Differences

‘Is it not about time,’ Idherien said, with a patience that had been honed by long centuries of association with this aggravating elf, ‘that you put past … rivalries … aside?’

Oropher settled his wet head on her lap and enjoyed the soothing sensation of her fingers running through his hair.  ‘It is not that simple,’ he protested.

His wife kept her sigh to no more than a breath.  It would not be simple.  Her beloved took obstinate to a whole new level of meaning.  Fortunately, he also carried loyalty beyond any rational limits as well.  ‘You share the same enemies,’ she said mildly, ‘and keep the same friends.  You are kin – to some degree.  Can you not put this endless contention behind you?’

Oropher pouted.  Of course, he would have been horrified to hear his expression described as pouting … Idherien could not keep back her smile, her heart warmed by a wash of affection for her husband.  ‘I am right to doubt her,’ he declared.  ‘She lied to Elu – by omission, at the very least.  And she is dangerous – I do not trust her or her kin not to betray us all, if it is to their advantage.’

‘And she married your cousin and took him away …’ Idherien added.  ‘You did not mind Finrod and you tolerated her other brothers well enough … why is it that you cannot be within a league of Galadriel without coming to blows?’

‘Not blows!’ Oropher objected.  ‘I would not hit an elleth – not even a changeling like that one.’

‘Metaphorical blows,’ his wife amended.  ‘You cannot be anywhere near each other without engaging in battle – and neither of you needs blades or fists to cause injury.’

The stream tugged at his feet, as if encouraging him to come out with an explanation that would satisfy his wife, but the rock remained steady beneath them and the dappled sunlight gleamed through the trees.  Idherien continued to stroke his hair as she watched the water – letting him know that, no matter what, she would always support him.  Although neither she would take any nonsense – she might not make much of it, but she was a wiser elleth by far than that … that Noldo. 

‘She is arrogant,’ he said.

Idherien nodded encouragingly. 

‘She will not let anyone forget that she is Finwë’s granddaughter – that she is a blessed daughter of Aman, raised in the light of those Trees, who earned her insight at the feet of the Powers.  She just knows she is better than we are.’

His wife inclined her head.  She was not convinced.

‘She … she expects to be given the respect due to a warrior and a prince.  She wants everyone to bow down before her wisdom and foresight and do exactly as she says.’

Idherien pursed her lips.

‘She dazzled Celeborn – and took him off to be her paramour.  She turned him into her pet,’ he spat bitterly.  ‘Encouraged him to abandon his duty to Elu and to Doriath – so that, when the end came, he was not there to defend our king and kinsman.’

The movement of the slender fingers slowed down.

‘She wants a kingdom of her own, with my cousin to pander to her pride and green elves and grey to kneel to her and flatter her and do her bidding.’

‘Do you not think that you exaggerate?’ Idherien asked.  ‘She has stood by your cousin’s side now for a score of yeni, endured exile and loss and exile again – and picked up the pieces and moved on.  You cannot deny her courage.’

‘I can if I want to.’  Oropher spoke with determination.  ‘She … she epitomises everything I dislike about the Noldor who presented themselves as our saviours, while being no better than kinslayers and betrayers. You do no good, my heart,’ he told his wife.  ‘I will never do more than tolerate her.’

***

‘You are much more likely to get the concessions you want from him if I am not there.’  Galadriel poured a cup of a fragrant tea that smelled faintly of tree blossom and passed it to her husband.  ‘He is … far too self-absorbed to think first of the welfare of his realm and the benefit of elvenkind and only later of himself.’

‘You are less than fair to my cousin,’ Celeborn reproved her.

‘Well …’ his wife shrugged pettishly.

‘It is hard to be fair to someone who is not prepared to recognise your excellent qualities,’ Celeborn agreed.  ‘But it is an indication of greater maturity, perhaps?’

Galadriel sniffed.  ‘There is no point in being mature when it makes no impression on him.  He holds me to blame for everything that has gone wrong in Middle-earth since Tilion first crossed the sky.’

‘I think you exaggerate.’

A reluctant smile brightened his wife’s face.  ‘A little, perhaps,’ she conceded.  ‘But he irritates me.’  Her smile widened a little.  ‘He reminds me of a dog my grandfather kept once – a great suspicious beast, one that bared its teeth and snarled if any approached Finwë too closely.  It would fight intruders to the death, without ever once questioning whether it had any reason to attack.’

‘I would not compare my cousin to an ill-disciplined dog.’

