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PostPosted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 8:30 am 
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The inspiration for this episode comes from a wonderful piece of fanfiction by Bejai called Marred Stars The author's scene has been used here (without permission, but with full credit, and this project to develop a SIL script was undertaken only for personal enjoyment and no financal gain) with very little alteration, other than to turn it into a script rather than prose, but the idea of the star-shell became the inspiration for a frame to book-end the storyline for this double-episode, and I expanded on the theme in my writing for the later scenes which both follow the prologue and conclude the epilogue.


EPISODES #5/6: CELEBORN & GALADRIEL IN DORIATH

PROLOGUE

Scene opens on starlit camp of the Teleri, who have halted on the Great Journey in East Beleriand, just beyond the River Gelion.
Elwë Singollo, leader of the Teleri host, is preparing provisions for a foray through the forests of Neldoreth & Region to meet up with the Noldor host, and his friend Finwë. He is arguing with his younger brother, Elmo:

Elwë: Why do you treat me as one of the young ones, brother? [turns blazing eyes on his younger brother] Elmo: [calmly] The woods are unsafe, Elwë, as even the most innocent among us surely knows.
Elwë: [reasonably] Elmo, I merely wish to see again my friend, Finwë. The journey is not far, nor is it likely that danger could come upon me unaware… [sees the mulish look on Elmo’s face, then adds hotly] Send no guards to follow at a safe distance again, my brother. It will not go well with them…or you, when I return!

Elmo: [shakes head in frustration] Indeed, you have changed since you saw the light of Aman…you seem near driven to bring us to this land of light and spirit creatures. Finwë, also, is more than ever the leader, pressing onward with an urgent passion. What altered you while dwelling in that strange country; what compels you so relentlessly on this trek toward the West?

Elwë How can I make you understand that which you cannot conceive? Starlight is all you have ever known. I am struggling with my inability to adequately describe the land we strive to reach. Ah… words cannot adequately tell of the Light of the Two Trees. You must stand near them and be filled with wonder and great joy before we can speak of their beauty. [shrugs his shoulders, elegantly and continues with his preparations.]

Elmo shakes his head in frustration, and stands at the edge of the encampment, witnessing the scene. He notes the contentment of his folk with this lovely land, and contemplates how soon he could rouse them to press onward.

Cut to Elwë strideing boldly away from the encampment, virtually daring Elmo to send others to shadow him.
He is well-provisioned and armed with a long bow and quiver of arrows. Although he is oblivious, more than a few of the elf-maidens cast appreciative glances in his direction. [cut]


* * *

Cut to scene of Elwë travelling through the forest of Nan Elmoth. Slowly Elwë becomes aware of a disturbing whisper in the air, then a strange new birdsong. It seems to weave its melody into the fabric of his soul, and unhesitatingly he abandons his purposed goal to find the source of this new delight.

He sees nightingales flitting about, also seemingly questing for the elusive song. Together they move on through the forest. With utmost stealth Elwë approaches the vicinity of the hauntingly lovely song. He wonders what bird could produce such music; Luring him ever closer, the melody sparkled like starlight, mesmerizing his senses to all else about him.

Through the velvety dark woods, crossing a near silent stream, he is drawn inexorably closer, his steps graceful and noiseless. He pauses momentarily, casting about with his highly attuned senses in search of danger. Satisfied that all is well, he continues to follow the tantalizing notes.

By now he has forgotten his search for Finwë, his friend, and the folk who followed his lead and his desire to bring them to the Blessed Realm; all else is obliterated by the bewitching beauty of this music.

Bemused by the increasing glory of the song, he strides unthinkingly into the open glade, halting abruptly at the sight of a shadowy figure with arms upraised as if to touch the stars. From this being comes the source of the song...

Silently he approaches, coming to stand directly before the unknown being. Though lissom and slender, it radiates an immense strength and an un-guessed power. From the gentle curves of body it appears to be a female of her kind, though not an Elf.

She stands slightly taller than he, and her skin is pale and smooth; her gleaming ebony hair flowing about her. She is clad in a simple gown of silvery-grey that reflects the light of the stars; her slim feet are bare. Neither jewel nor ornament graces her long-fingered hands or her pale throat, yet to him she is beauty unsurpassed. With a start he realizes he can discern the faint outlines of the woods through her comely shape, as if she were not a creature of substance, but rather of dream.

In that moment she lowers her arms, her opened eyes coming to rest on the entranced Elf standing before her. A mutual gasp echoes around the glade as they behold each other. Reaching out, he clasps her cool hands. As they stare, unspeaking, into each other’s eyes, they are both cast into a dreamlike trance. A starlit mist descends, hiding them from sight. Faintly in the distance shouts and horn calls can be heard from Elmo and his escort, searching for Elwë… Fade


* * * * * * *

Cut to scene on shores of Beleriand, near the Mouths of Sirion.
The wide, dark sea is clawing at the shore, then slipping back as the waves recede. The foam and spray glisten white in the starlight, and the surf echoes around the shoreline.

Olwë: Elmo! [urgently, striding quickly over the sand] Elmo, have you found him?
Elmo: [makes placating gesture] Yes, he had but wandered off to play.
Olwë: [exhales deeply in relief; grasps his brother's shoulder, slumping slightly as the tension flows out of him] Praise the Valar, [shakily] I do not know if I could have borne…
Elmo: [shakes his head] Nay, Brother, it did not happen. Do not think of it... [grasps Olwë's elbow and turns them to face the sea]
Olwë: [realization dawns] He was playing on the sands with the other children, I assume? …Watching the island drawing near to us at last?
Elmo: No... Celeborn was wandering in the forests. I found him asleep in the care of one of the trees amongst the mist. [smiles at the memory] The tree could not understand my panic, and neither could my grandson!
Olwë: [nods, scanning the horizon, trying to peer beyond the darkness where sea and stars became one. Asks absently:] I do not suppose the tree had news of Elwë?
Elmo: [shrugs slightly] I asked, as I always do, but it had not.
Olwë: Your grandson reminds me of our brother.
Elmo: [noncommittal grunt.]
Olwë: He does…he has Elwë's look -- tall and fair he will be, and just as headstrong. And it seems he has the same penchant for wandering amid the trees. [sighs, pressing his hands to his eyes] I supposed I cannot blame the boy; he did not intend to awaken old fears.
Elmo: He knows no better... [moves off restlessly down the beach. Olwë follows] …memory does not haunt him, and each moment is a new delight. He cannot conceive of pain or loss, much less that his beloved woods could harm him. He is innocent still, for which I am grateful.
Olwë: Soon enough we will turn from these shores, and leave the fear of marring and death behind us. [the memory of the light blazes a flame in his eyes] What a thing that will be, Brother! What a gift to our children -- think of letting your Celeborn wander where he will, without doubt or fear, never needing to know the gnawing loss that has darkened our hearts. Soon, Elmo, soon… I am told that Ulmo will tie fast the island in a few days, and then we may begin moving ourselves to it for the voyage to Valinor.

