Chapter 66: Kinghsip

Year 3000 of the Second Age, Lindórinand

„Once we march to war," Amdír said, "I want our troops to join with Oropher's."

Galadriel could only stare at him. "What?"

"It feels like the least I can do."

"The least you can do?" Galadriel rose, pacing Amdír's sitting room. They were alone there, sharing a class of wine, comfortable until now. "You know he has almost no commanding experience, and he's foolish. You'd be putting your own people at risk by doing that."

"What would you have me do, then?" Amdír asked her in a conversational tone, still sitting. "He asked this of me. He joined this war against his better judgement, and he has to constantly conform to the wishes of the Noldor he despises. If I turn him away, he might well feel that all have abandoned him and decide not to fight after all." He paused and gave her a considering look. "I know you don't like him, and for a good reason, but try to see the situation through his eyes. He dislikes you very strongly, and blames you for many wrongs in the past. And now Lindon is ruled by one of your nephews and Rivendell by another, and he wonders to what degree I'm under your thumb as well. He still considers himself my king. If I turn him away, he'll see it as a confirmation that my loyalty is to you instead of him, and he won't march to a war which he'll see as being directed by you. He's convinced you'd sacrifice all of our people, the Sindar and the Silvan."

Galadriel exhaled. How much more pain, she wondered, would be caused by Oropher's unhealed wounds?

But then she stopped her mind from going down the alley of regret of the past, and instead thought more about what Amdír had just said. She sat back down. "You know," she said slowly, "I think Amroth might be right. Perhaps I did see you...well, not exactly as inept, but as less capable at governance than you are. As much as I resent it, you're completely correct in what you just said."

"Of course Amroth was right. I've been aware of that since you came here – no, since you founded Hollin and started visiting my realm with regularity. I already told you it was at least partly conscious choice to let you believe that on my part." He looked away for a moment. "I'll be honest. It's easier to avoid your judgement when you think I'm inept. You judge those you consider capable more harshly."

"Don't you?" She asked him, and he flashed her a quick smile and a nod in response.

"But why be so open with me now, then?" Galadriel questioned after a moment, as she was rearranging some assumptions in her head.

"I might die in this war," he said, still looking away. "Yes, especially if I ride into battle under Oropher's command. I'm well aware of that." There was a short pause. "I don't particularly mind the idea," he added. "I'm tired of Middle-Earth, and I miss my wife dearly. By now, she's sure to await me in Aman. I look forward to seeing her again." He finally looked at Galadriel, and she could see his sorrow in his eyes and in his mind. "But if I die," he continued, "Amroth'll be left here, for he's by no means ready to sail. He'll need your help with governance. He knows most things about the way I rule, but know and understand isn't the same thing. I feel I should be open with you and Celeborn, tell you all I know about my people, the entire history of my departure from Greenwood. You need to know it if you're to help Amroth rule this realm."

"Shall I call Celeborn here, then?" Galadriel asked, curious and wishing to hear what it was that Amdír had kept from her.

"Not now. I'll need to prepare, mentally, for that talk. Perhaps I'd prefer to speak to each of you individually, anyway. You can both be a handful, though each in a different way, and this'll be a difficult conversation for me. But some day, yes."

Galadriel was now growing worried, for more than one reason, but it was obvious Amdír wished to say no more about this particular topic, so she returned to the previous one. "What does Celeborn think about your plan to join your forces with Oropher's?" She asked.

"I haven't told him yet. I wished to discuss it with you first."

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Why's that?" About most things that concerned Lindórinand, as opposed to more global politics, he usually asked her husband first.

"I wished to see your first reaction," he replied. "He'd have told you, naturally, and then you'd have come with a carefully prepared plan to convince me otherwise."

Galadriel laughed in spite of herself. "You know me well. But I'm not certain you've helped yourself much. You're the King, Amdír, and ultimately it's your decision, but..." She gave him a hard look. "I can't allow this for my people, for those who came from Hollin with me. Some of them, I've saved from Hithlum, and then from Nargothrond and Doriath and in the end, from my kingdom. I won't let them fall because of Oropher's pain."

Amdír nodded. "I expected this much," he said, "and I believe it's for the better, really. The Noldor are used to a very different style of fighting than the Silvan, and I'm not certain how well mixed units would work. It'll be difficult enough with the Sindar You can take your people and join Artanáro or Elrond, unless they wish to fight with us. I'll speak to Celeborn about those from Doriath and give him the same choice."

Galadriel understood it as the dismissal it was, and left, feeling no need to argue about it, though much need to argue about other things. You are not the Queen here, she repeated to herself. They are his people, and it is his decision.

