Chapter 57: Longing
Yeah 1800 of the Second Age, Lindórinand
Galadriel had heard that it was Elrond who commanded the Lindon forces in Eregion from those of Amdír's troops that went to search for refugees from Hollin. They returned with only few from her own kingdom, telling her that many others had gained protection with Elrond and were retreating north with him to find safety in some better defensible place. They, themselves, had been forced to retreat as well, and only saw Elrond from a distance.
So as if Galadriel had not felt guilty enough for those who died from Hollin and those who could from Lindon because of the advice she gave to Artanáro, she also had many years to fear for Elrond's safety and to wonder whether he would be one of those who would perish because of her, too.
She had wished to go and help him, but her promise to Findekáno still bound her, so she at least took her own advice to heart and went to the Noldorin city, to ask for volunteers to help him hold the place he chose as his best defence. The eagles told her it was a valley near the High Pass, and many of her people chose to go there, to repay Elrond for his attempt to save Hollin, and out of love for him, too. Some were also driven by hope of finding their kin and friends from Hollin there, alive.
With their help, the valley had been defended successfully from Sauron, holding out long enough that the forces from Númenórë could come.
That, to Galadriel, had been the biggest shock of this war, one that penetrated even her worry and grief.
Númenórë bestirred itself to help.
She never expected that, and did not understand it. Had Elrond been wrong, to say that Queen Telperien would not help them? Could he have been so entirely mistaken about something so important? She felt cut away in Lindórinand, not knowing what was going on.
But still, even after the last remnants of Sauron's creatures were cleared away from Eriador, it took Galadriel a long time to go and see Elrond.
She was held back by grief.
Even though she had known what would come for centuries, the loss of Hollin and deaths of Sarnel and Tyelperinquar hit her hard and she spent a long time wandering in the roads of memory.
She thought of her realm as it used to be before Sauron came, beautiful and full of joy for everyone, bringing a chance of friendship between elves and dwarves, a new life and opportunities for Sarnel and Tindómiel and many others who sought, for one reason or another, to leave Lindon and the lives they lived there. She thought of the beauty of everything, the mountains and the holly bushes and the wonderfully made houses, and the palace that she had loved so much. She knew Sauron had it burned down. She had expected it, but it still hurt.
She thought of the years in Narogrotto, too, when she first met Tyelperinquar, of his young awkwardness and shyness that warred with pride. Of the way he spoke of his mother, and the way he protected her. Of the enthusiasm with which he worked on both Lindon and Hollin when they were first founded. Of his ability to admit an enormous mistake, twice. He was, she thought, perhaps the one most punished by the Doom of her entire family. Well, after Nelyafinwë, but at least that cousin had done some truly terrible things. Tyelperinquar just trusted the wrong people. Even Lord Manwë, after all, had been taken in by Moricotto. Why did Tyelperinquar have to suffer so much? To watch his inventions turn to evil, to be betrayed, to feel his wife die...and even before, what he had to know his mother went through, what he had to know his father was...it was a cruel lot he had been given.
And Galadriel thought of Sarnel as a young girl again, already tough and not to be trifled with, as she sparred with Lord Laurefindil and listened to his war stories and struggled to learn everything she could from him, and did all she could to prove to her father that she was worthy of being his daughter. She never quite fully realized how proud he was or her, because he feared to tell her, remembering Ohtarwen. And now he would not be able to do so until the day he sailed. All because of Galadriel, because of her pride and her desire for her own kingdom, and her inability to control it. All this pain and loss, because of her.
She dwelt on all this for a long time, and even when the most acute of the grief passed and she was able to emerge from it a little, with Celeborn's help, there were others who needed to be taken care of. New refugees from Hollin, for one, but more importantly, her own family, who was also devastated by the loss.
Even Celeborn bore it hard, since he had grown attached to the realm during their centuries there. Celebrían, who had not known any other home before, was devastated.
And Avorneth and Mírdan...there were no words.
