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Assistant: Title: The Trials of Mairon
        Author: bynightmylove bynightmylove 
        Chapter: 8/33 
        Summary: After the end of it all, ages after, Galadriel is called to Aman where a prisoner dwells in the shadows. A prisoner whose trial is at last approaching. And he will talk to one alone: Galadriel.Galadriel must devise three trials to put Sauron through to prove he is worthy of redemption - and failure is not an option. After the first two trials were less than a success, Galadriel has to pull out all the stops for the third and she does not like it, at all. For the third trial will not only test Sauron but her as well. Because for this most crucial one, she will have to live through a time where when Sauron asks her to join him, she tells him yes.
        Contents: Chapter 8: The Return Of The King
    

    


      
        
          Here we go again!! Hope you are ready :)
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    
  CHAPTER EIGHT: THE RETURN OF THE KING
Galadriel had a hard time falling asleep. But Halbrand kept his promise and did not come back in all that time. She tried to keep her mind blank through all of it, with varying success. And when she finally dropped off, only to awaken within the next heartbeat, she lay on her cot on her side and heard him on the other side of their tent, already on his feet. She blinked slowly and as the world came into sharpness, she saw that he had his back to her, busy with his clothes, apparently choosing an option for the day from what he had laid out on the floor in front of him – having already taken apart his cot and side table. The most alerting thing she saw however was that he wore no shirt.  His back was paler than the skin of his arms which were usually turned to the sun but the level of his tan was not what caught Galadriel’s eye. It was the way his muscles moved under the skin, how his shoulders sat broad and wide over narrower hips, how he turned around a little bit which offered her a glimpse at the soft ridges, the dips and valleys of his stomach. He did not seem to be aware of her watching him – but then he had not seemed like he had realised she was watching him toss that apple the other night, which he very much had. So Galadriel forced herself to close her eyes again, remain perfectly still until it sounded like he had chosen an option from his limited selection and secured the rest of his clothes for travel. Only then, did she make a little show of waking up and sat up in time for him to turn around to her.“We need to dismantle the tent,” he said instead of good morning. The tunic he had chosen in the end was dark brown, matching his black chauces. It was a very sensible choice for a three days’ march.Galadriel put her feet out the side of the cot, placed them on the ground - and hoped they would carry her. For some reason she anticipated shaky knees. They turned out to be steady though, something she was infinitely glad for.“How did you sleep?” Halbrand asked as she took apart her cot.“Well enough,” she replied and kept her focus on the task at hand. “Did you give any thought to what I asked of you last night?” He asked.  I have thought of nothing else, and what you did after, would have been the honest answer, but she simply said “Yes.”“And?”She turned around to him and tried to control her features. “I have resolved to believe you that you desire betterment. But if you deceive me again, I will kill you with my own two hands.”“By all means,” he shrugged. “If that makes you feel better.” She still could not read him. But she had decided that he had a point, if she was honest. Betterment and redemption required a bit of good faith. It needed hope and encouragement and Galadriel ought to provide it, no matter how hard it was. She would of course keep up her guard, but she would try and be supportive as well as she could. Or pretend where she could not be. She guessed he was satisfied with her answer for the time being though, because a bit of his easy manner returned over the course of the morning. He never addressed the kiss, never brought it up again. Which was why Galadriel was preoccupied with it for their whole journey to Osgeende. *** It was early on the third day that she was first alone with Halbrand again. Before, they had ridden on opposite ends of the convoy, Halbrand bringing up the front with Arondir – occasionally rearranging the guard or sending the elf out for a quick scout – while Galadriel and Bronwyn had kept an eye on the rear and made sure that no one fell behind.  