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matrixbearer2024 · 2 days ago

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Suffering

Are you really even living? Or simply surviving doctor? When had immortality turned from a blessing into a curse? More importantly, did you really even care? Or did you only care because you're now all alone?

AKA; Ford internalizing now that he's alone and invulnerable to the sands of time. The same can't be totally said for his mental state though. After all, he's only human.

Songfic based on "Suffering" by Amelie Farren written for my Time Lord Twins AU!

I'm very delulu for my AU- so have a sneak peek into Doc's future with this song fic I wrote. I have three distinct moments for Stanford as the Doctor in my timelord twins AU:

the Doctor that neglects — when he was young and was only a Doctor thanks to his PhDs

the Doctor that regrets — present, where I normally create content for him and where his blog and RP are currently situated

the Doctor that forgets — the far flung future where he outlives everybody and completely embraces being a time lord

I'll be tagging these posts accordingly, but I'd love to talk about his lore much more if you guys are interested!

The sun had long dipped below the edge of the cosmos, surrendering to the sea of stars that now spilled across the boundless sky. Within the TARDIS, Stanford stood against the vast backdrop of that eternal night, the hum of the ship's machinery a constant, soothing drone beneath the cacophony of his thoughts. The silver pill case in his hand reflected the light of a nearby console, gleaming with a sterile brightness that made his skin crawl. He turned it over between his fingers, contemplating the small white tablets that represented his fragile tether to equilibrium.

I've thrown aside my worries, but the cares they bite me back. I'm taking twenty vitamins a day, for the iron I lack.

Stanford grimaced, the corners of his lips pulling downward as the familiar bitterness welled up in his throat. He tilted his head back and swallowed the pills dry, feeling them scrape down his throat as if rebelling against their purpose. Sustenance without substance, that was his life now. He no longer needed food to keep going, no longer needed the simple pleasures of living— he only indulged when he could remember to, when the aching loneliness hadn’t numbed his senses entirely.

I don't need food I don't need sleep, don't tell me that I'm wrong! I don't know what I'm doing— But can you please just play along?

The first decade had clawed at him with relentless, gnawing grief. Each year afterward seemed to find a new way to hollow him out, chiseling deeper into the marrow of his being until there was nothing left but the echo of old anguish. He would lie awake in the captain’s chair or pace the TARDIS halls, every footfall a metronome counting out regrets. Days would bleed into each other, a palette of shadows smearing over any sense of time. He’d stopped counting birthdays after the 200th, the last one he’d shared with Stanley.

Why count when the numbers stretched toward an infinity he wanted nothing to do with?

My head is made of flowers, and my body made of steel. Cause I can't think— Can't hear— can't feel!

Stanford’s fingers flexed, muscles tightening and releasing as if testing the reality of their presence. The memories surged forward like a wave, unstoppable and suffocating— hands covered in grime and ash, eyes stinging from the smoke that rose like specters around him, the taste of iron sharp on his tongue. He had touched the stars, commanded them, until they burned him to cinders. His mind was an overgrown thicket now, vines of regret and bitterness weaving through every synapse, thorned reminders of a past he could neither escape nor amend.

When he closed his eyes, he could see them— faces etched into the void, voices calling out in anguish as they fell. Each step, each choice, stained his path with crimson guilt. He felt like a monument to grief, immovable and ever-decaying.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything Cause I can't see!

The doctor let out a breath that shuddered its way past his chest, eyes straying to the holographic stars projected across the TARDIS library. What he once chased with fervor and ambition had turned into an unyielding prison. The titles of “healer” and “teacher”, which once filled him with pride, now felt like weights dragging him deeper into the abyss. What good was saving worlds when he couldn’t save his own heart from splintering?

I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? Cause suffering in silence is better—

He could scream, tear at the walls and curse the very fabric of the universe, but he didn’t. The tears had dried up centuries ago, leaving him a stoic effigy among the whirring consoles and glowing monitors. The charade was familiar— a smile that never reached his eyes, words measured and wrapped in carefully crafted ease. He was an actor in the greatest tragedy ever told, where the curtains never fell.

Than suffering with you.

The doctor’s gaze dropped to the leather-bound journal resting on the armrest of his chair, untouched for days. The pages within held maps of stars, sketches of constellations, and annotations written with a frantic hand, desperate to capture even a fragment of meaning. The room around him felt cavernous, echoing with memories of Dipper’s quick wit and Mabel’s bright laughter. He could almost hear them, almost see their shadows darting between bookshelves.