Avorneth was desperate, and for many years she could be seen weeping as she walked the forest with Celebrían at her side and remembered the lost family. But Galadriel knew her grief, recognized it from her own when her uncle or Findekáno had died, and knew that even though it hurt, Avorneth would be well again one day.
Mírdan, on the other hand, was drowning in his own pain, so much so that Galadriel feared there was no saving him. Still, she did what she could, and for decades she hardly ever left his side – and when she did, Brannor's daughters were by him to do her job – trying with all her strength to pull him away from the abyss over the brink of which he was hovering. But it was a battle against overwhelming odds. There were too many things he lost – both of his parents, and all of his friends, and his life's work. Houses of Mandos called to him not only as a way to escape his grief, but also because so many of those he loved were there, and almost none – save for his sister – stayed on this shore.
He was not getting better, but the battle for his soul was beginning to exhaust Galadriel, and one day, she had to conclude that as it was, she could do no more help there, and that on the contrary, she needed help now.
That was when she departed for Rivendell, her grief deepened by this new loss she could feel on the horizon. She hardly saw the landscape she rode through, her mind too preoccupied by other things.
Until, that was, she arrived.
When she first set her eyes on Elrond, she started to cry.
They held each other long and fast in that meeting after centuries, both weeping, and then Galadriel stepped away and Elrond said: "You were sorely missed, Aunt."
"I missed you as well, beloved, very much so. Painfully so. More than I can say. You and Artanáro, and Lord Laurefindil and Ambë...I missed you all so much it hurt."
"I was lost without you," he admitted, and then shook his head. "Let us go inside. Our talk will not be one for the public ear."
He gestured to the house behind him, big but rough, made of fresh wood. "It is not much," he admitted, "but it is homely and comfortable, I hope, and it can provide shelter."
"You mean to stay here, then?" She asked as they turned to it. "I expected you to return to Lindon as soon as the war was over."
He hesitated. "I will have to discuss this, with you and Artanáro both, and some others – Artanáro promised he would come here in time and we could all discuss the question – but...I take it you will not be renewing Hollin?" He asked carefully.
Galadriel gave him a very long look. "I apologize, Aunt," he said.
"I will never have another kingdom again," she replied simply.
"But surely..."
"No. I was wilfully misunderstanding the Doom when I chose to found one, and many elves paid for it with their lives. I will not make the same mistake again."
Elrond very wisely chose not to argue, and instead, he said: "In that case, I will almost certainly be keeping Rivendell, and I will attempt to take control of much of the region you used to rule to make sure there are no servants of Sauron in these lands. His power is expanding, and we need to have more strongholds if we want to keep some control here. The Númenoreans intend to build a proper, fortified harbour in the south, so together, we should be able to keep the land."
"Oh, yes, Númenoreans." Galadriel said as they entered a sparsely fusnished room with a big fireplace and comfortable-looking wooden chairs in front of it. "What happened? Why did they come? Were you wrong about Queen Telperien?"
"Not exactly, no," he noted as he stoked the fire. "I did underestimate her in some ways, though – she was wise enough to know that the time of her death was approaching, and she handed her nephew Minastir partial control of her kingdom to help him get ready for his future role."
Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "That could be both exceptionally wise or exceptionally unwise, depending on what is Minastir like and how well she controlled him."
"She gave him more freedom as years passed, the way I understand it, so the rule transferred more gradually than is usual in Númenórë. It was a good thing for the kingdom, as far as I can see. She was not a great queen, but she was good in some ways, much like Aldarion."
Galadriel grimaced but inclined her head, and they both sat down.
"There are also rumours," Elrond continued hesitatingly, "about a letter that made Minastir come and help us, letter that came from the West and reminded him of certain ties of friendship, and that was written...by a daughter of Númenórë."
"Tindómiel."
"Yes, I suspect so. Hope so."
Galadriel exhaled, and smiled in spite of herself. "So she is well in the West. That is...reassuring to know. And how very much like her to defy the timeless bliss of the land to worry about her homeland – both of them."
Elrond smiled as well. "It is, is it not?"
