Title: Bare
Author: Rimau
Email address: rimaufic@yahoo.co.uk
Rating: R
Fandom: LotR
Pairings: Galadriel/Éowyn
Date: August 2003
Disclaimers: Not mine, borrowed without permission, am not making any money.
Please don't sue.
Summary: After the royal wedding, the Lady of Lorien cannot spend the night
lost in her loneliness.
Author's webpage: http://www.rimau.aeglos.org/

I have finally gone insane. My genre is happy-mushy male slash, and suddenly
I find myself writing this. It's basically a PWP with lots of angst. But
when the characters start talking to me, I must write. Do try this at home!

This is mostly book canon, even though influenced by the two movies. I'm not
really following the exact timeline of the book here, but what the heck.
Artistic lisence. So in this story, the Elves of Lorien leave Minas Tirith
the day after the royal wedding.

Betaed by my dear Wolfsbride!

***
Bare
by: Rimau
***

A great cheer rings around the throne room. People rejoicing, all talking at
the same time.

It's the day every Man has been waiting for. There is finally a King sitting
on the throne of Gondor, accompanied by a Queen by his side. An era is
ending, another beginning.

My eyes mist over. So many people, so happy, so full of life. And yet so
much pain and death and destruction. I can sense it, throbbing all around
me. Not simply a memory of things past, but also a hint of the future.

"Lady Galadriel?"

I look at a man offering me a goblet, and shake my head softly. He doesn't
seem to be offended by my refusal of drink.

No food nor drink tempts me now. I do not believe I could taste anything.
All my attention is focused on the white clad figures on the other side of
the room. The King and Queen of Gondor. Their most happy day.

I watch my granddaughter smile at her husband, and suddenly I can't stand
the idea of staying here. Her happiness is too painful, for like all
mortals, she will one day find utter despair.

There is a door to my right. One not guarded by anyone. It is better for me
to leave now, than to stand here as the harbinger of doom that will come no
matter how I wish otherwise.

No one notices me leaving. My steps are soft, and I can walk more quietly
than any creature on this earth. There's a scent of living flowers wafing
from somewhere, and I am determined to follow it. What a marvel it is. A
garden in the war ravaged town?

I walk to a parapet and see it. Not a garden for simple beauty, but for
herbs to heal. Whoever tends to this garden, they appreciate flowers as
well. There are a few glorious blossoms alive here, even though its the
middle of Winter.

It makes me yearn for my home. Yes. Elanor and Niphredil are covering the
ground under the trees now. Their scent will be intoxicating. I have a few
petals attached to the bodice of my dress, and they still carry a memory of
the scent, just barely enough for me to feel the yearning stir inside again.

What a strange notion to feel such homesickness now that I know my heart
will never find peace in Lothlorien again.

I walk under the scrawny trees. There's a bench here, and I decide to sit
down.

This night has placed a heavy burden on my shoulders. So heavy, I can barely
bear it.

There are strange tidings in the air. Hope and joy. A strange mixture of
passion and grief. The night calls out to celebrate life, the moon watching
over all those who lose themselves in the moment, skin to skin.

Still, the whisper of sorrow overshadows the festivities.

It is a feast that welcomes the age of Men. This is their true beginning.
And our ending.

Tomorrow will be filled with pain. Pain of partings, pain of farewells. My
decision has been made a long time ago. My fate sealed.

The path before me leads to the Sea, and it is a lonely path.

I will leave my husband behind, and even though I have seen we will meet
again, it will not be to as husband and wife. My granddaughter has forged
unbreakable bonds with a mortal man. My grandsons will choose to remain
here, even though I know that when the time comes, their father sails with
us.

Middle-Earth. The realm that holds such sorrow now, even though once it was
the place I truly loved.

Now, I will have only distant memories of happiness. Everything here is dull
and dark. My heart aches at the thought and I wish I could have one more
happy moment here, so that the memory of it would follow me to the Undying
Lands.

A sound alerts me, and I look to see a pale figure enter the small garden,
as if following my footsteps. Even in the darkness, I recognize her as the
sister of the King of Rohan.

I watch her walk to the low wall, her gait slow, steps precise. Her face is
hidden in shadows, but I sense a terrible sadness in her even without seeing
her expression. Standing tall, she stares at the beautiful disc of the full
moon shining above our heads.

