And Melian Spoke
Doriath: 27th Chapter
"The Queen of Air and Darkness tilted back her head and laughed."
– Stephen R. Lawhead, Arthur
Author's note: Wow, finishing part II almost killed my brain. I seriously had to take a 3 day hiatus where I didn't even think about the story before I was able to write again. But, fortunately, part III is progressing really nicely now. I've written the ending and I think it is going to blow your minds, at least I hope so! Thanks everybody for your input. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and questions and thank you everyone for reading. This story is going to top 300,000 words soon and it is now the 4th most reviewed Galadriel/Celeborn fic on this site! Every time I get a review it is better than Christmas! I can't believe it! You guys are my heroes!
Ok. Now, are you ready!? Are you ready?! Part III! Let's do this! End of the First Age! Let's do this!
Leeza: Thanks! Yeah, it was really different for me to write such a family oriented chapter but I really enjoyed writing it and I am glad you enjoyed it too.
Galadrielfan: Thank you! It always makes my day when I gain a new reviewer! It is so humbling for me to realize how much support I get from my reviewers.
Luna: Thank you! Yeah, there are definitely going to be parts of Part III that are horribly sad :( I feel like I have invested so much in these characters and story and it is hard to do what I am going to have to do.
"Daeradar! Daeradar!" Nimloth called, laughing, for this was what she called Thingol, although he was not her grandfather but her great granduncle. "Watch this! Watch what I can do!" And so saying, the child whistled to her pony, jumping a low hedge, and circling around to ride beside the king once more. Thingol applauded her efforts.
"Well done!" He cried, his face alight with joy. The birth of Nimloth had engendered hope in all of Doriath and, not least of all, in the heart of the king himself. With the coming of peace, Thingol's long winter had passed, giving way to a spring of the soul and with it, the frigidity that had hardened his heart thawed and with it the cloud that had hung over Doriath dispersed. These were peaceful days and that peace was augmented by the birth of the new princess, whose mischievous antics and cheerful smile were the delight of all.
The little princess was nigh seven years old now and filled with youthful exuberance. She had not the gentle, soft-spoken temperament of her mother, but rather, she took more after her father's side of the family, bold in both speech and spirit, and vigorous in body. What was more, she had inherited Galathil's gift for music and her parents watched with doting glances as she sang.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
how I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky."
"Oh!" She cried laughing, breathless. "I have forgotten the rest! Help me uncle!" She called to Celeborn, who had been riding beside Melian and Galadriel. He spurred his horse now so that he might ride beside Thingol and Nimloth and he sang the second verse of the song.
"When the blazing sun is gone,
when he nothing shines upon,
then you show your little light,
twinkle, twinkle, all the night."
"Oh yes, now I remember!" Nimloth laughed. "Let us sing the third verse together uncle please?"
"Very well meleth," Celeborn replied with a smile and they sang together then, with Galathil joining in as well and Galadriel thought that, although her beloved often disparaged his own efforts at song, he had a very fine voice indeed.
"Then the traveller in the dark,
thanks you for your tiny spark,
he could not see which way to go,
if you did not twinkle so!"
Having finished their song, Nimoth laughed with glee and bent down to pat her pony on the neck.
"We are travellers aren't we Adar?" She called to Galathil.
"We are indeed dearest," he replied.
"Are we almost there yet?" Nimloth asked. "We have been traveling for many days and I want to see the beach. Nana said that there are seals there and I have never seen a seal before. I heard they look like great sausages!" The royal party was traveling now to the Falas so that the king might visit with Cirdan, his friend and kinsman, whom he had not seen in a very long while. Ordinarily such a trip might have been very dangerous, yet with the many long years of peace it was at last possible again. With him went Melian, and also the Princes Celeborn and Galathil, along with Inwen, and their daughter. They took many of their people in their retinue, one of whom was Galadriel. But Luthien, the crown princess, did not go with them, for she had finally gotten her dearest wish of all; inspired perhaps by the peace, her father had appointed her queen regent of Menegroth in his absence.
"I promise you that you shall see plenty of seals!" Galathil told his daughter. "And you shall see many more things besides: colorful fish, seabirds, mermaids…"
"Mermaids," the princess gasped, wide-eyed, "what are those?"
"Meleth nin," Inwen chided, giving her husband a disapproving look, "you ought not fill her head with tall tales."
"It is true," Galathil told his wide-eyed daughter, ignoring his wife's admonition. "There are mermaids and they are like elves atop, the most beautiful elves you have ever seen, but below their waists they have long tails like fish! And they are very kind and love children most of all."
"Really?" A broad grin spread across the girl's face. "How very fantastic! I want to see one!"
"Maybe you will if you are lucky," Galathil told her while Inwen rolled her eyes and laughed. "Indeed, there may even be a mermaid amongst us now, for there are some who can hide their tails away and walk about like elves." Nimloth's mouth fell open in awe, completely entranced by her father's words, and she turned her horse around so that she might survey the traveling party.
"I know," she said to Galathil in complete earnestness. "It must be the Lady Galadriel, for she is the most beautiful elf ever! Is she?"
"I don't know," Galathil said. "Let us ask your uncle Celeborn, for he is the wisest of elves and if any can say then it shall certainly be he!"
"Is it true uncle Celeborn?" Nimloth asked, turning to him. "Is the Lady Galadriel a mermaid?" And she had cupped one hand about her mouth as if to whisper but, having only the tact of a child, which is to say she had hardly any tact at all, she spoke in a voice loud enough that all could hear and there was much laughter in the traveling party.
"I do not know," Celeborn said, furrowing his brow in mock concentration, "for I known nothing of the mysterious ways of discerning mermaids from elven women."
"Really? I had thought you were well-versed in Lady Galadriel's legs and tail," Galathil whispered to his brother and Celeborn gave him a dangerous look, but the implications of her father's words were completely over Nimloth's head.
"Shall we go ask the Lady Galadriel herself?" Celeborn asked his niece and she nodded solemnly, as though they were embarking upon some monumental task.
"Yes," she said, seriously, "but I wish to ride with you now."
"And why is that meleth?" Celeborn asked her.
"The Lady Galadriel is scary," Nimloth whispered, eyes wide, "Oropher says she is a sorceress," and Celeborn laughed.
"Oh she isn't that terribly scary once you get to know her," Celeborn said with a reassuring smile, "and I can certainly assure you that she is not a sorceress." Nevertheless, he reached down to lift Nimloth onto his own horse and passed the reins of her pony to Galathil. He encouraged Nimloth to take hold of the pommel with both hands and he wrapped one of his arms around her to hold her steady, for it was a rather longer fall to the ground from his charger than from her pony.
They rode back then to Melian and her ladies, all of whom smiled at the approach of the beloved child, and came to ride beside Galadriel, who smiled, already knowing full well why they had come.
"Lady," Celeborn addressed her courteously with a polite nod of his head, "the princess has a question she would like to ask you."
"Why of course, what is it princess?" Galadriel asked, gracing the child with a radiant smile. But the silver-haired princess shook her head and shrank back into her uncle's chest, wide-eyed with fright.
"Go on Nimloth," Celeborn encouraged her. "If you don't ask you will never know." The child chewed her lip, turning the possibilities over in her mind and at last her curiosity won out.
"Are you a mermaid?" She whispered and Galadriel feigned surprise.
"Why…yes! How did you know?" She cried and the child's fear disappeared as quickly as dewdrops under the summer sun in her delight at having discovered a mermaid.
"Because Adar said mermaids are more beautiful than elves and you are so beautiful that I cannot believe you are an elf!" Nimloth cried in joy, laughing.
"Is that so?" Galadriel said, laughing as well. "Perhaps one day you might see my tail!"
"Oh please!" Nimloth gasped and then wriggled, turning about so that she could look up at her uncle.
"Uncle Celeborn, I wish to ride with Lady Galadriel now!" She exclaimed.
"But I thought you were afraid of her," Celeborn said with a smile and Nimloth shook her silver head in vehement denial.
"No, not anymore. Because Adar told me that mermaids are kind and love children!"
The joy that Cirdan felt upon welcoming relatives and friends whom he had not seen in many long years was perhaps somewhat outweighed by his confusion at being told by Nimloth immediately upon the royal party's arrival, that the Lady Galadriel was a mermaid. It was a tale she told any who would listen over the next few weeks as they attended parties and banquets and waded in the surf. Yet so great was her excitement that she grew exhausted quite early each morning and, hardly had the sun crested the horizon before her parents carried her off to bed.
