In Cavern's Shade

by Castile181

During the first age, when Beleriand itself stands on the brink of destruction and Doriath falls from the height of glory to begin its long decline, Celeborn, a Sindarin prince as quick to wisdom as he is to anger, meets Artanis, a Noldorin princess plagued by a dark secret, and they soon find themselves plunged into a world of intrigue, lies, and mystery as ties grow turbulent.

22. Chapter 22: The Golden Girl

The Golden Girl

Doriath: 22nd Chapter

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"No amount of fire or freshness can challenge

what a man will store up in his ghostly heart."

– The Divine Comedy, Dante

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Author's Note:Hey guys there are some REALLY IMPORTANT footnotes at the end of this chapter so be sure you check them out. We are about to get involved in some really sticky stuff here and things are going to get crazy.

Leeza: Thank you!

Ingrid: Wow, thank you so much! I'm really glad that you reviewed and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story too!

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"How many more times will you bring this issue to a vote, Celeborn?" Saeros cried, banging his fist upon the council table. "This council has spoken. The vote will not be altered."

"Until I have impressed upon all those present the direness of this situation," Celeborn replied, doing his best to remain calm. "We have had yet another letter from Maedhros and this one is far less courteous than the last. Maedhros is reputed to be reasonable but I worry that we are wasting away whatever meager good will may have existed between our peoples. Let us meet with him and broker a treaty before it becomes impossible to do so."

"The terms of your proposed treaty are weak," Saeros replied. "You ask only that they cease disturbing our people and our towns. We must make them stop their mining entirely."

"They would be far less likely to agree to that," Celeborn said. "And what is more, that measure is unnecessary. It is entirely possible for them to still mine ore from the mountains so long as they do so in a responsible way, without clear cutting the forest."

"That is true," Fingaeron contributed. "When the petty dwarves still lived in the region of Nargothrond they did not cut the forests when they dug their mines and thus their mining operations had no adverse affects on the surrounding region."

"This is more than a matter of what is possible and what is not," Saeros replied. "This is a matter of national pride. This is about what is best for Doriath. The lands that Maedhros's people occupy now are Doriath's. They are ours by right. The gold that is in those mountains, the gold that the Noldor are mining is ours by right. Let us return Doriath to what she was of old, a vast empire stretching throughout the entirety of Beleriand. Our people should be free to settle wherever they like in their native land without fear of Noldorin encroachment."

"And what is more," Tinuil, the Minister of Commerce, chimed in, "have we not heard that the sons of Feanor go about saying that we lost those lands because we were not strong enough to keep them? Let us show them the strength of Doriath! We will make them rue the day that they threatened us with war."

"We would need to outfit every Doriathrin soldier with a new set of armor. We would need to build war machines." Mablung protested.

"And what is so wrong with that?" Saeros asked. "It would provide jobs for many elves."

"We do not have enough elves anymore to fill those jobs," Venessiel said, clearly annoyed.

"Our people are fighting for their motherland. Their spirit and will to fight would easily surmount such obstacles as Noldorin armor and weapons," Saeros countered.

"You do realize that you would be asking our soldiers to kill other elves don't you?" Venessiel countered, incensed. "I hardly see how you could think that acceptable and still bear so much hatred towards the Lady Galadriel." A great grumbling arose in the council chamber in response to that hated name.

"That is a slippery slope Venessiel," Saeros said. "What if the Noldor were to attack Doriath? Would you argue against fighting them then? They will have their boots on our throats soon enough if we do not stand up against them. And besides, I do not understand how you could account their lives the equal of ours, for we have not slain elves but they have done so and it was not out of self defense. Our souls are more righteous than theirs. We would triumph."

"All fear are equal in the eyes of Illuvatar!" Venessiel shot back.

Thingol sat at the end of the table, a hand on his chin and a dark expression on his face. He knew that there were many of his own people who bore resentment towards him for having ceded the northern lands to the sons of Feanor. His council members all knew that he agreed with Celeborn's position because of his previous votes but he was reluctant to speak his mind openly in support of it to make an argument. Such a thing would most likely only increase the volatility of the opposition and make the path that much harder for Celeborn and his supporters. It was better, in his experience, to deal with such divisive issues in a more covert and secretive manner and yet Celeborn had an unfortunate habit of trying to force things. He was losing patience with all of them. The king sighed.

"We have not the strength for war," Mablung said, "not anymore. Our numbers are insufficient. We have still not built our army back up to what it was before the Battle of Beleriand. And besides, their armor, their weaponry, their siege engines and instruments of war are superior to ours."

"According to Prince Celeborn," Saeros replied, "and there are many who have cause to doubt the veracity of anything he says. His loyalties have been compromised." Some of the counselors raised their eyebrows in surprise that Saeros would dare speak of a Prince of Doriath in such a way, and before his very face at that.

"I would beg you recall that my daughter went to Himlad as well and corroborated that report," Thingol said. That put an end to Saeros's argument rather quickly, or so it seemed. Luthien was above reproach. But Celeborn stood, slowly, and all eyes turned to him as though they hardly dared believe it. Until this point he had always kept himself above Saeros's accusations. But now he had had enough.

"What do you mean to say, Saeros?" He asked, his voice deathly quiet. The council chamber went silent as a tomb and even Thingol, it seemed, dared not utter a word. Celeborn stood, awaiting the reply.

"You know what I mean," Saeros retorted, but everyone there had seen the unease that had crept into the Nando's eyes. Celeborn would not be letting him get away with his insinuations this time. He had had enough of this challenging of his authority. Perhaps they thought he had grown soft but he was still the same elf who had marshaled Thingol's army in the Battle of Beleriand, still the one whom Thingol had seen fit to name his crown prince.

"I think you had better say it so that we can all be clear," Celeborn whispered. "Go on, Saeros, say it." The Nando was silent. "I command you," Celeborn said.

"You are biased in favor of the Noldor," Saeros said, "because you bedded one of them. For all we know you could be associating with her still."

"Say her name, Saeros," Celeborn said. "Go on, say it. Let us have no ambiguity." The Nando remained silent as if he could hardly believe this was happening, as if he thought someone would swoop in and rescue him.

"Galadriel," Saeros ground out at last, seeming to realize that he would not, in fact, be being rescued this day.

"Thank you, Saeros," Celeborn said as though he were speaking to a very young child.

The prince looked up, glancing around at the other ministers. "Are you all clear on that? Have you all understood?" There were nervous nods around the table.

"Let me say it just to be sure," Celeborn continued. "In the year 52 of the first age I took Galadriel, previously known as Artanis, the sister of Finrod Felagund and the daughter of Finarfin, high king of the Noldor, and Earwen, princess of the Teleri to my bed. She lived with me until the year 70, when we learned of the kinslaying and when she was exiled to Nargothrond. It is true, as Saeros here has been so kind to point out, that she did, in fact, share my bed that entire time and in the course of that time we did pursue a romantic, and therefore, sexual relationship." The ministers fidgeted nervously but Celeborn was not about to let them off the hook. If secrecy and insinuation and innuendo were there powers then he would strip them of them, he would lay everything out bare on the table, he would show them that he had nothing to hide by hiding nothing.

"It is also true that she and I are not married," he continued, "that we are not bound to one another in marriage, and that, despite what physical practices we may have taken part in, I do not, nor have I ever at any time had sexual intercourse with Galadriel. If any of you have cause to doubt the veracity of what I have said I would invite you now to look into my eyes and observe that there is no evidence there of a bond of marriage. Is there anyone here who would like to take advantage of this opportunity?" He was met with nervous shakes of the head and a mumbled chorus of "no."

"And what about you, Saeros?" He asked, fixing the Nando with a curious stare. "Have you any doubts?"

"No," Saeros mumbled, glancing up at him briefly though he seemed unable to hold the prince's gaze for very long.

"Are you certain?" Celeborn asked with feigned concern. "If there are any doubts that linger in your mind I shall sit down this very instant and draw up a list detailing every single thing that Galadriel and I did. If you are still unsatisfied then I shall send for the lady herself this instant and I am sure she can recount them in detail for you. I am sure that every minister here would be happy to sit and wait and listen to the report, wouldn't you all?" It was not a question. It was a command. He looked up and saw each and every head bob in reluctant affirmation.

"Is that what you wish, Saeros?"

"No, your highness," Saeros mumbled, eyes downcast.

"My apologies, Saeros," Celeborn said, "you will have to speak up. I am afraid that your constant complaints have nearly made me go deaf as a dwarf."

"I assure you that is unnecessary, Your highness," Saeros said a little more loudly.

"Saeros, I believe you have forgotten that I am the crown prince," Celeborn reminded him.

"That is not what I wish, Your Royal Highness," Saeros replied. He dared not meet Celeborn's gaze.

"Well, if that isn't what you wanted then what do you want?" Celeborn asked.

"Nothing, Your Royal Highness," Saeros replied.

"Then I trust the matter is settled?" Celeborn asked, observing the chorus of frantic nods around the table. "Well now Saeros, it seems that you have made everyone extremely uncomfortable," Celeborn noted. "I hope that it does not happen again." The counselors remained silent as Celeborn resumed his seat. "What is more," he continued, "I do, in fact, continue to associate with Galadriel, though I no longer do so in a romantic fashion. She is my friend. Is there anyone here who has a problem with that?" They all shook their heads.

"I shall be sure to inform you all," Celeborn said, "of any and all of my future romantic liaisons whether it be with Galadriel or with some other lady. Indeed, if you so wish it I will extend an invitation to you to observe said liaisons so long as it means I never have to deal with this sort of rubbish again. Will that be necessary?" Heads shook frantically. "I am sorry," Celeborn said, "I don't believe I could hear you."

"No, Your Royal Highness," came the chorus of voices.

