The Longest Night
Many thanks to DA for beta-reading.
"You'll never know the love I felt
Waiting, waiting for you
It takes a weak heart to forget
Follow, follow it through"
The Corrs, Give me a reason
Aegnor blinked once then twice as he tried to grow accustomed to the heavy darkness surrounding him. It did not take him long to spot the prostrated form of his sister huddled in the farthest corner. As he approached her with silent feline like steps, the lines of worry and tiredness seemed to grow deeper in her slender face that was usually so smooth and warm. But she did not seem to mark his presence, her eyes remaining vacant and emotionless. Aegnor cleared his throat softly, unwilling to startle and frighten her. However, she did not react. However, she did not react. Her tense back remained facing him while her long nude legs were folded beneath her, hidden by a heavy fur. Her golden hair shimmered in spite of the dark and her soft skin exhaled an evanescent aura of light that Aegnor suddenly longed to embrace. It was the light of Aman which, in those moments of dread and death, appeared like a daunting promise that would never be fulfilled.
Crossing the remaining distance that separated him from the fair Elleth, he gently touched her shoulder; his long finger brushing against the thin fabric of wool her dress was made of. But in spite of the contact, she did not acknowledge him. She did not even blink; her gaze fixed on the still form lying on the ground, buried beneath many heavy warm blankets that had been found only the Valar knew where.
Her gentle voice seemed to tear at the silence, starling her brother as her stillness remained unchanged and frightening. "She has fallen asleep...finally." Her last word was no more than a whisper, a confession delivered to the night...confession of a fear that had gnawed at her heart for long hours. She would say no more on this but for Aegnor, it was the same as though she had spoken of everything. He knew her as the creature of silence she was and the centuries spent in her presence had taught him well how to decrypt what she left unsaid.
He knew what she felt, for he felt the same. He knew how at loss she was, how she resented being unable to do anything to help. Everything had happened so quickly. A crackling that had torn the silence and it had been over. Lives swallowed by the cold in distraught cries that had faded so quickly. He wanted to cry so that the pain in his chest would not take everything from him but there was no time. They could not afford to mourn and weep.
Kneeling close to her in a graceful motion in spite of the biting cold, he gathered the flaxen-haired Elleth in his arms, holding her strongly as though trying to offer whatever strength he had left. He felt her muscles contract and her body shake. But it was not the cold that elicited the shivers racking her slender form. Her face buried in his neck, she was crying warm tears that he could feel as they slid the length of her pale cheeks. She did not like when other people witnessed her breaking down. She had always refused to let others see. Tears were weakness. Tears were not what she was.
Threading his fingers in her golden hair, he whispered, "Tis not your fault, Galadriel..." Feeling the weight of emptiness in his words, he repeated them nonetheless, "Tis not your fault." But she would not listen to him. Of this, he was well aware. Whatever he would say would be like those fleeting reflections of light in the water that had engulfed so many of their hopes. That is why he chose to remain silent, satisfying himself with holding her as she wept bitter tears that she could not keep inside lest they destroyed her soul.
Long minutes passed without any gesture or any sound from either of them. His body pressed against hers, Aegnor felt her trembling recede and greeted the moment when she relaxed slowly in his arms with relief. However, he was not prepared for the violence which she demonstrated as she moved away from him. Wiping away the traces of her loss of control, she refused obstinately to meet his eyes as though afraid of the judgement she might have found there. Breathing deeply, she asked, "How is Elenwë?"
Sighing as he recalled the forgotten subject of his visit, Aegnor stood, wiping mechanically the dust on his clothes. "Turgon reminded her of his love and gave his blessing to whatever journey her faer chooses to undertake. Many among us think she will not outlast the next twelve hours."
"Valar..." was his sister's only answer and he knew that she was thinking of Idril and of the inescapable grief that was to come for this loving family.
Reaching for the bundle of furs on the ground, Aegnor pushed them slightly away, revealing the graceful shape of the one hidden beneath. Turning his gaze towards Galadriel, he reminded her in a tone sharper than intended. "Do not invoke them in our time of need and fear. We lost that right the day we left." Averting his attention from his sister, he then focused his attention on the shivering Elleth. His keen eyes took in the sight of the blued lips and nails and of the purple veins streaking the marble skin.
"The water was so cold," Galadriel recalled absentmindedly. "Nothing seems to warm her body and her soul." A moment of silence passed between them as shadows seemed to play on her lofty brow. "Tis as though she remains there, prisoner of the ice, unable to deliver herself from her jail."
It was more than Aegnor could bear. Those were images that would break his façade of indifference. Tears made his own eyes shine but he blinked them resolutely away. There was no time for this, he reminded himself. No time. Standing, he walked toward the entrance of the tent. Stopping as he came to it, he was unable to look at his sister who had once been so strong and self-assured, but now looked so broken. He murmured quietly, "She needs to grow warmer or she will follow her mother's steps into death."
He then left the tent. But to the fair Elleth faithfully standing watch, it seemed that his words only echoed in his absence, taking a new dimension as they grew stronger in her head.
Death.
It did not seem real. It could not be. All of a sudden, a putrid scent was floating in the air, enveloping her in morbid arms and standing between her and the one lying on the ground like the most indestructible barrier of glass.
