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Spring Awakenings  by daw the minstrel

I borrow characters and settings from Tolkien, but they are his, not mine. I gain only the enriched imaginative life that I assume he intended me to gain.

Many thanks to Nilmandra for beta reading this chapter. 

AN:  I’m going to quote from Tolkien’s essay “Laws and Customs of the Eldar” to clarify some of what is happening in the Eilian part of this story.  He and Celuwen are actually married now. That’s what that little episode in the woods was all about.  Here’s what Tolkien says:

“It was the act of bodily union that achieved marriage, and after which the indissoluble bond was complete.  In happy days and times of peace it was held ungracious and contemptuous of kin to forgo the ceremonies, but it was at all times lawful for any of the Eldar, both being unwed, to marry thus of free consent one to another without ceremony or witness (save blessings exchanged and the naming of the Name); and the union so joined was alike indissoluble.” (p. 212, Morgoth’s Ring)

Additionally, I make use of the fact (drawn from the same essay) that Elves can tell if another Elf is married by his or her eyes and voice.

*******

9.  Celuwen’s Parents

Eilian stirred slightly, aware that something was not quite as usual and, for a split second, unable to identify what it was.  And then suddenly, his eyes focused and he realized that Celuwen was asleep beside him, her warm and nearly naked body so close to his that he could hear her heart beating.  It was not a dream, he exulted. They were bonded and not even death itself could change that immutable fact.  He should have been sated by their repeated lovemaking of the night before, but he found that he was aroused by the very thought of what lay under the blanket and cloaks he had wrapped around them when they had finished.  I should let her sleep, he thought regretfully. There will be other times, he reminded himself. We have eternity now. The thought dazzled him.

He lay for a moment wishing she would awaken but willing to watch her sleep, with wonder washing over him.  Her eyelids were half lowered, and her breathing was long and slow.  And something else was different too, he abruptly recognized.  Within his own restless mind, there was a calm place that was the sleeping Celuwen.  He held his breath, exploring that place slightly and marveling at it.  Having Celuwen in his bedroll and in his mind were both equally foreign and equally astounding experiences.

The morning was cold, he thought, and their fire had died down in the night.  He did not want her to be cold when she awakened in their makeshift bed.  He did not want her ever to be uncomfortable or unhappy in any way.  Cautiously, he slipped out of the bedroll to pad barefooted toward the fire, his skin prickling with the icy spring air that also went a good part of the way to dampening his desire.  His hip ached a little but felt remarkably good for once.  Moving rather gingerly because of his nakedness, he added sticks to the fire and poked at it to bring it life again.

When he turned, intending to crawl back into the blanket, he was startled to find that Celuwen was sitting up, watching him. Her eyes traveled down the length of his body and back up again, with something like possessive satisfaction growing on her face.

He grinned.  “Stop that,” he commanded. “You will embarrass a shy elf like me.”

She laughed.  “Good morning, husband,” she said, and he found he was thrilled by the word.

“Good morning, wife.”  The blankets had slid down to her waist when she sat up, and he started toward her, his body making his predatory intentions all too clear.

She hastily pulled the blankets up to her chin.  “Eilian, if my parents have not already realized that I did not come home last night, they soon will, and my adar will come looking for me.”

Eilian stopped abruptly, considered this idea, and came to a reluctant conclusion.  If Celuwen’s father was to arrive at his campsite, it would be much better if both Celuwen and he had clothes on.  Eilian found he did not relish facing an enraged Sólith clad only in his skin.  “We should get dressed,” he acknowledged, and she nodded.  “Are you sure we do not have a little time yet?” he asked longingly.

Celuwen laughed.  “Throw me my chemise,” she instructed. “No! Do not bring it; throw it.  And see if you can find my stockings.”

He had been happily intending to help her into her chemise, and he tossed it to her without enthusiasm.  “You are still wearing your stockings,” he told her.

She peered under the blanket. “I left them on?” she inquired in a scandalized tone.

He smiled smugly. “You did not want to take time to take them off,” he told her.  She let out an exasperated exclamation, seized a shoe that was within reach, and threw it at his head.  He grinned and then began to pull his leggings on, watching her struggling to dress within the confines of the blanket.  After a few moments, she emerged triumphant, lacing up her gown, just as he pulled on his shoes.

She drew a deep breath.  “I will go and tell my parents,” she announced.

“No,” he said firmly. “We will both go.”

She hesitated. “That may not be a good idea.”

“I am going with you,” he repeated.  “I refuse to leave you to face your parents alone. Besides, I am not ashamed of what we have done. Are you?”

She turned to him with a serious face. “Never. I could never be anything but proud of being bonded to you, Eilian.”

Deep gratitude washed over him, and he planted a kiss on her brow. “Come,” he said, and hand-in-hand, they walked to her family’s cottage. The door opened just as they approached, and suddenly, they were face to face with an anxious looking Sólith.

