All I wish to do at this point is hug the people who I forced this upon. (Meaning the people who didn't have a choice when I dropped stuff like this on them/in their mailboxes. ;))
Thank you for the comments; they helped me both in deciding where to make changes and to help me collect enough courage to finally post it. I fear much of it still doesn't make sense. Probably I'll be revising in less than a week. (Or maybe this is just cathartic writing.)

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Passing into the West (part 2)
by Nemis

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The sun stood high in the sky when Celebrían stirred again. The time had long passed when she needed to consider her surroundings before she could tell where she was; she had grown used to the fact that ever it would be Aman. Instead her mind sprang to her earlier waking, but this time there could be no doubt where Elrond was; his arm around her, one of his hands resting on her hip. He was not asleep. She doubted if he had sought rest at all since arriving.

And then, for an instant, there was something of the past, almost as clearly tangible as when it had occurred. A small body lay in-between them; breathing calmly, asleep, dark hair contrasting sharply with the white sheets.

A deep urge to protect the small creature that was the sum of them rose in her, but then it was joined with the realisation that not the child or its image directly caused it, but her husband's memories which she had unknowingly shared...

'Elrond?'

The sound of her voice made the image vanish. She was uncertain whether she had wanted it to, but it had gone as if it had never been.

'Aer maer, melethril,' her husband's clear voice answered. Celebrían wondered how aware he had been of it himself.

'Aer maer,' she whispered while kissing his chest. 'How do you feel?'

Staring up at the ceiling a while, Elrond finally brought a hand up to his face, and then made a discarding movement in midair. Evidently he was occupied with other matters. For now, it seemed it would remain a shadow between them.

Elrond did not believe he was able to do this. Perhaps it was his being half-elven, his Atani side, which made it different, even barred him from being healed. Or maybe, deep in his heart he did not wish to part with the sadness, the pain. It had been with him for so long, with such intensity, how much of it was too deeply connected to him to live without? He sighed.

'I have the strange sensation that there is something I must do. As if my mind does not accept it that I sit somewhere, or lie here, doing nothing. It gives me a sense of having forgotten something, or disregarded.'

He neglected to tell that as soon as he attempted to bring some order to chaos, his mind irrevocably would return to Middle-earth.

Moving her fingers over his chest, as if there were a hidden pattern she was following, Celebrían considered his words in combination with the emotions she had felt coming from him.

'As if you cannot find rest.'

Elrond nodded slowly, not speaking. Celebrían ceased movement and simply rested her hand on his chest, spreading out the fingers, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her touch.

'It is because you have not yet let go of your duties in Middle-earth.'

He moved onto his side to face her.

'You experienced this also?'

She held back the urge to nod as he touched her temple and brushed his thumb over her lower lip.

'I did, yes.'

Initially, Elrond had been interested in her words because he could use them as a means of comparison. Abruptly, it became far more than that.

'You overcame it?'

'I did.'

Placing his arm around her, he drew her closer.

'How?'

'Many long walks.'

He smiled. Genuinely, something resembling relief in his expression also. His fingers fluttered over her cheek.

'I would be prepared to try this.'

Kissing his chest she could not help but smile also.

'I know some excellent routes.'

Lying back, Elrond grinned, but then slowly became serious once more. The last days, nay, not days, they had been mere hours, he had been torn between two emotions, both of them fighting for the upper hand; his own need for healing, and that of the person he loved most in Arda. In Middle-earth he had often considered what she had gone through, but here, now, his own pain seemed to take precedence.

'Tell me, what duties could you not let go when you arrived here?'

Seeing her, much as she had been when he had first seen her, when he had married her; strong-willed, beautiful, healed, it was so easy to forget her past. He should have asked before. He had been preoccupied.

'Being a mother, being a wife. My wish was never to hurt any of you, and yet by leaving I did.' Resting a cheek on his chest she shook her head. 'I feared... In a sense...' Closing her eyes she did not further attempt to voice the sentence.

Elrond knew. He was aware of how she had not wanted to bring back his old fears. Everyone I love leaves...

'If you had stayed, the pain would have possibly been much greater.'

The years after she left had been hard. But they could have been so much harder. There lay greater truth behind the words than he was willing to admit. If she had stayed, it would have meant her end. And with hers, his also. He would have been forced to see her slowly wither away, much like he had seen so many living beings do during his lifetime. She would have fought it all, perhaps for years, long years, but it would always have remained a lost battle from the very starting out.

