Chapter 86: Escape

Year 2063 of the Third Age, Lothlórien

It was strange for Galadriel, being the ruler – or one of the rulers – of a realm again.

It was particularly strange in the circumstances that surrounded her coming into this responsibility.

A few years after Amroth's departure, Nimrodel's friend Mithrellas had returned to Lindórinand, and brought the most dreadful news: Nimrodel had been lost on the way to the sea and that Amroth drowned in his despair. It plunged the realm into half a century of mourning. The place of the old capital had been renamed Cerin Amroth in his honour, and when the period of mourning ended, Galadriel did her utmost to help heal her people, pouring her power – and the ring's power - into the realm in such a way that she made it in likeness of the healing gardens of Lord Irmo. It was Olórin who first named it Lothlórien, Lórien of the Blossom, for the likeness was such that some memories stirred in him, and the name was gradually accepted as another way of honouring Amroth. It was him who ruled the Vale of the Land of Singers; Celeborn and Galadriel would simply protect his people and help to heal their wound, and what better place for that than Lórien?

So Cerin Amroth was a place of memory now, deserted and surrounded by mellyrn. It would have scarcely been possible to have any place deserted in the forest before, so full of elves it was, but many Sindar had sailed after the king's death. The new capital, Caras Galadhon, had just as much Silvan and Noldor in it as it had Sindar.

It was built in the place of Galadriel's fountain. It caused her some regret, but she had to admit it was the wisest solution. As a ruler now, she could not afford to be away from the capital so often, and it would be useful to have the Mirror close at hand. It made the transition easier, too – the fountain was a place of beauty, and it gave people reason to be willing to move.

The Silvan settled near the top of the hill, in the crowns of the oldest mellyrn, where there was space left still unoccupied by Noldor. It was done out of respect for her, Galadriel knew – if they lived in the treetops, that still mostly left the ground, with the fountain and the Mirror, to her private use.

It had been a foolish hope, though. The capital was the capital, and the Sindar and Noldor who lived lower at the hill were often unwilling to adapt to the Silvan way of life – especially the Noldor found the treetops difficult to accept – and so they walked the ground. Galadriel built a small hidden shelter for her Mirror visions and privacy, and tried to derive pleasure from knowing that at least so many of her people now dwelt in the place that was best protected.

There were other changes in the realm, too. Two Sindar from the council sailed, Ornor one of them, and they needed to be replaced. Galadriel knew exactly whom she wished to take their place, but there was a problem: neither of them was a Sinda.

"If you had anyone you would truly recommend, anyone truly good, to take the place," she told Celeborn, "I would accept without hesitation, but I don't wish to have inept people on the council only because they are Sindar. We had enough of that with Ornor."

"Would you rather make the Sindar feel like strangers in their own land?" Celeborn asked. "I have enough capable people. It's only that they're not as capable as those you'd name."

"I dislike the idea we'd rob our council of the help of one of those who are very capable of making it more productive, because of this."

Celeborn sighed. "Amdír had a bigger council, towards the end, than Amroth had," he said. "We can add one more member to ours, too. Then you can appoint whom you wish, and the numbers of Noldor, Sindar and Silvan there would be equal."

After some hesitation – bigger council usually meant a less efficient one – Galadriel accepted, and went to speak to her chosen candidates.

Feliel was very surprised by the offer. "But...I do not live in the capital," she protested.

"No," Galadriel agreed, "but I believe it might be time you did. Many Noldor had moved there already, and the world is getting more dangerous by the day."

"Is it? I mean, Angmar was ended, and Scatha the Dragon was killed..."

"Angmar was ended only for the Witch-king to take residence in Mordor instead, and though that is a little further from us, he will be more dangerous there. The shadow in Mirkwood is growing stronger by the day, and that is all too near. Scatha was killed, yes, but not before ravaging the dwarven kingdoms in the Red Mountains, and there are other dragons left still. Durin's Folk in their new kingdom of Erebor fear their attack every day. Some sit on the gold from the Red Mountains now, but who knows where the others might turn?"

"You do not paint the future too bright, my lady."

Galadriel sighed. "No. I feel it will not be very bright at all."

