Chapter 53: Confessions

Year 2565 of the Second Age, Rivendell

It took over a century more to convince Elrond, over a century of assuring him of his worth and reminding him that if the Flame was true, he was punishing Celebrían by his secrecy as well. It helped a little that she was more willing to make the journey from Lindórinand now that she had met Elrond, a clear indication of interest on her part, but he still needed to be reassured it was not simply because she admired the scenery.

But finally, one day when Galadriel rode into Rivendell with Celebrían, she read the decision in his mind and so she turned to look at her daughter in curiosity.

She still remembered the first meeting of Artanáro and Oreth, and wondered if this would be similar. But Elrond had known about his love for Celebrían for a long time now, and so there was no surprise in his face, only calm determination. Celebrían, for her part, seemed overwhelmed. Her face shone with light as never before, and she could not turn away.

Avorneth approached Galadriel and turned her worried eyes to her honorary aunt. "What is going on?" She asked.

"The Flame of the One," Galadriel replied, smiling.

Avorneth sucked in a breath. "Truly?"

"Yes. My daughter found her love today."

"I do not remember...I mean, when I met Ealc..."

"Her mind is always closed," Galadriel replied simply. "It could not have been like that."

It was a while longer before any of the new lovers spoke, and when they did, it was Celebrían who turned to her mother and asked: "You knew?"

"Yes. I have known almost from the start – you know what I can be like when I know someone is keeping a secret from me – but I promised not to tell."

Celebrían turned back to Elrond, and asked: "What took you so long?"

Galadriel could not help but laugh, and even Elrond chuckled. "Insecurity," he replied.

That answer seemed to throw Celebrían. "Do you doubt the Flame?" She asked.

"Never. It is only myself I doubt."

Celebrían's gaze was questioning now, directed first to Elrond and then to her mother.

"Let us go inside," Galadriel said. "It is not good to talk of such things in public."

They heeded her words and sat down together in Elrond's chambers, sharing a bottle of wine. He turned to Celebrían and attempted to explain. "It is not easy for me," he said, "to describe my relationship to your mother so that you can understand properly. You can see what it is like in my mind, of course – you both can – but it needs a little more to shed light on my hesitancy, I believe." He paused, arranging his thoughts. "When I was a small child, my mother was the lady of New Havens and your mother was...well, your mother was her lady, for lack of a better term. My mother was the one everyone deferred to, and she deferred to my aunt. As everyone else did, of course. So I was properly in awe from the very beginning. And then the sons of Fëanáro attacked, and your mother…I do not know what would have happened if she had not been there. To my mind, she saved all of us: my mother, Elros and me. And for the following six years – which seems like a short time, but remember it was the years during which I did a good part of my growing up – she cared for us and protected us from Nelyafinwë and Macalaurë, two extremely dangerous warriors. And then after that, she went to fight in the War of Wrath and I saw her as a military commander. I met again Artanáro at that time as well, and I could see how the High King of the Noldor deferred to her. So I...well, I loved her, but she was very much larger than life to me, even at the end of the war."

Galadriel listened to these words in astonishment, not quite understanding how it could have come to pass. She had spent every day with Elrond in those days, and though she had not been sharing her innermost thoughts with him – he was a child, then, or near enough, and some things were not for him to know – she still could not see how anyone could regard her as larger than life when she slept under the open skies and had to hunt her own dinner every night.

Besides, when Elrond had been explaining his hesitation to her, he made it sound as a matter of general insecurity, or perhaps insecurity about Celeborn. Now it sounded, once again, as if she made him doubt her love for him, and that pained her.

"I saw myself as a poor, half-human almost-orphan she took in out of her immeasurable goodness," Elrond continued. "The relationship became more equal in Lindon later, and I learned to be appreciated for my mind and advice, but your mother remained the person I respected the most in all of Middle-Earth, the wisest, most beautiful and powerful elf I knew. And then I fell in love with her daughter." He shook his head bemusedly. "It felt impossible from the start, a treasure so high I could never dare reach for it. Especially as your mother told me stories about my family since I was little, about her friend Lúthien and how brokenhearted she was because her son was growing so quickly. About my parents, whom your mother never had enough time to teach because time seemed to be slipping between her fingers as they changed from year to year. I know that my children will grow quickly as well, and that was the final reason why I told myself that I can never show you my mind."

"Let me only add," Galadriel said, trying to keep her tone reasonably light, not wishing to complicate the situation just now, "that I tried to convince Elrond how baseless all of these reasons were directly when he told me. But it took a little longer than that."

