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.

29. Chapter 29: Son of Man

Son of Man

In Cavern's Shade: 29th Chapter

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"In Doriath bound in a spell

then doom fell on Tinuviel,

and Beren caught that elven maid

fair Lúthien, whom love delayed."

– J.R.R Tolkien

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Author's note: FINALLY! Sorry this took so long guys. I have really been struggling to write these past few weeks and this chapter was a really tough one.

Luna: Thank you! Bainwen is definitely going to show up again but I won't say when or in what capacity. ;) The next book is going to bring in more of both G & C's childhoods since Finarfin will be entering the picture in the war.

Leeza: Thanks! I also love Celeborn in fighting mode. :) I really had a hard time deciding what to do with Beren so I am happy he turned out well. They really do have the worst timing ever haha. Great question. There is actually no genealogy given for Oropher. All we know is that he was a Sinda of Doriath who passed eastward during the second age (Unfinished Tales). He is nowhere noted as a prince of the Sindar in Tolkien's writings but Celeborn does refer to him as his kinsman in FOTR. Fandom has tended to interpret this as his being a distant relation of Celeborn and this is the path I have elected to take. Looking at Tolkien's writings I am not sure if it is canonical or not for Oropher to be a prince but I decided to make him a very minor prince, nothing like Celeborn or even Galathil, who are both older and of a closer bloodline to Thingol. I haven't thought much about his parents except to say that in my story I would maybe think he is the son of one of Celeborn's father's brothers or perhaps the son of one of their sons, probably all parents deceased by this point. Celeborn's dad isn't noted as having any brothers in the geneaology but it doesn't say that he doesn't have any either and this is the easiest and best way I see of establishing Oropher's kinship to Celeborn since Tolkien never got around to writing how exactly they are related. By the second age Oropher and Thranduil "deeply resent" Celeborn, and especially Galadriel, to quote Unfinished Tales.

This week is…Celeborn!

Celeborn is such a complex character and I think on a lot of levels he is even more complex than Galadriel, although she is also pretty complex. This makes him incredibly hard to write. Actually, there are a lot of factors that make him the most difficult character to write for me despite the fact that he is my favorite. One big factor is that I think fanfiction doesn't do him justice so I am really paranoid about making sure he is exactly how I want him. At worst in fanfic he is portrayed as completely subservient to Galadriel, which I find really strange considering he actually has far more lines of dialogue than her in every single book he features in. Also, this is kind of a slap in the face to Galadriel because I'm sure she is perfectly capable of choosing a worthy husband. In a lot of stories, even the ones where he is portrayed favorably, he is still portrayed as this kind of quiet, philosophical guy and I really don't think that is how he is actually characterized in Tolkien's books. Tolkien actually characterizes him as having a serious temper. Plus, throughout the course of the legendarium Celeborn leads more armies into battle than any other elven king except for the Feanorians and Fingolfinians.

In addition, quiet shy Celeborn goes against what we know about the other three Sindarin kings (Thranduil, Oropher, and Thingol) who all have really aggressive temperaments bordering on or crossing over into outright violence at times. It is really rare that I find a Celeborn who rings true to what we see in Unfinished Tales or Fellowship, where he is actually quite volatile, pretty aggressive both verbally and physically, and speaks his mind plainly, even if what he has to say is considered to be rude. But unlike Oropher and Thingol, Celeborn seems to have a much keener appreciation of the consequences of his words and actions and, though like the other two he does have prejudices, he doesn't let his prejudices blind him to what needs to be done. Thingol is ultimately done in by his prejudices towards dwarves and Oropher by his prejudices towards the Noldor. Yet Celeborn extends his welcome to Gimli and marries a Noldo, even though he certainly has problems with both dwarves and the Noldor he is able to set these personal grievances aside for the greater good.

When I first read FOTR I was shocked by how he threatened to throw the fellowship out of Lorien the minute he met them (which is perhaps why I took a liking to him is because I thought he was feisty) and then he actually listened to Galadriel's advice (unlike Thingol), let them stay in Lorien, and then did everything he could to ensure their success. I was also really impressed by the knowledge he showed of Middle Earth by talking about all the various lands and their inhabitants. In fact I found him to be the most grounded elf in the book, though I like them all. Celeborn is really present and Celeborn is really intense, decisive, and pragmatic. Those are the traits I really wanted to convey in my characterization of him.

A big difference between him and Galadriel is this. With Galadriel everything is pretty much on the surface. She is pretty open about things, at least now, and even when she isn't open about her problems to others she is usually pretty quick to become aware of what it is that is bothering her and why. Essentially, she processes her emotions more quickly. But Celeborn is like an iceberg, only 10% above the surface with the other 90% not visible, even to himself. While he doesn't generally run from his problems like Galadriel occasionally does and, though he is very pragmatic and has no problem making quick decisions, it sometimes takes him a really long time to figure out how he feels about something or why he feels that way. So he can make a decision about something quickly, like that he loved Galadriel but was kind of afraid of getting back into a relationship with her again, but it takes him a lot longer to understand why he felt that way (he was afraid that if he lost her again it would be too painful to endure) and to process his emotions. Galadriel is also decisive but she tends to doubt her decisions even after she has made and acted on them (e.g. she is still doubting and feeling bad about whether her decision to be in a relationship with Celeborn brings him under her curse). But once Celeborn has made his choice and then once he understands why he made that decision or felt that way, he is completely content and no longer doubts his course of action unless someone else draws it into question later down the road, in which case he usually reconsiders it very willingly and openly.

Anyway, my inspiration for him is taken almost entirely from his character in Tolkien's works but I have also incorporated a lot of aspects of the culture of the South-eastern U.S., especially the culture of honor, pride in heritage, and of the kind of easy-going life as well as the deep connection to nature and the land that a lot of Americans from the south have. I have also incorporated a lot from several Native American cultures, particularly Choctaw and Navajo, into his personality. For his connection to nature I incorporated a lot of aspects of shamanistic religions, particularly Shinto. My husband is ethnically Shinto so he is a font of information on this. For the songs that Celeborn sings I do write them myself but I draw really heavily from the songs of cultures or religions that have a close connection to nature. Specifically, I use a lot of resources such as Buddhist sutras, Arapaho ghost dances, and Appalachian spirituals.

Ok. That's Celeborn! If you have any more questions about him please ask in a review or shoot me a PM and I will be happy to talk about him forever because I have such a massive crush on him (is it obvious?)

I think I will do Curufin next week unless anyone has any objections. Maybe Finrod the week after? Let me know! Thank you so much guys! You are my inspiration!

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Celeborn let out a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror one final time, smoothing a hand across the richly embroidered silver tunic he wore, noting the bemused expression of Galathil, who stood behind him. "What do you think?" He asked his brother, turning about.

"If I were a lady I would be swooning," Galathil said, wiggling an eyebrow in a most disconcerting fashion. Celeborn rolled his eyes.

"I find these sorts of formal ceremonies all rather tedious and slightly embarrassing," he said, and he did feel embarrassed. There was nothing more that he hated than being the center of attention and he would much rather be out on a battlefield wielding his axe than putting this ring on Galadriel's finger in front of his entire kingdom. It wasn't that he didn't want to be betrothed to Galadriel, he very much did, but it was just that, to him, it was such a personal thing and he would rather not make it public. Though, of course, he knew that he must; he was a prince of Doriath after all and she was a princess of Aman and so, regrettable though it was to him, some aspect of their relationship would always have to be public. "I don't want to do this," he grumbled, fiddling with the knife at his back.

"See?" Galathil replied. "I told you that my way was better. Formal betrothals are so old fashioned. But, of course, you wouldn't listen to me."

Celeborn snorted with laughter. "Uncle is rather old-fashioned, in case you haven't noticed," he informed his brother. "Besides, I could never get away with that. I'm the crown prince and, well, Galadriel is a princess."

"That," Galathil said with a laugh, "is your fault. No one forced you to choose the daughter of the High King of the Noldor in Aman. You are the one who got yourself into that mess." Celeborn sighed and his brother laughed again. "Don't think about the ceremony then," Galathil advised, "only think about bringing Galadriel back to your bed and ravishing her. I have heard that ladies are in quite a romantic mood after their betrothal ceremonies, more willing to do things they would otherwise not consider."

"Your mind is foul," Celeborn said with a grin, shaking his head.

"As if yours is any purer," Galathil scoffed, satisfied that he seemed to have lightened his brother's heart somewhat.

"Shall we go then?" Celeborn asked and they made their way to the great hall. His heart was beating like a hammer in his chest, his throat unbearably dry. He had known Galadriel all these years, been betrothed to her for a decade already, and yet the thought of announcing the betrothal publicly, going through the ceremony, made him so very nervous. He took in a deep breath and let it out again, glancing down at the white line on his finger where he ordinarily wore his silver engagement band. They had removed them and entrusted them to Thingol and Finrod for the ceremony. He didn't like not having that band on his finger.

Galadriel was nervous too, he knew, for the Sindarin ceremony was different from the Noldorin one, or at least that was what he had come to understand, but Melian and Lúthien had both walked her through it multiple times. He found himself wondering what she would look like and the anticipation grew in his heart, coupled with nervousness. It seemed almost impossible to believe that, after all this time, this was really happening.

They arrived then and he glanced about the hall, swallowing hard as he realized just how many people were gathered there; it seemed the entire kingdom had turned out for the ceremony. All of the silver lanterns on the trees were lit, glowing merrily, and the trees themselves had been hung with garlands of white peonies and roses. He paused for a moment by a fountain, amazed to see that it was flowing with wine, and wondered which of his friends had engineered that feat. It seemed like something Mablung would do.

The hall seemed interminable but at last they arrived at the other end of it, by the dais, and everyone had something to say to him: Thingol, and Melian, and Lúthien, and Beleg, but their words seemed to drift in and out of his head like a fog. He nervously wiped his hands on his dark blue breeches and took a quick glance up at the ceiling to see the stars dancing overhead. He shut his eyes for a brief moment, allowing himself to drift into the memory of a city on a hill where the white buildings gleamed in a golden light, where the streets were paved with diamond dust.

"Celeborn, Galadriel has arrived," he heard Galathil whisper in his ear and he opened his eyes. He nearly had to shut them again for the sight of her at the far end of the hall, her arm on Finrod's as they entered together, nearly brought tears to his eyes. She was stunning, more stunning than even the first night he had seen her, for his love for her had been magnified many times since then. Suddenly it was as if no one else existed, for all he saw was Galadriel.

"The most beautiful of the house of Finwe," Thingol whispered in his ear with a small laugh, placing a hand on his nephew's shoulder, and Celeborn nodded, dumbfounded; it must be true. He had never seen anything or anyone more stunning. Even the wonders of the forest and of Menegroth itself could not compare and he suddenly found himself wondering at how very odd it was that he, born in the light of the stars, raised in the twilight hollow of this earth, had fallen in love with a beam of sunlight. She was radiant.

