Well, here's another new chapter! I agree; there's not a lot about Elrond
and Celebrían's relationship. Figured I might as well bring some of my own
ideas in. Forgive me if the characters don't quite seem like themselves.
And the 'very unique half-elf' comes into play in this chapter =)
Oh yeh, I want to make something clear before I get asked about it.
I realize that there IS a group of elves who have named themselves, "The Forsaken", due to the fact that they were abandoned on the shores of Beleriand at the end of the Great Journey (Silmarillion). Please don't confuse them with my Forsaken Ones.
Also, I'll be using the term, "Pereglan", for my elf, in later chapters most probably. Pereglan is supposed to mean, "Half-Forsaken". Suits well, eh?
I'm not Tolkien, so I don't own Middle-earth, and its inhabitants. I only own that elf that you won't recognize.
Anyways, on with the story.
" '.." : Elvish /.../ : Thoughts
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Arwen watched in renewed sorrow as Elrond relived that painful memory. Crystalline tears slipped down the Evenstar's fair face as she took her father's grief into her own.
"I'm so sorry, Ada.. Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, my daughter. It was her choice to make, not ours." The half-elf turned his grief-twisted face away, and looked out once more to the fiery Anar; perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of Celebrían's own bright, sparkling eyes.
He looked with watering grey pools and regarded the outskirts of his realm with forced concentration.
Arwen Undómiel knew not to distract him. She knew that Celebrían's departure devastated him; it had the same effect on her children. The Evenstar could still clearly recall that fateful day...
But Arwen dared not trudge back to that sorrowful memory. She would not allow her father to see her in such a state, lest she brought him down also. But her body dared to betray her. Diamond tears formed in the corners of Arwen's eyes and forced themselves to slide down, leaving a clear, shining trail for all to see.
"I will leave you, Father. I.. I will return. There is something I must speak to you about..."
Then she turned and fled, so quickly that she missed the empty whisper of her father's words: "Yes, you will leave me.. and you will not return...."
Elrond grimaced, outside as well as in. He knew that Arwen had given her heart to his foster son, and he knew that Estel had given his to her as well. The half-elf knew all too well that one day, Arwen would choose to be numbered amongst the Mortal Men.
And so she would follow the fate of Luthien Tinuviel, whom Arwen has been said to be the incarnation of.
"To follow a mortal into death.." Elrond mumbled, unbeknownst to another presence in his room.
" 'Your daughter follows her heart, Lord Elrond Peredhil."
For the second that day, within the same hour, the half-elf was once again frightened out of his very skin. He whirled around, his robes moving slower than him and whipping around his lithe body as his movements stopped.
There, standing in the shadows of his room, was the most unusual she-elf he had ever laid his eyes upon.
Though it was not her beauty which made her seem unusual. No, she was as fair as all elves were.
Rather, this elf had long black, stick straight hair reaching far down her back with silver streaks hiding amongst the silken strands. She was tall, very tall; nearly taller than Elrond himself, he decided. Her hair, at the moment, was divided into seven braids and was tied with long pieces of grey cloth. They were undoubtedly made quickly and carelessly, for many a strand was loose from its plaited confinements.
The she-elf was dressed in plain clothing, yet somehow they seemed fit for her; she radiated the essence of a wanderer, who had neither need nor desire for things of luxury... which Elrond, whether he admitted it or not, exploited without a second thought.
She wore a sleeveless, faded grey shirt; worn with years of endless use. Her leggings were black, and looked as worn as her shirt. A belt, looking to all the world as an unraveling knot of string that would surely fail with a whisper of the wind, looped her slim waist, and a soft pair of light, black boots was on her feet.
Vambraces; leather, brown, and well used, were around her lower arms, but her upper arm was bare and it displayed intricate black designs on her skin. Elrond could see that they continued to splay across her body beneath her clothing
But it was her eyes that held his curiosity longer; they were shining like diamonds in the darkness where no light could reach them. No elf could ever obtain eyes like that, not even the most keen-sighted.
She stepped forward, and revealed her true self as she was in the light of day.
