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Celeborn and Galadriel

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Silver and Gold : 10. Chapter 10


“Sit,” Finrod bade.



Galadriel
perched on the stone bench carved out of the walls of the corridor, and
wondered what in the names of all the Valar made her obey him without a
thought.



“You,” he
turned to Celeborn, “I’ll… deal with you later.”



“Well
then,” Celeborn replied, raising his eyebrows at Galadriel.



 “No,” she
managed to interrupt, squeezing Celeborn’s hand, and wishing Finrod wouldn’t
insist on exercising whatever older-brother-charisma he employed on her in
front of Celeborn - although she had a feeling he was doing it on purpose.  “We both want to talk to you.”



“So you
shall.  But right now, I want to talk to
Galadriel.  All right?”



Galadriel
assented with a slight sigh of exasperation.



“Good night then, my lord,”
Celeborn answered, with a polite bow.



“Finrod,”
he corrected absent-mindedly.



“Finrod,”
Celeborn repeated, smiling.  He raised
Galadriel’s hand that he had been holding to his lips, then released it.  “May your dreams be full of starlight and
your waking blessed with sunshine,” he told her warmly, and departed.



“Is that
some kind of traditional Sindarin ‘good night’ or did he make that up on the
spot?” Finrod wanted to know, narrowing his eyes.



“No idea,”
Galadriel replied, a little distractedly.



Finrod
crossed his arms, and turned to her.



“Well?”



“What?”



Well?”
he repeated more insistently.



“I’ve
decided to accept Melian’s invitation to stay on in Doriath for a time as her
companion and student,” Galadriel said, voice neutral, and proud.



Finrod gave
her a flat look.  “I see.  You and Celeborn wanted to talk to me about
your studies with Melian.”



“Well you
certainly didn’t make this any easier by chasing him away!” Galadriel retorted.



“Who said I
was trying to make anything easy?”



“Why are
you so infuriating?”



“Years of
practice… I can’t stop now.”



“Finrod,”
Galadriel pleaded.



“I know,
little one, I’m sorry,” he said ruefully, laughing a little as he sat down
beside her, and put an arm around her shoulders.  “I’ll miss you terribly, you know,” he said softly.



She nodded,
and let her head fall to his shoulder.



“For a
while,” he said softly, stroking her unbound hair, “it didn’t matter that we
were all grown up.  Parting with Amarië
did break my heart, but no so much that I couldn’t see that I brought all
of us closer again.  And you, little
one, have been like my shadow.  I have
held us together, I know, as I did when we were little.”  He put his cheek against the top of her
head, and held her tighter for a moment.  
“But we are not little any more. 
Not even you.  And perhaps it is
time for us to be apart.”



And for a
moment, the picture in her mind of a slight elf-lad named Finrod leading his
band of little brothers – the littlest of which was a sister – off on countless
adventures through the glades dappled in the tree-light that had suffused their
childhood, blurred with her tears.



“You know
that Angrod and Aegnor and Orodreth have all accepted realms of their own from
the King.  He needs them in the north –
we cannot stay together forever,” he said compassionately, wiping at her tears.



“I know,”
she said, brushing his hands away and rubbing her own eyes dry, “nor do I truly
think that we should, however I might want it.”



“But you
also want Celeborn,” he ventured.



“I love
Celeborn,” Galadriel corrected firmly.



Finrod
smiled.  “That’s what I wanted to hear.”



Galadriel
found no better way to express her exasperation than to laugh. 



“What
became of your plans to convince him to follow you?” Finrod
wanted to know.



Galadriel
shrugged.  “We… talked about it.  Heatedly.”



“Quarreled,”
Finrod interpreted.



“And we
decided that for now, there is more I wish to learn from Doriath than he from
the Noldor,” she continued.



“Or
perhaps, Galadriel,” Finrod began slowly, “there is something you do not wish
him to learn.”



She looked
at him sharply, and pushed him away. 
Finrod looked back with guarded eyes.



“I do not
take your meaning,” she lied.  “Celeborn
was not eager to be parted from his home, I assure you.”



“Oh, I have
no doubts Celeborn wished to stay in his forest.  But I also know the power of my sister’s stubbornness, not to
mention how convincing she can be, when she puts her mind to doing her own
will.  What held you back?”



“Do not ask
me ambiguous questions, unless you want answers of the same sort,” she
retorted.



“I think
you might’ve convinced him to leave Menegroth, with a little effort.  I think you might’ve painted him a picture
of the future – of the lord and lady of a forest realm, which would’ve
bewitched him as well as it would you.  
I think you might’ve bent his will to yours.”



“How
romantic,” Galadriel muttered.



“Perhaps
not, but true enough.  And yet you held
back.  You agreed to his logic, and you
compromised.  And I want to know why.”



“Why do you
ask me questions when you know the answers?” she snapped angrily, eyes pained.



Finrod bit
his lip, and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, my Galadriel” he said, pulling
her back to himself, and hugging her tightly. 
“I just want to make sure you know them as well.”



“Do you
think Father and Mother would have liked him?” she asked softly, after a
moment.



“They’re
going to love him,” Finrod assured her.



 



***



 



Celeborn
shifted a little uncomfortably, and Finrod regarded him coolly.



“So?”
Finrod prompted.  The new day had dawned
cheerfully, and, true to his word, Finrod had turned his attention to “dealing”
with Celeborn.  Finrod leaned back in
his chair, and Celeborn tried not to fidget. 
It was his study, for pity’s sake.  Finrod could at least have the good grace to look a little
ill at ease. 



“What do
you want me to say?” Celeborn asked, at a loss.



“You’re
stealing my baby sister, and you have nothing to say to me?”



Celeborn
rolled his eyes.  “I wonder if you’d
apply that turn of phrase in her presence.”



