Yalúmessë

"It was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage...it was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, both being unwed, to marry thus of free consent one to the other without ceremony or witness…in flight and exile and wandering, such marriages were often made."

– This is from an essay by Tolkien about his Elves’ lifestyles, just to give explanation that, no, I’ve not changed my mind on my conviction that sex before marriage is wrong.









“What! Where did you say you were going?” Artanis had found her brother heading for the stables with a traveling sack over his shoulder.

“I told you, dear sister, I went before King Elwë and Queen Melian and was granted permission to explore the caves of Nargothrond.”

Artanis grasped Finrod’s sleeve. “But, why? Why do want to leave me here all alone?”

Finrod sighed and took his sister gently by the shoulders. “Nerwen, you know I have been desiring a realm of my own for many ages. I believe I have found a way to fulfill that desire. It is here. In this land of our exile.”

Artanis nodded, a tear sliding down her cheek. She was familiar with the feeling.

“Now, now, none of that,” Finrod said softly but, firmly, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I will not have you weeping.”

“Nai i Valar nauvar as elyë,” Artanis cried, throwing her arms around her brother in a strong embrace. (May the Valar be with you)

“And also with you, Nerwen.” Then Finrod gently extricated himself from Artanis’ embrace and mounted his horse.

“Namárië!” He called to her as he galloped off.

“Namárië . . .” she answered, watching as her brother rode off and was soon engulfed in the blackness of the fallen night.


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Artanis walked back to her chambers feeling listless and lonely. She wondered how her other brothers Orodreth, Angrod, and Aegnor were faring in the lands east.

As she sat down on her bed a cool breeze touched her face, reminding her briefly of the terrible trek through the bitterest North where so many of her people were lost. Artanis shook the thoughts from her head, lay down and slept.

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“Turgon! Turgon, stop!” The elf stilled his running but only to fall on his knees. Artanis and Finrod caught up with Turgon and knelt in the snow beside him.

“She is gone! Elenwë . . . meldanya Elenwë . . .” (my dear) Turgon doubled over and wept. Artanis felt his grief well up inside her. She stepped back when suddenly she heard the sharp crack of ice and felt the ground give way. Icy water enveloped her and she struggled to get back to the surface but the ice had closed over the brake, sealing her off.

“No!” Artanis yelled, ice water filled her mouth and she felt herself sink.

It was then that she woke up. Her pillow was drenched with her tears. “The time in the Helcaraxë is over,” Artanis told herself and she began to calm down, though it did not relieve the sorrow on her heart.

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A month or so passed. Messengers came from Finrod to Artanis telling her that he was well and that he had become great friends with the dwarves who resided in Nargothrond.

Artanis had taken to talking to Melian for many hours in the day and many times it was in the presence of Thingol. “They would speak together of Valinor and the bliss of old; but beyond the dark hour of the death of the Trees Artanis would no go, but ever fell silent. And on one time Melian said: ‘There is some woe that lies upon you and your kin. That I can see in you, but all else is hidden from me; for by no vision or thought can I perceive anything that passed or passes in the West: a shadow lies over all the land of Aman, and reaches out over the sea. Why will you not tell me more?’

‘For that woe is past,’ said Artanis; ‘and I would take what joy is here left, though still hope may seem bright.’

Then Melian looked in her eyes, and said: ‘I believe not that the Noldor came forth as messengers of the Valar, as was said at first: not though they came in the very hour of our need. For they speak never of the Valar, nor have their high lords brought any message to Thingol, whether Manwë, or Ulmo, or even from Olwë the King’s brother, and his own folk that went over the sea. For what cause, Artanis, were the high people of the Noldor driven forth as exiles from Aman? Or what evil lies on the sons of Fëanor that they are so haughty and so fell? Do I not strike near the truth?’

‘Near,’ said Artanis; ‘save that we were not driven forth, but came of our own will, and against the Valar for this purpose we came: to take vengeance upon Morgoth, and regain what he stole.’

