It would be impossible to describe the immense beauty of the scene - indeed, it was for mornings such as these, in golden valleys or by blue shores, that words were made. And if before then there were some grunts or howlings, some hoarse and desperate cries fashioned in the midst of terror and used again with equanimity in the yard or in the kitchen, then these were but the languages of animals.
Almaaera ankalima - and the words were given life or life anew. Telperion, shining across the fair faces of elven princesses, who were themselves like pre-named beauty, the foreshadow of night and day. Vanya, sinya.
Still, it is fitting that they were wordless, as they lay with arms like silken branches tangled together. Like trees that have been planted too close to one another and even as they grow are merging into one.
One began to stroke the hair of the other, an idle, tender gesture. Her nimble fingertips made rivers in the black mass. For the other's hair was as dark as her skin was pale, as dark as a night without stars, though neither would know to speak of such a likeness. They had been born into a newly made world where the foulest cloud could not block every sky fire. So, too, did the waning of Laurelin leave a shadow of light, mingling with the stars to prevent true darkness. But could that deeply black mane be spread overhead of all of them, then the elves could again know Night.
The one who stroked shivered with foreknowledge, and her hand paused.
Then, with the glibness of youth and the surety of the fearless, she tossed aside the moment and continued to pet her friend. Who did not stir at the touch, but rather lay sleeping in the embrace, eyes closed and oblivious to the beauty that was Tirion on Tuna.
"Aredhel, Aredhel," the first said at length. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but ere she repeated the name the second time, the sleeping elf had stirred.
Opening her eyes to the starkindled night and the gentle face of her cousin leaning over her, Aredhel gave a soft sigh of contentment. Then the fire for which she was renowned, the fierce passion which belied her white, womanly form, came up to her lips and she said, "Why did you not wake me, Galadriel?"
"I thought you needed sleep, and so you did," was Galadriel's calm answer.
But Aredhel had long waited for this night and was not pleased. "I could have embarked today without rest and been none the less vigilant. Now tonight I will be o'er watchful in the forest, and ever walking the treetops and thinking of you."
"And I of you," Galadriel said, "but I thought this best. Had I not been able to lull you to sleep with my song, I would gladly have forgone the notion that - " and here she hesitated, choosing her words carefully, "that you would be too weary to attempt the ride."
"It was my decision," Aredhel said pointedly, but she seemed resigned. "Well, it shall be as much a trial to wait out the months for you as for me. And I at least will have adventure to ease my mind." As she spoke, she rose from the cover of the grasses and began to gather her possessions.
Sensing that Aredhel's hurt was not assuaged, Galadriel deliberately stood in front of her. One hand she placed firmly over Aredhel's heart, and with the other she caught her cheek. "Ar-Feiniel," she said, "think not that I sought to avoid your embrace. You alone of all my cousins I desire, and though I have told you I think we shall not be matched forever, still I would now take in your body and spirit what joys I can. But the way to Formenos as you and the sons of Feanor have planned is as treacherous a path can be taken in the land of Valar, and not for the weary, and I can be patient." Then, with a teasing smile, "So will you please stop acting like a disappointed maiden?"
"Only if you stop acting like my mother!" Aredhel replied.
"Would your mother do this?" Galadriel asked, leaning in for a kiss. She met the soft lips and hungry tongue almost chastely, instead revealing her desire through the press of her hand upon Aredhel's breast. Small circles she made as she brushed over the fabric, then cupped her hand inside the shirt to feel the warm, full skin. But even as her body swayed in response Aredhel murmured in yearning disappointment, and drew away. Galadriel followed her gaze to the position of stars. She knew it was time to part lest someone come looking for them.
"Perhaps if it is her blood runs true in me," Aredhel said softly, bitterly, answering a question that Galadriel had quite forgotten.
But the topic came often up, and Galadriel was ready. "Iluvatar finds no love unworthy, and neither do I. I would gladly sing to all of the pleasure the White Lady gives me. But I have not gone through all sorts of deprivations to see you well-readied for your trip, only to have you lie awake with worry at our secret revealed."
Loathe as Aredhel was to leave the hidden cove, as they walked Telperion waxed and his light filled her with anticipation. For the journey she was to make was the longest she had ever taken, through many peaceful forests and along the foothills of many towering mountains and perhaps they would reach far west enough to pass the Trees of Light. Last of all would they go to Formenos, the home of her friends and cousins the sons of the house of Feanor.
