Between Dawn and Dusk

by Lily Frost

“You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine.

You make me happy

When days are grey.

You don’t know, dear,

How much I love you.

So please don’t take

My sunshine away.�E/em>

--Children's Song

Between Dawn and Dusk

I: Sunshine

by Lily Frost

        Layers of consciousness peeled away like sheets from his head, drifting into piles around him. Elrond cracked open one stormy eye and glared blearily at whomever was pulling them away. The morning sun pried at his eyelids, turning their inside red. He grunted and turned over, burying his face in the pillow. Two small hands with slender fingers and short nails reached into his night robe and squirmed against his sides and tummy, tickling him. He twisted to escape them, tangling his legs in the sheets and rolling frantically until he felt the bed disappear from beneath him and the ground appear below him, rapidly approaching.

        Elrond fell with an ungraceful thunk onto his bedroom floor. A giggle sounded above him.

        “Celebrian...” He growled, untangling himself and struggling towards the top of his bed.

        “Yes, dear?”

        “What time is it?”

        “The sun has just risen! I thought we would try to get out of the house as soon as possible. You promised we would go to the lake this morning and spend some time together.”

        “I had also intended on sleeping some decent amount.”

        “You sleep too much.”

        “I am part human.”

        “Can we go now?”

        “And what about breakfast first?” Elrond started dressing himself.

        “Oh, I have already eaten.”

        “My breakfast.”

        “Ate that too.”

        “Cel!”

        “Just joking.” She stuck out her tongue at him and waited for him to finish brushing his hair. “I will prepare a basket in the kitchen while you eat.”

        “Now, can we go?” She asked, standing over him as he tried to braid his hair, so close that he could smell her – that intoxicating smell of Celebrian... fresh and clean, like clothes dried in the sun, but with something sharp to it, something that made him strain against his pants and just resist ravishing her. Those red, red lips... he gave them a tiny kiss. Her hair brushed against his face, so, so soft. She fiddled with his clothes.

        Elrond gave up trying to get his hair into any semblance of order and resigned to her childish enthusiasm. “Very well then.”

        With a laugh and a skip Celebrian was rushing barefooted down the hall, her husband following behind with her shoes in hand, smiling softly to himself. She was beautiful – energetic, playful, smart, and deceptively strong of spirit. She was like... fire... well, not quite. He could get close to her without being burnt. She was his, but not really. Celebrian was... Celebrian was... sunshine. He decided at last. That was it, she was sunshine, and he had spent far too long sleeping.

fin

Between Dawn and Dusk

II: Between Dawn and Dusk

by Lily Frost

The sons of Elrond are riding with the Rohirrim to Edoras, bearing the body of Theoden to it’s final resting place. Elessar, the new king, had requested that they do so for safely and because he believed it was high time elves and humans started interacting more.

The sons of Elrond and Theoden’s niece and nephew, Eowyn and Eomer, had formed an unexpected friendship. Much f their conversation had been about Elessar, alternately known by them as Thorongil, Aragorn and Estel. Inevitably, the conversation turned towards Arwen.

“The dwarf, ah—Gimli, said something to me about Arwen.” Eomer said, off-handedly.

“Oh?”

“He asked me whether I thought Galadriel or Arwen was more beautiful. Arwen, I answered, of course. Aragorn is a very lucky man.”

“He is.” They agreed.

“And if he does anything our little sister does not like...”

“He will very much regret it.” Elladan and Elrohir said.

Eowyn had a feeling Eomer felt the same towards Faramir.

“And then,” Eomer continued, “and this was strange, for dwarves are not known to be poets, he said that I had chosen the evening to the morning. I thought it was peculiar.”

“Arwen,” Elladan said slowly. “Gave up her immortality to be with Es—Elessar.”

“Oh.” Said Eomer, not sure what to make of it.

“She is called the Evenstar of our people,” Elrohir added, “A last light that will be left here to fade away while the rest of us sail to Valinor, in the West.”

Eowyn, during their trip, had found herself starting to develop some respect for the woman who had beat her to Aragorn. She suddenly remembered something, “You are related to Galadriel somehow, are you not? You mentioned spending much time in Lothlorien when you were young, and exploring Ithilien.” She looked between Elladan and Elrohir for specifics.