Elrond gasped and stepped back in unison with the other's movement. This ..elf had golden-brown skin and silver eyes. Never before had the Lord of Imladris seen this combination.. He had never even seen it alone. Silver eyes did not exist among the Children of Iluvatar, nor did the bronze skin. Not even a human possessed that particular color, let alone an elf. All the First-born bore the fair, porcelain skin given by Eru himself.
Now that she was no longer hidden amongst the shadows, her face was now visible to all who looked upon her. It revealed the strong jaw line, and the proud face that looked like it would kill anyone who dared cross her path. Only then did Elrond notice the supple bow and quiver of arrows slung across her back, and the twin pairs of elvish knives.
Hidden beneath strands of silver hair were 3 long scars nearly the whole length of her face, marring the skin over her right eye.
" 'I did not expect for you to become this astonished, Elrond. I'd have expected this from your children, yes, but not from you." The form in front of him spoke, staring him straight in the eye, reaching deep into the grey depths of his soul.
Elrond suppressed a shudder; her gaze was even more unnerving and intense than his wife and her mother, Galadriel.
" 'What... who are you?" he managed to say.
The golden-skinned elf laughed; a melodious laugh, yet this did not help to lighten Elrond's heavy heart.
" 'There is not a doubt that you have read the manuscript concerning the Forsaken Ones, Lord Elrond. Therein lays your answer to my being." She answered in a warm tone with frost at the edges, and she then turned swiftly, and made as if to leave him in his shaking state.
" 'Wait.." came the soft plea from the stricken half-elf. " 'Will you tell me your name?"
The she-elf gazed at Elrond who was trying not to break under the intensity of her stare.
" 'Very well," she said," my name is Ethuil, but I would rather if you refer to me as Lanthir ."
This time, when she turned to leave, there were no interruptions; Elrond had frozen still as a statue as her previous words implanted themselves in the half-elf's mind.
/Forsaken..?!/
Ethuil glanced over her painted shoulder as she rounded the last corner before disappearing into the shadows of the halls once more, but Elrond paid no notice.
/Maybe it was not the best decision to tell him so soon./ she thought.
She let out a sigh, tinged with regret, and resumed walking until she came to welcome the golden rays of Anar embracing her own golden-brown skin.
TBC... soon.
And the 'very unique half-elf' comes into play in this chapter =)
Oh yeh, I want to make something clear before I get asked about it.
I realize that there IS a group of elves who have named themselves, "The Forsaken", due to the fact that they were abandoned on the shores of Beleriand at the end of the Great Journey (Silmarillion). Please don't confuse them with my Forsaken Ones.
Also, I'll be using the term, "Pereglan", for my elf, in later chapters most probably. Pereglan is supposed to mean, "Half-Forsaken". Suits well, eh?
I'm not Tolkien, so I don't own Middle-earth, and its inhabitants. I only own that elf that you won't recognize.
Anyways, on with the story.
" '.." : Elvish /.../ : Thoughts
~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~
Arwen watched in renewed sorrow as Elrond relived that painful memory. Crystalline tears slipped down the Evenstar's fair face as she took her father's grief into her own.
"I'm so sorry, Ada.. Forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, my daughter. It was her choice to make, not ours." The half-elf turned his grief-twisted face away, and looked out once more to the fiery Anar; perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of Celebrían's own bright, sparkling eyes.
He looked with watering grey pools and regarded the outskirts of his realm with forced concentration.
Arwen Undómiel knew not to distract him. She knew that Celebrían's departure devastated him; it had the same effect on her children. The Evenstar could still clearly recall that fateful day...
But Arwen dared not trudge back to that sorrowful memory. She would not allow her father to see her in such a state, lest she brought him down also. But her body dared to betray her. Diamond tears formed in the corners of Arwen's eyes and forced themselves to slide down, leaving a clear, shining trail for all to see.
"I will leave you, Father. I.. I will return. There is something I must speak to you about..."
Then she turned and fled, so quickly that she missed the empty whisper of her father's words: "Yes, you will leave me.. and you will not return...."
Elrond grimaced, outside as well as in. He knew that Arwen had given her heart to his foster son, and he knew that Estel had given his to her as well. The half-elf knew all too well that one day, Arwen would choose to be numbered amongst the Mortal Men.
