Chapter Text
She woke up to the sun shining in her eyes. It was still early, but the house was quiet. The first leaves started changing to yellow outside. It came earlier this year. Even earlier than last year. The quiet rumble of the waterfall was the same as ever as it reverberated through the walls of these apartments. Galadriel inhaled slowly. Her husband’s body was pressed to her back, his even breathing an indication that he was still asleep. She looked around the room, and memories flashed before her eyes. Their official first night together as husband and wife. The day when Elrond went to war with Gil-galad - that day when she could not stop crying, praying to Eru that he would come back to her, unlike Celeborn. He did. Gil-galad didn’t. She was not surprised when he didn’t take the title of the High King of the Noldor. There were not enough of them left to rule over anyway. Then happier times came. They decided to start a family. The moment she conceived, she knew them to be twins. The pregnancy with Elrohir and Elladan was a tough one. Elven pregnancies took a lot out of an elleth, and bearing two children at once did it even more. She was surprised how smooth the delivery was, even by elven standards. To see Elrond hold their boys in his arms, right there, next to the window she was looking at now, was a sight she would cherish until the end of all times. In his eyes she saw immeasurable pride and the determination to be there for them, come hell or high water. The twins grew and became the image of their father, tall, slim, graceful, and wise. They probably got their sense of adventure from her, though. They barely reached adulthood, and she was pregnant again. They did not plan on having another child for at least another couple of hundred years, but one night, in this very room, he was making slow and sweet love to her that went on for hours, building to a deeply intense climax, and the moment it happened, they gazed into each other's orbs, and the desire for another child was born. So Arwen was begotten. Unlike in the case of her brothers, this pregnancy seemed to progress fairly easily. She and Elrond felt her fëa strengthen, but with the time of delivery approaching, there came the foreboding visions. Galadriel did not forget the image Nenya showed her when she received the Elessar, so the face of the man who had to be the descendant of the Kings of Númenor did not shock her. Yet the images of her tearful daughter, fading from grief and anguish, frightened her all the same. The delivery was an agony, not just of the hröa but of the fëa as well. Did it come from her unconscious desire not to part from her daughter, to protect her from the fate she foresaw? She didn’t know. She almost died of it, but Elrond, who felt her ambiguity through their bond, pleaded with her, and his calming spirit put her at ease long enough to bring the child to this world. It was customary amongst elves for the desires of the body to diminish after the completion of the family, but not in their case. She and Elrond wondered about this peculiarity from time to time but could only come to the conclusion that it had to do with their unique bond through their rings. This made it even harder when it was time to choose duty over friendship and love.
After the War of the Last Alliance, where Amdír fell, his son, Amroth, became the King of Lórinand. But the tendrils of the dark shadow of evil were growing again. Kazad-dûm fell. Amroth grew weary and sailed to the West. The Galadhrim remained without a leader and without protection from the darkness that was festering in Dol Guldur. It was a painful but necessary sacrifice they had to make - Galadriel was to go to Lórinand and protect it with Nenya. They would share their time between Imladris and - as they now called it - Lothlórien; some time spent apart and some together. A few decades of togetherness until the protection of their respective rings over their realms started to fade, and it was inevitable to part again. A thousand years went by, but it did not get easier, and the desire to be together remained. The only consolation was their heightened ability to perceive each other via Nenya and Vilya, but nothing could replace the feeling of Elrond’s arms around her and his lips on hers. She was not ashamed to think back on the times when, after a lengthy separation, they spent a week not leaving this room, making love to each other over and over again.