"Should all the people move within the protective borders, then?" Feliel worried.

"I will not give the order, but I strongly recommend it," Galadriel replied. "I cannot vouch for their safety here. But then, I already told you this a long time ago."

Feliel nodded. "I will have to consult this with Banja," she said then, "but I doubt she would regret being closer to her parents and back in a forest. As for myself, I would gladly accept your offer, my lady."

That matter settled, Galadriel set out to speak to the other person she wished to have on the council.

If Feliel had been surprised, Birik was deeply astonished.

"But my lady..." he said. "You know that I'm of common origin, and an Avar to boot."

"I'm aware indeed," she replied archly. "I hope you don't suggest Ealc is of noble birth – she'd certainly be offended by that."

"No, but that's different. She was elected by the Silvan into the position. You wish to choose me. Won't your lords protest?"

Galadriel was amused by the idea. "There are so little Noldorin lords and ladies left," she said, "I almost exhausted the supply by having Feliel and Avorneth in the council. There is only one or two more left in this realm."

"Truly? I never realized."

Galadriel shrugged. "It ceased to matter a long time ago, at least the way it mattered in the First Age. There's too few of us now."

"The Noldorin lords won't protest, then – but what of the Sindar?"

"You might offend some of their sensibilities," Galadriel admitted, "but there are few enough left of the old ones nowadays who would truly matter. And even those still prefer you to a Noldo, so they won't be too loud. Are these your only objections?"

"There is also that I'm not certain I'm qualified. I don't have your kind of learning-"

"Of the entire council, only Celeborn, Avorneth and Feliel do."

"-and I'm not as knowledgeable about politics as my daughter is. Why did you not choose her?"

Galadriel sighed. "I have the greatest respect for Tugu's opinions," she said, "but we'd never have any compromise in the council if she was present. I hope you'll consult her frequently, but I don't wish to have her sit in directly." She sighed again. "In truth, I'd prefer to have both you and Hana together in the council, but that might truly be too much for some of my lords, as you said. So in a way, you're to represent your entire family there."

"Then I'll consult with the entire family before I decide," he replied.

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

Birik took his time in making up his mind, but in due course accepted the position, thus completing Celeborn!s council. It was just in time, too, because Galadriel now had another, new thing to worry about.

Olórin was about to venture into Mirkwood.

She was nervous in a way she had not been for some time.

He seemed amused by that.

"Do you not trust me, my friend?" He asked.

"I would naturally trust you fully if it was not for this ridiculous-" She stopped herself and slowly exhaled. "I do not have too clear an idea of how much of your power remains in this form. I wish I could go instead."

"You know that is politically impossible. Thranduil will be upset enough with me as it is, but at least I cannot start an international incident."

"He has no right to be upset, he lost control over that part of the forest years ago!" She sighed. "But of course you are well aware of that. Forgive me. I just- be careful, my friend. I will stay with you in mind."

He inclined his head and caught her in a short embrace before he departed, making Galadriel shake herself a little. The embraces were the hardest thing to get used to, for it was one thing she knew Lord Olórin, as friendly as he was, would never have done in Aman, perhaps because he never seemed quite comfortable in his bodily form. It was rather ironic that he should be the one to come as a wizard, truly.

She watched his progress across the river and through the fields, and his entrance into the darkness of Mirkwood. She watched him drive off countless dark creatures with his light, and her nervousness abated, for even though he did not have all of his power, he clearly had enough.

That showed once more when he confronted the shadow that dwelt there, for it fled from him even before he could fully face it.

Galadriel sensed Olórin's frustration, and it was mirrored by her own. They barely caught a glimpse of the Necromancer, whoever it was. Olórin, being there in person, would naturally know more, but she for herself was unable to identify the danger with any kind of finality. As an argument for Thranduil, it would be useless.

Is he gone? She asked, dismayed.

Yes, Olórin confirmed, going through the ruins of the old capital of Greenwood systematically and driving out the lesser dark creatures present, chiefly orcs and spiders. No trace of him here. I could try tracking him, but...he will be well hidden. Especially if it was truly his power that hid the Witch-king's armies before the fall of Arthedain.

