Work Text:
Everyone knew it was springtime around Lúthien. People sought her out, watched her on her walks while she sang, offered their companionship again and again. She did not grant it to everyone, but even those she declined, she smiled with her eyes shining like stars, and they walked away feeling blessed indeed, a look of wonder in their face as they left her to her own devices, her voice echoing in the trees around them.
Galadriel watched Lúthien turn people down in front of her many times, but Lúthien never denied her companionship. Lúthien would take her hand, fill her up with golden light until Galadriel was sure it had to be bursting out of her.
Lúthien had experienced a different life from Galadriel, could not imagine the wonders and the horrors that Galadriel had seen. She asked many questions of the world outside Doriath as time passed, curious at what lay beyond, what her parents could not grant her. Galadriel recalled the loveliness of Aman for her, of the Light and the spirit of all that was good, but could not bring herself to tell the dark tales of what came after. Even after Lúthien exhausted her of stories, they spent time together talking about news from other kingdoms, or about nothing in particular, away from the responsibilities of the world. Still, Lúthien was curious.
“What if you had never left?” she asked one day. They were sitting in lush grass, wildflowers opening around Lúthien under the arms of a great drooping tree, hidden from the world. She kept going, eagerly asking, “What would your life have been like? The same as it was, or do you think things have changed there? My mother will not say. I’m not sure she knows.” She brings her knees up under her chin and wraps her arms around them, looking pensive. “She says that she will go back there one day after she is done here. I wonder if she will take me with her.”
“I do not know what my life would be like if I had never left. It was my destiny to leave, to come here and meet your mother. And you,” Galadriel said tenderly. “Nobody can change their fate. Not even Melian.” She looped the final flowers onto the crown she was making and placed it gently onto Lúthien’s head.
“There,” she said. “A crown for my princess.”
Lúthien laughed in delight, said, “You need one too! One for my dearest friend, my closest companion. And my mother!” she cried out, looking beyond Galadriel’s shoulder.
Melian looked lost in thought, feet not making a noise on the ground as she drew near. She smiled at them and turned to Lúthien. “Daeron desires your assistance with one of his new songs for the festival. Will you go help him?” she asked.
“Of course!” Lúthien sprang up, then paused, placing her flower crown instead on Galadriel. “There. It’s perfect for you. I’ll see you tonight.”
As she watched Lúthien go, Melian sighed, shoulders sinking. “I am glad you care for her so,” she said, voice barely loud enough to be heard.
Galadriel smiled at Lúthien’s retreating form, pulled a petal off her crown and watched how it fluttered in her hand. “She is truly special, and very important to me. She fills this place with joy at her very presence.”
Melian sat, finally looking at Galadriel. “Her fate will not be a happy one. Not for us. You must prepare yourself to lose her one day, Artanis. We both must. Lúthien is not meant to walk these woods for eternity, and neither are you or I,” she said, face grave. “Care for her, hold her dear, and know that one day we will be watching her leave.”
Galadriel said nothing, but her heart sank as she prematurely grieved for her friend, taken aback at the reveal of information from Melian. She lifted her crown off and left it in the spot where Lúthien had been sitting, still covered in small wildflowers.
And, of course, one day years later, Beren came, and Lúthien stood before her father while Melian turned to look at Galadriel, at once looking incredibly aged without her features appearing to change.
So when Lúthien was held prisoner in a cage of protection by her father, Galadriel stole away in the middle of the night to where she was hidden. Galadriel helped her weave the spells she needed to escape, and as Lúthien’s feet touched the ground, she embraced Galadriel, face streaked with tears. She tried not to listen to Lúthien’s plan, and clutched her tightly, desperate and so close to begging for her to stay, to fight her fate anyway, but she knew Lúthien’s path was clear before her. Lúthien’s voice was tender and tearful as she said “goodbye, goodbye, don’t tell them where I’ve gone,” and finally an “I love you,” as she melted away into the darkness, words half absorbed by the trees that now seemed pressing as Galadriel started walking back to her home in a near daze. She felt very old, dress dragging along the forest floor, shoulders heavy and thinking not only of Lúthien and the mortal she loved, but of her brother.
“She is gone,” said a voice to her right, and Galadriel turned, seeing Melian dressed darkly. Galadriel nodded, “She does not wish to live without him, and it is not within my power to make her.”
“Nor mine, or the power of anyone on Arda. And I would not force her. She is my daughter.” Melian paused, gathering herself. “But we must choose our own path, and hope that it is good, and just. I am very proud of her.” Melian stood in misery despite her words, face twisted in anguish. “You must go, Artanis. Thingol should not find you here.”
And then they waited.
The pain that the messenger from Celegorm announcing her capture would have brought was dulled to her. Galadriel knew she could do nothing, but she also knew of Lúthien’s determination. Nothing would stop her, especially not one of her own kindred.
She and Melian did not speak to each other while Lúthien was gone. They waited, as all in Doriath did, for spring to come again. Thingol desperately sent out many in search of her, but Lúthien would not be found. When Galadriel begged to let her go after her friend, he denied her. When Lúthien returned, bringing with her the mortal she had rescued, and presented his empty hand, it was as if all was well again. Galadriel looked at Lúthien and knew her gaze would not be returned, not anymore. She watched Lúthien be married, the happiest Galadriel had ever seen her, and saw that Melian watched as if from afar, though the smell of sweet blossoms was in the air and the voices of the people of Doriath were raised in song. For a while, everything was good.
Then the men left to hunt Carcharoth. Galadriel watched them leave feeling ill at ease, but she was finally able to approach Lúthien again. She brought with her a crown of flowers, as she did in the past. Lúthien gave her a delighted smile, filling Galadriel with the warm light she remembered, as if the sun had chosen to shine through the rain, and she cherished every moment.
Lúthien took her hand and led her to the great tree where she had once been imprisoned, telling of what she had seen and gone through, in more detail than what most of Doriath knew. “I never knew I was capable of living through such things. I would not have been able to, if not for my love. When I am with him, I feel like everything is right in the world, that I am capable of anything. If he were to die, I do not think I would be able to live, knowing he would be truly gone from the world. Do you know how that feels? It is different, but you have been with Celeborn for so long.”
Galadriel found herself shaking her head ever so slightly, a small smile forming despite her eyes burning as she gripped Lúthien’s hand desperately with both of her own before releasing it again, taking a breath and trying to memorize exactly how Lúthien’s hair fell on her shoulders, how the light shone in her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Of course I know how it feels.”
Lúthien’s expression changed to one of curiosity, but she could not say anything before they heard horns announcing the men’s return.
The stories tell how Lúthien was lost to them, after, when she saw Beren lying there. Galadriel watched her, knelt at her side as she had so often before, but there was no light twinkling in her eyes, no smile on her red mouth, no flowers blossoming under her touch. Galadriel was there when she died, next to Melian, who stood silently, grieving loss like she had never known before.
When Lúthien returned, again standing beside Beren, Galadriel saw she was truly changed, and her mourning did not cease. She kissed Lúthien’s forehead before she left forever, knowing they would never meet again in all the ages of the world, and as the years passed Galadriel lost more - Thingol, Melian, Dior, Doriath, Celebrian. All that was left to her, in all the ages she lived through, was her granddaughter, an image of the woman that she had lost.