But as the third morning came and they had finally left the Western mountains at their back and crossed the Anduin on an old Elven bridge that was likely on its last legs, Halbrand had sent for her and asked that she ride ahead with him, to scope out the lands. Galadriel complied, least of all because anything else would have caused suspicions and together they left the convoy in the charge of Arondir and Bronwyn. Their horses could have gone faster but for the sake of appearances, Halbrand and her only rode about a league ahead and kept riding along the river to their right. The ground was mostly flat terrain – but in the distance they could already see the forests that Galadriel knew would shrink and shrink until their final demise in order to build Osgiliath, Minas Anor and Minas Ithil from its wood and ground. In between those woods and on the river Osgeende should be waiting for them. “Galadriel,” Halbrand called out behind her and she pulled the reins of her horse to slow it down.“Have you seen something?” She asked him, alarmed.“No,” Halbrand replied. “But we are breaking off too far from the convoy. Let us slow down.”Galadriel did not  want  to slow down. Because slowing down would mean conversation and she had no idea what to say to him. The last few days had been confusing for her. Keeping her promise of taking his actions more kindly, more trustingly, had unnerved her. Mostly because it was so easy to believe he was sincere. The littlest things were the worst. The way he would watch children play with a big smile on his face when she could not be completely sure he even knew he was being observed. It was the fighting advice he had given Theo one night by the campfire, which had ended in cautioning the youth about charging into battle blindly without having explored all other options before – because his mother would surely suffer greatly if he was to die before his time. It was the way he never got tired of his charges roping him into conversations and the way he seemed so truthfully interested in hearing their stories. It could all as well still be manipulation or seduction… but maybe he really just wanted to experience a free life. If anything, nothing was more obvious than the love the Southerners already felt for him. Without any of Galadriel’s well-founded qualms, they had accepted him fully, even after less than a week as their king. She could hardly blame them. Before she knew his real name, she had felt much the same way. “You must be pleased,” she said as their horses fell into a slow trot side by side.“About what?”“About how much your people love you,” she said and tried to not sound accusatory. “They have opened their hearts for you. No one questions you as king.”“Why would they?” He asked. “I was presented to them by a Númenorian Queen and the most famous elven military commander. - There is precious little to be wary of.” There was something else that Galadriel had observed during the last couple of days that made her curious. She decided to bring that up until the conversation had the chance to turn to other things she would rather not think or speak about. “You were eating and drinking the whole journey,” she noted and looked over at him. “How does that work if it supposedly binds you to this form and diminishes your strength.” “Do you wish to know all of my secrets, elf?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at her - but there was twinkling in them and he was smirking again, so she knew he was not angry or guarded about the question. Quite the opposite, he seemed to delight in schooling her.“Do you see this big cloud ahead?” He pointed at the horizon and his  big cloud  was very much impossible to miss.“We will have rain,” Galadriel muttered.“Very likely,” he agreed. “Let us say this cloud is my spirit. In actuality, it looks nothing like it, but the dimensions should be correct, if it  had  a proper form. – Do you follow?”Galadriel scoffed indignantly. “Yes, I follow. I am not a halfwit. I am capable of imagination.”Halbrand chuckled. “Apologies, I did not mean to cause offence.”“Just move along with your little  analogy,” Galadriel ordered impatiently. “You are the cloud, I understand.” “Very well. – My spirit is not bound to this body by one cup of mead or one plate of clams alone,” he continued, unperturbed by her annoyance. “It happens in increments. Every bite I eat, every sip I drink takes about its equivalence in size from that cloud and binds it to this form. I would have to eat and drink like a man for well over a century for that alone to bind me.”“Hm,” Galadriel hummed and looked away from him, up at the cloud to imagine tiny little bites of it disappearing. “That kiss however,” Halbrand said and Galadriel stopped breathing with a start, careful to keep her eyes steady at the horizon, careful not to betray how little she wished to discuss what had happened. “That kiss took about what a year would of food and drink. Lying with you would take the equivalent of ten, I’d wager. – Siring a single child on you would take half of the cloud.”Now, what was one supposed to say to a thing such as this?She had no idea, which was why she remained silent. She had no thoughts in her mind other than him saying ‘lying  with you’ and ‘sire a child  on you’. “Careful Galadriel,” Halbrand murmured after an indeterminable length of time and her head snapped back to catch him smirking. “You are going to make me think I found a way to make you speechless.”