Chapter 74: Mementos
Year 393 of the Third Age, Rivendell
It was with great sorrow that Galadriel now regarded her inability to travel outside of Lindórinand as much as she would wish to. To Elrond, she could talk any time now, thanks to the rings, but not so to her grandchildren. And to Arwen, especially, she wished she could talk much more often than she had a chance to.
Not that she did not love Elladan and Elrohir. In fact, they reminded her of Findekáno in some ways. Yet Findekáno when he was as young as they were was not always easy to be around, from what she knew from stories, and so in the twins, too, their youth was sometimes very apparent.
Elrond, for his part, saw his brother in them, making the pain he felt when he looked at them even more pronounced. "It makes me think," he told Galadriel, "of how Elros never had a chance to be this young. Not even in the Havens, when we knew – even as young as we were - that death could come any second, and certainly not later."
Galadriel embraced him instead of an answer, because what could she say?
It was difficult, too, that the twins could sense their father's pain, and even though they knew its source, it did not always make it easy to accept. They found solace in their mother, who was able to love them without any complications, and Galadriel could not but think of Celeborn, Celebrían and herself, and feel despair over all these ways in which living in the Arda Marred was sometimes unbearable.
But Arwen, Arwen was a joy and salvation for Elrond. She was a child after his own heart, with a love for lore and an inquiring mind, though she had her mother's grace and perpetual calm. She was, in a word, very different from Lúthien, and that made Galadriel's burden easier. She could not very well prevent herself thinking of her long-gone friend whenever she saw Arwen – it was impossible – but the memory was not intruding on her mind when she talked to her granddaughter, to her immense relief.
Right now, she was sitting with Arwen in her rooms, braiding her hair as they talked.
"The king of Arnor is supposed to come this afternoon, did Father tell you?" Arwen asked.
"Yes," Galadriel confirmed. "It was one of the reasons why he wanted me to come at this time. Have you met him before?"
"When he was still a prince, but yes."
"What is he like?"
"I am sure Father told you that as well."
"Yes, but I want to hear your impressions," Galadriel said as she tied up one braid with a string and started on another.
"I do not quite know what to tell you," Arwen replied. "I was still very young when they were here. What I remember most is that he had trouble speaking Sindarin, and since I did not know a word of Westron at the time..."
"And you do now?" Galadriel asked curiously.
"Father is teaching me," Arwen explained.
"I was under the impression that he himself was not particularly strong in the language," Galadriel muttered, smoothing over one of the strands she had separated for the braid.
"He got better – he says that while the kings usually speak decent Sindarin, their children and courtiers, especially those from Gondor, frequently do not. He says he needs to learn to be able to communicate with them at all."
"It is strange, is it not," the older lady mused, "that when they speak an elven language, they would speak Sindarin. Quenya was always the language of the family of Andúnië."
"If I understand Father right, it was just the family itself who spoke it," Arwen replied. "Elendil and his sons. So when they married wives who did not, it stopped being their first language...and, well, you know how hard it is to learn later."
Galadriel smiled a little at that. "Amonel did explain at length, yes, and even Celeborn has choice words for it. That is the reason why I insisted your parents speak it to both you and your brothers since birth. It is simply amusing for me because I remember Elendil's slight contempt at any elves who were not of the Noldor. He would be surprised at seeing his descendants now."
"If their language is the only thing he would wonder about, they must be doing quite well!"
"Or I do not have such a high opinion of Elendil of Arnor," Galadriel replied, still with a smile. "Do you remember anything else about the king?"
Arwen thought for a while. "Not truly. I do know that I very much wanted to paint him when he was here, because I have just been reading about official royal portraits and the idea captivated my mind. It took my parents a while to convince em to give up the idea." She smiled a little, too. "Mother tried to get me to paint a waterfall instead, I think, or something else I had no interest in. In the end, I was only placated when Father offered to sit for me, with the argument that, being the descendant of both Turukáno and Dior, he was kingly enough that it should satisfy me." Arwen shook her head, laughing at the memory, and Galadriel joined her.
"Does the portrait still exist?" She asked.
"I assume so. My father is not one to throw such things away, even it it bears all the marks of my childish ineptitude." She chuckled. "Maybe he hid it somewhere along with that portrait of you?"
"Portrait of me?" Galadriel asked, confused. She was not aware Elrond had any.