Galadriel had to agree. He could be anywhere. Having no bodily form, he can move much quicker than we can, and...you could spend centuries looking. As much as it upsets me, it is better to wait until he manifests again somewhere. I should have known he would flee.

Olórin sighed. There was no reason to believe so – he was well settled there, and he could have tried to fight me. We both know it would not have been an immediate victory for me, though it would have ended that way eventually. There was good chance he would stay long enough for me to get a proper look at least.

Galadriel, however, had to disagree. I fully believe it is Sauron, she said, and I know Sauron is master of strategic retreat. Did he not allow Númenórë to capture him at the end of last age when he realized where he stood? The Witch-king, too, must have learned this from him, and that is why Angmar lasted so long against us. I recognize this strategy. It is familiar to me. I am now more certain than ever it is Sauron, but what use is that, if we have no proof?

Olórin had no answer to that. He went north to notify Thranduil of what happened in a disconcerted frame of mind, and Galadriel left him be for a time.

She contacted him again only to witness the frustrating argument with the Greenwood King. Seeing with her own eyes that marriage, instead of helping him, seemed to have made Thranduil only more unreasonable, was upsetting. After watching for a time, she began to find it rather amusing, in that dark way tinged with despair, to whisper insults fitting for the situation into Olórin's mind. He even used some of them.

Do you habitually unfavourably compare people to Fëanáro? He asked as he was heading back.

Yes, in fact. Those I dislike the most. I said the exact same thing to Singollo and to Túrin – so, thinking about it, it is probably a good thing you did not use that one. Thranduil might have recognized it.

You said that to Singollo in front of full court? Olórin asked in amused horror.

No, I actually sent it to him as a message when he attempted to capture me, but I would be very surprised if the word did not get round. And if Oropher knew about it, which he very likely did, he would have used it in his campaign against me, so Thranduil would know as well.

Olórin was even more amused by this. Old sins cast long shadows, he said.

Are you heading to Rivendell now? Galadriel asked after a moment, catching the destination in his mind.

Yes. I need to inform Elrond of our discovery.

You know perfectly well you could simply speak to him the way you are speaking to me right now, she pointed out archly.

True enough, he agreed, but it is on my way to where I am headed next, and I enjoy being in Rivendell.

Is not Lothlórien of equal attraction? She asked, teasing. He had just been in her realm, she understood why he would go to Elrond now.

To her surprise, however, she sensed his mind turning more serious in response, and asked: What is it, my friend?

Lothlórien still mourns its king, he replied.

Galadriel sighed. It was very true. The fifty years of mourning might have been over, but the greif would never pass fully, and certainly not this soon. Yes, Rivendell is more joyful nowadays, she admitted, and even as she said it, a very unpleasant shiver of premonition ran through her.

Galadriel? What is it?

It will not last, she replied. I will have to consult my mirror, but that much I understood from the vague glimpses I have now. A tragedy will strike Rivendell as well.

He hesitated. Are you certain you wish to look? He asked then.

Why? She asked sharply. Have you seen something?

No, but...some of your dearest still in Middle-Earth dwell in Rivendell. It may be that it will concern one of them. Are you sure you wish to know?

It is almost certain it will concern one of my loved ones, she corrected him, for all of those who have the power to fling the entire valley into grief are those that I love. I would not have searched that knowledge, but now that I had the premonition...I have to look.

She hurried to the small sheltered place she had created for her mirror sightings, and taking a fortifying breath, she poured out the water, breathed at it and looked.

What she saw pierced her heart, for there was Celebrían departing for the West in grief.

But why? She asked the mirror. Why?

It stayed silent.

She sunk to the ground next to it, horrified. Her daughter departing West meant she would not see her again for thousands of years, likely, until she faded and then was released from Mandos. She had known such a moment would come, of course, after the war was won and all the elves departed, but she had hoped that until then, Celebrían would stay with her. And others might depart with her as well – probably not Elrond, he knew his task was here, but what if Arwen or the twins decided to go? Or – and that thought was too horrifying to bear – Celeborn?