Elmo: [nods, kicking at the sand…His actions expose a glimmer in the starlight, and he stoops to see what he has uncovered. It is a star-shell, flat and white, smooth in the palm, delicately emblazoned with a five point star.]
Olwë: A star shell! They say that those who find one whole and unbroken cherish it as a holy embodiment of stars and sea mingled…
Elmo: I have never found one whole… [brushes away the wet sand from its edges, sighs] and this is no exception… the sea has never seen fit to bring delight to my feet unbroken. There are always missing pieces. [stands and brushes sand from his fingers] So, when must we depart?

Olwë: [laughs, and spreads his arms wide to encompass all the flicking fires of their host, laid out as far as the eye can see] It will take us some time to relocate all of us to the island. A few weeks, perhaps, as long as a month, even.
Elmo: [abruptly lifts his face to the stars in an attempt to hide his anguish] So soon?
Olwë: Yes, [puzzled at his brother’s grief, but trying to comfort him] Yes. We are going to Aman..
Elmo: [softly] Why the need for haste? I have never understood the hurry. 'The Last' we are called with disdain by those who did not have children to carry. 'The Tarriers' by those who refused to see the beauty in the riffle of a stream. I have another name for us: Eglath, 'The Forsaken.' We have left. Left, because we were too slow to put aside our grief when Elwë. . . [his voice fills with emotion, pleading] There is no need to hurry, my brother! We have time. Valinor will remain. Give us more time!

Olwë: [massages his brow, his jaw knotted in grief.] Elwë is dead, Elmo. Time will not change this.
Elmo: [sharply, almost bitter] There are some of us who would disagree, my lord. My heart tells me that some day he will walk forth out of those woods; I would be there to greet him.

Olwë: [gapes at him] Elmo, we are leaving. We are leaving soon; the Valar only returned because Finwë begged them to. I would not dare linger; indeed, my heart is too heavy to wait. Elwë wanted us to see the light of those shores. Do you remember his words as he urged us on? Do you remember the light of divinity that lit his face? Do you remember that this was his passion? He would want us to find the bliss that he once dreamed for us all.
Elmo: [cries out in desperation] I am not unwilling! It was Elwë's voice that enticed me from the lands of our awakening, Elwë's hope that carried me over the mountains, Elwë's strength that brought me over the rivers when I would have turned aside. His voice remains in my heart, beside the call of the sea. But I cannot leave him here!
Olwë : [breaks silence after a long pause] Cannot, or will not?
Elmo: [firmly] I will not leave without him…
Olwë: [turns away] You have spoken your Doom.. . [emotionless] How many will remain?

Elmo: I, and my family. And there are other of Elwë's friends who have spoken to me of this.
Olwë: And you shall be their lord?
Elmo: I would be their guardian, if they wish one, until Elwë returns.
Olwë: [nods stiffly] So be it. I have lost another brother to this land… [turns away]
Elmo: Olwë! [reaches out for him]
Olwë: I . . . [shakes him off.] please, do not.. [walks away, leaving Elmo watching him in agony. The waves begin reaching higher, twining their icy tendrils around his ankles, until his reverie is broken by a joyful shout:]

Celeborn: Grandfather! [runs towards Elmo who reflexively scoops him up, ignoring the sand and wet and salt.] Grandfather, I have found a star-shell! [He proudly holds up his treasure.]
Elmo: [reaches out and traces a ragged edge with one long finger. Speaks gently:] It is broken, little one.
Celeborn: [frowns.] Yes, [slowly] But it is still beautiful. [wiggles his desire to be put down, and Elmo complies]Elmo: Do you not want to find a perfect star-shell?
Celeborn: [shrugs] They are very hard to find. You could look forever, and never find one like that. And if you did ever find one, you should be too afraid to play with it. And… [tilts his head to one side wisely] if you were running and tripped and broke it, mother would be angry, and you would feel bad because you have ruined a perfect thing.

Elmo: [laughs] Well I remember other broken treasures in little hands! [teasingly] And so the broken star-shells are better?
Celeborn: [turns his shell over in his hand, and looks up to meet his grandfather's eyes.] No. But you should not love it less because it has had a harder journey. [hands his grandfather the shell, whispers:] This one is for you!
Elmo: [quietly] Methinks, little one, that you are a giver of gifts to match the grace of the Valar… [both stand silently for a moment. Then Celeborn flashes him a bright grin and dashes off to explore again.]

Elmo remains standing on the beach, alone under the stars, clutching his grandson's gift. He squeezes it until the jagged edge cuts into his palm. At length he kneels and gently places it back in the sand.
Elmo: [to himself] Who am I to carry it away? It has given a part of itself to these shores. It - he belongs here. [Fade…End of Prologue]

* * *

_________________
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes


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PostPosted: Wed Dec 21, 2011 9:02 am 
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Camera fades into close-up of a star-shell resting in a pair of cupped hands.
As the camera pulls back we see that the hands belong to the Celeborn we are familiar with from LotR, though he looks no older, somehow he is more frail, and he is asleep in a chair in Elrond’s old study in Rivendell. The door opens, and Elladan and Elrohir enter quietly. They watch him for a moment then glance at each other, both smiling fondly. Elrohir reaches Celeborn first, and places his hand on the Elf’s shoulder to gently shake him awake.


