Chapter 83: Guilt
Year 1636 of the Third Age, Lindórinand
After years of posing no danger, Angmar was gradually recovering from the defeat two centuries ago and pushing against Atherdain, and so Elrond sent his wife and daughter to Lindórinand once again even as he planned what he hoped would be the final offensive.
The arrival of the ladies was, as usual, accompanied by the twins and Lord Laurefindil. The lord only intended to stay for a day before returning to his duties in Rivendell, forcing Galadriel to make the most of his short stay.
"Elrond is worried," he said as he sat with her in her house.
"I know," she replied. Angmar had been pushed back only after it destroyed two of the successor kingdoms of Arnor, and for the last twenty years, it had been gaining strength again at a very alarming rate, a rate that suggested extraordinary amount of power pushing the growth. "Worried and guilty."
"That, always," Lord Laurefindil confirmed.
"I would say it is part of being a Noldo, but...are you, Lord Laurefindil?"
"Am I a Noldo?" He asked with an arched eyebrow.
She laughed. "I think there can be no doubt of that, in spite of your Vanyar hair. No, I meant, are you as burdened with guilt as the other members of our clan?"
"No," he replied, then amended, "or I should say, not any more. I felt guilt for leaving Aman, for my father's death and, naturally, for Lady Irissë, but the Halls of Mandos wipe all that away. Just as the memories of my death do not pain or haunt me, it released me from all the burdens I had accumulated before that. And I have been fortunate enough to not have too great burdens to carry since my return." He paused. "But do you truly think all of us carry shame for our deeds? What about Fëanáro as his sons?"
Galadriel considered the question. "Fëanáro truly was probably shameless, or at least he hid any kind of guilt very well, but his sons, at least some of them...guilt never left Nelyafinwë since Alqualondë until insanity claimed him completely, and I would venture to say that Macalaurë is plagued by it still."
"Did you know them well?" He asked curiously. "Before wandering with them through Beleriand before the War, I mean?"
She smiled slightly, looking into distance. "Macalaurë I only came to know properly later, but Nelyafinwë...it used to be the three us for a time – Nelyafinwë, Findekáno and me. Do you not remember? You were about four Valian years old when I became friends with Nelyafinwë, if my memory serves, and we often met at my uncle's house, so you must have seen us there."
He thought about it. "I do remember you being there often, and Nelyafinwë as well, but I think I never realized you were all friendly together. What brought it to an end, The Enemy?"
"Not quite. Fëanáro, I imagine you could say. The older I was, the more I saw his mistakes, but at the same time, I was compared to him more and more, and so I began to consciously work on curbing the more negative aspects of my personality. Findekáno understood and respected that, though he did not quite agree, but Nelyafinwë...not so much. We gradually drifted apart, but I considered him my friend until the attack on New Havens."
"And then?" Lord Laurefindil prompted.
"Then I pitied him, for the largest part. As I have said, he was insane to a degree, but in his lucid moments, he was burdened by guilt in a degree none of us can truly comprehend." She paused. "You never knew any of the Sons of Fëanáro?"
He shook his head. "I saw Curufinwë and Turkafinwë often enough, to my grief, but they were not the sort I wished to speak to. And Lord Turukáno, as you know, disliked all of the brothers rather strongly, so that did not give me much occasion to speak to the rest."
"Yes, I do know. I always wondered if Irissë first became friendly with them just to spite him."
Lord Laurefindil chuckled. "I can well imagine her doing something like that, no slight on her character intended."
"Is it not?" Galadriel asked archly.
"Loyalty would not allow me any such thought," he replied, laughter dancing in his eyes. Then he grew serious and added: "In times when guilt still plagued me, I often asked myself if perhaps I would have tried harder to find her after she disappeared if I had more respect for her when she still lived in Ondolindë."
The Nolde sighed. "See?" She remarked. "As I said, it is part of being a Noldo. I would tell you feeling any guilt over what happened is quite misplaced, but I was hardly her best friend, so perhaps you would not take it too seriously from me. And besides, you do not need to hear it any more. But it does bring us back to Elrond."
"It does indeed. I feel some other way than the Halls of Waiting to allay his guilt would greatly benefit him."
"Would that such a thing existed," Galadriel muttered, thinking not only of Elrond, but of herself, too, and or Artanáro. He, at least, had the benefits of the Halls at his disposal now. "But Elrond is excessive," she added aloud. "From what he said, you would think that the fact that the realms of Men fell, or are about to, was solely his fault."
"Ho does see them all as his nephews."
"I am aware, yes." She sighed. "Sometimes, I think he should have bid his brother farewell the moment Elros made his choice..." But she knew, of course, that Elrond would have never accepted it. Neither would she, after all. "In any case, that they are his nephews does not make him responsible for their failings. Valar know I would have driven myself to insanity had I regarded Oropher's in that light, or had Celeborn."
