Thank you to daw the minstrel for beta reading this chapter

Chapter 17: Celebrían

The day dawned bright under sunny skies, without a single cloud to darken the horizon.  Elrond turned his face east, to soak in the morning light, but the ease and joy he received from Anor were less than he had expected.  Turning his thoughts inward, he searched for any source of discord among his family.  Finding none, he let himself drift deep into meditative thought, seeking to know if this discontent he felt was warning or foreknowledge of some event yet to come.

He sensed Galadriel’s approach before she joined him. For a long while neither spoke. Then Galadriel broke the silence, using words, for neither seemed willing to bare their thoughts to the other.

“Many a year has passed since Ohtar rode into Imladris with the tokens of the House of Elendil,” she said softly.

Elrond turned slightly to look upon her, nodding slightly in agreement with her statement.  Only three had escaped the disaster at the Gladden fields, where Isildur and his three oldest sons had perished. His gaze drifted back to the east, Anor now rising above the tops of the trees, shedding light upon the swift moving waters below him.

“Had the One been found by a person of power, we would feel the effects throughout Middle-earth.  It has not been found,” she continued.  “The hopes and ideals of Celebrimbor were not iniquitous, nor will the works touched only by his hand bear any evil. In time, one could learn to wield them as intentioned.”

Elrond continued to watch as the bright morning glow spread over the camp, now being dismantled in preparation for travel.  The trunk of the dead oak lay to the side of the camp, its smaller branches having been cut and stacked for firewood, a gift to future travelers.  A sudden vision flashed in his mind, of Elrohir crushed beneath the tree’s weight, of the bodies of all four of those who had been in the tent laid out on biers, their souls having fled to Mandos’s Halls.

“In the qualities of the sapphire, in the power of the Air, you are well chosen,” she finished.

She glided past him, the sleeve of her gown brushing against his arm. He felt the touch of her mind, her presence calming and refreshing, yet he knew beneath the surface of tranquility there resided a heart of unquenchable fire.  He was witness to her love for her daughter and grandchildren, and the deep, thought at times tumultuous, passion she bore for Celeborn.  Seldom in conflict, though usually of equal importance to her, were the duty and responsibility she carried for their people and Middle-earth.  Yet she also desired power.

Turning, she faced him. “Someday we may be tested, though I too perceive that in this matter I would face the greater struggle.  I do not plan to fail.”

He watched as she returned to camp, Arwen immediately rushing to her, looking for a companion to watch with her as the wagons were packed.  His hand slid unconsciously down his side, the slight weight of the velvet bag attached beneath his clothing barely noticeable to his touch.

“Adar, will you come knock some sense. . . er, I mean, speak words of wisdom to Elrohir?” asked Elladan. “He thinks he is riding today.”

Elrond could not help but smile as he saw Elrohir standing before Glorfindel, Celebrían and Erestor, pleading his case.  Not yet allowed to walk unattended, his attempts to prove his abilities were comical, as none would walk with him now.  Elrond joined the small group, schooling his expression into one of placid neutrality to keep from joining the others in barely contained amusement.

“Good morning, Elrohir,” he greeted his son pleasantly, wrapping one arm about the younger elf’s shoulders. “You appear to have rested well last night.”

“I did, Adar, thank you,” replied Elrohir, focusing his most charming smile and all of his attention on his father.  Elrond knew when he was being manipulated by one of his children, but he played along nonetheless. “As a matter of fact, Adar, I feel so well this morning I believe I am able to ride.  I feel much improved when I am upright.”

“Improved circulation, more blood to your head,” murmured Elrond in apparent agreement.  He caught Glorfindel’s eyes, the elf quickly catching on to his plan and moving silently to stand behind Elrohir.  “Of course, there is more to riding than merely being upright.  There are strength and balance to consider.”

As he spoke the words, Elrond tipped Elrohir slightly off balance by bumping into him while bending as if to pick up something from the ground.  Elrohir grabbed for his sleeve, but Elrond moved just enough to make the grab mostly useless, leaning into Elrohir rather than balancing his weight. A panicked look crossed Elrohir’s face as he began to fall. “Adar!” he cried.

Elrond did not react, but watched as Glorfindel deftly caught Elrohir and set him upright again, one arm wrapped about the young elf’s waist to steady him. “I am sorry, Elrohir,” Elrond said, true condolence in his voice. “For today you will ride in the wagon and perhaps with one of us eventually, but not by yourself.  Not yet.  You expect too much of yourself if you think to not only master that cast in one day, but ride with it as well.”

