Return to Valinor

By: DLR 2003

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Chapter Four

The House of Finwë

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"Just a small wedding," Elrond repeated with emphasis to Idril.  His grandmother looked crushed.

"Please," she pleaded with him.  "You are somewhat of a celebrity here in Aman."

Elrond snorted.  "A curiosity, more like."

"It would be the event of the year," she continued.

"For the gossips," he finished.  "Nay, Naneth-adar, nay.  You forget that Culurien and I have both been married before.  This should be a very small, intimate family gathering."

Idril managed to look sly and innocent both at the same time.  "You have a large family you know, they will all wish to come and it would be rude to exclude anyone."

Elrond paused suddenly and stared at her.  "I have a large family?  How very strange that sounds.  I have spent the last six millennia as an orphan, having no family besides wife and children."  He looked up at her and smiled, changing his mind.  "I would like to meet them, let them come."

He grimaced as he heard the unmistakable sounds of his betrothed retching forcibly in the nearby bath chamber.  "I doubt, however, that Culurien will feel the same."

Idril patted his arm.  "She will be past this stage by the time of the wedding."

"Ah, yes," responded Elrond.  He paused, frowning a little.  "When exactly would the wedding date be?"

Idril laid down her embroidery and considered.  "Well, allowing enough time to get everything organized, I would say about three months."

Elrond stared at her.  He wiped his hand across his face.  "You realize," he commented, "that Culurien will be with child six months by then?"

Idril sighed.  "Oh dear, and everyone else will realize it as well."

"Exactly," Elrond remarked wryly.  "Perhaps we could hasten it a bit?"

Idril nodded, smiling.  "I will see to it."

Elrond rose.  "You are a blessing, Naneth-adar, thank you," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.  He heard once again the painful reaction Culurien was having to her pregnancy and he winced.  "Perhaps a stomach settling remedy is in order," he murmured. 

"A very large jug of it," his grandmother concurred.

Elrond smiled as he made his way to the kitchen.

                        ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Culurien paled, her green-tinged complexion turning a shade lighter.  "Your entire family?  All of them?" 

"Calm yourself," Elrond said soothingly.  "Please, drink this."

She grimaced, smelling it.  "This is supposed to help?"

"Please," Elrond persisted.

Culurien eyed the contents of the goblet warily before taking a deep breath and downing it with haste.  There was a long pause while she and Elrond waited expectantly for the remedy to make a re-appearance.  He smiled and pulled her to his chest as he rubbed her back with long gentle strokes.

"It is not as bad as you think," he continued. "We are only talking about Fingolfin, Fingon, Tuor, Turgon, Thingol, Dior and their spouses, along with any additional children. You have met some of them already, those residing in this house."

Culurien made a snorting noise and he embraced her closely, his hand exerting a comforting pressure on her neck and shoulders.  "Have you any family we should include as well?"

"I know of none that have journeyed here," she responded.  "There may be some that died in long ago battles that have passed through the Halls of Mandos, but no one that is close to me.  Those that died in the Battle of the Five Armies would not be released yet, I deem."

He nodded.  "Yes, it is too early for them and those that died at Dagorlad, they stayed there, in the Dead Marshes, they never came to Aman."  He paused a minute.  "You really should have somebody though, to stand with you."

Culurien looked up and smiled through her discomfort.  "What would you think of Mithrandir?"

Elrond broke into a wide grin.  "An excellent choice, Lady, indeed."

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Indis pursed her lips.  "I simply cannot believe the gown Idril is wearing."

Anairë looked at her granddaughter in close assessment.  She patted her mother-in-law's arm.  "Ah, the young ones, they have no fashion sense, do not let it bother you."

Indis was not appeased.  "It is quite scandalous, really.  It is autumn in Tirion, not summer in Lórien."

Anairë hid a smile as she surveyed the gathering.  "I am much more interested in the bride and groom."

Indis' gaze softened.  "My heart goes out to that young one.  He has suffered much in his lifetime; let him find happiness at last."

"Indeed, Hervenn-naneth," said Anairë.  "May Eru bless them."

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Fingolfin frowned and made a snorting noise.

"Be still, Atar," said Fingon.  "He has every right to be here."

"Son of Fëanor," muttered Fingolfin.

"Grandson of Fëanor," corrected Fingon. 

