AN: Large chunks of text in this chapter are taken directly from The Fellowship of the Ring, just with the language adjusted so that if flows more seamlessly with my own writing. So credit goes to JRRT, and sorry I had to ruin his unmatchable style.
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Chapter 96: Test
Year 3019 of the Third Age, Lothlórien
Galadriel was preparing to receive the ruling ring in Lothlórien.
Even the idea itself was disquieting.
It was not that she feared Sauron learning of it and attacking – as long as he did not have the ring, she was confident enough in her ability to hold her realm – it was that she feared its influence. She would have to carefully limit the amount of time she allowed the Fellowship to stay in her realm, for the longer they did, the bigger the temptation would be.
She would also have to pray.
Until that time came, though, she tried to distract herself with preparations. Elladan and Elrohir had come two months ago, ascertaining how safe the journey was and collecting some things from her to give the travellers for their journey. Too many useful ones, however, she did not have enough time to prepare, and so she busied herself with it now, as she expected the Fellowship's arrival to her realm.
They would be given lembas as a natural due to any such valuable guests, but Elrond had asked for the rope only the Silvan of Lothlórien could make, so that was commissioned, and then Galadriel began to consider what other things she could give them to make their journey easier.
What lay ahead of them was darkness, and so the best what she could give was light. This consideration led to a short consultation with Túron and a commission given to him. She had hoped she would be able to give a little of the light of her fountain to each member of the Fellowship, but it turned out it was a more difficult task than she had anticipated.
"Or perhaps," Túron said, "if Lady Avorneth was still on this shore, she could have envisioned an easier way to achieve what you need. But I cannot, and what you ask will take me all the time until the Fellowship arrives, just to produce one small receptacle."
"Even that is more than I could manage," Galadriel replied. "I am thankful to you for your assistance, truly."
"It is my pleasure, my lady," he replied, and Galadriel returned to her flet considering her own statement. 'More than I could manage'. It was, truly, but was there something she, personally, could actually manage and that would be helpful for the Fellowship?
After some time spent in thought, she remembered the skill she had learned from Lady Melian so many years ago, and which she had taught to her handmaidens in turn. They could reproduce it to some degree, but none could copy her own proficiency fully, and so with a heavy sigh at the time it would require, Galadriel nevertheless gathered them together and began to weave.
It was a skill that required patience and careful attention to detail, and she could never spend too long in it before impatience overwhelmed her and she had to leave for a different duty. But still, if she wanted the cloth to be as efficient at hiding those who wore it as possible, she had to direct the weaving in person. The cloaks they were making would never hide anyone from elven eyes or from eagles, but from all others they could, and it was a skill only she possessed.
So she wove, and as she did, she considered the approaching group. The presence of the ring was not the only thing that disquieted her. She did not look forward to seeing Aragorn again – she bore him no ill will, but every look at him reminded her of the fate of her granddaughter, and every word out of his mouth grated on her nerves – and there had not been a dwarf inside the forest of Lothlórien ever since the realm was founded by Amdír, and probably not even before. And Prince Legolas, while he made a good impression in the Council, could turn out to be much less friendly in the land of the Nolde his father so despised. And then there was Boromir, of course, so filled with discontent about the goal of the mission.
She was very thankful Olórin would come with them, for he, at least, was someone she could look forward to without any reservation.
Yet he was also the one who needed the least preparation. Prince Legolas required the most. She meant to welcome him as was due to a royal guest and to give him gifts to support any chance there might be of improved relations with Greenwood. But this consideration led to the question of whether she should not have something for the others as well. Certainly Gimli, an envoy of the people who had lived so near to her for so long, should receive something, and Boromir was almost a prince as well; and then there was the message Elladan and Elrohir had brought from Arwen, that she wished Galadriel would give Aragorn the Elfstone as a bridal gift.
She resented it – there were no words for how she resented it. The Elfstone belonged to her beloved Itarillë, and to Ardamíre who was like a son to her. How could she give it to this Man who did not speak except to offend her?
And yet Arwen asked it of her, and Arwen would die soon. How could Galadriel deny her any wish she might have?
