Explanation

Their fingers touched as Galadriel handed Elladan a cup of mead.  He frowned slightly.  He was not yet sure whether he could accept his daernaneth’s silence as easily as he had his naneth’s.   He felt her sigh rather than heard it and raised his cloudy grey eyes to meet hers.

‘Not everything is a simple as we would like it to be,’ she murmured.

‘But I think,’ Elrohir spoke pleasantly over his shoulder, ‘that, wherever possible, explanations should be.’

Elladan caught a twinkle in Galadriel’s clear eyes.  She had always, he thought, appreciated his twin’s intelligence.  As elflings, he and his brother had often peeled apart in their grandparents’ presence, Elrohir to spend time questioning his daernaneth, while he went off to dive into adventure with Daeradar. 

‘So you do not accept that this was simply a joke at your expense?’ Galadriel asked.

‘Rather too obvious, do you not think?’

Elladan could hear the edge in his brother’s voice.  It was too obvious, he realised.  That was probably what made him feel so uncomfortable with the whole business.  None of those who had been part of the conspiracy were the sort of elves who would take pleasure in putting the pair of them in a position where they could humiliate themselves, still less in maintaining the deception over so long a period.  There had to be something behind it.

He caught the quickly-shielded flick of Galadriel’s eyes across the room to where the two silver-haired elves were deep in conversation.

‘Glorfindel will have relished the sheer ridiculousness of the situation,’ he observed.  ‘Adar might have found it entertaining at the time – we were at a rather aggravating stage.  He might have thought it would do us good to discover we were not as clever as we thought. But to let it go on . . .’

‘I simply did not think of it again,’ Galadriel shrugged.  ‘Not for centuries.  You returned to Imladris with Celebrían shortly afterwards – and then your sister was born. My lord and I spent many turns of the sun journeying – in Rhovanion, from Gondor and the borders of Mordor to Thranduil’s realm in the north.  In time we settled in Lothlórien – where we strove to hold back the forces of the dark.  I did not hear you attempting Khuzdul again and it did not cross my mind to wonder about it.  Not until after your naneth sailed.’  Her chin dropped and she seemed paler than usual.

Elrohir clasped her elbow.  ‘We gave little thought to your suffering at that time,’ he said gently.  ‘We were so immersed in our own grief that we could see little else.’

‘Your daeradar and I had each other.’ Galadriel shook her head as if to shed the memory.  ‘But we felt so helpless – there was nothing we could do to reach you and little enough that we could offer Elrond.  Even Arwen closed herself off for a time.’  She smiled wryly.  ‘I do not deal well with helplessness,’ she owned.

Elladan grinned.  ‘Is that so?’ he asked.  ‘I never would have suspected that!’

Galadriel raised her chin and looked down her nose at her grandson, who returned her stare affectionately.

‘The jest, when next it came to my attention, became something we shared with Celebrían,’ she said, losing herself into the past.  ‘Your daeradar spoke of your words in battle – and I was transported to a day in early spring, when my daughter was shining with joy; safe and secure in the love of her husband and sons.  And I laughed.’

Her grandsons moved slightly so that they were one with her rather than face to face. ‘We would have done anything to restore her in our hearts then,’ Elladan murmured.  ‘To see her happy and as she was.’

‘But our minds were haunted by . . .’ Elrohir stopped and swallowed, resolutely thrusting the images away.

‘I know.’ Galadriel’s voice held the bloodstained shadow of Alqualondë; the attrition of the Grinding Ice; the final echo of the screams in Menegroth.   

A cold shadow enveloped the three in the middle of the steady gleam of the lamps as they acknowledged the darkness and rejected it.

‘You were too angry, then,’ their daernaneth said bluntly, ‘to tell of something that seemed so unimportant – and you did not need to be told that your naneth had known of your deception.  And it gave us a treasured memory of our daughter – mischievous and happy, loving and whole, safe and with us as she could never be again east of the sea.’  She lifted her hands to touch a cheek of each of her grandsons.  ‘Legolas is right – it would have been an unkind trick to play on you, had it been intended as such,’ she murmured, ‘but it never was.’

Exchanging a quick look with his brother, Elladan leaned confidentially close to the Lady.  ‘I am sure, Daernaneth, that we can understand your motives – but if you should want to offer us some recompense for our long mortification. . .’  He paused, but receiving no discouragement, continued cautiously, ‘there is one on whom we would like to take a little – ahh – carefully considered revenge.’

Lady Galadriel tilted her head slightly as her eyes held his gaze. ‘And what would you consider to be suitable repayment, my grandson?’ she asked.

‘We would be very grateful, my lady,’ Elrohir confided, ‘if you would provide us with the names and whereabouts of those who could reveal the most embarrassing stories about the past of a certain most perfect example of elfhood . . .’  He grinned wickedly.

‘Who, here in the Blessed Realm, Daernaneth,’ Elladan chimed in, ‘can – and will – tell us all about Glorfindel’s most deeply hidden secrets, so that we can torment him as mercilessly as he does us?’