Disclaimer: It all belongs to Tolkien.
Author: rivlee
Title: To Breathe A Sigh or Two
Series: Legend, Lore, and Lullabies
Age: Third Age
Place: Aman, Imladris
Rating: G
Characters/Pairing: Celebrian, Elrond, Ecthelion. Celebrian/Elrond.
Summary: Celebrian and Elrond, a winter without each other.
A/N: Unbeated. First posted Dec. 23, 2007.
To Breathe A Sigh Or Two
If she was in Imladris, the snow would be blanketing the ground. If she was in Imladris, the Hall of Fire would provide the sounds of the night, with dancing, singing and laughter. Lovers would be in hidden alcoves and dark corners of the gardens, enjoying the beauty of the night and the warmth of each other. If she was in Imladris, her children would surround her, telling stories and dragging her around the dance floor. If she was in Imladris, Elrond's arms would surround her, whispering his true feelings about all the gathered guests, warm breath ghosting across her neck.
She was not in Imladris. She was in the home of Elwing and Earendil on Tol Eressa, still recovering from her wounds. There was no Hall of Fire here, but there was a rowdy group of sailors. The songs were about the sea, not the mysteries of the forest. There was snow, but it was the white powder that would be gone with morning. There were no gardens in the tower, no places to hide except for her rooms.
She gripped her glass of wine, wishing for the mulled cider she normally consumed at this time. She stared into its contents as if she would find all the answers in the reflection and waves of the dark red liquid.
There were so many Mid-winters where she declined the invitation to return to Imladris from Lothlorien, so many wasted memories. She would give near anything to have those chances back. So were the lessons of life and retrospect, she supposed, not knowing the time for memories has passed until it is far gone.
The fire popped and drew Celebrian's attention away from her glass. She watched the flames turn over, separate, spark, and merge together again. The sounds of Earendil's fellow mariners, the sailors of the sky, surrounded her. These were not the sounds of home. She had lived under golden eaves, with nothing but the night wind to sing to her, then she was lulled to sleep by the dulcet tones of water falls and loud water. Now she sat, frost forming on the winds, listening to feet thump on a wooden floor as deep voices sung to the sea and to the sky, cruel and sweet mistresses both.
Celebrian sighed and stood. She gave her apologies to Earendil and Elwing, and moved to the stairs, claiming the desire for a walk. She walked down the circular staircase, spying inside the various rooms and watching the life of the night, or rather the day for these men and elves and half-elves of the stars. They would set out soon, but for now they huddled in rooms with their kin or joined the party above.
She pulled a dark blue riding cloak over her dress and picked up one of the exquisite elven lamps. They were similar to those of Imladris, if only more carefully woven. She whispered the words, lighting the flame, and walked out into the night.
Elrond stood on his balcony, listening to Erestor's prayers for the season and the murmuring words of the elves who followed him. He pressed his palms into the smooth rock of the railing, fingernails digging into the stone. A chill ran through his body, an acknowledgement of the cold air and his own pain.
It should have been easier, what with all the years Celebrian had spent in Lothlorien. There was a finality to it now, one that had never been there before. Last year when all the others had mourned, Elrond was nothing if not in shock. How could he mourn when his realm, his children needed him to be strong. Now, with the passing of the years and the realization of his own failure, that despite his reputation and his skill, he still had much to learn, Elrond felt the pain like an arrow to his side.
He blinked, his vision blurred by white. Laughter escaped him as he noticed the snow, saw the bottom of his robes covered in it, his hands disappearing under the soft flakes. There were no more elven voices murmuring in prayer, but he could hear the minstrels re-tuning their instruments in the Hall of Fire, the fast-paced dance over and now time for slower and soothing sounds.
Elrond pushed away from the balcony and brushed the snow off his clothes. He spared one last glance to a cloudy and starless sky and wondered how the night was passing in a land across the sea.
"It is not wise to wander on your own at night, even here," a voice said from the darkness.
Celebrian shook her head and raised her lamp to illuminate Ecthelion's face. "I have a healthy set of lungs and a sharp set of fingernails, Ecthelion, I assure you I will be fine to wander. After surviving an orc abduction and attack I'd like to see what a drunken elf of Aman could try and do to me."
"I do not believe invincibility is such a good thing to have in your process of healing," Ecthelion cautioned, offering an arm to Celebrian as they walked along the shore.
"Is it not invincibility," Celebrian said, "but rather the knowledge that all my fingernails were either ripped out or broken as I did my best to blind and scar orcs. The memory of gouging out their yellow eyes has offered a small bit of closure in the matter."
"That is-" Ecthelion paused. "I am not quite sure what that is." He stopped, studying the sky as Earendil set out. "I could never have imagined that Idril's child would become a star. For a boy who loved the seas as much as he did, I never could have guessed his fate was in the sky."
"But still in a ship," Celebrian said.
