The Widening Gyre

In Cavern's Shade: 9th Chapter

"The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold"

- W.B. Yeats

Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to follow, favorite, and review. You all truly are such a great help and inspiration! Sorry that it has taken me so long to get this chapter up. The next ten chapters are some of the most important to the whole story and, though they are already written, it has taken me a lot of editing to get them right. In addition, I've been having a lot of car trouble lately and I'm a little further behind on my thesis than I would like. Nevertheless, I will try to keep uploading weekly! Please drop me a review if you have a spare moment! Thank you and enjoy.

Artanis was a bit nervous and absentmindedly rubbed her hands on her white gown while she waited for Celeborn to return. Whatever he was about had kept him unusually late today, leaving her alone with the dark thoughts that had plagued her so much recently, and all the more so since Finrod and Celeborn had had their bitter argument. If the Sindar knew…if they only knew the truth of everything… She shrugged as if she could shake off the foreboding that sat so heavily upon her.

Though nearly a month had passed now since her lover's spat with her brother, she had not yet spoken to Celeborn of what had passed between him and Finrod, nor had he spoken to her of it, but she knew it plagued him all the same and he remained rather taciturn, even when he was alone with only her for company in his quarters. And, as much as she wished for peace between the two princes again before her brother returned to his own realm, she had to admit that even she was puzzled by the attitude that Finrod had affected.

She lay back into the familiar, lush bed as she waited for the Prince of Doriath, spinning her thoughts over and over in her mind, trying to distract herself from the web of darkness that seemed to have invaded her mind of late. Celeborn's rooms were beautiful and, whenever she was here, which was almost always in recent years, she felt certain that she was in the heart of the forest itself.

The large fireplace was stone with a mantle of roughly hewn oak above which was hung the mounted head of a great black bear. In the fireplace itself was a fire, burning brightly now, for it was cold this time of year. She shivered at the thought, for the winters of Doriath were bitterly cold, even for elves, and her gown was not so modest. Her arms were chilly to the touch, causing her to pull the bearskin blanket around herself more tightly. Before the fireplace was spread a great rug, the pelt of some enormous sable beast, though what exactly it was she had no idea. Celeborn had hunted them all himself she knew, with the King or with Beleg and Mablung.

Upon this lay long arrows which he had been fletching only last week, a task that he had abandoned some days ago, growing bored, and she had not yet gotten after him to clean them up. And there also was one of the low wooden tables which the Sindar were so fond of, surrounded by a great many cushions, some in better condition than others. There was a chaise as well and several mismatching chairs sitting about the outskirts of the rug. A pleasant room it was indeed, with a feeling of great warmth and welcome, but also an aura of privacy and contemplation, the only sound being the trickle of the brooks and streams that ran through the floor, and Artanis ever felt when she entered here that she had found refuge from the hustle and bustle of courtly life in this city, a place where she might be herself. Celeborn had encouraged her to make it her own as well, and bring whatever she liked there, for it still resembled a bachelor's room or a huntsman's keep, certainly one would never have guessed from the shabby furnishings that it was the apartment of the High Prince, but she rather liked it the way it was.

What the sparse and rustic furnishings lacked in appearance the room itself made up for. The ceiling was the same as in the rest of Menegroth, exquisitely beautiful, a perfect mirror of the sky. The stone here was carved in the likeness of trees like the rest of the palace but these were more finely crafted and of a superior quality than even those in Thingol's great hall. Their leaves, she had noted, seemed to be made of pure unblemished emeralds veined in silver and gold, rather than the green glass that made up the leaves of many of the trees in the public places. The light from the fireplace glinted off of them beautifully. But these were not the only trees in the room for there were many potted saplings as well. So fantastic was the design and stonework of Celeborn's quarters that, the first time she had visited this place, it had taken her a moment to realize that the saplings were not stone trees like the many pillars which held up the high ceilings and whose boughs formed canopies across the night sky of the roof. It was a bit like living in a greenhouse.

Artanis stood, leaving the bearskin blanket behind on the bed and moved to stand before the fireplace, bending to tend to a sapling of ash. Nearly as soon as she had done so, she heard the door open and shut, the faint sound of the footman and the valet's greetings, and her lover's purposeful strides. A smile flitted across her face, though she did not turn to greet him, and, while she still tended to the sapling, she heard him stop in the entryway, watching her no doubt; something that always pleased her for some reason.

As ever, Celeborn found himself entranced by Galadriel's beauty. Her skin almost appeared to be glowing in the warm light of the fire and her white gown was of a decidedly Sindarin cut that left her slender, beautiful arms bare as well as her shoulders, where shadows fell into the delicate curve of her neck and clavicle. Her golden hair cascaded over her shoulder to tumble to the floor as she bent to touch the small, struggling sapling and he could not help but imagine how he later planned to wrap his hands in it.

He was amused by her antics and so he grinned a grin brimming with confidence and said: "I see that you cannot be left alone, even for a brief period of time, without meddling." At the sound of his cool voice Artanis stood slowly and turned to face him with arms crossed over her lovely chest and a warning look in her eyes, though she could not entirely keep the smile from her face, for she was well accustomed to his jokes by now.

"Ingrate." She whispered the word, enunciating every syllable as she narrowed her eyes. "I have healed your precious tree and this is the thanks that I receive."

"And you have not prepared my dinner," he said with a smirk. "What a pity."

