Chapter 94: Destiny
Year 2951 of the Third Age, Lothlórien
I know who the king we saw in the Mirror is, Elrond announced one afternoon.
Truly? Who? Galadriel asked, eager to decode one of the greatest mysteries that troubled her.
Aragorn, the current young chieftain of the Dúnedain, Elrond replied.
She smiled in relief, pushing her fears related to that away. So it is drawing near, then, she said. They had long ago realized that renewing the kingdom in Gondor could only come after another war.
Yes. This age will soon be over. Elrond paused. I recognized him, you know. Today, he came back from an expedition, and for the first time I could see in his face a trace of the man he would become. So I told him who he was, and I gave him the ring of- Elrond paused.
My brother's ring, Galadriel finished for him.
Yes, and the shards of Narsil. I did not tell him that his fate was foreseen – it seemed too much for a twenty year old young man.
You were wise not to, Galadriel agreed. If only because he might start treating it as certainty, and you know the Mirror sometimes shows things that only may be.
Rarely enough, he pointed out.
Yes, but still, we need to tread carefully. But I am glad that Aragorn should be the new king: I have faith you raised him well, and your sons spoke very well of him when they were here to take Arwen back to you.
I am glad of it as well, and yet it still troubles me why the vision was revealed on the day of my wedding.
Galadriel took great care to hide her thoughts from him about that, but she was worried. She was deeply worried.
She went to see Celeborn to share her dread, but while he was supportive, he still did not credit it. "Your fear will come to nothing," he reassured her. "This is a reason to rejoice. The war will be over soon."
She dearly wished she could feel like he did.
She passed a restless night, not getting a wink of sleep as she tried to consult her mirror again and again. But she only kept seeing the same image over and over, no matter how many times she looked. Aragorn, crowned king in Gondor.
The matter was resolved with finality only a day later, though, when Galadriel, in the midst of trying to force herself to do some work in spite of her worries, suddenly felt sharp pain from Elrond, sharper than anything felt before, sharper and greater, even, than at Celebrían's torture and sailing. She felt, then, the despair that enveloped him.
She rose immediately. "I'm riding to Rivendell," she called to Celeborn who had been resting in their flet, and she jumped most of the distance to the ground and disappeared between the trees, mounting her horse and tearing through the forest, as fast as when she had ridden to help her daughter, if not even faster.
All of her power went into supporting the horse and spurring it on, and the mountains blurred by her side as she followed the Great River northwards, and she tore through the High Pass so speedily that the mountains shook behind her. I am coming, beloved, I am coming, she was calling to Elrond perpetually in her mind.
It was late evening when she arrived to Rivendell, after a full day of journey, and she simply jumped off her exhausted horse and ran into Elrond's rooms.
He was kneeling on the ground there, tears streaming down his face, and a mute scream arrested in his throat.
Galadriel shut the door firmly, came to him and embraced him tightly.
"Talk to me, beloved," she said, "talk to me, tell me what happened."
He was unable to, but his mind stayed open, and so Galadriel delved into that misery and pain and after a time, found the source.
It helped, of course, that she had a good idea what she was looking for.
Soon enough, she saw Elrond's memory of Aragorn – she, too, could see traces of the man he would become, of the man whose face she knew so well from her mirror – and she saw his infatuation with Arwen as clearly in his looks as Elrond did. Or – perhaps it was not fair, to call it infatuation. Certainly she saw, even in the echo of a memory, something of more substance in his looks that in the looks of those who were merely entranced by Arwen's beauty. But Aragorn could not feel the Flame alone, and Arwen showed no signs of it. He was still young, true. Was this what it looked like, when the two willed by Eru to be together met when one of them was not old enough to reach the potential for that partnership? She thought of Spenna. He would know. Elladan and Elrohir might, too, for they discussed it much with him when he first fell in love.
But all of this was only in the back of her mind, to be considered at some later date. What was pressing, now, what was urgent, was Elrond's raw despair. Even her own she had to push away, even as she wished she could join Elrond in his silent scream.
Instead, she simply held him and whispered soothing words to his mind, using all of her healing power to try and bring him from the brink. She did not think of Aman this time, however, she though of Lúthien dancing in the glades of Doriath.
It seemed only fitting.
After hours of slowly lessening agony, Elrond finally came back to himself enough to speak. He turned his desperate eyes to Galadriel and said hollowly: "I know now why you had the vision on our wedding day."
"Shh, beloved, I know. I know everything."
"Why? Why, Aunt?" He asked urgently. "Why do they do this to me?"
