Dancing In The Dark by Grundy

---

As Time Goes By

---

“I have another letter from Uncle.”

Galadriel barely glanced up from her writing desk, where she was working on a rather lengthy letter of her own, this time to Ambarussa. One of the facets of life outside of Doriath that she had come to appreciate was the ability to communicate directly with cousins not named Finno. Ambarussa wasn’t always as prompt in responding as she could have wished, but he did reply – and more regularly to her than to anyone else, from what she heard from her brothers and their cousins on the matter. He was talking of coming to visit.

Gildor, ensconced in his favorite spot by the fire, didn’t take his nose out of the book Aiko had sent him.  It was a new year’s gift, a guide to the plants and animals of Dorthonion Aiko had made with the boy in mind. Gildor had turned into an avid reader of late, and it didn’t much matter to him whether it was Noldorin or Lindarin he was devouring. Everyone else saw Ingo in his behavior. She suspected it could just as well have come from either of his parents.

“So soon?” she asked.

The last packet from Menegroth had arrived only two weeks ago.

Thingol had become quite the diligent correspondent of late. She had been suspicious at the first few letters. But several years of nothing more than polite greetings and concerned inquiries about her health and that of ‘your young nephew’ meant she no longer worried at the sight of each one that it would contain a command to Celeborn to return.

“My love,” Celeborn began hesitantly, “I know you are not eager to hear this, much less to go back. But Uncle has invited us to Menegroth. He points out that it is a certainty we will return here for whatever festivities there are on the completion of Finrod’s halls, but he dearly hopes to see us before then.”

“No!”

The protest from Gildor – who knew that none of his elders except his aunt Merilin were keen on the idea of him going to Doriath – was instant.

“Ammë, please don’t leave!”

It was the first time she’d ever seen him abandon a book so carelessly, but in his haste to reach her, he dropped it on the floor without a backwards glance.

She wrapped her arms around her very upset son with a mild glare at Celeborn for his lack of sense in raising the subject in front of the boy. He might just as easily have waited until Gildor was off with Finduilas or Ingo – or better yet, asleep for the night.

It was small consolation that Celeborn was startled by his reaction.

“There, there, Gilya,” she soothed him. “Neither Uncle Celeborn nor I are going anywhere anytime soon, and certainly not today. Calm yourself, darling.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he murmured. “Please, Ammë?”

“I know,” she replied. “I don’t much want me to go either.”

Celeborn’s reproachful look reminded her that at some point, she would have no way around it. The most she could hope for was to put off the separation. But surely she could manage that a little while longer. Gildor was so young…

She didn’t think things were yet at a point that departing Nargothrond could no longer be put off. This was Thingol’s first direct invitation – at least, the first she’d heard of, and she knew that Celeborn would not hide such a thing from her. In retrospect, Thingol been preparing the ground carefully for some time. She ought to have seen it for what it was sooner.

 She tried to silently convey to Celeborn that now – with an upset child listening – was not the time to discuss this.

Galadriel pulled her son into her lap.

“My little love,” she said softly. “Sooner or later Uncle Celeborn and I must return to Doriath. He’s very important to our uncle Thingol, you know.”

“Don’t care how important he is to Great-Uncle Thingol, he’s important here,” Gildor told her neck mulishly.

And so are you!

She laughed at the part said aloud, and stroked his hair, wordlessly reassuring him that he was quite important to her, too.

“You’re right, he is, isn’t he? Deep breaths, Gilya. You needn’t worry yourself so. We’re not going anywhere in the next few seasons. Thingol of all people will understand us not wanting to leave you while you’re still so young. If you were his little nephew, he would keep you close and refuse to hear of you going anywhere until you were grown.”

“’M not little,” was the slightly resentful reply.

“You are to us, my big boy,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “Though you’re growing every day. If you keep at it, before you know it, you’ll be as tall as we are. Dry your eyes now, and let’s go see if the kitchens don’t have something nice for you.”

“Apple pie?” he asked hopefully, though with a lingering sniffle.

“We won’t know unless we try,” she smiled.

---

Later that evening, when Gildor was sleeping – and she’d checked to be sure it was true sleep and not just feigning slumber to listen as he occasionally did – she brought it up again with Celeborn.