Lady Éowyn. She caught my attention in the throne room as Arwen went to take
her rightful place next to her King. This maiden was the only one -- besides
me and my kind -- not to smile and cheer. Her gaze a pool of sorrow, almost
as deep as mine.

It was not hard to guess the reason for her pain. She did not turn her
attention away from Aragorn Elessar, drinking in the sight of him. Bidding
her hopes and dreams goodbye as he accepted my Arwen's hand in marriage.

Such pain can only be caused by love.

I do not wish to disturb her silent contemplation. Quietly communing with
the moon is a relief I have sought often in my life. Moving would alert her
to my presence, though, so I simply sit here.

The sadness I have sensed all evening is growing agan, suppressing all other
sensations under its heavy blanket. The world seems gray and lifeless, the
light of the moon painting the walls with shadows that make the city look
like every building is covered with trails of tears.

Sighing deeply, Éowyn of Rohan lets her head bow down. She must truly feel
she is alone, for I do not think she would ever show such brittleness to
anyone. My heart weeps for her.

This night seems so long, so lonely, and I wonder how anyone will survive
it.

Lost in my dark thoughts, I do not notice her walking towards the bench I'm
sitting on before she lets out a soft gasp. I look up to see her staring at
me, her hand reaching for something on her belt.

It is a very familiar gesture I have seen on warriors who have been
startled. The need to grasp a knife or a sword, to defend oneself. There is
no weapon hanging from this woman's belt, though. No blade she could use
against an assailant.

"Oh." She looks baffled as she sees me. "I did not see you, Lady Galadriel
of Lorien." Her voice is throaty, and I can not tell if it is because of
suppressed emotion or if she sounds like that always.

We were introduced briefly before the wedding, but did not exchange words.
Her brother spent a few minutes talking to Celeborn, but I was not concerned
by whatever they talked of. The matters of this world are not important to
me anymore. The only things that still touch me are full of pain.

I nod at her. "I did not want to disturb your peace, Lady Éowyn." Raising
up, I brush my robes, smoothing the pale fabric. "I should leave." It is not
my place to offer her any consolation in her grief, for I am as lost in my
own sorrow as she is in hers.

"You don't have to leave because of me." Again, she lowers her head a
little, staring at the grass beneath our feet. "I have spent enough time
alone in this garden."

Her tone touches me. It echoes my own thoughts perfectly. I could not bear
the happy crowd inside the throne room for a moment longer, but somehow the
presence of this pale woman is comforting.

"Then I will stay. I do not wish to go back in yet, for my heart is heavy
and not willing to see such merriment." I do not think I should ask her
questions, but let my words be an open path she can follow if she so
chooses.

Gray gaze meets mine. Éowyn seems to assess me. For what, I do not know.
Eventually she says, "Your words sound familiar, Lady Galadriel. I do not
feel like rejoicing either, even though this is indeed a happy day for all
of Gondor. And for the realms of Men."

Her words show her intellect, for there is a double message there. This is
indeed a happy day for most of Men, but not for my kind. Everything that has
been ours has been taken away from us. Even our passing shall not be calm,
for I believe we all feel this sadness.

Oh if I could only feel something else than this grief inside me. The memory
of these lands I will carry with me will indeed be bitter. "The end of
Sauron's rule is indeed a blessed occasion." I hesitate, but decide to
continue. "It would indeed be a joyous day if it wasn't also the end of our
time here."

Éowyn looks astonished at that. "You are leaving? I did hear Ara... King
Elessar talk to his friend Legolas about a long journey waiting ahead of
him, but..."

"No. Not the journey awaiting for young Legolas." His path is clear before
him, but it will not lead to the Sea for some time. His destiny is joined
with a mortal of this land, and he will never leave him behind. "My people
are leaving these shores."

"I see." She nods.

There are songs and legends of my kind sung by mortals. It is possible she
knows exactly what I talk of. I do not wish to speak of it, though. The
reality of our passing is too tangible even without the words.

Silence surrounds us as we stand here.

I did not want company earlier, but suddenly I find myself dreading of being
alone again. Solitude, my old companion is now too much. Filled with too
many memories.

A sudden sound of laughter slays the strange peace between us as a few
drunken courtiers stumble on a balcony near by. They do not see us, but
their mere presence is chasing privacy away, replacing it with awkwardness.

The shadows seem ominous, and as if noticing that as well, Éowyn wraps her
cloak tighter around her. She casts her gaze on the floor, shoulders
slumping slightly.