"And did you not? At all?" He asked with a penetrating look.
Galadriel considered the question. "No," she said then, slowly. "Not in this sense. I did blame myself for his faults to a degree-" a dark chuckle from Lord Laurefindil indicated that he had expected that much, "but not because he was my nephew. It was solely because of the conflict between us in New Havens, and because I did not try harder to heal the breach."
"I confess I do not know much about it," Lord Laurefindil replied. "Erestor told me some, but he...does not like to think back to those times."
"Understandable," Galadriel nodded. She did not like to think of Erestor in those times either. It brought back other kinds of guilt, for Brannor and others who had died there. "If you are in the mood to listen to a story, then..."
"From you, always, my lady."
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
After Lord Laurefindil left, Galadriel went in search of Celebrían to consult with her on the state of Elrond's mind. "How is he?" She asked.
"I am sure you know as well as I do, Mother."
"I doubt it," Galadriel replied, frustrated. "As much as I love Elrond, there are things I only tell my husband, and I assume it is the same with him. You are his wife, beloved, you know him best."
"But then, surely, if it is something he does not wish you to know, I cannot tell you?"
Galadriel did her best to be patient. "I am not asking you to break confidence, I would like to hear your conclusions about the state of his soul."
Celebrían shrugged languidly. "He is burdened by guilt. But you knew that already, did you not?"
"Yes, but how bad is it?"
"What do you expect me to say? Is there a scale against which this can be measured?"
Galadriel gave her a look expressing her displeasure, and Celebrían sighed. "He is in pain," she said, "and instead of being by his side, he sent me off to safety. I am left relying on vague images to communicate, while you can talk to him whenever you wish to. What do you want me to say, Mother?" She asked tiredly.
Galadriel hesitated. "Do you wish to go back?"
"No. As much as I would want to be by his side, I know that my presence in Rivendell was adding to his worries, not allaying them. But I find it difficult to be complacent about the situation. I would like some time to think, if you do not mind."
Galadriel left her, if only to prevent doing something foolish in her frustration, and went in search of Avorneth. "Thank you for standing by my daughter at all times," she began. "I do not thank you often enough, and I believe she needs you very much now, though she might be difficult at times."
"Oh no, I believe she is only difficult towards you," Avorneth answered cheerfully. "I suppose you have spoken to her, and that means I should go to her now and calm her down?"
Galadriel resignedly sat down on one of the chairs in the room. "Do I really hurt my daughter so much?"
"Do not worry about it, Aunt. It is hardly your fault that you and Elrond are close, and that she is not as powerful as you and so she cannot expose herself to danger as much."
Those words felt like Avorneth drew a spear through her heart, and it took Galadriel a moment to be able to answer. "Is that why she is upset with me?" She asked.
"Well, yes, though I would not exactly say she was upset with you. She feels inferior, well aware that had she been like you, she could have stayed by Elrond without worrying him." Avorneth paused. "Are you unwell, Aunt?"
"I have been better," Galadriel answered, taking a deep breath. "But never mind that now. Yes, you should probably go to Celebrían, but before you do, I have a favour to ask of you."
"Yes?"
"With Sauron possibly gaining strength again, we need to know how much he can do without the ring, and how much the ring can do when someone else has it. If Curunír has any discoveries in this regard, he did not share them with us. And you are the most qualified person to answer these questions..."
Avorneth inclined her head. "I can only travel to Rivendell after the matter with Angmar is over and done with, with Celebrían," she said. "Is it enough to get on the topic once there?"
"Of course," Galadriel agreed easily. It was not a truly pressing matter, but it had occurred to her recently in a conversation with Olórin. The sooner the work would be started on, the better, but it could wait a few years with no difficulty. "I suppose there is a better library there..." She added.
"I do not need a library as much as I need some of the smiths of Hollin that are still left in Rivendell," Avorneth replied. "Túron can tell me much, but not all. But there is another reason, too." She smiled softly. "If I am to be leaving soon, I would like to spend as much time as I can with Ealc before I go."
"Naturally. That is understandable, even though I am not certain how soon it will actually be, if you are to wait here until the danger of Angmar passes, or at least retreats."
Avorneth nodded grimly. Through Ealc's position in the council, she was well enough aware of the gravity of the situation.
"About the smiths, though," Galadriel added, "just...be certain they are completely trustworthy before you do."
Avorneth gave her a look that seemed almost chiding. "They are elves of Hollin. They would rather cut off their own hands than be of any help to Sauron ever again."
"A pity they did not realize that earlier, is it not?" Galadriel replied before she could stop herself, her old bitterness re-emerging.
"Believe me, Aunt, no one could be more regretful of that than them."