“Galadriel is our grandmother.”

Both twins grinned broadly at the expression Eomer pulled then. Many humans have difficultly comprehending elven aging. “She must be centuries old!”

“Older.”

“We are over three thousand, actually.” The twins explained.

Eomer just managed not to fall out of his saddle and Eowyn’s eyes widened.

“Father treats us as if we were fifty, though.” Elladan added.

“Maybe if you quit acting like it.” Elrohir stuck out his tongue childishly.

“Galadriel is not Elrond’s mother,” Eowyn mused. “Then, she is your mother’s.”

“Yes.”

“She must be lovely.” Eomer said.

“I have not met her – where is she?” Eowyn asked.

Elrohir suddenly went quiet and Elladan sullen as he answered. “She sailed West, a, well, a long time ago in human terms.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, Eomer felt as if he was venturing where he should not, as if this was too personal.

But he had pressed something, and it would come pouring now.

“Yrch.” Elrohir spat. “Orcs. She was taken captive on a mountain pass and tortured, mentally and physically until her spirit broke. It could not have been easy to do... most weaker would not have... I would not have survived what she went through.”

“I am sorr—“

“They tortured her, mocked her, raped her...” He continued, despite the look Elladan was giving him. “And when we got her back she was broken. Alive, but she could not be healed here. Maybe never, even in Valinor.”

“’Ro, stop.” Elladan said, unable to take more. “We will see her again, and she will be better.”

They lapsed into a moody silence, until at last Eowyn, feeling that the mood was too heavy, asked, “What was she like... what was her name?”

“Celebrian.” Elrohir sighed.

“She was like...” Elladan started.

“She was our mother, but did not behave like most mothers, I think.”

“She was young compared to our father.”

“An elf. Golden hair like Galadriel.”

“Bluest of eyes.”

“Arwen has those, I think.”

“And her pale skin.”

“But she never looked... frail before the orcs.”

“She always wore bright clothes, never anything dark or washed out.”

“Bright red and orange.”

“Sky blue and spring green.”

“And ribbons in her hair just like elven children wear.”

“Bells too, during festivals.”

“She loved dancing.”

“Laughed a lot, played games...”

“She would roll in the grass with us.”

“Taught me how to climb trees.”

“And throwing daggers.”

“Archery.”

“Really?” Eomer asked, “She does not sound like your typical elven lady.”

“She is not.” Elrohir sighed. “I do not think... she never really managed Galadriel’s grace.

“Arwen takes more after father in mood.” Elladan reflected.

“She was amazing with some weapons.”

“Excellent aim.”

“Not as strong as you would have you believe. But amazing still.”

“She was a warrior?” Eowyn asked, wishing she could meet this woman.

“When our father—Elrond-- let her.” Elladan said.

“Ah.”

“She was like...”

“Daylight.”

“The afternoon sun.”

“Fire and sunshine.”

Eomer thought about this. He was no poet, despite the number of drinking and ridding songs he had composed, but he saw Gimli’s words now. “The afternoon sun...” He said quietly, “between dawn and dusk.”

“You could say that.” Elladan nodded.

“Indeed,” Elrohir smiled. “You certainly could.”

fin

Between Dawn and Dusk

III: Seeking Sunlight

by Lily Frost

        Dawn, cold and washed, reached reluctantly across Middle Earth's sky. Somewhere, deep in the mountains, two dark-haired warriors were mounting their horses, their minds bent on single purpose: the rescue and vengeance of the woman they cared for above all else; not a lover, sister or friend, but their mother. They were weary, exhausted even, travel worn, and wounded, but moving still with strength not of the body so much as of the will.

        Elrohir groaned as he heaved himself onto his mount. He hadn't intended to, but the wound on his side protested angrily as it rubbed against the inside of his tunic, no doubt inflamed and possibly infected.

        Elladan's gaze caught his, eyes grey as stormy skies meeting identical storms clouds in his twin's, lightening seeming to flash between them. "We can stop for a little while if you want to." He said slowly.

        "No we cannot." Elrohir amended, softly, grimly. "Not until we have found and rescued mother."

