Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter.

Chapter 13: Reconciliation

Celebrían sank to her knees, her head bowed, as grief and guilt threatened to overwhelm her.  The shocked looks on her children’s faces were the second blow; the first had been the punch of emotion that had nearly knocked her over when Elrond had grabbed her hand. 

Never before had she experienced his anger; never before had he been angry with her. In that moment when their skin touched, she felt as if a fire had swept through and consumed her. She felt his exhaustion, and she saw Arwen’s fear, Elrohir’s pain and Elladan’s frustration through her husband’s eyes. Worse, she felt the effect her anger had had on him – his despair when he had reached out to her over the last few days and met only resistance when he desperately needed her support.

She drew in a deep breath and then lifted her head, consciously letting go of her anger.  The camp was silent except for the sobbing of her children.  Her parents had made no move to go to them, nor had Glorfindel, whom she could see standing with Erestor off to the side. Suddenly she was glad – she had wanted to be the one to comfort them and thus far had only hurt them worse. How much she had hurt them became obvious when she began to walk toward them.

Elladan stood, his arms protectively around Arwen and his body between hers and Elrohir’s.  She would have found his stance endearing had it not been her that he was guarding them against.  Her eldest was loyal and steadfast and fiercely protective of his siblings, for which she had always been thankful. Now, though, his eyes reflected his confusion and turmoil.

She held out her hands in supplication. “Elladan,” she began softly, all traces of anger gone, “I am sorry. In my anger, I have hurt all of you.” He relaxed slightly at her words and did not pull away when she began to stroke Arwen’s back. She carefully took Arwen from his arms and stepped aside to speak to her daughter, who clung to her silently.

“Arwen, I am sorry that I fought with your adar. I am sorry you saw me behaving so badly. I need to speak with Elrohir, and then I need to find your Adar and tell him I love him and ask him to forgive me.  Will you sit with your daernaneth while I do those things?”

Arwen looked up at her finally, her eyes wide and still full of tears, but she nodded her agreement.  Celebrían carried her to her mother, who took the child without comment and cuddled her in her arms.

Elladan still stood where she had left him, and she could see that he wished to speak. Bracing herself emotionally, she took his hand and said, “Say what you are thinking, Elladan.”

Elladan dropped his gaze and took in a deep breath.  “I love you, Naneth, but I would have cut the rope if you had taken one step to follow Adar.” Celebrían remained silent, but massaged the back of his hand, encouraging him to continue. “I had just seen Elrohir nearly die, and Arwen hurt, and then Adar fell when the wind blew him, and . . .” Elladan’s voice broke. Celebrían tightened her hold on him, her hand reaching up to stroke his hair.

“I was selfish,” she said as she pulled him close.  “I wanted to be with you so badly, I did not stop to think how it would hurt you if I put myself in danger. I feared for Elrohir and I wanted to comfort him, and I did not think beyond that. I am sorry, Elladan.”

Elladan’s ragged breaths as he struggled for control caused Celebrían to feel more remorse than she thought possible.  “I am thankful for you, Elladan,” she said as he calmed himself.  “You have been a source of strength for your brother and sister and for your Adar as well. I am glad you were here.”

She drew back from him and kissed him on both cheeks. Tears ran freely down his face, but his eyes showed relief. “I am worried about Elrohir, Naneth,” he admitted.  “He will not eat and he looks even worse today than yesterday.”

Celebrían squeezed Elladan’s hand one last time, and then turned to look down upon her other son.  She had seen the pain in his eyes and the dark shadows beneath them.  Now those eyes were shut and he lay silent and tense. She knelt beside him and gently lifted his hand, and a sudden fear filled her as she felt his ebbing fëa.

“Elrohir?” she asked, and she could hear the fear in her own voice. He did not acknowledge her.  Panic welled up within her and she looked in the direction Elrond had gone. She felt for her bond with her husband and was met by a cold stone wall. Please come back, Elrond!  Elrohir needs help. Please, Elrond . . .. She stroked Elrohir’s arm, murmuring words of love to him, but he had withdrawn into himself and her touch seemed to have no effect upon him.  Tears coursed down her cheeks as fear assailed her.

