NOTE: This had originally and quite briefly (we're talking a matter of hours) been posted as Celeborn's Hallelujah. The fic has been reworked into a series of vingnettes. Special thanks to Nilmandra and Nerdanel Istarnie for their assistance with this.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings are Tolkien's. I make no money from this.

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The trees sing to me as I rest here at the foot of this birch. The rustle of the leaves sets the tempo. The stars filter their radiance through the boughs above me. Yet, I find no peace here.

I pluck at my harp trying to harmonize with the trees and the soft lilt of the grass, yet I find I cannot. Daeron’s most recent melody comes to mind, and I try again, feeling the music permeate my very being. Yet my heart is restless and unresponsive.

Daeron has my dear cousin Luthien to inspire him to pour forth his music into such a grandly elegant, graceful flowing display while she makes music for the eyes. Will I ever have someone who so inspires me as that? Will I ever know what it is to have the very music plucked from me by such a wondrous maiden, as fair Luthien draws forth the melodies from Daeron?

I set my harp aside and listen to the sweet harmonies of the forest around me. The sounds I would make do not begin to compare.

I was serving my tour in command of the Western Marches when I first saw them, my distant kin from far away, the children of Finarfin. My king had stationed me there to greet them and escort them to Menegroth. I knew they were coming, but I was so unprepared for what graced my eyes.

They were beautiful. Simply beautiful. So regally they sat upon their mounts. Their hair and their eyes glistening in the evening light, just as Prince Angrod’s had when he first came to us as emissary of his brother Finrod. The setting sun glinted off of their hair, reflecting upon the many jewels that adorned their heads and collars. Their garb was strange, full of bright colors not found in the forest before the rising of the sun and moon. But she was the jewel of them all, their sister Artanis.

The setting sun blessed her hair, mingling joyfully with silver and gold radiance. Her eyes were the color of the sky at the deepest part of a sunny day. Even the stain of travel did nothing to mar her beauty.

She dismounted at our appointed campsite and immediately took charge, issuing commands for the ordering of the camp. Her brothers freely allowed this, but I could not, for she obviously knew nothing of our ways. She acted as if the trees and their desires did not matter. The needs of the forest were ignored and the proper respect was not shown. How dare she? And how dare my kinsmen allow it?

I stopped her, corrected her, reprimanded her, while trying to be a gracious host in spite of my anger. Through it all, she bore herself proudly, regally, arrogantly. I knew instantly she always received what she desired. And I was horrified upon the settling of camp to discover that everything still lay as she had originally planned - with my warriors allowing it! Even the very trees had ceased their harsh complaint against her!

Unable to bear her presence, I pointedly disregarded her, treating with her brothers instead. Yet my eyes betrayed me and continued to stray to her loveliness. The starlight favored her, adorning her locks. The moonlight seemed to have reserved special beams of silver just for her. The next day, the very rays of the sun paid her homage, garlanding her tresses with a radiant marvel.

She was a queen waiting to be crowned, and I but a lowly prince. Her father cited her nobility in naming her Artanis. Her mother called her Nerwen – “man-maiden”. Both appropriate, yet unfitting as I see her. In my heart I shall call her “maiden garlanded with radiance” -- Galadriel.

Everything seems different when seen through the eyes of love. It is as if the whole world is made new and yet . . .

I have shown her Menegroth, every inch of which I have known and even helped to create. But it is as if I have never even seen these caves before when seeing them through the wonder of her eyes. Having been a student of Aulë the Vala, she perceives details that I, a son of the forest, have never before noticed. Outside, the play of the fountains in the gardens and the song of the trees in the forest seem so different with her at my side. The flowers bloom in brighter colors for her presence among them.

Yet my lady is still proud and arrogant. The Noldor may have come in our hour of greatest need and rescued the elves of Beleriand from the onslaught of Melkor, but that does not make them better than us. They may have seen the holy light of the Two Trees and dwelt at the feet of the Valar, but that does not give them the right to proclaim themselves “Calaquendi” and denounce us as “Moriquendi”.

