Chapter 73: Icon

Year 240 of the Third Age, Lindórinand

Galadriel had only been gone a month for the birth of Elladan and Elrohir, Elrond's and Celebrían's twin sons, but still, when she came back, the mellyrn were noticeably weaker and looked as if frost made them shrivel. It took a long time to nurture them back to health, and after that, Galadriel never took the ring out of Lindórinand again.

It did not mean she never left herself, but there was only one she trusted enough to lend him the ring and who, at the same time, had enough knowledge of this kind of spells to be at least able to maintain the healing air in her absence, and enough knowledge of her and closeness to her to provide continuity to the ring's power. So she and Celeborn never left Lindórinand at the same time, and when the time came for Celebrían to give birth once again, it looked for a while as if she would have to choose which of her parents would be present.

Galadriel had fully expected Celeborn to go, and as the second birth of one child should be safe enough, she was not worried, or hurt. Celebrían surprised them both, however, by choosing to give birth in Lindórinand instead.

Elrond acquiesced happily enough, noting that the healing air the forest had thanks to the ring on Galadriel's finger made it an ideal place anyway, and regretted it had not occurred to him when Celebrían was expecting the twins.

Galadriel did not think Celebrían would have agreed then. She had still been new in her role of the Lady of Rivendell, and she might have found it undesirable to give birth to its young lords elsewhere.

But a century changed things, and Celebrían was now confident in her role and happily came to Lindórinand while it was still easy for her to travel, to rest and prepare for her new child.

Her sons came with her, to Celeborn's great joy, though Galadriel felt it might make the job of resting a little harder. They had been adults for a while now, but there was a youthful spirit in them, and in a great contrast to their mother, they could not tolerate peace and calm for too long before growing impatient.

"I could not come here without them," Celebrían said in response to Galadriel's observation. "You know how much they love the forest."

It was true. The twins inherited their mother's love for nature and things that grew, though they showed it with such insatiable joy and eagerness that was more reminiscent of Avorneth when she was young. That was a painful memory, for it was impossible to remember that without remembering Mírdan as well, and so Galadriel refrained from mentioning it to those who knew him, except to Celeborn in privacy.

The birth of Elladan and Elrohir had brought much joy, but in spite of that, it also brought grief in many small ways, in the memories they awoke. To Elrond, the twins became a living reminder of the brother he lost, especially as they were in temper more like him than like their father. That brought fears and worries of its own, too, though Elrodn did his best not to let his mind dwell on them.

It pained Galadriel as well, for apart from Elros, she thought of Eluréd and Elurín, the two young princes lost in the snows of Doriath Yule. She did not love Elrond's sons any less for it, and neither did their father, but every sight of them was mixed with pain and so she was looking forward to the birth of Celebrían's new child in the hopes that there, the joy would be unmarred.

"Will we have a brother or a sister?" Elladan asked her.

"You will only discover that after the child is born," Galadriel replied.

"But you have the Mirror," Elrohir said. "Surely you could look?"

"I could," Galadriel confirmed, "and I have. But I do not control the visions the Mirror shows me, or not entirely."

Elladan frowned. "But you must have seen the child, right?"

"Wrong," Galadriel said with a smile.

In fact, the only thing she saw was that coronation in Gondor once again, indicating that this was the child to which the fate was tied in some way. But still there were no indications it would be a bad thing, and so Galadriel let it be. Perhaps the child would save the future king's life, or something of the sort.

Celeborn divided all his time between his daughter and his grandsons now, and Celebrían was busy with Avorneth as well, which often left Galadriel with Elrond, or with him and the twins both.

"I believe Celebrían intends to ask Avorneth to come to Rivendell with us when we return, for a few months at least," Elrond told her. "I hope you will not miss her much."

"I will," Galadriel replied, "but I am sure Celebrían misses her more, and I am willing to part with her company for that. What does Ealc think about it, though?"

"She will be invited too."

"She might be," Galadriel replied, "but I would be very surprised if she went."

She would not, indeed, as Avorneth herself confirmed the very next day. "But I will go, with your leave," she said, "though I will not stay more than half a year at most."