Nothing would have been the same. He had observed how while her body healed, the wounds in her soul only increased, as if there was some infection that spread, unnoticed, without a known cure. During her last year, he had even feared it was already too late.

At the time, he had felt how she experienced it all. It had been an oppressing cloud, slowly but surely dominating who and what she was, all that he loved. With her, he would have faded also. With every passing day his strength would have dwindled, several steps behind her, connected so deeply there was no way to stop it. Their children would have had to deal with losing both their parents.

'I have made peace with my departing at least, I think,' she told him softly. 'Even if I have not made peace with some of its consequences.'

'Arwen did not choose as she did because you left,' he told her, only realising after speaking that perchance their daughter's choice had not been what she had meant. He had spoken of that which was foremost in his mind. 'I wished to say,' he added softly, 'that your departure... It would more likely... She wished to see you again. There is no doubt in my mind she considered you profoundly in this.' He shook his head, uncertain if his words had gotten his intention across.

Celebrían swallowed and looked away when he met her eyes again.

Suddenly Elrond discerned a feeling coming from her that made a shiver run through his body.

'Oh, Brí,' he whispered, pulling her closer, glad when she rested her head against his shoulder, felt her arm slip around his chest, holding him equally close. He felt her quieten, and then, as if it had never been, it had gone again. But he had recognised it clearly. This had been the stuff of his nightmares, long after she had left Middle-earth.

It brought forward his own memories, long hidden away in the depths of his mind, memories of a time when he had been healer and husband simultaneously, one doing all he could, while attempting to ward off the worries and fears of the other.

He recalled how his fingers had examined her, in so different a manner from how he had only so shortly before touched her.

The blood so red against her pale skin, making unprofessional tears blur his vision, making it almost impossible to continue. But he had done all which had lain in his power. When the next stage had come, he had been confronted with something far more difficult. The waiting had required so much more of him...

'You hide this from me,' he stated softly, stroking her hair. 'We had an agreement. Do not ever hide it from me.'

Slowly but persistently she untangled herself from his embrace, sitting up and looking back at him.

'It is not often I... it rarely returns, and if it does it is only for a moment.'

He was aware of what she was attempting to do. He knew she had felt his reaction moments ago, how she had to have anticipated exactly that, how she wanted to spare him additional pain. He had tried to do the same; and it was easy to recognise her trying as well. But however much they both wished to, protecting each other was not a solution. Subsequently, to his mind it was not a viable option.

'As you do not wish me to bear certain matters alone, I do not wish you to either, Celebrían.' He sounded almost stern. 'Do not shut me out.'

'It seems insignificant,' she whispered in reply, looking away. 'And you have many worries, El-nîn...'

'No.' It was a simple statement, and merely speaking it made something in him return, a semblance of old conviction. Pushing himself up, he was hesitant to reach out to her, physically or mentally.

'I worry for the sake of worrying, it is my nature, I cannot help it,' he told her carefully. 'But it is not in yours...'

Closing her eyes, attempting to regain her composure, Celebrían allowed him to reach for her mind quietly, and found him as gentle and soothing as ever. She took a deep breath.

'You should not be confronted with this already.'

He had known there were still matters she had to resolve, that her healing had not been entirely complete. It was different from the manner in which he was tired, and yet similar. But he had not expected it to be this strong. She had spoken the truth when she had told him she did not experience it as often as she once had. And yet she had all but dealt with it.

Bringing up a hand with which to guide her face he made her meet his eyes.

'We have survived this much already, you and I. You said it would not come between us. I tell you now I will not allow anything to come between us.'

With a shake of the head she closed her eyes.

'What if taking this upon yourself as well will be too much?'

Summoning assurance, Elrond placed a hand on her knee.

'It will not be.'

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Their morning ritual was comparable to how it had once been, but was simultaneously riddled with curious small instances of awkwardness. Neither of them seemed entirely certain how to react to the other after their confrontations with unexpected past recollections, fearful of causing the unexpected stings the past seemed to bring.

And there also was the distinct feeling that however much they might believe their lives had now returned to how they had been; it was not so. All those years ago they would rise, and then continue on, together or separately; to share time as a family or to see to their separate duties. There had always been something. Not so now. No Imladris to administrate, no household to oversee, nothing.

Celebrían had thought that she had learned to live with it; when she had first arrived on Aman it had been a relief to not have the burden of responsibility any longer; it had weighed so heavily on her the previous year. But now, feeling what Elrond felt, she understood his loss, was reminded of something she had felt, even if it had been to a much smaller extent.

