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.

33. Chapter 33: A Kingdom Divided

A Kingdom Divided

In Cavern's Shade: 33rd Chapter

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"A house divided against itself cannot stand."

- Abraham Lincoln

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Author's Note (general housekeeping): Hey guys, just so you know, conflicts that were introduced in parts I and II will definitely be wrapped up by the end of this book. But, since this will eventually be a multi-book story, I am introducing and foreshadowing events and conflicts for the next story in part III, so don't expect everything from part III to be concluded in In Cavern's Shade. I just don't want you to be disappointed when some of these things aren't concluded by the end of the story. BUT, the long awaited wedding will happen soon! Not this chapter, but very soon in fact!

Luna:

(from Chapter 31): Thank you so much! Glad to hear the Thingol/Celeborn relationship is turning out so intense! I am having a lot of fun writing all the Galadriel parts so I am glad you enjoyed them!

(chapter 32): For some reason Lúthien and Celeborn have always played really well together as characters and I wish I had been able to put more scenes with them in the story but there wasn't room. Ah! I need to do spinoffs or something! Yeah, things with Celebrimbor will definitely get interesting ;) Thank you so much, that is such an honor to hear. Celeborn is really hard to manage as a character so I am really trying to keep a close eye on him at the moment.

Guest (from Chapter 31): Haha, thanks! That's how I feel when I am eagerly waiting to get home so I can read everyone's reviews! I think I am back on my weekly release schedule now.

Character profile: Beren and Lúthien

Beren and Lúthien were both very challenging for me to write and I really had a lot of doubts and misgivings as I was starting to write their love story. There are not very many fics about them. Also, I was initially not very fond of their love story and the first time I read it I didn't really understand what they saw in each other. I know Marnie, who I really respect as a fanfic author, and who has the most reviewed Celeborn/Galadriel fic (deservedly so) stopped writing her fic specifically because she didn't like the Beren/Lúthien story and didn't have any interest in writing it. So basically I was stuck where I knew I couldn't finish Cavern's Shade without writing the Beren/Lúthien story because it is too important to ignore, but I didn't really want to write it.

I have always really liked Lúthien. I don't think she gets as much credit as she deserves in the fandom. She does some pretty badass stuff that gets overlooked. For starters she does what she wants to do and she doesn't let anyone stop her. She blatantly disobeys her father by running away to help Beren. Then she just marches up to Sauron's fortress and, in Tolkien's words, "declares her power." How cool is that? So cool. She singlehandedly defeats Sauron and sends him running back to Morgoth with his tail between his legs like a dog. Then they go to Angbad and (lets be honest here Beren doesn't really do anything helpful) she enchants Morgoth and they take a Silmaril from him. They almost get away with two. The Feanorians have been trying to do this for CENTURIES but Lúthien just walks in and takes that Silmaril like it is no problem at all. And then, the coolest thing about her is that despite all the pressures she is facing from her parents and even from death, she still makes her own choices, decides her own fate, and has so much agency as a person. Yet she is still really kind-hearted, generous, and loving to everyone.

So I knew when I was writing Lúthien that I really wanted her to just be the best person you can imagine and have internal beauty as well as external. She doesn't hold grudges against people, she forgives instantaneously, she is always willing to help others, and she really cares about other people. In that way she is sort of a static character and yet Galadriel learns so much compassion from her example and friendship. But I hope she became dynamic at the end because I wanted to kind of examine the various pressures she must have been facing. I didn't want her to be perfect. I wanted her to experience intense feelings and doubts like every other character, despite her near seeming innate perfection.

In my mind, she never really knew what she wanted until she met Beren and then, once she found what she wanted, she knew it right away, had confidence in it, and was willing to fight her hardest for it. She is just completely fearless. But I also imagined that she had a little bit of naïveté here, that she expected that because she is always happy for other peoples' happiness, she thought everyone would be happy for her too. It was kind of a nasty shock for her to find out that other people weren't as accepting as she herself is.

She kind of ends up having her innocence shattered in a way by the reactions of her parents to the Beren situation and by the way that Dairon betrays her. Nevertheless, her goodness prevails and she is able to forgive them, even if Melian can't forgive her. I think Lúthien a lot of times put her own good aside for the good of others, but in the end she is able to choose what is good for her and have that for herself.

The crux of my problem with the Beren/Lúthien story lay with Beren because when I just read about him from the books he didn't really do anything for me. Still, there is not very much deep information about his personality. Tolkien was, somewhat obviously, trying to imitate these kind of epic old-fashioned romances, which have really static one-dimensional characters and he did a good job of that and I think he achieved the purpose of what he was writing for. This isn't to say that Tolkien can't develop a romance or write about feelings. I think the way he writes how Eowyn and Faramir fall in love obviously shows he is capable of that. I just think that with the Beren/Lúthien story that isn't really his goal.

On the other hand, the purpose I am writing for and the advent of examining a character's thoughts and emotions is a lot newer and more modern component of stories than the ones that Tolkien was trying to imitate. If you read 18th century literature like Fielding's Tom Jones you really aren't going to find in depth explorations of the character's motives, thoughts and feelings. It isn't really until the 19th and especially the 20th century that this becomes part of literature.

But I thought there must be something there beneath the surface I could imagine that would also fit with canon and that I could bring to the surface. Basically I started thinking about what sort of person Lúthien would fall in love with. And that's where my Beren came from. I think he has a lot of her traits in that he is really kind and cares about people a lot. He is genuinely a really good person. But Beren has also had a lot of freedom in his life that Lúthien doesn't and I think that is what really attracts her to him in this story. I mean the Lay of Leithian does mean "release from bondage" after all. She always was kind of living her life on other people's terms but Beren was living his life on his terms and she saw that, learned from that example, and decided she wanted that for herself.

I also didn't want to make Beren like this epic hero or tragic hero because I felt that would make it difficult to identify with him or feel anything for him. I wanted him just to be very down to earth, kind of a strange guy, but really endearing, which is kind of what I imagined a human in the elf world might be like. Also, I thought this provided a much more appealing explanation for his wandering around as an outlaw all dirty and shaggy than making him like Túrin (gross). Beren just doesn't care if his horse is lame, or his armor is crap, or his hair is all uncut, or his clothes are raggedy. He just cares about making sure that everyone is ok and making sure that he has the things he needs to really be happy and make others happy. I thought this is really the kind of person Lúthien would value. I started writing him like this and I think it made him really approachable. Celeborn, Finrod, and Galadriel really took a liking to Beren and recognized his bravery right away, unlike what you will see with Túrin in this chapter…

Basically, I think you can have horrible things happen to you, as both Beren and Túrin did, but you can either choose to use those experiences to grow yourself and make you a better and stronger person (as Beren did) or you can take it out on other people and hurt them (as Turin…well, you'll see). They are kind of foils in that way.

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"Good!" Celeborn cried, parrying Galathil's blow with his axe. Galathil whooped with glee and took another swing at his brother, which Celeborn dodged, spinning about. "Watch your back!" He cried and Galathil was quick to turn, dancing on the balls of his feet bringing his sword up to block Celeborn's blow. He had been a little slow that time, but he had improved very much in the few years that they had been practicing, and Celeborn was certain that his brother could spar now with most of the march wardens and win or at least draw in a bout with perhaps half of them.

Now it was Galathil who was on the offensive, coming at his brother with quick, efficient strikes, his footfalls sure and steady, his breathing even and regulated, his eyes glimmering with mischief. Celeborn laughed, but it was harder to parry the blows than he would have liked to admit and it took him longer than usual to counter his brother's offensive. Finally he managed to catch Galathil off guard, locking his axe together with his brother's sword, and the brothers broke apart, grinning, breathing hard.

"What's the matter, Celeborn?" Galathil asked cheekily. "Need a little rest do you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," Celeborn replied, shooting his brother a playful glare, and the two moved to sit on the edge of one of the fountains at the edge of the training area, where they dipped copper cups into the clear, cool water, drinking heavily.

"And here, 10 years ago you were telling me that there was not a fighting bone in your body," Celeborn panted. It was a very hot summer and the rigorous exercise was certainly not improving that. His breeches were soaked through, clinging to him, making it hard to move. His shirt was also completely drenched with sweat and he pulled it off, throwing the sopping thing on the ground. The sounds of metal ringing against metal as the other wardens sparred and trained echoed about the spacious courtyard.

