Have Courage & Be Kind Little Dove

The whole thing is a miserable affair. Elendil speaks half into his hair and Erenion sighs, weary and weary yet again with the weight of this siege, this dust and how far they are from so much and so many that they love. And yet it is a relief that they are not here, amongst the dust and fire that is Mordor. 

It is easy enough to ignore the whisper of vemon from the Dark Tower these days - though the weight is heavier this close to the gates. There is nothing that Sauron could say, no poison he could drip that can hurt Gil-galad. But he worries for those he loves. For Elendil, to whom the whisper comes speaking of love and concern and tries to send dreams. To the others. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

He had come to Rhûn to destroy the scum that dared to touch his fair queen. He had not expected what he came to find. It had begun with the little brat who had presumed to a relation with Curumo's smith - upon a day when Galadriel had stormed out of the city, thunder in her being (like her brother, beautiful and furious all at once - it made Curumo's heart sing and ache to see such beauty and pain - neither of them should ever have been in pain) and his curiousity must have shown to the chit. 

Do not take it personally my lord - Lord Celebrimbor told me the story and bid me keep it quiet but as you and the Lady Galadriel are such friends I think I might tell you so you would know - this is the day her daughter was born.

A child. A child. It echoes in Curumo's mind. She had borne a child. The existence of a husband, overheard when she had talked to the mortal whelp of him - that was one thing. But a child. Loathing for the brat, no doubt forced upon her by the husband Thingol had forced upon her. He hopes the brats death was agony.

She and her husband disappeared in the chaos of the war of wrath - or so my Lord Celebrimbor says. But that is why she is as she is this day.

So. He will go and he will find their mouldering bones (if there are any still - orcs and raiders are thorough) and he will show them to his fair queen and she will understand she can be free of such unwanted burdens. 

To his surprise he finds they live. They both live. Not under their true names of course - slaves in Rhûn, scrabbling in the desert. Pathetic, but he is not incurious about these two and it is always far more satisfying torment to study a subject before commencing - that way you will find the best way to prolong their suffering. 

Curumo puts on the form of Hrothgar again and poses himself as an overseer (he is not particularly impressed with House Harrêdul for all their long loyalty to Melkor they are inefficient and grasping). It means however, that he finds himself being tasked to guard 'Sindion' for one of the Masters have taken a fancy to the elf. 

It cannot be any other than his queens 'husband' and Curumo prepares to sneer. But instead of a snivelling coward or a toady he finds someone else. Celeborn who had been of Doriath is tall, slender as a silver birch and his eyes are kind. Brown skin marked with whip scars and silver hair that he keeps bound back in a braid. 

"Overseer, what may I do for you?" He asks his question respectfully. Politely. Gently. Curumo is amazed - surely this elf with his humbleness cannot be one of Thingols get. He finds himself asking for water and Celeborn pours it for him with graceful efficient motions. 

"Do you wish some for yourself - you look in need of it?"

He asks the question despite himself for Celeborn does look in need of a drink and Curumo, Curumo can see something change in the silver haired elf then. Not at a gift, but at a consideration. He thanks Curumo so prettily. 

There is something special in the way he attends to Curumo as Hrothgar that is not present in his interactions with the other guards and overseers - Curumo can see it, a guarding that is not there with him. That is not there with the masters at all. 

Curumo does not think he could love Celebrian but then, then he thinks she is made of them both. She is a gift to him from them, before they truly knew of each other. It could be no other - of course his queen would never have consented to bear a child to any who was not also Curumo's love. Of course that child is a gift. 

Celebrian he guards when Celeborn is in that cursed masters chambers (he will skin him alive for it, for every touch, every bruise that his precious silver prince sports and every flinch. And she is a revelation - a little queen, hidden in chains but still every inch a sweet little queen - modest and gentle and softly spoken. He marvels at her, at the way she so beautifully and orderly shapes her letters, her skills and talent with numbers and languages - at the glimpse of Galadriel in her hands and the shine to her hair. She is polite to him but proper and he sees she is never alone with a man. There is no hint of a lover. 

