Shadows at Noon
In Cavern's Shade: 10th Chapter
"A lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies."
- Alfred Lord Tennyson
Author's note: Thank you to new followers BeSpotted, llcyyxx, and rinlossien! And, thank you BeSpotted for your review! I'm sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter up. It is kind of a beastly long chapter and took some pretty heavy editing and rewriting but it is really important to set up what will be happening soon. I'm really excited for the next few chapters. If anyone wants to drop me a review, question, or comment I'd appreciate it!
Years, they had been courting for years and never had they had any problems, no serious ones at any rate. Yes, it was true that he was aware, they were all aware, that some darkness hung over the Noldor, so very aware, in fact, that it had become somewhat of a cliché, and a poor one at that. He had broached the topic several times with her, yet each time it felt as though a wedge had been driven between them and he was hammering it in further and further, deeper and deeper. Celeborn did not customarily make a habit of continuing a course of action that failed to yield results and so, in time, he had stopped. After all, there had been no other problems; and they were happy, or at least he had been.
Now he was not so certain and, strangely enough, it was the one thing he had expected to lay his singular doubt to rest that had, in fact, had quite the opposite, and unintended, effect. For if they were bonded then there could be no secret keeping between the two of them and, if she had not intended to marry him then why would she have agreed to the courtship? He had expected to make his proposal soon after obtaining the king's permission and yet, from the moment that he had obtained it, doubt had been burgeoning in his mind like a cancer. How strange that, for once, Thingol had welcomed something while he now balked like a horse at the bit. Celeborn was unused to uncertainty and even more unused to indecision. The concepts were as foreign to him as drowning to a fish.
He had gone so far as to approach one of the smiths to have two silver betrothal bands made. Yet days had turned to weeks, weeks to months, and now, for over two years those rings had sat gathering dust in a drawer, though they were far from forgotten; on the contrary, they weighed as heavily upon his mind as if he had a millstone about his neck.
There were some males, he knew, some such as Mablung, that balked at the idea of marriage, at the thought that it would strip them of their freedom, and prided themselves on avoiding it. But Celeborn was not one of these. It was not as though the thought of marriage, once it became such a realistic possibility, had suddenly become frightening, but rather that it had awakened doubts that had slept unknown in his mind, doubts that had lain dormant for many a long year.
At first he had thought that, whatever secret she kept, she must certainly keep it only for the good of another and not because she had played some part in whatever it was. Now he was not so sure. And, what was more, he had begun to suspect that the secret might have some bearing on her visions and, if that were so, then perhaps it was something darker than he had heretofore imagined. For he had been awakened more than once by her nightmares.
He had grown distant of late, he knew. And, of course, as he pulled away she sought increasingly to bring him closer to her. Sometimes he doubted if he knew her at all, yet the thought was so loathsome to him, so heart wrenching, and his own culpability, the thought that he ought to have heeded Thingol's words from the start, so great that he could not bear to dwell on it for very long. It was hard, very hard, to continue trusting her.
"You walk so loudly I could shoot you in the dark…Nerwen," he said in a bored tone as he turned to grin at her. She did not walk as quietly as she thought she did and his Sindarin ears had for some minutes now marked her stealthy approach. The look of surprise on her face was nearly enough to make him forget his grim thoughts.
"Who told you that?" She demanded, her face coloring red. As if Celeborn needed any more horrid nicknames for her. Dammit, it must have been Finrod. Only he knew that damned nickname. Next time he visited from Nargothrond she would show her brother what was what.
"Who do you think?" He replied laughing. "Why are you ashamed of it? There's nothing wrong with being called Nerwen."
"Yet you have just now used it to torment me," she replied with a smug grin, "which implies I ought to be ashamed of it does it not? It is your favorite pastime, or so it seems, name-calling. I imagine you were a horror as an elfling."
However, despite her slight ire at that wretched name, she had to admit that she was secretly pleased, for there had been some unspoken tension between them of late and Celeborn had seemed to her rather more taciturn than usual. Indeed, she had begun to wonder, more often than not, if she had done something to make him so very irritable, for their courtship had, to this point, progressed in a happy fashion and their arguments had been few and far between. It was a relief to see that his humor had returned.
"You should speak to Thingol about that sometime," Celeborn said with a grin. "Oh the stories he would tell you. It seems I was a real terror."
"No doubt," she smirked and rolled her eyes. "I pity him, and your poor brother of course."
"And you were any better? I imagine Finrod would have many stories to tell if I were to ask him," he laughed. "Come, sit with me," he patted the patch of grass beside him. "You meant to push me in didn't you?"
"What? You have the gift of foresight now?" She asked him teasingly as she scrambled down the riverbank to sit beside him. His eyes were focused out on the water now, to where his lure was bobbing peacefully, his fishing line swaying ever so gently in the summer breeze.
"No," he laughed. "But it was not so difficult to discern your motive, however, you ought to be thankful that your plan fell through. It would have gone poorly for you as I would have pulled you in as well."
"Are you so sure?" She asked, skeptically.
"Oh yes. And I would have enjoyed it very much," he grinned at her, watching her from the corner of his eye.
"I think I might have stood a fair chance," she said with a laugh. "I do, after all, excel at distracting you."
"Yes, that is very true," he said, laughing. They sat in pleasant silence for a while, enjoying the sunshine and the songs of the birds as Artanis readied her fishing pole.
"I haven't seen you fish before," he said and she noticed that he was watching as she threaded the fat wriggling worm onto the hook.
"Not recently, no. But, well, having grown up in Aqualonde I certainly have some experience. I used to fish there often as a child with my grandparents. They would take my brothers and I out in their boats and we would fish to our heart's content. I remember it being very peaceful, one of the only times that I felt truly happy in Aman." But recalling those memories of Alqualonde did not yield happy reminiscence, rather, as sudden as a summer storm, she found her heart clutched tight in the grip of fear and the world went suddenly dark.
'Help!' She had shouted to anyone and everyone. She clutched the handle of her spear and brought it tight against her, holding it as though it were a doll and she were a child and this was all some horrible nightmare that she would wake up from any moment. She did not know where her grandparents were or if they were safe.
There were tears pouring down her face and her heart was racing, panicked, for she had no idea what to do. And then she saw it, one of Feanor's soldiers grabbed up a young Teleri elfling, barely big enough to walk. The child was screaming, wailing, face red as an apple and the soldier seemed to panic, raising his sword to deal the blow.