She heard movement around her, and looked up to see Elrond standing over her.  She reached for his hand, tugging him down to her side, and laid his hand upon Elrohir’s.  Celebrían could see Elrond’s exhaustion, yet he poured himself into Elrohir. Covering his hands with her own, she directed all of her love to them both.

“He thinks he is the cause of our fight,” said Elrond finally, grief in his voice. He bent down close to his son. “Elrohir, you are not to blame for the rift between your mother and me.  We alone share that blame; none of it is yours. Please, my son, you bear enough of a burden without this.  Release it to us.”

Celebrían heard the emphasis on the word ‘us,’ and the impact sunk to the core of her being. She was not a single being; her fëa did not exist alone, but was bound to Elrond’s.  They were one, and by pulling apart they had hurt themselves and their children, who were bound to them together. Elrohir’s grief in believing he was the cause of their sundering was causing him to fade. The realization dawned on her that to reach him, they would need to first reconcile with each other.

Celebrían lifted one hand to Elrond’s face, cupping his cheek gently and turning his face toward hers. “I love you, Elrond, more than life itself.  Please forgive me.”

To her surprise, the dam of control that usually held her husband’s emotions at bay broke. Tears streamed down his face. “I am sorry too, Celebrían. I only wanted you safe.  I could not bear to lose you.”

As Celebrían heard Elrond’s voice break and the depth of his anguish expressed, she felt the full force of his spirit, something she treasured for he so seldom allowed himself to be fully open, even with her. This time, it was she who wrapped her own spirit around his, engulfing and protecting it, until their fëar were again one.

Elrond placed her hands on Elrohir’s bruised chest and covered them with his own. Celebrían was reminded of her days of pregnancy with the twins, when they would do this and feel such a strong communion with the fëa of each child.   But now, instead of joy and contentment, she could feel Elrohir drifting and sense how alone he felt and how guilt consumed him.  A fog of confusion surrounded him, and through Elrond’s thoughts she knew that this was from the pain and the medications he had been given. His thinking was not clear, nor his emotions, and Celebrían knew somehow they had to draw him to them, for he was too lost to find them.

The sudden presence of a fourth surprised her, but it was Elladan’s fëa that drew Elrohir back to them. Celebrían could see the beauty and strength of their fëar together, and she watched as Elladan took away some of Elrohir’s pain and confusion, bearing it himself and relieving his twin of some of his burden.  In that lightened state, Elrohir could now sense the fëar of his parents and draw near to them.  Elrond’s disbelief and wonder at this relationship between his sons flowed through to her, and Celebrían reached physically for Elladan’s hand. 

After Elrohir’s feä again grew strong, Elrond pulled away and Celebrían could feel that he was utterly spent. She opened her eyes to meet his, and saw a depth of weariness that frightened her, and a depth of love that consumed her.

Elrohir seemed to rest comfortably, and Elrond motioned for Elladan to lie down next to him. “How long have you been able to do that?” he asked Elladan.

“Only recently, and it was not of my doing, Adar,” admitted Elladan. “I have felt his pain several times, and when I have borne it, it has diminished what he has had to bear alone.”

Elrond embraced Elladan, and then Celebrían and he watched as Elladan drew his brother into his arms and comforted him.  “He will be well now that you two are,” said Elladan confidently.

Celebrían rose to her feet, and reached down to pull Elrond up.  He staggered, and she slipped an arm around his waist, steadying him.  She looked around the camp, unsurprised to see elves emerging from wherever they had hidden themselves when the family battle had started, and saw Glorfindel holding a tent flap open.  She smiled her thanks at him, and led her husband there.  Pushing him gently on to a bed made up on the ground, she undressed him and then lay down next to him, pulling him down to pillow his head against her breasts. Wrapping both arms about him, she held him as he fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Glorfindel let the tent flap close behind Elrond and Celebrían and then allowed a long breath to escape him. Glad that the family dispute appeared at least mostly resolved, he decided he was hungry, even if the smell of the stew was not tempting anyone else.  He walked to the cooking fire and laughed as the Silvan cook materialized from the trees.