Tears threatened Elrohir’s eyes, but he managed to hold them in check as he nodded in response to his father.  He drew in a deep breath, not meeting the eyes of those assembled around him, and turned to walk back to the campfire. Remembering he was not to walk alone, he stopped. Glorfindel squeezed his shoulders in understanding and walked with him back to the tent.

Elrond felt Celebrían’s arm slip around his waist and leaned slightly into her.  “He was so earnest, Elrond. Such a trial this has been for him!”

Elrond pulled her into his arms, his hands sliding down the length of her back and over the curve of her hip. He kissed her tenderly.  “He has borne the trial well, all things considered. I am glad you are here, Celebrían, as he is better with you present.”

He felt her tense at his words and silently cursed himself for reopening that rift between them.  While he was still deciding what to say to further explain his words, she relaxed against him, wrapping both arms about his neck and returning the kiss. I know what you meant. There is nowhere else I would rather be than with you and our children.

“Adar, Naneth, there is still one tent that has not yet been dismantled,” said Elladan helpfully as he moved past them.

Celebrían reached out with one hand, swatting him as he walked past.  Elladan yelped, for she hit hard, and Elrond laughed. “See to the horses, Elladan!  We are nearly ready to go.”                    

Elladan smiled, joy lighting his face, and Elrond felt his own heart lighten in response. He had not realized how subdued Elladan’s personality had become during this trial, but in the last few days he had teased and prodded his twin and now his parents, evidence of a return of his good humor.

“He is your son,” he said to Celebrían.

Celebrían smiled with pride, turning her back to Elrond and leaning against him as she watched Elladan greet Garthon near the horses.  “Yes, he is,” she agreed.  “They are all mine.  But I will share them with you.”

“Your generosity is one of the things I love best about you,” replied Elrond, but his interest was suddenly captured by the delicate ear so near his lips.  “Although, this ear is very lovable too.”

Celebrían laughed and pulled away from both the lips that had captured her ear and the hands that had the rest of her.  “That ear has a price, meleth-nín,” she teased.

“I will pay any price,” replied Elrond rashly. “Name the forfeit.”

“Negotiate publicly if you must, but save the rest for home,” said Celeborn dryly as he and Glorfindel walked past them.   Glorfindel sidestepped Celebrían, giving her wide berth. “No swatting me,” he warned her, his eyes twinkling to match hers.

“He is scared of me,” Celebrían confided to Elrond as she grinned at Glorfindel.  She leaned close to Elrond then, one hand slipping into the neck of his tunic as she whispered in his ear.  Elrond knew his eyes widened and he could not help the smile that spread across his face. He looked up into the amused expression on Glorfindel’s face.

“I think we should leave now,” Elrond managed.  “The sooner we leave, the sooner we will be home.”

Glorfindel howled with laughter and Celebrían smiled wickedly as Elrond straightened his tunic and began walking away.  Celeborn fell into step with him, guiding him towards the shore of the river where they would be alone, and Elrond knew the elf also had something he wished to say to him.

“In answer to your current thought, yes, my daughter has always had that rather wicked sense of humor,” began Celeborn.  “We conceived her rashly and I think it became an inborn quality.  She does, however, bring out the best in you.”

Elrond smiled. Yes, he did have to agree with that.

“I would counsel you, were I asked, to not use Vilya at all,” continued Celeborn. “Yet I sense that all of the Three will eventually be in use, and I even foresee that what is born of them will be for good. The cost to you will be great, Elrond. Bearing that kind of power, even when not used to dominate, carries its own price. The location of the rings should not be known by any but the bearers and those who would protect them.”

Elrond lifted his eyebrow in question at Celeborn, wondering if somehow his father-in-law knew what he and Glorfindel had spoken of the day prior.

“But among us, there should be no secrets.  If you choose to use it, bear it wisely and seek good counsel as you learn to wield it. And,” finished Celeborn, “do not use it here.”

“I will heed your counsel,” replied Elrond. “I shall count upon your wisdom in the future.  The days will not always remain as they are now.”

“No, they will not,” replied Celeborn.  “In time, shadow will return.”

They returned to camp, the only evidence of their sojourn there the neatly stacked wood near the downed oak tree. Wagons were packed and the horses ready, waiting only for their riders.