In the dying of the evening's excitement, Galadriel took the opportunity to slip away to where she expected that her lover might be hiding. Exiting the main part of the palace and heading for the shore, she found herself in a magnificent pavilion. It was open to the air, a floor of white marble veined in glimmering silver upon which stood a myriad of alabaster pillars stretching up to a ceiling that resembled that of the bathhouses in Menegroth: pure white stone cut like lace so that the light of the moon shone down in magnificent patterns to the floor below. The spaces between the pillars were all hung with long, flowing curtains of silvery blue that rippled like the sea in the evening breeze. Galadriel closed her eyes and breathed in the salty smell of sea air before she began to pass through the pavilion, slipping past the curtains that billowed about her. It was then that she felt an arm curl around her waist and grinned in silent anticipation as Celeborn drew her into his arms.
"Seems I've caught a mermaid," he whispered as he grinned down at her.
"Mermaids run away if you don't kiss them often enough," Galadriel murmured as she smiled at him, feeling the warmth of him against her and the comforting feeling of his arms about her waist.
"Have I been remiss in my duties?" He asked her, laughing quietly. She nodded and he captured her lips in a long kiss that left her near breathless, moving one of his hands up to the back of her head, trying, it seemed, to pull her as close to him as possible.
"Something about you makes me feel so very wild," she gasped as his mouth moved to the delicate curve of her neck. "I wish things could be like they used to, when I shared your bed each day." She felt him laugh against the curve of her shoulder.
"I think we both know where that would end," he whispered.
"And why should we wait? Plenty of your people marry in such a fashion," She murmured, though she knew it was only the touch of his skin on hers that was making her say such things. "We have waited so very long, Celeborn, near 400 years since we first met. We have already been courting several years now. Why should we not be wed immediately?"
"So that I do not have to explain to Thingol why both of Galadhon's sons wed in secret," Celeborn replied.
Galadriel made a sound of discontent. "Then let us go to Thingol immediately," she said. "You know how impatient I am. Do you not wish to wed me?" She grinned, her eyes playful.
"You know I wish to marry you," Celeborn growled. "Do not tempt me!" He made a halfhearted attempt to bat away her enticing hands.
"But I am enjoying it so very much," Galadriel laughed, tickling him now, and he yelped, pushing her hands away in earnest this time.
"I," he managed to capture her hands and hold her still at last, "would do right by you, Galadriel. I want to have a proper wedding, a wedding befitting you, with Finrod, and Aegnor, and Angrod, Orodreth, his wife and children, everyone there to bear witness."
"I don't need any of that," She grumbled. "Why do you have to be so noble now? I rather think that Galathil had the right idea after all."
"I would hesitate to call any of Galathil's ideas 'right,'" Celeborn laughed. "Come, walk with me," he said, pushing the curtains aside and walking out onto the shore. Galadriel moved to take the hand he had offered her but instead he brought it to her backside with a resounding smack and then went tearing off barefoot down the beach. Galadriel shrieked and went running after him.
The elves of the Falas kept the same nocturnal hours as their kinsmen in Doriath and so Melian and Thingol took the opportunity to walk on the balconies of Cirdan's elegant and expansive house so that they might see the beauty of the moon upon the ocean. Its light glimmered upon the surface of the sea and the sound of music and laughter filtered through the air from the party that they had just left as Melian approached her husband from behind, wrapping her arms about his broad shoulders and kissing his temple. She heard his soft laugh and moved to sit in the chair opposite him but he wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her down to sit across his lap.
"Meleth nin," he said softly, grinning and kissing her. "I have been thinking lately; why do we not have another child ourselves? Having a child in our family again reminds me of how much fun we had when our Luthien was young."
"Is that so?" Melian asked with a smile, tucking her husband's silver hair behind his ear. "Do you know that I have been thinking the same thing of late? Perhaps we ought to have another." Thingol squeezed her hand, his eyes, filled with happiness and satisfaction, looking out over the water below.
"And how long, do you think, before they have children of their own?" He asked, watching the two figures walking slowly upon the beach. Despite the darkness they were unmistakable with hair of silver and gold, as if the sun and moon themselves had come down to walk upon that strand.
"They will have very strange fates, both of them," Melian mused and then she laughed quietly to herself.
Thingol grinned and shook his silver head. "Look at how blissfully oblivious they are to the world. It is almost as though they cannot see anyone else but each other."
"Ah the follies of youth!" Melian whispered into his ear with a grin. "You do not object to the union?" She asked and Thingol laughed, shaking his head.
"Hardly," he replied. "These past few years I can hardly recall what worry feels like. Indeed, I have known only happiness."
"Indeed," Melian sighed contentedly. "That is so. And, now that peace has come there are so many elflings about Menegroth."
"200 years of peace…" Thingol mused, "and to think that I have Galadriel's cousins to thank for it. A most surprising state of affairs."
"Indeed," Melian said, pressing her head against her husband's. "At the moment, however, I would rather not think of politics."
Thingol laughed, wrapping her tightly in his arms. "Of course," he replied, "then in that case I think we ought to get up to some youthful follies ourselves."
The days that they spent upon the beach were exceedingly difficult for Galadriel because Celeborn had taken to walking about without a shirt in the manner of the Falathrim, and his skin had become well-bronzed in the summer sun and its light slid across his tanned muscles, paying absolute tribute to his body. Galadriel tore her eyes away from him with some difficulty, feeling as though she were suddenly breathing more rapidly than usual. He seemed to have noticed and she could see a slow grin spreading across his face as she blushed and turned her head away. She almost suspected he was doing it on purpose to torment her.
"I found these to help us build our sand castle," Nimloth said with delight, plopping down beside Galadriel in the sand. In her cupped hands she held dozens of pearls. Indeed, the entire beach was full of them.
"Lovely!" Galadriel said. Nimloth giggled and helped her build the walls of the castle.
"I want to make it really big!" She said. "Like Menegroth!"
"Then we shall make it as big as you like!" Galadriel told her and the child grinned up at her in awe.
"Uncle Celeborn says you are from Aman," she said. "My Daernaneth is from Aman too."
"That's right," Galadriel replied, carefully crafting the parapet of their sand castle. "I was born in a city called Valinor."
"That's where the Valar live," Nimloth said with a grin, proud of herself for remembering her history lessons.
"That's right," Galadriel said. "And I have met all of them."
"Really?" Nimloth gasped in awe and the Noldorin lady nodded.
"What's it like?" Nimloth asked.
"It is a very large place," Galadriel told her, "and there are many different parts, but in the place that I was born the houses are all of beautiful white marble and the streets are paved in gold and crystal. There are fountains there as well filled with the clearest water that will refresh you completely the moment that but a drop touches your lips. But there are two other big cities as well."
"One is Alqualonde," the child said, "and I know because that is where father's people live. That is where the Teleri are."
"Indeed," Galadriel replied. "My mother is a Teler with hair just as silver as yours! And she is the princess of Alqualonde," she said. "I spent much time there in my childhood with my grandparents, for my daeradar is the king of Alqualonde, Olwe, who is Thingol's younger brother."
"Is it true that the houses are made with pearls?" Nimloth asked.
"Yes!" Galadriel said. "There are pearls bigger than your head! Thousands of them, and they can be hewn into great blocks with which to build all sorts of buildings. And the sand itself is as gold as a crown and filled with gemstones. If you were to pick up but a handful of sand then diamonds and sapphires, rubies and emeralds would fill your hands as well!" Nimloth giggled.
"Is your father from Valinor?" The child asked. "Is that why you were born there?"
"Well," said Galadriel, "partly he is. His mother is Indis, of the Vanyar, and the Vanyar live in Valinor. But his father is Finwe, the king of the Noldor, and Tirion is the city of the Noldor. All of the Vanyar have golden hair and, though my father is half Noldo, who are nearly all dark of hair, he inherited his mother's golden hair, as did I." Nimloth reached up to tug at Galadriel's golden hair, giggling. "So my father is from both Valinor and Tirion, where he lives now."
"Why does he live in Tirion now?" Nimloth asked. "Is it because of his father?"
"In a way," Galadriel said. "His father died tragically, fighting against Morgoth, and so now my father is the king of the Noldor and the king of the Noldor must live in Tirion."
