AN: OMG guys I did it! Another update! I'm so proud of myself! (I gotta make use of the little things...)
Chapter 98: End
Year 3019 of the Third Age, Lothlórien
It was mere few days after the last, feeble attempt at an attack by the remnants of the Dol Guldur forces that Galadriel felt the power leave her ring, and with it, Lothlórien.
She had known it would come if Frodo was successful – she had prepared for it – and still, now that she watched everything she spent the last three millennia building slowly starting to wither, she felt like crumbling with it.
Lothlórien was not Hollin. It was no the apple of her eye, her dream realm, the place where everything was the way she imagined a realm should be. It was not all of her wishes, ambitions and hopes come true.
She had intentionally avoided making it so, knowing what the Doom meant now, knowing the pain of loosing such a realm again would kill her.
But she had ruled Lothlórien by Celeborn's side for a thousand years, longer than she had spent in Hollin, and she had lived there for five thousand – over half of her entire life. She had been at the centre of many transformations that took place in the realm, and for three millennia she had been pouring her power into it, feeling the pulse of the land in her veins, sensing every single one of its ills before its people even did, tied to it more strongly than she ever had been to a place before, hardly ever leaving.
Watching it crumble, now, was like a stab in the heart. It felt like losing what she most valued once again.
So this is the end, she thought through the last power of the ring at her friends and companions.
If this was victory, why did it feel so much like defeat?
She sunk to her knees by her fountain, the only remainder of what she had wrought in the realm that would, perhaps, survive the end of the rings for some time. She let the water run between her fingers, watching it escape her every time she gathered it in her hands. Much like everything else in this world, she thought.
That was not true, though – there was Celeborn, the one blessed constant in her life, the one mercy of Eru that she had been allowed to keep. And she knew he would be feeling the loss of their realm as much as she did – in some ways, even more. And so with her last power, she rose and went to find him.
To her surprise, though, he was more melancholy than truly desperate like she felt.
"It's an end, yes," he said when she asked, "but I don't feel it the way you do, and I wonder if it can't be the beginning of something else as well."
She gave him a weak smile. "That's a very human way of thought, my love," she say. "You know that the new beginnings in this world aren't for us."
"Not for long, no," he agreed, "and yet I find the idea of watching this forest transform into something new, something different from Lindórinand and Lothlórien both, appeals to me. I believe I'd like to see it before I sail. I had thought I'd spend all of my time in Gondor with Arwen, but..."
Galadriel felt such a sharp pain at the reminder of her granddaughter's fate that she could not, in her currently weakened state, immediately manage it, and it took her a moment before she answered: "Living outside of the forest wouldn't suit you for long, my love, you know that."
"It wouldn't have been for long," Celeborn replied, and Galadriel doubled over with pain.
The next moment, Celeborn was embracing her and muttering apologies. She shook her head weakly. "She's your granddaughter as well – you shouldn't have to watch what you say in front of me."
"Yet you're still hurt more by all of this. Forgive my careless words.
She gave a weak nod, but realized with more clarity than ever before that she truly did not have long left before she sailed, not unless she wished to fade before she did. She had known it would come after the war ended, and she had felt hints and echoes of it, but now it stood before her in stark clarity. She would not be able to stay with Celeborn for even as long as she had hoped. She could not give him his half a century. She would see no hope of new beginnings in watching Lothlórien wither and Arwen approach death. It would break her. Only the hope of an escape to the West not too far away was keeping her afloat now. Without it, she would have found the bitterness of the moment too hard to bear, and the regret of her passed test too sharp.
So she turned all of her thoughts to Aman and to the hope of that, and it gave her enough strength to straighten and turn to Celeborn. "You should ready the army," she said. "Dol Guldur waits to be taken."
"Are you certain you wouldn't rather wait…?"
She shook her head. I'm out of time for waiting, she thought.
And so, three days later, they set out. For Galadriel, there was another source of bitterness in this campaign. She truly did her best to find it in herself to be happy about Sauron's vanquishing, but there were simply too many reasons for grief for her to rejoice in it, and the one that surfaced now was: And in all those years, in spite of what I swore, I never had the opportunity to revenge myself on him.
She was not unhappy that Frodo did not fail, of course...and yet, she truly wished – with a burning hatred – that she could have been the one to deliver the final blow.
Your pride is speaking again, she told herself chidingly. Be careful, or you will find your way West barred once more!
But it was hard, still, knowing that all that anger of millennia was to have no just outlet, and that this campaign was the most she would be allowed.
