#celedrielweek2026

The bloodied truth that she revealed to him was meant to be a token of affection.

Celeborn was silent for a long time, and doubt grew and burst within Galadriel as she watched him pace, seeking assurance in his frown. How could she trust him so? Would he betray his kin for her as readily as she’d just done?

He paced, and every time he was almost out of her sight, her heart skipped a beat, because any moment he could be gone, could ruin her and everyone she’d loved before she met him.

He paced, and she wanted to run after him, take hold of him and beg.

He paced, and she didn't recognize herself.

At length, he stopped and turned to her, and behind the frown his eyes glinted with tears and tenderness.

‘You were raised in Alqualonde, were you not?’ he asked.

‘In part.’

‘Then you knew those that were slain there?’

‘I must have. I did. On both sides. I wonder if I'll ever know the full extent of what came to pass,’ she confessed and felt the strangest peacefulness.

'I am sorry. I shall keep your secret.’

Thrice he's seen her weep in the three Ages that he’s known her.

The first time was at the dawn of their friendship, before she was Galadriel, before he was hers. Her brothers still lived, and the Shadow was besieged in the North, yet he once found her curled onto herself in a hidden glade, weeping silently, hopelessly, inconsolably. Although new to this land and distraught, she seemed strangely at peace with the place, or rather the forest at peace with her, offering her the comfort of its soft grasses, and solid branches, and sweet flowers, and Celeborn.