AN: I'm so sorry for disappearing for over two months. I hate autumn, it's always the most work for me. September in particular means catching up on work for the whole year, so...yeah. But anyway, I'll try to make my absence up to you as much as I can, but I'm not exactly made of free time at the moment, so I'll see how it goes.
Fot those who don't remember, where we are with the story: Galadriel lives in Lórien now, Tindómiel sailed West, Celebrimbor and Sarnel stayed in Eregion, and the idea of the Mirror of Galadriel was born.
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Chapter 55: Foresight
Year 1560 of the Second Age, Lindórinand
It took long years of thought and research, several visits from Mírdan and indirect consultations with Tyelperinquar, but finally, one day, Avorneth searched Galadriel out and said: "I believe I may have a solution to the...task you gave me."
"Yes?" Galadriel said, too curious and desperate to correct Avorneth and tell her it was a request, a plea, not a task.
"Water," the younger lady replied simply.
"Water?" That was...rather too easy.
"Water in which starlight reflects, to be precise," Avorneth clarified, and it still sounded a little too simple to Galadriel. "To create a sort of...mirror for your visions, too, like the stars. If we could add the reflected light of Silmarils, it would probably work best."
Ah. "Well, that might complicate matters a little."
Avorneth smiled at her understatement. "Not truly," she said then. "The one Eärendil carries should be enough, if we...amplify it."
"Amplify?"
"You kept the Star of Hollin, did you not?"
Ah. Galadriel hesitated. "Will it be...destroyed?"
"No, not at all. It will just be used to focus the light, so to speak. This is what I needed to consult my father on the most, since I did not know how exactly he made the Star, but from what he says...it should work."
"How exactly?" Galadriel asked, relieved.
The younger lady hesitated. "Without meaning to be disrespectful, Aunt," she said, "are you certain you wish me to go through all the explanations?"
Galadriel laughed a little. "No," she admitted, "but I am interested in the basic principle behind it."
"Well, the stars are eternal and timeless, as is Lady Varda, their maker. So when we wish to capture the visions that transcend the bounds of time, stars...help in this."
"And the Silmaril? It is hardly eternal, and the Trees were not so either, as we learned to our sorrow." Galadriel pulled her mind away from that memory. She had barely emerged from her most recent darkness. She could not dwell on that, not yet.
Avorneth briefly pressed her hand before saying: "No, but...there is power of the West in the Silmaril, and that is the same power that gives you your visions."
"In a manner of speaking..."
"I know it is more complicated than this, but...well, you wanted the basic principle. This is it."
Galadriel should know better than trying to understand such complicated craft without the proper background, but she could not help herself. "And why water?"
"Water is the element that adapts to a shape the best of all of them. It will take the form of any container you pour it in, yet not escape it of its own accord like air would. That is why it will work for capturing your visions. In the air, they would be too scattered, and the earth would never accept them."
"And fire?" Galadriel asked out of curiosity.
Avorneth laughed. "If fire ever showed you something," she said, "it would only ever be its own thing, not whatever you wanted it to."
Galadriel nodded, satisfied with this degree of explanation. "And how do I connect my visions to it?"
"I will give some of the Noldorin craftsmen who came here – my brother suggested Túron, if you do not mind?"
"Not at all, go on."
"Well, I will give him the principles necessary to make the basin that will be capable of holding them," she said, "but as for the connection...you have to bathe in the star-reflecting water."
Galadriel stared.
Avorneth grew visibly nervous. "I know it sounds a little strange," she said, "but it truly is the only way to ensure the connection. I suppose you do not need to bathe in it entirely, soaking your hands or hair in it might suffice, but, well, the more connected to the water you are, the stronger it will be."
Galadriel exhaled. She did not mind the idea of bathing in the water, she minded what she suddenly knew with cold certainty was beyond this. But she would not be deterred. "Very well, then," she said firmly. "So I will bathe. But first, Túron must make that container."
"Oh no! I mean, of course he might as well begin, but I do not expect you to bathe in the container itself! That would...well, if my theories are correct, that would simply make all of your visions present there at all times, which would likely be unbearable, and it could also be dangerous for you. It might...drain you. No, there need to be two separate things: a larger container for the star-reflecting water, and then a smaller one for the actual visions. You will pour the water from the first into that second container, only a small amount of it, and so it will be more controlled."
"But...the larger container needs to be something particular too, does it not? It cannot be enough to simply, say, build a fountain and put it where starlight can reach it."
