A Deed Unforgiven by LadySternchen  

---

Flashback- Galathil

---

“It is HIS fault, I told him not to come with us, I told him that rock was too difficult for him to climb. But he would not listen, and now he blames me…”

“You left me. You and Daeron and Lúthien left me behind and then I slipped and…”

“You claimed to be old enough to come with us. Yea, and now you found you were mistaken after all.”

“Seems you are just mean!” Celeborn yelled at Galathil, his ripped tunic hanging off one shoulder, revealing bloody scratches beneath.

“And you are a stupid little crybaby!”

“You are both not behaving like the epiphanies of wisdom at the moment. Just saying.” Lúthien threw into the argument, standing with her arms crossed beside Galathil and his brother.

“Easy for you to say!” he spat back at her. “You are lucky enough not to have siblings.”

“Galathil, that is enough!”

He winced. It was very unusual for his grandfather to adopt such harsh tones, and the surprise startled him out of his anger alright. That had, perhaps, not been the most sensitive thing to say.

Shame did not help cool his anger, however, so he glared at Celeborn some more. Had he only LISTENED, they would not be in this incredibly embarrassing situation now. Was it not bad enough that Celeborn had had to run and tell the tales on him? Had he had to choose their grandfather and -worse- their great-uncle? Not that he minded it, usually. Having Elu settle arguments once in a while was an  occupational hazard of growing up with Lúthien, who was so often at the very heart of the trouble. They all were well accustomed to  this fluent shifts between closeness and formality whenever the situation warranted- he would easily wrestle with his great-uncle one moment and then bow to him in the next. They all did that. But being scolded by the KING was still deeply embarrassing.

Galathil chanced a careful glance at Elu, who  surveyed him just as sternly as Elmo while placing a consoling hand on Celeborn’s head.

“Nobody calls a prince of my realm a stupid little crybaby. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes.” Galathil pressed between gritted teeth.

Elu, however, still looked at him with raised eyebrows, and so Galathil added:
“My lord.”

The words were very bitter on his tongue.

“You need not flatter me, Galathil, as we are not in court. Rather, you are to apologise to your brother!”

“Sorry.” Galathil mumbled.

This word was even more difficult to utter.

Elmo smiled and picked up Celeborn, who was sobbing theatrically now, and stroked his back soothingly.

“Let’s find your Nana and Ada and see what we can do about your tunic, shall we? No need to cry anymore, Celeborn. All is well.”

Angry tears now threatened to spill from Galathil’s eyes as well as he watched their grandfather carry Celeborn away. HE wanted to be comforted like this also. He had not wanted Celeborn to slip and hurt himself, and now that the argument seemed to be settled, he realised what a fright that had given him, too. But he was too old to be carried away like this, of course. Maybe he would find himself a quiet spot instead, where he could cry in peace.

Before he could act on the impulse, though,  he sensed rather than heard Elu sitting down on the ground beside him.

“Come here, little one.” Elu said gently, stretching his arm out invitingly.

Galathil needed no persuasion, though he would certainly not admit to it. He must appear as though he was only very grudgingly following the invitation, as every self-respecting elfling would. Once he sat on Elu’s lap and had his face pressed against his silky robes and felt his very reassuring warmth, however, he had to admit that it was very comforting, which he did even more reluctantly.

“I know how you feel. Being the eldest is a nuisance. And between you and me -and only between us- little brothers can be, too.”

Galathil looked up at Elu, surprised.

“Elmo always makes it sound as if there was nothing that could ever come between you!”

Elu chuckled.

“I was not primarily talking about Elmo, but Olwë. He and I are even closer in age than you and Celeborn. And HE used to follow me everywhere and cry for me to wait for him and refused to listen when I told him not to do something or other. But of course, if I happened to tell him off for it, he would run to our mother and guess who got into trouble for it? Not him. And worst of all, he outright stole Círdan. Until Olwë came along, I was Círdan’s favourite little cousin. But Olwë had a thing with boats from the start, so of course, Círdan was delighted to have acquired an apprentice.”

“You had another brother?”

Lúthien had spoken before Galathil found his voice. Be it. He was too amazed and eager to hear the story to resent her for it.

“Elmo and I have another brother, yes.”

“How come you never told us of him?”

Elu sighed, his eyes fixed on something Galathil could not see.

“Maybe because it pains me to talk about him. You see, little one…” Galathil found himself being addressed again rather than Lúthien “… we fought just as often as you and Celeborn do when we were little, and as it happens, we had an argument also on the day I left our people for good, though I did not know it then. But oh, I wish I had. I wish I could take back all that I told him in the heat of the moment, and tell him how much I love him instead.”

“Why did you not just apologise? Like you made me do to Celeborn?”

Elu smiled sadly.

“Because he lead our people on, and completed the task that we had once set out together alone. I never saw him again after that fight, and likely never shall. And I miss him more terribly than I can say, each and every day.”

“I never knew.” Lúthien whispered.

She had snuggled up to her father now as well, but again, Galathil did not mind. It was very cozy to sit like that.

“Will you tell us of him?”

“Oh yes, if you two want me to. But I will do so only if you promise me something, Galathil- that however much you row with Celeborn, you never let him go in scorn. Always make peace first.”

There was a lump in Galathil’s throat now, even as he made himself nod.  He was annoyed with his little brother, yes, but the thought of not having him… no, he would rather not think about it.

“Good. Well, Olwë… he is gentle and steadfast and loyal. A great shipwright. He and Círdan would spend days designing little boats, and more even refining them. We would do races with them on the lake, or on one of the many small streams that sprang from the mountains, or else let the boats go back and forth between the islands and the shore, carrying pebbles or pinecones or whatever we deemed of worth. Sometimes even little treats like honeycombs or berries.
But you wanted to know about Olwë, not our childhood games. He can also be very stubborn, and determined to complete what he has begun. He is a great singer and minstrel. And oh, he was so annoyingly noble. That day we parted. He ever put his people first with such ease… the epiphany of a great king and leader despite his youth. And I was jealous. I wanted to be as easily selfless as him, but instead of telling him that I admired him… well. It is hard to swallow one’s pride sometimes.”

To that, Galathil could very much relate. Admitting that he had been in the wrong in the front of Celeborn was much worse than admitting it before anyone else. Yet he wanted to learn more, so he decided to remind Elu a little that he had promised to tell them about this Olwë.

“Does he look like you and Elmo?”

Elu laughed.

“No. He has bright white hair that curls whenever it gets wet, and blue eyes like Elmo. Or almost like Elmo. The colour of Olwë’s eyes is lighter, but not by much. In fact, the person who reminds me most of him is your father, Galathil. It is as if through Galadhon, we have a little reminder of Olwë here with us. I wonder if it is the same for him, if he sees Elmo or me in his children as well. And if he goes to stand by the sea at times as we do, and remembers that we are kin, though the sea lies between us. I hope so. I hope he is happy, and thinks of us with love rather than resentment.”

Galathil glanced at Lúthien, and saw in his cousin’s eyes the same wonder that he felt at the thought that there were people who were their family, there beyond the sea. He wondered how they lived, if they were sea-people like Círdan or woodelves like they were themselves. Oh, how Galathil longed to get to know them.

---

Chapter End Notes

I know that this flashback must seem somewhat random, but it's not. It's a reminder as to why Lúthien reacts too upcoming events the way she will react in this story ;-)