Chapter 65: Parenthood
Year 2850 of the Second Age, Lindórinand
In spite of all of Galadriel's attempts, Feliel was clearly not reassured in her worries and fears. Sometimes, when Galadriel came to the Noldorin city, she found its lady being as cheerful and joyful as she was used to knowing her, but sometimes, she found her in the same brooding mood she did not know how to help with.
She hesitated about divulging such personal information, but when it was going on for almost a century without any indications of improvement, she got sick of only watching and consulted Avorneth.
"Have you ever felt like you were...well, not living up to being Select?" She asked on a walk through the forest.
Avorneth gave her a surprised look. "No," she replied, "because I did not know I was one before I met Ealc. And since then...well. I am theoretically aware that according to the Noldor, I should have some special talents that make it worth it not having children, but I never felt as if I needed to make up for anything, or justify anything. I am Select because it makes it possible for me to love Ealc. That is reason enough." She shrugged. "It would be reason enough to live, let alone be Select. She is all the reason I need."
Galadriel smiled at that. She would never cease to be grateful that among so many Avorneth had lost, she found someone new to love as well. The empty spaces left by dead family could not be filled, she knew that better than most, but still, without Celeborn, she would have been lost a long time ago.
"Could you, perhaps, go and speak with Feliel?" She asked.
"Why?"
Galadriel described the problem, and Avorneth sighed. "I might only make her wistful," she said. "There is no guarantee when she is going to meet her Flame, and certainly none that it will happen soon. Telling her that it would be purpose enough, when she does not have that love yet..."
"Then do you know of some other thing to say?" Galadriel questioned. "I would dearly love to help in some way."
"If Celebrían was here, she would tell you that you cannot fix everything. I understand the desire well enough, though." Avorneth considered. "Perhaps Feliel should speak to Ealc."
"To Ealc? Why?" For all the respect she had for the lady, Galadriel did not think her skill lay in comforting others.
"Well, the Silvan have...quite different ideas about the Select, so to speak."
"What do you mean?"
"To begin with, they do not even have the word."
Galadriel shrugged. That was not very surprising. "Neither do the Sindar," she said.
Avorneth, however, shook her head resolutely. "No, that is not what I mean. The Sindar did not call us the Select, no – at least not before Lindon and this kingdom, before we made the term more popular among the young ones – but they called us the Strange. It meant mostly the same thing, even though their word was, of course, more negative. But the Silvan do not have the word."
Galadriel blinked. "At all?"
"No. Instead of talking about Select and...well, normal, they talk about those attracted to the nissi and those attracted to the neri. It does not matter what gender they are themselves."
Galadriel struggled to wrap her head around the concept. "But do they not...I mean, is the word not missing in the language?" She knew a little Silvan, but only a little, for it was a difficult language, and she had no idea about this.
"No," Avorneth replied as she paused to examine some particular flower growing on the forest floor, "because they do not believe that we are special in any way. Not in the bad one, like the Sindar, but not in the good one either, like the Noldor. And once you get rid of this supposition, you do not really need it."
"But...Ealc knew you were not allowed to marry and live together in the old capital. How did she..." How could she even think about it, without having the word? Galadriel knew that thoughts were not entirely formed by words, but still, words gave them structure. Contemplating something without having the words for it was difficult indeed. That, she believed, was the chief reason why Fëanáro had spent so much time on language all those millennia ago.
"She knew the capital and knew the Sindar, she knew what the Strange were," Avorneth clarified. "But she did tell me it took her a while to understand, and that along with the idea of kingship, it was to her the best proof that the Sindar were very different indeed. Though she thinks our own idea of the role of the Select is almost equally silly."
"From what I can gather, she thinks so about most aspects of or culture," Galadriel said lightly.
"You are not wholly wrong, though she does admire our dedication to craft and the discoveries of our wise deeply. As for the rest, well...the more I listen to her, the more I tend to agree with her."
"Would you prefer to lead a wholly Silvan life, then?" Galadriel was curious.
"Certainly not! There are many silly things about their customs as well, and many inefficient ones. There seems to be nothing constant among them. And some of our customs, even though I can see their silliness in a way now, I would not abandon."