Elrond could see the stubborn set to his son’s jaw as Elrohir looked at the place made for him in the wagon.  Elladan stood next to him, but there was no teasing between them now.  Both twins looked aghast at the thought of Elrohir riding in the bed of a wagon.

“Adar, perhaps Elrohir could ride with me,” suggested Elladan.

Two sets of hopeful eyes met his, and Elrond glanced from them to the wagon and back.  The wagons were not meant for riding on, not even by riders, for their horses did not need the guidance of reins. Yet, cook had made a comfortable nest on the wagon floor, with the feather mattress, cushions and pillows, and the bed he had made was high enough that a rider could see over the sides.

“I will ride with you, Elrohir, if you must go that way,” said Arwen resolutely. Elrond could see that even his daughter was not thrilled at the prospect.

He turned his gaze towards Elrohir, his son’s face falling as he read the look in Elrond’s eyes.  Elrond felt pity fill him, and he nearly gave in, but he knew the pain would drive Elrohir to the wagon in a few hours regardless. “No, Elrohir,” he finally answered. “I know that you would be miserable after just a short time of riding, for your leg has not healed enough to withstand that.” He moved near his son and pulled him close, speaking words meant only for Elrohir’s ears. “Let go of your pride, Elrohir. There is no shame in this.”

Elrohir drew in a great breath of air and held it for a moment, then exhaled and nodded.  He accepted a hand from his father into the wagon and made himself comfortable on the bed.  Arwen climbed in after him, crawling into his lap and wrapping her arms around him. Elrond latched the back of the wagon closed and mounted his own horse.

They set out, scouts having left earlier that morning to check the road they would follow, and it was a long party of elves that traveled the road south. The destruction of the storms was evident, with broken tree limbs and downed trees visible along the way.  Several times on their morning journey they came across sections of the trail that were damaged, as if a flash flood had swept over the area, taking with it all the vegetation and much of the ground as it passed. 

Elrohir and Arwen sat at times at the side of the wagon, elbows or forearms propped on the edge as they surveyed the damage. Elrond could hear only bits of their conversation, but Elrohir appeared to have a rapt audience in Arwen, who hung on his every word.  They rested the horses at midday, and Elrohir and Arwen gladly climbed down from their perch. There was no argument when it was time to continue, and when Elrond next rode near the wagon both were lying on their stomachs, reading stories from a book that Erestor had sent over.  A smile crossed his face when he realized they were reading out loud together, each taking on different voices of the characters they were playing. At one point he heard Elrohir growl and Arwen squeal, and much laughter followed. 

Elrond grinned as Glorfindel and Elladan drew up on either side of him in haste. “They are storytelling,” he said, just loud enough for them to hear.

Celebrían’s voice drifted back to them in song, and Glorfindel laughed with glee and spurred his horse forward to join her.  His voice soon joined hers, and Elrond shook his head.

“It is the dwarven walking song!” cried Elladan.  “We heard Naneth sing it only once when we were children, and when we asked her to sing again she said she forgot the words!”

“Your Naneth learned it from the dwarves when she was just a child, according to Celeborn, and he has not yet forgiven them,” replied Elrond.  He smiled at Elladan. “It has been sung in the Hall of Fire, when dwarves have been our guests, but not in recent times.”

Elladan spun around to look at the wagon.  “I do not think they have realized Naneth is singing yet,” he said, relieved.

“If you listen closely, only certain verses are being sung loudly,” noted Elrond.

Elladan began to laugh.  “Adar, you and Naneth are so different! You are quiet and reserved, and she is vivacious and merry.”

Elrond felt warmth spread through him as he thought about his wife. He met Elladan’s gaze and then looked forward to the head of the column where he could see Celebrían’s silver hair shining in the sunlight.  “You are like starlight and the quiet of evening, and Naneth is the bright glow of morning and birds singing,” said Elladan thoughtfully.  “What made you fall in love with her, Adar?”

Elrond rode in silence for a moment as he thought of the first times he saw Celebrían. “I loved your naneth from the moment I saw her. I know that sounds like romantic nonsense, but it is true.  I heard her laughter and saw her beauty. . . not just her outward beauty, either.  Her eyes were warm and they twinkled, and she was kind to everyone she met.”

“Did you tell her right away?” asked Elladan curiously.

“No,” replied Elrond. “She was a breath of fresh air, like the coming of spring after a cold and dark winter. She came to Imladris with her parents, but when they left for Lindon she went with them.”

“Did she love you in return?”

