2. In which Galadriel takes action
All but one, that is. Arwen, who was Elrond’s youngest daughter, could not be seduced by her cunning father. By her father’s cunning mind, that is. That is, not that he tried to seduce her in any other way. No. Nope. No way. This isn’t that kind of story. Unless, of course, you’d really want it to be. But I’ll leave that up to your own imagination.
Anyway, Arwen had made up her mind about staying in Rivendell. And she was quite stubborn. So, because she was the only one left, and because her bedroom wasn’t really anywhere near Elrond’s bedroom (but instead quite a distance away, since this was a huge house. 102 bedrooms, for a start. And separate bathrooms), he’d agreed to let her stay. As long as the young men who’d sing for her at night wouldn’t interrupt his sleep, he didn’t really mind that much.
And so the years flew by. A lot of them, in fact. Not that it mattered, really, they were elves, after all. Elrond worked as usual. Young men hung around as usual. Not as many as there used to be, though. One gorgeous elf-maiden can’t actually support a staff as huge as 101 gorgeous elf-maidens can. And then Arwen met this really dashing guy, who was actually quite hot, as she told her father. After that, she didn’t pay the other guys much attention anymore. And so they disappeared.
Elrond thought that was jolly good, as he wouldn’t have to worry too much about his roses being crushed by hopeful young men falling down from the balconies whilst trying to sing love-songs to his daughter.
And, to make his life even more filled with joy, Arwen picked up an interest in sewing, especially embroidery. Everything was as good as it could possibly get in Elrond’s world. And he’d never slept better.
In the rest of the world, however, things were not so great. They weren’t great at all.
Frankly, it was all a mess. Warriors refused to go to war. A great number of villains were suddenly transformed into all around good guys, speaking to the puzzled crowd of peace and love. And the Riders of Rohan claimed to have found their superiors, and who needed a horse after that, anyway? Rumor said that The Dark Lord Sauron was making new rings. Wedding rings.
Such it was when Galadriel, Mistress of fair Lothlórien, realized that she really needed a new coat.
Galadriel sure was a handsome lady. “Far more enticing than the birds all in the air, I declare”, as Celeborn once put it. Not much of a poet, Celeborn. But at least he had the looks, which is important. Galadriel couldn’t be seen with just anybody, she needed someone who’d fit her image. And Celeborn was OK. Not perfect, but OK. And, Galadriel figured, OK would do just fine. After all, his purpose was mainly to flank her, escort her to parties and make sure her glass was filled. Yeah, Celeborn was OK.
On this specific day, he was supposed to have been escorting her to yet another nice party, which had been advertised as “The most spectacular feast in the Third Age! Everyone will be there!” And, in this case, ‘Everyone’ would be Galadriel. Being the most important, and better yet, the most beautiful, elf in Lothlórien, she ought to have been there. But then a bunch of her granddaughters had showed up.
“Grandchildren,” thought Galadriel angrily, “Ought to be forbidden.”
Not only had they ferreted about in her bathroom, used her perfume and eaten of her private chocolates, they had called her Granny. And this, Galadriel felt, was way over the top. They had also tried to seduce about every male in Lothlórien. Not only had they been quite successful, which was mildly disturbing, they had also included Celeborn in these attempts. That was just wrong. And frankly, Galadriel didn’t want to think about it.
So there wouldn’t be a party. There simply wasn’t anyone sane enough to organize it. The men were nowhere to be found (that is, it would have been far too much embarrassment to actually find any of them for anyone to volunteer to and go and have a look), and the women were raving. The evening was spoiled. And Galadriel really wasn’t happy about this. She liked parties.
She ought to have a word with that sloppy son-in-law she’d got.
Galadriel had never really understood what Celebrían had seen in him, anyway. Couldn’t have been much, though, as she had left.
On second thought, that might just have been because of those awful daughters they’d gotten. Galadriel suspected that they’d both been into far too much weed out there in the wilderness. She had been visiting Rivendell briefly quite a while ago, when most of the girls were still children. They had been pulling her hair. And when she’d pulled back, they’d yelled for mummy. Spoiled kids, in every meaning you could possibly fit into the word.
She hadn’t liked them then, and she certainly didn’t like them now. And they were all over the place!
Galadriel had received tidings from Mirkwood, and also from the rest of the world, through her mirror. She knew that something bad was going on. And Galadriel wasn’t happy about this, either. Bad things shouldn’t happen to her. Bad things should happen to other people.
Since the party was off in any case, she decided she might as well have that nice little Mother-in-law-addressing-Son-in-law-chat right ahead. She could not, however, solve this by using her mental powers to communicate with Elrond. The Mary Sues were, after all (though Galadriel tried to deny it) related to her, and quite a few had inherited some of those mental gifts. And even though those were mainly used for seduction, (“What a terrible waste,” as Galadriel reflected) well, you never knew. So she decided to go to Rivendell in person. The sooner the better.
“And anyway, I really do deserve a vacation,” she thought, as she packed her saddle-bags in a hurry and rode off rather abruptly.
She didn’t bother to find Celeborn and tell him. He would probably be OK. He knew how to run. And if he didn’t... well, she knew a few tricks to make him run. And to keep him running.
The day Galadriel arrived at Rivendell, the sun was shining and birds were singing in every bush. If the birds would have known what Galadriel knew, they wouldn’t have been singing. Galadriel knew many things, since she’d been around for quite a while. As a matter of fact, if the birds had known what Galadriel knew, they would have been able to run a quite successful gossip-magazine, since it is in birds’ natures to enlighten the rest of the world about everything that turns up in their heads.
You can hear the birds sing, sure. But have you ever actually listened to the lyrics?!