"My brothers found it one day and told me of it, and I would not leave off until Father gave me the whole story. He said it is a portrait Mother has painted?"
"Oh, that one. I have wondered what became of fit." That memory brought a soft smile to Galadriel's face again.
"Mother brought it with her when she moved to Rivendell, it seems," Arwen explained, "and when Father saw it, he wanted to hang it in a prominent place in his study, or in the Hall of Fire. Mother, apparently, did not want him to. He seemed uncomfortable while telling me the story, but I am not certain why..."
Galadriel chuckled fondly. "I can give him advice as much as I want, but if he will not listen..." She murmured. "Of course your mother did not wish for my portrait to hang in any such place," she said then, as an explanation. "She was the Mistress of Rivendell, and it would be unfitting for another's portrait to have such a place of honour. Come, we will go ask your father about that portrait of him you did, and perhaps I will have a chance to chide him a little, too."
That was an idea Arwen could not resist, and so they set out.
Elrond was with Celebrín at the moment, so Galadriel decided to let the matter of the second portrait be for the moment. She had no qualms asking about the first, however.
Elrond laughed.
"It still exists," he confirmed, "and in fact, it hangs in our bedroom. Celebrían always says it is the best likeness of me she has ever seen."
All present laughed, though Celebrían added: "Certainly the one done most from the heart."
"Only because you refuse to paint portraits, my love," Elrodn replied. Arwen opened her mouth to say something, and while Galadriel tried to stop her with a look, Celebrían noticed.
She sighed.
"I never liked it," she said as an explanation to her daughter, "but it is true that in the past, I could occasionally be prevailed upon to paint one. I had done one of each of my parents, and one of your Aunt Avorneth. But now..." she sighed again. "I have more trouble painting lately. The inspiration comes more rarely, and it is more difficult to finish a painting. So I save my energy for those painting that I truly, deeply wish to do."
Galadriel gave Celebrían a worried look, and as soon as she could, she took her aside to speak in privacy. "All you all right? Is something the matter?"
Celebrían smiled, a little sadly. "Yes, everything is fine. It is a known effect, though perhaps I was a little surprised by the severity of it."
"What do you mean?"
"How having children affects our creative powers."
And immediately, Galadriel understood. The mix of things she felt in that moment was hard even for herself to understand: compassion, pity, regret, rage. Why, she had to ask, why did my daughter have to have her favourite pastime taken from her only because she wanted to have children? Galadriel had never been much affected by this, partly because of her own selfishness, partly because she did not make things in the most direct sense of the world.
There was, of course, the question if the fate of Hollin would have been different had Celebrían never been born, but Galadriel refused to contemplate it.
Hollin was not a creation in the usual sense of the word. That was as far as she allowed herself to go.
"I am sorry," she said simply, to her daughter.
"Do not be," Celebrían replied. "It is well worth it."
And that, of course, made away with all the mix of feelings and supplanted pure guilt instead.
Because Galadriel had never in her life fully felt that way.
This conversation left her in much worsened spirits, longing for the company of The Eldest and knowing she could not afford t travel that far.
The day did not much improve with the advent of afternoon.
King Arantar arrived with a large entourage, it apparently being an official visit. As Galadriel stood with Elrond's household, watching him come with the sun in his back, she at first thought the light she saw was from that. It was a moment later that she realized he was wearing a jewel on his brow, a jewel that made him shine so brightly.
It was only with utmost self-control that she kept herself upright and her face impassive.
The Star of Silmariën...she had thought it was gone with Númenórë, lost forever. But here it glittered before her, just as bright as it used to be, just as bright as the Star in her own crown. And glittering, it brought memories.
Of Silmariën, of that noble and wise lady who should have been queen – Númenórë might have still stood had she been Queen – and who bore her injustice with so much dignity and who started the noblest house in all of Númenórë instead. Silmariën, that dear friend whom Galadriel would not meet again until the end of the world. Silmariën, who was one of the very few Second-born Galadriel ever felt she understood or had true, deep friendship with.
And it also brought back the memory of Tyelperinquar, crafting both jewels to be each other's twins and mirrors, for the Queen of Men and Queen of Elves, as he had said. His willingness to do so, in his guilt, the sacrifice he made by that, and his later inability to give such a jewel to his own wife. And that meant memories of Sarnel too, of that precious, precious lady, fiercer than any other warrior, brave until her own death.
