Glaurung Triumphant
In Cavern's Shade: 34th Chapter
"Fairy tales are more than true:
not because they tell us that dragons exist,
but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten."
- Neil Gaiman
Author's note: Hey guys, thanks so much for reading and for your lovely reviews! Sorry to keep you waiting for this chapter. I had a really hard time writing it and I'm not so sure about it. It is just that getting through this Turin story arc was hard for me. I hope you enjoy it!
Luna: I really enjoyed writing all the friends together! So glad you liked it. Saeros sucked and I'm glad he is dead too ;) There's more Paniel/Mablung in this chapter too!
Character Profile: ELU THINGOL! ...at long last...
Thingol is probably the most complex and nuanced character in this entire story and I probably put more blood, sweat, and tears into him than any other character. I think that is just the nature of who he is in Tolkien's writing so I always knew he was going to be a real challenge. Looking at Thingol in the Silmarillion he is obviously a complex character. He is at the same time an antagonist and a protagonist. He can be extremely generous and he can be extremely wrathful. He can be very fair and wise and also be very unfair and biased. I think that Thingol defines a lot of the relationships in the story and his relationships with the other characters define those characters to a greater or lesser extent.
Celeborn's father and grandfather were very dear to Thingol so he really does see Celeborn as his son. Celeborn and Galathil are closer kin to him than Oropher and Celeborn was about ten years older than Galathil when they were orphaned and brought to Thingol so it was easier for Thingol to develop a meaningful relationship with Celeborn than with Galathil, who was a baby. Also, Celeborn and Thingol are a lot alike in terms of personality, which we get glimpses of and allusions to in FOTR (the book). I think that is another thing that causes Thingol to develop a closer relationship with Celeborn than any of the other princes. Oropher is a bit jealous of this. Galathil doesn't really mind it at all. And, Thingol's relationship with Celeborn is one of the most important relationships in the story.
At first, obviously, Celeborn and Thingol have a very close father/son relationship but, and I hope this was apparent early on, even in the initial chapters there were some little things that hinted that they would begin to grow apart over the course of the story. I think one important aspect of this is that Thingol is a master manipulator. In a way, he reminds me a bit of Frank Underwood from House of Cards. Not the murderer bit, but the always in control bit. Thingol is always in control of everything and he knows how to manipulate people, events, and things, to get what he wants. Sometimes this is for good (as we saw with his urging Celeborn to help Finrod start Nargothrond) and sometimes this is for bad (when he grows abusive after getting the Silmaril). He starts to lose control after he gets the Silmaril. I think he thought he could control it but instead it controlled him.
And, throughout the entire story Thingol has had that potential to be abusive in him. Thingol needs love and he lives off of adulation. When he is getting that he is great but when he isn't getting that the darker aspects of his personality take over and he kind of flails like a drowning man, desperately seeking affection. But I think that what Celeborn eventually discovers about Thingol is that it is never enough, Thingol can never have enough love and so he is always going to be unsatisfied.
Again, obviously, Celeborn and Thingol have really grown apart over the course of the story and the start of that was Galadriel, but maybe not for the reasons you think. Thingol actually likes and admires her so it isn't that he disapproves of the match. The issue is that Galadriel showed Celeborn a different kind of love that he had never seen before. She didn't feed off of him or need him to survive. She just simply love him. After returning from Nargothrond she was content to love him even if he didn't love her back. Thingol would never have been able to do that and, whether consciously or subconsciously, Celeborn realized that. This isn't to say that Thingol doesn't love Celeborn, because he definitely does, but it is always going to be a sort of parasitic relationship.
So Thingol feels like he has been losing Celeborn for a long time and this makes him upset. The situation with Lúthien, where he does lose her, only exacerbates this loss of love that Thingol is feeling. Then, when Melian reacts to the whole thing by shunning Thingol he feels really alone and unloved and frightened. So he reacts in a very negative way to that and basically starts to dwell on all the instances where he feels he was unloved or undeserving of love. He remembers how the Teleri left without him on the great march, he feels guilt over how his people stayed behind to search for him instead of going to Aman, he feels like Lúthien, Celeborn, and Melian don't love him anymore. He also feels like the Valar don't love his people and abandoned them (so he wants to take something the Valar wanted, the Silmaril). Basically, he is dealing poorly with really complex emotions.
This is a way that Celeborn and Thingol differ greatly. Celeborn really has that innate self-confidence and he doesn't depend on others for his emotional support like Thingol does. This is something that his relationship with Galadriel has really nurtured. And yet, Celeborn feels a strong sense of devotion to the people he cares about so it is very hard for him to just let go of Thingol. He can't really do it completely. In that way he puts himself in a position where he makes it easy for Thingol to abuse him and Thingol does this without hesitation once he starts to lose his mind. Thingol is aware he is doing this he just can't master his insecurities well enough to stop himself from doing it.
By this point Thingol has really deteriorated to the point that it is almost impossible for him to come back. And yet, Thingol does really love Celeborn, Melian, and Lúthien. His fostering of Túrin, in his mind, was an attempt to make things right between him and humans after the whole Beren fiasco. He has slowly been rebuilding his relationship with Melian, and now he wants to make things right between him and Celeborn. It was really hard for me to destroy his relationship with Celeborn because I loved it so much. But hopefully Thingol can behave himself at the wedding and be nice to people again and conquer his own personal dragons.
There is so much I could say about Thingol and I probably forgot about 50% of what I wanted to say so if there is anything else you want to know please shoot me a PM or a review and I'll be happy to answer your questions.
"Doriath needs you, Beleg!" Celeborn cried, at his friend's heels as the warden strode through the great armory, equipping himself for his journey. "If you leave now you are abandoning us all! You swore an oath to this kingdom, to protect her and her citizens!" He had half a mind to grab his friend by the neck and throttle him for his foolhardy decision.
"Thingol has given me leave to go!" Beleg replied, his voice terse with anger at his friend as he pulled on his bracers. It was unusual to see the normally mind-mannered and kind-spoken warden in such an agitated state. "The rest is of no concern to you."
"It is my concern!" Celeborn said, fuming with anger, "as both your friend and your prince it is my concern. Túrin is not worth this! He is not worth taking this…this…blasted, cursed sword of Eöl's. He is not worth the torment and death you might face out there beyond the girdle!"
Beleg turned back to his friend, his grey eyes fierce. "He may not be worth it to you, but he is worth it to me, and to Nellas!" He spat.
"To Nellas!" Celeborn scoffed, shaking his silver head. "Beleg she doesn't love you, she never has and she never will, at least not in the way you desire! I know these past years, in raising Túrin together…perhaps you imagined that there was some hope, that the three of you had become like a family, that she had grown to see you as you wish that she would…but she loves him, not you! Do not throw your life away…"
"Throw my life away?" Beleg interjected, his voice trembling with anger, his eyes filled with unshed tears as he laced his bracers. "Is that what you call it, Celeborn? Is that what you call wanting to rescue the boy I raised as my own son, assisting the woman that I love? What does it matter whether she loves me or not? I would see her smile again, no matter the price!"