It failed to calm her, and she sought out Celeborn instead, to tell him the news.

Her reasoning did not calm him either.

"The Sindar from Doriath that left Greenwood with him will be part of it," he said. "I don't trust Oropher's leadership. He's half insane. And they, at least, are my people, even if I discount the Silvan with which we've shared a kingdom for over fifteen hundred years."

"They chose Amdír's leadership, my love."

"Precisely. Amdír's, not Oropher's. They're the people who turned their backs on Oropher because of his insanity, and now Amdír wants to throw them back at his mercy!"

Good half of them did not turn their back on Oropher because of his insanity, it was the resentment of the Silvan influences in Greenwood that motivated them, but it was useless to point it out now. "Then talk to him," she said instead. "Perhaps you can convince him to give his people a choice."

"I might, yes. But you know best of all how illusory such choice is. They'll follow their king, just as the people of Nargothrond followed theirs."

Galadriel flinched, and he immediately came and took her hands. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm angry and I..."

She nodded. "I know." She learned long ago not to take the things Celeborn said in anger to heart, but every reminder of the Battle of Unnumbered Tears always stung. Not that she could forget it even without them. And there were other thoughts that emerged, the time she abandoned Narogrotto, and the fact that the people of Hollin did not, in fact, follow their Queen. But those were her own ghosts, and it was no fault of Celeborn that they haunted her. "I understand," she said aloud. She hesitated, then added: "Rodnor should be in Rivendell in six months. I'll time my journey there for that period, and attempt to convince him to speak to Amdír. I don't think it'll do much good, but I'll try."

Celeborn frowned. "Your journeys..."

Galadriel shook her head at him and kissed his forehead. "I've told you several times, and I'll tell you again: I survived wandering Beleriand directly before the War. Sauron's attempts have nothing on me."

He swallowed his next objection, but she caught it in his mind and gave him an ironic smile. "Would you prefer there were two sons of Feanor travelling with me?"

He grimaced. "Just...be careful," he said.

"I always am," she replied.

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Artanáro was not thrilled by the news, though not knowing the people in question, his reasons were more strategic. "The less elves are under Oropher's command, the better," he said. "I do not entirely trust him."

Galadriel frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, I do not suspect him of betrayal...but it is not beyond him to do something absolutely foolish and risky. Do you know that he refuses to accept armour?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Yes. He says his people have their own way of fighting, and that he will not become a Noldorin vassal by wearing our battle clothes."

"It seems Amdír just forgot to inform me of this part." She paused. "Celeborn is right, he really has gone insane."

Artanáro looked away, and Galadriel immediately said: "Do not blame yourself."

"How can I not? I let them leave, I did not try to mend the relationship, I allowed him to descend deeper into his pain..."

"He was not your responsibility. You were a king of a new kingdom at the time."

"And Amroth and Thranduil were my friends. For their sake, at least, I should have found the time," he insisted.

"Celeborn could not convince them to stay, and he is Oropher's uncle," Galadriel reminded him.

"He is also you husband. He never stood much chance."

"And you are my nephew. Do you believe you had more of one?"

"I could have tried harder."

Galadriel exhaled. "Is every one of my loved ones doomed to be plagued by the same kind of guilt I have?"

Artanáro reacted automatically, almost instinctively. "It was not your fault," he said.

She laughed bitterly. "Oh yes, I know, none of it ever was." She shook her head. "Sometimes," she said quietly, "I do not understand how you can bear to as much as look at me. Your father, your sister, your daughter...their blood is on my hands."

"Their blood is on the hands of the Enemy," he said coldly, "and Sauron."

"It is never that easy, and you know it."

"Then, if you wish, Sarnel's blood is on her own hands, for she chose to stay." Artanáro's voice broke as he said this, and he added more quietly: "Why do you not focus on the fact that you saved my granddaughter instead?"

"Did I? I saved her life, yes. I did not save her from the pain of feeling her parents die and her twin brother wither away."

Artanáro flinched, and she shook her head. "Forgive me," she said. "My guilt is my own to deal with, and I should not be burdening you with it."

"I did burden you with mine."

She smiled, though it was not a happy smile. "You are my nephew," she said simply. "I am here for you."

"Then I should be here for you, do you not think? It is not like many others will."

No. They are all dead. Galadriel shook those thoughts away, too, and said: "Thank you, beloved, but you know I can never entirely accept that offer. As much as you are a wise and ancient king now, I can never entirely forget seeing you as a baby."

