I am Celebriel, Daughter of Ninithil, Grand Daughter of Finrod Felagund. Grand-niece of Galadriel Lady of Light. I am Elven and I am a predecessor of the Rohirrim.
My tale is a sad tale, spreading through out the ages, buried in my heart and my mind. In memories centuries old. Few living know my real name. My birth name. Folcwyn, the people's child, that had been my name long ago, in my very first years of life. A name my parents chose, to symbolize my being, to celebrate my birth. Rather ironic giving my father was mortal and my mother was a first born. She was an immortal, an elf. But they are gone now…., struck down by the evils of Morgoth and his minion Sauron. Long before the war of the ring and before the fellowship. When the land was still new and men barely walked the earth. When the stars shone their brightest, until Morgoth darkened their skies.
There is so much I can tell you of the world I once knew and the world I now know, but that would fill books beyond reason. Stories that would take a lifetime to tell and even longer to read.
My mother, Ninithil, 'tear of the moon', had been the loving result of a union between Finrod Felagund, High elf of the Noldorin and Amarie his one true love. My mother's feet walked the grounds of Valinor, sacred land of the Eldar, the elves, long before that of men, when the light of the two trees still blossomed in the air, before Melkor extinguished their beautiful flames. Enraged so was Feanor, that he and his clan of elves journeyed back to Arda to reclaim the 3 Silmarils he had masterly crafted. The last remnants of the two lights of Valinor. Mercilessly, they slew their fellow kin and stole their mighty ships and journeyed across the sea, many followed including my Grandfather, leaving his beloved Amarie behind. Sneaking aboard his ship my mother journeyed as well, desiring to see the world beyond the one she grew to know, feeling, in her heart, that her destiny lay elsewhere and not in the confines of the Undying Lands.
Here they remained my mother and my Grandfather. Never again would they set foot upon the calm shores of Valinor or feel the calm waves tenderly graze their naked feet, nor see the beauty of the land beyond the sea. Never again would they dance in the light of the two trees until the end of days, nor would my Grandmother feel the gentle embrace of her lost love, nor would she see the wisdom grow in my mother's eyes, nor see the birth of her only grandchild. No, Melkor slew my grandfather like the coward the evil lord was. My grandfather died a hero, protecting his mortal friend Beren, beloved of Luthien. Many mourned the passing of Finrod the fair, whose fire burned in the light of his beautiful daughter, Ninithil.
My mother went on, the ban against her and those that journeyed across the seas, still forbidding them for their return to their beloved home. Many a night I saw sadness in my mother's eyes and often wondered why. It was not until many years later was I finally able to comprehend and understand the underlying sadness in her azure blue eyes. The pain they held that was even by then centuries old.
Many years after her own father's downfall at the hands of the dark lord Melkor, did she live, embraced lovingly by her fathers kin. By Galadriel Lady of Light, the only sister and sole survivor of my grandfathers siblings, and her beloved husband Celeborn. Although I do not know all the details as to her and my fathers first meeting, but love soon grew between them, much like the love between Finrod and his love Amarie who still dwelt overseas. Whose heart, still to this day, most possibly remains broken by the loss of those she held dear.
As differences sometimes do, my parents union was not smiled upon, not many elves approve of their kin disowning their immortality for the love of a mortal. To die like mortal men do. Still, my mother was not swayed, she loved my father Folchelm, 'the peoples shield', and she was determined to spend her remaining days with him in the happiness and love that she desired.
My father had belonged to a small kingdom in the North which now can only be recalled on maps centuries old and only by minds older then my own. My father was the kings' cousin by marriage, which allotted both him and my mother a warm welcome when they returned to his homeland.
For nearly 14 years they lived in happiness unmeasured, and loved more then any stories could ever tell and, with each passing day their love grew, and I was born. 3 years into their marriage my father's kingdom welcomed his child, Folcwyn. The people's child. Many had said a child of such beauty had never been born within the borders of their land. The dark hair of my father, the pale luminescent skin of my mother, the bluest eyes a child could have, and the prominent ears of my mother's kin. Many families tried to betrothed their sons to Folchelm's newly born daughter. My parents denied them, wanting me to find the love that they had found.
I was nine when my world crashed down around me and the joy I had known would be stripped away forever.
"But you promised." She whined, pouting her lip out like she always did to get him to bend to her will. "Please." She begged using all the pleading she could muster in her voice. Her eyes begged as she looked to him.
With a kind smile the dark eyed man answered, his voice rough but soothing to the ear. "Not tonight little one." He laughed, the smile still adorning his tender yet war wrought face.