But it was only him, just him, marooned in this endless stretch of time.

So I jumped out with a parachute, but the ground caught me off guard. Karma for the rules I break, the ones I disregard.

The temptation to go back, to step through rifts that bent reality and visit those moments, was irresistible. He’d done it before, left the TARDIS hidden among the trees and traced the familiar paths of Gravity Falls with trembling steps. His heart would clench as he watched past versions of himself and his twin squabble over nonsense, the cheery voices of his grand niece and nephew not long to join. Their voices carrying over the wind with the kind of ease that only came before everything shattered.

I can feel the tension rising. What fate is worse than this? Stuck between the ones I love—

He’d watch them, hidden in the shadows of his own memories, a ghost to a life he once lived. Cosmic rules be damned. He’d listen to the echoes of their laughter until it felt like it would break him, that painful, beautiful sound that underscored just how far he’d fallen. But even then, he would not dare approach, would not dare alter a single second.

And the ones I miss.

Stanford’s eyes shifted to the flickering flames of the library’s fireplace, its light casting restless, dancing shadows across the room. The orange glow did little to warm the chill embedded in his bones. How many Fords, across how many dimensions, would have craved this? A sanctuary lined with knowledge and power, the respect of entire galaxies balanced on a single whispered name— ‘Doctor.’ And yet, it was all as hollow as the space between the stars.

My head is made of shrubbery, and my body made of stone. Cause I can't for the life of me— reap what I have sown!

He tightened his hold on the armrest, the leather creaking under his grip. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It never should have come to this— sailing across time, trapped in a machine that hummed with its own form of loneliness, while he wore a mask that no one ever questioned. It felt like being both the sculptor and the statue, shaping and trapped by the life he’d carved out.

They say a picture's worth a thousand words, but I disagree. I can't imagine anything, 'cause I can't see!

The weight of immortality, once so alluring, now coiled around him like iron shackles. What did it matter if entire legions paused at the utterance of his name? What did it matter if beings far beyond human comprehension flinched at the sight of him? It meant nothing without the echoes of laughter, without the warmth of shared stories and the unspoken understanding of his family’s presence beside him.

I won't break the ice though what else Is there to do? 'Cause suffering in silence is better—

He filled the silence with companions, short-lived stars that burned bright and fizzled out too quickly. They were there, and then they weren’t. Time was relentless, wearing them down to memories while he stood unchanged. Each one chipped away at him, left him a little more hollow. His only true constant was Stanley, and even he didn’t know the full story. Ford wouldn’t let him, couldn’t let him see that far into the dark.

Than suffering with you.

The TARDIS thrummed, a soft, sympathetic sound that vibrated through his bones as if it, too, mourned the lives they’d shared and lost. Ford exhaled, the heaviness in his chest pressing down like a stone. He could carry this, he would carry this— because if there was one thing he’d learned in all these centuries, it was that some battles are never meant to be shared. Some wars are fought in silence, against an enemy that wore your face in the mirror.

And if the burden grew too heavy, well— he was the Doctor. He would bear it alone.

He had to.

I try to sink and never float.

Some days, the weight was manageable, a familiar companion that settled over him like a well-worn cloak. But tonight, the burden felt insurmountable, pressing against his chest until each breath tasted sharp, like the metallic tang of blood from battles fought too long ago to matter and yet too vivid to forget.

Stanford’s eyes turned to the viewport, where the stars blinked back at him with their indifferent light. Once, those points of light had been symbols of promise, of adventure and uncharted paths. Now they were cold eyes watching as he drifted— an eternal voyager, bound by his own choices and the mistakes that clung to him like barnacles on a shipwreck.

Cause my head is underwater.

The doctor’s fingers found the edge of his sleeve, gripping it tight as though it could anchor him. The silence roared in his ears, the kind that made old wounds ache with the sharpness of fresh cuts. Memories of splintered wood and that familiar bite of ozone filled his senses. The frantic fight, the blinding light, the hole that had torn through his chest— a wound that should have marked the end. He let out a shuddering breath, feeling phantom pain coil around him like a serpent.

I’m here by choice by my own hand.

The most damning part was knowing that every fracture, every scar, was carved by his own hand. He’d walked into the chaos willingly, driven by an insatiable need to prove something— to whom, he couldn’t even remember anymore. A need that had led him to make choices that, at best, haunted him and, at worst, had cost him everything.