She wore a gown of palest blue silk over which a delicate mesh of golden lace had been overlaid, with a long, sweeping skirt and a close fitting bodice. The sleeves came down to her wrists but her elegant shoulders were bare. A necklace of bright, bold stones: emerald and rubies, sapphires, amethysts, and diamonds glimmered at her neck, coming to rest between the gentle swell of her breasts and an elegant golden circlet sat upon her head. Her hair tumbled down her back in golden waves. But for all her finery, Celeborn could not take his eyes from her face, her blue eyes shining brilliantly with joy, the pink flush of excitement blooming on her cheeks, her lips curving in a happy smile.

"Go to her," Thingol had whispered, but Celeborn had nearly been struck immobile and it was only Thingol's hand that managed to propel him down from the dais and forward to where Finrod and Galadriel now stood. Once he drew near to her, Celeborn remembered what to do and, unable to keep a smile from his face, reached out, taking her hands in his.

Galadriel took a deep breath and he could see that she had been just as nervous as he. They both smiled and then laughed, giddy with excitement, with nerves. "We are gathered here today," Thingol said, standing at Celeborn's side, "to welcome the betrothal of Arafain Celeborn of the house of Elwe, Grandson of Elmo, brother to the king, son of Galadhon and Candil of the Royal House of Elmo and Elwe, Crown Prince of Doriath, High Prince of Beleriand, High Prince of the Sindar, to Artanis Nerwen Galadriel of the House of Finwe, Granddaughter of the same and of Indis, his queen, daughter of Finarfin, High King of the Noldor in Tirion. Granddaughter of Olwe, King of Alqualonde and brother of the king, and daughter of Earwen, Crown Princess of the Teleri of Alqualonde, High Princess of Tirion, Princess of the house of Finarfin, Princess of the Noldor."

"Finrod, called Felagund," Thingol said solemnly, addressing Galadriel's brother, "do you give your sister, Galadriel, to Celeborn of your own free consent and with the blessings of the Houses of Finwë and Olwë?"

"I do," Finrod said solemnly. "Thingol, King of Doriath," Felagund addressed the King, "do you give your nephew, Celeborn, to Galadriel of your own free consent and with the blessings of the House of Elwë?"

"I do," Thingol said and then both he and Finrod stepped back as Galadriel and Celeborn took one last step towards each other.

"Galadriel," Celeborn said, taking her hands in his, "do you give yourself to me of your own consent?" His heart was pounding in his chest, though he knew that certainly she would say yes.

"I do," she replied with a beaming smile and, with trembling fingers he slipped the silver and pearl betrothal band onto her index finger. "Celeborn," she said, "do you give yourself to me of your own consent?"

"I do," he said, and she slipped his silver ring onto his finger. They had worn the bands before but, as he looked down at them now, on the fingers of their joined hands, they seemed all the more special.

Thingol stepped forward once more. "May the blessings of both houses and of Eru Illuvatar, the One, the Father of all, the Creator of Ea, Lord of all Arda, who set up the firmament without pillars in its stead, and who stretched out the world from one horizon to the next and grace, and prayer-blessing be upon the Valar, powers of the world, and upon the Maiar and their companion train. Prayer and blessings enduring and grace which unto the day of doom shall remain. Eru Illuvatar! O Thou of heavens and earth sovereign!" He cried and the blessing was complete.

There was a great bustling then as the feast was prepared and tables and cushions were carried in along with steaming trenchers of food and great trays full of empty wine goblets but Galadriel and Celeborn merely stood still where they had been, unmoving, looking into one another's eyes with great joy. "I want nothing more than to kiss you at this very moment," Celeborn whispered and Galadriel smiled.

"That is also what I wish," Galadriel said and she waited not a moment more, but leaned forward and pressed her lips against his and it felt to him as though spring had come and he was standing in a beautiful garden, a garden filled with impossibly tall trees with silvery bark, with tall, pristine, white roses and delicate pink cherry blossoms. Bright little goldfinches sat preening themselves in the trees and, from nearby, he could hear the melodic sound of a dulcimer. The memory faded as she pulled back and he opened his eyes to see her eyes smiling at him.

"One more year," he said, "and we shall be married." It seemed so surreal.

"It seems such a very long time," she whispered and he led her to the banquet table, where they sat between Finrod and Thingol. A great cheer rose up as Lúthien and Silevren hurried out to the center of the floor with the lithe grace of pair of deer, bedecked in fine silks, dozens of bracelets, and delicate tinkling headdresses that glimmered with bells, their skin covered in intricate designs done in black kohl, their braids bound in clasps of gold and silver. The drums and instruments came to life in a rhythm as wild as the beating of the forest's heart and they began to dance and sing.

"A very old Sindarin song," Celeborn whispered in Galadriel's ear as servants brought out all manner of roast game, fresh berries, and other delicacies to fill the tables, "a betrothal song." The words were a very old dialect of Doriathrin and Galadriel shook her head, indicating that she did not understand it.

"Tell me what it means," she whispered to him as they watched Lúthien and Silevren leap about in a glimmer of bright silks and jingling bells. Celeborn grinned and leaned close and she felt the tickle of his breath against her ear as he began to speak.

"Listen my beloved to the beat of my love, like a drum,

my love flows unto the sky,

where it shall live even after this world turns to dust.

My beloved, even death could not stop my heart from loving you.

in the shadow of my hair,

your touch and scent lingers.

There is no life without you,

you are in every part of me, flowing like a river,

your lips are sweeter than wine.

In the jingle of my bangles I hear your echo.

In my breath there is the melody of you,

in starlight, there is the glimmer of your eyes.

Your heart beats in my heart, inside me,

in the awakening of your eyes there is only our desire,

and in the moments of my thoughts there is only you."

Galadriel smiled at the words, watching as Lúthien turned and flashed them a grin and a wink as the song finished. "Not a very good translation, I am afraid," Celeborn said with a laugh. "Or at least it does not do justice to the beauty of the original in my opinion."

"There is an almost lustful overtone not just to the words, but to the music as well," Galadriel said with a low laugh.

"Well it is a betrothal song after all," Celeborn said with a grin, his eyes meeting hers and Galadriel smiled coyly, glancing down, her hand tracing a trail across the top of his thigh beneath the table.

"We would not sing such lustful songs in Valinor," she whispered with a teasing grin, her eyes flickering towards his once more.

"We are not in Valinor," Celeborn murmured, " and as for us Sindar, you should know by now to expect such things from us."

"Then I hope that my expectations shall be met when we adjourn to our chambers," Galadriel murmured. Their conversation was cut short by a contrived and overly loud cough from Finrod.

"I hear you over there, Celeborn of Doriath, sweet-talking my favorite sister," Finrod quipped, turning to favor Celeborn with an appraising look and a raised golden brow. The lord of Nargothrond was already well into his cups.

"Your only sister," Galadriel reminded him.

"It was your sister, Finrod, who began to take the conversation into somewhat salacious territory," Celeborn informed his friend.

"You had better watch yourself," Finrod wagged a finger at Celeborn, grinning lopsidedly. "I know what a reputation the sons of Galadhon have and I'll not have Galadriel in the predicament that Inwen found herself in or you shall answer to Finarfin one of these days."

"I assure you I shall not lay a hand on Galadriel," Celeborn laughed, raising his hands in a defensive posture.

"I was rather hoping you would," Galadriel quipped, sipping from her wine.

"Now," the slightly inebriated Finrod said, leaning across the table with a grin, "I expect nieces and nephews very soon."

"And how ought I achieve that without touching her?" Celeborn joked with his soon-to-be brother-in-law.

"Patience brother!" Galadriel hissed. "And really, they aren't so pleasant after all once they reach a certain age. You should see what Nimloth has become like. Only yesterday Inwen asked me to look after her for a moment and all she did was sit at her vanity, sighing loudly, and pouting, and rimming her eyes in horridly thick lines of black kohl all the while complaining about how she was too old to need minding and about how very boring I am."

"Ah yes," Finrod chuckled, "I suppose they do become that way. Orodreth has told me that Finduilas rather fancies herself a 'young lady' now and wants nothing to do with smelly little boys. A prim little thing she has grown into, nothing like the tomboy that you were."

"Oh quiet now!" Galadriel exclaimed, pushing her brother away. Finrod laughed loudly and Celeborn grinned. "The three of you always played such horrible pranks on me!"

"You're lucky, Celeborn, that you don't have any sisters!" Finrod yelped as Galadriel pummeled him with her fists. "Get her off of me!"

"I have been rather fortunate in Galathil," Celeborn said, wrapping his arms around Galadriel's waist and attempting to dissuade her from abusing Felagund. "But I have wondered on occasion if he is worth all the trouble he causes." He caught Galadriel's wrists in his hands.

"Don't think I won't give you a fight too, Celeborn Galadhonion," Galadriel grumbled as she tried and failed to break free of her betrothed's grasp. She gave up at last and allowed Celeborn to enfold her in her arms, contenting herself with making a face and sticking her tongue out at Finrod, who crossed his eyes in response.

"But tell me," Celeborn said with a laugh, "more about Galadriel as a child, for she refuses to tell me the stories herself."

"Ah," Finrod said with a gleam of mischief in his eye, "there were so many things she did that I can hardly fathom where I ought to start."

"You can start with saying nothing," Galadriel shot back but Celeborn and Finrod only laughed all the harder.

"Well there was this one time where the poor nursemaid was trying to bathe her," Finrod said while Galadriel glowered at him, "and Galadriel was maybe five or six years old and she wanted nothing to do with a bath. Instead, she wanted to run down and play in the river but the nursemaid insisted and had managed to get her into the bathtub. That is when Galadriel broke free and, not even bothering to grab a towel, she ran stark naked as a jaybird through the city square, her hair a ratty bird's nest on her head, and down to the river where she rolled about in the mud like a little pig." Celeborn and Finrod burst into laughter while Galadriel renewed her efforts to break free of her beloved's grasp and claw at her brother.

"And then," Finrod said, holding Galadriel's grasping hands still, "there was this cat…"

"No, Finrod!" Galadriel cried. "Not that story!"

"Very well then," Finrod laughed, "I will not tell it if you do me the honor of a dance."

"You leave me no choice," Galadriel snorted, standing and gracing her brother with her hand. Celeborn leaned back into the cushions, listening to the soft sounds of Melian and Thingol conversing to his left, watching as dancers moved amongst the glimmering trees followed by rabbits and deer, looking out at the beauty of this twilight palace where flowers grew in abundance and the brooks ran with clear, crystalline waters. He smiled, watching Galadriel and Finrod sweep about the dance floor, still so clearly in the midst of an argument, thinking that it was rather a relief to see his friend in such high spirits, and hoping beyond hope that this night, rather than the last he had spent sitting by Finrod's side, would be a harbinger of the future.