There was a short pause for fond remembrance of the lady, and then Galadriel said: "And speaking of worrying...one of the reasons I am surprised at you being here is because it is so far from Númenórë. I know you hardly went there when Ancalimë and her ilk ruled it, but it is gone now, and it seems there is a better king."
Elrond seemed a little rueful. "Yes," he agreed, "and they managed this without me, while all my advice during the bad times did no good. I will never stop going there entirely, or care for them and try to help them. I did give my word. But when I saw Minastir's army arrive, I realized I had been treating them like children in some ways. They can rule their own kingdom, and fare well enough with only letters from me and the occasional visit. I no longer have ties of love there, except perhaps in Silmariën's house a little, and they do not need me."
"And what about Silmariën's house, then?"
"They come to Middle-Earth from time to time, and I will of course still be going to see them very few years or so. It is not that far to the shore. Most of the journey is by the sea, so it does not make that much of a difference. But enough about me. How are you, Aunt? Are you...I will not ask you if all is well, for how can it be? I grieve for Sarnel too, and I was never as close to her as you were. But..."
Galadriel inclined her head in understanding of his unvoiced question. "I am as well as I can be, I suppose. Sarnel's death hurts, and the loss of Hollin hurts perhaps equally badly, and...Mírdan is going to fade, or sail if we can convince him to."
Elrond closed his eyes for a moment. "It is perhaps not surprising, but...poor Artanáro."
"And poor Avorneth," Galadriel added. "She lost everyone in such a short span of time. I am very glad she has my daughter at least."
Elrond gave a sad smile. "Yes, your daughter. You do not know how much it pains me that I have not met her properly, not seen her since she was a child. Artanáro tells me she grew to be a fine young elf. Not that I ever doubted that. She must have been some comfort to you in these difficult times."
Galadriel sighed. "Yes, Celebrían was in some ways the light of my days those last centuries, but...she is very much Celeborn's daughter."
Elrond shifted in his chair. "What do you mean?"
"Simply that she is like him both in aspect and in character. He sees himself in her, and rightly so. For me...I love my child with all my heart, but I do not truly understand her, and she does not understand me."
He seemed uncertain, and she smiled and shook her head. "If you ever have children, you will perhaps understand better. In spite of her being my daughter, I will never be as close to her as I am to Artanáro...or you."
"I would be very happy to meet your daughter properly and try to understand what you mean better," Elrond said musingly. "Not that I doubt you, of course," he added.
"Then, if you truly mean to stay here, I will bring her with me one day when I come to visit. If she is willing, that is." Valar knew Celebrían was everything but malleable.
"I will be here," Elrond confirmed, "though I will likely depart for a time to go visit Artanáro and consult with him unless he comes for that council soon. But yes, I would like to keep this valley, even though I am unsure if I am ready to rule my own land, however small. I never desired it, as you know, but I feel it is needed now, if you will not take up the mantle again." He paused for a moment, then said slowly: "Even if you refuse queenship...your advice would be much appreciated, since you know these lands well and have ruled it for years."
She looked at him intently. "What is it that you are offering, Elrond?"
He averted his eyes. "I feel like I dare too much...I cannot offer you to stay here, not when my house is such a rough shack. But any time you found to come and help would be valued, and perhaps one day when I have built a better house...I would not presume to ask you to be my advisor, but..."
She smiled at him and pressed his hand. "It is no presumption," she said. "I would be happy to help you." She considered. "I am still a member of Amdír's council, but I long to be with you here, at least for a time. We have spent too much time apart. Go to Artanáro and I will return to Lindórinand to consult with Amdír. After you come back, I will return as well – we will see for how long. And beloved...there are other things to consider."
"What things?"
"Tyelperinquar's rings." She told him what she knew, about the sixteen powerful ones Sauron no doubt took for his own. "He will hardly keep them all to himself. Any servants of his who have them, we will have to be careful of in the future. Avorneth is...not in a state to tell us much now, but once she is better, I will consult with her about the ways the rings are likely to show themselves. So tell Artanáro about this, too."
