Here it is the last and final installment of the House of Celebrin and the Tale of the Last Son, however there will be follow stories...I intend to make this a series, hopefully with the blessings of all you who read it.
Note on time period, much of this story flash-fowards through time, so one can get confused as to the time periods in Middle-Earth, It takes place during the beginning of the Third Age, after the birht of Arwen, as you know, and ends at the year 998 of the Third age. Enjoy.
The sound of the ocean beat against the hearts of Celebrin and Alphindil as they neared the center of Mithlond; in all the years they had been away, it had grown, significantly, the buildings were higher, the docks and harbor spanned from one side of the crescent cove to the next. One feature that stood out to them most was the almost ominous presence of the white towers in the east of the land, which were only marble foundations centuries ago. They walked through their former home, looking into the facades of cliffs, seeing stone-stairways winding up toward the plateau of the cliffs, where one could walk upon stone paved paths to the very edge and see ships disappear into the horizon.
The sounds of music filled the air with shell flutes and horns, and the vibrant sound of clapping to deep sounding drums as voices rose to the sky singing songs of peace and joyous days. The streets were filled with the smells of bakeries and the scents of kitchens where daily meals were made with food given by the sea as well as breads made for the long journeying upon the ocean road. And yet while the city was teeming with life, much had not changed, despite the loss of a king and many a valiant elf, life had recovered from the long mourning it endured at the beginning of that age. The center of the city of all places had remained the same; no new buildings were built in the sacred plaza of the shipwrights, the plaza that extended down a smooth hill to a short cliff and toward the harbor where gray boats waited to carry its cargo wherever it was willed to go, whether to the southern land to trade with Gondor, or to the west and never return. The life amid this grand gray-stone city was a mix of such things, life remaining and life fleeting, for it was in the very air one breathed, and in the questions all would ask,
"Will you return?"
To Celebrin his former home was still the same it had always been, very much upon the edge of fleeing his grasp before he could truly reach out to touch it, its people slow to make friends and loved ones, choosing to acknowledge life was not always fair and constant even for the elves-this was the Sindar part of it, his beloved part. For Alphindil the grandness of the stone buildings and homes, regardless of whether or not they were inhabited by whole families for long periods of time, spoke most to him. In them there was continuity, their stone forms unyielding to the tests of time, imperishable by season and sea wind. To him its people were ever-present, their moods loving the crafts at their hands and the elf at their side, who at any time could be a student and teacher, provided they shared their likes- this was home in a land of the Noldor, continuous, immortal, not bended by the very waves of time. Here in Mithlond the Oak and the Cypress were always at odds and at balance with one another, one not changing the other suiting itself to the times, both surviving the tests of darkness, though now it seemed all had changed so that even the proud Noldor could bend to the winds of change, and the ever-moving Sindar could find continuity in life during times of peace.
Before the Hall of Cirdan they stood, waiting for the other to make the first move; having tied Thingalad to the stables, they now stood before the great wooden doors whose silver and bronze workings depicted two trees shimmering behind the veil of time. Celebrin moved the door only to have a slender face she-elf poke her own head out of the door, her bright golden braids dangling from behind her head. Seeing Celebrin her eyes opened wide and with a rushed movement opened the large door herself allowing them entrance into the chamber.
Nothing had changed- no lantern was moved, no tapestry taken down- and yet it was not the same-dimmer it seemed, emptier of life and movement. In their time there was always business in the Hall of Cirdan, families of the court, owners of ships, traders from Eregion, Eriador, and the farthest east, to the feet of the Misty Mountains. Yet now, Eriador and Arnor stood between the east and Mithlond, Gondor was the sea-capital of the south, and Eregion was no more. Upon the ancient steps that led to the seat of the Shipwright stood a simply dressed elf, dressed in the manner of a sailor, not regal as he used to dress. He stared at the two before him, in this empty hall of few burning candles, and he smiled as they too stared at him, for he was not as they remembered him, for his hair that was once the bold silver-gray of his youth now gleamed white as the snow upon Caradhras, and his ancient beautiful sea-gray eyes shone forth as mariner's lamps upon the cliffs that encircled the harbor. He ran to them and embraced one whose dark hair of nightshade made his own white tresses gleam as the moon come fully waxed amid the dark star-lit sky. No words were shared at that moment, as all that could be heard were the sounds of tears and rejoicing, laughter and shouts of praise to the gathering night that brought them together again.
