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Author Topic: the things we hold  (Read 1721 times)

Galadriel

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the things we hold
« on: June 25, 2015, 07:55:00 AM »

Setting: Early Hours of Morning/Just Before Dawn, Caras Galadhon.


"If you are here to censure me for allowing him into Lothlorien, do get on with it."

The first words out of her mouth, of course, when she'd heard soft footsteps, were fighting ones. It was typical how few things never changed, and yet it had been so long since Galadriel had actively sought to pick a fight with another that it only served to unsettle her further, even as the words had already left her mouth.

But she found she could not help herself. In the same way that she could not quite stifle fully the jittery fluctuations of her mind [like a river swollen by flood] at the present, she could help but wish to lash out at someone, anyone, in her disconcertment. It was a base desire, one she was ashamed of, a thing that only cornered and wounded animals did. And yet wasn't that what she was, in some ways? Weren't they all? She would think differently in the light of day, would find her composure and that optimistic, serene, bright wisdom that was entirely her own, but for now, she could only dwell heavily upon what had lain dormant for so very long. Had not reared it's head for half a millennia...until this night just gone.

It wasn't even that she considered it a mistake, to allow Tinuvagor succour in her home. Galadriel was not one to regret her choices; she made them and they simply were. and if she lingered on them later in melancholy, it was all she could do. She was wise enough to know that time could not be reversed, and one could only accept what had been done in the wake of their choices made and move on. So it was not that. It was not regret, in the slightest. The hotter part of her temper, that which reacted with the same animal desire to defend herself before proven guilty to her husband approaching her in the pre-dawn gloom [likely concerned because she had not come to bed, the sensible part of her whispered], took it as self-pitying defence, an anger borne from reuniting with another of the Noldor, let alone one who had not only played witness to, but assisted in the grievous crime of the Kinslaying.

The Kinslaying.

That was what it was.

Galadriel had thought herself reconciled to it long ago. And yet...anger. Guilt. Hurt. Sorrow. Fear. It was as vivid as if it had been yesterday, when Elu Thingol had descended in rage upon them within the halls of Doriath, and forbidden all those of Calaquendi blood to set foot within his home ever again. Even her brothers had not been spared that exile, and she, spared only by the grace of Melian and Artanis's atonement by proxy, through the lover she had chosen. It made the guilt no less, though--

--it made the pain no less. The fear as vivid as the moon that filtered through the trees, slowly setting to the west.

It had been the only time in all of her existence when she had truly been terrified of being alone. Of loss. She had lost many things even then, and more so since. She had faced judgment in many forms. But that, all of that, all of which Tinuvagor had reminded her of, unsettled her with, had paled in comparison to the sudden, terrifying, wonderful, horrifying reality she had faced when suddenly it had been put before her--she could not survive on her own. She could not bear judgment from *him* of such a kind as this. She could not lose *him*.

The way it had vexed her at first, in hindsight, had been somewhat entertaining. Before it had given way to the horridly beautiful reality.

And he'd know by now, one way or another, that there was a stranger soul in their Golden Wood.

And it was that reminder now, of how Celeborn had looked when all had come to light so long ago, that made Galadriel tense as she was now. That, and she did not, did not need anyone's censure at this moment. Not when she felt as she did deeper in her soul -- wounded and torn and fraught. It was what forced her to keep looking out upon the woods from the balcony she stood upon even as her hands trembled against the railing, made her set her jaw in stubborn defiance even as she refused to turn and meet Celeborn's eye. Put fighting words on her tongue, even as it stuck dryly to the roof of her mouth, as grating as the rasp of old anguish on her soul.


played by Dory

Celeborn

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the things we hold
« Reply #1 on: July 02, 2015, 04:15:00 PM »
When he had first learned that someone had entered the Woods, Celeborn had no reason to think ill or not of them for while visitors were rare, they generally did not cause trouble nor did he have to worry about them. So he had at first simply asked the Marchwardens to let him know about the visitor at some point in the evening of their arrival. When he learned of the identity of the person, and the fact that he had met with his wife, a swirling mix of emotions churned through his mind. Tinuvagor, one of the Kinslayers.

His name, or rather what he had done, brought back memories that he tended not to dwell on: the time when he learned precisely what his beloved Galadriel had hid from them all. Although she was innocent in the slaying of his distant kin, her mother's people, he could stand to look at her for sometime, especially not without feeling a mix of disgust, anger, and strangely pity. For although he was anger at her for hiding this from him, for not trusting him with this, he also knew that she bore the burden of not telling of for so long.