She did not know when she had moved or how but the next thing she recalled was that her spear was sunk clean to the hilt in the Noldo's stomach. There was fear in his eyes, fear and confusion. He dropped the child, struggling to breathe, for her blade had punched clear through his diaphragm, and then he crumpled, bleeding out his life on the sand before tumbling into the ocean in a plume of red. She stared down at her hands, trembling; she had killed, murdered. The fishing boats bobbed in the water.
"Galadriel?" She heard her suitor's concerned voice and everything swam into focus again. She rubbed at her forehead, willing the sharp pain there to dissipate. Celeborn's hand was on her shoulder and she turned to see worry in his green eyes where mirth had been only moments earlier.
"They're getting worse aren't they?" He asked her with concern. He was right. For a while at least, with Melian's help and with her thoughts continually preoccupied by the newness of her and Celeborn's courtship, it had seemed that they had dissipated for the most part. But recently they were returning, and with a pronounced potency, or so it seemed. She wondered, almost, if it was her increasing proximity to Celeborn that made it so, for even before their courtship it had been his presence that had driven her to have grave doubts and though love had been the antidote for a while it was love itself that seemed to now be hurrying that toxin through her veins ever more rapidly.
"They are," she replied, rubbing her forehead still. "My apologies," she was embarrassed now, despite how intimately he knew her…or rather, because of it, and she stood, thinking only that she wished nothing more than to flee - but to where? Her rooms had ceased to be hers except nominally, for she resided now in Celeborn's chambers. How was it that in the palace of a thousand caves there was not a single place where she might hide herself away?
"Stop, Artanis," he had caught her hand and was holding it in a strong grip now. His touch was warm and she could feel the many callouses from the bowstring. "I've told you before that you have nothing to be ashamed of and I will tell you again." She turned her head away, could not bear the sight of his eyes.
"Look at me," he implored her, and she turned reluctantly, breathing in deeply to calm herself. His eyes were green as the leaves, kind, comforting. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. It is not a defect, to have such visions. Do you understand?" His eyes were as kind and firm as his voice.
For an instant, the words seemed ready to tumble from her mouth, she would tell him all of it, everything. It would be out, and done with, and over. He would know and then…then there might be mercy. "I…" she began. Mercy…for one such as she, she a murderess, and having spoken of it she would be a betrayer twice over. Her lips fell shut.
"What is it?" He asked her.
"Nothing," she shook her head with a laugh. "It is nothing, just, I was being silly."
"I assure you," he said, "despite how I may tease you, I do not think you silly at all."
"I know," she grasped his hand, feigning a smile, and she was not sure that he believed it.
"Here," he said, "let me help you." She nodded and sat down next to him once more as he threaded his fingers through hers, grasping her hand comfortingly, but her breathing was still unsteady. He turned to face her, sitting cross-legged.
"Here, turn about, give me your hands," he said, and again she did as he asked as they began a ritual that they had already practiced many hundreds of times in their decade long courtship. He took her hands gently into his and they sat, knee to knee, hand in hand, and she raised her eyes to his.
He began to draw in deep breaths, holding them for a while before releasing them slowly and, as they continued, she began to feel peace come over her until she was completely calm. The bad memories vanished and she felt only the sunshine upon her face, the playful wind in her hair, and saw only the reassuring eyes of Celeborn.
"You have my thanks, as ever," She told him with a smile when she was finally calm and relaxed.
"It is no bother," he said with a smile, handing her her fishing pole and she set to work untangling her now tangled line while Celeborn recast his.
"Something about you calms me," she said.
"Well those are words I don't hear very often," he laughed and she stood to cast her line. As they sat back down, he opened his pouch, taking out a small pipe and a packet of pipeweed. She watched, grinning, as he stuffed the tobacco into the pipe, clenched it between his teeth, and lit it as he breathed in. He took a long draw before releasing a series of smoke rings and then offered it to her. Artanis reached for it with one hand and took a long draw too, but she found herself coughing instead of blowing smoke rings. Celeborn laughed and took the pipe back from her.
"First time?" He asked. She nodded.
"I liked it, I'm just not used to it is all," she said. "I did not know that you smoked."
"I don't, not usually," he said, "only when I am fishing or drunk." He took another long draw and this time released the smoke in a series of trees.
"Trees?" She asked, somewhat amazed.
"It's a natural gift. We're all born with it. Even Sindarin children can blow smoke in the shape of trees," he said, somehow managing to keep a straight face. Artanis, however, could not and burst out laughing.
"You and your tall tales! The only thing you Sindar can do is blow smoke up people's asses," she said. He laughed at that, handing the pipe back to her, and tried to teach her to blow smoke rings until the pipeweed was all used up. But she never managed to get the hang of it.
"Lazy fish today," he said, putting the pipe away. Artanis could not help but watch him covertly while he closed his eyes and, with a perfectly contented grin, let the wind play with his hair. She relished in knowing how handsome her suitor was and, even knowing that she might look upon him now whenever she wished, she gained some pleasure from watching him when he was unaware.
"So," she said, "what brought you down here today?"
"I came here to think," he said, eyes out on the water, still smiling.
"About what?" She asked.
"About you," he replied, turning to meet her eyes. It was the truth, though he gave her no reasons. He knew that she had sensed it of late, this change in him, just as he knew that was the very reason that she looked at him with uncertainty now.
"Is that so?" She asked. "What of me?" And she seemed nervous, but Celeborn shied away from his thoughts of a moment earlier. For they were having such a pleasant time and, although his heart burned to speak his mind, he could not find it in himself quite yet to ruin their happiness. And besides, what would her response be if he were to issue such an ultimatum, to demand that she speak? She might spurn him completely, turn him away entirely, be done with him and that, he did not know if his heart could endure that.
"Oh! They're biting at last!" She cried jubilantly, rescuing him from the depths into which his heart had plunged. And Celeborn merely laughed before his line suddenly jerked and unexpectedly went taut, nearly pulling the pole out of his hands. He scrambled to catch it, only just managing to do so in the nick of time, before it was nearly pulled into the water. He began to pull in the fish that had bitten his hook and moved to squat by the edge of the river to pull it in the last few feet, pleasantly surprised by what he saw at the end.
"Come look!" He called, turning to her, laughing. "Tell me if you have these in Aman!" And, from the water, he pulled the most hideous fish she had ever seen. It had no scales but was instead covered with a greenish-black skin that appeared to be coated in slime and from its mouth protruded many long whisker-like appendages. It looked more like a worm to her than a fish.
"Come on," Celeborn urged with a broad grin, hefting the fish, which was roughly the size of a small elfling, into his arms where it thrashed wildly. Artanis approached with a great deal of trepidation and slowly reached out a hand to touch it. It was slimy after all and she quickly withdrew her hand with a grimace, causing Celeborn to laugh.