"You evening might go better if you were to speak to me in a gentlemanly manner," she told him.

"If you would prefer," he said, speaking in the horridly florid courtly Quenya that Finrod had taught him, "I could speak to you as a Noldorin prince, in insipid euphemisms and useless metaphors." It managed at last to draw out a wholehearted laugh from her and, seeing the smile that now brightened her face he could not help but smile as well.

"Oh no, please don't," she insisted, still laughing. "It would sound so strange coming from you and you know how I despise that sort of language besides."

"As you wish," he said, grinning, for he did love making her laugh. "Come here." He held out his arms, which she went to eagerly, and enfolded her in his embrace.

"Court today?" She asked him, noticing the formality of his robes. "You are quite later than I had expected."

"Aye," he said, "a most unpleasant affair. Uncle deals with all the serious things himself and leaves me the cases of bakers squabbling over bread prices and the sort. But surely you do not wish to hear about such tedious things; tell me your thoughts. Weaving again today?"

"Nay," she said, releasing him from her embrace as he shrugged off his formal garments and threw himself down on the cushions. "Today was lembas, with Luthien."

"Ah, that is good," Celeborn said. "My cousin is too impulsive. You are a good influence on her."

"I?" Artanis laughed, as she sank down beside him, wrapping her arms about him and nestling her head against his shoulder. "I assure you dearest, I am no paragon of restraint!"

"Oropher too, is impulsive," Celeborn continued to muse. "All of my cousins are."

"They pale in comparison to mine, I assure you," Artanis said.

"I have not yet had the honor of meeting them," Celeborn replied, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

"Maglor isn't half bad," she laughed, "Maedhros has his good days as well. And what of you, Celeborn? Are you not also a bit impulsive?" How easily he had led her to the thrust of her argument and she felt him stiffen a bit at the realization that he had fallen into her snare.

"That," he said, a bit coldly, "had little to do with impulsivity."

"Is that so?" She asked him, stroking his hair to calm his temper.

Celeborn cleared his throat and sat in silence for a moment. He deeply regretted the harsh words that had passed between Finrod and himself, regretted the unrestrained anger that he had shown his friend, and yet he knew that he had said many things that were needful for Finrod to hear, though he could doubtlessly have found a better way of going about it. He traced the rim of his cup with his finger and Artanis waited in silence, offering no words to give him relief from his predicament.

"Then what was it about?" He heard her ask, the last question he wanted to hear, for

Finrod's words had bothered him for various reasons, not least of all because there was some truth in them, like a grain of sand in an oyster forming into a pearl, so did the words of his friend work upon his mind. Did you not say yourself that Doriath must adapt or die? Is that not what you argued when I proposed to found Nargothrond?

He found himself wanting to bite back at Galadriel with harsh words, saying; you would not understand! For how could she understand? The Noldor had come here so brash and defiant, so filled with righteous anger that Melkor had dared to kill their trees, ready and willing to burn their own lives away like ether to avenge that robbery, with little knowledge of or regard for the ramifications of war and death. Trees: Celeborn had not the luxury of shedding tears over lost trees when the price his people paid for Melkor's evil was their own lives.

That first morning – how could he ever forget it? He had been at the borders with his march wardens and all of a sudden the horizon had begun burning, like parchment lit in a fire, and a great gaseous ball of yellow flame had begun to slowly ascend the heavens. Yet she would think him a fool, childlike, ignorant if he were to confide in her that he had cried in terror at that moment, thinking that all of Arda had come to an end, that Illuvatar had forsaken them entirely. You are ignorant, Celeborn, an ignorant Moriquendi, the imagined words echoed in his mind. The Noldor had known of these goings on, but no message had come from the Valar for his people, no sign nor symbol to warn them that they were not all about to combust in a great ball of fire. Galadriel had come here with the sun, come with great ambitions and hopes, yet the coming of the sun and the arrival of the Noldor had ushered in an age of fear for the Sindar from the very first.

Even in the midst of the Battle of Beleriand, fighting by Thingol's side beneath the stars, he had never known such fear. For he had always been certain that Doriath would endure, always been sure that Thingol could never be struck down. But on that morning, on that morning when that massive, burning light had crested the horizon, everything that he had believed, every doctrine of life, every certainty he had maintained, had vanished and fled like ghosts at dawn, as ephemeral as plum blossoms in the spring. How could Finrod or Galadriel understand what such a thing was like, to have your entire world so utterly upended?

He became conscious of Galadriel taking his hand, holding it in her own, letting it rest in her lap while she leaned her golden head against her shoulder and suddenly his burden felt lighter. "Celeborn, I did not mean to imply that the fault was yours," she said softly. "Indeed, the greater part of the blame may rest upon Finrod's shoulders. As of late I find that I cannot easily understand his thoughts." He reached out to stroke her hair wrapping an arm about her shoulders.

"Whatever you may think, you are not alone," she said. He pressed a gentle kiss upon her head and they sat in silence, merely breathing, for a long while before he spoke again at last, not to reveal his innermost thoughts, for he hardly understood them himself and, moreover, they frightened him greatly. Then again, there was that part of him that could not trust her. She would not understand, his mind told him again.

And so he merely said, "I care for Finrod deeply."

"Then you ought to speak to him," Galadriel said, turning her face upwards to look into his eyes, "for you are his dear friend and he would be sorry indeed to lose you."