"I have a very strong motivation to improve," Galathil replied. "For Inwen, for Nimloth, I believe I could learn to do about anything. Then again, the anticipated joy of one day beating you is a strong motivator as well." Galathil grinned and Celeborn threw his cup of water on him.

"Hey!" Galathil yelped and Celeborn laughed.

"You're already wet with sweat," the older of the brothers replied. "I'm doing you a service really."

"Oh is that so?" Galathil cried, dipping his own cup in the water once more, putting his older brother in an arm lock so that he could pour the entire thing over his silver head. Celeborn spluttered and broke free of his brother's grasp, wiping his face and laughing with glee.

"I should have known the two of you would be up to no good!" They heard a familiar voice say.

"Nellas! A surprise to see you here today!" Galathil cried, turning about, and the curly-haired Sindarin maiden smiled and raised a hand to them in greeting. Celeborn, drenched with sweat and water, turned towards her to see she had just entered with Beleg and Túrin, who was by now a young man full grown. It was unusual to see him in Menegroth nowadays, not that Celeborn particularly minded his absence, for Túrin spent a great deal of time on the marches of Doriath with Beleg.

"Indeed!" She replied. "I have no liking for your stone walls and rooves that close me in, nor the hustle and bustle of so many people hurrying here and there with little care for others, but Túrin wished to practice with Beleg today and so I have brought him."

"The roof may be stone," Galathil replied, "but how could you possibly imagine it to be so? For with Melian's enchantment it seems so like the real sky that I cannot tell the difference."

"You cannot, perhaps, Your Royal Impertinence, Galathil Galadhonion" Nellas said, giving Galathil a cheeky smile, "but I can tell at once! And the queen will have to forgive me for saying that I don't like it a single bit. Elves are meant to be out of doors among our friends, the trees, and all of our animal friends, not holed up in caves."

"Oh, come here to insult the people of Menegroth then, have you?" Galathil joked with her but Nellas only rolled her eyes.

"With a child near 30 and you still act like an elfling, imagine that!" Nellas replied with a grin and Beleg snorted in laughter before he decided to have a go at Celeborn.

"For Varda's sake, Celeborn, is it impossible for you to keep a shirt on?" He asked the prince in a cheerful voice.

"I have an allergy to shirts," Celeborn said with mock sternness, pointing a finger at his friend.

"An elf with an allergy," Beleg laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, "who would ever have thought it? Galadriel isn't here for you to show off to you know."

"Celeborn shows off whenever he has the opportunity, regardless of who or who is not present," Galathil quipped, earning him an elbow in the ribs from his brother, and Beleg and Nellas both burst into laughter while Túrin stared at them, deeply unamused.

"Aiming for a little something on the side are you, Celeborn?" Beleg taunted his friend.

"Oi! I'm not Mablung am I?" Celeborn laughed. "Never a chance!"

"Perhaps not with Galadriel," Beleg teased, "but do not forget how long we have been friends. I remember some of the things that you used to get up to back in the day!"

"Not anymore!" Celeborn shot back, grinning. "I am a changed man!"

"Yet still a half naked one, I see," Beleg laughed. "You would certainly draw Saeros's ire. You know how much he detests nakedness, excess drinking, and anything else he deems 'immoral.'" Beleg mimicked Saeros's sour face and Celeborn snorted with laughter.

"I don't need to do anything to draw Saeros's ire," Celeborn said. "My very existence seems to irk him."

"Indeed," Beleg shrugged, jerking his head in the direction of Túrin, "you're not the only one who has drawn his ire."

"Is that so?" Celeborn asked, furrowing his brow with interest, not that he was truly surprised. Saeros had a deep-seated loathing for all things new and different and Túrin, aside from being both new and different, was also extraordinarily unlikeable, at least to Celeborn. It was, perhaps, the first time he had ever found himself sympathizing with Saeros's sentiments.

"Yes, and if you had come to the council meeting you would have known," Beleg replied. "That is the other reason that we are here in Menegroth today."

"Thingol gave me the day off," Celeborn said. "Galathil needed minding and there was no other adult present." That earned him an elbow in the ribs from Galathil this time. Beleg grinned.

"Well," the warden said, "Túrin is now, officially, a member of the king's council."

"Is that so?" Celeborn asked, a bit surprised in truth, for Thingol had said nothing to him of it. Then again, there were more and more things that Thingol seemed to be keeping secret, not just from Celeborn, but from everyone else as well. "You have my congratulations, Túrin," he said to the young man but he only nodded his acceptance of the compliment.

"It is," Nellas replied for him, "and a very great honor." She beamed with happiness and, though Celeborn did not care so very much for Túrin, he was happy, at least, that Nellas was glad, for he knew how much she cared for the young man and sometimes, he suspected, her feelings were a little less like caring and a little more like love. But of course he had kept that to himself, for he knew what Beleg's feelings for her were and he did not wish to further injure his friend by pointing it out, though he suspected Beleg may have surmised as much already, for the warden was very keenly perceptive of the feelings of others.

And yet, despite his happiness for Nellas, Celeborn wondered whether or not it was truly wise for Thingol to appoint Túrin to the council, for it seemed the boy had little to contribute and, while he did lend a bit of much-needed diversity to the heavily Sindarin, and entirely elven council, there may perhaps have been better ways that Thingol could have gone about making this appointment, ways that would not have angered the more staunchly conservative members of the council such as Saeros.

Celeborn sighed and raised his axe to Galathil, ready to begin their next bout, but his heart felt considerably heavier than before. It seemed to him that the king's motivation had a good deal do with him trying to make amends for how he had acted to Beren at first. And, while Celeborn could appreciate the King's desire to make things right between himself and those he had wronged, he feared it would only lead him down a path fraught with further complications and troubles. It was the reason Celeborn had refused to allow Venessiel to pay him back the money she had stolen from him: he had feared it would only draw her into deeper trouble. And now he feared the same for Thingol. Sometimes it was better to let things lie.

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Celeborn groaned and stretched, wondering in his half-asleep haze why he had awoken when it was clearly not yet evening. He blinked, observing the world through sleep-blurred, half-closed eyes and turned over with a grunt, suddenly surprised by the fresh scent of Calla lilies that greeted his nose and the warm body that his arm had fallen over. Confused, he squeezed his eyes shut tight and then opened them, blinking, trying to get his bearings.

Then he heard a soft laugh and felt familiar arms reaching out for him. "G…Galadriel, you've returned?" He managed to stammer, a sudden feeling of joy overwhelming him as his eyes cleared of their sleepy haze and he propped himself up on his elbows atop her, brushing her hair away from her face and gazing down lovingly into that beautiful face that he had missed so very much. Galadriel looked up at him smiling. He could feel the presence of their blood bond very strongly now, washing over him like waves of warmth.

"I arrived a few hours ago," she whispered, "but I have just now come to your bed for I had to speak with Thingol first, before he left the city. I thought to surprise you. And were you surprised?" Celeborn wrapped his arms around her tightly, burying his head in her chest against the soft cotton of her nightdress, nodding. Galadriel laughed softly. "And are you happy?" She asked, feeling him nod again. She smiled, suspecting that he was near tears and was too embarrassed to show it, and ran her hands through his silver hair, which had grown long once more.

She laughed in surprise as Celeborn sat up, wearing a broad grin and wrapping an arm about her shoulders, cradling her head in his other hand, and maneuvering her so that she lay beneath him now, her hair like a ribbon of sunlight across the pillows. "I missed you very…" she murmured but her words were cut off by his lips against hers and she opened her mouth to him as she relaxed into his embrace, her breath growing shallow as he moved lower, his hands and mouth wandering past her breasts, across the plane of her abdomen.

"…very much!" She gasped, finishing her sentence, throwing her head back into the pillows, her breathing growing rapid and shallow as her back arched involuntarily and she gasped again, clutching frantically at the sheets, digging her fingers into them. He parted her legs and she closed her eyes, groaning and moving to wrap her fingers in the long silver hair that was spread now across the smooth skin of her thighs and abdomen. He was being very enthusiastic in welcoming her home, not that she minded at all, of course.

"Don't pull my hair," she heard him murmur in a warning tone and she laughed.

"I won't," she replied, biting her lip, her eyes fluttering closed again.

