Chapter 100: Bliss

Fourth Age, Tirion

Getting used to Aman again was...complicated.

At first, after she disembarked on the beach and was greeted by all of her loved ones, she was brought to her grandfather's palace in Alqualondë for a time of a long celebration, and she remained in the daze of joy throughout its duration.

But when it ended, and her Noldorin relations took her with them to Tirion...that was when the trouble started.

For one, there were many surprises waiting for her, surprises that, while good, made her feel wrong-footed.

She had known that Ingoldo was married to Amarie, but it was a surprise to learn they lived in Valimar and had four children. It was even more surprising that one of his daughters was married to Elurín, now, and one of his sons to Mírdan.

Itarillë had had another child as well, a girl, and that girl was now wife to Eluréd. It was probably a good thing that Singollo had not been allowed to come back from Mandos yet, for the proclivity of his great-grandchildren to marry Noldor might well send him back there again.

Angaráto had more children as well, though those were still unmarried.

Findekáno had no children as of yet, but he in his turn shocked her by explaining he actually lived in Tol Eresseä. Ambë preferred it, and as he said: "I have kept her waiting for thousands of years. I will never stop owing her for that, and I would do anything she asked of me."

His brother had had another daughter, Amdír and his wife had several small children, and Findoiolosse had found love among the Vanyar and had a family of her own. Most of those Galadriel had known from Doriath now lived in Tadmenigroth, carved in the walls of the Pelóri at the edges of Oromë's forests, under the rule or Elmo and Ernil.

Galadriel was deeply happy for them all, but it was much to get used to, and deciding where to settle was an almost insurmountable problem in light of all these news. She had never truly though that far in her hopes for Aman – she would come, and all would be bliss, that was as far as she had imagined it – and now she found herself somewhat at a loss.

She would have, perhaps, preferred staying with Findekáno – but she did not wish to settle on Tol Eresseä. Her parents, she knew, would welcome her in their home, but that idea held no attraction to her beyond a brief visit. With Artanáro she knew she would be comfortable, but his wife, she suspected, would not be, not even after all those years, and she did not wish to be the source of anyone's marriage strife.

She preferred not to live in any of the households where all was new - she found she dearly desired to settle somewhere where familiarity would reign supreme. She had missed her uncle the most, and felt certain degree of responsibility for Macalaurë as well, and so she was desirous of living close to them, so for a while, she settled in her uncle's house. The company of both him and her aunt was dear to her, and Findekáno came there often, using the opportunity to visit her and his father at the same time. It was good. For a time.

But Galadriel grew restless. Not in the way she had when she had been young, when she longed to leave Aman – no, if she had any choice in it, she would never set foot outside of it ever again. But at the same time, after so many years of being her own mistress, she found it difficult to stay in another's house as a guest, unable to organize her life and her space according to her own wishes. Her uncle did not limit her exactly, but it was still his house she lived in.

She could probably move to Fëanáro's old home, where Macalaurë now dwelt, but she liked that idea even less. It was when she was explaining the problem to her Vanyar relations that her grandmother came up with the solution: "Well, you could move into the old palace."

Galadriel blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Finwë is never going to leave Mandos, we all know that," Indis replied. "The palace was kept empty out of respect – and, well, it is probably a good thing Ñolofinwë did not try to move in there, it would have been too obvious a provocation, though I do not see how anyone could have minded Arafinwë there. But, as you know, he was never interested. At any rate, the palace is empty and it is quite a waste. Technically it belongs to me, I suppose, and I certainly give you leave to move in there. I do not see how anyone could mind you taking up a few rooms."

Galadriel had strong reservations about the idea, but it was practical, and after talking it over with everyone whom it concerned in the slightest, she took her grandmother up on the offer.

She still spent much of her time in visits with her loved ones, but now that she had a space of her own, she began to have time alone as well – and that meant time for her own thoughts.

Suddenly she was less certain moving away from her uncle had been such a good idea.

With time to think, she began to realize all the things that were...wrong.

There was the subtle surprise and uncertainty in all she had known when young when they spoke to her now. They were good at masking it, but she was better at reading minds, and she always saw it. She was not as they remembered her – she was very much changed – and she could see it disquieted them. Their disquiet disturbed her in turn.