"Very well," Celeborn said, "then let us proceed." He noticed that Thingol seemed to be only barely managing to suppress his laugher.

"I will take the vote now," Thingol called suddenly and all of his council members turned to him with looks of surprise, for they had clearly expected to be allowed to carry their arguments out until they had worn them out, but he was grateful that they had sense enough not to protest. Thingol saw no use in beating a dead horse and besides, he hardly expected to hear anything worthwhile anyway, considering that Celeborn had just cleaned the floor with all of them. The tally was as he had expected, seven in favor and six against. They still did not have a two vote majority. "Very well," he said. "Celeborn, please mark the vote in the ledger. That will be all for today I think."

He could tell that Celeborn was a bit miffed at the vote as he sat by the king's side, darkly brooding, after the others had all left. Thingol, on the other hand, was laughing so hard that tears were leaking from his eyes.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had it in you!" The king gasped. "I should have known better than to doubt you. Their faces…!" He could hardly breathe from laughing so hard. "And here you were all concerned about having to subterfuge to get them to do anything. I rather think you have underestimated yourself, nephew. It seems that the leash of that dog is quite firmly in your hand." His nephew just stared straight ahead, glaring, but Thingol knew that Celeborn was pleased by the small grin that danced around the corners of his mouth.

"You and Mablung are Thingol's little pets, kept in this gilded cage," Beleg said. "I do not know how you can stand living in this city." Indeed, it had been a while since Beleg had been in Menegroth.

"Please tell me that you summoned me because you have some good news," Celeborn implored Beleg, sitting on the bench across the table from his friend. "I could certainly use some of late."

"Always to the point aren't you Celeborn." Beleg said, "and yes, I do, or so I hope." Celeborn hailed one of the tavern girls and she brought them two beers.

"I believe you may know my friend. Her name is Nellas, a chieftainess of one of our towns in the north. Her town has been one of those particularly hard hit by the mudslides."

"I have never met her but I know of her," Celeborn replied. "She has been particularly critical of our policy of doing nothing and she has written many a letter to the council begging for aid from Menegroth."

"Yes, she told me as much," Beleg said.

"I had thought, when you said that it was an 'old friend' of yours that you would speak to that you meant you had known this person for a very long time. But Nellas is quite young is she not? Perhaps I am mistaken, I have only heard her name a few times." Celeborn said.

"No, you are not mistaken," Beleg replied. "I ought to have said she is a dear friend, for what you have said is true; she is young. I suppose I must be an old friend to her, for she has known me all of her life but her life has been but a small part of mine, though not so unimportant as the brevity of it would suggest." He fell silent but he had said enough that Celeborn understood.

"I never knew," he replied.

"No," Beleg said, "I do not speak about it. She had no interest in my proposal. " The two of them were quiet for a while.

"I am very sorry for having brought it up," Celeborn murmured, meeting his friend's eyes. "I hope I have not injured you, my friend."

Beleg shook his head and smiled. "Do not worry over me, Celeborn. I assure you that I am quite fine. It was a while ago and I am certainly not the first to have had my hopes dashed by a woman."

"Yes," Celeborn replied, "that is a feeling I know well." But he felt intolerably awkward for having said anything.

"I went to visit her," Beleg said and she said that she is very willing to come and speak to the council, to present a first hand account of what is happening, to bring some of her people with her as well. Or else, she has said that she would be happy to have a party from Doriath come to her town and show them the destruction that has been wrought there to disperse any doubts they might have."

"That is very good news, Beleg," Celeborn said, nodding. "You have my thanks. But, it would cause too much of an uproar, I think, if we were to attempt to take a party out there."

"Then I shall arrange for her to come here," Beleg said with a smile.

"I can do it if you would prefer," Celeborn said and he felt some relief, for it seemed that things were moving along at last.

"It is quite alright my friend," Beleg said, finishing off his beer. "You are under too much strain as it is and besides, as I have said, I do not mind. But I fear I must be going. You know how I can never stand to be in this city for too long." The march warden stood with a grin, slinging his great, black bow over his back once more and waved goodbye to his friend as he exited to the tavern.

"You wished to speak to me?" Madam Lhaineth said, looking extremely perturbed that her private time should be occupied in such a way, as she gazed at Galadriel over the top of her newspaper, a half empty glass of sherry at her right hand.

"Yes Madam," Galadriel replied politely. "I was hoping that you might allow me to try out for a position as a dancer." Madam Lhaineth had been sipping her sherry as Galadriel spoke and she almost choked on it at those words.

"You are delusional, Galadriel, if you think that you have earned such a high position," the chief maid spluttered.

"But Madam Lhaineth, consider it from this perspective," Galadriel said. "If I am out of the laundries then there will no longer be any conflict between Paniel and myself. You will not have to suffer any more of our disruptions. What is more, my training will then be turned over to the dance master and you need not have anything to do with me except house me here. I can assure you that I have the qualifications. I was a dancer in Aman and I have even danced before the court of Menegroth before. Indeed, I have dance before the Valar themselves. I can obtain letters of recommendation if you require it, from Princess Luthien, Queen Melian, the King, Prince Celeborn. I am certain they would all vouch for me if you ask them."

"I assure you that I am not on speaking terms with nobility," Madam Lhaineth said, as if she thought Galadriel quite mad. She set her newspaper down. She did not say yes, but she did also not say no and Galadriel could see that she was pondering the idea. She had, after all, appealed to the strongest of Madam Lhaineth's traits, her innate desire to deal with as little trouble or work as possible.

"You understand that the Sindar do not wish to see any of your…your Noldorin frivolities," Madam Lhaineth said at last, waving a hand in a gesture as if to show exactly how little she thought of Noldorin frivolities. "Do you know how to dance the traditional dances of the Sindar, of Doriath?"

"Of course," Galadriel replied, her heart racing.

"Of course…." Madam Lhaineth cued her.

"Of course Madam," Galadriel said. Madam Lhaineth seemed to muse over the idea for a moment longer.

"Very well…if it will get you off my back," she said. "I will arrange for the dance master to see you the day after tomorrow. And, if you embarrass me, so help me Valar I shall send you straight back to the scullery and have you scrubbing floors again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Madam Lhaineth!" Galadriel exclaimed in excitement. She could hardly believe that it had worked. "Perfectly clear! Thank you, thank you ever so much!" And she sprung up from her chair, bowing before going to the door but, just as she was about to exit, Madam Lhaineth called out to her once more.

"Galadriel?" Galadriel turned back.

"Yes Madam Lhaineth?" The dark haired Sinda did not look up from her paper.

"You may have the rest of this evening off to practice if you wish."

"My thanks Madam," Galadriel said with a grin, bowing her way out the door.

It had been a lie, well, only partially a lie, for she had certainly seen all of the traditional Sindarin dances before, many a time in fact, but she had never danced them herself, nor had she ever had the fortune to be educated in them. Couples dances she had learned and, indeed, many a time had she danced them with Celeborn. But the dances performed by handmaidens and dancers of the palace were different; they were dances that told the history of Doriath, of Beleriand, of Arda.

And so this state of affairs had led her to her current predicament as she hurried through the corridors of Menegroth, trying to appear far calmer than she felt, at last coming to a door before which she had not stood for a very long time, hoping beyond hope that she would be admitted. Celeborn was right, there was no shame in asking for help, in admitting that you could not do something on your own, and besides, she hardly had any choice.

She raised her hand and knocked, sinking into a bow as the handmaiden answered the door. "I beg my lady's pardon," she said demurely, "but might I be permitted an audience with the Princess Luthien?" The handmaiden looked at her with some vague look of distaste, wrinkling her nose as though she smelled something unpleasant.

"I am afraid the princess is not in at the moment," the handmaiden replied, "and besides, she is not in the habit of conversing with…laundresses." The lady's eyes had settled upon the badge of rank over Galadriel's breast. Galadriel wanted to roll her eyes, for of course she knew Luthien better than that, but she reminded herself that this was no time for pride, that attaining a position as a dancer might enable her to better help Doriath, to help Venessiel, to help Celeborn, and so she merely bowed again and thanked the handmaiden politely before going. A brief search of Thingol's hall yielded no signs of Luthien either but it was not hard for Galadriel to guess where she might be.

And so she turned to the forest in pursuit, exiting the great gates of Menegroth. Where would Luthien be? In the forest, yes, but there were so many places in the forest that she was fond of. To a meadow no doubt, filled with moonlight, where she might dance beneath the stars to calm her soul, a place filled with nightingales who would sing with her as she danced. Melian had taught her which birds have an affinity for which trees and Galadriel struggled to recall now. The owl loved the oak and the robin the maple, the eagle was fond of the pine and the sparrow of the willow. And the nightingale…the nightingale…

The owl he sits in an old oak tree,

Merry, merry king of the branches he,

With his eyes so bright,

Hunting in the night,

Oh wise old owl won't you play with me?

The robin sits in a maple tree,

Her breast as red as a bright poppy,

With her merry song,

Our days seem not so long,

Oh robin my friend won't you play with me?

The eagle sits in an old pine tree,

Majestic lord of the skies is he,

With his talons so bright,

He gives us such a fright,

Oh great eagle won't you play with me?

The sparrow sits in an old willow tree,

A sociable fellow and a friend is he,

With his wings so small,

He warms the hearts of all,

Little sparrow won't you play with me?

The nightingale sits…

The nightingale sits…

Galadriel groaned and hummed the song through again. It was a Sindarin children's song, one Melian had taught her long ago, and she felt very silly singing such a thing meant for elflings.

The nightingale sits in an old beech tree!

Queen of the singers and minstrels she!

With her melody so clear!

We have no reason for fear!

Fair nightingale won't you play with me!