And now she was letting one who had slain the Teleri into Lothlorien. He had wasn't entirely sure what to think or feel and had decided that until they could talk, he would mostly block her. If she was upset with him for that...well, she had to know the reason for it. And he had waited for her to come to bed, a place where they could often talk the freest, curled against each other in the soft moonlight. But it was approaching dawn and despite his anger, he was worried when she never showed. So he had gone to look for her, easily finding her for he knew the places where she would most likely be.

As he approached her, the words first out of her mouth were of anger, and despite everything, his lips curled into a rather wryly amused smirk. Much had matured his wife since they first met, and he assumed she had matured between girlhood and when he met her, but some things stayed the same. It did make him stop a few feet away from her, lips suddenly pulled into a thin line. ”Since when did what I thought ever change your mind?” His voice was flat, bland even, yet there was an underlying tightness that showed his displeasure with her decision. Plus, she had to know that he was mostly referring to her choice to not only accept Nenya but continue to wear it, no matter what benefits he would (grudgingly) admit it brought to Lothlorien.

Galadriel

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« Reply #2 on: July 09, 2015, 09:57:00 AM »

Nenya. It was there for barely half a second before his mind was closed to her again, but half a second and that name was all that was needed for Galadriel's temper to spike, protector as it was of her most vulnerable feelings. Why did it always go back to the ring? Why did he always go back to the blasted ring? The ring that kept their realm safe, made it beautiful, spiritual, safe and homely. A sanctuary for those in need, which was exactly the problem here, or so it seemed, and it took all of her self-control not to call her husband a hypocrite outright for extending such a reputation as theirs on one hand, while cursing the one thing that made Lothlorien so on the other.

 But this had nothing to do with the ring, not really, though Galadriel was half tempted to cover Nenya protectively. Resisted, barely, knowing from experience that to do so would bring credence on his side to a long-standing argument, and the only thing Galadriel could stand less than the dreadfully bland, flat tones she was being treated to now was when she had to endure smugness from him. Terribly ironic, she'd always found that to be -- the Noldo were judged rather harshly for their pride, and yet she'd seen more than enough evidence on any given occasion just how cruel the Sindar could be when they so chose. She had not jested to Tinu--Tinuvagor, when she had threatened to set the judgment of her adopted people on him, knowing it for what it could be.

Those flat...bland...tones, though. If Galadriel was perfectly honest with herself, they got under her skin purely because they twisted the knife in her heart, knowing she was being judged and censured by her own mate, the one person she had been thinking of truly when she had hesitated to allow a Kinslayer into the Woods, given him protection of her own invitation [whether Tinuvagor realised it or not]. Of course, Celeborn could not know that had been so, for he had not been there, and if his mind was closed to her, it was also closed to everything that emanated from her that wasn't physically present in her demeanour, or otherwise sheer emotion. A stab of pain, then painted over with anger, and he was shot quite a filthy look over her shoulder, her gaze as vivid as the rising colour in her cheeks even in the approaching gloom of dawn.

"You're correct. My mind is my own, and what you or others say is merely opinion to be considered," she snapped. Biting, cruel-spirited words, intended to wound so as to get something, anything from him, but when her hands begin to sting with the force of her fingers digging into the cold railing, Galadriel crossed them over her chest instead-- never quite aware once her passionate nature had flared of her own bodily responses, and the fact that even with her back to him, the action was terribly vulnerable.

"Why don't you simply say what you really feel, my Lord?" Said through gritted teeth, the tone of it surprisingly similar to that of an animal's soft, feral growl when warning and feeling cornered. Surprising, yes, perhaps to most. Perhaps less so to those who knew her truer nature best, though.


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Celeborn

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the things we hold
« Reply #3 on: July 10, 2015, 03:13:00 PM »
He could feel her temper flare when she realized what he was referring to, and likely able tell by its name on the edge of his thoughts for the briefest of moments, but long enough that she could tell it. If she was still wondering why it went back to Nenya, then she had to know his reasons for it coming back the blasted ring. The feelings of jealousy that orbited around the maker of the ring, as silly as those feelings maybe since he knew that infidelity was impossible with Elves. As well as the feelings of worry, that she relied too much on it and that she was in real danger should Sauron manage to come back. He was one of the few who knew that the Dark Lord had not actually been destroyed but only defeated, that his spirit still lingered even as his body had been destroyed.