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"It's just that the closer it gets to the wedding the harder it is to wait," Galadriel groaned, slipping the lembas onto a greased tray as Lúthien cut them out. "His eyes, Lúthien, they entice me and the feeling of his skin against mine…"

"Galadriel, there are things about my cousin I do not wish to know!" Lúthien squealed with a grimace and they both laughed.

"I just…" Galadriel sighed happily, "I feel like we have waited so very long and I am eagerly anticipating when we will be joined fully, when this bond that we have shall at last be complete. It seems such a glorious and wonderful thing, two hearts intertwined, his thoughts and feelings moving freely amongst my own. And then…it almost seems like a new beginning in a way, what after losing my brothers and the start of this terrible war. I want to believe that there is a brighter future waiting for us."

"It is so rare that I hear you wax poetic," Lúthien said with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You know, Galadriel, if you go to any of the taverns in this city you will find people betting on whether or not the two of you will actually marry before your wedding, before the year is out. Especially after what Galathil did there is a good deal of speculation."

"Please tell me that you haven't put money on it too," Galadriel groaned, pushing the tray of lembas onto one of the baking racks over the fire and wiping her sleeve across her forehead. The kitchen was furiously hot. Lúthien turned about to face her friend and put her hands on the floury counter, leaning back against it with a sheepish smile. "By the grace of Yavanna you have, haven't you?" Galadriel said.

"Only a little money," Lúthien said, brushing the flour from her hands onto her apron.

"And which side are you on?" Galadriel asked.

"I'm not telling!" Lúthien said with a laugh. "But Galathil has bet that you won't make it the full year."

"I am certain I could wait two full years just to spite Galathil," Galadriel said with a grin. Lúthien smirked. "Oh! You've bet that we will make it a full year!" Galadriel crowed.

"I haven't said anything!" Lúthien said, holding her hands up in a sign of surrender.

"I saw it in your eyes! You bet against Galathil!" Galadriel laughed, wagging a finger at her friend as she took up the rolling pin and went to work on another batch of lembas. Lúthien rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her friend.

"I'm sorry," Galadriel said in a sudden fit of conscience, worried, reaching out to touch her friend's hand, her eyes concerned. "After what you confided in me I hope this talk of marriage and bonds is not too difficult for you. It was thoughtless of me…let us speak of something else…" but her voice trailed off, for Lúthien's mouth had quirked in a small smile and she had blushed like a young maid, her grey eyes secretive.

"I don't feel that way anymore," Lúthien said quietly, turning to the lembas dough that Galadriel had rolled out and beginning to cut it into squares.

"What?" Galadriel hardly dared to believe it, could feel her heart fluttering with excitement for her friend. She turned towards Lúthien, her palms resting on the floured surface of the counter and bent close to her, glancing around to be sure that none of the bakers were listening to their conversation. "Lúthien…is there…someone?" She whispered and Lúthien grinned coyly, biting her lip. Galadriel gasped. "There is, isn't there?" She whispered but Lúthien still said nothing, merely glancing up at her friend with grey eyes full of excitement. "Who is he? Do I know him?" Galadriel begged her tell, her heart filled with anticipation.

"Oh Galadriel," she gasped, as though she had been fit to burst with excitement, "I've just been absolutely dying to tell someone! But you must keep it a secret! I haven't told anyone yet and I'm so afraid Dairon will be jealous and do something wretched!" Galadriel was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as Lúthien, smiling with happiness, took her friend's hands in her own.

"Is it serious?" Galadriel asked her. "Has he spoken to you of love?"

"He has!" Lúthien said, her eyes alight with joy. "Oh Galadriel, he is so wonderful! Whenever I am around him I feel so…oh like I could just fly! I never feel alone when he is with me and I feel so very free, not confined and imprisoned as I used to feel. My whole life has become better because of his influence: my relationships with my friends, with my parents. I do not feel so angry when I am around him, so frustrated, rather, I feel as though my heart is always full of happiness."

"This is wonderful news!" Galadriel exclaimed, suppressing a squeal of joy. "Oh Lúthien, just think of it! Perhaps we shall both be married soon! Our children could grow up together, be playmates!"

"I know!" Lúthien exclaimed. "I've already imagined it! Just think how happy my father will be with so many elflings in the family! He was so excited about Nimloth and now there shall be more! I just…I never thought it would happen for me but now it has and, oh, it is just so wonderful, just what you told me love feels like!"

"Well who is he?" Galadriel asked her. "What is he like? Is he fiercely handsome, charmingly sweet, endearingly romantic?"

"Oh, all of those things!" Lúthien told her, her eyes glimmering with happiness. "He isn't from around here," Lúthien said. "That's why I've been going out into the forest so much recently to dance. Really, I've been meeting him!"

"Oh, so a green elf then, or is he from one of the Sindarin settlements outside the city, one of Nellas's people perhaps?" Galadriel goaded her friend, eager to hear all of the details of Lúthien's secret lover.

"Come with me tonight!" Lúthien exclaimed. "Come with me when I go to him and you can meet him!" Galadriel nodded eagerly. "I was going to leave in a few hours," the princess said, "when I normally meet with him. Do you think you could be ready by then? I do so want him to meet my friends! I am sure he will love all of you!"

"Of course I can be ready!" Galadriel exclaimed.

"But no one can know," Lúthien cautioned her, "not yet. You know, Galadriel, how Dairon is always trying to follow me about. Meet me out by the great beech, and be sure to wear a dark cloak so you aren't seen!"

"I will!" Galadriel promised, her heart brimming with excitement at the thought. Despite all of the sadness of recent years things seemed to be looking up once more. Yes, the defeat at the Dagor Bragollach had been a terrible tragedy, but Doriath had endured for so many ages of the world, had endured the first Battle of Beleriand. Certainly, sorrowful times had come and were still to come, but with Thingol's guidance and Melian's protection they would certainly come into a golden age once more, an age when her, and Inwen, and Venessiel, and Lúthien's children, all of the little princes and princesses of Doriath, would all play together beneath the enchanted sky of this palace and the verdant canopy of the forests of this kingdom.

Galadriel smiled at the thought as she returned to her and Celeborn's rooms, brimming with excitement. The rooms were unusually quiet she thought for a moment and then she recalled that the servants had the day off today. "Celeborn!" She striding past the empty servants quarters and down the corridor. "I'll be going out tonight with…" she paused, realizing that she had received no reply. She would have thought he would be finished with court today. She had entered the main room and looked about but her betrothed was nowhere to be found. "Hmm," she remarked to herself but then her eyes lit upon his desk, where the drawers were all hanging open and in great disarray, and noticed a scrap of parchment on the top of the desk.

G,

Thingol sent for me - some problem about the granaries. Be back soon.

Love,

C

Galadriel bit her lip and grinned, her fingers lingering on that bit of parchment, recalling how he had held her in his arms this morning. She pushed the drawers back in and made sure that everything was neat and tidy for him. Celeborn could be messy on occasion but he was not usually untidy and so she assumed that he must have been in a great rush to leave upon receiving Thingol's summons. Surely, he would be tired when he returned. She sighed with a small smile as she unpinned her apron and folded it, setting it on a chair, and stretched her arms, pondering what she ought to wear on this midnight escapade.

She moved to her vanity, taking out her pearl earrings, reaching to put them away, but her fingers grasped at air and she looked down, suddenly cautious. Her jewelry box was not quite where she had left it this morning. Ordinarily she might not have noticed such a thing, for as she looked at it now it had only been moved an inch or so from where she was certain it had been, but Celeborn had gifted her these earrings only a few hours before and she distinctly remembered opening her jewelry box to find them there, the happiness she had felt, Celeborn explaining that they had been his mother's. Slowly, with a furrowed brow, she put the earrings back in her ears now, afraid to leave them alone in this room, for the thought was beginning to dawn on her that maybe someone had moved her jewelry box, maybe someone else had been rooting through Celeborn's desk…maybe they had been robbed. She hardly dared to believe it.

She opened her jewelry box in a near panic, but everything was there: all her jewels from Tirion, the sapphire that Celeborn had given her, the hair combs from Angrod and Aegnor. She shut the box and moved to Celeborn's wardrobe, opening the top drawer where she knew his jewelry and his crowns were kept, but none of it was missing either. And then, confused, she turned about, scanning the room for evidence of an intrusion. It would have been difficult to notice, and she could tell that someone had tried to put things back as best as they were able, but there were a few things out of place. Still, it looked as though someone had tried to throw everything back together rather quickly and, as that thought dawned upon her, so did another, the thought that she had unwittingly interrupted the burglary and that whoever had done this might still be in the suite of rooms.

Though Galadriel was usually of a rather intrepid constitution, the thought frightened her, for whoever had attempted to rob the crown prince of Doriath must be a very bold person indeed, someone unafraid of punishment. She moved back to her vanity, glancing about for signs of movement, and slipped the fruit knife that Celeborn had given her so long ago from the top drawer, removing it from its sheath and clasping the hilt tightly in her hand. She swallowed hard.

"Hello?" She called in a firm voice. "If you are here you had best show yourself!" She moved from the dressing room back into the main room, glancing about, weaving carefully in between the stone trees. The fire was cold and there was no sign of movement. Keeping her back to the wall she crept up the steps to the bed but no one was there either. "Come out!" She called. "I command you!" Still there was not a single sound in reply. And, with slow and cautious movements, she began to move down the hallway to the room where Celeborn kept his weapons and armor, where his greenhouse was as well. She had made it half way down that hall when, suddenly, she heard the clatter of footsteps across the ground and turned back the way she had come, darting down the hallway.

A figure completely concealed by a large black cape had emerged from the dressing room that she had only just been in and was headed with all haste for the door. "STOP!" Galadriel shouted. "I command you to stop!" But whoever it was had thrown a chair in her path and she tripped over it in her haste, falling to the ground with a crash, watching as the cloaked figure escaped down the corridor and through the door. Galadriel pulled herself to her feet, charging after the person, but the fall had cost her valuable time and, by the time that she burst out into the corridor, the intruder was gone, or else he or she had been lost in the bustle of people that seemed to perpetually clog the corridors these days with all of the construction going on.

A few of them stopped to glance at her wondering, no doubt, what it was that had her so flustered. It could have been any of them, Galadriel thought, scanning their faces. It could have been any of them. She could not fathom who would do such a thing…or why. "Guards!" She cried, and people began to look about, alarmed now, as a hubbub of conversation began to warm the air. "Guards!" She called again, her heart still beating wildly in her chest, and, fortunately, there seemed to have been some nearby, for they came running at the sound of her voice, three wardens in uniform.

