Flame of Gondolin, book 2: Miss Independent

CHAPTER TWELVE
Spring, 1590 SA

The days seemed to be growing dark again, though there was no outward reason for it. Unlike with Morgoth and his fortress in Thangorodrim, the signs here spoke of a different kind of problem, one that neither Elrond nor the King understood.

The Peredhel – for his lineage and bloodline – had grown closer to his surrogate uncle in council and in heart, and the two seemed inseparable. The things which they discussed concerned all of Lindon and sometimes, even Círdan rode out of his haven settlement to join them.

And wherever the high-born pair went, so, mostly, did Anárië as well, as the King’s and Elrond’s protector, bound to one by order, and to the other by Oath.

Lately, the topic of discussion seemed always to be Annatar, and the situation in Eregion.

"I am more than simply worried about this," Gil-galad commented one afternoon as they walked along a line of quickly-growing trees in the gardens he was having planted at the back of the palace, "there is more to Annatar than meets the eye, and I don’t even need Elrond to tell me this."

To this, his nephew shrugged his shoulders where he was walking to the side, and Anárië ran a hand through her hair:

"But what of Celebrimor and the work he seems to be doing? By all accounts, the smiths have advanced further than they would have on their own, thanks to this Annatar; reports coming from lord Celeborn are that he has taught them much."

"But at what cost?" the High King asked, pausing to inspect one of the lily-patches beside the path for a moment, before he turned back to his companions with a grave expression, "Celeborn is stranded in a sea of enemies. Not one Elf in Ost-en-Edhil trusts anyone anymore, and Galadriel has had to flee in the dead of night, like the worst kind of fugitive. If Annatar claims to be such a friend to the Noldor, how come he exiles the one truly powerful of our race?"

By this point, Galadriel was a constant topic and name in these conversations, and she no longer seemed such a stranger to Anárië, though she had yet to meet the lady in person. For now, she was still a being almost out of a fable, if powerful enough to always be kept in mind.

"To this, no one has an answer, at least not an easy one," Elrond commented with a small shrug of his shoulders, his arms crossed over his chest, "but whatever else, we know he cannot be our friend this way. The Lady Galadriel would have been first to welcome him if such were the case, yet she has openly spoken against him. Things are going completely amiss in Eregion, and we are powerless."

The High King stood silent while he contemplated this, and Anárië noticed, not for the first time, how worn and tired he seemed. This new worry had been eating at him for hundreds of years now, depriving him of proper sleep. Ever since Annatar had been denied entrance to Lindon, courteously at first and then when he tried two more times ever with more force, Gil-galad had known little of peaceful sleep. The barracks had never been busier, and Anárië herself had never felt so exhausted. The King’s worries had somehow become her own during the course of her position.

Finally, Gil-galad stirred from his reverie: "We cannot do much about this right now; Elrond, find Erestor and try to deduce the defence of Lindon should we need it. You are in charge of the walls."

Elrond bowed, and lifted a brow at Anárië, who was about to speak when the other ellon beat her to it: "I would ask for your company a little longer, my lady; then you may join your young charge."

She inclined her head and nodded in the younger Elf’s direction, before returning her attention to the King while Elrond walked away.

Gil-galad walked slowly and silently for a while, and she simply followed at a respectful distance, before he beckoned to her: "You do not need to stand on any ceremony; I did not ask for you to have you stand behind me."

The elleth hastened her steps and fell in-stride with the King, to his side, smiling apologetically and keeping silent while she waited to hear what he had to say.

He walked a few paces more before finally speaking again: "Things bode ill for us all, I fear; I thought we had seen the end of it all when Morgoth was put in chains and returned over the Sea, but it does not seem to be so."

To this, she had no answer, and still remained silent.

Gil-galad lifted his eyes to the sky above them: "Alas, that these evil days should be mine. I had hoped to live in peace with my neighbours, but this does not seem to be the case. I cannot simply overlook what is happening in Eregion."

Finally, Anárië spoke: "Can you not order Celebrimor to evict Annatar? You are High King."

"I am, but I do not claim to rule supreme if I can help it; Eregion is Celebrimor’s domain, as Lórien is Amroth’s. I have promised that the overall reign and decision will be mine, but within each of the realms, the region lords will have their say. I cannot go against Celebrimor without inviting strife; his heart was open to influence even as Annatar first arrived before my gates."

The elleth allowed a low oath to pass her lips: "We should have disposed of him when we had the chance."

"To what end?" Ereinion asked, and they paused under a high wall curtained with ivy, "We would have assaulted and destroyed who seemed to be a peaceful ambassador. That would open us for attack and placed strain on our already-strained ties with Khazad-dûm and Númenor. No, we could not have done any differently than we have, except invite him within our walls."