"And why can he not be the one to speak to me first?" Celeborn asked, for his heart was still deeply hurt by the angry words that Finrod had spoken.

"Perhaps he shall be," Galadriel said, "I do not know. It is not my place to speak in detail regarding the matter but you may well find that there are many things about Finrod that you have not yet discovered…for I have not spoken to him of it," she said, "but unless I am very much mistaken then I believe that my brother might regret his decision to leave Valinor." His heart is greatly troubled, even as yours is, and I would beg you not think that he meant all that he said for I assure you that he holds you in the highest esteem and your friendship means more to him than perhaps he realizes. I would not have strife between my brother and my lover," she said, "especially if, as I suspect, I am the cause of that discontent."

"No," Celeborn said, wondering if he had been selfish, "it is not your fault, nor the fault of anyone. I will speak with Finrod and see if I cannot make peace between us." Yet his heart was not as calm as his tone would have implied, for anger dwelt there still, but if it would make Galadriel's burden lighter then he would do what he could to ease it.

"Venessiel," Celeborn said as he approached her, passing by the numerous desks of the money changers and accountants. The halls were filled with the sound of clinking coins and the gentle hubbub of conversation. The Minister of the Treasury looked up from the ledgers she had been perusing, placing her pen back in her inkpot. "I would appreciate it if you have a moment."

"I always have a moment for handsome gentlemen," the dark haired elfwoman said with a smile, folding her hands before her on the desk as Celeborn took a seat opposite her.

"It is…somewhat of a private matter," the prince said, lowering his voice to a near whisper, "just something I wish to know for personal interest."

"Oh?" Venessial raised a manicured brow in interest. "And this concerns me? How very interesting indeed."

"I assure you it is nothing of the sort," the prince waved his hand and laughed but there was a certain uncharacteristic nervousness to his mannerisms that made Venessiel take note, though she said nothing of it. "It is only a business matter that I wish to inquire about, nothing more. I would simply prefer if no one knew that I had spoken to you about it."

"Well then," Venessial leaned back in her chair now, eyeing him intently.

"Are there 10 million pieces of silver to spare in the defense budget? That is in funds allocated for armor, specifically."

"A spare 10 million?" Venessiel laughed, "No, of course not. The entire budget has been allocated already." She reached for a leather bound ledger and flipped it open, paging through it. Celeborn could see her lips moving as she worked the calculations over in her mind. "The account for the armory contains only 4.5 million. At best there could be 6 million," she said. "That figure comprises the remaining budget allocated for armor and assumes that any remaining money allocated for other purposes would channeled out of their accounts and into armor instead."

"And if money could be moved there from other sectors besides defense, the Ministry of the Interior perhaps, Saeros has maintained a surplus this year I know, what then?" Venessiel sighed and looked through her books again.

"That is possible," she said, looking at Celeborn with a perplexed expression, "though certainly not advisable. You would need the king's mandate to achieve such a thing and he will never grant it."

"No, no, that is not what I wish," Celeborn said. "Just indulge my curiosity for a moment more, I beg you. Has Mablung made some withdrawal from the armory funds? For I recall that it was far larger only recently."

"Not Mablung, no," Venessiel shook her head, and she paused for a moment in indecision, looking distinctly as though she knew more than she ought to say. She shifted nervously in her chair, raised her chin, and, at last, spoke, "it was none of the king's ministers. Indeed, it was the king himself who withdrew nearly all of the funds allocated to the armory."

"And Mablung did not sign off on that?" Celeborn asked.

"No. The king does not need a minister's consent, save mine, to withdraw funding," Venessiel said, "and, as the king's hand, neither do you for that matter, so long as you have the king's consent." She knew, of course, that Celeborn knew this as well but it seemed as though he spoke from disbelief rather than ignorance.

"What did he use it for?" Celeborn asked tersely and Venessiel could see that he was growing angry. His green eyes darted back and forth as though he were analyzing various scenarios in his mind and his jaw was clenched tightly, breathing hard through his nostrils.

"I should not be speaking of this!" She hissed in a low voice, looking nervous. "It is the King's private matter. You may well be the High Prince, but that does not mean that you may know whatever you want."

"You underestimate me," he whispered. "I will find out, if not from you than in my own way. Which would you have, Venessiel, will you tell me yourself or shall I root it out?"

"I assure you I have never underestimated you. It was given over to the preparation of Nargothrond," Venessiel said somewhat grudgingly, producing the form with Thingol's signature and pushing it across the polished wood of her desk towards Celeborn.

"That money should have come from the Ministry of Commerce, as was agreed upon. There was plenty of silver allocated for just that purpose," Celeborn replied. "What need had Finrod for more money than we were already giving him? He brought many a treasure out of Tirion. He said himself that he needed not all of the assistance that Thingol gave."

"Yes, that is so," Venessiel said, "though I doubt that Lord Finrod knew anything about the matter at all as this was done separately, in private by the king without consulting his council…or you it seems. He seemed quite anxious…"

"That is unlike him. I cannot believe…" Celeborn allowed his voice to trail off in anger.

"He is worried by the events of late: the coming of the Noldor, the recent increase in activity of Morgoth and his armies. Perhaps he wishes to secure a firmer alliance with the children of Finarfin."

"Yet…" Celeborn stopped himself.

