High Princes of Tirion

by Nemis

A/N: *throws chocolate elfies to all*

Loquacious: It's interesting to speculate on who speaks what kind of Elvish, Sindarin or Quenya (or Telerin, or whatever). Even though the story is taking place on Aman, I think there is a growing group of Elves that speaks mainly Sindarin, whereas Quenya, even on Aman, is turning into what for example Latin has become in our time; a sort of official (academic) language (not for nothing is it also called Elven-latin). And the House of Elrond would be a Sindarin community (though most Elves there most likely speak Quenya as well, if it is required).

About the other Ringbearers, and them not being mentioned much, they weren't very important in "A Tale" and though perhaps Mithrandir might show up in the story later, I'm no speculating on what happened to the Hobbits. There are far better writers than I who have ventured there. I'll stick to Elfies (and then some).

morchaint and Fiona Rayne: Ah, lil Celebriníel has different ways to measure Elves being "old". Perhaps this is a good thing for Erestor. ;))

Finch: You got me there. Extra cookies and choco-elfies for you.

The Plutonian Cow: I think when an Elf claims to be of a certain house, it does not automatically means he is a member by line of blood. You can say Glorfindel and Erestor are Lords of the House of Elrond, but that does not necessarily indicate they are actually related to Elrond himself. I do not think Gildor is Finrod's son, nor his grandson. Don't think you can canonically prove or disprove either. Though one can make a good case of it, no doubt.

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Chapter Nine    Insight

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'Come on,' Celebriníel motioned Elernil into her parent's chambers.

'No, I will not.' he replied. This was all well and good when it concerned his own parents, but his grandparents...

Celebriníel watched him as she stood in the doorway. She never understood her nephew's fear for her father. He might be tall and impressive, but he was not that scary. And her parents' bed was simply the best one to jump up and down on. But she knew he wouldn't come.

'Oh well, let us instead go and wake Ereinion.'

Elernil was more disposed towards that, and followed his aunt towards the opposite of the wing.

The High Prince's door was slightly ajar and Celebriníel pushed it open in the manner she knew would not make a sound.

Even though Ereinion spent most of his time either away or in the study or at one of the libraries, he had many books in his rooms, all lying at strange places, some opened or with pieces of parchment in them, others in towers of wisdom, beside the desk or bed.

He had been writing, she observed as she saw the craftily made pen lying discarded beside an ink jar. She liked pens, and, like her father, Ereinion had pens of glass, which only needed to be dipped into the dark ink once to be able to write at least an entire page.

She picked it up and turned it in her fingers; the dark-coloured stem carefully twisted to fit into slender Elvish fingers, the tip clear as diamond, with notches in it to hold the ink once it had been submerged in the dark liquid.

As Elernil nudged her, she placed it back on the writing table, and together they sneaked closer to the bed where the unsuspecting Elf-lord still lay fast asleep.

His arm draped around a pillow, his face against it, Ereinion was indeed resting.

Celebriníel looked at him from the side, and after a moment chuckled before walking to the end of the bed.

She had done this so often one would expect Ereinion to lock the door by now. Yet he never did.

There had to be some gene or instinct that had somehow allowed the High Prince to remain as perceptive of close-by movement as he had been while still a soldier, in his previous life-time.

The weight of small bodies on the mattress did not go by unnoticed, but he kept his eyes closed, burying his face deeper against the pillow, trying not to laugh.

Climbing onto the wooden board at the end of the bed, Celebriníel took a high jump and landed beside Ereinion, mere moments before Elernil, too, jumped onto the bed.

With triumphant cries, the elf-children began hopping around, making the High Prince quite unable to continue pretending.

'Not you again,' he grumbled as he caught Celebriníel's leg and pulled her down, tickling her, pulling even louder yelps from her.

Elernil jumped onto his back the next moment, trying to help Celebriníel escape nimble fingers.

With a careful but firm grasp, Ereinion caught his cousin's shirt and pulled him off, now causing two prisoners to laugh relentlessly.

'So you two think you can just come in here and disturb my much-needed rest?'

'No!' Celebriníel squirmed as she tried to free herself.