She ignores our craftsmen in favor of the tutelage of our Queen Melian the Maia. It is as if mere elves are too inferior for her to deign to spend her time learning from them; she who is used to the teaching of the Valar themselves and now must content herself with the mere presence of a Maia.

I have observed in court that the princess wears me like an adornment upon her arm as if I am a piece of finery to compliment her exquisite dresses and her lush hair. I seem to be an expensive silver ornament which she has added to her collection of jewels.

But that is not who I am and that is not what I am! I am respected as a leader and a high counselor to my kinsman King Thingol. I am a noble lord among the greatest of the Sindar, the mightiest elves of Middle-earth who stayed behind out of courage, loyalty, and love when the other kindreds of elves passed on over the sea.

But she is a Noldorin regal, infused with royal blood of the Teleri and the Vanyar as well. Yet in spite of her most noble lineage and her high learning, she is so dangerously naive. This princess who would rule lands of her own, knows nothing of the harsh reality of living in a land forsaken by the Valar, where evil things creep about, kept at bay only by the blood, the swords, and the slender bows of these “dark elves” which she shuns. She has much to learn if she is to survive here, my Galadriel.

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Calaquendi – elves of light
Moriquendi – elves of darkness

When I courted Princess Artanis and later took her as my wife, my Galadriel, we spent every night in each others arms. We walked in the moonlight beneath the trees. We shared our common joys for many things and delighted in discovering more. Melian said at our wedding that our union was as the mingling of the Two Trees, golden Laurelin and silver Teleperion for the coloring of our hair and the joining of our different yet highly complimentary, strong, passionate spirits.

My beloved often told me of her life in Valinor, but for some reason, she never spoke of the last of her time there and the journey here. She used to tell me everything and now she has become quiet. Melian has asked my Galadriel many questions of late. I know she suspects something, some darkness which my beloved Light would cast as shadow upon her road here to Middle-earth.

A change has come over my wife. What does she hide from us? What does she fear? We had talked of adding to our wedded bliss, of making a child, but now, she is not so certain.

I wish I knew what troubled my Lady so…

My days are full of duties and chores for the king. But my nights, my cold lonely nights…

The mirth is gone from me. I seldom smile. I wanted to hate her and blame her for what her people had done. But she swore she had no part in it and neither did her brothers. She begged me to forgive them, to forgive her. It was love and loyalty to one side of their family that kept them from revealing the sins of those kin to the other side of their family.

I still cannot believe that the so-called “wise” Noldor murdered the Teleri -- my own kin across the sea -- in cold blood over a few ships floating in a harbor. How could the children of Finarfin and Eärwen come to the board of their kinsmen red-handed from the slaying of their own kin, of our own kin?

The daughter of Finarfin has been sent away with her brothers. Do I even still love her?

Much time has passed. Melian took me aside today and suggested I ride to Nargothrond and reclaim what was once mine. She said the princess and I were meant for each other.

Now I am in my chambers, packing my bags for a trip to King Finrod’s realm. My heart has cooled within me. I care not for the hatred of the past. Let the Noldor, the “Calaquendi” as they call themselves think we Sindar are dark and primitive. I care not. For all of their witness to the Light and their time spent with the holy beings in Valinor, it has done them precious little good. I may be a prince of a forsaken people from a “dark” world, but I know love and I know loyalty beyond and in spite of all hardship.

I miss my beloved, my heart, my light. My people will slander me for my love of her, but I do not care. I will be scorned in the courts of Thingol, and she will be scorned in the courts of the Noldor, but together we can withstand anything. My heart aches for her. I would give anything for one more night with her in my arms. I am riding out tonight to reclaim the treasure stolen from me by misdeeds of the past.

Soon she will be mine once again. My wife, my life, my beloved Galadriel.