Artanáro smiled in spite of himself. "This has always made me wonder," he said. "I can understand this approach, of course, but what I mean is...Itarillë was much younger than you, was she not? And yet, from what I remember, you never saw her as a child."

"I do not see you as a child, beloved. I have not done so for a long time now. Do you not realize that?" Had she failed to show her respect to him, like she had apparently failed to show her love for Elrond?

"Of course I do. You have treated me as an equal ever since I became King, or thereabouts, to my great astonishment at the time. But still, I cannot help feeling there is a difference in how you regard me and how you regard Itarillë."

Galadriel thought about it. "Perhaps you are correct. I can certainly never entirely forget that you are much younger. With Itarillë...I could not quite forget either, she was like a younger sister to me, but you are right that there is a difference. I believe it comes from both me and Itarillë remembering Aman, and the Darkening of Valinor, and the Ice. We shared many of the early horrors in our lives. Also, the difference in our age were years in Aman, and nothing much happened there until the last years. Age difference in the Blessed Lands always meant less than in Middle-Earth, because less experience went with time there. The difference between you and Elrond, for example, would have been almost completely negligible there."

"It is negligible by now."

For him, Galadriel knew it was – for Elrond, she suspected not entirely so, but then, it had little to do with age. "Yes, by now – when you are both thousands of years old!"

There was a knock at the door, and Elrond himself, who had been dealing with some minor Rivendell issue, entered.

"You do not have to knock at the door of your own study, beloved," the Nolde remarked, amused.

"It is not the place, it is the private conversation I could be interrupting," he replied. "Have you heard the good news?"

Galadriel blinked. She did not think anything of what she had just heard could be considered good news.

"No, our dear Aunt distracted me with her own, disturbing ones," Artanáro explained.

"I might have known that something else would turn up to spoil our day," Elrond said with a sigh, and went directly for his bowl with dried fruit. "Apricot?" He asked.

"Only if you had a real one," Artanáro replied, and then explained: "Amdír wants to join his forces with Oropher."

Elrond was about as enthusiastic about the prospect as the other two in the room, but there was not much more to be said on the topic, so after a brief summary, Galadriel asked: "So what is the good news?"

"Well," Elrond said once he finished chewing his fourth dried apricot, "it seems that the eldest son of the King's Heir in Númenórë found a woman he fell in love with. A woman who, as it happens, is the niece of the Lord of Andúnië, a good and wise lady by the name of Quettalótë. They are likely to marry, though it is not quite official yet."

"So does this mean a wise man was born in the line of kings once again?"

Artanáro sighed. "Not quite."

"Then...why would this good and wise lady, as you say, agree to marry him?"

"Because she realizes that as a Queen, she has a chance to help the realm, to steer it in a better direction. She...she is keeping her true sympathies secret from her husband to be, as I understand it, because she knows it could mean end to their romance. He only knows her under her Anduniac name."

Galadriel gave him a very long look. "So your good news from Númenórë, if I understand you correctly, is that a young, wise and good lady will marry a man she neither loves nor respects, and who she will have to lie to every day, in a desperate attempt to save her realm?"

Artanáro grimaced. "When you say it like this, it sounds horrible," he admitted. "But it is a kind of hope. You know it has been getting worse at a rate like never before."

"Yes, I know. And make no mistake, what Lady Quettalótë is doing is deeply admirable. A heroic sacrifice. But it is not good news. If anything, it is a testament to how deep Númenórë has fallen, that we can contemplate regarding such a thing as good news."

Elrond looked ashamed of himself. "You are right. I suppose I was too carried away by hope..." He sighed. "This is why I need you close by, always. I need your advice."

"We all need advice," she returned. Giving another blow to his self-esteem had not been her intention. "But you can do without me perfectly well when you need to. And you will, soon. In spite of my assurances to Celeborn, the roads are getting more and more dangerous, and the time is approaching when it will be impossible for me to come here."

"I hope that we will march to war before that happens," Artanáro interjected here.

"I would not be so sure. There are many things left to arrange still. You need to speak with Amdír, and preferably try to convince Oropher that he needs to have at least some degree of armour. We cannot simply let his people die for his folly."

"But what else can we do?" Artanáro asked. "He is their king."

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"Mother?" Celebrían said softly, sticking her head into Galadriel's chambers.

"Yes?" Galadriel raised her head from the military records she was looking over. She was surprised by Celebrían's presence: she had just delivered a letter from Elrond, and usually, in such cases, Celebrían spent a long time alone with it.

"Do you remember...you said, once, that you wished I would paint your portrait. Is it still true?"

"That was a long time ago. But yes, of course it is still true."