There is but grief here, and suddenly I do not wish to linger here anymore.
"Lady Éowyn. Would you walk me to my room?" I do not want to leave her alone
here. For desperation can make people do horrendous things.

She looks at me, her eyes dull. "Of course." Maybe she needs to escape this
place as well.

We walk inside in silence. Sounds of merriment come from down the hall, but
I ignore it. This is a strange night, full of strange tidings, but simple
rejoicing is not one of them.

It is like the doom of my people. The shadow of despair united with the
flame of passion.

The upper levels of the castle are abandoned. There is no one here. No
sounds but our soft footsteps. My companion has the firm gait of a warrior;
even, sure. She does not hesitate even though I doubt she knows the location
of my room.

We go up another flight of stairs, and finally arrive at the corridor set
for me and my kind. One of my galadhrim is standing guard here. He doesn't
say anything as we pass him by.

"Would you like to come inside for a moment?" I do not wish to be left alone
yet. The chamber given to me is large. Too large for one weary Elf. "I would
very much like your company for a moment longer."

She intrigues me, this daughter of Rohan. So unlike others I have met here,
so full of life, yet lost inside herself.

With a solemn nod, she says, "I would like your company as well."

Opening the door, I gesture her to walk in before me. She complies, sweeping
past me. I shiver as she brushes against me. The mood of this night is
shifting again, tingling with unnamed emotions.

Éowyn seems to notice the undercurrents of this most blessed and accursed
night change, for she moves restlessly around the chamber. She looks
curiously at the elven ornaments I have brought with me, her gaze lingering
on the soft blanket on my bed. Then her attention returns to me.

"Would you like something to drink?" I do not recognize my own voice. It has
never sounded so fragile before. I have never felt this vulnerable before.

"No, thank you." She sounds absentminded, as if her attention isn't
completely here. Her gaze is misty. "I am not thirsty."

I shiver.

How can this young woman make me feel like this? The night has been calling
me with promises and I can not help but to listen. I am weary, but at the
same time, I can feel my whole being tingling.

My kind should not know this kind of temptation. We bond for life, we seek
companionship in souls that would merge with ours, not in bodies that would
hold us for a brief time and then fade away.

It is strange. The fate of Beren and Luthien, Idril and Tuor are fresh in my
memory. My heart knows none of such sadness now, though. It's singing a song
of passion unknown. A passion shared. This is the night for Men, and they
are easily tempted with desire.

How disturbing that I am now unable to completely escape this snare of lust.

Éowyn steps closer to me. I can feel something in the air between us, and it
has but a small amount of sadness in it. Sorrow has been replaced by heat.
Not the warmth of the early spring, but the burn of excitement. A strange
hunger I have not experienced before.

I do not know what to say. Sometimes, I believe, people can say so much
without a word. A simple look, a touch, can speak more elegantly than any
verse.

Our eyes meet, and I can see a strange emotion reflecting in Éowyn's gaze.
It's breathtaking. A mixture of the still lingering despair and a fiery
spark of longing.

A moment later it's hidden as she bows her head. "Forgive me, lady. I do not
know what came over me." Her voice is full of shame.

"Do not apologize. For whatever this is, I feel the same." How alike we are
in our hearts, both lost and lonely on the day all of Gondor sees as the
happiest ever.

Éowyn does not raise her gaze. "I should go." It's clear she is reluctant to
leave.

"No. Stay." My heart aches at the thought of staying here by myself. "No one
should be alone tonight." Not now, when it is so easy to fall under the
shadow of desperation.

"No. No one should be alone tonight." Now, finally, she looks up at me, and
the look in the gray eyes is pained. She would probably burst into tears if
her pride allowed her to. "But you are a..."

"Yes." My soft voice cuts her short. "I am. An Elf, a woman. Right now I
also find myself as desolate as you so obviously do."

Does anything else really matter?

"So will you spend the night with me?" I touch her arm slightly, and
something flares between us. Such a wonder to feel like this after years of
complete serenity.

Éowyn looks at my hand, then up to my face. She is clearly pondering my
meaning, confused about how she should interpret my seemingly innocent
words.