Thankfully, that had not happened, and Anárië relaxed a little. She watched the King as he inspected the greenery against the wall, his fingers gentle in touching the leaves.

After another moment, she spoke again: "What, then, shall we do, sire? Annatar’s hold on Eregion is too strong to diminish, and we will not give him entrance to Lindon, no more than Círdan will admit him to Mithlond. Lady Galadriel has fled back to Lórien with what family she could, and lord Celeborn remains in Ost-en-Edhil. What is our next step?"

His fingers drummed against the wall as he thought, the silence stretching between them after her question. Anárië shifted, and lowered herself onto the grass at his feet, lightly wrapping her arms around her knees as she waited.

Finally, Gil-galad too seemed defeated, and he sat as well: "I do not know. My heart is silent and troubled, and my mind speaks nothing. I will have to wait for another message from Celeborn."

"If you are so troubled," Anárië said gently, shrugging "perhaps you should seek other counsel.

Elrond has seen nothing recently, his mind is simply clouded with shadow. Lord Círdan takes his own counsel by the Sea. Eregion is closed to us. Mayhap you should speak to the Lady Galadriel, and see what she thinks. She is, after all, your kin."

If her knowledge of the Eldar family trees did not mislead her, Galadriel could be called Ereinion’s aunt in a way, for she was his father’s cousin.

The King looked at her pensively for a moment.

"There is wisdom in your words, though I fear the roads will be perilous once more, for we shall have to take a long turn around Ost-en-Edhil, instead of simply riding through it as we would have normally done. But ride we shall. Speak to Lachuí tonight and tell him to prepare an entourage to travel tomorrow after the evening meal. We ride light and hard, and as fast as we can. I am expecting a new messenger by morning; if he does not come, we ride regardless."

She inclined her head: "Who besides you should be included, Majesty?"

"No one, besides you and me. I would ride only with you if I dared, but somehow I do not believe the commander would ever forgive me for that. It will not be a pleasant visit, and so Elrond and the rest of the court must remain here."

Anárië nodded, though her heart felt heavy at the thought of leaving Elrond for so long unprotected: "As you command, Majesty. We ride tomorrow night."

He nodded, and relaxed slightly; Anárië waited for the dismissal from his company as he eased his body against the grass, looking up into the sky. Her fingers moved through the grass as she plucked at it aimlessly, plaiting the strands together in silence.

Suddenly, Ereinion spoke again: "Do you know why I am planting these gardens?"

The question caught her off-guard, and she frowned: "No, my lord. But I suspect every palace like yours has equally magnificent gardens."

He laughed, turning his head to look at her, shielding his eyes from the sun that fell against them.

"Yes, I suppose that could also be a reason, but no, the answer is not correct. Guess again."

She arched an eyebrow, and looked around herself for a moment, listening to the birds singing in the young trees and the falling water from near-by. She remembered a similar conversation she had had with Glorfindel, what seemed like ages ago, when he had asked after her favourite flower and tree; and she remembered how tenderly her father nurtured the garden her mother had planted.

"Perhaps," she said slowly, returning her eyes to the form of the King, "you do this for someone else. A special someone, maybe."

Elrond had confided in her that everyone feared for the continuance of the royal line while Gil-galad went unwed, despite it being now a time of peace. This was a wild guess on her part, but it was better than no guess.

The smile that crossed Ereinion’s features told her she was correct in her assumptions, and she returned the gesture.

His eyes turned back to the sky: "A special someone; yes, that is a very good way of putting it. For she is special to me; when we return from Lothlórien, I shall show her these gardens."

Anárië smiled, smoothing her hands against her long tunic: "And I am sure she will love them, Your Majesty."

The King scoffed at something, and rolled onto his side: "I honestly wish you would call me by name when we are not surrounded by the court. This business with titles is more bothersome than anything else."

She chuckled and stood, brushing grass off herself: "Very well, Ereinion, if that is your wish – may I go and search for Elrond now?"

"You may," he responded seriously, though the twinkle in his eyes told her he was jesting with her. Anárië gave him a parting smile and went away with long strides to go and speak to Elrond about this recent development, and arrange everything with Lachuí.

As predicted, the Peredhel was less than pleased, but Lachuí surprised her by simply shrugging, and turning to do as she had told him to. She had expected more complaints from the commander, but it seemed as though his fight had gone out of him.

"Is anything amiss?" she asked cautiously as they walked in the direction of the stables to see whether all of the horses they wanted to take would be ready tomorrow.

He shrugged again, but did not answer, and somehow, she had a feeling this had to do with Berien, and so she did not press the matter. He would tell her when and if he was ever ready to speak about it, or perhaps her friend would explain this current situation to her.