Though there was ever unease between their fathers Feanor and Fingolfin, the children had grown to love each other well. If she did not burn for any of them, Aredhel counted them as dear. She took pride in their strength and skill, and charm and wit, and was well pleased when they showed their rare wisdom. Maedhros most often did so, and she liked him the best. Still, Maedhros preferred to ride with Fingon, and so Aredhel kept her closest council with Celegorm and Curufin. Curufin was clever and kept her alert with his cutting comments, thought at her they never aimed, but at Celegorm, who was in truth quite vain.
"Would that you had time to share your thoughts," Galadriel said as they came to their parting place. "But your companions must be eager to get home."
"And eager to leave Father's court, I'm sure. Else why would they have insisted on a single night's rest?" The thought still nagged at Aredhel, who was truly grieved that she would not have more time with her family and Galadriel. Many times she had asked this of herself, but this was the first she had spoken of it aloud.
"I am sure it is naught," Galadriel replied, not returning Aredhel's wary glance. "Let us not waste our last moments on old strife. Remember to send my greetings to all you meet along the way. Remember to give my jewel gift not to Feanor, but to Nerdanel. And remember when you go to the trees of light, to gaze most closely upon Laurelin and see in truth if it is She that colors my hair."
Aredhel took a strand of the golden hair and kissed it, then Galadriel's cheek, and then her lips. "I will remember!" she said fiercely, "and now goodbye!" She turned and walked quickly down her path in the road. Galadriel watched her as she went, eventually disappearing beyond the sight of elven eyes beneath the bows of trees.
When at last Aredhel was out of sight, Galadriel let forth a breath of relief. She had not been able to guess how the parting might go - and she was glad for Aredhel that it had not been too painful.
"Aye, but I should have known she would be strong enough," she said aloud, and it seemed to her that the tall bushes along the path side nodded in agreement. "I should have known that I would not keep her here."
There Galadriel stopped talking and let her thoughts continue inward, for she liked not the note of regret that crept into her voice as she spoke to the foliage. Now she addressed herself. 'You have always suspected her love was less than she thought it was. Does it pain you now to have proof?'
Such pain would be... unwise. For she had held back from Aredhel, even as her lover had guessed. They both knew that Galadriel never gave herself fully. She could not -something distant and unknowable held her back.
It was not circumstance. Galadriel believed that all love was in honor of Eru, and her father had had many male lovers before he had wedded her mother Earwen. So, too, she had noticed a bond between her cousins Fingon and Maedhros, and if they acted upon it she would greet that with joy, although admittedly not the least because it would bring together two torn houses.
'So' Galadriel thought, trying to focus her thoughts, 'I cannot blame Aredhel for seeking pleasure elsewhere.' For that she did, thought she had not yet learned to want any others' body. She rejoiced instead in an orgasm of spirit, in her own strength and skill and bravery. But with only Galadriel did she lie.
And until she realized that, as Galadriel had, this love between them was not forever, then Galadriel was content to be faithful to her, too.
But that was not the source of her unease, thought Galadriel, as she began walking towards her home. She had long ago thought out the relationship she had with her dearest female friend and cousin, and reconciled herself to its bitter sweetness. It was something uglier, and just as inevitable, yet she could not give a reason or a source, let alone a name...
Feanor.
Well, perhaps she could name it. Feanor.
For his senseless quarrel with her uncle Fingolfin and her father Finarfin, and his jealous hoarding of the Silmarils. For his sons' arrogance that made them stay such a suspiciously brief while, and yet they were outwardly courteous so that to Aredhel she could make no warning remark. Ah, Aredhel! For the way they brought out her pride. Her beauty was such, Galadriel mused, that it was best suited to modesty, or even disregard. She should not dress herself in full whites and silvers, which drew attention whither she went, but subtle grays that drew the watcher close. And her dresses should be maiden-like and fancy, hiding her form beneath, so that one must relieve her of her garments before glimpsing her taut body...
Galadriel stopped her tangent, amused. She set herself to again take up the question of her foreboding, but as she did so, she saw Angrod approaching. She checked behind herself quickly to make sure that Aredhel was out of sight - and indeed she was long gone. She greeted her brother with a smile.
"Greetings, kalima mine," he said as they met. "Have you been to see the riding party off?"
"Nay," said Galadriel, though again as ever her mouth hesitated at the omission. She consoled herself that it was at least no lie. "Why should I? They bid their goodbyes last night."
"And quite civilly, I must say. I had not expected so much from them, not with their father's withdrawal to Formenos and the bitterness that lies between."
"There are doubtless other reasons for the brevity of their stay," Galadriel replied coolly.