So when she came to Dol Guldur at last, she though of her brother dying in the dungeons of Tol-in-Gaurhoth once again, of her realm falling apart while she watched, of Sarnel and Tyelperinquar dying in its defence, as well as all the others, of Artanáro's death, and Amdír's, and all the others who died or suffered in the Last Alliance and in this war...and she let her fury reign free over the fortress once more, and bright as the flames of Arien herself, she tore down the walls of Dol Guldur without needing any ring of power to do it, and she filled the space where darkness dwelt for so long with her light, first the light of her anger and then the softer, healing kind.
"It is done," she said then, with finality, before she fainted.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
When she returned to Lothlórien, where the absence of Nenya's power was almost tangible now, she tentatively sent her thought in search of Elrond. The connection was not as clear as it had been, but perhaps by long habit, their minds found each other easily now and they could speak more clearly than before they bore the rings.
Come, she said to him, it is time.
And she felt his answering pain, for for him the victory was even more bitter than for her, before he said, I will.
And a month later, he did, with Arwen and Lord Laurefindil and Erestor and all those who mattered in his household, and Elladan and Elrohir came from the south and met with them and they were all together in the fading Caras Galadhon for some days.
Galadriel approached Arwen, then, and said: "I fear I will break my promise to you, beloved."
She saw her granddaghter's eyes widen, felt the betrayal and fear in her mind as she asked quietly: "Why?"
All of these were like stabs for Galadriel, more stabs into her weakened heart, and for a moment she considered changing her mind and staying with Arwen after all, but precisely the pain she felt now, she stabs of guilt and regret that could only be held a bay by her thought fleeing to the Gardens of Lórien and to the hopes of seeing Lady Estë again, told her that she could not. That she was, for once, simply not strong enough.
That in itself was hardly conclusive to her good mental state, of course, and her hands and voice both shook as she replied: "I found grace of the Valar again, and I may return West."
The tone of Arwen's mind changed to amazement and joy, though the threads of loneliness and fear remained. "Truly?" She asked, and there was joy in her voice as well. "Then I am happy for you, grandmother, truly happy! Of course it is only just – I could not imagine the Valar not allowing you back – but I am so glad to have it confirmed."
Galadriel could only nod. "I would stay with you anyway, as long as I could," she said then, "but I...I feel I will not have enough strength."
She saw that Arwen found the notion of her not being strong enough strange, but she also noticed her granddaughter examining her mind, and she fought with herself to allow it, not to hide her weakness, so that Arwen would truly know her grandmother would have stayed if she could.
Finally, reluctantly and still a little incredulously, Arwen nodded, her mind filled with conflicting emotion. "I will miss you very dearly," she said. "How soon will you leave?"
"Soon enough, likely, in a decade or so at most," Galadriel replied, trying to judge her own strength. "But I would stay longer for you if you wished me to," she added. It was true. She would stretch herself to the point of tearing if Arwen needed her to.
Arwen shook her head, the confusion in her mind lessening. "I would not keep you from the peace and healing you need."
Galadriel gave a sad smile. "That is what you grandfather said. He, at any rate, will stay with you...until the end."
"Let us not speak about that," Arwen begged. "I want to think, instead, about the years of happiness that await me."
A small shadow passed Galadriel's mind, and because without Nenya, she could no longer as easily shield parts of her mind while leaving others open, Arwen caught it. "What is it?" he asked.
Galadriel smiled. "I do not wish to trouble you. You know well there are things on which I do not agree with Aragorn. I happened upon one of these instances when the Fellowship was here, that is all."
"What did he do?"
Sighing, Galadriel recounted his words at their farewell.
"I wish to believe he meant it only as regards himself, for to him, it is surely the most important part," Arwen replied, "but I see why you were angry. It is difficult for him, I think, to fully realize what you are."
"He knows history," Galadriel answered. She wished to say that it did not matter, that no nis should ever have to hear that the most valuable things about her were her children. She wanted to add that it was merely one sign of many, that she would not be upset over a singular instance if she had not observed similar signs many times before. But for her granddaughter's sake she held her tongue. "At the very least, he should know what I once was," she simply said. "But let us not speak about this. I do not have much time left with you, beloved, and I want to make the best of it. Come with me – I have something to give you."
They turned their steps towards Galadriel's flet. "Did you...did you give him the Elfstone?" Arwen asked, worry in her tone.
