Chapter 89: Horror
Year 2509 of the Third Age, Lothlórien
Celebrían's scream tore through Galadriel and made her sit up straight in bed, panting hard.
Her mind flooding with pictures of horror, she pushed them ruthlessly aside as she slid down from the flet and broke into a run.
Celeborn was scarcely a few seconds behind her, and as they ran together, he shouted at a night guard he came across: „Tell Rusgorn to fortify the borders and hold it under control here. We...have to go." His voice broke at the end, and he could not provide an explanation.
They sprinted to the stables and mounted their horses in one swift movement, tearing through the forest and up the mountain slopes without talking, and trying not to think as well, trying to forget, trying to pretend, trying not to hear the despair and pain that emanated from their daughter.
Galadriel's mind was crowded by random images that were sometimes so vivid they almost blinded her to the road she was taking, and had she had any mind left for it, she would have been grateful that her horse knew the way so well and needed no direction. As it was, she was entirely occupied by memories of Celebrían just after she had been born, as a little girl playing with Avorneth and Mírdan, on her wedding day – and among those, always, the terrible visions of torture overlaid over them, so that Celebrían's wedding dress appeared stained with blood, and the child's laughter in the memory turned into a wail of indescribable pain.
It was hours of sheer terror barely pushed back. They were almost at Redhorn Pass when they felt the pain recede.
At first Galadriel was alarmed - no, she thought, no, she cannot be dead, my daughter cannot be dead, but then she realized she was not, she was simply not in pain anymore, and the contrast in the mental presence was such she did not recognize it for a moment.
"They have her...they saved her..." Galadriel muttered, dazed, but still they rode on across the mountains, barely slower, barely daring to hope, let alone feel relief.
Just as they turned north, they reached a group of riders.
"Grandmother! Grandfather!" Elladan cried when he saw them, and his voice was breaking on pain.
Galadriel rode to his side without a word, and saw that Elrohir was cradling his mother in front of him on his horse. "Put her down," she said. "I have to see to her."
Elrohir obeyed instantly, and Galadriel knelt by the unconscious Celebrían and examined her wounds, closing her mind to all and refusing to allow herself to feel anything. The injuries were numerous and not light, but they were not, praise Eru, beyond what she could help with. Elrohir had already done what first aid he knew, she could see. Galadriel did what she could in her turn. But as hard as she tried, she could not cast her mind back to Aman, not now, not when she was shielding so much of her own thoughts from herself, and so after some time she rose soon and lifted Celebrían back to the saddle.
There was so little she could do in this state. She could not heal her daughter the way she should, the way it was her duty to, the way- She stopped her mind by sheer force of will. Not now. Not yet. She simply had to hope that Elrond would be able to get a better handle of himself.
"One of her wounds is poisoned," she said, her voice strangely distant. "I will notify your father. I have taken care of it enough that her state should not deteriorate much in the time needed to reach Rivendell, but still, ride fast." She turned to Celeborn. "Will you accompany them?"
"And you?"
"I have to return to Lothlórien. The borders cannot remain unprotected for long, not if there are orcs attacking at Redhorn," she said in the same distant voice. That was not the true reason why she could not go to Rivendell, but it would have to do. She could not think about it too much, not yet.
"Are you certain…?" Celeborn asked hesitatingly, though he was already re-mounting his horse.
"Yes. Go with our daughter. Quickly."
He nodded once and the company left in speed.
Galadriel watched them for a moment, then she briefly touched Elrond's mind to say: I have seen her. They are on the way to you now, prepare for healing a poisoned wound, and many others. They should arrive in a day or so.
The horses would likely not survive such a long ride at such a speed, but she had no room left to feel sorry for the animals. She had no room to feel anything.
She turned her own horse, then, and drove it into a measured canter over the mountains and back into the forest, her power supporting it so that it would not exhaust itself. She did not race to save anyone. She did not need to kill her own horse. She did not need to add to the number of lives she- no.
Not yet. Still a little further to go.
She shut the gates on her feelings firmly again and simply rode, rode and thought of nothing but her destination.
