Chapter 51: Surprise

Year 1200 of the Second Age, Hollin

"It isn't my cup of tea," Amdír said, looking over Hollin from the second highest terrace of the royal palace, "but I do have to admit that your realm is beautiful."

"Well, thank you," Galadriel replied. "From you, the compliment is doubly valuable."

"Because it's so unexpected?"

"Yes," she admitted plainly, and Amdír laughed a little.

"You aren't wrong," he said. "And no matter my admiration for this, I'm still looking forward to that walk in the forest your daughter promised me."

"Don't get your hopes up – it's a very small forest, even compared to Lórinand." The – let alone to Region and Neldoreth – hung, unsaid, in the air. "But my daughter does know every tree and plant in there, so she'll be a very good guide, I believe. And if there's time, we might all go to the edge of the Great Forest together, though I suppose you've seen that one."

He shook his head. "Not really. We merely passed its edge when we travelled East those centuries ago."

Galadriel was surprised. "But the road leads through it."

"Back then, it didn't."

"Oh! Well, that explains that mystery."

He gave her a questioning look. "Mystery?"

"I wondered why the road led through the forest, when the trees so clearly weren't friendly to people. It seems, however, that it was the forest that expanded across the road." She frowned. "It's a wonder it's still passable, in that case. I'd have expected the trees to envelop it fully by now."

Amdír shrugged. "Well, your people travel it frequently these days, don't they? That helps to keep the trees at bay. They must have only expanded beyond the road shortly before your first journey. Yes, I'd dearly like to see that forest. It sounds very different from Lórinand."

Galadriel laughed at that. "About as different as two forests can be, I believe. Very well, we shall go there. However, work before pleasure – Sarnel and I need you to discuss some strategic matters."

"If you must."

Galadriel hesitated. "Do you believe you could try and pass some of the things we say on to Oropher? Preferably disguised as your own...only if you agree with us, of course."

"Of course." There was a slight inflection of sarcasm in his tone, but then he grew serious: "He still won't hear you?"

"He'd listen to Celeborn just fine, but every time my husband opens his mouth, Oropher hears me speaking."

"I wonder why."

Galadriel rolled her eyes, and led him to the parlour where Sarnel was waiting. She rose, and bowed. "King Amdír," she said.

"Princess Sarnel," he returned. "So, what instructions do you have for me?" He asked, sitting down.

She raised her eyebrow as she settled opposite to him. "I could hardly presume to give you instructions...but if you could get your army to the best possible shape, it'd be good. We'd also like to know how much armour and weapons you'll require – please understand that we might not be able to supply you completely, but we'll do our best."

"I understand – Hollin soldiers take priority, and then there's Lindon too."

Galadriel gave him a look. "Would you act differently in our place?"

"Of course not. Continue."

"We're attempting secrecy," Sarnel said, "so if you could do this while remaining as unobtrusive as possible, it'd be doubly appreciated."

"When do you intend to attack?"

"As soon as we can. Within this century, certainly. We have the numbers, so we have to attack before he gains his strength and armies back, now that Númenórë is no longer helping us contain him."

"Very well. I shall endeavour to be prepared."

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"Could you please sit still?" Celebrían asked mildly, giving Avorneth a disapproving look.

"Well, I am bored! I cannot read as I am now, I cannot study anything, the view, while nice, is unchanging..."

"My friend, it was you who insisted I paint your portrait. If it was up to me, I would be painting that tree by the stream-"

"You mean that one just behind Tindómiel's house? You already painted that, as least five times!"

"That does not matter. As long as its beauty does not go away, I will try again and again to capture it."

Galadriel smiled. Her daughter had insisted that only the highest terrace had the proper light to paint in, and so she was now privy to this conversation between her and Avorneth as she tried to review some suggestions handed to her by Aseanettë regarding better organization of their trade. The lady had the look of a healer, mild and meek, but one of the sharpest minds Galadriel had ever known. While both of her younger sisters continued their father's profession, the eldest of the family found her vocation elsewhere, and Galadriel was now struggling to even form an opinion on the things she was saying. She understood trade well enough, but this was beyond her.

"Just tell me a story to keep me entertained," Avorneth was saying on the terrace.

"I cannot tell you a story while I paint," Celebrían explained patiently, "it would distract me too much."