Celebrían was frowning a little. "I know well how hard it can be to grow up in the shadow of my mother," she said evenly, and Galadriel felt a sharp stab of pain, "but what of me? If you felt the Flame of the One, did you not realize that I would find no love other than you?"

"That the Flame would be returned is never assured in Middle-Earth. Likely, yes, but not assured."

Galadriel scowled at that statement, but before she could say something, Celebrían spoke: "What you mean is that the other half of the couple does not always recognize they feel it," she corrected. "But that is only because they lack self-knowledge. Did you think that of me?"

He cast his eyes down. "No, my lady. I apologize. It appears that in my fear of being unworthy, I have made myself so."

Celebrían shook her head. "No need to go so far," she said. "But I would like you to never again attempt such thing as hiding from me...or seeing me mostly as an extension of my mother."

Elrond shifted nervously at this point, and Galadriel rose and nodded to Avorneth. "I believe we will give you privacy now," she said. "We will see you at the feast, I assume."

"One moment, mother," Celebrían stopped her. "You told no one about Elrond's secret?"

"No one."

"Not even Father?"

"No – and it was not easy to keep such a thing from him and not close my mind entirely at the same time." It was the truth, after all. She need not mention that the other secret she kept from Celeborn was much greater, and much more difficult to hide, with the constant feeling of guilt that accompanied it.

"Nevertheless," Celebrían said, unperturbed by any difficulty Galadriel might be facing, "I would ask you to continue keeping the secret a while longer. I would like to get to know Lord Elrond better before Father learns of this. He will ask me many questions, and I would like to be able to answer them."

Galadriel inclined her head. She was a little surprised by the request, but it was Celebrían's decision, and she would interfere no more than she already had. "As you wish, beloved," she said, and she and Avorneth left the room.

Her niece was very quiet as they walked in the direction of their rooms, and when Galadriel turned to enter hers, Avorneth said: "Do you believe the wedding will take place soon?"

Galadriel looked at her carefully. "No," she said slowly. "Both Elrond and Celebrían like to take their time, and my husband, too, will attempt to drag the time until he has to part with his daughter. I know he had hoped she would fall in love with someone from Lindórinand. That is the one reason why Celeborn will object to the marriage that Elrond did not consider. He would have gladly agreed to Celebrían's marriage to a Man of the East, if he had a good heart and lived in our forest."

"At least Celebrían did not fall in love with anyone from the Lindon delegation," Avorneth said with a tight smile.

Galadriel gave her another look. "Beloved, remember that while Celeborn will part from Celebrían in time, you do not have to."

Avorneth frowned. "What do you mean?"

"If you wish, once Celebrían weds, you may of course follow her to Rivendell, at least for a time. I am certain Elrond would accept you, and it is only up to you how you arrange matters with Ealc."

"She would not want to live outside a forest," Avorneth replied. "And besides, I...would not wish to leave you, Aunt."

"No, but you wish to leave Celebrían even less."

Avorneth heaved a sigh. "I wish we could all simply live together."

Galadriel thought of Aman. It hurt, and it hurt that Avorneth, who had so little family left, would have to choose between its remaining members. Galadriel pushed the thought away and smiled at her niece. "I travel frequently to Rivendell, as you know, and it is likely that Celebrían will return to Lindórinand at least from time to time, to see her father. You would not truly leave me."

Yet they both know the absence would be felt all the same.

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"So," Lord Laurefindil said as he slid into a place next to her at dinner, "I understand that congratulations are in order?"

Galadriel blinked. "Has Elrond told you? My impression was that they meant to keep it secret."

"One look at your daughter when she arrived was enough, my lady."

Galadriel exhaled. "Of course. Well, it is unlikely to be noticed by anyone else, so that calms me somewhat."

"Do you truly think my skills of observation are that exceptional?"

She only gave him a look, and he laughed. "Very well," he said. "You are probably right. But at any rate, I am very happy. My lord Elrond has been alone for a long time."

"You waited much longer to find Erestor," she pointed out.

"Yes, but then, I have never lost a twin. Ever since Lord Elros died..."

Galadriel only nodded. There had been a hole in Elrond since then, and there was some hope Celebrían could – not fill it, certainly, but make it less painful at least.

"And fortunately I do not have to be overly jealous," Lord Laurefindil added, "since Erestor should be coming this week."

