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PostPosted: Sat Dec 24, 2011 7:20 pm 
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The second half of our Doriath 'special' continues with a couple of scenes created by sauronsfinger, who always enjoyed tackling the darker side of all things M-e ;)

* * * * * * *

Scene opens deep in Angband…
We see Sauron moving at a rather fast speed down a series of hallways, going up and down staircases, across catwalks and bridges, and through rooms lit by flame and filled with smoke and fumes. He is wearing dark green robes and partially gauntleted hands which have metal that covers the back of his hands but allow his fingertips freedom. Upon his brow is a band or metal holding back thick black hair which is pushed back and flows over his shoulders. In the centre of the band is a single green emerald. Behind him are a group of orcs and other creatures who struggle mightily to catch up with him. They are barely half his size and some scurry like crabs along a beach.

He eventually arrives at the prison area where elves are held captive in a variety of confining cells and pits. Rough tables and restraining devices are everywhere and instruments of torture hand on hooks ready for use. Small furnaces hold fire within them and some are heating rough looking tools being heated to white hot temperatures.

As he strides across the area and we see some cruel activities taking place as he crosses the room and the screams of the damned bring smiles to the faces of those who play upon the poor captured Elves.

Sauron enters a spacious cell and strapped to a table is an elf... he is held down by thick straps across his thighs, biceps and stomach...... his body is a ruin of dark bruises, open sores which fester and bleed and ooze unhealthy looking fluids, patchworks of stitches too numerous to count, one foot has been amputated and the stump is wrapped in dirty rags, several fingers are missing on both hands, one eye is gone and a empty socket gapes open dripping with pus, parts of his hair have been torn out and his scalp is caked with dried blood and lice, his lips are severely cracked and one side of his face is so swollen that he looks like a couple of oranges have been inserted beneath the skin. Over parts of his entire body are brands and burns from a variety of tools.... and there is more that shall not be described but only imagined.

Sauron goes to an almost tiny figure, no larger than a hobbit or dwarf, nude except for a rag around his waist area, yellow skin covered with red and purple tattoos and stains, he has long hair which starts at his eyebrows and goes straight back over his head and hangs almost to his feet behind him.... he has hands more like talons than fingers and some of his front teeth have been filed to razor sharp points... his name is Lug* and he is the chief torturer of Morgoth.


Sauron: Are you sure? I did not come to this stinking pit just to watch you entertain yourself yet again.
Lug: There is no doubt Great One. He first told us days ago and I have spent all my time checking and rechecking to insure he is telling the truth. Were he lying, he had ample time to change his story. When they beg for death it is the sure sign of their credibility. And this one has begged almost non stop for many many hours now.
Sauron: I want to hear it from his own mouth.
Lug: [smiles broadly and nearly snears but catches himself at the last second] I am afraid Great One that this wretch can no longer either speak or form the thought to do so. He is beyond the reach of any of us..... and I have tried.... oh, how I have tried. But it has all been transcribed, as is the normal procedure.

Sauron: [not totally convinced... grabs the Elf by the throat and spins he face towards him] What say you Elf? I can give you the release you ask for in seconds... simply repeat your story to me now and peace will take you quickly as your reward. [The Elf gives no response, his single eye stares without focus or recognition, the Elf has withdrawn deep into the recesses of his own mind to escape what he can no longer tolerate.]
Sauron: He is useless.
Lug: A wise observation, Great One. If you so order it, I will have him killed.

Sauron: What you do means little to me. Throw him upon the fires in the furnaces so what is left of him is not wasted. But before that, crucify him in the prison square so that others may see him. Keep him up for a good while until the message is delivered to all. Do what you must to keep his alive and breathing. Then off to the furnaces with him.
Balcmeg: As ever your brilliance astounds me, Sauron. Sometimes I think you were trained by my best teachers.
Sauron: [scornfully] Agghhh. I had but one teacher and He was beyond the likes of you. Bring me the transcriptions of the Elf.

Lug motions to an underling who scrambles to a wall filled with small crater-like cubbyholes..... he pulls out a sheaf of papyrus like papers and gives them to Lug only to have them rudely snatched out of his hand by Sauron, who takes them, turns on his heels and strides out without another word.

His crowd of hanger-ons parts like the sea and he strides off only at a slightly slower pace than the one he used to get there. Cut.


* * *

Cut back into another part of Angband.
Morgoth is perched on a large balcony looking out over an even larger room. He is dressed in his usual jet black robes. It seems that Morgoth is standing in the middle of a great storm as his robes billow and flow about him. But the storm comes from within him. Below him are teams of orc sculptors, some perched precariously on rickety scaffolds, others clinging to rock itself. They are carving a relief sculpture of Melkor himself creating his music before the other Valar. The Valar are depicted as frightened children, openly weeping, screaming and hiding their faces in their sleeves and some throwing themselves upon the floor.

As he watches, one orc chips with too much force and weeks of work on an outstretched sleeve of Melkor falls to the floor. The billowing robes of Morgoth come to a halt and he lifts but one finger towards the clumsy orc who falls off the scaffolding to his death upon the hard floor.

No other orc looks in the direction of Morgoth but all know why their brother fell.
Morgoth utters a word of contempt and turns to leave the balcony and makes his way down a series of very steep and irregular spiral steps from the balcony. At the foot of the balcony Sauron waits tentatively.


Morgoth: [giving out an audible sigh] What is it now?
Sauron: [bowing lowly and staying bowed] May I rise before you, Master of the World?
Morgoth: Your grovelling means nothing to me…I have no feelings which must be pampered and spoiled like a young child. Quickly, what is it?
Sauron: [slowly raises himself from his bowed position, but keeps his head inclined downwards so as to not look directly at Morgoth] O Great and Powerful Melkor, we have information about the Elves which have invaded our domain…

Morgoth: Ah… That may be good if the information is useful. Tell me what it is and how you came by it.
Sauron: [reaches into his dark green robes and pulls out the sheaf of thick papers given to him by the torturer] One of the Elven prisoners has talked. One of my trusted servants was able to elicit this from him before he became useless. It tells of treachery and murder within the Elves. It tells us that these new Elves with their bright swords and large numbers may not be as welcome here by others of their kind as it might appear.

Morgoth: [looks over the papers… he goes back once and looks at some again, he then flings them contemptuously into the face of Sauron who tries to catch a few while other pages fall to the floor.] So, there was a battle among the Elves before they crossed the Sea and many were slain. The ones who knock on my door and make demands of their betters are not used to being opposed.