Then Artanis spoke to Melian of the Silmarils, and of the slaying of Kind Finwë at Formenos; but still she said no word of the Oath, nor of the Kinslaying, nor of the burning of the ships at Losgar. But Melian said: ‘Now much you tell me, and yet more I perceive. A darkness you would cast over the long road from Tirion, but I see evil there, which Thingol should learn for his guidance.’

‘Maybe,’ said Artanis; ‘but not of me.’

And Melian spoke no more of these matters with Artanis; but she told King Thingol all that she had heard of the Silmarils. ‘This is a great matter,’ she said, ‘greater indeed than the Noldor themselves understand; for the Light of Aman and the fate of Arda lie locked now in these thing, the work of Fëanor, who is gone. They shall not be recovered, I fortell, by any power of the Eldar; and the world shall be broken in battles that are to come, ere they are wrested from Morgoth. See now! Fëanor, they have slain, and many another, as I guess; but first of all the death they have brought and yet shall bring was Finwë your friend. Morgoth slew him, ere he fled from Aman.’

Then Thingol was silent, being filled with grief and foreboding; but at length he said: ‘Now at last I understand the coming of the Noldor out of the West, at which I wondered much before. Not to our aid did they come (save by chance); for those that remain in Middle-earth the Valar will leave to their own devices, until the uttermost need. For vengeance and redress of their loss the Noldor came. Yet all the more sure shall they be as allies against Morgoth with whom it is not now to be thought that they shall ever make treaty.’

But Melian said: ‘Truly for these causes they came; but for others also. Beware of the sons of Fëanor! The shadow of the wrath of the Valar lies upon them; and they have done evil, I perceive, both in Aman and to their own kin. A grief but lulled to sleep lies between the princes of the Noldor.’

And Thingol answered: ‘What is that to me? Of Fëanor I have heard but report, which makes him great indeed. Of his sons I hear little to my pleasure; yet they are likely to prove the deadliest of foes of our foe.’

‘Their swords and their counsels shall have two edges,’ said Melian; and afterwards they spoke no more of this matter.”

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Celeborn paced back and forth in his chambers. Every now and then his silver eyes would rest on the strand of Artanis’ hair, which he had acquired a month back and had placed on his dressing table.

Melian had been asking again if any more information had come from Artanis. He had to tell her the truth. No. He did want to know himself what the rest of her great secret was; yet at the same time, he did not. How would it affect his feelings toward her if it were a great dark secret, as he feared? And what exactly were his feelings? He was afraid to delve into that right now. He had not been seeing much of Artanis these past few weeks. She had been keeping to herself in her chambers.

The Silver Lord had been having many dreams of late. Each dream was almost the same except there would be slight changes in each one. He would see Artanis sitting on a delicate chair next to him in a very large room and then the dream would disappear. On the next night he realized it was a talan. The night after that he reached across and laid his hand over Artanis’. A wave of contentment swept over him in his dream. He heard his voice murmur: “Galadriel.” And at that Artanis had turned and smiled dazzlingly at him, her gaze full of love. And in his last dream he held a baby elfling in his arms, it had wriggled and cooed. He had then looked over to his right to see Artanis lying in a bed looking exhausted but had a happy air, which intensified her Elven glow. Artanis spoke then: “Celebrían,” she said with a pensive smile.

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Celeborn gave up his pacing and left his chambers. He wandered mindlessly for a while; not realizing that his heart had taken control over his legs and was taking him down the corridor toward Artanis’ chambers.

Suddenly, he heard the plucking of harp-strings and decided he would go and see if it was perhaps, Artanis playing. It, most likely, was not, for it sounded as if the player was unskilled in the art.

Lord Celeborn made his way to the music room and quietly opened the door. He peeked in to see Artanis with one of the smaller harps on her lap, plucking experimentally at the strings.

“Ah, so it is you who is willingly making such a racket.”

“If that is what you would like to call my playing . . .” Artanis began to say, pretending to be hurt. Her despairing mood suddenly fell to the wayside and her spirits lightened at his presence. This quick change undoubtedly surprised her. “I was never very skilled in harp playing. Instead of learning and practicing the art of music, learning and practicing the art of weaponry took up all my time.”

