Quiet halls of Imladris were startled with a loud cry of a new being. The wail echoed through the ornate corridors, causing heads to turn and conversations to pause.
"It's a girl," the midwife passed a tiny noisy creature into the shaking arms of her father. He could finally see it, a miracle of his legacy coming into the world, made of him and the woman he loved. How is it even possible for him to feel… such love? How could he ever repay for such happiness that was not deserved, nor purchased?
Mairon's eyes widened as he gazed upon his newborn daughter, her tiny face scrunched up in protest at the sudden brightness and chill of the world. Her cries softened as he cradled her close, marveling at the delicate pointed ears and the wispy strands of golden hair that adorned her head.
Mairon's arms, once conduits of dread command, now cradled a miracle. In the silence of the spring night, he gazed down at his newborn daughter, with an intensity softened by awe. As her tiny fingers curled around his, a surge of elation swept through him, cleansing for a moment the lingering shadows of everything he had lost before. The babe's gentle breaths, each a whisper of new life, seemed to him a redemption song, harmonizing with the distant music of Rivendell's waterfalls.
He marveled at her delicate features, where innocence gleamed untainted by the darkness of his past. The sins of Sauron seemed to recede in the light of this small being who depended on him for warmth and protection. Mairon allowed himself to believe, if only for this suspended breath in time, that he could be more than what history had written him to be. He used to serve the Creators, but now he himself could and would be a creator of something great, something magical. And in his arms is a living breathing testament that he already is one.
Galadriel's exhausted form relaxed against the pillows, her golden hair damp with sweat. She reached out weakly from the bed, her face pale but radiant with joy. "Let me see her, my love."
With a reverence that belied the power he wielded, Mairon turned toward Galadriel. Her eyes, reflecting the depth of the skies, met his with a complexity of emotions. He gently transferred the bundle of life into her waiting arms. "Len gelir, meleth nîn. Beautiful just like her mother…"
Galadriel received her new daughter with trembling hands, her muscles still shaking from the difficult labor, her face drenched in sweat. Her golden hair spilled over like the rays of Anor, enveloping the infant in a cascade of light. Love, pure and unguarded, shone from her as she cradled her daughter, a love so strong it seemed to cast back any shadows and stand defiant against any pain of the past that dared linger near.
"Celebrían," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the baby's forehead, "a child whose light shines akin to the purest silver of Valinor."
Mairon's voice, soft and reverent, joined hers. "I shall call her Silmeriel," he murmured, "our daughter of shining light."
Galadriel's gaze lifted to meet his, a flicker of surprise and warmth passing between them. In that moment, their shared love for this new life seemed to erase the scars of their complicated past. "Celebrían Silmeriel… I love it."
A gentle knock at the door broke the spell of the moment. Elrond's voice came from the other side, tinged with both respect and excitement. "My lady Galadriel, Mairon... may I enter?"
Mairon nodded, his posture relaxing slightly as he regarded the half-elven lord. "Come, see our Celebrían."
Elrond opened the door cautiously, stepping inside with Ithriel in his arms. He entered with the quiet respect of one who understood the gravity of new beginnings. The dignified elf bowed slightly, his dark brown hair, now much longer than before, framing his noble face, and his deep blue eyes carried the weight of wisdom gained over countless years.
Ithriel broke free from her guardian's strong and gentle embrace, and crept closer. Her silver-white hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight, and the eyes, wide with wonder, oscillated between deep blue and seafoam green as she tried to peak at the tiny creature wrapped in soft swaddling clothes. Barely taller than the blooming flowers of Rivendell, she approached with the grace of one who walked both the paths of the woods and the halls of the mighty. She peered at her new sister, her own unique beauty—a blend of Mairon's intensity and Galadriel's grace—apparent in her delicate features.
"May I... may I touch her, amil?" Ithriel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Galadriel nodded, shifting slightly to allow Ithriel better access. She guided her older daughter's small hand to stroke the baby's cheek. As she did so, a faint shimmer seemed to pass between them, a connection forming that transcended the physical.
"She's so small," the child mused. "Is she a real girl? Can we play together?"
"Of course she is a real girl," Marion chuckled, as he picked up Ithriel and placed her on his lap. "You can play together when she grows a little."
Ithriel wiggled in his arms, trying to reach the baby. Mairon watched this interaction with a mixture of pride and trepidation. His daughters, both half-Maia, carried within them power beyond measure. He knew the challenges they would face, the weight of their heritage. But in this moment, seeing the tender bond already forming between them, he allowed himself to hope.