Celebrían's eyes rested on Elrond as he despondently looked out of the window, but she said nothing, catching his hand instead, leading him along. Descending the wooden steps which led to the outside, they found themselves as much alone as they had been earlier.

'Everyone has gone?' Elrond asked, as Celebrían wasted no time leading him into the dense forest which seemed to surround them entirely.

'Not gone,' she replied, 'but you have no wish to see them.'

As they walked, he wondered if that was true. He concluded that it was.

'Where are we going?'

She smiled at him mysteriously and released his hand. She then walked on and Elrond felt instantly alone. Taking several quick steps forward he caught her hand again, giving her a serious look.

The smile of before had left her lips as she met his eyes.

'You do not feel it, do you?'

He met her eyes uncertainly.

'What?'

Closing her eyes she shook her head and brought his hand up to her lips.

It was she who was most peaceful now, he thought. When she had let go of his hand he had felt something close to panic. But the forest seemed to soothe her. It did nothing similar to him.

It was then that the trees became fewer, beams of light penetrating the leafage to fall on the forest floor, and a moment later they cleared the forest. It had appeared much vaster when they had first entered. Most likely few things on Aman were as they seemed. Tall blades of grass moved in the wind as they climbed the hill.

For a short time, Elrond felt anticipation take a hold of him, a curiosity as to what lay beyond the top of the hill, to where Celebrían was clearly taking him. Upon arriving there, he was uncertain if he was disappointed. The view was magnificent, but it meant little to him.

'It used to be all I had,' Celebrían whispered beside him.

He followed her gaze and observed the road below, the way they had walked yesterday, no doubt.

'I wish it could mean that to me,' he replied, watching the endless space before them. He suspected it sounded uncaring.

'All of me was focussed on that road, knowing that one day it would bring you to me again.'

He had no reply to give her and kept silent. Celebrían met his eyes.

'You will find something like it also, something to concentrate on, to pour your hope into. And it will give you peace.'

'I do not think a road will give me peace.'

'You are in need of different things than I was, Elrond,' she told him, staring out before her.

The words seemed lost on him as a storm seemed to suddenly rage behind the emotionless expression on his face. His voice was very quiet when he did speak at length.

'I remember a time when we knew all the other was thinking, how to construe it. It helped us to find a sense of balance. Even if we know what occupies the other now, we fear to stumble and ruin all, fear to cause pain... We do all in our power to walk carefully, but in the process we have lost the stability.' He bowed his head. Celebrían placed a tender hand on his arm.

'Give it at least a little time, meleth-nîn.'

'Yes,' Elrond remarked dryly. 'We have more than enough of that.'

Taking a deep breath she plucked at his tunic silently. Elrond narrowed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh, fixing his gaze on the horizon.

'Elros asked me once whether I realised how long the remainder of Arda truly was. He accused me of not understanding time.'

Celebrían looked at him, his eyes avoiding hers, shoulders hunched.

'I think back then,' he continued, 'my brother saw what I did not. That I made my choice because I wished life to remain as it was. He understood that it could never be so. He saw how time could destroy everything. He accepted it, where I denied it until I no longer could.'

'Does time not also give us new things? Creates also, rather than only destroys?' she asked quietly.

Nodding firmly he caught her hand.

'You made me realise that. The children... Yes, yes of course it does, but after I saw my brother die, his children, their children, my cousins, all of them victims of time, I began to see it as something which tainted all for the worse. If you had not come to me after Gil-galad's death, I would have fled into bitterness, and who can tell where I would be now.'

Both seemed to contemplate the scenario.

'Do you fear time?' Celebrían asked him unexpectedly.

'It scares me how some things can be timeless where others are not. I imagine it is not difficult to forget time here, but I cannot help but wonder how I am to spend the rest of Arda without purpose.'

'Are you so certain you will not find purpose here?' she persisted.

He shrugged.

'It all seems inadequate, somehow.'

'Compared to Middle-earth, you imply?'

Looking at him, she saw the unhappiness in his eyes. With a sad smile she stretched out her arms and he embraced her firmly.

'Really, Brí, what am I to do here?'

'I could think of some things,' she whispered, kissing his ear. 'You shall find purpose if this is what you believe you need. But did you not once tell me you find the things you need most when you do not expressedly seek them? And perhaps you need more than a day to find it.'

The irony in her words did not escape him, and he pulled away, lifting his head to stare up at the sky.

