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There are none who can properly describe the cold, untouchable beauty of Galadriel, bright and warm though she may be. It is her fate to be loved by all and forgotten by none. It is her doom to be in a constant crowd and yet totally alone. What can be done about a flame caught within the cage of ice, within the cage a snowflake so daintly offers? nothing, for even gentle fingers can not touch it without risking it's life and not even the most kind of calm of heart have hands steady enough to even try. It is a doom to be adored by many but not to find the love which brightens a soul.

Among all elves, the eternal love between Galadriel and Celeborn was a surprise, for gentle lady she was, though with a temper of fire ... and he was a great lord forged in ice and unimaginable heat, an inner steal so bright and cold that it scorched and froze all those who ventured near, and yet it came to be that the steel so long buried within the great lord was melted down and forged into a new weapon, a weapon so perfectly designed that it could break the bright lady from her icy cage and a weapon so soft that it was shared between the two. And the hidden fire within Galadriel burnt with bright fury and soft light in peaceful and welcome existance with the cold snow of Celeborn's.

And this weapon was love.