The Nolde, or There and Back Again

by BarbaraKaterina

This is the story of Artanis Nerwen, later known as Galadriel. The story of how she left, and how she came back, and all that happened in between. (Nolde - a female Noldo) / Do you realize, Lord Laurefindil, that of all the people present in Middle-Earth now, I have known you the longest?

61. Answers

Chapter 61: Answers

Year 2251 of the Second Age, Lindórinand

The question of where the remaining nine rings were was answered when the Ringwraiths appeared.

It was only rumours at first, rumours about terrible riders that sowed despair. Lindórinand heard them from Greenwood envoys and from Númenorean colonists first, mentioned only as a curiosity by the second. The elves took it somewhat more seriously, better acquainted with the kind of danger Sauron could present. Even in Greenwood, there were still some who remember Tol-in-Gaurhoth and the monsters that lurked there.

When the rumours persisted, and were only growing more frequent and alarming, Galadriel consulted the matter with Feliel and the lady set out to the lands closer to Mordor. She heard the same stories directly, then, from the Men who lived by the Great River. People whispered about the terrifying wraiths fearfully in the dark, warning each other from travelling alone, from going too far south or too far east. There, they said, the danger lurked.

Galadriel was worried, and brought this matter before Amdír's council.

"It's a matter of the south and east," Ealc pointed out. "It doesn't concern us, so why should we be concerned with it?"

"Because I fear every evil to be related to Gorthaur, and if it is, it'll concern us very soon."

"You don't know it actually has anything to do with him, though," Amroth opposed. "It might just be a folk story."

"Every story we hear connects them to Mordor," Galadriel reminded him.

"And why would it appear so suddenly, then?" Celeborn added. "We've never heard of this folk story before, and suddenly everyone is speaking of it. No. The magical man in Hollin wasn't a folk story, and this won't be one either."

"What do you want to do, then?" Amdír asked.

"It's true that we need to know more," Galadriel agreed. "Someone has to go and find them, investigate them directly."

"Will you go?"

Galadriel wanted to, but her promise to Findekáno kept her back, as always. They were unlikely to be able to hurt her, but still, it was not necessary that she went in person, and so she chose not to. And as per their war plan, she was supposed to be pretending to be too paralysed by grief to do anything against Sauron. "Better someone else," she said, "at least for the first attempt. If they prove too dangerous to approach to find out anything, I'll consider going."

"Rýnor?" Amdír turned to his commander after a small hesitation.

"Yes, of course, my king. I'll take a small contingent, if I may?"

"Naturally, but only a small one – we don't want you to be too conspicuous."

So Rýnor went with a few other elves, dressed in plain clothes and pretending to be on no official business at all.

The message they brought back was frightening. "They are wraiths," he said, clearly still a little shaken. "There is...nothing under their hoods, nothing to be seen, only darkness. We had to ride with all of our speed to escape them. They are powerful, and their shrieks...they are do terrible. They can chill your blood to the bone."

The council shuddered as one. "What do we do, then?" Amroth asked.

That, of course, was the question. The news, while alarming, did not truly answer the question of what these creatures were, where Sauron found them, and how to fight them. And if they had such a strong effect even on elves, then it was almost certain that they would have to fight them, sooner or later. Once Sauron was done testing their powers on Men livign close to Mordor, he would no doubt employ them in war.

At first, Galadriel thought she would have to go in person after all, to try and discover this, and discover whether she could defeat them – whether they could be destroyed at all - but then she realized that with the news Rýnor brought, it might be enough to ask her Mirror.

And so instead of travelling East, she went to the fountain that night and looked.

It took a moment for the image to settle. Then she saw nine Men standing, tall and proud – their faces too shadowed to recognize who they were. But she saw what happened next clearly. Sauron in the form of Annatár, fair and charming, offering a ring as a sign of friendship – one ring, for each of these powerful Men, and them accepting and putting the rings on their fingers. She saw their might afterwards, and then she saw their long fall into darkness.

Celeborn stood by her side, and he reached to steady her as she emerged from the vision. It took her a moment to be able to speak. "The remaining nine rings were for Men," she said finally, her eyes closed, "and they are all Sauron's now. They are the wraiths."

"How?" He asked, fear in his voice.

"I don't know," she replied, tired. "The mirror didn't tell me that. But it seems that just as the dwarves were impossible to bend to his will, Men are easy."