“Thank you,” he said warmly as the elf quickly prepared a bowl for him. The cook smiled in relief.

“I feared this whole pot would be wasted,” replied the elf mournfully.  “Such disagreements are bad for the appetite.”

“Indeed,” replied Glorfindel as he looked at the twins. Elrohir had eaten only a little broth over several days, and as far as Glorfindel knew, Elrond had eaten nothing. He smiled down at the cook.  “I think that come morning there will be a line of hungry elves at your fire.”

“May it be so,” wished the cook, clearly troubled by those who were not eating.  It was not natural and reflected poorly upon his considerable skill.

“I will join you,” said Erestor. The cook smiled as if the sun had just broken through the storm clouds and prepared him a bowl.

Glorfindel looked Erestor up and down appraisingly as the elf sat down beside him.

“What?” asked Erestor, scowling.

“Just confirming for myself that you survived the journey unscathed,” replied Glorfindel.

“Unscathed?” replied Erestor incredulously. He lowered his voice. “I may be scarred forever. Do you have any idea what kind of temper she has been in?”

“Yes, I think I do,” answered Glorfindel sadly. “Elrond has neither eaten nor slept in days, except the night Galadriel put him to sleep. If not for that, I think he would be near collapse. As Elrond suffered, so did Elrohir.”

Erestor’s eyes darted to where the twins were sleeping, and his expression softened.  Glorfindel smiled. “The bed did much to make him comfortable. You are very thoughtful, Erestor.  Each of us was delighted by what you thought to send, but even more so we were thankful you thought of Elrohir’s comfort.”

“If it provided even a little ease, then I am glad,” said Erestor softly. “He looks terrible.”

“I think he would agree that that describes how he feels,” answered Glorfindel sadly.  “Pain and confusion from the medications have clouded his mind, but I think he will be much improved tomorrow.”

“And our little princess?”

“Traumatized and plagued by nightmares, but the presence of her grandmother has eased that tremendously.  It did not help for her to see her parents fight,” added Glorfindel.

They both studied the child, again asleep in her grandmother’s arms. Her face was tearstained, but content in sleep.

“And you, my friend?” asked Erestor, his voice gentle.

Glorfindel smiled. “Glad you are all here.  I would rather fight goblins and cave trolls than watch our children suffer.”

* * *

Elrond awoke still held securely in Celebrían’s arms.  A wave of relief and gratitude swept over him at her presence, and he turned slightly so that he could press a kiss to her cheek.  Her eyes focused on him as she awoke, and a slow smile spread across her face.  Kissing him in return, her fingers combed through his dark hair and then trailed down over his chest and abdomen.

“I missed you,” she said simply.

He pulled her on top of him and smoothed her loose hair back, tucking it behind her delicate ears.  “I love you, Celebrían.”

She claimed his lips again, kissing him hungrily, and Elrond helped divest her of what clothing she had worn to bed. He felt for his bond with their children and found them all sleeping, then carefully pushed them to the side of his thought.  Now was about him and Celebrían, about joining mentally and physically to repair what had been damaged. To his joy, Celebrían took the lead. Conscious of only canvas walls and the small camp, Celebrían made love to him tenderly and quietly, guiding their rhythm to slow release.

“I would like to bathe and then be with our children when they wake,” said Celebrían after they had both recovered their breath.

Elrond felt tears form unbidden, and Celebrían kissed them away.

“Elrohir tried to stand several days ago, without asking for aid, and he fell. His leg broke again, worse even than the first time. I made him promise he would let us care for him, but this dependence has been a terrible blow to his pride. Arwen has had nightmares and waking dreams, terror of falling and being swept away.  Neither has slept well and they have both lashed out at Elladan.  I have warred within, Celebrían, needing you here desperately, and knowing if you had been swept away before my eyes I would have died with you, and surely our children with us.  I am selfish, wanting you here, but only on my terms. . ..”