"Because they love," she replied, the words ringing empty even to her own ears, but still trying to make them as convincing as she was able. "Would you not follow Celebrían to the chasm of death itself?"
He laughed bitterly. "I did not even follow her to Aman," he said.
"Do you not dare blaming yourself for that. You knew it would be but a short separation. But if she was mortal, would you not have chosen the same fate for her?"
"Could she not have Tuor's fate instead?"
Galadriel tightened the embrace and caressed his hair. "She could have, perhaps, had you not been half-elven, but Aragorn never could, as you know. His fate is different."
"Yes, I know," Elrond said, exhaling and closing his eyes. "I understand fully now, and I know what is it that I must say to him and that I must not be harsh, but...my heart is torn from my chest."
"I know...I know, beloved." And yet she did not, not in full: she loved Lúthien, Elros and Arwen, but they were not her own twin brother, or daughter she had been close to for thousands of years.
Elrond caught these thoughts, and said: "And still you are the one who can understand me best in this." He took a deep breath and rose. "Thank you. You saved me."
"I am here for you, beloved, always. Remember that."
"I know, and I thank you again. But you should return to your realm now – it is too dangerous to leave it unprotected. My peace of mind is hardly worth that risk."
Galadriel sighed. "Your peace of mind is worth everything to me, and it is less dangerous now than ten years ago, but you are right that we are hardly at peace. I will return, but...be strong, beloved, and if you ever have urgent need of me again, do not hesitate to call."
She went back to Lothlórien at a slightly slower pace, not wishing to kill another animal by this journey, but once back, took great pains to carefully check that everything with her realm was as it should be. Then her mind reached further, to search for the evil that still escaped them, to make certain it had not reappeared in her brief absence...and for the first time in a decade, she found it.
In Mordor.
Her mind was still fragile from the confirmation of Arwen's fate, and so she reeled, despair clouding her again.
Celeborn sensed her distress and rushed to her side. "What is it?" He asked.
"Gorthaur is back." She paused and looked for strength to deliver the final bit of news. "In Mordor."
It was time to let Olórin know he could stop looking now. They could not touch Sauron in Mordor, not easily. There would have to be war again – but there was hardly anyone left to wage it.
Once again, she had failed in her task.
With a heavy heart, unwilling to add to his burdens at this time but seeing no other way, she contacted Elrond to tell him first.
I should have known, he said heavily. Misfortune seeks company – or, looking on the bright side of things, it shows the hand of Fate that Aragorn was revealed in his role just as Sauron made himself manifest again. I sense this will be their fight to a large degree, and we will be relegated to the role of advisorsand helpers mostly.
It is the age of Men, Galadriel agreed, and there is little we can do, with our armies diminished and tied to our realms the way we are. Still, when the final battle comes, I hope to be on the field and have a chance to end Sauron once and for all, as I swore I would. Until then, I am happy to support Aragorn's efforts in any way – as regards the war, that is, she amended, for there was one way in which she was not ready to support him.
Yes, but that is the problem, is it not? Elrond asked heavily, in response to her unvoiced thoughts.I worry about how to speak to him. I wished to avoid harshness, but I confess I meant to discourage him. Now – I do not know. His task, I sense, begins with this, and he needs to start the fight. And yet you saw the vision of him becoming king again after Arwen was born. It seems his kingship is tied to her love in a way that cannot be untied, that their love is tied to victory in the war. What if, if I discourage him now, it will take the will to fight out of him? What if he gives up on his destiny, and the world will be left to darkness?
Galadriel sighed. It was possible, of course, but she did not wish to think of it. In any case Arwen would only laugh at him now. You are safe to tell him that – though, perhaps, in kinder words. Impress the importance of duty over love at this point on him, and we will meet the rest when it comes.
Yes, Elrond said heavily. She could feel the dread of that in his thoughts.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
The years that followed were busier than Galadriel had been perhaps since the First Age.
In Second Age, when the elven might was great and time was long, they took centuries to prepare for a war. Now, she knew they were limited by the human lifetime of Aragorn, and suddenly there seemed impossibly much that needed to be done in an impossibly short time.
Especially as she could not leave her realm to do it.
She did her best to act through the intermediaries she had left.
First she went to the mountains and called to Gwindor. He came so soon she suspected he must have been waiting for her.
"Darkness is gathering again," she told him.
"Yes," he agreed.
"So I would ask for your help," she continued. "In battle, but until it comes, in gathering information. I can read much in Sauron's mind, but not all. If you could let me or Elrond know what you see of the movement of his troops, of the agents he sends...we would be grateful."
"I will," he said simply, and flew away.