"This is a dwarf fish. There are bigger ones than this in these rivers," he said. "An interesting fish seeing as they can breathe out of water for many hours. They're quite good when fried up, though the meat is a bit watery."
"I don't know that I could bring myself to eat it," she said with a laugh. "It's so horrible looking, like an old dwarf."
"You'll hurt his feelings," Celeborn chided her.
"Fish don't have feelings," she insisted.
"Oh really?" He looked at the fish with pity. "She thinks you're ugly," he whispered to it and the fish, almost as if it understood him, turned to look at her with mournful eyes. Celeborn mimicked the look but was not quite able to disguise the mirth in his eyes, a product of teasing her.
"No!" She exclaimed quickly, though even as she did so she wondered why she should be apologizing to a fish. "He's not ugly, he's just unique!"
"I'll bet she uses that line on all the poor fellows," Celeborn whispered conspiratorially to the fish and it looked at him as though it had understood and was in on his plan, whatever that might be.
"I do not! I…oh…what?" She blurted out.
"Then," said Celeborn with a sly grin, holding the fish's face up beside his own, "which one of us would you rather kiss?"
"What?" She gasped, doubled over in laughter. Both he and the fish were mouthing idiotically at her now and she could not contain her mirth in the slightest. "The fish," she said with narrowed eyes, wanting so badly to annoy him. She should have known that he would make good on his threat.
"As you wish!" He replied and, to her horror, proffered the fish before her face. Artanis shrieked, leaping backwards. But, just as quickly as she could back away, he chased her with the wriggling fish.
"Celeborn stop!" She shrieked, yet she could not stop laughing, her ribs ached from it. She turned about to see the fish's hideous face but a hair's breadth from her own, held firmly in the grasp of the laughing Sinda and, in her distraction, tripped and, with a sizeable splash, plunged into the river.
"Whoa!" Celeborn dropped the fish into the river as his hands flew out. He hurried to fish his lady love out of the water but, before he could do so, a pair of hands emerged from the murky depths to grasp his collar and the next thing he knew, he too was submerged in the cool green water. He pushed his way to the surface, gasping as he emerged, wiping the water from his eyes to see Galadriel standing opposite him, red in the face from laughing so hard, her eyes sparkling a brilliant blue.
"I told you I would get you!" She cried jubilantly.
"I got you first!" He cried, charging towards her and grabbing her by the shoulders to duck her under again but, shrieking, she caught hold of him as well and, laughing, they pulled each other under, wrestling beneath the water until they pulled apart, holding hands, smiling with cheeks full of air, watching each other. Celeborn reached out and pressed his hands to her cheeks, forcing the air from them and they surfaced, gasping for breath, laughing, soaking wet.
Artanis's eyes were fixed upon Celeborn's now, green and full of joy, both of their chests still heaving from laughter. He moved his hands from her cheeks to cradle her head in his hands, grinning at her and she smiled back, still laughing as, slowly, he brushed his lips against hers. It was a sensation of which she thought she would never grow tired, especially as his kisses had been few and far between lately.
She closed her eyes, feeling his hot breath upon her lips and, as his arms moved to her waist, tightening about it, she kissed him back, cupping his face in her hands. After so long, their kisses were no longer those of inexperienced lovers, but were bold, aggressive, and it was not long before they clambered somewhat clumsily onto the bank where they might be in a more relaxed position in which to continue their endeavors.
"You know," Artanis began with a twinkle in her eye as they at last broke apart for air, "I have had many an offer of courtship, proper offers on bended knee with roses and jewels and pearls from the most respected nobility of Valinor," she said. "And though they sang my praises before the crowds and pleaded with honeyed words all of them failed to move me and I rejected each of them without thought. And you offered me not a single present yet I find that out of all of them only you were able to move my heart."
"I did get you a present but you did not like it," Celeborn replied with a laugh.
"You did not," she said.
"I offered you a fine specimen of dwarf fish, fresh caught from the Esgalduin, but it was not to your liking," he replied in mock earnestness.
Artanis laughed long and hard, her worries of earlier quite forgotten, and yet now, in this happy moment, it was Celeborn who brought them back upon her abruptly and, as ever, in the most disconcerting of manners.
"Thingol is concerned," he said. "For he perceives that a shadow hangs over you, as do I and he worries that I shall be caught up in whatever that may be."
"Why must you speak of this again now?" She asked him, sitting up. "We were having such a pleasant time." Why could he not be content to let things be? And why must he continually bring up this matter at the most inopportune times? She strongly suspected, though she said nothing of it, that the hardening of some things had the effect of seriously softening his inhibitions with his words.
"Because I love you!" He exclaimed, his face full of fierce conviction like a warrior preparing for battle. "I love you against my own conscience!" Only he could have said something so pleasing and so revolting in the same sentence and Artanis found that it left her feeling entirely unsure of how she ought to feel.
"Why must you say that now, when you are upset?" She asked, somewhat angered, surprised not at the sentiment, but that he said this now when in all these years he had never done so. Any other man would have said those words while speaking of happy things and gazing lovingly into his lover's eyes. Only Celeborn would say them while agitated and looking for all the world as if he planned to march in assault on Angbad itself. "Why can you not do things properly, as a lover ought?" She stood, crossing her arms over her chest and he stood too.
"I would have thought that it was apparent, that I need not say it," he said, his gaze fixed upon her own, his eyes troubled, his chest heaving with suppressed anger. "Surely you must know. Have my actions not spoken strongly enough? Words are so false, so untrustworthy." That was something about his personality that irked her exceedingly, that ability to so accurately pinpoint what seemed to him a tiny thing but was to her one of those deeply disconcerting threads that wound its way throughout every aspect of her life, spreading like hairline fractures across glass. Oh Celeborn, you do not know how very false my words are, she thought, angry tears rising to her eyes.
"Yes…" she stammered, "I suppose that I knew that." Her anger did not permit her to say anything more without shedding a tear and now that he had agitated her pride she would not permit herself to cry. "I am sorry," she said to him, grudgingly. "For if I was at liberty to speak to you of it then I would yet, for the moment, I am obliged to keep that secret from even you, though it sits ill with my own conscience to do so."
And Celeborn looked at her with a mixture of emotion in his eyes, sadness being not the least of these and he spoke, saying: "I wished that you trusted me enough to speak of it."