Time went by, and the Watchful Peace - if one could talk about peace when the threat of Sauron was looming over their heads - ended. The Necromancer burrowed itself in the wretched stronghold in southern Mirkwood. It was time to act. They summoned the other Wise - Mithrandir, Saruman, and Círdan - and the White Council was formed, right outside to the left of this room, on the Council Porch. The one thing she never forgave Mithrandir was that he didn’t accept the appointment as Head of the Council. Elrond tried to alleviate her fears about Saruman, but over time even he got more and more convinced that the White Wizard lost the way of the Valar. Regrettably for them, the White Council, and for Middle-earth itself, they were proven right, not long after their last combined effort when they drove out the Dark Lord from Dol Guldur. Elrond was also increasingly uneasy about letting her go and rule Lothlórien alone for decades. He told her countless times that he does not doubt her and Nenya’s power of preservation and protection, but despite his faith in their combined force, he couldn’t shake the memories of almost losing her to Sauron’s hands in the Misty Mountains. Arwen insisted on accompanying her from time to time, which was both a blessing for her and another source of worry for Elrond. Then in 2952, she and her daughter came to Imladris to spend some time here. Right after their arrival, Arwen retired to her chambers while Galadriel and Elrond remained on the balcony. It was then that Elrohir and Elladan burst through the doors, covered in grime, returning from another one of their journeys. And even though her heart sang to see them, her eyes could only perceive the young mortal man trailing behind, as he bore the face that haunted her visions of Arwen for centuries. Estel he was called there. Hope. Descendant of the House of Isildur. Chieftain of the Dúnedain. Foster son of her husband. And the man who would take their daughter away from them forever. She did not say anything then, but in the evening, in the seclusion of this room, she wept when she told her husband that Aragorn - that was the true name of the Dúnadan - is the man from her vision. They talked long that night with Elrond, clutching each other, crying until their eyes ran dry. The next day Elrond revealed his true identity to Estel. They were the most surprised when Arwen didn’t return the young man’s affections. It was a glint of hope, as short-lived as it was. Close to thirty years later, she was back in Lothlórien with her daughter. On the way to Imladris, Aragorn met Arwen in Caras Galadhon. For one season they wandered together in Lothlórien, and at midsummer he gave her the Ring of Barahir, and Arwen pledged her hand to him in marriage. Elrond gave his foster son permission to marry their daughter only on the condition that he must first become king of both Gondor and Arnor, for he knew from Galadriel’s vision that only as a king would he be worthy of Arwen's hand. Galadriel thought maybe he just wanted to set forth an impossible task to prevent him from taking away Arwen from them.
But shortly after, everything changed. The One Ring surfaced, brave Halflings set out from the Shire, and a string of events was put in motion that was to culminate in the last, all-decisive battle between Sauron and the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, a clash between Light and Darkness. How she longed to help the Fellowship more than she could. They could not even imagine the horrors of Mordor, the despair of Sauron. Her injury has been gone for thousands of years; still, the memory of its torture has never left her. That was probably a part of it, why she was able to resist the pull of the One Ring. How beautiful it was... She looked at it, and she was back on that imaginary raft again, standing next to Halbrand, who promised her the entire world… but when that scene appeared before her eyes, it shot through her like an arrow - her whole world was Elrond and Elrohir, Elladan, and Arwen, and nothing, nothing could be a stronger desire than the preservation of the love between them. She passed the test. She still shivered at the memory. The Fellowship parted soon. When it was Gimli’s turn to receive her gift, she looked at him, and for a second she thought that she was looking at Durin. So long gone, but his and Disa's kindness and sincere friendship never forgotten.
Her last trial was still ahead, though. In March, Sauron’s forces attacked three times. And three times she and her brave Galadhrim fought back. That was the last time Nenya showed her mighty force. She knew it the very moment when the One Ring was unmade. There was no grand fanfare or a thunderous blow of force. It was only a heartbeat. Then, as if a candle is blown and the flame extinguishes, the power of Nenya was gone. It was like a silent, swift farewell to an old friend, a flash of understanding between two pairs of eyes, a hand reaching for the other’s but never clasping it. She felt emptiness. She did not even realize how much the ring became part of her very being. She mourned her bond with the ring, her special bond with Elrond through Nenya, and she couldn’t wait to be together with him to share both the joy over the defeat of their foe and the grief of losing something precious that would result in the end of the Age of the Elves in Middle-earth. In May her husband and daughter finally arrived in Caras Galadhon. Together they rode to Edoras first, meeting Elladan and Elrohir on the way and finally reaching Gondor on midsummer eve. It was a bittersweet wedding. Their hearts were full of joy seeing the remainder of the Fellowship together and the happiness of their daughter, but nothing could calm the simmering pain of their hearts that was like a bruise, never to be healed, at least not in this part of Arda. Arwen visited Imladris one last time since they left Minas Tirith, to say a final farewell. Words were painfully inadequate to express their feelings, so they haven’t talked much. Namárië.