'It was her idea!' Elernil cried, as he too, unsuccessfully, tried to escape.

'Why me? Hmm? Why not your parents? They wanted you in the first place.' Ereinion continued, still tickling.

Neither of the children was able to answer due to incessant giggling and gasps for breath. With a smirk, the High Prince released them.

'So, when will you be ready Elernil? Or did you forget?'

'Did not forget,' the boy smiled.

'Can I come too?' Celebriníel asked, trying to look as sweet as possible.

'No.' Elernil replied simply.

Glaring at her nephew, Celebriníel finally turned to Ereinion.

'Aw,' she pouted, before giving him a broad smile. 'Please?'

'Next time, Briníel,' he smiled. 'I promised Elernil we would go together.'

'Be careful', he called over his shoulder, as he jumped over a fallen tree, feeling how slippery the mosses growing across the bark had made it. But most likely, his follower would be very well able to keep his balance.

Elflings tended to have a good feel for those things.

Ah, but how much are you still an Elfling? he asked himself with a smile.

They were both running at nearly full speed, because the wind smelled of the early summer and the branches seemed to bend out of their way.

Taking the high road, Ereinion had already decided that, unless the weather changed considerably, they would swim across the river, where they had left their horses to graze.

In case of extremely bad weather, during which he did not dare trust the usually easy waters, they would take the lower road back.

Upon reaching the deciduous forest, where the trees stood further apart, Elernil passed him, because he slowed. For a moment, Ereinion simply stood there and listened.

Elernil slowly came walking back and eyed his cousin curiously.

'Is something the matter?'

Pressing a finger against his lips, Ereinion shook his head.

'Simply listen.'

The boy listened for a moment, then shrugged.

'It is quiet.'

'That is what I mean.'

The younger Elf shrugged.

'There were birds before, but they are quiet now.'

Raising an eyebrow, Ereinion looked at him.

'You must have scared them all away, jumping around as you are.'

Catching the High Prince's teasing tone all too well, Elrohir's son rolled his eyes. Then he turned and ran off again.

Following, Ereinion watched Elernil quickly cross the stream. As he neared, he stared at the rocks his cousin had just used to reach the other side. Some sort of official crossing might not be out of place, for when the water would rise in autumn, the stones would be of little use, all of them most likely swallowed by the water.

'When do you think Elladan is coming back? And Glorfindel?' the boy meanwhile called over.

They began walking upstream, each on either side of the river. The High Prince answered while his eyes searched for the best location to situate a wooden bridge.

'Well, Elladan is almost certainly having too nice a time with Aurehen to want to come back. And Glorfindel...'

Elernil nodded.

'That lady likes him, you know.'

'Yes,' Ereinion grinned. 'She seems to, doesn't she?'

'Is she the reason he goes to Tirion every once in a while?'

'I suspect it to be so, yes.'

'When are we going to Tirion again?'

'I do not know.' Ereinion replied. 'Perhaps you would better ask your father to take you, if you really wish to go.'

The boy looked at him.

With a quick jump, using some rocks, Elernil moved to the other side again, next to the other Elf.

'Is it because of your ada and daeradar that you do not wish to go anymore?' he asked, his voice soft.

Ereinion was speechless for a moment, and stood very still. Then he slowly placed his hand on Elernil's shoulder and continued upon the path again.

He was right. Perhaps his years were not many, but he definitely had his grandfather's insight.

'How do you... What makes you say this?' the High Prince queried.

Smiling weakly, Elernil looked up at him.

'I overheard you when he first arrived at the house, together with the Lord Finrod. And I know you were angry with your daeradar. You think I did not notice when we left Tirion, but I did.'

Slightly squeezing the boy's shoulder Ereinion nodded.

'You are much like your grandfather in that respect. You see things better than some... Though I doubt I hid it very well.'

'You did not,' Elernil answered. 'You never do.'

He couldn't help but laugh as he looked down at Elernil's serious face.

'Let us not speak of it,' he smiled, as he patted the boy on the back. 'Instead, why do we not think of how we can best build a bridge?'