"Is it a nice place?" Nimloth asked.
"I think so," Galadriel said. The city of Tirion is built on a great green hill called Tuna in a big valley called Calacirya, through which the sun shines. It is the biggest of all of the cities in the west."
"Bigger even than Menegroth?" Nimloth asked.
"I think they are probably about the same size," Galadriel told her.
"Is it made out of pearls too?" Nimloth asked her as she stuck pearls in the walls of their sand castle.
"No, but all of the walls and buildings are painted white so that they glitter in the sun and the stairs are all of crystal, clear as glass, and the sand in the streets is diamond dust. At the center of the city is a great tower with a silver lantern that can be seen all the way out at sea. And that is where my father lives now, at the base of that tower." And it was also, she thought, where Feanor had sworn his terrible oath, where she herself had stood yearning for glory. "There is a white tree there called Galathilion, made by Yavanna herself as a gift." Galadriel told her.
"That is like my Adar's name," Nimoth said with a smile.
"Indeed, it is," Galadriel said.
"Then you are a Vanya, and a Teler, and a Noldo mermaid," Nimloth said confidently.
"I am," Galadriel laughed.
"Are there a lot of mermaids in Aman?" Nimloth asked her.
"Hundred and hundreds," Galadriel told her, "and we just lounge about on the beach all day long!" Nimloth giggled.
"Will you ever go back?" She asked and Galadriel stopped building the castle suddenly, as if she had been punched in the gut.
"No, I don't think so," she said. "I have to stay here now." And she began to smooth the walls of the castle again.
"I'm sorry," Nimloth said softly, realizing that she had caused some harm, for she was very perceptive for a child, "I didn't mean to make you sad." And she reached out with one tiny hand to squeeze the golden-haired lady's.
"No, it's quite alright," Galadriel assured her.
"Would it make you feel better if I build the great tower of Tirion?" Nimloth asked her and Galadriel nodded.
"Yes," she said, "that might make me feel very happy indeed." And together they began to pile up the sand and sculpt the tower. Nimloth scurried away for a moment to grab a stick that had washed up on the beach and, planting it in the sand at the base of their partially finished tower, she declared it to be the white tree Galathilion.
"We can use my hair for the silver lamp," she said enthusiastically, "because it is silver, just like Daeradar's and Uncle Celeborn's." Galadriel looked up, but Celeborn was nowhere to be seen and she wondered where he had gone.
"That's a very clever idea," Galadriel praised the child and Nimloth glanced up at her furtively, as if she had something she wished to ask, but merely chewed her lip and turned her attention back towards building the tower as high as she could.
"What is it?" Galadriel asked her, laughing, and Nimloth glanced around in nervous excitement.
"If a Vanya and a Noldo can marry and a half Vanya half Noldo can marry a Teler," Nimloth said, "then why can't a Vanya, Noldo, Teler mermaid marry a Sinda?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Galadriel asked, perplexed by the child's logic.
"Well, your daeradar was a Noldo and your daernaneth is a Vanya and they got married. So your father is half Vanya and half Noldo and he married your mother, who is a Teler. So why can't you marry Uncle Celeborn?" Nimloth asked, with a tone in her voice as though it was the most obvious question in the world.
"Oh," said Galadriel, dumbstruck, nervous, for Nimloth was yet a child and knew her only as her Uncle Celeborn's 'friend,' and Galadriel feared that such a conversation might easily lead to other conversations: such as what courtship and marriage entailed, or even where elflings came from and Galadriel swallowed. "I am just your uncle's friend," she lied placatingly, but Nimloth looked up at her and sighed as though she knew a great something that Galadriel didn't.
"He would be a great fool if he did not love you you," Nimloth said. "For you are beautiful and kind and really clever too. You can do all sorts of things like weave and ride horses and hunt and make lembas and fight and dance and Adar says you can run really fast too. That's how all of the great love stories are," she told Galadriel. "Don't you know about the great love stories?"
"Indeed, I do know about them," Galadriel said with a relieved laugh, for it seemed that Nimloth had merely been fantasizing and had not, after all, been wondering about the making of elflings or of the details of marriage.
"He loves you," Nimloth said, "just like the heroes in the stories. He looks at you the way my Adar looks at my naneth, and the way that Daeradar looks at Daernaneth," Nimloth said solemnly.
"Maybe it is just his little secret then," Galadriel said, hoping to put the child off their trail.
"If Uncle Celeborn married you then you could be my auntie! And you could have a little girl as well, and she could be my friend and play with me and, oh, wouldn't it be so lovely?" Nimloth squealed excitedly but Galadriel only laughed nervously and attempted to divert the child's attention again.
"Are you ready to put the lantern on the tower now?" She asked Nimloth.
"Oh yes!" The little princess said, reaching up to pull a few strands of hair from her head and twisting them into a knot before tying them about the top of the tower. "Finished!" She exclaimed, stepping back to look at their work and laughing before dashing off across the sand. "Daeradar!" She called to Thingol. "Come look at what Lady Galadriel and I built!"
It was dawn now, the rising sun painting the calm ocean in shades of pink and gold and orange. The clouds above seemed like mere wisps of cotton and the cool sand below Galadriel's bare feet was white and very nearly iridescent, for pearls were so abundant upon the beaches of the Falas that she could look down and see then in the sand between her toes, glimmering in the light of the sunrise.
The hem of her thin, pale blue gown flowed behind her in the breeze and she stopped, looking out over the ocean, imagining that she could almost see that silver lamp upon Tuna at Tirion. Nimloth's words had burrowed themselves deep in her mind where they worked upon her now. She turned back towards the city of Falas to see that it was perfectly quiet and deserted, as if no one were there at all, for the Falathirim had gone to bed a little while before the sun had begun to crest the horizon.
Galadriel had tried to sleep as well but, restless, had at last risen from her bed to steal away to the beach, for Nimloth's words had brought back darker memories and there was something else, some foreboding working upon her heart now that she could not quiet. Whenever she looked at the sea she could not help but remember Aman and all of the terrible things that happened there. Yet, as abhorrent as the thought of returning to that place was to her, she wondered sometimes how her parents fared and the thought of her mother mourning after her children, of her father, a lonely king in a deserted city, brought tears to her eyes.
The back of her dress was cut low in the style of the Falathrim and she felt the gentle touch of a familiar hand upon the small of her back, a comforting hand, as if he had sensed her sadness. Turning, she found Celeborn, and he smiled at her as she glowed in the morning light.
"I was asleep," he said quietly, "until strange memories began to disturb my slumber, memories of a land far away."
"I am sorry for having woken you," she said, sniffing back the tears that had threatened to fall only a moment ago.
"You need not apologize," he said. "It was no bother." And he reached up, tucking a pin into her hair.
"What is this?" She asked, confused, reaching up to take it out so that she could look at it. Celeborn only laughed and now she could see why. It was an enamel hairpin shaped like a mermaid but it was the most lurid, garish thing that Galadriel had ever seen in her life. It looked very nearly as if a child had designed it, or else an extremely unskilled craftsman who had little concept of design, for the mermaid looked more like a flopping, rotund seal than a woman and the colors were a horrid cacophony of oranges, pinks, and pea-colored green.
Galadriel simply could not help herself and in the next moment she was laughing uncontrollably, laughing until tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and ran down the sides of her face. "Oh, oh!" She cried. "It is the finest favor that I have ever received from a suitor." Celeborn grinned.
"I fully expect that you cherish it along with all of those fine gifts, all of your other presents, your great pearl diadems, your ruby encrusted slippers, your gilded songbooks, all of the things your other suitors gave to you," he told her and the both of them laughed at the thought.
Galadriel tucked the pin back in her hair, beaming a radiant smile. It was hideous, truly hideous, hideous in such a way that it nearly brought an entirely new meaning to the word, but she wore it without thought, without care, she wore it proudly, and she never wanted to be without it. "Wherever did you find such a thing?" She asked him as they began to walk along the pearly strand hand in hand.
"I went down to the market the other day while you all were playing with Nimloth on the beach," he said. "I merely felt that I wanted a few moments to myself but, as I browsed the wares I happened to come across that and, well, what with Nimloth believing you are a mermaid and all, I simply could not resist."