Galadriel, feeling a little wrong-footed after a talk with one of the eagles as always, called Gildor next. She had not seen him for long millennia, and was not certain how he would react to the summons. But he came, though she could sense his reluctance. "I know you do not wish to be involved in wars," she said, "and I do not wish to obligate you, and yet – if you have any loyalty left to me, would you agree to at least gather information where you walk through the lands of Middle-Earth, and give it to me or Elrond when you pass our realms?"
Gildor frowned. "I do not travel alone – I have a company, and they would not be glad if I asked them to tread the path where the fate of war is spun."
Galadriel shook her head. "That is not what I am asking," she said. "Walk where you would, but keep your eyes on other things beside the beauty of Middle-Earth, and if you learn of anything, let us know."
He hesitated, then inclined his head. "I will try," he said, "but I have not had anything but the beauty of nature, poetry and company on my mind for this last age. I do not know how useful a spy I will be."
"Every little bit can help," Galadriel assured him, and he departed.
She wondered at the life he led – he made Middle-Earth his Aman in many ways, and she did not know why – why he did not rather sail – and also how – how could he do so here, when there was so much sorrow.
But she had no time to dwell in these thoughts. Instead, she went over all the others she knew in her mind, trying to gauge who else could help.
Olórin, of course, was working tirelessly, travelling the length and breadth of Middle-Earth to help prepare for the war and to give spirit. From him, she knew that there were good news in Gondor, where the new steward showed great promise of wisdom and good rule, but that all was not well in Greenwood, where dark creatures persevered even after their cleansing of Dol Guldur, and some of them had recently slain the family of Thranduil's queen. The realm was mourning.
From Olórin, she also knew that the dwarves were talking about attempting to take Khazad-dûm back. The thought filled her with despair. There was little she wished for more than that the ancient kingdom of dwarves be renewed, and at any other time she would have gone in with Lord Laurefindil and cleared the way for them, but at this time she could not, not with the war so near and so many tasks before her. And she knew what fate awaited the dwarves if they entered their old kingdom without her protection.
Yet her tasks were different, and the most important one – examining the mind of Sauron.
She had feared that she would not be able to reach him in Mordor, but the ring gave her long sight, and she could see his mind almost as clearly as when he had been in Dol Guldur, used to it by the long years of practice.
Now his consciousness was clear, and she could read much in it about his plans for the upcoming war. It was all twisted and dark, and she needed much consolation after she looked, but look she did, every day, making sure no little thing escaped her.
Apart from Olórin, Elladan and Elrohir sometimes brought her news as well. They came rarely, busy in Eriador with the Rangers of Men, but when they did come, they brought detailed information, and more and more news about Aragorn.
He was venturing out on his own more frequently, not simply as the Chieftain of the Rangers, but as his own man, riding across the whole of Eriador to find any signs of darkness and root them out. He was, everyone agreed, shaping up very well for his intended role.
Galadriel wished she could honestly rejoice in that.
Instead, she distracted herself with more work, more tasks that needed to be done.
Tugu travelled East for her, to find out the situation there, and brought back news that were discouraging. "Of the blue wizards, I only heard distant mentions, for they are too far East for me to venture if I was to bring you back any news. And the nearer lands...there is hardly a chieftain of the Easterlings that is not allied with Sauron."
Galadriel shook her head. "Would that I had envoys with any hope of convincing anyone in those lands," she said with a sigh.
"But you do," Tugu replied.
Galadriel frowned. "Your mother would not wish to go."
"No – but I am willing."
And so she bid goodbye to her husband and parents and set out, and Galadriel turned her mind South, which she feared would not be in a much better situation. To find out, she cast her mind into distance once again, and once again called for help. Macalaurë came two months later, and they met in the same place as before. "Do you wish to sing once more?" He asked with a slight smile.
"I would need a lament of my own," she replied, "that would sing bitterly of my failings."
"I have not taken a commission for a long time," he answered, still with the same smile, "but I might consider it if you tell me the reason for this current shame. I am sure you understand that it still seems quite humorous to me. Yours will never compare to mine, and I will never condone you feeling shame for what happened to Celebrían."
His bluntness was always a little jarring. Galadriel wondered if it was the result of him living such a lonely life for so long, for he did not use to be that way. "We have talked about it before, and I have told you my opinion," she simply told him. "And since we last saw each other, Sauron has returned to Mordor after dwelling mere tens of miles from me for hundreds of years, and I doing nothing about it. You would have more than enough material. But that is not why I called you." She paused. "Tell me what is going on in the deep south," she asked him, and he obliged.
Galadriel listened carefully, and then said: "It is my belief that Sauron will wish to find allies wherever he can. Do you still hope to redeem yourself?"