But it made her decide even more firmly that she would need to give gifts to every member of the Fellowship. She did not intend to make it seem that she singled Aragorn out of particular affection.
With that thought in mind, she reached for Olórin's mind to ask what he would recommend she prepare...and found that she could not, once again, reach it. And when she asked him to try, neither could Elrond.
Probably simply a relapse of the condition he had been in previously, Elrond said, but she could tell he was worried. So was she.
She tried to occupy her mind by other things, but she felt the fear for Olórin intruding, constantly, incessantly, every hour into every one of her occupations.
Finally she felt Aragorn cross the boundaries of her forest, and others with him – yet Olórin was not one of the company. Her worry changed into terror, but she squashed it down ruthlessly. Now was not the time. Instead, she advised Celeborn to send a host, for along with the Fellowship she felt evil at the edges of the forest.
"It might be wise to send a word about the guests as well," he pointed out. "A dwarf is with the company, and you know that the Sindarin...views of dwarves have spread among the Silvan as well in the last few millennia."
She grimaced in memory of that. "And the view of the royal family of Greenwood, too, is unfavourable," she added. "If they recognize Prince Legolas, he could have almost as much trouble as Gimli. Yes, by all means, let me send a word."
She did, and arranged for the Fellowship to be brought to the central flet at dusk of the next day to give herself enough time. She invited the council to be present at that memorable occasion, and then she went to look into her Mirror to make certain there was not something important she was unaware of. The Mirror showed her nothing, though, and so she finally felt justified in retreating to her flet, where she gave herself leave to give in to her worries for a time at least.
The idea that Olórin had fallen on their journey...it seemed unthinkable. He who went to Dol Guldur three times, he who travelled length and breadth of Middle-Earth, to perish on the way from Rivendell to Lothlórien, a journey traversed so often by her envoys...it was absurd. Especially as the others have clearly survived, so it could hardly be explained by Sauron somehow discovering their quest and sending his troops to destroy them. Besides, if that had been the case, she would have known.
No, there was no explanation for this – and yet what other answer was there to him not entering her realm with the rest of the Fellowship? Surely, even now when he made so many strange decisions, he would not abandon the company? Or – if he did – would it not raise even more fears than if he simply perished? Fears of a different kind of fall?
And so she made herself think the unthinkable for a time, and wept as she tried to come to terms with the idea, in the hopes that she could remain calm when presented with final confirmation of this fate.
When the sun reached its zenith the next day, however, she went back to work, preparing for the arrival of the most important guests in the history of the realm.
"They'll need rest from their difficult task, and encouragement," she told Celeborn. "But there are many among them who are likely to distrust us - Thranduil's son, and Gimli, and the son of the Gondorin steward. We have to lay their fears to rest, or they'll never find the relief they need here."
He gave her a look. "If you're telling me all this in preparation for a request to treat the dwarf with courtesy, I assure you, I'm capable of controlling my suspicions when this much lies at stake."
She smiled at him. "I know you are. I'm telling you because I'll need a bit more than that from you." She hesitated. "I need to see their hearts, to make sure there's no immediate danger to the quest."
He frowned. "My love..."
"I know that doing that is dishonest, and yet – they carry the ruling ring. We need to know. I need you to take care of the welcome, to keep them occupied and in a pleasant mood while I examine them."
"I'm not sure that I'm quite charming enough to make them not notice what you're doing," he pointed out archly.
She shook her head. "They'll notice, that much is inevitable. I need them not to turn around and leave as I do so."
"Are you certain it's worth the risk?"
She sighed. "In truth, it's mostly the steward's son I worry about. But it seems to me it'll be more acceptable to him if he finds out I examined everyone the same way – he'll see it less as a personal slight. I dare not leave his mind untouched. If he's a direct danger to them, they need to know."
Celeborn considered this, then inclined his head. "Can I tell Feliel?" He asked then. "I'd like to enlist her help if something unexpected happened."
Galadriel gave a nod of assent and he left to do so. She, meanwhile, turned to her wardrobe, contemplating what dress would best suit welcoming the group.