“I am not speechless,” she said, her voice raspy from misuse.“Certainly.” He tipped his head and for the first time he did her the favour of not antagonising her further. “We should rejoin the convoy. Best not to get separated from the group in the woods.”“I’ll ride back to the rear,” Galadriel decided, already turning her horse around.“Of course you will,” Halbrand called after her and sounded like he was deeply pleased with himself. *** Galadriel did as she had promised and spent the rest of the track through the woods along the river talking to Bronwyn and Swete about this and that. This is why she only learned of the trouble up front of the convoy when conflict had already started brewing.Galadriel pulled Bronwyn up onto her steed when one of Halbrand’s new guards called for them and passed the rest of the Southoners on horseback. The further they rode, the more animated and concerned the people looked. They arrived on the clearing in front of the fishing town to find Halbrand and Arondir, along with the new guard, standing in front of the wooden palisades that kept outsiders out of Osgeende. “Perhaps if we laid siege?” Galadriel heard Arondir muse, when she and Bronwyn got off the horse and joined them. “Or threaten to destroy the bridge?”Arondir pointed at the wooden bridge behind them, which crossed the Anduin and shielded the lively harbour beyond.“Let’s not hasten towards conflict,” Halbrand cautioned but he looked uneasy all the same.  “What is it?” Galadriel asked.“They refuse to open the gate,” Arondir replied. “Now we are made to wait to hear it from the mouth of their Lord Mayor, the man who governs this town.”“I say we should not wait!” One of the young men from the new guard said. “They have no right to refuse entry to their king!”“Please,” Halbrand urged. “Calm yourselves. Let us speak with the man first, I am sure he can be persuaded to see reason.” As if on cue a host of men dressed in fine garb appeared on top of the city wall, taking places along the balcony overseeing the clearing and left a space in the middle for a stout, round-bellied and grey-haired man with a full beard. He wore purple robes, adorned with jewels and rich embroidery and Galadriel figured this man was the master of the town simply for having amassed the most wealth. “I am afraid we are at capacity,” he said with no prelude or even a word of greeting. “We must ask you to take your caravan to another town. Mayhaps Grenveend, a couple miles down the river.” “Lord Mayor,” Halbrand said and inclined his head before breaking from the line. “Please, my people have walked a long way looking for shelter. May we at least have a conversation? Our homes have been destroyed, darkness has befallen our lands, we have nowhere to turn.”“I see the darkness, alright,” the Lord Mayor said and gestured towards the mountains behind them where the dark cloud of ashes lay steady over the South like a blanket, “and I am sorry about the plight of your people – but we cannot help. There is no room to house your lot. We have enough hungry mouths to feed as it is and the river has not been kind to us this year. We cannot sustain you.”“Your fishing boats filled to the brim in the harbour tell a different story,” Halbrand said, devastating without even raising his voice. “And you are surrounded by woods – surely with enough lumber to build  new  houses. We are capable, we can build our own shelter, we only ask for a hand in aid, for some compassion.”“I am sorry, we have none to spare,” said the Lord Mayor. “Now, I suggest you move along before I send my archers to replace me on this palisade.”“You dare to threaten the king?” The same mouthy guardsman yelled. “Your king? Do you not know who this man is?” Halbrand hooked his thumb under the crest he wore on the little pouch around his chest, the one he had picked off of the dead heir to the Southern throne and tilted it, so as to be better visible to the Lord Mayor and his footmen who started whispering among themselves.Galadriel could feel the shift in atmosphere among them. They too, reacted much like Bronwyn’s people had at the sight. They were ready for a king, desperate for a  real  leader. And the Lord Mayor saw it, too. He did not like it.“A king you say?” He bellowed. “With what proof? Do you mean to tell me a little necklace should persuade me to open my city gates to a band of what as well might be bandits? Come to steal from our hearths and ravage our women? – Nay, I say. Nay! Take your leave, False King, and take your vandals with you, or I swear you will feel the wrath of Lord Walda!” “Shall we run them?” The soldier asked Halbrand and Galadriel knew he would if Halbrand only so much as whispered the affirmative – but Halbrand did not.