I’m a lamb sent into slaughter.

He ran a hand through his hair, disheveling the silver strands that had once been a youthful umber. The weight in his chest grew heavier, spreading through his limbs. He remembered the moment he’d sealed his fate with a handshake and a grin, signing away pieces of himself to a demon who promised everything and gave nothing but ruin. Even now, the jeers of that one-eyed triangle haunted the corners of his vision, mocking him with every beat of his undying heart.

I’m aware of my own body.

Every nerve ending screamed in protest as memories flared to life. The repair box’s nanobots— an endless legion that buzzed beneath his skin— worked tirelessly, a ceaseless reminder that he wasn’t wholly his own anymore. Some days, he could almost feel them moving, an itch he could never scratch. His hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white as he resisted the impulse to claw at the sensation, to rip it out and make it stop.

I can feel beneath my skin.

But he didn’t. He never did. The discipline of centuries held him captive, a slave to his own stoic facade. He swallowed hard, letting the tension dissipate as much as it ever could, settling like sediment at the bottom of his soul. The fire’s light flickered over his features, casting deep shadows that made his face look carved from stone.

I can wash away my insecurities.

He stood abruptly, the sudden motion sending a wave of dizziness through him. The doctor steadied himself against the back of the chair, eyes closing as he drew in a breath. The act was as much a ritual as any he performed— a way to wash the fractures of his spirit, to convince himself that he was still whole. But deep down, he knew.

But can’t wash away my sin!

No amount of time, no act of heroism, could ever cleanse the burgundy that stained his hands. It was a truth that gnawed at him, a constant shadow that whispered during his moments of quiet. He turned toward the shelves, running a finger over the spine of a book he’d read a hundred times but never truly absorbed. Knowledge without purpose— just like him.

They say a picture’s worth a thousand words, but I disagree! I can’t imagine anything—

The holographic stars in the library blinked and swirled, shifting constellations that once spoke of wonder and exploration. Now, they were a cruel reminder of all the places he’d been, all the faces he’d left behind. He raised a fist, hesitated, then let it fall to his side. He couldn’t even find the anger to break the illusion.

Cause I can’t see!

His vision blurred, not with tears— those had dried up long ago— but with the weight of exhaustion that pressed down on him like a vice. Every accolade, every whispered praise, fell flat, their meaning washed away by the tides of time and repetition. The applause of civilizations felt no different than the hollow sound of silence.

I won’t break the ice though what else Is there to do?

The cold chill crept into his veins, a familiar companion that had shared his endless nights. Yet, he dared not crack the veneer he’d cultivated— that smile, that reassuring nod. It was a mask, as impenetrable as the TARDIS walls. To break it would mean shattering the delicate balance that kept him standing.

Cause suffering in silence is better—

Stanford’s fingers brushed against the journal again, the touch almost reverent, as if it held the answers he’d long given up searching for. The one story he couldn’t write was his own— each word caught in the tangle of what-ifs and could-have-beens that ensnared his mind.

Than suffering with you!

He swallowed back the ache, pushing it down to the depths where it simmered and seethed. To bear it alone was better; it was safer. The doctor would stand, resolute and silent, a guardian of time burdened by its cruelest truths.

And as the night deepened, the stars outside continued their silent vigil, unmoved by the man who carried the weight of universes in his lonely fractured heart.

Tell me what you think about these two! I've got more drabbles in store for them aside from the content already on both their blogs @gftimelord & @gftimelordstwin! Also posted here on Ao3!

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celeborn-of-doriath · 1 day ago

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RETRACTED because i missed a big yikes

// To the part under the cut, yes absolutely. I've always taken this passage from Unfinished Tales, combined with Tolkien's further elucidation of it in his letters, to mean that Celeborn and Galadriel were absolutely having sex and engaged in some sort of common law marriage prior to any official marriage. In my opinion, this is much more consistent with Celeborn's personality and ethnicity as well.

Tolkien specifies that: "In happy days and times of peace it was held ungracious and contemptuous of kin to forgo the ceremonies, but it was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, both being unwed, to marry thus of free consent one to another without ceremony or witness (save blessings exchanged and the naming of the Name); and the union so joined was alike indissoluble. In days of old, in times of trouble, in flight and exile and wandering, such marriages were often made."