Elrohir: Grandfather? Are you well?
Celeborn: [comes to, slightly disorientated] I am sorry… I only closed my eyes for a few seconds...
Elladan: You have been dreaming! [glances down at shell in his grandfather’s hands] what is that?
Celeborn: It is a memory, a very old one…and, perhaps the call I have been longing for…
Elrohir: [confused] I do not understand…
Celeborn: The call of the sea…ever has it eluded me in the past. That is why I remained here even when your beloved father and grandmother sailed to the West. [sighs] Now I hear a music that has never before echoed in my mind…
Elladan: [sudden realization] You mean, it is time?
Celeborn: [nods] I am weary at last of Middle-earth, thus it is time to take the straight road….but first I would see your sister one last time before I depart…
Elladan: We will send word to Minas Tirith [turns and exits room, Elrohir hesitates, hugs his grandfather, then hurries after Elladan]

Celeborn stands and replaces star-shell into a velvet-lined box, carved from beech wood, which lies open on the desk. As he straightens, his eye is caught be a tapestry on the far wall. It depicts Thingol and Melian standing hand in hand in the forest of Neldoreth, at the moment of their transcendence. Celeborn walks over to it and stares at the figures.

Celeborn: [to himself] Thingol, you old rogue! It was thanks to you than I never made that journey to the promised land…yet I owe you only the deepest gratitude: if not for your dalliance with your Maiar love, I might never have found my perfect star-shell, and dwelt with her together through the ages of the world. [shakes his head, smiling wryly, and leaves the room.]

Camera returns to the tapestry and closes in until the picture fills the screen. Suddenly the scene becomes real, and we are seeing Thingol and Melian as we left them earlier in the Prologue. We hear Melian’s voice:

* * *

[Voiceover:] I was standing upon a glade open to the stars amid the shadows of my beloved trees, sharing the Music of the Ainur with my nightingales when he appeared before me under the canopy of low, dark branches: a tall and graceful being, with long, silver hair and eyes like the stars at their very birth – a beauty beyond all else I had ever seen, among even my own divine kind, and a high Doom was before him.

The Eldar would later say that I had laid a spell upon him to make him forsake his folk, yet that was not true. I could utter no word when he came to me and our eyes met for the first time, for my heart was so filled with love that it nearly burst. Then he took my hand in his strong, slender fingers, and we were both cast into a dream and a long slumber. Long and desperate Elwë’s friends and kinsfolk sought for him, yet he was hidden from their eyes by a starlit mist, and there we stood, enchanted by the beauty of each other and the love that filled our hearts, while the stars measured out the courses of many Years, and the trees of Nan Elmoth grew tall and dark around us.

While we stood there, Olwë took all the Teleri who would embark upon the Lonely Isle and Ulmo drew them over the depths of the Sea. And the people of Elwë were left behind. Still they sought for him in sorrow. But it was not his Doom ever to return to the Light of the Trees, greatly though he had desired it. For our union had been foreseen in the First Music already, and seeing our great love, Manwë listened to the voice of Eru in his heart, and I was allowed to take on an incarnate form, not a raiment only as is the wont of our kind, but with all the strength and weaknesses of a true incarnate being, as long as I remain in Middle-earth.

[Now fade into montage of clips, still with voiceover, showing awakening, the joyous return to his people, their marriage, and crowning, finally proud parents…]

Thus when finally the enchantment fell away from us, Elwë looked at me and saw the undying light of Valinor in my face, and in that light he was content and never again did he yearn for the Light of the Trees. Long and full of wonder were our years in Middle-earth, first under the starlight, then – after the Trees had been slain and the world darkened again – under Anar the fire-golden and Isil the bright mirror. Every glance at him filled my heart with bliss.

For he became a King renowned: Greymantle was he named, Elu Thingol in the tongue of our people, the Sindar. And I, whom he named Melian, became his life-mate, his Queen and his counsellor, and of our love there came into the world the fairest of all the Children of Eru that was or ever shall be… Lúthien Tinúviel. [Fade.]

* * * * * *

_________________
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes


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PostPosted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 8:19 am 
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* * * * * *

Fade into scene of two Elves approaching Minas Tirith,
Their horses kicking up clouds of dust on the road through the Pelennor. They rein in as they approach the Great Gates and are permitted to enter. Cut to them approaching the Citadel entrance. We see that it is Elrohir and another Rivendell elf:


Elrohir: [to sentinel] Is the Queen in residence at present? We bring an urgent message from Lord Celeborn of Rivendell…
Sentinel: Yes my Lord, most likely by the White Tree with her son and King Elessar.
Elrohir: Thank you.

[Elves walk through the Citadel in silence. They come to the courtyard of White Tree and see Aragorn and Arwen sitting on a bench beneath the three, Arwen holding 2-year old Eldarion on her lap.. The elves bow to King Elessar and he greets them warmly, hugging Elrohir and looking at him questioningly. Arwen passes Eldarion to Aragorn , and rises to greet him. She and Elrohir embrace. The other Elf bows, and Arwen greets him also. She turns back to Elrohir.]

Arwen: Elrohir! What brings you to us in such apparent haste, and unannounced?
Elrohir: Sister, I bring an urgent message from our grandfather..
Arwen: [concerned] Is all well with him? And where is Elladan – why has he not travelled with you?
Elrohir: Yes, Celeborn is well, though he seems...weary: Elladan thought it best to remain with him….his time here is ending, and he wishes to see you again ere he departs for Valinor.
Arwen: [to Aragorn:] Melleth nin, would it be well with you if I journeyed to Rivendell? Eldarion is old enough to be left, though if it is inconvenient…
Aragorn: [reassuringly] Of course you must go. I will look after this young rascal… [rubs Eldarion's hair and kisses his cheek.] Some time for us alone will be good for him.
Arwen: [smiles gratefully] It will be good for you. My thanks! [kisses Aragorn. Fade.]

* * *

Cut to Arwen preparing to leave Minas Tirith.
She is waiting while Asfaloth is led out to her. Elrohir and other Elf wait patiently a little way ahead, with a small escort of Minas Tirith soldiers of the White Guard.

Aragorn: Journey safe, my Love, our men shall escort you to the Gap of Rohan, where you will be met by your kindred from Rivendell. [Gently caresses her cheek] Bid my Lord farewell for me.
Arwen: [kisses Eldarion and Aragorn] I will. Namarië! [She smiles and mounts her horse.]

Aragorn stands holding Eldarion, and we see the small party riding off with Arwen. Aragorn watches from the battlements until they are too far beyond the horizon to see and then turns back into the city. Fade.

* * * * * * *

Fade into scene at Rivendell, of Arwen arriving, and being greeted by her brother Elladan. They embrace.
Arwen: [anxiously, in Sindarin with subtitles] Where is Grandfather?
Elladan: [worried] He is out in the garden…he spends all his time among the trees now… [cut]

* * *

Cut to Arwen wandering out into the gardens, looking for Celeborn.
She finds him nestled between two protruding roots of an oak tree, his body pressed against the tree trunk, his head resting against the rugged bark, his eyes closed, listening to the deep breaths of the mighty oak.


