To Travel With Wings

Spring had come early to the woods of Lórien. The mallorn trees were in full bloom, casting their beauty throughout the land. A light breeze shifted the branches, spreading stray leaves.

Amidst the falling leaves, the Lady of Lórien strolled, her hand loosely clasped in Celeborns. The two did not speak; ages of unity had rendered words unnecessary. Galadriel smiled warmly as she thought of those many ages, some spent in great happiness, others in sorrow.

Now, life was blissful, the great Enemy, although not destroyed, was held in stasis without his great Ring of Power. Galadriel was looking forward to a few centuries of peace with her husband and daughter.

Thinking of Celebrían brought to mind a letter she had received last night. It was this letter that had prompted her to bring Celeborn, here, among his mallorn trees. Perhaps then he would be more susceptible to her plan. Galadriel winced mentally at such wording. Really, though, there was no other way to tactfully describe it.

The golden Queen looked to her King who was watching her. He knew that something was on her mind, that she had something to say, though he did not know the specifics.

He would not be pleased; no matter what light she placed on the matter. Celebrían was his only child, and he was very possessive of who she spent time with, especially of the male gender.

Celeborn would understand though. Someone’s happiness was at stake! Galadriel stole another look at her husband and saw he was still watching her. Might as well broach the subject now, waiting would certainly not make it easier.

“I received a letter last night, from Imladris.”

“Is something troubling its Master?”

Her golden hair swung as Galadriel shook her head, “No, not precisely. The letter was from an old friend, one that we have not seen in a long time, at least, I have not.”

“Who? I am not sure what you are trying to say to me, meleth, your mind is closed.”

“Cuivië wrote to me. She has spent the last several years recuperating at Imladris.”

“Truly?” Celeborn murmured. “Elrond is surely not pleased.”

A small smile graced Galadriel’s features. “Nay, my husband, he is not pleased at all. Elrond’s unhappiness was the basis of her letter. She believes that Master Elrond needs a wife.”

There was silence, and then Celeborn chuckled. “That is so like a nis, to think that a ner’s problems can be solved by marriage.”

Galadriel raised one sculpted eyebrow at her husband, her expression slightly dangerous. Celeborn swallowed his laughter and cleared his throat. “Rather, I suppose it is a good idea. It is something Elrond has yet to try.”

“It was in my mind, and Cuivië’s, that we have not seen each other for some time. For so long, I thought my dearest friend lost, until you brought word of her from the Last Battle. Perhaps the three of us could pay an overdue visit to Imladris.”

“Three of…” Celeborn’s voice trailed off and his eyes hardened. “Absolutely not! Celebrían is not traveling to Imladris in hopes of catching Elrond’s eye. I am putting my foot down, Galadriel, no! My daughter shall stay here, she shall marry a warrior of Lórien and stay here, by me.”


“Of course, my lord,” Galadriel said demurely, but her eyes were as hard as ice and as Celeborn glared at her, his fierce expression faltered and he knew, without a doubt, they would be packing tonight….all three of them.


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Silnar stood in front of beautifully sculpted door, her hand half raised to knock. Taking a deep breath, Silnar willed her fist to descend upon the wood, but her hand would not obey. Slowly, she lowered her arm, her eyes cast to the floor.

Glorfindel had not left his room since that terrible night so many days ago. This was not what Silnar wanted, not at all. She had not meant to send this brave warrior into such grief. There had to be some way to help him understand.

Bravely, Silnar stiffened her spine. Who was she to cower before these doors? Before Glorfindel? She was Cuivië, lover of Maedhros (not an easy occupation with his temper), the Lady of Lindon, who had braved the fires of Mount Doom and their great Master, no Elf-lord, no matter how much she might think she loved him, was going to put fear into her heart.

Knocking loudly on his door, Silnar waited patiently for some response. After a few minutes of silence, she tried again. Still no response. What if something had happened? Had he passed once more to the Halls of Mandos? Could elves, which had already died, die again?