“Celuwen,” he breathed, in obvious relief, and then, abruptly, he stilled.  He stood looking into his daughter’s eyes, with shock gradually growing on his face.  Then he whirled to face Eilian. “You,” he choked out, his face turning crimson. “What have you done?  What have you pushed her into?”  For a moment, Eilian thought Sólith was going to attack him, and he braced himself, but Celuwen stepped between them.

“Eilian did not push me into anything,” she said. “I made my choice. I chose Eilian because I could not do otherwise, and bonding with him has left my heart so much at peace that I could never regret what I have done.  Can you not be happy for me, Adar?”

Eilian was utterly amazed.  What had he ever done to deserve her?  He looked over her head and found that Sólith was ignoring his daughter and glaring at him with an intensity that made him take a small, astonished step back.

Isiwen now came up behind her husband. “There you are,” she said, her face relaxing a little. “I was worried.”  Then seeming to become aware of the tense silence in which the other three stood, she turned her eyes full on her daughter.  What she saw made her draw in her breath. She pulled the door open further.  “Come in,” she said soberly. “We should talk.”

Sólith looked at her with his face rigid. “What is there to talk about? He has finally gotten what he wanted and there is nothing we can do about it.”

“We should not be holding this conversation on the doorstep,” Isiwen protested.  She turned to Eilian and Celuwen. “Come in,” she said. “I will make tea.”

“You and Celuwen go in,” said Sólith. “I want to talk to Eilian.”

“No!” cried Celuwen and Isiwen in unison.  Eilian was a little embarrassed to have the two of them protecting him so obviously, but he was forced to admit to himself that he had no wish to be alone with Sólith.  He had no doubt that he could pound Sólith into the ground if he so chose, but Celuwen was almost certain to object, so he was left without any course of action available to him.

“Come inside, Sólith.” Isiwen’s voice was sharp now.

With obvious reluctance, her husband obeyed, and Celuwen too followed her mother inside.  Eilian paused for a second on the doorstep, and then gathered all his courage and walked into the little room.  Sólith had seated himself near the fire, where he had been when Eilian arrived for this visit only two days ago.  His eyes bored into Eilian, who hesitated and then moved to lean against the wall next to the front door.  I am not afraid, Eilian assured himself, but he had no intention of taking the seat next to the Elf who was now his father-in-law.  He shuddered faintly at that thought.

Isiwen was bustling around making tea. “There is porridge,” she offered in a strained voice, pointing to a pot near the fire.  “Get some for yourself and Eilian, Celuwen.”

Celuwen had been standing near her father, looking at him with pleading eyes that made Eilian want to grab Sólith by the collar and shake him into responding to her.  Her pain was obvious to Eilian. Surely it must have been equally evident to Sólith, who continued to stare at Eilian.  Eilian looked back at him, willing him to pay attention to his daughter. At her mother’s bidding, Celuwen turned away to get the porridge, biting her lip as she did so.

Suddenly, there was a sharp, cracking noise.  They all jumped and turned to look at Isiwen, who had just slapped her hand down on the table. Eilian blinked.  Isiwen was normally a quiet person, but she had drawn herself up to her full height and now placed both hands on her hips.  Her mouth was set in a determined line. She was plainly angry, and the person she was angry with was her husband.

“What is wrong with you, Sólith?” she demanded.  “Do you not remember that only three days ago we feared our daughter was going to die of grief?  I do not care if Eilian is the last Elf in Arda you wished her to marry.” Eilian grimaced but held his tongue.  “She has made her choice, and in so doing, she has chosen to live! Is that not good enough for you?”

Eilian slid his gaze to Sólith, whose face had darkened.  “What chance do you think she has for happiness?” Sólith barked, and to Eilian’s surprise, he looked near to tears.  “He will go back to his patrol. You heard him say it.  He will be as careless as he has ever been, only now he will be being careless with our daughter’s heart.”

Celuwen gave a small cry, put down the two bowls of porridge she had been holding, and went to crouch at her father’s knees.  “Adar, try to understand. I love Eilian. I think I always have.  It may not be wise, but it is right for me. And in any case, I cannot do otherwise!”

Sólith’s hand settled on his daughter’s head, and when he spoke, his voice was full of despair.  “What will you do now, little one? Where will you live?  What will you do with the empty hours and days and weeks when he is away?”

Celuwen hesitated.  “I am not sure,” she said unhappily.

Eilian stirred from the spot near the door where he had been frozen, seeing a side to Sólith that startled him.  “I am taking Celuwen home,” he said with determination.  “We will leave today.”  He could not imagine staying in this cottage for even a single night.

