Chapter 81: Danger
Year 1302 of the Third Age, Lórinand
There is a new danger for us to fear, Elrond announced one pleasant spring afternoon as Galadriel was enjoying peace and watching the mellyrn in bloom with Celeborn by her side. She should have know it would not last.
Yes? She asked tiredly.
A new kingdom is rising in the North, north even of where Arnor used to be. It is ruled by a dark sorcerer – they call him witch king.
Another shadow? She laughed without mirth. Well, at least we know they cannot both be Sauron.
They could both be Ringwraiths, though.
Certainly, but I am sure that you understand why that worries me less – except, of course, that his most trusted servants would hardly reappear without their master making some sort of re-emergence as well. What do you plan to do?
I have offered the realms of Men our assistance, but not very surprisingly, they insist they can manage on their own. But at least it seems I will succeed in making them agree on a firmer alliance.
She smiled. You have become quite the mastermind behind politics of Men, have you not, beloved?
Well, what else can I do?
Oh, I am not criticizing. Far from it. How could I, when I spent ages attempting to do the same for the elven realms. I wish you more success than I had.
I have little faith in that, he returned. Arnor fell apart. That is surely not a good sign.
No, but it might turn to the better yet. She paused. I was never quite sure about this, regarding the Doom – does it only concern us who were there when Lord Námo pronounced his judgement, or our children and grandchildren as well? It would appear the second is true, looking at our history, and yet where is the justice in that?
It might be difficult, I think, to differentiate between the effects of the Doom and of the Marring of Arda.
You are very right in this. And perhaps I am doing the Valar an injustice: after all, my experience with the Doom tells me that had the elves born after the departure from Aman still been bound by it, we would not have won in the Last Alliance.
You are under the Doom still, he said hesitantly. Do you think…?
Do not think it has not occurred to me before. Do I doom any endeavour to failure by my participation? It is the reason – or one of the reasons – why I do not wish to be queen again. So far, it appears that only giving counsel is not enough to doom a realm, as long as I am content with it being counsel and do not attempt to make my voice the decisive one, as I did before the Battle of Unnumbered Tears. But it is a conundrum. Us who came from the West have the most power to defeat Sauron, and yet the Doom also makes us likely to fail. That, I believe, is the main reason why we needed the Wizards. They are from the West, without being Doomed.
Hm. In that case, I would certainly appreciate one of them coming to help with Angmar, he returned to the original topic.
You can contact Olórin just as easily as I can.
I can, but I do not believe he would come. Waging wars is not quite his speciality, is it?
What else were they sent for, but waging wars?
To help us with their counsel, I imagine.
Galadriel smiled to herself. That, too, but not only that, beloved. Do not be confused by their seeming age. Olórin at least is more than capable to fight, and I gather that so are the others. I believe that once the battle comes, they will fight, and bravely so. She paused and frowned. Well, at least those who will be close enough to heed the call. Olórin tells me the Blue ones go further and further East in their quest, and not even Curunír meets with them any longer.
What do they do there, then?
Who knows? We can only assume it is something of importance. They will not come to help with this realm called Angmar, that much is certain.
No one will, Elrond pointed out. Celebrían and Arwen are talking about visiting you again, and as much as I would miss them, I am thinking of telling them to go with Elladan and Elrohir and stay longer this time, at least until we can examine the situation in Angmar properly.
Are you certain of this? She asked, surprised. You may be closer to Angmar, but we are closer to Amon Lanc.
The evil of Angmar, however, seems to be expanding more quickly, he replied. From what I know, it spread in the last two years as the one close to you did in twenty. And I might get involved in a direct war with it soon, which would put Rivendell in more danger.
Do you believe the shadow is strong enough to overpower the protection the Ring provides? Galadriel asked, worried. That would imply Sauron for sure.
I do not know – and if I am to test it, I would rather not do so in the presence of my wife and children.