Fingolfin stared with distaste at his younger kinsman, only released from the hands of Mandos and re-housed some three centuries back.  "A true descendant of his grandfather, wreaking havoc with his various jewels."

Fingon sighed and rolled his eyes, making no comment.

Fingolfin's gaze shifted.  "Where is my grandson, by the way, was he not invited?"

Fingon shrugged.  "I have not seen him, but I am sure he was.  He and Elrond are said to have been very close in Middle-earth."

"He does have his hands full with those young ones," commented Fingolfin dryly.

Fingon smiled.  "Indeed yes, so many, so quickly."

"Making up for lost time, no doubt," his father concluded.

"Ai, but poor Iswende," laughed Fingon.  "I do not think my daughter-in-law knew quite what she was letting herself in for."

Fingolfin's smile faded quickly as his eyes rested on Fëanor's grandson once again.

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Celebrimbor felt as though there were knives stabbing into the back of his head.  He glanced up, then hastily turned away from the face of his great-uncle; an expressionless mask, except for the intensity of his eyes.  If looks could indeed kill . . . .  

Elrond noted the direction of his gaze and raised his eyebrows questioningly. 

"Fingolfin expresses his disdain for his half-brother through me," explained Celebrimbor with a sigh.  "You were saying . . .?"

"I just wanted to thank you," Elrond began tentatively, "for all that you tried to do for me back on Balar, those many years ago.  I . . . ." he hesitated.  "I overheard several conversations between Gil-galad and yourself." He reddened.  "I was eavesdropping, I am sorry."

Celebrimbor laid his hand on Elrond's arm.  "I was glad to make the effort.  Ereinion at that time was very stubborn and self-centered.  I think he knew deep in his heart it was wrong, but he just closed his eyes to what it was doing to you.  Now, if it had been consensual, that would be a different matter, but I am guessing you were unwilling?" 

Elrond nodded, looking away.  "I had no choice, really."

"I could see it in your eyes."  Celebrimbor paused for a moment.  "I heard you came to our aid in Eregion."

"Yes," Elrond whispered.  "But not in time, not in time to do anything but watch the city burn."

Celebrimbor's grip tightened on Elrond's arm.  "You could not possibly have saved me or the city.  The wrath of Annatar would not be denied."  He smiled grimly.  "It was just punishment for the forging of those rings; the judgment of Ilúvatar."

Elrond became lost in silent reflection until his cousin poked him playfully.  "Enough serious talk, this is your wedding, be of good cheer!"

Elrond looked up and smiled.  "I seem to have misplaced my betrothed, however.  Where has she disappeared to?"

Celebrimbor shrugged.  "I know not, save the last I saw of her, she looked a mite green."

Oh dear, Elrond thought.  He hurriedly sought out Idril.  "Have you seen Culurien?" he murmured in her ear as he scanned the gathering.

Idril shook her head.  "Nay, not recently."  She laid a hand on his arm.  "Wait, though, there is someone here who wishes to speak with you."

Elrond turned to notice a dark haired elven lady standing a few paces behind his grandmother.  He stood frozen as his mind grappled with the realization of recognition.

"Naneth?" he whispered in disbelief.

Elwing raised a trembling hand to touch his face.  "Melliôn."

Elrond paused half a second before taking her in his arms.  "I have always dreamed of seeing you again."

Elwing looked up at her tall son with tears in her eyes.  "You have grown a bit since I last saw you."

Elrond laughed as his own tears began to fall.  "I did not really expect you to be here.  I understood you stayed in a white tower and did not walk among us."

"I do," she said.  "Unless I have good cause to venture forth, such as now."

Elrond embraced her again.  "I am so very glad you did."

"You look so much like your father," Elwing observed.

Elrond froze once again.  "I wish to meet him, Naneth, I know him not at all.  Is there any chance of it?"

"I will tell him of your wish," she said.  "He is not as free to walk abroad as I, and I caution you, you will find his visage to be more ethereal."

Elrond nodded.  "Thank you, I understand."  He turned back to his grandmother.  "Where is Culurien?  Is she ill?"

Idril chewed her lip.  "That is a distinct possibility."

"She is with child," Elrond explained to his mother.

Elwing smiled.  "May you have the blessings of Elbereth, congratulations."

Elrond's eyes were already wandering in search of his intended.  "Thank you, Naneth, thank you."  He gave her a last embrace before hurrying off.

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"We probably should not even be here, Gandalf," said Frodo nervously.