But Artanis shook her golden head, her anger slowly dissipating as sadness filled the void it left behind and said, "It is not because I do not trust you that I cannot speak but for your own good that I stay my tongue. For if I were to tell you it would place you in an extraordinarily difficult position where your loyalty to your own people might be drawn into question, for people would wonder if you had known and if you had also withheld the secret out of affection for me. And, knowing the place that your realm holds in your heart, I could never bring myself to do such a thing to you. Nay, if I am to tell any then it must be Thingol whom I speak to first."
"Then I would beg you speak with him," Celeborn said, stroking her hair. His anger too had been forgotten, his touch was tender, his eyes sad. "For if I surmise correctly then perhaps withholding this secret is the reason behind the increasing trouble you are having with your visions, and it pains me to see you suffer so."
"I do not know," said Artanis, "for it is not my secret alone to share and there are a great many who would grow angry with me were I to tell Thingol. Indeed, it might turn the tide of the Noldor's loyalty against him and it could be that things would go very ill for Doriath thereafter."
"Yet still I would beg you to speak of it," Celeborn said. "For it is not our custom to keep important matters from the King and though I cannot peer into other's minds as you do, I can see enough to know that a dark secret withheld grows only darker with time. And I grow tired of my loyalties being continually divided between you and my kingdom."
"That may be true," Artanis told him, "and you have given me much reason for contemplation." Yet those words had not placated him as she hoped, rather the last coals of his dissipating anger had been inflamed once again and she could see the anger quicken in his eyes.
"Contemplation?" He grew exasperated, shaking his head and the words spilled forth now. He felt powerless to stop them. "What good has contemplation ever done anyone? Action, Galadriel, I need action!" He took up her hands, holding them tightly in his own. "I love you, madly! I would take you to wife in body this very day! I need no ceremony, only to say the vow and be joined! But how can we marry with this shadow hanging over us? Will you not say it? Will you not speak to Thingol so that your name, and the guilt you carry might be cleared…so that the path to marriage will lie open for us?" And Artanis's heart quelled within her for she knew not whether the doom of Mandos was confined to her or whether it might dig its roots deep into those associated with her as well and she feared that Celeborn might be brought unknowingly under its shadow.
And she trembled at his words in fear, for to join in body meant to join in mind as well and in that instant that they were bound he would know, he would know all of it. "No, Celeborn, it is an impossibility! Why must you ruin everything? Marriage and love ought to be spoken about during times of joy, not in the midst of an argument!" The words were out before she had been able to properly form them into something more eloquent and the hurt was already evident in his eyes.
"Is it so preposterous," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "that I would wish to marry you, the woman I love? And if so, then what business have we being together? If I have thrown away a decade of my life on you then you ought to come out and say it."
"I do not mean 'no, not ever,'" she implored him, rushing to heal the wound, grasping his hand tightly. "I love you, surely, you must know that. If I could wed you then I too would do so this day. And I will wed you if you wish, but when the time is right."
"Please," she stroked his face. "Have we ever quarreled over anything else? It is only this one thing. Can we not lay it to rest once and for all?"
"Do not make the mistake of thinking that I shall forever put my affection for you above that I bear towards my kingdom, for I would beg you recall my words and know that you cannot run forever from whatever it is that plagues you," Celeborn said, anger tight in his voice and she almost thought that she saw tears glimmering unspilled in his eyes.
"I promise you, I will think of something," she said. "It is only for a little while longer."
"I have trusted you all of this time," he said. "When we began our courtship I asked you for everything and you agreed, yet you have given me nothing more than delays and unfulfilled promises." His hands were trembling.
"Celeborn, have patience –" she began.
"You forget, Galadriel," he said standing, "I am not a patient man, and I have waited now nearly twelve years."
"Can you not see that you injure me with your words?" She cried in anguish.
"Can you not see that you injure me with your silence?" He shouted.
With that he was gone, yet his words haunted Artanis for days, then weeks, then months until long after they had reconciled. But their argument was not forgotten and the residual effects of it still weighed heavily upon them both. And for Artanis, as ever, the secret burdened her heart and try though she might, she could shake it, for it haunted her not only in visions and nightmares but now, even in her waking hours.
Thus she did not hear at first, Melian calling her name.
"Artanis…"
"Yes?" The lady's golden head snapped up and the queen laughed.
"I was only remarking upon how your cloth has changed," Melian said, running her fingers over it.
"Has it?" Artanis asked. Her hands had fallen idle but now she picked her shuttle up once more and began to pass it back and forth, back and forth as the loom whirred. The room was empty and quiet, not because she had awoken so early, but because she had stayed up so late. Already sunlight was beginning to filter down through the stone leaves above them and it fell softly upon her fabric. Yet, it did not reflect the light as it had before and instead absorbed it so that it glowed somewhat softly from within, but only when touched by the light. She still had not managed to make it absorb shadow but she had made considerable progress.
"Goodness, you really have been off in some wonderland of your own mind haven't you?" Melian said, her laugh like the chime of bells, and Artanis could not help but smile upon hearing it, though her thoughts had been grey.
"Yes, I suppose that it has changed," she said with a smile.
"The influence of my nephew perhaps?" Melian said with a small smile as she grasped Artanis's hand, stopping the movement of the shuttle. Her stormy azure eyes turned to the Noldo maid's and Artanis felt the familiar pressure on her mind. But she had grown and Melian was not as easily able to see her thoughts as she used to. Artanis grinned as the queen was forced to withdraw, laughing as she did so.
"Melian that is private!" Artanis said with a blush. "I assure you, you would not wish to see it."
"You are quite fond of him," the Queen said with a smile, returning to her own loom at Artanis's side and taking up her shuttle once more.
"Yes," Artanis replied, but her pause before she had given answer caused Melian to favor her with a questioning glance.
"You are more than fond of him then," the queen said gently. "Is your heart confused Artanis?" How easily the Maia had discerned her troubles and Artanis's hands trembled.
"I…I believe that I…love him," she blurted out, slamming her shuttle down upon the loom rather more loudly than she had intended, her hands clasped in her lap, breathing hard. There. It was out now.
"Oh?" Melian paused, gently, setting her own shuttle down and she stood, coming around to sit beside Artanis. There was something in her tone that was so motherly it almost reminded Artanis of Earwen and she reminded herself that Melian was, after all, a mother as well. She felt the gentle touch of the queen's hand upon her arm. "Surely that is nothing to be sad over," she began to say but the words began to tumble from Artanis's mouth now and she seemed entirely powerless to stop them.
"Yet I have not yet spoken those words to him, though he has spoken them to me! I knew it would never be a mere dalliance, he and I, but…I didn't expect, oh," she sighed dejectedly, feeling for all the world as though she wished to cry like a child, "I am not sure what I expected at all."
