Author: Amy Fortuna (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Archive: my site and LE.
Pairing: Luthien/Galadriel, yes, really.
Summary: Galadriel remembers a long-ago night and an old lost love.
Notes: This is my response to the f/f challenge that stipulated there be no Eowyn/Arwen. :)
Galadriel refers to herself as "Artanis" in this story. That was her birth-name. "Galadriel" was a name given to her by Celeborn. I would think she would prefer to use her old name in this instance.
From now until I pass through Mandos' halls, the scent of narva oil will always bring to my mind the sweetest of women, hair long and dark, reaching to her feet.
Luthien was very young when first I came to the halls of Thingol. As Elvish years go, she was still almost too young for love. I was the elder and more experienced, by far, and had seen trouble and tears aplenty in my own life.
When my brother brought me to the kingdom of Thingol and Melian, we were unsure of our welcome. Though we had fought bravely on the side of our mother's family to prevent the rape of the ships, all had been in vain. The Teleri lost, we lost, and Feanor took the white ships oversea and set them burning.
Thingol was related to the Teleri, and he might have seen Noldo in us and turned us away. Thank the Valar he did not, for then I would have missed the sight of the fairest of Elves and Men, fair Luthien.
Her beauty was indeed beyond compare. Her eyes shone in the darkness like the stars of heaven. Her hair was long and dark, streaming away from her head like the strands of night. And the first moment I saw her I loved her.
I loved Luthien with all the passion I never have felt for Celeborn. I loved her as if in a dream, as if she were a star that I could not touch.
As young maidens will, we soon became close friends. She, laughing, told me that no Elf held her heart, that she was indeed free from the dangers of love. She did not think that I wanted her heart at all.
She would have never known. I would have let her go, let her live and die, had it not been for a silver night underneath the full moon.
We had wandered far into the woods, leaving all behind us. Even the flute-playing Daeron could not keep up, for we slipped from his sight like mist.
Arda was beautiful that night. The quiet rushing of a small brook called
us to halt and stare silent at it in the moonlight, glowing
silver. Luthien caught my hand, like a child. We walked on together, fingers holding tight to each other, neither of us desiring to let go.
The night was warm and the sky was filled with brilliant stars. We watched them and we watched each other, through that long beautiful night. When the breeze caught my golden hair, I could feel her hand in it, and when the flowers sprang up underneath her feet, I was sure it was my love for her that made them do it.
As the moon began to sink toward the West, we came to a small opening in the forest, far from Thingol's halls. Since we could not possibly return before morning, we sat together in the glade and talked of sky and stars and earthly love.
And it was then that I told her. Simply, without many words. Simply. "My heart goes out to yours," I whispered.
Her white hand lifted to touch mine. "As mine does to yours," she answered. "Golden Artanis, you have so much that I desire."
"What is that?" I whispered, resting my head against the grassy knoll behind us.
She lay down beside me, her eyes outshining the stars. "You have done so much and I so little. You have lived in Valinor, while my father keeps me here in these woods. You have fought with sword and braved the cold of the North, and I -- who am I? The Dancer of Doriath."
Her lips hovered over mine. "I want to be who you are."
I looked up at her, shaking my head. "Do you not think I would gladly trade all that I am to be you?" I said. "Carefree, beloved of all, perfect, innocent..."
There was a mischievous light in her eyes. "If you desire my innocence," she said, laughing, "you shall have it."
And Luthien, dark-haired, laughing Luthien, kissed me. Arda fell away from beneath me, and I was floating in her lips, drowning in the scent of narva oil that she wore. Her hands tangled in my hair and her body pressed tight to mine.
The worlds could have no sweeter gift than the beauty of Luthien that night. Alas that time brought pain, sorrow and death to her. Yet I rejoice that her name rings in the annals of time, as she most desired, and the fruit of her body lives on.
I look at my young daughter's daughter, the child of Celebrian and Elrond, the perfectly-formed Arwen Evenstar. I see the lineaments of Luthien in the curve of her brow and the way her hair waves away from her face.
And I smile as I think that in Arwen, Luthien and I have finally become one. Time and tears have torn the most beloved one away from us, but here at last is the visible proof of the ancient love of Luthien and Artanis.