I do not want to play games. Not tonight. My heart is weary, and I long to
grasp a hold of this moment, when company would be freely offered. Even if
it is just to hold her near as I sleep the deep sleep of the mortals. The
thought of my empty bed is devastating, and I can not stand the idea of
going to Celeborn's. Our parting is already looming between us, his presence
a painful reminder of what will soon come.

"It may not be a tradition among your people. I do not know. But with my
kind, comfort is sometimes shared between two weary warriors. For just one
night." Maybe it is against the laws of Men to speak of a thing like this. I
honestly do not know the ways of the Rohirrim.

"I am no real warrior." A wry smile. "I would not let myself be caged with
soft words if I were."

Her words are a mystery, but I can see she is thinking about whatever is
bringing such helpless sadness to her. "Yes, you are." This I know for
certain, and would know even without knowing the tale about her and the
Nazgul. She has the stance of a warrior, and the heart of one.

There's a silence between us. I do not say anything, for words should not be
used to sway one in a moment like this.

Éowyn nods softly. She looks determined. "Yes, I would like to share the
night with you, lady. This is the most sad day, and I find myself despairing
if I am alone."

I know how she feels. The sorrow underlining all the joy is indeed a heavy
burden on my heart.

"I also..." Éowyn sighs. To be so young and to have such troubles on her
soul. "I have also had to let go of a foolish dream. Tomorrow, I will go to
someone who loves me, even though I do not know if I will ever truly love
him like that. It will be a gilded cage, but I can bear it if I can have one
night of freedom."

Her words sting me. How brave she is, this maid of Rohan. To accept her fate
so calmly, but with one reservation, a night for herself. I can understand
such selfishness well. For am I not as selfish as she is?

I touch her arm, a gentle touch. To ground her, or maybe to ground us both.
The passion tingling in the air is competing with the ominous shadow, and I
can see her fluster.

"It is my desire to go to him untouched by another man. Will your touch be a
deceit, I wonder." With wistful tones, she speaks the words, but does not
step away from me. "It seems like such a simple way to embrace both this
moment and the future. Words. A trick of words that may not hold any honor
in them."

"Éowyn." It is the first time I say her name like that. With no pretense of
being nothing but equal with her. "If you do not wish to..."

Her laughter is clear, but not without a hint of bitterness. "I wish to.
Even more than that. I do not believe I can survive without it right now."
The callused fingers trail over my hand, her touch firm.

I stand still. It has been too long since I was last touched like this.

"What a wonder. The night is calling me to yield myself to this, to let go
of all reason and embrace the need. I did not wish to obey it, for I should
not be touched by another man if I am going to..." A smile appears on
Éowyn's lips. It is not a completely happy expression. More like a memory
shaping in her mind, causing her to smile.

Her words ring familiar somehow. I do not stop to ponder them, though. This
is not the time for contemplation. This is the night for frenzy and hunger.

How do Men stand this? How can they ever focus on anything with this fire
coursing in their veins? The desire is making me faint. I need more of this
sweet woman's touch.

Slowly, almost agonizingly so, she leans closer to me. I meet her eagerly,
my lips craving the touch of hers.

Our kiss is gentle, even though there is a hint of hunger underneath the
gentleness. Éowyn's lips are soft, pliant. Moving against mine, then opening
for my exploration. This is new to me, to be the one exploring, reaching out
with my touch.

I let her taste fill my mind. She answers my touch with her own, seeking for
my mouth over and over again.

A hand touches my arm, sliding to grab my hand. I let my fingers hold hers
as we kiss, the grip steadying me as I sway a little.

"What is that?" The words are softly muttered against my lips. Then she
moves away from me to look down at our hands. I can feel her tense as her
gaze goes wide, and look down as well to see what is disturbing her so.

She stares at the ring on my finger. I am used to such looks. None of my
people has ever been able to see me beyond the faint glimmer of Nenya. It
defines me. To everyone, I am Galadriel, the wise one who bears the ring of
power.

It's disgruntling to have this daughter of Men to focus her gaze on that
small piece of jewelry. Foolish as I am, I want her to see me. Want her to
want me because of who I am underneath this all.

"Take it off." Her voice quiet, Éowyn speaks the words as a command.

I can only stare at her. My mind can not comprehend what she is saying. Take
what off? My ring? Does she have any idea of what she is asking?

Her eyes are full of pain as she looks up to me. "I do not want to see any
Elven jewelery tonight. Please, Lady. Take the ring off."