Galadriel nearly shouted the last verse in excitement at having remembered it and several of the elves lounging about on the lawn, enjoying the moonlight, turned to look at her as if she were completely mad. The nightingale's love was for beech, of course, that was why Menegroth was so full of beeches, Thingol's tribute to his daughter. She felt very silly for not having remembered.

With a yelp of joy Galadriel hurried forward, stepping quickly and lightly over the fallen brush, for she knew where there was a meadow, surrounded by beeches in whose branches roosted the nightingales and, as she approached, she slowed her pace almost to a creeping, for she heard the sweet melody of the birds' song, and the even sweeter reply of Luthien's song, and it was with caution that she stepped slowly from behind a tree to stand at the edge of the clearing. For though more than 60 years had now passed since she had returned to Menegroth, she had not spoken to Luthien in all that time. Indeed, they had not spoken since she had been exiled and though Galadriel had always known Luthien to be quick to forgive, there was still a fearful quaking that resided in her heart, a guilt for having betrayed the best and most steadfast of friends, for Luthien had trusted in her when others had not, not even Celeborn.

The glade was bathed in moonlight so that the grass moved in the gentle midnight breeze like waves upon a silver sea, the very air itself seemed to glimmer in the moonbeams like an enchanted mist. And there, in the midst of the clearing, danced Luthien like a vision of some mythical being or goddess come to earth to dance away the midnight hours and disappear like a ghost at dawn, the twilight princess. There was something in her dance that was so private that Galadriel almost felt as though she had seen something far too intimate, that she should quit this place and never let Luthien know that she had followed her here. It felt as though she had intruded now, for Luthien seemed so free here, so unburdened, so at peace.

So thinking, Galadriel made to shrink back into the trees but Luthien had already seen her, or perhaps she had sensed her presence from the start, and she stopped, holding out her hands to her friend as if to say, 'come join me,' and, slowly, Galadriel stepped forward, walking to meet her friend in the center of the clearing. And as they clasped hands, Luthien began to lead her in a slow dance, singing a low, sorrowful song. But the words were of a language unknown to Galadriel, a version of Doriathrin that was older, perhaps, than her, and the two of them swayed in the night like reeds along a stream, peaceful, calm, until at last, almost without knowing it, they came to a stop.

"Why were you hiding?" Luthien said at last with a smile.

"I did not want to interrupt you," Galadriel confessed.

"Nonsense, I could never think of you as an interruption," the princess said, her eyes alight with the stars. Luthien had never seen the two trees and yet there was a goodness in her that none who had seen them possessed. How wrong Feanor had been, Galadriel thought, how very wrong to say that the Noldor were better, stronger, greater of strength and heart.

"Have you…are you not angry with me?" Galadriel asked in disbelief and Luthien only smiled, a smile full of benevolence.

"Angry?" Luthien asked, as though she hardly understood what the word meant. "I have already forgotten what I ought to be angry about!" And, eyes glimmering, she laughed, a sound like bells. The princess of Doriath had not the capacity for hatred.

Galadriel could not stand it any longer and, hardly understanding her own emotions, she burst into a veritable flood of tears. "I am so sorry!" She blubbered. "I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of you." The tears were streaming down her face and Luthien looked at her as if she understood most profoundly. "I expected hatred from you, from Celeborn, from your father and mother, nay, I deserved hatred from those of you who loved me best and instead I have found forgiveness. I have done nothing, nothing to merit your kindness."

Luthien seemed to know what to do and drew her friend into her arms, holding her tight. "Oh Galadriel," she said, "don't you know that love has nothing to do with whether we deserve it or not?" And she held Galadriel for a long while as she sobbed, until the Noldo had nearly exhausted her tears.

"Luthien?" Galadriel asked.

"What is it?" The princess asked her, concerned, drawing back to wipe her friend's tears away.

"Do you think it possible that…that my parents still love me? I…I see my mother's face in my dreams, the way she looked at me the last time I saw her…as if I had cut her beating heart out of her chest and dashed it to the ground beneath my foot. My father…I cannot forget the pain in his eyes as he turned back on his way to Valinor, knowing it would be the last time he ever saw me."

"Possible?" Luthien's brow creased with concern. "They most definitely love you, Galadriel, else they would not have endured your leaving with such pain. A parent will always love their elfling, no matter how far they go, no matter if they do the most wretched of things. I am sure that my father and mother would love me no matter what I did. Even if I became as Curufin."

"You could never," Galadriel stammered, wiping away the still-flowing tears. "You are goodness itself embodied."

Luthien smirked. "Oh I don't know," she said. "Sometimes I do some very naughty things. When I was yet a young elf and Celeborn was only a babe I accidentally broke one of my mother's favorite vases. I knew my mother could never be angry with a baby and, fearing her anger, I took Celeborn and set him beside the broken vase so that when it was discovered it appeared as though he had done it. It was not until I heard his parents apologizing so profusely to my mother that I felt any remorse at all."

"Really?" Galadriel laughed. "I would never have believed you capable of such a thing."

"Really." Luthien said with a smile. "Are you feeling a bit better now?" Galadriel nodded.

"Then let us speak nothing more of sorrow!" Luthien laughed. "Let us be joyful from now on, my friend, for you are here and I am here and what do past grievances matter when life itself lies before us?" Looking into her eyes, glimmering with happiness in the starlight, Galadriel could find only joy in her heart, indeed, had Morgoth himself stood before Luthien now he would have been smiling.

"I was wondering…well, hoping rather, that if you are not too busy, if you don't mind," Galadriel stammered while Luthien looked at her expectantly. She paused, collecting her thoughts once more. "Luthien, I've asked for a position as a dancer and they're giving me a test tomorrow…"

"Well you will certainly be needing to know the traditional Sindarin dances then," Luthien said with a smile.

"Yes! That's what I was hoping," Galadriel replied and Luthien closed her eyes, a small smile upon her face as she began to sway gently back and forth.

"I will teach you all of them!" Luthien replied, "and you shall dance them most splendidly. I am sure of it! Now, do you know how the stars came to be hung in the sky?"

"Of course, Galadriel said, "it was Varda who kindled them there."

"Oh no silly!" Luthien laughed, spinning about, and Galadriel grinned. It was a surprise to her to learn that the Sindar might have a different version of events but she was eager to hear it.

"Then tell me how!" She called to her friend and Luthien danced back.

"Dance with me," the princess said, "let us dance the dance of the stars!" And she leapt through the meadow as if she were a child. "A long time ago," she said, "there were no stars at all to dance in the heavens and our whole earth was covered with a great blanket of darkness. In that darkness there played many elven children and most of all they loved to imitate the fantastic creatures of our world. Then one day a strange child came amongst them but they knew not fear and invited him to play with them whereupon he pretended to be a great bear, chasing the children through the forest." And now Luthien took on the aspect of a bear, stalking about and looking quite fierce.

"The children ran about, laughing and enjoying themselves, pretending to be afraid, but then a very strange thing happened," she said, growing wide-eyed. She leapt into the air as if to show surprise. "The strange boy turned into a real bear, a great bear, a massive bear with sharp claws and sharper teeth." The princess turned, as if she were frightening a group of children.

"And he chased the children and they ran, not feigning fear this time, but feeling it in earnest. It was then that a kindly beech tree beckoned to them, urging them to hide themselves in her branches and the children climbed into her branches but the bear followed them, its horrible great claws scouring the bark of the brave tree, and then it began to climb the tree, following the children, wishing to devour them. But the tree grew up, up, up, taller and taller into the sky, bearing the children towards the heavens until the bear could no longer follow. And, having come to the sky, the children saw how marvelous the heavens were and decided to make their home there. Thus they became the stars and still they look down upon us today, and upon the trees, who turn their leaves towards the light of the stars in memory of the bond that they share." With that, Luthien's dance came to an end and she bowed low. Galadriel stood in awe at the beauty of the story and of Luthien's dance. Suddenly, she felt as though she could understand the Sindar better.

"Now," Luthien said, "I will teach you the dance of the Sirion."

Galadriel's next worry was how to obtain a dancing costume, for she had asked the other girls and one of the more senior dancers had told her that she would be expected to provide her own. She had hurriedly counted the coins that she had hoarded away in her chest, wondering if it would be enough for something simple. Maybe she could get a cheaper cut of silk, but she very much doubted whether she would have enough for the ornate headdresses and the silver bells that the dancers wore around their wrists and ankles. And then she wondered if it were even possible for a tailor to make her such a thing in only a day and cursed herself for not having thought this whole business out better.

"Do you realize how terrible our pay is?" She had fumed to Bainwen as she counted her coins again, as if that would somehow magically make them multiply. "What for all the trouble we put up with you would think it would be better!"

"Oh believe me, Naneth, I know," Bainwen had groaned in response.

But, it turned out that she needn't have worried over it at all, for when she returned from the laundries in the morning she had found a cedar box on her bed. "You got a package," one of the girls said to her in passing. "I think there is a letter from one of your brothers as well." She had lifted the lid of the box to find something truly splendid inside, a dancer's costume of deep violet silk, the sash embroidered with silver swans. It was studded with small pearls and elegantly hemmed in designs of silver thread. All of the jewelry was there as well, a headdress of silver and pearls, bangles of silver bells, and, atop it all, a small, folded note that read:

I rather think that gold suits you better but I'm afraid that all of mine are silver. I hope this one will do. Keep it as long as you need.

– Luthien

Thus it was that the following evening found Galadriel in the highest of spirits and quite prepared for her exam as she dressed in the magnificent costume. The other girls gathered around, gasping and admiring the outfit and Bainwen in particular seemed so overwhelmed with awe that she could hardly contain it.

"Wherever did you get such a thing?" One of them asked her.

"A friend," she told them. "But I am only borrowing it."

She followed Madam Lhaineth to the dance master's study, surprised to find that all the dancers were there as well, watching curiously as the dance master greeted them. She had a pleasant, heart-shaped face and long auburn waves of hair that fell to her waist. She was not nearly as stern looking as Madam Lhaineth.