"You always do," he said, but continued gleefully nonetheless.

"So do you," she gasped out, her sentence punctuated by a moan and she gave up on speech entirely. She had longed for this reunion just as much as he had and they relished in reacquainting themselves with each other; there would be time for words later. Afterwards, both sated at long last, she lay in his embrace, basking in the warmth of his body, running her fingers across his chest. She sighed, contented, and tilted her face up so that she could kiss his chin.

"Celebrimbor was there," she said and Celeborn, his eyes closed, grinned.

"You didn't say anything in your letters about him," he said.

"I had worried it might upset you," she replied but Celeborn merely shook his head.

"The poor fellow," he said. "I pity him. It must be a uniquely terrible curse – to love you but never have you." He opened one eye.

"He could find someone else easily enough, only he is too stubborn," she said with a scowl and Celeborn reached out to pat her head.

"Mercy for everyone except Celebrimbor, Galadriel?" He asked and she scowled again.

"He attempted to convince me to run away to the east with him," she said and Celeborn smiled. "He tried my patience most sorely and said a number of ungracious things."

"Bold of him," Celeborn murmured, "you have to admit he has gumption," and Galadriel began to tickle him.

"I had thought you might show a little bit of jealousy," she complained as Celeborn caught her hands in his, stopping the assault she had begun on his person.

"Oh is that what you want?" He asked, feigning innocence.

"It's romantic, Celeborn," she told him with a grin. He shifted, pulling her atop him so that she straddled his hips, clothed in naught but her long golden hair.

"You shall have to forgive me my laziness then," he said. "I can think of a thousand things I would rather be doing than marching off to Nargothrond to challenge Celebrimbor to a duel."

"He has returned to Gondolin now," Galadriel said.

"Well I shan't be marching there either," Celeborn informed her with a cheeky grin. Galadriel smiled at him.

"It seems like you've been busy enough here in Doriath," she said.

"Too busy," Celeborn replied, the grin disappearing from his face.

"Thingol?" She asked and Celeborn sighed as though some great weight had settled about his shoulders.

"I cannot help but think that he has no regard for me at all anymore," he said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. "He says he took Túrin in out of regret at the way he treated Beren at first, and I believe him, but sometimes…" he paused and Galadriel knew he was entrusting her with something very near to his heart. "Sometimes I think he did it to punish me, to make me jealous, to try to force my obedience."

"You have been nothing but obedient to him," Galadriel replied gently. "You dutifully assisted him through Lúthien's death, ruling when he was unable. Indeed, if it were not for you this entire kingdom might very well have fallen and crumbled these past ten years. He had no reason to fault you."

"It is not reason that drives him," Celeborn said as Galadriel, concern in her eyes, pushed his hair behind his ear and placed a comforting hand on his chest. "He was overjoyed at Lúthien's return, yes, but he feels abandoned by everyone, by Finwë and Olwë who left him here so long ago, by Melian who has spurned him, by Mablung and Beleg who left to fight in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad and have only recently returned, by the people who no longer trust him, by Lúthien who can bear to live here no longer. He has not forgotten that I drew my knife on him and he has not forgiven me for it either, though he did try, but once he had the Silmaril in hand all hope of reconciliation was lost. It has twisted his mind, brought his worst faults to the forefront: his paranoia, his pride, his grudges. He thinks that the people he loves are turning against him and he fluctuates between desperation to win us back and the desire to punish us for what he sees as desertion."

"You frighten him, Celeborn," Galadriel murmured, meeting his gaze.

"Frighten him," Celeborn laughed, shaking his head. "What do you mean?" Galadriel shifted, laying one arm across his chest, tracing the muscles of his arm furthest from her while she nestled her head against his shoulder.

"Ohhh," she said with a grin, squeezing his biceps, "have you been putting in some extra time training while I've been gone?"

"I'm teaching Galathil to fight," he told her, "but what were you saying?"

Galadriel struggled to draw her attention back to her earlier train of thought. "I mean," she said, "that you are everything he thinks he should be but is too afraid to become. But more than anything he fears failure and rejection, most especially by those he loves the best. If he renews his relationship with you then there is the possibility that it would fail again, that once more you would reject him. He cannot bear the thought of it and so he turns to Túrin instead. He is young, malleable. Thingol has not invested thousands of years of love and affection into him the way he did with you and Lúthien. He sees you as too much of a risk, but Túrin poses hardly any risk at all."

"And what if I were to go to Thingol and try to solve things myself?" Celeborn asked her. Galadriel raised her eyebrows.

"You know," she said, drawing circles on his chest with her finger, "that won't work or you would have done it already. He would just see it as an affront, an attack, and he would react accordingly."

"No wonder he and Melian can hardly stand each other any longer," Celeborn grumbled and Galadriel sighed.

"How is she?" She asked. "You sent hardly any news of her."

"There has been hardly any news of her," Celeborn said. "Nobody sees her anymore. She spends all of her time locked in her chambers or else wandering the forests alone. Her handmaidens whisper that on most days she refuses to leave her bed."

"I am sorry to hear it," Galadriel replied. "She does not…" she paused, trying to think of the right words, "she does not feel things the same way that we do."

"No," Celeborn murmured, "she doesn't. But she and Thingol were due to leave for the Greenwood on holiday this afternoon. He is hoping, I believe, that it will soothe her soul to be away from the city for a while."

"Oh, and are you acting in his stead?" Galadriel asked, a playful grin spreading against his face.

"I am," Celeborn grinned, a wicked gleam in his eyes, "and there are numerous things that I am considering commanding you to do." But Galadriel only laughed and slipped from his grasp, descending the stairs and going to her wardrobe, pulling on a shift and her dressing gown.

"Going somewhere?" Celeborn called down to her, sitting up, and then rising, standing at the edge of the floor of his bedchamber and looking down to where she stood in the center of the room below.

"To the baths," she said with a smile, plaiting her hair into a sloppy braid, "which is where you should go too. It is almost evening now and we shall have to be on time for this banquet." She rolled her eyes. "And you ought to put your clothes on. What if Paniel were to walk in and see you standing up there?"

"Then she would be a very fortunate lady," Celeborn said with a laugh, hands on his hips.

"By Yavanna's grace…" Galadriel swore, rolling her eyes again, but she was grinning. "Put your clothes on, go to the baths, and get ready, Celeborn. This feast is in honor of my return after all."

Celeborn grinned down at her. "A feast in your honor awaits you up here too," he said.

"Stop it now!" Galadriel exclaimed, struggling to control her laughter. "You know I would rather spend the entire evening in bed with you just as I have spent the entire day, but we really must attend. It would be very conspicuous if the guest of honor was missing."

"Indeed," Celeborn said, seeming to acquiesce, pulling on a pair of breeches and descending the stairs. Fortunately it was not until then that Paniel entered, just as sour as ever.

"Paniel, could you please have our clothes laid out when we return?" Galadriel asked her, directing her as to which clothes she meant.

"I could," Paniel said with disdain. "I don't particularly want to. Everyone else is going to the feast and you're leaving me here alone."

"Odd. I would have thought you hated feasts," Galadriel said, "all that happiness and merriment doesn't seem like it would suit you." She thought she had heard Paniel snort in laughter but the girl disguised it behind a cough. Nevertheless, when they returned she had done as they asked and they dressed, preparing for the party.

"Might I presume that this is some new Noldorin fashion you learned of in Nargothrond?" Celeborn asked as he lifted Galadriel's golden hair and clasped the sapphire he had given her about her neck. Galadriel looked down at her gown, a stiff dark silver silk with a pattern of flowers and vines done in deep blue velvet. The skirt of the gown was very full but the sleeves were long and tight fitting. The bodice was rather tight as well and worked together with the low scooped neck to accentuate her bosom. Galadriel grinned as she heard the clasp click closed and the sapphire fell to just above the cleft between the swell of her breasts.

"It is," Galadriel said, glancing at her betrothed in the mirror. He grinned, but he wasn't looking at her eyes.

"That's rather daring for your people," Celeborn said with a laugh. "I recall how you all looked when you first arrived in Doriath, all buttoned and laced up so that you could hardly breathe, nary a hint of skin showing save for your face, and even that was veiled."

"Fashions change, Celeborn," Galadriel said with a playful grin as she fastened her earrings, "as do social mores."