Given the constant danger that the Sindar were accustomed to, particularly prior to the establishment of Melian's girdle, and the fact it seems that Thingol and Melian themselves may have wed in this fashion as well, I've personally always interpreted it as something probably somewhat common amongst the Sindar and other elves indigenous to Middle Earth. As far as the "fanon" regarding Celeborn is concerned, most of the prominent fanfic authors who write his character seem to have also settled on this same understanding.

If I have one regret regarding my fanfics from 10+ years ago, it's that I didn't follow this interpretation in the fics, despite personally holding this opinion. 10~20 years ago, despite many fic authors holding this opinion about Celeborn and Galadriel, fandom overall was heavily biased against any sort of pre-marital sex between elves. Most of those fics lived on now-defunct websites like adultfanfiction . net, which was also where most LGBTQ content was forced to live. Writing this kind of stuff on more mainstream fanfic sites of the late 90s and early 2000s was sure to get you flamed out of the fandom. However, in retrospect, I wish I'd never given in to that pressure. Unfortunately, what's done is done and I'm not going to go back and completely rewrite my over 500,000 words of fanfic. 😅

But yeah, if anyone wonders why you can't find much of that stuff, it's not because we never wrote it, it's because we were forced to write it in secret and publish it places most fans didn't frequent and that now no longer exist. Those were the dark days. Honestly, it has been an honor and a privilege to watch this fandom grow to where these things are common and accepted now. It's a much more welcoming place with much more freedom to explore these concepts.

I know people think fandom can be toxic now but, believe me, for those of us Celeborn/Galadriel fic writers who survived the late 90s and early 2000s in this fandom, what we have now is an overwhelming improvement. It used to be sooooo bad, guys. I dont' know how to tell you what a relief it is now that I can finally write the way I wanted to write all along, full of queer stuff and pre-marital Celeborn/Galadriel stuff 😅. I only wish I had more years of my life left to write in this new and freer fandom, but a lot of us from those old days are in our 40s and 50s now. We crawled through the trenches so you all can run today. Please cherish it always and forever. Write those fics, write them all. Be queer, be sexy, be proud.

Galadriel in Season 1-2 of “Rings of Power”: Valiant, Prideful and the Darkness Within

Galadriel was born during the Years of the Trees, on Valinor, the only daughter of High King of the Noldor, Finarfin, sister to three brothers. She was named “Artanis” by her father, and “Galadriel” (Sindarin for “Maiden crowned with gleaming hair”) is the name she took after marrying prince Celebron, in Doriath (Middle-earth).

In her youth, Galadriel was known for her proud, strong and self-willed temperament, and for the unmatched beauty of her hair. She had the golden hair of her kin, but hers was particularly striking, shot with silver, and beautiful. And so much so that Fëanor was inspired by how the light of the Two Trees of Valinor caught her hair to craft the Silmarils. Three times he asked her for a few strands of it, and three times Galadriel refuse him. Galadriel couldn’t stand Fëanor and saw the growing darkness in him; most likely because it was the same as within herself.

Tolkien describes Galadriel as “of Amazon disposition”, “strong of body, mind and will, a match for both the loremasters and the athletes of the Eldar in the days of their youth”, and she would “bound up her hair as a crown when taking part in athletic feats”. Her mother called her Nerwen, “man-maiden”.

Departure from Valinor

Galadriel is adventurous, ambitious “and like her brother Finrod, of all her kindred the nearest to her in heart, she had dreams of far lands and dominions that might be her own to order as she would without tutelage [from the Valar]”.

Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand that day tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone [from Valinor]. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled her heart, and she yearned to see the wide untrodden lands and to rule there a realm at her own will. For the youngest of the House of Finwë she came into the world west of the Sea, and knew yet nought of the unguarded lands. Morgoth’s Ring

In Unfinished Tales, Tolkien tells us Galadriel wanted to leave Valinor and travel to Middle-earth to exercise her talents; being brilliant in mind and swift in action she had early absorbed all of what she was capable of the teaching which the Valar thought fit to give the Eldar’, and she felt confined in the tutelage of Aman. In Valinor, Galadriel had been a pupil of both Aulë and Yavanna, and felt the Valar had already taught her everything they were allowed to.

This can look like a level of arrogance of the likes of Fëanor, however, this is not how Tolkien sees it. Galadriel is presented like a character full of potential, spirit and talent. And even Manwë, the King of the Valar himself, has heard of her desire to leave for Middle-earth and didn’t oppose.