"I was surprised when you informed me that you had an applicant," she told Madam Lhaineth. "It has been a while since you recommended anyone. However, when you told me that the applicant was Galadriel I thought it only natural. I still recall her dance before the court, oh when was that? It must have been nearly 190 years ago if I remember correctly, just after she arrived in this city for the first time." She smiled.

"Oh, yes, yes. She certainly is a talented dancer," Madam Lhaineth chimed in and Galadriel had to stifle a laugh. She knew full well that Madam Lhaineth had never seen her dance, but currying favor of those who held higher positions than she was something that interested Madam Lhaineth even more than sherry and her papers.

"Well the girls are very eager to see her dance," the dance master said. "I know that they are hoping she can teach them some foreign dances." Galadriel glanced around at the other dancers and smiled. She recognized many of their faces from the dormitory and she was surprised to note that, though there were a few sour glances, most of them did indeed seem excited that she was there. Perhaps the Sindar were not as filled with hate as she had thought.

"I had assumed that you would want to test her in the traditional dances," Madam Lhaineth said.

"Well of course I shall," the dance master said. "But what is life without a little variety?"

"Of course," Madam Lhaineth wheedled, "variety is the spice of life after all," though there was a slight tone in her voice that indicated she found nothing more distasteful.

"If you would please begin with the Dance of the Stars, then on to the Dance of the Sirion, and finish with Orome's dance, Galadriel," the dance master said. "Then perhaps I could get you show us some of your Valinorian dances." With that the musicians struck up the tune.

"Well? Well?" Bainwen was the only one still awake by the time that they returned, for the dance master had wanted to spend a long while in conversation with Galadriel and all of the other dancers had returned before she and Madam Lhaineth did.

"Bainwen, you ought to be in bed," Madam Lhaineth scolded the messy-haired Laiquendi who was jogging in place, having waited to ambush them at the door. Galadriel briefly wondered if she had had that much energy when she was in her 80s.

"Yes Madam Lhaineth! Of course Madam Lhaineth! Right away ma'am!" Bainwen exclaimed. She seemed to have a knack for dealing with the taciturn chief maid that Galadriel could not quite get the hang of. It seemed to mostly involve enthusiastically agreeing to do whatever Madam Lhaineth told her and then never actually doing it.

Madam Lhaineth retired to her quarters and Bainwen grasped her friend's hands. "Well? Did you get it! Don't keep me waiting!" She exclaimed.

"Yes! I did!" Galadriel said, her face brimming with happiness.

"Oh well done! Well done! I am so happy for you!" Bainwen cried, nearly loud enough to wake up the entire dormitory, throwing her arms about her friend and embracing her.

"Wherever did you get that?" Celeborn asked as Galadriel sashayed her way into the abandoned courtyard wearing a spectacular dancing costume of the most delicate pale blue silk trimmed in pale gold embroidery and embellished with tiny white pearls that seemed to shimmer with the sun's light. She was eating some sort of pastry and she stopped eating it to speak.

"It is marvelous is it not?" She said with a grin. Her wrists and ankles jingled with tiny pale gold bells and atop her head was a magnificent headdress of gold and pearls, a similarly fashioned girdle sat low across her hips beneath her bare stomach. The skin there looked soft, smooth, inviting… "A present from Finrod. The bangles are from Aegnor and Angrod. Tell me what you think!" She implored him, spinning about, and she managed to make him laugh.

"It is very nice," he told her and she rolled her eyes, moving to sit beside him. Perhaps it wasn't fair, perhaps it was horribly vain, but she had wanted him to say that she looked beautiful, spectacular, magnificent. She wanted…suddenly she felt very awkward but she almost thought that she had wanted him to look astounded, speechless.

"That's all you have to say – very nice. What a friend you are, Celeborn," she grumbled. There were a good many more things Celeborn wished to say, things that had risen unbidden to his mind, but he deemed it wiser not to give voice to them, lest she accuse him of being horribly debauched and never speak to him again. He swallowed, trying to will away the rather disconcerted and decidedly unfriendly thoughts that crowded his mind. Galadriel seemed to recover from her momentary irritation with him. "Here, try this." She stuffed a bit of the pastry she was eating into his mouth.

"Galadriel, you've already been chewing on it," he protested but the Valinorean maid was in far too good of spirits to let his protests stop her.

"Ah, ah!" She scolded him and he obediently took a bite of whatever it was she was offering him. It was an unpleasant surprise.

"Aule's balls that's terrible!" He exclaimed, just barely managing to choke the pastry down. "Did you make that?"

"No," she replied with a grin. "My friend Bainwen made it and I told her it was delicious. You had better tell her that too if you ever meet her. She's my friend."

"I doubt I shall ever meet her," Celeborn replied.

"I have been wondering, Celeborn," Galadriel said, seating herself beside him and broaching the issue that she truly did not wish to broach, for she was in a perfectly happy mood after all, but felt she must, "if it isn't a little bit overly conspicuous for us to keep meeting this way." For, Venessiel's warning of the evil some wished upon her was still fresh in her mind and she feared the consequences for both of them should they be discovered.

"I have taken care of that. They will give us no trouble even if we are discovered," He said, his green eyes flickering towards hers and she thought he looked uncharacteristically nervous.

"No, that isn't quite what I mean," she stammered. The truth of the matter was that the more she spoke to Celeborn the more often he occupied her thoughts. And, particularly since she had warned him about her vision, she found herself consumed with worry over what would become of him, her mind preoccupied with dissecting the vision, trying to discern whether or not it would come to pass, and she feared more than anything that it might be his association with her that had endangered his life. "What I mean is …I think we should not meet so frequently…if at all."

"Do you mean to imply that it is my fault?" Celeborn asked, looking extremely put out. "You have sought me out just as much as I have sought you out!" There was a nearly manic quality to his behavior as he rubbed his hands together, his breathing quick and shallow.

"No, it isn't that," Galadriel exclaimed, assuaging his fears, wondering why Celeborn seemed suddenly so defensive and upset at the prospect of losing her company. She had not thought that it would matter this much to him. Gently she reached out, touching his hands, stilling his frantic movements. "I don't mean to hurt you," she stammered. Her heart was pounding.

"Then tell me the truth, Galadriel," he murmured, his eyes meeting hers, his gaze firm and she sighed. Now that it had come to it, the guilt and sorrow she felt threatened to overwhelm her. Yes, she was on friendly terms with Luthien and, yes, Bainwen was dear to her as well, but she had no one she knew as well, no one she trusted, no one she valued more than Celeborn. Tears brimmed in her eyes that had only moments before been filled with joy and she bit her lip as those tears began to fall, slowly, silently.

"Oh, Galadriel," Celeborn whispered in a tone of pity, drawing her into his arms and, though she knew that she really should not allow it, she drank in the warmth of him, the strength of him that surrounded her, the smell of him, and somehow his embrace managed to bring her some small measure of comfort. "I am sorry for being cross with you," he said, thinking it was his fault. "There is no shame in tears," he whispered.

She closed her eyes and found herself in a sunlit meadow, marveling at all of the colors of the tall grasses that grew there, flaming amber and rich gold, vibrant greens and soft browns, deep hues of indigo. And all about were tiny yellow and white flowers. The edge of the horizon was burning now in crisp oranges that slowly began to fade to pink and, at the rim of the world the sun began to rise, a great golden ball of glory. She heard a gasp and her eyes snapped open, thinking that they must have been found but she saw no signs of any disturbance, only Celeborn still holding her and, gently, she pulled away. He seemed reluctant to let her go.

"You think that it is your fault – the vision, my death," he said softly, meeting her gaze as he reached up to wipe away her tears. She nodded numbly.

"I cannot help but think that it is because you were caught up with me, that I may have brought the doom of Mandos down upon you as well," she admitted, her voice cracking. "I can never forgive myself for it and I don't expect you to forgive me either. Even the worst of my enemies would not deserve such a fate but never, never would I have wished it upon you." She looked up at him, her eyes still full of tears though they no longer fell.

"I have seen it," she said, "the hard life that your people live here in this land. I have seen with my own eyes and heard from both your lips and theirs how the evil of Morgoth has plagued them, has plagued this land that they love. They need hope, Celeborn, they need a future and I know that they depend upon Thingol and Melian, they depend upon you and upon Luthien for that. You brought peace to them by building Menegroth, with Melian's girdle, by winning the Battle of Beleriand. If anything were to happen to you it would cause such devastation. And besides…I…I would be devastated too."

"I know," Celeborn said, stroking her hair comfortingly. "But for centuries now I have been well aware of the doom that lies upon you, Galadriel, and it does not frighten me."

"Why?" She asked him and he merely shrugged, giving her a small smile.

"I suppose," he said, "it is because I have a far lesser opinion of the Valar than you do. In my experience, they have not done such a good job of keeping their promises so why should I expect them to make good on their threats?" Galadriel merely stared at him, as though she could not decide whether to be more shocked by his blasphemy or by how little he seemed to care.

"And what is more," he told her, "I have found the children of Finarfin to be loyal and kind of heart. Pride you may have in abundance, yes, but I have not even half the compassion that you and Felagund possess. To rob this world of such good hearts would be a crime indeed. So if Namo wants to come for either of you to spirit you away to Mandos, you had better believe he will have to kill me first. And I am a Sinda. We are difficult to kill, like roaches."

But, despite the confidence of his words, he could feel his heart quaking within his chest at the fear that she would discover what he had done. She had been right to think that he had been drawn into her fate, right to discern that from her visions, but it was not for the reason she thought. It was not her fault; she had not brought the doom of Mandos upon him. He had brought it upon himself, from the moment that he had made the cuts, pressed his veins to hers, mingled their blood. He had taken the blood, the life force of one condemned by the Valar themselves into his own body and he had no doubt that the consequences, the doom, now lay upon his own shoulders just as surely as it lay upon hers. He had done it willingly, knowingly, freely.