"So there may be!" said Angrod, retreating hastily from his words. "I would simply rather know them then not. Still, if Feanor is alike to Maedhros I see no reason why there is animosity between our houses."
"He is and he is not," Galadriel said to his unspoken question, for her younger brothers, like Aredhel, had never seen the Spirit of Fire. Reclusive had he become in recent years, ever near his father Finwe and his precious gems, and he traveled not even to see his nieces and nephews. "They are alike in beauty and skill, and in their great love of their fathers and their pride in the house. But Maedhros spreads his love around to family and friends, to the trees and the animals and the Ainur, whereas Feanor spends all his love on his jewels."
"Wise you are, Galadriel, to see into the minds of kings," he said when she had finished. "I wonder, then. Feel you not this tension?"
"Perhaps I do and do not speak!" Galadriel said, unable to remain mute about her worries but regretting the admission. "For my feelings are nothing upon which to base condemnation. Angrod," she continued softly, "do not be so eager to meddle in the affairs of our fathers. And do not be so quick to words lest ye waste them."
"I am sorry," said Angrod contritely, and it was a while before he raised his eyes to look upon his elder sister.
"Do not dwell overlong upon it. Time we have in abundance, and I would not see this fair day marred with misgivings. Aye, it seems to me that we are but sheltered birds who will flutter about at nothing, that seems to us so much because nothing is all we know."
"Would you know more, sister?"
"I would," said Galadriel. Then she took his arm and they continued home.
The sons of Feanor stood in the great yard of Fingolfin's house, waiting for Aredhel to return. And though they were polite there remained ever a note of dissonance in their song. Fingolfin frowned sadly at their unease, for he loved them well, or at least tried to. Yet he could not deny the unease within himself.
He thought of his daughter. She had been gone for several weeks with Feanor's sons, dwelling in the fields just southeastwards. The evening before she had arrived with great joy in the homecoming, but even more in her plans. For the riding had awoken within her the desire to journey as her older brothers did. She spoke with great longing of far mountains, wild forests, trees of light. He had attempted to forestall her, but she rose up in protest.
"All my life people have told me that a princess cannot match a prince. Even the Valar take a man for king! The nobles all smile kindly at my 'strange affectation', as if it were some little charm instead of my right and essence! And the commoners all look askance when I pass in my riding clothes. Would you take upon yourself the faults of your people, rather then cure them with your words and deeds? You do not deny Fingon his journeys with Maedhros! And you did not deny Turgon his wanderings with Finrod. Speak now, and I shall stay here at your demand, but I will be ever a shadow of myself, pining and unhappy, and you will have made me so!"
"Be quiet, my child!" Fingolfin had thundered, though he was rather more amused then angry. Also she had given him an idea of how to best her. "Think you I do not rejoice that my daughter is valiant among princes? Think you I do not love you, every part of you, despite what others say? Alas, I was loathe to name it, but my worry is not for your journey, but your destination."
Aredhel's face glowed with the praise but she stubbornly did not cease the argument. "What hold you against Formenos? I thought you held Feanor in esteem and love? And have not his sons proved ever true to me?"
"They have, and I do, but ever the seeds of doubt stir within me. Do you not see that, child? Why did they not tarry here? My great love for Feanor is tempered with caution, and his doubly so for me."
"Father - " Aredhel said, stricken, then stopped.
Unable, as most fathers are, to see his daughter suffer, Fingolfin said quickly, "You may go." Then Aredhel looked up with joy, which was not much dampened when he added, "if Fingon goes too."
His worry was much assuaged by his childrens' ready acquiecense to the plan. For all he loved his daughter's headstrong ways, they struck in him a nameless fear. It was a feeling akin to his worry for his father, a fear unreasonable in this land of beauty and safety. Yet it was there, subtle and foreboding, nonetheless. Yes, it was indeed a relief that Fingon would accompany his little White Lady on the trip.
Still, Fingolfin was wise and watched his nephews as they mingled together, especially once Aredhel arrived.
Ever did they follow Aredhel's tall form. Each said a word to her, and though Fingolfin was too far away to hear, they must have been clever. Her smile was often lit, or else she would pretend to strike at one of her cousins, or cry playfully. All took part in this dance, except Maedhros, the first and noblest son of the first and noblest prince of the Noldor. He was indeed so powerful that only his great grace could temper the strength of his step, and so beautiful that only his well-made clothes marked him male. Apart from Aredhel and the others he stood, with his friend Fingon, imploring him.