Galadriel was not so certain of that, for her own regret was sharp like a blade freshly forged, but she did not say anything. She knew that when Avorneth spoke of the smiths, she always thought of her father, and any insults to them would therefore be extremely painful. Instead, she only nodded at the younger lady and turned to leave in search of Celeborn and some comfort.
She stopped, however, when she was in the doorway. "Do you believe," she asked slowly, "that it would make Celebrían feel better if she could speak to Elrond, if only for a moment?"
"It is possible," Avorneth replied, "but how…?"
"I will lend her the ring for a while," Galadriel replied.
"No," Avorneth said, one sharp, direct word. "Forgive me," she added at Galadriel's startled look. "But that is not a good plan. Perhaps before she had children, but...she is not strong enough."
"Not strong enough to bear the ring for a few minutes?"
"To bear it? Certainly. But not to wear it." Avorneth hesitated. "Do you remember what you felt when you first wore the ring?"
Galadriel thought back. "As if great waves were crashing all over me..."
"They were difficult to manage even for Uncle, when you used to lend him the ring. He used to come and consult me on how to make it more bearable. Celebrían could not resist those waves."
And with that, Galadriel knew not even Celeborn could console her, and so she fled to the privacy of the hill with her Mirror, and there, she allowed herself to be consumed by her guilt.
It was the fate of the Noldor, indeed.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Elladan and Elrohir had deposited Arwen and their mother in Lindórinand before departing south, but they returned now, much earlier than they were expected, and horrified.
They called to their grandmother in their minds, and she found them in Amroth's house, Elrohir restlessly shifting in a chair and Elladan pacing around the room.
"There's an illness sweeping through the cities of Gondor," he said as he turned to her, wide-eyed, as soon as she entered. "I've never seen anything so terrible. There are dead and dying lying in the streets, and no one left to care for them. Osgiliath has become truly a place of horror."
"We saw Spenna's grandchildren," Elrohir added quietly. "Those who live in the capital. One of them has come down with the illness. It seems they are more resistant to it than their fully Second-born kin are, but it was still horrifying to watch."
"That means you're in danger, as well," Galadriel replied, alarmed. She felt sorry for the people of Gondor, but not sorry enough that she would be indifferent to the possibility to her own grandchildren dying. There was something more ominous, to her mind, to succumbing to illness than to dying of a wound received in battle. She was used to battles. They had been her daily bread for many years. But illnesses...illnesses were not natural to elves, and so the idea of her own grandchildren dying of one seemed a particular horror to Galadriel.
However, Elladan said in a determined voice: "In less danger than the people of Gondor. I've never been so sorry in my life that I never cared to learn anything of healing from my father."
"We came to beg, Amroth," Elrohir admitted plainly. "If you have but one healer you can do without, send them there. Elves can't die of this sickness, and you could save many lives."
Amroth seemed indecisive. "I certainly won't prevent anyone," he said, "but my people have no great healing powers, and no history of dealing with Men much. They wouldn't regard such an order kindly. The Silvan would ignore me entirely, I'm sure of that, but not even the Sindar… Perhaps you'd do better to send to your father..."
"My king, if I may?" Galadriel interrupted.
"Yes?" Amroth turned to her, surprised at the formal address.
"There are a few healers from Hithlum left still among the Noldor of this realm, and their apprentices. Allow me to speak with them, and give them leave to go if they wish to."
He considered. "Very well, then," he relented. "Send as many as are willing to go."
Elladan and Elrohir accompanied Galadriel to the mountains, and were profuse in their thanks. "You haven't seen it," Elrohir said, "but it was..."
"I know, beloved," she said softly. She did not, not truly, but she felt the horror from his mind clearly enough even without looking at the images. "There's no need to make yourself remember again."
"I shall never forget it," he muttered.
"We'd have gone to get father's healers, of course," Elladan explained, "but they are further away, and so many people die every day, time is of the essence."
"I can't promise how many will go," Galadriel cautioned. "They never had many dealings with Men either, contrary to your father's people, and though I taught them all how to care for the Second born before the last war, they might not feel too strong an obligation. I'm sorry I cannot go myself, but with the shadow growing ever stronger..."
"You don't have to justify yourself to us, grandmother." Elladan reassured her. "Besides," he added, "they're your people. I'm quite confident that a word from you, and they'll go."
Galadriel smiled, bittersweet. That could not be said of all her people in the past, but yes, perhaps if this was true of any group at all, it was true of those who had followed her from Hithlum and then through so many broken kingdoms. Of their loyalty, at least, she was certain.
Feliel welcomed them in the Noldorin city, just lounging over a game with Banja. "My lady, my lords," she said when she spotted the visitors, and both ladies rose and bowed. "What can we do for you?"
"We're in need of your healers," Galadriel said, and motioned for the twins to explain.