"And has the prudishness of your people changed as well?" Celeborn asked. "I remember how many of them threatened me with the worst sorts of punishments for daring to take a Noldorin lady to my bed."

"That never stopped you," Galadriel murmured.

"It won't stop me tonight either," Celeborn said, bending to whisper in her ear, nibbling at the tip for good measure and Galadriel felt a series of shivers course down her spine.

"Well you are rather affectionate today, aren't you?" She quipped, closing her eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she felt him slip his fingers into her bodice.

"What do you expect when I haven't seen you in a decade," he growled in her ear.

"Stop that," she whispered as his hands wandered further. "We can't be going to this banquet looking a mess." But she took no further action to stop him and, in fact, rolled her head to the side as his lips found purchase in the delicate juncture of her neck and shoulder. "Ai, meleth nin," she gasped, "we shall be late if we do not leave this moment."

"What does it matter?" Celeborn asked her. "Thingol will not even be there. He left for the greenwood with Melian this afternoon." Galadriel could imagine her beloved's grin even though her eyes were closed.

"You think you will delay me?" She asked with a playful grin, reaching up to catch his jaw in her hand, opening her eyes and standing, turning to face him as she moved the fingers of her other hand beneath his tunic to flick open the buttons of his breeches. "No, Celeborn, I shall be the one to make you late."

Twenty minutes later the prince was leaning against the wall, still gasping, entirely spent, trembling, sweat having broken out across his brow, and Galadriel stood, buttoning his breeches and tucking his shirt back in, pulling the bottom of his tunic down and straightening it before she brushed a teasing kiss across his lips and said, "I trust you will think of some excuse to make to the guests?" Celeborn watched her from half-lidded eyes and nodded mutely, seemingly at a loss for words at the moment.

They were the recipients of more than one circumspect glance upon arriving at the feast and, as they took their seats, Galathil leaned over to his brother to whisper, "I believe you may have missed a trouser button." Celeborn quickly glanced down and buttoned the offending button. "Not so subtle," Galathil whispered with a grin, giving his brother a sidelong glance, "but admirable."

"Your hair is mussed Auntie," Nimloth leaned across Venessiel to whisper with a chuckle and Galadriel reached up to smooth it, a faint blush breaking out across her cheeks. Nimloth was no longer a petulant adolescent but a woman full grown and she was old enough to have discerned what it was her aunt and uncle had been up to a few minutes prior to their arrival.

The table seemed unusually quiet and Galadriel glanced around, trying to take stock of the situation, wondering what had happened. Venessiel took note of her confusion, whispering in her ear. "It is Saeros," she said, "he's having a bit of a…tantrum. You know how he gets."

"Over what?" Galadriel asked and Venessiel nodded towards Túrin, who was sitting across from Saeros, sullenly staring into his golden goblet and neglecting to make conversation with anyone around him.

"Túrin accidentally took Saeros's seat and Seros has taken it as a grave offense," Venessiel sighed. "Is this your first time to see Túrin?" Venessiel asked.

"Yes, I only returned this morning," Galadriel said, "and he was not with the king when I spoke to him."

"Well, he is always that way, sulking," Venessiel said in a tone of disapproval and Galadriel could well understand why the party-loving, extravagant minister of finance had taken a disliking to Túrin. There were other faces at the party that looked more pleasant, however, and she nodded and waved merrily to Nellas, who was sitting at the far end of the table, and grinning broadly at her. It would be good to speak to everyone again.

"Well!" Saeros said in response to Galadriel and Celeborn's arrival, raising his goblet in mocking praise, his hatred for Celeborn gleaming in his eyes. "Now that our resident Noldorin ambassador and guest of honor has finished polishing the cock of our crown prince and acting lord, perhaps the rest of us may be permitted our dinner. For Galadriel may indeed have already swallowed her appetizer but the rest of us have had nary a bite!"

Celeborn was trembling in rage and he would doubtlessly have snapped at Saeros or worse had not Galadriel grasped his hand and restrained him. "Just forget it and give the toast," she hissed. "Ignore him. Do not give him the reaction that he wants. His words cannot harm me."

Celeborn squared his shoulders and, with a good deal of tension and his eyes hard in anger, sat where Thingol normally sat. He reached for his goblet, clenching it so tightly in his effort to remain calm that his knuckles turned white.

"Let us begin," he said, steadying his voice, "by toasting the Lady Galadriel and her resounding success in restoring our allies, the House of Finarfin, to the throne in Nargothrond. Tonight shall be a celebration of her accomplishments and a reminder of the importance of Doriath's alliances with Finarfin's children and with the children of our elf-friends, the House of Hador and the House of Bëor. It is because of such friendships amongst our peoples that Doriath endures and…"

But he was cut off mid sentence, for Saeros had interrupted him, a nasty smirk on his face, his fingers poised like a spider on the rim of his goblet. "And what of the Green Elves?" Saeros asked, rising to stand. "Will you say nothing of us? Is our alliance not as important as Doriath's alliances with slayers of kin and second born? Or was it only important while it was of use to you? Perhaps now that Denethor is dead and the green elves will no longer fight, dying at the expense of a Sindarin king who never treated us as equals, you care for us no longer."

The banquet hall fell into silence and Oropher, who was seated beside Saeros, was the first to speak, taking the counselor's arm and saying, "perhaps you ought to excuse yourself. It seems that you have had too much to drink." It was a gracious gesture on Oropher's part, providing the counselor with a discreet excuse and the chance to leave, but Saeros shook off his friend's arm.

"I am not drunk," he said, seething, "and I will not beg pardon for what I have said to someone who needs to hear such words."

"If you would allow me to finish…" Celeborn began in an attempt to try to placate Saeros, though certainly if Oropher had not been able to then no one would have been able to.

But Oropher rose from his seat, hoping there might still be a chance to talk some sense into his friend. "My friend," he said to Saeros, laying his hand once more upon Saeros's arm, "I beg you control yourself. Leave now before you do something even rasher that you may later regret."

Saeros shook his friend's hand off once more, rounding on him in his anger and crying, "And who are you, Oropher, to tell me to 'control myself' as though I were some animal! If there is anyone here who ought to be controlled then perhaps it is your wife! For she lay in the beds of two of the men at this table ere ever you crawled inside of her!"

Oropher reeled back as though he had been struck, tears burgeoning in his eyes and his face coloring red in anger. He struggled to speak, to defend his wife no doubt, for Galadriel had felt her stiffen at her side and she reached out, clasping Venessiel's hand beneath the table, but no words issued forth from Oropher's mouth and Saeros would not be stopped. He turned, sneering at Túrin, who looked up at last from his cup.

"And what of the women of the Edain?" He laughed cruelly. "If the men of Hithlum are so wild and fell, then what must the women be like? Do they run like deer clad only in their hair?"

"Saeros!" Nellas cried, rising from her seat but, before anyone could do anything, before they hardly had time to think, Túrin had stood, throwing the heavy golden goblet with all of his might at Saeros and it hit the elf in the head, knocking him backwards onto the ground. Oropher stumbled back, nearly tripping over the cushions they had been sitting upon and, with him out of the way, they could see that the rim of the goblet had cut deeply into Saeros's forehead and he struggled to staunch the blood, taking his red napkin and pressing it over the wound, but the blood poured forth, spilling over his fingers and down his arm, staining the fabric of his tunic. They all stood aghast and Inwen alone, perhaps because she was a doctor, sprang into action, running to Saeros's side, while Mablung struggle to restrain Túrin, who had drawn his sword in anger.

"Send for Madam Camaeneth!" Inwen cried, "he will need stitches and we must clean the wound. He may have a concussion and he is cut to the bone."

But Saeros struggled against the healer's helpful hands. "How dare you draw your blade in the king's hall, where such an action carries the sentence of exile. And how dare you draw on me, a trusted advisor of the king!" He roared, his face red with blood and anger. "Do it outside these halls and I will give you the death you seem to lust for!" But Túrin seemed to find the strength to ignore Saeros's words and, shaking off Meblung's restraining hands, he fled the hall.

Oropher was at Galadriel's side now, pulling Venessiel, who was trying to choke back silent tears, away from the party. "Forget it," Galadriel heard Oropher whisper to his wife. "He is only bitter over his own wife and his wounded pride and disrespected you out of spite. Come away from here with me and you will feel better." The entire hall had fallen into an uproar and through that mayhem came Mablung, pushing people out of the way as he went and shouting something to Celeborn that they could not quite hear over all of the noise.