Sauron: That is how it appears, O Dark Lord of Arda. But the Elf gave us only partial information with sketchy detail. The words “kinslaying” and “Alqualondë” featured often, mixed with screams and ravings of a mind quickly falling to shreds. It appears that the hated Fëanor was responsible for the deaths of many innocents and he could not have journeyed to these lands without killing many of his brethren.
Morgoth: It would seem the Eldar are not averse to slaying those of their own kind in their thirst for revenge. Even the proud and beautiful pets of the Valar have succumbed to their baser instincts.

Sauron: [steepling his hands and putting them below his lips] To what use might we put this information, Melkor the Admirable?
Morgoth: We can use this to our advantage. We can sow the seeds of enmity further between the races of the Eldar. Perhaps they will even make full fledged war upon each other and save us the trouble of killing all of them.
Sauron: [a slight smile upon his face] Trouble...... or entertainment, Great Master?

Morgoth: [returns a slight smile to Sauron] Yes....entertainment... you have your uses after all... and I daresay the legions could use some proper training.
Sauron: You are most kind to me, O Bringer of Darkness to the World! What would you have me to do further this plan?
Morgoth: [no longer smiling and becoming impatient] Go back to the pits and order Balcmeg to find Sindar Elves under his ‘care’. Have him appraise our guests of these new facts… increase his efforts with the Noldor prisoners. We need more details... we need names and causes and motives. Authorize him to grant the freedom of the open air to any Sindar Elf who is strong enough to carry the news back to his people... and freedom for three others he may want to take with him.

Sauron: [looking surprised and shocked] But, Lord and Master, would that not be dangerous to let them go after they have seen the inside of Angband.
Morgoth: [sneers down at Sauron and gives a half laugh] For one who plays the Lord over his lesser subjects, you have much to learn! No Elf leaves here alive unless it suits my designs and purpose. But let us make some sport of this. If we have any eager to betray their Noldor kin, let them free and run from the Gates. Then send some beasts to stop most of them before they can gain the sun from the shadow of Thangorodrim. It will provide amusement for the orcs. The lucky few who are spared will believe all the more that their freedom is genuine and they will only hurry the more to spread our new "information" about their brethren.
Sauron: Your word is my desire, O Master of All. May I leave you now and return to the pits?

[Morgoth gives a dismissive wave of his hand and Sauron bows and backs away, becoming one with the shadows of the darkness. After he leaves, Morgoth retrieves some of the fallen papers. As he holds them he balls them up and they burst into flame neither burning his hand nor his cloak. Cut]

* * * * * * *

A/N:
* Lug was one of the Orcs killed by Tuor during the Fall of Gondolin, according to The Book of Lost Tales

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PostPosted: Sun Dec 25, 2011 7:35 pm 
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The story continues with some scenes to further the plot in Doriath, the dialogue pretty much taken straight from the book, then Ethelwyn introduces us to some original characters which she developed in order to dramatize Tolkien's inference that Morgoth used escaped prisoners and spies to spread the rumours of the kinslaying and cause unrest between the exiles and Teleri/Sindar of Beleriand...


* * * * * * *

Celeborn: [voiceover over montage of relevant clips] So having courted my Galadriel, I took her to wife and we found great joy in one another. We walked in the moonlight beneath the trees. We shared our common passions for many things and delighted in the joining of our strong, passionate spirits.

My beloved often told me of her life in Valinor, but for some reason, she would not speak of the reasons for her departure, nor of her journey here. We talked of adding to our bliss, of making a child, but, she was not so certain. I did not understand what troubled her so… Melian asked my Galadriel many questions… she suspected some darkness which had cast a shadow upon Galadriel’s road here to Middle-earth. Something she was hiding from us… [cut.]

* * * * * * *

Cut to scene in Melian’s chamber.
She and Galadriel are seated at embroidery frames and hoops. Melian is working effortlessly on an exquisite design of birds and butterflies…Galadriel is fretfully unpicking an error on her design of niphredil and lissuin (heartsease) flowers…


Melian: Methinks your heart is not really in your work, niece…do you not like the design you have chosen?
Galadriel: The design is pleasant enough, but I do not have the patience for such delicate work.
Melian: I have heard tales that many of the Noldor women are skilful with their hands and delight in the craft of Vairë?
Galadriel: ‘Tis true enough. You should see the work of my mother and grandmother, but even their best efforts are surpassed by those left by grandfather’s first wife, Míriel the Broideress… [a shadow crosses her face] …before she gave up her spirit to Mandos.

Melian: Yes, poor Fëanor…to be left motherless so soon after his birth…it must have affected him as he grew up; and then to lose his beloved father like that, at the same time as the destruction of the Trees! No wonder reason seemed to have left him…
Galadriel: [does not answer; feigns concentration on her needlework]
Melian: There is some woe that lies upon you and your kin…that I can see in you, but all else is hidden from me; [sighs sadly] for by no vision or thought can I perceive anything that passes in the West since the death of the Trees: a shadow lies over all of Aman and reaches far out over the sea. Why will you not you tell me more?
Galadriel: [stubbornly] That woe is past, and I would take what joy here is left, untroubled by memory. Though maybe there is woe enough yet to come, despite how bright our hope may seem at present.

Melian: [puts out hand to Galadriel’s chin and tilts her face to meet her gaze] I believe not that the Noldor came forth as messengers of the Valar, like everyone else believes, even though you came in the very hour of our need.
Galadriel: [feigning innocence] Why not?
Melian: Because they never speak of the Valar, nor have they brought any message to Thingol from Manwë or Ulmo, or even from Olwë, the King’s own brother. [sternly] For what cause, Galadriel, were the high people of the Noldor driven forth as exiles from Aman? What evil lies on the Sons of Fëanor that they are so haughty and so fell? [Galadriel tries to look away] I speak near the truth, do I not?

Galadriel: [quietly] Near, save that we were not driven forth, but came of our own will, and against that of the Valar. [passion rises in her voice] And through great peril and in despite of the Valar we came for this purpose: to take vengeance on Morgoth and regain what he stole!
Melian: [troubled] And what is this treasure? What aroused such a passion that an entire people would follow a madman out of paradise?