        "Will you hold out?" Elladan questioned, knowing that if Elrohir collapsed it would take them, overall, longer than if they stopped for a few moments now.

        "I will for as long as I can. Then you must go ahead alone."

        "And leave you?" Elladan questioned, alarmed at the prospect of going anywhere without Elrohir, especially with him as he was.

        "Promise me that you will..."

        Elladan thought for a moment, then reached a decision. "As long as you promise me that there will be no solitary heroics. When we reach her, let us charge together. I do not want you rushing ahead."

        Elrohir gave a mirthless laugh, "That sounds like something you would do, dearest brother."

        "We must do this together..." Elladan repeated.

        "Yes," Elrohir agreed. "We must rescue her." He fell into silent despair, and his voice suddenly lowered, alarming Elladan with the sheer hopelessness of it, like gazing down a dizzying cliff face and knowing that you're going to jump either way. "Each moment, 'Dan, each moment we waste is another that they have her in their filthy clutches."

        Elladan hung his head.

        "What have they done already, I do not know, but they will do more while I can still stand."

        "Very well. You know your limits."

        They lapsed back into that uneasy silence that had become natural during the last few days of their travel, now assuming the same pace they'd used the days before, stopping just enough to prevent their mounts from collapsing out of exhaustion, saving their strength for when they found the orcs that had taken her.

        Elladan at last broke the silence, shattering it like glass. "Do you think she is still alive, 'Ro."

        "I do not know."

        "You have the gift of foresight, tell me, can you see her?"

        "It does not work that way," He said, awkwardly. "the future is hazy."

        "Did they beat her? Did they mock her for being an elf?"

        Elrohir was silent.

        "Did they destroy her? Did they rape her? Did they pillage her body and molest her mind?" Elladan continued, not realizing that he wasn't being listened too. Not noticing the way Elrohir winced with some of the words. "'Ro, tell me, please, pray tell, is she alive?"

        "Quit asking me questions that I cannot answer!" Elrohir cried out, gasping and grabbing his side in pain. He nearly slid off his mount, but the mare checked her pace, pausing as she sensed her rider's distress.

        Elladan dismounted and was at his side in an instant, holding him upright and whispering soothing words that meant nothing.

        "I am sorry, you know as much as I do."

        "All I know for certain is that we must continue."

        "I know that too." Elladan said, and once he was sure that Elrohir could sit alone without falling off, he mounted his horse again and squeezed his heels just so against him, silently encouraging him to start. The horses resumed their pace.

        'Yes...' Elrohir thought. 'continue together.'
fin

Between Dawn and Dusk

IV: Letting the Sun Rise

by Lily Frost

              "Quit fidgeting!"

              "You are pulling it, naneth!"

              "Yes, out of your face." Galadriel said, dragging the comb through her daughter's stubborn locks one last time and then surveying the slighty-wet curly mass and sighed. "It is as neat as it will get."

              Celebrian smiled in relief that the yanking was over. Galadriel now started braiding the silvery tresses with deft fingers, working tiny white alfirin, niphredil and lake pearls into a complex weave, leaving little ringlets to fall about her bare shoulders.

              "Leave more down."

              "Like this?"

              "Yes, around my face." Celebrian said, and paused. She gave her dress sleeves a venomous tug, uncomfortable in the fancy, white gown with its lace frills and several dozen silk skirts. It felt monstrous and heavy, the bodice squeezing the life-breath out of her, slender though she was. She was drowning in white silk. A smile slunk across her lips at the mental image of Elrond lifting layer after layer of it away only to find nothing beneath it all, and his bride gone into thin air. Where was she? Celebrian momentarily entertained the idea of running away. But she couldn't do that. She loved Elrond, did she not?

              Loved him with all her heart.

              Nevertheless, she was afraid, deep inside she worried that she was not good enough for him. What if he didn't show up? What if she did something wrong, tripped or forgot her vows, despite them being printed on her heart itself. Or if she...

              "Are you nervous, daughter mine?" Galadriel interrupted, as if reading her thoughts. (She did not normally, and Celebrian was very good and veiling them.)

              "No." Celebrian replied, though her voice belied her word.

              "No, little star?" Galadriel asked, a smile upon her lips, "Not nervous on your wedding day?"

