Galadriel: There and Back Again by Himring

Chapter 3: The world behind and home ahead

Galadriel leaves Middle-earth, boarding ship at the Grey Havens.

The ship slips down the long grey firth. Beside her in the stern, Frodo is still holding up the star-glass, her gift, keepsake of his visit to lost Lothlorien, leaning far forward—although surely the three hobbits on the quay, Samwise, Merry and Pippin, must have lost sight of it by now? Twilight is falling, and the rising sea mists shroud the shore, concealing the ruined buildings of Forlond, where once Ereinion dwelt, before he too fell, in battle against the Dark Lord.

Some of us just take a lot longer than others, Ingo, I suppose.

The ship passes out onto the high seas and, as the view expands, Middle-earth begins to fade away before her eyes. The long shoreline unfolds to her gaze, north and south, all the leagues and leagues of Endore, and recedes into darkness. Below her feet, drowned Beleriand falls away.

Middle-earth has inscribed itself upon her during the long ages—not only Lothlorien itself, but the many, many paths she trod in Endore with unwearied feet, all the way from the Helcaraxe to the mouth of the Anduin. She did not know how much all of that had become part of her until now. Now, as the ship sails on westwards, she feels as if Endore is gradually being torn out of her by the roots.

She will have to apologize to Celebrian, when she sees her, if she gets to see her. Although, at the time, she did her very best not even to think those thoughts, she could not conceive how her daughter could wish to leave the world behind, forsaking her husband and children, no matter what the orcs had done to her, unless there was, somehow, an innate weakness in her. And although she was so careful never even to drop the slightest hint, she is sadly certain Celebrian was aware of this.

And now here she is, leaving Lothlorien and Middle-earth, leaving her husband and her grandchildren, and she cannot even claim that she was tortured. It is as if, the moment Nenya lost its power, the long defeat she had seemed to withstand unfazed, undiminished, century after century, millennium after millennium, had come over her all at once and settled in her bones.  She does not think it was Nenya itself that did this to her—or not only Nenya. Whatever Sauron’s involvement with the Rings in general, Nenya was crafted for her personally by Tyelpo—poor,  dear, infuriating Tyelpo!—begun  by him as a challenge to her and completed in mute apology, and that knowledge has supported her in its use throughout.

But, like others on this ship, she ended up wagering everything she had in the battle against Mordor and, in winning the war, she lost it. At least she can go home and face Ingo and the rest of her family now, head held high. She is no longer secretly ashamed of not having died, during the First Age or during the Second.

She looks at Frodo, still beside her in the stern of the ship. The star-glass is drooping in his listless hand, as if it had lost all purpose. As she tries to think of words of comfort to speak to him, she hears faltering steps behind them. It is Bilbo, leaning hard on his cane, but in his other hand he holds a slice of bread and cold meat, which he silently offers to Frodo for sustenance.

‘Frodo, my lad’, says Bilbo, encouragingly—excellent Master Baggins! ‘I think it might be time to go around to the bow, don’t you think?’

Chapter End Notes

Note on names: Ereinion=Gil-galad; Tyelpo (nickname)=Celebrimbor