Galadriel: Three jewels, wrought by Fëanor of a substance called Silima, within which he somehow captured the mingled light of the Blessed Trees before Morgoth and his creature poisoned them. Priceless they were, even unto the Valar who are unable to restore the Trees without them. Yet evil, too, I deem, for Fëanor prized them above all save perhaps his father…and Finwë Morgoth slew as he stole the jewels and fled from Aman.
Melian: Now much you tell me, yet more I perceive. A darkness you would cast over the long road from Tirion, but I see evil there, which Thingol should learn for his guidance.
Galadriel: [purses lips together] Maybe…but not of me.
Melian: [nods, after a pause she changes subject] Tell me, child, was it a desire for vengeance alone which drove you to leave the West?
Galadriel: [swallows hard] I came seeking my own realm, but have not yet found my heart's desire. [shakes her head to herself.] Sometimes I wonder at this land, my Lady. At your dominion. 'Tis through your strength more than Thingol’s that Morgoth's shadow is held at bay, and I am glad of the shelter. [she pauses, then continues hesitantly] I cannot but wonder…do you ever fear we are too set apart?
Melian: [smiles sadly] I have debated long over what I purchased for my people when I hemmed this land in…and at what cost. Peace is a dear gift: I cannot protect all Beleriand from Morgoth's filth, but I would shelter those I can. Mayhap one day things will be different… [cut]

* * *

Fade into scene later in Thingol and Melian’s bedchamber
Melian has been telling him of her discussion with Galadriel. Melian stands facing the mirror on her dressing table, brushing her hair, talking to Thingol who is seated on the bed:


Melian: No more would she impart freely… This is a great matter…greater indeed than the Noldor themselves understand; for the Light of Aman and the fate of Arda lie locked now in these jewels. They shall not be recovered, I foretell, by any power of the Eldar; and the world shall be broken in battles that are to come ere they are wrested from Morgoth.
Thingol: [sits silently, arms folded, with head rested in his cupped hand, deep in thought]
Melian: [pauses in the brushing of her hair and turns to face him] They are doomed, Husband! Do you not see? Fëanor they have slain, and many another as I guess; but first of all the deaths they have brought and yet shall bring was Finwë, your friend.

Thingol: [sighs] Now at last I understand the coming of the Noldor out of the West: they did not come for our aid, save by chance, but for vengeance and redress of their own loss. [sits upright, brightening] Yet all the more surely shall they be our allies against Morgoth – we can be sure they will never make treaty with him.
Melian: [sits next to Thingol and places her hand on his shoulder] Truly they came for these causes, but they may have others also. [gravely, her face full of grief and foreboding] I say to you, beware the sons of Fëanor! The shadow of the wrath of the Valar lies upon them and they have done a great evil, maybe even to their own kin. That much I perceive: a grief only lulled to sleep lies between the Noldor princes.

Thingol: [dismissively] What is that to me? I have heard report only of Fëanor, but that made him great indeed. Of his sons I hear little to my pleasure, yet that could well but make them the deadliest foes of our foe.
Melian: [sighs, stands and replaces hairbrush on the dressing table.] I fear their swords and their counsels shall have two edges. But let us speak no more of this matter for now and turn our minds to more pleasant things… [moves to stand in front of Thingol and slips her robe from her shoulders. Cut.]

* * * * * * *

Camera pan on outskirts of the Havens of the Falas.
Shift down to a pair of Elves hurrying through the brush, one leaning on the other for support, with an obviously lame leg. They are moving as quickly as they can with this impediment,,but still concentrating on not being seen. They look ragged, thin, filthy, and terrified. They glance around every few steps, as if they fear they are followed. Camera focus on Elves:


Etharion: [breathless and frightened] I heard something!
Faervel: [glances up, points] Look! I can see the water from here.
Etharion: Just like those foul fiends to take us within sight of home!
Faervel: [glances back. Camera pan back over empty land, then shift to Elves] You are jumping at shadows. [shakes Etharion hard] Think! Our long nightmare is nearly over!
Etharion: I will believe that when I am in a clean robe and we can have our wounds tended to. I do not know how much longer this leg will hold up.
Faervel: Morgoth take the clean robe - I want my stomach full!
[Camera shift to brush nearby. Leaves rustle oddly. Shift back to Elves.]
Etharion: I tell you something is out there!
Faervel: [glances left] I hear it too. [picks up a rock] I will not be taken back!
Etharion: If the Valar fail us now I will see you in Mandos’ Halls.
[Camera shift left. Brush parts, several Falas Elves emerge from the brush on both sides of the pair. The Falas Elves are armed, but lower their weapons. Faervel and Etharion remain tense, shaking, and braced for a fight.]

Elf Captain: [frowns] Etharion? Can that be you?
Etharion: Captain??? [staggers suddenly as if drunk] Praise Eru!- [collapses in shear relief and exhaustion into a dead faint upon the ground. Faervel bends over him, concerned.]
Elf Captain: [commanding] Lower your weapons. [Directs Falas elves to run over and attend to Etharion. Turns in disbelief] Faervel ? We thought you lost to Mandos! You two look like you have been to Angband and back… [he notices some scars and open wounds and winces]

Faervel: [straightens and offers a lop-sided grin] Indeed, we have seen the inside of the Iron Prison. After months of surviving your training exercises, it was a welcome rest. I believe it will become the place to visit for those who wish to get away from it all. [glances at one of the Falas elves] Is that you, Thorobir?
Thorobir: [grins] Somehow I knew you would return, you scapegrace. [clasps Faervel ’s hand and loosens his grip when he notices two fingers missing and the hand wrapped in blood soaked rags]
Faervel: You still owe me from that last round of dice.
Thorobir: That is how I knew you would return.
Faervel: I will take the debt in a hot meal, if you please. As quickly as possible.
Captain: That can be arranged. Our Lord Círdan will want to hear your tale as soon as possible.
[All Elves exit left, carrying Etharion in the center of the group. Camera pan left, follow Elves as they move toward the shore. Fade out.]

* * *

Fade back in to a room in Círdan’s Palace, later.
Etharion sits at a table, eating, wearing a loose robe that shows just how thin he is. Faervel lounges in a steaming bath, his feet on the edge of the tub, with a chunk of bread in one hand and a cup of wine in the other. Fresh bandages have been applied to their many wounds. Servants move through the room carrying towels, food, and clothing for the returned prisoners.