"What is he saying?" Galadriel asked but Celeborn only shook his head in a sign that he did not know and took her hand, pulling her through the throng of angry people towards Mablung.

"We must go to your chambers at once!" Mablung said as they approached. "I have been informed that the thief made a second attempt during the feast and your handmaiden apprehended them. I have sent wardens but I have not yet seen the situation for myself."

"Let us go then!" Celeborn said, signaling to several of the wardens to restrain Saeros if he caused any more trouble, and they fought their way through the hall, breaking into a sprint when at last they reached the corridors. There was a great commotion outside Celeborn's chambers and, from what they could hear, an even greater commotion within.

"Mablung hurry!" One of the wardens called upon their approach. "She is beating the life out of her and none of us are able to pull her off!" Celeborn and Galadriel pushed past Mablung, who was slower, running the last few meters to the door, through it, and down the hall past the servants quarters to find that Paniel was straddling a girl with brown curly hair wearing a long black cloak, her nose clearly broken now in multiple places, blood pouring forth from her face as she wailed in pain. Paniel paid no heed to her suffering and continued to slam her face into the floor.

"Bainwen…" Galadriel gasped, hardly able to believe it, so shocked that she took a step back, colliding with Celeborn. However, seeing that Paniel had no intention of letting the girl go or stopping her beating, she rushed forward trying to tear her handmaiden off of her. "Paniel stop! Stop it! Let the courts deal with her!" Galadriel cried but Paniel could not be stopped.

"She pretended to be your friend!" Paniel shrieked. "But all the while she was a filthy, false…" Suddenly, looking up, Paniel's face went white, her eyes wide as if she had seen a ghost, and she dropped Bainwen's hand that she had been pinning behind her back, all of the energy suddenly escaping her, and she stood on trembling legs.

Galadriel turned to see Mablung standing in the doorway, looking at Paniel as though a sword had been driven through his heart. Paniel had much the same look in her eyes and she and the captain of the King's guard stood, staring at each other mutely before Mablung gasped, in a strangled whisper that betrayed the fact that he was near tears, "you're here?"

Paniel only nodded numbly as the room went dead silent and Mablung turned away. "Celeborn," he said, his voice cracking again," my apologies but I beg you give me a moment."

"Of course," Celeborn said and Mablung strode back down the hall, exiting the prince's chambers. Paniel retreated, falling into a chair, and Bainwen remained curled up on the floor, blood pouring from her broken nose, sobbing hysterically.

"Perhaps…we should do the questioning tomorrow when everyone is in a better state," Glindor, the lieutenant, said, discerning that Mablung seemed currently unable to do his job, Paniel seemed currently unable to speak, and Bainwen seemed currently unable to do anything that was not weeping.

"Yes, yes I think that might be better," Celeborn nodded his thanks, extremely confused as to what exactly was going on, just as everyone seemed to be. "If you will just…take her to the healers and then…to prison I suppose…until she can be arraigned before the court."

"Of course, Your Highness," Glindor said, bending down to pick up Bainwen. As he drew her up from the ground Galadriel's jewels spilled forth from her pockets, the pearl earrings that had been Celeborn's mother's, the necklace she had worn at their betrothal, the hairpins and ornaments from Angrod and Aegnor.

Galadriel stifled a sob, turning away for a moment as the wardens placed shackles on Bainwen and made to take her away, but she turned back a moment later, striding towards her former friend until she was only an inch from her face, her eyes hard with anger. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?" She spat, her voice trembling. Bainwen hung her head in shame.

"I…" she stammered, "you got everything you ever wanted." And Galadriel raised her hand, slapping her hard across the face before turning away, tears pouring from her eyes.

"Shall we send someone to clean the mess?" Glindor asked her gently, gesturing to the blood on the floor.

"No, no, I just want everyone to go away," Galadriel replied and they did as she bid, exiting and taking Bainwen with them while Celeborn placed a comforting hand on Galadriel's shoulder. She tried to steel herself, wiping the tears away and turned, touching his arm gently, letting him know that she did not want to talk about it at the moment.

He nodded in understanding and, with a sigh, said, "I am sorry to leave you but I must return and see to this situation with Saeros immediately."

"Of course," Galadriel said and, reluctantly they parted.

After that she sat on the floor, pulling her legs up to her chest and crossing her arms over her knees, resting her chin there and watching Paniel, who was still curled up in a chair and had not moved at all since the incident. Galadriel wasn't sure why she did it, just a hunch, but she sighed and said, "do you want to go to the baths? That always makes me feel better and there won't be anyone there right now." Paniel thought about it for a moment and nodded. Then the two women stood, going to don their dressing gowns, and silently walked side by side to the baths.

Galadriel had been right, there was no one there, and they washed in silence before slowly padding across the mossy floor to sink into one of the expansive pools of piping hot water, leaning back against the wall of the bath to look up at the elegantly carved white marble trellises, thickly covered with blossoming pink, yellow, and orange flowers, and at the brightly-colored exotic birds that flitted about, singing their songs.

They sat in silence for a long while and then Paniel said, "I killed my father." Galadriel remained quiet, letting her speak, and presently Paniel continued. "It started why I was seven – that's when he started…the…touching– after my mother had been taken by orcs. He had never been kind, but he was even crueler after that. I didn't understand, the first time, only it felt wrong…and it hurt. At first it didn't happen that often but then the longer it went on the worse it got and he would come in…wake me…and do it…" she fell silent again.

"One day when I was 16 I hid a kitchen knife beneath my pillow and…when he came to me I gutted him with it. After that I ran away from the village," she said, "I met a young Sinda in the forest and at first I was terrified of him but he never touched me like my father did. He only talked to me, said kind things, gave me bread to eat."

"I lived in the wild but every now and then he…he would come to visit me, bring me something special, clothes or…or a cup…soap…or little things…the gifts became more extravagant…a bow, a beautiful quiver…a measure of silk…a gown, and I had never owned a gown, but then one day he brought…he brought a silver ring and said he wanted to marry me. But how could I marry him after what my father had done? How can I bond with anyone when the ability to bond had been stolen from me? If I married him he would know, and then he would want…he would want to do those things with me…what my father did. And so I fled again, out of Doriath, to Himlad, and there Curufin took me in."

"And he did the same thing…" Galadriel said. Paniel nodded.

"The people who care for you aren't supposed to hurt you," Paniel choked out and Galadriel reached for her hand, taking it in hers.

"Of course," Galadriel said, "it is nothing compared to what you have endured but my uncle Fëanor was always strangely obsessive over my hair, and over me. Even when I was a child he would want me to sit on his lap so that he could touch it and it made me feel wrong somehow. But everyone was always saying how great he was and so I thought that certainly there could be nothing wrong with him; that there must be something the matter with me. And so I never told my parents."

"When I became an adult," she continued, "it bothered me even more, for his overtures grew stronger though he had a wife, sons, and I was his niece. To be honest I am not even sure that it was about sex. Lust? Maybe. Power? Certainly. Obsession? Absolutely. I was to be another jewel in his collection, another material for him to bend to his will, only I didn't want to be owned by someone, especially not by him. I began to put him off more and more strongly, refused to let him touch me at all; he demanded a strand of my hair and I spurned him. After that he hated me, and I him."

Paniel nodded silently and then she said, "did it make you frightened…that Celeborn would try to make you his the way Fëanor did?"

"At first, yes," Galadriel told her, "but Celeborn was so strikingly different and, little by little, I began to realize that he would never act or think or do as Fëanor had done. He didn't want to own me." Paniel swallowed hard as if she were afraid to ask what she wanted but Galadriel waited patiently in silence.

"When you are…with…Celeborn," she said haltingly, "it doesn't seem as though it hurts…. It seems as though…you enjoy yourself," she paused again. "Forgive me, I did not mean to see but…I was curious…because it didn't seem as though he was hurting you…"

"He never hurts me," Galadriel told her, "and he never has and never will. And I do enjoy myself, very much. That is how things ought to be, and how things are when you are with someone who loves you and cares for you." She felt Paniel squeeze her hand but the girl said nothing more and Galadriel knew that, for now at least, Paniel had told her all that she could bear to tell her.

