Chapter 62: Memories
Yeah 2400 of the Second Age, Lindórinand
„More and more people are speaking about leaving," Feliel told Galadriel when the Nolde visited her city, clearly frustrated.
„Because of the war?" Galadriel assured herself.
"Yes."
It was not surprising. The steady stream of passages West had started when Sauron reappeared, grew strongly after the disaster of Hollin, and now was even more pronounced as the war loomed close again. "And I suppose telling them that if only they stay long enough to fight in it they might see Aman soon anyway would not help?" Galadriel asked jokingly.
Feliel chuckled. "I fear not, my lady. Most seem to wish to avoid a stay in Mandos."
"I wonder why. It seems to have done Lord Laurefindil good." But then Galadriel grew serious. "We cannot force them, of course," she said, "but if you could appeal to their loyalty to this kingdom and Middle-Earth, it would be appreciated."
"Well, I can try, but...I have been trying for a century now, and it seems to have no effect. I need your help, my lady. I am not doing a particularly good job at ruling this settlement."
Galadriel raised her eyebrows. "I beg to differ. It has been running very smoothly."
"By which you mean half of its inhabitants want to leave it?" Feliel asked self-deprecatingly.
"That is because of Sauron, not because of you," Galadriel pointed out. "It has nothing to do with your governing abilities."
"Yet I dare say that if you ruled them directly, they would be less desirous of going." She shook her head, and before Galadriel could say anything in response, added: "Forgive me, my lady, I should not burden you with this."
"No, I am ready to listen," Galadriel assured her. "You take care of my people for me, it is the least I can do. But I do not believe you are right. Do you not remember how many from Hollin chose to sail instead of following me here? Including, might I remind you, Tindómiel, who was my personal friend and kin?" It still hurt. Galadriel knew it had been her and Quendingoldo's right, and that they had been ready to go, but it still hurt.
"I do remember," Feliel replied, "but I also remember how many followed you here, in spite of it being a Sindarin realm in a forest, something entirely foreign to them. Your presence, and that of your family, was the only reason any Noldo had to come here, and thousands of them did."
Galadriel scoffed. "I was their queen. Do you know how many Noldor followed my uncle Fëanáro out of Valinor? Almost all. They abandoned the land of bliss to go into uncertainty, because they followed their king."
"I was not born yet, of course," Feliel replied, "but from what Uncle Guilin told me...did Feanáro not bend the people to his will in the darkness of Aman?"
Galadriel sighed. "Yes. Your Uncle spoke the truth. But still. After the Valar urged us to come back, there were no longer any spells on them, and most still followed my uncle, over the horrors of the Ice, or Fëanáro on the ships."
"But, well, it was guilt in part then, was it not? Shame?"
Galadriel mutely nodded. She had not remembered the pain of Alqualondë for a long time. It was always there in the back of her mind, with all the other horrors she had seen, but now it came back in all its monstrosity. And the nightmare of the Ice, too, the desperate fight to save as many as she could, and so many slipping through her fingers. Brannor standing by her side. So many others, too, who were now gone.
"We are not Sindar, my lady," Feliel said carefully. "We do not follow our rulers blindly. For better or for worse, that is not who we are."
Galadriel smiled at her, pushing her memories away. "Precisely," she said. "And that is why you cannot blame yourself that the people of this town do not simply stay on this shore when you tell them to."
Feliel laughed at the way the conversation had been turned on her. "Perhaps," she conceded. "But we do still have the tradition of following those from the House of Finwë. Your word simply has more weight than mine. If you speak to them..."
Galadriel sighed. Feliel was right, of course. It was only that Galadriel, though she knew it was the right thing to do, was tired of asking people to die for her.
"I will speak to my family, and Avorneth," she said aloud. "Perhaps we will make the plea together."
But her family was no more happy with the idea than she was. Celebrían, especially, refused to take part.
"If they feel ready to leave," she said, "then who are we to try and keep them here? They already lost their home, or several in some cases. They were not allowed to fight then. How could you ask them to fight now? No, I will not do this."
