"Galadriel!"
Lúthien halted mid-step, her dance breaking as she looked up in surprise. Her gaze flicked from Galadriel to the man beside her, lingering on the white wings folded behind his back.
"So this is the human everyone's been talking about?" she asked, eyes bright with curiosity.
"'Hero' is too generous," Rowan said, still faintly regretful that her dance had been interrupted. "I only did what I could."
Lúthien studied him openly, unguarded interest in her expression. "I've never met a human before. Angrod and Aegnor spoke of you. They said you animated stone giants to fight, that you could fly, that your magic drove Sauron back and helped slay a dragon, forcing Morgoth's armies to retreat."
When the two princes had said those words before Thingol, Galadriel had already left the hall. Lúthien, however, had listened to every word.
She had lived her entire life in the forests of Region, never once stepping beyond them. Since Galadriel arrived and spoke of the wider world, curiosity had taken root. Hearing of a human capable of such deeds had only deepened it.
Her father had dismissed the account outright, convinced it was exaggeration meant to push him into war.
Lúthien herself had doubted it too.
But seeing Rowan descend from the sky with Galadriel beside him made that doubt waver.
"Is it true?" Galadriel asked sharply, her eyes lighting up as she looked at Rowan. "Your magic really is that strong?"
She remembered her brother's letter. She remembered the wings. For the first time, she suspected she had underestimated him.
More than a century ago, she had seen the first humans who migrated west. They were half-clothed, without writing, barely more advanced than animals in her eyes. After that, she came to Doriath to study under Melian and never encountered humans again.
Strength was not something she associated with them.
It was like being told that a stray cat you once fed had descendants who now commanded armies and built weapons that ruled the skies. Absurd. Impossible.
Rowan shook his head lightly. "Some of that was overstated. Finrod carried much of the fight against Sauron, and the dragon fell because several of us worked together."
He spoke plainly. Inflated legends would only harden Thingol's disbelief.
Galadriel's smile widened anyway. "So your magic really is impressive. Will you show us?"
There was excitement in her voice. In all of Doriath, only Thingol, Melian, and Lúthien could truly challenge her. If Rowan was as capable as rumored, she would finally have someone worth sparring with.
Lúthien, who disliked conflict and preferred song and dance, leaned forward with quiet anticipation. She wanted to see it too.
"Of course," Rowan said. "But not here. And not yet. I came to ask for exchange between our peoples, and for Doriath to stand against Morgoth's armies. I'll show my magic before your father, so he can judge the truth for himself."
"That makes sense," Galadriel said quickly. She slipped her arm through Lúthien's and smiled sweetly. "You'll speak for us, won't you? Father always listens to you."
Lúthien sighed, already aware of the difficulty ahead. "I'll try. But he fears war, and so do the nobles."
Rowan spoke before Galadriel could reply. "Peace can be dangerous when it blinds you to what's coming. If you only guard what you have now, you may lose everything when the future finally arrives."
Lúthien turned to him, something shifting in her eyes.
"That's… well said," she murmured. "Strange to hear such foresight from someone whose life is measured in decades."
Her curiosity deepened into something warmer. From the moment she saw him, she had sensed an unusual depth to Rowan, a feeling of long roads walked and distant worlds seen. For someone who had remained in one forest for thousands of years, that quality was irresistible.
"I'll do what I can," she said at last. "I'll speak to my father."
"I knew it!" Galadriel laughed, spinning her around before setting her back down.
Galadriel had not yet lived through the loss of her brothers or the ruin that would one day bury the Noldor beneath mountains of the dead. She was still the proud, hopeful princess who believed in battle and glory.
Lúthien only smiled at her, then turned to Rowan. "Come with me. I'll take you to my father."
Rowan bowed in the elven manner. "Thank you, Princess Lúthien."
And together, they headed toward the heart of Doriath.