"Roaches?" Galadriel sniffed and then laughed, though her eyes were still full of tears, for she could hardly believe what he had said. "You are my dearest friend," she whispered, squeezing his hand if only for the excuse to touch him again.

"And you are mine," Celeborn said with a small smile, consoling her. It would not do for her to suffer on his account. "I would hate to lose your company for there are so many days when I feel that it is the only things that keeps me sane, that keeps me focused on my goals. This is an exceedingly hard time for me, what with this business at Himring, with my uncle slowly fading, with my kingdom facing war. It is at times like this that we need our friends most of all."

"So you will not allow me to call our friendship off then I suppose," she said.

"Not unless you beg me to do otherwise," he told her. "You are important to Doriath, Galadriel, to me," he told her. "You may not realize it but it is so. Your perspectives, even though I must relay them second hand to Thingol, are valuable, they allow us to better conduct our affairs with your cousins. And besides, at this point I honestly do not know how I would keep my wits about me if I did not have you to confide my problems and frustrations to."

"What is more, you had best forget this business with the vision," he told her. "As you said yourself, you cannot be sure what will come to pass, or how much truth, if any, there is in it. Let us simply take things as they come." Guilt tugged at him. He had cautioned her against Venessiel but he was being no more truthful than she.

"Then I would be glad to continue to call you my friend," she told him with a smile.

"I am glad to hear it," Celeborn said, desperately wishing to turn this conversation towards other things. "Now tell me, how is your new position coming along?"

"I like it very much," Galadriel said, brightening. "I have only served at a few parties so far but things seem to be going well. I am learning a good deal from the other dancers and they have taken a keen interest in the dances of Aman as well."

"That is good," Celeborn replied, happy for her. "It seems you are moving up in the world." Galadriel laughed at that.

"It rather feels that way," she said, "and it is a very good feeling." At that thought she wondered for a moment if she could do this on her own, if she could forge her own path, if she need not ride Venessiel's coattails to the top.

"Thingol shall be hosting a party of his own in the upcoming weeks," Celeborn told her. "We are having some emissaries, led by a chieftainess called Nellas, coming to visit from our northernmost towns, those that have been most affected by what Maedhros is doing. Nothing too formal," he told her, "no diplomatic discussion or negotiations certainly, but it is my hope that casual conversation over the matter might help to alter Saeros's mind somewhat, or could possibly turn the minds of some of his supporters. It would be rather fortunate if you were able to be there, seeing as Saeros will be in attendance."

"It would," Galadriel said, "but I certainly would not pin your hopes on it. I only entertain at the parties of rich merchants and the like. They will send the very best and most experienced dancers for the king's party. But I certainly hope you shall enjoy it."

"Oh I enjoy nothing at which Saeros is present," Celeborn said with a laugh, shaking his silver head. Galadriel watched the sunlight move across the moonglow of him, the way the shadows dipped into the curve of his neck through his open collar, the way his simple linen shirt sat along the breadth of his shoulders. He wore no tunic today, no robes, only a shirt and breeches. It was Tuesday, she remembered; he must have been sparring with the wardens. She swallowed.

"Well then, I had better be getting back before my curfew," she said, a phrase that was now very familiar to the both of them.

"Of course," he replied, but she was already hurrying from the courtyard before he could get the words out of his mouth. He felt strangely hollow without her by his side.

"Girls! Girls!"

Madam Lhaineth was preening, tucking the stray strand of hair that made her seem somewhat less severe back into her tight braid, smoothing her uniform, straightening her cap.

"Girls!" She cried, managing to simultaneously look pleased and intimidating. She clapped her hands and they all sprang from their beds, where they had been sitting, to stand at attention before their trunks. The excitement in the room was palpable. Each and every one of them was wondering why they had been called back from their duties so suddenly and why the dance master was present. Galadriel was quite certain that she knew the reason.

"Girls," Madam Lhaineth said again, beginning to walk slowly down the row, her hands clasped before her as if this were the evening inspection. "Your presence has been requested this evening at a private gathering arranged by the King himself." The hall erupted in giggles and whispers but a stern glance from Madam Lhaineth was enough to quiet them all again. "You are to assist several of the Princess Luthien's handmaidens and some of the gentlemen's footmen in serving the party this evening. I expect that you will all obey their instructions exactly and show proper decorum."

"Yes Madam Lhaineth," the girls replied in unison but they could hardly stop their excited whispering.

"Very well then. You are to go to the baths immediately and then you must come back directly and put on your very tidiest and very best uniforms. Only five of you are needed. One of the princes will be coming himself to select which five will be accorded this special honor so I suggest that you be on your very best behavior." At that the hall erupted in a flurry of chatter that even Madam Lhaineth seemed unable to stifle.

"Madam Lhaineth!" One of the girls raised her hand and the chief maid turned to her, nodding. "Which prince will it be?"

"Is it Prince Celeborn?" Bainwen called out, unable to restrain her anticipation, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Madam Lhaineth shot her a warning look for not having raised her hand or addressed her properly.

"That I do not know. Off to the baths with all of you now and do not tarry!"

They all practically ran to the bathhouses, scrubbing themselves clean almost frantically before the whole lot of them plunged into the water like some herd of wild animals. Galadriel got a few nasty glances but she countered them quickly, "well get out then if you don't like it," she cried, leaning back against the wall of the baths and closing her eyes. Several of the girls laughed.

"Oh it has been so very long since the King requested our services at a party!" Bainwen said, surfacing from beneath the hot water. Her eyes were wide with excitement. "Maybe I stand a chance!" She said in breathless anticipation. "I am a proper maid now, not a laundress after all and I haven't caused any trouble for Madam Lhaineth recently. Paniel is still stuck down in the laundries. They certainly won't choose her." Bainwen laughed gleefully at the thought.

"I thought the prince was to choose?" Galadriel said.

"Yes, but Madam Lhaineth will filter out the ones she doesn't like first," the girl said and then they all started to climb out of the baths, drying off with fresh towels before stampeding back to their quarters.

"Well then I suppose I do not stand a chance at all," Galadriel grumbled with a good-natured grin. She had never expected to stand a chance anyway.

A couple of hours later they were all neatly lined up, not in the dormitory itself, but in the antechamber, which was a much finer room and less messy besides. Madam Lhaineth did not deem it proper for a man to see a woman's bed. Galadriel swallowed, nervous, clasping her hands tightly to herself, wondering if she was lucky enough for it to be Celeborn. There was a knock on the door and the whispers that rose up were quickly silenced by Madam Lhaineth and the dance master. A footman opened the door and Galadriel felt her heart drop as she realized that it was not Celeborn, but Galathil. Well, it was better than Oropher at least, she supposed. Not that this helped her any. She was far too new and inexperienced of a dancer to ever be chosen and, even if she were, Madam Lhaineth would certainly never allow her to go, the chief maid had not forgotten her spats with Paniel.

"Prince Galathil," Madam Lhaineth and the dance master both sank into a low bow and the girls all followed suit.

"Ladies," Galathil bowed to them, flashing a winning smile, and Galadriel nearly snorted with laughter, remembering what a terrible romantic Celeborn's brother was. "Now, Madam Lhaineth, would you be so kind as to advise me which of your girls have exhibited superior standards of service? I am under strict instructions to bring only the best," the prince said.

"Of course your highness," Madam Lhaineth replied, simpering, and she moved down the row, tapping girls on the shoulder who then stepped forward. Galadriel was not surprised when she was not chosen, but she saw Bainwen step forward and found some comfort in her friend's success. Galathil stepped forward, speaking to several of the girls and then quickly selected two. He paused for a moment, seeming undecided, and then gestured to Bainwen, who did her best to keep her composure, though Galadriel could tell she was practically jumping for delight. She smiled. Galathil looked left then right, then gestured for the girls to step back into the line.

"Only three your highness?" Madam Lhaineth asked, concerned.

"I shall need two dancers as well," the prince said and the dance master moved down the line now, tapping the most experienced dancers on the shoulders. They all stepped forward in a jingle of bells and, once more, Galadriel was not chosen. Galathil quickly selected Silevren, the most experienced and accomplished of the dancers, an energetic lady with black hair, snowy white skin, and lips as red as a winter rose, a true image of Sindarin beauty.

"Silevren is a fine choice, your highness," Madam Lhaineth simpered. But Galathil had stopped now before Galadriel and she raised her eyes, curtsying slightly.

"Her," Galathil said, nodding at Galadriel. His eyes met hers and she thought that she just might see the hint of a smile in them, though Galathil wore a serious expression now.

"H…her?" Madam Lhaineth spluttered. "Oh no, respectfully, your highness. You don't want that girl, certainly not that girl. She is very poorly behaved. She fights, fistfights, even, with the other girls." Galathil only laughed.

"But she is a talented dancer, your highness," the dance master said, "rather new though. Not that I mean to question your judgment. Galadriel is a fine choice if that is what your highness wants."

"Then I trust that Silevren will help her if she needs it," he said, nodding to the other dancer. "I have seen Galadriel dance before and, as I recall, she was quite stunning. I remember my brother certainly thought so. I thought I would never hear the end of it from him." The prince grinned and many of the girls were forced to stifle the laughter that threatened to escape them at the prince's cheeky comment, including Galadriel, though her face burned crimson with embarrassment. Sometimes she wished that Galathil were less blunt and more tactful. "Besides there are many attending this party who are so stuck in their ways. I think it might do to liven things up with something rather…exotic." Galadriel could tell how much Galathil was enjoying this.