Etharion: How can you eat in a bath?
Faervel: [mouth full] I am hungry and filthy. Why wait?
Etharion: Because civilized people eat at a table when they can.
Faervel: [drinks to clear his mouth] Compared to what we have both lived through, my friend, this is the height of culture. I wager in a few months everyone will be dining in a bath when they have the chance. [sets cup on the floor, finishes bread, reaches for a towel set on a stool] Have you sent word to your wife of your miraculous return?
Etharion: Not yet. I –
[Círdan enters. Servants bow and exit quickly. Etharion and Faervel stand and bow, Faervel wraps towel around his hips quickly.]
Círdan: Be easy. [to Etharion] Your Captain has informed your lady of your return. She will be arriving shortly, with your daughter.
Etharion: Thank you, Sire. [confused] But . . . what daughter? . . .
Círdan: You were already missing when she was born. Now she is a lovely woman, and attracts attention from young men wherever she goes. You may have your hands full. [turns to Faervel ] Is there anyone we should inform of your return?
Faervel: No, my lord. I saw my father fall as I was taken.
Círdan: I am sorry for that. [sits] I will not keep you long from your rest, but I must know all you can tell of our Enemy’s forces. Any information, no matter how minor, may be vital later.
Etharion: I fear we can give you little of value, my lord. We were held in a dark fortress, a massive place peopled with the foulest creatures ever imagined. We rarely were taken from our cells, and never were we allowed outside the walls of their keep.
Círdan: Then how did you escape?
Faervel: [refills cup]
Etharion: They took us outside to hunt, my lord.
Círdan: You mean they allowed you to hunt for –
Faervel: No. We were the prey to be chased.
Etharion: They said they wanted sport, and as we were of no further use –
Círdan: I understand, although I wish I did not. How did you manage to find your way back?
Faervel: They released a score of us and we ran in different paths away from each other to make the hunting more difficult. Some were overcame and downed rather quickly and their screams motivated our legs to run the faster. We just ran in the direction our enemies were not, and eventually the land began to look familiar.
Etharion: We were the only two to make it to safety although one of the beasts did eventually catch us and we both fought to kill it with out bare hands and some small rocks. Even at that some of us made it into his stomach before we dispatched him .

Faervel: we lost track of the days.... we were almost taken by a small patrol just days ago but we managed to escape by leaping off a cliff into a river and the foul servants of Morgoth refused to follow.
Etharion: That is how my leg was injured... a rock in the river greeted me with its presence.
Círdan: And in all the time you were held you learned nothing of our foes?
Faervel: I believe the greatest knowledge I gained was that I could in fact eat live rats, maggots, and my own kind to avoid starvation.
Círdan: [shocked] Truly?
Etharion: When prisoners grew weak they were taken for food. Sometimes they were fed to other prisoners. Sometimes they were eaten alive.
Círdan: By the foul beasts of Morgoth, surely?
Faervel: Believe that, my lord. You will sleep better. Let it just be said that I determined early on that I would never let myself grow weak, no matter what I had to do.
Etharion: And if we managed to keep our strength they had other uses for us.
Círdan: What use could they make of –
Faervel: Ask not. That will remain locked inside me until the world ends.
Etharion: I did hear something that might be of interest to you, my lord. Shortly before we were taken out, I overheard some of the guards talking about these kinsmen who have come from over the sea. Fell they are, if we can believe what was being said, and they come with some grievance against their own kind.
Círdan: [to Faervel ] Did you hear the same?
Faervel: [nods] I also heard of these dark Elves, foes of our foe.
Etharion: And slayers of kin and kind as well as of enemies, if the rumors have truth.
Círdan: [catches his breath sharply] What say you?
Etharion: I have heard, my lord, that there is grievance among these newcomers. Some of them apparently took ships from our kin, the Teleri who crossed the western sea, and killed those who resisted their thievery. They then abandoned many of their followers on the far shores and left them to make their own way across the northern ice, caring not how many would perish in the attempt.
Círdan: [looks pale, turns to Faervel] Heard you the same?
Faervel: [nods slowly] I did, my lord.
Círdan: I must think on this, for these words are fell. [rises] Now let both of you rest and recover your strength. You are free of the Enemy at last, and among your own kind.
[Círdan exits left. Camera follows. Cut.]

* * *

Cut to Círdan’s Great Hall.
Círdan is writing on a piece of parchment. Councilors stand around the table. Messenger stands to one side.

Círdan: [lays down quill. Dusts scroll with powder, rolls up scroll. To Messenger] Take this to Thingol, my cousin. It is for his hand only and no other.
Messenger: [bows] I will, my lord.

[Camera shift left. Faervel enters, walking quickly. He is still very thin, but appears clean and rested.]
Faervel: My lord, I would speak with you. [Councillors move to block his path]
Círdan: Let him speak.
Faervel: Thank you, my lord. I would have you keep the words we spoke yesterday to yourself for the present.
Círdan: [frowns] The news you brought is most serious, and came at the cost of lives. I speak not only of your own, which, thank Eru, you have now the chance to recover but of those who were not so fortunate to escape the dark prisons you fled from. Why would you have me keep it from my closest allies?
Faervel: Because I trust it not.
Círdan: Did your captors take care that you should understand them? Did they use our tongue for their gossip?
Faervel: No, my lord. But any prisoner will learn the speech of his captors quickly, if he wishes to survive long in their prison.
Círdan: Did your captors intend that you should escape?
Faervel: They may have, my lord.
Councillor 1: Why say you so?
Faervel: Because our escape was too easy. Why did our only chance to avoid our pursuers lie in the direction we wanted to go? Why should they even begin these games now? It simply makes no sense.
Councillor 2: Unless our foes are simply not very smart.
Councillor 3: Or they underestimated you.
Faervel: Perhaps.
Círdan: As yet you give me no reason to keep this news you give me from Thingol. More important, Thingol now entertains these strangers in his hall as guests. If they are likely to turn on him he must know of the danger.
Faervel: Consider this, my lord. We have no proof of these tales beyond the word of guards in service to the Dark Lord. I would not accept their word that I had two legs without I checked the facts first.
Círdan: And yet a false tongue may speak true all unknowing, and do good that it does not realize.

Faervel: Here is yet another reason to keep this news awhile. If these rumours are false, then spreading them can do us no good for we will be painted as ungrateful liars who would spoil the good name of those who gave us only help in our need. If these rumours are true, then by keeping them to ourselves we can do no harm for we are forewarned against possible treachery and still we will have the westerners’ stout swords as our allies.
Círdan: You see plots within plots. Can you not simply accept that perhaps this time good fortune has fallen into our laps, and that this news may avert disaster that would otherwise fall upon our heads?
Faervel: I survived these past years by never trusting good fortune when it seemed to come my way, my lord.
Círdan: That may be. But I cannot take the chance that the danger these newcomers pose may outweigh any aid they give us. I must warn Thingol. [waves Messenger out of hall]
Faervel: May Ulmo protect us from fools in high places.
Círdan: Do you call me a fool?
Faervel: I never said it. [turns and leaves without waiting for permission.]

[Camera focus on Círdan, who looks thoughtful. Pan over Councillors, who seem angry and outraged. Pan to sea outside window. Fade.]


* * * * * * *

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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.
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PostPosted: Mon Dec 26, 2011 9:51 am 
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* * * * * * *

Fade into scene of Finrod, Aegnor and Angrod riding through the forests of Doriath on the approach to Menegroth. They dismount on arrival and are greeted warmly by Galadriel and Celeborn who are awaiting them across the Esgalduin bridge.