"And the craftsman who made it," she queried, "were…were all of his wares…"
"They were each and every one abjectly, singularly, horrible," Celeborn laughed. "I think he knew it too. He was rather surprised that I wanted to purchase anything at all from him." Galadriel smiled. Finrod would laugh, she thought, if he knew that she prized this ugly thing over Celebrimbor's Elessar. And yet this gift made her heart glow in a way that the Elessar never had and never could.
"Everyone is asleep," Celeborn said as they continued their way down the beach, listening to the lapping of the waves on the shore and the crying of the gulls. The silence that followed was pleasant and at last Galadriel stopped, looking out across the ocean. He turned, looking back at her, watching as she crossed her arms over her chest, almost as if she had grown cold, and a strange expression crossed her face, one of distant memory. He watched her for a moment, before approaching, wrapping his arms around her and feeling her relax against his chest. She let out a deep sigh.
"When I found you here there were tears in your eyes," he said. "Do not be afraid to let them fall." But Galadriel did not weep, for with him by her side she felt comforted and, instead, she remained silent for a while before speaking.
"You asked me some weeks ago, when we first arrived here, whether I missed Aman, whether I wished to return, if I wanted to leave Middle Earth." She paused. "Do you know what I see when I look at the ocean?" She asked: a question for which she expected no answer.
"I remember all of the horrible things that passed in Aman. I remember how Morgoth slew my grandfather, how Ungoliant sucked the trees dry. And I stood in the square of Tirion, listening to Feanor's words, how he railed against the Valar, saying that Aman was our prison and we should be prisoners no longer."
"I recall the more horrible things he did: the slaying of my mother's kin at Alqualonde. I remember looking out over the ocean and seeing the burning of the ships at Losgar…" There was anger in her voice. "My cousin died in that fire," she said, "and I always thought that Feanor killed him intentionally, believing he had intended to return for us, though Maedhros would never say as much. But I always saw the truth in his eyes, and he would never speak of the words that had passed between him and his father."
"I know," he said gently, "I know that it still haunts you."
"I ought to have trusted myself and yet I did not." She shook her head. "I never liked him…the way he…" she shook her head again.
"You don't need to say it if you do not wish to," he assured her, not fully understanding what had brought on the torrent of words that poured forth, but she continued as if she were compelled to do so.
"He was never content to understand others; he had to control them…he tried to control me and I hated him for it, even as he despised me for resisting him. Yet sometimes I see the likeness of him in me. Promise me, Celeborn," she said, turning to face him, her eyes troubled, "promise me that you will never allow me to become like him."
He wanted to tell her that he knew she could never do such a thing, yet it would have been a lie, for they both knew that she bore seeds of the same spirit within her: the pride, the thirst for power. And so he said, "it is your choice in which direction you will grow. Plants allowed to run amuck, that grow as they will without tending will eventually choke out their own lives and die, but the same plants, if nurtured and tended to carefully, can grow into a beautiful garden."
His analogy brought a smile to her lips. "Will you be my gardener?" She asked him with a little laugh.
"If you stay here, in Middle Earth, then I most certainly shall," he said, his heart hammering in his chest, his throat dry.
"I will stay here," she said, turning in the circle of his arms to face him, "with you, all the days of my life, however many they might be."
He smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear and Galadriel laughed, stretching her arms over her head. "What are you doing tomorrow?" She asked, turning to him, a mischievous look in her eyes.
"I hadn't thought about it yet," he told her and they began to walk down the beach once more.
"Do you think that Cirdan would let us borrow a sailboat?" She asked him. "I'd like to go out if he would allow it. Could you ask him? We could take Nimloth."
"I suppose," Celeborn told her, glad to see that her sadness had faded away, leaving anticipation in its wake. Galadriel turned around to flash him a grin. Celeborn laughed as he caught a glimpse of that stupid hairpin. She was walking ahead of him now, sashaying along the beach, skipping nearly, kicking up little bits of sand as she went, stopping every now and then to peer into a tidepool, watching the minnows and tiny anemones there. That stupid hairpin bobbed along atop her golden head.
"Why, you are rather more quiet than usual aren't you, more solemn?" She asked without looking back and Celeborn, reasoning that this would be an opportune time to shock her, reached into his pocket. He had always thought he would feel nervous but, strangely enough, he did not.
"I was not, in fact, asleep before I came out here. Rather, I was trying to think of how best to ask you something," he said with a smile and Galadriel laughed, turning towards him with dancing eyes.
"And what would that…" but the words seemed to evaporate from her mouth as she found that he stood there, holding two silver rings in the palm of his hand.
He was pleased to see the shock on her face. It left her gaping like a fish and he began to laugh at her complete loss for words, unable to restrain himself.
"Th…th…that was not the question I thought you were going to ask," she stammered, at a loss for words.
"That was not the answer I was hoping for," Celeborn said, but his shoulders shook with mirth just barely contained as he watched while Galadriel struggled to get her mind and her mouth working again.
"Are…are you being serious?" She asked him. "This had better not be some trick or joke, Celeborn."
"As serious as I am able," he replied.
"Well then," Galadriel raised an eyebrow and gave him an exceedingly haughty look, "let me have a look at them," and she slowly approached, her nose in the air.
"Torturing me by making me wait?" Celeborn asked before he snapped his hand shut and went tearing down the beach at a run. He could hear her cry of rage.
"Celeborn give them to me!" She cried, chasing him down the beach.
"You haven't given me your answer yet!" He shouted, turning back to see that she was gaining on him.
"You haven't asked me anything yet!" She shouted back and then she collided into him as he stopped short, the rings flying into the air, sparkling against the rising sun for a moment before they disappeared into the shallows and Galadriel shrieked. It only took her a matter of seconds to fish them out and then she pushed them back into his hands.
"Go on!" She urged him, trembling with anticipation.
"And what?" He asked her.
"You know what! You are enjoying tormenting me!" She cried and Celeborn nearly doubled over in laughter. "Ask me!" She urged him. "Ask me properly."
"I never took you for one to stand on ceremony," Celeborn teased. "In fact, I seem to recall that only a few days prior you begged me to take you to my bed and have my way with you while I argued with you that we ought to wait and have a proper wedding."
"I may not be a woman who cares very much for feminine things," Galadriel said, shaking a finger in his face. "But I will have you know that I do care about this very much and I will have you do it properly."
"And how is that?" Celeborn asked her with a grin.
"You're supposed to take a knee," she instructed but, when he did as she had instructed, it seemed so incongruous with his character that she could hold the laughter in no longer.
"Oh no, oh no, stand up again. It is too absurd," she said, gasping for air. Celeborn stood and then, while she was still struggling to recover from laughter, he picked her up, wrapping his arms around her. She pressed her forehead against his, his hands going to either side of his face, their eyes meeting as they grinned at each other.
"Galadriel?" Celeborn whispered.
"What is it?" She whispered back.
"I have a question for you," he whispered.
"I'm listening," she replied. He spun them in a circle.
"Will you marry me?" He asked, smiling, and she nodded against his forehead.
"Yes," she said. They kissed.
"Say it again," he implored her.
"Yes," she whispered, grinning against his mouth.
"Once more," he urged.
"A thousand times yes," she said and, with trembling fingers, they took the rings, sliding them onto one another's fingers, their faces lit with joy.
"You are extraordinarily wonderful," he whispered, "and I love you so very much," and she must have heard those words a thousand times from a thousand different men but when Celeborn said them her heart leapt. Words seemed too much for the moment and so Celeborn merely drew her tight against him, pressing her close, and she relished in the warmth of him.
"Soon," she said, tilting her chin up so she could look at him, "promise me that it shall be soon."
"I will speak to Thingol this very evening," Celeborn said, "and have the betrothal announced upon our return to Menegroth."
"Well," said Thingol upon opening his door, looking not nearly as surprised as they had thought to find him. Only a few moments prior Melian had, with great excitement, been giving him a running commentary of the proposal on the beach that they had been observing from their window. "Have you done it at last?" The king ushered them into the room, where the light of the morning sun glowed through panes of colored glass. Some of the windows were open and the breeze of the evening sea filtered in. Galadriel and Celeborn seated themselves across from Melian, who was wearing a long dressing gown and was brushing her hair. She smiled.
"Clearly they have," she said, "look at their hands, meleth nin." And Thingol glanced at the silver bands that rested upon their fingers, a grin spreading across his face as he took a seat beside his wife.