"Will this happen to the dwarves in time, then? We should warn them!"

Galadriel smiled a little in spite of herself at this unexpected consideration offered to dwarves from Celeborn. "I will," she assured him, "but in truth, I don't fear for them. They're hardy, and they simply don't live long enough for the rings to corrupt them. King Lómi was right. They only wear the rings once they assume the throne, a century or a little longer, usually. If they had our life, then perhaps, perhaps they would succumb in time, but as it is..."

"And if an elf ever found one of these rings? Not one like you have, but one of those which were touched by Gorthaur's hand?"

"I don't know," Galadriel admitted. "We might ask Avorneth, but I'm not sure...she knows more about how the rings work than about how they affect those who bear them. But perhaps with her knowledge, we might theorize." She shook her head. "I will pray that none of the elves ever does. If Oropher used one, it could become terrible."

"Here, at least, his dislike of the Noldor will serve him well," Celeborn replied. "I don't believe he'd accept a ring made by one of you."

"You may well be right," she agreed, "especially by Celebrimbor."

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Neither Celebrían nor Avorneth were particularly fond of travel, but for Avorneth, there were things that could motivate her to leave her comfortable home, and quest for knowledge was one of those things. "There are some matters I have trouble understanding about the rings," she said, "and there is no one here who can help me."

"Not even Túron?"

"No. He is a great craftsman, of course, but he doest not truly understand the principles, not the way I need. Very few did, beside...Father." She swallowed. "Anyway, I suspect some of the Jewel-Smiths who managed to escape to Rivendell could help me. Next time you go, I will accompany you." Galadriel was surprised by that, and even more so when Avorneth added: "I will take Celebrían with me."

Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "Does she know?" Celebrían had been finding excuses to avoid that journey for a few centuries now.

Avorneth laughed. "Not yet, but I want a companion for the journey – you will have important war matters to attend to – and Ealc absolutely refuses to go."

That surprised Galadriel. "I did not think she minded travel so much? She did carry the rings to Artanáro those centuries ago, after all."

Avorneth shrugged. "Yes, but that was a relatively short time away, and it was before she sat on the council. Now she claims she cannot leave for this long just do be my escort. When I pointed out that you were on the council as well and it did not prevent you from being frequently in Rivendell for long periods of time, she only smirked and said that was all the more reason for her not to be absent at the same time."

"Well, I am flattered."

Avorneth laughed. "Do not be. I suspect she just does not like being outside the forest for too long, and looks for excuses."

However she did it, Avorneth truly managed to convince Celebrían to journey with them, so now, they were riding into Rivendell with a small army accompanying them. Celebron had insisted on a proper escort. Celebrían was looking around herself with admiration – and, Galadriel could see, in regretful memory as well, for Rivendell was reminiscent of Hollin in some ways, with the mountains towering over it. Galadriel's own pain was soothed, as always, by the joyful expectation of seeing Elrond again. They arrived to the entrance of his house and he was already waiting for them, courteous in the face of ladies he did not know.

Galadriel dismounted and embraced him, and then turned to her daughter and said: "Beloved, allow me to introduce my daughter, Celebrían, and her friend, Avorneth, daughter of Tyelperinquar and Sarnel. And ladies, allow me to introduce Elrond, son of Eärendil and Elwing, and lord of Rivendell."

Elrond bowed very deep and both nisi mimicked his gesture. "It is a pleasure, my ladies," he said. "If you will follow me inside, there are rooms prepared for you to be refreshed and then there is a feast waiting in your honour."

Galadriel was a little amused by all the formality went to when he found out she would not be coming alone, as usual, but instead with her daughter and Avorneth, and a full entourage. She supposed it did rather give the impression of an official visit, even though the only reason behind it was Celeborn being worried about the safety of his daughter.

She had hoped she would be able to speak to Elrond before the feast, but he was nowhere to be found and at the meal, he very gallantly entertained Celebrían and Avorneth. Galadriel did not mind, since the kind of conversation she wished for could not be held in a feast hall and Lord Laurefindil was sitting by her side, a company that was always pleasant.

"So how are you doing, military-wise, now that the war preparations have started again?" She asked.