His jaw tightened even more and a vein near his jaw pulsed visibly, even as he could feel the hurt that was quickly covered by anger that his tone caused her. It was her own words that brought him a bit closer to her, ignoring the dirty look that she had shot him a few moments ago. His voice had gained an edge. ”Yes, you refuse to fully listen to others even when it might be prudent to do so.” A smirk flickered on his drawn out lips as he saw her wrap her arms around herself, a gesture he recognized as being one of defensiveness and vulnerability. Her words about saying what he truly felt came out as a growl and he simply stared at her back, displeasure with her coming off of him in waves. ”Why should I bother when I know you'll simply consider my words.” His words were terse and showed his anger in a tightly controlled way.

Galadriel

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the things we hold
« Reply #4 on: July 11, 2015, 01:28:00 AM »

"Don't--"

Galadriel bit down quite literally on her tongue, but only barely, the word already all but shouted when he responded so. But it infuriated her beyond belief, even as she all but writhed internally in anguish, refusing stubbornly to give sway to that weakness, to anything like self-doubt, even as her heart cried out to do so. Because it hurt. It hurt that he'd behave like this, when she had always expected better. Had thought he was past this, they were past this, and thus made the clear foolish assumption that she could relax her guard, simply let it be, and assume that even when he didn't understand, he was still there. Trying, if nothing else.

"Don't. Talk. Down to me, you chauvinistic ass. I am your wife. Not a child. Not one of your men. Not a horse."

He was standing far too close to her now, and if it had been anyone else in the world, the caged creature in Galadriel would have struck out at them for doing so. Even then, her fingers trembled where they dug into her sides, and when she did turn -- nose to nose it seemed, so close he now was -- it cost every ounce of self control amid painful turmoil not to slap him for the look on his face, for the damned to Mandos disapproval he dared show. Every aspect of her countenance practically shook with fury, down to the tremor of her lips even as she hissed words soft and level.

"You are supposed to be the Wise One. The one who stands beside me. The one who understands, whom I have no need to tell anything. Because he already knows."

Her voice caught on that last word, her lips pursing as they trembled once more. Her teeth setting her delicate jaw to ice, though to Galadriel's horror, she felt the corners of her eyes burning, and it took all of her resolve to stay where she stood and not flee from such intense shame, such an overwrought state -- she did not cry. She was the Lady of this Wood, by all who witnessed it -- Artanis, and nobody had the pleasure of seeing Artanis weep over such things. But there was nothing for it now but to plunge ahead -- she was already halfway done, and so there was no point stopping short at the finish simply because of a little pain, a little fear, long forgotten.

"But I say you are a fool, my lord. What, do you think I enjoyed Feanor's fixation upon me? That Celebrimbor's obsession warmed me with flattery? Well, let me give you something quite shocking to mull over -- I am still a woman. And women, interestingly, rarely ask to be fixated upon, obsessed over, stalked. That is what it was, and there I was. What, do you truly think I suddenly developed a loathing for being interrogated, a hatred of being touched unbidden, because of Nenya?"

Galadriel laughed, the sound bitter and hollow and absent of all it's usual merriment, and she pulled herself away from him now, stalking the length of the balcony. Eyed the doorway, wished for the comfort of her bed, but knew there would be no comfort found there either in this moment. If she fell to the warm nest of such a hiding place [if it was even that], she knew truly then that she would crumble.  

"Perhaps I am the fool. More fool me for making such a faithful assumption. More fool me for thinking of you -- of you, not in fear of you, when first I allowed Tinu into our lands. My poor cousin -- I felt shame for even speaking with him at first, but now I feel shame for his being the unwitting victim of your-- our pettiness."


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Celeborn

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« Reply #5 on: July 13, 2015, 12:40:00 PM »
His whole body was tense as she spoke to him, though whether it was entirely anger or there were some of emotions that kept him thus, he wasn't sure. ”Talk down to you, Galadriel? Chauvinistic ass?” His word were ground out of clenched teeth. ”You insist I don't speak down to you yet you insult me?” His jaw clenched tighter than before as he tried not to let himself too angry, to make it worse.

Her words about him being the Wise and should understand her since he should simply know stung him, even if he didn't actually show it. ”And what am I suppose to know?” His words were softer this time, even as he was still rather angry with her, though mostly because of the fact that she had let a Kinslayer within their Woods. She knew how painful the Kinslaying was to him, though maybe there were times when they didn't know each other as well as they thought.