She studied Ecthelion's face, a youthful one with only his eyes carrying the signs of his age. He was so different from Elrond, who wore his years with pride. Elrond's face, his body, his very soul was so different from all the other elves she knew and even when she was still rebelling against their arranged marriage, she was attracted to that difference. It was amazing to have met the generations of elves that had formed Elrond, at least in the physical sense. She doubted there would be a chance for her to meet Maglor or Maedhros and find out what Elrond was like as a child. There would never be a chance to speak with Elros and find all those secrets Elrond kept hidden, even from her. Cirdan knew a little, Erestor even less, and Gil-galad would be the closest person to Elrond's past she could speak with. Rumor had it another three Ages would have to pass in Arda before his spirit was cleansed.
She watched as Ecthelion tilted his head to the sky, laughing as the snowflakes melted on his face. In that moment he looked so much like her sons that Celebrian felt her breath catch.
"Snow is not so common in Aman, not in the lowlands," Ecthelion said. "We were surrounded by it in Gondolin and I never thought I'd miss it, especially when shoveling all the walk-ways in the city. Now I find myself standing in the snowstorms, savoring what is so uncommon."
"Imladris is always covered in white during the winter. The paths are always clear, the ice always melted, but the snow clings to the woods and the land until sometime in mid-Spring. It never reached the ground in Lothlorien, the canopies were far too dense."
"Is that why you walk the shores?" Ecthelion asked.
"I walk the shores because I needed the silence," Celebrian replied.
Ecthelion looked to the waves. "Your definition of silence is interesting."
"You grow used to the sound," Celebrian said. "And why do you walk the shores?"
"To know that the water I hear is a sea and not a fountain. Reliving your death is not conducive to a night's rest," Ecthelion said.
"Early to be sleeping," Celebrian noted.
"Even elves can be lulled by a warm drink and a warmer fire." Ecthelion laughed. "Though Penlod's story may have helped."
Celebrian laughed, dropping her eyes to the lamp at her side. The light was flickering, growing dim. "I suppose it is time for me to return, though for your own health and safety I should leave you here."
Ecthelion nodded. "I might survive that step over the boundary, but I would rather not test it. The only elf I know of who could cross that threshold without being family is Glorfindel."
"Why is that? I know he swore an oath to Turgon, but so did you all."
Ecthelion led Celebrian to the tower, shells and sand crushing under their feet.
"We did all swear an oath to Turgon." He paused, wind and snow whipping his hair about, "Glorfindel was the only one to swear it to Earendil and his children as well." He stopped at the boundary line. "If the worse should happen, the children would have someone to guide them. That bond, more than the one to Turgon, brought Glorfindel back in my opinion."
"I wonder if he swore it to Elrond as well?" Celebrian mused.
"Do you not know?" Ecthelion asked.
"I did not marry Elrond until well after Glorfindel's return and I never did pay attention to who swore what to whom," Celebrian said.
She passed over the border, feeling the magic tingle through her body. Giving a wave of good night to Ecthelion, Celebrian took her dying lamp inside, watching the snow swirl around her feet.
Elrond sat in the gardens, back resting against the cool rim of Celebrian's favorite fountain. The celebrations inside were subdued, but still a celebration of life, taunting the dark outside with the light of elven laughter. He felt so apart from them, so awkward and distant in his musings.
He knew he was not the only one to feel so alone and apart on this night. Many passed the holidays and anniversaries in contemplation of the lives and the loss of those they held dear. It was just Elrond's position that left him unsure of how to proceed and in which manner; how to show a face of content and support when having to receive the condolences of dignitaries just hearing the news. Galadriel and Celeborn were of no help; Thranduil offered his advice from when he took the throne after his father's death. Gildor never found the desire to marry. Cirdan was the best to speak with, but since his wife had passed sometime in the First Age, and few remembered he was married, Elrond was not certain he was the elf to ask.
"Has the act of pacing your study become boring?" Glorfindel asked, approaching him with a cup of wine.
He took the offered cup, staying silent as Glorfindel settled beside him.
"It is not wrong for you to take the time you need. No one would blame you if you screamed at one of the over-eager well-wishers," Glorfindel continued.
Elrond shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "I feel out of sorts tonight."
"As any would expect. Your mind is on a person across the seas." Glorfindel stretched his legs out, blue stockings covered in snow. "It happens to me often."
"How do you cope, knowing a whole other family, life, history of you is out there?" Elrond asked. "How do you not lose your sanity over the-"
"Loneliness," Glorfindel interrupted. "Uniqueness? Curses or gifts of the Valar? Power of a sworn oath?" He laughed. "We all live our lives between two worlds, that of the light of Aman and reality of Arda, I am more in-between the two than others. How do I cope?" Glorfindel laughed and stared down into his cup, swirling the wine around. "Most would argue I do not."
"You still join us in the Summer and Spring celebrations, the most sacred of Gondolin," Elrond said.