Galadriel: [hugs Angrod, followed by Aegnor] Ah, but it is good to see you again, my brothers…how I have missed having my behaviour scrutinized and criticized at every turn!
Celeborn: [greets brothers also] Not to mention your quick wit, Aegnor, and Angrod’s penchant for practical jokes…
Aegnor: I certainly have missed teasing our little sister! But I have been busy learning much skill and wisdom from the Naugrim – they are a remarkable people, if a little dour…and Aegnor has had his hands full with affairs of the heart, haven’t you, Angaráto?
Angrod: [blushes and glowers at his brother] uhm..I have had the good fortune to become betrothed to a young Noldor noblewoman – Eldalótë – you remember her? [Galadriel nods, expressing her delight and congratulatng Angrod with another hug. Turns to Finrod:]

Finrod: [embraces his sister, smiling fondly] Well met, Sister… my venture at Nargothrond has kept us apart for far too long. But not for much longer: my stronghold nears completion, and a feast is planned in celebration! [they begin walking in through the Great Door. Finrod looks Galadriel over appraisingly] I must say, marriage seems to agree with you!
Galadriel: Indeed it does, and with my lord, also. But what of you, Finrod…have you not thought yet of taking a wife? It would gladden my heart to see you settled with a queen beside you in your new realm.

Finrod: [awkwardly] You know that my heart is given to Amarië of the Vanyar, and since she came not into exile with us, I shall rule alone. [a shadow seems to cross his face and he pulls Galadriel to one side] Lately I have had a premonition of falling into darkness. I fear, in any case, that nothing of my realm shall endure that a son should inherit… [looks at Galadriel then turns and walks on to catch the others. Galadriel stares after him, raises hand to cover her mouth. Cut.]

* * *

Cut to scene of messengers arriving at the borders of Doriath, and being admitted into Menegroth. [cut]

Cut to throne room where the message is forwarded to Thingol;
Reading the missive, he trembles with suppressed rage. Passes scroll to Melian for her to read. She scans it and tries to reassure him:


Melian: [anxiously] I fear the malice of Morgoth has surely had a hand in these rumours, whether they be true or false. Círdan has been wise to send them to you in secret. I urge you not to act in haste until we have determined the truth of the matter. Since the sons of Finarfin are still enjoying our hospitality whilst they visit their sister here, why not have the matter out with them in private?
Thingol: I would do so immediately,…Guards! Send for the sons of Finarfin at once! Send also for Elmo, Galadhon and Oropher and the other princes of the realm. They too should hear this first-hand. There shall be no more rumours, only the truth! [guards exit. Cut.]

* * *

Cut back to Thingol brooding on his throne, later:
Melian is beside him. She lays a hand gently on his forearm to try and calm him. Oropher, Thranduil, Elmo, Galadhon, Galathil and Celeborn are all in attendance. Camera shift to doors of Hall opening, and Finrod, Aegnor and Angrod are ushered in. They approach the twin thrones, and bow.


Thingol: [stands, angrily gesticulating] On your knees, kinsmen! I have learned of all the evil deeds of the Noldor ere they arrived on these shores. How dare you conceal such grave matters from me? [the three kneel hurriedly]
Finrod: [bewildered] What ill have I done you, lord? Or what evil deed have the Noldor done in all your realm to grieve you? Neither against your kinship nor against any of your people have they thought evil or done evil.

Thingol: [quiet fury] I marvel at you, son of Eärwen, you would come to the board of your kinsman thus red-handed from the slaying of your mother’s kin, and yet say naught in defence, nor yet seek any pardon!
Finrod: [hangs head and does not answer. The other elves react in shock, muttering in outrage. Celeborn turns pale]
Elmo: [reaches for a chair to steady himself] What new evil is this?

Aegnor: [placatingly] Lord, I know not what lies you have heard, nor whence; but we did not come here bloody-handed: We are guiltless, save maybe of folly in listening to the words spoken by Fëanor in his madness, and becoming besotted by his enthusiasm, albeit briefly. He and his sons alone swore a Dreadful Oath to not rest until the Silmarils have been recovered, and promising death to any who withhold the jewels from them.
Finrod: [reluctantly] No evil did we do on our road, but suffered ourselves great wrong, and we forgave it. Now we shall be named tale-bearers to you and treasonable to the Noldor, despite the fact that we have been silent before you out of loyalty, and thus earning your anger.

Angrod: [unable to hold back any longer:] But these charges are no longer to be borne – you want to know the truth of the blood spilt by our cousins at Alqualondë? The Teleri refused to lend Fëanor their ships since it was against the wishes of the Valar that we leave Aman, so he and his sons took them by force, killing any who tried to stop them! [Oropher turns away, sickened; Galadhon comforts Elmo who is visibly distressed. Celeborn stands motionless, supported by one of the carved pillars.] We arrived too late to prevent the bloodshed and did what we could to help those injured. For their actions, the sons of Fëanor brought down the Doom of Mandos upon themselves and their followers and the Valar have fenced the Blessed Realm against us. We can no longer return.

Finrod: [heavily] With that choice denied us, Fëanor and his sons then took the Teleri ships for themselves and their most loyal followers and sailed first to Middle-earth. Instead of sending the ship back for us, they burnt them in the Firth of Drengist. We were left to endure the hazardous crossing of the Helcaraxë…you cannot imagine the suffering of our people on that torturous journey…
Celeborn: [closes his eyes, murmuring “Galadriel”; Galathil lays a consoling hand on his brother’s shoulder]

Angrod: [angrily] Wherefore should we that endured the Grinding Ice bear the name of kinslayers and traitors?
Melian: Yet the shadow of Mandos lies on you also…the words of Mandos are ever made true: none of the Noldor that followed after Fëanor can escape the shadow that lies upon his house.

[Thingol sits silent for a long while, considering. Camera pans around the faces of those waiting for his judgment]

Thingol: Go now! For my heart is hot within me. Later you may return, if you will; for I will not shut my doors for ever against my kindred that were ensnared in an evil they did not aid. With Fingolfin and his people also will I keep friendship, for I believe they have bitterly atoned for such ill as they did…and in our combined hatred of Morgoth, who wrought all this woe, perhaps our grief shall be buried. [brothers, still on their knees, bow low in gratitude and relief. Thingol gestures for them to stand, and they are escorted towards the door. As they near it, he stands, and calls after them:]

Thingol: But hear my words! Never again in my ears shall be heard the Quenya tongue of those who slew my kin in Alqualondë! Not in my realm shall it be openly spoken, while my power endures. Any who speak with the tongue of the Noldor shall be held slayers of kin and betrayers unrepentant. [he sits down wearily on his throne again. Oropher, Elmo and Galadhon move to leave the audience chamber, Celeborn and Galathil likewise. Suddenly Thingol calls him back]
Thingol: Celeborn…
Celeborn: Yes, my Lord?
Thingol: I would speak with you, alone… [fade]

* * *

Cut to scene, later: Celeborn enters the chamber he shares with his wife.
She looks up at his entrance, and for a moment her face is lit with joy. Their eyes meet and her smile fades. Her face sets into an impassive mask. The tension is thick enough to cut with a knife. She stands, unmoving, and meets his gaze unflinchingly. He walks to within a foot of her, his eyes boring into her face. She raises a brow in question at him.