Her natural tendency would have been to honour the occasion with one of her old royal robes, in rich green or red with plenty of gold to decorate it. But she was about to insult Boromir's pride – it would be better, for that, to look as inconspicuous as possible. And perhaps to set their mind at rest, too, it would be easier if she resembled some of the ladies more suited to this task rather than herself.
She took out a white dress that she always wore in remembrance of someone – Irissë, and Melian, and later Elwing and Celebrían as well. This day, it would be the memory of Melian on her mind as she played the good and kind queen for her guests.
Then, she retreated to the enclosure with her mirror, to settle her mind and regain the balance she needed for what she expected to be faced with. And when the sun approached the horizon, she headed to the central flet, to wait with her council.
The ringbearer came first. Even if she had not seen him in the Mirror and through Elrond's eyes, she would have recognized him by the doom coiling around him. Then there was Thranduil's son, whom she would have recognized easily for how alike in face to his father he was. She gave Aragorn only as short a look as she could, to spare herself the pain and anger he always brought out in her. Gimli, on the other hand, was of more interest. He did not seem as contrary as she would have expected from a dwarf brought to the middle of a nominally Sindarin forest, which gave her hope. Two of the Hobbits were mostly cheerful, and the one called Samwise was worried. Boromir, when she saw him in person, did not reassure her in any way. Yes, she would, indeed, have to examine him carefully.
There was a shadow hanging over all of them, too, a shadow that turned her dark fear into almost a certainty.
As she contemplated them, gathering the initial impressions from the very surface of their minds, Celeborn took care of the welcome, and then, casting a worried eye over them, asked the question that burned in both of their minds: where was Olórin? She joined her own question to his, speaking for the first time, unable to prevent herself from giving vent to some of her worries.
"Alas!" Aragorn replied to their query. "Gandalf the Grey fell into shadow. He remained in Moria and didn't escape."
Darkness crept in the edges of Galadriel's vision, horror and grief pressing into her at this confirmation, in spite of her earlier mourning. No! She told herself sharply. Not now. You cannot give it to it now.
To ground herself, she listened to Aragorn's recounting of the story of Olórin's fall, and her horror slowly changed into incredulity. They had passed through Moria...but why? Why would Olórin do such a thing? It explained his death in some ways – if something in this world could kill him, a balrog certainly could – but it made it only more mysterious in some others. He had known what she believed dwelt there. Why would he choose such a road?
That it was, indeed, a balrog was confirmed by Prince Legolas, who must have seen them in his father's mind to be so certain. Galadriel recalled her fear that the absence of Lord Laurefindil would be felt at some juncture. How bitter it was, to be proven right in this of all fashions!
She was not the only one provoked to anger by the news of this seemingly so unnecessary death. But Celeborn, as ever, was less skilled at keeping his bitterness hidden, and so he spoke his anger to their guests. Galadriel gave a soft sigh and a light calming touch to his mind. She understood him, but this company was too important even for this, and she would have to smooth over his harsh words with such that, she knew, would inevitably hurt him. But even for that concern, this was too important, and so she spoke.
She spoke to the Fellowship, chiefly, but her own feelings coloured the choice of what she said. "If our people had been exiled long and far from Lothlórien, who of the Galadhrim, even Celeborn the Wise, would pass near and wouldn't wish to look upon their ancient home, though it had become a home of dragons?" She said aloud, but Lothlórien was not what she was thinking of. Rather it was its model, where she had talked long with Olórin, and the beauty of Tirion upon Túna. And it was Doriath, too, for Celeborn, where she remembered too well how he longed to go after it was taken over by The Enemy's monsters.
She turned to Gimli, then, against whom Celeborn's words had been most sharply turned, and added: "Dark is the water of Kheled-zaram, and cold are the springs of Kibil-nala, and fair were the many-pillared halls of Khazad-dum in Elder Days before the fall of mighty kings beneath the stone."
She smiled at him, and he rose and bowed. "Yet more fair is the living land of Lórien, and the Lady Galadriel is above all the jewels that lie beneath the earth!"