"May I join you in welcoming the newest light of our kin?" Elrond asked, his tone carrying the warmth of familial love blended with the formality due to such an occasion.
"Indeed, you are most welcome, Elrond," Galadriel responded. She placed Silmeriel in his arms.
"Mahtan na cuilëo, selerinya Celebrían. Elen síla lúmenna omentielvo. Blessing to the life, my princess Celebrían. A star shines on the hour of our meeting." Elrond said his blessings with reverence, looking into the child's bright blue eyes. "Remarkable… She has your eyes, Galadriel. Eyes that have seen the dawning of this world and will witness its many unfoldings yet to come. May our paths cross always in the hour of joy."
Mairon's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at the words, a flicker of something, akin to unsettling premonition, passing through his eyes before he pushed it aside. He placed a hand on Galadriel's shoulder, his gaze fixed on his newborn daughter.
As night fell over Imladris, Mairon stood by the window, cradling Silmeriel in his arms. He marveled at how far he had come from his days as the Dark Lord, now a father and husband. Galadriel's voice broke through his reverie.
"What are you thinking, my love?"
He turned to her, his eyes filled with a mix of wonder and lingering sorrow. "I never thought I could love so deeply," he admitted. "You have given me more than I could ever hoped for. More than I ever deserved."
Galadriel got up from the bed to join him, wrapping her arms around them both. "It was you who made this happen," she said, sealing her words with a tender kiss.
"You should not get up, Galadriel," he said gently. "The labor was hard on you. Worse than with Ithriel, midwife said."
As Silmeriel cooed softly in her sleep, Mairon lay down next to Galadriel, pulling her closer to his chest. She could feel his joy, but it was marred by the feeling of something… akin to grief?
"What troubles you, meleth nîn?" Galadriel whispered, her fingers gently caressing Mairon's cheek. "I sense a shadow on your heart, even in this moment of joy."
Mairon closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. When he opened them again, they shimmered with unshed tears. "Look at her," he he said, "the very image of purity. What father am I to be for this child, for both of them? They deserve someone whose heart has not been scarred by such depth of darkness. I look at you, and I look at them… How can I ever be worthy of you?" He glanced down at Silmeriel, sleeping peacefully next to them. "I fear for them. The world can be cruel to those who are different, those who possess great power. And to those who are kin to the most hated being in Middle-earth…" Mairon's voice faltered. He squeezed Galadriel's fingers. "And I... I know all too well how that power can corrupt. What if my darkness taints them? What if they inherit not just my power, but my capacity for destruction, my bond to Morgoth?"
Careful not to disturb Silmeriel, Galadriel raised herself, moving her face closer to his, so she could meet his gaze. She cupped Mairon's cheek, her blue eyes searching his. "They are strong, my love. As are we. We will face whatever comes together."
"But the darkness within me..." Mairon's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding with memories of his past.
"Is part of you," Galadriel finished firmly. "As is the light. Our children carry both, as do all who walk this earth. It is the choices they make that will define them. It's your blood that flows in their veins, not your past."
Galadriel's eyes softened, as she felt his pain. "Mairon, my love… They were born in the dawn of your redemption. You are no longer the being of darkness you once were. Everyone knows that, but you. The very fact that you worry about this shows how far you've come. Our daughters will inherit your shadow, but also your light, strength, your intellect, your passion. We will guide them, Mairon. Together. They will learn to wield their gifts with wisdom and compassion."
"You think too much of me," he smiled bitterly. Mairon's arms tightened around her, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "How did I deserve you?" he murmured.
"You didn't," Galadriel said with a soft laugh. "Nor did I deserve you. Love isn't about deserving, it's about choosing. And I choose you, Mairon. Every day."
As the night deepened around them, Mairon and Galadriel held each other close. He didn't sleep, listening to the two breathing patterns — an even and barely audible of his baby, and labored and unsteady of Galadriel. The pregnancy was very complicated, rendering her weakened beyond what would Mairon considered reasonable.
He begged her to wear the One Ring again, yet she refused. This stubborn elf! What was she trying to prove and to whom? Of course, Galadriel was now stronger, and Silmeriel was not as strong as the first one. Still, choosing the hard way and doing it "on her own" was so… typical of her! She vexed him with her stubbornness. And maybe, be it just a year earlier, he would probably force her to do as he says. But she insisted it was important for him to put his trust in her and stop try controlling everything so much. And he truly tried his best, although it was driving him mad. She didn't make it easy for him.