Celeborn: Thingol called me before him, demanding to know why I, his kinsman and lord of his house, would withhold information of this Noldor treachery from him. He found it hard to believe that you had not told me of this matter.
Galadriel: [does not answer]
Celeborn: Your brother Angrod has bared his heart and told Thingol all, despite Finrod’s resolve not to admit anything. I do not know if I am more angry that the Noldor would slay their own kin or that you would keep this from me… [sadly] I know now how you came by that scar…What else should I know, Galadriel?

Galadriel: [measured] What else do you wish to know?
Celeborn: [steps back from her. His fists clench and unclench, then he rakes his fingers through his hair. Galadriel reaches for his hands, but he withdraws them from her grasp as if she has burned him] Everything! [sighs and bows his head for a moment. When he looks up at her again she can see the hurt in his eyes. She brushes his mind with her own, but he blocks her.]

Galadriel: [winces] So, in your thoughts, I am no longer crowned in radiance, but in blood.
Celeborn: [startled] No! … I just need to know that you trust me.
Galadriel: [earnestly] I have bound body and spirit to you, Celeborn. I trust you with my life. [She opens her mind to him, baring her soul. Celeborn sees glimpses of her journey to Aman in rewind, and gasps at the horror of the ice and the tragedies she has witnessed there. Yet when he tries to probe at her memories further back, he feels resistance grow and he withdraws from her mind.]

Galadriel: [whispers] Not like this…I would not relive those memories now.
Celeborn: I am sorry, I overstepped my bounds. I should not have tried to force you… [trails off miserably] Is there more that you do not wish me to know?
Galadriel: [earnestly] There are no other secrets, Celeborn. If you listened to my brother, then you know the truth.

Celeborn: [in sad frustration] Why did you not speak of these things before? Or Finrod? You live here with us and Finrod has often sought the hospitality of Doriath. Do you value your kinship with the sons of Fëanor more than you do your mother’s kin? [she stiffens, his eyes harden] Help me to understand, Galadriel.
Galadriel: [angrily] I was not aware that I must choose between my father’s kin and my mother’s kin! Fëanor and his sons committed their wrong against the elves of Alqualondë, not Doriath. It is for those who survived the offense and those who pass to the Halls of Mandos to forgive and find redress, not those of us who are here. [They hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, then Galadriel looks away. She disappears into their sleeping chamber. Celeborn paces the room…eventually he follows her, and finds her dressed for travelling and packing a bag.]

Celeborn: Where are you going?
Galadriel: [without looking up] To a place where the past is dead and I do not have to answer questions like an accused criminal.
Celeborn: [a bit more sheepishly] But where? Where are you going?
Galadriel: To Nargothrond, to join my family in their banishment.
Celeborn: I will escort you…
Galadriel: There is no need. I will travel with my brothers.
Celeborn: When will you return?
Galadriel: [closes bag and fastens the straps before looking up.] I know not… [Fastens her cloak about her neck and lifts her bag, stepping to move around him.]
Celeborn: [blocks her, anger warring with panic at the thought of her leaving]
Galadriel: If you decide there is trust between us and wish to be with me, then you know where I may be found. [steps to the side again and he blocks her again] Move!
Celeborn: [warningly] Do not leave like this,
Galadriel: [sorrowfully] You, husband, are the one who needs to decide if you can live with my past. To do so, you may wish to live alone for a time. [pushes past him and leaves the room. Cut]

* * *

Cut to scene in the stables.
Galadriel is already mounted, her brothers are waiting at the gates. Celeborn enters with a heavy cloak and travelling pack and briskly starts saddling his horse.


Galadriel: [coolly] I have no need of an escort…
Celeborn: [equally coolly, face expressionless] I know you do not… As your husband I would have liked that honour… No matter. I can see that you carry the grief your knowledge entails… I have watched you bear it, everyday, since we first met, though I had no thought to what it could be. And you will continue to do so, even unto the end of days. [shrugs] You do not need my resentment to compound your pain. Nor could I bear to sleep in our marriage bed alone. I am going to the Western March…
[Impassive, Galadriel flicks the reins of her mount and rides off to join her brothers without a backward glance. Celeborn watches her depart in mute agony, then he too mounts, and rides out of Menegroth. 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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* * * * * * *

Fade into scene some months later, in Menegroth,
Elmo receives a letter from his grandson in Nivrim. As he reads it we hear Celeborn’s voiceover:


Celeborn: Dear Grandfather,
I trust all is well with you and Father. I hope Galathil and his family are well. I would wager Nimloth has grown much whilst I have been away – has she yet taken her first steps?

My days are full of duties and chores for the King… [fade into clips of Celeborn busy patrolling the Western March – we see him involved in minor skirmishes with orcs, trying to keep his mind and body occupied, then of him lonely and miserable in camp/barracks, writing home…]
But my nights are cold and lonely…the intensity of the pain in my heart has nearly shattered me. Is there still no news from Nargothrond? I lie there wondering what other secrets are hidden within the recesses of my wife’s memories. Never would I have imagined the horror and travesty of elf slaying elf. For long hours on watch I ponder why Galadriel did not tell me. Was it out of shame? Did she fear my response? How could she possibly think it did not matter if she withheld such a thing? I fight constantly against the surge of anger: why could she not trust me nor consider me worthy of her confidence? The mirth is gone from me. I seldom smile. I want to hate her and blame her for what her people have done… [fade]

* * *

Fade into barracks at Nivrim:
We see clips of Celeborn, having his wounds tended, then lying on camp bed, reading Elmo’s reply:


Elmo: To my dear grandson, Celeborn:
Much time has passed now, and hopefully tempers have cooled. Melian took me aside today and asked after you. She wanted to know when you were going to come to your senses and return to reclaim what was yours. She said you and Galadriel were meant for each other - an irresistible force meeting the immovable object….