The next evening thus found them ready and waiting for the King to come and ride with them; he came with Elrond, giving him last-minute instructions before taking his horse from Anárië and pulling himself into the saddle.

"And remember, Elrond – the city stays closed, no matter what," were his last words before he touched his mare’s flanks and she sprang from the courtyard. Anárië lifted a hand in farewell before she, too, turned her horse and cantered after the King. Lachuí also went with them, and a handful of soldiers he had hand-picked for the King’s protection.

Their journey proved uneventful, if longer than it could have been because of the turn they had had to make to avoid most of Eregion, and ride on its very borders, and even then swiftly and with great caution. Neither Lachuí nor Anárië trusted this sudden silence, as if all the birds and beasts of the land were waiting for something. On the way, they met with a messenger out of Ost-en-Edhil, but Gil-galad did not stop, and insisted they ride even faster once he read the message. Anárië dared not ask what news Celeborn had sent to his liege-lord.

Finally, weary of the road and covered in dirt, the small group of Elves saw the golden shimmer in the near distance, and breathed a collective sigh of relief. Their horses strained their muscles for one last bound, and carried their riders under the eaves of the wood. The rider in front unfurled the blue banner sprayed with stars, and none hindered their passage. The boughs shifted in the wind that blew and Anárië felt like they were being watched; her first visit to this beautiful place was being hasty and very much under threat of something far more dangerous than she could imagine.

Lachuí saw the way she looked up into the branches, and lightly touched her side to gain her attention.

"The Wardens," he explained, and covertly pointed up, "they watch our passage, but our banner gives us liberty they do not normally accord to strangers. That we have arrived unlooked for tells them there is danger abroad."

Her heart clenched, but she nodded and returned her eyes to the path ahead of them, where the standard bearer rode before Gil-galad. They saw no one until they suddenly reached what seemed to be a living hedge surrounding a steep hill, and a great gate that held it closed to them.

"Hail," greeted a grey-clad Elf that seemed to know all about their coming, stepping out to meet them, "the Lady expects you. King Amroth has ridden out to the Northern borders, but he shall return tonight to speak with you."

Gil-galad inclined his head, and the group passed under the archway where Anárië was surprised to find a large field, where many other Elves stood.

"Lachuí, make sure the horses are rested and fed, and find Oromis, if you can," the King instructed as he dismounted, and gave the reins to a waiting Elf, "Anárië, with me."

She met Lachuí’s gaze briefly, before quickly dismounting and following after the High King. His strides were confident and swift as he followed a stone pathway through the trees. To Anárië, the very air among them seemed alive, thrumming with a certain beat; if she looked up she could not see the tops of the trees that surrounded them. There seemed to be lights hanging mid-air all around them, but she could not make out their source. And despite hearing soft footfalls and the rustle of clothing and leaves, she saw no one.

Noticing that she had fallen behind, the elleth caught up with the King and kept his quick pace afterwards as they climbed up sets of grey stairs for what seemed like eternity. She was winded when they finally reached what seemed to be a wooden platform high above the ground; Anárië looked at it with distrust, but Gil-galad stepped on without stopping, and so she followed as well, albeit less surely.

Two sentries greeted them at another entrance, and the High King spoke for the first time since beginning their climb: "Your Lady is expecting us."

The two Elves stepped aside, and Gil-galad passed through, with Anárië quick on his heels. The platform they entered now seemed to be smaller than some of the rest she’d seen on the way up, but there was a table with some chairs there, and on one side it seemed to open to a view of the land bellow.

That was where Galadriel stood.

Ecthelion had spoken of ‘Artanis’ to his daughter in Gondolin, explaining something about what she looked like and what gave her authority over the Elves she encountered, and who flocked to her like moths to a flame. Gil-galad had spoken of ‘Galadriel’ and what she had done for the regions on his side of the Misty Mountains thus far.

But none had really done her justice.

She was taller than any elleth Anárië had ever encountered, taller even than herself by at least an inch, and slender as a willow-tree, but with a certain hidden strength that spoke of woe to those who wished to contradict her. Despite being clad in simple white, she seemed to shine with an inner light of her own, and her face was fair to look upon. Indeed, when one saw it, it was as if they saw, for the first time, the Light of the Two Trees. Her hair, while golden, had not Anárië’s rich colour, but instead a deeper, more hidden meaning and lustre she could not place.

And her sapphire blue eyes were like depths of eternal knowledge.

Anárië held the gaze for a moment longer before lowering her own eyes, feeling inadequately prepared and unworthy of this meeting.

If she saw this, Galadriel said nothing, but turned to Ereinion, who stepped further into the room and took a seat.

