Chapter 71: Mourning
Year 1 of the Third Age, Gondor
Galadriel had spent weeks in her grief.
Except for Celeborn, there was no one closer to her than Artanáro. She had known him for so long, she had raised him, she had shared so much with him. No one understood her as well as him. She used to call Findekáno closest to her heart, but she knew that by rights, that title would belong to Artanáro today.
And he was dead.
Somehow, it defied understanding.
He had been by her side for so long, survived so much, ruled his kingdom for an entire age...and now he was no more.
Galadriel hated herself for acceding to his demand that she be not on the battlefield, for she knew that had she been there, she could have saved him. There was, in the back of her mind, a small voice telling her that he did not want to be saved by her, that this was precisely why he asked her to stay away, but she was too engulfed by grief to listen to it at this point.
She remembered everything, over and over again. She remembered his birth and young years, and how she saw the potential in him. She remembered the death of his mother, and how she had tried to console him in spite of Artaresto's resentment. She remembered taking him to Hithlum, introducing him to Findekáno and watching the beginnings of a friendship that had not had as much time to bloom as it deserved. Perhaps they would have time for each other now, in the West, these two past High Kings of the Noldor?
She remembered Artanáro after the Battle of the Sudden Flame, in Narogrotto, desperate and ashamed of his father. She remembered him after her brother's death, when they did what they could to keep Narogrotto afloat. She remembered his despair when thy had to abandon it, and his grief when his father and sister passed away. She remembered his desire to see Lúthien, and then his short stay in Doriath. How he took the rule of New Havens, and later, how he accepted the mantle of the High King. How he built Lindon from nothing, with the utmost effort to have it open to all and make everyone feel welcome. His shame and reluctance in proposing to Oreth, because he feared the relationship would be unequal. His love for her and his daughters, and his worry for Sarnel, worry that proved to be justified. His infinite wisdom and trust, when he never even tried to object to her marriage to Tyelperinquar. His regret when she left for Hollin, and his joy in the beauty of that kingdom, and in his grandchildren. And his grief upon Sarnel's death, but also forgiveness, the ability to look past the fact that it was Galadriel, ultimately, who was to blame for her passing. His determination to see Sauron eliminated for what he did. His tireless planning for war, for centuries. How his advice grew more and more wise as years passed. And his final sacrifice.
Each of these things was like a stab in Galadriel's heart, and she choked on her sobs as she recalled them to her mind, over and over again, as Celeborn held her.
He had grief of his own, over Oropher and Amdír, but he knew it was not as deep as hers over Artanáro was, and he helped her as much as he could, as much as his own strength allowed him. She herself had none to spare for a long time, and it was only some weeks later that she could even check how Elrond was doing.
He had born the tragedy no better than her. It was was chiefly because they both needed to heal at least a little before doing anything else that they stayed in Gondor so long.
She stood on the seashore with him now, quietly watching the ship that was to take them to Caras Aear the next day.
"The High Kingship has died out," Elrond said.
"You know he wanted you to be king after him," Galadriel replied.
"I do, but still...the High Kingship has died out. I did not claim it for the Sindar, even though I was the actual heir. I will certainly not claim it for the Noldor. I do not wish to be king, I am no longer even convinced the institution as such is a good thing, and it does not fall to me by the lot of fate." He paused. "I would consider being the king of Lindon, perhaps, if none of his descendants grandchildren wanted the title, but..."
"But?"
"Many will sail. More than after the last war, even."
"Yes." After the War of Wrath, most elves who stayed did so because they believed that now evil had been defeated, they would be able to enjoy Middle-Earth in peace. But evil had not been defeated, not entirely, and they suffered through years of war instead. This time, they knew evil had not been defeated, not with finality, and they knew, also, that it was the fault of Men. Most of them washed their hands of the fate of Middle-Earth at this point, refusing to bleed for the mistakes of the Second born, and chose the bliss of Aman instead.
"I do not believe there will be enough of us left to have a proper kingdom," Elrond continued.
"Their decision might be strongly influenced by whether there is or is not a kingdom to stay in," Galadriel commented drily. "And you cannot truly believe there would be less left than after the last war. Lindon had barely three thousand inhabitants when it was founded."