"Oh? Any particular reason, or simply to see you?"

"Well, chiefly to see me, I should hope, but he will also bring some letters from Artanáro and we will discuss war planning."

Galadriel smiled, happy that they will have an opportunity to reunite even in the midst of such grave matters. "Tell me, are your discussions here as dramatic as you told me the ones in Lindon's council were?" She asked lightly.

"Oh, certainly. Perhaps even more so, since Erestor is less cowed by Lord Elrond than he is by the High King."

"I do not believe he has ever been excessively cowed by anyone." Galadriel still remembered the way he treated her when she first spoke to him.

"True enough."

There was a short pause. "Have you had any interesting news from Númenórë?" Galadriel asked then, in a more serious tone. "I meant to ask Elrond, but he has other things on his mind now."

"Well, Vanimeldë is a better queen than Telemmaitë was king, but that is not saying much. She is wiser than he was. Most of her efforts go into supporting art in her court, though. Some truly brilliant works have already been produces under her patronage, from what Erestor heard."

"While that would be good to hear in times of peace, I have different priorities in war," Galadriel said a little archly.

Lord Laurefindil smirked. "The queen does not, it seems, but then her wisdom shows in delegating the duties she does not wish to bother with to her husband, who is apparently a capable politician."

Galadriel grimaced. "Something in me revolts at that, but it might truly be the best solution in her case. Does she or her husband seem...well, dark?" Galadriel was not sure if she hoped Atanamir had had the ring, or that he had not. While the idea of him as a ringwraith was horrifying, at least there would be an excuse for him and his land in that. If some lingering effects could be found, it would be relief in a way.

However, Lord Laurefindil's reply was in the negative. "Not from what I know. Understand, they are hardly a match for the first kings of Númenórë in wisdom, or even for the current Lords of Andúnië, but they are better than the last few generations of kings were. Best, perhaps, since Tar-Minastir."

She exhaled. At least some happy news. "That is reassuring to hear," she said. "What about the war preparation, how goes it?"

"Lindon and us are both close to ready. What we wait for now is your side of the mountains, so to speak."

Galadriel nodded. "The good news is, from what I hear, Pelargir, the haven the people of Andúnië have built south of us and close to Mordor, is getting stronger every year. It gives me confidence that even if the rest of Númenórë turns sour, some help would come from them at least. As for the elves..." She trailed off. "The Silvan are not refusing to fight on principle," she explained, "but they are also refusing the notion of being obliged to do so, or commanded. They seem to fully realize the gravity of the danger, but still insist that no one can order anyone to march to their death."

Lord Laurefindil sighed. "We need them."

"Well, their argument has merit," Galadriel pointed out. "If they do not recognize kings, why should they follow their orders?"

"Certainly no one can force them, but...you know people need command if they are ever to get organized in any way, my lady. You know it better than anyone. If Erestor was here, he would say that this is why the Silvan never built great realms."

Galadriel shrugged. "Great realms by Noldorin definition, Ealc would reply. They are happy with the way they live." She paused, and they looked at each other and laughed.

"We should certainly introduce them, if at all possible," Galadriel decided. "It would be...entertaining."

"Also a little horrifying, perhaps."

They laughed again.

"Anyway," Galadriel continued, "as for Oropher...well. Amdír is working on it. With limited success."

"We cannot march into this war without Oropher, not when our own people are sailing and barely having children any more, too afraid of war coming while they are little."

"Truly?" She was surprised. She had not known that.

Lord Laurefindil shrugged. "That is what the High King told me when last he was here. The people of Rivendell never had children to begin with, us being a military outpost and all, so I did not know, but..."

"I will have to ask Feliel if it is the same among our Noldor. Sauron is well contained now, and he will not attack sooner than in a few centuries. There is no need to be so very cautious now, but if they wait too long, it could be too late then."

"I know that, my lady, but then, it is not me you need to convince. I will not have children either way. And the High King...well. He is rather reluctant to encourage anyone to have children in order that the children can fight in a war, as I am sure you can imagine."

Galadriel felt a pang of pain for Sarnel. "Yes," she said. "But then, I would not wish to do that either. People merely need reassurance that the war will not come in the next century or so. Their natural desire to have children should do the rest." She almost choked as she said that. Natural desire to have children indeed. She thought of Elrond and Celebrían, and prayed that her daughter had not inherited her terrible selfishness.

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Galadriel wished to give her daughter and Elrond as much privacy as possible for as long as possible, and so she decided to set out on that journey she had been considering for some time now – to see The Eldest again.