Celeborn was more understanding, but reluctant and sceptical. "If you truly believe it'd help, my love, I'll of course go speak with them," he said, "but I'm a Sinda, and had authority with them by virtue of being your husband. I don't believe I can add anything to your speech."
"Perhaps not," she agreed, "but you can speak to the Sindar who came here from Hollin."
"I can try," he said, "but I'm not certain...they know I was on the side of the Silvan when the recent changes happened. I fear I might have lost much of my authority with the older ones, the ones who are the most likely to sail."
Galadriel sighed. "Still," she said, "you can try."
Avorneth was the only one willing to help. Galadriel was perhaps a little surprised – she expected it of her, but at the same time was almost certain Ealc would not approve.
When asked about this, Avorneth shrugged. "Ealc does not attempt to intervene in what she calls our kingly nonsense. But she is not as opposed to the idea as you seem to believe. Among the Silvan, when you wish to gain a following, when you want to convince people of something, it very much depends on your personal charm and skills and reputation. The idea of you and me standing in front of the Noldor, attempting to convince them not to leave, is surprisingly in accordance with what the Silvan do. What Ealc herself did when she convinced them to help her put pressure on Amdír."
Galadriel considered this, and saw the similarities. "It is as I said," she commented, "the Silvan and the Sindar truly are the two cultures most different from each other."
And so they went to the Noldorin city and Feliel called the people to the main square, and they talked. They spoke of Middle-Earth and the protection it needed, the animals and plants who could not defend themselves from the attacks of the enemy, of those Men who were too weak or inexperienced to do so. Of all the ways Middle-Earth needed them.
"But we are not the Valar!" Someone from the crowd called. "This is their job, not ours!"
There was a low hiss of shock among the people in response, and Galadriel closed her eyes for a moment. She would wager that whoever it was that spoke, they had close ties to the Sindar. "When we left Aman," she said, "we claimed we could handle this world. We should prove it is so, not leave when things get bad."
"I was born in Middle-Earth," the unknown elf replied, "and I never made any claims about handling anything."
"Then, all the more, you should take responsibility for the place that is your home. We cannot simply leave and concede defeat to Sauron, one who has done so much evil to us already and who would do so much more if given the chance. We will not. I will fight him to the last, even if I was the last Nolde left in Middle-Earth. But I would like your company, and your help. Will you give it?"
There was a reluctant murmur of agreement from the crowd. Avorneth spoke then, about her mother and her grandfather, about justice and vengeance and war. About helping the rightful High King. About showing that the Noldor were not a dying clan just yet, just because there were more and more Numenorean settlements along the shore these days. About the need to fight.
When they returned to the capital, both Noldorin ladies were exhausted. Yes, they had convinced some at least, it appeared. But the knowledge of what it would cost them lay heavily on them both.
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Galadriel had been intending to do so for a while, and has postponed it for the last century because of the Ringwraiths, but now she wished for some soothing and distraction, and so she finally made up her mind and travelled south from Lindórinand to places she had never been before, and to a forest she had heard much about.
From what she understood, this forest was supposed to be one of the two remaining parts of the Great Forest that remained, now that it had been destroyed half by Sauron and half by Númenoreans building theirs ships and harbours.
When she reached its trees, she knew.
The same trees were to be found here that she remembered from a milennium ago, but they were more angry now.
Much more angry.
It was no wonder, but still, Galadriel was taken aback at the strength of anger she felt from them, and she did not dare enter the forest. Rather, she waited on the outskirts until Treebeard appeared, and mourned. Mourned the magnificent forest they used to be part of, the infinite-seeming rows of trees, alive and healthy and happy, even if unfriendly to elves and Men alike. It had been a realm of its own, and a magnificent one. And like so many others, it was gone now.
"My lady," Treebeard said as he stepped from among the trees. "It's been a long time."
"It has," she agreed. "Is this all that is left of your forest?"