Arwen: [softly, in Sindarin] Grandfather? I am here…
Celeborn: I am tired beyond measure. I wish I could climb into my friend’s branches, but I am too weak…tell me, Arwen, how long has it been since the last ship sailed, I cannot remember as well as I did before..
Arwen: [puzzled] Several Man years have passed since you stubbornly decided to remain here, yet a mere blink of an eye by our reckoning. What has prompted your change of heart?

Celeborn: The trees… The woods have become silent… When the trees sing, they sing of despair, of loss, of goodbye. But most days they are quiet, as if waiting. I remember the forests of my youth,they stretched as far as the eye could see: leafy, luxuriant, resonating with different voices; their proud canopies raised at different levels, their shades of green glistening under the playful rays of Anar… [sadly] But those trees are long gone, their voices lost forever… She is gone, too… [turns his face, pressing it against the bark, trying to hide the anguish he feels]
Arwen: [sits beside him, resting her head on his shoulder] I remember her words, too, Grandfather: “…I have dwelt with him for years uncounted. Together through the ages of the world, we have fought the long defeat.” Why did you not depart together? How could you bear to part? My heart is aching for Estel and our little one after only a few days!

Celeborn: [sighs] When the day came, after three ages of the world, I was not ready to concede defeat. Not yet. I hoped to protect my beloved forests and keep them alive for your children and their children, even after the elves have been forgotten. She was a ring bearer…she had to sail. But my road was meant to be longer than hers.
Arwen: [gently] And now?

Celeborn: [shrugs] It has been all in vain. Despite my toils I am lost in a world of grey. I do not wish to be doomed to fade and remain here. [calmly, resigned] I have accepted my fate: I have felt the call of the sea, and I long to visit the white shores I forsook so long ago. [Caresses Arwen’s cheek] You remind me so much of your mother, you know – not in looks so much, but in your gentleness and patience… [smiles] and you have your grandmother’s strength of will. You have made the right choice, Arwen…when we find the perfect love planted in our hearts like a seed, we should do everything in our power to nurture it and make it flourish. True love is a sapling that grows into a leafy tree and many will be glad of the shade of its love…

Arwen: Yet even so, each tree must have its own life independent of those around it. Its life cycle is not determined by the one next to it or the one it shares sun and shade with...
Celeborn: [nods] It would be nice if we were like leaves on the same branch but we are not, no matter how we wish otherwise. Galadriel and I are two different trees... two different beings .... two different lives to be lived as each dictates. Part of me wished otherwise, a long time ago. It would have been easier if it could have been so. But I learnt an important lesson… [screen fades into Celeborn’s reminiscences]

* * * * * * *

_________________
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes


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PostPosted: Fri Dec 23, 2011 8:37 am 
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[We hear Celeborn's voice over clips of the scene he is describing:]

Celeborn: [voiceover] I was serving in the Western March when I first saw the children of Finarfin, my distant kin from the Blessed Realm.. My king had stationed me there to greet them and escort them to Menegroth. Angrod, I had seen before, when he came to us as emissary of his elder brother, Finrod, but I was so unprepared for what graced my eyes:

Finrod, it is said, was like his father in looks and noble, generous heart. Aegnor, with his reputation for being terrible in battle, had a fire in his eyes, and his golden hair was stiff and straight. They were beautiful…the Light of Aman still shone in their faces. Regally they sat upon the mounts they had been gifted by our people. The setting sun glinted off of their golden hair, reflecting upon the many jewels that adorned their heads and collars. Their clothing was rich, full of bright colours not found in the forest before the rising of the sun and moon…

But their sister Artanis…she was the jewel of them all. They say her hair is like the light of the Two Trees mingled, not a blinding gold, but one softened with silver. Her eyes were the iridescent grey of a rare pearl. Even the stain of travel did nothing to mar her beauty. Through it all, she bore herself proudly, regally, arrogantly, even. I knew instantly she was used to getting her way in everything.

Unable to bear her overwhelming presence, I pointedly disregarded her, treating with her brothers instead. Yet my eyes betrayed me and continued to stray to her loveliness. My heart was given from that moment. [Fade.]

* * * * * * *

Fade back in to clips of party arriving before the entrance of Menegroth.
[This would all be just visuals, accompanied by suitable music, rather like the Fellowship arriving in Lothlórien]

They dismount at the bridge over the Esgalduin, and cross the bridge on foot. Celeborn escorts Galadriel and her brothers into Menegroth, past the Great Door - darkly solid logs of ancient oak kept together with purest mithril and embossed with runes of the Cirth. They are escorted down a torch-lit passage which slopes down gradually until it opens out into a large cavern dominated by an underground lake. The lake is fed by a lacy curtain of water which gently cascades down from the roof in the far corner. There is limited sunlight filtering in from this opening, which sparkles on the spray from the waterfall. Further on, the light from torches in sconces around the rim of the cavern reflects on the water and the many phosphorescent rocks and crystals in the walls and around the edge of the lake glow magically. The only way across the lake is via a narrow stone bridge, intricately carved with images of shells, corals and sea-anemones, that spans the cavern. By the far side of the bridge is a weeping willow tree, which on closer inspection as the party crosses the bridge, is revealed to be entirely crafted from precious metals and semi-precious gems.

The path leads on through an enormous arched doorway, the two huge doors of which are guarded by Elven soldiers, who open them for the visitors to enter. As the camera enters ahead of the characters we get a view of the Great Hall from their perspective, looking straight down the central aisle of a massive “Hall of Trees”, rather like a cathedral, where the eye is drawn to the high altar… except the pillars are carved to represent the trunks of beech trees, and the crypt-like vaulted ceiling is a canopy of leafy branches, filled with carved birds and animals. The floor is paved with colourful mosaics and golden flower-shaped lanterns hang from the branches. Courtiers mill around in the side aisles whispering in awe and wonder as the visitors pass by on their way up the central aisle. At the far end we see Thingol and Melian seated on their entwined thrones upon a dais, between replicas of the Two Trees, one crafted in gold to represent Laurelin, the other in silver for Telperion. Their branches mingle overhead, forming a delicate canopy. Behind the thrones, on the back wall of the chamber is a relief carving of Mount Taniquetil, stylistically likeTolkien’s own illustration for this.