Avorneth looked a little sad as she replied: "Well, no, but it is relatively easy. Or rather, it is easy now, after Father invented ithildin. Mírdan brought me the formula for it from Hollin and I looked it over, and I think it should be usable to create a container for water that will do what we need." She shrugged. "Of course, you know everything I say is always...well, theory. Túron will have to test all of it and it will likely take some time until he finds a way to do it that works, if it does at all."
Galadriel smiled at her. "Your theory is usually sounder than many people's practice." She hesitated. "It will be very beautiful, will it not? The starlight-reflecting water, I mean."
Avorneth smiled back. "Yes, if I am imagining it correctly, then it will indeed."
Galadriel nodded. "We have a fountain to construct."
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It was beautiful, there was no denying it, even in the initial stages.
Galadriel had found a clearing in the forest in such a fortunate location that the Silmaril that Ardamírë carried shone upon it all night. It had a spring, too, which was advantageous as well. It was on a hill, the second tallest hill of the realm. Here, it was quiet and calm, and it seemed hardly anyone ever went there, not even the Silvan. After all, it was without trees, and so they considered it an unfavourable place and only sometimes went there to get water. Galadriel had found the place very beautiful even without the fountain, and now, there was no comparison in the entirety of Lindórinand, to her mind.
Galadriel slowly walked to the fountain and looked upon the bright shine of the water for a moment in contemplation. Absurdly, she was reminded of Tirion, even though there had never been any starlight there, of course, not when she lived there at least. Still, she allowed herself to be lost in those memories for a moment. She had lost her truest home recently, and it was soothing to think of the first one she had ever had. She thought of her mother, too, something she did not do very often. But she would have liked the fountain.
Then, Galadriel took out her crown, and put it on the fountain's edge so that the light of the Silmaril touched it. The Star always shone so brightly when it did. She remembered it from Hollin, and the memory was sharp and painful for a moment and she had to push it back forcefully, not wishing for the distraction of bad memories now. Instead, she concentrated on what the light did to the water. Somehow, she had never tried it – there had not been many fountains in Hollin – and in this particular fountain, the effect was incredible. The water seemed to turn into molten silver, and yet with depth and life the metal would not have, and an inner brightness, too, that not even mithril could match.
After simply looking for a time, she knelt by it and sent her mind out further than she normally did, to the skies. Ardamírë, husband to she who was like a daughter to me and son to she who is like a sister, and beloved to me in your own right, she called to him, once again, as in the war, we need your help. Allow the light of your Silmaril to shine upon this fountain and to bless its waters with the reflection of the Trees that you carry with you. Grant us light in the yet again darkening Middle-Earth.
She did not know if he heard her, but the fountain did shine even impossibly lighter not long afterwards, and the light continued to grow until the water looked like an echo of the light of Telperion. Galadriel felt tears of gratefulness prick in her eyes. If nothing else came of it, this fountain of light was a very precious gift indeed, even if the memories it brought were bittersweet.
There was light here, light that almost matched the West, and Galadriel felt blessed beyond anything she had ever expected to be allowed to have this in the realm where she dwelt, to even have it be hers in a way.
Does that mean that I am forgiven, she wondered? Perhaps my monstrosity is not as dreadful? The Eldest did not think it was, after all...but then, this was a dangerous road to take. She did not have the right to forgive her own sins. And so she pushed the thought of that back again, and concentrated on the next task.
It required all of her concentration and will, too. It made her anxious – even terrified – because she knew what Avorneth did not. She knew that for the fountain to work, she would have to give something of herself that would not be returned to her. The visions, she suspected, would become stronger with the help of the mirror – but they would no longer come to her without it.
They have been part of her for so long it was difficult to imagine life without them, and they had served her well many a time. Every time there had been acute danger, she had felt it. Could she do without that? Could she go through the world blind, every time she left this place? Could she chain herself to Lindórinand in this manner?
She gritted her teeth. It was time to let go of the past. This was her home now, she gave her allegiance to Amdír, and she could not go on hoping she would some day return to Hollin, or anywhere else.
Besides, how much suffering had the visions caused her, too? Would she not be happier without knowing, without expecting the darkness that was to come? In the end, she had never been able to prevent it anyway.
Yes, but that has never been your way, has in? A voice in her head said, a voice that sounded a little too much like Fëanáro. In spite of what you told Amdír, you do not care for the bliss of ignorance. You want to know, you always wanted to know.
Galadriel closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. What she wanted was immaterial. People could be saved by her sacrifice. Was that not what she always claimed her gift was useful for? Well, now she had the chance to truly show it.
And besides, the fact that the voice sounded like Fëanáro should be reason enough not to listen to him.
And so she hardened her resolve and continued with the plan. She would simply have to remember to look into the basin regularly.
