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.

26. Chapter 26: The Audacity of Hope

The Audacity of Hope

In Cavern's Shade: 26th Chapter

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"In that book which is

my memory...

on the first page

that is the chapter when

I first met you

appear the words...

here begins a new life."

- La Vita Nuova, Dante

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Author's Note: So, uh, question. When they (C&G) finally get married how steamy would you guys like the "marriage" to be. It will be very tasteful, not vulgar or crude, but on a scale of 1-5 with 1 being slightly alluded to, and 5 being the passion of 10,000 burning suns, what would you prefer me to aim for? I want to make sure everyone is comfortable with it.

Here's the last chapter of part II! I didn't want to keep you guys waiting since I think you are all eagerly anticipating what happens in this chapter, so I made sure I was almost finished with it before I posted chapter 25. As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Your reviews really keep me going, especially when the writing gets really tough. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Leeza: Thanks! I was really wondering whether or not I had managed to convey that scene the way I wanted. You know, the Inwen/Galathil thing was one of the very first things I wrote for this story and yet I didn't make the connection between Inwen and Elrond both being healers until a couple of weeks ago! I'm glad to hear you made that connection! Haha, I guess she does still think that. For some reason I have this running joke with myself in my head that Mablung always ends up in awkward romantic situations on accident that are not his fault.

Luna: Ha! Yes! Celeborn does owe him big time!

---

It was already quite late in the day by the time that the knock came upon Celeborn's door. He had already dismissed his servants and so, setting aside the terms of the alliance with Nargothrond that Galadriel had drawn up and Thingol had asked him to review before Finrod arrived, he pushed himself up from the cushion he had been sitting on, hissing as he bumped his knee on the low table, and walked to the door. It really was no great surprise to find his brother on the other side. It was, however, quite surprising to see the vehemence with which he greeted him.

"YOU," Galathil hissed, his index finger pointing directly between his brother's eyes, "owe me!" His face was white as a sheet but his eyes were alive with some strange mixture of fear and determination.

"I see you've heard," Celeborn said with a grin, grabbing his brother by the collar and propelling him into his rooms. "Let's not talk about it in the corridor where everyone can hear."

"Don't you think you are getting out of this," Galathil was quick to reply as he grabbed Celeborn's bottle of whiskey on his way in, pulled the stopper, and took a long swig directly from the bottle before seating himself on the divan before the fire. Laughing, Celeborn moved to sit on the floor before the divan, leaning up against it.

"This is no laughing matter," Galathil said, giving his brother a dark glare but Celeborn only grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"Can you really not see the humor in it?" Celeborn asked, glancing at his distinctly unamused brother.

"What humor could there be in the prospect of Uncle tossing my wife and child out into the forest to fend for themselves?" Galathil replied with anger, disturbed that his brother was not taking this more seriously.

"Oh so now you are concerned for them," Celeborn said, rolling his eyes. Galathil only scowled.

"Of course I am concerned for them," he spat back.

"Then if you were so concerned how did they end up in this situation?" Celeborn asked. Galathil crossed his arms over his chest and worried his bottom lip with his teeth.

"I made a mistake," he mumbled.

"Not a very nice way to refer to your wife and your elfling," Celeborn said.

"Inwen is not a mistake! My child is not a mistake!" Galathil roared, nearly shooting off the divan in his anger.

"Now that is the way you should be talking when we go to speak to uncle about this," Celeborn said and Galathil's anger cooled, seeing what his brother had done. He put his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.

"You will help me?" He asked, sounding suddenly desperate now.

"Of course I will help you," Celeborn replied, patting his brother's knee. Galathil sighed.

"I still cannot believe that you and Galadriel knew about my own baby before I did," he said. "Poor Inwen…Celeborn she was so frightened, frightened that I would be angry with her. How foolish I was to wed her without even discussing the possibility of children! I never thought…" he sighed. "This is all my fault. Thingol would be right to be furious with me."

"What happened?" Celeborn asked, turning to look at his brother, and Galathil took a long breath before beginning.

"Well, of course you know that we met when I was in the houses of healing. I know it was only for a day or two but there was something about her that appealed to me in a way that no other woman ever had. It was…oh I don't know, that she treated all of the patients with such kindness, and she was so good with the little ones, and…she seemed so astute, so capable at everything she was doing. I…I could not stop thinking of her, even after they released me. But when I would see her around, near the laundries, or in the dining hall, or at a tavern or a shop or anywhere I felt this incredible rush of excitement, of happiness and I began to contrive ways in which I might see her again, spend a little more time with her, speak to her."

"And here you were calling me a madman," Celeborn quipped with a grin. "I had wondered why you suddenly seemed not to mind Galadriel as much as you once had," but Galathil was clearly not in the mood for Celeborn's particular brand of humor and he shot his older a glare that would have made an orc tremble in his boots.

"I…um…began to injure myself intentionally," Galathil said. "Just little things, scrapes, cuts…but of course she caught on to what I was doing and, at last I found the courage to confess my feelings to her which, miracle of miracles it seemed to me, she reciprocated. I have never felt anything like it, that soaring joy, as if I could fly," his face was lit for an instant with a smile. "But…well," his face grew sad again, "the whole kingdom was in such a commotion then. Galadriel had just returned, Uncle was all in a huff, you were taking so much criticism from the king's council and you were trying to deal with your feelings for Galadriel as well. The timing was just so poor and Inwen said that she didn't mind if we waited, that as long as she was with me she was happy."

"Then the peace came," he continued, "and at last things seemed to have settled down. But by then we had been hiding our relationship from Thingol for so long that it seemed a very daunting matter indeed to bring it up to him, to explain why we had kept it secret for so very long. It was easier to keep it secret, for we were already accustomed to doing that, but the waiting grew so long and things between us were growing more and more serious. The night of the long peace," he paused for a moment, "we were both just filled with so much joy and everyone was out on the lawn celebrating, so we took the opportunity to sneak away to my rooms instead of meeting in closets and out of the way places as we normally did. Things," he paused, "well, things got quite out of hand that night."

"I know the feeling," Celeborn mused.

"It was as though, before we quite knew it, we had spoken Illuvatar's name, and the vows, and then…I ought to have had more control but we had waited so very long and…we desired nothing more than to bind ourselves together, to know each other fully, to celebrate our love," He lapsed into silence.

"I knew it wasn't right," he said in a whisper, "living apart, leading separate lives, pretending, when in company, that I did not even know my wife's name or who she was. Inwen wanted to go to Thingol, for what was there to stop us in a time of peace, but I…I was cowardly, and frightened. I feared that Uncle would be furious, that we would be treated like traitors for having so casually flouted the customs of the princes of Menegroth."

"The child," he said, "was an accident, a selfish accident."

"It is not possible for an elfling to be conceived by accident," Celeborn said, "for it takes the will of both mother and father to create a new life." Galathil hung his head.

"Perhaps once day you shall know, Celeborn, but when you love someone that much, when you experience that bond, you want to take that love and make it into something real, something good. You…you want to make something greater than yourself, something greater than just the two of you. It…it is nearly impossible to explain unless you have felt it for yourself, but…those were the sorts of thoughts that I was having when last I lay with Inwen and it seems that she had them too and what has resulted is an elfling." A gentle smile crossed Galathil's face.

"You have my congratulations, brother," Celeborn said, placing a hand on his brother's knee and Galathil nodded.

"So you see, Celeborn," he said, "it is all my fault and Inwen is not to blame in the slightest. I am horribly frightened of Uncle's wrath, though, for her, for my child, I am willing to face it. And, I think I might have a little more confidence if you were there by my side."

"Now this is what I am thinking," Celeborn said. "We must approach this from the perspective of this being his first grandchild, the first child of a prince or princess of Doriath. The more he thinks about that the happier he will be. A child is a promise of the future. That is where we must direct his focus. And we will say nothing of this being an accident. We will act as though you had it all planned out, as though you wished to surprise him." Galathil laughed at last.

"You always have a plan, Celeborn," he said. "It really is no wonder that you are Uncle's chief counselor. But everyone knows that Uncle hates surprises."

"Yes, but then you will merely ask his forgiveness for having been so misguided. It is far easier to ask forgiveness than permission and, at this point, you honestly have no other choice. How far along is she?" Celeborn asked, "perhaps there is still time to have a ceremony before it becomes obvious that she is with child."

"Only two months, but everyone will know why we organized it with such haste. I have disgraced her Celeborn, and disgraced our family."

Celeborn leaned forward, "do not worry brother, let us go and speak to uncle together. Things may not have gone the way that he would have liked but I am sure that he will accept it eventually; he must."

---

It had been a very long while indeed since Galadriel had entered this place and it seemed strange now, almost like a dream as she stood there in the center of the room, looking at the looms that lay silent like great sleeping beasts, covered in sheets. The sun filtered down through the canopy above and Galadriel strode forward, casting off the cover from the loom she had once occupied, watching it as it fluttered to the floor like a bird coming to roost, a spool of gray silken thread in her hands. It was time.

She took a deep breath and then began to thread the loom. She hardly thought about it; she did not need to. Her fingers remembered the movements, still held the memory of the proper tension after all of these years, just as they remembered the feel of him, of his skin, of his warmth. When it was finished she ran her hands across the strings as though she were strumming a harp, watching the tiny puffs of dust that were released as they rose up, glimmering, through shafts of sunlight. And then she began to weave, the loom whirring to life as she passed the shuttle back and forth, back and forth until it became a blur that she could hardly see, her fingers dancing across the strings.