“Stand down,” he said to the young man and bowed to Mayor Walda. “As you wish, Lord Mayor.” Then he turned to the Southerners who had gathered behind them by then: “You heard it, my friends. It seems our journey to safety is not yet at an end. But for today, we have travelled far enough. – We shall make camp in the woods tonight and continue upstream tomorrow.” There were murmurs, some shouting, some wails. “Do not despair! I will not leave you. We are a strong people, we  will  prevail.” The Lord Mayor and his entourage watched from their perch as Arondir and Bronwyn pushed the crowd back into the woods while Galadriel remained with Halbrand at the tree line until the last of their host had cleared the expanse in front of the city gate. Only then, did they bring up the rear. “Did you truly mean it?” Galadriel asked. “Will we continue for another town tomorrow?”“Not yet,” Halbrand replied. “You know I do not give up so easily. – This Lord Mayor is obviously interested in one thing and one thing only…  riches.  This pouch might not have convinced him to take me for a king but a King’s treasure might.”“But you have no treasure,” Galadriel reminded him.“What do  you  know?” He jested. “It might take me a moment to get hold of it but I know of a few of Morgoth’s dragons who died and left behind a couple of caves filled with gold.”“So you plan to buy him off?”“It seems most prudent.”“How will you do that, if he won’t even speak to you?”“I came with two hundred people at my back today, enough to alert them to close their gates. One man alone in a cloak can easily slip through the city border. I will go to him on the morrow and try my luck again.”“I will come with you,” she said, more so she could keep an eye on him than anything else.“No,” he declared.“Excuse me?”“You are too recognizable,” he said. “Frankly, too beautiful. There is no man who looked upon you today who will not remember your face until they go to their graves. That would defy the whole purpose of me sneaking in.” Galadriel hated it, but he was probably right. Still she had no interest in conceding this. “We’ll see,” she said instead.“Indeed we will.”“I won’t sleep,” she told him, just so he would not think to sneak off in the dead of night.“Suit yourself,” he replied easily and later, he had no qualms with her watching him all night in their tent. *** They sat on their opposite sides on their cots as they had grown accustomed to, and neither of them spoke much. Occasionally, Halbrand would try to convince Galadriel – either by mockery or feigned concern – to go to sleep, all the while promising he would not leave her side. But Galadriel would not give in. What he did not know was that she did not  need  to sleep in this reality either, and so she was happy sitting out this one night. As the first rays of sunshine painted the fabric of their tent a light pink, Halbrand righted himself on his cot and looked over at her.“Happy now?” He asked her and she nodded. “I see we are making  great headway on you trusting me.”“It won’t come overnight,” she told him and she would have said more but then Arondir burst into the tent, looking alarmed.Galadriel and Halbrand both jumped up in unison.“What happened?” Halbrand asked.Arondir looked both pained and ashamed. “The new guardsmen! – I was asleep… they stole away before sunset and broke into the city. They have taken the Mayor’s Palais by force and hold him prisoner. They await your orders. The city is wide open.” Galadriel looked to Halbrand to gauge his reaction – but instead of the triumphant elation she half-expected, he looked displeased, almost annoyed.“Was that your doing?” She asked him anyway.“No. I was with you all night. – These fools,” he lamented. “I had it all in hand.”Then he huffed out a frustrated breath, shook his head and donned a moss-green jerkin from Eregion, following Arondir outside. With his hand on the tent flap, he paused and looked back at Galadriel with an impatient look on his face.“Well, are you coming, then?”She moved instantaneously. Of course she was.  *** The gate of Osgeende indeed stood wide open and the townspeople noted their hasty arrival on horseback. No one made any move to stop them and Galadriel thought that there was no great love among them for their Lord Mayor. He probably only had the affections of those he paid for it. This impression only solidified as they were let into the Palais and realised that only the fifteen guardsmen held the whole building. They guarded merely the Lord Mayor, his wife and their two small children. No one else seemed a threat, everyone else had let them proceed. The Lord Walda was kept in what he must have fashioned for himself as a sort of throne room. It was not a great hall of marble as Galadriel knew from the elves or even mortal kings. This was a hall of wood, of mahogany floors and rich burgundy curtains draped over the windows. But there were two large wooden chairs on a platform at the far end of the room where she figured this Lord was holding court from as if from thrones anyway. He now sat there, flanked by two guardsmen, looking sour and afraid, though the latter he sought to conceal, if poorly. The mouthy soldier, whom Galadriel assumed to be the ringleader of this unsanctioned mission, charged ahead to speak to Halbrand, and looked like a puppy dog who had brought his master a present. If he had had a tail, it certainly would be wagging. “We took the city for you, my king,” he said. “Shall we dispose of this Lord Mayor.”“No, and you should not have done that,” Halbrand said cuttingly and the young man faltered under the scrutiny immediately.  He began to apologise but Halbrand shut him up with a wave of his hand. “Unhand him,” he said to the other guards. “Let the man go.”The guards bowed and looked sheepish and embarrassed, stepped away from the mayor but the mayor did not move.“I apologise,” Halbrand said to him, crossing the hall to come upon him and bow. “Forgive these young men, they are afraid and do not know their manners yet. But I assure you, they do not speak for me and I have not ordered this.” The Lord Mayor sat up straighter and righted his clothes. “Your men talked of orcs in the South,” he said. “And an Uruk at their helm, causing havoc.”“That is true, my lord,” Halbrand confirmed.“And they will attack us?”“Not any time soon, I believe,” Halbrand said. “But their master is hungry for power and he will try to take all of the Southlands and eventually want more still. We are resolved to keep that from happening. We will march against him once we have had a chance to recuperate.”“You and your host of vigilantes?” The Lord snickered but there was no conviction behind it.“We have aid,” Halbrand said. “From Númenor.”This got a bit of a reaction from the mayor.“And their kind?” He gestured towards Galadriel and Arondir.“The elves will come when called,” Galadriel said.“Should the need arise, we will protect you as well,” Halbrand offered. “We will not forget your kindness, should you open your doors to us. We do not wish to take from you needlessly. Like I said, my people are capable. We need not trouble you for anything you can not part with. We shall build our own houses and gather our own food. We only seek a safe harbour.” “And you are a king you say?” The mayor asked.“The heir to the Southlands,” the mouthy soldier supplied. “Your  king.”“With some means to reimburse you for any troubles,” Halbrand promised.“Let me see this broach of yours again,” Lord Walda bid. “This crest around your neck.”Halbrand easily parted with it, pulled it off from the front of his jerkin and tossed it over to the mayor who caught it and studied it. It was all for show, Galadriel knew it. This whole interrogation, it was a show of empty force. The mayor was saving face and Halbrand was wise enough to let him. The truth was, he had no standing anymore. His supporters had obviously deserted him and the tidings of an army of orcs just a mountain pass away must have done their part as well. Surely the mention of Númenor and elves in support of this new king and a vague promise of compensation for his troubles only sweetened the pot. The mayor turned and turned the sigil in his hand as if it meant anything to him. Then he nodded, gravely, calculatedly. “It seems I was mistaken,” he said slowly, as if he was only just making up his mind, and stood. “I  do  recognise this. Please forgive me. I was a fool. – But you see I was charged with keeping this city safe and I could not just put blind faith in a king who came from nowhere.”Galadriel held back a snort with some effort. He was spineless but his first instinct had not been wrong. Not that it did him any good.“I see now, that our king has returned,” he declared and then bowed low and exaggeratedly – and stepped away from his throne. “I am your humble servant, my liege, the city is yours. Please accept my deepest apologies.”