My Dearest Cel
A/N Something a little different from me this time! Recently, I've really enjoyed reading Elwen of the Hidden Valley's stories, and I was blown away by her characterisation of Elrond. So one thing led to another, and Elrond decided that he was going to sit in my imagination and stay there. Here's my version of the aftermath of Celebrían's sailing in the Peredhel household, told through letters Elrond writes to her but of course cannot send. There are currently five letters in this series which have a sort-of plot arc and resolution to them, and I'll be posting one every few days this coming week. I may write more in the future, moving away from the angstiness of the first letters to a more bittersweet diary style, perhaps with Elrond 'updating' Celebrían on what happens in her absence- Aragorn's adoption, for instance. Do let me know if you would be interested in that! Anyway, this first one is short and sweet, the ones to come are a bit longer.
A note on 'Cel': elves and nicknames are a marmite issue, I am aware! I apologise if anyone is offended by the shortening of Celebrían's name, but I decided that it really helped to convey the intimate bond between them, and I'm trying to show an Elrond beyond the loremaster here.
Many, many thanks to Elwen of the Hidden Valley, who not only wrote the marvellous Elrond fics which inspired this piece, but also kindly agreed to read this through and vastly improved it with her generous comments. Thanks also to Ink Stained Quill for your encouragement and enthusiasm for this piece.
Disclaimer: They are Tolkien's and always will be.
My dearest Cel,
It was raining when we returned to Imladris, as it has been almost incessantly ever since. I would usually soften the worst of it, but this year I have not the heart, not when the bleakness outside seems to weave itself into the lament of my soul. The valley misses you, Cel, and it cries the tears its master cannot. It seems that since we parted at the Havens, I have no tears left in me.
I am sorry, Celebrían. You have every right to loathe me, daring to write to you of my own sorrow after all that you have endured with so much grace. One more in a long list of my many, many mistakes. If you cannot forgive me, I understand.
But even if you cannot accept my apologies, I hope you will understand that you will always be a part of me, even now that our souls cannot touch as they once did. Where are you now, Cel? I cannot help but wonder. Even all my lore cannot tell me the length of the Straight Road you travel. Do you travel it still? Are you already in Valinor? I have imagined your journey so often that I feel I have travelled it with you a thousand times. And I pray that the path you travel is smooth and easy, that it surpasses my wildest hopes, that you are carried gently and tenderly to a place of rest and healing. I pray that it is nothing like my nightmares. I awake from visions of storm and shipwreck and then I hold vigil until the dawn, begging the Valar that nothing of the sort will come to pass. It does not feel the same as foresight usually does, but still I am terrified. So I pray. It is all I can do, although I would fight off the wrath of Ulmo himself to protect you if I could. But I am not there. Just as I was not there the last time you needed me. And I am so afraid that once again I will fail you by my absence.
Find home safely, Cel. Find home safely for both of us.
Love, always,
Elrond
