A/N: What do you know, my muse is enjoying spinning this out whilst my
other two fics atrophy. Ah well. Who knows, maybe this will be nice and
short- but somehow I doubt it.
Oh, and I don't think Numenorean wine was * that* horrible- I just needed someone to blame for it.
Disclaimer: I need no disclaimer! I am Tolkien, risen from the grave! * is whacked in back of head by muse* Ok, ok- I wish I were Tolkien risen from the grave. In any event, Middle-Earth is still my own, my precious, paperback copies . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The liquor was nearly finished. Unfortunately, my head was still clear. Feh. That had not been my aim for tonight. I decided to go down and find another barrel.
****
My fears had, thank Eru, proved false; Celebrian was not toying with a knife or my letter opener. She was staring over my balcony, towards the West. She turned her head when I burst in, panting.
"Elrond."
"You are not-"
"No," she answered, "I will not. I will not kill myself."
I swallowed. "Good." Why could I not speak well? Why would she not look at me? "Celebrian," I knew no way to say this. "Are you- healing? Inside?"
She turned her head, slightly. "In body, yes." Why would she not speak? "I do not know if I will heal fully in Middle-Earth."
So, that was what she meant. She was thinking of leaving for the West. She had promised me she would stay. She had- she had only hinted- not asked.
My voice sounded harsh. "You would leave." I paused, and then finished. "Middle-Earth. To heal."
"Yes, dear one. But leave Middle-Earth. Never my children. And never you. I promised."
"Yes, you promised me! But is that all that binds you here? I," here, I looked away. All I had loved had left me behind. And all that now bound her to me was an oath. We had sworn love. Had I chained her? Had I forced her too-
She turned and went to stand before me. "Love." I let her see into me, all those doubts that one is afraid of saying, of speaking, lest they be real. "Yes, peredhil, love. It is love binds me, more so than the vow. Now, stop acting like a fool edain and read to me."
"Read?"
"Yes read. You select a book, you open it, and you read. Out loud. I would suggest the tale of Beren and Luthien." This took me back many years. She had come to visit Imladris. Celebrian had been shy, then, and was content to let her mother dominate conversations. But one night, I had been unable to sleep, and so had essayed a visit to the library. I enjoy being read to, but none reads to the Lord of Rivendell, etc. etc. And so, I read to myself- under my breath- but still so I can hear it. I selected the tale of Tuor and Idril from my bookshelves and began to read. And, as I came to certain bits of that tale that are not commonly told to children I heard a giggle. I swiveled my head around and caught a glimpse of Celebrian giggling softly to herself on one of the chairs. To conclude this briefly, we ended up in the library many other nights- only sometimes she read the parts of Idril and Tinuviel.
I almost smiled then, and did as ordered. The tale of Beren and Luthien is one of Celebrian's favorites, though I prefer that of Tuor and Idril.
"Yet in her choice the Two Kindreds have been joined; and she is the forerunner of many in whom the Eldar see yet, though the world is changed, the likeness of Luthien the beloved, whom they have lost." The time for lunch had come and gone; it was now time for supper. Some tension had dissipated between us. She almost smiled at me. I would have brushed her cheek with my hand, but-
and then she lightly touched the bone around my eye with cool fingers. "I am sorry," she said, and left for the meal.
*****
Unfortunately, as I made my way down, I my daughter accosted me.
"Ada. What in the name of Elbereth- have you been drinking?"
"A little." Not enough, I could still speak coherently. "Some. Excuse me."
"A-da!"
"Yes?" I was trying to move down the stairs. Why did they keep moving about?
"Enough. You've been drinking some of that latest horrible brew out of Numenor. You have drunk enough."
"Good-night, Undomiel."
I heard her sigh. "Good-night, Ada."
And I went on my way for some more of that brew.
Oh, and I don't think Numenorean wine was * that* horrible- I just needed someone to blame for it.
Disclaimer: I need no disclaimer! I am Tolkien, risen from the grave! * is whacked in back of head by muse* Ok, ok- I wish I were Tolkien risen from the grave. In any event, Middle-Earth is still my own, my precious, paperback copies . . .
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The liquor was nearly finished. Unfortunately, my head was still clear. Feh. That had not been my aim for tonight. I decided to go down and find another barrel.
****
My fears had, thank Eru, proved false; Celebrian was not toying with a knife or my letter opener. She was staring over my balcony, towards the West. She turned her head when I burst in, panting.
"Elrond."
"You are not-"
"No," she answered, "I will not. I will not kill myself."
I swallowed. "Good." Why could I not speak well? Why would she not look at me? "Celebrian," I knew no way to say this. "Are you- healing? Inside?"
She turned her head, slightly. "In body, yes." Why would she not speak? "I do not know if I will heal fully in Middle-Earth."
So, that was what she meant. She was thinking of leaving for the West. She had promised me she would stay. She had- she had only hinted- not asked.
My voice sounded harsh. "You would leave." I paused, and then finished. "Middle-Earth. To heal."
"Yes, dear one. But leave Middle-Earth. Never my children. And never you. I promised."
"Yes, you promised me! But is that all that binds you here? I," here, I looked away. All I had loved had left me behind. And all that now bound her to me was an oath. We had sworn love. Had I chained her? Had I forced her too-
She turned and went to stand before me. "Love." I let her see into me, all those doubts that one is afraid of saying, of speaking, lest they be real. "Yes, peredhil, love. It is love binds me, more so than the vow. Now, stop acting like a fool edain and read to me."
"Read?"
"Yes read. You select a book, you open it, and you read. Out loud. I would suggest the tale of Beren and Luthien." This took me back many years. She had come to visit Imladris. Celebrian had been shy, then, and was content to let her mother dominate conversations. But one night, I had been unable to sleep, and so had essayed a visit to the library. I enjoy being read to, but none reads to the Lord of Rivendell, etc. etc. And so, I read to myself- under my breath- but still so I can hear it. I selected the tale of Tuor and Idril from my bookshelves and began to read. And, as I came to certain bits of that tale that are not commonly told to children I heard a giggle. I swiveled my head around and caught a glimpse of Celebrian giggling softly to herself on one of the chairs. To conclude this briefly, we ended up in the library many other nights- only sometimes she read the parts of Idril and Tinuviel.
I almost smiled then, and did as ordered. The tale of Beren and Luthien is one of Celebrian's favorites, though I prefer that of Tuor and Idril.
"Yet in her choice the Two Kindreds have been joined; and she is the forerunner of many in whom the Eldar see yet, though the world is changed, the likeness of Luthien the beloved, whom they have lost." The time for lunch had come and gone; it was now time for supper. Some tension had dissipated between us. She almost smiled at me. I would have brushed her cheek with my hand, but-
and then she lightly touched the bone around my eye with cool fingers. "I am sorry," she said, and left for the meal.
*****
Unfortunately, as I made my way down, I my daughter accosted me.
"Ada. What in the name of Elbereth- have you been drinking?"
"A little." Not enough, I could still speak coherently. "Some. Excuse me."
"A-da!"
"Yes?" I was trying to move down the stairs. Why did they keep moving about?
"Enough. You've been drinking some of that latest horrible brew out of Numenor. You have drunk enough."
"Good-night, Undomiel."
I heard her sigh. "Good-night, Ada."
And I went on my way for some more of that brew.