She dismounted before the gates of Caras Galadhon and passed through, telling the guards to notify Rusgorn of her presence but to leave her in peace otherwise, and made her way to the little secluded space with her Mirror, the one that could not easily be found by anyone but her or her family.
She carefully lowered herself to the ground there, and that was when the dam broke.
She howled her despair towards the moon and the stars, finding no consolation in looking upon the Silmaril tonight. Guilt like she had never known before – and she was no stranger to it – wracked her, and her shuddering sobs shook her entire body.
Why? She asked the same question over and over again, why, why, why…
And always she was receiving the answer, you know why.
Because you are a disgusting, selfish creature, the worst mother that ever walked Arda, because you could not give even a little bit of yourself to your own daughter, and so she was tortured now, tortured for hours before someone could save her, and it could not even be you, you could not even manage that much, in spite of her suffering almost at your doorstep, it had to be her sons who saved her, your grandchildren, because you are not even capable of protecting those closest to you, what use is such power? You could not even heal her, not even that, you, the student of Lady Estë, useless, useless, useless, her own husband and your beloved nephew will have to do that, will have to work through his grief and pain to save his own wife because you are good for nothing. You were selfish and your daughter was tortured because of that, defenseless, weak, left to their mercy because you could not give anything of yourself to your own daughter, and now she will sail and you will not see her again for thousands of years, and Elrond and her children will lose her for centuries as well, or you will lose them, and what about Celeborn, how will he be able to bear it, what if he fades, what if they all fade, what if your grandchildren fade because of this, and all of this is your fault, your fault, your fault…
She clawed at her own face, she pounded the ground with her fists, she wailed and screamed, but then there was no strength in her left even for that. She curled into a tight ball and just cried.
The twisted memories were assaulting her again, Celebrían as a baby, as a child, as a young woman, always with blood pouring out of her mouth, with open wounds on her face, with her nails torn out, pale like a corpse, and the words of accusation spilling out with the blood. "Why did you hate me, mother?" In a tiny, hurt voice of a child. "Why did you let them hurt me, mother?" In a voice twisted by pain. "Why did you kill me, mother?" In a hollow, empty voice.
And that voice in Galadriel's head answered for her: because she is repulsive, because she is disgusting, because she is selfish, because she is worthless, everything she ever did in life only ever brought grief and death, she corrupts everything she touches, and so she ruined your life as well. It is all her fault, everything bad that ever happened to you, all of it, the death of your friends, that you had to leave your home, your torture, all of it, her fault.
And Galadriel could only agree. Yes, it was, all of it, every single thing.
She was soon too exhausted even for crying. When she finally slipped into unconsciousness, it was a relief.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
It was days before Elrond contacted her, days that she spent hidden in that little island of peace she built for herself around the Mirror, and which had no peace for her now. Her body is healed, he said, and she could feel all his despair and grief, but her soul...I am not sure she will heal.
She will not, not here, Galadriel replied numbly. She will sail.
You have seen it?
Centuries ago. But I did not… She choked. I did not see why.
I...sorry, I cannot...I will let you know when she reaches the decision, he said simply and his mind turned away.
A month later, Celeborn returned.
Galadriel spent the time hidden away still. She had emerged, once, to hand the temporary control of the realm over to Feliel, Ealc and Rusgorn, then retreated again to be alone with her grief, guilt and pain.
She could not as much as look at Celeborn, and she kept her mind closed to him.
"My love," he said, coming to her and embracing her from behind where she sat, because she turned away from him, "please talk to me, look at me, I need you now..."
And that voice in her head, again, saying see? See? You guilt and shame is such that you cannot even offer support to your husband, you failed him, too, you failed everyone, every single one of them, they all relied on you and you failed them all…
A long wail escaped her and she curled on the ground, escaping his embrace.
"My love, please, I cannot...I do not have the strength now, I cannot help you, please..."
"I know," she choked out. "I know, forgive me-" but she stopped herself, because how could he ever forgive her, if he knew it was all her fault? "Do not trouble yourself with me," she said at length.
"But I need you...my love, why will you not talk to me? We could grieve and heal together..."
"No! No, I cannot, I must not, I..."
"But why? Why? Tell me, I cannot lose you as well, I cannot, not when we will lose her soon, please stay with me!"