They had not stayed much longer but when they had returned she saw that Celeborn had cleaned up the mess and he was sitting in bed, waiting for her. It seemed so strange, Galadriel thought, that but a few hours before they had been lying here laughing. "Saeros has been dealt with," he said, "and Túrin as well. But I have told Mablung to watch them closely in case either of them tries to make good on their threats. When I returned Venessiel and Oropher came by," he told her. "Seeing as the girl was their servant they came to apologize, horrified over what had happened."

"I hope it did not cause them too much worry," Galadriel said, though of course she knew it must have, "they have had a difficult enough evening as it is."

"I told them not to concern themselves with it," Celeborn said. "Oropher was insistent that she be prosecuted to the full extent of the law."

Galadriel sat in silence for a moment. "I can hardly believe…" she began to voice her thoughts at last, shaking her head. "I never would have expected it." She paused again. "But then again," she said, "maybe it was so that she resented me." She sighed. "She certainly had reason to. Here I was claiming to be her friend and then once things had worked out for me I never went to visit her again. I had feared Venessiel to be malicious at that time and I allowed my fear to ruin my relationship with Bainwen." She sighed. "And here I was criticizing Thingol for the same thing only earlier today."

"You are nothing like Thingol," Celeborn said, shaking his head, "I can assure you of that. But let us rest, Galadriel. You have not even been back in the city for an entire day and there has been far too much excitement, far too much business, and far too much anger." Galadriel nodded, sensing that Celeborn was tired and weary with stress, blowing out the candle as they slipped beneath the blankets and, silently, her betrothed pulled her into his arms.

The wine was spilling out of the goblet as it hurtled towards Saeros, red droplets flying in each direction, splashing across all of their faces, and suddenly she was lying on her back on the docks in Alqualondë, trembling, her spear at her side, and Curufin was standing over her, holding a frightened Telerin man by the hair. He slit his throat and the blood burst forth, splattering her face, coating her skin.

The blood became like a river, washing her out into the ocean, into the thicker, congealing blood of the sea that carried her through the gates of Nargothrond where she fell to the bloodstained floor and found herself staring up into the golden, glowing, malicious eyes of some great beast with scales like iron. It opened its wormlike lips and breathed her name… "Galadriel." Her entire head was filled with the sound of Finduilas screaming, a high-pitched keening wail so loud that she nearly thought her skull would burst open from the sound of it.

And she was screaming herself, screaming, and screaming, and screaming until she could hear nothing and see nothing and then the darkness dawned upon her, horrible, and titanic, unmoving, pressing down upon her like some great blanket of smothering earth and before her lay Thingol – or rather – Thingol's head. She turned, searching for his body, and there was Celeborn on the floor, his breath coming in shallow and painful gasps, his stomach torn open and entrails strewn about on the ground. Celebrimbor's words rang in her mind. "Celeborn will stay in his caves as doom comes upon him and he will drag you down into that abyss at his side!"

She fell at Celeborn's side, pulling his head into her lap, her hands going to his ashen skin, his silver hair stained red with blood, begging him to stay alive, and then she felt hands pulling her up roughly. "The heir of Doriath is in her belly," someone said and she felt the breath leave her as the cold steel of a knife plunged into her abdomen. "Celeborn's son will perish within you," Melian was screaming.

Galadriel awoke with a start, breathing hard, her whole body trembling, and the first thing she did was roll over and vomit over the side of the bed. It wasn't until she spit up white bile that she realized they had not eaten anything at all today. Celeborn was awake, holding her hand, looking very worried and he stood, descending the stairs, returning a moment later with water, which he made her drink.

"Come," he said, holding out his hand to her and she took it wordlessly. He began to lead her through the corridors and down stairs and she wondered where he was taking her until they arrived at the kitchens. There was only a very surprised scullery maid there who had been cleaning some of the fireplaces and she bowed very low, asking if there was anything they needed, but Celeborn dismissed her.

He made his way over to the main fireplace, pulling out a stool for Galadriel to sit on, giving her a smile and kissing her on top of the head. Then he went away for a moment and came back with four eggs, a pot of butter, salt, pepper, and a sack of grain.

"I don't believe you've ever cooked for me before," Galadriel said quietly, still trembling, pulling her nightgown tight around her, and Celeborn turned to look at her as he set an iron pot over the fire.

"Haven't I?" He asked, going away once more and returning with a few rashers of bacon, which he threw straight into the warming pot. Soon they began to crack and hiss, the rich scent rising into the air and he bent down, squatting, stirring the bacon about before he reached for a kettle of water sitting beside the hearth and poured it into the skillet.

"What is that?" She asked as he began to add some of the grain from the sack.

"Ground corn," he told her before bending before the fireplace again, stirring the pot. Galadriel watched him work. He was wearing only a pair of moss colored breeches and the light cast by the fire in the darkened room slid over his skin, over the muscles of his back, his arms. There was an ease to his movements that belied the fact that, though he was a prince, he was much accustomed to physical labor. His silver hair hung long and he pushed it back over his shoulder. His green eyes were fixed intently upon the task at hand as he stirred the salt, pepper, and a dollop of butter into the pot. Something about watching his sure, certain movements calmed her heart.

He was truly beautiful. She had become so used to it that the thought hardly occurred to her but now, perhaps because she had not seen him in so long, she found herself in awe for a moment. He turned, catching her eye for a moment and smiled before he returned to the pot, breaking the eggs into it. He allowed them to simmer for a moment before he took the pot from the fire and ladled the mixture into two bowls.

It was surprisingly good, considering how rustic a dish it was, and Galadriel ate it all very quickly, finding that she was a great deal hungrier than she had anticipated. But she had hardly finished before Celeborn looked up at her over the rim of his bowl and softly said, "I thought we had agreed that there would be no secrets between us any longer."

She had known it was coming of course. Celeborn always seemed to be able to perceive her innermost thoughts even though he had not the gift of foresight. Galadriel sighed deeply, closing her eyes, trying to think of how to tell him, but she could not think of how to begin, what to say and, though she clenched her eyes tight shut, she could feel the tears beginning to leak, wetting her lashes. She reached up to wipe them away but she felt a hand, warm, and firm, and comforting –his hand – take hers and the thumb of his other hand she felt at her eyelashes, wiping the tears away.

"I love you, Galadriel, very much," he whispered and she nodded, trying to stop the tears, trying to find some way to say what she had to.

"And would you still love me," she gasped, "even if I could not give you children?" She had thought he would ask her what she meant but he only fell to his knees at her feet, his arms about her waist and his head pressed against her abdomen. She wound her hands in his hair, sobbing openly now.

"I would love you no matter what," he told her, looking up, meeting her gaze with those green eyes of his that she adored. "It does not matter to me whether we have children or not, so long as I have you at my side. I have been so alone these past ten years, Galadriel, and I need you at my side now and forever."

He stood and she allowed him to pull her up into his embrace, his body warm and comforting against her own. "Is it the curse?" He asked her and they pulled apart, moving to sit on the stools once more, her hands clasped in his.

"I do not know…maybe," she said, gasping, sniffing back her tears. "I…ever since the curse that fear had always lain latent at the back of my mind – that all I began would end in ruin – even the lives I created and bore. But then…" she paused, taking a deep breath, "the day that I confronted Melian she proclaimed that she had seen my doom in a vision and that my own children would be brought to ruin and become nothing more than a memory. She said that your son would wither within me and my womb turn to dust." She could see the pain in Celeborn's eyes as he looked upon her, the hurt. She remembered how he had been when Nimloth was she a baby, how Celeborn had dandled her upon his knee, laughed at her giggles, wondered aloud whether their children would have hair of silver or gold.

"Then we shall have no children," he said, his tone firm and confident, his eyes filled with conviction. "And do not dare tell me that I should marry someone else or that you are not good enough," he told her, cutting off the words that had already risen in her throat. "I love you and, knowing of your curse, I chose you freely and without reservation. It was also of my own will and without any hesitation that I joined myself to you by blood. And do not begin to tell me that things would have been different or better if I had not. For, a child is something made by both parents and so, even if I had not bonded myself with you in blood, it would not have mattered."

"I am so sorry," she stammered, unable to think of any way to adequately express her grief.