When Galadriel finally managed to get herself under control enough that she could focus on the present, the delegation was almost at the door of Elrond's house.
That was when she noticed the ring on the king's finger.
What joy she felt upon discovering that this heritage, too, had survived the fall of Númenórë was obscured by the knowledge that it was her brother's ring, her brother's ring, and this king she did not even know, she saw for the first time, was wearing it on his finger.
She gave it to Elros as a sign of friendship between her and his house, and Elendil gave it to Silmariën out of respect for the fact that that was the line to which that friendship went the most, but now someone completely unknown to her was wearing it on his finger.
Elendil of Gondor must have had it, too, she realized. The Elendil who did not recognize her, who thought she was some unimportant, primitive Silvan. He kept her brother's ring among his prized possessions.
She did not know whether to laugh or cry.
It was not until the feast to welcome the guests that she managed to speak with them civilly, without being overwhelmed by memories, and still, even then, they intruded upon her every time she caught a glimpse of the ring or the shine of the Star caught her eye.
She did her best to distract herself with conversation. She was in luck, for the topic was one suitable for taking her thoughts away from bittersweet memories. Increased dragon movement in the East was on everyone's mind both then and at the council the following day.
The dwarves were growing more and more worried. Arnor, however, refused to be bothered.
King Arantar, a pompous man with a clear sense of self-importance, announced that it was far and that the dwarves were being too alarmist. "I remember those worries from when I were still a prince," he said in his halting Sindarin. "And nothing came of them then. Nothing'll come of them now either, I wager."
"It's not that nothing came of them," Galadriel corrected him. "The dragons do keep moving. Several of them have left Withered Heath a century ago, and made their home in Iron Hills instead."
"Why should that worry us? The Hills aren't inhabited."
"It worries us because we fear it's an outpost for an invasion of the Red Mountains," Elrond explained patiently. "One of the dragons, in fact, has began to move in that direction, according to our latest intelligence."
"Red Mountains clans are no allies of us," King Arantar replied, "and if the dragons move East, well, the further from us the better. It may sound cold to you, but I won't let my own people die to save others."
And that, of course, was the crux of the matter. Elrond sighed, and they moved on to trade negotiations.
"I will send Lord Laurefindil there," he told Galadriel, "with a small but powerful unit. All the reports indicate that these dragons are much weaker than the ones we faces in the War of Wrath. I believe that this strength should be enough to defeat the one dragon who is most ambitious at least, and if Lord Laurefindil judges it to be beyond their powers, we will have a detailed report and know better what to do next."
"I wish them the best of luck," Galadriel replied. "And I am grateful to you for your decision. I am grateful that we will pay back the debt we owe Durin's folk, at least in part."
"I loved Artanáro as much as you," Elrodn replied simply, "and though it was in vain in the end, I will never forget that they saved him on the Battle Plains."
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
When Galadriel returned to Lindórinand, she found Amroth in a troubled state of mind.
"What is wrong?" She asked when she had privacy with him.
"Nimrodel," he only answered.
"Has something happened to her?" Galadriel asked in alarm.
"No, no. It is only...we talked about the future."
"Has her dislike of the Sindar diminished, then?"
"Not at all. But she has found it in her heart to make an exception for me."
"Found it in her heart? This...it is a matter of the Flame, is it not?" Galadriel wanted to clarify. If it was not, she would most strongly caution Amroth against pursuing it.
"I believe so," he replied. "It certainly is for me."
"In that case, it was not truly her decision."
"I have seen enough people resist the Flame in my time," he replied, reminding her again of his age, which she often forgot.
"True enough," she agreed, "but Amroth, if she detest the Sindar..."
"Yes?"
She hesitated. She knew that cautioning against the Flame was usually an exercise in futility, and she had never done so before, but then, she had never faced a king in love with one who despised his entire culture and what he stood for before. "This might not be a wise direction to go in," she said at length.
"You say she had little choice," Amroth said a little sharply, "but so did I, so I do not see why you are so ready to chastise me."
"Because it might not be wise to follow your heart on this shore," she said directly. "I spoke to Ealc about this chosen lady of yours," she admitted then. "She lives alone, does she not?"
"Yes. She dwells at the edge of the forest, by the White river."
"It would be very difficult both for her and for you if you tried to make her into your queen."
