Beleth's anger rose through her as she spoke and Galadriel bore it as it spilled out between them. Her frustration was palpable and, in a way, very familiar. Once Beleth had completed her tirade, Galadriel reached forward and rested a hand on the young elf's shoulder.
"When I was young, I felt much as you do. I was frustrated with a life that was not...did not beg my resentment. I longed for acknowledgement, for options that would not come to me. It can take long years to find what you desire, and longer still to achieve it, to understand it, but it will happen."
Galadriel's hand, resting on her shoulder, squeezes just slightly before smoothing down to her arm. It is a strange gesture but one she'd given her daughter, her grandchildren, and it feels right to grant the same to Beleth.
"But having the freedom to find your ambition, to learn if you would like to ford another path, is not what troubles you. You worry your mother will disapprove of such things? And you love her, do you not?"
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"When I was young, I felt much as you do. I was frustrated with a life that was not...did not beg my resentment. I longed for acknowledgement, for options that would not come to me. It can take long years to find what you desire, and longer still to achieve it, to understand it, but it will happen."
Galadriel's hand, resting on her shoulder, squeezes just slightly before smoothing down to her arm. It is a strange gesture but one she'd given her daughter, her grandchildren, and it feels right to grant the same to Beleth.
"But having the freedom to find your ambition, to learn if you would like to ford another path, is not what troubles you. You worry your mother will disapprove of such things? And you love her, do you not?"