"Even if the price is your life and the lives of those you swore to protect?" Celeborn cried. "Will there be no one sane left in this city? Who will be left to fight, to safeguard the people? We all know that dark days are coming!"
"You want to point fingers, very well then, let us point fingers and lay blame," Beleg spat, trembling, pushing Celeborn away. "What hope is left here? The king has gone mad! The queen lies about doing nothing! Thingol had put you in charge while he was away! You are the only one fit to lead and where were you when Saeros attacked Túrin? Rumor has it that you were abed with Galadriel! Yet you dare to speak to me of letting my love for a woman distract me?"
"How were any of us supposed to know that Saeros would make good on his threats!" Celeborn cried. "He threatens everyone! We did not know this time would be different! And these have been trying times for Galadriel and I both! It is nothing more than the most unfortunate timing that on the one day that we at last rested this whole affair took place! I am very sorry it happened. I wish for all the world that I could go back and fix things but that is not possible and you leaving Thingol's service will not solve anything either."
Beleg merely scoffed and shook his head as he threw his quiver over his shoulder and buckled it over his chest. "Are you going to stay here in these caves and die with the rest of them then?" Beleg said bitterly. "Is that your idea of fixing things?"
"Who will the people have if I do not?" Celeborn said, his eyes flashing in anger. "Who else will stand at Doriath's defense in her hour of need? Who will lead the people to safety if things go awry? I have made my choice, Beleg, and it is to stand with my kingdom and her people, to the bitter end if need be."
"And I have made my choice, and that is to go where my heart leads me," Beleg said, buckling his knife belt and Anglachel about his waist.
"You are a fool to do so!" Celeborn cried, lashing out at his friend with harsh words.
"Am I?" Beleg said, his gaze piercing. "Is that not what you are doing, letting your heart keep you here in this death trap? What if Galadriel pays for your choices with her life?"
"Do not speak of her when you know so little of our relationship!" Celeborn spat.
"Then I would beg you do the same and not speak of my relationship with Nellas when you know nothing of it!" Beleg retorted before turning and striding away, his footsteps echoing down the long hall.
"Beleg, this is not like you! Let us not part as enemies!" Celeborn cried, but his friend did not even turn to give him a last glance, much less a friendly word, and Celeborn stood as if rooted to the spot, his shoulders trembling in anger, his fists clenched at his sides. He had never thought that Beleg, of all people, would leave, especially not for such a cause as this, and he resented the implications that his friend had made regarding Galadriel.
They had never spoken of it directly but he knew that she had not made her decision to stay solely because of him, nor would he have wished her to do so. He knew more surely than anyone else the pain Galadriel had felt as her mother had watched coldly from the doorstep, refusing to speak words of parting when she had left Tirion, as her mother's kin had been slain all around her in Alqualondë, as her father had turned back from the march, when her brothers had perished. This was her home, just as it was a home for his people: hard fought for, hard won, hard kept. Galadriel stayed because she wanted to stay, just as he did; she was not the sort of woman who would have stayed for any other reason.
He wished in fact that she would leave, for he did not need foresight to know that doom was coming upon him, but he also knew that she would never have agreed to it and he would not insult her by begging that she go; he respected her decision just as she did his. In a sudden fit of rage he turned and, with a wordless roar, toppled a rack of spears. They clattered to the ground, falling every which way, and he picked one up, hurling it with full force against the wall, breathing hard. He tried to calm himself, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, working to steady his breathing, but several of the soldiers who had been at the far end of the armory came running, quickly beginning to set the rack and spears to rights.
"My apologies," Celeborn murmured, bowing his head, embarrassed that they had seen his moment of weakness and childish temper. "Let me help you," he said, bending to pick up the spears but the soldiers merely laughed and pulled him back up.
"You needn't worry yourself over it, Your Highness," they said, friendly hands slapping him on the back. "You've enough on your plate as it is." But, despite their kind words, the aching of his heart did not abate. Somehow, he felt as though he would never see Beleg again.
Celeborn had been having fits of anger in the years since Beleg had left and tonight's dinner had been no exception. So Galadriel, thinking it best to leave him on his own to sort out his temper and not wanting to be around him at all anyway when he was in such a state, had breathed a sigh of relief when, as dinner came to an end, he had informed her that he would be going to the baths to ease his mind. She loved Celeborn, but not so much his temper, and besides, after all of the recent events, she was much looking forward to returning to the peace and quiet of their chambers where she might enjoy her time alone and, perhaps, get some work done.
There were so many things of late that occupied her mind and heart. Since the Falas had fallen during the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Doriath had been petitioned constantly by Círdan for aid. He had managed to lead the refugees south to safety, setting up two camps, one at the Mouth of the Sirion and the other on the Isle of Balar, but their provisions were sparse and winter was nearly upon them now. Of course, Thingol sent everything that Doriath could spare, but the council had been tasked with trimming the budget, eliminating all excess so that more aid could be funneled to Círdan. It was such a massive and taxing endeavor that the King had tasked every one of his ministers, even those, like Galadriel, whose realm of expertise was neither war nor money, with helping the overwhelmed Venessiel in adjusting the kingdom's accounts.
Then there was the fact that, after long years of waiting, Bainwen's trial had been set to take place after a few more days and, as the appointed day drew closer and closer, Galadriel felt even more regret and sorrow over what had happened to her one-time friend. She had thought that Bainwen might send her some message, some note explaining why she had done such a thing, for surely there must be some sort of explanation, but nothing had come. Mablung had questioned her but he had not been able to get any information out of her whatsoever. She had merely told him that she would only speak at the trial, when the king would be there to hear and judge for himself.
Thus, it was in a state of heightened anxiety and emotion that Galadriel returned to her chambers and it was not until she had already made her way down the hall and into the main rooms that she realize the raised voices she was hearing were coming from the direction of the servants' quarters. With even further chagrin, she realized that it was no mere squabble between Celeborn's pages, but a full on argument between two people she knew quite well.
"How long have you been in the city?" It was undoubtedly Mablung's voice and yet, though he was one of Celeborn's dear friends, Galadriel had never heard the warden sound anything less than perfectly confident and professional, but now he sounded like a man in mortal pain, a desperate man.
"It's none of your business, really, Mablung," she heard Paniel shoot back and Galadriel's eyes widened as she shrunk back into the wall, wondering what she ought to do. She had already passed the hall that led to the servants' quarters and now she was afraid to go back out the door, for that would require passing by that hallway once more. What if they saw her this time? They would certainly know that she had overheard what seemed to be a very private conversation. But then, they were speaking so loudly that even within Celeborn's rooms she could hear them clearly.
"How is it none of my business?" Mablung cried. "I hadn't seen you in a century and then Celeborn and Lúthien came carrying you all battered and bruised back from Himlad. I went to find you in the houses of healing but you had fled!"
"Of course I fled!" Paniel shouted. "I knew you would come looking for me the first chance you got!"
"I spent years searching for you in the forest after that!" Mablung cried. "Never did I suspect that you had actually hidden yourself in the city!"
