This is a one-shot and a part of the May Tolkien Gift Exchange! One of the requests was Galadriel/Celeborn, and while I have very little knowledge of the LOTR/Silmarillion universe, being mostly a Hobbit fan, I shall attempt to do this story justice. It's been quite difficult to write, and I still don't know what I'm doing!
The Lord of Lorien lingered at the harbour, watching the vessel that bore his Lady across the sea into the distance, headed for the Undying Lands. He knew and saw that they would apart for a time, but that even eternity could not tear them apart. Their eventual reunion was as real to him as the sun that shone as it sen and the waves of the sea that lapped against the shore.
No parting gifts had they shared, nor any prolonged farewells. They had already spent centuries together, and had a long immortal existence to be united once again. In perfect harmony they had ruled the woods of Lothlorien, and now he would have to return to East Lorien alone. Mithrandir will bear his eternal soulmate and her ring of power safely across across the seas, he knew, and he had nothing to fear.
Soon Celeborn found himself escorted away from his quiet meditation, and his mind was preoccupied on the journey with tge various complex riddles of life in Arda that he frequently enjoyed applying his unsurpassed wisdom to.
He would tarry in Rivendell, however, and while there, pay full attention to the young elves of his lineage who bore him ceremoniously to a great feast.
"More wine, my lord?" urged Elladan as Elrohir interjected,
"I am sure it is tea he craves, do you not, my lord, after such a hearty repost?"
Elrohir had in his hand an elegant teapot with the rarest and most soothing of teas prepared. It was poised over a crystal tumbler, but not a drop had escaped the spout yet.
And as for the wine, it had a light, ravishing hue of icy green. No red wines for Celeborn, white wine was like nectar to his lips, purer than water itself and more sacred than all the illuminations of the Valar.
Celeborn glanced from one brother to the another, pausing for a moment. They were playing hosts, though his mind was not celebration and revelry at the moment. Still, the fare of Rivendell was plentiful and as it always had been despite the absence of Elrond. Celeborn had had his doubts on the capabilities of Elladan and Elrohir, and thus had wisely arranged for a slight deception. If required, his captain would come with pressing news that would call him away to East Lorien should the situation cause him even the slightest disease, something he never been accustomed to, not even in his youth as a prince of Doriath.
Elladan and Elrohir waited anxiously or his reply.
They expected a wise answer, they always did. A wise answer he would give.
"I cannot possibly have both," Celeborn pointed out disapprovingly, watching their expressions cloud for a moment, "But by Eru, I shall!"
After all, she wasn't around. No doubt she was still watching. Galadriel would send him one of her, "I see you, Celeborn the Wise," messages, warnings against the white wine he always craved that she denied him.
The trouble being wedded to an elf of such power was that she was ever present, and there was not a moment he could indulge in the greatest pleasure of his life besides her - drink. With her being across the ocean, he had his one chance to be alone and to do as he pleased, though being so ageless and immortal and wise as well as married to a lady such as Galadriel, made him a dour and stern figure with little humour.
Or so most people thought.
"Bilbo sleeps well, Mithrandir," Galadriel glanced at Gandalf, who was refilling his pipe nervously, "I see that his soul desires rest."
"Hobbits are strong," Gandalf said, more to himself than anything, "I will be sorry to see the passing of dear Bilbo. Such a brave fellow, with all his adventures."
"To bear the ring of power and to relinquish it," Galadriel felt Nenya on her finger gently.
Gandalf hummed to himself, glancing across the ocean. He followed Galadriel's hazy gaze...
"Is Lord Celeborn well?" Gandalf asked, "I wish we had tarried awhile longer, for I much desire to speak with him on the matter of..."
"No," Galadriel interrupted, her eyes at a distance, "I am not with him nor watching him. "
She turned and walked slowly away from the edge of the ship, melancholic and listless. Her wise Celeborn was not near now, not as she had become accustomed to. Such wisdom, she mused, had yet tasks to accomplish in Middle Earth. He was so wise, and she loved every savoury morsel of intelligence that dripped from his cherry-red lips.
And there was the other matter at hand. She moved with relative swiftness to Elrond, who himself too was lost in thought, thinking of the sons he had left behind momentarily, the daughter he had hid farewell for all of time. And most of all, Celebrian, who awaited her husband and mother in the lands beyond.