‘Would you not?’ Galadriel sipped her tea, determinedly refusing to meet her husband’s compelling stare and concentrating instead on the steam rising from her cup.  ‘On reflection, you are right – the beast was far more reasonable … Once it had been introduced to those my grandfather trusted, it accepted them as part of the family.’

 Celeborn leaned back in his chair, the sun in the window mingling with his silver hair to provide to a blazing aureole.   ‘I have, over the centuries, seen you expend considerable effort on charming dwarves and men, on winning the loyalty of elves who never started the Great Journey and those who found the call of these lands closer to their hearts than any promised land – yet you have never wasted any effort on winning over my cousin.’  He looked down his nose to pin her with his gaze.  ‘Why would that be, my wife?  Do you see him as a rival?’

He admired the flush of colour that burned along her cheekbones.  If he admitted it to himself, he rather relished the ease with which Oropher could stir his wife to wrath.  Galadriel had learned control before the most powerful of their kind and she was rarely inclined to show the temper that must have made her a handful to raise.  His cousin, however, could ignite her anger without being within a hundred leagues of her.  It was a flair worthy of admiration.

‘He treats me as if I am second only to Sauron in vileness,’ she snapped.  ‘I am untrustworthy, treacherous, arrogant, demanding, unfeminine, cursed – being in my company will bring about the fall of kingdoms, the destruction of dynasties, the shattering of families.  If I speak of what I know, I am glorying in my Noldor upbringing with the sole purpose of humiliating him.  If I remain silent, I am contemptuously refusing to share my knowledge with the jumped-up scion of a lesser house.  I have never wanted to get in a fight with anyone as much as I do with him.  I revert to a child who yearns to take the seeds from rosehips and put them in his underwear.’  Her face took on a look of brooding satisfaction.  ‘Preferably just before he has to endure a very long and formal court.’

Celeborn laughed outright.  ‘Nevertheless, you will come,’ he ordained.  ‘I will not have him congratulate himself on defeating you and driving us apart.’

‘Perhaps,’ his wife said grudgingly.  ‘At least I can take pleasure in making him squirm.’

Her husband lifted an eyebrow.  ‘But you will bear in mind that we have a purpose?  And driving my cousin to explosion point is unlikely to achieve our ends.’

‘I will not start it,’ she conceded, ‘but you cannot expect me not to retaliate if he insults me.’

‘If he insults you,’ Celeborn granted, his tone making it plain that he meant outright insult rather than simple dislike, ‘he has asked for whatever penalty you choose to extract.  But try, my heart, to keep the carping under control.’

Galadriel sighed.  ‘I get so little pleasure these days,’ she complained, ‘and now you wish to keep this from me, too.’

‘He is family, my lady,’ her husband said.  ‘And you have had enough … difficult kin of your own to know what that means.’

***

Idherien raised her eyebrows at Celeborn, who shrugged in response.

‘It is likely to be that bad?’ she asked.

‘Worse,’ he admitted.  ‘I am frequently tempted to place them in the middle of a labyrinth that they can only escape if they work together.’

‘A shame we do not have one handy.’  Idherien placed a long-fingered hand on Celeborn’s arm, allowing him to lead her into the glade where the gathered elves awaited them. 

‘A cupboard might do at a pinch,’ he said.

‘They are never going to surrender, are they?’ She sounded resigned – as if, no matter what they did, she and Celeborn were never going to break through the prejudice that made Oropher and Galadriel into … opponents.

‘Not willingly,’ he sighed.  ‘Galadriel would fight Anor’s rising, if she put her mind to it – and the very best way to make her hold her ground is to push her towards doing the opposite.’

‘She and Oropher are alike in many ways.  They are almost confrontational enough to be brother and sister.’

Celeborn’s lips quirked into a smile.  ‘I would avoid mentioning that in Oropher’s hearing.  He would not appreciate the thought.’  He accepted the goblet of wine she offered him.  ‘But, since we cannot win in this situation, I believe it is up to us to manage our defeat.’

‘I know Oropher is … headstrong,’ his wife said carefully, ‘but his motives are of the best – he loves the forest and would give his life to protect his people.  He will not have anyone take advantage of their simple honesty to promote their own ambition.’

Celeborn laughed.  ‘When Galadriel and I were … out of favour in Doriath and less than welcome with her brothers, we dwelt among the Nandor and wandered the forests east of the Ered Luin.  The simplicity of Wood-elves is, I am convinced, no more than an illusion.  They belong to the forest and each other – and the essence of the land sustains them.  The Noldor wish to change the world to fit it to their vision, but they tend to individualism and that fractures their influence.  The green elves …’ He took a sip.  ‘Theirs is an older power.’