Elrond smiled. “You will need to ask your naneth that question, Elladan.  Gil-Galad sent me a letter saying a beautiful elleth had come to his court, but she was uninterested in anyone there. He told me she thought the King’s herald surpassed them all in her measure of worthiness.”

“Adar, that is romantic!” exclaimed Elladan.

“Those were Gil-Galad’s words, and he wished me married,” replied Elrond dryly. “I may have wished they were true, but I do not know if they were true or merely Ereinion’s attempts to match make between us.”

“The High King played matchmaker?” asked Elladan, astonished.

“No,” laughed Elrond.  “But he was my uncle and had helped raise me. He wished happiness for me and thought me too serious at times.” He fell silent and suddenly the horizon seemed blurry as he remembered Gil-Galad. “At Dagorlad, we were sitting together one night planning strategy for the battle. He sat back suddenly and looked at me and said, ‘Elrond, when this is over, go home and marry Celebrían. She is a fine maiden and will make a wonderful wife, mistress of Imladris and mother to your children.’  Then he bent back over his map and resumed his studying of our battle plan for the next day.”

“He was right,” said Elladan.

“Gil-Galad was seldom wrong,” replied Elrond without hesitation.

Elladan was quiet for the rest of the afternoon, but as soon as they made camp for the night, he pounced on his mother. She was sitting next to her mother, with Arwen on her other side.  Elladan swung Arwen up into the air and plopped down with her in his lap.

“Naneth, when did you know you were in love with Adar?  What made you fall in love with him?” he asked without preamble.

Elrond watched the smile spread across Celebrían’s face, and then she looked up and around, her gaze finally settling on him. He felt her presence through their bond, and then felt heat rising in his face as she began naming for him all the things she loved about him.  He felt her laughter in response to his reaction; then suddenly he could hear her voice speaking again.

“I loved your Adar from the first moment I laid eyes on him,” Celebrían answered Elladan.  She studied him for a moment.  “Why do you ask, Elladan?  Are you wondering if you are in love with someone?” She paused for a moment, seemingly thinking. “I saw you speaking to the daughter of . . . .”

“No, Naneth,” interrupted Elladan hastily. “I am not wondering about myself, but about you and Adar.”

“Hmmm…,” teased Celebrían, watching as Elladan blushed under her scrutiny.  She laughed aloud then.  “I will not ask more about her,” she said, to Elladan’s visible relief.  “You wished to know what made me fall in love with your adar?  I think it will be difficult to name only one thing.  He was handsome and wise, and he was unafraid of a challenge, for he was building Imladris into the beautiful home it has become.  My parents thought highly of him, but I think it was his eyes that made me fall in love with him. He had the kindest eyes I had ever seen, eyes that met those of each one he spoke to with genuine warmth.”

“Naneth, if you loved Adar at first sight, and he says he loved you at first sight, why did you not tell each other?” asked Elladan, a slight note of exasperation in his voice.

“Elladan, the ever practical!” laughed Celebrían, but she sobered quickly. “Times were dark then, and the future was very uncertain. There was much planning occurring, for the defense of the realms and the alliance with Men. It was not a time to speak of our love, and indeed, I did not know of your father’s love for me, nor he of mine, until later.”

Elladan turned his charming grin to his grandparents. “Daeradar, Daernaneth, tell us more about Naneth as a child, and tell us more about the Rings of Power.  Naneth was just born when you found out that Sauron had made the One Ring.”

“Celebrimbor did eventually tell us,” began Galadriel, “though, in some ways, he betrayed and deceived us as well . . ..”

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Celeborn was sprawled out on his back in the grass of the garden, Celebrían sitting astride him and bouncing up and down on his stomach.   Raising his hips and lower back at the same moment she bounced up, he catapulted her forward, catching her in his arms and then throwing her above him and catching her on her descent.  Celebrían’s delighted screams filled the air.

“Do that again, Ada!” she cried. She looked up at the clear sky and bright sun and raised her arms, as if reaching for them.  “Throw me to the sun and Arien will catch me!”

“Arien would see your pretty silver hair and think she had at last caught Ithil, and she would not wish to return you,” replied Celeborn as he lowered her to his chest. He blew a wet kiss on her cheek.  “You are mine, princess.”

Celebrían giggled and returned a sloppy kiss. “You are mine, Ada.”