Fear gripped her heart and Silnar burst into the room, heedless of any propriety. Her face registered relief when she saw his familiar form, and then she blushed to the tips of her toes.

Glorfindel looked on his visitor, with some amount of shock, from his bath. He had not answered the knocking at his door in hope the person would leave him be. Elrond had already tried several times, but had not entered. Glorfindel had supposed no elf would be rude enough to enter another’s chambers without permission and so he had not locked the door. It seemed as if Silnar followed a different set of rules.

Speaking of Silnar, Glorfindel actually looked upon the object of his love with some amusement. Her entire face was a bright, crimson red, quite matching her loose hair. He suddenly smiled; for once he felt that he had the upper hand. One swift movement could have her running from the room.

Or not, his thoughts twisted. She was no innocent to the male body, she was probably mortified for interrupting his bath, not that the only thing separating her from his nude body was water filled with bubbles. Finally finding his voice Glorfindel asked:

“Can I help you with something?”

Silnar swallowed hard trying not to allow her eyes to dwell overlong on his sculpted chest. This was nothing new to her; she had seen the male body before. Why, she and Maedhros had spent countless afternoons soaking in his tub…..together. But this was not Maedhros, this was Glorfindel, and for some reason the two situations were entirely different.

Clearing her throat, Silnar forced her eyes to his faces and blushed deeper to see the slight smirk there. So he had caught her staring, it surely wasn’t the first time a maiden had admired him; he was very handsome.

“Forgive me, my lord, I had not seen you in some time and I feared that you were ill.”

“The Eldar cannot become ill, my lady, I am in perfect health, as you can very well see.”

“Of course,” Silnar whispered. She grimaced, oh when had their conversation become so stilted? The question did not even have to be answered, for she knew. Her careless words had caused the irreparable breach.

“Forgive me, my lord, I shall leave you to your bath,” Silnar quickly turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Glorfindel reclined in his bath for a long time, thinking of the scarlet haired nis that had stolen his heart. She claimed that she ‘could not’ love him, not ‘would not’. So, maybe that meant she did love him, but could not allow it to grow, at least not yet.

It was an interesting perspective, and one that would allow him to continue his courtship. Oh, he would not declare his undying love, not yet of course, but in due time, maybe she would be more inclined.

The morning suddenly did not appear so bleak and Glorfindel fairly leapt from his bath leading to an ungainly slide across his floor and into his closet. Alternately grumbling and rubbing an abused elbow, Glorfindel was suddenly very grateful for his privacy and carefully dressed himself.


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Silnar smiled widely at the approaching falcon. It must be good news for the letter to return so swiftly. The falcon landed gracefully on Silnar’s arm and the nis took her letter and led the bird back to its home, making sure to feed and water her.

As she made her way back to her room, Silnar read the contents of her letter.


Dearest Cuivië,

I received your letter with a great amount of joy. My heart lifted to know that you are indeed safe. There is much to speak of between you and I, such as where you disappeared to for all those ages.

It pains me greatly that Elrond is so unhappy of late. I believe your idea of a wife is a sound one. My own Celebrían has been rather melancholy of late. I believe it has much to do with lack of suitors. Celeborn means well, but he can be rather foreboding when he has a mind to. Why, even brave Haldir has stopped coming by.

The night I penned this letter, I spoke to my husband and he agreed, albeit grudgingly, to accompany Celebrían and I on a trip to Imladris. We should arrive soon if all goes well.

I look forward to seeing you my dear friend, for there is much to discuss. I hope also to help relieve you of some of your burdens. According to Celeborn, you did not leave that last battle unscathed.


With great love,

Galadriel



Joy suffused Silnar’s heart as she finished reading the letter. Silnar quickened the pace to her room and, when she arrived, hid the letter in a drawer. Of course she would conveniently forget to mention Galadriel’s imminent arrival to Elrond. It would be better to catch Peredhil off balance; perhaps he would be more receptive. If not….well, they could work on that.