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Galadriel went to check on Mírdan as soon as she returned to Lindórinand, and all her fears were confirmed.
They had all done what they could, but when spirit was unwilling, it could not be forced.
"Nothing can be done," Galadriel finally said to Avorneth a few days later, leading her away from his sickbed, "he will have to sail."
"No," Avorneth muttered, "please, not now, please...can you keep him with us a little longer, can you…?"
"Why? If he is fading and has to sail, what does it matter whether he does now or in another hundred years?"
Avorneth hesitated. "It does not matter to him," she said then, "but it matters to me. I am not ready to go."
"We were talking about your brother."
"Yes, but...I cannot let him go alone, can I? I am the only one he has left."
Galadriel frowned at her. "Beloved...do you wish to leave Middle-Earth, at least a little?"
"No." Avorneth admitted. "I desperately wish to stay."
"Then you will not sail. It is a decision that cannot be taken back, and if you are so averse to it, you should not make it, not even for your brother. He is not in much of a state to appreciate your company anyway, and your grandfather," she gulped as she thought of Artanáro and his pain, "will ensure that he does not go alone. He will have company in the Blessed Lands, and hopefully at least his mother will be reembodied soon." Galadriel sighed. "It is a good thing Aman heals everything. When Sarnel finds out her son almost faded because of her death, she will be devastated."
That caught Avorneth's attention. "It was not only because of her death, or father's either," she said, "and I hope Mírdan will tell her."
"What do you mean?" Galadriel asked with curiosity.
Avorneth sighed. "It is also...well, guilt. In a way, Mírdan was even more convinced or Annatár's well-meaning nature than Father was. He would not hear a word against him. For my father, Annatár was mostly a means to an end, a valuable colleague and an intelligent co-worker, but to my brother...he was an idol, a hero. Had my brother made the rings, he would not have hidden any of them from Annatár. The feeling of betrayal, and of guilt for his misplaced trust, is cutting him deeply."
Galadriel frowned. "He has no reason to feel guilt, when even your father was taken in."
Avorneth shrugged. "I told him so, of course, but...it is not that easy, is it?"
No, it never was.
In fact, Galadrel herself felt guilt. Not only for the fall of Hollin, but for Mírdan's fading too. She knew that in the grief that followed the fall of that realm, her healing was not as strong as it otherwise would be. She was frustrated that she could not put her personal feelings aside to help, but it had been impossible. There was no other way. Mírdan had to sail.
He did not protest – he did not protest much of anything these days – as he was put on a horse and his sister and Galadriel rode next to him, with a sizeable entourage. The war made the lands west of the Mountains safe again, and so they could all go. At least, Galadriel thought, I will see Lindon again, after such a long time. At least I will see Artanáro.
But then she remembered that her bellowed nephew lost a daughter in her kingdom, a daughter she had sworn to protect, and suddenly even that turned sour.
There was little joy left when she saw what remained of the Great Forest after Sauron's armies went through it, too. It was gone, or at least the part of it where she had walked most often and that she knew best. She supposed that up to the north, some part of it still remained, but where Sauron's army marched, they destroyed.
What happened to the ents, Galadriel wondered. Did they run away, or did they die, fighting to protect the trees to their last breath? Did their spirits return to Eru? Was Treebeard gone?
If you are with Eru, my lord, she thought, put in a good word for me. I need help, all the help I can get.
They rode through the burned lands in silence, and it was only when they saw Grey Havens in the distance that their spirits lifted a little. Or Galadriel's did, at least, and she supposed the group of elves who were sailing with Mírdan, wishing to abandon these shores, felt something similar. They all had lived in Lindon for a time.
Lord Ciryatan and Arminas prepared them a rich welcome, even though the reason for their visit was so grim.
"How's Rodnor?" Galadriel asked as soon as she had a chance to speak to Lord Ciryatan privately.
"Not well," the Sinda admitted plainly. "He's...he blames himself for letting her go, for not sending a bigger army to help, for not sending it sooner...he blames himself for everything. He loved his daughter very much, you know."
