Kill the flame by stormfallen

Chapter 1

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Once per year, on the night of a holiday only she still celebrates, Galadriel lights fourteen candles.

For Arakáno, so bright and so bold, shining alone in the moonlight. Never believe your death was in vain.
For Ar-Feiniel, untamed, huntress without peer. Have you found the freedom you ever looked for? I always tried to make Lothlórien a place you would love.

For brothers; for cousins; for cousins who may as well have been siblings, raised together between the mountains and the sea.

For Angrod, laughing at everything and everyone. You were an ass but you were our ass. You taught me patience, however little you meant to!
For Aegnor, firebrand of our family. You saved me when the cold of the Ice tore into my heart. From you, I learned when to burn, and when to smoulder.
For Finrod, dearest brother. What can I say? What words would suffice? Your ring’s bearer is worthy of his ancestors. I miss you. I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you.

Are they Returned, to blooded sands and empty hill? Do her brothers wait for her beyond the sea, hoping she will be granted forgiveness unasked for and unsought?

For Fingon, the Noldor's heart and soul. We would have walked into Angband with you. All of us.
For Celegorm, cruel and fair in equal measure. You taught me to kill with mercy, once. When did you forget?
For Caranthir, you snarky bastard. Parties just aren’t the same without you to snide with.
For Curufin, murderer of my brother, murderer of my love’s brother. I’d forgive you just to see you again.

How she had raged, across the mountains, as Celeborn mourned for his home and kin. How she had despaired at being related to those twice-over murderers.

For Turgon, steadfast always. Your descendants still build in the echo of Gondolin’s unforgotten glory.
For Amras, quiet on the woodland trails. They say you went mad in the trees. Or did you simply find a truth no one else could accept?
For Amrod, betrayed and yet unbowed. You were pulled from the fire, and walked back to it with eyes open and torch held high.

She had not wept, to see her father again. She had not wept, as the Herald laid down his sentence. She had not wept, as the white ships sailed away.

For Maedhros, always burning. I hope you find the peace you were denied.
For Maglor, lamentation on the breeze. Where are you? Where are you? You need not bear this grief alone. Please. I cannot bear it alone.

One by one, the candles for Finwë’s grandchildren burn bright, then burn out.
And his final heir in Middle-Earth holds her face in her hands and weeps in the dark.