The Price by Naltariel

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Chapter 1

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The Prince walked through the wonderful hall of Menegroth, searching for his room, where he would rest his somnolent body. His heavy footsteps echoed in the stone hall as he walked slowly in fatigue and pain, clasping his mutilated arm along the way. He bit his lower lip, trying to withhold a wail escaping from his throat. Such terrible pain he had never experienced in his life, but it was naught compared to the joy inside of him. He had won pity from King Thingol as he finally blessed his love for Luthien. Now she was his, and he was hers. All his sacrifice and turmoil had not been in vain. They would be together; pure souls were united in pure love.

Beren pushed slowly against the door of his room, but stopped as he heard a lament coming from somewhere. The song was beautiful, heart-rending, and for a second he thought it was Daeron, the minstrel who used to sing for his beloved. But it wasn't, for he wouldn't use the High Tongue of Noldor in this realm. He listened carefully, and perceived a heavy voice from a maiden shaping the words, with a heart-piercing melody no one could withstand. Her voice, though beautiful, could not compare to Daeron's, let alone Luthien's, but it was enchanting and mesmerizing, drawing him to it as by magic. He turned from the marvelously crafted heavy door and decided to look for the source.

"Ah! Another star has fallen.

Under the doom of my people

Tears unnumbered shall ye shed

But who could foretell the endless deaths?

Ah! When will be the curse put to rest?

Will we be forever doomed,

For the sin we never committed?."

Beren found the reason why the song faltered. The singer was weeping silently on the dark balcony where she stood. A bright Elven glow enveloped her features, illuminating her surroundings in the midst of the moonless night. Her long golden hair was waving gracefully as the night wind blew, but it could not hide her trembling body from his sight. Noticing his presence, she turned to face him. The Elven lady was beautiful, though she was pale compared to his beloved, the fairest Child of Iluvatar. Nothing about her surpassed Luthien. Nothing but her eyes. Beren had never beheld such a gaze: sharp, taxing, boring into his very mind and soul. They showed her grief, as well as her strength and pride, which were beyond any maiden or any lads he had ever met. He had never met her before, but somehow her face looked very familiar to him. The one-handed Edain approached her slowly, intending to offer comfort, but halted as she spoke unkindly, "What has brought you here, Beren, lover of Luthien?" The sharp tone was not unfamiliar to him within this land. Only few of its people welcomed him, let alone blessed his love for their princess.

"I heard your song, lady. It is very beautiful though sad. That is why I came."

"It is a song of mourning." The lady turned from him and cast her gaze beyond the horizon.

"For whom is it addressed?" he asked hesitantly.

She was silent for a long time. Finally, she turned to meet his eyes again, without losing her previous contempt. "It is for my brother."

At that moment he knew why her face was so familiar to him.

Knowing his thoughts, the lady confirmed them. "Yea, I am Galadriel, sister of Finrod Felagund the faithful."

Beren looked down; he did not have the courage to return her gaze. A brave man, who was well known for his heroic acts, suddenly found himself losing his well known valor in front of a defenseless, grieving maiden.

"Forgive me, for I was the one who was supposed to die, and not your brother."

"I do not condemn you because my brother took your place."

"Then why do you despise me?" Beren asked, bewildered.

Galadriel did not answer. Instead, she continued her song, pretending Beren was not present.

"Another ember has faded,

As his breath was taken away.

Oh, Elbereth, be merciful!

Do you not see your children's agony?

Falling one by one into shadow?

How long must we endure this darkness?

How much more must we pay for our transgressions?"

She stopped and looked at him. "Congratulations. King Thingol finally gives you his blessing." Galadriel smiled cynically at him, intentionally adding to his guilt. "My brother and his company didn't die in vain."

The man understood now.

Galadriel noticed his thought and said, "Take everything you wish, and pay, thus saith the Lord. But who should carry out the payment?" Tears streamed down her cheeks again, but she made no attempt to wipe them away. She just let them flow and flow, in the futile hope that they would wash away her pain.

"Forgive me." Beren said, finding no other way to express his regret. The joy, which had previously lightened his soul, had gone, replaced by unutterable remorse. He and Luthien would eventually be united and content, at the cost of other people's tragedies.

"No one can undo the past. But you can ensure that no one else must suffer to redeem your happiness." Her voice was icy cold. She had calmed herself; her tears stopped flowing, though her soul had not ceased to bleed in grief. And a mourning maiden would prove herself crueler by tears than with the sword. So deep was her grief that the usual kindness and generosity she possessed seemed to have gone. Many kinsman and friends she had lost, but she had survived. Survived, but not without a price. Her heart hardened and froze in sorrow, with almost no place for pity. She only wished that this was only temporary, that she would regain her kind nature somehow. That the Valar would show mercy, to stop her from freezing into dark ice.

Beren was silent, pondering her words. He perfectly understood the hidden meaning behind them. Carcharoth was roaming wildly, causing distressing danger in the land. He knew he must complete his task, for the failure would cause more destruction to the realm and its inhabitants. But he was afraid, though not for himself.

"With my one hand, I could never defeat him. And Luthien may not be able to stand it if I don't return." He finally said.

"Do you try to hide your cowardice behind her?" Galadriel said mockingly. Desperately, she tried to be compassionate, but in vain.

"Nay! I do not fear for myself, but for my beloved. Her love for me is great, my death will eventually cause deep distress to her."

"She will grieve. But not more than Amarie, my brother's beloved, no more than the families of his companions. Besides, with her unsurpassable beauty, she could bend everyone to her will. I foretell that even the Valar would be moved by her tears."

"But she cannot move you." Beren looked at her emotionless face sadly.

"There is only one who can move me, but he is gone." Galadriel replied bitterly ere she sandg out the last verse of her song.

"Ah! When will the tears stop flowing,

And laughter comes from delight?

When curses are stopped from binding,

And vows are no longer spoken.

When oaths are something forbidden,

And stars are shining unhidden,

When mercy is given freely,

And forgiveness is granted kindly.

Then I will sing out merrily

Dancing around unburdened,

Praising Iluvatar unhindered,

And my strength will never falter."

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

 

Thank you, Finch for beta reading.

A/N: I know Thingol forbade Quenya to be spoken in his realm, but stubborn and deeply grieved Galadriel wouldn't care, I guess. Sorry, I am not in the mood of translating poem into Quenya, but the poem is my own.

About the timeline, I am positive that Galadriel and Celeborn still lived there, at least according to Silmarillion. This happened before Beren's death.

I am not so angry with Beren as I am with Thingol, this is Galadriel's point of view. With all lost she had had, anyone would become heartless that time. Remembering the Doom of the Noldor, she would eventually think her kin wouldn't come back from Mandos so quickly. And perhaps, not at all. After all, she was young and not yet wise and kind as she was in Third Age.

And Deborah, she did get over it, thanks to her sweet Celeborn, or else, she would kill Aragorn the second she knew about his love for Arwen.

About the mortality and immortality of Elves and Men, I don't know which is worse. After all Iluvatar addressed death as GIFT for mortals. Perhaps you can make fic about it?