“Well,” said Celeborn with a grin, “now is the time to learn.” The Silver Lord pulled a chair up and sat beside her. He spent the past few minutes showing her where to put her hands and such for certain chords.

Artanis found herself jumping each time his fingers touched hers. His hands were so soft and gentle . . . Celeborn had, of course, noticed her nervousness and wondered at it.

He showed her how to play a fairly easy piece and after she memorized it, which didn’t take to long, he told her it was actually an accompaniment.

“If you will play it again,” he said, standing up, “I can sing the melody with you, if you would like that.” It was a hesitant offer and he awaited her reply with a racing heart.

Artanis smiled. “Of course.” She started the piece again.

“She plays beautifully for a beginner,” he thought.

“I am quick to learn, my lord,” Artanis said with a smirk.

Celeborn was startled, to say the least. He had let his guard down and she had sucessfully read his mind! How much did she see? He was so disturbed by the fact that he put his hand over Artanis’ to still her playing.

She looked up at him, wondering if she had gone too far over his boundaries this time.

A thought occurred to Celeborn before he had a chance to speak. She was reading his mind . . . which meant she wanted to know what he was thinking . . . which meant she cared about what he thought . . . which could mean—

“Lord Celeborn?”

“Yes?”

“Is there something that you desire to say?” Artanis looked swiftly at the hand that was still over hers and then back at Celeborn.

“I . . . Why were you probing my thoughts?”

Now it was Artanis’ turn to be speechless. “I . . . I do not know, my lord . . . curiosity perhaps . . .”

“Perhaps . . .” Now Celeborn had a very wicked idea. It was time for a little payback. “Perhaps,” he continued, his hand closing over hers to hold it. “That is not all, I deem.”
“You presume much, my lord!” Artanis tried to pull her hand away but his grip tightened. She desperately wanted to feel offended, but could not. All she felt was . . . the anxiety of anticipation. “Of what?” she wondered.

Celeborn smoothly sat down beside her, close enough that their hips touched.

“My Lord Celeborn . . .” Artanis began to say. But, Celeborn put a finger over her lips. Then proceeded to stroke her hair.

Artanis gulped. She was finding it hard to breathe.

Celeborn drew her hair aside like a curtain, exposing her neck. He bent down and lightly kissed the base of it. He hated to admit it, but his pulse was racing at the moment and he way thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Celeborn . . .” she murmured with a gasp.

The silver lord found his heart jumping at the sound of her affected voice. Had he gone too far, perhaps? He leaned his mouth close to her ear. Artanis shivered at the sensation of his breath upon her earlobe. “I have had my revenge,” he whispered and rose from the chair.

Artanis sat staring at him in shock and when Celeborn looked into her eyes he saw pain and that smote his heart. But, he still forced himself to leave the room.

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Celeborn had been in the midst of sleep when a furious knocking came upon his ears. He slowly got up and went to his chamber door.

Upon opening it he was greeted with the sight of a livid Artanis, standing in a white sleeping gown.

“How dare you!” she cried. Celeborn gulped. “How dare you do that to me!” And with one hand she pushed him so hard that he was forced to take a step backward. The Noldo advanced into his room. “No one makes a fool out of Artanis, daughter of Finarfin!”

“I—I—” Celeborn stammered. Artanis kept advancing and Celeborn kept retreating until he felt himself bump into the edge of his bed with his legs. He looked into her burning blue eyes and was startled to see tears forming in them.

“No one!” she hissed. But, then she suddenly sprang forward and wrapped her arms about the elven lord's neck.

Celeborn was so surprised that he lost his footing and fell backwards onto the bed.

Artanis looked down at Celeborn’s face. He looked very bewildered. She smiled. He was the most gorgeous elf she had ever laid her eyes on, and that was saying something. His silver hair lay disheveled about his head. She pulled a strand away from his forehead and kissed the spot she touched. Then Artanis proceeded to stroke his smooth face, from his temples to his chin. She could feel him breathing heavily against her.