"Lady Ambassador," one of them called out, a worried look on his face and Galadriel recognized him as Glindor, one of Celeborn's lieutenants. "Is something the matter?" He asked as they approached.

"Someone has robbed us," she said, pointing with a trembling finger towards the door she had just exited, hardly able to believe the words that had just crossed her lips.

"You and Prince Celeborn?" Glindor asked, seeming exceedingly surprised. Galadriel nodded.

"Whoever it was just escaped," she said, "but I did not see which way they went. They were wearing a dark cape; that is all I know. I did not get a look at them." Glindor nodded and Galadriel suddenly felt extraordinarily embarrassed that she had not managed to catch the intruder, or even to get a good look at him or her.

"Nothing else?" He asked. "Were they tall or short?"

"Just…average height I think," Galadriel told him. Glindor nodded again and turned to his two wardens.

"Go find the Prince and alert him to what has happened," he told one. And to the other he said, "alert the palace guards and have them canvas the city for anyone looking suspicious and wearing a dark cape." As Galadriel heard him give the orders she became even more aware of how poor a descriptor a person of average height in a dark cape was.

"I am sorry that I couldn't get a better look," she said, feeling ashamed.

"It is not your fault," Glindor told her. "Indeed, I am grateful that you are unharmed. What is missing?"

"I…I don't know," Galadriel told him. "The jewels, the money all seems untouched, though I noticed my jewelry box had been moved. The drawers of Celeborn's desk were open. There were a few things that were not in their usual places, which is how I noticed that someone must have broken in. As I began to search for the intruder, they stole from their hiding place and escaped. Shall…shall we go in and I will show you what was disturbed?" Galadriel asked, feeling very shaken still. Glindor shook his head.

"Not until more wardens arrive," he said. "There could still be thieves hidden inside who might seek to make their escape or do us harm should we enter alone. Where were the prince's servants?"

"It is their day off," Galadriel told him.

"And yours?" He asked her and she shook her head.

"I…I don't have a handmaiden," she stammered.

"Perhaps it would be safer in the future to not leave your rooms unattended," Glindor told her, "then again, perhaps it was a servant who sought to steal. Most burglaries of this nature, sadly enough, do tend to be servants stealing from their employers."

"We've just always felt so safe here…in Menegroth," Galadriel said, looking down at her shoes.

"Galadriel!" Celeborn cried, sprinting down the corridor, accompanied by Mablung and a troupe of wardens, and Galadriel and Glindor looked up in surprise.

"Celeborn?" She said as he took her hands in his. It was obvious to him that something was the matter and she could see he was concerned. "How did you know so quickly?"

"Know what?" He asked.

"There…there was a robber," Galadriel said, still trying to piece together what was happening.

"You are unhurt?" Celeborn looked into her eyes with concern.

"Yes," she said, as Mablung and the wardens carefully made their way into the rooms. She could not shake the feeling of shame and embarrassment that threatened to overwhelm her. More than that, it was the feeling of invasion, that a place she had once considered safe was safe no longer. "How…Glindor only sent a warden after you a moment ago…"

"I though Thingol had summoned me," he began.

"Yes, to the granaries, I know," she replied. "I saw your note." He shook his head, his eyes hard.

"It was a farce," he whispered. "Thingol never summoned me. I went to the granaries and they had no idea why I was there so then I went to the King and he said that he never summoned me at all."

"Someone lured you away?" Galadriel whispered, hardly daring to believe it. Celeborn nodded grimly.

"That was what I began to suspect," he murmured, "which is why I called for Mablung and rushed back here as soon as I was able. It appears my suspicions were justified."

"Who would do such a thing?" Galadriel asked but Celeborn only took a deep breath and shook his head.

"I have no idea," he said. "Did they take anything?"

"I don't know," Galadriel told him. Her hands were still trembling and Celeborn rubbed them. "I don't think so."

"You're shaking," he whispered, worried.

"It's just…it feels so violating to be robbed," she said.

"You are unhurt," he said, "and that is the important thing."

"Your Highness, Lady Galadriel," Mablung had emerged and they turned towards him. "There is no one still here. Could I ask the both of you to come in and search your belongings very carefully to see if anything is missing?"

"You're sure nothing is missing?" Mablung asked them half an hour later and they both nodded.

"Nothing at all," Celeborn said. "It seems that some of my papers and ledgers had been sorted through but nothing was missing at all."

"I am certain that nothing was taken," Galadriel said.

"Very well," Mablung said with a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. "Well," he said, "this is certainly a serious matter that someone has attempted to rob the two of you but, unfortunately, I fear we do not have enough information to give us any leads unless something else turns up. We will be sure to question all of your servants this evening though, Your Highness." Celeborn nodded.

"I can't imagine that any of them would have done it," he said. "I pay them very well and all of them have served me for many centuries."

"Still," Mablung said, "it is a possibility and, at the moment it is the only potential lead that we have."

"Very well," Celeborn told him.

"I will have the patrols doubled in this part of the city," Mablung assured them. "And, I would advise that you not leave your rooms unattended. This thief is skilled at picking locks and he or she may try to return as it appears they did not succeed in getting whatever they came to steal. Lady Galadriel, I would advise you to seek the services of a handmaiden so that your things will be looked after when you are not at home." Galadriel nodded.

They both let out a deep sigh as soon as Mablung had left and they had shut the door. "How very strange," Celeborn mused, throwing himself down on the bed. "I wonder why they didn't take anything?"

"It must be as Mablung said," Galadriel told him, going to her wardrobe to retrieve a cloak. It was nearly time for her to meet Lúthien and she tried to put the unhappy thoughts from her mind, to regain the excitement she had felt not so long ago. "I interrupted them and thereby prevented them from taking whatever it was they sought."

"Maybe they came searching for information," Celeborn said pensively, "but I can't fathom what they would be after. Those ledgers are just recordings of the goings on of the council and, anyway, they are all archived in the library within a year. Anyone might be able to go there and read them; they aren't secret."

"Perhaps they were after something of mine," Galadriel said, "but I can't imagine what. I haven't any secrets, the only papers I keep are letters from my brothers, and they seemed uninterested in my jewelry."

"Are you going somewhere?" Celeborn asked her, noting the cape over her arm and Galadriel nodded.

"Oh, yes," she waved her hand dismissively, "some dancing party in the forest I agreed to go to with Lúthien. I'll be back shortly I expect."

"You're not dressed for dancing," Celeborn said with a grin.

"Well I hardly feel like it now," Galadriel said. "I'll just be content with watching Lúthien."

"You could cancel," Celeborn told her and Galadriel knew that he was worried that the burglary had upset her. More than that, she suspected that he wanted her to come to bed with him.

"No, I promised her," Galadriel said with a sigh. She did want to go meet Lúthien's suitor, but the matter of the burglary was, sadly, preoccupying her mind.

"Mablung is right, you know," Celeborn said. "You ought to hire a handmaiden to take care of things here. A handmaiden would know immediately if anything of yours had been taken or moved. And besides, she would be around so often that the likelihood of anyone sneaking in would be greatly diminished."

"I know," Galadriel sighed again, fastening her cloak, "I just can't imagine who I would ask."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Celeborn said, standing and descending the stairs from the bed to plant a kiss on her forehead before she slipped away.

"I'm so sorry," Galadriel said, approaching Lúthien, who was standing nervously in the shadows of the great beech tree. "I hope you weren't waiting long. There was a thief."

"In your and Celeborn's rooms?" Lúthien asked, her eyes going wide in surprise. "Are you unhurt? Did they take anything?"

"Yes and no," Galadriel said. "But never mind that, let us go."

"I simply can't imagine who would do such a thing," Lúthien mused, drawing her cape about her more tightly, as they passed into the Forest of Region.

"Neither can I," Galadriel confided, furrowing her brow. "I cannot even puzzle out what they might have been after, or who; it could just have easily been targeted at me as Celeborn."

"It is probably nothing sinister, perhaps a servant," Lúthien said, laying a comforting hand on her friend's arm as they walked. "It is not so uncommon for people to get greedy sometimes. An unfortunate fact of life, but we all have our vices."

"Yes, of course," Galadriel murmured, though she did not quite share Lúthien's optimism nor did she quite concur with this same conclusion that both Lúthien and Mablung had drawn about servants stealing. Of course, she had no proof, but something deep in her gut was telling her that there was something odd about this burglary, something very odd…and something very sinister. She shivered and shut her eyes tightly for a moment, willing away the visions of Menegroth's streams flowing with blood that had crept into her mind.

"Are you alright?" Lúthien asked her, having sensed her friend's strange mood.

"Don't worry about me," Galadriel said with a small smile. "It is just the burglary that has me worried still. But let us forget about it, for I am ever so eager to meet your suitor and I am not about to allow some thief to ruin this splendid evening. And so, speaking on more pleasant matters, they walked for a little while until they came to a secluded glade filled with dappled moonlight where the stars themselves seemed to be dancing in the heavens above.

"How lovely!" Galadriel laughed, spinning about. "Do you always meet him here?" Lúthien nodded with a grin.

"Isn't it romantic?" She sighed in happiness.

"It is!" Galadriel exclaimed in excitement, moving forward to clasp her friend's hands in her own, listening to the song of the nightingales perched all about them in elm and beech.

"You are certain we were not followed?" Lúthien asked, looking worried, and Galadriel nodded.

"I am sure of it," she affirmed.

"The night I first saw him," Lúthien said, pacing away, arms crossed over her chest, "I was with Dairon and he fled, frightened but I…I delayed, for some reason that even I cannot rightfully discern. Curiosity got the better of me I suppose."

"As ever," Galadriel said with a laugh and Lúthien smiled, turning back towards her friend.

"I couldn't help it!" Lúthien laughed. "I had to come back, to investigate for myself, and that is when we met. But now…I worry that Dairon suspects something. On a time I almost thought that I had sensed him, watching us."

"Do not concern yourself with his jealous heart," Galadriel advised her. "You have made your choice and now he must respect it." Lúthien smiled thankfully and reached out, squeezing her friend's hand. "When will he come?" Galadriel whispered in anticipation.

"Soon!" Lúthien said with a grin. "Wait. I shall summon him. Watch this!" And, having so said, she stepped forth onto the grassy knoll in the center of that glade, swaying in the moonlight as a reed in the breeze, slowly beginning a dance so beautiful that Galadriel knew, for all the Valar's training, she would never be able to match it.

Then Lúthien began to sing, her voice as clear and piercing and beautiful as a nightingale's song, her shadowy hair a ribbon of black about her fair face, her eyes, gray as the dusk, turned up to the stars.

Even the blossoming flowers,

Soon scatter on the breeze,

who in our world

is unchanging?

And then came, as if from a dream, a man's voice answering, singing:

Crossing to the yonder side

Of deep mountains

We shall never drift away

In the world of shallow dreams.

