It was growing darker. They had to be searching for her by now. Her brother and cousin would not leave her to the northern wilds as night swiftly stretched it's talons across the silvery sky. 

Galadriel drew deep into her fëa, seeking her kin somewhere out in the mountainous woodlands of the Dorthonion Plateau beyond the windswept plains of Ard-galen. The Pass of Aglon had been in reach, a day's journey at least. That was what Vantaro had promised both her and Finrod as they reached the end of their trek north.

The howling of wolves in the gloom of the foggy day had spooked her Doriath born horse. The steed panicked. No matter how she tried to calm it, the animal was beyond comforting. Before the other two ellyn could react, the horse had taken off through the brush. It galloped high into the tangled forests of the mountain roots till a long hanging branch caught Galadriel by the hair and sent her sprawling into the wet leaves. The horse was lost to the mists.

Shivering from shock and cold, Galadriel had gathered her traveling skirts and crouched under a nearby oak for shelter from the spitting rain. Though it was summer, the warmth of Doriath didn't reach this far north, close to the realm of the Enemy. Golden strands of hair slicked to her pale neck and cheeks. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes against the soggy green of the forest, the call of ravens echoing in the canopy. 

Her fëa swirled in her chest, filling her with light and peace. It was one of the first practices she'd learned under Melian's teaching, how to bring herself into alignment with the light of the Valar. Her heart at rest, she searched her inner reaches, delving for traces of the light of Valinor, looking for like minds in the abyss. It was draining, but worth the risk if it resulted in her rescue. She didn't trust herself to wander blindly as wolves and orc packs were still seen occasionally in this area.

Luimëníssë, Vantaro, Finrod; none of them knew of the ancient ways taught by the Maia Queen. The chance of her touching their minds with her presence was slim. There were few among the Eldar born with that natural ability on this side of the sea. 

Galadriel's breath turned to mist as her lips moved, her eyes still shut against the outside world. She was calling out across the void. Seeking a friendly ear.

And she found one.

She jolted in surprise as the familiar mind turned towards her own. She did not know who, but it was an ellon. Male, grown, but young still. Younger than her. And responding to her cry for help. A brief sob escaped her lips, relief flooding her mind. The ellon sensed her distress. A comforting touch, like a kiss to the forehead, was passed towards her.  

Azure eyes snapping open, Galadriel smiled through her tears. Someone was coming for her. She was not alone. Like-minded and kind, he had heard her cry and was coming to her rescue.

Curling into a ball, Galadriel hid under the cover of trailing vines and calmly waited.

The sun broke through the heavy clouds as it set into the west. Golden light threaded through the trees, stirring Galadriel from her muted daze. Rising to her boots, she stepped out from under the cover of the trees and into the little clearing. She basked in the life giving rays as though she stood in the presence of a friend. 

Her fëa trembled within her. The ellon was close. He was calling to her. She responded.

The trees rustled across a small, rocky stream that ran through the heart of the glen. Galadriel turned in it's direction, unafraid and patient. She folded her hands behind her back and lifted her chin. 

A figure appeared through the brush on the opposite side of the water, a horse behind him. She knew his face, but it had been many decades since she had last seen it. 

"Celebrimbor?" 

She studied Luimëníssë's grown son in wonder. 

The baby she had once held now stood a head taller than her statuesque figure, clearly having taken after his kinsman Maitimo. He bore the handsome Noldor chin and strong nose, silver grey eyes of his mother, and dark curls to broad shoulders. He wasn't anything she had expected, her fëa unsettled by the intimate connection they had made.

"Cousin." He nodded in greeting. He wore a faint smile as his eyes trailed over her in the auburn light. "You look well."

"As do you."

They rode the rocky mountain passes back towards the Pass of Aglon. They didn't speak. Galadriel's hands lightly held his waist, her hood pulled over her golden head, as Celebrimbor confidently guided their horse over the ledges and twisting paths that he knew by heart. No words were needed. 

