Farewell Ambition

“Namarie,” she said, pulling the word from the secret sanctum of memory.

Of eld, she had stood belowground beside a gilded pillar and listened to the elvenking banish the language of the sons of Feanor -- that cadenced tongue that Galadriel’s own soul spoke -- evermore from Endor. This had been the price of kinslaying, of vengeance. Yes, and the price of ambition, for such had been her sin.

Yet now along Anduin, upon the hand of a halfling, that ambition departed. Galadriel -- Nerwen -- raised her own bejeweled hand in a gesture: Namarie, not a farewell this time, but a welcome home.