"If…if your highness is certain…" Madam Lhaineth said, unable to believe it. Galathil was certain and, a few minutes later, he was leading them all through the corridors to where the party would be held, the girls following him in awe.

"I…I beg your pardon your highness," Galadriel whispered as they walked. "But why have you chosen me? There are many other girls who are more…"

"Because I saw fit," Galathil said, and then, cracking a grin, "and because I wish to watch you vex my brother."

"Yes, your highness," Galadriel said, unable to think of anything better to say, stepping back in line with the other girls but their eyes had gone wide at the prince's words and she could tell that they were practically bursting with excitement. But mostly she was confused, for she had never been able to work out how Galathil felt about her when last she had been in Menegroth and Celeborn had recently told her that his brother had not been at all pleased by her return. Maybe it was just as he said, that he wished to play a little joke on Celeborn. It was certainly within the realm of things that Galathil would do.

He had taken them to a small antechamber where they had been introduced to some of Luthien's handmaidens, some of whom Galadriel already knew, and they then began to plate food, wipe glasses, and uncork wine bottles in preparation for the party. She was not the only unorthodox choice that Galathil had made, Galadriel noted. The girl working beside her, Inwen, was very diligent in her duties but, though a servant, she was not a maid but a nurse at the houses of healing and had very little knowledge of or experience with entertaining. Galadriel turned to her right, where Bainwen was quivering with excitement and grinned. Something about her friend's joy was infectious. But they had only been at this for the span of half an hour before that joy was turned on its head when Galadriel heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Galadriel!" She froze, hearing the collective shriek of surprise from the other girls. Inwen dropped a plate and it shattered on the ground.

"Valar, it's really true!" She heard Bainwen squeak and she turned to find Celeborn behind her. He was looking extremely formal for having claimed that this would be a casual party, his long silver hair hung loose but he wore his crown and an elegantly brocaded robe of evergreen silk with a crisp white collar at his throat and a mantle of dusky, soft, gray velvet.

"I did not think Galathil was serious," he gasped. "I thought certainly he was lying, that it was a joke he intended to play on me, get my hopes up and…" he looked around, noticing that the other girls were staring at him in wide-eyed wonder. Bainwen in particular was trembling at the knees and looked fit to collapse. Even Galadriel herself stood frozen, wondering what on earth could possibly have possessed him to speak to her in front of the other servants. Perhaps he thought that because they were servants it would not matter, but Galadriel knew that they spread gossip like wildfire. She did live with them after all.

"I…" he put a hand on Galadriel's bare waist to guide her from the room, indicating he had realized that the present situation would not do and that he would rather speak to her privately, but the other girls let out another gasp at the gesture of intimacy. Galadriel glanced from him to her friends. "…in private," he mumbled.

"Of course," Galadriel replied, nodding quickly and following him from the room and down a narrow corridor that the servants commonly used. "Do you want all sorts of rumors floating around this palace?" Galadriel hissed, turning to him. "Because that is exactly how rumors start!"

"That was Galathil's trick!" Celeborn fumed, hands on his hips, looking as though steam were about to billow out of his ears. "He told me you were alone, that you wished to speak to me about…he made me think that you were going to tell me…never mind what I though! I shall have his head for it!"

"Does he know that we have been meeting in private?" Galadriel asked, worried of what might happen to the both of them, of the terrible political and personal consequences that seemed to lie in store.

"I did not think so!" Celeborn exclaimed. "But maybe I was mistaken." He was now beginning to think that meeting in private was, perhaps, more of a liability than meeting publicly would have been. It certainly did look suspicious, meeting in that courtyard where no one could observe them, observe that their behavior towards one another was…was…friendly. And yet he knew why it was that he had been meeting her in private: because in public he never would have been able to speak to her so freely, to hold her hand, to embrace her. He could already imagine what Saeros would say. If you are being perfectly honorable as you have claimed, Celeborn, then why meet with her in private? Or was your little speech all a lie?

"Have you said…" she began.

"No," he replied, "I have said nothing about it to anyone." And then he seemed to collect himself a little and quit his pacing, turning back to her. "I will take care of it," he told her, "you needn't worry. But what will you say to the other girls?"

"I think nothing is best," Galadriel told him. "They will doubtlessly gossip but any reply I make to their questions would only inflame it. I will say nothing." Celeborn nodded.

"Look," he said, looking very serious and, in all his finery, Galadriel thought he looked like a king when he put on a serious face, and a very handsome one at that, "I have been thinking. About this thing with Saeros, I don't want you to feel as though I am putting undue pressure on you. I never expected that you would be at this party but now you are and, well, I know you must be thinking that this is your chance to peer into his mind. But I want you to know that if you do not want to carry through with it, if you have any doubts, any misgivings, then you do not need to do this. I would never want you to do anything you are uncomfortable with."

"My decision still stands," Galadriel said. "Doriath is my home too and I want to help her if I can. I will look into Saeros's mind. I promise you that it does not bother me. I have done so with many others."

"But Saeros despises you and despises the Noldor," Celeborn told her. "I am worried that you will find something there in his mind, some horrid thought that will hurt you."

"Celeborn," she smiled and reached up, tucking his hair behind his ear, tugging on the tip. He swatted her hand away playfully. "I have told you before. You do not need to worry over me or protect me. I can handle myself, I assure you. I did grow up with three brothers after all and they could give Galathil a run for his money as far as embarrassing pranks are concerned." He grinned and she was happy to see that he had relaxed a little.

"I know," he told her. "But somehow I cannot help it." Galadriel rolled her eyes and smiled.

"Then I shall have to count you as my fourth brother!" She whispered. His heart sank. "Now I must be getting back and quickly or they will be dreaming up all sorts of ideas about us!" And with that she turned, walking down the corridor and taking a deep breath before pushing the door open. She had a tough time of it, seeing as how all of them had had their ears pressed up against it, and they gaped at her as they tumbled backwards into the room.

"You were listening?" Galadriel asked them and was met by silent and somewhat ashamed nods. She had hoped that they were far away enough and had spoken quietly enough that the others could not hear but the elves of Middle Earth had ears as keen as wolves' ears and so she thought they must have heard nearly everything.

"I mean, I know what people said…" Silevren said, "but I never really believed it until today." The other girls nodded.

"It is nothing," Galadriel replied, shaking her head as if it hadn't mattered at all. It had mattered. It had mattered a lot. "It was merely something about the party. Now let us get back to work." But the other girls restrained her.

"Oh do tell us everything, oh please!" Inwen implored her.

"It is nothing?" Bainwen repeated Galadriel's words, her eyes wide with wonder and excitement. "Naneth, he is in love with you, madly in love with you!"

"He is most certainly not in love with me," Galadriel said dismissively with a laugh. She was less sure of that than she had made herself sound and yet not sure enough that she was unbothered by it. She shook off their hands and took up a corkscrew, going back to work on the wine bottles. But the other girls seemed to have lost all interest in work and gathered around her again.

"His is absolutely in love with you," Silevren said and the other girls nodded. "I have been a dancer for a very long time and I have seen those unnoticed glances, the way that men look at the women they love."

"He isn't," Galadriel remained adamant even though of late she had begun to have doubts about the matter in her own heart, about her feelings, about his.

"Look, we're not all as old as you Naneth, but we know love when we see it," Bainwen replied. Galadriel put the corkscrew down and turned to face them. It seemed they were not about to give up as easily as she had hoped.

"He isn't," she said firmly. "He told me as much himself." She had thought that would quiet them but it did not.

"But how long ago?" Silevren asked.

"Sixty years or so, just after I got in that horrid fight with Paniel," Galadriel confessed though she knew it would have been better to keep her mouth shut.

"Well that is plenty of time for a heart to change," Silevren replied. The other girls nodded.

"Look," Galadriel told them. "I really do not wish to talk about it anymore so please do not make me, I beg of you."

"But you mustn't ignore this!" Bainwen pleaded.

"Don't tell me what I must and mustn't do," Galadriel said. The corkscrew tumbled from her hands and she slammed them down on the table, closing her eyes to stop the tears that threatened to flow for some godforsaken reason she did not understand. She wanted to pick something up, throw it, break it. The girls went dead silent.

She did not understand the way that Celeborn made her feel anymore, Celeborn: her beautiful, kind, generous, funny, friend. Celeborn had always been so straightforward, so bold, it had always been what she loved best – no not love! Like! Like, dammit! It had always been what she liked best about him. If his feelings were as they said then he would have said something by now. He would never have held them back! But why should she care anyhow. Things were decided between them. They had decided how they felt. It was over and done.

"I'm sorry Naneth," Bainwen whispered and Galadriel nodded in acceptance of her apology. She felt someone draw her into a hug.

"Don't cry, you'll ruin your makeup and look like a badger," Silevren whispered in her ear. Galadriel laughed a bit and nodded, opening her eyes again, blinking the tears away.

"We're sorry," Inwen said, rubbing her arm. Galadriel took a shuddering breath.

"I know," she said, "let's just…let's just get back to work."

Nellas was not a great beauty in the vein of Melian, or Luthien, or Galadriel, but there was something about her that drew the eye and perhaps it was her ineffable charisma and energy, her delight in everything. She was a Sindarin woman in the true meaning of the word, gregarious, bold, not one of these city courtiers all bound up in society and tradition and stagnant customs, but a frontierswoman with the spirit to match. She wore no gown, but dressed instead in breeches, a tunic, and a cape of wolf's skin. She wore armor of leather and mail, a great longbow across her back, and brilliant blue feathers in her ornately braided hair.

That seemed to be the one feminine touch that she allowed herself, for she laughed as loud as any man, drank as hard as any man, and cursed like one of Cirdan's sailors. Celeborn liked her all the more for it, for he liked those who had nothing to hide and, indeed, he could understand how Beleg had come to love her. Young she may be, but the spirit of old Doriath, the spirit of the forest, was abundantly alive in her.

