Another Galadriel/Celeborn fanfic
Aug. 9th, 2012 02:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfwannabeTitle: Taking Notice
Fandom: Tolkien Universe, takes place during The Silmarillion
Characters/Pairings: Galadriel (aka Artanis)/Celeborn.
Summary: The first time that Galadriel and Celeborn truly noticed each other
Celeborn was only one among many in Thingol's court that day- an insignificant and unimportant kinsman of the king. Still, he was presented to the visiting Noldorian princes as were all his kin. He did not think to make an impression himself. To be frank, he cared little for their sudden appearance; there was something disquieting about it, though he could not say precisely what. But there was one who left an immediate impression on him. Artanis.
Oh, she was beautiful. There could be no doubting that. He had never seen a woman so radiant, but that was not what drew him to her. It was her bearing that captivated him so. She stood beside her brothers, tall and fair and as proud as all the rest. Yet there was something more- a gentle warmth that seemed to soften her and even, at times, a sort of quiet sadness.
She said nothing to him beyond the simple pleasantries required by etiquette. Not then. But over the coming weeks, he noticed her eloquence, her kindness, her passion- and, yes, her temper. In time he would come to know the full range of both her gifts and her faults. But in those early days, he felt once again as a small child staring in awe at the majesty of the starlit sky- so fair, so powerful, and so beyond his reach.
It seemed a parade of nobles was presented to her that day- kings and princes, scholars and warriors, poets and loremasters, all with hair as silver as the stars in the sky. He was just one of them, more handsome than most, but so quiet, so serious. She did not think much of him at that first meeting, far too caught up in her own fears, regrets, hopes, and dreams to pay great heed to a charming, though taciturn, young man.
It was weeks later, at a feast in the great hall, that Celeborn first truly caught her interest.
For the most part, there was little conflict between the Noldor and the Sindar in Doriath; Thingol's refusal to house more than his distant kin and their retinues saw to that. But certain tensions existed still and from time to time they flared. Much to her dismay, Artanis found herself in the middle of one such event. She had not intended to place herself there- to the contrary, she had expressed an appreciation for the Sindarin poetry she had learned at Melian's side.
But one of Finrod's attendants, Culmîr, ever as eager to impress as he was pleased with the sound of his own voice, happened to be nearby and decided to take the opportunity to expound upon the merits of their native Quenya. That in and of itself would have been fine. However, he had decided to do so by disparaging Sindarin- and none of Artanis' increasingly less subtle glares would silence him.
"It is such a brutish tongue in comparison to our own." He said "Suited well enough for day-to-day business and common speech such as this, but an ill-fit for the intricacies of poetry and politics."
It was Finrod's place to rebuke him, not hers, but a hopeful glance in her brother's direction revealed the reason for his inaction- he was far too busy conversing with a beautiful young lady. It would fall to her, she supposed. A well-placed biting remark should do it. She was in the process of formulating one when someone rather unexpected came to her rescue.
Celeborn- the man who had scarcely spoken three words since the feast began. The calm, rich tones of his voice jolted her from her thoughts. He had uttered a single Sindarin phrase- an unfamiliar one, followed by a quick explanation.
"It is an old proverb. You have not been at court long enough to have heard it, I am sure."
And it was true. Clever as they were, it took even the children of Finarfin longer than a few weeks to become fully fluent- and Culmîr was by no means their equal in that regard.
"The various qualities of our tongues matter far less than our ability to speak them."
Culmîr suddenly found himself at a lack for witticisms and developed a deep and abiding interest in examining the table. Good. He could use a little humility, even if it had to be forced upon him now and again.
Artanis' eyes met Celeborn's and he smiled. A soft smile, with just a hint of well-earned satisfaction. And it was meant just for her, an unspoken follow up to the more public exchange.
It was a most pleasant expression. She found herself wondering why he didn't make it more often- a thought which reddened her pale cheeks. She smiled in return and then ducked her head in embarrassment.
And it seemed to Celeborn that a star had come down to earth.
Oh, she was beautiful. There could be no doubting that. He had never seen a woman so radiant, but that was not what drew him to her. It was her bearing that captivated him so. She stood beside her brothers, tall and fair and as proud as all the rest. Yet there was something more- a gentle warmth that seemed to soften her and even, at times, a sort of quiet sadness.
She said nothing to him beyond the simple pleasantries required by etiquette. Not then. But over the coming weeks, he noticed her eloquence, her kindness, her passion- and, yes, her temper. In time he would come to know the full range of both her gifts and her faults. But in those early days, he felt once again as a small child staring in awe at the majesty of the starlit sky- so fair, so powerful, and so beyond his reach.
It seemed a parade of nobles was presented to her that day- kings and princes, scholars and warriors, poets and loremasters, all with hair as silver as the stars in the sky. He was just one of them, more handsome than most, but so quiet, so serious. She did not think much of him at that first meeting, far too caught up in her own fears, regrets, hopes, and dreams to pay great heed to a charming, though taciturn, young man.
It was weeks later, at a feast in the great hall, that Celeborn first truly caught her interest.
For the most part, there was little conflict between the Noldor and the Sindar in Doriath; Thingol's refusal to house more than his distant kin and their retinues saw to that. But certain tensions existed still and from time to time they flared. Much to her dismay, Artanis found herself in the middle of one such event. She had not intended to place herself there- to the contrary, she had expressed an appreciation for the Sindarin poetry she had learned at Melian's side.
But one of Finrod's attendants, Culmîr, ever as eager to impress as he was pleased with the sound of his own voice, happened to be nearby and decided to take the opportunity to expound upon the merits of their native Quenya. That in and of itself would have been fine. However, he had decided to do so by disparaging Sindarin- and none of Artanis' increasingly less subtle glares would silence him.
"It is such a brutish tongue in comparison to our own." He said "Suited well enough for day-to-day business and common speech such as this, but an ill-fit for the intricacies of poetry and politics."
It was Finrod's place to rebuke him, not hers, but a hopeful glance in her brother's direction revealed the reason for his inaction- he was far too busy conversing with a beautiful young lady. It would fall to her, she supposed. A well-placed biting remark should do it. She was in the process of formulating one when someone rather unexpected came to her rescue.
Celeborn- the man who had scarcely spoken three words since the feast began. The calm, rich tones of his voice jolted her from her thoughts. He had uttered a single Sindarin phrase- an unfamiliar one, followed by a quick explanation.
"It is an old proverb. You have not been at court long enough to have heard it, I am sure."
And it was true. Clever as they were, it took even the children of Finarfin longer than a few weeks to become fully fluent- and Culmîr was by no means their equal in that regard.
"The various qualities of our tongues matter far less than our ability to speak them."
Culmîr suddenly found himself at a lack for witticisms and developed a deep and abiding interest in examining the table. Good. He could use a little humility, even if it had to be forced upon him now and again.
Artanis' eyes met Celeborn's and he smiled. A soft smile, with just a hint of well-earned satisfaction. And it was meant just for her, an unspoken follow up to the more public exchange.
It was a most pleasant expression. She found herself wondering why he didn't make it more often- a thought which reddened her pale cheeks. She smiled in return and then ducked her head in embarrassment.
And it seemed to Celeborn that a star had come down to earth.