"Well...would you like me to, then? The light is good now. There is full moon and the sky is clear."

Galadriel had many reports to read through and a summary to write and a thousand and one other small jobs that waited for her, but at the same time, she knew – she had enough premonition left in her for that – she could not refuse Celebrían now, and so she rose and smiled.

"Very well, then," she said, "where?"

"That should, I think, be obvious. By your Mirror, of course."

Galadriel had to admit that it was, indeed, rather obvious.

Celebrían had her sit on the edge of the fountain as she prepared all she needed to work.

"Do I remember the rules correctly?" The older lady asked with a smile. "No moving, no shifting, and in fact, ideally, no speaking?"

"It is not as bad as all that. I would certainly appreciate it if you did not move, but as for speaking, that only applies when I am painting your mouth. I will let you know."

"Do you still have Avorneth's portrait, or does she?"

Celebrían smiled. "She gave it to Ealc."

That made Galadriel wonder. "I cannot quite imagine Ealc decorating her talan with paintings."

"No. She, naturally, commented what a self-indulgent idea it was to have someone spend hours by painting you in such detail when you had the person in memory and could recall their face at any time you wanted...but, I noticed, she kept the portrait and it hangs in her study."

Galadriel smiled. "I fear Ealc is assimilating into the Eldar culture more than she thinks."

Celebrían looked at her intently for a moment, trying to capture some unknown detail, then turned her attention back to her work. "Well, it is only fair," she said. "I mean, they had a Silvan wedding, they live in a talan, most of their free time is spent attending some competition or other..."

"Are you bitter about that?" Galadriel asked curiously.

"Bitter? Oh no. Except perhaps that travelling for the competitions takes Avorneth out of the capital more often than I would like." She frowned at something in her frame. "But then, I will move out of Lindórinand entirely after my marriage, so I can hardly complain."

"What does Ealc compete in?" Galadriel asked after a short pause. "I mean, I know she sings..."

"That goes without saying. I believe you can never amount to anything among the Silvan unless you can sing."

"That certainly reminds me of the Noldor in Aman and all forms of craft."

"How did you cope with that?" Celebrían asked evenly, and Galadriel had to laugh at the brutal honesty of her daughter, who gave her a chiding look for moving her head as she did so.

"Back then," she said, "I believed that those who would not appreciate me – even admire me – for the character traits I had were not worthy of my attention."

Celebrían looked like she wanted to comment on that, but then she shook her head and turned to her painting instead. Galadriel judged it was probably for the best. There were such things as being too honest, and every time she looked at Celebrían, she found herself wanting, for various reasons. She did not need it outright confirmed.

"Ealc has a beautiful voice," Celebrían observed. "Have you heard her?"

"I have, at the wedding."

"You should sing together sometimes, though I suppose you would find it difficult to agree on a song. But, anyway, apart from singing, she also does stage improvisation and dancing-"

"Does Avorneth compete with her, then?" Galadriel did not think that would be much to Avorneth's taste.

"Oh no. Have you never seen a Silvan dancing competition? They do not usually dance in pairs, or even in groups. It is individual performance."

"Individual dancing?" Whoever heard of such a thing?

"Yes. It is quite incredible. You should ask Avorneth for dates and go sometimes. Then Ealc often participates in different athletics competitions, too. From what I know, she is not an exceptionally good fighter, so she mostly keeps out of those."

"I thought the Noldor liked their competitions – especially in Aman, where there was little else to do, we had many of them and both the Vanyar and especially the Teleri never seemed to quite understand what we found so interesting about it – but compared to the Silvan..."

Celebrían only nodded, concentrating on her painting. There was a surprisingly companionable silence, interrupted when Galadriel felt Avorneth, of all people, touch her mind.

"Avorneth is coming here looking for me," she said. "Would you mind if she joined us for a time?"

"Of course not. You must know I never mind her company."

That was not what Galadriel had meant. Private time with her daughter was rare, and as much as she liked seeing Avorneth as well, she would have preferred not to just now. On the other hand, if she came all the way here to look for her, it might be important.

"Good evening," the lady said when she arrived. "I did not expect to find you here, beloved," she added to Celebrían, "but of course, a portrait explains it."

"I hear Ealc was quite appreciative of the one of you?" Galadriel noted.

Avorneth laughed. "Not that she would admit it publicly, but yes."

"So, did you need something?"

"Well, I made a new discovery in my study of the rings. I came to share it with you. It is not urgent, so if I am disturbing you..."

Galadriel shot a fleeting look at Celebrían, who said: "No, by all means, speak – unless, of course, it is a secret."