In her mind, Galadriel grimaced a little. A great friendship must bind them with Aragorn, she thought. There was not much kind she could say to that, and she had no wish to be unkind, and so Celeborn spoke instead, the time she gave him by her speech and the rousing touch of her mind enough to bring him back to himself, and he apologized.
Gimli seemed almost entirely mollified, but most of the group, she could see, still looked at them with such suspicion it wouldn't be conclusive to her peacefully gazing into their mind. And so Galadriel let the tiniest amount of her power drip through her voice as she began to talk of Olórin always planning for the Fellowship to come to Lothlórien, and about the years she and Celeborn had spent fighting against the darkness.
Then she hesitated for a moment, but she felt the warning was in place, and so she looked at Boromir fully. "Your Quest stands on the edge of a knife," she said. "Stray but a little and it'll fail, to the ruin of all. But hope remains while all the Fellowship is true."
And then, as they were surprised and confused, she used it to easily slip into their thoughts.
She started with Boromir, and did not like what she saw at all. He was not all bad, his loyalty to his father and Gondor was fierce, but he was proud, proud beyond measure. It is just my bitter experience that makes me compare all I doubt to Fëanáro? She wondered. Yet this was pride born of fear and despair, and Galadriel saw, very clearly, that there was nothing Boromir would give precedence to over saving his realm. Not even his own pride, which was something, at least.
She looked into Aragorn's mind, allowing herself what she had denied the first time she met him, though she had desired to do so then as well. She was not much surprised by what she found there. Aragorn loved her granddaughter, with steadiness and certainty that came through the Flame of Eru he had been blessed – or cursed? - with thanks to her. He would go through the pits of Angamando for her. One thing he longed for now was the company of his kin, in which he could find some consolation. He had his own kind of pride, too, for being the heir to the old kings, but with it went a lot of fear also, about failing the way Isildur failed. Yet she found no traces of that tendency in him, and the fear, she thought, might be useful in checking it should it appear. She withdrew from his mind before she caught thoughts she did not need to know, and which would be less pleasant.
Legolas was next, and entering his mind, her astonishment grew. First, she knew he could have closed his mind against her, but he did not, seeing what she did to others and opening his heart to her. How could this be the son of Thranduil, she wondered? She found nothing but steadfast dedication to his task, to the promise he gave, and he only regretted the thought that should he die on this quest, he would not see his parents again.
Galadriel moved on to Gimli, and there she found desires that greatly surprised her. There was a wish for a realm of his own, a desire so similar to hers those ages ago that she almost withdrew. But she had to see, and had to tempt, and the pull of it was very strong indeed for Gimli. A good thing that this particular chance was unlikely to offer itself. His other desire was a more straightforward one – he was falling in love with Legolas fast, and at a different time she would have perhaps wondered at this marvel of Eru, to put a dwarf and an elf together, but now her mind was too preoccupied even for that. And this this desire put the quest in no danger.
The Hobbits were very much alike in what would tempt them to give up the quest, all of them uncomfortable so far from home, and longing for its comfort. And that, too, she could understand, for small that they were, their homesickness was not so dissimilar to the great lady's longing for Aman. May you, at least, be allowed to return, she prayed for them and turned her eyes to Frodo.
Her heart bled for him as she saw his despair and grief and pain, and fear, too, but also determination to carry out his task until the very end. To the others, home was still a very real possibility. To Frodo, it seemed to be lost in shadows, as the journey ahead was. What he dreamed of was any kind of deliverance, end to his torture without any particular shape.
Finally she withdrew and smiled at them, trying to reassure as much as she could after such an intrusion. "Don't let your hearts be troubled," she said. "Tonight you'll sleep in peace."
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Only once Galadriel was safely in her flet, with only Celeborn to give her company, did she let go of the tight control she held herself under and wept bitter tears for her friend while her husband held her.
It was still unthinkable that he would be dead. She had gone without him for a very long time, of course, but that was when she knew he was safely in the West, walking in peace in the gardens of Lórien. But now...what now? What happened to a Maia when he died in a body? She was not sure. Perhaps, much like an elf, he would appear again in Aman? Or would he join the choirs of Ainur at Eru's side, never to set foot in middle-Earth again? The idea terrified her, and provoked another bout of bitter weeping.