They walked in silence for a while, taking in the beauty of the forest at twilight. The Galadriel said: "I still struggle with the notion that you truly do not need the category of the Select for anything..."
"In truth," Avorneth replied, "ever since I learned of the way the Silvan divide people – nissi-attracted or neri-attracted – I find that word missing in Quenya and Sindarin much more than I miss Select in Silvan. It is just so much more useful!"
"Truly? For what?" Galadriel had certainly never needed it in her life.
"Well, say there is a handsome nis that comes to visit a settlement. In Silvan, you can say 'all the nissi-attracted will be happy to see her.' Or you need to change clothes and you fear someone present could look at your naked form with desire, and so what you need is to make sure there are no 'nissi-attracted' people around. Or a friend is helping you get dressed for an important occasion, and you do not quite trust her judgment, so you say you need someone nissi-attracted to evaluate. I could go on. For all this, we do not have a word."
Galadriel considered it. "It is true," she said, "that in most of these cases, we would simply say a nér instead, which I realize is ignoring the Select in a way, and it is perhaps not very fair to you. And try as I might, I cannot think of any need for the word Select that would not include speaking about either your rights, or your special status, so if neither arises with the Silvan...but still, that means...if there is no word for it, does it mean there is no understanding oneself like that? No one can really consider themselves Select?"
"No, and that, perhaps, would be a downside to some, I recognize that. Especially some of the Sindar I spoke to, those who were shaped by prejudice against them. Being Select seems to be a very important part of who they are. But for me...I told you I never knew I was one before I fell in love with Ealc. That is what it means for me. Being Select is loving her. That is why I fear I would be of no help to Feliel. Let her speak to Ealc, though."
Yes, Galadriel agreed, she probably should. If only to gain a new perspective.
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Finally, after centuries, Celebrían determined that she was certain enough and told her father about her intention to marry Elrond.
Galadriel was very grateful her daughter had warned her in advance and asked her to be present, for Celeborn's first reaction was very typical for him. "What did you say?" He asked in a raised voice.
Celebrían looked directly at him, completely unperturbed. "That I'll marry Elrond after the war is over. I'll leave you now, Father, to think about it."
At Galadriel's look and her touch in his mind, Celeborn managed to withhold any other reaction until Celebrían was far enough not to hear. „He's over a millennium older than she is!" He exploded then.
„Why should that matter?" Galadriel asked as calmly as she could, already feeling tired. She had known this would come, but that did not make her wish any less that Celeborn's reactions to things that affected him strongly were less volatile.
„It matters because of what the first century of his life was like!"
Galadriel smiled. "Do you know that this is precisely what he said, when he explained to me why he does not feel worthy?" It was one of the things, anyway. The rest was too personal to divulge. "I told him that she has the light he sometimes lacks, and he has the wisdom born from experience she sometimes lacks, and that they'd form a great couple."
"Our daughter has wisdom enough," he retorted curtly.
"Yes, but not that kind of wisdom." Galadriel took his hand and caressed it, and slowly, she watched him exhale and get calmer, at least a little. "My love, why should we even be arguing about this?" She asked when she judged he was calm enough to answer reasonably. "They've felt the Flame of the One. What else is there to be said?"
Celeborn sighed. "You have to understand," he said. "Celebrían is my better self, she is me without the bad character traits, me with your calm and your ability to read people..."
"My calm?" Galadriel laughed.
"You know perfectly well what I mean. She does not say foul things to people on the spur of the moment, like I just did. I owe her an apology, don't I?"
"You very much do, my love. But perhaps wait until you're completely certain you are calm."
He collapsed into a chair and she sat next to him. "I'd never accuse you of not caring for her, my love," he said after a moment, "but you have other children, in spirit...I only have her, and she is precious above anything to me."
Galadriel took his hands again, and kissed them. "I know," she said then, "and that is why you need me to remind you that you can't hold her to your side by force. Our daughter is an adult, my love, and she'll be happy with Elrond. You know she will, you know how good and wise he is. You know him well. It gives me immense joy that two whom I regard as my children will be making each other happy, and I wish you could see it that way as well."