And so she would follow the fate of Luthien Tinuviel, whom Arwen has been said to be the incarnation of.
"To follow a mortal into death.." Elrond mumbled, unbeknownst to another presence in his room.
" 'Your daughter follows her heart, Lord Elrond Peredhil."
For the second that day, within the same hour, the half-elf was once again frightened out of his very skin. He whirled around, his robes moving slower than him and whipping around his lithe body as his movements stopped.
There, standing in the shadows of his room, was the most unusual she-elf he had ever laid his eyes upon.
Though it was not her beauty which made her seem unusual. No, she was as fair as all elves were.
Rather, this elf had long black, stick straight hair reaching far down her back with silver streaks hiding amongst the silken strands. She was tall, very tall; nearly taller than Elrond himself, he decided. Her hair, at the moment, was divided into seven braids and was tied with long pieces of grey cloth. They were undoubtedly made quickly and carelessly, for many a strand was loose from its plaited confinements.
The she-elf was dressed in plain clothing, yet somehow they seemed fit for her; she radiated the essence of a wanderer, who had neither need nor desire for things of luxury... which Elrond, whether he admitted it or not, exploited without a second thought.
She wore a sleeveless, faded grey shirt; worn with years of endless use. Her leggings were black, and looked as worn as her shirt. A belt, looking to all the world as an unraveling knot of string that would surely fail with a whisper of the wind, looped her slim waist, and a soft pair of light, black boots was on her feet.
Vambraces; leather, brown, and well used, were around her lower arms, but her upper arm was bare and it displayed intricate black designs on her skin. Elrond could see that they continued to splay across her body beneath her clothing
But it was her eyes that held his curiosity longer; they were shining like diamonds in the darkness where no light could reach them. No elf could ever obtain eyes like that, not even the most keen-sighted.
She stepped forward, and revealed her true self as she was in the light of day.
Elrond gasped and stepped back in unison with the other's movement. This ..elf had golden-brown skin and silver eyes. Never before had the Lord of Imladris seen this combination.. He had never even seen it alone. Silver eyes did not exist among the Children of Iluvatar, nor did the bronze skin. Not even a human possessed that particular color, let alone an elf. All the First-born bore the fair, porcelain skin given by Eru himself.
Now that she was no longer hidden amongst the shadows, her face was now visible to all who looked upon her. It revealed the strong jaw line, and the proud face that looked like it would kill anyone who dared cross her path. Only then did Elrond notice the supple bow and quiver of arrows slung across her back, and the twin pairs of elvish knives.
Hidden beneath strands of silver hair were 3 long scars nearly the whole length of her face, marring the skin over her right eye.
" 'I did not expect for you to become this astonished, Elrond. I'd have expected this from your children, yes, but not from you." The form in front of him spoke, staring him straight in the eye, reaching deep into the grey depths of his soul.
Elrond suppressed a shudder; her gaze was even more unnerving and intense than his wife and her mother, Galadriel.
" 'What... who are you?" he managed to say.
The golden-skinned elf laughed; a melodious laugh, yet this did not help to lighten Elrond's heavy heart.
" 'There is not a doubt that you have read the manuscript concerning the Forsaken Ones, Lord Elrond. Therein lays your answer to my being." She answered in a warm tone with frost at the edges, and she then turned swiftly, and made as if to leave him in his shaking state.
" 'Wait.." came the soft plea from the stricken half-elf. " 'Will you tell me your name?"
The she-elf gazed at Elrond who was trying not to break under the intensity of her stare.
" 'Very well," she said," my name is Ethuil, but I would rather if you refer to me as Lanthir ."
This time, when she turned to leave, there were no interruptions; Elrond had frozen still as a statue as her previous words implanted themselves in the half-elf's mind.
/Forsaken..?!/
Ethuil glanced over her painted shoulder as she rounded the last corner before disappearing into the shadows of the halls once more, but Elrond paid no notice.
/Maybe it was not the best decision to tell him so soon./ she thought.
She let out a sigh, tinged with regret, and resumed walking until she came to welcome the golden rays of Anar embracing her own golden-brown skin.
TBC... soon.