"I did," Galadriel confirmed. "Whatever I think of him, it was your wish, beloved."
"But it was your stone," Arwen pointed out.
Galadriel smiled at the answer. "No – I only had it in keeping. You know that. I told you centuries ago that if you wished, it would become your chosen love's bridal gift."
"You did," Arwen confirmed, "and in truth I had a vision of his wearing it, but...it still feels wrong, that I made you give up this memory of your friend."
Galadriel shook her head. "Owing to the mercy of the Valar, I will see Itarillë in person soon," she said. "I do not need this reminder." Arwen, on the other hand, might soon dearly need this tool that allowed to see the world as when it was still new. But obeying her granddaughter's wish to speak of more cheerful things, she did not mention that.
They reached her flet, and Galadriel walked to the jewelled chest that was kept close to her bed, always, and sometimes taken out when she indulged in bittersweet memories. "I gave a worthy gift to your husband to be," she said, "but you must know, beloved, that you will forever be more worthy than him – more worthy than most that I have known – in my eyes. So I have a gift for you as well, a gift that can, perhaps, in some very small measure express the love I feel for you, and the value I place on your company and on your wisdom."
She opened the chest, and took out the greatest treasure that still remained to her.
Arwen gasped. "You cannot give me this," she said.
"It is mine to give to whom I will. Like my love and esteem," Galadriel told her gently, and put the crown of Hollin in her granddaughter's hands.
"You will be queen," she continued, "and I know you will help your husband with his rule with wisdom and compassion. I have Seen in my mirror that he will wear the Star of Silmariën once more, as a mark of pride in his line as well as sign of his royal position. The Star of Hollin was made as its twin, to mark my love for Silmariën as well as the queenship that was in both of our blood. It passes rightfully to you. You are my kin, and queenship is yours. You and the ladies who come after you will wear it as a sign of the love that binds them to their husbands, as well as a sign that while they may sit the throne by the virtue of their marriage to the king, theirs is a power on its own, and must not be neglected."
Arwen's fingers closed around the crown, but she was still astonished, Galadriel could see. "This...this has ever been mark of your queenship," she said. "How can I accept this – how can you give it away?"
"Where I will go, there are no true kings and queens, except the Elder King and the Queen of All. To go there, I have to put my pride to rest, as well as my ambition, and the crown is a symbol of both. No, I will not miss it there, and it is fitting you should have it."
Instead of an answer, Arwen embraced her, and they held onto each other for a long time, each in her own joy mixed with sorrow.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-
The journey to Minas Tirith was long, and everyone wished to spend it by talking to Arwen. Galadriel was one of the more privileged ones, given that she was a close relation and it was known she would be leaving soon, but still she found enough time to talk to others as well. Elladan and Elrohir were the first to gain her attention.
"Have you decided about your fate yet?" She asked them quietly.
Elladan shook his head. "It is difficult," he said, "choosing without the Flame to guide us."
"We dearly long to see Mother, and we do not wish to abandon our parents. Arwen's death will be difficult enough – the thought of all of us choosing the fate of Men is...it could sour even Aman for them, I fear."
"And yet," Elladan finished. "We love Middle-Earth still."
"We know for certain we will stay as long as our sister stays, at the very least," Elrohir explained. "After that..."
"It will be difficult for your father, sailing without knowing if he will ever see you again."
Elrohir nodded. "I know," he said. "And it pains me, but still I cannot – I cannot abandon all I have lived all my life so easily."
Galadriel felt a pang, so much reminded of her own thoughts. But she had no choice any more.
"We spent the last few centuries destroying our enemy," Elladan added. "Now he is gone, and we would like to take joy in these lands again before leaving them."
That, too, Galadriel could so well understand.
"Will you stay in Gondor, then, or in Rivendell, or will you roam the world?"
"A little bit of each, I imagine. Rivendell passes to our charge, and we would like to keep it as a safe haven on the way, but we are not made to spend all of our time there, and would not wish it so. And we will be with our sister as much as she will need us."
There was a short silence. "Have you known anyone to make the final choice without the Flame to guide them?" Elrohir asked then.
Galadriel considered. "Your grandmother," she said then, "Elwing. Both she and Earendil were free to choose, and their paths could have gone both ways."
Elrohir sighed. "Would that we could ask her," he replied, "how to make our own choice."
They were called away by their father in that moment, and Galadriel soon found herself riding by Lord Laurefindil.
"Will you be returning West with Elrond?" she asked him after a moment of silence when she contemplated what the twins had said.