              "Well, a little." Celebrian admitted, at the bemused tone of her mother's voice.

              "Do not be. You will be now, it is natural, but you have no reason to be."

              Celebrian raised her knees to her chest, the dress bunching between her body and them, and gazed at her reflection in the vanity in front of her, Galadriel's other mirror, a sheet of some type of metal or glass polished until it could reflect images with perfect precision. It was dwarf-made, and given as a gift to the Lady of the Wood a long age ago. Her own reflection stared back at her. She touched her now complete hair gingerly, and gave her head a shake to settle it.

              When Celebrian looked back, her breath caught in her throat. Her feet dropped to the ground, skirts swishing, and her reflection continued to stare back at her; wide-set eyes, of the most vivid blue, stared back at her from a pale face with a strong nose and jaw and high cheekbones. She was utterly elven. Suddenly, she felt young, realized her youth in sharp contrast to Elrond's age; would she voice this? Did she want to share this with her mother... of course.

              "Elrond is so much older than I am."

              "Ah, but the youth of men is brief."

              Celebrian's eyes glimmered, touched with the rebellion that had been so prominent in her childhood. "Do you disapprove of Elrond because he is half-human?"

              "He is a good, just, and wise man. Your adar would agree."

              "But do you both feel he is a good choice?"

              Galadriel hesitated; in truth she had hoped for something to develop between Celebrian and Legolas, the son of Thranduil, for the sake of uniting Lothlorien and Greenwood, which were near to one another. Imladris was so far! But it was a peaceful place, and, though not as great as the woods of Lorien, it had it's own beauty. Her daughter would bring her silvery laughter to those halls, a queen among elves!

              Galadriel bent down, and held her daughter in a tight hug. "We love you. If it is your choice, then it is the only choice we would ever consider. If you love Elrond, and Elrond loves you, so be it. The unification of our two lands pleases us, but Imladris at times seems so far away, and it is difficult for us to let you go..."

              "I shall be sure to visit back here, whenever I can, and you can visit Imladris as well..."

              "So long as we know you are happy, we are happy too."

              Celebrian pulled away from her mother, and had a bit of moisture wiped away from her face, blushing a little bit at being caught as such.

              "You look lovely." Galadriel told her. "You are lovely." She added, and kissed her on the forehead. "Now, shall we go and get you wed?"

              "Let us go." Celebrian declared, her voice suddenly strong, queen-like, and stood up to take her mother's arm to be led out; two queens, side by side.

fin

Author’s Notes: Sorry about the extended vacation; I was doing my chemistry 11, and just finished it today. It was exhausting to try to jam a one year course into one month, but I managed to get the C that I needed, so I’m happy. I also just got back from a one week family vacation.

On to the good stuff, I was asked where the action was, well, here’s the action! Obviously I can’t post full sex here on , but I can do a bit of sexiness.

This one is from Elrond’s perspective, the night of Arwen’s conception.

Elven pregnancies, from what I’ve read, last one year, so that’s what I’m using for this.

Elrond is half-elven, so one would suppose him to be a bit more receptive to the cold, though this point is argued. He sleeps with his eyes closed her, though elves typically sleep with them open. I’m figuring that when he is tired enough he uses the mortal sleep.

Also argued is whether he can fall ill or not. If anyone objects to this, or wants to read it, tell me. Let me know if you think it’s one to do. I’d like to give Celebrian a rival. How does Glorfindel sound? Also, I have a story involving her as a child ready, though it’d be posted separately, I think as a stand-alone, because it’s longer.

I’m not sure if this is the best of my stories. I’m really out of practice, but it helps to do something.

- - -

Between Dawn and Dusk

V: Conceived in Thunder

by Lily Frost

Celebrian loved thunderstorms, apparently since she was a child, and each night that the winds would howl and the clouds unleash their fury, without fail, she would take me by the hand. She would say, “Come along Elrond, let us enjoy tonight’s fine weather!”

I would protest, naturally. What if we were seen? What if we were struck by lightening? And eventually, what if our children caught us? For some time we had to stay with Elladan and Elrohir during storms, and reassure them, and eventually Elrohir grew to love them as his mother, but I am more inclined towards Elladan’s opinion that they are noisy and often wet. Granted, so are my sons.