They all turned to look at him.  Sólith’s face was grim, and Isiwen looked as if she might cry.  But Celuwen’s face was the one that filled Eilian’s vision.  She looked frightened, as if it had only just dawned on her that her life had changed completely. Eilian froze.  Was it possible that Celuwen regretted her decision already?  Then, suddenly, she smiled at him, and his heart lifted, and he smiled tenderly back at her.

“We should eat first,” Celuwen told him, rising and going to get the bowls of porridge. “Then I will pack my things.” She brought one of the bowls to him, and he touched her hand when he took it from her and felt, as always, a tremor of excitement at the contact.

Sólith snorted.  “You have made your bed, daughter, and now you must lie in it.  I fear in this case that that is only too apt a description of what happened.” Celuwen flushed, but she smiled up into Eilian’s face before she went to get her own morning meal.

Isiwen was in motion again, apparently determined to behave as if this were a normal family gathering.  “Here is your tea,” she said, handing a mug to Sólith.  She patted his shoulder.  “She will be all right, my love,” she said bravely.  He grimaced at her and then put his hand comfortingly over hers.

***

Eilian led his horse slowly back toward the cottage.  He had gone to pack up his gear, while Isiwen helped Celuwen gather her possessions.  He had feared for a moment that Sólith was going to come with him to his campsite, but Isiwen had asked her husband to help them find a missing satchel that Celuwen needed, and he had backed away from Eilian to go to his daughter’s aid.

Eilian found that he was suddenly a little worried about the magnitude of the change that he had asked Celuwen to make in her life.  She was leaving her family and the settlement in which she had lived for years, believing that in doing so, she was helping to hold back the Shadow.  His life would go on much as it always had, except that he would have Celuwen in his bed when he came home and in his heart always. But she would have to adjust to living in Thranduil’s household, and she would have to do it mostly on her own.

He paused for a moment at that thought.  By tonight, they would be in his father’s stronghold.  He felt a tightening in his stomach, and shied away from that idea a little.  Thranduil was not going to be pleased with him.  It was true that Eilian had asked Thranduil’s permission to marry Celuwen, but he had then done so without a decent betrothal period and without a public ceremony.

And that did not even touch the questions of whether Celuwen’s parents had consented or whether, in truth, the betrothal should have been longer than a year because of the uncertainties of Eilian’s role as a warrior.  And if Sólith chose to make trouble between the settlement and Thranduil because of Eilian’s actions, then Eilian was going to be in very hot water indeed.  He had not confided any of these worries to Celuwen, and now he turned his mind determinedly from speculating on what his father’s reaction was going to be.  It did no good to worry about what he could not help.

He led his horse into the clearing in front of the cottage to find Celuwen and her parents waiting for him.  Isiwen drew her daughter into an embrace, and Sólith came quickly across to Eilian, carrying Celuwen’s satchel and another pack that Eilian took from him and put across his horse’s back.

He turned to find that Sólith had inched closer to him and could not help stiffening defensively.  “Smile,” Sólith said, twisting his own mouth into a dreadful smirk.

“I beg your pardon?” Eilian asked uncertainly.

“Smile.  We are having a friendly conversation.  My wife and yours are both watching us.”

Eilian glanced across the yard and saw Isiwen and Celuwen both looking at them in some alarm.  He turned back and turned the corners of his mouth up in the direction of his father-in-law.

“I have something to say to you, and this is probably going to be my only opportunity, so listen attentively.  If you ever do anything that makes my daughter unhappy for even a single second, I will filet you like a fish.  Do we have an understanding?” He grinned horribly, and Eilian bared his teeth in response.

“I believe we do,” Eilian answered.

“Good.  Send my daughter to visit us in three months.  You do not need to come.”

“Thank you. I will stay away as much as I can,” Eilian promised.

Celuwen and Isiwen came toward them, and Sólith turned his back on Eilian to embrace his daughter.  “You can always come home again, Celuwen,” he told her. Eilian bristled slightly but also could not help flinching a little at the reminder that he was asking Celuwen to leave her home and family.

To his dismay, Celuwen was actually weeping a little, but she came to him willingly enough and allowed him to lift her onto his horse’s back.  He leapt up behind her, and put his arm around her waist.  At the last moment, his eyes met Sólith’s, and suddenly, he was stuck by how bleak the other’s face was. “I will take care of her,” he said, much to his own astonishment.

Sólith nodded grimly. “See that you do,” he said, and Eilian chirped to his horse and they started the trip back to Thranduil’s stronghold. For a few moments, they rode in silence, except for occasional deep, wavering breaths from Celuwen.  Eilian drew what comfort he could from the way she leaned trustingly back against him, but he found he was frightened by her tears.

“I am sorry, Eilian,” she finally said. “I do not want you to think that I regret my choice. But I will miss them and living in the forest too.”