Galadriel watched them play for a few minutes longer, the message in her hand not forgotten, yet she felt a foreboding that once they had learned what the sender of the message wanted to speak to them about, their lives would be irrevocably changed.  The idyllic scene before her seemed poised on the edge of a precipice.

She walked silently into the garden, a smile spreading across her face as Celebrían played with Celeborn’s hair.  Her fingers were not dexterous enough to weave ribbons into the crooked braids she was making, but she managed to tie a short pink ribbon to the end of one.

“Ada is pretty now,” she proclaimed. Her face lit with joy as Galadriel knelt down beside them. “Nana! Play with us?”

Galadriel laughed as Celebrían crawled into her arms and then pulled herself upright, standing on her mother’s thighs and resting her hands on mother’s shoulders.  “Bri braid nana’s hair?” she asked.

“I would be delighted,” replied Galadriel.  She sat then, so Celebrían could stand next to her and begin her artistry.  Celeborn sat upright next to her, taking the message she handed him. He read it through twice, then looked up at her.

“For nearly three years we have not seen nor heard from Celebrimbor.  He hides in his compound, and his Mírdain say he works at night, alone in his workshop, and broods during the day.  He has sent for many books from the library, scrolls about Melkor and Gorthaur. And he writes, but lets no one read the words he has scribed on to the many scrolls. He has declined to meet with us upon our request, and now he requests an audience with us. How do you read this?” asked Celeborn.

“Nana, you need white ribbons,” decided Celebrían.

Galadriel pulled a white ribbon from the sash at her waist and gave it to Celebrían before answering.  “He was not well the day he came here. He wished to tell us something then, but he had been locked up for so long he had not realized we had a child, and her presence shocked him. I think we are going to learn whatever it was he meant to tell us that day.”

“He wishes for us to come to his workshop,” mused Celeborn as he scanned the message again.  “That is an opportunity seldom afforded.”  He reached out with long fingers to tickle his daughter.  “Celebrían, would you like to play with Narusel?”

Between giggles caused by her father’s questing fingers, Celebrían answered, “Yes, Ada! Play with Narusel!”

Celeborn and Galadriel gathered up their child, and a short time later appeared at the shopkeeper’s door.  He had elflings of various sizes with him today, and an older elleth was playing on the shop floor with Narusel.  The older child stood and curtseyed as she recognized the lord and lady of the city, but Narusel saw only her friend.  “Cebri!” she cried as she leapt to her feet and ran to meet the guests.

Celebrían nearly jumped from Celeborn’s arms, and he released her somewhere near the ground. She landed with both feet running and ran into the arms of her friend.  They hugged each other as they danced in circles.  The shopkeeper smiled indulgently as the elflings danced around the older child.

“My brother’s children are visiting,” explained the shopkeeper.  “His eldest will enjoy having two to play with today.  She delights in little ones.” He turned back to Celeborn, bowing slightly.  “She will be well with us.”

“We thank you. Celebrían loves it here,” he replied.  “We will send someone for her if it grows late.”

“Nay,” replied the shopkeeper.  “She is welcome until you return, whenever that may be.”

Content that Celebrían was in good hands, Celeborn took a moment once they were out of her sight to remove the pink ribbon and crooked braid from his hair, then did the same for Galadriel.  Celeborn looked at the ribbons he held in one hand, then at Galadriel.  They both laughed.

“Now that we have our own child, I notice such things,” admitted Galadriel.  “I see parents with interesting hair patterns and now I know they have little ones at home.”

They walked hand in hand to the compound of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, the gatekeeper opening the iron gate immediately and allowing them passage up the stairs and to the entrance of the compound.  Another elf met them inside and led them through the maze of corridors, finally passing through another locked door, hewn of stone, so heavy that it took two nearby guards to push it open. Inside, Celebrimbor waited for them.

Galadriel nearly gasped at the sight of him.  He was thin and unkempt, his dark hair limp and lifeless, even tangled in places. His clothing hung loose about him.  Dark circles beneath his eyes were lessened by the look of resignation and despair within them. A slight sound escaped her as she reached to take his hand, but he pulled away from her and instead motioned for them both to sit.

Once they were seated, he opened the ornately carved chest that was before them. “Do not touch them,” he warned in a lifeless voice.

Galadriel held her breath as she looked at the exquisite rings before her.  She had to consciously remind her fingers not to touch them, for the three begged to be held and caressed.  Celebrimbor opened two other chests, one displaying nine rings and one six, with the seventh missing.  Their workmanship was different than that of the three: they were beautiful, but they were outshone by the brilliance of the three.