Galadriel kept silent, staring into the distance.
"What do you want from me?" Celeborn exploded. "I cannot carry this burden all on my own, this is what marriage means, this is what we swore to each other, to help each other through difficult times, so why are you leaving me behind now? Why?"
"I would only make it worse," she whispered at length.
"What?" He was immediately alarmed. "Have you seen something? Is there more horror waiting for her? Will she...will she die? Will she fade before she sails?"
"No, nothing like that."
"Then what…?"
Galadriel sighed, and with the feeling that it did not matter anymore, that nothing mattered anymore, she looked at him from her prone position and uncovered her mind.
He staggered back at the weight of her guilt and shame, and sunk to his knees in front of her. "No," he said and embraced her best that he could, "no, it was not your fault, it was not, it was no one's fault, no one's but the orcs'..."
Unable to speak, Galadriel forcefully pushed her memories at him, memories of the time when she was pregnant, of her talks with The Eldest.
He shrunk back, horrified.
"Leave me be," she repeated.
He did, and her tears began to flow again.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
Half a year passed before Elrond announced Celebrían's final decision to sail.
Every trained soldier in Lothlórien was out on guard duty, and Galadriel and Celeborn set out to Rivendell to bid their final farewells.
They did not speak on the journey.
They did not speak much in general, lately. Galadriel had closed her mind again after that revelation, and he did not ask her to open it any more. They spoke about the ruling of the realm, which they took back into their hands out of necessity. That was all. They had not been together, as husband and wife, since the tragedy.
Galadriel did not even have space to regret that, or grieve over that. Her daughter's fate occupied all of her thoughts. And now, she was supposed to say her final goodbyes, or at least final for thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of years.
Though, what did she know? With how things were now, she might well fade as soon as the war ended.
Even if she did, though, it would likely be a very long time until she was let out of the Halls of Mandos. Whatever her fate, she would not see Celebrían again for ages.
She had no idea what she would say to her daughter once she reached Rivendell. She only knew she could not admit the truth, not when she had assured her recently that she was strong – what could she say now, I made you weak?
It would not help anything to have Celebrían depart West with the knowledge that her own mother hated her. It might conceivably be enough to have her fade before she left.
No, truth was out of the question, but what to say instead? What words were not empty and hollow? What consolation could she offer?
Once in Rivendell, Celeborn and Galadriel went into Celebrían's room together. She looked up at them from the chair she was reclining in, her eyes shadowed and haunted. "Father, mother," she said.
"Beloved." Galadriel walked to her and embraced her, even though she felt dirty and as if she should not as much as touch her. She must not know, she must not suspect, she reminded herself. "I am so sorry, and I will miss you so much."
Celebrían only nodded, clearly lacking the strength to say anything more. Celeborn gave his own embrace, but was apparently at a loss for words.
Galadriel thought of offering encouragement about the West, about its beauties and joy, but she knew it would sound hollow. Celebrían knew enough of her history to know she had longed to leave. How could she believe her now, if Galadriel described it as the most desirable place in Arda?
She thought of mentioning Mírdan, the one good friend that was sure to await Celebrían on the other side, but his tragic fate that made it necessary to sail would likely only remind Celebrían of the bleakness of her own situation.
After a moment, Galadriel decided to give Celeborn and her daughter privacy and left in search for Lord Laurefindil. She did not feel equal to facing Elrond. To him, too, her mind had been closed for the last half a year.
"My heart goes out to you, my lady," the golden lord said when she found him.
"Thank you," she replied, her voice strained with the knowledge that she deserved no sympathy. "I wanted to ask..." the question echoing in her mind again, why, why, why?, "do we know why she rode from Rivendell at all?"
Lord Laurefindil hesitated. "It seems...it seems your daughter had something very urgent to discuss with your husband, and judged it would be safe enough to leave in secrecy, alone..."
Oh Eru, please, let Celeborn never find out, Galadriel thought desperately.
"She said...after she woke, it was the first thing she said, from what I know...she said: 'I thought I was strong enough.'"
Galadriel, unable to bear it, fled.