Bilbo agreed.  "Some of these elves are quite stiff and haughty.  How very unlike Elrond or his former household they seem."

Olórin smiled.  "There is no one else like Elrond, none can compare to him and indeed, the last Homely House was quite unique."

"I confess to being quite uncomfortable beneath their scrutiny." Frodo looked as if he wished the ground would swallow him.  "And to see all of these elves in the old songs alive again . . ." His voice broke off as he looked around.  "Is Gil-galad here?"

"Not that I know of," said Olórin, becoming worried.  He forced a smile and comforted his hobbit friends.  "There is a rule about mortals witnessing an elvish wedding; this is perhaps one of the reasons they stare at you so." 

"Not to mention that many of them have never seen a hobbit before," added Bilbo.

"The loss is all theirs most assuredly," said Olórin with a smile.  "Ah, here is Elrond."

"Masters Periannath."  Elrond greeted the hobbits.  "Olórin," he added with a quick embrace for his friend.  "This is turning out to be quite the occasion."

"Indeed," Olórin concurred.  "Imagine how lively it would be if Fëanor and his sons were here as well."

Elrond grimaced.  "That is an evil thought; poor Celebrimbor is having a hard enough time as it is."

"Master Elrond," Frodo began tentatively.  

"Frodo Baggins?"  Elrond turned to him in acknowledgement.

"Bilbo and I, we are out of place here, perhaps we should leave."

Elrond frowned.  "You are my guests.  You are, in fact, honored guests, make no mistake on that.  Someone has insulted you?"

Olórin interrupted.  "Thingol, I think it was."

Elrond rolled his eyes.  "Do not mind him; he cannot abide mortals in any shape or form for obvious reasons."  He turned to the Maia next to him.  "Mithrandir."

"Olórin," the other corrected.

"Yes, yes, whatever."  Elrond waved his hand dismissively.  "Will you make it your business to see that our hobbit friends suffer no more discomfort?"

"Indeed yes."  Olórin gripped his shoulder with reassurance.  "I understand I also have duty as father of the bride?"

"Only symbolically."  His smile faded into a frown as an old worry re-emerged.  "Where is Culurien, have you seen her?"

Olórin shook his head.  "Nay, not recently.  Is there a problem?"

"Not exactly," Elrond said vaguely as he searched for her.  "She has not been feeling well lately."

Olórin's eyebrows lifted and he smiled with understanding.  "I see, are congratulations in order?"

"Hmm?" Elrond asked, still distracted.  "Oh, indeed yes, they are." He took the hand Olórin offered him.  "Thank you."

Frodo looked confused.  "Was Lady Culurien not healed at Lórien?  Why should she be ill now?  I thought elves were never sick?"

Elrond, Olórin and Bilbo all turned as one to stare at him with amusement.

"What?" asked Frodo, mystified.

Bilbo chuckled.  "I will fill you in later, m'lad."  He patted his nephew's shoulder.

Elrond sighed.  "Apparently I should search the bath chambers."

Olórin smiled.  "My sympathies for your wedding night."

Elrond arched an eyebrow.  "I thank you for that encouraging thought."

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Dior laid a hand on his son's arm.  "Stay, Eluréd, he is not Curufin, do not direct your anger at him."

Eluréd's lips curled in disgust.  "I never thought I should see the day when a descendant of Fëanor should be included in our family gatherings."

"He is a friend of your nephew, the groom," Dior said firmly.  "Elrond can invite whomever he pleases to his wedding."

Elwing came up beside them and addressed her father.  "What are you two scowling at?"

Her brother nodded towards Celebrimbor.  "Him."

Elwing sighed.  "I shudder to think what your reaction will be to Fëanor and his sons when they are released from the Halls of Mandos if a grandson can provoke you so.  Celebrimbor does not deserve your ire."   She paused, giving her kinsmen a stern look.  "You two will behave at my son's wedding."

Eluréd's mutterings turned to smiles as his young son ran up to him.

"Ada!" the elfling cried as his father tossed him in the air, catching him in a close embrace.

"There is to be a feast, lots and lots of food," the child babbled, wriggling.  "And games later on, will you play them with me?"  He squirmed happily in his father's arms.

"Be still, Eluréin," Eluréd admonished and the small elf child immediately pressed his body against his father's chest, his plump cheek resting against the ornate embroidery of Eluréd's tunic.