"Beren!" Lúthien called and Galadriel started at the sound of that name, for it was familiar to her, and then, a dark-haired man with a beard stepped forward from the woods.

"Tinúviel!" He cried with joy and Lúthien leapt forward into his arms, embracing him, but Galadriel stood still in shock, for this was no elf, but a human man and, unless she was mistaken, this was the same Beren who was a dear friend of Finrod, who had helped to save her brother's life. She found her heart overwhelmed not just with the love that he and Lúthien bore each other and with her own happiness at her friend's delight, but with a sense of gratitude so deep that it brought tears to her eyes. Then Beren turned, having noticed Galadriel at last, and stared at her in wonder and delight.

"Surely," he said with a broad smile, striding forward to take Galadriel's hands, "you must be Galadriel, dearest sister of Finrod Felagund and wife of Celeborn of Doriath, Lúthien's cousin. You bear such a strong resemblance to your brother that you could almost be twins."

There were so many things Galadriel wanted to say to him, so many that they tumbled over each other in her mind and, when she opened her mouth, what came out was, "he always says I am his dearest sister but, as his only sister, I find I have little competition."

Beren laughed long and hard at that and then said, "well I can easily discern why you and Celeborn have married, for though I have only met him that once, I was particularly struck by his brand of dry humor and, it seems, you possess the same."

"You are not wrong in that," Galadriel replied, "but Celeborn and I have not yet married." And yet she smiled, for though she had just met Beren, he had some charisma about him that made you feel as though he was an old and dear friend to whom you might speak openly about anything. She could easily see why Lúthien loved him, and why he loved her.

"Have you not?" Beren asked. "I am sorry to hear that. Forgive me. It seems I am always wrong in my assumptions. Indeed, when first I met your betrothed I mistook him for Thingol." At that they laughed and seated themselves upon the soft clover there. "Er…he is still your betrothed is he not, or have I misspoken again?" Beren asked, looking somewhat abashed.

"He is," Galadriel said with a laugh. "And mistaking him for Thingol is an easy thing to do, for not only is his personality remarkably similar to his uncle's, but they look very much alike as well."

"Is that so?" Beren said, rubbing his chin, his eyes full of curiosity. "I should very much like to meet Thingol one day."

"And so you shall," Lúthien said with a smile, patting his hand.

"Will you marry soon then?" Beren asked. "I hope you do not begrudge me my curiosity. It is only that an engagement of ten years would be a thing unheard of amongst my people, given our limited life spans." He cracked a grin. "Surely you must be rather impatient?"

Galadriel laughed at his frankness. He has such an easy way with words that it seemed they had skipped right over formal introductions and fallen into conversation more easily than she would ever have believed. "Believe me, I am," she said. "We had intended to marry ten years ago, but then my brothers died and my people have a custom that we do not marry during mourning. Besides, I could never have enjoyed my wedding while my heart still ached for Angrod and Aegnor, and Celeborn was very busy helping Thingol to prepare Doriath's response to the newly awakened threat. But we shall marry in a year's time."

"I am glad to hear it," Beren said, and she had no doubt that he meant it. "But at the same time I am very saddened, for I feel that this is all my fault and I would apologize to you for the grief I have caused. Had my father and I arrived to the battle sooner, had we been able to save Angrod and Aegnor, none of this suffering would have been necessary on your part."

"Not at all!" Galadriel exclaimed, surprised that the man she was so thankful to for his part in saving Finrod could blame himself for the deaths of Angrod and Aegnor. "Indeed, I owe you a debt greater than I could ever repay, even had I all the coffers of jewels in Valinor. For Finrod's life is worth more to me than even Fëanor's cursed Silmarils and had I lost all three of my brothers on that fateful day my spirit would undoubtedly have passed to Mandos's halls out of grief, even as Miriel's did. Though my grief at the passing of Aegnor and Angrod was great, it is thanks to you that I retain some measure of happiness."

"You do me too much honor," Beren told her, shaking his head with humility.

"I do not do you enough honor," Galadriel said, bowing her head to him and then, curious, she found herself staring at him in wonder, for he was, after all, the first human that she had ever laid eyes on. Beren laughed, realizing what it was that had her so astounded.

"You elves are a curious folk indeed," Beren said then.

"I hope it does not seem an ignorant thing to ask," Galadriel said, "but how old are you?"

"No," Beren said, "it is a very natural thing to be curious about for one who has never met a human before. I am 33, nearly 34." Galadriel's eyes went wide with shock and Beren laughed again.

"Amongst our people you will still be an adolescent in both mind and body," she said, "but I can see that you are fully grown, unless I am mistaken. Indeed, Celeborn thought you were at least 50."

"Oh dear, do I look so very old?" Beren said with a great laugh and Lúthien grinned. "But you are correct, I am fully grown. My people are usually full grown by their early twenties."

"That is astonishing," Galadriel said, nodding eagerly. "I must say that in some respects I am very envious of your people, for adolescence is a time that is dreaded by elven parents, seeing as how very long it continues." Indeed, Inwen and Galathil were currently experiencing the troubles associated with raising an adolescent elfling as Nimloth was now nearly 18 years of age and many a night had she overheard Galathil groaning and moaning to his brother about the things his daughter was getting up to.

"In that respect I must agree that my people have the advantage," Beren said with a laugh. They sat there speaking and laughing until the sun had nearly begun to crest the horizon and then Galadriel and Lúthien took their leave, promising to return soon and to bring Celeborn if they were able.

"I wonder," Galadriel said as she and Lúthien made their way back to Menegroth, "what the Valar shall do about your situation?"

"I have wondered as well," Lúthien said. "But Beren has fought valiantly against Morgoth, in the interest of the Valar, I cannot fathom that they would be so cold as to deny our union or to refuse him the fate of the elves. Besides, my mother is beloved by them and I cannot imagine they would have any less love for me, or for any of us."

Galadriel nodded, not wishing to destroy Lúthien's hopes, and, indeed, she had liked Beren very much and esteemed his character, but she knew from personal experience that there were a great many people who opposed all unions they saw as unequal, for there were still those, both Sindar and Noldor, who would rather not see her wed Celeborn. And, though attitudes towards the mingling of Calaquendi and Moriquendi had become somewhat more relaxed, she remembered how when she had first arrived in Middle Earth the idea of such a union had been seen as an aberration, nay, worse than that, most had seen it as unnatural, a disgusting perversion. She had little doubt that many in Menegroth would take the same attitude towards Lúthien's new lover. She thought of Aegnor and of his beloved Andreth, wondered if the woman was still alive, wished that she could meet her, consult her on this matter.

"You are worried," Lúthien said softly. "Do you disapprove? I…I had thought that you of all people would understand. I know…I know it may cause trouble Galadriel. I am not naïve, but I was hoping for your support."

"No," Galadriel said, "it is not that. Indeed, I approve very much. I have heard nothing but praise of Beren from both Finrod and from you. Besides, having met him I found I liked him very much. I was only remembering how so many people opposed my union with Celeborn at first because he is a Sinda and I am a Noldo. So I worried for you that you might encounter such opposition. And then, I thought of Aegnor and of Andreth and wished that they could have married, as you and Beren plan to do. Perhaps we ought to seek her out, find out if she is still alive, for Finrod told me she is very wise and she is the only other human I have heard of who has fallen in love with an elf. It may be that she has some advice."

"Ah," Lúthien said and then she brightened, smiling and clasping Galadriel's hand tightly. "Don't worry, Galadriel," she said, "whatever hearts stand against me I will change and inspire. And besides, the people who truly love us want us to be happy don't they? So then I shall have you, and Celeborn, and my mother and father, and Galathil, and Oropher, and everyone else I care about. So you see, I shan't worry about the naysayers at all. As for Andreth, I like your idea very much. Let us see if anyone has heard anything about her and, if so, then I would be grateful for any insight she might offer and I am sure that my parents would be thankful as well."

"All of my servants are innocent, or so it seems," Celeborn said at the sound of Galadriel entering the room, without bothering to look up from the tree that he was examining so closely. She had found him in the furthermost room from the entry to his chambers: the small greenhouse that one reached by passing first through the main area, then down the corridor, then through the study and the armory. Galadriel smiled, leaning against the doorway, watching as he cupped his hands around the base of the small tree, closing his eyes and whispering words of encouragement. It was pleasant to see him so at ease for once, devoid of the worries and tensions that had plagued him these past ten years.

"I've been thinking," Galadriel said, "that it must have been aimed at me – the burglary."

"Oh?" Celeborn asked curiously, standing and meeting her gaze as he brushed soil from his hands and bid his plants adieu before they moved to the bedchamber and began to prepare for sleep.

"Just a…a feeling," she said with a sigh. "I had thought that you would be in bed already." He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and Galadriel sat cross-legged behind him, beginning to brush his silver hair. She ran her hands through it, watching the strands of silver like moonlight and shadows slip through her fingers.

"I was worried about you, that this attempted burglary had upset you," Celeborn said with concern. "I beg you not concern yourself with this. I shall have a guard posted outside the entry, have new locks installed…"

"It's not that…I…" Galadriel paused, shaking her golden head and setting the hairbrush down on the bed. Celeborn turned around to look at her, sitting cross-legged across from her. To be perfectly honest she had no idea whatsoever of what she ought to say. Each thing seemed as preposterous as the next. It was Celeborn who decided.

"So what were you really doing out there in the forest?" He asked and yet, as his eyes met hers, she could see in their depths that he was merely amused, not angered. He grinned and stretched his arms. And Galadriel found that, rather than wishing to hide this from him, there was nothing more she wished to do than tell him everything, for she was deeply worried and troubled for Lúthien and she hardly had any idea what to think, much less feel. Sharing it with Celeborn, she knew, would relieve both her heart and mind of the heavy burden she now carried.

"Of course you knew," she said with a grin, shaking her head. Celeborn chuckled.

"Of course I did," he replied.

"Valar," she groaned, throwing herself down on the bed and stretching her long legs out.

"That bad?" Celeborn asked, bemused, lying down on his side beside her.

"Worse," Galadriel murmured, taking her hands away from her face as Celeborn propped his head up on his hand, elbow planted firmly in the bed. "Thingol is going to be so very furious that Glaurung will look nothing more than a puppy next to his wrath."

"What have you gone and done now?" Celeborn grinned down at her and Galadriel sat up, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Why must you always assume it is me?" Galadriel asked.

"I rather thought you had earned the reputation of troublemaker," Celeborn replied and she glared at him. "Peace!" He cried, fending off her attacking fists, "I meant it not!"

"You're not going to go running to Thingol if I tell you?" She asked and now it was Celeborn's turn to give her a suspicious look.

"Certainly not," he said, "and if it is something I think you should tell him I would drag you to him myself, kicking and screaming all the way. Has Lúthien done something?"