And after a little while had passed Melian spoke, saying, "how truly it is said that the light of the two trees is intertwined in your hair," with deft hands she wove the strands into an intricate braid while Artanis sat still. "I can remember them with such depth and detail when I look at you my sunlight child. Truly, it brings such joy to my heart." And Artanis smiled at the queen's words, for they had lightened her heart a bit.
"What should I do?" She asked the queen. Melian laughed in reply.
"Well," she said, continuing to plait Artanis's golden hair, "that is up to you, and depends upon what you want. Do you not wish Celeborn to know that you love him?"
"I do," Artanis replied, "but…I worry that…I do not want him to have loved me in vain. For lately he speaks of marriage but… how can I? I can't…I can't imagine it, a husband, a family, elflings…" The thought had long haunted her, that perhaps she who had been marred by death would not be able to bear life. Yet, she comforted herself, there are female march wardens who bear children.
"Do you not think that you deserve happiness?" Melian asked, her voice suddenly growing tense. She dropped the heavy braid against Artanis's back. "Artanis," she turned so that she could look into the Noldo's eyes and Artanis saw that the queen was concerned. "You need not listen to the woeful words and decrees of your kinsmen Artanis," Melian implored her. "There is happiness enough for you here if only you will embrace it. If you and Celeborn wish to marry then you can certainly depend on the support of Thingol and I."
"It is," Artanis said, "that I fear I will ruin Celeborn's happiness, or else that I have already ruined it. It would have been better for him if he had never loved me." She had been so troubled that she had spoken further than she had intended regarding the secret she bore but now she found that she could not retreat, or else did not wish to do so. And Melian looked at her quizzically in light of those cryptic words but Artanis wondered if she had finally found the courage to say it. Her heart hammered within her chest, almost as if it were fighting its way out, just as the secrets were.
"There is some woe that lies upon you and your kin," Melian said, her voice deep and urgent. "That I can see in you, but all else is hidden from me; for by no vision or thought can I perceive anything that passed or passes in the West; a shadow lies over all the land of Aman, and reaches far out over the sea. Why will you not tell me more? Will you not free yourself? Not even now that love lies within your grasp?"
"That woe is past," said Artanis; "and I would take what joy is here left, untroubled by memory. And maybe there is woe enough yet to come, though still hope may seem bright." For still she was unsure, unsteady, and she worried what her brothers would think, what her cousins might do.
"I believe not that the Noldor came forth as messengers of the Valar, as was said at first: not though they came in the very hour of our need," Melian said, her gaze penetrating and intense, her grip on Artanis's hands tighter than was comfortable. "For they speak never of the Valar, nor have their high lords brought any message to Thingol, whether from Manwe, or Ulmo, or even from Olwe the King's brother, and his folk that went over the sea. For what cause, Artanis, were the high people of the Noldor driven forth as exiles from Aman? Or what evil lies on the sons of Feanor that they are so haughty and so fell? Do I not strike near the truth?"
And Artanis could feel Melian's mind working upon her own. A moment had presented itself, a moment which she might take advantage of here when there was no one, not her brothers nor her cousins, nor anyone else to control what she might say and might not say. But dare she do it? Finrod's words echoed in her mind, her…visions…they are getting worse, far worse. Hardly a day goes by anymore when she does not collapse, convulsing. How can we trust her when she could so easily and accidentally betray us? Yet stronger, she found, than her brother's worries and the threats of her cousins was the desire that was growing in her own heart, that hope that Melian had reminded her of, that she might marry Celeborn and be happy here. She had decided.
"Near," she said, hardly able to believe her own audacity, "save that we were not driven forth, but came of our own will, and against that of the Valar. And through great peril and in despite of the Valar for this purpose we came: to take vengeance upon Morgoth, and regain what he stole," and though her heart trembled at the words that she spoke, she felt immediately that a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders for long had she struggled in her own mind over the lies and half truths that she and her brothers had told the Sindar and, now that she found that she had approached the precipice, she could not willingly return from whence she had came but, instead, felt compelled to tell the truth, not only to relieve her own burden of guilt, but because the Sindar had the right to know and she would no longer willingly betray her friends and much less would she willingly betray her lover.
She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, for still she felt great anxiety at the story she meant to impart, and she said, "Very well, many times have you spoken to me on this matter and many times I have denied you the truth but I find that I am no longer able to do so and if it please you then I shall tell you the entire tale." Yet despite what she had said, her heart was still beating like a drum and she wondered if she would be able to find the courage after all or if it would desert her.
"You will speak at last?" Melian asked, her voice gentle, for she could very well see with what trepidation the Noldorin girl spoke and she half feared that Artanis would fall silent once more and refuse to speak.
"Yes," Artanis said, her heart pounding now, her breath coming in gasps. "Yes, I will speak. I will speak." She raised her eyes to the queen's, imploring her. "But I beg you Melian, bring Thingol and Celeborn quickly, before I lose my courage, for already it is fading."
"Of course," Melian said before darting out into the corridor. She returned momentarily, having sent a messenger to the king and prince, and sat with Artanis, holding her hands in her own while they waited for what seemed to be an interminably long while.
And, whatever doubts she may have had about speaking were swept away by the entrance of Thingol for the first words out of his mouth were, "you will speak." And it was a command, not a question, given in such a tone of authority that it might have given Morgoth himself pause.
Melian tugged gently on Artanis's hand and the two of them moved to sit on a bench across from where Thingol had seated himself. Momentarily, Celeborn entered as well and Artanis found herself quite unable to meet his gaze, though it settled upon her briefly, and he moved to sit beside the king. Better to get it over and done with, Artanis thought, now that it had been decided. She drew in a shuddering breath to steady her nerves but it was Thingol who spoke first and his words were not what she would have expected.
"I am glad," he said, "that you have at last come to this decision Artanis. For I would hope that you, who are blood of my brother's blood, know that I love and esteem you as my own daughter, though long have you hidden this secret from me. But how am I to protect my people if I cannot understand what I am protecting them from? And I worry for your sake as well, for I have watched you blossom here as a new flower in spring, and I grew concerned at the frost that seemed to be wilting you. I assure you that you shall feel better after you have spoken. For secrets weigh most heavily not upon those for whose sake they are kept, or on those who are denied their knowledge, but upon those who keep them."
Artanis nodded and swallowed, her throat feeling like sand, and looked up into the King's kind eyes.
"While I was in conversation with Melian this evening I realized that I could no longer in good conscience withhold what I know any longer. It is precisely because you welcomed me so kindly and because of the love that your people have shown to me that I have at last reached this conclusion, though it is belatedly that I have done so and for that I most humbly beg your forgiveness," she managed to choke out and Thingol nodded solemnly.