Never before had Galadriel sensed another being as intimately as Celebrimbor, a realization that both thrilled and disturbed her. Because he felt it too.

***

The fortress at the Pass of Aglon loomed as the gate to the north, bridging the forested hills that overlooked the Dorthonion Plateau. There was no passing through it without approaching the sweeping outer battlement that spanned the gorge. It had taken Curufin and his men only ten years to construct it after they had received permission from King Thingol to settle there. 

While others of his kin grumbled about the unfairness of the monarch's decree that condemned them to the northern reaches of Beleriand, Curufin determined that he should become a lord that the Enemy would fear. Wiser and more patient than his father. Ever the perfectionist, Curufin's orders and plans were exacting and strict, in everything from the arming and supplying of his fortress to the architecture of the many hearths.  

The foundations were swiftly built, strong walls growing in months instead of years. The chalky, black stone gleamed dimly in the moonlight. Three circular towers rose up around an arched keep, the inner curtain wall enclosing a sandy ward. It was well fortified, Curufin's forgery deep in the inner dungeon saw to that. The armory was filled with the brim with blades and shields. 

The elves loyal to Curufin who quartered there were not only of the Noldor. Curufin had also struck up a friendship with scattered groups of Avari and Silvan elves. His key scout being the rogue Sinda, Celonion.

Luimëníssë shivered on the parapet walk as night set upon the land. A thick wall of clouds and mist rushed across the plateau like a wave, crashing over the castle with the relentless wind. She shivered, accustomed to the elements of the strange land her husband called his own. 

It was the first true home she had known since her family had been killed. And she was determined from the first to make it her own. Though they were dissimilar as sun from moon, she and her husband both shared an important quality. They were both adaptable. 

Wrapping the edges of her woolen cloak tighter about her person, she squinted as the throb of horse hooves pounded up to the main gate. Her husband's quick command cut through the gloom as his black stallion drove across the moat bridge, the thick doors creaking open. Behind him rode Finrod and Vantaro with no sign of Galadriel. 

Or Celebrimbor. 

Her heart hitched a beat, fingers whitening as she gripped the rough edge of the wall. Silently, she waited, listening to the roar of the wind and closing her eyes to the chill touch of fog. Boots clicked against the walk leading from the gatehouse up to where she stood. Curufin took his place by her, huffing and balling his fists. His black hair fell a little past his shoulders, the strands at his temples stringy with sweat from his ride.

"Did you find our cousin?" She sensed his agitation without looking at him. "Where is Celebrimbor?"

"He's your son," Curufin spouted, pacing behind her and wiping his chin. "He's all your son."

Despite her fear, Luimëníssë couldn't help smiling. It was the excuse her husband always gave when Celebrimbor did something out of Curufin's iron grip of control. Which was becoming more often the closer he drew to one hundred years of age. 

"So? Where is he?"

"Rode off. Without so much as a by-your-leave. The audacity..."

"That would be the Noldor in him."

"Well. That blood comes from your side as well. Not just mine." Curufin halted and shook his head. "He mentioned something earlier, that he felt a stirring, something in his fëa. I couldn't make heads or tails of such nonsense."

For the son of an elf known to have the strongest fëa in history, Curufin had little use for the spiritual side of their culture. Celebrimbor, on the other hand, seemed to have been born with an innate knowledge of such matters, calmly accepted the miraculous as fact without question. His faith in the Valar and the power of their light was unshakable, much to his practical father's confused frustration.

"We'll just have to trust that he knows what he's doing, husband," Luimëníssë murmured, sending up a quick prayer to Ulmo, a habit from her youth that had returned since they came to the Pass of Aglon. "He's more wise than either of us, I believe."

"Of course, you believe it. He is our unblemished pearl according to you. Jewel without a flaw," he said with some sarcasm. 