‘I do not confuse simplicity with impotence,’ Idherien said carefully.  ‘And it would be a mistake for anyone else to do so.’

‘An error I will avoid.’  The shadows deepening below the trees outlined his profile against the moon.  ‘But Oropher’s prejudice might lead him into a similar misjudgement.  Having Noldor blood does not equate with opportunism.  Being an Exile does not make elves careless of the world they inhabit.’  He stared into his goblet meditatively.  ‘We tried,’ he said, ‘closing ourselves away from the evil that stalked the land – it did not defeat it.  We tried to pretend that the sinking of Beleriand had rid us of the taint of Morgoth – and we learned that it had not.  We cannot ignore what is happening in the world, Idherien, and merely hope to keep our own corner of it safe.  If I have learned anything, it is that there are times when we must stand firm.’

She closed her eyes and let the song of the forest soothe her.  ‘You might have had more success in convincing Oropher of the need for unity had Galadriel remained behind,’ she admitted.  ‘He can tolerate the Exiles so much better when he is separated from them by a range of mountains.’

‘How many of them are true Exiles now, Idherien?’ Celeborn said softly.  ‘How many still live, of those who crossed the ice?  Of those who heard the words of the Doomsman? Their blood has soaked into the earth and their bones have crumbled into dust.  Those Oropher condemns as invaders were born here – they know no other home.  The fate of Middle-earth is as much their concern as it is ours.  Oropher needs to learn to look outside – to see similarities instead of differences.’

‘You think that insisting that he and your lady … deal with each other will be a help?’

Celeborn smiled – a smile that reminded Idherien that the former Prince of Doriath might not care to set himself up to outshine his wife, but that his power was deep and quiet and far-reaching.  ‘Maybe not,’ he said.  ‘But it should make entertaining viewing.’

***

Only Celeborn would have read the reproach in her veiled expression – and only Celeborn could escape her wrath for responding with that faint smirk.  Although, she noted, he would not escape it for long.  She was sure that, if she put her mind to it, she could revenge herself on her husband in such a way that he would be the one to end up apologising.

Oropher glanced behind her to his tranquil wife, who ignored his blatant request for relief from the duty of entertaining the Lady Galadriel.

He sighed and attempted to think of some less-than-contentious topic of conversation. ‘The harvest has been good this season,’ he ventured.  Let her turn that into an argument!

‘The trees have been fruitful,’ she agreed, ‘and the storehouses are full.  Last winter was long and lean, so we can hope for better this year.’

‘As long as we remain at peace.’

Galadriel stiffened.  ‘War is never to be sought,’ she said, ‘but sometimes it finds us anyway.’

‘It has not come looking for us here!’

‘Yet.’  She dropped the word like a pebble in a pool, before pinching her lips closed and smoothing the fabric of her gown over her knees. 

Oropher refused to comment, glancing up to the patch of stars as if to ask how much longer he must endure the evening before he could courteously retire.

‘I must ask Idherien how your cooks make this acorn bread,’ Galadriel said lightly.  ‘It is delicious – and we have acorns in plenty.’

He waved a hand.  ‘I believe it has something to do with roasting the acorns before leaching the bitterness – but do not rely on my account.  If organising the food was left to me, we would still be eating little but venison.’

‘Boar?’ Galadriel suggested.  ‘With the occasional addition of fish and the odd duck or wild goose.  My lord’s interest in feeding his people is just as limited.’  She did not quite smile at her husband as he engaged Idherien in casual conversation. She was, after all, still annoyed with him.  ‘The forests would be denuded of wildlife if we followed his inclinations.’

Oropher narrowed his eyes.  ‘Celeborn has a deep understanding of the forest and its inhabitants,’ he declared.

‘And very little liking for the tedium of supplying a household,’ Galadriel countered.  ‘I was talking to your wife of the difficulty of weaving enough fabric to clothe those who dwell here – and she was telling me of the benefits of cloth made from nettles.  They grow in abundance and their tips are nutritious, while they feed butterflies as well as being used to twist into string.  I will have to look into making greater use of such a freely-available resource.’

‘They stink as they rot down before they are ready to be spun,’ Oropher warned her. ‘Almost as bad as tanneries.’

‘Sometimes I think how pleasant it would be not to have to concern myself with providing the needs of so many,’ Galadriel said.  ‘To be free.  But we make our own chains to bind us down.’

‘And some bear greater weight than others.’

