Chapter Text
A Big Problem
Galadriel had hoped she wouldn’t face this.
She was wrong.
Now she was being hounded by all her male relatives and Celeborn was doing absolutely nothing to help.
“We are just asking you to bring her here. Just for a visit,” Finarfin said, lacing his hands together diplomatically. The excitement in his blue eyes, however, told a different story. Galadriel crossed her arms and raised her chin in defiance like she did in her youth during a disagreement.
“No,” she replied at once.
“Daughter,” Finarfin began.
“No.”
Finrod leaned forward, trying to give his sister that persuasive smile which always made her cave when she was younger. “Just one day, sister. We merely wish to know her properly. Just imagine the Everstar in Tirion.”
Galadriel narrowed her eyes. So they were already using their imaginations? How dare they? “Eruanna has only been in Valinor for a few years. She does not need this,” she gestured to everyone in the courtyard.
“She does not need her family?” Fingolfin raised his brow in challenge.
“She does not need all of you swarming her like bees to a pot of honey,” Galadriel sighed.
“She is the last echo of Lúthien, they say,” Fingon pointed out. Galadriel glared at her cousin but he just grinned. “They also say she dances as though the Music still echoes in her bones and her voice was clear as starlight upon still waters.”
Argon leaned forward, intrigued. “Well don’t stop there, brother. Go on, tell us more!”
But instead of Fingon, it was Turgon who spoke. “I heard that the light of Eärendil’s star is ensnared in her blue eyes and her raven hair is like silk, dark as the shadows of twilight. Her beauty alone is enough to drive a sane man to madness.”
“What kind of madness?” Fingon asked.
Galadriel faced her cousin, eyes blazing. “Stop this nonsense or I swear by the Valar I will drag you and your brothers back to Mandos’s halls.”
Fingon, Turgon, and Argon shut their mouths.
“How subtle of you,” Angrod, Galadriel’s other brother, commented. He turned to the Lady of Light. “Artanis, we just want to observe your great-granddaughter in all her glory. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yes,” she said, without hesitation.
Celeborn finally spoke up, smiling. “Oh, this is delightful,” he looked at his wife, grinning. “Your family has heard ‘deep blue eyes’ and ‘raven hair’ and immediately forgot all lessons of restraint. Truly, words do wonders.”
“We have restraint,” Finrod defended himself.
“You do not act like it,” Galadriel shot back.
The former King of Nargothrond held his hands up in defense. “Sister, I am married now. Most of us are. Yet you act like we’re going to try something the moment we see your great-granddaughter.”
“That is precisely my fear,” Galadriel said. “If I bring Eruanna here, all of Tirion will be compelled to sin. Even all of you,” she glared at her relatives, “will forget any vows you have sworn by supper. Eruanna does not need lovesick poets, she needs stability. I will not parade her before a court of infatuated Princes.”
“Come now,” Celeborn grinned, “she will enjoy it.”
“That is another issue,” Galadriel pointed out. “There is a chance she will indulge him.”
“She’s always delighted in elves with bright hair and shining eyes. The Princes and warriors. She’s grown up reading about all of them. Why not allow her to meet them?” Celeborn smiled.
Galadriel looked ready to slap him.
Fingon and Argon looked delighted. Even Finrod was beaming.
“We must meet her,” Finrod said.
“Meet her? Or do you want to charm her?” Galadriel asked.
Finrod sighed. “Artanis…”
Finally, Finarfin stepped forward.
“We will behave,” he said. “You have my word.”
Galadriel sighed in defeat. “Fine. I will speak to her. But if she says no, I expect all of you to respect it.”
Turgon and Finrod nodded. Fingolfin inclined his head. Argon, Angrod, and Fingon finally composed themselves.
As Galadriel walked away with Celeborn, Argon called out: “Make sure she also brings her dragons!”
Galadriel could only sigh.
In the late afternoon, three lords and one lady sat around a table, each of them contemplating what to do. They had faced wars, shadow, and trials unnumbered but this matter seemed to have defeated them completely.
“My relatives are insisting that Eruanna come to Tirion,” Galadriel sighed. “They are more than enthusiastic. Finrod keeps asking what songs Eruanna likes. Turgon has requested a formal introduction. Fingon has asked if he can send messages. Argon keeps listening for more stories about her.”