Findekáno was perhaps the only one who did not do it. He had observed, in their first private conversation, that she was much changed, but from then on he took it in stride, reminding her once again why he had been such a close friend to her and why she hoped he would be again.

Itarillë took a different approach. Much like Olórin after his memory returned, she wished for Galadriel to tell her every little detail of her life in Middle-Earth for the last two ages, so that she could fill in the gaps in her knowledge of her friend. "Not if it is too painful," she reassured Galadriel, "and there is no rush – we have all the time in the world now – but I would like to know."

Galadriel inclined her head. She would tell her, if only because she wanted to renew the friendship, but – yes, perhaps not quite yet.

Her uncle, she thought, hurt the most. His was the method of detailed observation, as if he was categorizing all the differences from the Nerwen he had known in his mind. Galadriel could never bear it for long.

Paradoxically, when she was frustrated by this and yet unable to bear solitude, she often escaped to Macalaurë. He kept to himself in his father's old house, hardly speaking to anyone, but he played for her – the Noldolante, and the lament he had composed for her. It pulled at her grief, but not in a way that made it more painful.

The reactions of others were not the only problem, though. Just as they could not get used to her, she could not get used to them. Not that they were changed in character – very few changed while living in the unchanging Aman, it required an active choice of will to do so – but they were changed in circumstances, and, more importantly, they were changed in setting.

The feeling that Galadriel was somehow stuck between different phases of her life that she first had on the beach in Alqualondë never disappeared.

Mostly, she dealt with it by surrounding herself with those she knew from the earliest stage in her life – she was in Aman, after all, and it was least disturbing to her to see around her those she knew from Aman as well. But that made her feel guilt, for those from the other periods of her life often visited her and invited her to visit them, and there was a limited number of excuses one could offer in Aman.

She felt especially guilty about Elrond and Artanáro.

They were very dear to her, each of them a rock to her for an entire age, and yet she could not face them now without feeling wrong-footed, and as if there was something not right with her world. No one else she knew had this much trouble. But then, no one else had returned after so long a life in so many different places and realms. Her world was all torn to pieces and mixed up, and she did not know how to face it.

And not even that, still, was the last problem.

There were also the sources of her grief that were not healed immediately by her presence in Aman.

Her loved ones were mostly returned to her, yes, though she could not speak freely to many of them. But there were those she would not see again until the world was remade, and as Celebrían had said, not even Aman could heal that wound.

Perhaps, in some ways, it made it worse. Missing so many in Middle-Earth had made it easier to think of those who died true death as simply one of them. But now, among the returned, their absence was all the more conspicuous.

She hardly ever went to Tadmenigroth, for there, the absence of Lúthien was like a physical thing and when looking at Eluréd and Elurín, she felt the gap where Elros should have been as a bleeding wound. Every time she glimpsed Tindómiel in the streets of Tirion, she thought of Silmariën.

And Arwen, of course, the most recent hurt, still fresh and felt anew every time she saw Elrond or her daughter.

Nelyafinwë, too, who might not have died the true death, but she would not see him again any sooner than those who have. Being back in Aman reminded her of the time they had been close friends so much it sometimes hurt to even look at the door to his father's house.

This was the reason why she did not go to Macalaurë as often as her mood would require it.

She felt Celeborn's absence like a constant weight on her shoulders, too, for these were occasions she would have turned to him, to his consoling arms, and she missed them, in the end, more than she missed anything.

-g-g-g-g-g-

She spent some years in such thoughts and moods before Olórin came to see her.

He was back to his old form, and she smiled brightly when she saw him. "How did your Hobbit friends like to see you that way?" She asked.

He shook his head with a returning smile. "I kept to the old form for their sake when on Tol Eressea – in so much strangeness, they needed some familiarity." He looked at her for a moment. "Have you been to Lórien?" He asked.

"No," she admitted. "I...fear the pain it will give me, for I know it will remind me of the one I left behind to wither in Middle-Earth." That was another source of her pain – Lothlórien, and Hollin, the realms that were lost to her now as scars on her soul, the dream of her life that always grew soured.

