This is my first fanfiction story ever, so please review it so that I can learn how to improve. I will update with a new chapter every week or so, maybe more often.
Disclaimer: I own nothing here except for the character of Idril. Even the name "Idril" is Tolkien's. The rest of the characters and places are also the work of J.R.R. Tolkien's brilliant mind.
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In Rivendell, all should have been at peace. Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, had been defeated years and years back when Isildur cut the ring from his hand, and no major threat had posed itself since. However, the very atmosphere in fair Imladris was strained, as if it was waiting. Few Elves were out walking about in the gardens, and those that could be seen seemed tense, expectant.
In his study, Lord Elrond Halfelven was pacing restlessly, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes stared at the floor. They looked weary, and infinitely worried. Every so often, his glance would dart to the study's door, as if both hoping and dreading it would open.
A hand knocked three times, firmly, upon the wooden door. Elrond started, then hurried to it anxiously and opened it. A tall figure with fair hair stood framed in the doorway, his expression stony and impossible to read. Elrond sighed. "What news, Glorfindel?" he asked dully, as if he had given up all hope.
A fleeting look of concern passed Glorfindel's features before he replied. "Your sons, Peredhil. They have returned."
Elrond nodded curtly and swept hastily out the door past Glorfindel, who looked after him for a moment before following a few steps behind. As he walked through the corridors of the Homely House, he tried to calm the whirling emotions contained inside him and compose himself. But it had been so hard, the waiting, the wondering…
He was confronted with the large wooden doors leading outside, to where his sons would be expecting him. Stopping abruptly, he nearly collided with them, but reached out a hand and pulled them open slowly.
Elladan and Elrohir stood beside two fine mounts, stroking their sweaty withers absently. They truly were two Elves that showed the beauty of the First Kindred, with their dark hair and sharp eyes, but now both looked as exhausted as their mounts, and their eyes were focused upon their sister. Arwen Undòmiel, resplendent in a flowing dress of violet, was reaching up to embrace a figure who was seated upon Elladan's mount. At the sight of the figure, Elrond could not restrain a sharp intake of breath. Arwen, noticing him, took one last look at the figure before striding to stand with her brothers. Elrond rushed towards the Elf on horseback so quickly that a few brown hairs escaped their neat braids upon his head, all dignity forgotten. When he reached her, he stretched out a hand and smoothed a strand of silver hair back from her white face, his own brow furrowed with worry. "Celebrìan," he whispered, watching her still form intently. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances filled with both sorrow and hope, but remained silent.
Celebrìan's eyes were closed, yet even in this dazed state she was a beauty, with full lips and shining silver hair, subtly tinted with gold, that spilled out and lay around her, some hanging off the horse's back in its length. Small scrapes, some still coated with dried blood, speckled her face, and both her temples were bruised. Elrond took both her hands and spoke her name again, more loudly, his eyes pleading. "Celebrian." Her eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing eyes of a piercing blue that usually greatly resembled those of her mother, Galadriel. Now, they were bleary, and clouded with pain and weariness. The faintest hint of a smile curved her lips.
"Elrond," she replied softly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"How?" Elrond asked simply as he strode from the healing chamber with his sons beside him, leaving Arwen alone with her mother.
"Her traveling party was ambushed by a band of Orcs, Father, and was overrun. We found her once they had had her for three days, we suspect. She was evidently… brutally tortured," Elladan replied quietly.
Elrond's eyes flashed with contained anger and annoyance. Orcs had done this. "Her wounds go deeper than the flesh, I fear," he said simply.
Over the course of the following two months, Elrond spent his strength and every skill he had laboring to heal his beloved wife. Often he would stay with her every waking moment, and sleep very little each night, comforting her as best he could with the simple fact of his presence. So slowly that change was hardly noticeable, Celebrìan's health improved. One day, Elrond went to see her only to find that her bed was empty, the sheets still untidy as if she had just risen from sleep.
He found her standing outside upon a balcony, facing into a wind that blew her hair in streams past her shoulders. Her eyes were clearer now, her face less pale, and the various cuts that had been on her face were fully healed. She heard him approach, and turned to him, favoring him with a smile.
Her physical wounds were fully healed, and she seemed at times to be completely recovered, the only signs of her torment remaining in her weary eyes. Yet she was always quiet, much more so than she had been before, and sometimes her husband or her children would find her staring blankly at nothing, oblivious of where she was. One night, Elrond looked over at her, glad of the comforting warmth of her familiar presence. Now, even in sleep, her face was troubled, and as he gazed upon her she stirred and mumbled, "Rélamin," and then a name he believed he must have heard incorrectly. His hand smoothed her brow as she slept, and she whispered it softly again before lapsing into silence. At that moment, he resolved he would never be separated from her again.
Within a year, Celebrìan sailed from the Grey Havens, leaving all of her kin behind.