The memory flashes through my mind. Aragorn watching his Queen, his hand
touching the delicate Evenstar hanging from a chain on his neck. Of course.

With hesitant fingers, I touch my ring. Then, with a precise movement, I
pull it offmy finger. My whole being shudders at the loss. I can not lose my
sight ofit, so I place it on a table beside the bed.

I realize my hands are trembling. Not out of real fear. Not out of real
craving. With the One Ring destroyed, the others have lost most of their
meaning. I have carried my accursed companion with me for so long I can not
truly be parted from it any longer.

Even with most of my clothes on, I feel naked. Bare. Standing here with no
masks or shields. But my bravery is rewarded immediately. Her gaze is warm
now, accepting.

We kiss again. Only our mouths meeting as we stand here. Her lips on mine
are making the fire burn inside me hotter than ever. The passion I have
sensed in the air all night is coiling around us, binding us together for
the night.

It is so easy to reach out, to touch her arm through the ornate dress she is
wearing. I can feel the heat of her body through the soft fabric, and yearn
to touch her skin.

The need must be mutual. Her hands come up to the fastenings of my robe, and
swiftly loosen the garment so that it pools down on the floor.

Éowyn's clothes are not as easy to open as the Elven ones. More fastenings,
small buttons that take forever to open. I am patient, though. Every piece
of cloth removed reveals soft skin, and my hands move slowly, caressing her
as they work.

I do not feel ashamed standing here naked in front of her. Her expression is
full of wonder.

Her touch is tentative as she cups my breast. That hesitant caress makes me
close my eyes. It has been so long since I have been touched, really touched
like this. The thought is treacherous, and for a moment I feel overwhelming
guilt. But it is also the truth.

Whatever fire there was between Celeborn and me, it has faded into coolness
of Winter ages ago. We have a bond, and I can say I love him dearly without
lying. There is no passion, though. Not the need to hold him close and lose
myself in his touch. I know it is the same with him, for he has not sought
for my bed in many years.

"Lady Galadriel..." The maiden of Rohan sounds unsure of herself. "Do you
want me to stop?"

How little do these people understand. I smile at her as I open my eyes.
"No, lady Éowyn." She blushes at my gentle jibe. "I would not have you stop,
unless you want to."

"I don't want to." It's a sigh that is muffled against my lips.

Her lips are soft. She kisses with passion that has so clearly been held
back for a long time. It's as if she's starving for a touch, and I'm happy
to grant her the relief she needs.

I arch towards her touch. She's not hesitant anymore, her hands sure on my
body. Those wonderfully coarse hands, roughened by labor. Her touch is
knowing, firm. No doubt due to years of soothing the horses of the Rohirrim.

The thought makes me laugh out loud. Yes, how wonderful to have that touch
on my skin, like I am one of the mearas who needs to be gentled. To show her
I my mirth is not aimed at her, I wrap my arms around her neck, and pull her
down for a searing kiss.

Éowyn's presence is almost sizzling. She is so full of life. I can't
remember the last time I felt so connected with anyone. My destiny has
always been to be alone. It's the price all who bear a ring of power must
accept.

But I am not bearing it now. Here, in the stronghold of Men, I can let go of
the harsh reality for a moment and be free.

This may be only one night of passion, but I will not treat this as a
worthless tryst. There is a bond between me and this proud woman. A bond
forged by need and sorrow and hunger. I will never forget this, no matter
how many years I have ahead of me.

I land on the bed on my back, feeling the pang of loss as we part for a
brief moment before Éowyn follows me there. She settles next to me, her
hands brushing my hair out of my face. "Beautiful."

"Yes..." She is beautiful as well.

We kiss, a hungry kiss that is a promise of things to come. I roll her on
her back, and then finish undressing her, rejoicing in every curve I reveal.
Her hands move to my brests as I follow the path my actions have cleared.

Beautiful soft skin that calls for kisses. I revel in the taste of her,
kissing her everywhere I can. Éowyn lets out a moan as I nibble the
sensitive peaks of her breasts, and the sound is so delightful I need to
hear it again and again.

All the reserve I usually hold onto like a shield escapes me. I do not wish
to spend the night as a distant Queen or a mystical Elven lady. I surrender
to the passion, my hands and lips moving lower on her body.

I love the taste of her skin. Fresh like morning dew. Salty with beads of
perspiration. Her essence sweet, with a faint hint of bitterness. Like life
itself. She arches herself against my touch, and my senses are filled with
her.