“Thingol can’t truly expect I’d leave Gildor so soon – he’s only just ten. Nor can he seriously think you’d go while I remain here. Surely it’s clear to him by now that we stay together.”

Celeborn sighed.

“I suspect he knows full well this invitation will not be accepted, at least not immediately. But if he’s begun asking…”

Galadriel knew what he meant without him saying the words. Thingol could not be put off forever. For another few years, perhaps. But not all too long.

“What’s more, you know that while he can do without Merilin if need be, he is accustomed to having both Oropher and I at hand. And he is about to have to do without both of us for a season. I suspect he is not liking the idea at all.”

Galadriel pondered that thought.

Thingol depended on his grandnephews to serve as his presence for any errand that required someone go beyond the borders. Lúthien had never been permitted beyond the Girdle; Daeron only once, primarily as a gesture of goodwill toward the Noldor before the relationship had soured – not that they had properly appreciated the honor at the time. Eöl could come and go more freely, but he now held Nan Elmoth – and kept a wary eye on her cousins, Galadriel suspected, though no one had ever said so in her hearing. Nimloth was excellent eyes and ears on the borders, but by her own choice only went beyond them if she was visiting Eöl. Belthil simply didn’t have the same depth of experience as his older cousins, being the youngest but Merilin.

With Oropher planning a visit to see his sister and meet his young niece, it had likely started Thingol thinking on ways to get Celeborn back sooner rather than later. Not only was he useful, Thingol genuinely did not like having his younger kin beyond his sight – and more importantly outside of Melian’s protection.

“I know,” she replied finally. “But he should know that one doesn’t leave children so young unless there are more pressing reasons than his impatience. Not until he’s at least twenty. Thirty would be better.”

She knew it was only a delaying maneuver, at best putting off the argument. At some point, either Merilin or Celeborn – preferably Celeborn – would have to be able to give Thingol a timeframe when he could expect to regain his missing advisor.

“That is not your only reluctance,” Celeborn said, eying her thoughtfully. “Would it not be best to clear the air now?”

She frowned.

There was little point in pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about. But he would not like hearing it.

“You know perfectly well I am in no hurry to return where I am not wanted.”

“You are wanted, beloved. Aunt Melian never agreed with sending you away in the first place. And Uncle has asked after you assiduously. I am quite sure he regrets his temper.”

Galadriel snorted.

“I do not doubt he regrets that his temper has inconvenienced him. But my absence would suit him just fine if it did not mean yours as well.”

“Beloved…” Celeborn sighed.

“No, Celeborn,” she said, cutting off whatever words he had at the ready to try to smooth things over. “I have had more than enough of uncles whose treatment of me is conditional. I am tired of being accepted on sufferance, admitted as kin only provided I can be slotted neatly into the box someone else wishes to put me in. I grew up with an uncle who never ceased to find me inadequate as a Noldo. I have no use for one who deems me inadequate as a Linda – not that I see where he has any standing to judge the matter in any case. Does he really believe he grieves more for people he has never met than those of us who knew them as kin from the time we first opened our eyes?”

“I don’t recall you ever standing up to your Noldorin uncle,” Celeborn retorted, his temper flaring.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” she shot back. “He nearly threw me overboard for it. Well out to sea. In a storm. So you must excuse me if I am in no particular hurry to find out how Thingol handles unruly nieces.”

Celeborn stilled.

“You were on the ships?”

“I was on my grandfather’s ship,” she replied crisply. “Not by choice, but unlike every other person aboard, kin to me or not, I had every right to be there. Perhaps that’s why my uncle was in such a hurry to put me ashore once the storm broke.”

That Fëanor had dared steal the ship named for her grandmother – built with her grandfather’s and uncle’s own hands, the sails woven by her grandmother and the interior fitted out with her mother's work – to burn on unfamiliar shores had still angered her even before she had learned he burned Ambarussa with it.

Celeborn looked stricken, and took both of her hands in his.

“I never met your uncle the Ship-thief, my love. But I promise you this – Uncle would never raise a hand to you, any more than he would to Merilin, Nimloth or Lúthien. Never. No matter how bad a temper he is in.”