There was a short silence, and then: "Aunt Galadriel! Aunt Galadriel, can you tell us a story? Or better yet, sing us a song?"

Galadriel, grateful for the excuse to interrupt her work, emerged into the sunlight. "You sound as if you were a century younger," she said, amused.

"Well, if you can think of any respectable adult entertainments I can take up while sitting for a portrait, I will be glad for the recommendations!"

"Oh, singing songs – and listening to them – is very respectable. It was the way you asked for it! What do you wish to hear?"

Avorneth considered. "You know how dearly I love Noldorin tunes, especially those of Ondolindë. But perhaps Celebrían should decide? She is doing the work, after all."

Celebrían seemed to be fully concentrating on her painting. "It was you who wanted a song, so you should pick it," she said quietly, "though I have to admit I cannot quite guarantee that a Noldorin tune will not make me paint all strange."

Galadriel gave a small sigh. She knew too well that out of the two parts of her heritage, Celebrían identified much more as a Sinda. It made her sad, sometimes, but never surprised. "What would not make you paint 'all strange', then?"

"Silence suits me best," her daughter replied calmly, "but as I am unlikely to get that...well. You know – at least I think you do - I like the songs of Doriath, especially those describing the beauty of Neldoreth."

Avorneth grimaced. "Did you intentionally pick the most boring tunes to be found?"

Celebrían shook her head. "I will never understand you in this," she said. "You like walking in the forest as much as I do."

"Walking in the forest, yes. Actually watching things that live is one of the most uplifting experiences I know. But listening to songs about them? Why would I want to do that? Perhaps if I was locked in some dark dungeon without a bit of green to cheer me, but otherwise, I will always rather just go and see the forest for myself."

"Not now, please. I have just started working on your nose."

"Should I leave it up to Avorneth, then?" Galadriel asked. "She wished for an Ondolindë song...perhaps one of those by Itarillë would serve?"

"Mhm." Avorneth considered, biting her lip, which made Celebrían sigh softly. "I like the song to Queen Varda, but...do you think you could skip the beginning and go directly to the part about her creating the stars? That is my favourite."

"If I do that, the song will not last long enough for Celebrían to finish painting you by far. I will start at the beginning and you can join in with your singing when I get to your favourite part."

"No, she cannot," Celebrían interrupted drily. "By that time, I will be painting the mouth."

When Avorneth's laughter died out, Galadriel began to sing, and soon she was so immersed in the song that she did not even notice Celeborn listening in the doorway until she finished and he came to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Beautiful, as always, my love," he said. "This was such a perfect tableau, my two most cherished elves both engaging their artistic talents. I could watch you and listen to you forever."

Avorneth shifted, making Celebrían sigh again. "I'm sorry for being in the way, Uncle."

"Or, you can never be in the way, beloved. You wouldn't be very far behind on that list, after all."

"Really? Who else would be ahead of me?" The young nis asked impishly, and Celeborn chuckled.

"You can't ask me to rank all of those I love by how much I appreciate them. I'd inevitably end up being unfair to someone." He turned to Celebrían. "What came over you to make you paint portraits?" He asked.

"Avorneth insisted long enough that I simply gave in, Father," Celebrían replied resignedly.

"That sounds most unlike you – but then, Avorneth is a special friend." He smiled. "I wish you'd paint your mother in this manner one day."

Celebrían looked away. "I'm sure mother is too busy for such a waste of time," she muttered.

"Well, I'm sitting here with you now, as you paint someone else," Galadriel pointed out as mildly as possible, wishing very much her daughter would agree to it, but not wanting to pressure her in any way. "So clearly, I'm not. I'd be happy if you were willing to paint me."

Celebrían gave her a fleeting look then. "I can try," she said, "but I don't know if I can do you justice."

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Tindómiel returned from one of her frequent exploring trips to Hollin's surroundings, and she was now sitting in Galadriel's parlour, telling her about the journey.

"I discovered a...valley, I suppose, though it is more like a canyon or something of the sort. It is close to where the great road meets the river, and it is so very beautiful. You must come with me to see it one day."

"I will gladly do so," Galadriel agreed, "it does not seem too far."

"No, no more than three days' journey." Ttindómiel took her glass and realized it was empty, and Galadriel immediately poured out more to both herself and her guest. They drank, and then the younger lady asked: "And how have you been in my absence? How is Celebrían and the twins?"

