He was gone, now. Galadriel stood at the window, day-dreaming.
Her hand touched the Elessar absently - Tyelepinquar had such talent, it instilled fear in her. Over the valleys of Eregion, she let her gaze wander as one lone tear slipped down her cheek.
The words she had uttered resounded in her mind like vengeful bells. Nothing you can do will make me love you, Kinslayer' s son. She saw the hurt in his heart, and it reverberated deep within her bones. She did not know what else to do.
She loved him, deeply - part of her knew he deserved nothing of it. But to tell him she loved him in return, to allow herself to admit this affection for the son of Curufinwë, the darkest, the craftiest, the most detestable of all the Sons of Fëanor.... she could not.
Not now, not ever. Not when the memory of the words that announced her brother's death were still so fresh, even centuries into her mourning.
Findàrato Felagund is no more - he perished in defeating Draugluin, lone as the sons of Fëanor took Nargothrond.
She had felt it - there was no-one else to hate, no-one else to blame. All dead, save for Maglor whom she never saw again. Even as she stirred these darkening thoughts, the impulse to go after her cousin ran deep in her veins - almost untamably.
She was at the door, giving in, when her husband entered.
"My Lady." He opens her arms, and she nestles in them. "Alatariel, what is it?"
She looks up, sighs. "It is nothing, Meleth, nothing at all. I am only mourning, is all."
He caresses her back, gently. "It has been centuries, my love. Will you not give up your fantasies of Valinor, and focus on here, and now?"
She does not answer - her eyes are gentle but sorrowful, still. His eyes trail on her skin, on the delicate collarbone of her tall and slender frame, until he notices the jewel. "He was here."
She speaks gently. "He was."
"He gave you this. Why?" Celeborn's tone is almost harsh.
"He would try to cheer my heart with the magic of his Craft." Oh, brave, brave heart.
"He should not give you such things, when you are mated. It is not just."
She sighs. "I know. I told him so." It's quiet.
"You regret this," he says, quietly - too quietly. It's not a question.
"I do not. I only wish to do what is right." Gently, almost submitted. "I love you, Teleporno. Do you not see it?"
His face closes up. "You love him as well."
She shakes her head, and lies. "I do not."
He looks at her, lets her go, walks to the door. "When you admit the truth, perhaps, we will talk. Until then, I will be in Lòrinand."
She watches him go, and sighs. She knows she will follow. She knows she will lie again. In the waters, she sees doom coming, and yet she does not know how to stop it, and her heart is heavier for it.
"If only you had been born earlier, Tyelpinquar...." She murmurs it with true emotion as another tear falls on her cheek over the darkening landscape.