"I do know." She hesitated. It seemed so selfish to ask, and yet… "Does he blame me?"
"No. I don't think he's capable of it. The Queen, perhaps, but not the king. He...feels for you, I think. He knows how much the kingdom meant to you."
"Hardly more than his daughter meant to him." There was a pause. "Do you blame me, my lord?" She asked then, a little desperate.
Lord Ciryatan gave her a searching look. "Did you do all you could have to prevent this?"
"I thought so at the time, but now, in hindsight...I should've cast him out as soon as I knew of him, and dealt with the consequences later."
"But then, we don't know what the consequences would have been. It might've been worse."
"Worse? How?"
"You saved some of your people, didn't you?"
"Yes, but...Gorthaur wasn't strong enough to attack Hollin back then, not at the beginning. He'd have lost. I gave him enough time to win."
"My lady...even Lords of the West failed in a task like this, from what you've told me. Don't be too hard on yourself."
"I'll always be hard on myself in this. But I asked whether you blamed me."
There was a small hesitation. "She was the king's beloved daughter," he said then, and Galadriel understood. He did not blame her for the fate of her kingdom, but he did blame her for her failure to save Sarnel.
"She chose to stay with her husband," she said weakly.
"And you making her commander had nothing to do with it?" He asked. "You knew it was a dangerous position. You knew how much our king loved her. And yet..."
Why, Galadriel wondered when she went to bed that night, had she thought seeing her old friends would make her feel better?
Artanáro and his family came the next day, so see his grandson before he sailed. Maewel's second daughter, it turned out, would be going with him, desirous of leaving war and suffering behind. The rest were staying, but gone was the pure bliss that used to sit on the faces of those who knew nothing but peace of the Second Age. Grief had taken its toll.
Galadriel feared speaking with Artanáro, but mastered herself and sought to do so at the nearest opportunity.
"How are you?" He asked her as soon as he saw her.
She laughed bitterly. "You are asking me?"
He shrugged, even though his pain was obvious both on his face and in his mind. "Sarnel is in Mandos now, and I have faith she will walk the lands of Aman soon. Your realm, on the other hand...it is gone, forever."
"Well, that was my own fault. As was your daughter's death."
Anger flashed in his eyes. "Have you driven the sword through her heart, or gave the order to do so? No. Then do not say that. Those who are truly guilty will pay for this, pay with their lives if it is the last thing I ever do, but you are not one of them. I will see their ruin. You, I wish to see healed."
"I could have saved her."
"It was her free choice to stay, was it not?"
"Yes."
"Then what else is there to be said?"
Galadriel looked at him for a very long time. "You truly do not blame me, do you?"
"No." His voice was harder than steel as he continued: "I have not known such fury or hate in my life, not even after my father and sister died, but...it has nothing to do with you. For you, I feel...pain, I suppose? And anger, too, at the hand you have been dealt. Why do I get to rule my kingdom for almost two millennia, while you..."
She shook her head. "The Doom, remember?" She said.
"The Doom! Have you not paid enough for that one mistake? Have you not been punished enough?"
"The Lords of the West do not appear to think so. There was no time limit for the Doom." She smiled bitterly. "Perhaps they simply did not expect me to live this long. Most of the others died, after all."
And then Artanáro held her in his arms, and he wept, and she wept, and they just stood together, two rulers with too long a memory helping each other to keep their sanity in a world that was growing darker again with every passing year.
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Galadriel missed Mírdan, but to her, he was mostly one of the causalities of Hollin, one of her people that she could not save, and Artanáro's grandson. Avorneth, on the other hand, took much longer to come to terms with his departure.
"I worry about her," Celebrían said to her mother one day as Galadriel sought her out to go for a walk. "I worry she will have to follow beyond the Sea. She blames herself for not going."
"Yes, I am aware. I had hoped it would pass soon, but it does not seem to."
"She has...her reasons for not wishing to sail now, and they complicate it."
Galadriel gave her daughter a sideways look. "She is in love with Ealc, is she not?"