Galadriel shook her head, uncaring of the wayward strands falling into her eyes as she did so. This was not happening. She was imagining everything. There was no scent. There would be no more death this night. Gathering her courage, she stood and mimicked her brother's actions, revealing Idril's face and still body by pushing the furs aside. She fell then into a silent contemplation.
Galadriel knew this lovely face by heart , whose open eyes seemed to look beyond her, lost in distant dreamscapes. If she had turned away, she would have been still able to picture the slightest details: the aristocratic nose, the high brow, the elegant dimple, the slender lips, the arched eyebrows, the curve of the throat, and the softness of the shoulders. Even now, exhausted and shivering, Idril was the most shining gem in Galadriel's eye. She was beauty. She was perfection.
How could death dare to approach and threaten her? Even Mandos, whose heart was frozen in his chest, would have pity on such an ethereal creature. The Valar would not permit the darkness to swallow the young Elleth into nothingness. Idril had the spirit of a queen, the beauty of a princess, and the innocence of a child. She had done naught to deserve such a fate...naught but follow an eager father and listen to her eager cousin. If Idril died, it would be Galadriel's fault.
But Idril would not die. The Valar would not be so cruel. And if they were disdainful enough to let her, Galadriel would stand before them. She had gone so far already; it would change so little now. She had already defied the Powers by following Finwe's son and refusing Manwe's pardon. She was doomed for her foolishness and her ambition. She had already fallen from the highest peaks into the deepest caves. Her fate was written. She would never see Aman again and she refused to spend this eternity without the one she loved by her side.
Her soul set ablaze by this new resolution, Galadriel slid within the warm prison of furs, embracing Idril, twining their legs together. She was once more surprised by the violence of Idril's' shivering, by the coldness and the clamminess of her skin. It took a lot of her willpower not to recoil from her cousin and seek the warmth that her body wanted so much. She remained still for the time that she needed to grow accustomed to the feeling of the cold unmoving form against her, listening to her beloved's heartbeat and scattered breathes. She breathed in the scent that belonged only to Turgon's daughter: a scent of joy and life.
Galadriel's hands wandered the length of Idril's arms and shoulders as she wondered at the softness of the skin she touched, massaging the cold flesh to inspire warmth as much as she could. As she brushed the satiny skin of the sleeper's belly, Finarfin's daughter felt a well-known warmth in her stomach and she mastered her will not to thread her fingers through the silky curls between her cousin's legs.
She could not do that. She had no right. She loved Idril and no matter the heartache it caused her, she respected that her beloved's heart would never belong to her. She had managed to live with that knowledge. To behold her beauty every day and not be able to kiss those lips was worse than any of the torture Morgoth could devise. To be close to such perfection and refrain from embracing her was something like a slow death. But she had come to accept it.
Galadriel had known Idril since the day she was born. She had witnessed her growing up, watched over the adventurous babe she had been, and then cared for the long-legged adolescent with the tenderness of a sister. However, with the passing of time, when Idril had turned into a magnificent spirited Elleth, tenderness had turned into a more ardent feeling.
Love. Unrequited but burning love. Galadriel buried her face into the golden tangled locks, inhaling deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of her beloved.
Idril's sleep was restless no more. Galadriel's body against her own had given her the warmth she needed. She was resting now, really resting; her lips slightly open, her breathing even. Nightmares would not belong to this place. She was safe.
As this knowledge dawned on Finarfin's daughter, it looked as though the weight of the world had been lifted from her chest. Idril would live. She mouthed the words as she herself relaxed. She would live and be happy as she deserved. That was all that Galadriel wished for, even though she had no part in that cloudless future.
She had no jealousy anymore. She was not sure she had ever had. Her hopes had been broken a beautiful spring day. They had sat together in peaceful silence beneath a great oak; its foliage making umbrage for the two Elleth. It had been a beautiful day. In the distance, Telperion and Laurelin had been standing in their glory, their light proud and strong.
"I love someone I have met in my dreams."
Those had been Idril's words tearing at the silence as they tore at Galadriel's heart. She had hidden how dreadful they had sounded to her ears and had beckoned for Idril to continue and open her heart. She had listened to the tale as the friend she was supposed to be; her eyes gentle and her face welcoming even if her whole soul was screaming her pain.
But the pain had faded with time and Galadriel had learned to hide her love. Idril would never be hers, for she waited for the person of her dream, whoever it was. She waited with the faith of her innocence, cherishing the memory of the fleeting instant her faer had blended with the soul of an unborn; each opening itself to the other. Be it Elf or Man, male or female, she would wait and when the time would come for them to be reunited, she would give herself to this new bond with the same faith and the same love.
What mattered to Galadriel was that Idril would live to fulfil her dream. Death would not have her this time or whenever Finarfin's daughter could stand between her beloved and this terrible fate.
Closing her eyes and holding her breath as her heart filled with a guilt that melted with delight, the blonde Elleth let her hand slide to her beloved's breast, cupping it softly in her delicate hand, relishing in the wonderful feeling of the heart beating beneath her palm.
Galadriel waited for Idril to wake up, wishing this moment would never end.
She waited.
The end