"That is well," he said. "And all of us here are made happy by your decision."
"Yes," Artanis said, nodding. "I want you to be happy, though I do not know..." And she glanced towards Celeborn, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, but she could discern nothing in their depths.
"Finwe is dead," she blurted out. She had not known where to start and, for some reason, that had seemed to be the thing of most importance, the thing that had surfaced first in her mind. There was a collective intake of breath by the three of them that made the silence that followed her words all the more apparent, and she felt Melian's hand tighten upon her own, so tight that she thought the bones might break and she watched as Thingol, clearly stricken, tilted his head up towards the ceiling, blinking back tears. Celeborn merely glanced wildly between his aunt, his uncle, and Artanis herself, unsure, it seemed, of what exactly such news might signify.
Thingol propped his elbows on his knees and his head sank down into his hands so that his face was concealed for a while but his shoulders trembled and, at last, he looked up at her with confused, red-rimmed eyes and asked, "how?" It was strange indeed to hear that normally firm voice so shaded with doubt.
"It was Morgoth," she said, "Melkor. He…the Valar trusted him, and when they unchained him…"
"What cause would he have to kill my friend?" Thingol shouted, a strangled cry, his sadness being supplanted by anger. "What grudge did he hold against Finwe?"
"Melkor needs no reason for evil," Melian said hurriedly to placate her spouse, for Thingol looked now as though he wished to either scream in anger or cry in sorrow and there was no telling which course of action he would embark upon for he likely did not know himself how to feel or what to do, Artanis certainly hadn't when she had first heard the news.
"There…there was a reason," Artanis stammered. "And that is why the Feanorians are so fell. It was my uncle, Feanor, Finwe's son, the high prince of the Noldor. He made something that Morgoth wanted, the Silmarils, and Morgoth was determined to have them at whatever cost. And it is the existence of the Silmarils that I have heretofore hidden."
"And is that why Finwe lost his life?" Thingol cried, incensed. "How could these…these Silmarils as you call them, have been so precious that his life was valued the lesser?"
"There is nothing that Melkor esteems," Artanis said, her own heart troubled now at having been given cause to recall her grandfather's death. "Not life nor anything else, save his own power. For the Silmarils are gems, three in number, that Feanor created and imbued with the light of the two trees. They were hallowed by Varda herself, so that they burn the hands of any mortal or evil creature, or of any who are unworthy of their possession and yet all who looked upon them desired them, so magnificent were they. And their method of manufacture was so secret that even Aule himself was unable to reproduce their likeness." Melian, Thingol, and Celeborn were all listening intently now and so she continued her story without stopping, though she could already feel that it was exhausting her.
"Melkor, perhaps viewing Feanor's paranoia as an opportunity, began to spread rumors that Fingolfin meant to usurp Feanor's place as Finwe's heir. And my father grew very frightened at this, for he knew that his eldest brother had a quick temper and moreover, that he had grown paranoid that someone might try to steal his Silmarils, for many had grown extraordinarily covetous of them. So my father closeted my family at our estate in Tirion and my brothers and I were hardly able to come and go, certainly not as we pleased, and prohibited from having any contact with our cousins, the sons of Feanor.
Hearing the rumors that Melkor had spread, Feanor grew enraged and threatened Fingolfin's life. Thus were the seeds of discord that had been sown long ago by Miriel's passing, for which Feanor has never forgiven her, and my grandfather's marriage to Indis, for which my uncle never did forgive my grandfather, fanned into full flame and the Noldor began to craft weapons, anticipating that there would be some battle between the supporters of Feanor and the supporters of Fingolfin. But the Valar grew wroth at Feanor for his pride and his anger and thus they banished him to Formenos and Finwe followed him to show his support for his eldest son. With them they took the Silmarils, locked in a chest and under heavy guard."
"At this my mother grew very frightened and begged my father to withdraw our household to Alqualonde and there seek refuge with our Telerin family where we might be out of the way of whatever trouble my father's older brothers might cause. But my father, perhaps having some sense of foreboding about what was to come and how his people would require him in that hour of need, decided that we would remain in Tirion, though we lived nearly as shut ins there, prisoners in our own house."
"With Feanor and Finwe both having withdrawn to Formenos, Fingolfin was named king in absentia, with the support of my father and of the Telerin royalty, my mother's family. But this seemed only to confirm Feanor's suspicions about his brothers and he grew very fell for a while, seeming to trust no one, or so we heard, and perhaps it was that distrust that saved him from Melkor's designs, for the Vala approached Feanor in Formenos, seeking to further convince him of Fingolfin's ill intentions, yet this time Feanor saw through Melkor's plans and perceived the truth of them, that Melkor's true intention was to obtain the Silmarils for himself. Having realized this, he accepted the Valar's invitation to make peace with Fingolfin and returned to Valinor, whereupon Fingolfin conceded the position of crown prince to Feanor, who accepted."
"But, after Feanor had turned Melkor out, and while he traveled to Valinor to make his peace, Melkor had fled south to seek out Ungoliant, the great spider and, even as Feanor and Fingolfin shook hands and made their peace, the light was suddenly gone from the sky and night came upon us all at once, as though the light of the two trees had been entirely extinguished and, as you know, and as we later found out, that was precisely what had happened, for Ungoliant had sucked them dry of sap. The Valar then begged Feanor to surrender to them the Silmarils, so that they might revive the trees from the light encased within them. But he refused and, we soon found that it would not have mattered at all if he hadn't done so, for while we were all distracted over the destruction of the trees, Melkor and Ungoliant had gone to Formenos, and word soon arrived that they had slain Finwe, my grandfather, as he sought to deny them entrance to the chamber where the Silmarils were kept. They then stole the Silmarils and fled across the Helcaraxe."
"I beg you," Thingol said, "pause for a moment and allow me to collect myself and my thoughts. For this is the darkest news that I have ever had the misfortune to hear." And Artanis fell silent, glad for the reprieve, for she had never told the tale before and doing so, she found, exhausted her beyond measure. For not only was she sorrowful to break this news to her most beloved friends, but it was painful for her to recall her grandfather's death, the sundering of her family, and that time of great fear and uncertainty.
Hesitantly Artanis looked towards Celeborn, hoping to judge his reaction, fearing that his heart would be turned against her and, truthfully, in her heart of hearts she knew that it was not only because she had been forbidden to tell, but because she had feared losing Celeborn's love that she had staid her tongue this long. His eyes flickered towards hers and she had feared seeing anger there, for he was quick with that emotion, but instead she found that she could read nothing in his eyes, though there was certainly no hatred and for that, at least, she was grateful.
