Prompt: “A person whose head is bowed and whose eyes are heavy cannot look at the light.”~ Christine de Pisan
Galadriel slowly turned the key in the chest and took out the jewel. Its green light glittered and shimmed across her hand. It was a beautiful thing, the Elessar, as was everything made by the hands of the skilled Elven craftsmen of old. The very light of the sun was contained within the crystal.
Galadriel sighed. They were all gone now; Enerdhil , Celebrimbor and the other masters of old. Vanished like the mists through long centuries of war and darkness. Darkness that been unleashed with the destruction of the Two Trees.
Often she wondered how different her life might have been had Melkor not destroyed the Two Trees. When she closed her eyes, she could still see their glorious light, a light so different from that given now by the sun and moon.
If the Trees still stood, she doubted that she would have been moved to seek adventure in Middle-earth. Fëanor who had led them hence, had ever been a troublemaker. She did not regret refusing him a strand of her hair. He always presumed too much. She had no love for him, yet she grieved the passing of his skills with his death.
Maybe, though, the crafting of jewels such as the Silmarils, was hubris for any save the Powers. The one that yet survived now gave light to all from Eärendil’s craft. Maybe that was how it should be?
She looked again at the Elessar. It had been hidden away for too long. Maybe, if they survived the coming war, this jewel and he who was destined to bear it, might bring much-needed healing to the land.
Ere he departed from her realm, she would place it in his hand. It would enhance the latent powers within Eärendil’s scion and give him hope that the reward he yearned for above all else would be his.
Galadriel sighed and tears pricked her eyes. It should not have been she who handed him the bride gift, but her daughter. Celebrian, her beloved only child, so cruelly used by Sauron’s minions that she had left the shores of Middle-earth. What would her daughter have made of Arwen’s choice of husband? Galadriel hoped only that she could comfort her and make her understand once they were reunited.
Love was a strange thing. Arwen had had her pick of Elven kind, yet only one of the Second Born had stirred her heart. Not for the first time, Galadriel wondered if she had been wise to encourage the match. She believed it was fated to be and only a fool tries to prevent what must be.
Her friendship with Melian had taught her many things not least the influence of the Powers beyond what the eye might perceive. She missed Melian. So many she had known and loved were now far across the sundering seas.
Aragorn’s heart was one of the noblest she had ever perceived in either Man or Elf, though. Arwen’s joy might be brief, but she had chosen well and through her and Aragorn, some trace of the glories of old might yet linger in Middle-earth.
Galadriel wiped a tear from her eyes. Darkness was gathering all around them. Even if Frodo succeeded in his mission there would be little joy ahead for her. Nenya’s power would wane and the realm she had worked so hard to build would fade away without its craft.
And yet, she foresaw that there might yet be light ahead, if not for her, for her beloved granddaughter. She must hold her head high and seek that light.
Today, Aragorn would have the Elessar with her blessing. The one time Eagle of the Star would bear the green jewel in its eagle setting.
The gem caught the sun’s rays and sparkled. Maybe it was a sign. Dawn would break even after the longest night of sorrow. Galadriel walked out into a sunlit glade, her hair sparkling like molten gold.
Curated with permission from author