Hands touching my head, strong fingers combing my hair and then tugging me
up. I let them, abandoning myself in the moment. Trailing a path up her
body, I kiss her soft skin, nip on her breast and then finally plant a kiss
on her lips. Her tongue is questioning in my mouth as she tastes herself.

We kiss. Long, sweet kisses. Unhesitant and unhurried. Éowyn moves a little
to nibble my jaw, and I smile at her enthusiasm. To be the object of such
sweet exploration is a wonder.

"May I?" Her voice is husky as she looks me in the eyes, hunger shining in
hers.

I nod. Whatever she wants to do is fine. More than fine. I love the touch of
her hands on my body, burning me as they trail my skin.

Rolling us over, she lifts herself a bit, looking down at me. Her gaze
moving over my body, taking in everything. She doesn't hesitate at all,
smiling gently as she lets her hand brush over my skin, following the path
her gaze has made.

I let out a sigh at the touch. She looks up at me again, her hand never
straying from its task. Slowly, she is moving closer to me, her skin heated
against mine.

"You're lovely." The words do not give her enough credit. I have never seen
a mortal shine so bright.

She smiles at me, the expression making her even more beautiful. Head flung
back, she mounts me, straddling my thigh.

Ai Elbereth! Her soft wetness against my skin is intoxicating, the scent of
her excitement wrapping me into a haze. Heat fills my lower belly, coiling
there like a serpent.

Éowyn raises a hand to brush her hair out of her face. My breath catches at
the sight. A lifetime spent in a saddle has given her a unique sense of
balance, a grace so rarely seen on one of her kind.

"Please..." The word escapes me, but I do not wish it had been unsaid.
There's wonder in the clear gray eyes. Of course. No one would expect a
proud Elf Queen to beg for a touch of a mortal. But I have no foolish pride
right now. I do not want to hide behind duty and a role I have played for so
long.

I am simply a woman, yearning for a touch.

Éowyn grinds herself against me. Her thigh brushes against my heat, and I
gasp. The touch is so maddeningly soft.

It is not enough.

"Touch me."

She looks at me with a question in her eyes, and I grab her hand and guide
it between my legs. "Here." I have no shame. All I feel is the burning
passion that will surely drive me insane if I do not feel her touch on me
right now.

Her questioning fingers dance hesitantly against my moist folds and then
grow bolder, using more strength and rhythm.

I can not find the words to describe this feeling. No floral verses of poems
could ever do honor to this. I raise my hips to her touch, and let out soft
moans as she finds that spot that makes pleasure flood through me with every
touch.

Éowyn's voice raises and falls as she gasps out words I do not understand.
Maybe they have no meaning in any language. Somewhere between the broken
syllables, I hear my own name.

My hands roam over her body, gentle touches turning into possessive ones.
Speeding her pace, Éowyn grasps a firm grip on my hand, her fingers
squeezing mine hard as we move towards our release.

This is untamed, like the wild forests of my youth. Éowyn's pale skin gleams
with perspiration, her mouth slightly open as she pants my name over and
over again.

What a marvelous sight, her skin flushed with internal heat, face contorted
in the so familiar pleasure that almost borders pain.

I succumb to the feeling, letting the waves of heated madness wash over me.
Her fingers never stop rubbing, and I jolt in ecstasy.

"Éowyn..." Too much pleasure. Too poignant, too sharp.

Too far gone in her own passion, she looks at me with glazed eyes. I reach
out and pull her down against me, wrapping my free hand around her, bringing
us as close as possible. Our bodies are slick, moving in a frenzy. Éowyn
buries her face in the crook of my neck, and the touch of her lips there
combined with the feeling of her strong thigh rubbing my moist center is too
much.

I scream my second release, faintly hearing her voice join mine.

This is bliss. A place with no worries or fear. Just warmth lingering, as we
lay here together, our bodies intertwined. I could stay here forever, with
her body the only thing I feel, her harsh breathing the only sound in the
world.

Like everything else in the world of Men, this moment has to pass
eventually. Éowyn slides off me, snuggling against my body. I follow her,
holding her close even as I reach out and pull a soft blanket over us both.
Her arms come around me.

"Galadriel..." She sighs, nuzzling my skin. She sounds exhausted, but
utterly content. "I did not know it would feel like this."