"Or almost all," he confirmed in a voice that was even heavier and more rumbling than usual. "Some trees are left in the East and North, but they are far and only very few of us remained with them."
"I'm sorry for your losses."
"Thank you, my lady. They pain me, they do. I loved many of those trees. No, I loved all of them. Even those that are left here are changed by the fires of the fallen one."
"I can feel they fury, yes."
"Warn your people not to enter this forest," Treebeard advised. "We do what we can, but we cannot control it entirely and, as you said, it's furious."
"Is The Eldest here?" She asked curiously.
"No. He stayed in the North and East, with the few old trees that remain there."
Galadriel was surprised. "Truly? I travelled through those lands a few centuries ago and I didn't sense him, but...it's true that the road no longer leads directly through the forest."
"Yes," Treebeard agreed. "We moved the trees closer together, huddled them, when the danger came. It was not enough. But that forest is very thick now."
"I didn't go in," Galadriel said, "but I will the next time I go to Lindon, perhaps, whenever that may be. I haven't seen The Eldest for a very long time."
She stayed with Treebeard and other ents for a time, but not long. The trees of the Great Forest had never liked to be disturbed, and now with their anger, it was much worse. She knew they resented her presence, and so she left, thinking with longing of Doriath and the trees that loved elves, and the days Lady Gelvil and Galathil could spend with them. But then, perhaps if they were here, they could still stay, even in this angry forest. Galadriel had never been as close to the ents and trees as they were.
"Would you come visit us in Lindórinand?" She asked Treebeard. "It's but a little way to the north, and I believe you'd like the trees there."
"Perhaps," he agreed, "but I have too much work here. These angry trees need minding, to keep them from hurting silly Men who wander inside. We can only afford to go see the entwives rarely now, even. I can't leave."
"Then I will come again some day, to greet you, if you wish to see me," Galadriel promised.
"Do come," he replied. "I can't spare much time for you, but it¨s always a pleasure to remember happier days with you."
She smiled at him before heading back to Lindórinand.
She told of her experience before the council to pass on the warning, and Amdír gave her a look that seemed almost suspicious. "The ents came to speak to you?" He asked.
"Treebeard did, yes. Why?"
"We've tried to contact that forest for many centuries now, but the ents never spoke to us, and the trees discouraged us from entering," he explained.
"Well, I've known him for a very long time. It's no wonder, perhaps, that he spoke to me. You never really knew them when in Doriath, did you?"
"No...there were less of them in Neldoreth, and Treebeard didn't dwell there."
"I know. And there are no ents in Lindórinand, and those from the remnants of the Great Forest are too occupied with trying to control the angry trees to meet elves they do not know. So don't feel too surprised...and be careful about that forest."
Amroth was clearly interested, and went to speak to her about the matter as she left the council house.
"Do you think you could ever take me there?" He asked.
Galadriel frowned a little. "The trees don't live for amusement," she said, "and neither do the ents. I wasn't exaggerating when I said they were very angry."
"I know, but...still. I've always been curious about that forest. Father doesn't wish me to go there, but if I went with you, I'm certain he couldn't object."
Galadriel was less certain. "Why do you want to go?"
"As I said, I'm curious. I want to see."
"But why?"
Amroth was looking at her blankly.
"I won't take you," she told him, "until you can answer that question for me. Why should I disturb the trees and ents with your presence?"
As she left, she wondered whether she had been too harsh with him. But she simply had no patience for this, not when she was still grieving the loss of the magnificent Great Forest.
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When Galadriel headed for her next visit of Rivendell, she did so with determination: she would convince Elrond to tell her where his worries about her daughter truly came from.
She had thought, at first, that is was just the reluctance to have Celebrían face the grief of her children growing to adulthood more quickly, but as years passed, she realized there were echoes, when Elrond spoke about the matter, of something deeper and more disquieting. Of something that made Galadriel feel guilty for not spotting it sooner, for such feelings even arising in Elrond in the first place. That his words about darkness had not been just a momentary gloom.