'There,' Elernil pointed. 'The water attrition is least here. It would be the best place, unless we want to strengthen the bank every couple of years.'

Raising a pleased eyebrow, Ereinion smiled.

'You know of this?'

Elernil nodded proudly.

'I read some books on it when everyone was busy with the other waterway. It is interesting.'

'The problem is,' Ereinion called, as he sprang across the stream again, since high rock barred their ability to continue on this side, 'is that the watercourse is so changeable, making it difficult to keep to only one side. The mountain gets in the way, so to speak.' He pointed forward.

It indeed seemed they would have to cross the water again, only a little way further.

'How many bridges would we need?'

With a chuckle Ereinion shrugged.

'Better start with one, I suppose. In another fifty years the stream will have changed it's course, if only slightly. The embankment is not strong enough here to support any bridges. Too treacherous. Though we could try large stepping stones.'

Nodding enthusiastically, Elernil indicated a certain setting in the river.

'We'd have to secure them, make sure they do not move.'

'A very good point.'

Broadly grinning, the boy looked up at Ereinion.

'When do we start?'

'Hmm, either we think of a way to bring wood across the larger waterway, or we use some from around here. We shall have to replace them, of course.'

'Of course.'

'How about next week?'

'Yes!' Elernil exclaimed. 'Do you think we could make a barrier somewhere, so we can make a small pool? And the bridge, we can easily...'

Ereinion listened to enthusiastic plans, suddenly recalling the many tree houses he had helped Elrond and Elros build in Lindon. He sighed. Well, he had helped them, even if only in a manner of speaking.

Deciding not to dwell on past lives too much now, he turned back to listening to his cousin, who had noticed nothing of his wandering mind this time.

--~~*~~--

The wind was almost cold and Aurehen pressed closer against Elladan, who received her in his arms gladly.

'You wish to stay?' she asked.

He nodded silently. They sat in the dunes together, as the sun was setting far away, and the time when they would see what Elladan hoped to witness was approaching. Resting his head against hers Elladan tried to recall how often he had done this.

The earliest recollection he could muster was watching together with his parents and brother, the next one with his father and later on, alone. And now with Aurehen. Some day, perchance, he would show his own children...

Then there was that well-known glimmer, high above and he smiled.

'Vingilot draws near,' he whispered.

Catching his hands and holding them tightly, Aurehen nodded. She had met both Elwing and Eärendil not two days ago, though it had been only briefly.

Suddenly, as if they were meant to see, in the red glow of the sunset, a bright light appeared, and it glittered in the shape of a white bird, soaring to meet that shining star.

Aurehen could only watch, not believing, though not doubting her eyes either.

She had seen many things here on Aman, though her years were short in comparison to Elladan's, but never had she been treated on this sight, which was said only the far-sighted dwelling on the Lonely Isle sometimes witnessed.

They looked on silently, until the brightness suddenly disappeared, and darkness took over the sky, the contrast quite abrupt.

'You wish to return to your father's house again, do you not?' Aurehen asked him softly.

'Not just now,' Elladan smiled, leaning over her shoulder and turning her head so he could catch her lips with his own.

As she replied with a soft moan, it was not a moment later that she was lying on the sand, which was still warm from the sun that had shone directly on it the entire day, and Elladan looked down on her, his fingers teasing a little before they started unfastening her garments.

Closing her eyes, she gave in to him, returned caresses and kisses, knowing they both were home already, as long as they were together.

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Ereinion rested his arm on the heap of pillows lying beside him on the bench. There had been too much pillows for his comfort, and he had set half of them aside, piling them up next to him. He was sitting on the balcony, his feet on the railing, a lantern lit, though he did not truly need it to aid him while reading.

It was then that he heard the door to his rooms quietly open and close. Since the rooms were only scarcely lighted, Ereinion knew from experience that the brightness of the lamp would lead everyone to find him outside. And at this time of night, he did not worry about having to be a good host.

Waiting for the person to reveal him or herself, he rested the book he had been reading in his lap.

Small fingers wrapped themselves around the doorpost, and Celebriníel looked at him timidly.

'I cannot find Ada and Nana.'