He nodded in understanding, but still extended his hand and said: "Come."

She did not protest.

And there, in his care, in the presence of lady Estë and her Maiar, slowly, oh so slowly, the wounds began to truly heal.

When he first took her, she spent almost a year there without once leaving. She had not realized how much she needed it until he led her directly to Lady Estë, who without even waiting for a greeting put a hand to her forehead – and Galadriel's knees buckled at the relief she felt.

Lady Estë caressed her face by her free hand. "Oh, my beloved child. You have been away too long, too far for me to help you. There is almost nothing left of you – they made you give of yourself again and again. Come, then, come with me. Let us go to the waters, and there you can lie and sleep and dream."

And Galadriel did, for a very long time, and when she awoke, all the pain and grief seemed more distant and less fresh. Lady Estë was standing above her. "Come with me," she said. "There is more than just me you need to see."

Galadriel obediently rose. "I thank you for such kind care, my lady," she said as she walked by her side.

Lady Estë gave her a soft, sad smile. "You need my help," she said simply, "and I am here to help. Truly, though I know they are seen as a grim fate, I believe my brother's halls would have done many of you good, for there you can rest entirely until your mind is freed from its burdens."

Galadriel sighed. "I would not wish to be entirely free of them. They made me who I am."

"I know, though I do not entirely understand," Lady Estë replied. "But then, that is why you need to see more than only me."

They walked to another part of the garden, rounded a hedge – and there, on the grass by a small lake, sat Lady Nienna.

Galadriel fell into a deep bow, and the Velië turned her sorrowful eyes to her. "Welcome," she said. "My sister told me you needed my help. What ails you?"

She gestured to the grass next to her, and a little hesitantly, Galadriel sat.

"They are losses of my time in Middle-Earth," she said. "There are many, and I...I do not know if I am ready...if I am strong enough to retell it all."

"No one else but you can know," Lady Nienna replied. "Look into your heart."

Galadriel did, and she found that now, with the new distance from her pain, she felt equal to it. She understood, now, why Lady Estë had led her into the healing sleep first. "May I...may I bring Itarillë?" She asked hesitantly. "She wished to know the story, and I do not know if I will be able to tell it twice."

"I do not think you should leave our gardens quite yet, beloved," Lady Estë replied. "But I will send someone for her, and we will wait."

Wait they did. It was not uncomfortable. Both of the ladies had a soothing presence to them, and Galadriel's mind drifted to her early years in Aman, to her first visits to Lórien, when she had wrestled with her pride to seek a balm for her sharp temper.

Her thought were disturbed where Itarillë's hand touched her shoulder. "I brought grandfather as well," she said softly. "He was with me when I received the message, and he wished to hear – if you do not mind?"

Galadriel looked at her uncle. She felt less comfortable telling the story in his presence than she did telling it in Itarillë's, but she supposed he deserved to know, and it was better to get it done in one sitting.

Lady Estë gave Nolofinwë a scrutinizing look. "You will sit quietly in the background," she said then with surprising sharpness, "and you will not disturb her."

Nolofinwë, cowed, only inclined his head and settled in the grass out of Galadriel's sight. Lady Nienna touched her knee in encouragement, and so, with a deep breath, she began to talk.

She began with the fall of New Havens and took the story from there, through the War of Wrath and finding out she could not return home, the departure of many elves, the founding of Númenórë and the death of Elros – Itarillë, she could see, was weeping next to her.

It needed new resolve and strength to talk about Hollin, and then – with yet more hesitation – about her pregnancy with Celebrían, and about Sauron's presence in her realm, about how she fought the long, useless battle to prevent him from taking control, and then abandoning the realm, coming as beggars to Lindórinand, and the realm's fall.

When she reached this stage in the tale, she was too exhausted to continue, shaking, and Itarillë embraced her and they wept on each other's shoulders.

When, after a long time, they let go of each other, Galadriel turned to her uncle a little uncertainly.

He was still sitting at some distance, regarding her with serious eyes. "I am sorry," he said when she looked at him, seriously. "I am so sorry for...everything."

"What do you mean?" Galadriel asked, a little confused by his phrasing, for it did not sound as if he meant in in the way of offering sympathy.