Elrond was silenced by Celebrían’s fingers at his lips. “I have loved you for many years, Elrond, and never have you been selfish.  I would have risked my life to reach our children, but you are correct that I did not consider what harm to me would have done to them.  I do not blame myself for being angry with you, but I do deeply regret that in my anger I pushed you away when you needed me, forcing you to bear these burdens alone.  I will bear them now with you. I also hold you to a promise you made me many years ago.”

Elrond studied her intently, unable to recall a promise.  “When the twins were injured, when they were Arwen’s age, you poured yourself into them. I tried to replenish you, but you would not let me.  You said in my mother bond I already expended much.  But you promised me if ever you needed to take from me, you would do so.  You need to take from me, Elrond, and you need to let me share a greater portion of this burden now.  I have never seen you so weary - so spent - and it frightens me.”

“I need you, Celebrían,” admitted Elrond, “and Elrohir needs us both. You gave to him with me last night, and I am sure we will need to do so again today.”

Celebrían rose and then held out her hand to him.  Elrond took it gladly and allowed her to wrap robes someone had thoughtfully placed in the tent around them both, then lead them from the tent.  It was just before sunrise and the camp was quiet, but not all were sleeping.  Several guards smiled at them from their posts, and Glorfindel flashed them a grin as he passed by them, returning from the spring.  Soaps and lotions waited for them on top of the rock near the pool, along with several towels, and Erestor winked as he walked away from setting the items out for them.

Elrond rolled his eyes as a light blush rose in his cheeks.  “Were we not quiet?”

Light laughter floated to them and Celebrían could not seem to help herself either, joining in. Unconcerned, she answered, “Apparently not.” She kissed him as she dropped her robe. “They heard us fight, and some heard us make up.  If their mothers did not teach them to cover their ears, there is naught I can do.”  Kissing him again, she pushed his robe off his shoulders and pulled him into the pool of cold water.

They returned to their tent amidst more amused grins and open smiles, but Elrond decided it had less to do with their campmates teasing them over how they made up and more to do with the lighter feeling between them, and in the camp.  The camp cook was smiling happily as elves lined up for breakfast, and he beamed when Elrond appeared before him.

“You are eating, my lord,” he said happily.  “It is the spice, I think, that draws you.” He winked at Elrond then, and Elrond nearly choked with laughter at the kindly cook’s humor.

He carried dishes for himself and Celebrían to where she sat with her parents.  She had not spoken to them the night before, and Elrond could not help but wonder if they would receive a parental scolding now for their public fight.  Not a word was said, however, as Galadriel merely shifted aside so that Celebrían could gather Arwen into her arms. Knowing that Celebrían also wished to be with the twins when they awoke, Elrond was not surprised when his wife gently awoke their daughter.

“Nana!” yawned Arwen happily.  “I thought I was dreaming, but you really are here.”

She had seemingly forgotten her parent’s fight from the night before, and Celebrían shrugged at Elrond.  He smiled his agreement to her unspoken decision; if Arwen wished to speak to them about it, she would.

Arwen basked in the attentions from her mother, as Celebrían helped her dress and fix her hair.  Elrond then removed the splint from her hand, allowing her to move her fingers and show her mother where her hand had been smashed. Elrond examined the small fingers, then, and announced, “I believe they are healed.  You do not need to wear the splint any more.”

Arwen nearly glowed with delight. Erestor and Glorfindel came over to inspect the now healthy hand, and Glorfindel made a great tale telling Celebrían and Erestor of how brave she had been when they had saved her.  The marks on her skin had nearly faded away completely, but Glorfindel still teased her, “Then just when I was sure we had all the plaster out of her, there would be another piece, teasing us.  So we would pluck it out and toss it away.  At times I thought the fragments were hopping back on to her when we were not looking. I had visions of Arwen on her wedding day, still plucking plaster from her skin!”

Arwen had wrapped her arms around Glorfindel and hugged him, all memories of the pain apparently gone to where useless, unpleasant memories were banished.  Elrond watched quietly as his daughter was fussed over and praised for her bravery, and he began to believe that the trauma would fade and not scar her young mind permanently.  The resilience of children amazed him.