"We always do well military-wise, my lady, for our size. We are a military outpost. But at the same time, we obviously cannot field a large army-"

"Of course. That is not what I meant," she stopped him. "I can hear all of that in a council. I meant your personal impressions."

He shrugged as he took a sip of his wine. "Well, it is easier than in Lindon, in many ways. No one doubts that the danger is real now, and it gives the soldiers more motivation and determination. And all that are here have seen battle, too. That is an experience that cannot be shared, cannot be described, and it transforms an elf. They still cannot quite match those I commanded in Ondolindë, of course, but...I am reasonably happy with them."

"And with the life in Rivendell in general?" She enquired. "You have been here for a few centuries now, but you called it a military outpost. That does not suggest exactly contentment."

He smiled. "You forget I am a commander, my lady. No, besides Erestor's absence, I cannot complain. It took some time to transform this desperate refuge into a home, of course, but it is done now, and I have friends here."

"You had friends in Lindon too, I hope." Even though it was true he had always been surprisingly solitary there, with hardly any ties beside his husband, Artanáro and Elrond.

"Naturally, but...well, it comes down to having fought together in the war, again. It creates a particular kind of bond, a bond I was used to sharing with those around me and that I missed in Lindon. Of course, peace is worth much more than such bonds, but then, we did not have true peace, not after the first few hundred years at least. I was preparing for war, but I did not have warriors tempered by the fire of battle around me to rely on. Now I do. It changes much for me."

"You are more bloodthirsty than you seem, Lord Laurefindil."

She smiled as she said that, but he stayed serious. "I would prefer Middle-Earth to live in the bliss of Aman," he said, "but then, we are unlikely to ever live that dream, are we not?"

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After the feast, Galadriel found Elrond in his study. She entered, smiled, sat down opposite to him, looked into his eyes – and realized that his mind was closed.

Her astonishment was greater than when she had discovered the identity of Annatár.

Never, in the long years they knew each other, had his mind been closed to her before.

"Beloved," she said, "what is wrong?"

He only looked at her, and she could not bear to see his eyes, his, of all she knew, closed off. "Please," she said, pain colouring her voice, "please tell me."

He looked away. "I am sorry..."

"Elrond, please! Talk to me," she begged, not understanding what was happening but only thinking that something must be very, deeply wrong.

Hearing the fear in her voice, he finally turned his head back and looked at her in despair, and in his mind, she saw the image of Celebrían.

Her astonishment, if possible, even grew.

"But beloved," she said, understanding what it meant and yet not understanding at all, "if you love my daughter, then..." She waited a moment, for him to deny it, even though she knew it was the truth, just because it made no sense to her at all. He said nothing, however, so she continued: "That is the best news you could have given me! You must know that! Surely you must know that there is no one I would be happier to see her with! She is my daughter, and you are like my son." The despair did not recede from his mind, however, and so she asked uncomprehendingly: "Why are you not joyful?"

He shook his head and said in a tired voice: "Because, as you said, she is your daughter, Aunt. You are the most beautiful, powerful and wise nis in all of Middle-Earth – and for what I know, perhaps even beyond the Sea. How could I possibly be worthy of your daughter?"

Galadriel stared at him, feeling as if he was speaking some foreign language wholly unknown to her. "Elrond, beloved..." She said slowly. "When have I ever made you feel you were not worthy?"

"Never," he admitted, and then scoffed, "but it is one thing to take me in as a desperate orphan and another to give me your daughter in marriage."

Galadriel understood what was happening less and less. "Do you truly believe that?" She demanded. "That I have only been a friend to you all those centuries because you have been left without parents in New Havens? Your mother was my friend and almost a daughter, beloved, and I was friendly to your father too. Your grandmother was my dearest friend, and many others of your kin were near and precious to me. You have always been part of my family, since you were born, and even more so after your mother left this shore. I love you, Elrond, like my own son. I already told you there was no one better I can imagine my daughter marrying."

He seemed moved by her speech, and there as a short silence when she saw tears glisten in his eyes, but then he wiped them away and shook his head again. "Will Celeborn agree?" he asked. "When he knows – few better, for he watched it from close distance many times over – what it would cost his daughter? That she would see her children grow up so quickly she would hardly remember their childhood, and would forever be faced with the danger of them choosing the mortal fate? Would you make her live that fate, the fate that I knew you pitied your friend, my great-grandmother, for?"