That evening a great feast was laid out in the Hall of Cirdan and once again great lamps were lit in the grand hall and music could be heard in its theatric ceilings. And once again two companions sat in places of high honor beside the lord of Mithlond, and told him their stories ranging from the fortification of Lorinand to the founding of the sea-haven in the southern lands. Each moment a tale was told a minstrel wrote it down, only to loose track of the story as he or she became enthralled with the story told by the mouth of Alphindil, as he described lands many had never seen, at time receiving nods from some former soldiers in acceptance of the validity of the tales. And Celebrin spoke privately with the white haired lord of many things, as the evening came to a close and the last songs were sung for the lullabies of children. He spoke of the yearnings in his heart, the nights of suffering his friend endured, hoping that in all his years of life his foster father could give him one semblance of a cure; and yet all he received was a thoughtful nod of the ancient elf's head and a thoughtful,
"I see…"
And, given no answer, that night ended as Celebrin aided his companion in returning to the once vacant House of the Eledhrim, and helping him to bed, a task he had done for all the years of that age. And the white-haired Cirdan looked out of his window to the western seas, where the crescent moon began to set as the sun always did, completing the dance of that day; worry was imprinted upon his brow and he shook his head in grief for the one he always loved as his own son as he sighed over and over,
"Not another, he cannot loose another."
And days passed unto weeks, and weeks to months and so on, until the years rolled across the sky and the sun and moon had risen and set in uncounted lifetimes of men. Darkness, it was rumored, had found its way into the feet of the ancient home of Thranduil and his kin. In the years that followed news came to Cirdan of the death of Earendur, the last king of Arnor, and the newly founded kingdoms held by his sons. And yet life passed day by day in Mithlond, away from all that occurred to the outside world; Thingalad grew to full maturity, being far older than any had suspected he would become, yet still he ran the fields outside of Mithlond, freely, taking no mare to him and producing no sire. And many shook their heads in disappointment that such a fine creature, descended from the loins of the mearas, would not mate and create more sires of like beauty. And Celebrin would shake his head and laugh at their comments to him, saying only,
"Shall an immortal heart seek anything other than its own freedom?"
And yet life, as it has for many years, changes and is not the same as it was in former days; what happiness could be found in a place at one time, can never be found again in that same place, for if the world does not change, a heart does. And so Alphindil, though in what he once called home, found little solace in it. His new residence was close tot he shores ofEnnor, in view of the western sky and upon the second level he spent most of his days and nightsstaring out a large window smelling the fresh sea-wind. And he would at first invite others to enter his home, and he would tell stories of the eastern lands, until the pains that ran through his chest and shoulder became all too unbearable and he soon bid none to enter, save Celebrin. He would walk the streets of Mithlond, leaning on his stave, and see the immortal buildings and stairways that he could once run up faster than any in the city, and only see places for him to slowly climb up while others passed him by in their daily chores. And he would often sit, staring into the ocean as boats would say farewell to the land for a brief moment in time and return as the day grew long, laden with fish and gifts from land far away to the south. And in the silence of his chamber he would weep for a place that had now become too familiar, a place that saw him as unchanged by time, though in truth he was no longer the joyful being he once was. Each day it became harder for him to hide his pain as many wished to visit him, wishing to see a hero from the ancient times; these groups Celebrin would usher away before helping his friend to bed and serving him medicinal herbs that brought sleep to his pain weary bones.
And Cirdan would watch as his foster-son took upon himself the care of his companion, sighing at times at how his own body ached for lack of sleep, then quickly returned to tending to the pains that caused Alphindil to cry out at night terrors and weep for visions that never truly went away. And this the Lord of Mithlond abided, until one day, when he had sent Celebrin on an errand he visited the chamber of Alphindil, who sat upon a chair staring at a large pearl, whose lucent and opal-like nature gleamed in the light of the noontime sun. He walked cautiously into the chamber until he stood beside Alphindil and upon looking intently at the pearl exclaimed,
"I caught this long ago, in Beleriand."
"Did you? Celebrin found it in the Bay of Balar."
Alphindil's voice struck Cirdan as odd, for it sounded ancient and hale, yet empty of its once former vibrancy, yet once it ended the silence became all the more deafening, forcing the white-haired elf to speak again.
"I would know the pearl anywhere, it was once called Nimphelos, it dwelt in the Dwarven Kingdom of Belegost…until the War of Wrath…It must have found its way here after all this time…"
"A remembrance of those who past away? Who were freed from this cage that is called life."