Then she brought up all the unwanted attention that she had received, some of it before he had met her, and something in him shifted, softened towards her. His hand slowly reached towards her cheek, watching to make sure his touch would be allowed. ”Oh, Galadriel. Do you think my feelings about Nenya have to do with Celebrimbor?” His own mind silently add still. He closed his eyes suddenly, guilt about how this was making her feel flood through him, even if he wished she hadn't let the Kinslayer in.

If he didn't know her any better, he would have thought that she was playing with his emotions to get him to be less angry with him. Yet he had to think of why he still kept his hard feelings for Nenya and he easily came up with the truth: he was afraid of losing her to it. And that thought came over him like a shock of cold water, stiffening before he relaxed again. ”Why exactly did you let him in?” Most other times, his words would have been said in an almost harsh, but his eyes and entire face was soft, almost begging her to explain, to make him understand her reasons, reasons that she assumed he would know.

Galadriel

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« Reply #6 on: July 19, 2015, 01:46:00 AM »

There it was. Finally.

She should have felt satisfied by it. The slump. The guilt. The softened demeanour. It should have felt good, a small victory among many to laud over and parade. She'd gotten through to him, and it was a success in which she had every right to feel spitefully justified in, just as much as he'd felt justified in his anger.

And yet she didn't.

Galadriel knew long from her years in this world that she wouldn't. And later on, in a twisted manner of hindsight, she'd know it because that was part of loving someone entirely. There were no smirks, no smugness, no genuine malicious glee at seeing them beaten down or triumphed over. She knew that, and she knew too that knowing that didn't make it any easier. If anything, it made the entire situation all the more frustrating -- another negative emotion to add to the disgusting miasma of anger and hurt and loneliness and old, self-inflicted grief that blackened like tar over her soul, and it was for this reason that she flinched just slightly away from the touch of her cheek. Anger traded for anguish, fury for loneliness [because she'd had to sound this whole ordeal out to him in the first place, and in it's way, doing so did the opposite of what he wished, and reminded her all too well that her status as ringbearer made her very much alone], a fierce, direct gaze melted to something where she could barely look at him any longer.

The rest of it didn't matter, not now. She wasn't going to humour what else was said, jealous, bitter words that they were, because they so too sounded too much like the words of a lover's squabble...and this was far too hurtful for that. She felt far too ill for it, and thus, refused to simply acknowledge it as such a little argument as 'squabble' implied. Because it was not a little issue. Because it was not something she simply felt was right to be hugged out, for lack of a better term.

"This is about Celebrimbor," she rasped, throat raw with the pressure of holding what she wished to do and could not at bay. "Every occasion you attack Nenya, every little remark you make, goes back to him. To them. And it goes full circle back to me. Every time. And tonight, of all nights? It was never even about Nenya and all associated with. And yet, you brought it up."

And used it against me, was left unspoken, but it hung heavy in the air. As heavy as her heart when she finally looked back up at him, those blue eyes dark as indigo, aged above time itself, beyond tears and yet bright with them even in the grey light. But she needed little time to mull over her response to him this attempt, for it had been there all along. Always had been. That was why she'd thought, hoped, prayed, that Celeborn know these things she now had to spell out to him.

"Because I recognised his face tonight. His eyes. I saw myself, and so I knew. And yet still, even as it wounded, I forced unkind reality upon a frail soul...I showed him cruelty out of love for you."

"Do you still not see, after all this time?" she continued softly, even as she stepped away. Back from him. Needing space. Needing to be gone. Needing escape, and eyeing it at the door, and in the trees above and around her.

"I gave him this chance at forgiveness, for what was done to the Teleri of all things unforgivable...because I know how it to have it given, and be the less deserving for it."


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Celeborn

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« Reply #7 on: July 23, 2015, 04:03:00 AM »
To most, her movement was imperceptible but to him, he could see her flinch when he touched her cheek. Celeborn knew that she had every reason to flinch away from his touch yet she let him cup her cheek. He waited for a seemingly indeterminable time for her to become smug when he softened once she brought up Celebrimbor and Feanor and Nenya. His eyes searched her face, somehow equally surprised and unsurprised by the lack of gloating at how easily she had swayed him. She knew that he was not easily swayed by anyone, anyone but her.

He couldn't completely deny what she said about Nenya and Celebrimbor and yet he did feel the need to defend himself but his voice was almost as raspy as hers, like he was struggling to speak. ”And do you think I enjoy seeing another man's ring on your finger when mine should be the only one?” He also wanted to remind her that she was the one who first brought Celebrimbor and Nenya up but he knew that it would make everything worse. But her unspoken words hung in the air, so thick that it almost choked him.