“There is no need for them,” Halbrand hurried to say. “And I have no need for your seat or the rule of this town either. You have led it well and true and my desire is that you continue to do so. I only wish to be your guest until I can lead my people back to their home.” “Then I will gladly oblige,” Lord Walda said and relief seeped out of every orifice of the man. “You and your elven companions will be put up right here, in mine own home. My people will open their houses to yours and tomorrow, we will start on building  new  houses for them. – But tonight! Tonight, let us have a big feast! A celebration with song and dance to rejoice in the return of our king! If it please you, of course, my lord.”He curtsied, all humble, snivelling reverence. Galadriel was amazed how Halbrand had managed this feat again, hardly lifting a finger. And still new people seemed to want to bow to him every day. “A celebration sounds wonderful,” Halbrand beamed. “I know me and mine have need of some joy and distraction.” The mayor bowed again, slightly overdoing it. Halbrand ignored it, and turned to his mouthy guard. “Please gather our people and tell them to get cleaned up for the celebration tonight.” Then he turned to Arondir: “Bronwyn, Isildur and you shall also receive quarters here at the Palais, I am sure there is enough room?”He did not even look at Lord Walda but he still piped up with an “Of course, my lord.” *** Next thing she knew, Galadriel was presented with a suite worthy of a merchant’s only daughter, and left to her own devices. She could hear Halbrand be put up at the end of the hallway and walked over to the sturdy bed to allow herself a moment of rest, sitting down on the firm mattress. It had been since Eregion that she had seen a proper bed and all her bones yearned for a chance to just lie in it and forget the world for a while. She did not know if she was meant to intervene in some way, if things were getting out of hand in a fashion she could not yet foresee. But she had promised some good faith to Halbrand and she had to concede that he had played the whole affair smartly and without bloodshed. He simply had not done wrong. And his thanks was shelter for the people following him and a feast to boot. Try as she might – and she had promised she would not – she could not find fault with any of how the morning went. Yet, it still felt wrong somehow. Like she should feel guilty for going along with him, just because it was  him.  And the discrepancy between what he kept showing her and what she knew him to be capable of seemed like a chasm too wide to bridge… too deep to comprehend, even. So she resolved that at least for today, she would cease trying. Halbrand was right, they all had a desperate need for distraction. She was no different. She wanted, no, she  needed  an evening of merriment. A chance to push some of the weight she carried off of her, if only for a time. Maybe she would even dance! Definitely she would drink, may even allow herself a bit of a stupor, half of a buzz. For a full one, she would have to drink the whole town out of house and home, given her elven sensibilities, but a little buzz should be achievable if they had some good liquor in their cellars.  She allowed herself a sigh and a smile. It was an indulgence – but she thought she had rather earned the respite. Still, she did not dally or even take the rest her new bed offered. Instead she decided to help get the people settled if she could and otherwise explore her temporary new home. So a few minutes after, she stole out of the Palais and let herself get carried away by the crowds in the city streets. *** Osgeende was a rustic little town. Some buildings were made of stone, most of those temples. The majority was made of wood and in the innermost city they stood two or three stories tall, flanking tight, winding streets that wove in and out of each other and followed the paths of a few babbling little side-arms of the Anduin. Little bridges connected the streets that were broken off by the streams and everywhere stood little carts where tradesmen and cooks had their goods on offer. It was obvious Lord Walda had lied about his people going hungry. There was plenty of food to go around and from what Galadriel could tell, the townspeople were happy to open up their doors to the newcomers. There was little need of Galadriel to aid – and when she ran into Bronwyn, the woman told her as much – but as she wandered, Galadriel kept spotting familiar faces being shown around, welcomed into houses and given food and drink. The children were the most touching sight of all. They ran around, making fast friends with the young of Osgeende and the sound of laughter filled the streets. It reminded Galadriel of her first day in Númenor, only that Osgeende was tiny compared to it, and a lot more dirty. But it made no matter. There was life on the streets, and happiness. It was a good day, she decided. And Halbrand had not made it any worse. Quite the opposite. She stopped on one of the little bridges to follow the length of the canal with her eyes, watching a young boy on a small boat deliver bottles of milk straight to the window sills of the houses built on the sides of the channel. Then she heard a voice she knew and perked up.