"But Artanáro was the true heir. I would accept the mantle if I felt our people needed it, but if I do not feel that way..." He paused, and added quietly: "Please understand. Apart from not wanting kingship, I also do not wish to take his place. I do not feel I belong on that throne that has only ever been his, and I would ever consider myself a usurper. And yes, I know he wished for me to inherit – if only because you refuse Queenship now – but that does not truly change my feelings." He paused. "I will make up my mind after I see how many are left, and also after I speak to Celebrían. It is her future as well, she should have a word in it."
Galadriel raised her eyebrows at that. "She desires queenship as little as you desire kingship, and she, too, seems to have some serious doubts about the institution itself. You know perfectly well that at most, she will tell you to do what you consider best."
"Yes. I still have to consult with her."
Galadriel sighed. She had a feeling she knew how this was going to go. "You can do so after we arrive in Lindon, then, she will meet us there," she said. "You should not take too long – the people will wish to know what would be the realm they would be staying in."
"And what is your counsel? You believe I should claim the title, I expect?"
Galadriel hesitated. She did believe so, but then, no doubt her own personal preferences were getting in the way. To her, given what her lifelong dream had been, the idea of anyone well qualified rejecting kingship would never sit well. She shook her head. "I will not council you in this," she said. "It has to be your decision, and my advice turns sour more often then not. I cannot even tell you if I can See anything, for the Mirror is not here. But can you?"
"Not at the moment, no. But there is still time, and perhaps a guiding vision will come."
"Do not rely on it." Eru knew it never helped when she would have found it most useful.
He pressed her hand for a moment. "I do not want to go," he said then, quietly.
She gave him a surprised look. "Tomorrow, you mean?"
"Yes. It feels...it feels as if by leaving, his death will become real. We will have to face Oreth, and Maewel, and all the others that love him, and we will have to tell them that we let him die...I will have to see the palace without him...no, I do not want to go."
Galadriel embraced him, realizing fully the difference in their years in that moment.
Weeks have passed since Artanáro's death, and she had spent most of that time deep in grief, only emerging when some matter could absolutely not be settled by Celeborn and required her personal attention. She was hurt by this death perhaps more than she had been hurt by any before. It was like losing a son.
But for all that, she had lived through something like this before. She had lived through it with Uncle Nolofinwë, and then again with Findekáno. She knew what it was when a king she loved dearly died.
But Elrond had spent his entire life under Artanáro's kingship and in his friendship, and as much as Galadriel felt as if she was being cut open by a knife whenever she thought the loss, she was still better equipped to deal with it than Elrond was.
So she held him tight, and said: "Celebrían will be there, beloved. Surely that is some reason to go."
Instead of an answer, he sighed.
"What is it?" Galadriel asked, worried. Surely there was not some trouble between them? The last thing Elrond needed right now was that.
"It is only that I fear I am too much of a burden to your daughter. Time and again, she has to console me, to pull me out of my despair. Is that the sort of life that awaits her? What joy is in that?"
Galadriel gave him a stern look. "You are trying to ruin your own happiness with her once again, Elrond. Do not do that. You have lived through difficult times lately, and I know she never once regretted being able to comfort you, and in fact, only complained of being unable to do more. If a time comes – though I pray it never did – that she will have to deal with loss, I know you will be there to comfort her, too."
"I would do anything in my power," he said immediately, "but still, it seems to me that my lot is so much darker than hers..."
"You have said that once already, and remember what I told you. Allow her to brighten your life, then."
He sighed, but nodded resignedly, and Galadriel decided it was good enough for now.
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Scores of ships were being built in Caras Aear, and it did not take long to realize that most of the city's inhabitants were planning to leave after their king's funeral, accompanying their Queen to the West. Ambë, unsurprisingly, was one of them.
"I just wish," she said, "that I'd died in the battle, instead of some of those young ones who wished to live on here. I didn't fear the Halls of Mandos, and perhaps I'd have still met Fingon there."
"I hope with all my heart that he'll be waiting for you on the beach when you arrive," Galadriel replied.
A grimace of pain crossed Ambë's face at those words. When Galadriel sent her a questioning look, she said: "So do I, in a way, but then I remember what he did and I...it feels wrong, you know, to hope for his quick release. Disloyal to those of my kin he killed."