And now, as if things were not bad enough, she had lost too much blood. Mairon was terrified. He was cursing at himself that whole time she was struggling to give birth. No more. No more children. He had to control himself, for it was up to him not to let the lifeforce flow freely beyond his body. And yet, with her, he had lost control so many times, it scared and amazed him at the same time. Never with anyone he felt himself so… free.
As dawn broke over Imladris, Mairon found himself still awake, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. He gazed at Galadriel's sleeping form, her golden hair splayed across the pillow, her skin so pale, almost translucent now. Yet her expression remained peaceful despite the ordeal she had endured. His eyes drifted to Silmeriel, nestled between them, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.
He carefully extricated himself from the bed, moving silently so as not to disturb their slumber. Padding across the room, he paused at the window, looking out over the misty valley. The tranquil beauty of Rivendell seemed at odds with the turmoil in his heart.
A soft whimper drew his attention back to the bed. Silmeriel stirred, her little face scrunching up as if sensing her father's absence. Mairon returned swiftly, gathering her into his arms with a tenderness that still surprised him.
"Shh, my little one," he murmured, rocking her gently. "Your ada is here."
As he soothed the infant, Mairon's thoughts turned once again to Galadriel's refusal to wear the One Ring. The sight of her weakened state filled him with a mixture of frustration and concern.
"Your mother is the most stubborn being in all of Arda," he whispered to Silmeriel, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But also the strongest. You'll learn that soon enough."
Silmeriel blinked up at him, her blue eyes seeming to hold a wisdom beyond her hours. Mairon felt a surge of love so intense it nearly overwhelmed him. In that moment, he made a silent vow to both his daughters and to Galadriel. He would strive to be worthy of them, to protect them from the darkness that still lived in the corners of his mind.
A soft rustle from the bed caught his attention. Galadriel stirred, her eyes fluttering open to find Mairon standing by the window with their daughter.
"Mairon?" she called softly, her voice still heavy with sleep. "Is everything alright?"
He turned to her, a gentle smile on his face. "All is well, meleth nîn. Our little star was just restless."
Galadriel sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the movement. Mairon was at her side in an instant.
"You should rest more," he urged, carefully passing Silmeriel to her before helping her adjust against the pillows.
Galadriel cradled their daughter close, her eyes never leaving Mairon's face. "I'm fine, my love. Truly."
Mairon sat on the edge of the bed, his hand gently stroking Galadriel's arm. "You pushed yourself too hard," he murmured, his voice a mixture of admiration and exasperation. "The birth was difficult. You need time to recover your strength. Someone else can nurse her."
Galadriel's eyes met his, a familiar stubbornness glinting in their depths. "I am stronger than you think, Mairon. We both know I've faced far worse."
He sighed, knowing better than to argue. Instead, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I know, I know… But it pains me to see you struggle when I could ease your burden."
They were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Mairon rose carefully, not wanting to disturb Galadriel or the baby with abrupt motion of the mattress, and opened it to find Ithriel standing there, her eyes wide and curious.
"Ada," she whispered, "is mommy awake? Can I see Silmeriel?"
Mairon knelt down, bringing himself to eye level with his firstborn. "Sure you can. But mommy is tired, let's not jump on her, all right?" He lifted Ithriel into his arms and carried her to the bed. Ithriel leaned forward, her small hand reaching out to touch the baby's cheek.
"She's so soft," Ithriel marveled. "Will she always be this small?"
Mairon chuckled softly. "No, aranel. She'll grow, just as you have. One day, you'll be able to play together and teach her all sorts of things."
Drawing closer to Galadriel, Mairon's hand brushed against hers—a touch light as a falling leaf yet charged with the force of untold centuries. "Once you regain your strength, we shall depart from Imladris."
Galadriel, cradling Silmeriel, lifted her gaze to meet his. Her eyes, blue as the deepest heart of the ocean, held a storm of emotions. "Depart where? To Mordor?"
"No, Galadriel… There is nothing for me in Mordor, for now. We shall cross the Misty Mountains. There is a forest, Lorien, to the southeast of here. Have you been there?"
"No, I haven't," she admitted.
"Silverlode River running through it. This river flows from the Misty Mountains and joins the Great River Anduin to the east. We shall find our temporary home there. Some elves already occupy that forest, but they have no lords. We shall start our kingdom by filling the empty space. We also must be close to water, so it is the perfect location."
"Why close to water?" she asked, surprised by the turn of the conversation.
Mairon smiled. "I shall expect some visitors soon, who travel by waters."