"I have not had any kind of hope for years. But I wish I could, yes."
"Then do what you can to foil his plans in the lands where you live, and where neither me nor Elrond or Olórin have any influence."
"And do you believe that will be enough to allow me back in the good graces of the Valar?" He asked ironically.
"You are not the only one without hope," she replied. "I do not have that faith either, and yet I do what I can."
"You are right, of course. Forgive me." He paused. "Did you not think I would try to foil Sauron even without your instruction? If nothing else, he was the servant of the Enemy I have sworn to hate."
"Yes, but you might not have realized who it was that the forces were gathering for. I thought to give you an advance warning, as well as instruction."
He hesitated, then inclined his head. "Very well then. I will get to work...and I will start on that song as well."
Galadriel only gave him a sad smile in return. She was not certain she could survive a recounting of all her failing in Macalaurë's perfect song with her mind intact.
This new ally arranged, she returned to her chief occupation of glimpsing what she could of Sauron's mind. Apart from trying to divine his plans, she also spent long periods by attempting to distract him from his work by her mind. What time remained she passed by arranging her plans according to what she learned, as well as informing Elrond and Olórin. Elrond, she knew, took care of sending messengers to Lord Ciryatan, and Celeborn attempted to do the same with Thranduil. Lately, they were even accepted more often than not, to Galadriel's surprise. Did Thranduil finally realize the seriousness of the danger?
She had little time for pleasure now, but she tried to make some, especially when Arwen was in Lothlórien. Her granddaughter had spent the entire decade after Sauron's flight from Dol Guldur in the forest, trying to make up for the long centuries she was hardly there after her mother's sailing. In fact, the time in Rivendell she had met Aragorn had been intended as but a brief visit to see her beloved father for a few months. Fate, it seemed to Galadriel, and it made her uneasy.
But now, at the danger of parting with her for ever, Elrond wished to keep his cherished daughter by his side. Galadriel tried to grant him as much as she could – after all, she knew he would sail immediately after the war, while she would remain and have more time with Arwen. But the thought of death was still ever on her mind, and from time to time she begged Elrond to grant her the company of her granddaughter at least for a few months.
On the first such occasion, not even a decade after they realized Aragorn's importance, she asked Arwen about him.
The younger lady looked pained.
"He loves me, I know," she said. "I could see it in his mind. It seemed such a naive, puppy love...and yet. And yet there is something behind it."
"But what do you feel about him?"
Arwen laughed. "He was but a child when I saw him, and I spent not above a week in his company. I feel nothing regarding him yet. I would need to meet him again to know my mind."
"And...if you found you loved him?"
Arwen gave a deep sigh. "I have been thinking of nothing else for the last decade. I wish Spenna was still alive and here, so that I could speak to him, and also to apologize! I know I said, then, that I could never do such a thing. And yet now, I have not met Aragorn properly yet and I am still considering it. Part of me feels ashamed and repulsed by this, but the other part..."
"The other part?"
Arwen looked away. "You know that loneliness has plagued me for a very long time now. If he was the one intended for me and I turned him down, it is likely I would never escape it, not even beyond the Sea. And...Father has tried to keep it from me, but I know him too well. This war might depend on Aragorn. Could the pain of a Flame rejected not destroy his chances at ever leading the forces of the Free People successfully? I have felt, for so many long years, that I do not do enough for this world. Would not this, then, make up for it?"
Galadriel shuddered, thinking of the Numenorean lady whose thoughts had run in a similar direction. Her lot had not been a happy one. "Your marriage must never be a sacrifice for the greater good," she said with emphasis. "We are not the Second born, to be able to live that way."
Arwen shook her head. "I would never consider marrying him if I did not feel the Flame," she reassured. "It is simply...given all that I would have to leave behind, the Flame might not have been enough for me. But when these other concerns are taken into account...I believe that perhaps I would, indeed, marry him."
Galadriel managed to save her weeping for when she was alone, and she took great care not to contact Elrond.
Yet as years passed, in every subsequent visit, she could see Arwen was continuously troubled by the question. Until she met Aragorn again, she would not know, and it was tearing her up, this constant fear about what her future would bring. Not knowing, she once confessed to Galadriel, was the worst part of this fate.
Meanwhile, Galadriel's fear was slowly turning to certainty.
Not long after her first talk with Arwen, she heard that Aragorn had travelled south, to ride with the Horse Lords and then to fight in the Gondorin army. She heard news from Elrond and Olórin, then, about the trust he gained there, and the confidence he was given.
Olórin himself, too, had nothing but praise for the young chieftain, extolling his virtue and determination and wisdom.