He inclined his head. "Yes. I have not seen my family for too long, and my task here is ended."
"Will Erestor go with you?"
"Not immediately, no – it is not his home, and while he wises to be freed of the burdens of Middle-Earth, he also feels that Elladan and Elrohir will need his assistance with ruling Rivendell, and so he wishes to stay with them for a time at least. Will you be part of Elrond's party, my lady?"
"I will." She paused. "I never told you, but for millennia I believed I would not be allowed to return. It is indescribable relief to know that I will."
He gave a small smile. "No more laments for you, then?"
"This new hope I have cannot erase the years of pain and guilt...but not only laments, I will say that much."
"Hope mixed with grief fits the occasion well," he observed.
"It does. I cannot bear to think about Arwen, to tell the truth. It hurts too much."
"Not even if you concentrate on her happiness?"
She did not wish to share her thoughts about Aragorn – Lord Laurefindil helped raise him, after all, and she sometimes wondered if the fact that all of his tutors were men played a part in the way he looked at women, but this hardly felt like the time to criticize Lord Laurefindil's work. His charge did manage to lead the war to a victorious end, after all. "No life is pure joy," she said instead. "Her children will grow so quickly before her eyes, and her husband will age almost sooner than she can blink, or so it will seem to her. I have seen this before, and it is not easy towards the end."
"Was Lúthien…?"
"No, or not much, but Lúthien was special in every way. Her mother's blood was in her, and no one could deny it. It was not painful for her to part with this world – but it had been hart-wrenching for her mother. And the though of Celebrían as she finds out the fate of her daughter in the one thing that sours my hopes about Aman."
He nodded in consideration and then he smiled a little sadly. "I believe, my lady, that you are in need of a song that would not be a lament at this very moment."
"Yet I am in no mood for cheerful songs now." But she smiled, then, and said: "I believe there is one solution." And thinking of Itarillë, as she always did, she sang: "A! Elbereth," and Lord Laurefindil joined her on the words "star-kindler," and soon the whole company was singing.
-g-g-g-g-g-g-g-
It was all Galadriel could do not to cry through the wedding. She had not been so affected at Elros' or Lúthien's, but then, there had not been the certainty of parting in a very short time. As it was, she found it difficult to get into the spirit of the celebration, even as she tried her best, for her granddaughter.
Aragorn was a Man and their traditions were different, and it took only a few days for the king and queen to emerge again in public. Once they did, Aragorn approached her: "My Queen tells me I owe you an apology," he said.
Galadriel grimaced. "I know you meant no evil."
"I did not, but still, you are both right that it was an unfortunate phrasing. The only thing I can say in my defence is that to me, Arwen overshadows everything, and so what you are to her has always been the most important to me."
"Even then, perhaps the fact that we are close could be more important than that we are of the same blood," Galadriel could not help but point out, "but let us not quarrel over it. I trust you will try to be the best husband you can to my granddaughter, and that must be enough."
"I will make it my life's mission," he replied.
Galadriel hesitated. "You never had a chance to spend much time with her, your duties taking you all over the world," she added then, "and perhaps you do not know some things about her that are crucial to her character. Since we are speaking, I would say to you...she is not a treasure."
Aragorn seemed confused by the statement. "She is the most precious-"
Galadriel shook her head sharply. "She is a person with her own wishes and dreams and choices. When you were in Lothlórien, you spoke of me giving her to you. She is not a treasure to be given. It was her choice to marry you, and only because of that choice she is your wife now."
"I...know that, my lady."
"It is not always apparent that you do. You said you would make it your life's mission to be the best husband you can be to her. If you stop regarding her as a treasure, that will be an important first step."
She left him, then, before he had time to answer. She truly did not wish to argue, yet she would never forgive herself if she said nothing and Arwen's marriage was unhappy. She did not truly believe her little speech could do much, but...at least she had tried.
Some days later, the royal couple with a large entourage of all the most important people left in Middle-Earth departed Minas Tirith and headed to Rohan to lay King Theoden to rest with honours. After that, the time for final farewells came.
Galadriel walked with Arwen away from the city of Edoras and from the others, to a nearby hill where they had good view of the wide open plains of Rohan. They walked in silence. Now, at the end of things, Galadriel did not know what to say.
I will miss you? It had been said many times before, and it was too empty, to trite, to be of any comfort now. I love you? Perhaps, but what use would it be, when her love would soon be too far away to provide any support? I wish you a happy life? True in one way, and yet hypocritical in another, when Galadriel so much doubted that Arwen would have one.