"Stay as long as you wish to, beloved," Galadriel returned.

"No longer than that – who knows what Ealc would get up to without me!" Avorneth replied with a laugh.

And then the days of leisure were over, and the time of the birth came. Celebrían knew what to do this time, and Galadriel mostly supervised and made sure nothing was wrong. All went smoothly and quickly, however, and she caught the child and put it in Elrond's arms before she even looked at it properly.

When she did, though, preparing to provide the necessary care that followed a birth, she choked back a sob and staggered, sitting down on a nearby chair and whispering: "Lúthien...beloved..."

"Aunt?" She heard Elrond's worried question somewhere in the back of her mind.

Unable to answer coherently, she showed him her memory of Lúthien instead even as other attendants of the birth took care of the remaining practicalities. She had not known Lúthien as a child, of course, but still the likeness could not be denied. She felt Elrond's astonishment, and at the same time, heard Celeborn summoned by her distress. He had been waiting outside the door, and as he entered and looked upon the child for the first time, the same memory assaulted him. "Impossible..." he muttered.

Galadriel closed her eyes and centered herself. "You and Celebrían are very blessed indeed," she said then, to Elrond, still unseeing. "The beauty of your daughter shall be unrivaled. Attend to your wife now, she needs you and wishes to see her child properly."

Elrond immediately turned to do so, though she could sense he was still worried. As Galadriel rose to leave the birthing chamber, she saw him hand their daughter to Celebrían and take the washcloth one of the attendants handed him to clean the child. Celeborn, meanwhile, was still standing by the door, gazing and the newborn babe in wonder.

Trusting that now, all was safe, Galadriel passed him and left the room. She would only disturb her daughter in her current state of mind, not help her.

Her steps took her to her fountain instead. She did not look into it, however, only sat down next to it and stared into the forest of mellyrn instead. They covered the whole of the hill now, and even though they had never grown there, the beauty of them was such that she could almost see Doriath, and feel it, as well, here in its poor imitation that she created in this late age of Middle-Earth. It was too easy to see Lúthien approaching between the trees, singing and dancing. Oh, beloved…

The pain of all Galadriel's losses never really diminished, but day to day, she could usually distract herself from it by beauty and love that still was around her. On this eve that should be joyful, however, it became impossible, and she suddenly felt it all, the absence of her parents, the loss of her brothers, the terrible death of her uncle and the insurmountable horror of Findekáno's passing, the two departures of Itarillë, Elwing jumping into the sea, Tindómiel's departure, Artanáro and Sarnel, and most of all, Elros and Lúthien, the two she loved that she would not see again till the end of the world. And she sat on that fine evening and wept, alone on that hill in Lindórinand, surrounded be the trees she had planted, by the safe haven she had created for others, one in which she found no consolation as her heart broke over and over again.

Celeborn found her some hours later, and went to sit by her and embrace her immediately. "Elrond's worried about you," he said, "and so am I."

"And not entirely without reason," Galadriel replied, "but I'm a little better now. Elrond should primarily worry about other things at this time. How is the child?"

"Well and healthy, so nothing for him to worry about." He smiled softly. "He named her Arwen."

Galadriel laughed.

"What's so amusing about that?" Celeborn was confused, and loosened the embrace to look at her properly.

"Don't you see? He named her after me, in his manner." She shook her head. "I'm not certain it will suit her. Lúthien was nothing like me, but of course, it doesn't follow that Arwen will have her character as well as her look."

"We'll have to wait and see," Celeborn agreed. "But the look...it's most astonishing."

"It is indeed." Galadriel laid her head on his shoulder. "I wonder what is the intention in it, for I admit I don't understand it at all."

"Does there have to be an intention?" Celeborn asked.

She looked up at him. "Yes. Come now, you know that while children often bear some degree to similarity to their ancestors, looking this alike simply does not happen by accident. But the Mirror's told me nothing, so as you said, we'll have to wait and see."

She searched for Elrond's mind after her talk with Celeborn, too tired to leave her place of peace just yet, but wishing to speak to him. Allow me to offer my congratulations properly, and pass them to my daughter as well, she said to him when she found him. I was in no fit state to do so before.