She closed her eyes and remembered the boy with starlit hair who sat in the tallest branches of the trees, trees that lived, and breathed, and walked, reaching up to the sun, the smell of honeysuckle in spring, the thundering of the Sirion, the sight of dogwood trees blooming alongside a creek, a young man with hair the color of the moon who walked through a meadow lit with the burning orange and gold of sunrise, of an elf full-grown with hair that gleamed of silver sitting in a canoe at the mouth of the Sirion, paddle across his knees, looking out across the ocean beneath a sky filled with stars. She gasped, choking back tears, the shuttle falling from her trembling fingers to clatter to the ground and hands closed tight over hers, hands that bore a strength greater than that of any elf.

"I love him." She whispered to the silence and to the world.

"Then open your eyes," Melian said and she obeyed to see what lay before her: a perfect weft of gray cloth and yet it was not exactly the same as what Melian and her maidens wove, for it did not only blend seamlessly with shadow, but with light as well. Finding herself unable to speak, she turned to Melian, looking into her eyes with questions unasked.

"It is more perfect," the queen said, "than anything I have ever woven."

"And yet I am afraid," she whispered. "I am afraid of what this all means, of Celeborn being bound to my fate, of this bond that I do not understand, of these visions that cloud my mind!"

"My sunshine child," Melian said with a smile, seating herself besides Galadriel, clasping her hands tightly as she met her gaze. "Do you know why such a bond is forbidden?"

"You knew what he did?" Galadriel asked.

"I knew from the second that he performed the bond. Something so old, so sacred, so powerful could never have escaped my notice," Melian said.

"And you…you are not bothered by it?" Galadriel asked her.

"That bond is not forbidden because it is wrong, but because it so very powerful, Galadriel," she said. "If done by someone with the wrong intentions it could be horribly devastating, used for terrible purposes. But, done from a place of love, as Celeborn did for you, well then it can be a very beautiful thing indeed, if you are willing to accept it."

"I don't understand it!" Galadriel cried. "I don't understand any of this!"

"Love is not a thing to be understood, but a thing to be practiced," Melian said, looking deep into her eyes. "Tell me what troubles you about this bond, confide in me and I shall see to it that what worries you have are assuaged."

"Would it…would it interfere with a marriage bond?" Galadriel asked, the true question that had been plaguing her heart.

"Interfere?" Melian asked. "No. If you were to marry Celeborn then it would augment a marital bond, enhance it, but never detract from it. And if you wish to marry another then it will not prevent you from doing that and still your bond of friendship with Celeborn will remain intact. Though rare indeed, there are those amongst the march wardens who have saved the lives of their friends in such a manner. And yet, I cannot help but think that what you desire from Celeborn is more than friendship, so why then are you afraid?"

Galadriel was silent for a while and then she said, "I…I have brought the curse of Mandos down upon Celeborn's head. The manner in which I left Nargothrond was foolish and rash. Had I…had I taken an escort with me I would never have been attacked. Nay!" She cried, "had my attention not lapsed for that briefest of moments then I never would have been shot. I have doomed him, and all in the matter of a second."

"Galadriel," Melian fixed her with an unwavering gaze, "what Celeborn did was of his own free will, just as your returning to Menegroth was of your free will. He knew the risks and he was willing to accept them for your sake. Most probably he has been brought under your curse but nothing in this world is for certain and it seems to me not only unwise, but also tragic to found the future of our happiness upon such uncertainties. If you love him, if he loves you, then let that be enough, for even we two who are prescient cannot foresee the future except dimly, as through a tarnished mirror."

"And what if it is not enough…" Galadriel whispered, casting her eyes down.

"Is it truly so difficult for you to believe that you are worthy of love?" Melian asked her, an echo of the sentiment that Luthien had expressed years ago.

"I…I have nothing to give him…" Galadriel began to stammer.

"Give?" Melian asked.

"What could I possibly offer him that can equal what he has given me?" Galadriel asked, her eyes filled with tears unshed. "I have no kingdoms, no lands, little respect amongst his people…He gave me a new name, a new life, and I cannot repay the debt!"

"Galadriel," Melian drew her into a tight embrace, "what Celeborn did he did expecting nothing in return from you. I am certain that even if you did not reciprocate his love, simply seeing you live a life of happiness would be enough, in his mind, to justify what he has done. He gave to you a new chance, yes, but more than that he gave you love, and love has nothing to do with merit but rather, a great deal more to do with forgiveness, acceptance, atonement. Love is a gift, not something to be traded and exchanged and bought. Forget Feanor and forget the oath to which he bound your cousins. Love exacts no price, no oath."

"You…you do not think Celeborn resents me for it?" Galadriel asked and Melian looked into her eyes, smoothing her hair away from her face.

"You do not need me to answer that question," she replied. "You know Celeborn and you know his heart. If your positions had been reversed would you have done it, would you have offered your life in exchange for his?"

"Even now I would offer my life if it could but remove the curse of Mandos that now lies upon him," Galadriel said with resolution, a fire kindling in her eyes.

"Then I think you know what you must do," Melian said. "It is time to finish what has been started." The queen rose then, leaving Galadriel to her task and she began to pass the shuttle back and forth again as, in her mind, she imagined that she was opening a door, stepping forth into a world she had never seen before, a world where a silver-haired child took her hand and slowly and gently began to lead her through the halls of memory.

---

"Well, Uncle took that far better than I thought he might," Galathil said with a grin as he lounged about on his brother's settee. Celeborn sat upon the floor, leaning against that same settee, a glass of whiskey in his hand. "Although he did look for a moment as though he meant to take off my head. I am excited for the wedding ceremony though. I hardly think I can wait an entire week for it."

"You doubted my powers of persuasion?" Celeborn joked, taking a swig from his glass, and Galathil laughed.

"Not entirely," Galathil quipped and then, growing more serious, he said, "thank you, Celeborn, truly. "It is a great weight off of my shoulders to have my wife living with me, to know that she is safe now, and happy, that even now our child grows within her. Truly, brother, it is such an indescribable joy that I could never find words to tell you of that exact sensation I felt when I put my hand on her stomach this morning before bed and felt the fëa of our child being nurtured there." A radiant smile lit his face.

"Well it was partially my fault," Celeborn admitted. "A good deal of grief on Inwen's part could most probably have been spared had I never told her you disliked children." Galathil shook his head.

"How could you have ever predicted this turn of events?" He said. "It is not your fault in the slightest. It is entirely my fault. I ought not to have been so stupid, so careless and thoughtless. The thought that I have caused Inwen such pain and trouble is completely abhorrent to me. I don't know what I was thinking – binding ourselves on a whim without speaking to Uncle, without a proper betrothal."

"That's exactly the matter," Celeborn said with a laugh, "you weren't thinking at all, or at least not with your head."

"Oh? Know something of it yourself eh?" Galathil raised his eyebrows. Celeborn shook his silver head, grinning as he sipped from his glass.

"I nearly bound myself to Galadriel once," he admitted, "that time so long ago when we traveled to Nargothrond together. I begged her, pleaded with her."

"Is that so?" Galathil asked, grinning mischievously.

"She refused me," Celeborn told him.

"Hmm, one of her wiser decisions perhaps," Galathil said and Celeborn reached up to dig an elbow into his brother's ribs. "Ouch! Celeborn!" Galathil yelped.

"I'll have you know it was a very traumatic experience for me," Celeborn chided his younger brother, "indeed, I wept."

"You cried like an elfling because she wouldn't bind with you?" Galathil burst into a roar of laughter and was unable to stop until well after tears had begun to leak from his eyes. Celeborn had a laugh himself, wondering at how something he had once seen as so upsetting had become so very humorous.

"Not one of my better moments," Celeborn chuckled.

"Yes, well, perhaps it is for the best anyway," Galathil said with a broad grin. "I would imagine that sex with Galadriel might very well prove to be traumatic."

"It certainly would have been then, wouldn't it have?" Celeborn joked. "Looking into her mind then I would have found out about the kinslaying rather quickly."

Galathil burst into laughter once more, wiping the tears from his eyes, and nodded vigorously. "I would say it is still too soon to be joking about the kinslaying, brother," he managed to gasp out in his laughter.

"Still, it might be rather nice, I suppose, to be fully with the one you love," Celeborn said quietly and that put an immediate end to Galathil's laughter.

"How much longer will you wait?" Galathil asked, his voice having a bit of an edge now. "You love her, Celeborn. I knew it from the day that she returned, that you loved her still, even if you did not know it yourself, even if you were unable to admit it. And she loves you too. It is obvious. Besides, look at how she had built herself up here, how even now she is brokering an alliance between our kingdom and her brother's. Certainly there might still be those who would try to claim that she is an unsuitable match but that argument would never carry any serious weight."

"After I told her of the bond she said that she needed time," Celeborn said, rubbing absentmindedly at his forearm. There was no scar from where he had made the cut, but he still felt the wound nonetheless. "I cannot blame her. It is a very heavy thing to consider."

"Wargshit," Galathil said. "You love her, she loves you. That's all there is to it."

"No it's not," Celeborn replied. "I did not do right by her last time but this time I shall. She has not spoken to me of her feelings since I told her of the bond. She may very well despise me. I could see the disgust with me clearly written on her face."

"She is incapable of hating you," Galathil said. "It is almost as if she were born to love you. She could no sooner hate you than she could fly to the moon. It's sickening really, the potential that the two of you are wasting. And why? Do you fear her?" Galathil asked him.

