The halls of Onymë Ennorë were quiet in the late afternoon, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Anórien sat in the council chamber, his advisors discussing the latest strategies for strengthening the borders of Taur-im-Duinath. He listened intently, but his thoughts were distant. The years had been kind to his realm; his military had grown formidable, his people prospered, and the unity of the Avari tribes remained strong under his rule. Yet, despite the successes, a part of his heart remained restless.
Word from the outside world filtered in slowly to his secluded forest kingdom, but he had heard enough to trouble him. The tale of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë had reached his ears, and the subsequent ban of Quenya in Doriath by Thingol had surprised him. Anórien understood Thingol's grief and rage, but the news weighed heavily on his spirit. He thought often of Finwë, his father's dearest friend, and the shadow that now lingered over Finwë's descendants.
What occupied his heart most, however, was the knowledge that Galadriel had taken up residence in Nargothrond, the newly founded kingdom of her brother Finrod. He wondered if she thought of him as much as he thought of her, if she still remembered the promises they had whispered in the soft twilight of Doriath so many years ago.
A knock at the chamber door pulled him from his thoughts. A guard entered, his expression urgent. "My lord, a messenger has arrived. He bears news of great importance."
"Let him in," Anórien said, rising from his seat.
The messenger, a tall Elf clad in travel-worn garments, stepped forward and bowed deeply. "My lord Anórien, I bring greetings and a message from the northern lands. There is an Elf who has come to your borders seeking audience with you. She says her name is Galadriel of the House of Finarfin."
The room seemed to fall silent, the air charged with a sudden intensity. Anórien's heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, he could scarcely breathe. "Galadriel?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes, my lord," the messenger confirmed.
Anórien didn't wait for further explanation. "Prepare my horse," he commanded. "I will meet her myself."
His advisors exchanged surprised glances, but no one dared question him. Anórien left the chamber with purposeful strides, his long crimson cloak trailing behind him like a banner of flame. His heart pounded with anticipation, each beat echoing the years of longing and the hope he had clung to for so long.
It was not long before he reached the forest's edge, where a small group of guards stood waiting. There, beneath the dappled light of the trees, stood Galadriel. She was just as he remembered her, though the years seemed to have made her even more radiant. Her golden hair shimmered like sunlight, and her piercing gaze met his with a mixture of warmth and something deeper—something unspoken but unmistakable.
"Anórien," she said, her voice soft but steady.
"Galadriel," he breathed, dismounting from his horse and striding toward her. For a moment, they simply stood there, taking in the sight of one another, the years and distance between them melting away.
"I have come to see you," she said, a smile gracing her lips. "I could not stay away any longer."
He reached out, taking her hands in his. "You don't know how many times I dreamed of this moment," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I waited for you, just as I promised I would."
"And I knew you would," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "Though our paths have been different, my heart has always been with you."
They stood there, the forest around them alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but to Anórien, the world had narrowed to this single, perfect moment.
"Come," he said finally, his voice gentle. "Let me show you my realm, the home I've built with you in my heart."
Galadriel smiled, her fingers tightening around his. "I would like that very much."
As they walked together through the forest, Anórien's heart swelled with a joy he had not felt in years. Galadriel was here, by his side at last, and for the first time in a long while, he felt truly complete.
Their journey through the forest was slow, as they took the time to speak of all that had passed. Galadriel told him of Nargothrond and her brothers, of the challenges and beauty of her life there. Anórien spoke of his people and the strength they had built together, of his hope that she might one day call this realm her home.
By the time they reached the city, the sun was beginning to set, casting the white towers of Onymë Ennorë in hues of gold and crimson. Galadriel gazed at the city with awe and admiration.
"It is beautiful," she said, her voice filled with wonder.
"Not as beautiful as you," Anórien replied softly.
She turned to him, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "Anórien, my love," she said, stepping closer, "I am here now. Let us not waste any more time apart."
And there, beneath the golden light of the setting sun, they embraced, their hearts finally united after so many years. The people of Onymë Ennorë would later speak of the joy that radiated from their High King that day, a joy that seemed to bless the city and its people with renewed hope and light.
For Anórien, the years of waiting had been worth it. Galadriel was here, and his heart was whole once more.