Yes, I noticed. I am sorry you had to be reminded of your loss.

Do not be – it was hardly your decision. She paused. Why did you name her after me?

He smiled in his mind. You noticed?

Of course I noticed. Why?

It seemed appropriate in a way. It was your pain I felt after she was born, your loss, and I hoped she would bring you joy as well as she grows. Also, you cannot deny she looks very noble.

That she does, but I still would have expected you to name her Lothwen after you saw what I showed you, or something similar.

He hesitated. I did not wish to...Lúthien did not exactly have a happy fate, did she?

That amused Galadriel, a sort of dark amusement that often overcame her lately.And you think I do?

He seemed taken aback at the question. No, he said slowly, I do not suppose you do. It will sound terrible, but I really never thought about it that way. I know your pains, of course, but...you are so frighteningly strong, Aunt, they never seemed quite fully real.

Of course not. You have enough burdens of your own, beloved, without me adding to them.

But I wish to help you carry them!

She smiled sadly. Take care of your wife, and your children. They are your responsibility. I have Celeborn, and he keeps the pain at bay.

Yet you have helped me so many times…

Memories assaulted her, of having lived this before. I had a talk much like that with Artanáro not that long ago, she said, trying not to let the pain of memories shine through. I am your aunt. That is my responsibility. How many times have you helped your brother's children, and their descendants? And you never ask for their support, do you? I see you as my equal in many ways now, but this is one thing that will never quite change.

You see me as your equal? He laughed. That sounds absurd. You know I will never be that.

That made Galadriel sigh. You should have more faith in yourself. I have asked this when you first fell in love with Celebrían, and I will ask it again: have I ever made you feel unworthy?

Not unworthy, no, but…

I am simply older, that is all there is to it. I remember things you will never see, even if you do go to Aman one day. But I also carry much guilt that you do not have.

It was not your fault, Elrond replied, that much used phrase he and Artanáro learned to say so often it was nearly automatic, and which Celeborn never said, showing in one simple difference how he understood her in ways they never could, in spite of them being so much more like her.

It never is, she returned her customary response as well, because there was no point in explaining, and she was too tired.

-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-

Elrond left Lindórinand soon after Arwen was born, not wishing to withhold his valley the protection of the ring for too long even if there was no danger they knew of. Celebrían stayed for half a year, though, to recover in peace and have Arwen be stronger and more ready for the journey.

Elrond had come once again during this sixmonth, but now that Celebrían was about to leave, it was Lord Laurefindil who came for her, with an entire unit of soldiers and a small entourage of servants. Galadriel regarded it with a smile, but Lord Laurefindil only shrugged. "My lord cares much about the safety of his family," he said. "Erestor had to talk him down from even more extraordinary safety measures."

"It is natural enough, I suppose," Galadriel had to concede. After all, she herself had never traveled anywhere when Celebrían was this young. Perhaps Celeborn would have been equally protective.

In fact, he was almost equally protective still, of Celebrían, and it reminded her of Ingoldo worrying about her escort when she traveled North from Doriath. Everything seemed to bring back memories these days.

Galadriel would have liked to go to Rivendell with them, to partake some more in the joy of watching Arwen grow, but alas, she had left Lindórinand too recently for that to be advisable. There were other places where she journeyed, though, nearer places. Chiefest of them all was Khazad-dûm, and so she left with the Rivendell party and traveled with them to that kingdom. It was not the road they normally took, but with her recommendation, they would receive a guide, and it would be safer and easier crossing for the child than the High Pass.

Even to Khazad-dûm, Galadriel went less often these days than she used to, but still she took care to visit at least twice a year, especially now that they owed Durin's folk so much for their assistance in the war. She would not let the friendship die, not even if it endangered the mellyrn.

King Vigg welcomed her warmly, or as warmly as any dwarf can ever welcome an outsider in his realm, she supposed.

"We have worries," he said once they were seated alone.

"What happened?"

"The dragons are moving again."

Galadriel frowned. "I thought they've never stopped, for the last two thousand years or so."

