Cae-a-Leben

[inafadingcrown]

[Honestly, the return of castle residents with memories has been weighing on Galadriel’s mind for some time. The implications trouble her. What little reassurance they had of returning home had been put into question- what if all were only whisked away to strange worlds, fed false memories, made complacent. The thought was troubling enough on its own, but her heart and mind kept drifting back towards Arwen and the thought of her dear granddaughter kept forever from those she loves…well, it disturbs her to say the least.

She tries, for a time, to set her thoughts to paper under a private filter, or even in a separate notebook. But the growing sense of unease prevents her from articulating them clearly and, eventually, she sets aside her pen and dictates to the castle at large.]

I knew a time darker than this- after the destruction of the Two Trees and ere the creation of the sun and moon. Not since the dawn of the First Age have I seen such a day. [She doesn’t sound too disturbed, however.] Perhaps it is an ill omen, but we may hardly be said to have a shortage of such things, even on the most ordinary of days.

[There’s a thoughtful hum and some idle strumming. Not her usual harp, but rather a lute. She’s sitting out in front of the castle, playing whatever tunes come into her head. Perhaps she’ll even sing. Seems like someone thought music might be a good way to keep the eerie feelings away.]

[ooc:Open over journals or in person.]

Comments

[heloise]

[ Stories should help ease the fear, help her think of more pleasant things. ]

Life, Galadriel? Are the Valar the source of life?

[inafadingcrown]

They both are and are not. It is said they sprang from the mind of Eru Ilúvatar, He who created all that is, and thus are both of Him and beings in their own right- both His creation and a part of Him. [As always, when she speaks of Eru and the Valar her voice is touched with the sort of veneration and awe that one would expect of the deeply devout. Even her banishment could not change that.]

[heloise]

How wonderful. And they are, the greatest of His creation?

[inafadingcrown]

The most powerful certainly, and the closest to Him. It is not my place to measure greatness, as if I could know all of His plan and intentions. Even my sight does not extend so far.

[heloise]

[ She hesitates before venturing to ask, because it may lead them to dark territories on such a dreary day. ]

What happened to the Trees, Galadriel?

[inafadingcrown]

Do you truly wish to know? Some tales are better left to the light of day.

[heloise]

Yes, you are right.

Perhaps, you have other stories? Cheerful ones?

[inafadingcrown]

[She laughs a little] I fear the best I may offer you is bitter-sweet, for that is how the old tales run, for the most part.

[heloise]

Bitterness makes it seem all the sweeter, does it not?

[inafadingcrown]

You would do well among the Eldar, I think, young though you are. [It's both agreement and approval.] Perhaps a song, then? For the best of our lore is put to both verse and note.

[heloise]

[ She laughs, subdued in fear the darkness hears her. ] Would that my father hears your commendation, Galadriel. And yes, I would hear you sing.

[inafadingcrown]

[She tucks that comment away for now. She will ask about your father later, Lucrezia.]

Very well, then. Perhaps the Song of Beren and Lúthien. I would sing of love and light today.

[And, after taking a moment to adjust her instrument and ready her voice, she begins to both play and sing a tale as old as it is beautiful, as joyful as it is sad. Her voice is soft and sweet, though lower than most, and the notes come with the clarity that marks a skilled and well practiced singer. When she finishes the song, she'll give a little sigh.]

It is still more fair in Sindarin, but I think the translation a fair one.

[heloise]

[ Lucrezia falls quiet as the music begins and for as long as the song lasted, she thinks the castle has fallen into a great hush as well. It takes her a moment to find the words to say. ]

Is it such doom to love, Galadriel?

[inafadingcrown]

The doom that befell Lúthien was not love but mortality. She was of the Eldar, the fairest among us, and he a mortal. By the grace of the Valar, she was allowed a choice- the same now offered to her descendents, the line of the Half-Elven: to remain among her people for all time or to become mortal herself. She chose the latter and dwelt with Beren until the end of her days.

The choice was hers and brought her joy. Yet the song was written by those who remained behind and who witnessed she whom they held dear fade with time and pass from existence as they will not.

And so it is with love for us all, I suppose. We take the bitter with the sweet. There is risk in giving your heart to another, but also great reward.

[heloise]

What a terrible choice. [ She mutters under her breath, and considers, imagines how beautiful Beren must be for Lúthien to have given up so much. ]

Is it ever wrong to love, Galadriel?

[inafadingcrown]

[Galadriel has a lot of feelings on the subject, naturally, knowing that her own granddaughter has made the same choice.]

I can think of few things more right and good than love itself.

[heloise]

[ If she knew, maybe she wouldn't be so bold to ask. ]

I have heard that love is the greatest virtue, above faith and even hope.

[inafadingcrown]

[That's Galadriel for you. Quick to speak of and consider the feelings of others, but slow to openly admit her own, at least until she is quite familiar with a person.]

You have heard well, I think. I would say also that few forces have the power to inspire such great deeds.

[heloise]

[ She chuckles to herself. ]

Tell me, Galadriel, how much do you love your husband, the Lord Celeborn?

[inafadingcrown]

[She's a little startled by the question, but she does not mind. Her marriage was not arranged, so it seems to her that it should be perfectly obvious that she loves him.]

I have not words to do the feeling justice. I have been at his side throughout ages of the world, as he has been at mine. We are bound together, heart and mind, and will remain so unto the ending of the world.

And what of you? You are not so young that you may not have experienced the affairs of the heart.

[heloise]

Unto the ending of the world. How wonderful!

[ Cesare may have told her that love and marriage do not imply each other, but her storybooks taught her otherwise. She bites back a giggle. ]

I have loved much. I could tell you about my Moor, my Narcissus or my Caesar.

[inafadingcrown]

I would be glad to hear of whatever you wish to tell.

[How appropriate that this talk of love seems to have beaten back the shadows from her mind, at least for the moment.]

[heloise]

[ Hope is all well and good, but love is what gives her that fuzzy feeling inside. ]

My Moor is a prince of the Ottoman Empire, where they catch white tigers with their bare hands. He called me the most beautiful treasure in the Vatican and asked me to dance right under my father's nose!

[inafadingcrown]

[Ah, the Vatican. She only has the vaguest notion of what it is. And only that because of her friendship with Abel.]

He sounds charming. But why should your father object to your dancing, if I might ask?

[heloise]

[ She pauses, assuming it would be obvious that her father would be displeased, but why exactly she isn't sure. ]

I was still unmarried then and he was a Muslim man. But I think, he would have joined out family if he could.