Celeborn chuckled. “It is only curiosity.”
Galadriel glared at him. Thranduil snorted.
“You think this is only your burden?” Thranduil asked. “My father has been pestering me like a madman. He even asked if I have a spare portrait of her that he can have just so he can confirm the rumors of her beauty.”
Elrond remained silent for a time until he too spoke up. “My parents have sent word as well. Though they are eager, they understand Eruanna has endured much. They will be patient.”
He continued. “Eruanna’s fëa has healed greatly since she came. She laughs again. She smiles more. She sings. She lives boldly and audaciously, as though she wants death itself to find her alive. Perhaps it is time she meets everyone.”
Galadriel stared at him.
“Elrond,” she began. “If I bring her to Tirion, every ellon in the Houses of Finarfin and Fingolfin will forget how to behave.”
“We cannot hide her forever,” Elrond responded.
“I am not hiding her, I am trying to protect her after all she’s been through,” Galadriel sighed.
“On that, we’re agreed,” Thranduil tilted his goblet of wine in her direction.
“What’s going on?” A new voice.
Everyone turned to see Eruanna Úlumiel. She came arrayed in silver and blue, her long raven hair spilling down her back. Blue flowers decorated her tresses and a circlet of silver and sapphire was on her head. Her skin was fair, smooth, and flawless, like white diamonds, but her cheeks were rosy and her lips were full and pink. Valinor had only enhanced her beauty, making her too beautiful for the words of poets and minstrels. She twirled a red rose in her hands.
Eruanna stepped closer. “Is everything alright?”
Celeborn was the first to respond. “Your Daernana’s family wants to meet you,” he gestured to Galadriel.
Eruanna’s face lit up. “The House of Finarfin? And Fingolfin’s line. I have read so much about them - Finrod Felagund, Fingon the Valiant, Turgon of Gondolin, Aredhel the White…”
“And my parents as well,” Elrond added. “As well as Thranduil’s father.”
Eruanna was now glowing with excitement. “We must go then!” She chirped.
“No,” Galadriel said, instantly.
Eruanna cocked her head, startled. “No?”
“They will not keep their composure,” Galadriel pointed out.
Eruanna smiled, shaking her head. “Daernana, they are legends. Heroes of the Elder Days. They can handle one elleth. It would simply be nice to meet ellons who can actually take care of themselves unlike my uncles.” Thranduil snorted. Elrond pursed his lips and tried not to smile. He failed.
“Eruanna,” Elrond began, fighting for his dignity. “Those elves are much older than you.”
Eruanna sighed, twirling the rose in her hands. “I would rather be with them than deal with my courting prospects. Everyone is just so disappointing.”
“Eruanna,” Galadriel tried again. “All of them have heard tales of your beauty. If they start sinning…”
“I cannot control it if they start forgetting themselves,” Eruanna shrugged. “Although, I must admit, I think the songs exaggerate at times. But if they do start to lose their composure,” she grinned, “that will certainly be fun to watch.”
Thranduil choked.
“And I am not the only one who wishes to go,” Eruanna continued. “My dragons have heard the tales as well. They listened in on Erestor’s lessons as well, you know. Sûlion wants to see if Fingolfin and Oropher are truly valiant. Faroniel and Helegiel insist on seeing if Finrod and Eärendil are as beautiful as the tales claim. Naurion wants to meet more warriors, especially Fingon and Turgon. Ceveniel wants to meet Finarfin. She heard he was wise.”
Eruanna's dragons were not any beasts. They were the last living descendants of the dragons wrought by the Valar in response to Morgoth's winged creatures. Those dragons had survived battles and carried knowledge of everything, even the First Song. They tested the souls of many, and it seemed that the Princes of the First Age were a high priority.
Celeborn glowed. “This will be a most memorable visit.”
Galadriel shook her head but she was smiling. “This will be…lively.”
“So, can we go?” Eruanna asked.
Celeborn smiled at his wife. “I believe you have no choice now, meleth.”
Galadriel shot him a glare and he only grinned.
Few notes :)
- Yes, I am aware that Valar-bred dragons are a crazy concept.
- Artanis is another name for Galadriel. It's actually her father-name.