Galadriel frowned. "I understand, but it was thousand of years ago. Surely..."
Ambë only shook her head. "And I've spent thousands of years musing about this, contemplating whether it wasn't disloyal of me to even consider marriage to him. Not that I expect it'll matter much. The moment I see him, I'll likely forget all of my scruples."
There was bitterness in her laugh, but laugh she did, and that encouraged Galadriel to smile as well, though thinking of Findekáno hurt – especially now, when Artanáro's death opened her to memories of him again.
"Please, make sure to give him my letter," she said
"Of course I will, as well as all the other letters you gave me to deliver." There was saddness in Ambë¨s eyes as she added: "I just wish you could get an answer to them."
"So do I, but especially now, with the changed world, a hope like that seems lost forever." Galadriel hesitated. "Are you afraid of the journey?"
"Across the open sky, you mean? More curious, I think. I can't imagine it."
"Neither can I." The Nolde sighed. "I'll miss you, my friend."
That seemed to amuse Ambë. "We hardly saw each other for the last thousand years or so!"
"True, but I knew you were here. It makes a difference." It also made a difference that after Artanáro's death, Galadriel felt loneliness pressing on her from all sides, but she did not want to say that out loud. "You were my first friend in Middle-Earth, do you know that?" She asked instead.
"You mean a first local? Yes, I did think so."
"We'd all have been so lost without you, back then. Not just me, Uncle Nolofinwë and others as well. Make sure to give him my warmest greetings – he must be back from the Halls already."
Ambë was smiling a little indulgently now, though also with understanding. "Of course I will," she said. "I wrote a list of all I am suppose to give your love to, you know?"
Galadriel laughed through unshed tears. "It must be a long one."
"It is."
There was a short silence, and Galadriel felt obliged to break it, to explain herself. "It is just...you're the last one left I really knew at the beginning of the First Age. I knew Lord Glorfindel, of course, and your uncle shortly after, but not well, and it isn't the same." She took a deep breath. "But I hope you'll be very happy across the Sea. Do you know what you'll do if...if he's not back yet?"
Ambë smiled sadly. "It sounds terrible, but this was actually made easier by the fact that the Queen and so many others are leaving. They'll settle somewhere. If Fingon isn't waiting for me, I'll stay with them until he returns."
Galadriel only nodded. "I wish you luck, my fried," she said.
They stood there in more silence, then. What does one say, really, when a friend of thousands of years is leaving, not to be seen again until the end of the world? Silence seemed, in many ways, like the best choice, and so silent they kept for a long time, before duties called each of them again.
So many departures also meant Elrond's decision was made.
"The youngest of Maewel's granddaughters intends to stay," he told Galadriel when he met her in the palace gardens. They were a sadder, quieter place now than they used to be those millennia ago, when they had been full of children. "She was born shortly before Sauron appeared in Hollin, and she did not truly know Middle-Earth unburdened with war. She wishes to experience it at least for a time, before she joins her family in the West. Most of those who are staying in the capital do so for similar reasons. She can rule the city, the small population that remains there. The majority of those who remain in Lindon are Círdan's people, for he chose to stay as well. Grey Havens will become the largest city now."
"Caras Aear will be almost as small now as when it was founded, will it not?"
"Yes, but I do not believe it will grow again. We know it is no true peace now, and most of those who are staying will not be here long, a few centuries at most. They all mean to leave long before Sauron appears again. They will not have children."
"And what of your own people?" Galadriel asked in worry. "How many will stay?"
"More than a half. Rivendell can continue to blossom, or perhaps begin to blossom is a better way to phrase it. For a short time at least, we should have an opportunity to be something other than a military outpost." He smiled a little through his grief at the idea. "And the Noldor from Lindórinand?" He queried.
"From what I know, about half of them stays as well. At least for a while. It is a good thing, too, for with the way the Silvan and Sindarin population was depleted in the war...Amroth's realm would have been very small indeed if they did not."
He hesitated, plucking an apple from one of the trees and playing with it. "You will return there, then?" He asked.