She had been warned by Treebeard that the remnants of Great Forest in North and East were small, but she had not expected them to be so much so. It was barely fifty miles across, and when she remembered the hundreds of miles it used to have, she did not know whether to cry or rage.

The first she went to find were the Ents. There were very few of them now, but they were willing enough to explain. "The orcs cut down many of the trees," they said, "and the forest shrunk back from them."

"And didn't you protect them?" Galadriel was surprised, not accusing – she would have expected the Ents to sooner perish that allow their trees to do so.

"We did," the Ent replied, "but there was a sea of orcs. That's why there are so few of us left now. Many died, both Ents and trees. We who are left are the ones who were inside this small remnant of a forest when the killing took place. We were spared, us and these trees, for some time still. But no one wishes to grow where the orcs have defiled the land now, and so we won't expand."

And all of this, Galadriel thought, goes back to me and my choices. If only I could have chased Sauron away…it was not only elves who died because of her, it was trees and Ents as well. She closed her eyes and bid a hasty farewell to the Shepherds of the Trees, lest they saw her guilt.

It was still in these thoughts that The Eldest found her. "You only come here when your heart is very heavy, it seems to me," he said. "You trouble my forest with your heaviness."

"I apologize," she replied, "but then it seems to me that your forest was very heavy even before I came."

"That it was. But not with guilt, with hurt. It does not need your guilt, so shoo! I will talk to you at the edge of it."

Galadriel obediently walked back, and sat down in the grass under the trees at the forest's border, waiting for The Eldest. He joined her soon enough, and asked: "So what is it that troubles you now?"

"Nothing particularly troubles me," she replied. "I wished to see you again."

"You only ever come here when you are troubled," he opposed.

Galadriel would have liked to argue, but she knew it was true enough. "You are not easy to converse with without a particular purpose," she tried to defend herself.

"Most would say exactly otherwise," he replied lightly. "But I was not complaining. I do what is needed, and when you are here, it is comfort that is needed. You have not been to see me for too long. I see much pain in you that was not there before."

The Nolde sighed deeply. "I lost my kingdom, and with it, my dearly beloved niece and her husband and son."

For some reason, he chuckled. "Lost your kingdom, you say. But the land was never yours to lose, was it?"

"It is not the land I mourn."

"What is it, then?"

"Have you ever created something, my lord?" She answered with a question.

He chuckled again, and then the chuckle grew into a full blown laugh. "You could say that, yes," he said at length.

"And would you not be filled with grief if you saw it destroyed?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Destroyed? It can only be changed, twisted, and then you can change and twist it again, to make it even better than it was before."

"Perhaps you can, my lord. But there is doom upon me, and if I tried again, I believe it would turn out even worse."

"Then it probably means you are doing it wrong, does it not?"

She slowly exhaled. No one else in Middle-Earth would dare to say such a thing to her, which was why she came to see The Eldest. "Probably, yes," she assented reluctantly.

"And if you were doing it wrong, then it's no loss it's gone. Now, about the dead people, that's worse, but then you will see them again."

"I will not."

"Don't talk nonsense."

"I do not," she insisted. "I am not allowed to return to Aman. Lady Ilmarë herself came to tell me."

This failed to impress The Eldest. "It's still nonsense. Of course you will see them. You will see everyone again."

"After the world is remade, yes. That is a...very long time, I assume."

"And once again you talk about something you know nothing of."

"Do you want me to believe that we will see the world end with this age?" Galadriel asked sceptically.

"I do not want you to believe anything. I only say the truth, that you speak of something of which you know nothing. Use the time you have left until you see them again to do something useful, be so kind. The trees are tired of you, and if you persist in this nonsense, I will become so very soon as well."

Galadriel sighed. Her visits here never went quite the way she imagined they would.

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On their way back, the Lindórinand ladies stopped in Hadhodrond. Galadriel had not spoken to the king for too long, and Avorneth wished to discuss some practical application of a theory she had or something of the sort. Galadriel did not entirely understand. She was there to do politics.

King Veig welcomed her warmly enough, and as long as they discussed trade, he was friendly. It got worse once they got to war.

"So far," he said, "this hasn't concerned us. Why should I drag my people into it?"

"Sauron will hardly leave you alone."

"He has so far. He even gave us rings."

"Because he wanted to enslave you! Haven't you seen what became to the Men who accepted them?"