"Yet he expressed displeasure at your interest in the Lady Artanis," Venessiel finished for him and Celeborn said nothing except to nod curtly, for the taste of Artanis's lips still lingered on his own and he feared that if he were to speak of her their covert courtship would be revealed. "Perhaps that has changed?" Venessiel shrugged. "Of course, I do not know. You have more insight into the way the king's mind works than I. Ah, yes." She produced another form, this one also bearing the king's signature. "Ten million silver for assorted gifts."

"Assorted gifts!" Celeborn cried, slamming his fist into the top of the desk, causing Venessiel to jump. The treasury went quiet and not even the clinking of coins could be heard. Celeborn shifted in his chair and rubbed self consciously at his chin as if trying to disguise his outburst of temper. "Could you not have stopped him? You too are his counselor Venessiel. He would heed your word in matters of money. Your signature is on that document. You could have refused!"

"He would not be dissuaded," she said but Celeborn shot her a reproachful look, for he knew that Venessial was not easily swayed, not unless she wished to be.

"Ten million…" he whispered incredulously. "Our resources were nearly sapped dry by the Battle of Beleriand and still we have not recovered. This is not the time to be spending money buying alliances rather than rebuilding our strength!"

"Celeborn," Venessiel leaned forward, whispering, pausing and waiting to continue until the chatter and hubbub grew loud once more. "You must tell me what this is about." Her black eyes were fierce, boring into his. "You give me reason to think that I have cause to worry. Something has happened and you had better tell me what."

"There…" Celeborn leaned closer so that only she could hear. "There is an incident with the dwarves that I am investigating."

"What sort of incident?" Venessiel asked.

"They are claiming that Thingol brought them here with the promise that he would order 10 million silver worth of armor, a promise which he now refuses to keep. Meanwhile, Thingol claims that no such agreement was ever made, merely that the dwarves wished to use our smithies and trade under the protection of our tariffs, which he granted them the right to do. The dwarves claim that there is a written contract yet Thingol denies its existence and I have found nothing."

"Is that it?" Venessiel leaned back, laughing and shaking her head. "Celeborn, they are dwarves! They lie and they grub for money and riches. I know; I deal with them every day in here. The number of times that I have caught them falsifying contracts, embezzling, trying to augment their wages, even stealing outright are beyond number. They can't help it; it is in their nature. You cannot blame them for what comes naturally to them, simply remain vigilant so that they don't rob you blind."

"If you had been there then you would take them seriously as well," Celeborn replied. "I have never seen them so furious. It makes me think that mayhap their anger is in part justified."

"Surely you do not doubt Thingol's word?" Venessiel asked, bewildered. "You would believe a dwarf's word over your own king's" She looked off-put.

"I am not sure what to believe anymore," Celeborn replied. But of one thing he was certain: now that Artanis had given him her hand he intended to take action, to root out whatever ill-begotten schemes lay hidden in this affair for the sake of Doriath, so that his kingdom might be preserved, so that his lady would never again lose a home.

Finrod son of Finarfin did not often apologize, but there were times when such things were not only necessary, they were right. Nevertheless, it had taken him many weeks to swallow his pride and, at last, he had come here, to wait outside of Elu Thingol's council chamber with the air of a child about to be scolded by his schoolmaster.

Celeborn allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as the total was counted and he saw that his argument against damming the Sirion had carried the vote. The case had been many years in proceeding and, while there were arguments with merit on both sides, he believed that the move was not a wise one overall. The verdict decided, all there rose, for they had been sitting a great while, and there was much bowing and clasping of hands. Celeborn wished nothing more than to change out of the restricting and overly ornate court garments that he wore. Thus, after he had politely thanked those who offered praise for his arguments, he slipped from the room, removing his crown from his head and tossing it in the air before catching it, smiling to himself and thinking that perhaps, if he had time, he would show Galadriel the willow groves this evening.

"Celeborn! I…ah…er" he had almost run directly into Felagund.

"Ah…Finrod," Celeborn said nervously and the two elves stood eyeing each other as two stags preparing to do battle might, skittish yet unable to escape their predicament.

"Well..ah…" Finrod mumbled with a nervous laugh, starting then stopping again.

"I, actually…" Celeborn said, pausing.

"I would speak to you…if you are not too busy," Finrod stammered.

"Yes, yes, I was going to say the same," Celeborn said. "There is, um, there is a…a library close by where we might talk." They shuffled silently towards it and ducked inside, seeing that it was nearly deserted. However, once inside they merely positioned themselves opposite one another, arms crossed over each of their chests, neither willing to start the conversation until finally Felagund could contain himself no more.

"Look here Celeborn," he said, his tone tight with anger, his golden brow furrowed, "what right had you to supersede the names that my parents bestowed upon my sister?"

"I did not know that such an action required the possession of a right – " Celeborn began, the storm clouds gathering quickly in his Sindarin eyes, but Finrod interrupted him angrily, breathing hard through his nostrils.

"No, Celeborn, no, I will have none of your riddles and twisted logic. Nor will I allow you to escape unscathed by replying to my questions with questions. You have only yourself to thank for it, for it was by your hand that I was trained in negotiation. You will answer me plainly now." If the library had been nearly deserted before it was completely deserted now and disgruntled elves filtered past the arguing princes and out the door.