"I am sorry that I failed you in so many ways, and that I could not be by your side when you went through all of this. I am sorry that I did not give you your own realm when I could have, and that you had to suffer so much when you finally had it. I am sorry for all the other things I did wrong by you."

She smiled at him through her tears. "I have been Aunt to a few over the years, the way you had been Uncle to me," she said. "To Artanáro and Elrond, at the very least, but to others as well to a smaller degree. I can understand you better now than I ever could before. I too, had to do terrible things to those I loved because while I loved them, I was also a ruler of a realm and I had the fate of the world to consider." She felt a pang of pain when she thought of Sarnel, and of Arwen. How did it come to pass that she was responsible for the death of both of her beloved nephews' daughters? At least of Tindómiel, she hoped, she had taken better care.

"I still should have been by your side," Uncle insisted.

"Do you not believe I felt the same when Artanáro fell in battle?" Galadriel asked with a very small, very sad smile. "But I will come to that later."

"Yes," Lady Estë interrupted gently, "later. You need some rest now."

Unprotesting, Galadriel let herself be led to a place where she could sleep for a time. When she woke, her uncle and Itarillë were waiting for her to continue, and so continue she did.

She spoke of the woes of Lindórinand and its Silvan, of the slow and creeping fall of Númenórë, of the planned war that never happened, and of the one that did, of Amdír's and Artanáro's death, of the loss of One Ring, of Elrond's fear when he fell in love with Celebrían and of the vision she had on their wedding day. She remembered the fall of Arnor and the reemergence of Sauron, the mixed blessing of Olórin's arrival to Middle-Earth without his memories, of Celebrían's woes and then of that terrible day when she rode to Lothlórien.

That necessitated another pause in the telling of her story, and it was only much later that she could tell of Curunír and the White Council, of her growing premonitions about Arwen and when they were proved to be real, of Olórin's supposed death, her own final test and the withering of Lothlórien.

"My dear, beloved Nerwen," Nolofinwë said, sitting close to her now and embracing her when she finished the story. "How could you survive all that, how could you live through it all?"

"There was joy as well," she said with a sad smile. "In Hollin while it was beautiful, and in my grandchildren, and in watching the happiness of others..."

"Was there anything that did not turn to dust with time, though?"

"Celeborn," she replied without a hesitation. "He is the one blessing that I was allowed that remained sweet until the end, though I had very nearly poisoned it myself by my secrets."

Nolofinwë shook his head. "You speak to a man who abandoned his wife to chase a foolish dream," he said. "If someone can understand that, I can."

"You forget, Uncle, that I chased that foolish dream alongside you," she said with another sad smile.

They talked about her story for many following weeks, and after Itarillë and Nolofinwë left, Galadriel still remained, speaking with Lady Nienna and in Lady Estë's care, for several months more before she returned to Tirion.

And even after she did, she came back to Lórien very frequently, now finally able to sense the need.

-g-g-g-g-g-

The first thing she did after her return to the Noldorin capital was go and thank Olórin.

The second, go and speak with Artanáro and Elrond, to apologize for her distance. Artanáro gave her only understanding, and talked about how even though his own life in Middle-Earth had been much shorter and his suffering lesser, he spent quite long in Mandos mostly out of his own choice, for he felt he needed the healing. Oreth, too, she found, now looked upon her with kinder eyes, and there was no tension even when she stayed in Artanáro's house for many weeks, glad to renew their friendship now she truly could.

Elrond was more complicated, for he had not been to Lórien yet himself, and though he would not say anything unkind to Galadriel ever again, his own pain was preventing the understanding that Artanáro had given, and Galadriel could see that her inattention over the last decades was eating at his old pains and insecurities.

She was surprised he had not gone to the gardens, though she realized she had no right to be – if it were not for Olórin, who knew how long it would have taken her? Still, she wondered that Celebrían had not taken him, and when she gently enquired, she discovered that there seemed to be some misunderstanding about the role of the gardens.

"I went as soon as I arrived," Celebrían said, "at Mírdan's recommendation. It is while I am as well as I am now. It helped me, so I suggested it to Elrond, but he felt he had no right."