And young though she was, he watched as the other Chieftains she had brought with her, elf men and women of greater age and experience, deferred to her judgment, for Nellas was wise in the ways of the world, in the ways of the forest, and she could speak in the language of trees and the tongues of birds and beasts. The party had greeted Thingol warmly and he had replied in kind, glad that his chieftains from the outer cities had come to visit and hopeful that a peaceful resolution could be reached. Saeros and his kind had been more hesitant in their greetings though polite nonetheless, for they well understood what a significant event it was for these elves to have come all the way to the capital.

"You must be Celeborn," Nellas said, meeting his eyes with her own dark laughing ones and she did not bow, but shook Celeborn's hand as though she had presumed them equals. He smiled and laughed, grateful for the gesture.

"I am," he told her,

"Then I am very glad that you asked Beleg to invite us," she told him. "We are very grateful for your patronage and much look forward to your support."

"I regret that we could not do something sooner," Celeborn told her. He was also regretting that he was not finding himself more capable of pleasant conversation but his mind was still preoccupied with Galadriel. Despite her insistence that he not worry on her behalf he found that he could do nothing but feel exceedingly anxious for what he knew she was about to do.

"Then let us move forward from this day," she said with a beaming smile as they moved within Menegroth's gates, "into a new dawn for our people."

Celeborn cursed himself while Thingol gave their guests a tour of the palace and he cursed himself all throughout the banquet, for he could not tear his mind away from his worry for Galadriel and he was greatly concerned that it was hindering his ability to be as attentive to their guests as he ought to be.

He knew that Nellas had been speaking to him for some time and yet he hardly knew what she was saying and he merely nodded and replied with affirming words. He had gone to all of this trouble to bring them here and now he felt as though he was destroying all of it, and not just his work, but Beleg's as well. He tried to refocus his thoughts, to remind himself that Doriath depended upon him, and that was when he felt Nellas's hand on his leg beneath the table, gradually moving its way up to his upper thigh. He nearly choked on his dinner. And he would have pushed her hand away except that he was rescued by chance when Thingol took that exact moment to bring the banquet to a close and they all rose, adjourning to the festivities that had been prepared.

Galadriel breathed a sigh of relief when at last Thingol and all his guests entered the hall for though she had great confidence in her dancing abilities, it would be her first time to perform the Sindarin dances before the royal family.

"You will do a splendid job; I am sure of it! Just follow my lead if you get lost," Silevren whispered to her and the two of them bowed while the maids bustled about, bringing in platters of food, glasses, and bottles of fine liquor. The whole party was laughing and seemed to be in high spirits except, Galadriel noted, for Celeborn, whose gaze she caught as he entered. He seemed tense, even more tense than usual, tenser than when she had seen him only a few hours earlier, and his lips were drawn into a thin line.

She and Silevren began to dance then and Galadriel allowed the music to carry her away, enjoying herself, for though she might have been nervous about her dancing, she was quite confident in her ability to discern whatever it was in Saeros's heart. She glanced at the counselor now. He was sitting quietly amongst some of the king's other counselors and some of the emissaries from the north, looking quite at ease even though he seemed to not be participating much in any of the conversations.

They began another dance then and she turned her attention to Celeborn, who was speaking to a woman in breeches with curly hair. Venessiel and Mablung were seated with them as well. Celeborn glanced up briefly, watching her, and there was a certain intensity in her friend's eyes. She wondered if he was still concerned about what she planned to do, if that was what was troubling him so.

After a while Thingol bid them relax for a few moments and she slipped away to the small antechamber where they had prepared for the party. It was empty now, for the other girls were busy, and Galadriel leaned back against the wall, exhaling deeply as she crossed her arms over her chest. She was pleased, extremely pleased that her dancing had been met with such enthusiasm, for perhaps that meant that she would be invited to more royal parties in the future and that, she knew, would provide her with opportunities and with increased access to Saeros's mind, and yet she could not help but wonder what it was that had Celeborn so anxious.

He seemed to appear in response to her thoughts as she looked up at the sound of the door clicking closed, startled. "Well that's rather a risk don't you think," She chided him, "coming in here while they're all out there."

"I know how to go unobserved when I need to," he mumbled.

"What is it that's bothering you?" She asked him, knowing that it must be that which he had come to speak to her about.

"I cannot concentrate!" He exclaimed in a whisper. "At first I was worried over this matter of you and Saeros."

"I have told you not to worry yourself over it!" Galadriel whispered back, growing agitated with him.

"I know!" He said. "But it preoccupies my mind, I do not know why. And then during the banquet, Nellas…well…."

"Which one is she?" Galadriel asked.

"The one with the curly hair," he replied. "She…I think she…desires me." Galadriel nearly snorted in her effort to repress her laughter.

"Why would you think that?" She asked.

"She kept touching me during the banquet."

"Well that's nothing abnormal, Celeborn. Some people are just that way," Galadriel told him.

"She kept touching me beneath the table," he said and Galadriel's eyes opened wide. "I know well enough when a woman desires me Galadriel. I am old enough to know." He said.

"Did you know with me?" She asked him, meaning it as a joke…or at least she thought she meant it as a joke, but he did not take it as one.

"You were different," he said. "She doesn't want me to court her…she wants…it was never about that with you." He seemed to have not found any humor at all in what she had said and Galadriel swallowed. She could not rightly say why she was so eager to dismiss this issue with stupid jokes.

"This was my chance," Celeborn said frantically, it was an emotion so foreign to his temperament that Galadriel could hardly believe it was there. "This was my chance to turn the tables on this issue. I am throwing it all away and I seem unable to stop myself!" He exclaimed.

"Celeborn," she said, meeting his gaze and taking his shoulders, trying for his good to put away whatever strange feeling threatened to overwhelm her, "I have told you before and I will tell you again. You put far too much pressure on yourself. Thingol has things under control out there. And this thing with…Nellas, whatever her name is," Galadriel said dismissively, "refuse her if you wish. I am sure it is not nearly so much of an issue as you are making it out to be."

"I suppose," Celeborn said, sounding as though he was not at all confident in that. She heard Thingol's deep laugh boom out. Galadriel's face flushed red. His noncommittal answer, his uncharacteristic indecision had angered her. It felt to her as though Celeborn did not have confidence in her to carry out the task that she had said she would. She wasn't sure why his validation meant so much to her.

"Do you know what you are extraordinarily bad at? Trusting people," she said, frustrated. "Not all of this is on you. Venessiel is out there, Mablung, Thingol. They know what they are doing Celeborn. And I am here and I know what I am doing. This is not all dependent upon you. You can be very self-centered at times. Do you know that?" She brushed past him angrily, feeling his fingers graze along the bare skin of her waist as if he wanted to catch hold of her, to stop her.

"Don't," she said firmly, turning towards him, her heart pounding with anger, with some strange emotion. "Don't embarrass yourself." She took up a glass of wine, drained it, and returned to the party. And, perhaps because she wanted to spite Celeborn for doubting her resolution, as she saw it, she slowly made her way to where Saeros was sitting, seating herself near him.

And she sat there for a while on the cushions near Saeros's feet, observing his behavior carefully. He was not a talker and, indeed, even when directly addressed by the others, responded with few words, using just enough of them to end the conversation.

When he drank from his glass it was but a little, a small swallow, and each time he wiped the rim of the glass clean with his fingers, wiping them, in turn, on a napkin. That was the only time she had seen him initiate any sort of interaction, when he had asked Bainwen to bring him a new napkin. She had brought a white one at first but the stain of wine on the white cloth seemed to have unsettled him. He asked for a burgundy one. There was a certain restraint to him, an austerity, a rigidity. If he were a woman he could have been called prim, priggish even, as a man she thought of him as proper, straitlaced.

He sat straight as a rail, though he was seated on a luxurious divan. He might as well have been sitting in a wooden chair. There was an ascetic quality to him, as though he abstained from luxuries and delights less because he believed it right and more because he relished in the sense of control it gave him.

He paid Galadriel no heed though she was seated so near his feet and, instead, he seemed to concentrate on the fire crackling away in the fireplace, less with a look of contemplation and more with the look of a man who wonders if such a thing can be tamed. Galadriel noticed that Celeborn had returned to the party, moving to sit with a group of counselors that she did not know, but she noticed that he kept glancing her way and she knew that nothing she had said had assuaged his worry, that he was cross with her even. It irritated her somehow but she did her best to concentrate on Saeros.

Celeborn was acting strange tonight, so unlike himself, as if he had stumbled into some quandary from which he was powerless to extract himself and something about it seemed to please Saeros. It was no wonder that he disliked Celeborn, Celeborn who drank hard and laughed harder, who worked in profanity the way that other artists might work in oils or clay, who indulged his vices and, what was more, bragged about his exploits. Celeborn who seemed to have not a subtle bone in his body, who did not temper his voice, who spoke his mind.

Celeborn all the more surprising because for all his brashness he could come upon you unawares and you would never have known, Celeborn who did not bother to wipe the blood from his form after a battle, who was rumored to have killed a bear with his own hands. She remembered the way he had looked that night they dueled in the courtyard as the same thoughts swept over her, a man who could strike fear into the hearts of all, who could fill those same hearts with respect, with love, with admiration. He lacked in everything that Saeros prized and possessed in abundance all that he abhorred, for all of that, a single word from Celeborn would have brought this palace to its knees, a thousand words from Saeros would be ignored. They were born to dislike each other in the way that birds are made for flying.

She understood now, or at least she thought she did. To Celeborn, Saeros was nothing more than an annoyance, no more than a fly to be swatted away. But resentment is something that must be cultured, a deep seated sentiment that must be leavened and left to rest until, like dough for bread, it expands, doubles, triples in size. Resentment requires thought, requires dedication, requires…investment and while Celeborn paid not a single one of his thoughts into that coffer, it seemed that Saeros had thrown in his entire lot.