"Because her other names are not suitable," Celeborn replied just as quickly, his true feelings quickly surfacing as ever they did when he was angry. It was his rude abruptness that signaled Finrod that Celeborn meant everything he said with precision. "Artanis? She is a noble maiden indeed, but so are many others, it hardly seems to capture the essence of her fea. Nerwen?" He scoffed. "Forgive me, for I am sure that your parents named her as they saw fit, but there is nothing mannish about her - "

"It is because her temperament is as strong as a man's," Finrod interrupted, anger flashing in his eyes.

"By that measure Melian, or Luthien, or Venessiel might be considered mannish," Celeborn said, his eyes flashing too. "Strength is not confined to males only. Many of my best march wardens are she elves. Melian is the strongest woman I have ever met; how could I associate strength with only men having been raised by one such as her?"

"That I know! But your name, this, this…Galadriel," Finrod began, but even the venom he spat that sobriquet with could not make it sound anything less than ethereally beautiful, "how is this name in any way more suitable? You say that her other names are only superficial yet yours is the most superficial yet, for you name her only for her hair, which I find hardly original at all, indeed, a thousand others before you have lusted after it."

"It was not for her hair that I named her Galadriel!" Celeborn cried. "If she were bald as a newborn babe I would still have named her thusly!" The both of them fell into silence and Finrod seemed a bit taken aback at finding his assumption had been false, particularly as he had thought himself so clearly in the right.

"Why then, did you name her that?" He asked, a little less angrily, shame beginning to wash over him for having assumed his friend to be so insincere. It was not a mistake he would have made ordinarily, yet jealousy and fear have a way of working upon the mind to make it believe with complete security even the most fantastic of falsehoods.

"For the strength of her fea," Celeborn begrudgingly admitted, for he had not even shared the reason with Galadriel herself. "When first I beheld the dawn it was so bright that it blinded me and I found that my eyes were struck by a great pain and in the dawn's light I saw that the world was painted in colors I had never seen and that many things that had lain unseen were brought to light. The strength of that first sunlight amazed me; I shall never forget it, and at the same time it frightened me terribly, for I thought that the whole of Arda would plunge into flame and burn up like ether." He waited, muscles tense, for Finrod to laugh at the simple ignorance of a dark elf but Felagund did no such thing, merely listened attentively.

"I…I…when I first saw your sister I had much the same feeling," he said growing suddenly bashful, as if it were a great secret. And Finrod once more found himself surprised by his friend, that he would share his opinions so boldly while guarding so closely the inner workings of his heart. "The strength of her fea shone forth so brightly that I could hardly bear to look directly at her and I was amazed, for I thought that I was seeing something entirely new for the first time, a world painted all in new hues, just as I was afraid…well…because she was so very…radiant that I thought she might burn me up like a moth in a flame if I were to touch her."

He glanced up, meeting his friend's eyes, but Finrod did not make fun of him, only smiled, and said, "you do know you are not supposed to look directly at the sun don't you, Celeborn?"

"Well I certainly do now," Celeborn said with a hint of embarrassment, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. "It was very difficult at first. I think I gazed upon it for too long, until my eyes began to hurt at least, and I walked about seeing double for days, silently panicking, thinking that I had ruined my eyesight forever." He raised his eyes again at the snorting, choking sound of restrained laugher that Finrod was now emitting.

"I am sorry, I am so very sorry," Finrod gasped. "I don't mean to make fun of you. It just…I can imagine you walking around bumping into things." But Celeborn grinned too and the thick ice that had lain between them seemed to thaw somewhat.

"Now that I think about it," Celeborn said with a grin, "it does seem rather amusing. But tell me, was my explanation satisfactory?"

"Indeed, it was better than I would ever have imagined," Finrod said. "I worried over it for that is the prerogative of a husband and I thought that you renamed her lightly, with little understanding of the gravity of what you did. But, I can see now that that was not the case, and that you gave the matter more consideration than I had presumed." Celeborn nodded, accepting the apology.

"About…about the matter of…er…taking her to my bed," the Sinda said, trying to broach the topic as delicately as he could, clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. "I…it is quite usually done between Sindarin couples and, as Galadriel was willing and said nothing to the contrary, I assumed that things were the same amongst your people."

"You could have asked," Finrod said a bit sharply, "or else not been so hasty."

"My apologies. I fear that I have a rather hasty temperament," Celeborn said and Finrod snorted in laughter at Celeborn having stated something that was already blatant. "But Galadriel gave her consent and I do not believe that she needs the approval of anyone to do as she wishes with her own heart…or her body. Though, I assure you that I have not taken her to wife either in body or vow."

"I do not know whether that makes it better or worse," Finrod said. "I cannot pretend that I approve of such an arrangement before marriage but if it is normal amongst your people and my sister has consented then I will not protest, for she is, as you have said, an adult and has the right to do as she pleases in that respect. However, I would have preferred that you had spoken to me of it earlier, or at least been honest with me about your intentions towards my sister from the start, for it was a cruel shock indeed to hear it as gossip from the lips of strangers rather than from your mouth. I wondered if you were not my friend at all, or if Artanis no longer bore me any affection as my sibling."

"I am sorry," Celeborn said. "I did not think…or else I feared the loss of your friendship, but, of course, that is no excuse. I hope that I have not hurt you too deeply."

"It is not entirely your fault," Finrod said, "for Artanis too remained silent and, besides, my own jealousy is partly to blame."

"Over what?" Celeborn asked, yet he regretted the words almost immediately, belatedly realizing the reason.