"You were the one who taught me the art of espionage," Paniel replied. "I fail to see why you are so surprised."
"I never thought you would use it against me!" Mablung cried. "What need have you to hide yourself from me? You could have at least left me some message that you were safe but I never heard a single word from you, then all of a sudden I find out that, not only are you still in Menegroth, but you are Galadriel's handmaiden! What did you think would happen? Did you think you could avoid me forever? Did you think I wouldn't be upset?"
"What do you want, Mablung, really, what do you want?" Paniel sneered. Why are you here? Why could you not just leave me be?"
"You know what I want! The same thing I wanted 500 years ago!" Galadriel flattened herself against the wall, wide-eyed, quickly putting the pieces together as the realization began to dawn on her that Paniel was certainly not who, or what, or as young as she had thought she was.
"A home with little happy elflings," Paniel said in a singsong voice laced with sarcasm. "It's a fantasy Mablung. How many happy families do you know? Hm? How many. Look at Thingol, locking his daughter away, shaving the prince's head; he called them both his children once. Now Túrin too has fled and the queen walks about as though she is half dead! What about Curufin? All the time I was undercover in Himlad I saw the way he treated his son, Celebrimbor! My own father…"
"Not everyone is your father and not everyone is Curufin," Mablung said, determined. "You know me. You know I am different!"
"And what if you change? What if you became like them!" Paniel seemed near tears, something Galadriel had heretofore thought impossible.
"Then kill me as you did your father," Mablung replied. "If I ever were to raise a hand to you, to our children, I would want you to kill me! Paniel I…"
"Don't touch me!" Galadriel heard Paniel shriek, followed by a resounding slap and then silence.
"I'm not going to hurt you…" she heard Mablung say in a cracked and broken voice. "You needn't be afraid of intimacy! Paniel…it can be a pleasurable thing…we could take things slowly…I would never do anything you did not wish. If you wanted me to stop I would stop immediately. If you wish that I would never touch you then I will abstain entirely, if only so that I might live with you, wake by your side."
"Pleasure!" Paniel sneered through her tears. "Yes, I have heard that you get quite enough of that!"
"Rumors!" Mablung cried. "Rumors only! Women have an affinity for me and my friends find it amusing and make jokes about it. That is all. I have never…You know I love you. You know I have only ever loved you, since we were children. And you love me, I know you do. You told me once."
"Love isn't real," Paniel spat.
"And what about them," Mablung said, "What about Celeborn and Galadriel? Surely you who are her handmaiden are intimately familiar with their relationship. Have you ever seen him raise his hand to her? Have you ever seen him force himself on her?"
"He will one day. He has a temper," Paniel replied tersely.
"You don't believe that. I can see it in your eyes. He won't. I know him," Mablung said fiercely. "He would never. Is that not love, what they have? You must observe every intimate detail of their lives. You have seen what humiliation and hardship he has gone through for her."
"They love each other," Paniel replied, "is that what you want me to say? What good is it? He feels her pain as if it were his own and the reverse is also true. Love is only pain, nothing more. You have seen the pain it has brought them."
"Is that what you're afraid of?" Mablung asked her. "Are you afraid of the pain?" The room went silent.
"Get out!" Paniel cried. "Out! Out! OUT!"
"Give me an answer!" Mablung protested.
"Your answer is 'no, never,' the same as it was before!" Paniel was shouting. "Get out! Go! I don't want to see your face anymore! I don't want to see you ever again!" Galadriel could feel her heart hammering in her chest as she heard Mablung's footsteps in the hall. He halted for a moment and then continued and, momentarily, she heard the door slam behind him. From the servants' hall, Paniel's door slammed as well and Galadriel could hear her sobs. She thought briefly about trying to comfort her but decided against it seeing as she was certain that Paniel would never have wished her to overhear that conversation.
Slowly, silently, she crept down the hall to Celeborn's greenhouse, which was the furthest room from the servants' quarters, and seated herself on the ground amidst his plants, her back pressed against the trunk of a young beech. The tree calmed her and she could feel the life within it beating like a pulse. She sat there for some time with a heavy heart, pondering the conversation she had just heard, Bainwen's betrayal, and all of the events of the past few years. She had never voiced it to Celeborn directly but she was sure that he knew just how worried she was. Doriath had seemed a paradise to her when she had first come here, a place that she had loved so much that she had been willing to do anything so that she might return.
It seemed so long ago now that she had stood in the square at Tirion, her heart pounding with excitement, overly eager to journey to Middle Earth and seek out a life full of glory. She smiled ruefully now, recalling how excited she had been, how innocent, how naïve. How could she have known what was to come, for either good or ill? But then she closed her eyes, blinking away tears as she remembered how ignorant she had been, how she had thought that she could simply come here, take any land that she wanted, that the elves of Middle Earth would bend their knees to her without complaint, accept a Noldorin ruler by virtue of the 'superiority' of the Calaquendi.
It had taken her longer than it ought to have to learn that she had ventured into a land where that supposed superiority meant nothing, where blood was the price in which kingdoms were bought, where loyalty was something that had to be earned rather than given at birth. Venessiel's words echoed in her mind: I have served Doriath with devotion and now the king is throwing away everything that I have worked for, everything that we all have worked for. The sentiment had rung true in her own heart as well.
Everything she had here she had worked for, slaved for, fought for, sweated for, bled for. She understood the price that the Sindar had paid for peace, for security, for happiness; she understood it because she had paid it too: in Alqualondë drenched in the blood of her mother's people, in the wilds of Beleriand where her skin had been stretched like paper across her bones, in Doriath where she had been forced to endure scorn, and ridicule, and humiliation for the merest chance at redemption. She had faced her darkest demons and her greatest fears for the sake of this kingdom, all because so long ago Celeborn had called Doriath his first love and so she had endeavored to love it as well, until her heart had been given over completely to this place, the dearest home she had ever known.
She let out a shuddering sigh, drawing her knees up to her chest and resting her head upon them as she recalled Celebrimbor's words: Celeborn will stay in his caves as doom comes upon him and he will drag you down into that abyss at his side! His caves – but they were her caves too. It was not for blind loyalty to Celeborn that she was staying; it was because she felt the same as he did. This was her home and she was not about to leave it. She had already lost one home, one family, she was not about to abandon another. This time, she thought, this time I will not run away.
She shook her head, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall and then, taking a shuddering breath, she reached out to touch the leaves of a small oak that was still in a pot. Celeborn planted the bigger and hardier plants in the soil here, but those that were struggling he kept in clay pots so that he might move them about to give them proper light, air, and heat. This oak, she knew, had been giving him particular trouble and yet, as with all of his plants, it seemed there was something of his soul in them. The tiny oak seemed to have sensed her trouble and wrapped its leaves about her finger as if to comfort her, rather the way a baby did. They were, after all, his children in a way, she supposed with a small smile.