"Folcwyn let your father be. He needs his rest." A warm voice came from behind. Soft yet demanding all at once, as though a melody on the air.
Turning the child met the loving gaze of her mothers sky blue eyes. Eyes like her own. Her mothers full of wisdom. Wisdom from years unnumbered and yet the glow and beauty remained on her face, deceiving all. Turning back to her father Folcwyn saddened the look on her face, hoping to win without having to say another word.
"You heard me." Her mother added as she continued her stitch work. The orange glow from the fire cast upon her only intensifying her every look and move. Her slender silhouette and her graceful movements were fluid and precise like a dancer performing.
"It is okay Ninithil." Folcwyn's father replied looking to his beautiful wife with love and adoration. "Go get your things." He added turning to his daughter finally caving to the loving stare of his little girl.
With a smile the child ran, retrieving her cloak and boots before another word could be spoken.
Placing her stitch work aside Ninithil looked to her husband a knowing smile on her face. "She has you wrapped around her little finger Folchelm." Standing she made her way to his side looking to him with love and worry, her steps soft and made no sound as she crossed the room. Kneeling beside him she spoke once more. "Your wounds still have yet to heal. You need your rest."
"A day will soon come when our daughter will no longer wish to spend such time with us and soon she will be grown and married and the only time we will see her is when she decides to visit. If a few moments of enduring my injury will bring a smile to her face it will be worth the memories." He replied running his fingers through her golden hair, his fingers lightly grazing her ears as Folchelm brushed her sun-kissed locks away.
"But you need your rest. The last attack from Sauron orcs left you injured. You can ride another night." She stated hoping he would listen to her. Her soft fingers trailing over the bandage that covered his shoulder. Tenderly she caressed his skin, trying not to cause pain with her loving touch.
Bringing a calloused hand to her cheek he gently brushed her hair aside allowing the firelight to dance upon her face.
"My sweet Ninithil, you worry too much." He whispered placing a gently kiss upon her full lips.
"Oh melda." She whispered as their lips parted, realizing her error when he quickly pulled away. "I am sorry Folchelm."
"You know I don't like it when you do that." He stated, standing he walked away from her to the window, his back still to her he continued. "I had thought we had agreed that that tongue would not be spoken in this house. That that language would not be uttered in my presence." He tried to remain calm as fury filled his veins. Not for her but for the elven kin that shunned them both. All because of their love. That one of their own forsook their immortality for him. Folchelm remembered all to well the look of sadness in her eyes when they left the land of her kin so many years ago, and pain hit him to know he had caused it.
"It was a slip of the tongue my lord." She replied walking towards him. "I know it angers you…….."
"Then why do you speak it." He shouted without meaning to, his fists hitting the windowsill.
"Because it is who I am." She answered trying to hold the calmness in her voice. "Because 14 years of mortality cannot change an entire lifetime Folchelm. And if you didn't want to hear the elvish tongue you should not have married one."
Marching away from him she made her way to the kitchen, her slender frame now felt heavy and burdened from the pain in her heart. Many times they had argued like this night and always of her decent. A slip of the tongue here, a momentary song there and every time it caused her pain. To deny her fathers kin for the sake of her husband. To wear her long, golden kissed locks over her elvish ears. To never speak of such beauties that could be found in her elvish world. Of the peace and grace of their lands, of the light of the two trees that were now long diminished, save the light that could be found in the 3 silmarils and the light of the sun and the moon. Her fathers face came to mind and shame filled her heart. Ninithil's heart ached for her father Finrod the Fair who has long since been slain by Morgoths evils, and of her mother Amarie who still dwells over seas. How she missed them, her father's laugh, her mother's smile. How she wished to tell Folcwyn of her elvish decent. To tell her that some of the noblest blood in all the elven world flows through her veins. Of the beauties of the elven world and of her fathers end. So many stories she wished to share. A lifetime of stories.
Two arms swept around her, pulling her close.
"I am sorry." He whispered, brushing her hair away he revealed the tips they hid. Memories of their first encounter filled his mind. He did not dislike that she was elvish, it was only that he couldn't be, for her sake. "Your life has not been easy here with me."
"But it has been happy." She replied meaning every word. Turning she faced him. The blue of her eyes searching the dark brown depths of his own. Bringing her hand up to him, her slender fingers caressed his face. A scar donned the line of his jaw. "I do not regret this decision. I only wish my kin would have been more open to us. More accepting to you." She whispered. Some had held their tongues but others had let it known that they did not accept their union. That she gave up immortality for a mortal. Weeks they had stayed in the shelter of her kin but the turmoil she had seen in his eyes over those days forced her to leave. No she did not regret her choice.