Very well then, send them to me – but you know you may wait long until the witch-king is defeated. The twins, at the very least, will not sit idly and wait here.
I do not expect them to – they will accompany their mother and sister and stay for a while, and then they will come back and serve as scouts. She could feel his smile. I am well aware they are no longer elflings, you know.
It is well that you are. It is more than most parents manage – including Celeborn at times, I have to say.
Well, Celebrían does need more protection than our sons.
Galadriel flinched at this, and shied away from Elrond's questioning mind. She felt his hurt, and sighed.Forgive me, beloved, but I already told you I cannot share this particular secret with you.
I do not wish to pressure you, he replied, and yet...it seems to me it weights very heavily on you. I would like to help, if I could.
She shook her head. There was only one who knew, and she is in the West now.
It concerns Celebrían, does it not?
Yes, but not in any way that would influence her life. It is purely my private matter, I promise you.
Very well then. Expect your daughter and grandchildren soon, with a proper escort. Elrond turned his mind from her then, and she could feel he was still worried. But there was no helping it: she could sooner tell Celeborn about this than her daughter's husband.
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At Feliel's request, Galadriel asked her and Banja to spend an evening with her at the same time she asked Avorneth and Ealc.
"I could easily simply go and visit them," Feliel had said, "but Banja is not exactly forward, and she would feel better, I believe, if we all met in your house."
"Then my house is at your disposal."
And so it was. Galadriel soon realized where the problem lay: Banja was excessively shy particularly in front of Avorneth.
Avorneth noticed, too, and after soldiering through an hour or so of uncomfortable silence and almost-whispered replies to her question, she said: "Have I ever done something to make you believe I detested your company, that you won't speak to me directly?"
That alarmed Banja, and she quickly looked at the Noldorin lady. "No, of course not, my lady," she said. "I'd never wish to offend you in any way."
"What is it, then?"
Banja hesitated. "Your grandfather was the High King, I know. It seems improper, my lady, to simply sit here with you around the same table and speak as if we were equals."
Ealc scoffed. "Don't tell me you believe all that nonsense about kings."
At her, Banja could look fully as she replied: "I know you see it differently, but I was raised in a world where this wasn't acceptable, and it isn't so easy for me to change."
Avorneth frowned, and looked at Galadriel. "But-" she began. She wished to say, Galadriel could sense, that it was strange Banja did not have the same problem with her.
Do not remind her, she asked Avorneth sharply. It was possible that Banja did not quite realize who Galadriel's family was, or for some other reason forgot that she should display the same kind of respect in front of her. If that was the case, Galadriel much preferred her not remembering. She could hardly help if Banja was afraid to speak to her.
Avorneth stopped herself just in time. "But your sister doesn't seem to have the same trouble," she said instead.
"No. Tugu was never suited for Magrandoro, that's one of the reasons we left."
She sounded wistful, and Celeborn asked her: "Do you miss it?"
"I do," she admitted. "My sister and parents were right, we were always treated as outsiders there, but still, it was my home and I loved it. Lindórinand is a lovely, friendly place, but it's very different."
"What is it you miss the most?" Galadriel asked curiously.
"The purpose," Banja replied. "Everyone seemed to have one there, much more so than here. Here I feel unmoored, and every decision I make is so difficult because of that."
"Which brings us to why we're here," Feliel announced cheerfully.
Banja gave her a pained look.
"I'm sorry, my love," Feliel was immediately contrite. "I didn't mean to be so abrupt. But we're looking for advice." She turned to Avorneth and Ealc. "Your wedding was a mix of two traditions. We hoped you could help us."
Avorneth regretfully shook her head. "We're not the right couple to turn to. Apart from my dress and jewellery, we followed everything Silvan." She paused. "But Aunt and Uncle had a mixed wedding, didn't you?"
"We did," Galadriel confirmed, "but most of it was still Noldorin, or our own."