This, then, was the root of Elrond's fear. Galadriel gave him a sad look. "My husband loves you well," she said, "though I admit you are not a son to him. Yes, he adores and protects his daughter, but he would not wish her to be alone forever, and if she feels the Flame for you, he will not stand in her way. As for me, I said this to your brother when he chose Adanel, and I will say it to you now: my heart bled for Lúthien, but I never tried to stand in the way of her happiness."

"And what if Celebrían does not feel the Flame?"

"If it is true, she will. And why should she not? Why do you seem to believe that she could not love you?"

He laughed bitterly. "Can you not see it? She is so full of light, and I…"

Galadriel smiled a little in her mind. Elrond was freshly in love and did not truly know Celebrían. He only saw the best of her, not how sharp she was and how deeply she could sometimes cut, when she chose to. Galadriel would not try to change his opinion. He would find out himself in time, and if the flame was true, it would make him love her more, not less. Instead, she said: "You grew up in darker times, yes. Perhaps that is why the One made you burn with the flame for her, so that she can be your light."

"And what will I be to her, her darkness?" He asked, full of self-mockery.

"You are hardly dark, beloved," Galadriel told him chidingly. "You are the most powerful healer I know, and you could not be if you were dark. Yes, dark experiences shaped you, but it helped you gain wisdom beyond your years, and that wisdom is what you will give to her, for she does not quite have it – cannot have it, as Celeborn has always sheltered her as much as he could. Celebrían can see directly into people's hearts sometimes, but she does not have intimate understanding of what kinds of turmoil are behind the thoughts and beliefs people hold. In that, you can help her grow."

He sighed. It did not seem he believed her, and at length, he only said: "Do not tell her, please."

"I will not, I would not take it from you, but...you know that as long as your mind is closed, she cannot clearly see if the Flame burns in her."

"Yes, I do know. I still ask you to give me time. And...Artanáro will arrive in a fortnight, for the council. Do not tell him either."

Galadriel gave him a sad look. "Elrond, you cannot close your mind to him and hope he will not notice."

"Then I will tell him myself, like I told you. Please."

"Very well, but I truly wish you were not so despairing over something that should be joyous."

He only looked away, into the fire.

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Galadriel kept her promise, but she could not stop herself from asking Celebrían what she thought of the Lord of Rivendell. She was too full of joy at the idea of the match to wholly restrain herself. If Celebrían loved Elrond back...she had told Elrond the truth, she could not imagine a more perfect future for her daughter. Or for her nephew, who had been alone too long. She might not understand Celebrían very well, but he would, she felt certain of it.

"I like him," her daughter replied calmly. "He is kind and wise, and knows much. Of course, I knew he would, from what you have told me about him. It is very strange, to know someone so well from stories and then meet them in person."

"Is he like you imagined?"

"More mysterious, I would say. I have heard stories from you about his childhood, so there never seemed anything mysterious about him at all, but now...I never quite know what he is thinking."

Galadriel sighed. Yes, that was the problem. "It is interesting to hear you say so," she said aloud. "Surely you understand that for me, he is very different."

"Yes, of course. He does not shield his mind from you, for one."

Galadriel gave her a sharp look, but Celebrían shook her head and smiled. "I do not hold it against him. How could I? He is a ruler, and even though I am your daughter, he has only just met me. He cannot afford to trust that easily. You know it took hundreds of years until Amdír was willing to stay unshielded in my presence as well."

Because Amdír was still mistrustful. He never completely healed from Doriath, even though he was doing much better than Oropher. Galadriel did not wish for Celebrían to believe this was normal behaviour in one's kin, and yet what could she say? "Elrond is being cautious, rather unnecessarily so, as I have told him."

"You tried to convince him to open himself to me? You did not have to do that, mother."

"I know I did not, but I raised him. I still do not like it when he acts foolish, not even millennia later."

Celebrían frowned at her. "Mother..."

"What is it, beloved?"

"I wish you would not...well, you would not interfere. It makes me uncomfortable in Lord Elrond's presence, the knowledge that you did."

Galadriel sighed. Once again, one of the many occasions when she and her daughter did not really understand each other. "As you wish," she said aloud. "I will of course respect what you say in this." Even if you are both fools.

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Artanáro arrived as announced, and after embracing both Elrond and Galadriel tightly, he looked at Celebrían and smiled.