"They've been more active, yes, but they've kept to the Withered Heath, for the largest part. Now, though...they seem to be moving, slowly and steadily, outside of it."

"In what direction?"

He gave her a scoffing look. "You know that," he said.

"To the dwarven kingdoms in the Red Mountains," she deduced.

"Yes," he confirmed. "The traders that return from our relations there bring more and more distressing news every time they come. We...might need your help."

Galadriel felt herself sag, if only internally. She did not even need to think to know the answer: "It's not in my power."

"We rescued you-"

She put up her hand to forestall him. "If I still commanded an army," she said, "I'd send it to help you without any hesitation. But I don't, and whatever I say, Amroth will never send his people to save a dwarven kingdom he barely knows exists, and certainly not so soon after a war in which we lost so many. Our people, too, don't have many children in this age, for most ellith lost their husbands or loves. There are few of us, and so Amroth will be even more unwilling to risk their lives than he'd be otherwise."

"And your friend Elrond?"

Galadriel considered. "I can try asking him," she said, "but I believe...Rivendell is the smallest of all elven realms, still, though not much different from Grey Havens now, I grant you, and they might yet overcome them. Still, they're few, so...I don't doubt that Elrond would send all of his army to protect you, but dwarven kingdoms in the Red Mountains are a different matter. If only because to be of any use, he'd truly have to send his entire army, and that would mean he'd have to leave his own realm unprotected for a long time."

The king scoffed again. "Unprotected! Ha! You think I can't guess where one of the Three Rings is to be found?"

"The rings don't form an impenetrable barrier, as I'm sure you know," she replied with a significant look at his finger, where a ring of his own gleamed. "It's true that we live in peaceful times now, but...it's a lot to ask of him."

"It was a lot to ask of us to come hidden to the last war, and yet we still did. You know that the dragons, if unchecked, can endanger you in time too."

"I'm not so certain of that. They no longer have the Enemy to command them, and it might well be that left to their own devices, they'd be happy with the gold. But you're right that we don't know that. I'll ask Elrond, but...well." She hesitated whether to bring this up or not, aware that the king deeply regretted it and was ashamed of it, but in the end, her desire to defend Elrond won out: "You know the dwarves from the Red Mountains fought on the Enemy's side. Surely you can understand why he'd be none too eager to go in their support?"

The king looked away and was silent for a moment. "Not even if we, as allies, ask it of him?" He suggested then.

"It doesn't work that way. As I said, he'd help you without hesitation."

"A pity we don't need his help," he retorted, some sharpness returning to his tone. "This kingdom is well protected."

"Will you be sending out a force to help your kin, then?" Galadriel asked shrewdly.

He looked away once more, caught out. "My people will go," he admitted. "Some of them, at least. But the Nogrod line refuses, and even Belegost is doubtful."

"Are you not the king of them all?"

"I am," he conceded, "but if I forced the matter, I mightn't stay so for long."

Oh, how well Galadriel knew this. "Do you wonder, then," she said, "that if even your own people hesitate, the elves are none too keen?"

"I don't wonder," he replied, "I regret."

-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-

Amroth had not been in the habit of opening his mind to Galadriel when he was still a prince, but as king, he condescended to it, for it made carrying out their duties easier. That was why she knew the moment he fell in love.

"Who's the happy lady, then?" She asked him, joyful that he found love, and that it would perhaps help him overcome the grief of his father's death, and that of so many of his people.

He seemed to hesitate. "Her name," he said after a moment, "is Nimrodel."

Galadriel smiled. "That's a Silvan name, isn't it?"

"It is," he confirmed.

"I wish you happiness in this, and success in your suit. It'd be a very good thing for this kingdom, I believe, if it had a Silvan queen to its Sindarin king."

He smiled at that, a little sadly. "You're getting ahead of yourself. I haven't even told her of my affections yet."

Galadriel was taken aback. "Oh! Forgive me. I didn't realize it was such a fresh thing. You seem very decided."

"It's been almost a year," he admitted. "I am decided, or as decided as I can be."

"Why not tell her, then?" Galadriel asked curiously.

"She..." he hesitated. "Well, from what I know about her, she dislikes the Sindar intensely, and I'd say she outright hates the Noldor."