She bathed long in her own rooms, soaking in the war water that had been brought there, before she rose and covered only in a light cloak and accompanied only be Celeborn, she returned to the fountain.
It still glittered in silver, and it felt like a sin to step into it, but Celeborn squeezed her hand in silent reassurance and she took off her robe and submerged herself in the light.
It caressed her and it sung to her, and she allowed it to take her whole, to close above her head.
Then, she felt it taking, and as with her pregnancy, she fought with herself to make herself surrender. She could hear Fëanáro again, almost mocking. Is this what you want? He asked. To be robbed of your power?
I already lost Hollin, she thought. It does not matter any more. And then, with sharp anger: Had your mother not been willing to let go, you would have never been born. And with that, she allowed the water to take what it wanted.
She was not certain how much time had passed before she emerged again, but she felt rejuvenated, like the burden of Middle-Earth had been lifted just a little from her shoulders. Celeborn covered her in her cloak again and wordlessly held out the basin Túron made. Galadriel took a jar and poured some water into it. "Look," she told her husband, and he did.
When he withdrew, his face was place and he was shaking a little. "The fall of Hollin," he whispered, "just as I have seen it in your mind."
It was done.
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The next time Sarnel came to visit, Galadriel took her directly to the mirror.
"I have letters again," Sarnel said on the way. "I spoke to Elrond, too, recently, after a very long time. I met him in the forest."
"How is he?" Galadriel asked, trying to mask the desperate longing in her mind.
"Cautiously optimistic about Númenórë, I believe."
"Truly? That would be the first time in centuries."
"Yes. There is another queen, as I suppose you know, and while Elrond does not appear to think she will be a good queen, exactly, he believes she will not be...dangerously unstable, like the last three rulers. He seems to think she will be a little like Aldarion – she is stubborn, too, from what he says, and unwilling to take responsibility seriously or prioritize anything over her own interests, but..."
"Simply a bad ruler, not an outright dangerous one," Galadriel finished the thought.
"Yes. As you can imagine, I immediately asked whether we could hope in any military help – since we could have, with Aldarion, you know we could have, as much as you disliked him – but he says not. Unfortunately, the new Queen appears to have no interest in Middle-Earth."
Galadriel wondered what she was going to find in the letter. How come that after three unstable rulers, Númenórë would be better once more? Was the queen's mother, perhaps, a good and reasonable lady? But if she was, why did she marry Súrion?
But then, they finally reached the Mirror, and she forgot all about the island. "Look," she said to Sarnel. "I need you to see."
"Is that the new wonder my daughter told me you were preparing together?" Sarnel asked with a smile
"Yes," Galadriel said, completely serious. "Look."
When Sarnel emerged, she was just as pale as Celeborn had been. There was a long silence as she looked into the distance, shaking slightly, a single tear falling down her cheek. Then, she turned to Galadriel. "You thought this would help convince me to leave Hollin, did you not?" She asked, and her voice was firm.
"No. I hoped," Galadriel replied.
"Do you know me so little?" Sarnel asked with a bitter laugh. "I knew this was likely, I have known for a long time. I told you I had to protect the realm I swore to. Now I am only more determined to stay, now that I know my husband and the land will both need it."
Galadriel had feared this and expected this, in truth. Still, she had had to try. She had to do everything that she could, and that was not...wrong. "It will be a futile stand," she said now, well aware it would not change Sarnel's opinion.
"Still, I cannot abandon it," the commander confirmed her expectations. "I am not saying your choice was wrong – indeed, it is probably the more reasonable one – but I cannot make it."
Galadriel closed her eyes in pain. "You are your father's daughter in so many ways," she said. "And it will bring him grief."
"Do not use my father against me, Aunt, I beg you."
Galadriel pressed her hands, and sat heavily on the edge of the fountain. "That was not my intention," she said. "I was only remembering what he told me when we abandoned Narogrotto. That he could never do that again, abandon a place and people he loved, however desperate the situation. You are like him, in this, but that knowledge will not bring him happiness."
There was a long silence between them. Galadriel tried desperately not to think about what that meant: that Sarnel would die.
She sighed. "Were all my efforts with the mirror in vain, then?" She asked.
Sarnel hesitated. "I will tell people," she said. "I will even send some here, to have a look as well. I do not believe Tyelperinquar will be convinced – if I am not mistaken, he will think that it is your fears and nightmares the mirror shows, not your visions-"
"He should trust his daughter more."
Sarnel laughed a bitter laugh. "This has nothing to do with trust, and has not had for a long time. Tyelperinquar simply cannot admit that you might have been at least partly right. Do you not see? His whole world would fall apart..."