Thingol & Melian stand to greet their guests. [Fade]


* * *
Fade into Galadriel and Finrod being shown around by Celeborn.
We see various chambers, each room more wonderful than the previous...* Galadriel takes everything in with her piercing glance, delighting in the minutest detail. Over all this we hear Celeborn, remembering:


Celeborn: [voiceover] Everything seems different when seen through the eyes of love. It is as if the whole world is made new and yet . . .

I have shown her Menegroth, every inch of which I have known and even helped to create - this great chamber of stone hewed out of the very bones of the earth - the fairest dwelling of any king that has ever been east of the Sea; But it is as if I have never even seen these caves before when seeing them through the wonder of her eyes. Having been a student of Aulë, she perceives details that I, a son of the forest, have never before noticed: the play of the fountains in the crystal gardens and the song of the birds in the forest seem so different with her at my side. The flowers bloom in brighter colours for her presence among them…The paintings on the walls, skilfully carved, massive engravings from ceiling to ground, depicting instances from years lost but never forgotten… the images come alive and their memory is real for her… [cut.]

* * *

Cut to the group entering a particularly tall hallway where several passages interconnect:
They come across some Dwarves working on some marble bas-relief carvings of the deeds of the Valar. They are everywhere, arrayed on scaffolding, working on vaulted archway and domed rooftop, striking with hammer and chisel until the stone sings of its life.. Galadriel and Finrod stare in fascination at the Naugrim, having never seen their kind before.


Galadriel: Forgive us for staring, but what kind of creatures are these? Truly I had believed that we Elves were the only living things in Middle-earth that speak with words and craft with our hands?
Finrod: And their tongue…it sounds so cumbersome and ugly to my ears…can any of your people understand it?
Celeborn: [smiles] They are Dwarves, the Naugrim as we call them – the Khazâd, in their tongue – created in the Dawn of Time by Aulë himself, and awoken from the sleep imposed by Eru in the Blue Mountains to the East of Beleriand. Few if any of the Sindar have achieved mastery of their tongue. But the Dwarves are willing and swift to learn the Elven-tongue.
Galadriel: [puzzled] And do they live here with the Sindar?
Celeborn: [laughs] Nay, they have their own cities, great halls and mansions delved in the eastern side of Ered Luin – Belegost and Nogrod. Greatest of all is Khazad-dûm in the Mountains of Mist beyond the wide leagues of Eriador. But they made a great road following the course of the River Ascar, to enable trade to pass between our peoples. We have much profit from one another.

Finrod: So I see… [curious] But how came the Sindar to desire such a dwelling as this underground? It is not so natural for our people, who normally prefer to live amongst nature under Varda’s stars.
Celeborn: Our Queen has much foresight, and in her wisdom she sees at time when the Peace of Arda will end, and she counselled Thingol to build a kingdom that should be strong if evil is to arise again in Middle-earth. Therefore he sought the skills and counsel of the Dwarves of Belegost.
Finrod: It appears the Naugrim have wondrous skill with the metals and stone of their creator. I am much impressed with their craftsmanship. I would speak more closely with one of their kind.
Celeborn: Of course, let me introduce you… [goes across to one of the Dwarves and brings him over to meet Galadriel and Finrod.] This is Regin of Belegost, one of the architects of the Thousand Caves. [Pleasantries are exchanged.]

Finrod: Master Dwarf, I am much in awe of your people’s achievements here - the majesty and strength of Menegroth - its treasuries and armouries, and its many-pillared halls of stone! And you worked on this willingly for King Thingol?
Regin: Well, My Lord…we Dwarves do not tire easily and we are always eager for new works…and naturally we came to a suitable agreement on the price of our labours so we toiled long and gladly for the King.
Galadriel: If I may be so forward, what price could possibly be set on expertise and skills such as yours?

Regin: [flattered] Dear Lady, we hold ourselves well paid this time, for the fair Queen Melian is ever willing to teach us her wisdom, and Thingol has rewarded us with many fair pearls from the waters about the Isle of Balar. They are dear to us, and the largest, Nimphelos as we have named it, is the size of a dove’s egg…its sheen like starlight on the foam of the sea. We value it above a mountain of wealth!
Finrod: So you devised these mansions after the fashion of your people, deep in the earth…it must have been a feat of engineering such as I could never imagine.
Celeborn: I should point out that the Elves also had part in that labour – I myself had a hand in many of the designs…
Regin: [inclines head] Of course, my lord…Elves and Dwarves together, each with their own skill wrought out the visions of Melian: images of Valinor beyond the Sea…
Galadriel: Truly it is the fairest dwelling outside of Aman.

Finrod: [eagerly] I am filled with wonder and inspiration. I am reminded of a dream I had on our journey southward. I do believe Ulmo put a message into my mind whilst I slept: It has come into my heart to build wide halls behind ever-guarded gates in some deep and secret place in the hills…
Celeborn: There is wisdom in that thought, indeed, to establish a retreat lest Morgoth should burst forth from Angband unlooked for and overthrow the armies of the North.
Galadriel: [to Finrod] Then perhaps you should open your heart to Thingol about your dreams. He may know of some suitable location for your endeavours -
Thingol: [approaches from behind, having overheard conversation:] I most certainly can help you there… Along the River Narog there is a deep gorge, and there are caves under the High Faroth in its steep western shore, hewn by the Petty-Dwarves who once lived there. These might be fit for your purpose. I can lend you guides to lead you to that place which few yet know, to ascertain for yourself the suitability.
Regin: [rubs his hands together, sensing a business opportunity] And if I may be so bold as to point out that the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains would consider such a contract for a suitable price…
Thingol: Let us retire to my private chambers and discuss this further in comfort [Thingol, Finrod and Dwarf wander off, heads together, bargaining]
Celeborn: [to Galadriel, humorously] Well, that seems settled then!
Galadriel: [innocently] Are you so eager to be rid of my brothers and I?
Celeborn: [confused] I did not mean to infer that, my Lady Artanis. Surely you are happy enough here within the safety of our Queen’s protective Girdle?
Galadriel: [chidingly] Of course you did not… Naturally, you believe my only choices are to stay here and live in your Lord’s court where everyday is another party to attend, wearing the finest dresses and adding to my collection of jewels or to meekly follow my brother to his new household when it is built. [imperiously] No! I am a Noldorin princess, infused with royal blood of the Teleri and the Vanyar. I would rule lands of my own one day!
Celeborn: [laughs scornfully] In spite of your most noble lineage and high learning, you are dangerously naive. You know nothing of the harsh reality of living in a land forsaken by the Valar, where evil things creep about, kept at bay only by the blood, the swords, and the slender bows of the Grey-elves. You have much to learn if you are to survive here, my Lady! [bows and walks away, leaving her open-mouthed in surprise. Fade.]