Refusing the Valar pardon

At the end of the First Age she [Galadriel] proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return. Tolkien Letter 320

And this is the Galadriel we meet in the first episode of “Rings of Power”. The audience can immediately perceive she’s strong-willed, proud and rebellious, acting against orders of the High-king of the Noldor, Gil-galad, in her endless hunt for Sauron, Morgoth’s sucessor and the responsible for her brother’s death.

Galadriel is also the only Elf in Middle-earth who believes that Sauron is still out there, and means to find and destroy him, at any cost. “More and more of our kind began to believe that Sauron was but a memory. And the threat, at last, was ended. I wish I could be one of them.”

It was not your company who defied you out there, but rather you who defied the High King, by refusing to heed any limit placed upon you. In an act of magnanimity, he has chosen to honor your accomplishments… Rather than dwell upon your insolence. Test him again and you may find him less receptive than you might have hoped. Elrond warns Galadriel, 1x01

Gil-galad “honors” Galadriel by granting her passage to return to Valinor, and rest in glory. But she’s set on refusing, not because she’s certain Sauron will return, and wants to find him, but due to her belief she won’t find inner peace, until she accomplishes that, as she tells Elrond in the same episode:

Elrond: Do you truly believe seeking him out will satisfy you? That one more Orc upon the point of your blade will bring you peace? […] If you are wrong, will you lead more Elves to die in far-off lands? To convince yourself you have done enough, how many more statues would you add to this path? No one in history has ever refused the call. Do so now, it may never come again. Do so now, it may never come again. You will linger here, an outcast, poisoned in dark whispers and dreams. Galadriel: And in the West, do you think my fate would be better? Where song would mock the cries of battle in my ears? You say I have won victory over all the horrors of Middle-earth. Yet you would leave them alive in me? To take with me? Undying, unchanging, unbreaking, into the land of winter less spring? Elrond: Only in the Blessed Realm can that which is broken in you be healed. Go there. Go, and I promise you… If but a whisper of a rumor of the threat you perceive proves true, I will not rest until it is put right. You have fought long enough, Galadriel. Put up your sword.

I would also like to point out Elrond foreshadowing Galadriel’s banishment in this scene. And this is very much in line with what Tolkien wrote:

[Galadriel] had no peace within. Pride still moved her when, at the end of the Elder Days after the final overthrow of Morgoth, she refused the pardon of the Valar for all who had fought against him, and remained in Middle-earth. It was not until two long ages more had passed, when at last all she had desired in her youth came to her hand, the Ring of Power and the dominion of Middle-earth of which she had dreamed, that her wisdom was full grown and she rejected it, and passing the last test departed from Middle-earth forever. The Peoples of Middle-earth

The Darkness Within

“Rings of Power” presents some explanations to Galadriel refusing the Valar’s pardon and staying in Middle-earth. At the surface, it’s because she wants to hunt down Sauron, defeat him, and for Halbrand to be “The Lost King” who could ride [her] to victory, like Elrond says, in 2x02.

It’s because of her pride, or her desire for vengeance. However, in 1x05, and in a moment of vulnerability with Halbrand aka Repentant Mairon, she reveals the true reason behind her restless pursuit of Sauron:

Galadriel sees her endless pursue for Sauron as the means to earn her inner peace after everything she saw, did and endured on Middle-earth. It’s connected to her pride, yes, but also to her greatest and deepest desire of healing. And this is why she can’t stop her pursuit, even when we, the audience, watch Galadriel endanger her companions’ lives in 1x01. She believes only when she destroys Sauron, will she destroy the darkness within herself.

Indeed he does, because Sauron wants to heal Middle-earth from Morgoth’s corruption, at this point in his own character arc. But the “darkness within” has been present in Galadriel’s character ever since the prologue of “Rings of Power”, and this is also in line with Tolkien legendarium, as Galadriel recognizes the darkness in others as a mirror to her own, and how she refuses to talk about her time in Valinor with Melian.

And in Season 1, we see Galadriel employing some questionable tactics; in Númenor she acts behind Halbrand’s back with Queen regent Míriel to get herself an army (the army she claims to Adar Sauron promised her, in 2x06), and travel to the Southlands and defeat Sauron. There, she vows to genocide the Orcs and killing some of them in a gruesome manner (bringing them into the sunlight) just for Adar to reveal Sauron’s whereabouts, even though he already told her the truth (as he knows it): he killed Sauron.