"After spending the day in contemplation. You will do better next year, and the year after that, until the amount of years pass and you know it was just a long time ago. It does not get easier, you will still stop on the anniversary of the attack, the day she departed, her favorite celebrations, and you will remember and perhaps grieve. It will not incapacitate you, you will not do what you are doing now, spending the day locked-away in your mind. You will find that smiles will come more and more with the memories than tears. Still, there are those days when no memory or amount of hope is balm enough for your troubles."
"And what do you do then?" Elrond asked, fingers trailing through the cold water of the fountain.
"I find our favorite group of elflings and remember what it is to be young," Glorfindel answered.
Elrond looked up. "Not innocent?"
"They have not been innocent for centuries. After the attack and all its repercussions, they can only grow and move on," Glorfindel explained.
Elrond watched Rian walk up one of the outer-staircases, a candle clutched in her hand, her movements still slow from a two-year ache.
"And hopefully find forgiveness," he muttered, remembering the vitriol that had spilled from his eldest child's lips. Elrond gestured to Eluialeth's rooms as Rian disappeared inside the house. Laughter poured out of the room into the night, and Elrond smiled as he heard Tirnion trying to repress the urge to hit Elladan and Elrohir. "Should you not join them?"
"I would not mind staying in your company just a moment longer," Glorfindel said.
"I am afraid I just want to send the night with myself. While I know I am not alone, I feel it, and am not fit for company," Elrond stated.
"I think you are doing well," Glorfindel said, cup raised to his lips.
"You willingly spend time with many unsavory folk," Elrond said.
Glorfindel smiled. "Oh, do you think so little of your Chief Councilor?"
Elrond laughed, reveling in the feeling. "I will tell him you said that."
Glorfindel stood. "Then I should start running now." He gathered his drink, "Word of advice?"
"Of course."
"Morwen sends a journal chronicling life in Imladris to Celebrian each year. She's not yet sent out this past year's account. You might find the release for your emotions in words, might feel even better if you know it will reach the hands of the elf you think about."
"I will take it into consideration." Elrond also stood, following Glorfindel into the house. They parted at the staircase, Glorfindel in the direction of the private quarters and Elrond towards the studies. "Say goodnight to the elflings for me."
Glorfindel nodded. "Good night, Elrond."
"You as well," Elrond murmured. He paused for a moment, staring out of the window, watching as one bright star broke through the dense cloud cover. It was breathtaking proof that while the stars were hidden, they were not gone.
Celebrian sat in her room, a small fire warming the cold stone of the floor. She ran her bare toes through the warm carpet. She curled up in the large chair by the window, a flickering candle the only other light in the room as she ran her fingers over the book in her lap. It was the first of many annual accounts of Imladris. It was not so much a yearly account, this one, but a half-year from the time she left to the time it was sent out after the coming of the new year. The measure of time adopted by the mortals never seemed important to her when she lived in Lothlorien. Imladris brought a different world where the passage of time was marked by at least three different calendars, and where time took on more importance, even if it seemed to pass slowly.
She picked up her glass of wine, bringing it to her lips. Nothing but air met them and she sat the glass back down with a sigh. She was too tired to go down to the kitchens and still had little desire to be around other people.
She braided her hair, winding it atop her head and finally opened the book. Her fingers ran over the familiar shapes of Morwen's writing. She turned the pages, laughing over Glorfindel's small sketches of the new ponies and Elladan's face when Eluialeth threw a bucket of table scraps at him. There was Morwen's long rant on a group of advisors in the Havens. Cirdan was the author of a long passage on the building of new ships in the harbors. Finally she came to Morwen's pages on Elrond.
As for your husband, he is busy training new healers. I think he has finally abandoned all hope that the twins or Arwen will turn to the study. Erestor and Glorfindel have done their best to keep his mind occupied. I cannot say he is well, for I am not a close confidant, but I can tell you there is still laughter in his life. He has been running around Arda. A trip to Gondor was required and I heard rumor the journey was good for him. I know he misses you, as I know you miss him, but do not dwell on such things. You need to heal and focus on yourself.
Celebrian laughed at the optimistic hope of youth. It was not so easy to focus on yourself when you know your children and mate are out there, living on without you.
Celebrian placed her palm on the window, the cool metal of her wedding ring clinking against the glass of the windows. "I miss you," she whispered.
Elrond sat in his study, silence filling the room with the exception of his quill scratching on parchment. The words poured out of him, pages after pages of everything he wanted and needed to say. The sleeves of his robe and his fingertips were stained with ink.
Snow and wind came through the window, ruffling the pages and his hair. He paused in his writing, looked up to the sky and said, "I miss you too."
Elsewhere in the house, elves were dancing and singing. Elsewhere there was a group of siblings, by blood and bond, gathered in a circle as they told stories and played games. Across a sea someone sat in a chair, reading by the fireside. They may all have been separated, but in the back of each other's minds, they were there. Always.