She could not imagine facing the world as she knew it without him.
The end would come, she knew – either with Sauron's victory, or with the destruction of the Ring and thus end of Lothlórien. It would come, and she would dearly need the support of someone who was not as sharply hit by those things as all others close to her.
"I knew I would lose him soon enough," sh she told Celeborn with tears streaming down her face, "for once Sauron falls, he would no doubt have returned West, but I hoped so much that he would be here at least for a time to help me..." she hesitated, but there was no point in shying away from what would come sooner or later. "Help me into fading. It would have been easier to leave this world with him by my side."
Celeborn, at a loss for words, merely tightened his embrace.
It took her days to push her grief back again, and only then she could concentrate on the other things that needed to be done.
She searched out Legolas, and found him in Gimli's company, to her joy.
"My friend's been unexpectedly charmed by your kingdom," the Mirkwood prince said when he noticed her, "so I've been explaining to him how forest realms work and showing him around, with the help of your people."
"That's very kind of you, and I'm sure some of my people'll be glad to take care of him for now as well. I'd like to speak with you, Prince Legolas."
Gimli gave the young elf a look, and to Galadriel, he said: "I'm not so certain, my lady, of the welcome of your people. I've been enjoying Legolas' tours, but they seem startled when they see me, and I don't, I confess, understand forest dwellers."
She smiled. "Then let me get you different company," she said and looked around. "Brethilel!" She called to one of the passing elves. "Will you get Túron, please?"
The elf ran away, and Galadriel explained: "Túron is one of the few smiths of Hollin who still remain in this land. He knew the dwarves of Khazad-dûm before it was lost to Durin's Bane, and I'm certain you'd have much to talk about."
"Did you know them, my lady?"
"I did. Don't you know the history of your folk? I was the Queen of Hollin in that time, and I knew many of Khazad-dûm's kings, and walked through its halls often. But so did Túron – and here he comes!" She smiled at the elf and nodded towards Gimli. "Here is one of Durin's folk interested in their history. I hoped you could share some stories with him."
"Gladly, my lady," he replied with a smile and a bow, and Galadriel nodded to Legolas and led him to her flet.
"Please, take a seat, Prince Legolas," she said, pointing to one of her comfortable chairs. "How fares your father?"
"As well as he can in those difficult days." He paused, and gave her a surprisingly sharp look. "Why have you brought me here?" He asked.
She sighed. "Please, don't think that I'm trying to make you betray your father's confidence, but I'd like to hear what your father's told you about me first. And don't worry, I have some idea, and am unlikely to be offended."
Legolas contemplated her for a long while, and at length, said flatly: "My father told me that the fall of Doriath and the death of King Dior and his family was your fault, as well as the death of his father. He told me that you want power for yourself, and will stop at nothing to gain it."
Galadriel took the news calmly, for they were, in truth, not news. "And yet you open your mind to me. Why is that?"
"Well...I've always wondered. The tale as my father told it raised many questions, and I do understand that there are at least two sides to every story. Besides, my mother has warned me about Father's grudges. My father is strict, it's true, but he's just and kind-hearted – except to dwarves, and to you. I know that he distrusted Mithrandir and Elrond on your account, and Celeborn and Amroth as well, and when I met some of the Rivendell envoys that came to Mirkwood from time to time, he was opposed to our friendship on these grounds. I convinced him in that respect, but still, his prejudice remains. I'm sorry for that."
"So am I, for it had led to much evil." She raised her hand. "No, I don't blame your father – or not much, at least. It's what he was raised in, and there was much pain in his life. I wouldn't mind that he made it all easier by blaming me, if we weren't both rulers." She paused. "I told this to Amdír when I first crossed the mountains, still as a Queen then: we can have our personal grievances, but as rulers, we have to act responsibly towards our people."
Prince Legolas nodded. "My mother has told him the same."
"Has she?" Galadriel asked, surprised.
"I've heard it but once," he amended, "after her parents died at the hand of the creatures from Dol Guldur. I gathered she believed that had he cooperated with you more, such death could have been avoided." He shrugged. "I don't know whether she was right, but it's made me wonder about you. Could you have helped?"