She could not have said if it was true or not, but it was clear that Celeborn believed it. Absolutely. She’d been that certain of her family once.

“I did not believe my uncle would try to kill me before the Kinslaying either,” she said, her voice so quiet it was barely more than a whisper.

Celeborn wrapped his arms around her.

“I will tell Uncle it is too soon to think of leaving the little one. But in return, I would very much appreciate it if you would tell me the full story of the Kinslaying – and that which followed it – so there will be no more such surprises.”

He sighed as he felt her stiffen.

“I understand why you have been reluctant to speak of it, my love. Truly. But I promised you that we would find the path that was right for you and I – for us, not for one people or the other but for Galadriel and Celeborn – and that we would do so together. I doubt that either of us will do well trying to choose blindly. I know parts already. Surely that should make the full tale less trouble to tell. And a burden shared is a burden lightened.”

He ended on a hopeful note, which meant he knew perfectly well he was slogging uphill.

Galadriel was silent for a moment.

“Celeborn the Wise,” she said slowly.

“So you have named me,” he replied quietly. “Though I do not think I wear it as well as you do Galadriel.”

“I will tell you. But not tonight. It is not a tale for when little ears might overhear. And I would rather tell it in the light of day.”

Celeborn nodded.

“We will find a time. It need not be right away. But not too long?”

She sighed.

“Very well.”

“Oropher will visit in only a few months’ time and stay the winter. He can carry my reply back, so you need not commit anything to paper about when precisely we may return. Uncle shall have to content himself with an assurance that in due time we will.”

---

In the end, she managed to drag it out only another fifteen years. She would have pushed to remain even longer, but Celeborn had pointed out that if she waited too long, she might well lose the excellent excuse of ‘Ingo has finished his halls, I must go see Nargothrond now that it is complete’ to come back fairly quickly.

Privately, she thought Ingo would be still putting ‘finishing touches’ on in another thirty or forty years, but she didn’t dare risk it. Having that ready-made pretext in her pocket was too useful – particularly if it helped her establish early on that she and Celeborn would alternate between spells in Nargothrond and spells in Menegroth.

All that didn’t make leaving Gildor behind any easier though.

He was doing his very best not to cry as they made ready to depart – ‘I’m not a baby anymore, Ammë!’ – but his eyes weren’t precisely dry and he was rather sniffly.

Finduilas was sticking to him as close as she could, looking nearly as mournful as he did. Galadriel was more thankful than ever that Gildor had a close cousin. He needed someone to lean on – and someone his own age, for whom he would not feel obliged to put on a brave face.

She hugged her son, and did her best not to muss his hair in front of everyone when he was trying so hard to be a big boy.

“Chin up, darling. It won’t be very long before we come back to visit. You and Findë will probably be getting into so much mischief you won’t even notice we’re gone.”

“Will so,” came the sulky mutter.

“I know, my little love,” she whispered. “But it can’t be helped any longer. Be brave for me? It’s not at all easy to ride away without my Gilya.”

She stepped back. Gildor stood up tall, gulping hard as he did.

“Safe travels,” he said, in a voice that was creditably close to even.

She was so proud of him – and so tempted to tell Celeborn she’d changed her mind.

“Thank you, nephew,” Celeborn said gravely. “I know I speak for both of us when I say we trust you will write often.”

“I shall drive the messengers to distraction,” Gildor declared. “You may come to regret saying that!”

Celeborn laughed as he mounted.

“We shall see! Fare ye well, Nargothrond.”

Galadriel turned to her brother. Ingo smiled and squeezed her hand as he helped her onto her horse.

Worry not, Artë. You know his new rooms are all set. And if Finduilas doesn’t beg to overnight with us as I suspect she means to, I shall likely be in there myself much of the night to ensure he sleeps well. We will both write often.

“If you don’t make a start, you’ll still be here come nightfall,” he prompted them, giving her a knowing look.

You do trust me with him, don’t you? I may have adopted him, but we both know he’s still yours.

Galadriel sighed, and steeled herself.

Of course I trust you.

They rode out. She only turned to look back twice. And did not let any tears fall until she was certain they were out of Gildor’s sight.