"No," Celeborn said resolutely, for the answer was clear to him now. "I fear the part of me that is gone now which I can never reclaim. I fear this new part of me that I do not know, that seems almost like a stranger. I fear myself. I fear the things that I would do for her sake. I fear that I have lost control of my heart, that it runs now of its own accord, like a deer in the forest."

"Do you think that for Inwen's sake, for the sake of my child, for your sake I would not tear our kingdom down and rebuild it in a day if that was what was required of me?" Galathil asked, "It is love that you feel for her, Celeborn, not the ephemeral fleeting of passion, but love of the truest sort."

"Some of us prefer not to rush into things irresponsibly," Celeborn said, a tinge of anger in his voice.

"Perhaps you should rush in!" Galathil spat and the brothers sat in silence for a few moments, nursing their hurt feelings.

"My apologies," they both stammered at the same time.

"Can you…can you feel her through that bond?" Galathil asked, the unpleasantness of a moment earlier forgotten, and Celeborn nodded.

"I see her memories," he said, "her memories as she sees them at least and there are times when I can almost feel her emotions, but her thoughts are beyond my power to see."

Galathil smiled. "Do you like feeling so close to her?" He asked and Celeborn nodded.

"Yes," he replied, "but that closeness is always accompanied by some feeling of hollowness, as if I wish to be even closer to her, to see her thoughts as well, to feel her fëa moving in concert with mine, to speak to her in our minds."

"Then what you feel is the desire to wed her," Galathil said, "for that is what a marriage bond is like, the best possible closeness that you can imagine. It is, sometimes, almost as though I live in Inwen and she lives in me but yet we are still both distinct. I don't know how to describe it well, but it is the best sort of feeling, the greatest kind of happiness. And now, with our baby, I can feel that little life within her, can feel the life of the child drawing energy and strength and happiness from the both of us, like…like a flower drinking up water I suppose."

"I am very happy for you," Celeborn said to his brother with a smile. Indeed, he could hardly wait to meet his new niece or nephew, to see if the child would resemble his brother as he had been as a child. But, their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Are you expecting visitors?" Galathil asked and Celeborn shook his head but, momentarily, his footman appeared. And yet the servant did not manage to enter the room, indeed, he did not even manage to announce the name of the visitor before he was eclipsed in both movement and speech by Galadriel. She pushed past the footman, coming to stand before Celeborn, her eyes filled with determination, and in her hands she bore a cape of Sindarin cloth, but it was not quite the same as the usual ones that Melian and her maidens wove. Instead, it seemed to absorb not only shadow, but light as well, as though it would cause the wearer to blend in completely with both the light of the sun and the light of the moon.

"The bond," she said, her voice thick with confidence, "you did the right thing. Thank you." Celeborn stumbled to his feet in surprise and Galadriel met his gaze as she shoved the cape into his arms.

"I love you," she said. "I always have and I always will." And with that she turned about on her heel, marching from the room, followed by the distraught footman exclaiming his apologies, the heels of her golden slippers beating a sharp staccato across the floor, the door slamming behind her.

Silence reigned supreme in the wake of her exit until Galathil, his eyes still wide with surprise, said, "brother, unless I am very much mistaken, she desires to wed you too." But Celeborn was a flurry of movement now, throwing open the lid of a chest and pulling out bags of gold and silver coins. "Where are you going?" Galathil asked as his brother took the bags and turned towards the door.

"To the smithy," Celeborn said. "There is an order I need to place." And with that he sprinted from the room.

---

"Brother!" Finrod leapt off of his horse and straight into his sister's waiting arms, swinging her around as she laughed, squeezing her as tightly as he could until she yelped for him to let go.

"Well look at you!" He said, taking a step back. "It seems you've made her into a proper lady at last," he said, turning to Thingol. "I will never know how you managed it. My parents tried for years, I assure you, all to no avail." The king grinned.

"Astoundingly enough," he said, "I believe she managed to do it all on her own. Although, I have had reports that she still gallivants in the forests like a hoodlum from time to time."

"Ah yes," Finrod said with a hearty laugh, "I suppose a cat cannot completely change her stripes after all." He reached out to ruffle his sister's hair and she batted his hands away.

"My apologies, Felgaund," Thingol said, placing a hand on the Noldo's shoulder, "I do hate to interrupt such a joyful reunion, but I think we would all be far more merry if we could renew our alliance as soon as possible. Will you join me with my council then so that we might speak?"

"Gladly," Finrod said, "for there is much that I must tell you as well. I have been involved in some most unusual occurrences of late that I believe you will wish to hear about."

The feast that evening in celebration of the renewed alliance between Doriath and Nargothrond was a very fine affair indeed. The great hall was alive with revelers seated around low tables enjoying the finest dishes that Menegroth's kitchens could prepare. All of the silver lanterns had been lit, glimmering in the trees above, and music filled the air with a festive atmosphere. Around a low table, seated on plentiful cushions, Celeborn was beside Finrod, who sat near his sister, and, across from them, Thingol and Melian, who was attended her handmaidens, and the princess Luthien as well.

"They call themselves men you say?" Thingol asked, deeply intrigued, lifting a small salted fish to his mouth and eating it whole.

"Yes, and they are like us in form, though not as strong, yet they are bearded like the dwarves, and have a similar lifespan. They grow old and sick; they die. They are slower to understand, for when first I encountered them their music was but rudimentary, however they are intelligent, for I stayed amongst them for some time and found that they learned Sindarin in but a short while. One might even say, perhaps, that they learned it with greater ease than my sister," he grinned and Celeborn laughed, but Galadriel glared at both of them, though she could not quite keep her lips from curling into a smile. It was good to see all of them so happy. Thingol motioned to her and she refilled his wine.

"Are they peaceful?" Thingol asked.

"They appear to be," Finrod replied. "Though the Green Elves have grown displeased, for these men have settled on land that they claim. I have led them eastward towards Estolad and, with your permission, I ask that they be allowed to abide there so that they might cause no disturbance in your kingdom."

"You may consider my permission granted," Thingol said. "I am very glad that you have brought this matter to my attention. From whence did they come, do you think, Felagund?"

"How they came to be I cannot rightly say," Finrod replied, "though they believe that they were not created by the Valar, as the Onodrim and the Dwarves were, but by Illuvatar himself." Thingol raised a silver eyebrow questioningly.

"The children of the sun," Melian said with a smile and Finrod bowed his head to her in a sign of understanding.

"Well said, your highness, for it seems they first awoke at the start of this age, when the sun rose for the first time in the sky," Finrod told her. "But they did not enter into Beleriand until around 305."

"And still they have escaped my notice for over a century and a half," Thingol said, looking displeased. Melian rubbed his arm soothingly. "Tell me then, what sort of government have they and who is the one who governs them?"

"They call themselves the House of Beor, for one called Beor was their forbearer and led them hence over the mountains into Targelion. Their lord was then Baran, the son of Beor, who have both now passed beyond this world. His son was Boron and his was Boromir, who died leaving three grown children. The oldest, their lord, is called Bregor, the father of my friend Barahir, whose son Beren is now full grown."

"Goodness," Thingol said with a laugh, "it is rather difficult to keep track of so many generations!"

"It took me a while myself to keep them all straight," Finrod said with a laugh. "Their lord Bregor has a younger sister known as Andreth the wise, Andreth Saelind as I call her." He paused here for a moment. "She is beloved by my brother Aegnor." At those words Galadriel looked up, startled, but she did not say a word.

"Yet what should become of one of the Eldar if he sought to bind himself to a mortal?" Thingol said. "Such a thing seems most unwise to me." And Galadriel glanced at Celeborn while the king conversed with her brother, for a wave of darkness had come over her suddenly, like a shadow passing before the sun, and Celeborn caught her gaze, his eyes questioning, wondering what it was that bothered her.

"Yet who can legislate love?" Melian asked. "The heart desires what it desires and it will not be ruled by laws or even counsel."

"That is true," Finrod said, "but legislating marriage is another matter entirely. And, as you know, my people have a law that no marriages shall take place during a time of war."

"Is now not a time of peace?" Melian asked.

"For Doriath perhaps," Finrod replied, "but the Noldor yet lay siege to Angbad and Aegnor will not forsake custom, not even for the sake of his beloved."

"I cannot find fault with his decision," Thingol said. "Why sacrifice all eternity merely for love of a woman and the promise of but a few short years with her? He might have infinite time with one of his own kind."

"And if I had been a human is that what you would have done?" Melian asked, her voice uncharacteristically terse. "Would I have been worth less to you than eternity? Would you daughter?" Thingol looked at her then very strangely but Galadriel could feel her own heart quivering within her chest, as though this moment marked some calm before a storm.

The images flashed before her mind as quickly as the flowing of the Sirion, one following the other: Luthien lying still and unmoving, her dark hair strewn with white niphredil, a silver-haired elf dead in the darkness, surrounded by a pool of crimson blood, a strange, gaunt, emaciated winged figure that spoke with Melian's voice, Mablung's face, Beleg's. She felt a familiar presence step into her mind, felt Celeborn enter as though he had opened a door and shut it behind him and she grew calm again as memories of silvery fish in the shaded shallows of a marsh, of wildflowers of pink, and gold, and orange filled her mind. She felt his fingers reach for hers beneath the table and she grasped them as their eyes met. She knew that he had felt it move through her and into him. She squeezed his hand, glad for his comfort, oddly breathless at the novel experience of being aware, for the first time, of how their memories were flowing together. Something about it left her wanting more

"You will be staying for the wedding, I hope?" Thingol said to Finrod and Galadriel and Celeborn both turned their minds back to the conversation at hand.