"We will take care of your sister well," he was saying, at which Fingon gave a most unelvish snort, "but will you come also to make sure she strays not into trouble? And to meet once more my parents, so perhaps you might become better impressed? Aye, and to keep my company..."
Maedhros did not expect much to come of his entreaty, for his last trip before this one had been with Fingon southwards, and in truth his cousin had not been that long home. But to his delight, Fingon nodded. "Why did you not ask me earlier, Maedhros? I would have had more time to pack my bags."
"Say not that Fingolfin begrudges his gifts," Maedhros crowed when he had gotten over his surprise, "for we stay but one night and are given a great companion."
"I do not know that your brothers will find it so great a gift," murmured Fingon in Maedhros' ear, but he was smiling as well. Like his father, he circumspectly watched to see if any of them had captured Aredhel's heart. Certainly Celegorm tried, in the most obvious ways, reliant on his fair face. Curufin was more hidden and clever but his intentions were clear. Only Maglor seemed not to enjoy the game - he looked as though he would rather sing to her instead. And yet despite their beauty Aredhel treated them as but friends, and glanced backwards to the forest from whence she came.
"Where is Galadriel?" asked Fingolfin, coming up behind her. "She has dwelt here so much awaiting your arrival, I thought she might watch you depart?"
"I have already bid goodbye to the children of Finarfin," Aredhel replied. "And so now I must do also to you. Oh, father, 'tis the hardest part of leaving!" And saying so she stepped into his arms and he caught her in a fierce hug, pressing his face into her hair. She clutched him tightly, content this once to be as a little girl.
"And is leaving a brother then so easy?" came a voice from behind her. Aredhel twisted her head around and saw Turgon.
"Of course not!" Said Aredhel, giving her father one last squeeze, then turning to embrace her brother. "It is so strange, Turgon. I will see you all in but a few months time, and then we may dwell many years together in our father's house. And yet I miss you so already!"
"A strange but not rare affliction, my dear Ar-Feiniel," he said, and kissed her on the tip of the nose as he had often done when she was small. Their father, watching, smiled at the sign of affection, for Turgon had picked it up from him. "It is the mystery of every departure, and not even the hardiest wanderer can solve it."
"Then it is best we not attempt to," said Fingon, coming up beside them and placing a hand on his sister's shoulder. Then he, too, exchanged hugs with his brother and father. "These partings are painful enough when short. Namarie! Farewell!"
"Namarie!" They all repeated, and then with resolve Aredhel walked away from them, feet falling lightly on the grass and Fingon at her side.
Before the children had informed him of their early departure, Finarfin had planned a feast for the three houses. Perhaps if he had set it for the next day, they would have delayed for the fine food that was always on his table, but he had expected a stay over of weeks and had set the dinner up accordingly.
The hall was arrayed for comfort but still fair, with great banners of all colors hung across the high ceiling. The most beautiful of flowers were taken whole from the ground and placed in jeweled vases and set out along the hallway to the dining room, to be returned to the ground when the time came. Plates of white and silver sat glistening at each chair. Still more glorious was the food, made by the most accomplished chefs in Tirion, and aided by Earwen. The wife of Finarfin was not chiefly a cook, but she had great skill in the making of dishes.
Few were willing to let such festival go to waste, so Fingolfin and Turgon, and Turgon's wife Elenwe, and their young daughter Idril came on the appointed night and guested with them.
Though their families lived close together, Galadriel had seen Idril but once or twice, for she was still a child by any creature's reckoning. Small and trembling she stood behind her father's legs, wondering at the house of Finarfin. But Galadriel went to her knees, and took her hand, and stroked the girl's golden hair, and said, "It is easy to see that we are both of the line of Indis, is it not?"
She had meant her words to be lighthearted, and indeed Idril smiled and came out from her hiding place, and was no longer shy. But Fingolfin and Finarfin looked each at the other, with sadness in their eyes. How long had it been since the whole family gathered in feast? Never - never had they all assembled, all the High Noldor, for Feanor would not see his stepmother Indis acknowledged, and ate not at the same table with her, though they lived in Formenos together with Finwe.
Sensing the fell mood that had befallen, the mothers of the houses bestirred themselves to set the table out. Once they began to eat all that was ill slipped away. Idril was delightful in her youth, and Turgon doted upon her, but secretly Finarfin thought his own daughter was no less charming for her greater years. It is difficult to say what opinion Fingolfin was of, perhaps because his mind still dwelt with Aredhel as she rode across the plains.