"Uncle, with your permission, we ask leave to marry," Celeborn said and Thingol and Melian smiled all the more at his words.
"I am happy to grant it," Thingol said and the two newly betrothed elves smiled at one another, clasping hands.
"We should like the betrothal announced immediately upon our return to Menegroth," Galadriel said, looking very hopeful, and Thingol laughed.
"Oh, I don't know," the King said. "They have taken their sweet time, haven't they meleth nin?" He turned to Melian.
"They have indeed," Melian said, "nearly four centuries."
"Considering that, another century should not be too much of a burden should it?" Thingol asked and Melian nodded.
"I would say they should be able to weather that easily," she said. Celeborn and Galadriel were sitting, open-mouthed, looking quite indignant.
"But…" Celeborn stammered.
"You can't…" Galadriel stammered and the King and Queen burst into laughter.
"Of course not," Thingol laughed. "It shall be as you have said. We shall be very happy to announce your betrothal upon our return. You must write to Felagund, Galadriel, and invite him to visit so that the betrothal ceremony can be done properly."
"I shall," Galadriel nodded.
"Have you decided on when you will be married?" Melian asked, looking very excited. "I am sure Luthien will be most pleased. She will want to help you with everything, Galadriel."
"As soon as possible," Celeborn said, "a year after the betrothal." Thingol nodded.
"Very well," he said, but he was interrupted by the door bursting open to admit a small, silver-haired, whirlwind of energy known as Nimloth.
"Nimloth! That is rude!" They could hear Inwen calling. "You must knock and ask permission before you enter!" But Nimloth heeded her mother's words not at all and bounded about the room.
"Daeradar, Daernaneth!" She cried, embracing Thingol and Melian. The King and Queen laughed and Thingol picked up the child, bouncing her on his knee, but Nimloth's attention was soon drawn elsewhere as she noticed that Galadriel and Celeborn were there as well and that there were silver rings upon their fingers.
"Oh!" Her eyes grew as round as her open mouth. "I knew it! I knew it!" She squirmed free of Thingol's grasp and tumbled to the ground, scooting across the floor to where her uncle sat.
"I knew it," said Nimloth, eyeing them crossly, looking up at Celeborn and Galadriel, "I knew they loved each other." And Galathil snorted in laughter at his daughter's words as he and his wife entered the room.
"What is it, Nimloth?" He asked, bending to pick up his child and swing her about in a circle.
"Uncle Celeborn and the mermaid are liars," Nimloth whispered to her father. "They said they were just friends but now they're engaged. I knew they loved each other!" She crowed again in victory and her father laughed.
"Is that so?" Galathil asked, turning towards his brother hopefully. "Congratulations!" He cried and, with Nimloth balanced on one hip, embraced Celeborn as Inwen, exclaiming her delight, embraced Galadriel. "Are you certain that you have waited long enough?" He teased his brother.
"I suppose some of us wait longer than others," he replied and Galathil elbowed him in response.
"What does that mean?" Nimloth asked.
"Nothing, dearest," Galathil told her, inspiring laughter from the others gathered there.
"Will I have cousins to play with soon?" Nimloth asked.
"Perhaps you shall," Inwen said with a nod and a smile.
"Nimloth," Galadriel said, moving forward to take the girl from her father. The child reached eagerly for Galadriel and played with her golden hair as she held her. "Celeborn and I were thinking you might like to go out in a sailboat this afternoon with us if that is agreeable with your parents." Nimloth squirmed in delight.
"Yes," she said, nodding her head and looking towards Inwen.
"You must be very careful," the healer said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you must obey everything that Celeborn and Galadriel tell you to do. Do you think you can do that?" The child nodded once more.
"Then I suppose it is alright," Galathil said and, moments later, Nimloth was sitting on Celeborn's shoulders, using his hair as reins, and urging him to gallop down the hall. Galadriel laughed, following behind. They managed to find Cirdan at last, sitting down on the docks, smoking a pipe and cleaning fish.
"Nimloth!" The mariner cried, taking the pipe from his mouth as they approached. "Come to help me clean these fish have you?" Nimloth shook her head violently.
"No!" She shouted. "I don't like stinky fish!" Cirdan laughed.
"We wanted to take her out in a sailboat if that is alright," Celeborn said with a grin and Cirdan laughed again.
"Very well," he said. "I see no problem with that. You are a capable pilot, the sea is quite calm today, and the tide does not pose a problem. I would imagine that Lady Galadriel is a passable pilot too by virtue of her Telerin blood," he smiled at Galadriel. "Take my boat, for she is the most seaworthy and do be sure to watch Nimloth closely. Elflings are not very accustomed to the roll and pitch of seacraft, in my experience."
"Of course," Celeborn replied with a bow. "You have my thanks."
"Lady Galadriel is going to put on her tail and swim!" Nimloth said, bending forward to whisper into Cirdan's ear from her perch on Celeborn's shoulders.
"Is that so?" Cirdan asked with a great booming laugh. "Well, that will be most impressive I should think!" And with that they were off, tumbling into Cirdan's boat, a trim little craft built of expertly hewn cedar with crisp white sails.
There was a pleasant breeze as they sailed out across the water and, while Celeborn manned the rudder, Galadriel held Nimloth as she looked over the edge of the boat at the colorful fish that swam about them.
"I'm a little fish,
I like to swim.
You can't catch me,
Cause I have fins."
Nimloth was singing to herself, laughing and trailing her fingers in the water as Galadriel kept a tight grip about her waist. She looked up to where Celeborn stood, his hand on the mast, looking out over the water as the wind caused his silver hair to stream like a banner behind him.
"Do you think our children will look like her?" Galadriel asked him in Telerin, which she had been teaching him lately. Celeborn turned to look at her with a grin on his face.
"I hope so," he said and Galadriel smiled.
"Do you want a boy or a girl?" She asked.
"A girl, I think," Celeborn said, "like Nimloth, like Melian, like Luthien, like you, although I am sure I would love a boy equally as well."
"Well then perhaps we shall have one of each," Galadriel said. "And what would you name our girl, were we to be given one by Illuvatar?" Celeborn laughed as he adjusted the sail.
"I had not thought of that," he said. "I suppose something with both of our names perhaps." He thought for a while and then said, "Celebrian."
"A gift crowned in silver, if I understand the meaning correctly," Galadriel said. Celeborn nodded with a smile. "It is beautiful," she told him. "But you had better hope she has your hair or the name will not fit." Celeborn laughed.
"I may not have your prescience," he said, "but I do believe she shall." Galadriel smiled and Nimloth twisted around in her grasp.
"What language is that?" The little princess asked.
"It is Telerin, my love," Galadriel told her, "the language of my mother and of the Teleri of Alqualonde."
"Oh," Nimoth said with the air of one who was very knowledgeable about such things, and Galadriel and Celeborn both laughed. "I want to see you sail the boat," Nimloth said to Galadriel then.
"Very well," Galadriel said, passing the child off to her uncle, who sat, holding her in his lap as she watched the Noldorin lady standing at the rudder with a sense of awe. Galadriel closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sea breeze in her hair, and she felt Celeborn wrap his free arm about her waist, pressing a kiss to her lips as Nimloth protested that this was yucky. With a laugh, the prince resumed his seat and Galadriel unfurled the sail even further, grinning as they picked up speed and swept out across the water.
The next thing she remembered was waking in the bottom of the boat, Celeborn shaking her shoulders, and Nimloth looking near panicked with worry. "You fell!" Celeborn said, his face concerned. "Is something the matter? What have you seen?" But Galadriel sat up shakily. Celeborn had furled the sails and the boat sat rocking now on the waves.
"I…" she searched her memory for some sign of what had happened but her mind seemed curiously blank. "I do not know," she said, pressing a hand to her head where there was still a sharp, shooting pain. "It was probably nothing. Maybe…maybe it was the heat of the day." Celeborn furrowed his brow.
"I am taking us back to shore," he said.
"Celeborn, that is unnecessary," Galadriel protested. "There is no need to ruin a perfectly good afternoon."
"I know well enough to trust your visions," he murmured so that Nimloth would not hear and Galadriel looked into his eyes, seeing the concern there. She nodded, taking a seat in the bow and pulling Nimloth onto her lap. The child, in her innocence, seemed to have forgotten that anything was wrong at all and was merrily singing her fishing songs again, but a dark foreboding tugged at Galadriel's heart. Celeborn was right, something was wrong; she knew it.