Galadriel nodded. "Well it isn't really that she has done anything, or at least not anything wrong. It is just that it is something that I fear will make Thingol very, very, upset."

"Let me guess," Celeborn said, wiggling his eyebrows, "she has run off to live with the ents, taking her absurdly large pack of crazy hound dogs with her."

"Not that," Galadriel said with a laugh, shaking her head.

"Dammit," Celeborn swore, "those things are always stealing food from my plate. Well then, has she taken a leaf out of Galathil's book, married in secret to Mablung and become pregnant with his child?"

"Poor Mablung!" Galadriel chided him, elbowing her betrothed. "You lot are always teasing him, and so unfairly! Besides, I could never imagine the two of them together." Celeborn chuckled.

"Mablung gives as good as he gets, I assure you," he told her. "Whatever it is, I am sure that is nothing new. Indeed, Lúthien and Thingol have been at each other's throats since as long as I can remember. Some relationships are just that way. It does not necessarily mean that any love is lost between the two of them. In fact, in my opinion, it only serves to illustrate how very much like her father my cousin is: always dreaming up wild schemes that she is hell-bent on carrying out, for better or for worse."

"Celeborn," Galadriel said, turning to look him in the eyes, "do you remember all of the dreadful things that people had to say about us when we first started courting so very long ago."

"Curufin was polite enough to remind me of them recently," Celeborn told her cheekily.

"How very like him," Galadriel said, rolling her eyes, "how very like all of my cousins and, Celeborn, if for some reason you were ever to meet my father… well of course he isn't," she shook her head and sighed, "he isn't unwise, and he isn't so close-minded, and he isn't…well he isn't as bigoted and hateful as my cousins but…"

"But he would not like the idea of you being wedded to a Moriquendi," Celeborn finished her sentence for her and Galadriel shut her eyes in embarrassment. It sounded like such a horrible thing to say; it was such a horrible thing to say.

"I hate that word," she whispered.

"Moriquendi?" Celeborn asked, shrugging. "I find I am growing used to it."

"Celeborn," she met his gaze once more, "my father, he would fight it, he wouldn't like it…at first, but I know, I know that he would grow to love you as I have, given time."

"I know," Celeborn said with a smile, kissing the top of her head. "He is your father after all, and Finrod's, Aegnor's, Angrod's. He must be doing something right." Galadriel chuckled. "Finrod didn't like it either," he mused, "when we first started courting. Sometimes I even wondered if it bothered you." Galadriel blushed in shame.

"It wasn't that I didn't desire you, that I didn't esteem you, that I didn't respect you or relish your company and the touch of your hand," she murmured. "It was that I…I felt ashamed of myself for enjoying something, someone who I had been taught was not my equal," she twisted her hands in her lap. "But you were, you are my equal, and it shocked me, surprised me in ways I could never have imagined."

"I know," Celeborn said with a quiet laugh, planting another kiss atop her golden head. "And you can rest assured that it doesn't bother me in the slightest. I know who I am. It doesn't bother me if others don't. What I am really wondering is what you mean to convey with all of this."

"I just meant that we came from such different places and cultures but we still managed to build something wonderful," Galadriel said.

"Yes, I certainly think so," Celeborn replied with a satisfied smile. "And we shall build something more wonderful still."

"So then if Lúthien has fallen in love with someone so very different from her, even if people oppose the union at first, even if Thingol is as irate as my father would be if he were to meet you, do you think that things would turn out alright in the end? Do you think that Thingol could learn to love him? Do you think that your people could learn to accept him, for Lúthien's sake?"

"And has she?" Celeborn asked quietly. "Has she fallen in love with such a man?" Galadriel nodded.

"You've met him," she murmured, almost fearfully.

"I thought you said they were different," Celeborn said with a smile but Galadriel only looked at him questioningly. "Beren son of Barahir is more like Lúthien than anyone I have ever met," Celeborn said by way of explanation.

"You know?" Galadriel gasped, startled and Celeborn shook his head.

"A guess. Do you know," Celeborn said with a laugh, "when I first met him I was in the midst of a man to man duel with Curufin, who was in one of his more psychotic episodes, with the arrows of my army pointed directly at the arrows of your cousins' army, and I had just broken Curufin's wrist. Indeed, in that instant I feared very much that war would surely waken between our peoples and Beren just rode up as if nothing were wrong at all, with so much confidence, insinuating himself so pleasantly between two armies that wanted nothing more than to kill each other, and so cheerfully, in such a remarkably simple and nonchalant fashion he managed to lay centuries old tensions to rest as if it were no more difficult than separating two squabbling toddlers. It reminded me so much of my cousin that I said to myself, 'if she ever meets this man they shall certainly be a force to contend with.'"

"You never told me Curufin drew on you, or that you dueled him!" Galadriel exclaimed, glaring at her lover.

"I didn't want you to worry," Celeborn said, kissing her temple, but Galadriel shoved him away, annoyed, before gradually inching closer to him once more.

"Then I overheard her arguing with Dairon about it one day and I knew she had been sneaking out lately, indeed, I had made excuses to Thingol for her myself, though I knew not her purpose, but I began to suspect that it was a romantic one, for she was blushing, and sighing, and acting so very coy just as you used to act when I was first interested in you and you in me."

"I never blushed or sighed or played coy!" Galadriel protested.

"Oh yes you did," Celeborn said dismissively but Galadriel dug her fingers into his sides in retribution.

"You never remember things the way they really happened!" She exclaimed as Celeborn batted her offending hands away.

"Then, when you began all your talk of differences I truly began to suspect. But surely he must be inside the girdle, or you would have been gone far longer."

"It seems he entered of his own accord," Galadriel said, "though how that is possible I do not know."

"Perhaps Melian has her own reasons," Celeborn said. "I do not pretend to understand everything that she does and I know that she and Thingol have been arguing very much lately over his treatment of Lúthien."

"Will…will Thingol be upset do you think?" Galadriel asked and Celeborn sighed.

"Most definitely," he said, "but I cannot fathom what he will do. Only I think the timing is very inconvenient, for he is not in a very good state of mind of late, what with the war to worry about and your cousins growing so aggressive. He might lash out at her, but the extent or degree I could not myself predict. Melian I would presume to be more forgiving. She can soften the King's heart, perhaps, but he has not been in the mood lately to listen to her counsel, or mine for that matter."

"What do you think will become of them?" Galadriel asked. "It is unheard of for a an elf to marry a mortal. But surely, you do not think that the Valar…that they would force Lúthien to endure a short mortal life do you? I…I do not myself think them very merciful but…"

"If you think them unmerciful then I think them more so," Celeborn said somberly. "They forsook my people, abandoning us to a life of pain and suffering in this world." Galadriel shook her head as if to clear the dark thoughts away.

"What's the use in talking about problems we cannot solve," she said with a sigh, moving beneath the covers and Celeborn followed.

"I find myself thinking that that thought applies to nearly everything lately," Celeborn groaned, leaning over to blow out the candles, and they lay side by side watching the faint glow of the enchanted ceiling overhead as it began to turn to dawn. "I am growing so frustrated with all of this, with the seeming futility of this war, with Thingol's stubbornness, with Doriath's isolationist policies…"

"Are you saying that you think Thingol ought to join the war?" Galadriel asked, turning on her side towards him. "That's rather different than what you said when the Noldor first came."

"Not necessarily. Of course," Celeborn said, "I understand Thingol's position. It seems that this war is impossible to win so what is the use of throwing our lives away only to be defeated when we might remain safe within the girdle? And then tensions between the Avari, the Green Elves, and my people have been so terrible this past decade since the Dagor Bragollach. Even if we could convince the Green Elves to fight there would almost certainly be dissent within certain ranks of the army. Then there is the fact that some of the Sindar are furious that Thingol has allowed so many to enter within the girdle. They say that the Green Elves and the Avari have stolen their farmland, stolen jobs from Sindar. If Thingol were to go to war those Sindar would be upset that he was fighting wars abroad rather than fixing the problems within this kingdom. But most of all, no one in this kingdom wants to fight alongside kinslayers, alongside the sons of Fëanor and I cannot say that I blame them for it."

"Neither do I," Galadriel said. "It really is a political mess isn't it, Celeborn?"

"It is," he said, drawing her into his arms, "and I cannot blame Thingol for not wishing to enter the foray. Indeed, I agree with him on that. Yet, I have lived in this world long enough to know that I ought not expect any hope from the Valar and so I think that if we do not do something about Morgoth then no one will."

"Our current position seems an untenable one to me," he continued. "The Noldor cannot possibly win without Doriath's military support and even then it might very well all end in ruin. Yet if we stay within the girdle, content to allow the Noldor to be defeated by Morgoth, then what shall become of us once they are gone? Morgoth will only continue to grow in power unabated and it may be that sooner or later he will find a way to breach the girdle. So as much as I appreciate the logic that the Sindar are in no position to fight, it seems to me that if we do enter the war it may be the lesser of the evils. At any rate, personally, I can't abide just sitting by and not trying to do something about it." He felt Galadriel grin against the skin beneath the open collar of his nightshirt.

"Having lived all these years in Middle Earth I might have thought that you Sindar would be so fatalistic about it all," she said, "and who could blame you if you were, what with all you have endured here. And yet you have far more hope. You're rather like weeds that keep growing up despite all efforts to stomp them down."

"That we are," Celeborn said with a laugh before he and Galadriel both drifted off to the world of dreams.

---

Galadriel nervously rested her hands on the edge of the laundry counter, craning her neck to see back into the labyrinthine laundries, where the air was steamy from the heated water and the laundresses were bustling about with baskets and baskets of clothes.

"No ticket, no laundry," a short laundress said, scowling up at Galadriel, and the Noldo wondered if it was a job requirement that laundresses be surly. She had yet to meet a friendly one. Then again, seeing as Paniel was the chief laundress now, it really was no surprise that she had hired people who were just as unpleasant as she was.

"I'm not here about laundry," she said. "I was rather hoping that I could speak to Paniel if she is here." The short laundress scowled and sighed as though this were the dreariest thing she could ever have been tasked with before she bustled back into the laundry. She emerged a few moments later with Paniel in tow. The golden-haired Sinda grinned wickedly at Galadriel, with a look on her face that was unsettlingly reminiscent of a cat about to devour a canary, and rested her elbows on the counter.

"Never thought I'd see the day when you sought out your punishment, little Miss crowned-with-radiance. Still angry about your dingy whites are you? I told you that if you raised our salaries I would take care of that little problem for you. But my salary still has not gone up. You have to adjust for inflation, Galadriel, or hasn't anyone on the King's council learned that yet."

"Well how would you like to make 500 pieces of silver a week instead?" Galadriel asked, pleased to see Paniel's jaw drop. Yet the flaxen haired Sinda only stared in surprise for a few moments before her eyes narrowed and she stared at Galadriel suspiciously.