"I try to, but I just...I have always hoped she would choose someone from Lindórinand, or...whatever realm we dwelt in."
And that, of course, was the heart of the issue, as Galadriel had known. Anything else was just excuses. She smiled, glad that they arrived at it so soon. "My uncle and cousin," she said, "certainly wished I had chosen to settle closer to them as well. Yet they never tried to stop me – not that I asked their leave. I was of a similar age as Celebrían is now...though she does seem much more of a child than I felt, then."
"Because she is much more of a child," Celeborn replied with emphasis. "We've already discussed this. Even in Hollin, we've shielded her from most of it, as much as possible. You've lived through terrible things at that age. She's mostly lived in bliss."
"She lost dear friends in Hollin, my love, don't forget. I wouldn't call that bliss."
"Yet you wouldn't compare it to the Ice or to witnessing the first kinslaying either, would you?"
"Not as it was, for Celebrían was no longer too close to any who died there and she didn't see the tragedy through their eyes. If she had, I'd have compared it to any suffering I know, for I'd gladly cross The Ice again rather than feel one more loved one die. But you're right, she didn't witness it – except in Avorneth's mind – and so the effect was somewhat milder." She smiled then. "You, on the other hand, were almost as innocent as she is now when we married."
"If my daughter ever went through anything like I did during the fights with the Enemy before you came from the West," Celeborn returned, "then I'll find and personally kill the one responsible for it."
"You're right...I sometimes forget your struggle before we arrived. But that's beside the point. However much suffering our daughter lived through, she's still an adult – has been for a millennium and a half now – and you can't prevent her." She remembered her talk with Artanáro, and added: "You aren't Thingol."
Celeborn grimaced as if in pain. "No," he said, "I could never...please, tell me I haven't acted like my late king just now, towards my daughter."
"Not quite," she replied carefully, "not the least because she knew what to expect as your first reaction and was prepared, but..."
He looked away. "That makes me even more ashamed."
"We all have our faults, my love," Galadriel said, pressing his hands again. "For mine, thousands usually die. If the worst yours lead to is your daughter being a little upset..."
"Even if making her upset is what I want to avoid most in the world?" He paused, and then gave a resigned sigh. "Very well, then," he conceded, "I'll apologize to her, and give my consent to the marriage – not that it was ever asked in the first place. She's truly your daughter." He sighed again. "At least it won't be until the war is over."
"Hopefully, that will be soon enough," Galadriel replied, and he grimaced again.
"I don't want her travelling to him, though," he added. "Not now. The road gets more dangerous by the year, and Gorthaur's strength is growing. Even with the entourages I send with her, it's no longer secure. I want her to be safe."
Galadriel gave him a look that was just a little exasperated, knowing there were other motives – motives he would not admit even perhaps to himself – behind this decision. But he was not wrong. The elven realms were now preparing for war in earnest. Oropher had finally agreed, and so there was some hope that the end of it could be in sight.
Unfortunately, Oropher's agreement had not come because he was convinced by Amdír's and Celeborn's reasonable arguments. Instead, it was precipitated by Sauron breaking his focus on the East and doing his best to gain ascendency in the West again. If they wanted to keep up the ruse of not being prepared, of being heartbroken still, there was only little they could do against it.
Where there could only be found one of two occasional stragglers just a century or two ago, the Misty Mountains were now teeming with orcs, and some could even be found in the lowlands. The guards around Lindórinand had to be doubled. Men from the smaller Númenorean settlements moved into the larger cities to stay safe, and the viceroy in Middle-Earth mocked the elves for cowardice when he saw their unwillingness to protect his villages, even as he himself refused to send Men of the West to protect those who were native to these lands. Elrond provided shelter to as many as he could in Rivendell, but he was too far North for most of them. So was Lindórinand, and there, in addition, most elves did not wish to receive Men and the council had voted against it. The only hope of 'lesser Men', as the Númenoreans called them, was Pelargir, where those affiliated with Andúnië still ruled. They welcomed refugees with open arms.
Those elves who were not skilled enough or strong enough to fight were leaving for Aman in large numbers, and the rest was involved in careful, furtive planning. They have learned their lesson from the last time they attempted to go to war with Sauron, and wary of provoking him into something as unpredictable as his presence in Hollin had been, they sacrificed time in favour of secrecy.