It was nearly evening by the time that they returned and, as they made their approach to the quay, they could see that something was very wrong indeed, for there were elves running all about, bearing torches, a great commotion, and they could even see that there were horses saddled and waiting.
"Galadriel! Celeborn! Thank the Valar that you have returned!" Thingol was running down the docks towards them as they moored the boat. "Celeborn," he thrust a pile of clothes and armor into his nephew's arms as they clambered up onto the quay, "put this on immediately." Wordlessly, Celeborn obeyed, pulling on the suede jerkin over his shirt and buckling on his leather armor and his axe, quiver, and knives.
Galadriel lifted Nimloth onto the dock before climbing ashore herself and the child, sensing that something was very amiss, ran forward to cling to Thingol's leg. "What has happened?" Galadriel asked and Thingol looked very grim.
"Fingolfin has fallen in combat with Morgoth himself and the siege of Angbad has been broken," Thingol said. "The peace has ended and war has come, for the last time perhaps. I…" Thingol paused, "I regret to inform you that Angrod and Aegnor perished in the battle. I am…so very sorry."
"No…" the word was a strangled gasp and Galadriel crumpled to the quay as a strange sound escaped her, somewhere between a groan and a cry, a sound of immense grief. She was trembling violently, unable to understand what had happened, not wanting to understand it, so terrible was the pain. Cirdan had arrived but Galadriel hardly noticed.
"Cirdan," Thingol said, turning to his kinsman, "we must return to Menegroth with all haste but we did not anticipate this. It may well be that there are already orcs swarming over Beleriand."
"You may take a contingent of my soldiers with you of course," Cirdan said, his eyes as intense as Thingol's. "Or perhaps by boat…"
"It would take too long to sail against the current up the Sirion," Thingol said. "We must go with all haste, even if it is by the more dangerous route." Cirdan ran off to prepare the guards and Thingol moved to kneel before Galadriel. She was not crying, for her grief was beyond tears but she was shaking instead, caught up in a violent vision, and Celeborn was at her side yet all his efforts seemed to have no effect on her. The king took her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly.
"Galadriel," Thingol whispered to her with a firm voice, "Galadriel." But she was nonresponsive and, with haste, he took her face in his hands forcing her blank eyes to look at him. "Galadriel," he said firmly, "listen to me. Do you want to hurt Morgoth, to really hurt him?" Fire flashed in the king's eyes and Galadriel nodded numbly. "Good," Thingol said, "then you must not give up, but I need you to come with me now. We must return to Menegroth. Can you do that?"
"Yes, yes, I can," she said, and her voice was stronger now as she rose with Celeborn's help.
"Celeborn," the king said, turning to his nephew, "she needs your protection now." And the prince nodded solemnly. Within the hour the hooves of their horses were pounding across the plain, bringing them slowly closer to Menegroth and, more importantly, to the girdle. Those who were unarmed rode in the center, Galathil and Inwen with Nimloth on her horse, clutched tightly to her, Melian's handmaidens, Galadriel. The soldiers, those they had brought with them from Menegroth and those Cirdan had sent with them, circled around the group, ever watchful.
Despite the fact that they had gone to the Falas in peace, they had not come unarmed nor unarmored, for Thingol's people trusted no peace fully and went not out of the girdle of Melian unprotected. They would not stop, Celeborn knew, not until they were within Doriath, but at the very fastest they might be able to make that trek in three days, however, there were civilians with them who would not be able to keep such a vigorous pace for so long. They rode all through the night and into the day without stopping except for a few very brief breaks and, as they traveled, the prince could not keep his fingers from reflexively twitching towards his axe at every sudden movement, for there was a dark foreboding in the air and he doubted that they would reach the safety of Doriath without encountering orcs, or something worse.
And, just as he had thought, their luck did not hold. "In the east," Thingol said, with a dark look, and Celeborn turned to where the king was looking to see, not so very far away, to see what looked like a swarm of black ants crawling over the earth. And the Sinda wrinkled his nose in disgust, for already the stench of orcs had been carried to them by the breeze. "They have not seen us yet," the king said, "but they are headed this way. Set upon them before they are upon us." And Celeborn nodded dutifully in reply, looking to his young niece, her ever cheerful face wracked with fear, and then to Galadriel, her eyes hard, determined. He reached out, grasping her hand momentarily as if to tell her that he would return and she nodded.
"Come back to me," she whispered, "swear that you shall."
"I will come back to you," he told her. "Doriath with me!" He called and the Doriathrin soldiers broke formation to follow him, their places quickly filled by Cirdan's men. He worried not at all about the royal party, for far greater than the protection of Cirdan's soldiers was that of Melian, who rode with them.
"Bows at the ready!" He called, reaching back for his own. They crossed the plain at a hard gallop, bearing down hard upon the orcs who, at last, had sighted them. "Fire at will!" He called, and the elves sent a hail of white tipped arrows towards the orcs, crying out in fierce triumph as many of them found their marks. Celeborn nocked an arrow, sighting it, aiming for a large orc who seemed to by attempting to rally the others, and released it, watching with pleasure as it struck true, skewering the orc's neck. The orcs had sent forth their own arrows now like black rain and the elves dodged the missiles aided, no doubt, by Melian's magic.
Soon enough they were upon the orcs, their hand weapons drawn and Celeborn grinned, feeling the familiar heft of his axe in his hand. Whooping, he fisted one hand in his horse's mane as he clung to the charger's side, swinging with his axe and beheading three orcs who had the great misfortune to be near to him. The blood spurted upwards, soaking his clothes. All about him his warriors were felling the orcs like flies and Celeborn sunk his axe into the top of an orc's head, ripping it up and out before he lopped off the top of another one's head.
There was a warg coming at him now and he wheeled his horse around so that he could leap from the saddle to the warg's back, where he landed behind the orc riding it and, drawing his knife from its sheath at his lower back with his left hand, slit the orc's throat and tossed the corpse to the ground. The warg bucked about wildly but Celeborn swung his axe with his right hand, bringing its blade down through the top of the warg's skull and leaping free as it tumbled to the ground in the throes of death. He felled several more orcs, whistling for his horse as he went and vaulting back into the saddle as the black charger pranced over to him, spirits high from the battle, which was now all but over. He patted the horse on the neck, thanking him with kind words as he watched the rest of his wardens kill the few remaining orcs.
"This land is of Beleriand and to Beleriand belongs the victory! Hail Beleriand!" Celeborn cried, and his soldiers echoed his words, crying out in a loud voice before they returned to the traveling party, crossing the plain once more, met by Thingol's approving nod. And Celeborn returned to Galadriel's side, reaching out once more to grasp her hand briefly, as if to say 'see? I have returned to you,' and he felt her squeeze his fingers tightly before she let go.
"I cannot lose you," she whispered, turning towards him, her voice awkward and stilted.
"I know," he told her. By the morning of the third day since they had set out they had climbed to the crest of the Andram and descended, galloping across the flat plain towards the river Aros, the welcome wall of green that was the forest of Region visible in the far distance.
They had encountered no more orcs since the early morning of the second day yet their pace was slowing and Celeborn perceived how worried Thingol grew, yet they were all of them silent, save Nimloth. She was not old enough to understand what was happening and she had been unable to sleep on the horse's saddle. Often she would cry, begging to stop, to be let down, and so her eyes were now rimmed red with lack of sleep and tears. Inwen must have been tired from holding the child but she refused to be parted from her, a fierce look in her eyes as she only clutched the girl tighter whenever anyone offered to take her.
Celeborn could see that Galadriel too was tired, exhausted from the emotional turmoil into which she had been thrown, and he wished that he could comfort her, that this seemingly interminable journey would be at an end already, yet even as he thought it Galadriel sat up straighter in the saddle and said, "that is Caranthir's banner." And Celeborn looked where she was pointing to see that, indeed, there was a great party of Noldor to the east riding as fast as possible, as though they were being pursued.
"Celeborn!" Thingol called and the prince nodded in affirmation.
"Doriath to me!" He called once more and he and his soldiers charged forward to rendezvous with those who rode under the banner of Caranthir. It was not long before they reached them but the Noldor did not stop even as they approached and, in fact, Caranthir's soldiers drew their bows upon the approach of the Sindar.