Now deeply worried, Galadriel went to talk to him immediately, and received a reasoning she believed would occur to none but Elrond. "The gardens, I understood," he said, "were for those who sailed West out of despair, because they were fleeing fading, like Mírdan or Celebrían. What right did I have to take the time of the healers for myself?"

It took Galadriel a moment to respond, as she thought of all the suffering Elrond had gone through in his life, of the loss of Elros and Arwen, of what happened to Celebrían. Elrond did very much sail West in danger of fading. But she did not believe saying so would be helpful, so instead, she pointed out: "You knew from my stories that I used to walk there before I ever lest the West."

"But you lived here, then. That was different."

"And you live here now," Galadriel told him firmly and took him by the arm, guiding him towards the gardens, hoping herself to find some relief for the regret she felt that she had not been able to help Elrond when he first arrived.

Celebrían came with them, for she had not been to Lórien since she learned of Arwen's fate, and when they arrived, Lady Estë turned her gentle eyes to them and said: "Truly, I do not wish to leave the peace of these gardens, but sometimes I wonder whether I should not come for those who need my care. Come, children," she added, and led them both into a healing sleep.

Celebrían, who had less burdens to heal, woke first, and Galadriel took the opportunity to pay this last debt she had.

She had discussed her pregnancy and her relationship with her daughter with Itarillë, as she had wished those centuries ago when she had been pregnant. Itarillë was understanding, but also told her in no uncertain terms that she needed to speak to Celebrían and tell her the truth. Galadriel understood it, but even here, in the most peaceful place of all, it was hard to find the strength.

But there would never be a better opportunity, and so under the watchful gaze of Lady Estë, Galadriel told her daughter of her pregnancy, of the temptation she had fought, and of the guilt she had carried ever since.

Celebrían looked at her with wide eyes.

"Oh, Mother," she whispered then, such a mix of emotions in her voice that Galadriel could not identify, and then she embraced her.

"I knew you must have hated it," she said then, quietly. "When I was pregnant with the twins and I first fell them pulling at my strength, I thought of you and I knew you must hav hated it. I thought...I thought then that I understood, that that had been the problem all along, that you...blamed me, for taking that from you-"

"Never," Galadriel promised, and they embraced again.

When Elrond woke, she spoke to him, too, and now that he was more at peace he responded with the same understanding and acceptance as Artanáro, and Galadriel felt the last remnants of her burden being removed.

Her bliss in the Blessed lands could truly begin.

She spent several weeks in Elrond's home on the way between Lórien and Tirion when they left the gardens, and then as she settled back into the old palace, she found herself brimming with energy, and eager to play more of a role in the life of Tirion now that she felt properly comfortable there once more.

This led her to offering help to her father when she saw him tiredly overlooking the many ledgers that went with his administrative duties – and her father, to her astonishment, handing over a large part of his duties in response.

"I have to remain king," he said, "for naming any of you who had led the journey to Middle-Earth would have been too controversial and no one not from Aman would ever be accepted here, but that only means I have to wear the crown. I have already handed over m least úpopular duties to my brother. You can take the rest if you want, with my blessing."

"Except waving at crowds," Galadriel said when her shock subsided. "That will have to remain with you."

"Yes," her father admitted with a smile, "but then you can wave at my side."

So most matters were now arranged in the main square in Tirion, in the palace and in her uncle's house, as it once had been, and another part of Galadriel settled.

-g-g-g-g-g-

Now that she could, she spent most of her free time visiting with family, in Tirion and around, in Alqualondë and in Tol Eressea, and when she was not there, she was to be found in Lórien, whetre she still frequently returned to speak to Lady Estë and her Maiar, or Olórin, when he was there.

It was after she had been in Aman for almost a hundred years that Olórin took her with him to Taniquetil. Galadriel did not look forward to seeing the King and Queen of Arda – as much as she loved them, especially The Queen, she had too much to be ashamed of – but Olórin insisted it was a good idea, and who was she to argue with her friend?

She fell to her knees when she entered, and she could sense Queen Varda rising from her throne and approaching her. "Rise," she said, and Galadriel did, carefully keeping her eyes downcast.

"Why so bashful now?" The Queen asked, laughter in her voice. "You never were before."