"Amarie…she dwells in crystal halls across the sea in a palace where I fear I shall never walk again," Finrod sighed, looking so entirely despondent that to look upon him nearly brought tears to Celeborn's eyes. "She begged me, begged me not to come here, begged me to stay with her, to marry her and I wanted to…but more than that I wanted to satiate my other desires, to seek vengeance against Morgoth, to see this world, to build my own kingdom. I suppose…when I heard of you and Artanis together a great jealousy was awakened in my heart. In other words, I became very jealous of you, Celeborn."

"I did not know that you desired me so, Felagund," said Celeborn in an attempt at humor that he hoped would lift some of the heavy sadness that lay upon his friend's heart, "though of course I am not surprised, considering how many others have confessed the same sentiment to me."

"It is not that!" Finrod exclaimed, cracking a grin. "I wondered why my sister should find love while I had lost mine: a wretched thought; I know."

"You might return and find that she loves you still, that there is hope for reconciliation," Celeborn said kindly.

"And what ship would bear me back across the sea to her arms!" Finrod cried as if struck by a pain both sudden and keen. But before Celeborn could wonder at his cryptic words, Finrod spoke again, saying, "nay, her life will be all the better for my absence, for I am a foul friend and a fouler lover still, thinking only of my own selfish desires."

"Finrod, you are no such thing. I have found you to be nothing other than a steadfast and loyal friend!" Celeborn exclaimed, but the Noldo shook his head once more.

"No, Celeborn, it is only because my innermost thoughts are yet concealed that you think in such a way. If they were known to you then I assure you that you would know me for the despicable and selfish creature that I am."

"Let me make that decision for myself," Celeborn said.

"Well then, I will tell you that, even with all of the love that I bear for you and Thingol and your people, when first I heard that you and Artanis were lovers I wished that we were in Valinor, where they would certainly flog you for having the audacity to take a princess of the house of Finwe to your bed and there defile her, you a Moriquendi who has never seen the light. That is why I said to you, 'if things were in Valinor as they are here.' Even now, I cannot pretend that there are not moments where I think of you sometimes as lesser."

It was indeed, as Finrod had said, something that was very difficult to hear and, even thought Celeborn knew that his friend was ashamed of his thoughts, he still felt the anger boiling in him, anger that the Noldor saw them as inferior, treated them as inferior.

"I know it is wrong Celeborn," Finrod said quietly, ashamed, "and I do not believe it. Whenever it crops up in my thoughts I extinguish it quickly, killing it like a bud in first frost, but I would not lie to you and pretend that I am innocent when I am not. The words of my uncle Feanor regarding your people still are engraved upon my mind and it may take me some time before I am entirely able to buff them out."

Celeborn nodded and said, "I will not feign as though it does not injure me to hear such words, for indeed, I am cut to the quick by them, but more than that I am glad that you have not concealed it from me for dishonesty is the one thing that I cannot abide and I despise it even more than I do intolerance."

"I am sorry," Finrod said, "I am not as open-minded as my sister, who has rarely been susceptible to such prejudiced thoughts. But I am trying to learn…indeed, it is thanks to your friendship that I was able to set aside the arrogance and much of the bigoted notions that I held prior to coming to Menegroth. I hope that, if you will continue to be my friend, I may be able to set them aside completely."

"Let us put this misunderstanding behind us then, for I too spoke harshly and in the heat of the moment. Your friendship is not something I would care to lose and I am happy to have it thus restored." Celeborn said, seeing the tension drain from the Noldo at his words.

"Yes, let us be friends again," Finrod said with a smile, clasping Celeborn's hand.

"Then have you any further compunctions regarding my courtship of your sister?" Celeborn asked.

"No, I have not," Finrod assured him, for having aired his thoughts and found acceptance, he found that his heart now felt as light as a feather. "So long as you are honest in your intentions with her."

"You need not fear on that account," Celeborn said, "for I mean to marry her if she will have me."

"Then on that day I hope that I shall be the first to congratulate you," Finrod replied, "for I can think of no one I would rather see her wed."

"In that case," Celeborn said, "perhaps you will join me for a beer?"

"I can think of no more delightful prospect," Finrod said, and together the two of them made their way to the great hall, laughing

and joking as they had many years before.

"You are drunk," Celeborn heard her say, laughing softly as he climbed into bed.

"A bit, only a bit," he replied as her arms wrapped around him. The sun was just beginning to rise and he caught glimpses of her smile in the faint dappled light that filtered down from above. Freeing himself from her embrace momentarily, he closed the bed curtains, plunging them into darkness.

"A bit? You smell as if you have bathed in alcohol!" Galadriel replied but she was not upset and curled up against him as he settled in beneath the blankets. "You are so late. I was beginning to think you would not rest this night."

"I was setting things aright with your brother, as you asked me to," he told her, wrapping an arm about her to pull her closer.

"You rogue," she purred, "coming drunken from a brother's table to his sister's bower."

"It is still my bed unless I am mistaken," he said.

"Ours," she replied with a laugh.

"Should you not be thanking me instead?" He teased her, nipping at her neck.

"My thanks," she whispered into his ear, laughing.

"Then I will give you reason to thank me further," he said.

"Oh shall I?" She asked, "And why is that?" But he made no reply and she needed none, for his mouth was soon busy elsewhere.