"Hail Caranthir Feanorian!" Celeborn called, "we are of Menegroth, come to aid you in your distress."
"Are you Thingol?" Caranthir called, signaling to his army to halt. He was breathing hard and wrath sat heavily upon his brow. He was a tall elf, though not as tall as Celeborn, and though his hair was as black as coal, his eyes were lit with an otherworldly light so that they seemed to shine as hot as coals in a copper brazier. Mounted upon a bay stallion he wore armor of black and gold, finely wrought.
"I am Celeborn, crown prince of Doriath and high prince of Beleriand," Celeborn said.
"What armor is this that you wear?" Curufin cried in wild distaste, gesturing to the Sindar and their armor of leather and bone and mail. "Have not Thingol's soldiers any proper armor?"
"We ride light, for we expected not for this land to break out into war whilst we were away from our capital," Celeborn told him, his heart growing hot at the Noldo's words. For just as Caranthir was the quickest of the Noldor to anger, so was Celeborn his Sindarin equal in that respect and the two elves sized each other up with fierce stares.
"We cannot tarry," Caranthir said. "Do you not know of the horrors that Morgoth has unleashed?" He spat the name of the dark lord with all the distaste he could muster. "Even now we are pursued by balrogs! There is no help that you can give us dark elf!"
"Balrogs we can fight," Celeborn said defiantly.
"And how?" Caranthir laughed coldly. "With your rustic axes and your wooden bows and your armor made of leather?"
"Nay," said Celeborn, "for we have a Maia in our party." And at that Caranthir went silent, thinking over what the Sinda had said.
"You ought to have told me earlier," Caranthir said, "that your queen rode with you…Moriquendi." And Celeborn bristled at the slur.
"I am one who prefers to keep his cards close to his chest," Celeborn replied with no small amount of venom in his voice, "especially when speaking to a slayer of my kin." And Caranthir's nostrils flared in anger but it was a charge he could not dispute, particularly when he was in dire need of Melian's aid.
"Very well," the son of Feanor said, though humility sat ill upon him as a coat hardly worn, "we should be glad for your most esteemed queen's assistance if she will grant it." And Celeborn nodded in acknowledgement.
"And I will assist you as well," he said with a grin, "even if you do not want it, for if there is blood to be let then I find that I cannot resist making it flow."
Caranthir laughed at that, a harsh croaking sound, and a smile twisted itself across his face, as though he was unused to making such an expression. "A sentiment I well understand, Prince of Doriath," he said, bowing respectfully to Celeborn before calling out to his army. They circled about, a great cloud of dust rising up as they galloped away while the Sindar moved to cover their escape. And, despite his brave words, Celeborn felt his courage clench in his throat as he turned to look in the direction from which the Feanorian had come and saw, not as far away as he would have hoped, a great wall of flame and, running before that, an army of orcs drawing ever closer.
He turned to send a man for Melian but, looking back from whence they had come, he saw that already she approached, alone, her white palfry's hooves swallowing up the earth as she rode with incredible speed. The queen's face was fierce and fey and she seemed now less elven and more raw power cloaked. But that cloak was slipping and there was lightening in her eyes and her hair floated wildly about her head almost as though it were made of black snakes poised to strike.
Celeborn spurred his horse forward and his soldiers followed without hesitating. Yet they could not keep pace with the queen, for she rode with a speed that could not be matched by any of the eldar. Stopping in the midst of the field she raised her hand and a piercing white light shone forth from it as she spoke, if indeed one could call it speaking, for it was no language of the sort that Celeborn had ever heard and seemed instead to be the sound of an earthquake or of thunder itself mixed with a strange high keening, a wail almost, or a shriek.
He could see the fire now and, in it, shapes like giant men with the horned heads of bulls and tails like oxen, their mouths agape, breathing flame, and their bodies charred and black, as if filled with burning embers. The orcs they drove before them and these quailed upon seeing Melian yet, suffering under the lash of the whips of their overlords and the flaying lashes of flame that the balrogs wielded, they scurried forward reluctantly and those who dared pass Melian were quickly slain by Celeborn and his wardens.
The light that the queen emanated grew until it spanned the horizon and all turned to brilliant white until they could see and hear nothing but a high ringing in their ears, the world seeming to move as if underwater, wrapped in perfect silence. And then, the light exploded outward, blinding them, and when next Celeborn could see, it was to observe that the host of Morgoth had turned back and was retreating with all haste until they were no more than a shadow on the horizon. Melian sat proudly upon her horse and, throwing back her raven head, laughed a deep laugh, deeper even than a man's and mocked Morgoth in words that none of them understood, a strange dark hissing, guttural, croaking language. Perhaps, Celeborn though in awe, that was her true voice.
"They will bother us no longer," she said then, her usual voice returning, and by the next morning they were once more safe within the girdle.
As they approached the gates of Menegroth, Luthien came running out dressed in full battle armor, not the light hunting armor of leather that she usually wore, a force of soldiers flanking her.
"Illuvatar's grace be upon you," she cried, raising her hand in greeting. "We were about to set out in search of you all!"
"What news have you?" Thingol asked, dismounting, still breathing hard as the grooms led the horses away, embracing his daughter, but there was deep concern in his eyes and Celeborn heard him whisper, "I wish you would take off this armor, daughter, and put away your weapons, for the sight of you looking as though you mean to go to war has struck fear into my heart."
"There has been a massive influx of elves into the capital in the past few days," Luthien said. "They have abandoned their homes and villages outside the girdle, which are now overrun with Morgoth's creatures. Even those who live within the girdle have moved closer to the capital. There are many green elves here, very many Sindar. Nellas led her people here on the second day since the siege was broken. Even some of the Avari have moved within the girdle."
"What have you done for them?" Melian asked.
"At the moment they are sheltering in the great hall," Luthien told her mother, "where I have had cots made up for them and the healers are attending all those who are injured there. We have provided them with ample food and drink. They are very frightened. We will need to find some more permanent solution in the coming days. It seems that most of them intend to stay. But there are many wounded who have need of healing." Thingol nodded.
"And what of the borders?" He asked.
"The girdle holds, of course," Luthien replied, "but I have doubled our forces at the borders with instructions for them to kill any and all of Morgoth's creatures who wander near our territory." Thingol nodded again.
"Please send word to my manservant to ready the bath in my chambers," Celeborn instructed the first servant who approached him, thanking the girl as she scurried away with all haste. Galadriel sat silent upon her horse now, near catatonic, and Celeborn could only imagine the dark visions that must even now be assaulting her mind.
"Help me," she whispered, her voice weak, and he reached up, assisting her down from the saddle. She nearly stumbled upon reaching the ground, her legs sore from days of hard riding, and soon Thingol and Melian came to their side.
"Take care of her," Thingol said quietly, his kind eyes concerned, "for she has been dealt a harsh blow indeed. Do not concern yourself with matters of state for now. I shall send for you if you are needed." And Celeborn nodded in return, grateful to Thingol for having proactively relieved him of his duties for the moment being, assuring that his interests were not conflicted. Melian only reached out, drawing Galadriel into a comforting embrace and kissing her brow before returning her to the custody of Celeborn. But the Noldorin lady did not meet any of their eyes and her betrothed strongly suspected that she studied the floor so carefully for fear of weeping if she beheld the faces of any she loved.
"I had word," Luthien whispered. "Galadriel I am so very sorry." But the Noldo merely nodded and Luthien took this as a cue to leave them be as, wrapping his arm about Galadriel's waist, Celeborn half carried her to his chambers. The walk had never seemed so long but all those they passed at least had the good sense to keep their silence.
"We shall get you a hot bath," Celeborn said, anything to keep her mind from the thoughts that consumed her now, "and perhaps something to eat. I have ordered for fresh sheets to be put on my bed. It would do you well to take rest." But she only nodded numbly.
Upon arriving at his chambers he found that everything had been prepared according to his instructions and dismissed his servants, thanking them. Quickly he divested himself of his armor and his cape, pulled his tunic over his head and cast it aside, rolled up his shirt sleeves and tied his hair back with a bit of leather. All the while Galadriel stood as though she had nearly forgotten how her body worked, staring into space and silence with unblinking eyes.