Ereinion knew Elrond and Celebrían had most likely sought some more private surroundings this evening. Three millennia and half a century was a long time to be married. Enough for him to allow them some privacy, even if it was no particular celebratory date according to Elvish custom.

They would have expected the girl to sleep on, or find one of her brothers or their wives if there was a problem. Instead, she had come here.

'Collect yourself something to keep you warm and sit with me then,' he smiled.

With a broad smile she ran back inside, returning swiftly with a blanket, and settling next to him on the comfortable bench before cuddling up.

'Do you know where they are?' she asked.

He shook his head apologetically.

'I do not. But they have most likely gone out together. Why are you awake? Did you have a bad dream?'

She nodded and made him raise his arm so she could sit closer. Absently he stroked her hair.

'What are you reading?' she queried, looking at the book that still lay open.

'The Noldolantë,' he replied, closing the volume with one hand. 'Perhaps you are too young to know of it.'

'What is it about?' Celebriníel asked, more curious because her cousin evidently did not wish her to read whatever it was. 'Is it scary?'

He laughed, the reverberation of it easily reaching down into the gardens.

'Not scary as such... Sad, yes, and perhaps daunting, considering what it was written for.'

'Does it not mean Fall of the Noldor?' she said, trying to make his fingers release the now-wanted collection on knowledge. 'Why? Are we not Noldor? We have not fallen.'

Not having to use much of his force to keep the small fingers from achieving their objective, he looked at Celebriníel.

'You know of the Kinslaying?'

'Heard of it,' she replied. 'I am not certain I understood what it was when Ada spoke of it.'

Ereinion nodded.

'Sometimes, even I cannot be certain about understanding. It is a curious thing that happened.'

'Are you reading about it to understand?'

He smiled and shook his head.

'This is a lament of the first Kinslaying at Alqualondë... This is perhaps the most important account ever written about it.'

'Why?'

'Because it was one of those who were held mainly responsible that wrote it.'

'What was his name? Or was it a she?'

'His name was...' he started, only to quickly return upon his own words. '...is Maglor.'

'Do you know him?'

Swallowing he looked at the young girl.

'I knew him.'

'But you say he is alive? Then you know him.'

'I used to know him.'

Celebriníel seemed confused, but Ereinion watched her let it go. Apparently there were more important things on her mind than his confusing verb tenses. More important than a reincarnated Elf-lord and the whereabouts of her own father's first foster father.

'But what did he do?' she persisted.

'When he followed his father, together with his brothers, they... Kinslaying means an Elf killing an Elf.'

'Killing?' she asked, not understanding.

'Hurting.'

'Why?'

'They wanted the ships that lay at Alqualondë.'

She fingered the edging of his tunic.

'Then why did they not give those to them?'

'I really do not know, Briníel.'

How much truth lay in that? He had never brought it up with either his father or his grandfather, never tried to discover the real truth about the matter. Perhaps he did not wish to understand. Perhaps the Noldolantë was enough.

She looked at him, her eyes clear as a summer sky.

'If you find out by reading that book, please tell me.'

He merely nodded, having lost his voice for a moment.

Resting her head against his side, she pulled up the blanket.

'Are you comfortable?' He could not imagine she was.

'Hmhmm...' she replied.

With a sigh Ereinion pinched her nose.

'You are not.' Then he easily lifted her and placed her among the pillows he had set aside before. 'Put your feet up,' he told her.

With a grin she rested her bare feet on his legs.

'There you go,' he chuckled, tucking the sides of the blanket in, before leaning forward and dimming the light. 'Now I shall show you why I was really out here tonight.'

He pointed up at the sky. 'Keep watching.'

From the west, suddenly a bright light emerged and drew a bright blue-white trace in the night sky. Then it was gone.

'What was that?' Celebriníel asked in amazement.

'They call them the "tears of Nienna",' he answered. 'Because she cries for the Trees still, and always in this season.'

'Pretty,' the girl said, raising her hand as if she could touch the nightly apparitions.