"Galadriel, I swear to you that, once we are married, I shall never lie with you with the intent of creating a child," he told her, squeezing her hands, and she nodded numbly. If it is children you want then there are other ways. For Thingol raised me as his own and there are many children in the wake of these wars who are bereft of parents. We might foster them as our own, raise them with love and care. They would not be blood of our blood. They would be free of the curse of Mandos."

Galadriel nodded, blinking the tears away, feeling as though some great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, and she wished she had told him sooner, but she had had to come to terms with it herself before she could bear to impart the news to him. She brought her hands to his face, caressing his cheek, tucking his silver hair behind his ears.

"You are the greatest of all the gifts that Ilúvatar has blessed me with," she told him and Celeborn grinned.

"You are correct to say so," he joked and Galadriel swatted his arm.

"Arrogance!" She chided him but he only laughed and drew her within the circle of his arms once more.

"I want that," she said, "to lie with you as your wife. I want to know that sort of love."

"Soon," he said, "very soon." And, having finished their very late dinner, they adjourned to their chambers once more.

They had barely managed to fall asleep again before a frantic pounding came on the door and they sat up, eyes bleary with sleep, and heard the door open for a second, followed by the sound of Mablung's voice, which was then followed by the sound of the door being slammed shut. They then heard another door slam shut in what sounded like the servants' quarters and the frantic pounding resumed.

Celeborn gave Galadriel a quizzical look. "Did Paniel just refuse to let Mablung enter?" He asked her and Galadriel sighed.

"I believe so," she murmured with exasperation, nodding. The two of them rose, pulling on their dressing gowns, and went to the door themselves, finding a very anxious Mablung waiting outside.

"Celeborn!" He said immediately upon seeing the prince. "You must come, everyone has gone mad! I need your assistance!" The prince reached up to rub sleep out of his eyes and blinked at his friend, unable to believe that anything else could possibly go wrong in such a short amount of time.

"What has happened?" He asked, a curiously dreadful feeling gripping his heart.

"There is malice in Túrin," Mablung spat, his eyes angry. "And I know that Beleg loves him as a son but I tell you that there is malice in him indeed, for he would have run Saeros through with his sword at the banquet had I not restrained him and what Saeros did was wrong, yes, but it did not merit death. Perhaps I should have spoken more closely with you regarding my concerns over Túrin, for Inwen confided in me that as she was tending to Saeros's wound he made further threats to kill Túrin. And yet, I was so concerned with the burglary in your quarters and…" he paused, "and with what troubled my own heart, that I said nothing last night, though it seems I should have. I am sorry, Celeborn. I did not keep my eye on Saeros and Túrin as closely as you ordered me to. I was distracted and now the whole thing is out of my hands!"

"It is not your fault, Mablung," Celeborn assured him. "They are the both of them fools! But tell me what has happened."

Mablung's eyes were quick and worried as he continued. "Just a little bit ago, when the sun had just risen, Túrin set out to return to the marches but as he was leaving he and Saeros engaged in some altercation, though I do not know which one of them started it. And then, bearing swords, they both fled into the woods. Beleg departed for the marches last evening and so is yet unaware of what has passed this morning but if he knew he would doubtlessly be sick over Túrin. "

"These are evil tidings indeed," Celeborn said, aghast. "Forgive me. I cannot help but feel as though it is my fault. I should have risen early to see that things were alright but I was overly tired from the events of yesterday."

"Neither is it your fault," Mablung said, his voice thick with worry. "I think that some shadow of the North has reached out to us tonight."

"Let us go as fast as we are able," Celeborn said, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I will come with you to search for them, and quickly." And so Mablung stepped inside for a moment as Celeborn hurried to don his hunting clothes and leather armor, fastening his grey cloak about his shoulders and gathering his knives, bow, and quiver. But Galadriel could not help but notice that, despite Mablung's concern over the trouble that Saeros and Túrin were now in, his eyes seemed to continually dart towards the servants' quarters.

"Bring him back to me safe, Mablung," she said and the warden turned to her, seeming to have been startled out of some thought that clouded his mind.

"I swear it upon my honor, Lady Galadriel," he assured her and then he and Celeborn were charging out to the forest, accompanied by Mablung's troop of wardens.

It was not long before they could hear Saeros crying for help and they set off, sprinting in that direction. It was a hard road, with no clear path, and they ran for a while over rough and rocky terrain, through briars and brambles and thick forest. For elves, at least, neither Mablung nor Celeborn were among the fastest of runners, but their grave concern drove them on and gave them greater speed than they might otherwise have had. Their intimate knowledge of the terrain also lent them strength and, after some time, most of the other wardens had fallen behind.

"Malice that wakes in the morning is the mirth of Morgoth ere night," Mablung panted, turning with worried eyes to Celeborn, but the silver-haired Sinda could only nod his agreement, for he felt as if his lungs were burning and, just then, they burst out into a clearing where Túrin stood, having stopped, it seemed, to catch his breath for a moment, just as they now did. But as Mablung moved towards the man he drew away and so the warden stopped once more. "Hold, hold, Túrin!" He cried, angry. "This is orc-work in the woods!"

Túrin, his face wrathful which, Celeborn noted, was perhaps the first time he had ever seen his emotions so visible upon his usually impassive face, called back; "orc-work in the woods for orc-words in the hall!" Then he was off again, darting through the trees and Celeborn, still unable to speak, heard Mablung curse violently under his breath and swear, "Aulë's balls!" He somehow managed to gather his strength and took off into the woods after Túrin. Celeborn made to follow but the fact that he had been awake now for several days and only eaten once was taking its toll on him. Still, he managed to gather his strength after a few more minutes and followed where Mablung had gone. He could hear the other wardens drawing near once more.

The terrain was growing more dangerous, he noted to himself, for they were drawing near to some of the tributaries that fed into the Esgalduin and the area here was very rocky, with deep crevices and ravines that were nearly impossible to see until you were on top of them. "Take care!" He called back at the wardens who followed. "This area is very dangerous!" And, in his heart, he curse Túrin and Saeros both for their foolish pride that was endangering so many lives.

Hardly had he had this thought when he burst out of the trees at a brink where a stream that fed into the Esgalduin flowed down in a deep cleft through high and treacherous rocks. The first thing he saw was Mablung, and the sight of the warden brought him relief, but he looked to where Mablung's eyes were fixed in fury and saw Túrin standing there, yet he did not know what words they had already passed or what had happened.

"Celeborn," Mablung murmured, jerking his head towards the edge of the ravine, and the prince approached, peering down to the rocks awash in water below where a gruesome sight awaited him. There was Saeros, clearly dead, for a body could not contort in such a way and yet live. His limbs were broken and bent at unnatural angles, his body bloody and bruised, his skull showing through where it had doubtlessly been dashed on a rock in his fall and blood and brain matter were leaking now into the Esgalduin.

Celeborn stepped back, disgusted, for he had seen death many times, and he had no love for Saeros, but he still considered it a grievous thing for anyone to meet their end in such a manner and he accounted what Túrin had done to be very wrong and unjust. Several of the other wardens had arrived by now and they too peered over the edge of the cliff, gasping at the grisly sight below.

"There are other witnesses," Mablung said to Túrin, clearly continuing some conversation they had begun before anyone had arrived. "Thingol will be recalled to Menegroth and when he learns the truth you may hope for his pardon.

"I refuse your bidding," Túrin spat, but Celeborn could see the fear in his eyes despite his proud words. "Either let me go or kill me, if you want to make me answer to the law, but I will not return with you. There are not enough of you to take me alive. Either I must die or you will."

"He has already slain one elf! How many more of us does he intend to kill?" One of the wardens cried and Celeborn, having thought the same thing, nocked an arrow and drew in the span of a heartbeat, his weapon trained on Túrin.

"Will Thingol's disappointing son now kill his favored on?" Túrin sneered and Celeborn might have loosed his arrow had not Mablung stopped him.

"He is not worth your arrow, Celeborn," Mablung said, holding out his hand. "One death here is enough for today I think.

"I did not mean to kill him," Túrin said, "but I certainly shall not mourn him. Mandos will give him what he deserves, no doubt, and perhaps he will be a little wiser then, if ever he ever returns to the land of the living. Farewell then, soldiers of Doriath."

"Then go free," Mablung said. "If we ever meet again then I hope your heart will not be any darker than it already is." And, before anyone could say anything else, Túrin slipped away into the forest.