"I would be honored," Finrod said.

"Then you must attend the hunt with us tomorrow," Thingol told him. "That is, if you are feeling up to it after your journey here. The wedding is now only two days hence and I will not have a prince of Doriath married without enough venison to fill the bellies of every man, woman, and child in this city." He looked over at Galathil and Inwen, who sat, hand in hand, and favored them with a broad smile.

And so, on the following afternoon, Finrod sat in the saddle, watching Thingol, Beleg, and Galathil tear off after a deer while he bent down and patted his horse, a creature who was far more inclined to meandering through the fields and nibbling at clover than in chasing after wild game. Ordinarily he too would have been gallivanting off with the others, pursuing the game that would be served up at Galathil's wedding feast, but today he was merely enjoying the feeling of the breeze in his hair, the smell of spring flowers, and the beauty of Doriath's forests, for it had been a while indeed since he had visited this place.

"I would have your sister's hand," the familiar voice came from his left and Finrod nearly leapt out of his saddle in shock. He turned to his right to find Celeborn seated upon his chestnut mare, riding at his side.

"In the name of Varda, I shall never know how you manage to always catch me unawares, my friend," Finrod gasped, still reeling from surprise. Celeborn grinned and laughed.

"Someone has to keep you on your toes," the Sinda quipped.

"You Sindar really do get straight to the point don't you," Finrod mused, shaking his golden head at his friend. "I have not seen you in centuries and the first thing you say to me is regarding a request for my sister's hand."

"I rather prefer to get business out of the way before pleasantries," Celeborn remarked.

"Yes, I do remember that," Finrod laughed.

"And besides," Celeborn said, "I thought you understood that any interest I have in you as a friend is merely a byproduct of my interest in your sister." Finrod turned to his friend in complete shock. It took a moment for it to register in his mind that his friend had only been joking. Even Celeborn had not managed to say it with a straight face and he cracked a grin at Finrod, who laughed in reply. "It is just that last time I did you a great injury by not asking so I would rather do things properly this time around," Celeborn said by way of explanation.

"Peace, peace, my friend," Finrod said in return to Celeborn, "you need offer me no explanation. I understand well enough, and I know that the love you bear one another is true, only, I would wish to know whether you mean that you are asking for her hand in courtship or in marriage."

"Well," Celeborn paused, "at present I mean to ask for her hand in courtship although I intend for marriage to follow soon after."

"Indeed," Finrod was amused and raised a golden brow at his friend. "Why the haste, Celeborn?"

"I would have thought you knew both your sister and I well enough by now to know how impatient the two of us are," Celeborn replied.

"That is true," Finrod laughed. "But at last things are turning in your favor it seems. You may consider the permission of the House of Finarfin granted then, for both courtship and marriage," he said. "Indeed, there is no one else I would rather see her wed than you, Celeborn."

"I am rather a remarkable specimen am I not," Celeborn said with a toothy grin and Finrod burst into laughter.

"Rather remarkably arrogant," Felagund retorted. Celeborn shook his head.

"I all seriousness, Felagund," he said, "I was rather hoping you could help me with something."

"Oh?" Finrod asked curiously.

"I would very much like to render your sister speechless," Celeborn confided in his friend and Finrod laughed long and hard.

"A worthwhile endeavor," he said, "though one I myself have yet to achieve. If you can manage it then I shall be most amazed."

---

Inwen was a vision in silver silk the color of a moonbeam that was bustled in the back with a train nearly twice as long as she was tall. The embroidery was done in silver, so subtle that when she stood in torchlight it was not visible at all; under moonlight, however, it gleamed with startling luminescence and Galadriel was reminded that the Sindar had lived for a very long while with only the light of the stars for company and thus it was in the darkness and pale light of those same stars that their finest works were revealed. At the princess-to-be's throat was a resplendent collar of amethysts, pearls, and diamonds that sparkled like a thousand stars and upon her brow she wore a crown of lush white and delicate pink peonies. Her smile was more radiant than any jewel she bore upon her person as she walked arm in arm with Galathil through the center of the great hall while the people who stood to either side bowed low before them.

Galathil was dressed more formally than Galadriel had ever seen him in a tunic of silver that matched Inwen's dress with breeches of dark grey velvet and boots of black leather with silver toes. He wore a cape of deep blue brocade trimmed in the fur of a white wolf and a collar of brilliant sapphires set in silver. His long, dark hair had been brushed smooth and plaited into complex braids that were held with silver clasps and upon his brow he wore a crown of black hematite inlaid with crystal stones, a much simpler crown than Celeborn's, but beautiful nonetheless.

Galadriel stood near the dais with the king's other ministers and, when Inwen and Galathil reached that place, bowing low before the royal family, Thingol stepped down from his throne to stand at Galathil's side and a woman Galadriel had never before seen, whom she must assume to be Inwen's mother, stepped forward to stand at her daughter's side. The woman looked both exceedingly nervous and exceedingly pleased, as though she could hardly believe that her daughter was marrying a prince of Doriath, and even Inwen herself looked surprised that all of this was really happening.

Galadriel knew that the rumors had spread around Doriath like wildfire, rumors that the couple were already married, rumors that, indeed, the bride was already with child, rumors that had cropped up in response to the rather unexpected and sudden nature of the wedding. But it seemed now that on this day, at least, the rumors had been forgotten, for joy was the greater and Galadriel could feel the happiness swelling in her own heart as the couple turned towards each other, joining hands. Then Thingol and Inwen's mother invoked the blessings, Inwen and Galathil spoke the words of Illuvatar, and they exchanged bands of gold.

It was a rather short ceremony, far shorter than the Noldorin one in which jewels were exchanged, but a beautiful one nonetheless and, after a moment of confusion in which Galadriel wondered if the ceremony was really complete, she came to reason that perhaps shorter ceremonies were more enjoyable after all, for a myriad of servants were already bustling about, bringing out trays of fragrant foods, and Galadriel could feel her mouth watering in anticipation.

When everyone had eaten to their hearts' content and drunk their fill, and more, the tables were cleared away, as was the food, though the wine and liquor still flowed in abundance. Galathil led Inwen to the center of the floor, Dairon struck up a tune, and the new couple began to dance. It was rather romantic after all, Galadriel thought as she looked up at the starry ceiling above. The hall was a dusky twilight now, lit only by the silver lanterns that hung from the stone trees and the glow of the moon, and the other elves gradually took to dancing as well, slowly weaving their way through the adamantine forest of Thingol's great hall.

There was something about this evening that was so very pleasant that Galadriel could not help but be filled with happiness and peace and forget nearly entirely the matter of the renewal of the alliance with Nargothrond, or even the trouble that she had had with Celeborn. This night seemed so perfect, as if all was right with the world, and, as she looked out over the great merriment and at all of the smiling faces, she felt that she could well understand Celeborn's feelings for this kingdom. She sighed, leaning her head against a tree and crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the light of the stars reflected in the creeks that ran hither and thither through the moss covered floor. Every now and then the fish would come to the surface, mouthing at the stars as if they thought they could eat them, and Galadriel laughed softly to herself at their antics.

"I was hoping," a deep and familiar voice said, "that you might just perhaps find it in your heart to grace your favorite brother with a dance." Galadriel looked up to find Finrod in breeches of a rich brown and a burgundy tunic of silk, standing across from her and felt a grin spreading across her face.

"Whoever said you are my favorite?" She asked, uncrossing her arms as Finrod extended his hand to her along with a bow.

"Favorite or not, may I request the pleasure of your company in this dance?" Finrod queried once more and Galadriel laughed at his mock formality.

"How very polite of you, brother," she said, "so polite, in fact, that I simply must accept your invitation." And she placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

"Yes, well," Finrod said jokingly as they began to dance, "us Noldorin princes do at least have that advantage over our Sindarin brethren in that regard."

"Sindarin boys can be very nice too," Galadriel said as Finrod spun her about. Her brother laughed.

"Well you are biased, of course," Finrod said.

"And how so?" Galadriel asked, feigning innocence.

"You've had your eyes fixed on a certain Sindarin prince all evening," Finrod whispered with a grin.

"I most certainly have not," Galadriel denied it. It was true though. She had hardly been able to tear her eyes away from Celeborn this evening and he, it had seemed, had been equally incapable of removing his gaze from her. She was becoming used to the idea of having him in her mind, was beginning to like it, and her skin seemed to bear some remembrance of the feel of his fingers intertwined with her own as they had been only a few days prior. She longed for his touch again.

"See? Even now you are looking for him," Finrod laughed and Galadriel noticed that she had indeed been scanning the hall for those green eyes that had been fixed upon hers all evening. "He is not here," Finrod said, "not anymore."

"What?" Galadriel asked, confused.

"He is attending to some business," Finrod said, "some business in the smithy."

"Nonsense," Galadriel laughed, thinking that Finrod meant to play some joke on her, just as Galathil had played on Celeborn the night of the party. "He hates the smithy and never goes down there. Nor is he interested in metalcrafting or in jewels."

"Perhaps it was not for himself that he went there," Finrod said with a sly grin. "After all, my intentions are not what they first appeared either, for as lovely as it is to dance with you, sister, I must admit that it was Celeborn who ordered me do so."

"Why would he do something like that?" Galadriel laughed again, wondering why her normally sensible brother was acting so very silly.

"Perhaps because he wanted to ensure that you did not wander off, that no one else stole you away, that he would know where to find you when he was ready," Finrod told her and Galadriel felt as though her heart had stopped.