“I agree. The twins talk of their falling into the waterfall as a great adventure; their terror and fears were also quickly forgotten.  Another set of twins I know survived even worse, and grew to become wonderful adults.  The resiliency of children is a trait that spans the ages, especially if those children are well loved,” replied Celeborn.

Elrond smiled at his father-in-law, unaware that he had spoken his last words out loud. 

“I am glad you and Celebrían worked things out,” continued Celeborn. “The best part of a fight is, of course, making up afterward. It seems you have discovered that.”

Elrond felt a slow blush begin to creep up his neck again and silently cursed his father-in-law.  Celeborn loved him like a son, yet felt no remorse at making him squirm when he wished.

“Elrond, the twins are waking,” interrupted Celebrían, saving him from having to respond. 

Elladan had indeed awakened, and a smile spread across his face at seeing his parents walking hand in hand.  Elrond could not help but see him as an elfling again as he melted into Celebrían arms when she knelt down and embraced him.

“How did you sleep?” she asked as she combed his hair with her fingers, working out tangles and massaging his head, which still made him purr like a kitten.

“Wonderfully well, Naneth,” he answered, the low purr rumbling deep within him as she worked her magic on his head.  He leaned against her, contented.

Elrond sat down on the other side of Elrohir and studied his son carefully.  Elrohir’s eyes were closed, the eye sockets still sunken and his cheeks hollow, but when Elrond touched him he felt a strength within his son that had been missing the day before. “He slept well,” said Elladan thoughtfully. “He only woke twice that I know of, and Erestor was sitting beside us and helped make him comfortable both times.”

“Was he in pain?” asked Celebrían.

“Yes,” answered Elladan truthfully.  “He is stiff and sore from lying in one position, for he cannot easily move his leg.”

Elladan rose to care for his own needs and find food for his growling stomach, and Elrond heard the cries of delight from the cook when Elladan asked for a double portion.

“Place your hands over Elrohir’s heart and on his forehead,” Elrond instructed Celebrían. “Close your eyes, and just as you did last night, think about Elrohir and reach for him.” Celebrían did as instructed, and Elrond placed his hands over hers.  He focused his healing energy on his son, and as he connected with his son’s soul, he felt the presence of his wife.  Not only did she add her own strength, she poured forth love as if she had an endless supply. Elrond felt it surround and envelop the fëa of their son, and then it flowed back through to him. To Elrond’s delight, he felt a spark in Elrohir that had been missing for days.

Elrohir opened his eyes as his parents withdrew, and a smile crossed his face that nearly melted Elrond’s heart.  It was his special smile, one that started in the eyes, reached the mouth and radiated outward, and it was shared only with those he truly loved.  Elrond helped Elrohir to rise so that Celebrían could wrap him in her arms.  A look of utter contentment crossed Elrohir’s face, and he too purred like a kitten as she caressed him.

Elrond watched them for some moments, barely able to hear the endearments and words of love that Celebrían whispered to her son.  The effect was obvious, though, and when Celebrían laid him back on the cushions that Elrond had placed for him, his eyes were clearer and brighter than they had been since the day he left Imladris. Celebrían bathed and fed him, and her hands soothed him when Elrond removed the bandages to check the swelling in his leg.

“I will bring you some cold water,” said Elrond when he had finished.  Although many would have done this task for him, Elrond rose and walked to the spring.  He refreshed the water in the waterskin, unhappy that almost none of the previous day’s water had been consumed, and then sat on the rock for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Elrohir seems quite well this morning,” said Erestor from behind him.

Elrond turned slightly.  “He is.  Thank you for watching over him last night.”

“If he is doing so well, why do you appear so troubled?” came Glorfindel’s voice from his other side.

Elrond sighed.  “I should have had Celebrían tied inside the basket and winched across the river.  The effect she has had on Elrohir has been amazing; on all three children, really.”

