. She smiled to herself and walked up to him. "Are you looking for someone?"
He exhaled and gave a small laugh. "Cousin," he said. "I think Lord Celeborn's nervousness rubbed off on me. You should let him know you are back."
She was amused. "He already knows. Seeing each other's mind, remember?"
He flushed faintly. "I did say I will no longer try to pretend to understand anything but forge matters, but I cannot seem to keep my own advice."
"Well, I hope you will not. I want you on my council."
He stared. "Are you certain that is wise?"
"Many craftsmen came with us here, and if my hopes come true, there will be much trade and perhaps even cooperation with the dwarves of Hadhodrond. Those responsible for that should be represented, and who better than the most skilled craftsman since the days of Fëanáro?"
"You are hardly about to discuss matters of technical procedure on the council," he pointed out.
She sighed. "No, but...look, I believe your choice to hide from the world unwise. You have had time to learn to live with your mistake, and now you should face things again. I truly think that, if you put your mind to it, your council can be valuable. And it can motivate you to do so."
"You should not appoint your council members because you think it will help them heal."
"Why ever not? I already did just to irritate people," Galadriel muttered.
"What?" He asked, uncomprehending.
"Oh, never mind. It is just a little ting. But, anyway, as I have just said, I do believe you to be competent. That I also think it will help you is merely accidental."
"I will...think about it," he conceded.
"Do not let fear stop you," she she encouraged him, turning to leave.
"Fear?" He sounded irritated. "I am not afraid, I am..."
"Oh, beloved, do not regress back to that touchy child you used to be," Galadriel said with exasperation, turning back to him. If he was to be on her council, she needed the version of him she had known for the last century, not the one from before his mistake. "You are afraid of failing in the council, you have as much as told me yourself. Do not be. I have faith in your abilities, and what wisdom you do not have, you can learn." She smiled. "It will not be you, after all, who will be making the final decisions."