He stayed silent, eyes unreadable, as she explained why she let Tinuvagor into Lothlorien, watching as she stepped away from him. Her words about forgiveness made him murmur, loud enough for her to hear him, ”You never committed a wrong beyond keeping the truth to yourself, something I do not blame you for. Yet, do you think he wants to be forgiven? That he feels remorse for what he did?” He sighed heavily, body almost slumping with his exhalation. ”We should talk about this later, when we're less angry and hurt.” Yet he did not move, instead letting her either leave or ask him to leave, or stay.

Galadriel

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« Reply #8 on: July 24, 2015, 11:05:00 PM »

She'd almost been lulled. Almost. The touch against her cheek, the shift in the tone of his voice, the way his shoulders slumped as they did so momentarily when she backed away...even the allowing her the choice to leave in the first place...all of it culminated into what was a potent and tempting ensnarement of the mind, even wounded and bristling as it was. Galadriel even hesitated, the foot that had been stepping back moving to step forward, her fingers literally, physically twitching even as to do as they so blindly desired would mean that nothing would be solved.

But still, she was tempted. Because for the moment, he seemed to finally get it. Because it was painful, this whole ordeal, beyond painful, and Galadriel did not like pain. There was no sentient, half sane being on this earth who did like themselves put through agony, and those who wore it like a badge of honour and further perceived themselves as all the more unique for it where those that even one of the wisest among the Eldar had never truly understood the logic of, of what went through their minds. Why endure pain, if there was a possibility for it to be fixed?

But then, Galadriel also knew that there were those who simply struggled, if managed to at all, rise above the pain. In much the same way as Celeborn continued to torment them both, always in the peripheral of their lives, with this -- Nenya and the Kinslaying and everything and everyone attached to it. Galadriel had always preferred to move on, to keep on keeping on, for it was necessary to her survival -- wise enough to never forget the things that happened in both her life and in this world [for that was when mistakes came about again and history was repeated], but never wishing to dwell on them. She only had half a choice in doing so, such was her lot in life, but still, she tried.

Still, she almost caved.

But then Celeborn spoke. And damn him all for this lack of wisdom that had suddenly come upon him; she all but kicked out as what she heard aloud and what was unsaid in voice, but said all too clearly in that brief moment she dared to know his mind again. And then her shoulders stiffened, and it took all of her will power to do no more than cry out mentally at the unfairness of it all -- it wasn't the same. Not even close. How could you ever think it so?

Bring it up first? You ALWAYS have it in the back of your mind. You, not me.


Anger and hurt? Was that all? Galadriel's shoulders stiffened once more, and she wondered if he'd actually truly listened to a word she'd said, a single thing she had confessed to few others in those deep, dark, frightened parts of her soul. The part of her that rarely ever saw the light of day.

But in the end, she did none of the cruel things that came to mind. Instead, she just shook her head at him, eyes burning with unshed tears, and turned away. Hands upon the railing, before the grace of even the oldest of Elves took her to settle herself upon it, to take to the trees in which their home was housed, before settling her upon the damp ground. For she needed to be away, to wherever, whether she ran or climbed or swam. Anything, to spare her further humiliation, and anything to bring some clarity to the maelstrom that had been this night.

She tired, more than ever now, of being entirely who she so often had to be in this day and age.

But she did none of this, however, without a final parting shot.

"Everything you disdain so is part of me, my Lord, and it is everything that keeps our Wood golden."

Fin.


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    June 07, 2020, 05:31:17 AM
  • Galadriel: Tag for Elrohir. <3 [link]
    June 07, 2020, 02:05:39 AM
  • Bard: Reply for Bain [link]
    June 05, 2020, 07:02:43 AM
  • Hild: Reply for Fengel [link]
    June 04, 2020, 10:19:13 PM
  • Hild: Reply for Haleth et all [link]
    June 03, 2020, 11:41:18 PM
  • Éowyn: Plotter tag for Marbys! [link]
    June 02, 2020, 10:32:55 AM
  • Éowyn: Starter for Theoden. <3 [link]
    June 02, 2020, 10:03:48 AM
  • Thengel: Reply for Morwen Steelsheen [link]
    June 02, 2020, 05:52:44 AM
  • Dáin Ironfoot: Starter for Kéra and family [link]
    May 31, 2020, 10:21:13 AM
  • Fengel: Starter for Hild et all [link]
    May 31, 2020, 12:20:29 AM