“I understand two bags of feathers are being plucked from the reeds to make bird nests south of Tharbad,” began Erestor.

“And I remember quite well the look on a certain young elf’s face and how much he improved when he woke up and realized his father held him in his arms,” added Glorfindel.

“I can only imagine, however, the look on the faces of my grandchildren if they were bereft a mother today because she had been foolish enough to cross that river.”

All three elves turned and stood at the sound of Galadriel’s voice.  “It is not like you to doubt your decisions, Elrond,” she continued.  “It is a poor quality in a leader and a commander of forces.”

Elrond drew himself up straight as she walked around him. “Decisions that are right in battle or leading a people do not seem quite so clear in one’s own family,” he admitted.

“Spouses do not always take well to being commanded,” agreed Galadriel. “Your words last evening were that you would make the same choice again.  Did you mean what you said?”

Elrond met her gaze solidly.  “Yes, my lady.  I did.  I may look upon the faces of my children now, and see their delight in having their mother with them, but faced with the same decision I would make the same choice.”

“Good,” answered Galadriel; then she suddenly smiled. “Your son is thirsty.”

Elrond grinned as he walked away, the unexpected support of his mother-in-law raising his spirits.  He had no need to be right or for Celebrían to be wrong, but Galadriel’s immediate comparison of the decisions he had made as commander and herald to the king to his responsibility as husband and father was a common approach for her.  She valued duty and responsibility, and never failed to remind him of his.

As Elrond returned with the waterskin, he saw Elrohir lying on a pillow in his mother’s lap.  He was eating from her hand, despite having said he was satiated just a short while earlier.  The smile remained on his face, and if anything, it widened when he saw his father approaching.  Elladan was sitting with Arwen, Erestor and Glorfindel had moved near, and Celeborn sat on a log next to his daughter.  Welcomed into the inner circle, Elrond sat on the bed next to Celebrían, and in the way only mothers seemed able to accomplish, she pulled him to her so that she held him and Elrohir comfortably.

“So, Elrohir, how may we entertain you today?” asked Celebrían as she ruffled his hair.

Elrohir looked from his father to Glorfindel with a smile.  “Stories, Nana,” he answered.  “Adar told us of Lindon and Glorfindel told us about being re-embodied and returning to Middle-earth, and then meeting Adar.  Oh, and the story of the Lord of Gifts coming to Lindon!” Elrohir’s voice rose in excitement. “I want to hear more stories of that time.”

“I want Nana to be in the stories,” added Arwen.

“The next part of the story should be told by your daeradar and daernaneth,” suggested Elrond.  “After Annatar was turned away from Lindon, he traveled east to Eregion.”

Celeborn frowned and appeared about to decline, but a nudge from his daughter’s foot reminded him of his expectant audience. “If I must,” he sighed dramatically, teasing them, but his voice quickly grew serious. “Telling of the folly of Eregion may be a good lesson, for perhaps this age will learn from the mistakes made in the last. But, as much as I wish to start with the arrival of the most important person to be born in Ost-in-Edhil, there are some tales that should be told first.”

“I know who it was!” cried Arwen. Celeborn held out his arms to her, and she ran to him. “Nana was the most important person born there!”

Celeborn smiled at his daughter. “Yes, Celebrían was born – a most important event.” He paused, an eyebrow raising at his grandchildren when Arwen giggled. “Well, you would not be here otherwise.”

Celeborn’s eyes grew distant as he thought back over that time, and he instinctively held Arwen tighter. “The city had grown prosperous over the years . . .”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Celeborn walked down the stone-paved street, quiet activity all around him as elves shopped in the markets and stores that lined the entrance to the main plaza of the city. Ost-in-Edhil had grown from a tiny settlement to a prosperous and beautiful city, and Celeborn felt a certain sense of pride that he had been part of its development and growth. Doriath had long since fallen, and Sirion and Balar were also no more. Lindon was the pride of Gil-Galad and Círdan, but this city was an accomplishment for which he took some ownership.