"I am sorry," she said at length, when they reached the hill.
"Sorry?" Arwen asked. "For what?"
"For...everything. For not being able to stay longer with you in spite of my promise, that you had to make such a difficult choice and that you cannot even have the solace your uncle had of remaining with your loved ones until the end, I am sorry for every little pain that you might encounter in future years which I will not be here to help you bear..."
"It was my choice," Arwen interrupted her softly.
Galadriel sighed. Was it, she wondered, thinking back to that day she had let Aragorn into Lothlórien and regretting it in the same way she regretted passing her final test. Or was it a sacrifice for the war? Do you even know yourself, beloved?
But for better or worse, the choice was made now, and asking the question would bring no profit, so she did her best to hide her thoughts from Arwen.
"Is there anything I can do for you now?" She asked instead. "Anything at all?"
"Just...sit with me. And...perhaps sing?"
Galadriel did sit, and she did sing. For the first time, she sang the Noldolante in her granddaughter's presence. Hers was a different brand of tragedy, true – but no less painful, and it seemed more fitting than anything else.
When they returned to Edoras many hours later, Elladan and Elrohir took their sister aside for their brief farewell. As they were staying in Middle-Earth, their parting was not bitter yet, and they would see her again in a year or so. But when Elrond, as the last of them, went to take his leave, his pain was sharp and deep enough to drown in, and Galadriel could feel it even at a distance as he spoke to his beloved daughter.
When he came back, he was shaking like a leaf, and once again, Galadriel held him, trying to keep him from breaking apart at the grief and despair. It took some time for him to be ready to continue the journey, and as they were departing Edoras, he was unable to as much as look at his daughter.
Why, Galadriel asked, why does he have to go through this over and over again?
She put all of her strength into attempting to calm his mind and diverting it to different thoughts, to the hope that now lay in his future. She knew he was not strong enough to talk yet, and so she and Olórin spoke instead, and they remembered Aman and speculated about who they would find after they returned. Olórin knew much more than Galadriel about who was back from Mandos already, of course, but he did not wish to tell her, preferring to leave her in suspense. It allowed Elrond to simply listen and not exert himself, and brought his mind to something more cheerful than the grim fate awaiting his daughter.
They were doing well in remembering the good and bright things until they arrived to Orthank, where bitterness was to intrude upon them once again. Treebeard had let Curunír go from his prison in his own tower, it seemed – something that worried Olórin greatly. Galadriel would be worried as well, she supposed, but her mind was more firmly on the farewells to Middle-Earth that have begun, and she knew this would be the last time she saw the ancient ent. Or any of the others.
She knew that she had thought, at the end of the Second Age, that she was ready to sail – but now she wondered. Nothing but her uncountable losses and the despair of the twilight of elves could make her accept all of the bitter farewells that were asked of her now. She was not sure if, if she had known she was allowed to leave those three thousands of years ago, she would not have stayed in the end – stayed to see Celebrían's happiness in marriage, her grandchildren…
It did not matter. She was here, now, and in spite of the firm knowledge that she had to leave, and soon, she still thought the cost high, and tears fell from her eyes as she said her goodbyes to Treebeard.
Elrond, at least, never knew him, and so this pain did not make his own deeper. For his sake, Galadriel soon turned to more pleasant thought, to help him keep his mind from sinking too deep into itself.
Until, that was, they met Curunír on their journey. Though as it happened, it was not another bitter wound, but rather a diversion. Galadriel could not help but laugh at his accusations. "And as for the Lady here, I do not trust her," he said to Olórin. "She always hated me, and schemed for your part. I do not doubt that she has brought you this way to have the pleasure of gloating over my poverty. Had I been warned of your pursuit, I would have denied you the pleasure."
Yet it was you who spread evil rumours about me and my realm in Gondor, she thought. Aloud, she said: "We have other errands and other cares that seem to us more urgent than hunting for you. Say rather that you are overtaken by good fortune; for now you have a last chance." She freely admitted to herself that this had been a deliberate jibe on her part: she knew he would refuse, and she could afford to show pity and mercy. She did not feel regretful about it. If it had not been for him, this war could have ended with much less bloodshed.
Not long after they parted from him, the time came for Galadriel and Celeborn to head back to their own land, to spend the last few years together. The farewells were not long - Olórin and Elrond, she knew, she would see again soon enough. As for the Hobbits, that remained to be seen.