Feliel sighed. "Do you know anyone who could advise us, then?"
"Tugu?" Galadriel asked archly.
Banja smiled, softly. "My sister, too, simply accepted Silvan wedding customs without any qualms. I'd like to keep something of what I knew when I was growing up, though."
"And what were the weddings like, in Magrandoro?" Galadriel asked, thinking of her talk with Avorneth centuries ago about the dearth of custom description in legends.
"In short, elaborate," Banja replied.
When Galadriel actually saw the resulting ceremony, a few years later, she had to concede it was very true.
She had recommended the best Doriath seamstresses she knew to Banja, and Feliel of course took care of arranging the best jewel smith. Galadriel did not know how long it took Banja to explain what she needed. It must have been long, for the result was very different from anything they knew. Different, but exquisite.
Banja was wrapped in red silk, which reminded Galadriel of her own wedding, but the cut was entirely foreign, and so was the design of the very many jewels that glittered on her hands and ears.
Galadriel had also assumed, from her experience of Avorneth's wedding, that there would not be much mention of the Valar. She could not have been more wrong.
The names were different, true. Except for Oromë, who was simply shortened to Orme, she would not have recognized any of them. But call to their particular areas of interest were included in the prayers, and it was not difficult to see which of the Lords and Ladies they were addressed to.
Banja was first given away to Feliel by both of her parents. Feliel then led her to a lit fire and they held hands over it as they began to circle it, and as they did, they prayed. Every circling of the fire was a prayer to one of the Valar, for their special blessing. Seven circles in one direction for the Lords, asking for wisdom and compassion and material security, for strength and courage, for peace and for their fates to be joined even after death. And then the direction changed and prayers to the Valier came, for light in their lives, for growing together, to support each other in sorrow, for happiness and joy, that their fates be united and that they always take care of each other.
Then they both leaned forward, and above the flames, they kissed, the name of the One on their lips, shared in the same breath.
Galadriel felt warm happiness spread through her, and for a moment, she forgot about the shadows pressing on them from two sides.
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Celebrían and the children had arrived just in time for the wedding, and as soon as the celebration was over, Galadriel found some time to spend alone with her granddaughter. "Father explained about Angmar," the younger lady said as they sat by the fountain. "I must say I am surprised to hear it is so difficult to tell what kind of creature the witch-king is. Surely you know the Ringwraiths and Sauron from the previous war?"
"Part of the problem is that neither me nor your father can afford to go explore personally, and neither can he send his Chief Commander. Only I am certain to recognize Sauron, and only the three of us would be able to tell the Ringwraiths apart. It is true that there are more who could recognize a Ringwraith at all, but there is also the matter of their safety. Sending anyone to Angmar to find out would be a risk, and unless it is Sauron – which, as I said, only I can recognize with certainty – it does not much matter."
"Do you believe it is Sauron? Father does not."
"Neither do I – from what your father tells me, the sorcerer is attempting to establish a regular kingdom, and I do not think Sauron would do that, not outside Mordor. It seems strange even for a Ringwraith, to tell the truth – if it was not for the strength of the shadow, I would say it was some lesser servant of Sauron. But I could be wrong, of course."
"When you and Father agree on something, I would be very surprised if you were," Arwen replied with a smile.
"Thank you for your confidence," Galadriel said with a retuning one of her own, then added: "What made you so interested in possible wars to come all of a sudden?"
"I do not care about the war, not really, I am more curious about...well, how do you recognize a Ringwraith? Or a Maia? Is there a way to tell?"
Galadriel considered the matter. "Well, there is a certain particular feeling to them. Ringwraiths are easy enough. Maiar are more difficult, for they come in so many different kinds and forms. And in any case I cannot truly explain it without you having a first hand experience."
"I did speak to Mithrandir a few of times..."