"We aren't Men," he replied angrily. "And yes, perhaps he wanted to enslave us - Or perhaps he genuinely wants allies who can mine as much gold as we can. Many of my people would die in this war. Why should I risk it, when I don't need to?"

"Don't you value your freedom at all?" Galadriel tried.

His answer was biting: "We're free now. I don't see us being any freer if we're dead."

"Do you see yourself being freer as servants of Sauron?" The Nolde asked sharply, slowly loosing her cool.

"We won't become anyone's servants. We could trade with him just as well as with elves, I assure you." He was mocking now.

"Don't you care at all that he wishes to enslave all others, then?" Galadriel demanded, thinking of King Lómi with nostalgia.

"And do the others care about dwarves?" He returned. "How many elves worry about our fate, eh?"

"You know I've always done everything in my powers to help you," she reminded him.

"Even if I believed that – and I have some doubts, mind you – how many others are there?"

Galadriel had to stay silent. In this age, after her brother and Nelyafinwë were dead and Hollin fell, the elves tended to either ignore the dwarves or be hostile towards them. Only the few surviving Noldor from Hollin who were still in Middle-Earth were an exception to that.

"See?" The king said. "I have no obligations to those who care not about me, and even less towards Men. If you or your people from Hollin asked for shelter here, we would grant it, perhaps. But that is the most we'll give."

"Would you grant me shelter if you knew I would continue the fight from your halls?" She asked him archly.

"We would not endanger ourselves for you," he replied. "We don't owe you that much."

"It's elven magic that protects your kingdom from being too noticeable, still," she reminded him.

"Yes," he agreed easily, "and were Celebrimbor still alive, we'd do anything he asked for him. For his daughter now too, I suppose. But you, while an ally for a long time, never did so much for us, and we don't owe you a debt. Fight your war, and don't drag us into it."

Galadriel left Hadhodrond feeling, rather gracelessly she supposed, that the only luck was that by the time the war actually started, a different king would be sitting the throne. Mortality had its advantages.

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Celeborn did not make keeping Celebrían's secret easy after they returned to Lindórinand. "Something seems to have happened to our daughter," he told Galadriel two days after their arrival. "She seems changed."

The Nolde did not reply.

"Do you know what it is?" He insisted.

"Yes," she said at length, "but I promised not to share it."

"Not even with me?"

"Especially not with you."

Celeborn looked hurt, and she sighed. "It's a sign of regard and care," she said. "Don't worry. I assure you, it's no tragedy."

"It worries me what could it be that our daughter would say to you and not to me," he muttered, and then his mind showed regret for his words. "I didn't mean-" he began.

"It's quite alright. I realize fully that you're closer to her than I am. In truth, it was merely me being in the right place at the right time than led to me discovering the secret, and if it was up to Celebrían, I don't believe she'd have told anybody. So it is, perhaps, better that I found out," she added, thinking of what Artanáro had said. "If neither of us knew, we'd have worried too much."

Celeborn nodded. "I sometimes forget, you know," he said then taking Galadriel's hand, "that she's over a millennium old."

"Yes," Galadriel said with a smile, stepping closer to him and letting him embrace her. "When I was her age, I had gone through the Darkening of Valinor and the Ice. The idea terrifies me. She seems so young to me...what must my parents have felt, when we were leaving Aman as old as she is?" She stared off into the distance, thinking of the short time she had to say goodbye, of how hasty everything had been in those moments.

"I can't imagine it," Celeborn admitted, laying his chin on her shoulder. "It's...no. It will give me nightmares just to consider it. I will calm myself by thinking that how old one is does not depend solely on the years."

"That is very true. Amroth, after all, is almost three millennia old." Galadriel shook her head. "That will never cease to amaze me."

"Has he given you a reason to take him to the Great Forest yet?" Celeborn asked with a smile in his voice.

"No. He keeps asking, but truly, his single reason for going is that he wants to." She sighed. "Sometimes I feel this is his way of dealing with all the tragedies of his early life. To simply...enjoy everything to the fullest, and never think too much ahead or too much in depth."

"We have to hope Amdír will never die, because as much as I like Amroth, I believe he would be truly unhappy as king."

"Unhappy," Galadriel agreed, "but not necessarily bad. He isn't like Aldarion, unwilling to curb himself in any way. He doesn't like doing so, and he likes taking pleasure in the moment, but he can do without it if a duty is required of him."

"Yes," Celeborn agreed, "the realm would not suffer, or not much. He would."