"You can't mean..." she gasped, her mouth dropping open. Suddenly she felt a spark of hope beginning to grow now, nearly fanned to full flame, the fluttering of her heart in her chest, the trembling of her hands as Finrod took her gently by the shoulders and turned her about.

Celeborn was standing there and he looked a proper prince for once, wearing breeches of deep grey with boots of black leather and a tunic of rich, forest green beneath which a crisp white collar embroidered with silver thread stood against his throat and about his neck was a magnificent carcanet of silver filigree crafted in the shape of leaves and set with diamonds as big as eggs. About his shoulders he wore a cape of deep grey, nearly black, with the pelts of two gray wolves about the collar and on his brow he wore his crown, a splendid thing of black, glimmering, metal set with gems in the colors of the forest, rich green emeralds, brilliant honey-colored stones of amber, sapphires as deep and blue as the Sirion. From the sides of it hung elaborately knotted black cords upon which were strung flawless pearls from the Falas, and polished beads of wood, topaz, and animal bone, ornately carved. More magnificent than any of it was his hair, silver as starlight, mark of Sindarin royalty, that hung long and straight, spilling over his shoulders like a waterfall in moonlight.

"May I have her hand, Finrod?" Celeborn asked with a courteous bow.

"Well Galadriel," Finrod said, turning to her, "may he?" She had rather forgotten how to speak and so she only nodded numbly. Then Finrod took her hand and set it in Celeborn's, which was warm, and comforting, and familiar, and she grasped it with certainty, with love, as she looked into his eyes, the color of evergreens.

"It rather appears I have taken your breath away," Celeborn said with a smile.

"You have," she managed to stammer at last. Her heart was flopping about in her chest like a fish on land and she almost felt as though she would be gasping for air as well in a moment.

"May I?" He asked, bowing, and Galadriel nodded.

"Yes, of course, I mean, p…please," she stammered and he placed a hand on her waist as she moved hers to his shoulder and they began to dance.

It all rather seemed like a dream as they moved gracefully about the great hall, beneath the sparkling silver lanterns and the verdant canopy of emerald leaves, over the soft mosses of the earth and the cool, crystalline streams that flowed there, amongst the silvery trunks of the stone beeches and through the glowing golden lilies. Menegroth seemed as magical to her as the night she had first arrived here, and the prince of this kingdom just as intriguing, just as handsome, more so perhaps. For a while they seemed lost entirely in one another, their gazes never wavering from the other, their steps falling in perfect unison.

Presently Galadriel said, "everyone can see us. Are you sure it is alright?" For her eyes had already caught Thingol's and Melian's, both of whom had smiled, and Luthien's, who looked practically ecstatic, but there were others who looked less thrilled by their association. Celeborn merely put a finger to her chin and turned her eyes back to his.

"Do not worry about them," he whispered. "I don't care what any of them think. I am here with you and you are here with me and that is all that matters." And that had put Galadriel's heart at ease, or rather, her heart had blossomed and she could not help but smile now as they swept across the dance floor.

"You're looking rather splendid and gallant," she said with a grin, looking up into that face she loved so well.

He laughed at that and said, "I would not have it said that your Sindarin suitor was any less fine than any of your Noldorin, or Vanyarin, or Telerin ones."

"And is that what you are, my suitor?" She asked, her heart fluttering in her chest like the wings of a bird.

"I seem to recall that you once accused me of being the more impatient one," Celeborn said with a grin and then, before Galadriel could protest, he said, "that is a matter for later, not for now."

"You're teasing me, tormenting me," she whispered with a grin and Celeborn nodded in confirmation.

"Haven't I always?" He replied with a smirk.

"I was only rather surprised is all, to see you dressed so finely," she said, teasing him with a wry grin. "I am far more accustomed to seeing you in your old hunting clothes."

"I can, from time to time, do things properly, Galadriel," he said and she elbowed him.

"Rather a refreshing thing to see," she said and he elbowed her.

"I feel compelled to tell you how beautiful you are," he told her then. It was true. She was wearing a dress of pale green chiffon that left her elegant arms bare, a girdle of pale hammered gold sat low across her hips, her golden hair hung unbound, two splendid diamonds hung like raindrops from her earlobes, and her face was alight with happiness. His comment had caused her to blush, despite the lighthearted banter they had just exchanged. She had been told that she was beautiful many times but when Celeborn said it she felt as though it had an entirely new meaning.

"Thank you," she told him, taking a deep breath, for she knew not how much longer she could contain her love for him. Even now, looking into his green eyes, she wanted to kiss him so badly that it almost hurt.

"Your hands are trembling," he whispered then and Galadriel swallowed hard.

"I am rather nervous," she confessed.

"I hope it is not because my advances are unwelcome," he said with a questioning gaze, though she could tell from his smile that he knew this was not the case. But, perhaps he still wondered if what she had said before held true, if she needed more time to consider the bond.

"No," she said, reassuring him, wanting him to know that she wanted this just as much as he did. "I assure you that your advances are most welcome." Her heart was beating as fast as a sparrow's wings now and she almost relished these last few torturous moments before they would kiss, for she knew that this time when they kissed there would be a line drawn in her life, a time before and a time after this kiss; that everything afterwards would be different, and new, and more wonderful than what had passed.

They had come to a stop and Celeborn said, "then shall we quit this place?" It was a question he had asked her centuries ago.

"And where will we go?" She whispered, remembering the words.

"Only to the willows," he said, "for I wish to be alone with you, if you will allow it."

"Then take my hand," she said, "and I shall go with you." He offered it to her then and, arm in arm, they quit the great hall and wove their way through the labyrinthine corridors of Menegroth until at last they had come to the great gates of the city. They passed through these and out onto the lawn where couples lay stargazing as they too had done so many years ago, walking the distance to the willow grove, where the grass was lush and verdant, where the long, slender branches of the willows, shining as if they had been rubbed with silver, trailed in the crystalline streams that ran there as the wind rustled gently in the leaves through which moonlight softly filtered. It was a beautiful place, as beautiful as she remembered, and peaceful, though touched by a primordial quality that made it strange, and wild, and majestic.

"After all these years you are still not afraid to walk alone in the forest at night with a dark elf by your side?" He asked her, eyes playful, as they made their way through the ferns and beneath the canopy of willow branches.

"I could never be frightened of you," she said, "unless I were to be frightened of myself, for your heart dwells so near to mine that I often cannot tell where one ends and the other begins."

"Then you have said what I feel far better than I ever could have," he said, and he turned to her then as they stood in a shaft of moonlight that filtered down through the silvery canopy of the willows while fireflies danced about them in a myriad of gently glowing sparks. "Do you remember this place?" He asked her, reaching out to clasp her hands.

"This is where we first kissed," she said, breathless.

"It is," he said. Then he produced a black box from his pocket with rather quick efficiency, so quickly that it was almost as though he feared he would lose his nerve, and removed the lid before Galadriel had even a moment to get her thoughts straight. Nestled inside was a square cut sapphire the size of an egg threaded on a silver chain. He had been right to stand in the moonlight, it paid absolute tribute to the stone, highlighting its carefully crafted facets, illuminating tints as pale as the sky, as deep as the ocean. The setting was of silver that curled about the gem like small leaves and was scattered with tiny diamonds. So flawless was the jewel itself that she could see the stars reflected in its perfect azure depths, as if he held in his hands a prism of Doriath's midnight sky.

"Give me your hand once more in courtship and this time I swear that we shall not be sundered, neither by duty, nor by loyalties, nor by Morgoth himself and let it be so until the end of days," he said, looking into her eyes.

She could hardly speak, for she wanted to fly into his arms that very instant, but she managed to say, "and what would you require of me this time?"

"Everything," he whispered.

"And what shall I receive in return?" She asked.

"Everything," he told her.

They stood in that great, resounding, swelling silence for a moment while her heart beat faster and faster as his eyes met her own and she knew that when he kissed her, and forever wed his love to hers, that Artanis, that Nerwen, would cease to exist, that the incarnation would be complete and she would be Galadriel completely and entirely and eternally. So she waited just a moment longer, remembering, before she let go of the line and that ship of the past floated pilotless out to sea, never to return.

"Yes," she said.

Then he kissed her. And at the touch of his lips on hers she blossomed for him like the sun parting the clouds in a blaze of glory. He took her into his arms, his mouth on hers and he kissed her gently, carefully, threading his hands through her hair, but it wasn't gentleness that she wanted now, not after all this time, and she knotted her fists in his tunic, pulling him hard against her and the whole forest seemed to swell with light around them as the stars stirred in song above. With his hands he cupped her face, pulling her as tight against him as he was able, and yet it seemed not close enough; as though there was still some closeness that lay out of reach and he desired it beyond desiring.

"If this is a dream," she whispered against his lips, eyes tight closed against the brilliance of the stars, and against the world, and against everything, "then promise me that I shall never wake."

"It is no dream," he said and he kissed her again, long and hard, as if he wished to rob her of breath. The power of it burned across his mind like the white hot light of a sunrise searing the edge of the sky, and he felt as though he was soaring out across the open sea and over the trees, and the mountains, great canyons and rolling plains, and looking down he could see the tiny flecks of white that were ships upon the water, all of it held in the glass vessel of the world filled with beauty, and goodness, and earth, and sky with water pouring over the rim unto oblivion. Nothing would ever be the same again, only now that did not frighten him.

And then, slowly, slowly, like a feather floating down to the forest floor so did they come down into gentleness and she said once more, "my answer is yes; yes, a thousand times yes." And he cradled her head against his.