Celebrían blinked. "Yes." She sighed. "You truly do always know everything, do you not?"
"I wish that was true. If I had known who Annatár was from the start...but that is beside the point. Why does Ealc complicate it? I would have thought that being in love would be a precisely the thing to distract Avorneth from grief at least a little. Valar know your father's help is invaluable to me in these difficult days."
"She has been wrapped up in her grief ever since her parents died – more, ever since we came here, mostly, or at least since her mother said they would not retreat even after she saw the future in the Mirror. She has only recently started to realize her feelings, and now Mírdan's departure complicated it again. She feels...I think she feels she has no right to be happy, that she does not deserve love, because she abandoned her brother for it."
"No one should sail West when they are not ready," Galadriel said resolutely, "not even for a family member. I would have advised her against going even had she not been in love."
"She would have likely not listened to you. It happens, you know." Celebrían said with light irony.
"Yes, beloved, I am well aware. Usually when the matter is most crucial, too." She shook her back. "Does Ealc not help with this?"
"I am not sure if she..." Celebrían trailed off.
Galadriel looked at her in surprise. "Do you not approve of the match?"
"I would not say that. I think I realized what was going on before Avorneth herself did, and I wish them happiness. But Ealc is...the Silvan culture is very different from both Noldorin and Sindarin ones. She is used to more straightforward dealings, and I feel like she does not know how to deal with Avorneth in this state of mind." Celebrían smiled. "Actually, her suggestion was a little like yours. She wishes to marry as soon as possible, because, as she says, that way she will be able to comfort Avorneth best in her loss. It is difficult for her, I think, not to read Avorneth's hesitation as rejection."
"I admit that I do not know her well, but Ealc strikes me as a very sensible elf. Surely she must see through all of Avorneth's hesitation to what is beyond it?"
"You forget that the Silvan do not look into each other's minds."
Galadriel's eyes widened. She had truly forgotten that. "But how can she tell if she feels the Flame, then?"
"I am not entirely clear on that, I admit. From what I know, it seems...well. The Silvan have barely any social structure or fixed roles. There are no such things as unsuitable partners among them, so hesitations and stumbling blocks are few and far between. It just seems that it is such a straightforward affair of mutual longing that, usually, there is no need to even see the other's mind. What she had told me when I asked was that I was overly concerned about minds when it was bodies that joined in marriage."
Galadriel frowned. "That reminds me uncomfortably of the desire that led The Dark Elf and Curufinwë."
"I suggest not telling Ealc so. It did not sound that way, at any rate, when she spoke about it. There was nothing dark and twisted, on the contrary, it seemed a lot more...straightforward." Celebrían shook her head. "It is a strange fate, I think, that the Sindar ended up living in realms with the Silvan, both here and in Greenwood...I feel that these are the two elven cultures that understand each other the least."
"Perhaps that is why," Galadriel replied. "Learning from each other might be the purpose."
"Ah, but are they learning? The Sindar live in the capital, keeping to themselves, and the Silvan do the same with the rest of the forest. It sometimes makes me wonder whether they truly are one realm at all."
That, Galadriel had to admit, was a very shrewd observation. "You have known all of the elven cultures except the Vanyar now," she said. "Which do you prefer?"
"The Sindar," Celebrían answered without a hesitation, "but then, it is the Sindar as I knew them through Father and those close to him, without the prejudices that I know sometimes fester in their realms. It is, I suspect, the Sindar after they lived with the Noldor for a long time, and been under strong influence. But the unhurried quality suits me."
"The Silvan lives are unhurried as well, are they not?"
"In a very different way. They are always shifting, always changing in some subtle ways. Nothing is ever very stable with them. The small communities fall apart and new ones are founded, people look to different elves as their leaders every decade or so...I would not like to live in such world, I think. The fixed one of the Sindar suits me, as long as the fixed rules are not wrong ones."
"Be glad you never knew Doriath, then." Galadriel might not understand Celebrían very well, but she was certain her daughter would have despised Singollo.