He tightened his arm around her and rubbed his cheek against her hair. “It will be all right, Celuwen.  I will be home for a while yet because of my wound, and then I will come home as often as I can. And you know my family.  They will make you welcome.”  She nodded wordlessly.

It was certainly true that Celuwen knew his family. She had lived near Thranduil’s stronghold until she was almost of age before her family moved to a settlement.  And she and Alfirin were nearly the same age, so they had known one another as children, although, so far as Eilian knew, Alfirin had not spent much time with Celuwen.  Rather Celuwen had played with Eilian and his friend Gelmir, although she had never gone along with some of their wilder adventures.  Thranduil had always said she had more sense than Eilian and Gelmir combined.  Eilian found he was reassured by the memory of how much Thranduil had always liked Celuwen.

As they rode along, however, he could not help wondering just how his family was going to react to the news he was bringing.  He felt a tremor of worried anticipation.  It will be all right, he assured himself, just as he had assured Celuwen a few moments earlier.  I can make Adar understand, I am certain.

Because Celuwen had needed time to gather her possessions, they had not left the settlement until late in the morning.  Isiwen had given them the last of the rabbit stew to take for their mid-day meal, and when the sun was high, they stopped to eat and to rest Eilian’s leg.  He built a small fire to heat the stew, and then they sat nestled against one another to eat.  He could feel the small motions of her breathing and smell the woodsy scent of her hair.

He put his empty bowl down and reached around her to take hers and set it on the ground next to his.  Then he wrapped his arms around her and bent to nuzzle at her neck.  She squirmed a little in his grasp and then, to his utter delight, she giggled.  Celuwen never giggled!  His heart leapt, and he decided that whatever awaited them at home would be trivial compared to the deep joy he took in his wife.  He pulled her onto his lap, lowered his mouth to hers, and, for a while, forgot their families, his wound, the Shadow, and all else in the dazzling intensity of the touching of bodies and fëar.

By the time they were underway again, they were both more contented, but the afternoon had worn on.  They stopped only briefly to eat some dried fish for evening meal, but even so it was late by the time they dismounted and led Eilian’s horse into Thranduil’s stables.  A very sleepy stable hand took charge of the horse. They took their packs and Celuwen’s satchel, and as they made their way through the palace gardens, Eilian’s stomach began to tighten again. Then he felt Celuwen slip her free hand into his, and he glanced at her.

“It will be all right,” she said and squeezed his hand reassuringly.  It suddenly occurred to him that she might have guessed what he was worried about.  Perhaps she had even felt his worry though their bond, he thought.  It was going to take some time before he became accustomed to being so intimately connected to someone else, and for a second, he wondered if there might not be disadvantages to being so open to Celuwen’s knowledge. Then he looked at her calm, loving face and decided that he did not care if there were.

They crossed the bridge to the palace, entered the Great Doors, and went down the hall and through the door that led to the family quarters.  “Good evening, Captain,” said one of the guards stationed at the door, his eyes sliding curiously to Celuwen for a second before snapping back to well-trained discretion.  From the corner of his eye, Eilian could see Celuwen flush.

“Good evening,” he responded crisply.  “Do you know if the king or any of the rest of the family is still up?”

“I think they have all gone to bed,” the guard told him.  It was his job to know such things despite any need the royal family might feel for privacy.  Eilian felt a flood of relief at the news that he would not have to face Thranduil that night, and next to him, Celuwen let out a soft breath.

He led her down the hall and into his chamber and closed the door behind them. They stood near the door for a moment, looking at the room that was lit only by one of the night lanterns that were always lit in every inhabited room in the caverns.  Next to him, Celuwen was surveying the room.  She had not been in his room for many years, not since they were children. He looked at the chamber, seeing it through her eyes.  Servants had tidied it while he was gone.  All of his clothes were put away in the dark, ornately carved cupboard, and the books stood in leather-covered rows on the shelves near the desk. Two bows and a sword that had belonged to his mother’s father hung on the wall.  The big bed was neatly made, with its dark green cover pulled smooth.  When he saw Celuwen standing in the midst of all this, the room suddenly struck him as masculine.  In his mind, he compared this room to the sitting room in Ithilden and Alfirin’s suite, where the colorful hangings she wove hung on the wall and bright silk cushions were scattered on the chairs.

Celuwen walked slowly over to his desk. The top of the desk was bare except for three glittering stones, stones he now recalled that Celuwen had found one summer at the river’s edge years ago and given to him.  She touched one of the stones with a delicate finger and turned to him. “What now?” she asked simply.

He dropped the packs he was carrying, walked across the room, and drew her to him in a tight embrace.  Then he stepped back, looked at her tired face, considered his aching hip, and grinned.  “I think the first thing you need is a hot bath,” he told her. “In fact, I am sure of it.”  He scooped her up in his arms and started toward his bathing chamber. And to his enchanted amusement, she giggled again.

 





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