'Do you not think it strange that in Middle-earth you always had too few moments such as these, with no obligations, and now that you have them in abundance, you do not care for them?' Celebrían posed, looking at him.

Elrond was not prepared to recognise the amusing incongruity in it all. 'I feel so tired, Brí.'

Stepping closer she took his hand and kissed it gently. That wholesome peace that had always lain over Imladris had come from him. For so long he had made certain it was so, had he used part of himself to keep it. The same tranquillity was inherent to him still, but it was overshadowed by weariness now.

Small wonder, my love, she told him. What did it cost you to keep this peace all those years?

But his thoughts had already travelled on, which worried her. This haste meant that his inner turmoil was more present than ever. She knew because she had experienced it herself.

'What shall we do with the Ring, the least of Rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies?(1)' he whispered scornfully. Averting his gaze from the sky above, he stared into the distance again, the empty road before them. 'I had not the strength.'

'Elrond...'

He shook his head.

'We deemed ourselves wise.' He laughed, but there was no joy in it. 'We sent Annatar away so he could go to Eregion and bring about the doom of others. We... We were not wise, Brí, we were proud. We prided ourselves in our choice. And then we went to Mordor thinking we could stop the Darkness. We thought we were so wise, and strong. So wrong we were. We went to destroy what we in a sense had created.'

He bowed his head. 'What Gil-galad and I did not know then, I knew when Isildur took the Ring as his weregild. Or perhaps Ereinion did see it in the end.' He finally looked at Celebrían. 'Does he talk of these matters at all?'

'Sometimes. He hints at certain events he remembers, not much beyond that. But Elrond... The Númenóreans thought they could imprison Sauron, and you know where that brought them in the end.'

'The idea that somehow it happened because it had to be does not provide much consolation.' He shook his head. 'And it is painful, if not entirely unexpected, to be confronted with the fact that my brother's wisdom did not live down to his descendants.'

'Perhaps you want to concentrate on happier memories and work from there,' she offered. 'You do not have to resolve any of this in a day.'

Shrugging, Elrond nevertheless allowed her to embrace him from behind. He leant his head against hers as she rested it against his shoulder.

'Am I to be incessantly happy here? Or the opposite, since it is my entire life I have left behind? Am I to start anew, or somehow continue where I left off?'

Very lightly she pressed her lips against his then, and he could be nothing but appreciative of the gesture.

'I wish you to remember something,' she whispered. 'Close your eyes.'

He did as she asked without questioning it, and found himself engulfed with warm pleasantness at once.

It was the past where she took him, but long ago; those years which had been beyond anything else he could recall, years that seemed to have been the reward for waiting.

Almost a year, she had been his, and from the very beginning she had enriched every single aspect of his life. As an alternative to rising before the break of dawn, she had kept him in bed, and he had learned to more appreciate the sun creeping into the room, the songs of the birds which perched on the high branches of the trees outside their window.

It had to be the same year where she took him next, but now he could almost feel the cold of the season. Yet again it was something she had wished to show, something which she wanted to remind him of, but he could not recall what it was.

Teasingly she waited a moment before showing it; the pool beneath the falls in which the water collected before it continued on into the valley was half-frozen, almost impossible shapes creating a marvellous sight, all white and glittering, while water still trickled and flowed over and underneath it.

He recalled how the waterfalls of Imladris tended to lessen in quantity during winter with the river freezing over higher up in the mountains, but he had forgotten the beauty of it. In his early years he had ventured there often, but as work began to demand more of his time, he had passed up on many opportunities to watch nature's splendour.

And now, as she had been then, his wife seemed adamant to show it to him once more.

His face was betraying each thought going through his mind, and Celebrían was glad to see all brought him delight. A small smile played around his lips, the eyes in that serious face shone brightly, and she almost chuckled in delight.

As an alternative for breaking this reverie with sound, she rested an arm around his waist, and waited for him to look at her, at which point she found his lips effortlessly.

It is never black or white alone, Elrond, she told him. You taught me that, and it bears remembering.

Exploring, he never strayed far from her mouth, always returning there, feeling her lips caress his face as well, carefully, peacefully, without the urgency they had experienced before, the rush of blood being less insistent now.

Be sure to remind me when you need to, celeb loth-nîn. Be sure to...

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Aer maer: good morning

1. Yep, taken directly from The Ring Goes South; The Council of Elrond

celeb loth-nîn: my silver flower

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