After some time, Thingol leaned forward once more, composed now, though there were dark circles beneath his eyes, and resting his elbows on his knees, he bade her continue. Beginning again she said, "After Melkor fled, all of my people named him Morgoth, which means dark enemy of the world in our tongue."
"Determined to retake the Silmarils, the Noldor assembled a great host, of which my brothers and I took part, though my motivation was more of a longing to see this land than to reclaim the jewels and Finrod was the most reluctant of us all, and so we left Valinor determined to undo Morgoth at last."
"Yet I had no love for Feanor, for I resented the divisions that he had created within my family. And, what was more, he had, in the past, made several overtures to me that I deemed less than appropriate given our close degree of consanguinity and the fact that he was married. Furthermore, after Morgoth had stolen the Silmarils, he levied a great deal of blame for the loss of the Silmarils upon the Valar themselves and he railed against them, persuading many of the Noldor that the Valar had abandoned them and that they must avenge the wrongs done them by Melkor by their own hands. But, as I have said, I had no love for Feanor and did not hold with his beliefs and so I traveled in the host of Fingolfin, son of Finwe, whose members included Turgon and Fingon as well as my brothers, and Feanor's host marched ahead."
She paused, for now she had come to the real moment of truth and, whether because of the immense emotional toll that the story had already taken on her, or because she was steadily loosing her courage, or because the greater part of her fear of the loss of their love lay not in relating what others had done, but in relating her own part in the sins of the Noldor, she found that she could not bring herself to relate the rest of the tale.
"There were …many women and children with us and so we could not move as fast as the Feanorians," she said instead. "By the time that we reached Alqualonde, the last ship had already sailed, leaving us with no other way to continue except to cross the Helcaraxe. Thus we knew that Feanor and his sons had not entirely forgiven his brothers or their children and the wounds that existed between the princes of the Noldor were reopened and have not yet healed; perhaps they never shall." It was out, finished, part of it the truth, part of it a wretched lie.
"Now you know," she said, "the true motivations of the sons of Feanor, that they are bent upon avenging the theft of the Silmarils with all their being and will. And you know also of Finwe's death and of the true source of discord between the Noldorin princes." Having said that, she fell silent, exhausted, and it seemed that the others gathered there had grown just as tired from the listening as she had from the telling. Already the guilt was beginning to sink in once more, though she did feel some measure of relief, as if part of the burden, at least, was gone, though the greater part remained.
Thingol sighed, shaking his head, looking wearier in that unspeaking silence that she had ever seen him and at last he spoke, saying; "your father remained behind?"
"Yes," she said. "For my brothers were determined to go out of their friendship with the sons of Fingolfin and I was determined to go out of my wish to explore this land and so my father remained behind so that my mother would not lose her entire family at once and so that the Noldor would not be left kingless."
"So your father is the High King of the Noldor now," Thingol said softly.
"In Aman, yes," she replied, releasing a shuddering breath.
"That is well," Thingol said, "for he sounds as though he is a wise man, wiser than his brothers at least, wiser even than Finwe perhaps."
"He is," she replied.
"And you have done an extraordinarily cruel thing to your parents by leaving them, you and all of your brothers," Thingol said tersely. Artanis averted her eyes out of shame and no one spoke in the ensuing silence. Then did they all sit in unspeaking silence for a long while, contemplating all that she had said until Thingol, bid them leave and she and Celeborn walked back to his chambers hand in hand, though they did not speak to one another.
"Still he loves her," Thingol said, watching them go. "And I know not whether he has spoken of it to her in those words, but love it is, and it could be called no other."
"Indeed that is so," Melian replied. "They go now, almost certainly to quarrel in private, yet you know Celeborn even as I do, like a son, and you know that when he has given his heart to something that he has given it without reservation, in its entirety. He could no sooner be turned from Artanis than a hurricane could be turned from its path and, indeed, he shall not be turned from it unless it was by her own hand and it would take a far greater betrayal even than this to accomplish that feat."
"And as much as I wish them the greatest of joy I fear that theirs is an ill fated love that can end in none other than doom," Thingol said sorrowfully, "for the news that we have learned is evil indeed and yet…it still seems to me that parts of this story are missing and there is still some guilt or darkness that hangs over Artanis. I find that my regard for her is greatly lessened."
"This is a great matter," Melian said, "greater indeed than the Noldor themselves understand; for the Light of Aman and the fate of Arda lie locked now in these things, the work of Feanor, who is gone. They shall not be recovered, these Silmarils, I foretell, by any power of the Eldar; and the world shall be broken in battles that are to come, ere they are wrested from Morgoth. See now! Feanor they have slain, and many another, as I guess; but first of all the deaths they have brought and yet shall bring was Finwe your friend. Morgoth slew him, ere he fled Aman. And now we live in the shadow of death."
And, hearing the words again, Thingol was silent, for he was filled with great foreboding and at length he said: "Now at last I understand the coming of the Noldor out of the West, at which I wondered much before. Not to our aid did they come, save by chance; for those that remain in Middle-earth the Valar will leave to their own devices, until the uttermost need. For vengeance and redress of their loss the Noldor came. Yet all the more sure shall they be as allies against Morgoth, with whom it is not now to be thought that they shall ever make treaty."
But Melian said: "Truly for these causes they came; but for others also. Beware the sons of Feanor! The shadow of the wrath of the Valar lies upon them; and they have done evil, I perceive, both in Aman and to their own kin. A grief but lulled to sleep lies between the princes of the Noldor."
"What is that to me?" Thingol answered her. "Of Feanor I have heard but report, which makes him great indeed. Of his sons I hear little to my pleasure; yet they are likely to prove the deadliest foes of our foe."
"Their swords and their counsels shall have two edges," said Melian.
Celeborn's chambers were silent and they remained silent even after he and Galadriel had returned to them, for it was a while before either had the energy or the courage to speak. Celeborn sat for a long while, simply staring into the fire and, after some time, Artanis moved to sit at his side.
Her conscience weighed heavily upon her for she had not told the entire tale and still Thingol was ignorant, they were all ignorant of the oath and of the doom of Mandos and of the fact that the Feanorians would not hesitate to kill other elves. Until Thingol knew that, they were all still very much in danger. Yet how could she tell that tale? Even Morgoth's destruction of the trees was not as dark and bloody a crime as what Feanor had done to the Teleri, what she had done to her father's kin. She rubbed her hands together absentmindedly and turned to look at Celeborn. He was watching her intently with those green eyes that she loved so much. But his eyes did not look as they always did - something had changed.