Elwing reached out to stroke her nephew's back as her brother cast his gaze about.

"I have not yet met the bride," he said.  "Do you see her?"

"Nay."  Elwing shook her head.  "Culurien is not feeling well; I understand I have a grandchild on the way."

Dior looked at her with a sad smile.  "Both of us, we missed being part of our grandchildren's lives."

Elwing met his eyes.  "Yes, that is so.  It makes this new life all the more special."

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Culurien leaned back against the cushions and sighed.  Glorfindel raised his eyebrows.  She returned his steady gaze.  "You will please desist in regarding me in this manner."

Glorfindel pursed his lips.  "I am merely fulfilling one of my duties as groom's attendant."

Culurien raised her own eyebrows.  "That would be what?  Badgering the bride?"

Glorfindel rolled his eyes at Olórin.  "That would be making certain the bride appears at the ceremony."

"I have every intention of getting married today," she snapped.  "I have waited one hundred years for this."

Glorfindel looked skeptical.  "So you are hiding in here, why?"

Culurien was evasive.  "I am not feeling well."

Olórin observed her closely.  "Your coloring is normal and you have not expelled any substances while I have been in the room."

Culurien pouted. "I am too fat."

"You are not likely to become much thinner in the near future," Glorfindel remarked, his lips twitching.  "And you are not fat, one cannot tell at all."

She was silent for a minute and finally sighed.  "I do not wish to endure the scrutiny of all those ancient relatives, they seem so haughty.  Celebrían was, after all, a Noldorin princess, I am nothing."

Olórin studied her for a moment then whispered to Glorfindel.  "Go and get Elrond."  He waited until the blond elf complied, and then took a seat on the sofa next to her.  "You are not nothing, do not speak in this manner." 

Culurien turned her head to hide the tear that was rolling down her cheek.  "I have seen how they look at me, you have not.  Second marriages are highly disapproved of, you know this.  You think I have not heard the whispers?"

Olórin frowned.  "Whispers?  What whispers?"

Culurien turned a tear-streaked face back to look at him.  "Well, mostly just 'wood elf' and things of that nature, which is true, but they say it with such disdain."

Olórin gripped her arm with vehemence.  "Do not let them mar your happiness, they are fools."

They heard a commotion in the hallway and Culurien hastily wiped away her tears.  "Say nothing, I would not want to worry him."

Olórin shook his head.  "That time is past, Lady, for he worries already."

Glorfindel entered the room followed by a very concerned looking husband-to-be.

"Linariel," Elrond said as he took her into his arms.  "What is amiss, are you ill?"

She was silent and Olórin stepped in.  "I fear Culurien suffers from the same uneasiness as the Halflings."

Elrond tensed and looked up with a scowl.  "What is happening, someone has upset you?"

"It is not important, do not fret," she whispered.

"It is important or you would not be sitting here weeping," Elrond pointed out.

Olórin coughed.  "A word with you?"

"Certainly." Elrond rose to join him.

Olórin lowered his voice.  "I do not think there is cause for concern, foolish people will gossip about anything different, you know this.  I would imagine the pregnancy affects her emotions as well, throwing things out of proportion."

Elrond was thoughtful.  "You have a point, thank you."  He sat back on the sofa and gathered her to his embrace once more.  "Linariel," he said seriously and she raised her face to him.  "Do you still wish to marry me in spite of the rudeness of my family?"

She looked at him with wide eyes.  "I think you know the answer to that."

"Then let us do so.  Right now."

"Now?"

"Immediately."

"But the feast . . ."

"New tradition," Elrond declared.  "Vows first, feast later."

Culurien was puzzled.  "And this will help, how?"

"I am of the impression you would prefer not to attend this gathering?"

"Well, yes . . ." she faltered.

"Then I ask of you thirty minutes and it will be over."

"How is this possible?"

Elrond almost looked smug.  "We say the vows, and then we leave."

Culurien blinked.  "We leave?  We can do that?"

Elrond smiled.  "Why not?"

She was incredulous.  "We will offend people."

Elrond's eyes hardened slightly.  "They have offended you, I see no difference."

Culurien turned her face away from him as her tears flowed freely once again.  "Please, no, I cannot be the cause of dissention between you and your family."