She let out a deep sigh. There was no reason to lament over the will of Eru. Her daughter made her choice, and she was content and loved by a noble and true man. They couldn’t have asked for more for her. A slight breeze came through the narrowly opened window. Elrond stirred, and his breathing became less even. He moved his hand that lay on her shoulder to her belly and drew her even closer. She covered her arm with her own and entwined their fingers.
“Good morning, lepin nîn.” - came the still sleepy voice of her husband as he inhaled her scent and placed a kiss to the crook of her neck.
“Good morning.” - she greeted him back and brought his hand up to her lips to place a light kiss on his fingers, then returned their hands to their previous position. She was wearing a light silk chemise that had a deep front and back cut and only reached her mid-thigh. Elrond had thin, long sleeping pants on but was not wearing anything on top. The hairs on his chest were tickling her back, and a decidedly familiar bulge was pressing to her bottom. How many times did they wake up like this? A thousand? Or two? Did she get tired of it at any point? Not at all. Not when she knew the heights of pleasure her husband was taking her every time they laid together.
“Do you think this heightened state of physical desire will go away?“ - she tried to start a rational conversation, but the kisses he was covering her with were making it extremely difficult to form intelligible thoughts.
“No, I don’t think so.” - said the muffled voice from behind her as he continued kissing her neck and her shoulder.
“Why do you not think so? We thought that it was only because of our connection via the rings.” - insisted Galadriel, but the end of the sentence came out only as a faint sigh. He certainly knew how to give her a proper greeting in the morning.
“You worry about things and talk way too much.” - murmured Elrond, and Galadriel had the feeling that he didn’t even pay attention to what she was saying.
“Excuse me?” - she exclaimed, pretending to be annoyed. Her husband’s hand started roving around her body. He was caressing her waist and her belly and ended up on her breast, squeezing it through the material of her nightdress. His mouth became bolder too, nipping her neck and shoulder, then moving the strap of her slip down her shoulder with his mouth.
“If you don’t stop talking, I have to put your mouth to better use.”
He could seduce her with only words. Sometimes when they made love, he hardly touched her for an hour, just an airy brush of a fingertip here and there, his fingers’ downy wandering barely making any contact with her skin, his voice becoming husky with desire, describing all the ways he wanted to pleasure her.
“Is that a threat?” - moaned Galadriel and reached for his ass with her free hand, and as she grabbed it, she rubbed her buttocks to his groin. Elrond squeezed her uncovered breast in response and gave a tiny pinch to her nipple.
“It is a promise.” - he said, and he kissed the tip of her ear. She was burning with a need that could only be quenched one way. She was glad to realize that Elrond followed the same direction of thought as he opened the front binding of his pants and freed himself from its confines. He lifted her leg a bit, guiding her to rest it on his own, then reached for her cunt. She was slick with pleasure, her juices weeping from her entrance.
“So ready…” - rumbled Elrond’s voice through her. He glided his erect member a few times over her cunt, lubricating it in a tantalizingly slow manner, then he finally thrust in. His impressive length filled her, and it was achingly delicious when he started moving inside her. His hand moved to the front and was toying with her center. After all these years, he knew exactly where and how to touch her to tease slowly and build up something profound or to give her a swift release. Today it was the latter. His initial languid thrusts quickly became faster and more powerful as he adjusted his angle to hit the sweetest spot in her core. He was sucking on her neck while Galadriel reached up and gently grasped a handful of his long hair, loving the feel of it. He had long hair ever since their children were born to give him a more distinguished appearance, but recently he was joking with her that he might have it cut short if only to outrage her parents in Valinor. She told him she didn’t have any preference; she liked it either way. She knew that her moans were becoming obscenely loud and was pretty sure that their continued sexual escapades would be much more scandalous to her parents than Elrond’s short hair - the thought was improper but so very arousing at the same time. She was getting so close, and Elrond’s ragged breath and forceful plunges told her that he was ready for his release as well. She covered the hand that was working on her nub with her own and bent her hip a bit backwards, changing the angle again. This was enough to push her husband over the edge. He let out a loud groan, and his warm come filled her. Her own orgasm followed it right away, and she called out his name over and over as her walls clenched around him repeatedly.