Galadriel frowned. "Naturally, it is never easy to admit a great mistake, but he had managed once already-"
"But that is precisely it!" Sarnel exclaimed. "Realizing how wrong he had been, back then, had been enormously difficult for him. It set him right in some ways, but it broke him in others. He never really trusted himself in anything any more...apart from craft. Craft, he believed, was the one thing he could do well, he still understood, where he was never wrong. All the confidence from before, and there was never that much to begin with, in spite of that almost cockiness he told me about...well, he purged himself of it, except when it regarded craft. That, he believed, he still knew everything about. Admitting that there was something he missed about Annatár, that there was something wrong...he could not do it."
Galadriel still did not understand. "But why? Being wrong about Annatár does not mean he is a bad craftsman."
"For him, it is tightly connected. Do you not see?" Sarnel began to pace. "Annatár clearly wants something from the craftsmen of Hollin. His plans went beyond defeating you and gaining control, apparently, because he is still working with them, even more intensely than before. So he must want to use their craft to his benefit in some way, I do not know how. And for Tyelperinquar to admit that he had not realized that...that there has been a nefarious plan going on regarding his work this whole time, and he never noticed...this is the last thing he trusts himself in." She shook her head. "He will never see his mistake, he cannot, and that is why I need to stay by him. I need to protect him."
"Then get your son to come here, at least!" Galadriel said in despair.
"I will try, but...you know how close Mírdan is to his father, and how much he values Annatár. I am even more unlikely to have luck there than with my husband. But I will tell everyone I believe can be told, and I will try to make them understand, at least, that if they wish to stay, they will die sooner or later. It is their choice, but they should know what they were choosing."
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Sarnel's words in Hollin had some effect. In the course of the following years, a few hundred more from the realm trickled into Lindórinand, mostly the remaining Sindar, but not exclusively. The majority of the Noldor who came were children or very young elves, sent to safety by their parents. Bot some were adults, too, those who made up their minds, and did not choose to sail, something that thousands apparently did at this time. Some of the arrivals, in particular, made Galadriel very happy.
"Feliel! It is so very, very good to see you."
"And you, my lady. I have been plagued by guilt ever since you left, and when Sarnel told me, I...forgive me, please, for not trusting you enough. I did not want to, I fear. I loved Hollin with all my heart. Still do, I believe."
Galadriel put a hand on her shoulder in understanding. "So do I. I understand your pain. If you wish, you can rest here for a time, or I can show you the way to the Noldorin settlement."
"There is a separate one?"
"Oh, yes. Just beyond the edge of the forest, at the foot of the mountains."
Feliel's face brightened. "That is heartening to hear, my lady. I confess that living in a forest...does not appeal to me."
"Let us go there directly, then." On the way, an idea occurred to Galadriel. "I might even have a job for you," she said. "The community there has some trouble organizing itself, and I have to do more things directly than I would prefer. Most of them have no experience with governance. You could be the solution to that."
Feliel gave her a surprised look. "Is Aseanettë not there?"
"She is, and she is indeed the one in charge of the town, but...you know her. You know she is not made for leadership. She is an excellent advisor, but..." Aseanettë could not mediate conflicts and make quick and effective decisions, and she did not have enough natural authority. Sometimes, Galadriel felt she was too clever to be a ruler. As Feliel's advisor, however, she could be perfect.
"I understand." Feliel seemed to hesitate. "I will gladly take on the responsibility if you want me to, but...will they accept me? When I refused to leave at first?"
"That remains to be seen, of course, but I believe so. I believe that, like me, they will be too happy by the arrival of others to hold any grudges."
She was right, as it turned out. The Noldorin town rejoiced at every new arrival from Hollin, and if there were any grudges felt, they were only personal things, not affecting the general atmosphere of the relief at some good news in the midst of waiting for a tragedy. Most of the Noldor from Lindórinand had gone to look in the Mirror. They knew what was coming.
Some of the Sindar who came with the new wave of refugees from Hollin were friends of Celebrían, too, so she was happy to see them and in a more visibly cheerful mood than was usual with her cool demeanour. She had been worried about them, Galadriel knew, worried they would perish with Hollin, and her relief was making her almost giddy.
Amdír seemed less thrilled. "Do you believe many more will come?"
"Why, do you fear your realm has reached its capacity?" Galadriel asked in a worried tone. She thought there was still more than enough food to go around, but if this became a problem...