"You poor little thing," she murmured to the oak as she knelt down before it, carefully examining its bark and branches, "what is it that troubles you?" She closed her eyes, listening, feeling the tree's anxiety over recent events, how Menegroth itself seemed to have turned against them, for the light of the sun and stars was not as bright as it had once been and shadows had begun to creep into the corners of the caverns that had once been so full of life. "I know," Galadriel murmured, "these are hard times." She concentrated, trying to remember what Melian, and Yavanna before her, had taught her. The tree seemed grateful for her touch and she could feel it drawing forth from her the energy that she offered to it. But there was another presence in the room now and she felt him as keenly as if there had been a thread stretched between their hearts.
"Celeborn," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment, basking in the pleasant wave of memories that always seemed to accompany him. Her back was to the door and she heard him approach, his strong arms going around her, drawing her up, turning her towards him, and she opened her eyes for an instant, catching a glimpse of his green ones, before she closed them again as he drew her into a deep kiss that nearly left her gasping for air. He had been to the baths and his skin and hair were still damp, the towel he wore around his waist his sole piece of clothing.
"Did you walk back from the baths like that?" She asked him and he nodded and shrugged. She laughed, shaking her head. She could not say she was surprised and yet, even after all these years, the more physically open attitudes of the Sindar still amused her.
"I am sorry," he said, reaching out to brush his thumb across her cheek, "for my temper. I didn't mean to make your evening unpleasant. When I was in the baths I could feel your sorrow nagging at my heart almost as though I bore it within myself." It was a strange effect of the bond that they already had and it seemed to be growing stronger and stronger with each passing year. They could not yet feel one another's emotions, as married couples often could, but they were gradually becoming aware of shifts in one another's mood, and Galadriel wondered if it had anything to do with their plans to marry soon.
"I hate to damage your opinion of yourself, my love," she said with a small smile, teasing him, reaching out to twine betwixt her fingers a tendril of damp silver hair that clung to his face. The rest of it he had tied up in a bun high atop the back of his head, "but it was not on your account that I was upset."
"Is that so?" He asked, with a grin, catching her fingers in his hand. "You know what that does to me," he murmured in response to her teasing, pressing a kiss to her fingers as he gave her a suggestive look.
"You are incorrigible," Galadriel told him with a shake of her head as she seated herself on the soft moss once more, leaning against a larger tree and drawing him down so that his head lay in her lap. She tugged his hair free from the high bun he had it in and idly began to play with his damp silver tresses as he looked up at her with his green eyes the color of pines.
"As you have told me many times," he said with a grin. "Well Galadriel, what is it that is bothering you?"
She sighed in frustration. "I hardly know where to begin," she told him.
"A feeling I have come to know all too well in recent years," he said and Galadriel nodded her agreement.
"Yes, I think you must," she said. The rest lay unsaid between them; they didn't need to say it. She knew that he understood what she meant and she felt him take her hand, lacing his fingers between hers. There was nothing that either of them could say to make it better.
"There is something else," he mused. "Your friend?" Galadriel nodded. "Have you had no messages from her?" He asked. "They are allowed to send them you know, when they are in prison."
"Nothing," Galadriel said. "I had thought…" she paused. "Perhaps I should go and see if I may speak with her. I almost feel as though I have been running from this whole matter."
"I think you should go speak to her," Celeborn said. "It would put your heart at rest. But you had better do it soon. They will be moving her soon for the trial."
"Then I will go tomorrow," Galadriel said. And she did, as soon as the council meeting was over. Celeborn had met her gaze as the counselors filed from the room and given her a nod of encouragement. He knew how much she was dreading this and yet she felt compelled to speak to Bainwen, to hear what she had to say, even if it was not something she wanted to hear. She could not shake the feeling that something was out of place, that there was something about all of this that was not quite right.
The thought plagued her as she made the long trek towards the prisons. She had never been there before and so she lost her way several times but at last arrived after asking for assistance from several guards. It was a dark and dank place so different from the rest of Menegroth that her first thought was horror that Bainwen had been detained here. No matter the fact that she had stolen her jewelry and betrayed her trust, Galadriel would never have wished for such a thing. Guilt gnawed at her heart.
She stepped over the threshold, lifting the full skirt of her royal blue silk dress so that it would not drag in the dry straw and shallow film of stagnant bilge water that coated the floor. There were several guards sitting on stools behind a table where they were playing some sort of card game and drinking what looked to be watered-down ale, but they abandoned their game as she approached and stood to greet her with modest bows. "You are the prison keepers?" She asked.
"Aye, Ladyship," one of them said. "Anything we can help ye with?" Galadriel glanced around at the stone walls and the oil soaked torches that cast eerie flickering light into the dark shadows. Past the table was a long staircase leading into blackness that she could only assume led to the cells where the prisoners were kept.
"I was hoping that I might be able to visit with someone, a prisoner," she said, drawing her attention away from the darkness and back towards the guards.
"Ah, you'll be meanin' Bainwen then," a guard with reddish blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail said, "always wondered what was takin' ye so long."
"Yes," Galadriel said, a bit surprised that they seemed to know her intentions already. "But what do you mean?"
The guards exchanged nervous looks. "Well she wrote ye so often," one of them said. "Ye see we 'ave to read all their correspondence 'fore it can be sent out on account o them tryin' t' make plans to escape an' the like. Well she was always writing t'ye sayin she 'ad t' tell ye somethin'. We thought ye'd 'ave come 'fore now."
"I never received any letters," Galadriel said, perplexed, shaking her head. The dark feeling that had gripped her heart was growing.
"But yer page always came to collect 'em," the blond guard said, his brow furrowed.
"I don't have a page," Galadriel replied, feeling a strange sense of nausea growing in the pit of her stomach even as the darkness continued to clench her heart in its fist.
"Oh," the guards looked at each other, just as perplexed as she was.
"Well if I can see her perhaps this can all be sorted out," Galadriel said, growing anxious, but the guards only exchanged nervous looks and the blond one licked his lips, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry ladyship," he said, "but that won't be possible…"
"And why not?" Galadriel interrupted him, her eyes flashing with the beginnings of anger.
"She isn't 'ere any more," the guard said. "There's a penal colony on the Isle of Balar that we sometimes send prisoners to who 'ave been sentenced t' labor."
"But she had not been tried yet!" Galadriel cried.
"Yes, but twas by order o' the king 'imself," the guard told her. "The decree said she was to be moved there immediately and we 'ad a group of prisoners being escorted there last night so we sent 'er wit em. It said she wasn't t' go t' trial no more."
"That's impossible," Galadriel fumed. She didn't mean to take her anger out on the guards but she was nearly in a panic now. "Show me the decree!" The soldiers jumped, looking even more nervous.
"Beg yer pardon m'lady," the dark-haired guard said, "but we don't 'ave it no more. Order was t' send it with 'er to the master o' the work camp." Galadriel leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. There was blood seeping from the cracks in the stone walls of Menegroth as if it were some great beast bleeding out its life. Blood was dripping from the trees, splattering on the ground. She swallowed hard, collecting herself as Melian had taught her.
"Ladyship?" She heard the guard's concerned voice. "Are 'ye alright?" She nodded and opened her eyes.
"The king's signature was on the decree, and his seal?" She asked, clarifying, and the guards nodded adamantly.