"That is all the more reason to be bashful now, my queen."

"And yet you passed all of your tests."

"All but the first one," Galadriel pointed out.

"Hm, yes. But then, those who passed it were only those for which it was hardly any test at all – your father, as surely you know, never had any desire to leave in the first place. For you, on the other hand, this was the hardest choice you could have been presented with." The Queen paused. "Do you know why we banned you from returning after Melkor was captured for the second time?"

"Because I did not realize my mistake in leaving," she replied immediately.

"That as well, yes."

Galadriel's eyes darted up in shock. She quickly turned them down again, and said: "As well, my lady?"

"I know Ilmarë told you we knew you did not wish to return."

"She did, my queen."

"Had you wished to, we would have accepted you back – there were many incapable of such regret that we took to Aman in those days. But you did not, and it was profitable, we knew, that you should realize your mistake...and so we gave you an impetus."

Galadriel stared. "But...all those centuries I spent in grief for those I would not see again..."

"It made you realize what you truly wanted, did it not? And that, in turn, made it easier to pass the last test."

Galadriel thought back over her state of mind, and had to concede that "it made it possible to pass the last test, I would say, my lady."

"See?" The Queen smiled, and the light from it was blinding. "We knew you would remain in Middle-Earth till the final defeat of evil, whatever your personal feelings in the matter. Your presence there was important, we knew."

"Was it? Everything I touched seemed to turn to ashes." Galadriel's bitterness was mostly healed by the gardens of Lórien, now, but some traces still remained.

The Queen smiled again, and now the light turned more gentle. "Ah, but you do not know what the fates of the world would have been otherwise. We knew you would stay that long, and if you believe you would not have known despair had you believed you could return to Aman freely..."

"I know I would have," Galadriel said immediately. "But perhaps there would have been more hope in that despair."

"But perhaps there would have been more temptation to escape it all West, too. Especially when your daughter sailed."

Galadriel had to concede that that was true as well, and not having to face that choice made it much easier in many ways. "What would you have done if I still could not bring myself to realize my mistake, at the end of the last war?" She asked.

"Told Olórin to tell you you could come back, probably," the Queen mused, "but we would have been deeply disappointed in you in the first place."

"Had you not gone that far in your remorse, you would not have passed the last test," The Elder King spoke for the first time. "And then the question would have been moot."

Galadriel knew she should not ask, but she could not resist. "And what would you have done had I not passed it?"

Queen Varda smiled for the third time, and it was both beautiful and terrible. "Oh, my child," she said, "you truly do not wish to know."

-g-g-g-g-g-

And then one day a ship appeared on the Eastern horizon, and Celeborn disembarked, Elladan and Elrohir behind him.

She and Elrond both ran, heedless of anything, to embrace their loved ones, and there and then, in Celeborn's arms, as tears of joy streamed down both of their faces, Galadriel knew what it was to be perfectly happy for the first time since she was a child.

And she remained so, until the world was remade, and after.

–

AN: So, this is my version of "19 years later". I did my best to show not only the final bliss but also the road that led to it, even though it means this epilogue was less purely happy than it could have been.

WE ARE DONE.

I can scarcely believe it.

It's been a wild ride, and it's been long enough (I first started writing almost 4 years ago) that reading over the beginning again, I¨d have done many things differently, but that's the price of posting an unfinished work - and I know I could have never stayed motivated if I had tried to wait until the story was fully edited before I posted it.

Done with the Nolde doesn't mean I'm done with writing Tolkienverse. If you're interested, subscribe to the Noldor series this story is a part of over at AO3. Just now, I had to cut a Legolas/Gimli HEA from the epilogue because it really didn't fit, but I'll probably post it into the series at some point, along with all the other side stories I sort of half-worked on but in the end left unfinished in favour of the main story.

I also have not-quite-a-sequel planned, a story from Fourth Age Aman with a very different set of protagonists that would, however, include Galadriel on the sidelines. The first chapter of that is already up and it's in the series, if you're interested, though I have to warn you there is no update schedule. I don't think I'll be posting anything new here at , so if you're interested AO3 is the place to go.

Thank you all for reading, and see you around!