"Not truly, no." Avorneth sat down in the grass nest to Celebrían. "It is only that I discovered...well, if I understand it correctly, Father hoped that the Three Rings could be used after Sauron was defeated?"

"That is what he told me," Galadriel replied.

Avorneth sighed. "It is impossible. If the One Ring is destroyed – and you know, I already told you, that it must be destroyed if Sauron is to be defeated once and for all – the power of the Three will disappear, or at the very least diminish very greatly."

"But how…? Your father said Sauron's hand never touched them."

Avorneth only gave her a look, and Galadriel put up her hands. "Very well, I will not ask for technical explanations. We managed without the rings until now, we will certainly manage after Sauron falls. It is a pity Tyelperinquar's greatest inventions will never be put to use, but..." She shook her head. There ere more things to regret about Tyelperinquar's life, and she did not wish to be depicted in her daughter's picture thinking about them. She needed a more cheerful topic. "We were just talking about your wife," she told Avorneth. "I was thinking how surprising it was she finds time for this many competitions with the war approaching. She is the most important representative of the Silvan on the council. She has much work."

"Ah, but do you not see?" Avorneth replied. "The war is precisely why she must go to all these competitions. She has to keep her support."

"Keep her support?" Galadriel did not understand.

"Well, you know the Silvan do not have lords and ladies. She cannot count on it as her natural due."

"Yes, but they elected her-"

"Ah, yes, but at any time, they can gather and elect someone else, if they decide she is no longer fit for the role."

"And how precisely does winning a singing competition assure them that she is?" It still did not make any sense to Galadriel.

"Well, she can hardly go and explain her decisions in the council to every person in the realm, can she?" Avorneth pointed out. "They would not listen anyway," she added. "As the Silvan say, the whole point of the councils, the only reason they exist, is that most people do not have to worry about the bothersome details of realm defence and such. Winning competitions...it assures them she is still capable. That she can prepare for something and do it well, whatever that is."

That seemed exceedingly irresponsible to Galadriel. "If it was something that related to governing at least a little..." She began.

"And what would that be, arguing for points?" Avorneth asked archly. "Frankly, it is not a bad system, in my opinion. Not completely. Certainly it sounds strange to us, and when I first heard about it, I was very doubtful, but...conversations with Ealc made me question many things. I mean, we choose the ruler on the virtue of their birth. Singing competitions seem reasonable in comparison."

"I think you are being a little unfair. The idea behind kingship, as you know, is that for one, a good king passes some of his good character traits to his son, and then also he is raised and prepared for kingship since childhood. That is why we believe this system works."

"Oh, yes, of course," Celebrían remarked from her painting. "The case of Númenórë, where I believe they recently prohibited the teaching of Elvish languages, is an excellent example of that."

"Númenórë's rulers became worse precisely because they did not have good education, and later, not even good kingship qualities to inherit," Galadriel argued.

"Mother, please. Everyone in your life always seemed to agree that you would be the best ruler, and yet you were the fourth child of a third son. The first son was, as I believe you will hardly dispute, about the worst king that could have ever happened to the Noldor."

"Because his father was not a good king in the first place. There were no good traits to inherit, and no good education to have. That was what went wrong with the Noldorin kingship, that the first choice was wrong. Thankfully, the influence of grandmother Indis made it much better than it could have been."

"But do you not see the problem?" Avorneth took the word again. "You make one bad choice, and then you cannot be free from it. With the Silvan, one gathering of people would have been enough."

"It was a gathering of people who decided to follow Feanáro into Middle-Earth," Galadriel reminded her. "Do not give them too much faith."

"It was also the same people who chose Nolofinwe over him, when it came down to it," Avorneth countered.

"Yes, when it became clear how little Feanáro cared for them. He was not even trying." Galadriel sighed. "Look, I do not believe that the right of king's eldest son is divine and untouchable. That is the Sindarin view. I even agree that the idea of election is not entirely misguided – if, say, people choose a king among the king's children or relatives. It is not so far from how the Noldor actually worked at one point, and it seems reasonable. But the world the Silvan live in...it has no stability. You can see it with Ealc, instead of doing what she need to, preparing for the war she needs to travel around the land and compete in singing competitions."

"That is a downside, and I realize it. So does Ealc, in fact. She is not blind to the fault of their society. But look at the evil Finwë, Singollo or Orodreth did, as bad kings, and tell me you can be certain that it is not greater than any such unstable system would bring."

Galadriel could not. She simply did not know.

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AN: Quettalótë is, of course, Inzilbêth. It's my attempt to translate her name into Quenya, since I believe that would be her first tongue and the language in which she was named.