I raise my hand to brush her hair slowly. This has been a surprise to me as
well. Never in my life have I felt this burning passion and need. The union
of the flesh has always been overshadowed by the union of the mind. This
night has not called for that. My body is still aching from the acts of
pleasure, but my mind is still free.

Men are to be both envied and pitied for this. Simple pleasure that burns
away all reason. To be able to share something this profound without merging
one's soul with the other one's. It is incomprehensible to my kind.

But I do think I understand them better now. I understand how the world
would belong to their kind. They burn brightly, even though their lives last
for such a brief moment.

"Thank you." Her voice is quiet. "I do feel like I can survive tomorrow and
the days after that. I..." She searches for the correct words for a moment.
"I do not feel the desparation anymore. Your touch has burned it away."

Hot tears threaten to blind me for a moment, before I can blink them away. I
know what she means. Nothing has really changed, but now I feel I can leave
this land behind and maybe sometimes think of it with fond memories.

Kissing her brow, I murmur, "Sleep." She needs the rest, and to tell the
truth, so do I.

"You don't mind?" Éowyn looks up at me, a question in her eyes. It is as if
she thinks this is a dream from which she will wake any moment now.

I do not mind her presence. Quite the contrary. Her warmth is keeping me
warm as well. Her fire burning the desperation away, even for one night.
"No. I do not mind." What a lie. Right now I would beg her to stay.

She does not answer with words. I can feel her lips on my cheek, a soft
brush, and then she relaxes against me, her head resting on my shoulder. In
a few moments, he breathing evens, and I know she has fallen asleep.

Closing my eyes, I follow her to the deep slumber of the mortals, needing to
share this with her as well.

When I wake up, the dawn has barely broken. It is eerily quiet, no sounds of
birds or Men coming from outside these chambers.

I lie here for a moment, holding the slender form in my arms. Remembering
everything from last night, reveling it. Feeling a strange sort of peace.

The world is calm. Gone are the sorrow and the throbbing passion of the
night.

It will be good to travel today. It was the plan all along. We stay here for
the wedding, and then leave. Fade away quietly, without any ceremonies. For
the rituals of this time belong to Men. We should have no part in them.

Knowing the others will probably be gathering outside right now, I slip away
from the bed, leaving Éowyn alseep there. I walk softly to a basin by the
wall, and clean up. It is not the same as bathing in a clear stream, like in
the sparkling Celebrant, letting the currents wash you clean. But it will
have to do.

Éowyn is still asleep as I step back from the basin, dressed in my heavy
robes again. I watch her for a long moment.

She looks so young and innocent, curled on her side, her arm flung across
the mattress. There's no sight of the desperation on her face, she sleeps
peacefully.

I wonder what lies ahead of her. This is something I had not foreseen. Not
even my Mirror shows me everything, and even though it has revealed to me
things of the future I will be no part of, I do not know anything about the
fate of this young woman. I am hesitant. When I reach Lothlorien for the
last time, I will be tempted to go and see if my Mirror would reveal to me
her future.

That would be folly, though. I do not want to know, not deep inside. I want
to hold on to this one moment in time, and forever remember her as she is
now.

How strange. I will cherish this memory forever. For it has shown me a
glimpse of the world of Men I have never even dreamed of. I can not regret
losing myself in the whirlwind of passion, even though what I did was
something my people shun. Now I know what this world will be like, and I
will part from it with less sadness. I know that whatever grief the future
may bring to those who are left behind, they may find some joy in life as
well.

I walk to Éowyn's side, and then lean down to kiss her brow. I do not want
to wake her up. It's best to leave before she comes back from the land of
dreams.

Sighing, I straighten myself. It's time to go. I reach out for the table,
and put my ring back on my finger. The cool silver band reminds me of my
duty. I am once again Galadriel, the lady of Lorien, bearer of Nenya.

My lips curl into a smile, and before I can stop myself, I'm bending down
again, kissing Éowyn, sister of King Éomer one last time.

I do not want to hide behind lies. Whatever we shared this night was shared
by two women. I want to hold the feeling with me now, wearing all the
symblols of my position.

The small petals of Niphredil adorning my gown are shriveled. I pick one
blossom, and gently lie it on the pillow next to her. Her dislike for Elven
jewelery is understandable, but I want to leave her with something.

To remember me by.

One last look, and then I slip quietly out of the room. I have a long
journey ahead of me.

***
The End