* * * * * * *

Scriptwriters' Notes:

* The design of Menegroth is obviously open to interpretation, but Sauronsfinger has a great love of and aptitude for set design, and we had great fun imagining our version of Menegroth. We took the idea that Melian would have had major input into the design, and would feature scenes and decor inspired by her memories of Valinor, as well as the flora and fauna of Doriath. These are some of our ideas:

- the armouries filled with weapons crafted by the Naugrim – axes, spears, swords, tall helms and long coats of bright mail;

- the ballroom: an immense room with a parquet floor, the central dance floor is surrounded by an elevated gallery, which in turn, is supported by thin columns disguised as carved Aspen trees. Several of these silver columns are surrounded by spiral staircases leading to the upper level. The balustrades are wrought as branches full of golden leaves and flowers spill from the gallery platform to hang as chandeliers over the dance floor.. At one end of the room there is an arched dais for the Elven musicians, crafted as a rainbow from different coloured phosphorescent rocks, at the other there is a silver fountain and silver goblets, providing cool, refreshing spring water for thirsty dancers …

- the feasting hall, with its amazing ceiling painted like an Elven version of the Sistine Chapel, showing the story of Arda’s Creation and the walls hung with tapestries woven by Melian and her maidens…

- a side chamber dedicated to the memory of the lost brethren who continued the journey to Aman: this is a place of meditation and remembrance, featuring a carved memorial which depicts Ulmo towing the Teleri on the island of Tol Eressëa across the Sea. The carved waves in differing heights flow out away from the memorial covering a large part of the floor of the chamber and lighted candles are interspersed among the waves, the reflected dancing flames simulating the movement of the waves. An air-flow system is constructed so that the sound of the wind echoes mournfully round the chamber. A plain and very smooth ramp-like bridge rises over the carved floor, allowing those paying their respects to pass in single file before the memorial.

_________________
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes


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* * *

Fade in to scene in Forest of Neldoreth: Galadriel has escaped the confines of Menegroth and is enjoying a pleasant walk in the evening sun. She hears footsteps behind her, gathers her skirts and swiftly secretes herself in the branches of a nearby beech tree, looking down from the cover of the leafy boughs to see who is passing by. It is Celeborn, and he seems to be searching for something or someone:

Celeborn: [looking round in frustration; Cups his hands around his mouth and calls out:] Artanis! My Lady! Where are you? The hour is late and your brothers are concerned for your safety… [mutters beneath his breath:] The Valar take you, wilful vixen…why do I have to be the one sent to run around after you? [all of a sudden he is hit on the head by a beech nut; he looks up at the trees around – cut to Galadriel holding her breath and keeping really still] Pestilant squirrels! [turns away and is hit by another beechnut, then a third] Ow! [he hears stifled giggles, and realization dawns. He surveys the trees more closely and quickly discerns the one Galadriel is hiding in. He strides over and calls up to her:] Madam, do you have any idea of the consternation your headstrong behaviour is causing your brothers?

Galadriel: And do you have any idea how I resent being cooped up in those caves, whiling away the hours with needlework and gossip with the women of your court? Is it any wonder that I, who have played in the pastures of Yavanna herself, and hunted in Oromë’s forest, seek refuge among the beauty of living trees rather than stone replicas?
Celeborn: [wonderingly] I would dearly love to hear more about Valinor if you are willing…and I too must admit to preferring the solitude of the forest to the frivolities of Court… [grins mischieviously] Now, are you coming down or must I come up and retrieve you?

Galadriel: [sighs] Were I dressed for climbing I would give you a run for your money. Sadly, my skirts will defeat any chance I have of besting you. A shame, for the evening might have been enjoyable for both of us. [She climbs down to the lowest branches as he waits with arms folded across his chest. As she sits there, her legs dangling below her skirts, his eye is drawn to a red scar across the shin and ankle of one leg.]
Celeborn: [teasingly] and I had thought you were physically perfect in every way…
Galadriel: [coyly] only physically perfect? [holds out her arms for assistance]
Celeborn: [softly, with genuine concern] What happened? [clasps her under her arms and lifts her down.]
Galadriel: Nothing… [tugs hem of her dress down over her legs as her feet touch the ground again] It is an old scar… [tails off lamely] ...from climbing trees in Valinor…It is fading.
Celeborn: It is too deep to be a minor injury...
Galadriel: [offhandedly] It happened to me, and not you. Do not worry yourself over it.
Celeborn: Surely the truth cannot be so humiliating?
Galadriel: [annoyed] You presume that I am lying?
Celeborn: [smugly] I do not need to presume..
Galadriel: [shrugs, replies unconvincingly:] It is the truth.
Celeborn: [mockingly] A queen cannot afford to be such a bad liar, my lady… how will you rule your people if you cannot tell either blatant lie or honest truth?
Galadriel [face flushes hotly] I grow tired of your insolence!
Celeborn: [raises an eyebrow, infuriatingly calm] I grow tired of your bantering... [pauses] And I grow tired of your attempts to deceive me.
Galadriel: [defiantly] Keep out of things that are of no concern to you. I do not presume to make judgments vocally, and if I did, there are many things I could say--
Celeborn: --Then say them.
Galadriel: [exasperated] For one who is so loud-mouthed and tactless, it is surprising that Thingol trusts you with any political matters at all.
Celeborn: [sarcastically] Perhaps he does precisely because I am loud-mouthed and tactless. Two things you very obviously lack.
Galadriel: [averts face, mouth drawn in a hard, bitter line.] What I lack and what I do not is not something I will discuss with you.
Celeborn: Very well. [turns suddenly, and makes to walk away, then he turns back:] No doubt some ardent suitor will provide you with the sympathy you crave, and call me a fool and a spoilt princeling just to make you feel better. Do remember that while I am all those things, I am also smug, unsociable and cannot abide pretentiousness. I trust you can find your own way back… [He strides off humming to himself, leaving Galadriel to follow sulkily. Fade.]