"She did leave something fer 'yer though," the guard said. "We found it wedged up in the stone o'er cell. Thought the page might come fer it but we ain't seen 'im since she was taken away last night." He reached into the pouch at his belt and withdrew a dirty slip of paper.
"Don't know 'ow she got the paper, and she didn't 'ave any ink," he said, "but, well…" He didn't need to say anymore because Galadriel could see that it was written in blood. "Cryptic ain't it?" The guard said. "Like she was 'fraid the wrong person 'ould find it. Good thing ye came though."
Galadriel, look for the lie in that which you hold dear.
That was all it said and, though she must have read it ten times in the brief span of a second, Galadriel could not make any sense of it. "Yes it is," she replied absentmindedly to what the guards had said. "Thank you," and she nodded to them as she walked slowly from the prison, the scrap of paper still clutched in her hand. She folded it and put it in her pocket.
The lie in that which you hold dear… she tried to imagine who she held dear that might be lying to her. It was certainly not Celeborn. Melian…Melian she had hardly seen at all. Paniel perhaps, especially after the conversation she had overheard the day before. Thingol seemed an obvious choice and her feet were taking her there now, to his office. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, determined that she would get to the bottom of this, though she certainly did not welcome a confrontation with Thingol.
The guards outside the king's door stood at attention as she approached and she steeled herself for a conversation with the king but, before she could speak they crossed their spears in front of her barring her way. "Apologies, Lady Ambassador," one of them said, "but the king is occupied at the moment and I am afraid we shall have to ask you to wait."
"I am afraid that I am not inclined to wait," Galadriel replied, her anger and impatience already beating hot within her. "This is about a very important matter that needs the king's attention urgently. You will allow me to pass."
The guards paused, giving each other confused looks, but did not relent. "Lady Galadriel, I am afraid that is out of the question," they told her.
"You had better step aside lest I take one of your spears and beat you with it," she said, fuming, for she was furious and she meant to ask Thingol what the meaning of all this was and why he had waived Bainwen's right to trial. "A serious injustice has been done in this kingdom." She reached for one of the spears and they moved to stop her but it had provided the distraction she wanted and she reached for the handle of the door instead, slipping past and into the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Your Majesty, you will explain to me your reasons for not allowing my friend due justice under the law!" She said, her eyes flashing with fury at Thingol as she did her best to hold the door shut against the guards who were hammering on it and shouting for her to come out. However, the first thing that she noticed was the Silmaril, blazing from where it sat upon the locked chest in which the king kept his seal. She had not seen the cursed thing since her days in Aman.
"What on earth are you talking about?" Thingol cried, springing up from his seat to tower over her and, tearing her eyes away from the Silmaril, Galadriel noticed for the first time that his eyes were rimmed red, that the king's face was stained with the salt of dried tears.
"I…" she paused, glancing around to see that Celeborn and Mablung were there as well, startled and aghast to see that they too looked as though they had been weeping. "Celeborn," she murmured, "what…what has happened?"
The guards took the opportunity of her distraction to force the door open, exclaiming their most profuse apologies to the king as they gripped Galadriel by the arms. She was far too distracted by the somber faces around her to struggle against them but it was Thingol who prevented her expulsion from the chamber, holding out his hand in a gesture that the guards should stop. They stilled, releasing their grip on her.
"She may stay," Thingol said quietly and the guards bowed, murmuring their apologies once more before exiting the room. The king took a deep breath then, collapsing into his chair once more. "Had I imagined this would happen I would never have permitted him to leave," Thingol said, clearly continuing a conversation that had started before she had entered, his voice thick with deep sorrow.
"He was determined to go," Celeborn said to Thingol in a shaking voice as he stood, taking Galadriel's hand and leading her to the seat beside him. "We could not have dissuaded him, no matter what we said."
"I too made numerous attempts to keep him from going but he had made up his mind," Mablung said.
"Beleg is dead," Celeborn whispered to Galadriel in response to her questioning look, reaching up to wipe away the moisture that had gathered in his eyes.
"But how and why?" Galadriel asked, greatly troubled, and Thingol only shook his head.
"That we do not know," he said, "for the message did not say, nor did the sender identify him or herself. But it told us the place of his burial and I sent orders for the wardens in that area to investigate the matter. They found the grave just as was written."
"I am very sorry about what happened to Beleg," Galadriel said later as she lay, stroking Celeborn's hair in bed. He had been very somber all evening and she knew he blamed himself, despite what he had said and despite her own assurances that it had been far out of his hands.
"It was Túrin. I am sure of it," Celeborn said, his voice thick with anger, "for it was Túrin whom Beleg sought and Túrin has killed elves before."
"You cannot know that," Galadriel said, shaking her head, for she knew this line of thought would only cause him to grow more upset.
"I don't need foresight to know it," Celeborn said, "Beleg went seeking Túrin. They must have quarreled somehow. You saw how gravely he injured Saeros before he played his part in causing his death. Certainly I held no love for Saeros, but Túrin should never have acted as he did. I ought to have shot him when I had the chance. Thingol suspects him too, I am sure of it."
"Celeborn…" Galadriel began, not quite knowing what to say to that, but Celeborn only sighed deeply.
"You needn't waste your time trying to placate me," he told her. "It isn't Thingol, or Túrin, or Saeros, or Beleg for whom I bear anger, but in truth I am angry with myself. The last words I spoke to him were unkind and now I shall never speak to him again. I ought to have told him instead how much his friendship meant to me, how much I cared for him."
"There is no use in second-guessing yourself now," Galadriel told him. "But I am sure that Beleg knew how much you valued his friendship, even if he was angry with you for a while."
"Perhaps," Celeborn said, sighing and turning over so that his back was facing her, "only I wish I had told him." He was silent for a long while and Galadriel, thinking he had fallen asleep, put out the candles and closed her eyes. But, momentarily, she felt him reach for her hand, turning over, gathering her into his arms. "Your friend, Bainwen," he whispered, "I'll find her. Then you can have the chance that I didn't."
But Bainwen proved more elusive than anyone might have presumed. "No trace of her," Celeborn said as he entered the room, handing Galadriel the report from the march wardens. "The wardens were attacked by orcs near the Fens of Sirion and none were killed but some of the prisoners escaped during the skirmish. It seems she was one of these, though whether she survived in the wild or has been slain by orcs no one knows. What is certain is that she never arrived at the penal colony on the Isle of Balar."
With a frown, Galadriel stood from where she had been sitting before the fire and took the report from Celeborn, perusing it with critical eyes. "All of this has been deliberate," she said tersely. "Thingol said he never ordered her to be transferred and, indeed, the courts had not cancelled her trial at all."
"It is very suspicious," Celeborn said, crossing his arms over his chest. "She must have known something…"
"I am sure that she did," Galadriel said, tossing the report down on the table in frustration and going to the next room to retrieve the message Bainwen had left behind from her jewelry box. She handed it to Celeborn and his green eyes scanned it quickly.
"It is nonsensical," he delivered his verdict.