The sun seemed unusually hot, or perhpas it was the result of running twenty miles, most probably both, Celeborn thought to himself as he walked wearily away from the finish line, which he had crossed a full five minutes after Beleg, who, he had heard, had trotted merrily across the line without even breaking a sweat. It was unsurprising really; Beleg had always been the fastest of the wardens and habitually won the races each decade.

Celeborn himself had no great interest in running and viewed it as more of a chore than anything; contact sports were more to his liking: sparring, or wrestling, hunting or anything with horses. Yet he made good time for one who did not enjoy the sport, for his physical build was somewhere between Beleg's slenderness and Mablung's muscle-bound physique. He walked further down from the finish line, waiting to see Mablung finish, but there was yet no sight of him. Still, despite Mablung's ineptitude for running, Celeborn mused, at least he had qualified for this first heat. It would have been tantamount to embarrassment for a warden to have not done so and even moreso for the captain of the king's guard. The rest of Menegroth would be participating in the second heat, which was more for fun than anything, as it was only for common folk and not the warriors. Galathil, he knew, would be running in that and Dairon as well, if Galathil had managed to talk him into it.

"Cousin! Too much for you eh?" A jolly but red-faced Oropher joked as he walked past the sweat-drenched high prince. Celeborn laughed and slapped the hand that his golden-haired cousin extended to him. He had been in extraordinarily good spirits of late due to his resounding success in his relationship with Galadriel and the restoration of his friendship with Finrod. It seemed that Oropher was in equally good spirits and Celeborn could guess the reason, for there were rumors circulating regarding his cousin and a certain lady.

"What are you up to Oropher? Mischief I presume?" Celeborn asked with a grin.

"Nothing much," Oropher replied, "and you?"

"Only waiting for uncle to finish so that I may speak to him," Celeborn said. "I heard you were just behind Beleg?"

"Aye, I lost to him by but fifteen seconds," Oropher said, eyes alight with mischief. "Next time I shall have him."

"Really, shall you indeed?" Celeborn laughed. "You're simply lucky that Amdir is no longer with us. He was Beleg's only real competition."

"Sometimes I think that Amdir was the only one with his head on right." Oropher said, growing cross.

"And yet you never liked him when he was about," Celeborn replied.

"Yes well, the past is the past," Oropher replied, brooding, and Celeborn sought to turn the topic away from Thingol's deserter general.

"Do you plan to watch the lady wardens' race later?" He asked, reaching behind him to unstick his matted hair from his back.

"Do I plan to watch the lady wardens?" Oropher instantly brightened, laughing long and hard. "Sometimes I think you know me not at all cousin. I would sooner die than miss that race! Venessiel is running and I plan to be there to watch her."

"In the wardens' race?" Celeborn was surprised. He did not recall her ever having run the races at all, much less in the more difficult and competitive race.

"Aye," Oropher's eyes glimmered.

"It seems you've taken a shine to her in recent years," Celeborn said.

"It seems I have," Oropher grinned. "She and Mablung are finished, in case you haven't heard."

"I heard," Celeborn grinned and shook his head, "and I wondered whether or not you had a hand in it. I know that caution is a foreign notion to you Oropher but perhaps you should exercise it with her. She seems to go through suitors rather quickly."

"You mean she went through you rather quickly," Oropher teased his cousin, laughing, then elbowed him in the ribs. "That's rich Celeborn, very rich indeed, telling me to take caution when you lured that Noldorin princess into your bed within a year of her arrival in Menegroth. Finwe's granddaughter!" The golden-haired Sinda let out a long laugh. "You are even more of an arrogant ass than I am, only you don't like to admit it!" Celeborn grinned at that.

"She is running this year," Celeborn said, stretching his arms, "in the wardens' race. She claims she was quite the runner in Aman."

"Is that so?" Oropher asked. "Well if that is true then I am not sure she will have much competition. None of our current female wardens are particularly swift of foot."

"True," Celeborn replied. "What about Luthien? Do you know if she is running?"

"Oh no," Oropher shook his head dismissively. "Galathil could not get Dairon to run if Luthien would not agree to run with the two of them together. They will all three be in the second heat."

"Perhaps Galadriel will win after all then," Celeborn said.

"Galadriel," Oropher snorted, "doesn't she hate that name you gave her?"

"Extremely," Celeborn laughed. "That is why I call her by it."

"You know, as much as I dislike her, I must agree that she is quite fun to agitate," Oropher replied.

"She's too much like you, that's why you don't like her," Celeborn smiled, raising an eyebrow at his cousin in pleasure as he noted the look of distaste upon his face.

"Well now, you're just trying to get my goat cousin!" Oropher said. "Ah! It looks as though uncle has finished at last. Did you not say that you wanted to speak to him?"

"I did," Celeborn replied.

"Well in that case I shall be on my way to my lady," Oropher said before trotting off.

"Uncle!" Celeborn greeted the King, who was bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing in deep gasps by the side of the finish line, looking very much as though he wanted to retch. "I must speak to you! I mean to ask the Lady Artanis for her hand in marriage."

Thingol raised his eyes to his nephew's with a quizzical look and, in between gasps, let out a rough oath. "Illuvatar!...For fuck's sake Celeborn!...Can you not give me even…a moment…to catch my breath…before descending…upon me…with such…tidings?"

"Apologies uncle," the younger elf said with a grin, "I believe that it was you who taught me to always attack my adversaries when they are at their weakest."