"Yes." Galadriel shrugged. "Where else would I go? Celeborn feels at home there, and I love the forest as well. My mirror is there, too. Caras Aear would hold too many memories of Artanáro for me, and besides, I never felt truly at home by the sea. Amroth will need our help, advice and support, like I promised his father I would give him, and you and Celebrían will only be across the mountains."
"You know you could come to live in Rivendell."
Galadriel laughed. "I do not believe my daughter would appreciate that."
Elrond did not seem to expect that answer. "Why do you say such a thing? Celebrían loves you."
"As I love her. But she is to be the Lady of Rivendell, and she would never feel fully confident in that role if I dwelt in the same place. I know my daughter well, Elrond, even though I do not always understand her."
"Do you not think she would not welcome your advice?" He asked in surprise.
The question amused Galadriel. "Most assuredly not. I have a more complicated relationship with her than I have with you, beloved." The Nolde paused. "She would probably welcome Celeborn's presence, but then, he would never truly feel at home outside a forest, and I think she will be glad to be able to visit us in Lindórinand from time to time, for she loves it as well."
"Then I am very sorry I will take her from it."
Galadriel gave him an exasperated look. "Do not be. I left my beloved mountains for Celeborn as well, and I never truly regretted it. Just love her, and she will not either."
"You know I do, with all my heart."
"Of course."
They smiled at each other, sharing a quiet moment.
"What about Erestor?" Galadriel asked then, suddenly realizing there was one more person in Caras Aear who was crucial to happiness of one of her – dare she say friends?
"He's staying," Elrond said simply. "Not only because Lord Laurefindil is staying either, I believe. He has his own grudges against the Lords of the West, and no particular desire to leave this shore. In fact, he will be joining us in Rivendell."
That made Galadriel smile. "I am happy to hear that, for Lord Laurefindil's sake."
"Even though it also means you will have to deal with him more often?"
"Yes, even though."
Elrond hesitated for a moment. "I...would like to make him my Chief Councillor."
That did not truly surprise Galadriel. "I am sure he will be excellent at the job."
"You do not mind?"
"Why should I mind? It is your realm, Elrond, and he is hardly incapable."
"Yes, but you know you serve as my unofficial Chief Councillor in many ways, and if you have trouble tolerating him..."
Galadriel wanted to say that after Lalvon, she did not believe it would matter, but out of respect for Elrond's sensibilities, she kept it to herself and only said: "I do not hate Erestor, beloved. I simply would not choose to spend my free time with him. I am sure I would have no trouble working with him, as long as he did not object."
Elrond only nodded, and said: "Speaking of the Lindon council, Gildor chose to stay too."
"Will you find a place for him in yours, then, as well?" He could be valuable help.
Elrond shook his head. "No. I spoke to him, and he wants nothing to do with politics and governing any more. He told me he had spent the last age by it out of a sense of duty, and the only thing it had led to was war and death. He wants to live his life as he wishes now."
Galadriel sighed, and turned in the direction of the Sea, feeling the need to walk. "I suppose he does deserve it," she said as she meandered between the trees. "I know he never enjoyed the responsibility we kept pushing on him. He is, truly, very different from his father."
"He was good at it, though," Elrond remarked, following after her.
"Yes. In that, he is like Amroth – no desire to rule, but the ability."
Comfortable silence fell between them as they walked tot he edge of the cliffs, where stey stopped, watching the Western sea. "Have you considered leaving?" Galadriel asked then.
"Not truly, no. I feel my task here is not done. It was my brother's heir who kept the ring, and that makes it partly my responsibility. I would also like to avenge Artanáro. And I do not believe Celebrían is ready to sail. And I do not feel the pull, at least not very strongly." He hesitated, then asked: "Would you, if you could?"
"Yes. Or rather, I would have if I had not felt responsible for Middle-Earth, like you do. But no personal reasons hold me here any more...except for my inability to comply with the Valar's condition. I no longer believe I can have what I want here, I no longer believe that I will see a world without darkness, and I am tired. So yes, I would have returned in a heartbeat if I could now...but I cannot, and like you, I wish to take my revenge and to destroy Sauron, whose power I know I helped create."
"Aunt..."
She shook her head. "I know, it was not my fault. As Artanáro's death was not, I suppose?" She snorted. "It is funny, is it not, that the only things someone actually blames me for are the ones I do not feel any guilt about. Doriath, and now Oropher's death."