"Come here," he whispered, hoping to coax some movement from her, but she seemed as though she had not even heard him. He dipped his hand into the water to make sure that the bath was not too hot and then wiped the moisture away on his breeches. He reached out slowly, undressing her as though she were a child who could not do so herself, carefully setting her clothes, dusty from the long ride aside. Perhaps there were those who would not have believed him if he told them that there was nothing sexual to him about her nakedness now; he cared not at all what others thought. His only concern was to comfort her as best he was able.
There were bruises forming already on the insides of her knees and thighs from gripping the saddle for such an extended period of time. He made a note in his mind to rub them with salve later.
"Do you need help?" He asked her and she nodded numbly so he lifted her, helping her into the bath where she sat, knees clutched to her chest. She was quiet and remained so as, at last, the silent tears dripped from her chin, falling to the surface of the water. It was not only that the hot water would soothe her aching muscles, but that there was some quality about water, something in it that could make one feel new again, if only a little. He sat at the side of the tub, holding her hand, saying nothing, waiting to do whatever she needed.
An hour passed, maybe more, and then she spoke at last, her voice a frail rattle. "I feel so very alone," she said. Celeborn squeezed her hand.
"I am here," he told her, "at your side."
"I need you," she whispered, "here with me." He looked at her to make sure she was certain and she nodded, glancing at him with tear-stained eyes. He kicked off his boots, pulled off his shirt, shed his breeches and slowly entered the water opposite her, reaching for the bar of soap and, slowly, gently, he began to scrub her skin. They sat in silence after he had finished and she reached out, playing with the tendrils of silver hair that floated on the surface of the water.
"Finrod… he must have been there as well, why is there no word of him?" She sounded almost as though she was afraid to ask.
"You mustn't allow your thoughts to run that way," he said, "though I know it must be difficult to do so. Let us not presume anything. You have not seen him in your visions. Let that be enough for now."
"This curse…" she said, a haunted look in her eyes. "What does it matter if Finrod and I still live?" She asked him, "we are already living on borrowed time. Our doom will come for us, if not today then tomorrow and all the while it will drive the both of us mad, so mad that death will seem a relief."
"If doom comes for you then it must come for me as well," Celeborn said, "for I will stand by you even unto eternity." He meant it. With everything. He meant it.
"I know," she whispered, reaching out with trembling hands, clutching his. The water had grown cool and he helped her to stand, drying her skin, rubbing salve into the bruises that had formed on her legs. He put one of his shirts on her and she slowly made her way to his bed, seating herself on the edge of it, her fingers gripping the blankets hard, trembling.
"Do not send me back to my rooms alone," she whispered, pleading, her voice trembling. "Let me stay here with you, I beg you."
"You need not ask," he said and held her tight to him until she fell into an exhausted sleep. Yet he did not sleep and perhaps he would not have been able to anyway, for she tossed and turned and cried out in terror so instead he kept vigil over her restless slumber.
She dreamed of the endless ice that seemed to stretch into oblivion, a smooth white sheet of death, and kicked off the blankets because everything still felt too hot, years after escaping the Helcaraxe. She dreamed she was drowning in a sea of blood, sinking beneath incarnadine waves, her breath clutched tight in her aching lungs until she began to spasm with the futility of it, gasping for breath, her mouth filling with blood instead. And Celeborn held her tight against him as she screamed and cried, cursed, punched him, hit him, kicked him.
Angrod was dead. Aegnor was dead. She gasped, shuddering, shivering. Celeborn did not let go, not for an instant. Sometimes he clutched her too tight, so tight it almost hurt. She was glad for it. It reminded her that she was alive.
"Swear it," she had demanded. "Swear to me that you are alive."
"I am alive," he swore. He took her hand and pressed it over his heart so that she could feel the drum – slow-beating, deep-beating, crescendo - of it in his chest. "I am alive." He whispered. She wasn't the only one who needed to hear it.
The dreams had come, the visions, the vision of him dead, of his blood smeared on the walls, on the floor, and she had screamed as though her soul was being extracted slowly through her pores. "Don't leave me!" She had cried, tearing at her hair until it fell out, at her skin until she bled, sobbing until it made her sick. "Don't leave me alone in this world where I cannot find you!"
"Never," he swore. "I'll never leave you." At last her body grew limp, as though she had expended every ounce of energy, every fiber of her being, and she collapsed into sleep, a sleep so sound it nearly resembled death, and Celeborn had collapsed as well with her enfolded in his arms. He did not know how long they slept. It might have been a day. It might have been a week. When he awoke she was still sleeping. At last she had awoken.
"I will need a tailor," she said. He had sent for one. After that she wore the black of mourning, her face and her skin the only glimpses of white against the dark fabric. Her hair she shrouded in a black veil. His bed she made her own. Once she had tried to return to her own chambers. He had found her at his door after the span of a half hour, weak and trembling. Being alone with her thoughts was too much to bear.
After that she had sat in silence for many weeks. The sorrow and grief was gone from her face now. There was a hardness there instead. "Do not surrender the kindness of your heart to Morgoth," Celeborn whispered as she slept. Even as he worried for her he worried for his kingdom. They were plunged into war now. It was a war they could not win. Death, its hour come at last, was slouching towards them. He clung to Galadriel as though she were life itself.
In the silence and stillness of her sleep he sang to her an old song.
I know not if my voice
Can reach to the sky;
I know not if the mighty one
Will hear as I pray;
I know not if the gifts I ask
Will all be granted;
I know not if the world of old
We truly can hear;
I know not what will come to pass
In our future days;
I hope that only good will come,
My beloved, to you.
It was a song from before the Noldor had come, from when the Sindar had not known of Namo or of the Halls of Mandos, when they had not known what happened to them after death. There had been those who had said that they passed into nothing. There had been those who said they walked among the living unseen. There had been those who had said that they became as the stars, dancing in the heavens.
"They love you, Galadriel," he had whispered. "They are in the sky now, watching over you still."
When she awoke again she said, "I cannot marry you, not for a while, for I would marry in happy times, not while I yet wear the black of mourning." And he nodded, understanding, having expected it.
"Of course," he replied, rubbing her hand. She had slept again after a while and Celeborn had quietly crept from the room, going to Thingol, who he had found with Beleg and Mablung, pouring over a map of Beleriand, moving pewter figures that represented troops of wardens here and there across its surface.
"Is there no word yet of Felagund?" Celeborn asked, leaning heavily on the table. Thingol shook his silver head.
"Nothing definitive," he replied, his eyes just as concerned as Celeborn's. "What we have heard does not bode well." He pushed a letter across the table, a letter from Orodreth. "It seems he heard that his brothers were trapped and rode north with reinforcements, hoping to rescue them. Orodreth has heard nothing from him since but has escaped to Nargothrond with his daughter, his son, Gil-galad, and his wife he sent to Cirdan. Fingon wrote of Angrod and Aegnor's deaths but he has not seen Finrod it seems, nor does he know his whereabouts."
"Give me an army," Celeborn said, "and I will go in search of him, extract him." Thingol shifted uncomfortably.
"This is not our war," Thingol said. "Our concern is protecting our borders, not in fighting Morgoth. We will stay within the girdle where our safety is assured."
"You are his liege lord," Celeborn said, his voice an angry growl. "He swore his loyalty to you and you accepted it. We cannot leave him to perish." Thingol's jaw was clenched tightly and he took a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You risk your life, Celeborn," he said.
"I know what I risk," the prince replied.
"And what will happen if both you and Felagund perish? What will become of Galadriel then?" Thingol asked with concern. "Her fea will pass unto Mandos of her own will, as Miriel's did."
"I could never forgive myself if he perished when I might have aided him," Celeborn said, "and neither would she forgive me."
"The prince need not risk his life," Mablung said. "I will go in his stead and search for Finrod."
"Or I can go," Beleg said. "Celeborn is right, we ought not abandon him. And, what is more, I will not hide in these caves when I might be helping out there. "
"That is a gesture that I appreciate," Celeborn thanked them, "but he is my dear friend, his sister is my betrothed, and I feel compelled to seek him out myself." Thingol looked indecisive for a moment and then his mind seemed to settle upon a course of action.
"Very well," the King said, "you may go, Celeborn, and I will send an army with you, for what you have said is true, we owe Felagund our allegiance. What is more, I would hear from you directly regarding the situation of our borders in the North. Beleg, you will go with him and Mablung, I will keep you here to assist me in planning our continued response to this threat that has been awakened."