So tonight, as one of these early-summer storms is approaching, she is getting restless, glancing up at me as I sit at my desk. The air seems to carry an energy; perhaps it is just the storm, but I think it is more her eyes. Tonight is special, I can feel it. We have spoken of another child, and she is ready.

I can see out our window the world going dim, the sky leaden grey and Celebrian stands. She drapes her arms over my shoulders, her face next to mine, her hot breath upon my cheek as she whispers, “Come along, Elrond. Tonight. Let us enjoy the weather. Tonight, let us... create.”

I lean back into her touch, for once quite inclined towards loving in a storm. It seems right, somehow, that the destructive conduct of the storm be combated with the creating of the most important thing any living thing can ever make. “Tonight would be perfect.”

And, so, I let myself be led out into the pouring rain by a grinning Celebrian. But tonight, rather than her carefree grin, she wears an expression of determination, and for once, she seems to be going somewhere specific. Her determination is not grim, though, and in it is mixed excitement. Her body trembles, just a little, as she guides me to somewhere I have never been.

I glance at her, bedazzled once again by this woman. Her hair clings to her when it’s wet, as does her dress, moulding itself to her face and body to become like a second skin. She seems so bright against the dark, wet woods, in a dress coloured the green of new buds. It always amazes me how elven seamstresses can always manage to make clothing that looks so wonderful, though perhaps it’s her that makes the clothing look wonderful.

“Here.” She at last gasps, quickly turning to catch me mid-stride in a deep kiss, grabbing the sides of my face and pulling it hers, her body folding into mine, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece. When she pulls away, smiling a cat’s grin, I am able to take in my surroundings; the rain is not the only sound of water, as nearby a small stream falls into a pool. Something seems familiar, and I am taken aback several years ago, to a clearer, darker night, when two piercing cries rang out, and then to one year before then.

I wipe some of the water from my face and then tilt my head at her, eyes scanning her face. “Why here, again? Where is this pla--”

“Shush.” She says, placing a finger to my lips, eyes dancing. “It’s a secret. Others come here for the same purpose.”

“Other elves?”

She nods once and then silences me with a kiss again, this time her eyes open, watching me. A flash of lightening illuminates us, and then thunder rolls over us. At first when she did this I was unnerved; it seemed strange, as if I were doing something wrong and so she was staring at me. But it is somehow more intimate this way. I can’t describe it, but when I really kiss her... I really kiss her with our eyes open, grey on blue.

Tonight, we conceive to thunder and lightening, we create, locked in each others’ arms. Her cries harmonize with the howl of the wind, the beat of the rain and the throb of thunder, slowly receding into the distance. And then we lay in a small cave at my request, for though she feels it not, it is cold with the wind and the rain, which now comes slower, softer. I lay next to her, her body warming mine. It has always been a constant source of heat. We could have been wandering in the snow for hours on end, but her body would yet be warm. And now a little bit of extra heat is there in the form of a tiny spark of life, the life we have just created. It’s yet to young to be anything specific, male or female, one or two, but there it is, a little bit of life. I kiss her and nuzzle into her hair and she murmurs in her sleep, worn out. I admire her open, glazed eyes, and then close my own, and sleep the sleep of mortals.

fin

Foreword: I know that we are supposed to upload author’s notes with chapters rather than on their own, but I feel that this series deserves an introduction.

Celebrian, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, wife of Elrond and mother of Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen is a mostly unexplored character. She is a minor canon character, who is generally only alluded to in the books.

I propose to explore her through those around her in this series of vignettes, sketches and short stories. The way I see her may not be the way the reader sees her, but each to their own. Please give my Celebrian a chance, tell me how see her in a review, but don’t outright flame and tell me that I’m wrong.

The name of the series is explained in the piece of the same title uploaded here. Each piece can be read on their own, or in the order posted... which is in no way at all chronological, or even logical really.

They will vary from cheerful and light hearted, to downright angst-loaded, tear-jerkers. I will post a rating and warning at the top of each if it’s needed, and the overall rating is the highest possible for sexual and violent themes. Not all pieces are this rating, in fact, maybe none are, but to be safe.

Thank you for your time. Please enjoy and review!

--Lily Frost