Galadriel did not reply.  She refused to make excuses for a past she could not change.  Refused, come to that, to accept the responsibility for the actions of others.  Whether Oropher was ever prepared to see it or not, she would support her own burden and serve as best she could until she could no longer endure.  And she would not pretend to be any less than she was.

‘Do you think it will come to war?’ Oropher asked her suddenly.

She bowed her head.  ‘In the end,’ she said.  ‘We are part of this world – Sauron will not let us hide from his vengeance.  And this conflict will bite as deep as any wound yet.’

‘Sometimes I wish I could be an elfling again – and leave all the ruling to others.  Let them live with the decisions that must be made.’

‘A thought I am sure crossed even Elu’s mind a time or two.’  Galadriel inhaled the scent of the pale wine and took an appreciative mouthful.  ‘Not grape?’ she said.

‘They do not grow well here,’ he said.  ‘We import some wine from the south – but it is a waste of resources to give so much space to barrels when there are other things we need much more.  This is made from birch sap.’

‘We are on the verge of communicating civilly, you know.’  It might be foolish to draw Oropher’s attention to the matter, but Galadriel could not help but find the matter notable.

‘But we will make a point of not telling anyone, will we not?’ Oropher said promptly.  ‘After all, our hostility affords everyone so much entertainment; it would be churlish to spoil their fun.’

Galadriel suppressed a most unladylike grin.  It could be amusing.  If she and Oropher were, in fact, deceiving her husband into thinking that their relationship had reached a new low, she would not feel obliged to torment him for pushing the two of them together.  ‘Shall we finish our wine before treating our beloved spouses to a display of our irritation?’

***

Celeborn raised his hand authoritatively to enforce Oropher’s silence.  ‘I am older than you,’ he said firmly, ‘and senior to you in kinship. You will let me speak.’

‘I am king here,’ Oropher told him, ‘and you will remember that.’

‘Galadriel is my wife,’ his cousin persisted.  ‘My wife.  And the mother of my child.  You will respect that, whatever you might think of elements of her family.’

‘And in her role as your wife and the mother of your daughter, I do respect her.’  Oropher stated.  ‘And I regard her with all courtesy.  But I fail to see why she should expect to be treated as if she were Melian.’

Celeborn blinked.

‘It cannot have escaped your notice that your wife has taken it upon herself to be the most powerful of the Eldar in Middle-earth – and, as such, she clearly thinks we should all grovel beneath her power and her beauty and her wisdom … and her general all-round perfection.  Do you have no idea how irritating that is?’

‘She is only the most powerful of the Aman-born Eldar because she has not yet died!’ Celeborn declared wrathfully.  ‘Surely you do not consider that she ought to go out and sacrifice herself in some way in order to remove the inconvenience of her presence!’

‘No, of course not!’  Oropher did have some sense of self-preservation.  And annoying Celeborn to the point where he would find it necessary to take out his anger on his younger cousin’s hide would definitely not be wise.  ‘But can she not give us some credit for looking after ourselves?’

Celeborn prodded a finger towards his cousin.  ‘Or do you underestimate me?  You would not be the first to assume that I am no more than a pretty face whose only role is to offer my wife some amusement in her spare time.’

‘I would not dream of suggesting that!’  Oropher was clearly horrified.  ‘I have known you more than long enough to realise that you are a devious piece of work as well as a warrior of note.  If you let Galadriel think she rules you, it is for some underhanded reason of your own.  Moreover,’ he added, his brain analysing his cousin’s accusation, ‘I would never call you a pretty face.  I have too much respect for the truth.’

His cousin grinned.  ‘Galadriel does not rule me,’ he said, ‘any more than I rule her.  We understand each other – and we belong together.  It is about time that you accepted that.’

‘Fine,’ Oropher snapped.  ‘I accept it.  And, if she stops trying to interfere in the way I run my household and telling me how to rule my kingdom, I will try to be civil.  Is that all right with you?’ 

‘Fine.’  Celeborn relaxed slowly to lean back against the vast trunk of the ancient beech and folded his arms across his chest. 

‘I really will do my best,’ Oropher sighed.  ‘It is of no help that you and she only tend to turn up when the world is dissolving into chaos around us.  It is enough to make the best of relationships rather … tense.’

‘We all have our differences,’ Celeborn said.  ‘But we have more in common, whatever we want to think.  You never know – if you give each other a chance, you might even discover that you can … respect each other.’

‘Respect.’  Oropher tried the word.  It tasted … all right.  He could do that.  Probably.  Most of the time.  ‘I will if she will.’