"You are upset with me," She said, reaching out, but he turned away from her hand. "It is…what I deserve." She did not need to prompt him any further to speak.
"Perhaps Thingol did not ask because he is consumed by grief at the news of his friend's death but I have no such compunctions," he said, standing and pacing back and forth, hand to his chin. "What did it profit you to keep such a secret? You are guilty of nothing save secrecy. Why could you not tell us of the Silmarils?" His actions were quick, fueled by anxiety and, as usual, he had hit frighteningly close to the mark for she had concealed her part of the blame.
"Because my cousins do not wish Thingol to know," she said. "They made us swear an oath of secrecy, and I swore out of love for Finrod, because he wished to salvage what remains of the house of Finwe." She hated to say it, knowing that it was such a terribly inconsiderate thing to say, but it was the truth.
"But why did your lot have any need to keep the secret of the Silmarils, even if the Feanorians wished it? What harm could they do you that would force you swear an oath against your conscience?"
"Celeborn," she stood, her voice firm and her eyes firmer, going to him and taking his arm, stilling his pacing. "You do not know them as I do. The sons of Feanor have gone mad! Maglor is kind of heart and Maedhros can be made to see reason, but the rest of them are very dangerous indeed and there is no boundary that I believe they would hesitate to cross." Her beloved looked into her eyes and her heart pounded in fear, for she saw him working the problem over in his mind.
"Nothing?" He murmered. She nodded.
"If ever a Silmaril were to enter into Doriath…" she said, "I would fear very much for the safety of everyone here. Feanor went mad before the end and it seems his madness did not die with him. I am frightened; they frighten me!"
"Still, you could have broken with the decision of your brothers, with the oath of secrecy. Part of the blame is yours," he said, his eyes flashing quickly towards hers. "How could you look my uncle in the eyes and lie to him about his dearest friend being alive for so many years when in fact he had perished? How could you do that?" There was incredulity in his voice, anger, hurt. "Thingol is the only father I have ever known!"
"And Finwe was my grandfather!" She cried. "Do you think that it did not pain me as well?"
He turned towards her, still agitated saying, "I thought your loyalty lay here, with Doriath, with Thingol, with me, was I wrong?" She had never seen him so upset.
"It does, Celeborn! I swear it to you," she replied. It was the truth. "After what I have just told you, after the anger that I will undoubtedly face from my relatives, do you still doubt me? They will slander me. I will never be welcomed by my cousins, any of them, ever again, and I will have injured the trust of my brothers most cruelly." It hurt her to see him so upset, to know that she was the cause of his pain, and she wished that she could go back in time and fix all of it. But, more than that, she feared that his love towards her would warp to hatred and she sought only to placate him by disguising her deception, for she knew full well that there was much that she still kept secret and she hid it in a desperate bid to keep him. "All of this I am willing to endure for you!"
"You endangered the lives of my people. You endangered this kingdom," he said, his anger still contained, but his eyes were fierce.
"Celeborn, meleth nin," she said and he seemed to flinch at her use of his name, "I did not make the right choice. I know that. But I cannot change what I have done. Thingol knows all of it now. The only thing I can do is to move forward." The long silence stretched between them and he said nothing, staring blankly into the fire.
"Feanor," he said, grinding out the name between his teeth as he crossed his arms over his chest. She had been expecting this, had seen the flash of fury in his eyes when she had spoken of it earlier. "You said that he made overtures towards you, inappropriate ones."
"When he…" she sighed and sank down to sit upon the cushions on the floor, feeling the weariness down to her bones. "When he had the idea to craft the Silmarils he did not originally plan to use the light of the trees as their essence…he…he asked me for three strands of my hair, and this he meant to encase at their core. Thrice he asked me…and thrice I did refuse him. It was a slight he never forgave." She dropped her eyes in shame, for she had suspected that Feanor had wished for more than her hair, and the thought reviled her.
Celeborn turned away from the fire and towards her. "You never told me that he…that he was inappropriate towards you," he said and his voice was soft, his anger slowly ebbing, replaced, it seemed, by concern. "What…did he…touch…"
"Not like that, no," she shook her head and laughed a bitter laugh, reaching up to wipe away tears that threatened to spill. Perhaps she had never acknowledged, even to herself, how much it had affected her. "He…" she shrugged, "it was something in the way he looked at me, the way that he touched me unbidden, even though it was always in the most innocuous of places: the hand, or the elbow, or the shoulder. It was the fact that his touch always lingered just a little longer than it ought to have, that his gaze strayed too frequently, that he contrived to find himself alone with me more often than I deemed natural." She sighed.
"I know that he loved Nerdanel, that he was married, and that he was my uncle besides, but with me it did not seem to be about love at all, or any affection really…it was, almost as if I was to him as his Silmarils were, that I was an instrument to please him, to magnify his glory, and that he meant to confine me for himself alone, just as he locked the Silmarils away so that only he could ever have them. And I doubted not at all that, if I ever gave him the chance…the chance to…to take more than what was appropriate, that he would have done it in a heartbeat."
She had never seen Celeborn with a look of pity upon his face but she was certain that she saw it now. "Galadriel," he breathed, "you have endured all of this in solitude…for so very long. You were so reticent, so frightened of intimacy when first we met and I did not know the reason. You could have told me."
"No…I…" she stammered, unsure of what it was that she was trying to say, the tears beginning to fall. He had drawn truth out of her, certainly, but she had not expected it to be this truth. It was the first time that she had ever felt truly weak before him. Celeborn knelt before her and wiped the tears away. "I thought that you would find me disgusting because of it," she said, "and…and I thought myself hideous because of it. And that on top of all of the terrible things I have done, how I have abandoned my parents, how I traipsed off foolishly into middle earth."
"Is that what this secret keeping was all about?" Celeborn asked, drawing her into his embrace, pressing her head into his chest. There was something so very comforting about his arms around her, about his hand in her hair, the kiss he placed on the top of her head. "Were you afraid what I would think of you?"
"Of course I was," she said, drying her eyes on his tunic.
"There now," he said, gently and it was a strange but welcome thing to hear gentleness from him. "You were put in a terrible situation not of you own doing," he said, "I do not know what I would have done had I stood in the same position." And she knew she had been forgiven.
"It is over and done; I know now and I love you," he said.
"And I love you," she replied, feeling the warmth of the fire's heat against her closed eyelids, hearing its crackling in the comforting silence. He rose, carrying her to the bed and she watched, sleepily, through half-lidded eyes as he tucked the blankets about her and then joined her himself.