It would seem I'm not the only Elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth's successor should have ended in your own mirror. Adar taunts Galadriel, 1x06

And Adar will not be the only character to mention the pull to the darkness in Galadriel, in “Rings of Power”:

The light of Valinor shone upon your very face, Galadriel, and you turned your back on it. Was it truly to fight the darkness or was the darkness calling to you? Elrond, 2x01

This is more noticeable with Repentant Mairon aka Halbrand, when she acts the “Morgoth” to his “Sauron”, by tempting him with power while he’s on a quest for redemption. By then, we already have some pieces of foreshadowing on this. We have Gil-galad’s prophecy in 1x01: “We foresaw that if it had, she [Galadriel] might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat [Sauron]. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.”

And we also see Galadriel in connection with the Fall of Númenor visions, in Season 1:

And Mairon himself confirms this in 1x08. And that explains his “are they not the seeds you planted?” in Season 2. Because she’s the one who tempted him with power, and with the pouch of the King of the Southlands (Morgoth), when he wanted to remain in Númenor in servitude, and to prove his good faith to the Valar, and redeem himself from his crimes under Morgoth.

However, not only Galadriel established a connection with him, but also said “I’ve felt it too” when he expressed his wish to bind himself to her (“Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...”). She gave him the validation he wanted, and made him believe she would offer him forgiveness, and he would earn the redemption he so desperately wanted. But she didn’t, she cast him out. And he wouldn’t let it slide that easily, as we’ve been in Season 2.

Growing in Wisdom

In Season 2, we saw some glimpses of Galadriel letting go of her arrogance and “galloping”, and seeing the “bigger picture” in some occasions. This is foreshadowing for her future character arc, as the wise and compassionate, yet fierce and valiant, leader we know her to be on the Third Age. From Tolkien lore, we know that as she grows in wisdom and power (“elf magic” as Sam calls it), Galadriel will leave her pride behind.

Arondir. There is a dearth of Elven heroes this night. It would be a pity to lose another. Galadriel advises Arondir not to attack Adar, 2x07

But perhaps her last scene with Adar, in 2x08, was the most emblematic of this. She has been to the Orc camp, and witnessed the funeral rites, and how the Orcs live, and realized that, maybe, they aren’t the scourged slaves she believed them to be, back in Season 1. Each one of them has a personality. Like Adar told her, in 1x06: “We are creations of The One, Master of the Secret Fire, the same as you. As worthy of the breath of life, and just as worthy of a home.”

And Galadriel is becoming more attuned to every race in Middle-earth, and the Orcs were only the beginning. And she was willingly to make an alliance with Adar, at the end. They shared an agreement (until Sauron showed up and put an end to that). But more importantly, Adar forgives Galadriel for her hatred and her killing of the Orcs. And, as I’ve talked about on my post on Repentant Mairon (aka Halbrand), forgiveness is a major theme in Tolkien legendarium, and it’s not only earned, but given as well. And by forgiving Galadriel and returning Nenya to her, Adar redeems himself (just like Gollum; which is a theme I talked about here).

Banishment from Valinor

In Letter 353, Tolkien confirms that “Galadriel was 'unstained': she had committed no evil deeds”, concerning the Oath of Fëanor. She took no part in any of that; because “she was an enemy of Fëanor”. In the same letter, Tolkien tells us Galadriel reached Middle-earth independently, and not alongside the other Noldor. And her desires were legitimate, but “she became involved in the desperate measures of Manwë, and the ban on all emigrations”.

Many (Christopher Tolkien included) think this contradicts Galadriel’s banishment from returning to Valinor. But this is an idea (“the banishment of Galadriel”) Tolkien has in place in several sources of his work. And it wouldn’t be the first time Christopher Tolkien misinterpreted his father work, either, with the Dagor Dagorath being a prime example, when he thinks Tolkien abandoned the concept when he didn’t (Christopher later corrected this, though).

And it has been noticed by many Tolkien scholars how Christopher Tolkien has “tone down” his father’s female characters on his notes and editions, too. With Galadriel being a prime example of this. Tolkien tells us on several occasions that Galadriel had aspirations of power and dominion, she wanted a kingdom of her own, to rule as she saw fit, and that’s why she remained on Middle-earth, and refused the Valar’s pardon. However, Christopher decided to strip Galadriel of her agency, and even attempted to whitewash her character by claiming she wanted to stay on Middle-earth due to her love for Celeborn, when this has nothing to do with what Tolkien himself wrote. So, excuse me, for talking his interpretation with a grain of salt.