Galadriel swore she had no part in the horror of the kinslaying and neither did her brothers. It was love and loyalty to one side of their family that kept them from revealing the sins of those kin to us…

Care not for the hatred of the past. Let the Noldor, the “Calaquendi” as they call themselves, think we Sindar are dark and primitive. For all of their witness to the Light and their time spent with the Great Ones in Valinor, it has done them precious little good. You may be a prince of a forsaken people from a “dark” world, but you understand love and you know loyalty beyond and in spite of all hardship… [fade]

* * *

Fade back into Elmo in Menegroth, reading final letter from Celeborn:

Celeborn: Dearest Grandfather…
My anger has cooled within me. I care no longer for tormenting myself with hatred. I miss my Beloved… my heart… my light. Though I knew not the cause, I saw her sorrow and how bravely she bore it, when first I looked on her. I vowed then that I would lighten it if I could, yet I have done naught but make it worse. My people may slander me and scorn me for my love of her, but I do not care: together we can withstand anything. My heart aches for her. I would give anything to hold her in my arms again… [cut to clip of Celeborn riding out from Nivrim under the stars.]

I am riding out tonight to reclaim the treasure stolen from me by fear of the past. Soon she will be mine once again, my Galadriel… [Fade.]

* * * * * * *

Fade into scene at Nargothrond.
Celeborn rides up to the gates and announces himself. He is ushered in to Finrod’s presence
.

Finrod: Ah, my errant brother-in-law! We have been expecting you for some time.
Celeborn: You have? [puzzled] Has your lady sister not spoken of the…disagreement between us?
Finrod: [bemused] Not at all…she merely said that you were expected shortly, and that you should be shown in when you arrived. She is, I believe, waiting in the suite I appointed for her. Though my servants will show you the way to the bathing chambers first: my sister said you would be sure to need a visit there ! [takes in Celeborn’s travel-weary appearance, and smiles in amusement]
Celeborn: [wryly] Your sister is seldom wrong, as I am sure you are aware… [cut]

* * *

Cut to outside Galadriel’s chambers.
Celeborn, freshly bathed and dressed is approaching the door to Galadrial’s suite. He hesitates outside. Suddenly he feels Galadriel reach with her mind for his and she bids him enter. She is standing by a side table, pouring two cups of wine.


Celeborn: [suddenly tongue-tied, speaks softly] My lady…
Galadriel: [inclines her head in acknowledgment.] Husband… [hands him a cup and studies him for moment as he drinks] Why have you come here?

Celeborn: [slowly] Because I am your husband…because I love you. [earnestly] And I do trust you - I would still like to know of your past and even of the memories that are painful, of the hurts caused by your father’s kin. But not that I might judge you…rather I would share the burden of them. However, I leave you to decide if you would include me in that part of your life.

Galadriel: [coolly] You were not of such generous a disposition the last time we spoke.
Celeborn: I have realized that I do not like the possibility of never having met you. More importantly, I hate the fact that I have driven you away, when all I really want to do is comfort you and be comforted in return.
Galadriel: [says nothing but her face softens]

Celeborn: [sighs, rubbing the furrow between his brows, Puts down his wine.] In my innocence I had not recognized that evil is not always from the outside, and there are no depths it will not plumb…now I have had time to contemplate, and in the end it seems to me I was unjust in my horror.

Galadriel: [shakes head, tiredly] No, I do not blame you for your horror… no one could believe what was happening when we arrived at Alqualondë. It felt as though we had all gone mad, and we half expected it to be some perverse illusion - something we would awaken from and find had not happened at all. A fever dream…a nightmare!
Celeborn: [calmly] Yet you had the courage to set yourself against the slaying of innocents, and to act because it was the right thing to do.

Galadriel: [wonderingly] They were your kin, Celeborn, and mine, and I could not save them! I kept it from you... How can you even countenance looking at me? How can I expect you to ever forgive me?
Celeborn: [gently] If you had been paying attention, you would have known that I already have, Galadriel. It is time you forgave yourself… [Celeborn stretches out his hands to her and Galadriel takes them.]

Galadriel: [hesitantly] There is much left unsaid between us, Husband.
Celeborn: [nods] Will you tell me now?
Galadriel: [anxiously] You know now that I came here under a shadow, as do all my people, and I fear it may ensnare us all! Fate is against me and ill luck follows me… Your Galadriel is cursed; you cannot tell me you have not seen it!

Celeborn: [pulls her close and embraces her] It may be so, but I say to you, Galadriel, that we shall never be overcome, nor our ends go awry, whilst we remain together. I am not cursed, and it may be that my innocence could yet be some shield between you and your Doom. [reassuringly] I am not frightened by our Fate.

Galadriel: [whispers] I know. It is part of what I love about you!
Celeborn: [they kiss passionately; Celeborn gathers her up into his arms, smiles mischievously] I think it is time I reminded you of some other things you love about me. [turns and carries her into the sleeping chamber, Fade…]
* * *

Fade in on sleeping chamber, later…
Celeborn and Galadriel lie contentedly in each others arms. Galadriel rolls over onto her back as Celeborn gently nuzzles the sensitive area along the curve of her neck and the hollow of her throat. She strokes his hair and sighs softly…


Celeborn: [lifts his head to look at her] What troubles you, Melleth nin? Are you not content now that we are reconciled?
Galadriel: [smiles ruefully] Falling in love was never part of my plan. I came to conquer and rule, to take vengeance on Morgoth and to spite Fëanor. For all of those purposes I needed to be free; the ruler of my own fate. I brushed aside thoughts of love as a pleasantry which could come later, once I had wrought my will upon the world. I knew not that love was so mighty - I believed I could bend it to my hand and make it wait for me. I was not in need before I met you. [in mock annoyance] Now all my plans lie in ruins at my feet, and it is entirely your fault!

Celeborn: [laughs] My most grievous fault! [lays back and puts his arms behind his head.] Do you know what fascinates me about you? [Galadriel turns over to look at him.] Sometimes it is as though you hold the spirit of all the elements within you, and I never know which will come to the fore. Where I expect fire and iron, I encounter water in tempest... [traces her brow and the hollow of her cheek with his fingers, brushing her lips and finally resting on her chin] …but sometimes you do not know your own strength… [softly] you do not know how close you have come to breaking me… [Galadriel, colour rising in her cheeks, and tears glistening in her eyes, buries her face in his chest Celeborn kisses the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her hair, and smiles to himself] Now you are as placid as a sunlit bay - light dancing on the gentle swell!

Galadriel: [snuggling in his arms] It may be that oft will I need you to be provide such a harbour… bracing yourself and taking the storm till I am calm within your encircling arms.
Celeborn: [smiles] I am Teleri, after all. Do I not love the sea, dangerous as it is, in all its moods?

Galadriel: Then it is well I came here, for there is no Elf in all Valinor who compares with you, and no other would I have.
Celeborn: [earnestly] Return with me to Doriath: no evil may come there while the Grey King and Queen reign. There is no stain upon bole and branch, and no sorrow in the song of Melian’s nightingales.