Ereinion let her be. Was he to tell her that the story was most likely not true? That Elrond's theory was that they were actually rocks? He smiled. He had witnessed such displays often, during his travelling in Middle-earth, in all kinds of seasons. So, in the end, the rocks seemed more plausible. And not even Nienna wept that much.

Elrond looked up at the balcony, the light of the lantern making the two faces higher up clearly distinguishable.

'El-nîn...' Celebrían caught his hand, and smiled. 'They will be fine.'

He nodded slowly, eyes still lingering.

'Perhaps I should go and check on them,' he said.

'She will take good care of Ereinion,' the Elf-lady assured him, entwining her fingers with his.

The light above dimmed and as Ereinion pointed up, both the Lord and Lady of the House gazed skywards.

Placing an arm around Celebrían's waist, Elrond smiled before pressing his lips against her temple. Another falling light emerged from the dark, before it disappeared again.

Together they walked back into the protective semi-darkness of the gardens.

'I shall miss him, once he returns to Tirion. And the years he shall remain here grow fewer ever,' Elrond said softly.

Celebrían smiled.

'I have a feeling Ereinion shall never stay away too long, once he has gone. Though he will grow to love Tirion greatly.'

She watched her husband smile.

'I do not doubt you see correctly, lady.'

Halting, he looked long upon her, before slowly lowering his face, bestowing a kiss upon her lips.

'Has it been nearly an Age, herven? An Age of being bonded?' she whispered to him.

'Well, I think we can say it has been approximately, hervess,' he replied, stroking his cheek against hers. 'Curious, is it not?'

'It is indeed,' Celebrían whispered huskily. 'One would have expected I had grown tired of you long ago.'

Pulling back, Elrond gave her an indignant look, but before he could speak, he found himself caught up in a heated open-mouthed kiss, the offer of an embrace he was glad to give in to.

Quite early in their marriage, they had spend many nights awake and outside, sometimes in the company of others, involving themselves in the ancient storytelling and singing of their people, more often alone, merely star-gazing, or initiating the occasional more private goings-on, much like those they were about to engage in.

Leading Celebrían to one of the stone garden seats, Elrond was glad he was not wearing the regal robes that had been his customary attire in Middle-earth.

With an elegant movement he stepped across the seat with one leg and sat down, smiling up at Celebrían. There were no arm or backrests, but the Lord of the House considered that an advantage at this moment. Pulling her hand, Elrond dared his wife to come closer, and with a twinkle in her eyes she gathered up her dresses a little before sitting down and motioning him to near, which he did without wavering.

As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he embraced her, lifting her slightly as he searched for her lips and finally found them again.

Celebrían combed her fingers through his hair, not thinking, just reacting on him as he reacted on her.

Both their breathing was becoming more ragged, but neither seemed willing to withdraw for air. Meanwhile fingers began slipping beneath layers of clothing, to find flesh so familiar there was really no need for eyes.

Did I ever tell you I would have rather surrendered my life than lose you?

Her blue eyes flew open as he spoke the words silently, and met his grey ones, dark with desire, but also showing that perpetual love that was spoken so highly of in Elven history.

Without a word she embraced him firmer, completing the union of body and mind.

Elrond closed his eyes again, taking delight in it. Then suddenly she replied.

It were those words that gave me the strength... Making me realise, I would do the same...

'I love you,' he whispered, pressing her closer.

'And I you,' Celebrían replied softly, smiling at him, before renewing their merging of lips.

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Noldolantë: a poem Maglor wrote ("Fall of the Noldor") as a lament of the Kinslaying at Alqualonde.

Kinslaying: The first slaying of Elf by Elf, in which the followers of Fëanor assaulted the Teleri in their haven of Alqualondë as they marched from Valinor.

Alqualondë: The Swanhaven of the Teleri, on the eastern shores of Aman. This was the site of the Kinslaying in the time immediately before the beginning of the First Age.
tears of Nienna: falling stars, or a meteor-rain, most likely

Nienna: one of the Valar, Lady of tears ("she who weeps")

herven: (S) husband

hervess: (S) wife

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I cannot say how soon I will be able to update again, university is calling me.
But I'm not going anywhere, really. And trains are good to write in. ;)) *wavels to everyone*