Celeborn felt that his heart would expire at any moment. The next thing the silver-haired lord was aware of was the sensation of being kissed all over his face and neck. Whatever confusion he had been feeling dissolved into a joy so fierce that he even surprised himself. Artanis was kissing him and he realized that that was something he had been longing for, ever since he saw her crying in the garden.

Artanis had stilled her perusal of all the places around his mouth and passed a finger over his soft lips. Then, suddenly, she felt Celeborn’s arm move and his hand come to rest at the back of her head. Gently she felt him pull her head down. She smiled and their lips touched.

Their kisses were soft and tentative at first but soon they became faster, harder, more searching. Artanis felt Celeborn’s other hand run up and down her back, holding her in a tighter grip, which would then loosen and move back to her waistline.

When their lips parted, Celeborn still appeared and felt as confused as before. “Why the sudden change?” he asked.

Artanis bent her head down and nipped at his lips. “I could no longer ignore you. You have annoyed me more than any elf ever has; yet at the same time you have shown me such kindness. You understood and cared that day when you showed me the sculpture of Telperion and Laurelin.”

“I had a strong desire to see you smile. You took my breath away when you finally did.”

Artanis smiled and nuzzled her cheek into his chest. Celeborn gave a low groan of pleasure. The golden lady smiled again and slid her hand across the width of his chest. Then after a great intake of breath she said, “I love you.” She moved her head to see Celeborn’s face. His eyes were wide, yet they burned with the fiery passion that was fanned by her declaration.

“I love you,” he replied, barely containing the joy that was causing his hands to shake as he stroked Artanis’ hair. He knew now what those dreams meant, he knew now that Artanis was the one dear Ilúvatar had designed to be his companion for infinity. After he finished this thought he felt a tingling sensation in his head.

“And Ilúvatar made you for me,” Artanis said softly with a smile coupled with the expression of wonder on her face. She sat up and Celeborn followed suit.

“I want to bond my life with yours, Celeborn.”

“Oh, Artanis,” he sighed running a hand through her golden tresses. “And I, with joy, will bond my life with thee, meleth nín. Guren min gaim lín.” (my heart is in your hands)

“Melmenya,” (my love) Artanis placed a passionate kiss on Celeborn’s lips and he answered it eagerly with equal fervor.

Artanis’ nimble fingers undid the elegant knotted fastenings of Celeborn’s tunic. He helped her ease it off his shoulders and his arms. She sat back and admired his muscular upper body. Though scholary in mind Celeborn had the body of a warrior.

When Artanis finished her perusal she leaned forward and placed gentle kisses along chest. Artanis then leaned back again and got up off the bed and pulled the covers up to Celeborns waist.

“What are you planning to do, meleth?” He asked with an amused raise of an eyebrow.

“You will see,” was all Artanis said. She went to the foot of the bed, then, reached under the covers until her hands came in contact with the cuffs of his leggings. She grasped them and pulled. She felt them slide past his torso, then his knees then his calves, finally she had them dangling in her hand. She tossed them aside and they joined his tunic on the floor.

Artanis then walked around to the otherside of the bed, her whole body felt aflame as she locked her gaze with Celeborn’s as he watched her move. His silver eyes were afire and his chest was rising and falling with the anticipation. His tan-colored skin contrasted with the white sheets of the bedclothes.

Artanis took off her nightdress then slipped in beside Celeborn.

Celeborn moved over and raised himself up so he was poised over her. Artanis unhesitatingly opened up to him. “You will be my husband and my companion for all eternity. This I swear before the Valar” she whispered a jubilant smile on her face. Artanis wrapped her legs around Celeborn’s torso.

“And you shall be my wife and my companion for all eternity. This I swear before the Valar,” Celeborn answered, sheer elation coursing through his veins at the words. With that, the Silver Lord thrust into her and they became one flesh.

Artanis' happiness overrode the painful sensation of Celeborn's entry. As they moved together they shouted out each other's names. Soon they moved faster and faster over each other, until finally they collasped gasping but smiling.
Glowing in the holy intimacy created by Ilúvatar for male and female to share together.