And perhaps all their thoughts turned to the journey and to its destination, for the topic came ever up.
"And where did they wish to go?" Earwen asked when the conversation paused, for she hadn't had the chance to sit and talk with her niece or nephews.
"All about the West and the North, to see it swiftly but in full, and at the end, to Formenos," Finarfin nearly succeeded in keeping the tone of his voice smooth.
"Formenos," Fingolfin said, "where ever still our brother speaks against the Valar. It is as shadowed a land as can be in this lighted realm, and I would not have Aredhel go there alone."
"But Fingon went with her," Earwen said, for this she had been able to gather.
"So he did - as I bid him to. But still Feanor's words bode ill with me!"
"Feel you not any guilt, though, brother?" Finarfin asked.
"Guilt?" asked Fingolfin. "Forgiveness, out of my love for him, yes. But guilt?"
"Our mother does not walk the halls of Mandos. Perhaps we might have been kinder to him in his grief. Who knows how our early words shaped his opinion of us? Who knows what jealousy was born of our happy family of four, as he watched while mother held us on her lap, knowing that his own had gone to the halls of Mandos before he could even know her?"
Fingolfin sat silently, pondering this.
"And besides," Galadriel said, then stopped, embarrassed. But her father looked at her gently so she continued on, "You have had each other. I don't know what it would be like to grow up an only child. None of us does, except Idril."
"And she not for long," Turgon rumbled, shooting a quick, flirtatious look at his wife. Elenwe blushed.
"You speak truly, Galadriel," Fingolfin said. "As do you, my brother. I will spend some time in deeper thought among the matter. But for now, will you tell me, Finarfin, how goes the breeding of your great horses?"
They talked on that and on other matters for many hours. At last Elenwe sat with Idril sleeping upon her lap, and all the elders felt as tired as she. Bidding the others goodnight, Galadriel rose and went to her rooms. Yawning, she did not tarry to admire the banners and paintings, nor to stop and speak with her friends among the servants. Perhaps it was the fine elven wine but never had her bed seemed so soft and inviting.
As she succumbed completely to sleep, she had only time and wits to note that she had never felt so drawn to dream before.
By the time they dismounted their horses for the first night, Tirion had grown noticeably smaller in the distance. Fingon saw that his sister refused to turn her head to it. Ever stubborn, she was trying to make up for what she thought was a show of weakness at their departure. But Fingon felt no such compulsion.
So far had they ridden today, spurred onwards by the thought of a new journey and good company, and yet still he could see the fair city rising behind. Truly majestic was his proud home, the light from the watchtower shining out over the water, and Fingon imagined it white and sparkling where it hit the blue green waves.
Maedhros came up behind him, placing a hand on the small of his back. He shivered at the touch.
"It is colder then one would think, though this place is farther from the water," Fingon said at length, by way of explanation.
"Aye, and it will be even colder tonight," said Maedhros softly. "Shall we take a watch, together, cousin?"
"Of course," Fingon replied, "though as ever I am amused that we set watches at all. In the land of the Valar, nothing hunts us."
Maedhros said only, "This is how I was taught."
Fingon gave a sharp glance that was not lost on his companion. They had known each other so long and so well, it was startling for him to find a point of disagreement. Their love of wandering and riding, their positions as eldest in their households, their fondness for each other... these were what he preferred to dwell upon, not the strange differences that seemed ever arising. How could Maedhros not feel secure in this place of plenty?
They stood in silence, watching the tower as though it might suddenly sprint across the horizon, and they would not want to miss that. After a while, Maedhros realized his hand was still upon Fingon's back, and he removed it, but other than that they did not stir.
Seeing them, Celegorm said to Aredhel, "Our brothers seem to have the weight of the world on their shoulders, do they not?"
"They do indeed," she said, and at the sound of her voice Curufin turned towards them.
"I, for one, am glad the burden is theirs," Celegorm continued. "I'd rather a wood then a palace. What is there in kingship so desirable? I might turn it down if offered."
"Not I," interjected Curufin, for he knew what Aredhel felt on the matter, although in truth it was also more than posture. "Perhaps all you see is the triviality, but there is glory in it! Aye, and where there is suffering there are also the fruits of pain."
Well aware that they were staring, although the objects of their attention did not seem to notice, Aredhel cast her eyes away. "Fingon has oft said to me that he wished he was the youngest. Has Maedhros ever said like to you?"
"No," replied Curufin, but Celegorm murmured,
"Maybe not, but I have seen it in his eyes and bearing. Is that so ignoble? Father demands so much that one can not help but resent it at times."