"At that point? I don't believe so. But your mother is right that had there been no animosity between your father and me, we could have cast Gorthaur out of Dol Guldur much earlier, and many things would have been different then." She paused. "I'd like you, if you return home, to bring my offer of peace to your father. He won't speak to me in person, and even when we sat in White Council together he avoided me. Perhaps your mother could become my advocate."
Legolas nodded thoughtfully. "He did seem to take her words to heart – I believe you may stand a chance. I can write letters to them from here, if one of your messengers would bring it to Greenwood," he said.
Galadriel inclined her head. "I'd be very grateful, Prince Legolas. You are more willing than I could have hoped you'd be."
He smiled a little. "Well," he said, "when you examined my mind, you couldn't quite keep yours shielded, could you?"
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Galadriel knew Celeborn spoke with Aragorn at length – she herself did not quite had the heart for it – and so, there was only one task left.
She waited for a moment when Frodo was almost alone, only in company of his gardener and friend, and searched him out. Then, she led them both to her Mirror, and gave them the choice to look.
The Ringbearer seemed hesitant, and only more so when his friend regretted giving in to his curiosity after the fact. He saw his home destroyed, it seemed. It was alarming even to Galadriel – the Shire was far west, and if the Enemy reached there, it did not bode well for the result of the war. But it was just one of many things she pushed aside and deep, to contemplate later, when she did not have immediate problems to catch her attention.
"Do you now wish to look, Frodo?" She asked instead. "You didn't wish to see Elf-magic and were content."
"Do you advise me to look?" He questioned.
That, of course, was why she brought them there...and yet now she was not so certain. She knew he could see things tied to him, things that would give her valuable clues as to the future, its risks and dangers. But Samwise was thrown by what he had seen, and above all she needed Frodo not to falter. What if what he saw was too much? "No," she said. "I don't counsel you one way or the other. It's not my task – you must make up your own mind. You may learn something, and whether what you see is good or bad, it might be useful...but it might not. Seeing is both good and dangerous." She saw his indecisiveness, and after a moment of consideration, added: "Yet I think, Frodo, that you have courage and wisdom enough for it, or I wouldn't have brought you here. Do as you will!"
"I'll look," he said at length, after another moment, and bent over the mirror. When, after a while, he started to lean in, she knew what was the image he saw.
"Don't touch the water!" She said softly, and when his eyes turned away from the Mirror, she added: "I know what it was that you last saw, for that's also in my mind. Don't be afraid!" Yet he was, she could see it on the very surface of his mind, the fear that Sauron would find him here, pluck him out of her realm easily, and in spite of herself she had to smile at such little faith in her defences.
"Don't think that only by singing amid the trees, or by the slender arrows of elven-bows, is this land of Lothlórien defended against its Enemy," she told him. "Even as I speak to you, I perceive the Dark Lord and know his mind, or all of his mind that concerns the Elves." It seemed Olórin had told him something of how mind-speech worked at some point, for at this she could see in his mind another fear, that of her own thoughts being revealed, and she shook her head slightly, even as she let him see a little of her power to make the reassurance stronger. "He always tries to see me and my thoughts. But that door is still closed!" She extended her hand with Nenya towards Mordor as if to physically push away the dark power she could sense, and saw that Frodo noticed her ring.
"Yes," she said, "it isn't permitted to speak of it, and Elrond couldn't do so. But it can't be hidden from the Ring-bearer, and one who's seen the Eye. Truly it's in the land of Lothlórien upon the finger of Galadriel that one of the Three remains. This is Nenya, the Ring of Adamant, and I'm its keeper. He suspects, but he doesn't know – not yet."
Though his suspicion was near enough to certainty, she knew, and if he ever gained the ruling ring, he would turn towards Lothlórien first. "Don't you see now how your coming is to us like the footsteps of Doom?" She asked Frodo. "For if you fail, then we'll be laid bare to the Enemy. Yet if you succeed, then my power will be diminished, and Lothlórien will fade, and the tides of Time will sweep it away. We must depart into the West, or dwindle to a rustic folk of dell and cave, slowly to forget and to be forgotten."