She wandered the gardens of Rivendell, and shying from this final confirmation that it was all her fault, her desperate mind latched onto the first thing Lord Laurefindil had said. What did Celebrían need with Celeborn? What could she have needed that could not wait for a note to be sent and for Celeborn to come to her? Could it have been prevented? Why did it happen, was there a reason beside Galadriel's repulsive selfishness?
She returned to her daughter's room only after her thoughts had run through the same circle several times, and spent many hours in attempting to give a proper farewell. Celeborn only left them for a very short time, and when he did, Galadriel urgently asked, unable to stop herself: "Why did you ride south, beloved? Did you truly need something of your father?"
Celebrían looked at her with her shadowed eyes and said in a hollow voice: "No. I had...visions. Darker and darker, they were becoming intolerable. I needed the respite of Lothlórien."
Galadriel stared. She wanted ask why Celebrían never asked her for help, but she knew perfectly well why, of course. Like everything else, this, too, was her fault.
"I am so sorry-" Galadriel began, then paused. Sorry for what? What could she actually say? "That there was no one to ride with you and to protect you," she finished. That was not what she was sorry for, but it would have to do, like the weakest substitute for truth she could find.
Celebrían shook her head, still with the same, hollow expression. "I did not wish to take anyone. As I said, it was...unbearable. I could not wait for a full escort to be gathered, and I did not wish...if I had gone with just a few, they would have been killed."
"Your sons-"
"Were not in Rivendell when I left. Neither was Lord Laurefindil."
Galadriel hesitated. "So when you said that you thought you were strong enough-"
"It was chiefly to spare Elrond pain. I always knew I was weak. Especially since I had children."
Galadriel clenched her fists so tight her nails drew blood. "You are not weak."
"Mother, please. We are a little beyond that now, do you not think? The time for platitudes is past."
"I just- I would not have you believe this was in any way your fault." Not when it was mine.
Celeborn returned in that moment, and prevented them from saying anything more. Perhaps it was a good thing. Galadriel did not know what, beside the truth it was impossible to give, she could offer.
When the night fell, she did not even try to sleep, and instead searched out Avorneth.
She found her packing.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered the feeling of loneliness creeping upon her again, at the knowledge that another of her loved ones would depart. But it was insignificant compared to everything else.
"Are you sailing with her, then?" She asked.
"Yes," Avorneth replied simply.
"What about Ealc?"
"We spoke about it when she visited me here. She will take a few years to arrange matters in Lindórinand, and then she will follow me West."
Galadriel only nodded. It was, she supposed, to be expected.
Avorneth hesitated. "I...I know that I have responsibilities in the Council, Aunt – in two councils - , and I know my work there is important, but I do not wish to let her go alone. I had thought perhaps if one of the children was going...but they are not. And I...I have felt that I stayed here on borrowed time ever since my brother sailed. I always felt I should have gone with him, and I would have, had it not been for Ealc. Now I understand the intention in that. It was so that I could accompany Celebrían, and I will gladly do so. I look forward to seeing him again. My only regret is that I leave my duties to you unfulfilled."
"I do not wish for Celebrían to go alone any more than you do," Galadriel replied. "Her children love Middle-Earth too much, and she would not pressure them to sail before they were ready. Her parents and husband cannot accompany her West for responsibilities they have here. I would not have her lose her best friend to the same."
"Thank you, Aunt. I have written down everything I have discovered about the ruling ring and I will leave it for you. I am sorry I cannot do more."
"You are accompanying my daughter to an unknown land where it is not certain she will know anyone, Avorneth. You are doing very much indeed." She paused. "Is anyone who still remembers the West going with her?"
"Of course. Over half of the household is leaving with her, in fact – Elrond wishes to alleviate the loneliness she feels as much as possible, and he entreated all who planned to sail before the war starts fully again to go now, with his wife."
Galadriel nodded. It sounded like Elrond, and it was a good plan. "Can you point me in the direction of one of those old ones that are going with her, then?"
"Of course." Avorneth considered. "There is Elemmakil, for example...he was one of King Turukáno's people, and he has been fighting his need to sail for centuries now, his loyalty to Elrond keeping him here. Finally Elrond told him that he would show the most loyalty by accompanying and protecting his wife, so he is going now."