The other guards leer and call his daughter frigid and cold and he plots their demise as he smiles pleasantly over their dice games and allocates their pay and duties. He will rend this whole House to dust and forgotten desert winds. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

She wants to rend what is left of her garments from her body, to hack away at the weight of her hair until it stops but there is no desire for a sword. He has beaten that out of her when it comes to herself. But Galadriel cannot not here, in the dying throes of this land and so she makes herself get up from his bed at the least. Sauron had left her there with a lingering kiss and she is so sore and does not want to think about it for too long. 

So she focuses on what she can do. Finds a spare blanket that has been thrown over one of the opulent sofas in these cursed rooms and wraps it about herself - pathetic a voice says - they all know what you are for him and to him, but it makes it easier for her to stumble her way to her own rooms and to hold onto the shards of herself as she does so. Somehow, she manages without seeing another. 

Galadriel bites her lip through trying not to let out a whimper. Everything hurts. Everything. She takes as much care removing the shreds of the golden dress as she can with fingers that seem over clumsy numb, takes out the jewellery and tries not to think about how she looks. How she looked.

A captive creature had stared back from the mirror, arrayed against the chest of a being of staggering beauty, sharp and awful as the brand that he had laid upon her flesh. A dusting of gold upon her skin, her hair coiled and wrapped with golden chains and diamonds, a veil over it hardly a whisper, just like the golden dress that covers everything and conceals nothing

She stifles a sob. She cannot bear what she has become but she must. She must. Galadriel runs her bath and scrubs and washes and then drains the tub and fills it again because she might manage to get clean one day a thousand years hence if ever she escapes. What she wants to do when she dries herself is to braid back that weight of hair but she cannot make herself do it so she pulls it back and at least, at least that feels a little less of everything. 

And then, then someone is there. No, not someone. Mairon. He stands and he asks for permission in the movement of his hands and yes, yes she says and knows there are furious tears but she wants Mairon. Wants Celeborn and they are here, safe hands and home and the Galadriel who had been before might have made protests but the Galadriel who she is now knows they know how this is. Celeborn offers her loose pants and a tunic for sleeping and Mairon, Mairon braids her hair for her - does so in a way that takes the weight off her head, makes everything feel a little better. 

She knows she has bloody bite marks on the inside of her thighs, her breasts and Eru knows where else. She knows there are bruises on her throat and wrists and inside she..there may be blood. She knows and yet, yet in this moment there is home and safety. 

We should make a home together, if ever we escape him. I want to make a home for us, for all of us. I don't want anyone but you and Celeborn to wed me. Please, I don't want it. They all tangle into each other together and in the suffocating choking bloody mess that Numenor has become it is a small patch of clear air. Mairon and Celeborn shake too - they should not be here, of course they should not be here but Galadriel cannot bring herself to care in this moment - Sauron has left to find more horrors to enact and she knows, she knows what Celeborn and the others endured at his hands tonight. What they endure through his so called love. And Mairon, who sometimes seems as though he might be rend apart. 

For once she wants to simply be held. 

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

Once Thurid had had my head shaved. I was only young then - perhaps eight or nine years old and she was looking to punish someone and why not the little foreign thrall. What I remember is that I refused to cry and I refused to beg - I would play at being humble and shy and obedient but I would not beg her so she might make me ridiculous. It had hurt of course - my head was covered in cuts and they had pulled off my clothes (she would have likely shaved me everywhere had I been older) but I had refused to sob even though my hair was the thing I have always loved the most about my appearance. 

It will grow back I recall thinking furiously at Thurid. It will grow back and you will still be small and petty and never taken seriously by anyone. I liked to wear my hair in a single braid or perhaps braided around my head. 

Sauron liked to have my hair and Celebrians in elaborately decorated spirals and masses of braids that hurt both our heads to wear - little queens, he would call us and I wanted to kill him for the way he would look at us as though he protected. As though he had any right to such things. 

Oh I thought about what I could do to Thurid. Of course I did. It just made me sick to think that I might owe Sauron something if he took vengeance upon her - as though he was truly my protective father. I did not want it to be him. But Thurid knew and that was almost satisfaction enough - she knew that I had not told him and she knew that I could and she would be waiting all her life. And she would believe she would be damned for endless eternity for having harmed the daughter of her god. That warms me to think of, that she will have to live with the fear, however terrible it is of me to take joy in the knowledge.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━