Taking a deep breath, Celebrimbor began his story. He explained the origins of each ring, who had made them and their purpose, and he ended with what happened the day he came to their house. Throughout his long monologue, his voice monotone except for when he described the power of the Three, he held their eyes with his own.

“That is when he revealed himself, and I recognized him as Sauron, Gorthaur, and his plan was revealed to me.” He bowed his head. “I have learned all I can of his power; I have written down every step and thought and process used in the creation of the rings. I have analyzed it from every angle.  I have tried every craft I know, every spell, to destroy the lesser rings.  They cannot be destroyed.  They cannot be used,” he finished.

Galadriel looked to Celeborn for the first time since the lecture had begun. He gripped her hand tightly, so much so that she had to reach her other hand over and loosen his grip.  He had grown pale, as pale as she thought she was herself. His eyes flashing with anger, Celeborn was the first to speak.

“You are saying that Annatar is Sauron and that he resided within the city, under our noses, for several centuries, learning all you could teach him and you learning all the craft and magic he could teach you.  Magic and craft you do not understand and cannot undo. Rings of power have been forged that cannot be destroyed, yet can both empower and enslave the bearer for eternity. One bearing the ring would not only become a slave, but a tyrant to any they held power over,” he said flatly.

“The Three will bear no evil, nor will they dominate or enslave their bearer,” repeated Celebrimbor tiredly. “But they cannot be used, for in their making some of Annatar’s craft was used, and with the One he could lay bare the mind and heart of the one wielding it.”

“Where is Sauron now?” asked Celeborn, nearly spitting the name of the evil Maia in his contempt.

“I have sent out messages and messengers, seeking knowledge of where he is from, where he resides.  To the east is all I know at this time,” answered Celebrimbor, rubbing his face with both hands.

“Who knows of these rings?” asked Galadriel in a tight voice.

“We three are the only ones who know the Three are completed.  Perhaps five of my jewel-smiths know of the seven and the nine, and Sauron, of course.

Silence fell over the room as all stared in silent contemplation at the rings before them. Finally, Celeborn rose and Galadriel stood with him.

“I will be sending scouts out to determine where Sauron resides and how many serve him. Lock up these rings, well, Celebrimbor.  Ensure no others learn of their existence,” growled Celeborn.  “When we need to speak with you, you will see us immediately.”

Celebrimbor nodded in acceptance, and Galadriel saw relief in his face as well.  She could almost pity him for having carried this burden alone for three years. As she looked deep into his heart and mind, she could feel the overwhelming despair and loss within him, and guilt as well. She could read his thoughts, for in his state he could not hide them.  He had at times doubted Annatar’s sincerity, the craft itself and the potential for evil, yet in his selfishness he had ignored all to further his own desires.

Turning, she walked with Celeborn from the room, past the locked door and long corridors, until they were finally in the sunlight again.  They walked slowly, silent, as the full measure of all Celebrimbor had told them sunk into their minds.  They were at the shop of Narusel’s father only a few moments later.

“Ada! Nana!” cried Celebrían.  She raced out to meet them, flinging herself into Celeborn’s waiting arms.  She wrapped her arms first around her ada, then reached to do the same to Galadriel.  Galadriel saw the tears glistening in Celeborn’s eyes as he released her, and she understood the depth and breadth of the many emotions racing through him.  Her foresight told her that the implications of what Celebrimbor told them would change the world, rock its very foundations, before an end would be found.  And into this time they had brought a child.

“She had dinner with us,” said Narusel’s father as he strode toward them with his little daughter in his arms.  “They had a grand time playing together and with Narusel’s cousins.  Celebrían is welcome anytime.”

If the shopkeeper saw any distress in their faces, he did not acknowledge it.  They both thanked him and returned home with Celebrían.

* * *

Ten years later

“Naneth, Narusel and I are going to play in the fountain!” called Celebrían as she flew past Galadriel’s desk without pause.

“Celebrían!” Galadriel called.  She waited until her small daughter had returned to stand before her, and still did not speak until she stopped rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet in anticipation of running.  She smiled as she looked the child over.  Her hair was bound back with clips, keeping it fairly neat, and she was clean.

“Are these more comfortable to play in?” she asked, tugging lightly on what looked like a skirt, but was really leggings with a fabric overlay.  Narusel’s mother had conceived the idea after watching their daughters hang upside down with their skirts about their faces and their underthings plainly seen.