"I think it means that someone we know is keeping a secret from us," Galadriel said, "something Bainwen knew or overheard. As Venessiel's handmaiden she would have constantly been around important people. Perhaps she overheard something, saw something."
"You should take this to Venessiel," Celeborn told her, sounding very serious. "She has been distraught since we learned that Bainwen had been transferred. She thinks it is her fault, that this all could have been prevented had she visited the girl in prison. Perhaps if she saw it she would understand what Bainwen had meant. Perhaps she could remember something."
"I was just thinking the same thing," Galadriel said. "It isn't good for her to be as upset about it as she is. I worry that it will cause harm to her child, especially seeing how close to giving birth she is now."
"Can you think of nothing strange that happened while you were serving with her?" Celeborn asked. "I know it was a long time ago but Mablung could use any leads you might have."
"No…" Galadriel said, trying to remember as best she could, "I don't think there was anything unless…"
"Unless what?" Celeborn asked and Galadriel looked around nervously before taking Celeborn's arm and pulling him back with her down the hallway and all the way to the greenhouse where she stopped in the furthest possible corner.
"I overheard my handmaiden arguing with Mablung the night before we learned of Beleg's death," she whispered in Telerin, meeting Celeborn's eyes.
"About what?" He asked, frowning. "Was he questioning her over Bainwen?" Galadriel shook her head.
"No," she whispered. "It was over a personal matter."
"I was not aware that she and Mablung were acquainted," he whispered.
"She and Mablung may have been…romantically involved in the past."
"Romantically involved?" Celeborn asked, raising an eyebrow. "That might be said for a number of women in this city."
"Not like that," Galadriel whispered. "I think this was serious. It sounded serious. She has told me before that someone proposed marriage to her once and, from the sound of what Mablung was saying, it was him."
Celeborn scoffed and shook his head, raising his hands to tangle them in his hair in frustration. "Because that is exactly what I need right now – another march warden in love," he said sarcastically. "But what does that have to do with any of this?"
"Celeborn, do you…do you know if Thingol had any…" she looked about again nervously, "any…spies stationed at Himlad?" Both of Celeborn's silver brows shot up. He had clearly not been expecting that.
"The simple answer is that I don't," he replied, looking a bit confused, "but the longer one is that that is extremely sensitive information that is only exchanged between Thingol and Mablung. Even during the Battle of Beleriand I was only given information on spies on a need to know basis though I served as a general. But…" and now he looked around nervously, "I would assume that there certainly were. In fact, I generally assume that Thingol has spies everywhere. He is a master at intelligence gathering."
"My handmaiden," Galadriel whispered, "the girl you brought back from Himlad…I think she was stationed there as a spy."
"What?" Galadriel had rarely seen Celeborn so shocked. "I thought you said you trusted her!" He said at last as Galadriel urged him to quiet his voice.
"I do trust her, at least I think I do," Galadriel whispered. "But I know there are certain things she is not being truthful with me about – her age for one. From what she and Mablung were saying it sounds like they have known each other since they were quite young. I believed her…I trusted her until I heard her and Mablung arguing. Then I began to wonder how much of what she had told me was true and how much was false."
"Galadriel," Celeborn whispered, "I have gone to great lengths to ensure that my private life remains that: private. I'll not have Thingol prying into our personal business. And if you do suspect that she is a spy then she may very well have something to do with all of this burglary business. She may lie to you in an attempt to gain your trust."
"That is what I had been thinking," Galadriel admitted, crossing her arms over her chest. "She was there as well when Bainwen and I were servants, she and Inwen, and Silevren, but I have no reason to suspect the other two."
"Then perhaps you should dismiss her," Celeborn said.
"Better to keep her close and know what she is up to than to send her away and know nothing of her whereabouts or her business," Galadriel whispered. She was surprised when Celeborn chuckled.
"Taking a page out of Thingol's book I see," he said. "That is exactly what he would say." Celeborn seemed to ponder the idea for a moment and then said, "very well but we had better both keep a close eye on her and I think we should be more guarded about the conversations that we have in front of the servants." Galadriel nodded her agreement.
"I hate to distrust her," Galadriel said, "but I feel as though we have little choice but to do so."
"Do you think her capable of forging the king's signature and seal on that decree?" Celeborn asked and Galadriel shrugged.
"She is certainly capable of being covert, and of picking locks. The chest beside my vanity, she picked the lock when I was a servant so she could get at the letters that Finrod wrote to me. And, the lock I used to keep on there is nearly the same as the one that Thingol keeps on the chest containing his seal. I've seen it so many times and, when I saw it on his desk on the day that we learned of Beleg's demise it made me think of her and I put two and two together, perhaps because I had just learned about Bainwen being sent away a few moments earlier so the idea was still fresh in my mind. And then, Celeborn…Bainwen seemed almost afraid to speak when she was captured, as if she was frightened of someone in the room. Paniel did look as though she was trying to kill her, the way she kept slamming her face into the floor…"
"Let us not jump to any conclusions," Celeborn murmured. "The girl has served faithfully until now. There is even the possibility that Belegur or his agents have planted harmful rumors as they did about your people so long ago. All we can say for certain is that something is going on, something greater than all of us. Besides, there have been many strange events of late." He handed her a sheaf of papers. "Thingol asked that I give you these. There is one living in Nargothrond now of whom we have had report, a human named Mormegil."
"There was no such man there when I was there," Galadriel murmured, her brow furrowed as she leafed through the reports. "From Thingol's spies?" She asked, nodding towards the documents.
"Yes," Celeborn said. "But Thingol has said that he has no spies within the city of Nargothrond itself and thus this information is rather incomplete. It seems to mostly be rumors and chatter overheard in the taverns between here and Nargothrond, or from passing Noldorin patrols that our march wardens have encountered."
"Does Thingol wish me to return to Nargothrond?" Galadriel asked and Celeborn shook his head.
"No," he told her. "He deems it too dangerous. Our wardens have approached the stronghold and seen that a bridge leading into the city has been built across the river Narog. What is more, Orodreth has declared open warfare against Belegur."
"What?" Galadriel exclaimed, her eyes going wide with surprise. "The fool!"
"That is what Thingol said," Celeborn told her. "The one silver lining of this whole Túrin fiasco seems to be that the king has regained at least some of his sanity. He asks that you write to Orodreth and order him give some explanation for the bridge, his declaration of war, and the identity of this one called Mormegil."
"Of course," Galadriel said, disturbed by the news that Orodreth had done something so foolhardy. "I will do it straight away tomorrow."
"It might also interest you to know that Túrin's mother and sister have arrived tonight," Celeborn said. Galadriel could sense the tension in his voice and see it in his eyes. She knew well how very little Celeborn had liked Túrin.
"Here?" She asked and Celeborn nodded.
"They came seeking Túrin," he said. "We told them all we knew, save for the bit about me nearly shooting him, and Thingol offered them rest here for a while. But I think they shall be moving on soon in search of him."
"I only knew him for the span of a few moments," Galadriel said, "but it was easy to see that there was some shadow hanging over him."