———
They lay there for several minutes in silence after their coupling, Galadriel resting on her belly and Elrond placing kisses up and down on her back and her buttocks. After a while she rolled over to face him. She snuggled close and gave him a long kiss.
“I cannot believe that we are leaving. I have been replaying some of the memories in my mind while you were still asleep, grieving the end of our time together in this Middle-earth.” - she said eventually, looking into his eyes.
“I feel the same. This is the only real home I have known for millennia. It has to be a bit different for you, though. You are not going to the unknown.”
“True. But you said once, so very long ago, that all of our kind carry the song of Valinor in their hearts, no matter whether they have been there or not. Look at Círdan; you can almost perceive an atmosphere of Valinor around him, even though he has never set foot on the Blessed Realm. You have to have a sense of excitement too.”
“I do. Of course I do. But he always longed for Valinor. Me… I had all that was important for me right here in Middle-earth. At least ever since the age of six when I have set eyes upon the most magnificent elleth on Arda.” - he said in a serious tone, yet his eyes were full of mirth - “The elleth, who became my best friend, my wife, and the mother of my children.”
“Pray tell, how did you get to seduce such a wonderful elleth, you lucky fellow?”
“I have an irresistible charm, didn’t you know? Galadriel, what’s wrong?"
She tried to keep up the light banter, but the mention of their children brought back the familiar ache in her heart, and she couldn’t hush it away with a cheeky retort. She shook her head and didn’t say a word, but Elrond knew her too well to let it go that easily.
“Galadriel…”
“I don’t know how I am going to bear not being able to see her ever again.”
“Me neither. But maybe it is better like this.”- he said, turned away, and looked at the ceiling.
“What do you mean?”
“I have seen Elros grow old. At first it was subtle. Three centuries went by without any change in his outer appearance. Then a wrinkle appeared here and there, a white hair among the brown. But he still looked more or less the same as I did. After that I haven’t visited for about fifty years. The next time I went to see him, I saw an old man. I saw my own face having grown old, a sight I would never experience on my own.”
He was still staring at the ceiling, but it was obvious that his mind’s eye was thousands of years and leagues away in a place that was long buried in the depths of the sea and the memories of people long gone.
“That’s the way of mortal things, living creatures and mortal constructs alike. They wither and die. Look at Imladris, melethron nîn. It has faded so much, and it’s only been a bit more than two years ago that the One Ring was unmade. The sun shines the same way, but its gleam hits the buildings differently. There is no spark. Everything lost its color.”
“It is terrible to think that Arwen is fated to the same.” - he spoke softly. His eyes were red from the suppressed tears.
“Elrond, na lûth naer lín. You may think that I take leaving our daughter easier than you do, but do not be mistaken. It pains me as much as it does you. It is so incomprehensible for our kind to understand that manner of existence, as we have never experienced the possibility of finitude. But I have learned long ago that even those things that we believe to be infinite can come to an end. If the bond between me and Celeborn wouldn’t have been dissolved, I could never have had your love and couldn’t have borne our children. Arwen made her choice just like Elros did all those years ago. It comes with pain; that is certain. But all of our lives do, isn’t it?”
“Not in Valinor, that’s what we are all being told.”
“I’m not sure, Elrond… Of course, there is a bliss there that can never be found anywhere else. But there is pain there too. It is not really the lack of hardship, pain, or suffering that defines Valinor, but the state of mind there, which enables you to cope with them in an entirely new way. You will see.” - she stroked his ear and his jaw lovingly.
“My wise friend, who does not cease to put me at ease when I need it.” - he turned back to her and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Or lose your patience if the situation requires it. You know that it is the same day today as it was when you challenged me to a race and we rode out to that hidden pool?”
