Of Life Amongst The Sindar by LadySternchen  

Noldo

If her mother could see her now, Galadriel thought, sitting by a loom and weaving like a respectable lady, while talking to a respectable lady, she would either be very proud, or very indignant. Knowing Eärwen, Galadriel suspected the latter. Imagining her mother’s face drew a half-amused, half-sorrowful sigh from her, a sigh that attracted Melian’s attention. The Queen tilted her head slightly, surveying Galadriel through her bright eyes with a curious expression on her face.

“I was just thinking about my mother,” Galadriel explained, “Or rather, of what she would say could she see me now. I, ah, was not particularly fond of weaving, or indeed any sort of crafting, when growing up. It cost her all her non-existent patience.”

“Really?” Melian exclaimed in mock surprise “I could never have guessed.”

Glaring at the Queen in an equally mock-offended way, Galadriel straightened her robes very deliberately.

“Yes. It so happens that both my cousin and I took greater pleasure in…”

“Brawling with the boys?” Melian offered, before Galadriel could think of a more dignified way to express the same fact.

Galadriel huffed, though neither she nor Melian could hold back their laughter now. It felt wonderful. Melian had become a true friend.

“My mother is not even truly fond of handicrafts herself. But weaving was something that was very precious to my grandmother, and so my mother deemed it important, too.”

Fabrics gleaming like the sea, with shells and pearls woven into them. Galadriel missed her grandparents almost as much as her parents, only thinking of them -both her maternal and paternal grandparents- was even more painful than thinking of her parents. And moreover, she would not elaborate about anything even remotely touching upon Alqualondë in front of Melian.

Perhaps sensing her inner turmoil, Melian steered the conversation back into calmer waters.

“You know, now that I come to think of it- maybe that is why people send their children to their aunts and uncles to receive their education. Because practically anyone is better suited to teach a child than their own parents.”

Humming in assent, Galadriel could nonetheless not pass over how strange it was to think of Melian as her mother’s aunt. Lúthien she regarded as her cousin and the King very much as her uncle, but Melian? No, Melian was not a motherly figure to her at all.

“It is weird thinking of you as Mother’s aunt, somehow.”

“Not as weird as it feels to say it.” Melian muttered, a grin still on her face.

Before Galadriel could say anything more, one of the guards that stood before the door entered, bowing before Melian.

“The Lady Thônwen to see you, my Queen.”

Melian was up from her chair so quickly that she sent the loom weights clanking.

“Thônwen? She has returned? Ai, finally!”

Galadriel rose, too, to greet the newcomer. She had heard of her, but never met her, though she might well call her ‘aunt’ as well, seeing that she was Elmo’s wife. And, Galadriel realised with a rush of nerves, Celeborn’s grandmother. What was she to say to her? Her courtship with Celeborn was still so very new and fresh.

The woman that entered the room, bestowing a quick bow upon Melian for courtesy before throwing her arms around her, was nothing like Galadriel had imagined her. Knowing Celeborn and Galathil and of course Elmo and Elu, it had never dawned on Galadriel that Thônwen would look so utterly different. She was much shorter than Galadriel, shorter than most Elves, and was clad in hunter’s garments, a greenish-brown tunic, and leg-wraps. Golden ribbons were woven into her ebony hair, and her muscles spoke of a powerful archer. Lean and lithe as she was, she must be a fearsome hunter.

When Melian and Thônwen broke apart, the Queen turned beaming to Galadriel.

“Galadriel, this is Thônwen, head of the hunters and healers, my sister-in-law and dearest friend. Thônwen, this is Galadriel. She came over the sea with her brothers and cousins, and is the daughter of Eärwen, who is your niece.”

Melian waited a moment for Thônwen to work out what she had just said, then laughed as Thônwen’s eyes grew wide.

“You are Olwë’s granddaughter?” she asked, surprise and wonder on her face. “How is he? We were so… so saddened when we had to part from him, though we made the choice gladly enough. And we wondered all the time how he fared, how kingship suited him.”

Silently thanking the Valar for that last question, Galadriel hasted to answer. If she did it cleverly, she might well be able to stay clear of Alqualondë. She had to stay clear of Alqualondë. And preferably also of the question as to why they had come back to Middle-earth.

“Oh, kingship agrees very well with him,” she answered with a loving smile, longing once again tearing at her heart, “He is most beloved by his people, and works tirelessly for their well-being. His crown is of pearls, as are his halls, and wherever you go in his house, you hear the rushing of the sea.”

“One cannot deny the three of them are brothers, seemingly. The sea for Olwë, the wind that plays within Menegroth for Elu.” Thônwen chuckled “It is the woods’ music for Elmo. That is why he refuses to live in the caves normally. And I cannot say I object. But tell me of his family.”

Galadriel sincerely hoped that her emotions did not show on her face when thinking about her uncles. Drowned, burned and butchered, and Elulindo, the crown-prince, bleeding out on the piers, crying for his parents and siblings.

“My grandparents are doing well,” she said, and at least when talking of their physical well-being, this was no lie “My mother is their second child. The other four are boys.”

Were boys. Or they still are, but bodiless in Mandos’ vast halls.

“My father was a great friend of them in their youth, and when they were old enough, he married my mother. And had my brothers and me.”

Whether Melian sensed that Galadriel was eager to steer the conversation away from their kin or whether it was by mere accident, she did not know, but Melian chose that moment to say, with a little smile that could not be interpreted as apologetic even with the best of intents:

“Galadriel is also courting Celeborn, Thônwen.”

Galadriel shot her the dirtiest look one could possibly shoot a queen, to which Melian giggled even more.

“Really? Ai, this is wonderful.”

“Maybe Galadriel would be so kind and fetch him and the others? I am sure they will be very happy to know of your return.”

Galadriel obliged, leaving the two friends to chat amongst themselves. Only now, all they she had learned during that conversation truly started to sink in, now that the threat of the terror that was Alqualondë being revealed had passed. So this was Thônwen. That she had been on a long hunting-trip, Galadriel had known, but not that she was the head of the hunters. She had expected that to be a man, if she was honest. Apart from her cousin Írissë, she had hardly known women who truly enjoyed hunting. She would kill an animal to feed herself, surely, but never enjoy it. And that a hunter would also be a healer was completely unheard of amongst her own people. It seemed that she had much to learn still about the customs of her future husband’s (had she really just called Celeborn that?)  people, especially if she planned on staying in Doriath.