So she sat with him in his study, and asked. "I do not understand," she confessed. "Why would you believe you were a bad match for anyone? Your grandfather was a king, and your great-grandfather on the other side, and your brother, too. There are not very many who can say that."
"You can," he replied, "or rather, both of your grandfathers and your brother were kings, and your father still is, beyond the Sea. So it will hardly impress your daughter. And do you not see? You say my brother was king. Yes, but king of what realm? Realm of Men that is crumbling to the shadow as we speak. King Telemmaitë not only has hatred in his heart, he is foolish as well."
Galadriel waved that aside. They had not been able to determine with any certainty whether Atanamir had turned into a Ringwraith or not, and the worry still lay heavily on them, but it was not why she was here now. "What does that have to do with you?" She asked.
"They are my kin."
"And my kin – and so Celebrían's – were Fëanáro, and all his sons, with their terrible crimes," she replied sharply. "Your brother's descendants did nothing bad enough to even compare."
"No, but they were noble Noldorin lords," Elrond said bitterly. "That, at least, is in their favour. My kin are Men."
"Is this about your fear of how quick your children would grow up, again?" She asked him archly.
"Not only that! How can anyone who has the blood of Men in him be enough for your daughter?"
Galadriel stared at him, left completely speechless for a few moments.
"Beloved," she said then, slowly, "do you truly believe that of your own brother's people?"
"I? No. But it is not me we are speaking of."
"So you believe, then, that my own daughter would?"
He flinched.
"We are not in Doriath," Galadriel said, in a voice she tried to keep soft even as hardness was creeping into it, "and my husband is not Singollo, as much as he may be of his kin. But then, so are you, and in a direct line, and you would not think that way."
"It is different for me, and you know it."
"You believe, then, that had you no blood of Men in you, you would despise them?"
"How can I answer that?" He asked her. "I have never been but what I am, and my mortal blood is part of me as much as the elven one is. If I did not have it, I would not be myself. Your husband, on the other hand, has never been much in touch with Men – he never even travelled to Númenórë."
"And that is what leads you to believe he despises them?" She demanded sharply.
"It does not fill me with confidence," Elrodn replied with soft irony.
"Celeborn never travelled to Númenórë because he dislikes travel, and sea, and there was little there that attracted him!" Galadriel took a deep breath, to keep herself calm. "Has he ever done anything to make you believe he would look down on you?" She asked.
"Not him personally, no. But..."
"Then I find it difficult not to be offended on his behalf, as you have known him for millennia and he has been a friend to you always, and yet you would think that of him!" Her voice was rising again. She knew it was difficult for Elrond, for reasons she could not fully understand, but insults to Celeborn were something she had trouble bearing.
"He has been friend to me, yes – while you were a mother." Elrond's voice was getting a little angry now, too. "Do you believe I never asked myself why that was, that he never grew as attached to me as you did? If it had something to do with who my grandfather and great-grandfather were?"
"Beloved," Galadriel said, her ire dissipating upon hearing this, and pain replacing it. He truly believed this. "I am sorry it injured you, but...you know the affection we feel for different people is not directed by reason or will, and Celeborn has few friends. He was never very close to Artanáro or Lord Laurefindil either, certainly not as close as I was. I do not understand why you would believe your ancestry was the reason in this case."
Elrond looked away, and was silent for a long time. "Perhaps you are right," he said at length. "Perhaps I am unfair to him. It is only that...many of his closest kin, closest that remained in Middle-Earth at least, the lords of Doriath..." He trailed off.
"You believe they despise you?"
"It is not a matter of belief. I know they despise me, or rather, what of Men is in me. Many of them did not hesitate to tell me when they still lived in Lindon."
Galadriel straightened in her chair. "What? Had you chosen to, you could have been their king! I would not think they would ever be so disrespectful to you."