"Thranduil blames you?" Elrond asked, surprised.
Galadriel shrugged. "How could he not? He was taught that I was the source of all evil, and he knows I am powerful. It is not difficult to come to the conclusion that I could have saved his father, and you know he will never blame Oropher. He adored him. He was the only one he had."
"Why does he not blame Artanáro and me, then, from keeping you from the fight?"
"I am sure he does, but he is clever enough to realize that had I really wanted to join, I would have ignored you. No, it is only Amroth who takes this opportunity to clear me from blame and pile it all on Artanáro."
"He told you so?"
"Yes, he wrote me a letter to inform me of the state of things in Lindórinand and found an occasion to mention both of these things. He knows the fault is with Oropher, chiefly, but still believes I could have saved Amdír had I been involved in the battle more directly." Galadriel shrugged again. "He needs to blame someone, and if blaming Artanáro helps to prevent him from blaming himself, he is welcome to it. It cannot hurt Artanáro now, and it will be a long time until they meet across the Sea."
"Blaming himself?" Elrond caught her phrase.
"Well, he wasn't by his father's side when he died, was he?" Galadriel knew there was danger in that. That understanding came naturally to her, from her own guilt about Artanáro.
"I have wondered about that," Elrond admitted. "How come Thranduil and Amroth survived?"
"Amroth wrote that Amdír sent them to the back rows of their host. He pretended it was some kind of crucial task that needed to be executed, but they saw later that it was merely an excuse to keep them in as much safety as possible under Oropher's command. However, by the time they realized, it was already too late."
"He saved the heirs to kingships," Elrond realized.
"He saved their sons," Galadriel corrected. "Having a heir was not that important for Amdír. He told Celeborn before the battle that if both Amroth and him died, he wanted my husband to rule."
"Your husband? Not you?"
"Naturally. You know Amdír was closer to him."
"Yes, but what I mean is...how would you have felt about that?"
"It would probably take a while to get used to," Galadriel admitted. "But then, I do not think Celeborn would try to keep me from the rule entirely. He would accept the responsibility, but he would share it with me as well."
Elrond nodded, and there was a short silence. "When do you plan to head back?" He asked then.
"I would like to watch the ships leave," she replied quietly.
"As would I. And Celeborn, I imagine, will want to say his goodbyes to the Queen."
"He is doing to as we speak." She sighed. "For their sake, I am sorry we did not stay in Lindon longer. Their friendship did not have much time to bloom."
"It is her choice to sail."
"Her husband died, beloved. Of course she wishes to sail."
Elrond hesitated, but then asked: "What would you have done, if Celeborn had died?"
Galadriel stared at the horizon, her eyes attempting to look for Aman, even though she knew it was gone from the world now. She had asked herself the same question many times around the battle. "Faded, probably," she admitted at last.
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Galadriel and her family travelled with Elrond to Rivendell, where they stayed a few days before continuing south and crossing Khazad-dûm, where, too, they remained for a time, to arrange some diplomatic and trade matters. A grave message from Elrond was waiting for Galadriel once she arrived in Lindórinand, however. Isildur was dead, and the ruling ring was lost.
And so she, exhausted, had to put off her mourning once again, and concentrate on the crisis at hand. She called Avorneth to consult what to do even as she cursed Isildur for not riding with a greater escort when he carried such an important burden, but it was too late now. The ring, the message said, was lost in the river.
Avorneth did not hold out much hope, but still Galadriel counselled Amroth to send out a search party nonetheless. They had to try, but it was months since the disaster happened, and besides, as Avorneth told them, if the ring did not wish to be found, there was little enough chance it would be.
The ruling ring...she knew, of course, that if they found it, they would have to destroy it, but she could not quite prevent herself from imagining what she could do with all that power. After all, Sauron was too weak to fight her over it now, so if she claimed it, it would have been truly hers, without a competition, and with the ring, she would not have to be afraid to be Queen again, for the problems she faced in Hollin would be gone now, she would be able to protect her realm from any-
Stop it, she told herself sharply. The ring was dangerous, and this was precisely why. Besides, if all she wanted to do was protect her realm...there was a different ring she could use, one that presented no danger.