Her face showed pure astonishment, and Galadriel knew well why it was. The High King's mind was open to her.

She gave Elrond a meaningful look, but he avoided her eyes. Children.

When Artanáro came to be alone with Galadriel, he immediately asked: "Do you know what it is that Elrond wants to keep secret?"

"Yes, but I promised not to tell you."

He frowned. "Is it serious?"

"He believes it is very grave indeed. I believe he is being a fool and ruining his own life in the process, but he will not listen to me."

Artanáro chuckled. "You made him tell you, did you not?"

"Yes. Do you believe I should not have?"

"Well, I do not blame you – I was worried as well, and would have been much more so had you not known the answer. But it might have felt...unpleasant, to him, to have his privacy breached."

Galadriel thought back to the time when she kept her own love for Celeborn from Itarillë. She also thought of Ealc, and her opinion on thought-sharing. "You are right," she conceded, "but I was just...well, as you said. Worried."

"You also cannot stand it when someone keeps something from you," Artanáro replied with a laugh, a laugh she did not share. Had she hurt Elrond by insisting?

She went to his rooms again that night. He looked up from his book at her arrival and smiled, warming her heart.

"Beloved," she said, "I have come to apologize."

"For what?" He seemed confused.

"For insisting you tell me what is on your mind. You have, naturally, the right for privacy."

He shook his head and put the book away. "I should have known you would be worried, and you were fully within your rights to be so. I should have simply explained, even in general terms, instead of being so secretive."

She inclined her head, accepting that compromise on blame, then said: "There are ways to keep things from people even when your mind is open, ways to hide them in the crevices of your mind. I shall teach you if you want."

"I know this – Artanáro taught me a long time ago – but...well. It is one thing to hide what I feel from just anyone, and to hide it from you. Especially as...I was overcome with what I felt for your daughter, the moment I saw her. Had I not closed my mind, it would have been very apparent to all."

"Then it is perhaps a good time you did – these sudden realizations can be a little embarrassing. Ask Artanáro and Oreth. That is no reason, however, to keep hiding this." At his look, she shook her head. "Never mind. I spoke with Artanáro. I explained to him it was a private matter, and I believe he will not ask you about it."

"Thank you, Aunt. You see? Already it is proving to be a good thing that you know."

"Remember, it is always a good thing that I know, whatever matter we are speaking of."

They both laughed together.

The next day, it was finally time for a private meeting with both Elrond and Artanáro, and Galadriel could share the grave matter on her mind.

"I know," she said, "where the nine rings are."

Both Noldorin lords listened in astonishment to what she told them. At the end of her story, Elrond was rather pale. "And you say that you did not see their faces?"

"No. I suspect I would need a little more information to have visions reveal that – or some particular intention of the powers that send those visions, of course."

"It is only that...there wraiths appeared recently, you say?"

"Yes, in the last few years," Galadriel confirmed.

Elrond took a deep breath and said: "Atanamir died three decades ago."

Galadriel immediately saw what he meant, and she paled as well. "Have you seen the body?" She asked immediately.

"No. I live too far now to be able to come to funerals of Númenorean kings. When I arrived for the passing of the Sceptre, he was already in his tomb."

"We need to know. If one of Elros' line came to be a servant of Sauron...he would be very dangerous indeed."

"I will speak to the Lord of Andúnië. Perhaps he saw the body – perhaps he will know something."

"Do you think it is likely it is him?" Artanáro asked. "He was a king, after all. It would be difficult to mask that he was...turning into a wraith, it seems you said?"

"We do not know how the process work, how visible it is from the outside," Galadriel pointed out. "They are in the shadows now, all of the ringwraiths, but perhaps until the very last moment, nothing can be seen from outside. Men cannot see each other's minds, and the Rings are invisible to those who do not know about them. Perhaps there was nothing to notice, until it was too late?"

"They would have known by the time of his supposed death, at least," Elrond said. "It would have taken much work to keep a thing like that secret. The king's heir would certainly know, but he will not speak to me. Nevertheless, I will have to go to Númenórë again."

Galadriel nodded, praying all the time that their fear was unfounded. She might not be as attached to the line of Númenórë as Elrond was, but the thought of Elros' descendant turning into such a dreadful creature still gave her immense pain.