“Yes, Nana,” responded Celebrían, twirling slightly to make the skirt flare out.

Galadriel smiled at her daughter’s grin.  She still loved her ribbons and pretty things, but she liked to play and chase with the ellon at the fountain as well.  Narusel’s mother was a very practical elf, agreeing that their daughters should look respectable but also wishing for them to have adventures in their play.  Most of the young elleth were now wearing similar garments as they played, propriety intact and the elleth not deprived.

She sat back in her chair and waited.  Celebrían looked at her curiously, then a sudden giggle burst from her.  She stood up straight and looked her mother in the eye. “Please, Nana, may I go to the fountain with Narusel? I will be home in time for dinner.”

“Yes, Celebrían, you may. Only to the fountain or Narusel’s home, though,” replied Galadriel, as she kissed the child on the forehead.

“I promise, Nana!” cried Celebrían as she raced out the door.

Galadriel returned to her map as the sound of her daughter’s footsteps faded away.  Scouts left for months and even years at a time, seeking knowledge of Sauron and learning the location of his stronghold.  Thus far they had accumulated little hard information.  The Men of Númenor were making more settlements along the coast.  The Haradrim had thus far ignored their attempts at friendship, although some of the Easterlings had treated with them. The Easterlings were not friends of many of the villages of men, having made several sorties into the west in recent years. 

Messengers sent to Amdir and Oropher had returned without news; neither had heard rumor of a new shadow rising.  Galadriel and Celeborn had argued over how much to tell these two kings, and finally Galadriel had won and nothing had been said.  How could they explain that they only knew their old enemy had reappeared and had a ruling ring of power?  They didn’t know anything about his size, strength, location or plans. To Gil-Galad though, she had conceded that the truth should be told.  Tasked with drafting the message that would be carried to him, she stared at the nearly blank parchment as she again perused the map.  Her desire was that she would have answers, or at least facts, to give as well as the tale of Celebrimbor’s folly.  How did they assess this potential threat? How did they plan?

Precautions had been taken, though, for the city.  The children did all play within the city walls, walls now reinforced and guarded.  More elves were trained as warriors, and the smiths had made more swords of late than any other craft.  Questions had been raised within the city, wondering about whether a threat was growing or rumor of war had come.  Celeborn had been hard pressed at times to explain that while they did not have knowledge of an exact threat, they had reason to believe there was one. They could not keep their people on a state of alert without giving them more information, either.

Many times they had returned to the Gwaith-i-Mírdain to speak to Celebrimbor. 

“Does Sauron need the seven and the nine?” Celeborn had asked. “Can he create rings of his own, rings made of his own hand that he can give to whom he chooses?”

Celebrimbor had answered indecisively, agreeing it was possible for Sauron to do this.  He even proposed it was probable Sauron would do this.  More and more, though, his mind drifted and he veered off on tangents that seemed irrelevant to the question asked. At times he thought Sauron would ignore them and go off to the east, to use what he had learned there.  At times he recalled Sauron’s hatred of Númenor, and thought he would turn his attention there.  Seldom did he think that Sauron would return.  Mostly he mourned the inability to use the Three, the pride of his career.

Galadriel marked on the map where the latest scouts had been sent, then laid down the quill, the letter again not started.  She wished to tell Gil-Galad all; she just wished she knew what ‘all’ entailed.

A commotion at the doorway caught her attention, and she rose to see who had come, when the front door was opened and a small mud-covered child entered. Behind her stood one of Celeborn’s guards, himself quite wet and a little muddy as well.

“Celebrían?” asked Galadriel in disbelief.

The small figure hung her head and would not meet her mother’s eyes.  Galadriel looked to the guard, her eyebrow arching in question. He bowed, and then answered.  “A disagreement at the fountain, my lady, that overflowed into the garden where the gardeners were spreading new soil.” Galadriel sniffed delicately. “The soil was amended with fertilizers, my lady.”

“Indeed,” she answered calmly. She looked upon the guard, who clearly wished to be anywhere but returning children to their naneths. “Thank you for escorting her home.”

The guard fled.

“Celebrían, go out to the garden.  I will speak with you out there.” Galadriel waved her back outside.  She returned to her own chamber, exchanging her gown for old trousers and tunic, and enlisted a maid to carry a metal tub outside.  She found Celebrían standing forlorn in the middle of the garden, not touching anything, as the maids filled the tub with water.