And Elrond, too, would be heartbroken if his wife left without him and he was alone on this shore, especially should the children leave as well. And she simply could not tell if they would. Elladan and Elrohir loved Middle-Earth very dearly and felt not a shadow of the call, but their love for their mother was so great, and they were so close to her, that she could imagine them following her nonetheless.

Arwen would probably stay with her father, Galadriel judged – and hoped, for if all of the children left him, he could well fade.

Celeborn found her there, lost in these despairing thoughts, for he sensed her distress.

"What is it, my love?" He asked.

She shielded the upsetting thoughts and asked: "It's not...pleasant. Are you certain you wish to know?"

"Of course I wish to know. It's my task to help carry your burdens."

Galadriel gave a deep sigh, embraced him and showed him.

He was shaking like a leaf once he saw, and he stared into the distance for a long time.

"Elrond'll go with her," he said at length.

"My love...I don't think he can. He has a task here."

"Oh, I know he does, but this age can't have that much left in it. Once Sauron is defeated again, he'll follow her West."

"Yes, he will," Galadriel confirmed, unsure where this was headed.

"So I can stay here with you," he finished.

She embraced him more tightly. "Oh, my love," she said, "I wouldn't keep you from your daughter. It's for my pride that I'm doomed to remain here, you don't have to..."

"I swore to stand by you, and I will. You know my opinion on the Valar, one that was certainly not improved by that judgement over you. I won't leave you alone."

Galadriel clung to him, relief mixing with guilt. It took a moment for the emotions to abate.

"You must have known she'd sail one day even before this vision," she pointed out then, as if this knowledge had calmed her any. "If only because of Elrond."

"I'd rather hoped that he might stay, for you, and so she would stay as well."

"He offered it," Galadriel admitted, "but I tried to talk him out of it. His wife and his children are his first responsibility, and if they wished to sail..."

"As we now know they will, or at least Celebrían will."

Galadriel cast her mind back to everything the mirror had ever shown her regarding her daughter, and frowned. "There's still the matter of the coronation I saw on their wedding day," she said. "I'm quite certain none of the kings of Gondor of the past were the one I saw, and there are no kings now." The stupidity of a king without a heir riding out to single combat with the Witch-king was something quite beyond her comprehension, but it was done, and Gondor was ruled by stewards now, much like Lothlórien.

"So do you think…?"

Galadriel had a theory, or perhaps a fear would be a better term, but she was reluctant to share it even with Celeborn. She had not actually Seen it, and it might only be her worry and apprehension speaking. "I think it means there'll be a king again once the shadow is defeated," she said, "but I still don't actually know what it has to do with Elrond and Celebrían."

"They could foster the future king, I suppose – I mean, they do raise the heirs to the northern line these days, do they not?"

"That is what I thought at first," she replied. "Then I saw the vision again when Celebrían was pregnant with Arwen...and besides, if Celebrían sails…? If Elrond raises the heir himself, there would be no reason for the visions to appear on the day of their wedding."

"Perhaps her sailing will have something to do with the heir…? Perhaps Arwen will raise him with Elrond, instead of Celebrían?" He shook his head. "I give up. Seeing the future is your skill, not mine. Come, we'll retreat to our flet and enjoy the night together, to think of pleasanter things."

Galadriel smiled at him and rose. "I'll be very glad to," she said.

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

Celeborn distracted her and eased her mind to a degree, but Galadriel could not help but worry about Rivendell. She had that fear that Arwen would marry a Man, and now she had the vision of Celebrían sailing...was it perhaps connected? Would Celebrían decide to sail after the death of her daughter, that true, permanent death of Men?

It was possible, Galadriel had to admit. She remembered how worried she had been about Elrond after Elros died. Yes, it was just possible that her daughter – who, because of her own selfishness, did not have as much strength as she could have had – would not be able to bear that burden.

But did that mean that Elrond would remain behind, after the death of his daughter and the sailing of his wife? Surely not? Surely that would be too much, to pile this on top of all his other losses...yet what other possible reading was there of the situation? She could not imagine him sailing before the battles of this age were done, at least. Not until Sauron was banished, as he should have been in the War. She could not imagine him leaving Middle-Earth. And yet...what if he faded?