"You want me to do some sort of horrid job, something that your precious little, pure little Noldorin self could never stoop to doing, don't you?" She asked.

"No, I assure you that is not it," Galadriel said.

"Then you want me to do something incriminating," Paniel accused her. "I know how your little Noldorin minds work."

"No!" Galadriel protested.

"Then you are trying to put me in some sort of position where you can ridicule me and make my life horrible and ruin me," Paniel said adamantly.

"No!" Galadriel exclaimed. "Paniel, I am asking you to be my handmaiden." Paniel's mouth had fallen open once more and she gaped at Galadriel in shock before she remembered that she was supposed to act tough. The other laundresses had gasped and Galadriel knew they were fiercely jealous of Paniel in that moment. Paniel knew it too and allowed herself a small grin of victory before she turned back to the junior laundresses.

"What are you standing around staring for?" She barked at them. "Back to work, peasants!" They obeyed, scurrying back to their duties.

"See, I was right," Paniel gloated, folding her arms over her chests. "You want me to do some horrible job I will despise."

"Paniel, most servants never are offered such a prestigious and well-paying position," Galadriel said, genuinely surprised that the Sinda would consider turning down such a good offer.

"You see, Galadriel, the problem is not that I will be a handmaiden," Paniel explained, "it is that I will be your handmaiden and I thought we had already established how very much I dislike you." Galadriel rolled her eyes. "I am afraid I will have to refuse, your worshipfulness," Paniel said mockingly with a flourish of her hand as she made to return to work.

"You cannot be serious!" Galadriel exclaimed, practically leaning over the counter as Paniel retreated lazily. "Paniel, I am offering you 500 pieces of silver a week and a room of your own. Have you forgotten that I live with the Prince Celeborn? Your room will be in the royal district of the city!" Paniel did not turn back around. "You only make 300 coppers a day! How can you refuse 500 silver?" Galadriel cried. Paniel stopped and turned on her heel.

"That's precisely the problem," Paniel said with a huff, staring at Galadriel with unamused eyes. "I make the most here and I only make 300 coppers a day. Most of the women here make 100. Raise their wages. 500 coppers a day for each of them and then I will be your handmaiden. Or if you can't do it then get your little silver-haired princeling to do it. I would have thought you would be familiar enough with his…lower extremities…by now to get him to do whatever you wish."

"I can do it myself!" Galadriel said with a scowl.

"Good," Paniel said. "Then you had best get busy. Won't do to stand around all day, Galadriel. Some of us have to do real work after all."

That was how Galadriel came to find herself seated in Thingol's office with Venessiel at her side, who she had recruited to her cause reasoning that it would be good to have someone with her who could explain to Thingol how the wages of the servants had not increased although there had been a jump in price inflation after the long peace.

"So you see, Your Highness," Venessiel said, gesturing to the ledgers she had prepared showing Doriath's economic activity in the wake of the long peace, "after we signed so many treaties with the Noldor, first with Maedhros and then with Finrod Felagund, the demand for Doriathrin goods, especially for export to the Noldorin realms increased, but our production capacity has increased at a slower rate than demand for goods, meaning that we do have higher than normal levels of inflation. Based on these numbers I would say that Lady Galadriel's proposal to raise the wages of the servants is entirely reasonable. Indeed, the current wages are very unsuitable and I would not be surprised to learn that this condition has caused some civil unrest among the poorer Sindar and those in the lower middle class."

"Indeed," Galadriel said, "many of them have expressed their discontent to me outright."

"Very well," Thingol said. "Galadriel, draw up the bill and I will sign it. Venessiel, I trust you will take care of adjusting the accounts."

Paniel greeted the news the way she greeted all good news, with scorn. "How very typical of you, Galadriel," she said as Galadriel showed her to her new rooms while Celeborn's footmen carried her solitary trunk of possessions for her. "You didn't change anything until it had to do with you. You really are the most self-serving, conceited, person I have ever met." Galadriel rolled her eyes and sighed, wondering why on earth she had chosen Paniel after all.

"To tell you the truth, Paniel," Galadriel told her, "we had a burglar recently and I was rather hoping that having you around would scare off any future intruders." Paniel snorted with laughter.

"Are you sure you want a handmaiden?" She asked grumpily. "Or was it a dog you were looking for?"

---

Galadriel awoke with a start, trembling, her cotton shift soaked through with sweat, her legs tangled in the sheets, her heart beating like a hammer within her chest and, for a moment, she saw only blackness though her eyes were open. She felt Celeborn wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"Galadriel, breathe," she heard his voice as though it came to her from far away, but her mind was trapped in a deep and dark place, where the only sound was that of water slowly dripping to land in a shallow, stagnant bilge that covered a rough stone floor.

Glancing to her right she saw Finrod, his body grown gaunt and emaciated, hanging from a pair of rusty iron manacles. His eyes, sunken into the paper-like skin of his face, glanced up for a moment as if he hoped that he might see the light of the sun, but there was only darkness save for the pale flickering of a torch in a far off tunnel.

His arms were struggling as he tried to hold himself up but he had not the strength and he collapsed with a pained groan against the wall of that dungeon, looking down to where bones lay scattered on the floor. "No! NO!" Galadriel was shouting, screaming, but though her mouth opened she could make no sound come out no matter how hard she screamed. She ran to him, embracing him, but her arms passed through him as though she were no more than a ghost. Frantic, she grappled with the manacles, trying to open them, but it was all to no avail, for her hands were useless, mere shadows that had only form and no substance, no power.

"Finrod, Finrod," she was sobbing as she clawed at those chains, her fingers passing through them. "Finrod don't leave me. Don't leave me!" She gasped. "Don't leave me alone. I need you."

And then she heard slow and heavy footsteps from the tunnel and turned, seeing only a shadow moving there in the darkness. "No!" She whispered. "Not like this. Not here. Not in this hole!" And she struggled once more to no avail to free her brother if only so that he might taste of clean air again, and see sunlight, and know the feeling of grass beneath his feet. "NO!" She shouted.

All of a sudden a memory burst into her mind, a memory of standing in a grass-filled meadow covered in tiny yellow flowers, feeling the crisp breeze in her hair, pulling at her shirt, looking out to rising blue mountains that towered above that plain in the distance, their peaks dusted with snow of pure white. A hawk was winging overhead, a hawk with magnificent plumage and a keen eye, and she turned her eyes up, watching the soaring flight of that magnificent bird.

"Galadriel," she heard Celeborn's voice now, closer. "Galadriel, breathe," he said and, gradually, his familiar green eyes swam into focus as he laid her down on the bed, holding her hands tightly as she shook and shivered, her teeth chattering madly, her eyes wide with shock.

Celeborn was very worried. In recent years she had near complete control over her visions, indeed, she had almost become so like Melian in that respect and yet, even out of all the uncontrolled visions she had had when she had first come to Menegroth, this was by far the worst. He smoothed her hair back from her head with his hand and her skin was cold and clammy to the touch.

The pattering of running footsteps through the corridors of his chambers reached his ears and, momentarily, Galadriel's handmaiden appeared in her nightdress, a candle clutched in her hand, and her eyes went wide as she saw the state that her mistress was in. "What is it?" She breathed. "I…I heard the commotion…"

"Bring water," Celeborn instructed her, "quickly." And the girl ran to do as he bid, filling a silver pitcher with water from one of the fountains before handing it to Celeborn. "A towel, a glass," he said and she handed them to him.

"Galadriel," he whispered, his hands on her shoulders, his eyes watching hers, but she showed no response. "Galadriel, come back."

"What's wrong with her?" The handmaiden asked tentatively.

"There's nothing wrong with her," he said. "She sees things, horrible things, things no one should have to see." The girl reached out, taking the cloth he held and dipped it in the pitcher of water, wringing it out before she moved to sit by Galadriel's head, placing the cool cloth on her brow.

"Will she be alright?" She asked, glancing to where Celeborn knelt, bent over Galadriel's prone form, whispering softly to her. He nodded.

"She will come back," he murmured. The handmaiden glanced at Galadriel's glazed eyes while Celeborn bent over her, concentrating, and suddenly, she seemed to come too, her eyes gradually clearing. "Galadriel, breathe," he whispered and she did, drawing in deep, gasping breaths, reaching for him with trembling hands as he filled a cup with water and encouraged her to drink.

It was then that a knock echoed through the rooms. "They're here," Galadriel said mysteriously, gasping, her eyes growing wide.

"What do you mean? What have you seen?" He whispered but Galadriel said nothing. With a last confused glance at them, the handmaiden clutched her shawl about her more tightly and scurried away to the door.

Celeborn returned his attention to Galadriel but she would not meet his gaze, looking away, and he thought he saw the beginnings of tears in her eyes. "It was Finrod…" she said in a strangled gasp. "Celeborn, I saw Sauron." He stared at her, shocked, but the return of the handmaiden interrupted whatever reply he might have made.

"Your Highness, the king requires your presence in the great hall immediately, and the Lady Galadriel as well."

"Have the King's messenger tell him I am indisposed," Celeborn murmured, still struggling to discern what all of this meant. Paniel ducked out again only to return once more.

"It is…non negotiable, Your Highness," she said. "The King commands it." Celeborn grit his teeth in frustration, wondering what could possibly be so urgent that Thingol would send for them at this hour.

"Very well," he said at last, "inform the messenger that we shall be there shortly." The handmaiden bowed and did as he bid.

"We must go," he said, turning back to Galadriel, his voice laced with anger, not at her but at Thingol. "We will speak of this when we return."

"I know," Galadriel stood, trying to calm the trembling of her hands, and then she steeled herself. "I know," she said again. "I am ready." And Celeborn watched for a moment as an otherworldly strength seemed to encapsulate her body, her eyes glinting with some strange determination, he knew not why. She rose and they dressed quickly, walking in silence all the way to the great hall but he felt her reach out to grasp his fingers and her hand was cold but strong.

"Walk at my side," she said solemnly, yet with a whisper of fear. She looked up, meeting his eyes. "Walk at my side," she said, "and I will not fear."

"I will," he said adamantly, though he did not yet understand what it was that had darkened her heart so. But, the moment they entered the hall he knew and he felt what happiness had been his slipping away like the tide, for it was plain now why the king had summoned him here and he and Galadriel silently took their places at Melian's side. Waves of some nauseous feeling washed over him that he could sense emanating from the queen. He had only to look ahead of him to see why; there, standing before the dais was Lúthien, surrounded by the King's guard and at her side, his hand in hers, was Beren.

Celeborn looked towards Thingol and, as his gaze came to rest upon the king he found that he no longer needed to wonder at the fear in Beren's eyes or the defiance in Lúthien's, for Thingol's eyes were cold and hard, and his words were colder still as anger seemed to breathe forth from his very pores, every line of his body bound up in it.