* * *

Fade into scene in Galadriel’s chamber a couple of days later.
Celeborn knocks on the door. He enters…Galadriel is writing at a desk. She looks up, questioning his presence with her gaze:


Celeborn: I suppose you want me to apologize?
Galadriel: No.
Celeborn: You do. [Galadriel looks away] Are you hiding something, Artanis?
Galadriel: [with difficulty] No.
Celeborn: Then what is it?
Galadriel: Think what you want. After all, I would not want to encourage your eloquent rhetoric.
Celeborn: [lifts an eyebrow] You are angry. [circles around chair, and faces her, disturbed] Forgive me?
Galadriel: I have never heard a less sincere apology.
Celeborn: What should I do to make it sincere?
Galadriel: Take a vow of silence?
Celeborn: As you wish. [smiles playfully] When was the last time you lost an argument?
Galadriel: Just because you staged your theatrical exit does not mean I lost our war of words.
Celeborn: [concedes her point with a nod] Regardless of my deplorable tactics in trying to get my point across, when was the last time someone managed to render you speechless?
Galadriel: [incredulous] I was not speechless!
Celeborn: Silent, speechless, dumbstruck. The same, really.
Galadriel: [smiles dangerously…Celeborn suddenly looks less certain] When was the last time you were hit by a woman?
Celeborn: [apprehensively] Are you planning to?
Galadriel: If you do not cease this idle chatter, yes. [smiles even wider] And believe me when I say that I know where to hurt you.
Celeborn: [stares appraisingly] I believe you.
Galadriel: [smiles again, shaking her head]
Celeborn: What?
Galadriel: I wonder how it is that your self-preoccupation is apparently a trait to be admired, whilst I am branded a spoiled brat.
Celeborn: [looks amused] I would call you many things, but not that…
Galadriel: [eyes narrowed] And what would you call me?
Celeborn: [Opens his mouth to speak, then pauses, glancing at the dagger on her side-table. He looks back at her, his face softening, pensive] I would call you Galadriel…
Galadriel: [answers reflexively, slightly angry] No!
Celeborn: [taken aback] Why not?
Galadriel: I have a name…two…
Celeborn: [reasonably] Take another… [softly, hesitantly] Galadriel?
Galadriel: [breathily] Yes?
[His eyes light up; he moves close to her, taking her hand in his. Murmurs quietly] You know everything I said is true?
Galadriel: Of course.
Celeborn: [smiles, raises her hand to his lips and kisses it] I am glad that is settled between us. Now I must bid you goodnight for I am leaving for the Havens of the Falas in the morning. [Bows and takes his leave. Galadriel is left bemused and bewildered! Fade.]

* * * * * *

Fade into scene on hilltop above the River Narog.
Finrod, his brothers, Regin and a few other dwarves are following the river, which cuts through these hills in a deep gorge, flowing out over rapids. On the west side of this gorge a short and foaming stream, the Ringwil, tumbles headlong into the Narog from the High Faroth. Regin halts the riding party.


Regin: [pointing] There it is…
Finrod: [squinting to see something] Where? I see nothing.
Regin: That is the beauty of stonemasonry by dwarves; it cannot be seen by an untrained eye.
Finrod: You say the Dwarves crafted this? But I thought your people lived in the Blue Mountains, to the East.
Regin: My people do live there, but some of our cousins have wandered this way, the petty dwarves they were known as, quick to anger, and slow to forget a grudge. It is many years since we last saw them, I would know how things have gone with them, but it is unclear if they even remain in these halls. For they look to be abandoned.
Finrod: [incredulous] And you can tell this just from looking at some bare stones?
Regin: [smugly] we are known as cave hewers, or Felagund in our own tongue. Come, they are within a hour’s ride. [trots off down hill on a pony]
Finrod: [whispers to Angrod] I shall show them what the influence of Aulë truly is, we shall see who truly deserves the title of “Felagund” [kicks his heels into his mount and hastens after the Dwarves. Cut.]

* * *

Cut to Finrod and his company, standingon a narrow path next to the river:
They are looking at a rock face on the steep western bank of the Narog where the river passes through a deep gorge.


Regin: [proudly] Behold, the caves wrought by my people.
Finrod: [with a listless expression on his face] Do you take me for a fool, there is nothing here. In any case, the Narog forms rapids as it flows through the gorge and cannot not be crossed at this point!

Regin: [shrugs] Just because we cannot see Aulë, does it mean he does not exist?
Finrod: [matter-of-factly] I have seen Aulë, but I see nothing here…
Regin: [rolls eyes] -it was simply an expression.
Finrod: [becoming angry] If you have led me on an expedition, with no fruit for my labours I will have your head!
Regin: Do not distress yourself… [walks over to rock, and begins tapping, moves along while still tapping, until he hears a different sound, signals for his companion dwarf to help him they both push on the rock, until a slab slides inward]
Finrod: [stunned] but... how...
Regin: [smugly] do you still doubt my abilities, oh high and mighty one? No one can approach High Faroth without being seen…even Morgoth has not discovered its location. [They walk into the darkness, in a shot similar to Aragorn and company entering the paths of the dead, and we see some shots around the cave like the pan shots of Moria. Fade.]

* * *

Fade back into a shot of the group still in the caves, camped around a fire: it is obvious some time has passed…

Regin: -and then the waste would runoff through the sewage ducts... [sees Finrod is not listening anymore, and is staring uneasily into the darkness.] Is something wrong?
Finrod: You told me that your relatives once lived here, where are they now?

Regin: They came here many years ago, they may all be dead. I suspect that if any yet live there are very few, and it seems now, upon further inspection, that they have abandoned these halls. You should be happy you did not meet them; they are greedy, and selfish. They have no love for anyone who is not of the Naugrim, and they are known to lay curses upon those they do not trust; a curse laid by a petty dwarf will always come true.
Finrod: Then let us hope I do not ever have the displeasure of dealing with one. Now, what were we talking about, cesspools, was it...
[Camera pans away, and we see very quickly, a shadow disappear in the distance…Fade.]

* * * * * * *

Fade into scene in Thingol’s Banqueting Hall.
It is a large hall with several long tables. At one end a fire with carved pillars on either side of the hearth burns merrily, the flames casting dancing shadows on the tapestry clad walls and painted ceiling. A feast is underway. Galadriel is making polite conversation with those seated near her, including her brother, Aegnor.