The city had been founded by a contingent of primarily Noldor elves, many followers of Celebrimbor and his jewel-smiths, but its population had swelled as Nandor and green elves had followed, seeking their relatives who lived in Eriador and further east, beyond the Misty Mountains and the River Anduin. Amdir and Oropher had traveled east beyond the mountains, but many of the Sindar and Nandor had settled in the woods and plains of Eregion. Elflings of many ages played in the streets and fields near their parents’ homes, and their laughter brought a smile to the faces of many an elf who had survived the fall of Beleriand.  A new age, a new city, and now, new life.

Beyond the plaza, Celeborn could see a crowd gathering on the steps of the compound of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain.  Celebrimbor had built it as almost a small fortress, and inside he led his smiths in the forging and crafting of a variety of items that improved the city’s function and beauty. For this, Celeborn did not begrudge him his secretive ways, for it benefited many.  Celebrimbor was single-minded in his purpose, taking little interest in the day-to-day affairs of the people, and Celeborn did not begrudge his lack of interest either, for it kept him away from Galadriel. Long had the Noldor elf been infatuated with her, and Celeborn resented Celebrimbor’s disregard for her married status.

The compound was set against the edge of the city, one road leading away from it north and eastward into Khazad-dum. To its back there was a high wall and beyond the wall the River Sirannon ran, joining at the other end of Ost-in-Edhil with the Glanduin.  To the north and west, the city buffered the compound.  It was an end point for all roads – they all led to it, but not past it, except for the road to the mines of the dwarves. Another road ran through the heart of the city, and it was this road that was used by the elves of Eregion and the dwarves of Moria to travel and conduct business and trade.  Celebrimbor’s road was his alone, shared with Narvi and other of the dwarves who supplied him with Mithril.

The geography made the compound an unlikely gathering place for any but the jewel-smiths who formed the brotherhood of the Mirdain. Curious, Celeborn edged into the back of the crowd, pointedly ignoring the murmurs from those who recognized him.

A tall, dark being stood at the top of the stairs, his head bowed slightly as he greeted Celebrimbor.  He was neither elf nor man, but what he was Celeborn could not be sure.  He was escorted by only a few of his own people, but with him was a young elf recently apprenticed to the Gwaith-i-Mírdain.  The young elf’s face was flushed with excitement, and when Celebrimbor excused him, it was the visitor who bade the youngster to stay.

“Far and wide have been my travels, and meeting a young one such as this, eager to learn his trade and eager to embrace new ways, has been refreshing to the spirit.  Lord Celebrimbor, I honor the work you have accomplished here, and that you have encouraged the young to follow your paths and seek this new way of the future,” said the visitor, one hand on the young elf’s shoulder.

As the visitor turned slightly, Celebrimbor could see the shining dark hair falling softly about a pale and beautiful face.  Gems adorned his brow and the edging of his cloak, and as he moved the silk shimmered in the sunlight, reflecting the rays of the sun as might tiny prisms.  He was beautiful and fair, as were his words.

He presented Celebrimbor with a small jeweled box, and Celeborn could see that the Celebrimbor was intrigued by what was within.  He reached inside and drew out a long necklace with a single stone and a Mithril clasp.  The gem sparkled and shone, and the gentle sway from its chain was spell-binding.

Celeborn shook his head, clearing his mind of such thoughts.

“What an exquisite gem,” murmured Celebrimbor, his words heard only by those near the stairs. “Is this of your making, your craft?”

The visitor bowed his head modestly. “It is perhaps one of my finest works, an accomplishment of many years toil.” He looked at Celebrimbor hopefully. “I have heard that none in Middle-earth surpass your skill; nay, that perhaps none in Arda do. Your opinion of how I might improve its enchantment, its ability to calm and instill peace in all who draw near it would mean much to me.”

Celebrimbor beamed. “Your words are too kind, but I appreciate them nonetheless.  I think we might learn from each other.  Will you come inside?”

The visitor again graciously bowed his head. “I would be honored.”

Celebrimbor had turned to lead the visitor inside, the young apprentice following closely on his heels, when Celeborn heard Celebrimbor ask, “Forgive my lack of decorum!  You have traveled from the west, my lord, but I did not hear the name of your people nor even your true name.”