"You have my love, Galadriel," he said, pulling back so that he could look at her, "unto eternity."

"And you have mine," she told him. Then they stood, just drinking in the sight of one another for a long while, content in their hard-won and long awaited happiness.

"Let it not be long until the day that we are wed," she implored him then, "for I grow impatient with longing for you. What bond we have already I would soon see completed and fulfilled."

"And I wish for the same," he told her. Then he reached up and clasped the jewel about her neck and it shone so that it seemed almost that she bore a facet of the midnight sky upon her breast. They began to walk then along the brook, hand in hand, and Celeborn said, "when I look at you this night I understand well what thoughts Thingol must have had as he gazed upon Melian in Nan Elmoth for the first time."

"Noble thoughts I hope," Galadriel said.

"Mostly," Celeborn replied with a grin, "though not all perhaps."

"You scoundrel," she whispered, elbowing him.

"I wasn't sure what you liked," he said, suddenly sounding a bit nervous. "I've never…I've never given anyone a jewel before. I hoped that…well…it rather reminded me of the night sky of Doriath is all, and I could think of no treasure greater than that to give to you."

"It is very beautiful," Galadriel said, smiling down at the sapphire that rested upon her breast. "And I do love it. I mean to cherish it for all eternity."

"I do not know what you would like to do about living arrangements," Celeborn said, ever practical even in romance, and Galadriel laughed at his audacity.

"Let us wait until we are betrothed," she said, "for though my desire for you is great, I would not wish to cause a stir in this city or any sort of disruption in this kingdom as we did of old. And I am rather enjoying living on my own for once. Besides," she said with a grin, "I believe that it would create far too much stress for dear Thingol. He might drive himself mad with worry that you would follow in Galathil's footsteps by marrying me in secret and then neglecting to tell him about it until I was carrying your child."

"Ah, yes, I can almost hear him threatening my life now," Celeborn said with a laugh.

"Most of all," Galadriel said, "I rather fear I would soon find myself in Inwen's predicament."

"Yes," Celeborn said with a grin, "I believe you would. Very well then, when we are betrothed you are welcome to share my rooms…or if you prefer I could share yours."

"Yours are far nicer," she said with a laugh and they kissed once more. "But just because I am choosing to live on my own for now does not mean that you are not welcome in my bed on occasion," she whispered into his ear. "Else I shall spend all of my days restless, longing for the touch of your hand." She grinned and Celeborn swallowed hard, his hands moving to grip her hips and pull her tight against him once more.

"It has been far too long," he breathed against her neck, losing the better part of his sense, his lips finding purchase there, and Galadriel playfully pushed him away.

"Yes," she said, "I can feel that that is the case."

"Tonight…" Celeborn managed to stammer out as he fought with his body for control of his mind. "Come to my bed this day. Stay with me."

Galadriel made no promises but merely smiled and said, "we must tell Finrod that I have accepted. He will be ecstatic with joy, I am sure."

"Of course," Celeborn said. The thought of how Finrod would have steam billowing out of his ears if he knew what he was most ardently desiring to do to his sister was enough to return Celeborn to sobriety.

"And perhaps, if we have a child soon then he or she could play with Orodreth's new son, Gil-Galad, and with Inwen and Galathil's child as well."

"I see you are quite ready to get down to business," Celeborn said with a laugh.

"Well you did make me wait an intolerably long time," Galadriel complained. "We ought not waste this peace."

"I should have named you Celegiel, the hasty maiden," Celeborn said, grinning.

"I hate the sound of it," Galadriel laughed.

"You used to hate 'Galadriel' too, remember?" He asked her.

"Nonsense," Galadriel said. "I always loved that name."

"You most certainly did not!" Celeborn scoffed. "You were always upset with me whenever I used it."

"I was just being coy!" Galadriel protested and Celeborn let out a long and loud laugh.

"Wargshit, Galadriel," he said. "You hated it."

"Wargshit you say! Ha!" She turned to him, eagerly digging her fingers into his sides as he tried futilely to bat her probing hands away. "I see your proper princeliness lasted all of a couple of hours before your lowbrow Sindarin slurs began to crop up again!"

"Stop it! Stop it!" He pleaded.

"Kiss me and I will," she demanded. He was only too happy to oblige her and yet, as their kiss deepened and threatened to draw them into dubious physical territory a strange sound came to their ears that caused them to break apart – the sound of weeping.

"You hear it too?" Celeborn whispered and Galadriel nodded, her brow furrowed in confusion. Slowly, hand in hand, they crept through the forest until the willows gave way to beeches and, presently, they happened upon a glade where moonlight filtered down through the forest canopy and the sound of nightingales singing a low, mournful tune could be heard. There, in the center of the glade sat Luthien, her head buried in her hands, weeping as though her heart had been torn in two.

Celeborn started in surprise, drawing his curved knife from its place at his back and Galadriel was surprised to see that he had been carrying it, even wearing all his finery, even within the safety of the girdle, of the capital city. She was reminded once more of how little the Sindar trusted, and how privileged she was to have their trust. Celeborn looked about angrily with a hunter's gaze, as though he feared some wild animal might have hurt his cousin, but Galadriel was quick to sense that this was no physical wound that Luthien had endured, but one of the heart, and so she put her arm upon Celeborn's and bid him sheathe his knife.

"Go," she said, "and I will speak with her, for something tells me that this is a matter that ought to be discussed between women." Celeborn nodded but looked reluctant to leave her side and so Galadriel said, "I will join you later. Wait for me in my rooms." He nodded and, quietly, made his way back to Menegroth's gates. Galadriel watched him leave with some sadness, but also with anticipation of the hours they would pass together shortly, and then turned back towards the clearing and her friend.

The grass moved in the gentle midnight breeze like waves upon a silver sea as she made her way towards Luthien and the very air itself seemed to glimmer in the moonbeams like an enchanted mist. The princess looked up with a tear-stained face as she approached and Galadriel paused, "do you want to be alone?" She asked and Luthien shook her head violently.

"No," she said. "That is just the problem. I am always so alone and I hate being alone."

"Oh Luthien," Galadriel said, drawing her friend into her arms and holding her tight. "I am so sorry. I have been so selfish, concerning myself only with Celeborn, and I have been a neglectful friend to you." They sat there in silent embrace until, at last, Luthien's tears stopped and she drew back from Galadriel to wipe the tears from her eyes.

"You were with him just now, weren't you?" Luthien asked and Galadriel nodded. Luthien's eyes darted to the jewel that lay upon her breast. "Did he give you that? He told me he had ordered something made for you."

"Yes," Galadriel said, reaching up to touch it, and Luthien looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap.

"Valar forgive me," Luthien whispered, her voice weak and trembling. "How envious I am of you. All of my cousins shall soon be married and I alone of Doriath's heirs remain unwed, unloved."

"Luthien! You are loved!" Galadriel exclaimed, reaching out to grasp her friend's hands. "I love you, your cousins love you, your parents love you."

"You don't understand!" Luthien cried. "I want someone to love me as Celeborn loves you! Even…even in his pain, even in his anger he loved you still and not for a moment did he forget you. He loves you now with perfect clarity! He would risk anything for you, my father's wrath, his title and position at court, even his own life! There can be no keeping the two of you apart, just as the dawn is bound to follow the night. He would have come back to you eventually, even if it had taken him a thousand years and Morgoth and all of his minions had stood in his way. He will always come back to you, always. If he says it is not so then he is a liar and if you do not believe he would then you know him not. Is there none who would risk such a thing for me?" And it occurred to Galadriel that Luthien just might be very, very lonely, even surrounded constantly with friends as she was.

"I am sorry," Luthien said suddenly, seeming ashamed of her outburst, "that was wrong of me to say. He wanted to spend this special evening with you and now I've gone and ruined everything like I always do." She sniffed. "It is just that everyone always expects me to be so perfect, so flawless, so…so pure and noble and righteous. But I have the same sorts of thoughts that everyone else does, even if I don't say them." She squeezed Galadriel's hands before she released them, crossing her arms over her chest and striding away as though her heart had grown disquieted. She stopped a few paces away, staring up at the moon, and Galadriel came to stand beside her.

"You needn't apologize," Galadriel said. "I…I know what it is to be envious of the love of others. When I lived in Tirion I often yearned to have for myself what Angrod had with Eldalote, what Finrod had with Amarie. Instead," she sighed, "I was constantly bombarded with suitors who saw nothing in me save a fair face, who did not value me for the reasons that I valued myself. It made me feel so very low and, at the same time, I felt so very wretched for begrudging my brothers their happiness in love. Now, of course, I feel horrible about it, for Angrod and Finrod are sundered forever from the women they love. But it is a natural thought to have, I think, to want love for yourself when you see the joy that it brings others."

"So you…you aren't upset with me for having such terrible thoughts?" Luthien asked and Galadriel marveled that one who was so forgiving of others expected no forgiveness for herself.

"Of course not," Galadriel said. "But will you tell me what brought all of this on? Was it the wedding?"

"No," Luthien said. "Well, it was in a way I suppose. But, really…it was Dairon."

"Dairon?" Galadriel asked hesitantly, for it was something of which she and Luthien had never spoken, though she had known for a long while, for she had never been able to decipher whether Luthien had discerned his affections or not. And Luthien let out an angry sigh at the sound of his name, making as though to speak but falling silent once more out of frustration. Her eyes welled with tears, as though she would weep once more, but she managed to blink them away.

