Chapter Two
The new moon made for a dark and peaceful night in the valley of Imladris. Candlelight danced in every room, fallen stars floating among the winter trees. There was only the hush and trickle of water in the deepening quiet.
Celebrian gazed out a west-facing window, her mind far away. A breath of wind swept her hair over her shoulder and she imagined the fragrance of elanor flowers, a vision of spring.
"How is my lady this winter evening?" her husband asked as he slipped a blanket over her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her, the only comfort she could ever need to keep the cold at bay.
Celebrian nestled the crown of her head against him, twined her arms over his, interlaced their fingers. She sighed indulgently.
If he had not been holding her, she would have collapsed the very next moment, overcome with shadow and dread. Her quickened breaths clouded on the air as Elrond helped her to regain her balance. He clasped her tightly beneath her elbows and guided her to sit down.
"Something is coming," she said, choking the words past the shard of ice she felt in her breast. "Death."
The horn of the northern watch blasted once and broke the crystalline peace in the valley.
She looked up at Elrond, at his hardened expression as he stared out in the direction of the call. They clutched each other's hands in her lap.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
The pain was dulling, but was not yet gone. Nevertheless, she answered, "Yes."
They unwound from each other and got to their feet, tacitly sharing a plan. While Elrond went for their sons, Celebrian went for Arwen. She was hardly ten steps from the room when she met her daughter in the corridor.
"What is it?" Arwen asked, her wide eyes luminescent even in the dim light. She was still fastening her robe around her plain wool gown. Her hair was a dark cascade over one shoulder.
"We will soon find out." Celebrian tried a reassuring smile, but she could not be sure she was not betrayed by the loud hammering of her heart, deafening in her own ears.
They met Elrond, Elladen, and Elrohir in the entrance hall as all three of them gazed out to discern an answer from the darkness. A clatter of hooves on the stone paths winding down the valley long preceded the sight of a rider.
Celebrian stood between her sons. She laid her hand over the ache in her chest, but she could do nothing else as it spread through her body, heralding whatever tragedy drove towards her home, her family.
"Call the guard," she said, barely, her lungs in spasm.
"Naneth!" Elladen held her up at one side; at the other, Elrohir took off to see her order done.
"Stay with her," Elrond said. He started down the stairs, unarmed, unprotected.
A white horse burst like a phantom from the darkness and barrelled across the narrow bridge towards them. Finally reined in on the great landing, it stumbled to a stop, lathered and wavering with exhaustion while the rider dismounted.
Thranduil stood for a long moment, his wife in his arms, his gaze fixed on Elrond, then he dropped to his knees. He laid Aradess on the ground, doubled over, and finally collapsed alongside her.
Now that the moment had come—now that she could feel relief in the assurance of her family's safety—the crushing foreboding lifted from her and Celebrian swept down the stairs after her husband. Elrond was already at Aradess' side, so Celebrian knelt by Thranduil and lifted his head onto her lap. His clothes were ruined, stained and torn. Blood had dried in the corners of his mouth.
"Thranduil. Thranduil, look at me."
He shuddered as his glamour flickered to reveal the horrific scars on his face. One pale blue eye and one white orb looked up at her.
"Save her…"
"Thranduil!" Celebrian cried as his eyes rolled back in his head. She clasped her hands around his face, but he could not be summoned back.
"He's very cold, Elrond," she said. She examined Thranduil's bloody left arm, all the bared flesh nearly black. "We must take them up."
Elrond sat still and silent with Aradess, cradling one slender hand in both of his. His lips barely moved, but Celebrian heard a prayer on his breath. Finally, he nodded in acknowledgement of her words. "Elladen, Elrohir, take him up to the healing wing!"
He looked up at her, his equanimity cracking. "Aradess is dead."
Sorrow—that cold spear she had felt before—struck its mark in her breast, heart and breath hitching at the impact. Celebrian could not stop her tears. One small submission to her grief so she could overcome the rest.
"I will take her," she said.
In the moments before the twins descended on them, Elrond bared his heartbreak. His thousands of years showed on his face. He had not quite recovered before he got to his feet and was gone after his patient.
Celebrian moved to the queen's side and saw the blood, the killing wound, through the veil of her tears. Aradess was white and lifeless as stone, the vigour of her true beauty stolen away. It seemed impossible that her lively limbs could cease to move, that her wild and boundless grace could be extinguished. What gift was immortality that could be cut down with a single blade?
"Naneth?" Arwen stood at the foot of the steps, her arms folded against herself, against the death and sorrow that pervaded the air.
"We must lay her to rest," Celebrian said, brushing a lock of auburn hair from Aradess' face. An emerald glimmered in the red tresses and Celebrian picked it up. A small pendant on a long silver chain, a green leaf.
"Legolas..." New dread pressed down on her. With shaking hands, Celebrian laid the stone over Aradess' still heart and offered a prayer of her own.