"Oh, they never said so plainly. They always spoke kindly, you understand, as if I myself would know about the supposed disadvantage it gave me, that weakness in my family tree. But I heard enough veiled remarks about my unfortunate parentage, and about how it was perhaps wise that I rejected the kingship under the circumstances..."
"Is that why you rejected it?" Galadriel asked, terrified.
"No. I did not wish to be king, then or now. Their remarks started only later – perhaps they would have not dared had I been king. I do not know."
"Why did you never tell me?" She demanded.
"I do not rightly know. Perhaps I feared, in some hidden part of my mind, that they were right? Or I was ashamed? I felt, perhaps, that I should not burden you with it..."
Galadriel closed her eyes. "I feel like I have failed you, in so many ways. I have not protected you from these things, I have not assured you of my love, or Celeborn's..."
He lightly touched her hand. "You have done everything for me, Aunt. Always. Please, do not feel guilt for my own shortcomings. I should have known how to deal with those elves myself. But then, when have I ever known anything? That is another reason why I do not believe I am worthy of your daughter – perhaps if I had skills to make up for the disadvantages of my birth Celebrían would inevitably feel, I would be more at peace at it. But the one promise I gave to my brother, that I would keep his descendants safe...I failed in it, miserably. Would any promise I gave to her be as worthless?"
Galadriel gave him a sad look. "As I have told you many times, they have the freedom to make their own choices, and you cannot blame yourself for them. And Celebrían has the same freedom. She should be the one to decide whether you are worthy of her, do you not think?"
"Aunt...as you said, you love me. You see me, I fear, as a better person than I truly am. I am certain that you told your daughter many flattering things about me. She might...she might decide based on those stories, when in reality..."
The Nolde was approaching exasperation again, pushing the alarming things she had learned to the back of her mind for now. "Elrond," she said, "do you not understand how the Flame works? There is no falsehood in it, that is its nature, its entire purpose."
"In elves, yes, but then I am not wholly elven."
"So you believe your brother's love for Adanel, whom he chose over all of his loved ones, was somehow less real?" She asked incredulously.
"No, I simply...Adanel was a charming noble lady, but she was not your daughter, do you not understand?"
Galadriel was exhausted. She did not know how else to put the situation that Elrond would finally see the light. She had been trying to convince him for a century now, and she simply did not know what to do. She feared that any more time, and she would say something foolish and harsh, something that would be difficult to take back.
"Forgive me," she said, "I will leave you for a time, to arrange my thoughts."
Elrond only nodded. "Could you perhaps speak to Lalvon later?" He asked her as she was leaving. "There was some misunderstanding again about the nature of his advice to me, and yours, and I truly believe it would be beneficial."
"Yes, of course. I apologize. I promised to do so such a long time ago..." But then the new discoveries about the rings drove it out of her mind.
She walked the grounds of Rivendell for a few hours to calm her mind, and then she found Lalvon in his office. When he saw her, he immediately rose and bowed quite deep. "My lady," he said.
"Chief Councillor," she smiled at him. "Elrond sent me to discuss the difficult business of giving advice to him."
Lalvon seemed a little unsure about how to take this, and Galadriel smiled again. "Peace," she said. "There aren't many in Middle-Earth whom I'd trust more with ruling a realm than my nephew...or nephews, I should say." Taking seriously Oropher's declaration that he was not one of them, that was.
"Yes, my lady. I completely agree with you. It makes me feel a little superfluous, to tell you the truth. Prince Elrond is quite capable of taking care of his realm, I'm sure, and with your advice, well..."
Galadriel wondered how Elrond liked being called Prince Elrond. Perhaps this was one of the reasons why he and Lalvon never became friends. Elrond never used the title himself, but she was not surprised that Lalvon thought of him that way. She nodded her understanding to what he had said. "At the very least," she said, "you can take part of his work on yourself, making it easier for him. Also, sometimes decisions are made easier when we can discuss them with others."
"I'm aware of that, my lady, but surely when you're here..."