“Leave me alone,” the voice whined and it sounded distressed; very at odds with the otherwise wholesome and peaceful scenery around.Galadriel left the bridge and followed the voice that kept begging to be left in peace, rounded the corner into a little alley and then saw her: Swete, surrounded, or cornered more like, by three boys who were all a bit younger than her.“Sweaty Swete, ugly cow,” one of the boys sing-songed as the other pulled at her skirts.“Stinky Swete, looks like an owl,” sang the other and caught one of her beautifully fashioned braids and pulled.“Leave me alone!” Swete had tears in her eyes but whenever she shook one boy off, another would latch onto her to push her around.Galadriel felt bile and anger rise up in her throat. “OY!” She called out and the boys whipped around to her, startled.They had the good sense to instantly look caught-out and ashamed. “You better get lost right now and hope to the One that I do not find your mothers!” She bellowed and charged forward, quick enough for the boys to bump into one another, trying to get away. “Off you go – and if I ever see any of you behave so poorly towards  anyone  ever again, you will have another thing coming!”The boys scurried, saying sorry under their breaths, but Galadriel paid them no more mind. Instead, she quickly went over to Swete, who was now openly bawling and touched her by the shoulder.“Are you alright?” “Ye-yes, my lady,” Swete sniffled and wiped her nose with the filthy sleeve of her even filthier dress – she looked like she had taken a dive into a puddle at an earlier point in the day. “It’s… it’s my own fault. I asked to play with them because the girls were… the girls were being mean and I thought I could… but it’s true. I stink. I am filthy. Why would anyone want to be around me?” “Don’t,” Galadriel said. “Do not talk about yourself this way. You are a wonderful person and there are so many people who will love spending time with you. – Do you want to come to the Palais with me, so you can get cleaned up? – Where are your brothers?”“Playing,” she answered and sniffed once more. “The family who took us in, they have boys the same age. They did not want me around.”“All the better for now,” Galadriel smiled encouragingly. “Then they can spare you for a time. – We can get you ready for the big celebration tonight.”“I can’t go,” Swete said sadly.“Whyever not?”“Look at me,” she scoffed. “I look ridiculous. And I have only this one dress. I cannot go to a dance like this.”“Nonsense,” Galadriel told her. “You can have one of my dresses.”Swete gasped. “Really?” Her eyes swam with wonder and gratitude.“Really,” Galadriel said. *** The girl was still no obvious beauty, even in Galadriel’s best dress – a soft blue one with billowing sleeves embroidered with delicate silver thread – but done up as she was, with a brand new intricate braid and a little bit of Galadriel’s elven eyes and lips tint, she looked captivating in an unusual sort of way. People who were resolved to be mean and cruel would still find fault with her but to Galadriel, the girl was a joy to behold. And most importantly, looking into the mirror in her quarters, Swete seemed to agree. Her eyes went wide as she observed her reflection, turned her head as if to make sure her mirror image followed, so as to confirm it was really herself gazing back.“Is this really me?” She voiced her thoughts, touching her face as if she could not believe it, then the dress. “Oh, it’s so beautiful, are you sure you would not like to wear it instead?”“No, no.” Galadriel shook her head. “I will happily make do with this one.” She had chosen a dark red dress with a wide, round neckline, golden appliques and a delicate golden belt the colour of her hair tied around her hips. “I am so excited,” Swete declared. “I have never been to a real dance before. Not one like this. – I am sure you have been to many.”“I have,” Galadriel said. “But that was a while ago.”“Will you dance then? Show us an elven dance?”“Perhaps.” She smiled.“Will you dance with the king?”Galadriel gulped. The question had taken her entirely off guard.“Sorry,” Swete said and looked at her hands. “It is just… he is so  handsome and you are always around each other… I just thought–”“No, that is alright,” Galadriel interjected and forced herself to keep smiling. “I do not know. I might. If he asks me to.” Swete seemed pleased. Galadriel suddenly was not. She had not thought of this. Now she did. And she did not know what was worse; being afraid that Halbrand was indeed going to ask her to dance… or knowing she would be secretly and shamefully devastated if he did not.
  
  

    
      
        
        
          You guys. I am BUZZING with excitement to write this dance/celebration you have no idea!I am quaking over here, like screaming!crying!throwing up for real for real!But before we get to that, please let me know if you liked this chapter! I so appreciate all of your insights and comments!'
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