And, since Galadriel is married to Celeborn, of course, he’s included on her plans of having a kingdom of her own (to be otherwise wouldn’t make sense), with them both ruling it, but Galadriel wants to be the one “calling the shots”. And this dynamic is what will happen in Lothlórien: Celeborn is lord, but Galadriel is *the* Lady, without her husband overstep or overshining her. I’m not seeing any contradiction here. Maybe a case of “overthinking”, because Letter 353 appears to be about Galadriel not taking the Oath of Fëanor (and that’s not the reason for her banishment).

I owe much of this character to Christian and Catholic teachings and imagination of Mary, but actually Galadriel was a penitent, in her youth, a leader in the rebellion against the Valar (the angelic guardians). At the end of the First Age she proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return. She was pardoned because of her resistance to the final and overwhelming temptation to take the [One] Ring for herself. Tolkien Letter 320

I already theorized about Galadriel connection to the Virgin Mary (she’s not “the Virgin Mary”, but a “devotee of the Virgin Mary” in Tolkien lore) but I think Tolkien is being very clear with his words here. He considers Galadriel a “repentant sinner”, and he doesn’t contradict himself at all. Because a desire for power and dominion are not positive traits on his legendarium. And the confirmation that she was pardoned by the Valar when she resists the One Ring, clearly indicates there was something more at work, and is connected with her return to Valinor.

In “Fellowship of the Ring” book, this is also clear: “I pass the test,” she says, “I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.” Her “passing the test” and resisting the One Ring is connected with her returning to Valinor.

We know, from Tolkien lore, Galadriel develops “sea longing” on the Third Age, and has a deep desire to return to Valinor, to the point of depression (she sings laments about it). One can argue she stays out of duty, but then why is she “pardoned” by the Valar after rejecting the One Ring and can now go to Valinor? The only explanation is that Galadriel was, indeed, banished, and her resisting the One Ring is her final test. She passes the test, the Valar pardon her, her banishment is lifted, and she returns to Valinor at the end of “The Return of the King”. No contradictions there.

On Christopher’s defense, he probably thought Galadriel “desiring power and dominion” weren’t good enough reasons for her to be banished from Valinor, and that’s a plot hole “Rings of Power” is trying to answer, with her connection with Sauron, and the temptations he offers her. He is, after all, the one who introduces the “desire for power and dominion” to her character arc in the show; by offering her temptations and promises of endless power (his power). Which means, Galadriel’s desire for dominion and power from Tolkien lore is personified by Sauron in the show. And the reason for her banishment, will be, also, connected to him, somehow, for Sauron has already offered her the same temptation as the One ring, thousands of years into the future:

And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair! She lifted up her hand and from the ring that she wore there issued a great light that illumined her alone and left all else dark. She stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. Fellowship of the Ring

In Tolkien legendarium, it’s not Galadriel adventurous or valiant nature that gets her into trouble with the Valar, but her rebellious spirit, and her pride, above of all, that lead her defy their authority, and wanting to claim a kingdom of her own where she can make her own rules. In “Rings of Power” the disapproval of the Valar are personified in the characters of Gil-galad and Elrond.

Indeed, her disregard for the Valar laws is visible on several occasions in lore. Not only she “proudly refused” their pardon to return to Valinor, at the dawn of the Second Age, but Tolkien tells us, in Unfinished Tales: Celeborn was the lover of Galadriel, who she later wedded. In Letter 43, Tolkien defines what he means by “a lover” (in general): “engaging and blending all his affections and powers of mind and body in a complex emotion powerfully coloured and energized by sex”.

This seems to imply, Galadriel didn’t wait to be “officially” married (ceremony, feast) to Celeborn before consummating their union. For the Eldar, “sex = marriage”, indeed, but the way Tolkien phrases this seems to indicate Galadriel doesn’t concern herself with the Eldar ways, and took Celeborn as her lover before any thought of actual marriage. Because language is extremely important in Tolkien, and we already know “sex = marriage” for the Eldar, so him writing this about Galadriel’s character means there’s something more to it.

Interestingly enough, these two themes are present in Tolkien last letter concerning Galadriel, in 1973 (the year of his passing). Without context, however, it’s insure if the two are related or not, so read this with a whole saltshaker:

I meant right away to deal with Galadriel, and with the question of Elvish child-bearing.

#. ooc

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