Galadriel frowned. That sounded much less promising. "Amroth..."

"Yes, I know, hardly the best material for a queen, is it? And yet this is where my heart pulls me."

"I'll not try to deter you, the Valar know that never does any good, but...be careful, and consider before you act. This...might require time."

"Which is why I haven't told her yet," he retorted, and Galadriel had to admit he had a point.

Still, it worried her and she kept thinking about it, and the next time she saw Ealc, she asked if she knew this Nimrodel.

"Oh yes," Ealc replied with a grin. "She's an odd one. She'd be a loner even by Sindarin standards, and likes to do things her own way even more than most of us do. Her singing voice is more beautiful than any of ours, and she could be a competition even for you, I believe. When we still had the Great Council, she appeared there from time to time, and usually did not rest until what she wanted was done. She has a will of iron, bust mostly keeps to herself and doesn't care for others. I don't believe she ever took part in any competition, in spite of the many invitations we offered. How did you hear about her?"

"Amroth met her in his walks in the forest," Galadriel hedged, not wishing to let Ealc know his secret.

"That must've been a truly amusing meeting," Ealc replied, her grin broadening. "There are those Silvan who don't accept him as king, of course, but none refuse him more staunchly than she does. Did she throw him out of her part of the forest?"

"Not that he mentioned." Galadriel wondered whether he had intentionally concealed the depth of her dislike, or whether he was unaware. Whichever the case, she felt sorry for him. It did not seem like there was happiness in store for this love of his after all. As if there were not enough tragedies in Amroth's life so far. Galadriel could only hope it was not true Flame, because if it was and he was refused, she could not imagine him finding the strength to go on as king.

"Is there anything else?" Ealc asked when Galadriel was silent for a moment. "Because I have a competition to go to."

"What kind?" Galadriel asked curiously.

"Dancing."

Galadriel remembered discussing this with Celebrían some centuries ago, and being recommended to go and see. "Would you mind if I went with you?" She asked.

"Not at all. Don't rely on liking it, though – it's different from your dancing."

"That's why I want to see it," Galadriel replied with a smile.

They walked thought the forest mostly in silence, for Galadriel knew that Ealc disliked idle chat. That also meant sthe Nolde did not learn any more about the competition, though, and so when they arrived to the Silvan settlement where the competition was to take place, she was surprised, even before the competition began.

First, she was astonished by how many Sindar she saw among the spectators – and one even among the competitors. Avorneth was on the spot as well, preparing to watch, and Galadriel went to her side. "I expected this to be more of a Silvan amusement," she muttered.

"It used to be," Avorneth admitted. "But it started to slowly shift after the changes Ealc ensured, and after the war, the walls broke down completely, I believe. These people fought together, they mourned their death together. It...makes you closer."

Galadriel only nodded, watching with satisfaction how the people mixed. She even spotted a few Noldor there. That is why she at first paid no mind to all the Sindarin she heard around herself. It took her a moment to notice that sometimes, it was wholly Silvan people who spoke it to each other.

"Is this some sort of particularly Sindarin competition?" She asked, worried. "The language..."

Avorneth seemed not to know what she meant for a moment, frowning, but then her face cleared. "You have not noticed until now?" She asked with a smile. "True, you would not have, they all speak Sindarin to you anyway. It has been the fashion among the young Silvan elves to speak it a lot even before the war – it is an easier language, and one that is more widely understood, so it is more useful than Silvan, and Sindarin songs were becoming popular. And, well...most of those who survived the war were young. You hear it in the Silvan settlements almost as often as you hear Silvan, now."

"How come it was mostly the young who survived?" Galadriel asked, wondering. Elves were not Men, age did not worsen their chances. If something, it was the other way round.

"Amdír," Avorneth replied simply. "He arranged the troops so that the young had the best chances of surviving."

Galadriel sighed deeply. He really had known they would die. It was good of him, she supposed, to try and save those who needed it the most, who had tasted the least of life. But it would have been even nicer to take care that more of his people survived.

I know you disliked life by the end, Amdír, she though, but that does not mean your people did as well.