No, it was indeed fortunate that Galadriel never shared her thoughts with the birds. Middle Earth didn’t need birds singing of how Mithrandir once overdosed on pipe-weed and tried to blow up Orthanc with fireworks. Curunír sure had been surprised.
Yes, those secrets remained Galadriel’s. Made her smile whenever she saw the old bloke.
Arwen, who was out in the garden, feeding the birds, was the first one who noticed the guest.
“Grandma!” she exclaimed, happily.
Galadriel made a face. Grandma was not as bad as Granny, but, still.
“Hello, child,” she said, hoping that this somewhat formal greeting would put things straight. She sized up the girl suspiciously, with the sisters in mind. This one didn’t seem too bad, though. She was gorgeous, sure. But at least she wasn’t wearing a chain-mail bikini. Where did those girls get ideas like that, anyway, Galadriel mused, as Arwen chatted on about how she’d love to show Galadriel some new embroidery of hers. Dragging her grandmother by the hand, she showed her into the house and set of to find her father, after carefully shaking out the last pieces of bread for the birds.
Arwen was, unlike her grandmother, the kind of girl who spent a lot of time sharing her thoughts with the birds. Luckily enough, the birds never actually listened. They seldom do. And, imagining a gossip-magazine containing nothing but Aragorn’s kissing technique, Aragorn’s manly chest and Aragorn’s many manly skills, (Which, we would have learned, were many indeed) I think that’s just as well.
Elrond was surprised. He was also slightly worried. Galadriel seldom left Lothlórien, and if she did, it was because of urgent matters. She had explained that her main reason for visiting was because she wanted a new coat, but Elrond wasn’t satisfied. He could smell trouble. (Which, in fact, is quite impressive. Even for an elf.)
So after dinner, he invited Galadriel into his chambers for a private chat. And to get to know which kind of coat she wanted.
Galadriel eyed the patterns which lay on the table, while Elrond poured them both some wine. She picked up a couple of interesting models for further study, and settled down in one of the comfortable chairs by the window. She glanced at Elrond, who was still standing.
“A bit tense, are we, dear Elrond?” she asked.
“Tense? Me? Well, why, indeed?” said Elrond hurriedly, and took a seat in the opposite chair.
“No, that’s what I thought. Why?” said Galadriel, smiling.
Elrond looked utterly confused. Then he tried a different track;
“I trust you’re all well in fair Lothlórien?”
Galadriel smiled and handed him one of the patterns.
“I want this one,” she said, before answering;
“Oh, we’re all fine. Some more than others, I fear, but still. Oh, and speaking of which, some of your lovely daughters paid us a visit recently.”
Elrond hesitated. Was this good?
“Really, now wasn’t that nice. And this was recently, you say?” he mumbled.
“Quite so. As a matter of fact, I think they’re still there,” Galadriel replied.
“Um. Well. So. What... which material would you like your coat made out of?” Elrond tried.
“You know, I haven’t really made up my mind about that,” said Galadriel absent-mindedly. Elrond looked relieved. However, that expression didn’t get the chance to settle down on his face for too long. As she leant forward, Galadriel hissed;
“Dear Elrond, have you got any idea of what these girls act like?!”
Before Elrond had a chance to reply to that, she continued;
“They used my mirror for doing their make-up! They have turned a great number of men into drooling horny vegetables! Do you realize what consequences this may bring?!”
Elrond looked down, ashamed. All he’d ever wanted was to get some sleep. Oh, and a bathtub. Maybe a new sewing-machine. Small things, really. He surely hadn’t deserved this!
“No, maybe you haven’t,” said Galadriel, reading his mind. “Nevertheless, the problem is now upon us! The age of the Mary Sues is about to begin if you don’t do anything!”
“What would you have me do, then? They are my daughters, you know. Even though I don’t like them much. And anyway, they won’t listen to me! They never did! How would you expect me to stop them?!” Elrond wailed.
Galadriel leaned back in her chair and thought hard.
“Well,” she said, eventually, “Have they got any weak spots? What are they interested in, anyway, except for men?”
Elrond shook his head. “Were you thinking of some sort of agreement? There is nothing we could offer them that they can’t have anyway. For Valar’s sake, all they’ve ever been interested in is men and fashion! Beauty and sex!!!” Elrond’s voice reached a crescendo during that last sentence. Galadriel was impressed. She’d never known he could take such high tones. Then she went back to pondering.
And there they were, two of the foremost elves in all of Middle Earth, sitting silently in their chairs whilst trying to solve this problem.
Eventually, a knock on the door interrupted their deep thoughts. Which were about to become deep snores, in Elrond’s case. Galadriel didn’t snore. At least not in public.
Arwen entered, carrying a toothbrush and a blanket.
“Hello! I just wanted to wish you a good night! Daddy, I’m gonna stay at Aragorn’s tonight, just thought you’d like to know!” she said happily.
“I can’t understand why he insists on sleeping in a tent in the garden instead of in the house,” Elrond said, yawning.
“But daddy! He’s a ranger! Duh! Besides, sleeping in a tent in the house would be daft!” said Arwen, and kissed her father on the cheek before trotting off.
Galadriel watched her go. She had to admit, that Arwen wasn’t at all as bad as her sisters. She was actually quite all right. And then realization dawned. She sat upright in her chair, and if she’d been living in another universe she might have shouted ‘Eureka!’. But she wasn’t. So she didn’t. And, besides, Galadriel never shouted.
“Elrond! What are your daughters interested in?!” she said, eagerly.
“I thought we’d been through that already...” Elrond began, but Galadriel wasn’t listening.
“Elrond,” she said, with a wicked smile, “I think... I think that you should call a council.”
“What? A council?!” said Elrond, who was now awake, but very confused.
“Exactly,” Galadriel answered.
“Oh,” she added, “And I’ve made up my mind about which material I want you to use for my coat.”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.