Would she be healed? Would she be the same elf-mother as in the days past, the days of their glorious, passionate youth? How would she take hearing that Arwen was lost to her forever, or that Elrohir had become a healer?
"He is so wise," Elladan smiled genially but smugly, "But there is something Lord Celeborn the wise does not know or see..."
They both gazed at Celeborn, resplendently draped over the couch, graceful even in his intoxicated state.
"I've always wanted to study the effects of the tea combined with wine on our dear elder ones," Elrohir stared fixedly, "The dreams it induces."
"A professional healer's curiosity, no doubt," Elladan wiped the last drops of tea off his sleeve, "Father would be so proud."
Celeborn was in deep sleep indeed. Warmth and pleasantness filled his bones and a merriment such as belonging to the youngest of elves lifted his spirits in the drowsed state. He began to see clearly, aye, and even to remember.
The occasion that merited the greatest joys in Celeborn's life included, yes, the way he wedded the Lady Galadriel, the powerful and awe-inspiring Noldorian beauty. However, the day he chose to remember now in with the clarity of pure, clear, distilled spirit and the vividness of elven revelry was the day their dear Celebrian was born.
Celeborn felt instinctly that Galadriel was at this moment think of the very same occurrence.
Heavy, she was been, and let more magically lithe and grace than possible in such a state, something that bespoke of her otherwordly essence. Long were her limbs, light were her feet and she never faltered, except once.
On this evening, as they beheld the sun's setting according to their century-old ritual, Celeborn felt his Lady stir. Galadriel loved the setting of the sun more than its rising, for the beams of the West sliced through the tall trees and structures of Lorien, casting a gleam So sacred was this daily occassion that she never spoke or moved, except now. When she made a start and stood up suddenly, Celeborn jumped to attention.
"Summon Elethiellethelion," she said to Haldir, the guard, "I must see her at once. The child moves."
"She had moved many times before," Celeborn supported her down from their viewpoint as the sun disappointingly disappeared away from their gaze, "What troubles you, fairest?"
"She moves," Galadriel, repeated, "I must have Elethiellethelion."
Galadriel never repeated herself, and neither did she stumble as she did on this occasion, and nearly tumble down were not Celeborn by her side.
Even the Lady was ungraceful upon occasion, and now she, with difficulty, moved to their lofty chambers down a flight of steps, heaving and panting, before Elethiellethelion appeared and Celeborn was dismissed to enjoy a repast of a rare treat Galadriel had pre-arranged to distract on this occasion - white wine.
All the magic of the sunset paled as Celeborn concernedly watch the forest flash and crackle according to it's lady's distress. It was as if lightning and thunder flashed through from tree to tree, a great light pulsing and the noise of unearthly roaring shaking the earth beneath his feet.
For hours this proceeded and Celeborn trembled on one hand and impatiently drank his frustration away with sweet grapes and white wine. For all his knowledge and wisdom, nothing prepared him to withstand the attack of Galadriel's agony on the woods of Lothlorien.
When the great catatonic sympathy ceased, he knew her power was spent, but was the child well? Celeborn clambered up the flights of stairs, hearing in the distance a rumble that he thought could be the wail of a babe.
And it was. Galadriel was spent, her power having collapsed half the lights of Lorien and shaken its trees down to the roots. She heaved, breathing heavily under Elethiellethelion's care and Celeborn expertly swaddled the young, roaring elleth and admired the gold-and-silver beauty within his arms.
Considering his long eternal mortality, Celeborn knew that such a moment could never be his again.
"Celebrian," Galadriel named her daughter with her last ounce of strength, and so her name became.
"Celebrian," Galadriel said as hoarsely and lowly as when she had first uttered those words, embracing the haunting shadow of an elf, still thin and still thinly scarred from her terrible ordeal that had required a premature exodus to Valinor.
She watched Elrond and Celebrian reunite with maternal satisfaction. They had been apart in soul and body for so long, and now it was as if nothing in all the universe, not even her own mother, could take away from Celebrian the surpassing joy of their reunion.
She knew she would see such a scene again, when Celebrian would be borne to her from across the waters.
Celeborn awoke from his dream. He had seen many things from the past, but it had ended with a view of the present, with three elves embracing each other in the distance by a vessel, and he knew who they were. And then a sudden picture had flashed into his dream. It was a picture, a picture he knew instinctively was from the future, the only future he wished to be certain of more than anything else in the world.