Hate is a word so casually thrown about, she thought, and yet it is so very rare that we encounter actual hate. So rare indeed that it is striking when we do. Curufin, Celegorm, Caranthir, they were angry, they were in pain, they were terrible and horrific, but they did not hate, not in the true sense of the word. But Saeros…he hated Celeborn. Then she understood, she understood how to bring him to his knees. She had met one other like him, one other so capable of hatred, Feanor.

"Saeros," she said quietly, "it is an unusual name." She did not look at him but, instead, watched the burning of the fire as she lounged back against the divan. She felt his eyes slide over to look at her, as if he could hardly believe she would dare speak to him, but she knew that he had been watching her for a while now. "Perhaps it is because my Sindarin is so poor that I find myself unable to discern its meaning."

She lifted her wine glass to her lips, taking a small sip, wiping the rim with her thumb. The wine beaded there on her finger and she left it, a glistening drop of red. She knew what he would do next, if she had discerned his personality correctly, if he was the sort of man she thought he was then he would not be able to stand it. She had only to wait a moment before he offered her the red napkin, upon which she wiped the bead of wine before handing it back to him. It rather felt as if she had made some unholy contract.

"It means 'bitter rain'," he said and then he was silent for a moment before adding, "a rather cruel name to give to a child don't you think?"

"Then my mother must be accounted complicit in the crimes of your parents as well, for she named me 'Nerwen,' meaning 'man maiden.'" Galadriel murmured, still looking into the fire, but Saeros was watching her. She could feel his eyes on her.

"That seems rather unfair," Saeros replied, intrigued now.

"There are a good many things in life that are unfair, or so I have found," Galadriel said in reply.

"I rather think so," Saeros said.

Galadriel had needed to say nothing more, his mind had done all the work for her, for Saeros did exactly what she had thought he would, he had glanced, ever so slightly, towards Celeborn, and Galadriel well knew that the prince had been watching her, for he had been all evening, ever since she had arrived, most especially since they had quarreled. He might say that he did not love her and that may very well be true but it also stands as truth that moths must not love the flames they allow to consume them either, nor addicts the vice that destroys their health, nor gamblers the chips that rob them of their fortune. Celeborn had been watching her and Saeros had seen. And Saeros…he certainly bore her no love but a man who hates will not only fight to the death over gold or Silmarils, but will himself drink poison if only because it will deprive his enemy from having a single drop.

She looked up briefly to see a smirk worming its way across Saeros's face as he glanced at Celeborn once more, almost as though he wanted to make sure the prince was watching and, in the next instant Galadriel knew why, for the King's counselor reached down and ran a hand through her golden hair, across her bare shoulder.

"No doubt that many men have told you how…stunning you are, Galadriel," Saeros said, his voice oily, his hand grasping her hair tightly, pulling her head back against his knee, "and rightly so. I am but another, and yet art, true art, it seems, is deserving of every compliment paid to its maker and so, tonight, when this party is finished, when I am alone with the memory of you, of your hair, of your skin, of your scent, I will pray my thanks to Illuvatar himself."

It took all of the effort she could muster not to rid herself of his touch or, what she most wanted to do, hit him for having dared touch her, for having dared say such a vile thing, having dared profane the name of Illuvatar. Certainly he must know the presumed intimacy that came from touching another elf's hair, most especially hers, that she had let none save Celeborn and her family touch it, not even Feanor. It was a well-known fact. And yet her having sat at his feet had had the desired effect. He thought that he had won some small victory over the Sindarin prince because Celeborn had been watching her all evening and instead she had seated herself at his feet, she had put herself within range of his touch, not Celeborn's.

She stood then, retracting from Saeros the strange intimacy that she had instigated, her heart still trembling, and turned instead to the party gathered there. "Shall we have more music and dancing?" She cried with a smile and they greeted her question with raucous and drunken cheers. "Something spirited!" She cried to Galathil and, with a grin he complied, the fiddles breaking into song, and she danced, a wild dance, a maddening dance, like the fire she climbed, and fell, and flamed forth and Saeros watched her as he had watched the fire, not contemplating her now, but wondering instead if she could be tamed, if he could tame her. The look in his eyes sent goosebumps racing across her skin. He had frightened her. He knew it. He reveled in it. It was a look she had not seen in hundreds of years: will you not give me even a single strand Galadriel? Feanor's words resounded in her memory.

Celeborn was so exhausted that he no longer even had the energy to worry over how he had completely bungled this visit and it was with anticipation that he returned to his chambers, looking forward to losing himself in sleep. What was more, he was terribly frightened for Galadriel, for he knew not what Saeros had whispered in her ear but it had frightened her, of that he was sure, and it must have been something truly terrible to frighten the girl who had crossed the Helcaraxe, who had endured the kinslaying, who had weathered the rage of the sons of Feanor. But, just as his hand touched the door to his chambers, someone spoke.

"Beleg had told me so much about you but you are not quite the man I thought you were." The cool, calm voice nearly startled Celeborn out of his skin. He turned to his right to find her there, leaning up against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, a wry grin on her face.

"My apologies," he said, managing to crack a grin himself, though it was less than heartfelt, "I am afraid that I have been feeling rather indisposed of late."

"Indisposed?" Nellas's eyebrows rose questioningly. "You seem like a man who bears far too many worries. Perhaps I can help you put them to rest for a short while," She said with a small laugh and tempting eyes, her hand gently pressing against his chest and it awakened some long dormant sensation in him, for it had been a great while indeed since a woman had touched him in such a way. And Nellas was not timid or shy, but bold, enticing. It was a trait that Celeborn ordinarily admired in a woman, or in anyone really, but instead he could only think of what a horrible betrayal this would be to Beleg, who was his dear friend.

What was more, his heart was deeply troubled by feelings he could not quite understand and, though he knew there was no logical reason as to why he should not desire Nellas, he simply did not. It would not be right to give her hope where there was none.

"I am sorry," he said. "I cannot. I cannot promise you anything."

"Promises?" She laughed, her hand moving to stroke his hair. "Who said anything about promises? I want for far simpler things than that, only to share a bed with a beautiful man. You are a beautiful man and I am a beautiful woman. Why should we not enjoy such things when Illuvatar gave them to us for that very purpose? Is it something else that bothers you?"

"I…" he began, but it seemed that he had forgotten whatever it was he had opened his mouth to say.

"I am not asking for love," she said, laughing. "Love whomever you like. We may both be Sindar indeed but I haven't any care for the customs and complicated rules that you all keep in the capital. Let go of your worries for a while; liberate yourself."

"I…" he started again to refuse her but suddenly his vision seemed to go white and then he was walking through the most beautiful gardens he had ever seen, feeling the soft freshness of verdant grasses beneath his bare feet. He looked up, up high into the heavens and wonder was awakened in his heart for he stood now beneath a canopy of leaves that blossomed from the tallest trees he had ever seen, and the most beautiful. Their bark looked as though it had been rubbed with silver and the leaves that lay scattered about the ground were of a rich emerald hue on top, the bottoms of them as golden as Galadriel's hair.

He returned to the present, his hands shaking, and Nellas was staring at him, her eyes wide, horrified. "I beg your pardon," she exclaimed, bowing low. "I did not know that you were bound to another! My most sincere apologies." And she fled, mortified by what she had done.

---

Footnotes: Hey guys, the sex thing is going to start being an important thing to remember in the next few chapters so I just want to make sure we are all on the same page. I am basing the sexuality off of Tolkien's LACE essay. Basically for elves, sex = marriage. So unmarried elves are not having penetrative sex. When I say someone is not bonded or is not married I mean they have not had sex. Tolkien doesn't comment on how far unmarried elves can or do go so I had to make some decisions here which I tried to do based of the Silmarillion, LACE, and Catholic teaching, since Tolkien was super Catholic and I was raised super Catholic. I think the Silmarillion and LACE shows that elves definitely do have sexual urges and that this is ok, so long as they don't do anything out of line (aka rape, like Eol) and they definitely do not cheat on their spouses.

According to LACE, this doesn't mean that an elf can't fall or be in love with multiple people (Finduilas/Tuor/Gwindor) or that multiple elves can't fall for one person (Galadriel had a bunch of suitors in Aman but wasn't interested in any of them). The Catholic Church does, and has for a long time, rejected the philosophy of dualism as heresy. Dualism is the belief that the body and mind/heart are separate and operate independently of each other. What the church teaches instead is that the body and mind are inseparable and follow each other. So if you have romantic feelings for someone then it is perfectly natural and good for you to have sexual feelings/urges as well (a big reason that Catholicism has an issue with LGBTQ). Likewise, if you have only sexual urges but no feelings for the person then that is bad (aka Chapter 14 Celeborn is hurt so he is being a completely immoral, asshole, fuck up). So basically my position is this: no sex between unmarried elves, no physical cheating on spouses. But, elves do have sexual feelings and, when in a romantic relationship, they do express their love to their partner through sexuality, but not actual sex until they are married. They also do sometimes make mistakes and develop feelings towards elves they are not married to or towards people who are already in relationships (aka Finduilas in the Silmarillion, or in this story Saeros's wife having developed feelings in the past for Mablung) but they DO NOT physically act on these feeling except to confess them.

None of this has any bearing on my personal sexuality or my personal views on sex or religion so don't think I am either in favor or against this, it is just the way I think I should do the story regarding what Tolkien wrote. I understand that people might have some really different perspectives on this and that is completely fine and welcome. Unlike Madam Lhaineth, I do think variety is the spice of life. If you ever have any questions about this stuff please, please feel free to PM me at any time or drop it in a review! I'm always happy to talk and explain. It is one of the things I enjoy most about writing.