"You baseborn mortal," Thingol spat, his knuckles white as he gripped his throne, "I ought to put you to death, you who spied and lurked like an orc within my kingdom, without my leave. But do not think it is pity or sympathy for you that stays my hand, indeed, I would gladly give you death myself had I not sworn to my daughter that neither blade nor chain would mar your flesh. Yet even now I would need no chain to keep you confined, only to set you wander for all eternity in these labyrinthine caverns."

"Do not twist the words of the oath you swore to Lúthien," Beren cried, and even now as the man faced Thingol's wrath Celeborn could see that his concern was not for his own safety, but only to shield Lúthien from any worry or fear. "And do not accuse me, who bears the ring of Finrod Felagund, your vassal, given to my father Barahir in tribute for saving his life, of acting as an orc or call me by such names as 'baseborn' and 'spy.' By Felagund's words I had been made to think you fair and just. But is this the justice of Menegroth?" And as Celeborn looked upon Beren he saw that the man meant no malice, just as Lúthien had meant none, but that the both of them were genuinely confused and distraught to find that the happy welcome they had expected now lay in irreparably broken pieces about their feet, that the joy they shared in their own love was not shared by all.

Celeborn had thought that Thingol would not take this well, had planned on there being more time, time in which he might be able to bring the King around to the idea, time in which he and Galadriel might have been able to better prepare the overly-idealistic couple for the scorn and difficulties that they themselves had endured so long ago. And yet the seed had been planted in untilled ground. Lúthien had done the one thing that could cause Thingol to fly into the worst of rages, not falling in love with a mortal man, but the same thing that Galadriel had done so long ago in keeping the secret of Finwë's death and then of the slaying of his people at Alqualondë: she had kept a secret from him, he the king who claimed to know all that passed within his kingdom, a secret that pained him, a secret that felt like a betrayal, a secret that had caused him to feel something, to show some emotion that he had not planned on openly displaying. She had shattered his carefully contrived world of safety; she had inadvertently but irreparably destroyed the mythos that Doriath was secure, that Doriath was untouchable, that Doriath would endure.

It was a myth that Celeborn was only just realizing he had relinquished long ago, and he knew that Galadriel understood, that she understood perfectly, that she had already seen this in her visions though she had not understood it then, and now the pieces were beginning to fall into place at last, every instrument joining now together one after the other and, hearing now the entire symphony, each movement in its proper place, it was not harmonious but grotesque.

"What has happened?" Celeborn asked, turning to Galathil with grave concern, for it was obvious to him that they had happened into the midst of this conversation and he did not know what words might have passed between Beren and Thingol before he and Galadriel had entered.

"Dairon informed the king that our cousin has been sneaking out into the woods at night and Thingol then interrogated her. She swore to bring the man here so long as uncle promised not to hurt him and so she did, going out in the woods and returning momentarily with him. Beren has asked for Lúthien's hand in marriage and uncle…well…you can see for yourself how he is taking it." Galathil's words were quick and clipped, as ever they were when he was extraordinarily anxious.

With a chest tight with anxiety, Celeborn saw Melian bend to whisper something into her husband's ear but he did not seem to take it well and merely shook his head and sneered something in return, something that caused Melian's eyes to flash with fire, that caused her brow to furrow and her face to grow grave as she looked upon her husband with an expression akin to revulsion. "Your pride will be your undoing!" She said, her voice chill. "And the undoing of us all!"

But Thingol gave no heed to his wife's words and, instead, turned back to Beren saying, "very well. I have seen your ring and you say that your father was mighty. Indeed, I have heard as much from Felagund's lips. But you cannot seek to claim your father's deeds as your own. You ask of me my greatest treasure and so I would ask you bring me a great treasure in return," a sour smile snaked its way across his face. And then he said; "return to me here in Menegroth with a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown in your hand and then, only then, may Lúthien give you her hand, if she is willing."

Celeborn felt Galadriel's hand close about his like a vice and, indeed, he felt as though his own heart had stopped for a moment at the King's words. He hardly knew what to think; he did not want to think. A murmur of laughter ran about the hall, for most there assumed that the king must be joking, that he could not be serious, that he was only teasing this man, for it seemed so absurd a thing to ask. But Celeborn knew his uncle well enough to know that his was no joke, rather, Thingol's motive was far darker than humor, and far more deadly.

"A treasure?" Beren said, shaking his head, his eyes showing his distress clearly. "What treasure is a Silmaril compared to Lúthien? You elven kings sell your daughters cheaply. For her even I would pluck the stars from the sky if she but asked it of me. But if this is what you ask of me then, for Lúthien's sake I will fulfill your bidding."

"No, no he cannot go!" Galadriel was whispering frantically at his side.

"It is a task he is meant to fail," Celeborn told her, not that it made it any better. It was still a death sentence.

"And yet he will not fail," Galadriel replied adamantly, words that made Celeborn's heart quake in fear, for he knew better than to disregard Galadriel's foresight and he had looked into Curufin's eyes enough times to know the true price of a Silmaril. It was with cold dread that he pondered the way in which that stone would warp the heart and mind of the only father he had ever known.

Beren turned to Lúthien saying, "Farewell," and clasped her hands in his. "Your love I will have because you love me," he whispered to her, "and not because I will buy it with some jewel."

"Do not go. I beg of you," Lúthien pleaded with him but Beren only gave her a sad smile and traced the lovely line of her cheek with his fingers.

"I will not force you to forsake your family for my sake, nor me for their sake," he said quietly and his smile brightened, his fear gone, his confidence returning. "But I would have you have all the love that the world has to offer, both mine and theirs. And so I shall do this thing for your sake and you need not fear; before you know it I shall be back, Silmaril in hand!" He snapped his fingers and smiled as though it really were that simple. "But now I must go," he said with a wink, squeezing her hands, "for though I have not yet left your presence I find I am already impatient to see you again!" And having so said, he turned, his hands slipping from Lúthien's and, doom sitting heavy upon him though he wore a smile on his face, strode from Thingol's hall.

"Father no!" Lúthien cried, collapsing on the floor before his throne as if she had suddenly grown weak, until her bitter tears overwhelmed her and her pleading was reduced to choked sobs. "If you love me at all you will not do this!" And it wrenched Celeborn's heart to see his ever-joyful cousin reduced to such depths of sadness and desperation.

Then Melian, her eyes glinting with pain and rage, turned to her husband and said, "you have doomed our daughter to a life of pain and wandering." Amid the gasps that had risen up, she turned and descended from the dais to Lúthien who lay weeping upon the floor, bending over her as if to shield her from the pain. Thingol had risen from his throne, his eyes lit with rage.

"Did you think I would let a man, a mere mortal, have what I love best?" He shouted at the queen. "I would sooner kill him myself than let him have her."

But Galadriel had broken free from Celeborn's grasp and she ran to where Melian stood, placing herself between the King and his wife and daughter. "You do not know what it is you have demanded!" She cried, every line of her body tense with anger and fear. "Those jewels are cursed and they will be the end of us all!"

"He will not succeed," Thingol said, with a ferocious glare at the Noldo, "the matter is irrelevant."

"Even the very fact that you tasked him with this quest will anger the Feanorians. They will think that you have laid claim to a Silmaril!" Galadriel exclaimed, her tightly clenched fists quivering in anger, her face and chest flushed red with rage.

"And why shouldn't I?" Thingol thundered, his face going as red as Galadriel's. "Am I not a King in my own right? Have my people also not fought and died in this war against Morgoth? We fought him here when he returned, ere ever your people had managed to cross the sea or the grinding ice! And what is more, what right have you Noldor to tell me what I may claim and what I may not. All of Beleriand was mine ere your people arrived and it is only with my leave and at my benevolence that they have been allowed to settle here, though they scorn me and do me disregard for what kindness and lands I have granted them!"

"You do not want war with them," Galadriel cried. "They will stop at nothing! They will destroy your entire kingdom and all of your people along with her!"

"They cannot stand against the might of Doriath!" Thingol said. "Yet they sit in their halls and call us forest lords and barbarians and Moriquendi! Let us settle things once and for all then, let them bring their war to us and we shall settle the matter upon the battlefield."

"You argue for a kinslaying!" Galadriel cried.

"You are a kinslayer!" Thingol shouted. "And how dare you, you who kept from me the secret of the kinslaying for so long, even as you pretended to be a friend of this kingdom, presume to lecture me on morality?"

Galadriel had the presence of mind to ignore the king's well aimed barbs, crying, "You mean to send him to his death, but what if he succeeds? What will you do then when the Feanorians lay claim to it, when they demand it?"

"Then let them do what they will!" Thingol thundered with scorn. "They cannot touch me here! Let them try."

"If you are as secure in your kingship as you claim then you would not need a Silmaril to prove it!" Galadriel cried, at last going further than she ought. Thingol glared at her with fury etched upon his face, grinding his teeth, his face going startlingly white and, in the matter of a split-second he had descended from the dais, drawing the knife at his back and holding it to Galadriel's throat, tilting her chin up with the point of the shining blade.

"I will not be questioned in my authority in public, by a little girl, a Noldo, a kinslayer," he spat, the droplets of spittle wetting Galadriel's skin.

"I am the granddaughter of Finwë, your best friend, and of Olwë, your brother, as you yourself stated at my betrothal," Galadriel whispered, "or have you forgotten that along with your wisdom?"

Thingol still stared at her with unforgiving eyes, the blade of the knife tight against her throat and then, in a flash of silver steel, another knife knocked it away and Celeborn pushed Galadriel back, standing face-to-face, blade to blade with his king. Thingol looked at his nephew in disbelief, anger etched into every line of his features, but Celeborn too was breathing hard with anger.

"Rebellion on all fronts," the king spat.

"You will never raise your blade to her again," Celeborn said, his voice reverberating with venom, "you will never raise your blade to anyone in this hall, which is a citadel of peace and safety."

"You dare to show the blade of your knife to your king…" Thingol hissed, quivering with fury, and already the guard was approaching, pulling Celeborn back, restraining him and stripping him of his weapons and the prince fought against them briefly before he was fully restrained.

"I dare show the blade of my knife to anyone who would injure this kingdom or those who love her," Celeborn said, his eyes, full of conviction, meeting Thingol's.

"The prince is not in his right mind," Thingol said, drawing himself up to his full height, his face colder than ice, his eyes disdainful. "Shave his head so that he may learn the price of treason." Thingol turned as if to return to his throne while the guards forced Celeborn to his knees but the king turned back once more, pausing, looking at his nephew with eyes full of the sting of betrayal.

"Nay," he said, raising his hand as with the other he drew his knife once more, "I will do it myself." And Celeborn looked up in disbelief before his head was forced down as Thingol pressed the knife to his skin and, slowly, his long silver hair began to fall to the floor.