The Secret Worship
Title: The Secret Worship
Characters: Galadriel
Fandom : Silmarillion
Prompt: 010. Years
Word Count : 240
Rating : General
Summary: In the Third Age, the sole survivor of the House of Finwe remembers, or why Galadriel is so mysterious.
Author's Notes: I own nothing. Also prompted by minviendha who picked the visual prompt.
When they came to Lorinand, Galadriel took to the woods immediately. It was not Valinor, no, but it was something close to it. Walking with her feet bare in the rustle of golden leaves, she felt more at peace than she had in a long time. There were nights, even, where she did not feel so strongly the call of the sea, and almost could imagine that she would end her days gladly, in Lorien.
Then the day came, and she felt wistful again, condemned to fade in the dawn of the Age of Men. Celeborn would come, at times, and try to speak to her, but there was nothing that could make her smile, save when she planted the Mallorn saplings.
Then, her hands in the earth, her white gown soiled by her work, she would smile, sadly, wistfully. Then, as she planted something that would flourish well after the Eldar had faded, her smile widened and her tears flowed, secretly.
In her mind, Artanis repeated to herself the litany of names, each an evocation of those who had left her. In her heart, there was a name, secret and forbidden, which made her lips quiver with sadness. If only they'd had time...
And then she would be done, and stand, and smile politely to her attendants. Then, she would be no longer Artanis, but Galadriel, the Lady of the Golden Wood, old, and cold, and mysterious beyond compare.
Characters: Galadriel
Fandom : Silmarillion
Prompt: 010. Years
Word Count : 240
Rating : General
Summary: In the Third Age, the sole survivor of the House of Finwe remembers, or why Galadriel is so mysterious.
Author's Notes: I own nothing. Also prompted by minviendha who picked the visual prompt.
When they came to Lorinand, Galadriel took to the woods immediately. It was not Valinor, no, but it was something close to it. Walking with her feet bare in the rustle of golden leaves, she felt more at peace than she had in a long time. There were nights, even, where she did not feel so strongly the call of the sea, and almost could imagine that she would end her days gladly, in Lorien.
Then the day came, and she felt wistful again, condemned to fade in the dawn of the Age of Men. Celeborn would come, at times, and try to speak to her, but there was nothing that could make her smile, save when she planted the Mallorn saplings.
Then, her hands in the earth, her white gown soiled by her work, she would smile, sadly, wistfully. Then, as she planted something that would flourish well after the Eldar had faded, her smile widened and her tears flowed, secretly.
In her mind, Artanis repeated to herself the litany of names, each an evocation of those who had left her. In her heart, there was a name, secret and forbidden, which made her lips quiver with sadness. If only they'd had time...
And then she would be done, and stand, and smile politely to her attendants. Then, she would be no longer Artanis, but Galadriel, the Lady of the Golden Wood, old, and cold, and mysterious beyond compare.