Galadriel was never sure how to answer these questions. "As well as always, I suppose. Celebrían painted Avorneth's portrait, and it is very beautiful. You should see it."

"She paints portraits?" Tindómiel was surprised.

"No, but she made an exception."

"Would she paint you?"

Galadriel smiled at that, a little sadly, and took another sip of her wine. "Celeborn had the same idea, but I do not believe she wishes to do so."

"Why not? You would be an exquisite subject," Tindómiel said with a smile.

Galadriel gave her a tired look. "You know our relationship is a little...strained."

Her guest sighed. "I would not go as far, but yes, I am aware. I did not think it was enough of a problem to prevent Celebrían from painting you, though."

"Her art is very personal to her, I believe."

There was a short silence. "I have always wondered about your problems with her," Tindómiel said then. "Perhaps now is a good time to ask. It is not as if you are unkind to her. Why is Celebrían so distant?"

Galadriel smiled sadly. "It is my fault, of course."

"I do not know if you are joking or..."

The Nolde hesitated. She had been thinking about telling Tindómiel for years, desperately wishing to discuss it with someone to whom she could speak normally, not like The Eldest, and knowing she was the only person who might not judge her. But still, she was so young, and Galadriel was responsible for her, she should not force her to face this…

"You are keeping something from me," Tindómiel said.

Galadriel slowly nodded.

The half-eleven lady looked away, saying: "You do not have to tell me, of course, but just – you can, you know. You are always there for me and my trouble. I am ready to listen to you, too, in turn."

Tindómiel tried not to show it, but Galadriel could feel she was a little hurt by her reluctance to speak. She was suddenly reminded of young Itarillë, being offended when Galadriel tried to shield her from the political realities of Aman after Moricotto was released.

And so, she made up her mind, and decided to speak.

Haltingly, she described her monstrous impulse, striving for as precise and objective terms as she could achieve.

Tindómiel listened patiently, only a mild surprise appearing in her face when Galadriel got to the point. "You can do that?" She asked curiously.

"Do what?"

"Cut away your child. Among the Second born, when a woman wishes to end her pregnancy, she has to go and see a midwife."

Galadriel stared at her, horrified. "That actually happens?"

"Of course it happens. Or did it seem to you that every woman had dozens of children in Númenórë?"

The Nolde was confused by the comparison. "No, but...there is a difference between choosing not to have a child and killing it."

Tindómiel opened her mouth to say something, then closed it and looked at Galadriel for a long while. "You mean you do not know?" She asked then.

"Know what?"

The younger lady took a deep breath. "Second-born women cannot control whether they have children, not in the way elves can – and I thank the One every day that this was one of the things he allowed the Half-Elven to keep. They can control the time when they lie with their husbands, but once that is done, it is out of their hands."

Galadriel was incredulous. "So every time they are with their husbands…?"

"They can get pregnant. Well, about half of the time, given how Second-born fertility works, but yes."

"But that is terrible!"

"You know that pregnancy does not have such a high cost to them as it does to elves..."

"But still, they bear the children in their wombs, and the birth – I have helped at many Second-born births, and it is much more dangerous and painful than ours are!"

"Yes, that is true."

Galadriel shook her head, uncomprehending. "So if they choose to marry," she said, "they either have to go through that over and over again...or resort to killing their children?"

Tindómiel shifted. "Well, there are...ways to make pregnancy less likely, from what I know, but they are not foolproof, no. There is always a risk. Unless a woman lies with her husband during her monthly bleeding, there is always a risk."

"Monthly bleeding, another thing they have to face." Galadriel drank deeply from her glass, having trouble taking it in. How was it possible? She suffered enough through her one pregnancy, the idea that Second-born women had to do that repeatedly, or deal with the guilt of ending a life...how could the One make them face such a choice? "It is so difficult to believe in the One's justice sometimes, you know?" She said aloud. "How have they deserved this? What have the women who live today have to do with their ancestors serving the Enemy?"

Tindómiel shrugged. "What have the elves done to deserve such a high cost of their pregnancies? His ways are mysterious."

Galadriel admired Tindómiel's faith in that moment. She was still in shock. "But then," she said after a moment, "that is the difference. If women have no way to prevent their pregnancies, then perhaps – as terrible as it is to say – perhaps resorting to killing a child can be...understood. But I had. I chose to have that child, Tindómiel, and I almost killed her."