“Probably
not,” Finrod conceded with a grin.  “It
is, admittedly, less than accurate.”



Celeborn
returned his smile. 



Finrod
sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, setting his curls in greater
disarray.  “I would like for us to be friends,”
he said earnestly, “if for no other reason than Galadriel finding you worthy of
her affection makes you extraordinary indeed.”



“One could
say the same of you,” Celeborn ventured, unsure how to respond to this
unexpected display of honesty, in the place of Finrod’s usual sarcastic
banter. 



“Well, she has
to love me,” Finrod replied with a grin. 



“But she
doesn’t have to respect and admire you as much as she obviously does,”
Celeborn countered.



“She is my
truest and dearest friend,” Finrod said quietly.  “And I begin to understand why she never cared for…” he trailed
off.



Not wanting
to press Finrod for information, Celeborn stayed silent. 



“Well, I
shall just have to exercise my superior maturity as the elder sibling, shan’t
I?” Finrod told himself, much to Celeborn’s further confusion.  “I told her, yesterday, that our parents
would love you,” he went on, turning to Celeborn.



“That means
a great deal,” Celeborn said warmly.



“There is
something about you that makes me think of my father.  A gentleness… and a kind of peace, that I have spent my life
trying to find in myself.”  He
smiled.  “Yes, they would be very fond
of you indeed.”



Unsure of
how to accept the compliment, Celeborn shifted a little uncomfortably
again.  “Thank you,” he tried.



“You know,”
Finrod remarked thoughtfully.   “I’m not
sure what I would give to know what Galadriel is thinking right now, but it
would certainly be something valuable.”



Celeborn
laughed.  “We could always go ask her,
you realize.”



“And be
subjected to her winning wit, no doubt.”



“I suspect
she learned from the master,” Celeborn answered dryly.



Finrod
grinned.  “I could get to like you,” he
conceded generously.



 



***



 



Finrod had been her protector, her
harshest critic, and her truest and best friend for as long as she could
remember. She loved Angrod and Aegnor and Orodreth just as dearly, but eldest
brother and youngest sister had forged a special bond.  Some of her earliest memories of the world
were from Finrod’s shoulders.  And since
the first time Eärwen’s last baby learned to laugh, Finrod had made it his
mission to draw that laugh forth as often as he could.



Leaving
Finarfin had been possible only with Finrod’s curly head disappearing into the
East…



Perhaps
not.  Her ambitions might have driven her
to Middle-Earth without her brothers. 
But their presence and agreement had been her stay.



And now her
stay was leaving.



Or rather,
she was leaving him.



Finrod
stood apart slightly from the group of architects he’d gathered from Menegroth,
to make his final goodbyes to his host and hostess.  After lifting Luthien, and twirling with her a few times to the
sound of her delighted laughter, he bowed gracefully to Thingol and
Melian.  Thingol reached out to clasp
Finrod’s hand warmly, and smiled.



Thingol seemed
to have taken such a quick liking to Finrod, Galadriel mused.  Her brother’s charming, forthright manner
was certainly likable, but the preference still struck her.  Thingol had been kind to her, but the warmth
he showed Finrod seemed more towards the nature of the affection he lavished on
Luthien.



Perhaps …
Thingol dearly longed for a son.



Finrod laid
a hand on Celeborn’s shoulder, and grinned. 
“I think I can trust you to keep Galadriel from getting into too
much trouble.”



Celeborn
smiled back.  “I’ll do my best.  And at the very least, I’ll make sure she
takes me with her.”  After Finrod laughed,
and turned to his sister, Celeborn withdrew to a tactful distance for Galadriel
to bid her brother farewell.



Finrod bent and kissed her white
forehead. With a half-grin, Galadriel stood on her toes and returned the
gesture.  She didn’t have far to reach,
as they were much the same height. 
Finrod laid a firm hand on her shoulder.



“If your
happiness does not dwell where you seek it, you know where I will be,” he told
her solemnly.



Galadriel
shook her head and smiled.



Finrod
pressed his hand a little more firmly on her shoulder.  “Always remember that your brothers will be
faithful to you,” he said, eyes afire with intensity, speech careful, “…just as
you are faithful to them.”



His eyes
burned like… Galadriel winced a little, and took his meaning.



He saw that
she understood him, and his face softened again as he embraced her, lifting her
off her feet a little.    “Be well,
little Galadriel,” he murmured softly, the fires in his eyes extinguished by
the tears welling up in them.          



 



 



*******



 



This is where I turn to you, my dear readers and reviewers.



I have more.  It may
take me a while sometimes, but I always have more.



Trouble is, I don’t know what to do with it.  It’s a little later, and a little more
inclusive of the surrounding events of the Silmarillion, instead of
concentrating so much on developing a relationship between Celeborn and
Galadriel.  It does, however, still
closely focus on them.



Sequel?  Or keep
adding on to the long-windedness that already is Silver and Gold?



 



At any rate, I’m again very sorry for making everyone wait
so long between updates.  School is
killing me, and I am slowly dying of Organic Chemistry and integration in three
dimensions.



 



As always, I write this as a tribute to how fully Professor
Tolkien’s Middle-Earth has captured my imagination and my love. 




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In Playlists

Playlist Overview

Last Update: 06 Mar 07
Stories: 15
Type: Reader List
Created By: Meril


Celeborn and Galadriel are my second-fave 'ship. This is stories about them, and their relatives. Various characterizations and interpretations, but I love them all.

Why This Story?

By Oboe-Wan. The courtship of Celeborn and Galadriel in Doriath.

 

Story Information

Author: Oboe-Wan

Status: Reviewed

Completion: Complete

Era: 1st Age

Genre: Romance

Rating: General

Last Updated: 01/15/03

Original Post: 07/07/02

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