Coded letters were exchanged under the guise of family visits, scouts were few and far between, and the kings took care not to visit each other any more often than they had before. Information travelled slowly, and so when Galadriel had learned of Oropher's agreement, she was honestly surprised, in spite of Sauron's increased activity. She had almost stopped hoping.
"Does he know I am the one who coordinates this?" She asked Amdír after one meeting where Oropher's war plans were relayed.
"Not quite. In fact, we try to keep your role as concealed as possible. It's partly because of Sauron's spies, of course, but the help it provides with Oropher is a good side-effect. If he learns on the battlefield, it'll be too late to withdraw – even though I'd really prefer it if he didn't learn of it at all..."
The idea amused Galadriel. "And how exactly do you plan to conceal my involvement in the final stages?"
"Well, you won't be leading the charge, will you? I mean, no offence to your skills, but you know you do not have experience as a military commander. Even in the War of Wrath, you worked on the strategy and coordination, while Rodnor commanded the Middle-Earth Noldorin troops and Lord Círdan the Sindar."
Galadriel gave him an arch look. "I have more experience in some commanding capacity than most, excluding Lord Glorfindel. You know perfectly well Rodnor consulted most things with me during the war. None of us had much commanding experience then, because all of those who had were dead, and there has only been one war fought since, where the forces were led by Sarnel and Elrond. You've never commanded anything bigger than a unit, and Amroth, whom you named your second in command, has never commanded anything at all." She shook her head. "But that doesn't matter. You're right that I never intended to be the chief commander in this sense. Tactics is not my strong suit. But what I did always intend was lead the strategy planning. I do that already, now, and you know it's part of the plan. How do you propose to arrange it so that Oropher won't notice?"
"Well...you could act through intermediaries?" He suggested.
Galadriel laughed incredulously. "Valar help me...so you want me to absent from the main strategy planning so that your cousin's ego doesn't get bruised? Let me tell you outright that that's out of the question."
"So will you risk him walking out so that your ego doesn't get bruised?"
"This isn't about my ego! I coordinate all the war efforts, and have done so for centuries. Not being present at war councils could seriously endanger our progress."
"So could Oropher's absence."
"He has no right to demand I take no part!"
"No," Amdír admitted without batting an eye, "but he still does, and the long and short of it is that we need him."
"And you need me at the meetings," Galadriel countered.
Amdír took a deep breath and said more quietly, but with emphasis: "Do you truly believe, if you honestly examine the situation, that Rodnor couldn't take your place there?"
She sighed. "Perhaps. I'd have to prepare him, and I'd still insist on being present. I might agree to not running he meetings, but I can't risk not being there and something crucial escaping me."
Amdír shook his head. "If you're there, you won't be able to refrain from constantly commenting. I know you enough for that."
Unfortunately, he was not entirely wrong in this respect. She sighed again. "There's no need to worry about it now, in any case, it'll probably be a few centuries until it comes to that. Perhaps he'll come to his senses before then."
"I wouldn't hold my breath," Amdír muttered.
There were, indeed, still at the very least two centuries of preparation ahead of them, if everything went well. Apart from gathering intelligence and planning strategy, one of the more daunting tasks was making enough weapons and armour and transporting them to those who needed them without Sauron noticing.
And, too, there were disturbing news coming from Númenórë, or even more disturbing than usual.
Elrond went to visit after many years of absence, and what he found horrified him.
There had been longer and longer gaps between his journeys there, for he felt less and less welcome and had more and more to do in Rivendell, and now he mostly went for the passings of the Sceptre and weddings of the King's Heirs. This time, he returned after three decades out of the need to speak to the Lord of Andúnië only to discover that the teaching of Quenya and Sindarin were now discouraged in Númenórë, and elves were painted as enemies.
"I understood from some hints that while the king was officially crowned as Tar-Ardamin, he is only ever called by his Anduniac name, and other languages are not spoken in his presence. He spoke Anduniac to me, certainly."
"Did you even understand him?" Galadriel asked incredulously.