It had taken them the rest of the day to retrieve Saeros's body, for it was a dangerous endeavor and the lightest and smallest of the wardens, a young elf woman, had to rappel down the cliff face and, using a cloak, improvise some sort of stretcher that could be fastened with the ropes so that they could pull the body back up. It was a very unpleasant task all around and, by the time that they managed to return to Menegroth, they were all in a rather worse mood than when they had set out, which was saying quite a lot seeing the anger with which they left Menegroth.

"What shall we say to his wife?" Celeborn asked Mablung and the warden shook his head.

"Well we should certainly not allow her to see him like this," Mablung answered, "not until we've managed to clean him up a bit." Thingol had been sent for, but they knew it would take them some days to return, and so they had taken Saeros's body to the houses of healing where they had prepared him for burial. His wife had then been sent for, and one of her friends to accompany her.

It was a wretched ordeal, all of it and, when at last Thingol returned, they told him of all that had passed. The entire council assembled then in the great hall and Thingol made to pass his judgment on the matter. "Saeros and Túrin have both done wrong in my estimation," he said. "Saeros I trusted and he served me well and dutifully for a long while, but he was wrong to taunt Túrin as he did and I place the blame upon him for the evil things that happened in this hall. For that I pardon Túrin. But Túrin is to blame and the greater part of the blame falls upon him, for he shamed Saeros, injured him, and chased him to his death. Despite how Saeros taunted him, such retribution was unmerited to say the least and I cannot forget or forgive these actions for they evidence the fact that Túrin's heart is hard and proud."

The king paused then before continuing, thinking to himself, and Celeborn knew that his heart was troubled. "After all I did for Túrin, raising him as my own son, he repaid us all with pride and ungratefulness. He has scorned the laws of Doriath and thus he has scorned me and I cannot harbor him, nor can I pardon someone who is so unrepentant. He shall be banished from the Kingdom of Doriath and, if at any time he seeks entry into these lands again, he shall be brought before me to face his judgment. Until he begs pardon of me at my feet, as he should, I will not consider him my son any longer. Are there any here who object?"

No one said anything and Thingol raised his hand to pronounce his judgment but, just at that moment, Beleg came running into the hall, his anxiety written clearly across his face and cried, "Lord, may I yet speak?"

"Where have you been?" Thingol asked him. "You were summoned with the others who have gathered here and yet you have arrived late."

"Forgive me," Beleg cried, "for I was delayed in seeking Nellas. But you should hear what she has to say before you proclaim your judgment, for she witnessed what happened at the gates of the city as Saeros and Túrin set out. I beg you, Your Majesty," Beleg cried, distraught, falling to his knees. "You know how diligently I have seen to Túrin's training as you bade me do. And you know that Nellas and I have come to care for him as though he were our own son. I beg you," he repeated himself, "to hear what Nellas has to say!"

"Very well," Thingol said and Beleg returned, leading Nellas in by the hand. Celeborn could see instantly how uncomfortable she was with the situation, for she had no liking for such formal affairs at all, even less for something as serious as a trial, and he knew how much she despised the city. "Speak then, Nellas," Thingol bade her. "Beleg says that you know something of what has happened."

"Your Majesty," Nellas began, "I was sitting in a tree." But then she seemed to grow nervous, turning to Beleg for support, and Celeborn could well imagine how trying an ordeal this must have been for her and Beleg both.

But Thingol smiled, seeming amused by her words and said, "Others have done this also, but have felt no need to tell me of it."

Seeing that the king was not upset with her, and seeing that he did not intend to punish her for some perceived failing in her nurturing of Túrin, Nellas continued. "Others indeed," she said, "even Lúthien, and I was thinking of her and Beren, in fact, as I was sitting in the tree."

That took the smile straight away from Thingol's face, as Celeborn would have expected it would. "I have always thought that Túrin reminds me of Beren," Nellas said. "They are akin and I can see in them similarities." Celeborn felt his own ire grow at that, wondering if, no, suspecting that Nellas's love for the man had perhaps blinded her to his faults. For Beren was been brave, and valiant, and good-hearted, but Celeborn saw none of those traits at all in Túrin. Thingol seemed to have had the same thought, growing more serious and impatient.

"Perhaps," Thingol said, "but Túrin has disgraced me as well as this kingdom and her laws. If you have nothing more to say, Nellas, then I will speak my judgment."

"My King, I beg you," Nellas cried in anguish, "bear with me! I was sitting in the tree, hoping to catch a glimpse of Túrin before he left, and it was then that I saw Saeros come out of the woods with his sword draw and a shield on his arm, attacking Túrin while he was unaware, intending to slay him!"

Thingol paused then, thinking for a while, and said, "this I did not expect and I am sorry to hear it."

"They fought, Your Majesty, until Túrin had taken both Saeros's shield and sword, but he did not kill him even though he had divested him of his weapon. So I do not believe that Túrin intended or meant to kill Saeros. Indeed, seeing as Saeros tried to kill Túrin, it seems he had little choice but to fight back."

"Why did Túrin say nothing of this to you?" Thingol addressed Mablung and Celeborn.

"He did not," they both answered.

"If I had known then I would have questioned him differently before he fled into the woods," Mablung said.

"So I will now judge him differently," Thingol said. "I say that Túrin is pardoned, for Saeros provoked him and sought to murder him. It is only just that Túrin need not seek my pardon, but that I will send it to him, seeing as it was a member of my own council who wronged him."

It was indeed a much kinder sentence than the King had at first intended to levy upon his foster son, but Nellas, in a fit of sentiment quite foreign to her, suddenly collapsed to the ground, weeping, and cried, "Where can he be found? He has left our land, and the world is so big that we might never find him again."

But Beleg drew her up from the floor and into his arms, holding her tightly as she wept, and said, "Nellas, I beg of you, do not weep, for if Túrin still lives or walks abroad I shall find him, though all others fail you. I swear it to you." And he wiped her tears away, cradling her head in his hands.

---

Footnote: A note on elves and rape. There are at least two elves that we know of that we raped: Aredhel (perpetrated by an elf) and Celebrían (perpetrated by orcs). In LACE Tolkien says that elves who were raped could often not endure this and passed to the halls of Mandos. The fact that Tolkien actually wrote a paragraph about what happens to elves when they are raped suggests that it does in fact happen in his world and probably more elves other than Aredhel and Celebrían were raped, although I think, since he also states that elves were less prone to these kinds of actions and thoughts, we can safely assume it did not happen as frequently as it does with humans in his works. Also, besides the fact that Tolkien explicitly says elves can and do rape, we also know that elves in the Silmarillion murder, commit genocide, and kill infant and very young children. If they can do these things then rape is definitely within the scope of things they will do.

This being said, both Aredhel and Celebrían survived their rapes and continued to live afterwards, Aredhel for a long period of time, instead of going to Mandos. They did not, however, have a good quality of life after their experience. As we know, Celebrían departed over the sea after a year. Aredhel was basically held captive by her husband/rapist and eventually was killed.

There is some debate over whether or not these two were actually raped since Tolkien never explicitly says the word 'rape.' He uses words like torment or married against their will. But, again, a lot of the older stories that Tolkien was mimicking don't use the word rape either and the language Tolkien does use is very indicative and follows the same pattern as descriptions of rape in other similar stories, legends, and myths. He also later revised his work and said Aredhel was "not entirely unwilling" which, to me, still sounds pretty far from being consensual. Many scholars and fans are of the opinion that they were raped and many are of the opinion that they were not so I think either view has evidence although the general consensus seems to be that they were raped.

Again, I am not putting this issue in here for shock value or any other reason other than I genuinely believe it is a real and important issue that shouldn't be ignored or written out. I know people and have friends who have been raped. I think that for a lot of women (and men) this is a very real issue and I think that to leave issues like this out of this story is equivalent to pretending that rape doesn't happen or that we shouldn't talk about it.

I have deliberately been vague about what exactly Paniel's father and what Curufin did to her. It was definitely sexual abuse, but the particulars are for you guys to decided for yourselves taking into account canon, this story, and your own personal beliefs and experiences.

Don't forget me to send me questions for chapter 40 if you have them! Also, please let me know who you want for the character profile next week. I think I could do either Galathil or Thingol at this point!