Celeborn has returned from the Havens, and he enters the Hall. As he walks through the Hall towards Thingol’s chair, at the head of the table, his eyes search Galadriel out. He sees her and smiles, his eyes drinking in the sight of her like a man parched. She reciprocates with a slight inclination of her head. She watches as he is properly greeted back as per court requirements: Thingol motions for him to sit and join the meal whilst he gives his report. Judging by the look on Thingol’s face, he has done his work well. At the end of the meal, Thingol concludes his conversation, and Celeborn asks permission to leave the table. He casually strolls towards where Galadriel is sitting.


Celeborn: Lady Artanis… [bows. Quiet murmur] Dare I hope that you have missed me? [grins, looking well pleased with himself]
Galadriel: [playing along, sighs dramatically] How I pined for thee, lord.
Celeborn: [feigns distress] Ah, lady! you hurt me with your wit. [Suddenly he is whisked off by Lúthien to join in the dancing in the ballroom . Aegnor turns to Galadriel, having been in conversation with someone the other side of him and misinterpreting the exchange.]Aegnor: Another lovelorn suitor, sister?
Galadriel: [just smiles enigmatically, take Aegnor’s proffered arm and lets him escort her to the ballroom. Cut.]

* * *

Cut to the ballroom:
Galadriel attempts to mingle with her brothers at her side. Finrod is no companion – his thoughts revolve around Nargothrond, and she finds his details of the miraculous plumbing techniques tedious. Some of the Sindar are so charmed by her small talk that they remark wonderingly to Aegnor how wonderful it must be to have a woman in the family who is as intelligent as she is beautiful. Galadriel bites back a cutting remark; Aegnor raises an eyebrow, and wonders what is wrong with her.

There is a call for song. Finrod sends for his harp, flushed with wine, and the prospect of enthralling an audience. Thingol smiles at his newfound kinsman:


Thingol: If I might make a request? There is one who has not sung for us yet… Come, Lady Artanis, perhaps you would grant us the honour of a song?
Galadriel: Gladly, but my name is now Galadriel, Sire.

Diplomat that he is, Thingol almost manages to hide his surprise. Not so everyone else –both the Sindar nobles and her Noldor brothers look at Galadriel, with amazed expressions…

Thingol: [neutral, matter-of-fact tone] And what new name is this?
Galadriel: The Lord Celeborn is responsible, my lord…a rare compliment, I deem!
All eyes turn to Celeborn; he stands with his brother, Galathil, at the other end of the room, giving his slight, amused smile. He raises a distant goblet to her. She takes her place beside Finrod on the harp, and starts to sing a song of Valinor in the days of the Trees. Fade.

* * *

Fade back in to later that evening.
Celeborn excuses himself, and bids goodnight to Thingol, who looks at his great-nephew fondly. He arrives at Galadriel’s side, oblivious of the stares. The lull in conversation suddenly picks up.


Celeborn: [nods] My lady…
Galadriel: [raises her chin slightly] My lord Celeborn.
Celeborn: [glances around, and says blandly] You have the nerve of ten men.
Galadriel: Are you angry?
Celeborn: Tomorrow you will be a coquette and I will be a debaucher. [His eyes glint with severe laughter.] No, I am not angry.
Galadriel: [carelessly] It will give them something to gossip about.
Celeborn: Ah, how charitable we are – all Doriath will talk of gold and silver…

They walk together into a smaller chamber, designed like a courtyard surrounding a trickling fountain, and the walls are carved to represent rose arbours. Quartz flowers glitter in the soft light, and the water sparkles as it falls from a glistening nautilus shell, over a lustrous pearl set into a marble oyster-shell basin. There is a ledge around the fountain, on which Celeborn sits and settles his gaze on Galadriel. A frown begins to form on her brow.

Galadriel:. Why did you not address me as Galadriel on your return?
Celeborn: I did not know if you truly desired it. [earnestly] Do you wish it of me?
Galadriel: I would know why you chose it.
Celeborn: [studies her silently for a moment, then looks away. Trails his hand in the water as he considers her meaning] You doubt me. My intentions.
Galadriel: No. Your intentions are clear. I ask only your meaning.
Celeborn: [faces her] The meaning is what I see in you. The qualities I have come to know.
Galadriel: [challengingly] Ah, let me see…obedience? meekness?
Celeborn: [meets her eye to eye.] Fierce spirit. Insight and Compassion

Galadriel: [Sits next to him, folding her hands together] Is that what you believe me to be like? Others see in me only what they believe me to be … noble Artanis… fearsome Nerwen.. My father and mother names…their visions of who I would become.
Celeborn: [tilts his head on one side questioningly] Is that how you see yourself? Have you become what they foresaw?
Galadriel: [shakes her head, then shrugs] Perhaps. [Her brow furrows gently] Only a man would be so bold as to follow Fëanor, or so they say. I must be as a man, in the eyes of others…
Celeborn: [simply] There is nothing manly about you, Galadriel. Not in my eyes. I saw something different in you. The lady I met first captured me with the radiance of her beauty and the glorious strength of her spirit, not with her reputation.
Galadriel: [quietly teasing] Next you will ask for a lock of hair, the better to remember my beauty by! Do you realize I thrice turned down such a request from Fëanor? [frowns at the memory; starts to rise; Celeborn catches her arm just lightly enough to give her pause. She turns her gaze back to his, finding questions in his grey eyes.]
Celeborn: Do you think me unkind? that I am mocking you??
Galadriel: [shakes head with intensity and frustration] I am known as the fierce one because I speak too plainly…I am proud and wilful… [searches his face with care, her voice hushed ] …I do not wish you to give your love to someone you do not truly understand.
Celeborn: I would not have you be anyone other than your true self, Galadriel.
Galadriel: [rests her palm rests against his hand. A small smile begins to cross her lips, tugging at her cheeks.] And who would you be, to me?
Celeborn: [raises his free hand and clasps her hand between his.] I would be your ally in all things, and I would love you unconditionally.
Galadriel: [Tenderness fills her smile, and the playful twinkle returns to her grey eyes.] I will love you also, my lord. And I will be your Galadriel… [they kiss passionately. Fade]

* * * * * * *

The second part of this Doriath special concludes in Episode 6

_________________
There is magic in long-distance friendships. They let you relate to other human beings in a way that goes beyond being physically together and is often more profound.
~Diana Cortes


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