"I would not," said Curufin, and his eyes glittered.
Aredhel liked not where the conversation had turned to, nor would she see any fighting break out among the brothers. So she asked Maglor for a song, and he was pleased to oblige, and hearing the sweet sounds drifting from the camp Fingon and Maedhros returned to it.
The next few days they spent on the plains, marking the distance only by the diminishing of the watchtower of Tirion. Most often they talked and sang as they went, but the brothers were quick to compete. Once Aredhel grew frustrated with their silly, boastful talk and petty games and cried, "Are all the sons of Feanor so much quicker to argue then they are upon their horses?"
And with a shout of laughter Aredhel rode off, Curufin and Celegorm fast to follow her, and the twins behind. Caranthir speeded his horse slightly but did not participate. Maglor seemed to be paying more attention to the animals that hid themselves in the grasses.
Fingon brought his horse beside Maedhros' and they watched as the forms grew smaller against the horizon.
"My sister will of course win, you know," Fingon said. "The children of Fingolfin are by far the ablest riders."
"Is that a challenge, cousin?"
"It is."
Maedhros threw him a slow, sideways smile. "And what will I get if I win?"
Fingon smiled back at him. "You won't." He spurred his horse even as Maedhros' began his indignant reply.
As they sped onward and the wind tore at Fingon's face, he gave a shout of exhilaration. Turning and meeting Maedhros eyes, he saw his feelings mirrored. Fingon stole a look at his cousin's good form - he was straddled masterfully on his great black horse, his red hair straight behind him like whipped fire. Then he took his gaze away, pressed his knees together and urged his mount on. Soon he knew nothing of his companion or the fields beside them, only the pounding of the horses.
Maedhros was close but still behind Fingon as he pulled up, Aredhel's ringing calls telling him that he had won. "And who... claimed your race, sister?" Fingon asked as his pulse slowed and his body calmed.
"I did,"she said, and that was quite obvious from the scowls on the boys' faces, appeased only by the fact of their dignified elder brother having joined the game.
"It really... wasn't... fair," Maedhros said, breathing hard, "my brothers were probably... fighting each other for your attention... the whole way."
"And what's your excuse?" Aredhel shot back, although she knew he meant no insult.
Fingon smirked. "He doesn't have one." Maedhros looked as though he wanted to object but couldn't think of anything to say.
"We'll have to wait for Maglor," Aredhel said with a fond smile. They could just make him out in the distance.
They decided to make camp where they were, and by the time Maglor arrived the fire had been started and the foot put on. He was humming a tune that he had made as he rode along, and at the sound the others forgave him instantly for his delay.
It was a merry dinner they had, filled with lighthearted teasing and sweet song, and colored by their shared anticipation. For by the end of the next day they should near the greatest beauty of the Blessed Realm, the Trees of Light.
Galadriel awoke to her mother Earwen's troubled gaze. "Mother?" she asked, sitting up.
"Galadriel!" the woman exclaimed, and reached over to embrace her. "Know you not how long you have been sleeping?"
"Nay."
"For many days. We asked the Valar for help, and they said that you were in no danger, that indeed great strength would come to you from your long rest, but still I could not help fearing..."
"Oh, mother, I'm so sorry," she murmured, and Earwen reached out and held her. They sat a while on the bed and the elder woman's worries were assuaged. But then Galadriel sat up. She gently disentangled herself, shifted away. She held herself upright as though she would not be touched and had a distant look in her eyes, and she said simply, "I dreamed."
"Hush," her mother whispered, a new worry settling in her stomach. For her daughter looked aged somehow, as like a true woman. "Hush, Galadriel," she repeated, though she saw now how incongruous the words of comfort were. "I must go find your father."
Site Info
We are the home of 1292 authors from among our 2552 members. There have been 2904 reviews written about our 3820 stories consisting of 10734 chapters and 29400445 words. A special welcome to our newest member, Rosamundeb.Categories
Skin Change
Donate
Help us keep one of the oldest running LotR archives available to all. Even the smallest donation helps!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
Many thanks to our previous donors!
The Library, elsewhere
Other projects
Black, White, Gold by Shauna
Story notes: For backstory or explanation, e-mail me or check the story under it's account, same name, at Fanfiction.net
Chapter end notes: Translations:
almaaera ankalima - blessed brightness
vanya, sinya - beautiful, new
kalima mine - bright one
Ar-Feiniel - Aredhel's nickname, White Lady of the Noldor
namarie - farewell