"When I'm here, yes. But then I'm only here a few months of every year. Elrond needs someone to talk to for the rest of it."
"Lord Glorfindel is here all of the time," Lalvon pointed out.
"And his advice is very valuable, I'd never deny that. I think you can represent different points of view very well – Lord Glorfindel is a Noldo whose mother was a Vanya, and he has the best of both clans. You, on the other hand, are of the Teleri and a son of Doriath, and as such, have a different point of view, I'd imagine. Together, you're two sides of Elrond's heritage."
She chuckled to herself as she though that her nephew was unlikely to get a Man as an adviser at this point in time, unless one of Silmariën's descendants would be willing, and that it would be rather complicated to find a willing and suitable Maia.
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One day, a visitor from afar was announced in Lindórinand, and when Galadriel came to see who it was, she could not believe her eyes.
"Amonel?"
"In all my glory."
Galadriel stepped to her in few long steps and embraced her. "My friend," she said. "This is very unexpected."
"We have not seen each other for a long time."
"Indeed! How are you? How is your uncle, and Arminas? How come you are here? Tell me everything."
Ambë laughed. "Should I do so right here, in the middle of the city?"
Galadriel chuckled at herself and led her friend to her house.
"I can't tell you that much about Uncle and Arminas," Ambë said as she gladly accepted the wine the Nolde handed her, "since I still live in Caras Aear, but I did speak to them as I was travelling here and they appear to be well. They fortified the Havens, part of the preparations for the war, and they have very detailed plans for sending troops by ships. Arminas found a way to count very exactly whether ships or land will be quicker, and now they have it all in detail."
"And you?"
She sighed. "Same as always. Doing work for the council and king, going through my days, wondering about the West. When do you believe they will allow him to come back?"
"I do not know, beloved."
"I wish we did! I wish we were at least allowed to know that much! I miss him in every moment and I would not want to miss a single day of his time back in Middle-Earth, but I do not wish to go West before he is back. There is no one else for me there."
"Will you not at least wait until the war?" Was Ambë, too, planning to abandon them?
"That is my plan at the moment, yes. I will help fight the war, and then we will see. Still...I wish I knew." She paused. "And how are you?"
"As well as can be expected. All the losses still hurt, but that will never pass as long as I am on this shore, I know." Galadriel did not particularly wish to speak about herself. She wanted to take her mind off grief. "Does the war preparation proceed well in Lindon, then?" She asked. "I hear so little from Artanáro, because of all the secrecy."
"It is bothersome – I had to come here in a very complicated manner to make it less obvious I was a connection between the two kingdoms. But as for the preparations, reasonably well, I'd say. We have the same troubles as I expect you have – many would rather sail than fight. Especially as Lord Glorfindel is now in Rivendell – the soldiers were very loyal to him, but they know Anor less well. He isn't a bad commander by any means, from what I understand, but..."
Galadriel nodded. "At least Lord Glorfindel is happy with the elves he trains in Rivendell," she said.
"Yes, I travelled through and heard him speak of it as well. It made me curious about the way troops would be divided in the actual war – would Rivendell have its own independent ones?"
"That will depend on particular tactics we decide to employ. It's too early for that by far, and I wouldn't be the correct person to ask about that in any case." There was a short pause. "Are all the people who will stay willing to fight?"
"Most of them, yes – almost all ellyn, and many an elleth, too."
"Sarnel's fate did not deter them, then?"
"Rather the contrary, I feel – those who remember her would like to avenge her, and those who don't look up to her as a role model."
Galadriel smiled. "That is very good to hear. That she is remembered."
"Artanáro wouldn't have it any other way. And don't forget, it was Lord Glorfindel who trained that army for a long time. I rather find it a wonder they didn't begin to detest her, with all the tales of her fighting prowess he used to regard them with!"
There were bittersweet smiles on both of their faces. Sarnel, the most tragic loss of this age so far. At the thought that many as tragic could follow in the coming war, Galadriel had to close her eyes to prevent tears from escaping.