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Rélamin: my daughter
Peredhil: a name for Elrond, "halfelven"
Disclaimer: I own nothing here except for the character of Idril. Even the name "Idril" is Tolkien's. The rest of the characters and places are also the work of J.R.R. Tolkien's brilliant mind.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In Rivendell, all should have been at peace. Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, had been defeated years and years back when Isildur cut the ring from his hand, and no major threat had posed itself since. However, the very atmosphere in fair Imladris was strained, as if it was waiting. Few Elves were out walking about in the gardens, and those that could be seen seemed tense, expectant.
In his study, Lord Elrond Halfelven was pacing restlessly, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes stared at the floor. They looked weary, and infinitely worried. Every so often, his glance would dart to the study's door, as if both hoping and dreading it would open.
A hand knocked three times, firmly, upon the wooden door. Elrond started, then hurried to it anxiously and opened it. A tall figure with fair hair stood framed in the doorway, his expression stony and impossible to read. Elrond sighed. "What news, Glorfindel?" he asked dully, as if he had given up all hope.
A fleeting look of concern passed Glorfindel's features before he replied. "Your sons, Peredhil. They have returned."
Elrond nodded curtly and swept hastily out the door past Glorfindel, who looked after him for a moment before following a few steps behind. As he walked through the corridors of the Homely House, he tried to calm the whirling emotions contained inside him and compose himself. But it had been so hard, the waiting, the wondering…
He was confronted with the large wooden doors leading outside, to where his sons would be expecting him. Stopping abruptly, he nearly collided with them, but reached out a hand and pulled them open slowly.
Elladan and Elrohir stood beside two fine mounts, stroking their sweaty withers absently. They truly were two Elves that showed the beauty of the First Kindred, with their dark hair and sharp eyes, but now both looked as exhausted as their mounts, and their eyes were focused upon their sister. Arwen Undòmiel, resplendent in a flowing dress of violet, was reaching up to embrace a figure who was seated upon Elladan's mount. At the sight of the figure, Elrond could not restrain a sharp intake of breath. Arwen, noticing him, took one last look at the figure before striding to stand with her brothers. Elrond rushed towards the Elf on horseback so quickly that a few brown hairs escaped their neat braids upon his head, all dignity forgotten. When he reached her, he stretched out a hand and smoothed a strand of silver hair back from her white face, his own brow furrowed with worry. "Celebrìan," he whispered, watching her still form intently. Elladan and Elrohir exchanged glances filled with both sorrow and hope, but remained silent.
Celebrìan's eyes were closed, yet even in this dazed state she was a beauty, with full lips and shining silver hair, subtly tinted with gold, that spilled out and lay around her, some hanging off the horse's back in its length. Small scrapes, some still coated with dried blood, speckled her face, and both her temples were bruised. Elrond took both her hands and spoke her name again, more loudly, his eyes pleading. "Celebrian." Her eyelids fluttered, then opened, revealing eyes of a piercing blue that usually greatly resembled those of her mother, Galadriel. Now, they were bleary, and clouded with pain and weariness. The faintest hint of a smile curved her lips.
"Elrond," she replied softly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"How?" Elrond asked simply as he strode from the healing chamber with his sons beside him, leaving Arwen alone with her mother.
"Her traveling party was ambushed by a band of Orcs, Father, and was overrun. We found her once they had had her for three days, we suspect. She was evidently… brutally tortured," Elladan replied quietly.
Elrond's eyes flashed with contained anger and annoyance. Orcs had done this. "Her wounds go deeper than the flesh, I fear," he said simply.
Over the course of the following two months, Elrond spent his strength and every skill he had laboring to heal his beloved wife. Often he would stay with her every waking moment, and sleep very little each night, comforting her as best he could with the simple fact of his presence. So slowly that change was hardly noticeable, Celebrìan's health improved. One day, Elrond went to see her only to find that her bed was empty, the sheets still untidy as if she had just risen from sleep.
He found her standing outside upon a balcony, facing into a wind that blew her hair in streams past her shoulders. Her eyes were clearer now, her face less pale, and the various cuts that had been on her face were fully healed. She heard him approach, and turned to him, favoring him with a smile.
Her physical wounds were fully healed, and she seemed at times to be completely recovered, the only signs of her torment remaining in her weary eyes. Yet she was always quiet, much more so than she had been before, and sometimes her husband or her children would find her staring blankly at nothing, oblivious of where she was. One night, Elrond looked over at her, glad of the comforting warmth of her familiar presence. Now, even in sleep, her face was troubled, and as he gazed upon her she stirred and mumbled, "Rélamin," and then a name he believed he must have heard incorrectly. His hand smoothed her brow as she slept, and she whispered it softly again before lapsing into silence. At that moment, he resolved he would never be separated from her again.
Within a year, Celebrìan sailed from the Grey Havens, leaving all of her kin behind.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rélamin: my daughter
Peredhil: a name for Elrond, "halfelven"