Elrond looked up as Glorfindel nudged him, holding out a very lovely lace trimmed square of linen.  It was heavily scented and Elrond arched an eyebrow at his friend.  Glorfindel shrugged his shoulders with a smirk on his face.  Elrond rolled his eyes and turned back to Culurien, hiding a smile.  "Hush, Linariel, hush."  He touched the cloth to her face.  "They will not be offended; they will merely think we are eager newlyweds."

Culurien snorted through her tears.  "It will be preferable to be thought of as excessively lusty?"

Elrond's eyes became infused with a glint she knew only all too well.  "Indeed yes."

She slapped him playfully.  "You are too naughty."

He lifted his eyebrows suggestively.  "I was under the distinct impression that you enjoyed my naughtiness."

Olórin coughed.  "Yes, yes, a time and a place for everything, my dear elves.  Should we not, as they say, attend to business?"

Elrond released his betrothed from a close embrace.  "You will please remember where we were, later on."

Culurien lowered her eyelids.  "You will remind me, I am quite sure."

Elrond gave a last nuzzle to her ear.  "You have my word on that, Lady."

"Well then!" said Glorfindel a little too loudly.

Elrond grinned.  "It appears I have an announcement to make."

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Culurien put her hands on the balcony rail and leaned forward, inhaling the deep heady scent of the autumn night.  The smell of roasted meat, bonfires and late blooming flowers shared the air with the glow of torches, stars, and fireflies as the guests continued to play; dancing, eating and above all, singing.

A hand came up from behind and covered hers, the golden ring on its index finger coming into contact with the identical one she bore.  Another hand made its way through her thick golden-red hair to firmly massage the back of her head and neck with strong, practiced fingers as she felt warm lips against her ear.  "A beautiful night, Dineth."

She sighed happily.  "A perfect night, Daer."  Culurien moved her hand to touch the ring on his finger.  "Do you wish to join the festivities after all?"

Elrond chuckled.  "The only 'festivities' I will be partaking in this night will be occurring right here in this room."

Culurien smirked.  "Hîr Nín, I would think you to be somewhat tired after our recent 'festivities' in the bath."

Elrond pressed his body firmly against her back.  "Tired, you say?  Do I seem at all tired?"

Culurien felt a warm flush tingle over her skin as he molded his pelvis against her, his renewed hardness a testimony to his lack of fatigue.  She turned to face him, her hands moving slowly downwards, trailing lightly across him, touching him only enough to increase his arousal, but not enough to give him any satisfaction.  She smiled, a wicked glint in her eye.  "You are indeed quite randy tonight.  I find it hard to believe you are more than six millennia old."

Elrond's teeth found her earlobe.  "And why is that, pray?" he murmured between bites.

She tilted her head, allowing him better access.  "You do not look a day over two millennia."

Elrond burst out laughing and tightened his grip around her.  "Indeed it must be you, Lady, who keeps me young.  Linariel, have you any idea how much I love you?"

She opened her eyes and pulled back a little to look intently into his.  "It can only be a fraction of how much I love you."

The laughter left him as he held her gaze, the heat in their bodies escalating rapidly as he pulled her towards the bed.

"Nay," she said, her eyes smoldering and she took the upper hand.  She gave him a gentle push and he fell back amongst the soft pillows and regarded her with a smirk. "I am wondering what you have in mind here, Lady?"

Culurien hovered above him, untying the belt which closed his robe.  She resumed her light caress of his body, her hands and lips teasing him to new heights of anticipation. 

His eyes burned as he watched her, enduring with patience the exquisite torture, the gentle touch of her tongue driving him nearly insane with desire.  She brought him near the breaking point time and time again, sustaining the delicious agonizing pressure and he closed his eyes, a low moan coming out of his throat.  He reached down and ran his fingers through her hair in encouragement.  His ragged breath alternated between panting and gasping as she brought him to ecstasy, slowly, almost painfully, ever teasing until he cried her name with abandon, moving wildly as the spasms shook his body, release finally taking him over the edge once more.

She moved upwards to lie in his arms while the pounding of his heart subsided.  "Well, that was my wedding present to you, did you like it?"

"You are indeed very talented, my Lady wife.  I look back with deep regret on those many years when I was reluctant to allow you to exercise this skill."

"So I will take that as a 'yes'?"

Elrond sighed happily.  "This smile will remain plastered across my face from now until the end of Arda."

            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Melliôn - Dear son

Dineth - Bride

Daer - Bridegroom

Hîr Nín - My Lord