"Even I could see that," Celeborn said, "and I haven't even the gift of prescience." Galadriel sighed and folded the papers.
"Let us hope that whatever shadow it is, it will not stretch out over us as well," she said. Yet they hadn't waited long before that hope was proved to be in vain and when the frantic pounding on the door and the clamor of guards' voices had come, as it seemed it so often did in recent years, they had wordlessly slipped from bed, donning their dressing gowns, and followed the guards to the council chamber.
"I have some feeling it must be Orodreth," Galadriel whispered in response to Celeborn's questioning look as they made their way through the halls.
"I would not be surprised," Celeborn said, his voice quick and quiet, "seeing as neither you nor Thingol have received replies from him."
"It is because Orodreth is not the one in control. It is this Mormegil of whom we have had report, I am sure of it," Galadriel said, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to keep her anger and frustration with her nephew from overwhelming her. She felt Celeborn reach out to take her hand. "It was the same with Curufin and Celegorm." Celeborn could sense the tension in her so strongly that he felt his own shoulders grow tight as he gripped her hand in his.
They arrived to find the council chamber in a veritable uproar and many counselors and a few march wardens were still making their way into the chamber as well. Galadriel and Celeborn took their customary seats and Galadriel turned to Venessiel, who was sitting in the chair beside her and holding her heavily pregnant stomach, looking extraordinarily weary.
"I should have known that Oropher's child would be ornery," she gasped and then gripped the edge of the table, grunting as the child kicked from within her. Galadriel reached out, pressing her hand to the minister of the treasury's abdomen, grinning as she felt the baby press his foot against her hand. Then the kicking began again, sharp, staccato taps against her palm. "Valar be damned," Venessiel swore. "I'm ready for this baby to be out already."
"It will be soon, will it not?" Galadriel said, reaching out to rub her friend's back. Venessiel nodded.
"Any day now," she said, grunting again.
"Order!" Thingol cried, taking his seat at the head of the long table. Celeborn was seated at his side, the other ministers seated around the table, Saeros's seat still conspicuously empty, and the captains of the march wardens lined the walls. It was unusual, Galadriel thought, for the wardens to be here. This must be some matter of security. And, once more, her mind ran nervously to Nargothrond.
The king's eyes darted towards her and Galadriel swallowed hard. "Nargothrond has been sacked by Morgoth's forces," Thingol said, his voice deeply worried. "We have had numerous reports from spies and wardens in the area but, as none of our people were in Nargothrond itself, we do not yet know the particulars of what exactly occurred. What we do know is that Orodreth has been slain and many of his people have fled into the forest or been taken as slaves."
Galadriel felt as though she had been punched in the stomach and for a moment she struggled to draw breath, feeling unshed tears begin to burn at her eyes, and she closed them tight, struggling to remain calm. She had certainly never been as close to Orodreth and Finduilas as she had to her brothers, but it was a cruel loss nonetheless, even if she had expected it. Orodreth had been too kind, too weak-willed to survive in Middle-Earth. She had seen it when she had been in Nargothrond, the expression in Celeborn's eyes when she had told him of Orodreth's behavior while she had been there had confirmed it. And Finduilas…such a sweet, innocent thing.
Her knuckles were white as she clenched the table and she felt a comforting hand reach out to take hers, holding it tightly – Venessiel. Galadriel drew a shuddering breath and looked back up, focusing once more on the king's words. "The attack was led by the dragon Glaurung, Morgoth's lieutenant," Thingol was saying.
"Your Majesty, is there any word of Finduilas, Orodreth's daughter?" Galadriel asked.
"Not yet," Thingol said, "but a great many refugees who escaped the sack are making their way towards Doriath even as we speak. She may number amongst them."
"And will you allow them to enter within the girdle?" Galadriel asked, her voice thick with anxiety. "Please, you cannot leave them out there on the guarded plain. They will perish."
"Do not fear, Galadriel," Thingol told her, "I have ordered that all who seek admittance to Doriath from Nargothrond be allowed to pass into this kingdom and seek refuge in Menegroth. It is in fact," he said, turning to the wardens who stood around the walls of the room, "why I have called all of you here. Captains, you will assemble your wardens and make your way to the guarded plain where you shall aid all refugees that you encounter and lead them within the protection of Menegroth if they so choose to accept that protection. I have already sent word to Círdan that many may be journeying south, seeking refuge with him as well."
"Celeborn," the king turned to his nephew, "you will see that all appropriate preparations are made to welcome the refugees into the city: food, clothing, housing, alert the healers. I believe from the initial reports that we may expect several thousand. Galadriel, you will assist Celeborn, try to make these people more comfortable. You will be more attentive to the needs of these Noldor than he can be. It might be frightening for them to come into a Sindarin kingdom. See that their worries are assuaged as best as possible and the two of you see what they can tell you. Perhaps they will be able to give us better information about what has happened. Also, Galadriel, I need you to send missives to the leaders of the Noldor requesting they tell us what they might know about these events."
Galadriel nodded. It was a great deal of work but she was grateful for it. It would keep her mind occupied, and, in her heart, she thanked Thingol, for she knew that he had remembered how assisting the refugees after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad had eased her heart and she was certain that was why he had tasked her with this duty now.
The king turned to Mablung. "Take your most elite wardens and make for Nargothrond with all haste," he said. "Do your best to remain unseen but gather any and all information that you can. You must leave immediately. It is of the utmost importance that we find out what has happened here and learn if Morgoth is on the move, if he plans to attack Doriath."
"Of course," Mablung made reply, "shall I…" But he never managed to finish his question, for Venessiel suddenly leaned forward against the table, gripping the edge of it tightly, and let out a roar of pain.
"The baby," Thingol said simply, as if in shock.
"The baby!" some of the other counselors exclaimed. Venessiel roared again, banging her fist upon the table.
"You all have your orders!" Thingol cried. "Now carry them out!" Meanwhile, Galadriel helped Venessiel stand, wrapping her arm around the woman's waist, supporting her.
"Somebody send for Oropher!" Thingol was shouting overtop of the great hubbub that had arisen.
Venessiel was a good deal quieter when giving birth than Inwen had been but Galadriel wondered sleepily why it seemed that the children of Doriath's princes always seemed to want to be born in the middle of the day when everyone was sleeping. She closed her eyes sleepily and leaned back in her seat only to open them a moment later. It was nearly impossible to sleep with Oropher pacing about as he was. But then again, tired though she was, Galadriel doubted she could find sleep at all, even if the expectant father hadn't been pacing, for her mind kept turning to Finduilas, wondering if she was alive, where she was.
Celeborn kept trying to make conversation with his cousin but Oropher was unbelievably tense and made only one word replies so that at last Celeborn sat in silence. Everyone was there except for Galathil, Inwen, and Nimloth, who were away visiting Beren, Lúthien, and their son Dior. Nimloth was only a little older than Dior and so Galathil had deemed that Dior might be a good influence on his headstrong daughter. Thingol was sitting in his nightshirt and dressing gown, a benign smile upon his face and Melian, making a rare appearance, was at his side in a long silver gown, her hand clasped in her husband's, and Galadriel wondered if at last they had begun to reconcile.