Galadriel was a little curious, but she was much more terrified.
Her terror grew when Aragorn came to the borders of Lothlórien while Arwen dwelt there.
She knew, then, perfectly well, what her task was meant to be.
Why? She asked the Valar, turning to them. Why, if it has to happen, would you make me complicit in this? Why do I have to give what may well be the fatal blow to the one I care most about in this world? Why would you have me hurt Elrond so much?
Yet she knew the answer to that, too.
It was her desire to spare Arwen, after all, her inability to do what had to be done, that made it easier for Sauron to escape them in Dol Guldur. She had been unable to pay the price then, and so the trial came again, in a more horrifying form, and she knew that unless she wanted the whole world to be the price, she could not fail again.
Think of Arwen, she told herself. At least after this, she will know. The terrible uncertainty will be over. And if it is the Flame, at least she will not be lonely any more.
But all this paled in comparison to Elrond's despair of which she could still feel an echo, and it was only millennia of dedication to duty, of doing what had to be done, that allowed her, thought the tears and self-hatred, to dispatch a quick messenger to the border guard to invite Aragorn in and offer him refuge to rest.
She had not met him until now, and so after many hours spent in Celeborn¨s arms as they consoled each other, she somehow found the strength to compose herself and go meet the young Man. She did so at the gates of Caras Galadhon. He was tired and dirty from his journey, dressed in his ranger garb, but still the likeness of Elros could be seen in him, of Elros and Silmariën both. He bowed, and she smiled at him and said: "Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Welcome to Lothlórien. Follow me, I'll lead you to the flet that was prepared for you."
There was a short silence as they walked, but then Aragorn said: "Your land is breathtakingly beautiful, my lady, though it is still no match for you."
Galadriel fought the impulse to raise her eyebrows, and instead, said simply: "It's very beautiful, I agree with you. The mellyrn that grow here bring the West to mind."
He did not seem to know what to answer to this. "I've heard, also, that they grew on Númenor," he said at length.
"They did," Galadriel confirmed. "In Eldalondë, the most beautiful part of the island."
"Your travelled there often, then, my lady?"
"Often enough, though not as often as Elrond did. But I loved some of the first kings of the realm dearly, and Silmariën, for the short time she lived, was a cherished friend to me."
"Silmariën?" he frowned for a moment. "She was the mother of the line of Andúnië, was she not?"
Galadriel did her best to chase away the bitterness that still lingered after all this time. "She was," she confirmed, "though she should have been Queen."
That seemed to confuse Aragorn. "Why to you believe so?"
"Because she was the eldest child of King Elendil," the Nolde answered simply.
"But she was a daughter, and there were other male heirs," Aragorn pointed out, as if he believed Galadriel needed an explanation of how agnatic primogeniture worked.
She had to take a moment and a calming breath before she replied: "Such were, indeed, the laws of the land at the time – but then, it was the first time this question arose, and King Elendil could have easily changed them."
Aragorn seemed honestly surprised at the suggestion, making Galadriel wonder what exactly it was that Erestor had taught him in their history classes. "It is of no matter now," she said, "it was a long time ago. Though it was for Silmariën I had the Star made, the one that later became an important symbol for your ancestors, the kings of Arnor."
Aragorn took a moment to understand what she had said. "The star of Elendil?"
Galadriel grimaced a little. "If that is what you call it, though it was much in opposition to her father, King Elendil, that I had it crafted for her."
Aragorn shook his head. "We name if for Elendil the first king of Gondor."
Galadriel scoffed. "That is even more absurd, then. But I suppose not much history survived the fall of Númenor."
They continued walking in silence for a time, Galadriel's head filled with her ghosts, before Aragorn spoke again. "Will I have an opportunity to meet the Lord of this realm as well?" He asked. "There are some matters I would wish to discuss with him, since I'm here."
"Certainly if you wish it, I'm sure he'll make some time for you," Galadriel answered, a little surprised that Aragorn would wish to discuss any matters particularly of interest to Celeborn. "But now you should rest, and tomorrow, you can fully enjoy the soothing air of our realm and recover. I have prepared a change of clothing for you here, to make use of."
"Thank you, my lady. I am very grateful to you."
She only smiled in response and left him to sleep.
She herself was restless. She had wished to speak with Aragorn to get to know him at least a little, but now she almost wished she had not. While she did not doubt that he was a good and honourable man, he did not sit well with her, and that made the thought of Arwen marrying him even more upsetting.
She shook her head at herself. It is not you who would be marrying him, she told herself, and Arwen has to decide her fate for herself.
As Lúthien did.