He seemed taken aback at this depiction of the bleak future that awaited her and her people. "And what do you wish?" He asked her.
I wish I could go home, she thought, that I did not have to fade alone in this world far away from most I love. But aloud, she said simply: "That what should be shall be." She shook her head – speaking of herself was too dangerous, and so she turned the conversation to her people instead. "The love of the Elves for their land and their works is deeper than the deeps of the Sea, and their regret is undying and can't ever wholly be assuaged. Yet they'll cast all away rather than submit to Sauron: for they know him now." She sighed, and did her best to give him a reassuring smile even through her melancholy and grief. "You're not answerable for the fate of Lothlórien. You're only responsible for your own task."
"But still," he insisted, "if you were to make a wish?"
She scoffed. "I could wish, were it of any avail, that the One Ring had never been wrought," she said, thinking of Tyelperinquar. "Or had remained for ever lost," she added a little more quietly. It was a less noble wish to utter, for with the armies diminished their chances would have been small to destroy Sauron even without the ring...but oh, how she wished. With such ache in her heart.
"You're wise and fearless and fair, Lady Galadriel," Frodo answered after a moment, "and I don't wish to see you or your realm fall. I can't unmake the One Ring, or make it lost again, but I'll give it to you, if you ask for it. Surely with it, you could defeat the Enemy and keep your realm, and it's too great a matter for me anyway."
Galadriel's eyes widened as she took in his words, and suddenly it was all here, all she ever wanted, within her grasp. She could not help it, she laughed. "Wise the Lady Galadriel may be," she said, "yet here she's met her match in courtesy. Gently you're revenged for my testing of you when we first met. You begin to see with a keen eye. I don't deny that my heart has greatly desired to ask what you offer. For many long years I had pondered what I might do, should the Great Ring come into my hands, and behold! It was brought within my grasp." She shook her head. Of course she could not have expected she could have the ring in her realm without temptation. "The evil that was devised long ago works on in many ways, whether Sauron himself stands or falls. Wouldn't that have been a noble deed to set to the credit of his Ring, if I had taken it by force or fear from my guest?" That she knew she would not do, that test she had passed in Hollin already, but this...
"You'll give me the Ring freely!" She repeated, still incredulous, the possibilities running through her mind. Her realm saved, the elves remaining in this world, Sauron defeated, and she, she would finally have a crown no one would ever take from her. "In place of the Dark Lord you'll set up a Queen," she told Frodo, seeing the future before her, as clear as day. "And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the morning and the night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the snow upon the mountain! Dreadful as the storm and the lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair!" She thought of all she lost that she could regain, of all the could build that she could not before...with the Ring in her power, she would crush Sauron and his followers, she could bring Thranduil to heed without having to rely on his son's intercession, she could crush Saruman for his betrayal and set the Steward of Gondor to right...she could rule the way she deemed just and right, over all of Middle-Earth...the woes and pains of the world would be gone, burned away by her anger and vengeance...there would be no need of more kings, and so Arwen would change her mind, for there would be no need or her to marry Aragorn any more...and here Galadriel's mind stuttered to a stop, for she realized that if Arwen did not marry Aragorn, she would sail with her father, sail even though the elves could stay, or she would wish to go to her mother – and Galadriel though of Celebrían beyond the Sea, whom not even the One Ring could bring back, and she thought of Olórin who now hopefully dwelt there as well, and all the others. And suddenly she realized that to see Aman and all her loved ones there was truly all she wanted, at this point, for any thoughts of kingdoms seemed insignificant compared to that. And the ring would not help her achieve that, and the thought diminished its hold over her, enough to realize that she could not, would not, for the power would be too great and would corrupt her in time, perhaps not for years, perhaps not for centuries, but it would, in the end. And she lowered the hand she did not remember raising.
She blinked as she looked around, for she had forgotten where she stood for a moment. I resisted, she realized as if in a daze. I resisted the ruling ring being offered to me. She laughed, incredulous. "I pass the test," she said in wonder. "I'll diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel."
But then, of course, she remembered she could not.