"I bring grave tidings from Eregion, and my own doubts from Lindon which originally sent me on this impromptu journey," he spoke into the silence of the room,

"We met a messenger from your husband while on the road; he sends word that the Smiths have forged nineteen rings, but he does not believe them to be mere trinkets, much to our misfortune."

Anárië started at that, frowning, and lifted her head to see what she could make out of the King’s expression, but she could read very little.

Galadriel shifted, and spoke, with a voice lower than Anárië would have anticipated it: "Rings of Power?"

"They may be called so, yes," Gil-galad replied, "it seems they possess certain ... virtues, that have not been foreseen. No doubt, however, you have seen some of this. Elrond has been speaking of a shadow over his mind for long now."

"Much I have seen," came the answer, "yet well you know, Ereinion Gil-galad, that some things which we see may never come to pass. Some have already happened, like this work. It is not upon us to decide which of them will take place, but what to do with those that do."

Gil-galad snorted: "I have little concern for things that may or may not come to pass. I am presently more worried about things that have already done so, like this current situation. Celebrimor has accepted the help of Annatar on this, and you know this means ill for us all."

There was a silence, and Anárië sensed that this was an allusion to the flight that Galadriel staged to save herself and what of her family she could from Ost-en-Edhil, or face Annatar’s swords.

The Lady turned away, and the other elleth slipped closer to the King at that, standing by his side.

"Annatar has ever been wise," came suddenly the grave words, and Anárië exchanged a confused glance with Gil-galad.

"And that should placate me?" he asked, irritated at this point, "What exactly do you mean?"

Galadriel stood looking out of the opening among the branches again, and her eyes were unfocused:

"Flames now erupt from the chasms of the East; and the south of Mirkwood falls under darkness. Annatar is none other than a servant of Melkor Bauglir. I see it now."

Anárië’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the otherwise silent council chamber. Ereinion was still.

The Lady recovered, and turned back to them, her eyes sad: "Middle Earth is not yet rid of the darkness that had begun when Bauglir first came with the Silmarils. The circle begins anew, but to what purpose, I can hardly say. It is too soon yet."

Ereinion drummed his fingers against the table, and Anárië waited.

Finally, he cursed and stood: "That bloody fool! He should have listened to the advice I sent him with the purple star, and this would never have happened!"

"You can only make your own decisions," Anárië murmured softly, "Celebrimor’s are his own."

"Yes, and a lot of good that does us now," growled the High King, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Galadriel remained silent during this exchange.

"I will stay in your realm for a while," he finally said, looking at her, "I cannot risk another journey back over the south of Eregion right now. As soon as we know more, I will return. For the time being, I shall send word to Elrond."

Anárië tensed briefly, not liking this new development one bit. She had already left Elrond alone for longer than she was used to, and she could not help but worry.

Galadriel spoke: "As your protector has already spoken, Ereinion, your decisions are your own; you are welcome here, as you know, for as long as you need to stay."

Gil-galad nodded and stood, aiming for the exit when he noticed that his customary shadow had not moved. Turning, he saw that Galadriel was looking at Anárië, but her gazes had never really stopped him.

"Anná?"

"I have need of this lady for a while," Galadriel answered instead, "she will join you shortly."

"Please do return her to me," the High King quipped in a sarcastic voice, "good protection seems hard to come by these days."

Anárië started at that, but saw a shadow of a smile on the Lady’s lips, and upon a nod from the High King, they were then left alone.

The silence stretched, and she felt like she could not hold the Lady’s gaze for much longer. She did not have to; Galadriel was the one who broke it this time.

"You have much of your mother in you, child, but your father’s blood runs stronger, and hotter. You may look Vanya, but you are Noldo."

Remembering that this elleth had been the one to intercede on her parents’ behalf, Anárië felt humbled, and bowed her head. A gentle touch under her chin made her look up again; Galadriel had moved closer.

"Do not fear for Elrond; he is out of harm’s way while the High King lives. Your place is here."

Anárië frowned, opening her mouth to speak, not understanding how Galadriel could have known of her hidden fear, when not even Gil-galad seemed to notice it.

But she was again cut off.

"The one thing we can always be certain of, is that there will be a darkness to fight. Your war began the day your past burned behind you; the way before you burns as well, but I also see joy unlooked-for. Your coming here now is but the first stone in an avalanche that may sweep us all away, if we are not careful."

Their eyes met and held again, and Anárië felt her trembling subside, and her chin lifted higher; she could see Galadriel smile in approval.

"You are your parents’ daughter; they would be proud."

So Anárië met her who her father had so respected; and as the days grew dark in the outside world, in Lothlórien they waited, and held their breath.

And when another decade passed, they exhaled in a rush.