Galadriel shook her head. "That will not help, the nature of the Wizards is buried too deep under their disguise for you to spot it unless you know what you are looking for. There are precious little Maiar left for you to find out...The Eldest has a wife, I believe, though I have never met her. But given that entering his forest would mean getting relatively close to Angmar, now is not a good time to explore this possibility."
Arwen took a moment to digest this. "How can you ever know if the evil in Mirkwood is Sauron, then, if no one but you can recognize him and you never leave Lindórinand?" She asked then.
Galadriel sighed. Therein, indeed, lay the problem. "Hopefully, Mithrandir sharing his memories with me will be enough to tell. And if we wait long enough, I will also be able to reach his mind with mine and recognize it."
"Why do you have to wait for that?" Arwen asked criously.
"Whatever dwells there is too weak still, and it does not have a mind to speak of yet. I can only feel that it is malicious, nothing more."
At this point, Elladan and Elrohir scrambled up the hill to them. "Amroth says that the white river formed a new and very beautiful cove since we last were here," Elrohir said to his sister. "We are going there now. Do you want to come with us?"
Arwen raised her eyebrows at them. "Why?"
"To see the cove, obviously."
Arwen gave him a look. "I meant why are you asking me – though now I feel obliged to tell you that while I am sure it is very pretty, I came to see my grandparents. I can admire coves in Rivendell."
"Well, not this one," Elrohir pointed out.
"I believe I can do without."
"Your loss," Elladan said decisively, and they left again. "I told you there was no point in asking her," he muttered to his brother.
Once they were out of earshot, Galadriel turned to Arwen and said: "I believe your brothers were trying to...have you meet someone, without telling you. They are probably bound by secrecy."
Arwen blinked. "Oh. I had no idea. Was I too unkind, then? Mother always says I am unkind to them, but I cannot help sometimes feeling they spend time by such silly things, for all they are older than me."
Galadriel smiled. "Your mother is right that you should not judge them so harshly," she said. "We each have different interests. There is nothing wrong in their pursuits, and I can probably understand them better than you can."
"If they spent more of their time studying..."
"Then what?" Galadriel shook her head. "They do not aspire to be loremasters. They love being out in the mountains and the forests, admiring their beauty. They are like their mother in this, and their grandfather."
"Mother never ran across the country like they do, though, did she?" Arwen asked.
"You are right, she did not. Celebrían could – still can – spend days admiring a single tree, something I truly never could understand. They are more restless than she is, but what drives them is fundamentally the same."
"If they were less restless, father would be less worried," Arwen muttered.
"Ah, so this is what troubles you, is it not? Worrying is part of being a parent, beloved. Elrond would not attempt to change his sons' natures, or make them less than they could be. Your mother, I am sure, worries when you read too much about what she calls 'bloody Noldorin history' of the first age, yet she does not try to stop you either, does she?"
"Not usually," Arwen admitted, "though I know she was upset with you for giving me the words to the Fall of the Noldor."
"I see she inherited her father's protective tendencies as well," Galadriel said with a hint of sharpness in her voice. "It is well to know that at least one of your parents is aware that their children are now over a thousand years old, and quite capable of deciding on their own."
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The rise of Angmar was, naturally, something to discuss with Olórin as well. Galadriel had briefly notified him through the rings, but she saved a detailed discussion for when he came in person.
"Yes," he confirmed. "I went to that realm as soon as Elrond warned me, and there is indeed a darkness to be feared."
"Is it Sauron?" She went straight to the heart of the matter.
"I...do not believe so," he replied. "But I cannot know for certain. You knew I could not know for certain."
"I hoped, perhaps, that a memory would resurface," she answered.
"You have to stop hoping in that, my friend," he replied. "They will not come back to me, not until I return West."
At the mention of that, Galadriel looked away. She had kept that particular shame of hers hidden from him so far, but now he gave her a surprised look at sensing the pain in her mind. "What is wrong?"
She shook her head. "The West just seems so far away and out of reach," she said, entirely truthfully.