"Damn you," Thingol gasped, looking quite put out. "You young elves…always…getting into all sorts…of business. And what, pray tell…" the king coughed, "has you so convinced that…I am your adversary?" He straightened, seeming at last to have gotten some of his wind back, and took a towel offered to him by a teenage elfling who was doing a very poor job of pretending to have no interest whatsoever in their conversation.

"You spoke to me earlier of your disapproval," Celeborn said, "but you have done nothing in the intervening years to halt the progress of our courtship, though you were aware of its going on."

"Celeborn, I gave you warning and you, as usual, proceeded to do exactly what you wanted with little to no regard for that warning," Thingol said, toweling off his face. "After that point, what you do in your own bed and who you take to it has been of no concern to me so long as there is no accidental marriage and no unexpected elflings. You know as well as I that you need only speak to me of marriage, for you are a prince of Doriath…" Thingol paused, suddenly looking extraordinarily suspicious. "If you are here to tell me that the two of you have married in secret and that Finwe's granddaughter is carrying your child…"

"No, uncle, no!" Celeborn cried, laughing.

"Well then," Thingol said, "things are as they should be," and he grinned. "But this seems to me a strange time to bring up such matters."

"I assure you it is only because you have been so busy of late and the matter weighed heavily upon my mind. I could think of nothing else until I spoke to you of it and today presented the opportunity," said Celeborn.

"You may, perhaps," the King said in reply, "be happy to know that this news does not trouble me as much as I had thought it would. Let us say that my position on the matter has evolved somewhat."

"Then you do not disapprove?" Celeborn asked hopefully as he and his uncle began to stride over to the King's tent.

"Not so much," Thingol said, shaking his head.

"Has it been Melian's influence then that brought about you…evolution?" Celeborn asked.

Thingol shrugged. "Yes, in part. I am still concerned, of course, over what these Noldor have done that seems to have brought them so much grief, yet Finrod and Artanis have been my loyal subjects for nearly ten years now; never have they done anything to earn my ire. You were right to say that they deserve some measure of trust for seeking to adapt to our ways and obey our laws where others do not. Your Artanis has become the close friend of your aunt and my daughter and Finrod's Nargothrond is prospering beyond even our wildest hopes. Indeed, our alliance with the children of Finarfin has grown strong and I feel very confident now that we need not concern ourselves with the Feanorians."

"Our kingdom is prospering, Celeborn, returning to the glory that it held ere Melkor returned to these lands. And with the recent victory of Finrod and the rest of the Noldor in the Dagor Aglareb, we have a brighter future ahead perhaps. Surely the marriage of the High Prince of Beleriand to a Princess of the Noldor could only further enrich our kingdom and our alliance. The house of Elwe and the house of Finwe united at last!" He laughed merrily. "I always did wish for such a thing. How I should like to see Finwe's face were I to tell him! Ah! If only he were here and we could celebrate your marriage together! Now that would truly be a tale for the ages. In other words, you have my consent and, more than that, my approval.

"I am glad to see you so cheerful Uncle," Celeborn said as they entered the King's tent.

"Melian!" The king called out, greeting his wife.

"Auntie!" Celeborn embraced his laughing aunt as she stood from the stool upon which she had been seated.

"Oh Celeborn," Melian laughed, tousling his hair.

"Are you not running today Auntie?" Celeborn asked, noting that she wore a gown rather than the leggings and jerkin that Luthien, who was stretching upon the grass in the tent, wore.

"That would not be quite fair to the other ladies," Melian said with a grin, returning to her seat.

"What isn't fair is that I must run in the second heat," Luthien complained from her spot on the grass, where she sat stretching her legs.

"I heard that Dairon made you promise," Celeborn teased his cousin.

"Yes, because Dairon can't do anything for himself," Luthien grumbled, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"Always needs you there massaging his insecurities away doesn't he," Celeborn said. It was no secret that he and Dairon did not get along.

"Celeborn!" Luthien slapped his ankle, which was the only part of him she could reach from her position.

"What?"

"He's my friend," she said. "It's alright if I insult him. But you genuinely dislike him and say things just to be cruel. Say something to make me happy now, for you have upset me."

"I am planning to ask Galadriel to marry me," Celeborn said, pouring himself a glass of water from the silver pitcher that sat on the table.

"Already?" She asked, seeming surprised.

"You will find, when your time comes Lu, that these things often happen quickly. It was the same with your parents. It is the same with Galadriel and I."

"Celeborn, she hates that name," Luthien said, looking up and rolling her eyes at him.

"For the sake of the Valar, can't you be happy about anything today Lu?" Celeborn complained.

"I'm only joking," Luthien cackled, slapping his ankle again. "That's simply lovely! I am so happy. She'll say yes of course! But…she really does hate that name."

"I know," Celeborn laughed, sitting on the table and letting the glass hang from his fingertips. "What makes you so sure she'll say yes?" Luthien rolled her eyes again and laughed.

"Silly! Valar, because I am her friend and so she tells me everything, even things I don't want to know! It's Celeborn this and Celeborn that and Celeborn is so perfect, and handsome, and smart, and wonderful," Luthien made a retching sound and Celeborn shook his head. "You wouldn't understand the ways of women, Celeborn."

"You're just jealous Lu," he said with a smirk.

"Not in the slightest." She said. "Believe me, there are things she says that I would rather not know." Celeborn's eyes went wide and Luthien laughed.