"It will be you next," Celeborn said with a grin, nudging Galadriel with his elbow and it took her a moment to realize what he meant – a moment in which he realized the mistake he had made. "Galadriel, I'm sorry," he murmured, taking her hand in his and rubbing it gently. "I forgot for a moment, let my mouth run away with me."
"I know," she said softly. "It's alright." But it wasn't. She had seen the smile, the hopeful look in his eyes as he had said it, and she knew that their recent decision not to have children had still not erased the centuries long dreams they had had of starting a family of their own, dreams that now lay shattered and broken.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered to her, drawing her into his arms, holding her tight.
"She's certainly taking long enough," Oropher said impatiently, and they all knew that it was merely his own strange way of expressing his concern.
"This is a Sindarin prince or princess we are talking about," Thingol said with a grin, " a true Sinda. And a true Sinda likes nothing better than to stay in a cave."
"Thingol!" Melian exclaimed at the lewd joke, slapping her husband's arm. Thingol only laughed and Celeborn and Oropher snorted with restrained laughter.
"I am sure that everything is alright," Thingol said, rising. "These are the best midwives in the kingdom and they would have let us know if something was the matter." The king's words seemed to be little comfort to Oropher, who merely clenched his jaw all the more tightly, hunched his back, and continued stalking back and forth across the room. "Celeborn," the king said, turning to the older prince, "might I have a word."
Celeborn glanced towards Galadriel, who was still resting her head against his shoulder, but she assured him that she was well and so he stood, slipping out into the quiet and deserted hallway after the king. The door clicked closed behind them and Thingol turned to face Celeborn, taking a deep breath. The prince already had a good idea of what it was that the king wanted to say. He had noticed the gradual softening in Thingol in the years after Túrin had left, seen the remorse in his eyes at the news of Beleg's death, seen the return of the king's old confidence tonight in the council chamber.
"I want you to know," Thingol began, his eyes meeting his nephew's, his voice sounding oddly shaky, "that this foul business with Túrin has put everything in a new perspective for me." He paused before continuing. "It was never the case," he said, "that I was unaware of what I was doing and I know that makes all of the things I have done all the worse. I knew all these years that it was wrong, that I was hurting the people I loved the most, and that you were not least among them. It was not because of anyone else that I nearly lost Melian…nearly lost you, but because of my own actions. Celeborn…" his voice cracked and Celeborn waited in silence for the king to continue, his own heart troubled, not entirely sure what to think or feel.
"The things I have done to you are inexcusable," Thingol said and Celeborn knew by the pain in his eyes that he was truly repentant. "They are unforgiveable: I hurt you, I manipulated you, I abused you. I let my fear and pain get the better of me and I used it to injure those I love. You would be perfectly justified if you were to tell me that you no longer wanted me to play any part in your life and yet…if there is any chance for reconciliation whatsoever, if there is any way that I can right my wrongs or earn your forgiveness then I would gladly do it."
Thingol drew yet another shuddering breath and said, "I do not know if you have yet arranged for who will stand with you and Galadriel at your wedding but Melian was thinking that, as Galadriel has no family left now, if it were agreeable to the two of you then Melian and I would gladly do it. However, I know that you may not wish this, rightfully so, and if that is your decision then we will abide by it. What I am trying to say, Celeborn," Thingol paused, "is that I am sorry, extremely sorry for all that has passed between us."
Celeborn stood silent for a moment, hands folded before him, for he was not quite sure how he felt and it seemed that there was a great mixture of emotions coursing through him. He did still bear a good deal of anger towards Thingol and yet he was reluctant to throw away what had been a happy relationship for over a thousand years, especially in the wake of this apology. And then he wondered whether, if anything were to happen to Thingol as it had to Beleg, he could ever forgive himself. Still, he was not quite sure if he could bring himself to ever trust the king again.
"I appreciate this," he said to Thingol, being honest as the king had been honest with him, "and yet I must admit that my heart and mind are conflicted."
"Of course," Thingol said, sounding very nervous.
"That is not to say that all is lost," Celeborn said quickly to reassure him. "I only mean that I will need some time to think and that I will need to speak to Galadriel before I can give you any reasonable reply."
"Certainly, certainly, take your time…" Thingol stammered but just then the door opened to reveal Melian and the sounds of a screaming child issued forth.
"The child is born," she whispered with a smile and Celeborn and Thingol quickly returned to the houses of healing to find that Oropher had only just then come forth, bearing a small, screaming bundle in his arms.
"A loud one!" Thingol exclaimed with a laugh. "And the hair?" He whispered, turning to Melian.
She shook her head. "Gold," she said.
"No matter," Thingol said to her, "this child is a welcome gift." Oropher came forward then, bearing the baby in his arms, and they all stood. The prince was carrying his child with great care, as though he nearly feared he would break the babe simply by holding it and, instead of his customary scowl, his whole face was lit with a brilliant smile. He looked up at them all then, though it looked as though it took nearly all of his strength to look away from the child.
"A prince is given to us," he said. "This is my son, Thranduil." He spoke as though he was still in awe and his voice could hardly be heard over the baby's squalling. "Your highness," he said to Thingol, "if you would do Venessiel and I the honor of holding him we would be most grateful." And, having so said, he passed the baby carefully to the king, who happily accepted.
"Thranduil," Thingol said, looking down into the tiny, red, scrunched face of the baby, "a fine name. He is certainly vigorous." But Thranduil only howled all the louder.
"And he has a strong set of lungs," Melian quipped, causing them all to laugh as Thingol passed her the baby. Thranduil seemed to like Melian and stopped howling for a moment, wrapping his tiny red hand around the queen's finger. Melian laughed and pressed a kiss to the babe's head before handing him to Galadriel.
"He's beautiful," Galadriel said, cradling the child close, looking at him with awe in her eyes. "This golden hair…" she gently touched the golden tuft on the baby's head and Celeborn felt his heart ache for her, knowing what she must be thinking. But she turned to him, offering him the baby and, the second that Celeborn took him into his arms Thranduil began to scream again.
"Perhaps he only likes the ladies," Thingol joked, Oropher cracked a grin, and they all laughed.
Yet Galadriel had remained unusually silent after they had returned to their chambers and she was silent as they climbed into bed, as they blew out the candles, as they lay there on their backs in tense silence. "The child…" Celeborn began to say.
"No," Galadriel interrupted before the words had hardly left his mouth.
"It is the wedding," Celeborn said then.
"War makes some things pointless," Galadriel replied bitterly, turning her back to him in the dark.
Footnotes: I promise that despite Galadriel's moodiness at the end here there will definitely be a wedding in the next chapter. It's going to be fun! Yay!
BTW: we are almost 2nd most reviewed Celeborn/Galadriel story! Ahhhhh! So excited Let me know who you want to know about next chapter: Galathil, Mablung & Beleg, Paniel & Bainwen are the choices! And, if you have any more questions for Chapter 40 please let me know! You guys have been coming up with great questions so far. But, of course, that's no surprise because you are all awesome ;)