He scoffed dryly. With an crooked finger, Curufin drew back the hood of her cloak and turned her chin towards him. Deep creases lined his forehead as he frowned, resting his thumb on her bottom lip.

"How I wish..." he said quietly.

Luimëníssë's eyes flickered away. "You wish that I had never told you of my vision."

"Yes." He sighed. "And yet. I am glad that you did. I would not wish for you to carry such a weight alone. I cannot imagine how you bore it all those years alone."

Wetting her lips, she pulled away from his touch, unwilling to speak aloud of it. Curufin moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and resting his mouth beside her ear. 

"Our son is a warrior with a strong sword arm. He knows these lands and those under his command love him. Only the Creator knows why, but this place is in his blood. He will return this night. And I trust with our cousin at his side."

Luimëníssë laid her hands over his and exhaled slowly through her nose.

"Of course."   

A call came up from the plateau. Curufin and Luimëníssë leaned over to see a white horse with two riders appear from the blackness into the light of the torches at the gate. Luimëníssë let out a relieved breath. She knew the rider in front, his confident posture and ease with the animal. Celebrimbor was as skilled a horseman as his father.

Curufin patted her arm before racing down from the wall and into the yard. Luimëníssë waited a moment to gather herself before following her husband.

***

"How was he able to find you so quickly?" Luimëníssë asked Galadriel as they ate a late breakfast the next morning.

Galadriel tucked a swath of hair behind her ear as she rose from the couch in Luimëníssë's personal solar. The circular room was at the top of the highest tower, the walls decorated with tapestries showing scenes of sea cliffs and grey birds riding storm winds over choppy waves. A short weaving over the hearth appeared to be a cave, the curved walls littered with diamonds. 

Unlike the woven scenes that decorated the walls of Menegroth, these were not depicting great events in history or in the near future, but of memories Luimëníssë cherished. She did not know what kind of feeling the cave conjured for Luimëníssë, but it was almost forboding to Galadriel. Not that she would ever mention it to her cousin. 

"He knows these hills well," Galadriel replied after a moment, unsure of how to explain what had happened between her and Celebrimbor the previous day.

She peered out over the casement into the yard below, the iron latticed window creaking as she pushed it open. The mist hadn't lifted from the previous night, the soggy daylight storm grey. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The tops of the trees below swayed in the vicious wind that swept through the pass.

"How can you thrive in such a place?"  she asked softly. "It's so cold here."

Luimëníssë drew her feet up under her cotton shift, her light robe lined with fur that matched her silver eyes. Cocking her head to the side, she gave a funny smile. 

"I suppose I've found a strange happiness here."

"In what?"

"Everything. These hills are full of adventure and surprises, the kind of place I would have longed to explore in my youth. I feel young again in this place."

Galadriel turned towards the view once more as male voices rose from below. "And your husband?"

"He is my husband. Again. Perhaps as we always should have been." Luimëníssë leaned forward, picking up a piece of cheese and an apple slice from the pewter tray laid out on the wooden table before her. "Tell me, cousin. Have you found one among our people in Doriath that suits your fancy? A wild march warden perhaps?"

Curufin trotted down the keep steps, his razor focus on the outer curtain wall. He waved an authoritative hand for his horse to be brought out. Celebrimbor followed, his gait as confident if more leisurely. Casually, he scanned the walls, trailed up the towers, then rested on her window. Galadriel drew back even though she knew he sensed her presence there. It reached out to her across space, his fëa tentatively seeking hers.  

"No-" she caught her breath, her heart beating hard against her breast bone. "No. I have found no one in Doriath for me."

***                                                                                                                                               

Author's Note: Ok, bear with me. This is canon. "A legend says that during the Second Age Celebrimbor was in love with Galadriel... " - Tolkien Gateway. The video above is from the show 'The Borgias', Lucrezia and Cesare in those clips are SO my head canon for Celebrimbor and Galadriel.

Video by earwaxbean