"Well, it is hardly a proper choice when you do not know the cost, not truly. You do not plan to have another one, do you?"

"Certainly not!"

"There you are, then."

Galadriel shook her head. This was all too confusing, and surprising, and she needed some time to wrap her head around that reaction and new information. "Tell me about what you saw in my realm, please," she said. "I need something else to think of."

"As you wish," Tindómiel replied. "The realm is fine. Even at its edges. I did not discover any wrongdoing or attempt to cheat the poorer elves out of their wages or anything of the other possible evils that could take place in the parts of realm that are too far away for the Queen to see. Truly, we are blooming." She smiled. "I could tell you about the beautiful nooks and tableaux I discovered along the way, but then, these things are better seen in person. In fact, the only remotely interesting thing I heard about was the mysterious magical man."

Galadriel blinked. This, at least, caught her attention enough to divert if from her own monstrosity and injustices the Second-born had to face. "What do you mean?" She asked. Had Tindómiel, perhaps, discovered The Eldest?

"Oh, it might be just a rumour. But they say there is a mysterious nér who sometimes appears in the villages at the edges of the realm, and that he is always very helpful with everything – especially with things relating to craft."

Galadriel felt a tug on her memories, as if she had heard a story like this before but could not quite recall when and where. She was too preoccupied by other things. But something about this was familiar. "Any other details about him?"

"Well, he appears to be the most selfless man to ever walk Arda. He never asks for anything in return, his advice is always good, and several families told me he helped them craft things they then sold for a very good price, helping them just when the money came most handy, before a wedding in the family or the birth of a child, when his help allowed them to have a feast and a celebration the way they wish, without having to compromise. Oh and he gives gifts sometimes, too, especially to children and young people – trifles and small things, but often very pretty and handy, too. Little things that make life easier. A knife that cuts vegetables more easily...that sort of thing."

The vaguely unpleasant feeling was deepening, even though there was still nothing wrong with what Tindómiel was saying. "And they have no idea who he is?"

"No. They say he is neither man nor elf, but...you know how imagination works sometimes. If he exists at all, he might be just a loner – or Tyelperinquar likes to make fun of your subjects."

"Hmm, perhaps." But Galadriel was not happy with that solution to the riddle. For all Tyelperinquar was much changed now, she still could not quite imagine him walking among the poorest of her realm for pleasure. His contrition took the form of working in the forge, yes, but what he made were usually extraordinarily beautiful jewels he tended to gift to her, apparently in the hopes that enough of them would finally help him make peace with his conscience, or to his wife, in the hopes of proving himself worthy of her in spite of repeatedly being told he was. Galadriel did not consider it a particularly effective method, but if it helped him…

"Do they say where he comes from, at least?"

"No. They say he simply appears. One of the reasons they consider him to be gifted with special powers, you see."

Tindómiel said it with a smile, but Galadriel felt a shiver go down her spine. There was one she remembered could appear and disappear at will. His appearance hardly ever led to anything good for those she loved in the last century of the last age.

Yet the idea of Macalaurë as the secret benefactor of the poorest of her realm was even more absurd than Tyelperinquar cast in that role. She was not sure if he ever spoke to a common person in his entire life.

Of course, the years of solitary exile could have changed him. Galadriel had no idea where he was, but when she had still lived in Lindon, she heard an echo of the Noldolantë sometimes, coming from the seashore, and that led her to believe that he walked close to that realm, desirous of coming to see those he once knew and yet, at the same time, too afraid to do so. There was something tragic about that image.

But then Galadriel shook herself. The mysterious benefactor of her poor was clearly a craftsman. Macalaurë never entered the forge unless to speak to his family, to his father's great grief. It could not be him.

She supposed a Maia of some sort was possible, but they were not exactly a dime a dozen either. The mere idea was interesting enough to explore more, even if it was not for her bad feelings. And it was a much needed distraction.

She turned back to Tindómiel. "Thank you for telling me. I think I might do some travelling myself."

"I did not know it would be of so much interest to you! I chiefly treasured it as a gem for Quendingoldo. You know he will love this story, and wish to record it with as many details as I can give him." She hesitated. "You do not mind, do you?"

"No...let him record it. Perhaps, if I find something out, I will be able to add to his story."