"Mostly. I know something of the language, but I cannot speak it. He treated me very rudely in general, and when I departed from the capital only a day after my arrival, it was suggested to me that I need not come back."
Galadriel was horrified. "Such a sharp turn for the worse in such a short time..."
"Short time?" Elrond scoffed. "The situation has been getting progressively worse since Aldarion, effectively, with only one or two slightly brighter spots."
"I know, but still. When he took the Sceptre, I could have never imagined something like that. Do you know what caused the deterioration in the last decades?"
"The new king, what else." Elrond offered her some dried fruit, and when she refused, he took a plum and continued: "Ardamin's father, while far from wise, was a mostly capable and reasonable man. He reminded me of Meneldur a little, in fact, only less noble and wise, as is to be expected in Númenórë nowadays. He declared that Númenórë's own culture and heritage should not be seen as second-rate on the island, which I have to say sounded reasonable. It made me think of what you and Celebrían have told me about the Silvan in Lindórinand, in fact. So he had an alternative to his reigning name in Anduniac, and started to give important speeches in both languages, and so on. It was all very proper. His son, it seems to me...misunderstood the purpose, perhaps intentionally, perhaps not. He was not open to hearing an explanation of what I believe his father intended, at any rate."
"Did you go to Andúnië?"
"Yes, of course." Elrond took another plum. Galadriel wondered if sweet foods made him feel less bitter about the situation. "Andil, the current Lord, welcomed me as warmly as always. When I told him of my experience in Armenelos, he apologized for my treatment, and expressed hope that the situation will improve in the future. But, well, we both know that is not likely, given past development. Or at any rate, it will not improve by much, and not for long, only to get worse again. Besides, I did not see any signs that it should get better. I questioned him in detail, and nothing he said suggested it either. The King's Heir seems even more foolish than his father, if something." He shook his head. "Andil assured me, at least, that they still remain faithful. It is as if I am destined spend the rest of my life regretting that I did not support Silmariën for queen."
She gave him a sympathetic look - if she had ever blamed him for it, his own self-blame outgrew hers a long time ago – and he continued: "He also said that there were others who were faithful, and so I encouraged Artanáro to keep sending envoys to them, but I will not return there for a long time, not unless I have some indication that the situation changed." He looked off into the distance, the fruit abandoned for now. "For the last several centuries, I kept hoping it would turn around, that the kingdom would return to the glory I know, but this seems like a point of no return. I have failed in taking care of them, Aunt. I have neglected then. They were my brother's children, I gave him my word, and I have failed."
Galadriel gave him a pained look. "They always said of me that I take too much responsibility upon myself, but I seems I passed that tendency on to you. Remember they did not turn from the right path because you came there less frequently, but that you started to come less frequently because they turned from the right path."
"But if I had persevered, perhaps I would have turned them back," Elrond insisted.
Galadriel sighed. "I know your guilt intimately, beloved, though I wish with all my heart you never had to experience it for yourself. Have I not asked myself the same after Hithlum fell? Had I stayed with them, had I not moved away, would they have perhaps survived? Would my advice being with them at all times have helped? But this way leads only to despair..."
"At least they were not your brother's children. They are all I have left from him, and I failed them."
"Elrond, I left my own kingdom in its hour of need, with Artanáro's daughter in it, and it was in my kingdom that Sauron learned how to make the ruling ring. Do not play the game of guilt with me, I will always win."
There was a short silence, as Elrond found himself unable to answer that. "I have wanted to ask that for a long time..." He said then, slowly. "Why did you leave? I mean, it was reasonable, of course," he added hastily, "but still, it was your kingdom, your dream, I would have expected you to send Celebrían to safety but to stay yourself..."
She looked at him. "Do you truly wish to know?"
He seemed to hesitate, but then nodded.
"Because I could not continue fighting the temptation any longer. Had I not left that day, I would have forced them all to do my will a day later, or at least attempted to."
He looked at her for a moment, horrified. "But...you did not," he said in the end, a little weakly.
"No, I did not. And Sarnel died, as did her son and husband."
"You know it was the right decision," he said with emphasis.
"Yes, I do know...that does not, however, make the guilt disappear."