"And yet you have better memories of it than I do."
"Indeed. It seems it should be hard not to feel as if I am back there, as I walk here among the mellyrn with you, the same I did in my youth in the West. But I am so changed, and you are not truly the same you...the memories do not touch me except to remind me how different it all is."
He smiled. "The world is changing every day, it is no wonder that five millenia ago seem different than now."
"It is not so much about the world being changed, in truth, though that plays a part as well I suppose – as it changes, so do we. And it seems to be ever quicker these days, or perhaps it only seems so to me because I am limited to this small realm and hardly go far away."
"No, you might well be right," he agreed. "I do not remember the world as it was, of course, but...this used to be the lands of elves, with the Second born living only in small spaces in isolation, am I correct?"
"Yes. That was true until the expansion if Númenórë, which broadened the lands of Men."
"The lives of Men are quicker," Olórin said, "and the land, the world itself, matches itself to them. When it was en elven world, the changes were slow and gradual, Now, it is fast-paced."
"It makes me wonder about the future," Galadriel said. "How long until I, locked as I am behind the walls of this forest, will entirely lose track of the world of Men? You know that as it is now, Amroth does not admit them into the realm unless it is an official envoy of one of the kings. When someone seeks help, they are provided for at the borders, and then sent away. He fears enemy spies, but we close ourselves in a way that reminds me of Doriath, and that sits badly with me."
"He is worried. You have to understand."
"I do understand, but I do not like it. The Sindar here have learned much from the Silvan, or most of them have at least. But the Silvan, in turn, accepted some things, and it seems to be that along with the language, it is this kind of...lack of openness."
"Many of them died in the last war, from what you told me. It leaves a mark."
"It does, and it makes me bitterly regret the past every time I remember it." She sighed. "It is also why this is becoming the world of Men, of course. So few of us are left, most either dead or Sailed..."
"Yes. Yours are only little islands in the rapidly expanding sea of Men. I know that when you taught me Sindarin, it was with the knowledge that it was the language that was most widely spoken, but I am finding more and more places where only Westron is to be understood."
"I know," Galadriel agreed. "We have this trouble with the kings of Gondor – there were some to which we have had to talk through an interpreter already when we wanted to clarify some more complicated point. A day will come, I know, when they will know none of our languages, and it will not be out of defiance, as in Númenórë, but out of ignorance and neglect."
"Do you despise them for it?" He asked.
"Despise?" She considered. "I do not know. Certainly they have every right to speak their own language, but it seems to me that it is a sign of falling learning that they know not how to speak even Sindarin."
He smiled a little, and she caught his thought and returned it. "Yes, I do not speak Westron myself, you are correct – but then, you know that my mother tongue was Quenya, and that I learned Telerin when in Aman still, and Sindarin after coming to Middle-Earth, and what I could of Silvan. It is not as if I knew only one language."
"No," he agreed, "but you had so much more time in which to learn."
Her smile broadened. "I sense," she said, "that you believe I should learn it."
"I do, my friend. As you said yourself, this is going to be a world of Men soon, and you need to know how to speak to them."
"Then if you have time, teach me. No method is ever going to be more efficient than learning with the help of the rings!"
"I will not stay long enough, I fear, to have you learn all of the language," he replied regretfully.
She shrugged. "No matter. Teach me what you can. I have Elrond, then, to practice on, and I can still try to use Westron through the rings."
Olórin's smile turned into more of a grin. "From speaking to Elrond in Quenya directly to Westron? That might surprise him a good deal."
"All the more reason to do it, then!" Galadriel said, returning his grin.
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AN: As you've probably noticed by now, I take inspiration for the elven societies I create from around the world, but the wedding was a little more direct, so let me credit it: it was inspired by traditional Indian wedding ceremony, though it was less elaborate by far – I imagine Banja made it a bit easier for Feliel so that the poor girl didn¨t end up completely overwhelmed.