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Not long afterwards, Galadriel set out for the Great Forest. On the way, she visited some of the settlements on the edges of her realm to speak to people there, but it was difficult. She was the Queen, after all, and they spoke less openly to her than they did to Tindómiel. They were full of respect and less full of honesty. Those who were willing to speak of the magical man at all had nothing but praise for him, though, and seemed very attached to him and unwilling to even consider he might have anything but their best interests at heart.

The Eldest was not in the Forest to meet Galadriel, but that did not trouble her. He came and went as he pleased, and was always there when she desperately needed him and rarely at any other times. The Ents were much more reliable in this way.

It was Treebeard in person who came to speak with her, and he fell deep in thought at her question about a strange and mysterious magical nér. "He doesn't go through the forests," he said. "No, he doesn't. We know no one like that here."

"Where does he go through, then? There's little around us but forests and mountains."

"I don't know that. But he didn't pass under my trees."

"Well, then. I'll ask elsewhere, but...do you know who he might be? You remember much, perhaps you've heard of a being like this."

Treebeard rumbled. "I know trees and plants and the animals that run among my roots, and sometimes, sometimes elves, too, those who come here and speak to me and mine. But I don't know of magical men. That isn't for me."

Galadriel had to concede defeat.

That left the mountains, then, so she contacted the eagles next. "No," was the answer from their king. "He did not come over the mountains either."

"Could he have come under the mountains?" Galadriel asked.

"We would not know in that case."

"And do you know who he could be?"

The king gave her what seemed like an amused look. "Many can hide from the eyes of Elves and Men," he said, "but no one can hide from our eyes. We see all. We cannot tell you who hides and then shows himself, for to us, no one is ever hidden, as long as they walk on Arda's surface."

Galadriel found that answer a little terrifying in a strange way, and thought to herself that if Findekáno spent so much time in his youth with the eagles, she understood why he became so valiant.

"Thank you for your help, then," she said, preparing to leave.

"We gave our word," was the answer.

Galadriel longed to ask how Itarillë was doing, far in the West, but refrained. She found out long ago that while the eagles still flew to Aman to give the Elder King their reports, they did not appreciate being asked about it.

Under the mountains, Galadriel mused. It seemed extremely unlikely, and yet she was unwilling to leave any avenue unexplored.

And so, to the dwarves she went, to find out whether they had had a strange, unknown nér pass through their kingdom.

"You know how few we allow in here," King Ai said, sounding almost offended. "We certainly didn't allow anyone like this."

"Then how," Galadriel insisted, "did he get to my kingdom?"

"There's the north," the king suggested.

"If that's what happened," Galadriel replied, "then I'm more fearful about him than before. Very few go North willingly, and ever fewer with good intentions. The traces of evil are still there."

"Hah," he scoffed. "He seems to only give your people help. Why'd he be evil?"

"The Enemy was a master of lies," Galadriel replied, "and seemed a great friend of the Noldor in Aman. It took us long to see his true colours."

As she said those words, she suddenly realized that this, this was what the entire situation reminded her of. Moricotto in Aman, becoming friendly with the elves to poison their ears with his lies, to turn them against the Valar. She froze. No, she thought quietly, no, it cannot be...surely I am only being too frightful, too careful because of bitter experience…

This man was, after all, only moving among the poor, at the fringes of the realm. Something the Enemy would never have done. Surely this could not be true. Still, she had better warn her council.

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As it turned out, the council was not as worried by the rumours as she was. Sarnel failed to see the danger in an unknown benefactor, Quendingoldo regarded him as simply as an interesting oddity, and even Celeborn, not having her experience from Aman, did not see that much of a reason for worry. As for Tyelperinquar, he seemed thrilled by the news.

"In my opinion," he said, "it is a craftsman who heard about our proves and is now attempting to gain access to the realm, to work with us. It is, to me, an exciting opportunity. He's a colleague."

"Celebrimbor...I brought the news to this council to warn you, not to encourage you, and him, by extension."

"I know, and I give you my word to be careful around him. But understand...this is very important to me. I need someone to bounce my ideas off, to share creative energy with. I did my best work – by far my best work – when Narvi was alive, but ever since he died, it's been difficult. The other jewel smiths are good, of course, but not quite...well, not quite good enough to be of service to me in this way, let me be honest. I need this man."