"Not yet," Amdír replied, "but...well, we've talked about this. If you got the majority...my people would start to complain." He sighed. "It's a very good thing so many Sindar came with you, you know. My own Sindarin lords do not feel threatened by them, indeed the eldest among them welcome old friends, but if there had suddenly been more Noldor than Sindar...well, that would have been a different matter."
"Did you not say your people did not have animosity towards the Noldor?" Galadriel asked pointedly, remembering the unconditional, open welcome she had received when they first came from Hollin. Amdír seemed much more reserved now. It seemed his Sindarin lords had expressed their discontent.
"I said they didn't hate them," he corrected. "That does not mean there isn't some degree of hostility. It's a good thing, too, that your people chose to settle a little apart." He shrugged. "Of course, the most eternally discontent of all claim that as a proof of the Noldorin arrogance, but frankly, it's a matter of two families who...well, if they chose to leave for Greenwood because the presence of the Noldor here affronted them, I'd be very happy indeed. I'd rather not provoke the rest, though."
"Don't worry, then, I don't expect that many other to come," Galadriel said truthfully, though with a heavy heart. "A hundred, or two? Some, I know, are also departing to Lindon or across the Sea, so that makes the number of Noldor you have to host rather smaller."
He sighed. "I'm sorry. I try to be welcoming, it's just..."
"Of course. I do understand, though I wonder...why are you worried about what your lords think so much?"
He looked guilty, but also a little offended. "I thought you of all people would understand that I would like to remain king."
"No, of course," she would not expect Amdír to sacrifice his throne for the refugees, not unless it was the only way to save them, "what I mean is, do you feel your hold on the throne is so precarious? I always believed that when the Sindar had a king, they followed him till death."
Amroth shifted, now distinctly uncomfortable. "You heard what Oropher said, when you first met him in council. About my kingship."
Galadriel frowned. "Yes, but I assumed that was just...well, Oropher."
"No," he admitted heavily. "My departure from Greenwood was...complicated."
"What happened? I thought you simply could not bear him any more."
"That was one of the reasons. The strongest reason, for me. Yet if it was only that, I would have left alone, or only with Amroth. Perhaps returned to Lindon, even though I would have detested crawling back to you. But...there were others who wanted to come, discontent. I suppose Celeborn told you what Oropher's court looks like?"
He mostly talked about the state of the king and his son, but… "It's very Silvan, isn't it?"
"Yes. Many Sindar were...unhappy with that. Those who did not detest the Noldor enough to agree with Oropher's reasoning that we needed tu purge ourselves from any cultural similarities with you...well, they bemoaned the loss of our traditions. They left with me to have a properly Sindain realm once again."
Properly Sindarin realm, properly Noldorin realm – Galadriel detested those phrases, feeling like they were the source of everything bad that happened to them in this age. Everything, at least, that was not directly tied to Sauron.
"Of course," Amdír continued, "that didn't quite work out, not with the number of Silvan who live here, but we made it work in some way. The capital is a Sindarin city. Sindarin traditions and followed and respected here. It's...important, crucial, to many of them."
"So the presence of the Noldor-"
"Exactly. It'd have been difficult, had they all chosen to live in the capital. It's also...Oropher saw reason after I explained to him he was on the brink of civil war and let me depart with some of his people, but he let me go as his vassal. He only allowed me the use of the royal title a century or so later, when I told him I needed some authority, not to just be a lord among lords. The Sindar are not used to function like that."
Galadriel frowned at him. "Lord Círdan is the most successful ruler Middle-Earth has ever seen, and he has no royal title to help him."
Amdír grimaced. "Perhaps I'm simply not as good as he is, then. I couldn't do it, I couldn't hold my bickering lords in check. I needed that title. In the end, he relented, but he- well, he never assumed the title of High King because he knew Elrond and Celeborn would have disputed that immediately, and it did not truly go with his newly adopted Silvan values, but I know he sees himself that way, ever since I became king. And some of my people feel that way, too. Like my claim on the title is not true, and that if something happened they disliked, they could always call to Oropher for help. As you saw, they aren't entirely wrong. So yes, my position is...not quite secure."
Galadriel sat in silence for a long while, letting it all sink in, the difficulty of Amdír's situation she had never appreciated before. "So I assume," she said then, "that asking you for military help once Gorthaur attacks Hollin is fruitless."
He nodded once, sharply. "That is not only the Sindar," he said. "My lords would never agree to help, but...neither would the Silvan. I don't have that firm a control over them."
Galadriel was beginning to wonder about his kingdom more and more. "This makes me doubly thankful you accepted the refugees from Hollin," she said at length.
He gave her a look. "There was never any doubt. They needed a home, and I could provide one."
The Nolde only smiled.