“Is it? Was that, let’s see…”
“Four thousand seven hundred and sixty-five years ago, yes.”
“Such fond memories. Well, most of them. I recall being very glad that we were in that cold water; otherwise, I would have done something indecent right in that moment.”
“Lord Elrond, you are making me blush!”
“I do hope so. I like seeing that rosiness on your cheeks. It makes me think of all the pleasant instances when I saw that flush on you in a state of ecstasy.”
“I see that it is impossible to have a serious conversation with you today.”
“Out of all days, I believe this is one that we need a little bit of levity in. A spark of humor in these melancholic times.”
Suddenly he had a distant look on him that - Galadriel knew by now - could only mean that he was thinking about a certain dwarf.
“You still think of them often, don’t you?” - she asked kindly and caressed his temple.
“I do. Foolish thing, I know, but when I saw Legolas and Gimli before they departed with the Fellowship… my heart flooded with all the longing for my dear friend. Even after all these years, I miss the friendly banter and the sincere moments.” - he whispered and closed his eyes for a second.
“It is not foolish, and you know that. I miss them too. My thoughts were with them even this morning. I miss all of them. But see, melethron nîn, how thrilling it is that we might meet some of them soon! I know we won’t be able to see Durin or Disa, but to lay eyes on and hold Gil-galad, Celebrimbor, Finrod, and Arondir again?”
“You certainly know how to make me excited about meeting them, but I would rather hold you if there is such an option.”
“Oh, I do hope so, I vellon nín bâl.” - laughed Galadriel and threw her leg over Elrond’s waist and pulled him closer to her body.
“What of the previous admonishment about insincere conversations today?” - Elrond reminded her.
“Oh, I am very serious, Lord Elrond. And anyway, you were the one who started it again!”
“Oh, and I’m intent on going through with it too.” - hummed the Half-elven and kissed her clavicle.
“Stop it, or we will never get to Valinor, I chervenn nín!” - giggled Galadriel.
“It’s fine with me; I already feel like I’m in Valinor when I’m inside you.” - teased Elrond, but stopped fondling her.
“If you keep on saying such beautiful sentiments, I might have to postpone our journey after all.” - smiled the elleth.
There was an odd dichotomy in her. The Sea was calling her; the music and light of Valinor were like a summons. Still, she did not even want to get out of this bed, because that meant the time had come to leave this life behind. Alas, there was no room for negotiations. Time didn’t stand still. They took a bath before they dressed up and gathered the last few items for the road. Other than the bare necessities for the journey to the Grey Havens, they were not planning on taking anything else with them. Why would they? There was nothing they would need where they were going and nothing they could take with them even if they wanted to. Elrond wore his father’s Vingilot-shaped brooch, and they had Nenya and Vilya, a fond but poignant reminder of all that was mighty once but was gone forever.
There was a soft knock on the door. The Lord of Imladris - at least for a few hours still - walked to the entrance and opened it.
“It is time.” - the face of their old friend greeted them. His face was as youthful as it was when they first met him, long red hair tied together now, the ever-present small-swords at his side. He didn’t feel the calling of the Blessed Realm yet, and being a true friend, he promised to look after the twins until those two felt that they were ready to leave Middle-earth.
“Yes, it is, Vorohil. Come on.” - Elrond reached for Galadriel’s hand. She turned once more and let her gaze meander over the room. Each piece of furniture told a thousand stories, and each crack on the floor carried a never-fading memory. There was a groove in the wide windowsill; the wood gradually wore away in the spot where Arwen or Elrond used to sit with a book in hand or gazing out to the valley. The edge of the imposing oak wardrobe was marked with small scores; that’s where they used to measure how the children grew; the left was Arwen’s, and the right was for the twins. She felt a tug at her heartstrings and blinked a few times to prevent the tears from escaping her eyes. As she caught sight of Elrond’s face, it was clear that he was in a similar predicament.
“Everything will be fine.” - he told her as she stepped closer and gave him her hand.
“I know.” - she nodded and gave his fingers a squeeze.
And with that they closed the door behind them and stepped out into the brilliant autumn sun and towards the Light of the West.