"Is he not your friend?" Galadriel asked, seeing the anger evident upon Luthien's countenance.

"And what is he? What is he indeed?" Luthien said. "He is my friend and my would be lover, my liberator and my jailer. He plays at friendship while secretly desiring more, he turns a blind eye when I do some things forbidden to me by my father and at other times he informs on me to him. He wants to be everything and so he is nothing. And all the while I am subject to the whims of others, not free to do as I choose. Father would lock me away if it would keep me safe and I do not know if Dairon would slip me the key or throw it away."

"It is his love for you that pains him. If you love him in return ought you not tell him?" Galadriel asked.

"He loves me not at all!" Luthien spat, turning a harsh gaze upon her friend. "For if he did then he would say something of it and not remain silent, worrying over my father's approval, or if he might lose favor at court, or even whether I would say yea or nay. He would withstand the wrath of anyone for my sake, even as Celeborn has done for you."

"And could you not say something to him?" Galadriel asked.

"Nay, for I do not well understand my own feelings for him," Luthien made reply. "I am always the one who must sacrifice," Luthien continued. "My father would protect me at the expense of all else, even my own happiness. I am a princess in name only for I am not free to act upon my own will or for the good of my people. Whenever he has some important mission, some matter of diplomacy, he sends Celeborn. And so I abide by my father's rules out of love for him, because I do not wish him to worry, I try to cause him as little trouble as possible, I can hardly ever go into the forest alone as I used to love to do, or climb trees or ride horses, not since Himlad. And father's rules please Dairon, for he too fears for my safety," She shook her raven-haired head. "I have sacrificed my happiness so that father and Dairon might rest assured that I am safe. Cannot Dairon make any sacrifice on my behalf?"

"That is what has brought me so very low this evening," she continued. "I saw you, and Celeborn, and Galathil, and Inwen so content in love. It caused me to have such horribly envious thoughts. In my sadness I thought…well I thought I might distract myself by asking Finrod if I might go visit the humans with him sometime, that perhaps I could be useful there. But of course my father said no and then it was all too much to take. I fled the palace, disgusted with myself for thinking such things about my friends, feeling as though I was a prisoner in my own palace, but Dairon pursued me and attempted to stop me from leaving. He said I shouldn't walk alone. As if he could offer me any protection! I am the daughter of a Maia and I can protect myself well enough!" The tears had begun to fall again and Luthien sniffed as Galadriel reached up to wipe them away.

"He follows me, you know," Luthien said, her voice tight with anger. "He follows me when I come here to dance. He thinks I don't know but I can always sense him…hiding, watching me." She shook her head as if to clear the memory from her mind.

"Ugh," Galadriel grimaced. "Celebrimbor used to do that to me too. He would creep along through the mellyrn of Lorien, hiding, sneaking, watching me as I danced there. There was always something about it that I found disturbing."

"Men," Luthien said with an angry look, shaking her head. "They're so infuriating."

"They really are," Galadriel said with a laugh and Luthien laughed too. "Luthien, I am sorry for having neglected our friendship. Let us do something fun together soon, whatever you like, and I will make sure that Dairon doesn't tag along," Galadriel told her.

"Thank you," Luthien said, squeezing her friend's hand and wiping away the remnants of tears. "I would like that very much." The friends smiled at each other and then Luthien said, "I will be quite alright, I assure you. You have made my heart feel so much lighter already and I think I shall return to the party but you, my friend, ought to be with your beloved. I could not bear being responsible for your sundering for even a moment longer."

---

Celeborn watched Galadriel sleep, a grin on his face as he admired her pearly skin, lit with the rays of the sun, the golden hair that tumbled over her shoulder, the gentleness of her lovely face in sleep and he reached out to run his fingers down the elegant curve of her bare back.

"Your bed is far too small for the both of us," he murmured.

"Mmmm…" Galadriel smiled and stretched in the late evening sun, reluctant still to open her eyes, almost fearing that she would wake and find that it had all been a dream, but soon she felt Celeborn's strong arms wrap tightly around her, pulling her close against his chest where she could feel the beating of his heart, hear the rumble of his voice as he spoke again.

"Are you planning on waking up any time this evening?" He asked her and she smiled against the warmth of his chest, snuggling against him as closely as she was able. She felt him press a kiss to her forehead and her smile broadened.

"I thought we said we weren't going to do this," she said, opening her eyes at last to look into his deep green ones. He grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear, and she smiled, admiring the fall of his long silver hair over his broad shoulders, reaching out to graze his dusky skin with her fingertips.

"I seem to recall that you said it would be acceptable on occasion," he replied.

"So I did," she admitted with a broad grin.

"And besides," he said, "the renewal of our courtship is a very special occasion indeed, is it not? What is more, I did offer to leave and, if I remember correctly, it was you who urged me to stay here in your bed."

"Mmm, that is so," she grinned again, wrapping her arms around him.

"I have already forgotten why we agreed not to share rooms." Celeborn said, punctuating his words with kisses.

"Because," Galadriel said, "we did not want to cause trouble." Celeborn nipped at her lip. "And because," she said authoritatively, "Thingol would go mad with worry."

"With good reason," Celeborn interjected, tousling her hair. Galadriel laughed and pushed his hands away.

"And," she said, "because I don't want a smelly man junking my rooms up with animal pelts, and hunting trophies, and half-empty glasses…"

"I smell lovely," he said, burrowing his head in her shoulder and she could feel him grin against the skin there.

"You smell like sweat," she said.

"You made me sweat," he accused her, meeting her playful gaze. "And my chambers are immaculately clean, thank you very much."

"No," she wagged a protesting finger at him. "There was that time you were fletching arrows on the carpet, on the carpet, Celeborn, the carpet, and you left them to dry there and the glue got all stuck. And how long did that half-mounted deer's head sit in the corner before you finished it? And then there was…"

"I concede! I concede!" He cried, laughing.

"Although," Galadriel said, wrapping herself in his arms once more, "I rather fear that I will have a difficult time falling asleep without you beside me." Celeborn smiled at her wistfully and suddenly seemed to grow calmer, more serious.

"After you left for Nargothrond I had a terrible time sleeping," he murmured. "It was almost as though I had forgotten how without you there beside me."

"Mmm," she settled into his chest, looking into his eyes, "so did I. Sometimes at night I would imagine that you were there with me, that everything was well again, and at others I would wander out to the gates to look up at the stars, wondering if you were looking at them as well."

"Let us never be separated again," he whispered to her.

"Never again," she replied and he drew her into a gentle kiss that was as soft as spring rain. Then, propping himself up on his elbows, he bent over her so that he might gaze into her eyes and Galadriel smiled up at him, relishing in his love and in the feel of his embrace. "Show me," she said, "where you made the bond."

"Here," he said, tracing a line down his forearm with his finger, "and here," he traced a line down the center of his chest. Galadriel smiled up at him and took his wrist, pressing it against the place on her chest over her heart. "Like this?" She whispered and he nodded, feeling a strange tightness in his throat, an unfamiliar prickling and wetness in his eyes.

"Yes," he whispered, startled to hear how ragged his voice suddenly sounded and he swallowed, blinking.

"I treasure it," she said, "for now I carry you with me wherever I go," giving him a radiant smile and Celeborn gathered her more tightly in his arms, pulling her close to him, his face nestled in her hair and, for a moment, Galadriel thought that she felt the wetness of tears against her cheek but, in the next instant he was all smiles and energy and had caught her wrists in his hands, pinning her down to the bed as he sat atop her.

"Race you to the River Aros," he said before leaping out of bed.

"What?" Galadriel sat up, confused

"Come on Galadriel," he said, flashing her a grin as he pulled on his breeches. "You're already losing."

"Am not," she grumbled, sliding out of bed and throwing open her wardrobe to retrieve her own breeches.

"Are too."

"You can't be serious. That is nearly a day away by foot!" She exclaimed but Celeborn showed no signs of slowing down, pulling on a shirt and tunic as Galadriel did the same.

"Afraid you'll lose?" He asked and she scowled.

"What will Thingol say?" She asked and Celeborn shrugged.

"I don't know and, frankly, I am not concerned by it," Celeborn said. "I've spent my whole life waiting on this kingdom. I think it can wait on me for a change. Besides, there was a wedding yesterday. Nobody will be doing anything at all tonight and we have the world to ourselves."

Galadriel pulled on a leather jerkin and a pair of short boots, strapping her knives over her back. "What do I get if I win?" She asked him.

"Another night with me," he said with a smirk before darting barefoot out into the corridor and Galadriel followed as they bounded through the halls, nimble as rabbits. At last they blew past an extremely startled Mablung and burst out through the gates of the city, agile as a pair of deer, sprinting across the plains before Menegroth before they darted into the Forest of Region.

Celeborn leapt into the trees, making faster speed than Galadriel did upon the ground, but she did not quite trust her footing that high up, for she had not his experience with it. The sun of the late afternoon was peaceful and she relished in the dappled light that shone gently upon her face, enjoyed the softness of the grass and earth beneath her feet. She looked up to where he was leaping through the canopy, remembering the night she had first seen him walk that road in the sky and how amazed she had been by it. He looked down, catching her gaze, and they both smiled. Then he dropped down to the lower branches and suddenly she felt his strong hand on the back of her collar as he lifted her bodily into the trees.

"Trust them," he whispered, "and they will not lead you wrong." She looked down at her feet but he said, "don't," and so she took that first tentative step, and then the next and onwards and onwards until it felt as though she were flying, soaring through the treetops like an eagle with Celeborn at her side, his hand gentle upon the small of her back.