Amroth gave a bitter laugh. "You do not have to worry about that. She refused me." At Galadriel's surprised look, he explained: "She loves me, as Amroth, but she refuses me as king."
"But being a king is part of who you are, Amroth."
"It is not!" He retorted fiercely. "I never wanted to be king, never had the slightest interest in it, and if Oropher had not been so foolish and prideful, I could have followed my heart unhindered. Instead, I have responsibilities I never asked for, bringing me down every day, and now I even have to do without love because of them? Why did I have to fall in love with her? I never asked for that, either!"
Galadriel closed her eyes in the face of his pain and anger. "The reasoning behind the Flame is one of the biggest mysteries of the world, so do not expect me to answer it now." She said, and sighed. "I am sorry, really I am. It is a great pity that you have no siblings to whom you could bequest your kingdom and go live with Nimrodel. But I have seen too many tales of tragic love to be able to muster too much sympathy for yours. At least she is an elf, and however long you wait now, you know that you will truly be with her one day in the Blessed Lands, and until then, you can have her friendship." She turned to leave, but was stopped by Amroth's words: "I could leave the kingdom to Celeborn and you," he said.
"What do you expect me to reply to that?" Galadriel asked.
"I expect to give you an advice. Should I do it?"
She turned to look at him. "I can hardly advice you in this," she replied. "They are your people, and your responsibility, and only you can know what is that worth to you. I was serious when I pledged my loyalty to your father, Amroth, and no less so when I later transferred it to you. I will not counsel you to abandon this realm in hopes that I will gain it under my control, if that is what you think. You have sat with me in council for many centuries, and have had me as your advisor for a time now. You know my opinions, and my way to rule, as well as Celeborn's. If you believe that being with Nimrodel is more important than staying with your people, and that we could take care of them for you, you will do it, but it will have to be your decision. I can never advise you in this."
"You never shied away from advising me in anything before," he said, a slight tone of mockign in his voice.
"You never asked me if you should hand your realm over to me before!" She replied, some sharpness coming to her tone as well. In spite of everything, this was still a sensitive topic to her. "This is a matter in which no advice should be given. I refused to counsel Elrond when he asked whether he should claim the title of king, and before him, I did not advice Celeborn in this, nor Maedhros when he rejected his own birthright. Some of these choices I might approve, some I do not, but they always have to be made by the ruler himself."
"Or herself?"
"Or herself, yes. Leaving Hollin had to be my choice as well. That is part of the burden."
"And this is exactly why I hate it so much."
Galadriel refrained from commenting. An age ago, it would have made her bitter, now it only made her regretful and filled her with pain.
It was interesting, she mused as she went to her mirror to think about the situation and consult its advice, to see a Silvan who was so staunchly opposed to the Sindar. She was more used to the opposite view, but then, she knew many more Sindar than she did Silvan.
How common was this, truly, she wondered?
Ealc had called Nimrodel an odd one, but then, Ealc was very much Nimrodel's opposite, as far as Galadriel was able to judge. Where Nimrodel lived alone on the edges, Ealc lived in the heart of the realm. Where Ealc was actively involved in politics, Nimrodel kept away from it. How well, Galadriel wondered, could she truly judge how alone stood Nimrodel's voice?
If I want to be an effective help to Amroth, I should get to know more Silvan better, she realized.
It was not that Ealc was the only Silvan she knew, but she was the only one with whom she spoke with any regularity and depth, along with the other two who sat on the council. But they would not provide a fresh point of view. Like Ealc, they lived in the heart of the realm and were involved in its politics.
Avorneth would not help her in this either, for she spoke to the same people Ealc spoke to. Whom to ask?
Galadriel was barely beyond the edge of the capital when she met Feliel, to her marked surprise. "You here, in the depth of the forest?" She asked. "What happened?"
Feliel shrugged. "Oh, I was simply arranging a date of an athletic tournament with the settlement nearby."
That made Galadriel smile a pleased smile. "You continue in your common efforts that started before the war, then?"
"Of course. It has been very illuminating, both for us and for the Silvan, I believe. They have some traditional disciplines that we never even considered, and we have been able to teach them some things, as well."
Quite unexpectedly, Feliel might be the answer to her questions. "In that case, perhaps you could help me with my conundrum," Galadriel said.
"Gladly. What is it?"