Galadriel: [props herself up on one arm, considering] The caverns of Menegroth are works of wonder, but I was born in a place of open spaces, cool breezes, clear skies. The weight of rock above my head oppresses. I have not found what I sought in Doriath, other than Melian’s wisdom… [Celeborn opens his mouth to object, but she smiles, and places her fingers against his lips to hush him ] yet I have found something infinitely more precious, being unsought. I would be content, I think, to remain there with you.

Celeborn: [smiles broadly, smoothing her hair away from her face.] Nothing could be of more delight to me: as you have taken my name for you, so you have taken my heart, and should you depart again you would break it.
Galadriel: [lays her hand on his chest over his heart] I would not part from you again, for you have my heart in earnest of yours. There is a full measure of strength and wisdom in you, and in me, and we will chance the Ages together… [Celeborn pulls her close to meet his kiss and they roll over in a passionate embrace as camera fades…]

* * * * * * *

_________________
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: Tue Dec 27, 2011 9:02 am 
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EPILOGUE

Fade back into scene at Rivendell of Arwen and Celeborn under the oak tree…

Arwen: [with melancholy] and yet, you are parted again…
Celeborn: But not severed. [places his hand over his heart.] Her soul and mine are still united, for Eru made it so, and it cannot be undone. Ah, Arwen, the call of the sea for the Eldar is like death for Men. A thing which cannot be fought, cannot be held back: we cannot resist it when it comes. Yet we may not choose the time of it ourselves. I could not take my fate into my own hands, not even to follow my Beloved.

Arwen: Estel has been given the grace to go at his will and give back the gift of Eru to Men. I must abide the loss and the silence whether I will or not: it seems to me a bitter gift to receive.
Celeborn: [clasps her hand in his] Yes, death is alien to our people, though it is part of the nature, physical and spiritual, of Man. You must understand that hope does not come with a guarantee. I fear that for you the Doom of Men may seem hard at the ending.

Arwen: [sighs] You bear the title “Wise” heavily, Daeradar…
Celeborn: Your Grandmother it was who called me Wise, [laughs] but a large part of my wisdom has been in recognising Galadriel for the force she is and, in loving her, harnessing and guiding that strength. Our battles have, at times, been cataclysmic, but they have, in the end, only served to bind us more closely. We lost to torment and death those whom we loved, but our anguish only served to strengthen our need for each other.

Arwen: I too have known the pain of being parted from the one I love. Duty kept us apart and we endured long separation, but our reunion has been the sweeter for it.
Celeborn: Indeed, Arwen, though your separation was not of your own making…and now my heart is glad that you are experiencing the joys I discovered in my own marriage.. [closes his eyes, smiling at some secret memory]

Arwen: [enthusing] It is as though our separate lives before were taken up into our union –it feels now as though we have always been one... [blushes,] Alas, I wax nonsensical, as all lovers do. No doubt the giddiness wears off in time?
Celeborn: It does not, only it grows deeper and quieter, like a great lake, so that those longest married speak about it least - for they can no longer imagine what it would be like to be alone. It is only when one is deeply happy with a soul mate that means the whole world, that one knows how much there is to lose. [he bows his head as tears come unbidden to his eyes] Without her, I am incomplete... [Arwen wraps her arms around her grandfather, holding him close.]

As camera pulls back from the scene we hear Celeborn’s voiceover:

"Ah, Undómiel, at last the tides of time that I so long held at bay have rushed in upon me, and sweeping over me have washed away all but the bonds of love and the star of hope. Love binds to me each one I hold dear – wherever they may be. And the light of Eärendil is a beacon in the darkness of my soul, entreating me to turn my gaze before me rather than behind, as so often I have done. Whatever the morrow holds, I shall tarry here no longer and I shall not cling to that which no longer belongs to me. I will carry your love in my heart forever, dearest granddaughter, and we will meet again, if Eru wills, when Arda is remade…" [Fade]

* * * * * * *

Fade into scene of a white ship rocking gently on the grey sea:
the waves repeat a dull rhythm, the gulls’ cries are angry shrills. Celeborn sits in the stern of the boat, his hand resting on the tiller. He shields his eyes, straining towards the horizon, hoping desperately for some sign from the Valar. Eventually his shoulders slump and he lets his hand fall from the tiller.


Celeborn: [to himself, close to tears] Is the Straight Road no more? Maybe it has never been for me to tread…

[He sits there, in the embrace of the mighty sea , feeling the powerful heart drumming within the deep, hearing the music of Ulmo singing of things long past… the forests of old, of a country beneath the stars, and the moonlit glades where the elves danced and the trees sang and the world was new and young. Slowly, the music fades away, carried by a light breeze, and Celeborn drifts into unconsciousness…fade]

* * *

Fade into scene of a rejuvenated Celeborn resting on grass, under the fragrant foliage of an ancient Lairelossë tree, whose lower branches provide a secluded arbor.. He feels the warm rays of Anar upon his skin, and hears the song of the wind rustling on many leaves. His senses are assaulted by many sounds and fragrances, some forgotten, some never experienced before.

Galadriel: [calmly, with a hint of amusement and deep emotion] You took your time, my Lord…
Celeborn: [opens his eyes carefully, and finds himself drowning in the grey gaze of his wife.]

Galadriel: ...but it was worth the waiting! [she extends a hand and traces the line of his cheek carefully. Celeborn sits up and looks at her: the weight of exile, doom and loss has been lifted from her, and she is once again a beautiful young maiden full of joy and light.]
Celeborn: [stumbles to find the words] I…I am sorry…
Galadriel: [puts a finger upon his lips and smiles. She looks down at his hand which is still clenching something. He opens his hand and we see the star-shell, its rough-edge having left an imprint in the heel of his thumb.] You still have that old shell?

Celeborn: For me, it symbolized the pursuit of perfection…but I realized long ago that such an occupation was futile.
Galadriel: [smiles knowingly] Come… [she leads him out of the alcove of leaves and they are upon a green hill crowned by ancient oaks, and beyond, the green countryside rolls away into the distance. Below them the cliffs meet white shores that run down to an aquamarine sea. Cut to the couple walking together along the shore, feeling the warmth of the sand beneath their bare feet. Eventually Celeborn halts and pulls Galadriel into a passionate embrace.]

Celeborn: [pulls away slightly and lifts the star-shell to look at it one last time.] Let us return this treasure to the sea: there is no need for a broken specimen when I already have a perfect one… [throws the shell as far as he can into the receding tide, and wrapped in each others arms they gaze out to sea as the sun sets behind them. Fade…]

End of Season #2
*************************************************************
Image

[For C & G, Nov 2009]


Character portraits:
Image

_________________
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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