They were silent together for a while, then Galadriel said: "I wish Celebrían could be with you to ease your mind."
"No, Celeborn is right – this is no time for her to travel, there are too many orcs in the mountains, and while we could send a company large enough to protect her, we would lose many in the fights on the way. And it is no time for weddings either. There will be time enough afterwards."
"On this on the other shore," Galadriel added. He gave her a look.
"Do not speak that way, Aunt."
"Why not? You know well that you may die in the war, and you know that if you do, Celebrían will go West to wait for your return from Mandos."
"She would not leave you here."
"Celeborn might go with her."
"And you?"
Suddenly, Galadriel felt very tired. "I cannot," she replied simply.
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I suppose it is time I told you." Elrond was one of those closest to her, after all, and he should know. If he died, he should understand why she would not be awaiting him in the West. He should never again believe she did not love him enough. However much she was ashamed to speak of it, this took precedence. "It goes without saying it is in confidence," she began. "Only Celeborn and Artanáro know. I would ask you to keep it from my daughter as well, even though I cannot of course expect any secrecy between you after you marry. But...after the War of Wrath, the Queen of Arda had a message for me. I cannot return until I regret that I ever left."
Elrond's eyes widened. "But you will never..."
"Precisely. That is why I can never go back."
The full horror of it dawned on Elrond, and he took her hands in his. "No!" He said. "They cannot do that! They have to take you back, you have done so much..."
"I am afraid," Galadriel replied bitterly, "that they are the Lords of the West. They can do whatever they wish."
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Celebrían, as always, waited for news of Elrond when Galadriel returned to Lindórinand.
"He is worried about Númenórë," Galadriel reported as soon as she climbes to the talan that was exclusively Celebrían's.
"He always is," her daughter returned.
"Yes, but it is more serious now," and she recounted what she learned from her nephew.
Celebrían closed her eyes and one tear escaped her and trailed down her cheek upon hearing that he was told flat-out not to come back. "I wish I could go to him," she said quietly.
"I know you do," her mother replied. "He wishes to have you by his side, too, but not enough to risk you journeying across the Mountains, not even through Hadhodrond. We have discussed it."
"I know, I know. I would not wish to worry Father. It is enough that he will lose me for Rivendell in time, there s no need to make it harder for him."
"You are very...patient with his approach in this."
Celebrían shrugged languidly. "I see his mind, and I understand him. I might think he is...a little silly, perhaps, but then I do not have children, do I? Perhaps when I have a daughter, I will feel similarly about her."
Galadriel shook her head. "I do not believe so. You do not have...well, Celeborn himself says that you lack his fault of being too impulsive about things that concern him deeply. I think you will always be able to temper your reaction by reason."
"Father is not completely unreasonable, you know," Celebrían defended him.
Galadriel smiled at that. "No, of course not. As you said, just a little silly sometimes, perhaps. But then, I feel I should tell you that Elrond was heard expressing agreement with how dangerous the journey over the mountains is."
Celebrían laughed melodiously. "I think he is just trying to be polite. He does not wish Father to take his consent back."
Galadriel did not think so, and thought that her daughter underestimated the danger of travelling the mountains. One of the effects of her relatively sheltered life: she had never had to fight for her life. It must have seemed easy when she only heard about it from stories, and when she knew her mother travelled to Rivendell every year. But Galadriel, as all elves from the West, was safe from random orc attacks. Unless they were part of an army commanded with a creature of strong enough will, orcs would not attack them. The light of the West they carried was too strong. Celebrían, however, did not have that advantage.
"Certainly I would not wish for Elrond to regard me as a fragile flower," the younger lady added.
"I will give him the message," Galadriel promised.
"It is very strange," her daughter mused, "to be exchanging communications with my betrothed by way of my mother."
"Well, in some ways, I am your mother and your future mother-in-law at the same time. I would say that is even stranger."
"To be sure. Especially as sometimes..." Celebrían fell silent.
"What is it, beloved?"
"I fear that what I will say will hurt you, even though I do not intend it to and I truly do not say so in bitterness."
"Tell me anyway."
"It is only that sometimes, when we speak and exchange stories with Elrond, it feels to me like you are more his mother than mine."