She walked to her fountain alone the night after they returned, and she sat by it, admiring the light of the Silmaril reflected in it. "Give my greetings to Elwing and to your mother, Ardamírë," she muttered. Then her gaze turned from him and she took out the ring that she still wore under her dress.
She unclasped the chain in hung on and twisted it in her fingers. A ring of power...in spite of Tyelperinquar's description, she did not truly understand how it worked. I wonder if Elrond and Lord Ciryatan already put theirs on, she thought. Elrond would have his hands full now that Isildur was dead, ensuring the line of kings of Arnor continued, but Lord Ciryatan probably had.
No point in waiting, then, she decided and slipped the ring on her finger.
Her senses suddenly seemed sharper, her mind keener, and she felt like great waves were crashing around her. She was disoriented for a moment, but then she located the source of the power and told it sharply, Still.
It did.
Now, what did Tyelperinquar say? Protection? She examined her situation and found that she was, indeed, protected, as if a moat of infinite depth and width was suddenly around her, with waterfalls crashing into it from all sides. But it is not me that needs protection. She considered for a moment. She had thought, just now, about protecting her realm, did she not? Lindórinand was not hers, but it did need protection, especially if an orc army attacked Isildur not far from here just a few short months ago. She could do some good here.
She concentrated and pushed to the sides, and the moat receded from her, extending. The rivers, she realized and pushed it as far as Celebrant and Anduin, where she could feel it gain strength from them. The northern border could not have that reinforcement, but she felt the ring was enough to keep it mostly secure. The heart of the realm is protected. We will now always have a place to retreat to, if the world around us turns dark again.
She suddenly thought of Doriath. I wish I could make this realm what I always though Doriath should have been. But she was not the Queen, Amroth ruled here, and she knew he was not inclined to make it into a refuge for all. Still, perhaps at least to some degree, she could take her inspiration.
She thought of the spells Lady Melian used in her Belt, and with the power of the ring at her disposal, she found it easy to weave similar ones into the fabric of the waterfall and the moat. Let no one enter that I would not be aware of, she thought, working diligently and drawing on her memories and everything Lady Melian ever taught her.
She was exhausted when she was done, and refreshed her hands and face in the water of the fountain. With the ring on her finger, she saw its power more clearly now, and she imbued it with some protection as well.
She looked around the forest, then, and realized that its air itself changed, became more peaceful and undisturbed and truly reminiscent of Doriath, and thus, in some ways, of Lórien.
The mellyrn, she realized.
She almost ran to their flet, and woke Celeborn up without hesitation. "What do you feel?" She asked him.
It took him a moment to wake up properly and concentrate. "The air itself is different now," he said. "I feel..." he paused, and suddenly looked at her, his eyes intense: "I feel at home."
She embraced him, and could feel his tears running down his cheeks. They stayed like that for a long moment, and then she asked: "Can we plant the mellyrn now?"
"Aye. We can plant the mellyrn now."
Perhaps that, she thought desperately, would help me heal. Perhaps in this protected realm, among the trees that will remind me of the greatest healer to be found within the confines of Eä, the grief she always felt was threatening to break through the barriers would recede. Perhaps, in a world with mellyrn, she could live with the knowledge that Artanáro was dead.
Perhaps. At the moment, it seemed impossible, but perhaps it would happen.
And so she gave Celeborn the seeds, and then she allowed herself to give way to what she had been holding back, and wept again.
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AN: So, this is the proper end to all those second age arcs.
I have a busy next week ahead of me (all the Christmas parties, you know), and then it's the holidays, of course, so I think I'll have a break from posting this story until the new year, when I should resume posting once a week, since I've made up for my summer absence now.
Expect circa 25-30 more chapters to this story, depending on how many chapters I decide to add to what I've already written. That's another reason I need that break: I've run out of at least partly edited chapters to post, I'm working with completely rough draft material now!
I'll try to post a short story from this verse as a holiday gift, so keep an eye on my tumblr/author page, but I'm not promising anything, so in case I won't have another occasion, let me wish you happy holidays of whatever kind you're celebrating, and see you in 2017. Hopefully, it'll be a better year.