"I did not expect them to welcome us. But still, I am sorry. You had to choose between your blood and your heart." Grabbing her hands in his, he hung his head low before meeting her gaze. "Perhaps one day they will accept us, and Folcwyn." He tried to smile. "Perhaps we can return, if only so that I can see you smile as you used to when you walked the wilds of your home. To show our daughter a world untouched by war, or tainted by evil."
"I would like that." Ninithil replied, knowing in her heart that such a hope may not happen. She could see in his eyes he knew it too, but even in the knowing, there was hope that they were wrong.
"Come with us tonight." Folchelm asked searching the saddened eyes of his wife.
"I have things that must get done. I need to clean." She replied shaking her head.
"That can wait for a few hours. Please." He urged. "Besides you can make sure I take it easy tonight if you are with us and you had always said you had wanted to join us on one of our outings."
Biting her lip she looked to the kitchen table, to the dishes that needed to be done. "You know what…" she answered looking to her husbands loving eyes. " I might enjoy that." Smiling she kissed him tenderly.
"Just a little further please." She urged. Not bothering to wait for an answer as she continued on.
"Folcwyn it is time to go we have been out here long enough." Her mother's voice spoke stopping her in her tracks.
"But mother…." She started to say but was caught short by her mother's stare which changed as the moments passed.
"Ninithil?" Folchelm asked as her face turned to one of worry.
"Shh." She replied silencing him. Tilting her head she listened intently.
"Mama, what's that noise?" her daughter asked tilting her own elvish ears to the trees. The only physical trait of her mother's heritage she bore.
"Folchelm…., we're not alone." Ninithil said hurriedly to her husband, her eyes showing the worry.
"Father what's going on?" Folcwyn asked, the sounds of approaching steps still filling her elven ears.
"Folcwyn go with your mother." Dismounting he unsheathed his sword. "Take the quickest road home. Don't look back. When you get to the border signal for help." He added.
Pushing her horse forward Folcwyn moved closer to her parents. "Father what's going…." Bucking hard she was knocked off her horse, an arrow hitting the tree behind her.
"Folcwyn!" her mother shouted with worry as she dismounted and raced to her daughter's side. Her eyes flashing with alarm to the missile that lay lodged in the tree.
"Ninithil hurry!" Folchelm shouted with alarm as an orc emerged from the trees.
"Folchelm!"
"Go! NOW!" he reiterated as he took the enemy down. "I will be right behind you. I promise." The browns of his eyes locking to the deep blues of the one being in this earth he loved more then anything else. Turning back around he deflected a sword in midair.
Still in the trees an arrow was let loose grazing Ninithil's arm before finding its home in another nearby tree. Wincing slightly she grabbed her daughters arm and forced her to stand.
"Hurry Folcwyn!" her mother stated helping her mount her horse before racing for hers.
Ignoring her mother's pleas Folcwyn watched her father fight.
"FOLCWYN!" Grabbing the child's reigns Ninithil forced her to follow.
"No! What about father?" Folcwyn asked, still glancing back, hoping to see him behind them.
"Your father will be fine. We need to hurry." Her mother replied not looking back, only half believing her words. Dodging trees the two raced for their home. Arrows still firing their way.
She did not see her slow her pace or turn around.
Piercing the depths of the trees with her elven eyes Folcwyn searched for her father when finally a sound broke the silence of the trees and the pounding of her heart.
"Father?" she whispered, hearing the sound once more she ran. "Father!?" Breaking through the trees Folcywn raced to him. Tree limbs pulling at her long dark locks and the robe she wore.
The sound of clashing swords rang clear as the trees parted revealing the mass before her. All around him she saw orcs, weapons drawn. In the middle Folchelm stood, a large gash in his arm. Adding to the blood that already came from his reopened wound.
"FATHER!" she cried out before thinking, inadvertently drawing the attention of her father, and the enemy. The dark brown of her fathers orbs that, only moments before were filled with fury, looked to her in fear and horror.
"Kill her!" a rough voice commanded. At once several came her way.
"NO!" Folchelm shouted as several of the enemy made their way for his beloved daughter. "Folcwyn run!" he cried out just as a sword met his side, sending him to the ground on bended knee.
"No." she whispered as the horror unfolded before her.
Her eyes widened as another blade crashed down upon his back. His eyes still locked to hers as he fell in silence.
"NO!"