“I am Annatar,” said the being kindly.

Celeborn had turned to walk away, but at the name of the visitor he spun on his heel. He pushed several bystanders aside as he climbed the stairs, but by the time he had maneuvered his way to the top, the outer doors were closed and the gate into the compound was shut.  He pounded his hand on the wrought metal.

“Lord Celeborn?  Is aught wrong?” asked the doorkeeper.

“No,” answered Celeborn slowly. “Perhaps not.”

He hurried back to the courtyard of the city’s office and main hall, and burst into the archives unannounced.  An elf who was sorting the parchments and scrolls leapt to his feet, but Celeborn strode past him unmindfully.  His mind was set on a particular document received from Gil-Galad, and he quickly sorted through correspondence from the king.  Finding the scroll he was seeking, he unrolled it and read through it hurriedly. Annatar was the one they had been warned about, yet Gil-Galad’s missive did not give factual reason or explanation for their warning.  The message said Annatar was not to be trusted and had been shut out from Lindon. Elrond and Glorfindel had had an unpleasant encounter with him, and had been unable to determine of what lands or people he was lord, who had sent him or why, and the consensus had been that though fair in appearance and word, a menace lay hidden beneath his fair exterior.

Annatar had entered the city gates in the company of a young jewel-smith, and been taken directly to the compound of the Mírdain. He had bypassed the normal procedures followed by guests and visitors and now was ensconced in the one place where he would be difficult to seek out and question.

Filled with foreboding, Celeborn returned to his office.  

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

“Daeradar, how horrible for you to find Sauron in your city!” said Elladan sympathetically.

Celeborn sighed.  “We did not know him as such for hundreds of years.  Yes, we had been warned by Gil-Galad, but Annatar had found his welcome and means of protection, such as the brotherhood offered, and was beyond our reach.  Like Gil-Galad, we had no reason to distrust him but instinct, and yet it would have been difficult to remove him without proof.  Had we been able to stop him at the city’s gates, perhaps we could have prevented his entrance, but once Celebrimbor had met him, I am not sure anything could have been done to shut him out.”

“Annatar was careful to remain out of sight,” said Galadriel harshly. “Celebrimbor also became more secretive, hiding his work from all but his own jewel-smiths.” Her expression softened somewhat.  “Yet the city remained peaceful for long after that, and it was easy to dismiss any threat he may have posed.”

“Is that when Naneth was conceived, then?” asked Elladan, his eyes twinkling.

“Impertinent whelp,” commented Celeborn, but he smiled at his grandson’s question. “Clearly your manners were inherited from your father’s line.”

“Please, Daerada, tell us about Nana,” begged Arwen.

“Tonight,” promised Galadriel, her eyes on Elrohir, who was nearly asleep in his mother’s arms. 

Celebrían disentangled herself from her son and eased him to the pillows as everyone followed Galadriel from the small enclosure.  Within moments, the healing elf was asleep, but for the first time in many days, he had a contented look and a slight smile on his lips.

* * * * *

A/N: What is known about the Second Age is found in just a few pages of the Tale of Years in Appendix B of The Lord of the Rings.  Several versions of the story of Celeborn and Galadriel exist in ‘Unfinished Tales,’ and provide us with more insight into the ideas Tolkien had about these characters and this time.  He had not settled on one, and thus it is difficult to say anything is canon beyond the few events listed in the timeline.  I am using some of the motivations and details concerning Annatar and Celebrimbor in particular in the section of UT called ‘Concerning Celeborn and Galadriel,’ but regarding Celeborn and Galadriel I am picking and choosing what can I can use to make this into a believable story. For a wonderful story using the first version of Celeborn and Galadriel’s history, read Bejai’s ‘Deific Flame.’  It is tremendously well done, as are all her stories.  For other fine stories of Celeborn and Galadriel, see Marnie’s stories. All can be found at ff.net, SoA, and Marnie’s own site –the URL is in her profile.