"Beloved, you work is exceptional still. There is no need to-"

"But there is! Craft is the one thing I am truly good at, so please, allow me to do it, to the best of my ability. It's how I can serve this realm."

Sarnel have Galadriel a loaded look, and the queen sighed. "I can hardly forbid you from speaking to him. But I'll ask you that if you do, you come and tell me about your conversations in detail."

"Well...of course, if you insist, but...they're likely to be highly technical, you know."

"Well, I won't ask you about all that, of course. I wouldn't understand it. But still, there are...subtle things, small things, which...well, as I said, none of you remember Aman, and the Enemy there. Ask Lord Glorfindel, next time he comes."

Tyelperinquar shook his head. "No, I trust you, it's only...perhaps your bitter experience from there is making you overly cautious."

"It's possible," Galadriel had to admit, for had she not thought just this very recently?

But still, she missed Artanáro and Elrond bitterly now, and even Ambë. Neither of them, she knew, would dismiss her worry. Artanáro because he had his own bitter experience with sweet words that were poison, in the form of Túrin in days of Narogrotto. His father paid with his life for those words, and Artanáro was unlike to forget.

Elrond, because he was cautious by nature, and because he knew the lore of the Noldor very well. He would have counselled distrust, she knew. Distrust of this man who never came to introduce himself openly, never stated his name or business, as manners would dictate. Such man, Elrond would say, must have some hidden purpose in mind. That purpose might not be especially dark, but it still required caution.

And Ambë, because she had once been at the forefront of welcoming strangers that came into her land, only to find out, years later, that these strangers were guilty of a massacre of her kin beyond the Sea. That saw the last of her open kindness to those she did not know. She, too, would have counselled caution.

But different kind of elves sat in the council of Hollin, the kind that did not hesitate to abandon a blooming kingdom to try their luck in an unknown land, and perhaps it was not surprising that these people would be less cautious. Galadriel herself, after all, usually had scorn for over-cautiousness. Oh, to remember what she thought of Turukáno! And if it had not been for the boldness of these people, they would not have come with her. Galadriel owed them much. She should not be wroth with them. They were likely right, after all. It was, likely, only her fearfulness speaking.

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"I finally found him!" Tyelperinquar told her, all triumphant, when he entered her chambers without waiting for an invitation one day.

"Found whom?" She asked, uncomprehending.

"Your mysterious magical man. His name is Aulendil, though he calls himself Annatár among the people, and I can assure you, he presents no danger to us."

That was a relief to hear, but Galadriel wanted to be certain first. "How do you know?"

"He was sent by the Valar!" Tyelperinquar laughed. "He is a Maia of Aule, sent to us to help because they realized there was a new shadow rising. They wanted to give us help in our fight against Sauron, and so they sent him."

Galadriel frowned. She wanted to believe this so much, and yet...this was not, in her experience, how the Valar usually acted. They left them alone to face the Enemy for half a millenium before their armies came, and it required Ardamírë to risk everything to ask for their help first. That they would send help before any real war had started seemed...unlikely, to put it mildly.

"I did not spend much time with Lord Aulë," she admitted, "but still, I do not recall anyone of that name among his people."

Tyelperinquar shrugged, unconcerned. "You cannot expect to know all of them from stories. He might not have been very important, and from what he said, I get the feeling he never spent much time with elves in Aman."

"Strange that he was chosen for this mission, then, is it not? Besides, there are some other things that do not sit right in this tale. Why did he not come to speak to me, and instead only ever appears on the edges of our realm?"

Tyelperinquar looked suddenly embarrassed. "Well..."

"Well?"

"It seems he thought...it seems he thought you have some...enmity against the Valar, and that you would perhaps not receive him kindly."

Galadriel froze. How, how could he know? No one knew about her ban from Aman, no one but Celeborn and Artanáro, and even to Artanáro she only told about it centuries later. Her fear suddenly grew. Who was this man?

Tyelperinquar, meanwhile, continued. "So he chose to gain your trust by helping your people first. He said he thought that was the best and foolproof way to gain any monarch's sympathy."

She was still petrified. She sensed a touch of a master of lies behind all of this, a brilliant attempt to make it impossible for her to act in any way without confirming his words...and yet, what if it was all true? There was nothing directly impossible about what this Annatár said, only very unlikely. That, she thought, was part of the brilliance.