The evening sunlight faded and died in gasping bursts, like a candle whose wick had expired, and the deep indigo of night began to fill the heavens like an hourglass until Beleriand had fallen into night and the stars above twinkled like diamonds. In the darkness Galadriel worried for her footing and, for the briefest of moments, glanced down at her feet. In the next moment she was plummeting to the forest floor, her fall arrested only by Celeborn's arm tight about her waist.

"Don't doubt," he whispered, laughing into her neck before placing a kiss there and returning her to the branches of the trees once more. Galadriel's heart was still thundering in her chest from her near fall but then she rallied her confidence and began to dance over the branches again, allowing her feet to lead her. Gradually, Celeborn drew his hand away and then she was doing it all on her own.

By the time that day broke in burning flames of saffron light that glinted off the tall golden grasses, the Aros lay before them, a glistening ribbon of silver glinting in the early morning sun, and beyond it stretched the plains beyond which lay unseen the River Celon and, on its far bank, Nan Elmoth. They burst out of the forest, running now down the long grassy bank towards the river. Celeborn knew that he would win now for he had a significant lead, and it was with great joy that he plunged into the cool waters of the Aros.

He turned to see that Galadriel had reached the river's edge now and, without hesitation, she plunged into the water and into his open arms. He held her to him, feeling her tremble against him with willingness, the length of her body tight against him, her breasts firm against his chest, and he felt her heart beating against his own, the pulsing like a current that moved through him and filled his entire body with the song of summer. In his mind he saw the wild pinks and oranges, yellows and reds, of wildflowers in a forest glade, smelt the coolness of the mud of the riverbank, felt the freshness of the thundering water, heard the chirping of frogs in the early morning all around them.

"Does this mean that I cannot have you this evening?" She asked breathlessly and Celeborn grinned against her lips.

"Yes," he said, "because you have lost the race." Galadriel frowned at him and he could hardly keep from laughing. "But," he said, "as I am the victor, that means that I may do to you whatever I wish."

"I don't recall agreeing to that," Galadriel whispered, nipping at his bottom lip.

"And yet," he said, picking her up and carrying her to the riverbank, "you do not seem adverse to the idea."

"And what do you wish to do?" She asked him with a smile. He set her down on the riverbank, turning her about, and she saw there two great tree trunks growing up out of the ground, or rather, it almost appeared as though they were growing down into it, as though the roots were toes that were grasping the earth, digging into the mud of the riverbank.

"I would like you to meet my friend, Treebeard," Celeborn said and Galadriel looked up, up, up to see that these two trunks were really two legs and that a very tall tree towered over her, no, not a tree, an Onod whose body seemed to be made of gray-green bark that moved rather like skin more than wood. The lower portion of his long face was covered with a sweeping grey beard that was twiggy at the roots and thin and mossy at the ends, bearing a great resemblance to the business end of a broomstick. In his face were set two deep eyes that were surveying the two elves before him now, solemn and penetrating, but filled with great kindness. And, at long last the bark, or skin if one could call it that, of his face bent into a welcoming smile.

"Good morning to you, golden friend of silver tree," the ent said in a long, slow voice like the deep rumbling of an earthquake.

---

The whole royal family was gathered in the houses of healing in varying states of dress, seeing as it was midday and they had all been asleep mere hours ago, before word had reached them that Inwen had gone into labor. Thingol wore a long nightshirt and a thick robe, his silver mane pulled back in a loose braid. Melian, who, it seemed, had managed to put on a proper gown, sat behind her husband, massaging his shoulders, and she smiled at Celeborn and Galadriel as they entered, looking out of breath, as if they had rushed there.

Venessiel and Oropher were both there, Oropher in breeches and a shirt and his wife in a nightdress and a long dressing gown. The prince was yawning continuously and moved to sit in a chair, leaning back against the wall. "You'll tip the chair over if you keep doing that," Venessiel admonished him, trying to get him to keep all four legs of the chair on the ground, but Oropher was impervious to his wife's scolding.

Luthien was bouncing on the balls of her feet and scurried forward to clasp Galadriel's hands. "Isn't it so very exciting?" She asked. "A new baby! The last one in our family was Oropher."

"It is!" Galadriel exclaimed, feeling the excitement welling within her. Galathil was leaning with his palms flat against the wall, sweating profusely through his nightshirt and doubling over in pain every few minutes.

"He says he can feel the pain through the bond," Luthien whispered into her friend's ear as Celeborn put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Ought you not be in there with your wife?" Celeborn asked softly but Galathil shook his head, breathing hard.

"Don't like blood," he said. "She says I'm making it worse." Inwen's screams of pain rent the air.

Presently, Madame Camaeneth, the chief healer, exited through the curtains and approached them all. Despite Inwen's war cries the chief healer seemed remarkably unperturbed and graced them all with a pleasant smile. "I am afraid the child is rather large," she said, "and the princess is having some difficulty, but things are proceeding normally and it should not be much longer now."

"I am glad to hear it," Thingol said with a grin as Galathil collapsed against the wall in agony.

The healer strode away and they could hear her speaking to Inwen from behind the curtain. "There now, you're doing splendidly. My first was difficult as well but it will be all over soon."

"One day it will be your turn," Melian said, turning to Galadriel. Thingol laughed loudly.

"Melian you will scare the poor girl! I beg you not to do so as I am most eagerly anticipating many more grandchildren." Galadriel only rolled her eyes and grinned.

"Well I certainly hope that it does not hurt that much when my time comes," she said in response to Inwen's shrieks. Galathil had sunk to the floor now, curled up in the fetal position as Celeborn stood over him laughing.

"One day it will be your turn," Galathil was hissing up angrily at his brother.

"Inwen is a good deal smaller than Galathil but Galadriel is nearly as tall as Celeborn," Venessiel said. "I should think she would have an easier pregnancy."

"I recall that mine was not very bad," Melian said.

"I too remember it being rather easy for you," Thingol said and Venessiel and Galadriel laughed.

"Well you are a Maia after all, Melian," Venessiel said. "It isn't quite fair."

"Have you and Oropher spoken about children?" Melian asked the minister of the treasury as she glanced over at the prince in question, who had fallen asleep in his chair.

"I think we are almost ready," Venessiel said. "We are planning on having them relatively soon, before this century is out I should think." Madam Camaeneth's voice filtered out from the curtain once more, interrupting their conversation.

"Take heart Inwen! This child will be a new prince or princess of Doriath!" She was crying in response to Inwen's groans of pain.

"Who on earth would have thought Galathil would be the first to have children," Thingol remarked with a grin.

"I only wish it would be out of me already! Curse Galathil and his overly-large head!" Inwen cried, and everyone there stifled laughter.

"Soon enough! You're almost there," Madam Camaeneth assured her and, all of a sudden Inwen's groans stopped and, in the next instant, the cry of an infant could be heard.

"The baby!" Luthien cried excitedly and everyone leapt to his or her feet, even Oropher who had only so recently been fast asleep. Galathil bolted over to the curtains, slipping inside.

"How wonderful!" Melian whispered, embracing her husband, who was grinning ear to ear. Celeborn had returned to Galadriel's side now, clasping her hands in his, his eyes alight with excitement.

"I am an uncle!" He exclaimed and Galadriel nodded, embracing him.

After a few long moments, Galathil emerged from the curtained area, tears of joy staining his face, cradling the baby gently in his arms as he stepped out into the Antechamber, where the royal family waited in anticipation. He held the babe gently, almost as though he was afraid he would break her, and the baby giggled and reached for her father's dark hair, tugging on it weakly. Madame Camaeneth walked at his side and Thingol gasped at the sight.

"Silver hair…" the king whispered in wonder, for indeed, there was a tuft of hair the color of the stars upon the baby's head and the child smiled and laughed. At that moment a change came over the king as he looked upon the babe so that it seemed to Galadriel that he looked almost as full of hope as he had when she had first arrived in Menegroth hundreds of years ago. Melian touched the king's arm, tenderness in her eyes, and Galadriel wondered if the queen had felt the change as well.

She felt Celeborn's hand upon the small of her back momentarily and knew that he had felt the same as her, that looking upon Nimloth he had wondered what their own children might look like and had felt the same longing that she felt now, as though her arms were unusually empty.

"A princess is given unto us. This is my daughter, Nimloth," Galathil said, a proud father now as he looked around at them all.

It was said in Doriath that a baby that smiles rather than cries will bring good fortune to her people and that a royal child with silver hair will turn the course of history and so Galadriel imagined that these thoughts must be running through the minds of all those gathered there while Galathil held his child and Madame Camaeneth spoke, saying; "This is a fortunate day among fortunate days." Yet at that moment Galadriel could not help but recall the silver hair of those slain in Alqualonde and her heart trembled in fear for this child.

"Perhaps the King would like to hold…" Madame Camaeneth began to suggest gently to Galathil but he looked up at Celeborn instead.

"No," he said, "first my brother," and he passed the child gently into Celeborn's arms. Galadriel looked first at the beaming smile upon Celeborn's face and then at the tiny face of the child, who reached out to grasp her finger, and she could not help but smile as the baby giggled. Her eyes were green, like Galathil's, and Celeborn's as well and, as Galadriel ran her fingers gently over the fluffy tuft of silver hair on the baby's head, she felt a strange thrill of excitement shoot through her at the thought that perhaps in a few more years they might be standing here holding their own child. He had felt it too and his eyes met hers before they both returned their attention to the baby.

"Hello Nimloth," Celeborn said.

End Part II