What would she do here, without him and without the possibility to fade as well, if the war was still unfinished? Would she even be able to handle those losses?

She knew that this was the danger of foresight, that one occupied oneself too much with possibilities. Usually, she guarded herself against that, but it was difficult when the matter concerned her own children.

She did not wish to tell either Elrond or Celeborn of her worries, and yet if the fate was soon to pass...after some consideration, she searched out Avorneth.

She found her in the company of Ealc, the latter singing and the former listening to her exceptionally good voice. "Aunt," Avorneth said as she entered, while Ealc continued singing, undisturbed. "What can we do for you?"

"I don't need help, exactly," Galadriel replied. "I come with a...warning? Recommendation? Something in between."

"Yes?"

"I've had a vision in the Mirror...it seems that at some point in the future, but before the shadow is defeated, Celebrían will sail West."

Avorneth stared. "But...why?"

"I don't know. I have theories, but they're not happy ones and I'll not burden you with them. They're only theories."

Ealc scoffed. "You sound like Avorneth when she talks about craft. 'Only theories.' She's right every time, and so are you."

"I won't dispute Avorneth's proficiency, but as for me, I sincerely hope I won't be this time."

Seeing that she would, in truth, not tell them, Avorneth asked: "Why did you come to tell me?"

Before Galadriel could reply, Ealc noted: "She wants you to go to Rivendell."

"Not want, exactly," Galadriel corrected. "I merely thought that if she's to sail soon, you'd like to spend as much time with her as possible."

Avorneth frowned. "She'll read the purpose of it in my mind."

"Don't you know how to hide what you don't want her to see?"

"I do...but I've never used it with Celebrían before. Never had to."

Galadriel felt a pang at that, even as Ealc scoffed again. "And you won't believe me," she said, "when I say your habit of looking at each other's thoughts is destructive."

Avorneth shook her head. "I recognize the dangers," she said. "I simply believe it's worth it." She turned back to Galadriel. "I'll go, for a time at least. Elladan and Elrohir are in Gondor again, aren't they?"

"I believe so, yes."

"Then I'll wait for them to pass through, and return with them to Rivendell for a time at least. Thank you for telling me."

Galadriel gave her a careful look. "Do you?"

"Yes. It might complicate some things, but I prefer having the opportunity to being filled with regret that I didn't have enough time once Celebrían sails."

Galadriel nodded and turned to leave, to give the wives some privacy.

"One more thing," Avorneth stopped her.

"Yes?"

"I've been studying the notes about rings that Curunír made as you suggested, to pool our knowledge from our separate fields of research." She frowned. "There's something strange about them."

"Strange? Strange how?"

"I know the wizards don't remember their pasts, but by his proficiency in all that relates to craft, it's generally assumed that he was close to Aulë."

"Yes, it is," Galadriel confirmed.

"There are mistakes in the research he gave me, mistakes that an ordinary layman might well make, but which are astonishing in one of Aulë's folk."

"We don't know how much he remembers," Galadriel reminded her.

Avorneth shook her head. "That's not quite what I meant. He clearly learned again, when he came to Middle-Earth. The mistakes would betray someone with a natural ineptitude for the subject. In him, I don't know what to make of them."

Galadriel considered. Normally, she would have simply thought that he was not of Aulë's people and let it be, but there was a number of other things that worried her about this wizard.

Chiefly, it was his complete resistance to the idea of intervening against the Necromancer. Olórin had to go there against Curunír's express wishes. That was curious indeed, and especially when he was not able to give any good reasons for this. Pushing the Necromancer out and away seemed like the only reasonable course of action to Galadriel. Elrond and Lord Ciryatan both agreed, and so did, naturally, Olórin.

Yes Curunír still insisted that nothing needed to be done, that it was best left alone. He might, naturally, have some reason she could not think of – he was both wise and powerful – but if so, he never revealed it to anyone. That worried Galadriel. Surely at least she, or Olórin, could have been trusted with it.

"Thank you for letting me know," she said, to Avorneth. "I'll think about what to do with the situation. I'll leave you ladies alone now."