"Will you take me to him?"
Avorneth did, and meeting the weary eyes beyond the door, Galadriel could see for herself that it was high time indeed that this elf sailed. "My lady," he said, surprised.
"Elemmakil. I have some messages that I would like carried West – not written, only short greetings," she would have liked to write, she would have dearly liked it, but she had no mind for anything but Celebrían now, "- and I thought that you would remember those for whom they are intended, and so it would be easier than burdening Avorneth with it."
"Of course, my lady. Come in, please."
-g-g-g-g-g-g-
The next morning, Galadriel was waylaid by Arwen as soon as she left her room.
"Grandmother," she said. "I was trying to find you everywhere yesterday. I...may I speak to you?"
"Of course," Galadriel said, trying to find some strength somewhere for her beloved granddaughter. "What do you need?"
"Your advice," Arwen replied as they headed out of the house and to the more distant corners of the gardens. "I feel...guilty for not sailing with Mother. I feel like I should."
"Why?" Galadriel simply asked.
"My brothers clearly cannot. They love Middle-Earth with all their hearts, and they are much attached to Men. My father cannot because of his responsibilities. The same is true for you and grandfather. Should I, then, not go?"
"Do you wish to leave Middle-Earth?"
"Not exactly," Arwen replied hesitatingly, "but I am not as attached to it as my brothers. I feel that most of the things I like to do, I could do equally well in the West, and some of them better, for history lives there. That is when I think about it rationally. And yet...I feel, very strongly, that I should not sail. I do not understand why."
Galadril thought of the vision in the mirror. Oh Eru, she thought, please no. Please, let her not die, not now, Elrond could not survive that.
"Perhaps it is because of your father," she said. "He needs you."
"He has my brothers," Arwen pointed out.
"You know very well that you are closer to him than they are."
"Yes," she admitted, "and they are closer to Mother, and yet they are staying."
"I do not doubt that it pains them."
"They say they stay for revenge," Arwen replied, and Galadriel felt a pang of pain, even though she had thought she had no space for anything beside despair for Celebrían.
"Perhaps I should speak to them..." she said hesitantly. In truth, she did not believe it would do any good. She had no energy to be truly persuasive, nor any confidence left to make herself into any sort of authority. Still, the vague sense of obligation remained.
Arwen shook her head. "They do not...much speak to anyone now, except mother."
"Still, I will try. But first – did you come to me because you are considering sailing after all?"
Arwen stayed silent for a moment, looking away. "I am afraid," she said then, "that I came to you to hear you tell me that it is all right that I do not go."
Galadriel had to close her eyes at that. "I am not fit to tell anyone what the right thing to do is," she said then."
"I am certain you are, but still, it was...not fair of me to ask this of you. This has to be my decision. And the truth remains that while it when I reason about it, it seems I should, I do not truly feel I should. I do not know if that is my selfishness influencing me, or..."
In the light of this trust, Galadriel tried to at least consider what was the right choice for herself, what she should say, but it was beyond her in that moment, so, exhausted, she decided on honesty. "It might be a premonition," she said.
"You mean that I should not go because there is a task for me here?"
"Yes."
Arwen grasped at this straw gratefully. "Thank you! Thank you. Yes, that must be it. I...I will think about it."
Yet Galadriel saw her decision in her eyes, now that she had a valid excuse. She supposed she should be glad Elrond would not have to face a double parting now, though she had to stop herself from contemplating what was to come in future.
She went to see Elladan and Elrohir instead, like she had said she would. As Arwen had predicted, they were not very willing to talk. "We have offered mother we would go with her," Elrohir only said. "She told us not to."
And that was that, and so a few hours later, Galadriel stood in front of Last Homely House, watching the large procession preparing to leave.
"Should your parents be there already," she muttered to Avorneth, trying to keep her voice calm, "give them my greetings and love. And...to Artanáro as well."
Avorneth only nodded and embraced her, too emotional for words.
And then Galadriel was giving her last embrace to her daughter, and watched her leave, accompanied by her husband, sons and father at least to the Havens, since they could not do more.
And Galadriel returned to her lonely tears in Lothlórien, and to the echoes of your fault, your fault, your fault.