“Take your clothes off and set them on the grass,” she directed.  As Celebrían disrobed, Galadriel was hard pressed not to laugh as patches of white skin appeared amidst the black mud covered areas.  Galadriel filled a bucket with water, felt some regret that it was cold, and dumped it over Celebrían’s head.  A muffled shriek came from the dripping mass, but two buckets later she was fairly clean.  “Now in the tub.”

Celebrían climbed in the tub, sighing at the relative warmth, for the maids had warmed some of the water.  Galadriel knelt down and began soaping and scrubbing.

“Now I am finally sure you are my Celebrían,” she said as she set the rinse bucket down for the last time.  She titled up Celebrían’s chin and turned her face slightly.  “Why is your face bruised?”

“Someone kicked me,” muttered Celebrían.

Galadriel stood and held out a towel, which she wrapped around Celebrían when she stood.  She rubbed her briskly and then sat down with Celebrían in her lap.  “Now tell me what happened.”

Celebrían hung her head, but at Galadriel’s prodding finally began to speak. “One of the ellyn said that Adar is making everyone into warriors and making Ost-in-Edhil into a fortress for no reason.  Another ellon said Adar did it because he was so old he forgot the war was long over.”

“Hmm…” answered Galadriel as she worked a comb through the tangled hair.  “How did you respond to that?”  She had to bite her lip, then, when her animated daughter began to give her the details.

“He is not old, and he has reason for doing what he does,” I said.

“He is too old and he forgets things.  It happens in men all the time but only in REALLY old elves,” said the ellon.

“Take it back!” I said

“No!” said the ellon.

“Stop saying things about my adar or I will make you eat dirt!” I said.

“You are only an elleth! Besides, I am much bigger than you,” said the ellon.

Celebrían was quiet for a moment, so Galadriel prodded her again, “So you did what then?”

“I pushed him in the dirt,” answered Celebrían. “Then his friend pushed me, so Narusel pushed him.  We were all already wet.”

“I see,” managed Galadriel, the cost of not laughing nearly making her snort.  “How did it end?”

“The guard came and told us to stop fighting, so we did.  But then the dumb ellon pulled my hair, so I shoved him into the manure. Then another guard came and one took me and Narusel home and another took the ellyn home.”

Galadriel finished combing the tangles out of the hair of her unrepentant daughter, and then turned the child to face her. “Now what shall we do with you?”

Celebrían twisted the towel between her fingers, her eyes suddenly interested in everything but her mother’s face.  “I think I should be sent to my room.”

“I think that would be a fine place for you to stay until your adar comes home and he and I discuss this,” answered Galadriel.  She felt no guilt at her hope that Celeborn would think of a suitable punishment, although she might be able to do so herself by evening.  At the moment, however, she thought the manure pile an adequate place for the small ellon.

She set Celebrían on her feet and wrapped the towel more snugly around her, and then watched the small figure trudge towards the house.  Her footsteps became slower and slower, and finally she turned to look at the mother, tears in her eyes.  Galadriel walked quickly to her daughter and scooped her up in her arms, and carried her instead to her own chamber.  There she settled into the rocking chair where she had nursed her daughter as an infant, and let her cry as she rocked her to sleep.  She then put Celebrían in her own bed and resumed her work.  

~ ~ ~* * *~ ~ ~

Arwen was staring at her mother aghast, while Elladan and Elrohir were nearly falling over with laughter.  Celeborn was grinning and Galadriel just appeared serene.  Elrond looked again at his wife and nearly choked on his own laughter at the completely unrepentant look on her face.

“They really did have it coming,” she said primly.

Elladan and Elrohir burst into gales of laughter again.

“Naneth, did you get punished?” asked Arwen, her eyes darting from her mother to her grandparents.

“Narusel and I had to apologize to the ellyn and they had to apologize to us,” answered Celebrían.  Her eyes flashed briefly. “They did not say unkind things about my adar again.”

A flash of light in the slowly darkening sky caught their attention.

“Another storm,” said Erestor, already on his feet.  He began scanning the camp, determining the safest places for them to take shelter. His gaze settled on Elrohir, who stood up on his good leg, the crutch used with skill to help him jump a few feet.  “I can move this time,” he promised.

The stories over, they prepared the camp to withstand another storm.

* * * * *

Gorthaur------------------ the Sindar name for Sauron
Ellon/ellyn---------------  young male elf/elves
Elleth/ellyth---------------young female elf/elves