"I'll go as well, if you will have me," Banja said, not very surprisingly, when the narrative ended on a request.
"My love," Feliel said with a frown, "the lords said it's dangerous to the half-elven as well..."
"And yet they still go," Banja replied mildly. "So can I. Besides, I may be of use. I know your healers are trained in caring for the Second born as well, my lady," she said with a bow towards Galadriel, "but I still might have some specific experience they lack, being the healer in our family for millennia."
"Does your mother get frequently ill?" Galadriel asked curiously.
"Not frequently, no – living among the elves, where'd she catch the illness? But sometimes, and in such a long time, it's still enough cases that I have practice. Yes, I'll go, with your leave."
"Do you want me to come with you?" Feliel asked, casting a worried look at Galadriel.
"No, my love," Banja said softly. "You have your duties here, and the sons of Elrond will protect me, won't you?"
"Of course, my lady," Elladan said gallantly.
"We'll protect you from any attack or danger of this sort," Elrohir clarified. "But from the illness..."
"...I will do my best to protect you," Banja finished.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Elladan and Elrohir left with the healers, and not long after, Arwen came to speak to Galadriel in her house.
"Not long ago," she said over a cup of wine, "I used to believe that my brothers wasted their time by childish entertainments. Now look at us. They are saving people in Gondor and helping its exiled kings, and I? What am I doing?"
"Not everyone has the same callings, beloved," Galadriel said gently.
"I know, and I am mostly happy and content in my life, do not mistake me."
There was some wistfulness in her voice, though, and Galadriel asked: "Are you still lonely?"
"Yes. Is it so strange? For millennium and a half, I have walked this world alone. That is longer than you waited for Uncle."
"But a shorter time than your father waited for your mother."
"Yes," Arwen agreed, "and he was lonely, desperately so."
Galadriel had to concede that much. "It is true," she said then, "that even I was lonely, before I met your grandfather." She was now sometimes, too, but that was different. It was because she missed particular people, particular people she had known. Arwen had been spared that pain so far.
Arwen smiled softly at that. "So why do you wonder?" She asked.
"Perhaps I do not wonder, I simply...wish it were not so."
"So do I, but there is nothing to be done, is there not? The Flame cannot be hastened." Arwen sighed. "I have sometimes wondered if the one for me did not live on this shore, if he lived in the West instead..."
Galadriel thought of the vision in her mirror, and stayed silent.
After a moment, Arwen returned to the previous topic: "Apart from my occasional loneliness, I am happy and content," she said. "But sometimes, I feel that I live too much for myself. My brothers, as you know, are forever dashing about in the realms of Men, helping wherever they can, and when they are not, they do some important work for our father or for you. But me...sometimes I help Father with healing, but I do not have particular talent for it, nor do I find my calling in that. And what else do I do?"
Galadriel shook her head. "You are a scholar and an artist, beloved. These things help, too."
"Perhaps. It seems somehow insufficient, though, when I look at what my brothers do."
"It seems your father's self-deprecation has passed on to you, something I would not have expected. There is more than one way of helping, of making he world a better place," Galadriel pointed out.
"If I was a first-class scholar, then perhaps that is what I would feel as well," Arwen conceded, "but I do not need to read his mind to know what Erestor thinks of my work."
"Erestor thinks very little of anyone's work but his, and even about that I am not entirely certain," Galadriel said with a hint of sharpness directed at the scholar. "Do not let him get you down, you know Lord Laurefindil never does."
"No," Arwen said with a laugh, "but then, he has effective methods of making him be nice!" She sighed. "On a more serious note, though, no one can doubt that Lord Laurefindil lives entirely selflessly. I...do not."
Galadriel pressed her hand. "I have known truly selfish people," she said, "and I have known those who, while not entirely selfish, were very self-contained at least. You are neither."
"You are speaking of Lúthien," Arwen guessed, from the many stories Galadriel had told her of her lookalike.
"Yes," the Nolde confessed. "Even just...when we talked about Spenna, you wondered how he could leave his family behind. I do not think this crossed Lúthien's mind once when she fell in love with Beren. Of course, she did not know what her fate would be at that time, but still."
"But I thought...you always said you supported her in her love?"
"I did. Just as I supported your uncle – and would support you if it was ever needed," she made herself add. "But still I know the difference. Elros, while he loved Adanel with all his heart, was still being torn apart by what his death did to his brother. Lúthien...she had a happy nature in this. She could not entirely step out of herself in this way. You are not like that, and even less can you be called entirely selfish. After all, that you have these worries alone shows it perfectly."
"Should it not be our actions, though, where our morality shows? What good is it to anyone how I feel?"
"But I told you. Your art and writing...is enough."
"It never feels like it is. Perhaps loneliness was not the right word. It feels...empty, sometimes."
Galadriel felt another shudder of premonition go down her spine.