"Well, I began to worry that...simply put, that I do not know the people of this realm enough. What would you say are the opinions among the Silvan, in general, of the Sindar and of us? Do they view this kingdom better, after the changes Ealc had ensured?"
Feliel frowned. "That is no easy question to ask, especially as you want me to speak generally. The Silvan are such a diverse group..."
Galadriel waved her hand. "Naturally I know everyone's opinions differ-"
"That is not what I meant," Feliel interrupted her with an apologetic look. "In Hollin, if you asked me, I could have told you the general mood among both the Noldor and the Sindar. This realm is smaller, and yet...it is perhaps that the Silvan live in different settlements and they are in touch only irregularly and without much of a system to it? Moods can be very different in different places in the forest, I find, and even in one settlement there are often differences, especially if it is a bigger one. But that is often a sign that it will split in two soon, so I do not know if it counts."
"That happens so often?" Galadriel asked in some surprise. "She was aware it happened sometimes, but simply for differing opinions…
"Oh, yes, all the time. The settlements are usually organized around one charismatic leader, so when a new one emerges, they tend to split."
Galadriel only shook her head. She feared she would never understand this world.
"In any case," Feliel continued, "if you want a general impression...the Noldor, I believe, are seen in a positive light, or rather indifferent one. I have never met with any hostility, save perhaps one or two exceptional cases, and we are always welcome at any competition we go to, something which surprised me at first. But the Sindar...well, that is a little more complicated. I would say that it depends on a particular Sinda."
"You mean that if he or she is known to them-?" Galadriel began uncertainly.
"That, too, naturally, but not only that. I do not know how much attention you pay to the fashions among the younger elves, but..apparently, as it was explained to me, there are ways, subtle ways, in which the Sindar communicate whether they are from the more conservative or forward-thinking circles. It is the way of dress, the way of speech, the way they do their hair...everything."
"What do you mean exactly?"
Felile thought about how to describe it. "If you would come with me to the capital," she said. "Perhaps I could show you on examples?"
So Galadriel obediently returned, and they walked together until they came across Ornor, one of Amroth's new Sindarin councillors. "Look carefully over what he is wearing," Feliel told her quietly, and when he was too far to hear, she explained: "He had long, ornate robes with much embroidery, and braided hair with carved ornaments in it, All signs of his being among the conservative ones. I venture that if you heard him speak, it would be pure Sindarin, with no influence of Silvan apparent on his language."
That worried Galadriel. "Am I marked as a conservative, then, when I speak with the Silvan in my learned Sindarin?"
Feliel smiled at that question. "Perhaps you would have been, had you not been known to all in this realm. They know which side you stood on."
They continued walking, and after a moment, Feliel indicated en elf standing not too far from them. "This is another good example. Look."
Galadriel did, and when they passed, she said: "It is the opposite, is it not? Now that I know what to look for..."
"Indeed."
"Her dress was brightly coloured, much more so than is usual with the Sindar," Galadriel noted. "And her hair was let down freely."
"Yes. There was almost no embroidery on her clothes, too, and her skirt was a little shorter than is usual among either the Sindar or us. If she walked into a Silvan settlement – when she does, since I have no doubt she does so frequently – she would be welcome as freely as any Noldo or Silvan. The other elf, on the other hand..."
"Ornor."
"You know him?" Feliel was surprised.
"He sits on the council."
Feliel frowned. "That is not a good thing. If he walked into a Silvan settlement, he would face very cold treatment, at least until he proved in some way that he was not from among those who despised them."
Recalling his opinions from the council, Galadriel rather doubted he could do so successfully.
Feliel left for the Noldorin city shortly thereafter, and Galadriel resumed her walk to her original destination, thinking about the growth of this realm. It was, she mused, rather like the mellyrn. She had planted a few of them at the top of the hill with her fountain, and now not only was the whole hill and the part nearest to it covered with them, but they were slowly appearing in other parts of the forest, so that she was sometimes surprised when she came across one.
So, too, first the Sindar and then the Noldor came to Lindórinand, and kept to themselves at first and prospered, but in time, started to spread among its original inhabitants. She could only hope that neither the trees no elves would be any worse for it. The elves it seemed to do good so far. Certainly the realm was happier now, less tense, than it had been when she first came. And it appeared that Nimrodel truly was an outlier. Not if only this good trend could continue, and if the trees could follow it as well.