Cirdan looked upon this elf before him, who had once brought life into his halls where his foster-son would sit about in darkness and think of naught but death. Yes, he thought, Celebrin may have saved his sanity, but he brought my child to life again and taught him how to love, when love was ripped from him… And Cirdan sat beside Alphindil pushing aside the ancient pearl, and looked deeply into his eyes and with his deep and ancient voice, melodious as the ever-moving sea, he said,
"Oianarion, I see the sorrow laden in your eyes, I have seen how you gaze into the sunset, longingly hearing the voice of the sea. I have seen your pain as you walk down the streets of Mithlond, and have heard your cries into the night sky…and…I have seen how Celebrin waits on you, devotionally, lovingly…and to be honest, I have envied you, the bond you share with him."
"Lord Cirdan…"
"No, you will listen to me. There is a cure for what you suffer from, yet I am loathe to say it to you, for fear that I may injure the one I hold most dear, and may break this bond that is centuries older than any have seen upon the face of Arda."
"What is this cure?"
"In the west it is said, one can find peace that the world cannot give, it is said that the straight road remains open to our kind, and beyond it…"
"What?"
"Beyond it lie the undying lands, where naught withers and fades as it does in this world, but is evergreen…There it is said, hope lies for the despairing, and for the wounded, healing beyond the arts of our kind."
"Such a road…is possible to take?"
"It was in former times, I know not if it still holds true. Yet be wary Oianarion. For the road west must begin with much heartbreak, and you must be ready to severe ties that have bound you to this world, for if they are not cut, you cannot return and find peace. It is the cost of leaving this world…There is a ship leaving, bearing some here who wish to seek that immortal road…it is for this reason why I have come to you, knowing you to be in pain, pain I cannot imagine, pain I cannot fathom even amongst all my years of life. It is your choice, Alphindil, to take this road and leave all behind you, knowing what I tell you is what will come to pass."
Celebrin entered the room, smiling to see his foster-father in his home, and having embraced him invited him to eat dinner with them. Yet Cirdan refused, saying only that he must tend to certain things; upon leaving the chambers he sat upon his chair that looked out into the west, and he wept silent tears, knowing only that he may have sown seeds that would have led to enmity, and will break the fragile bonds that he forged with the son of his sole kinsman. And throughout the night he held a silent vigil, hoping that his headstrong foster-son, would accept to follow his companion down a road he vowed never to take, many years ago.
Days passed and Cirdan heard no news from either his foster-son or Alphindil, until one day he received a private letter addressed to him and upon reading its contents he crushed the fragile paper and tossed it into the immortal sea, thereupon falling to his knees…until he looked at the amber daylight and said with a sowrrowful conviction,
"So be it"
Days followed thus in the lives of the companions, and in Alphindil's eyes, Celebrin could once again see hope, yet this was only when he gazed out into the sea. And Alphindil would not directly look into the eyes of his only family upon the earth, until one night when Celebrin returned from his day of errands and duties for the Lord of Mithlond he saw Alphindil standing before the hearth, holding close to him a piece of tattered cloth, part of an old shirt his friend once wore, the shirt he had worn the day the former age passed away and his life was marred by death. Before he could say a word Alphindil spoke staring into the fire,
"998 years…for 998 years I have lived with this…curse... and have burdened you with my infirmity…"
Celebrin went to his friend, and Alphindil turned as quickly as he could and handed Celebrin the piece of torn linen saying softly,
"Why did you keep this?"
"I…To remember our past, to remember the day I almost lost you, and thereupon seeing it, know why I cherish our bond."
"You were always obsessed with the past…What would you have done, had I died that day?"
"Why do you ask this?"
"I wish to know. What would you have done?"
"I don't…"
"Would you have moved on? Without me there in your life?"
"I do not know…"
"If you lost me…"
"Why do you press this?"
"Would you cling to the past, hoping it would return? And to what end?! Only to live alone all the years of your life!…Of course you would, how foolish of me.. You have never been in love with the present Celebrin, only with the past. "
Alphindil moved closer to his friend, raising his right arm, the only one he could move with little pain, andcarressed the hair of his companion; his voice breaking as he saw the confused face of his only family all the years of his true life, tears running as memories flowed through his mind, memories of times in his youth, voices from a forgotten past,
"Alas Alphindil, you do bring joy to my heart again, you are never without sorrow."
"Alas that you call me such a name, tis not my own."
"Were it not for your attire, I would have chosen another name for you my friend."
Voices spanning space and time…
"What ever happens this day, I love you Alphindil, I will be with you at your side as I have always been."
"You give me strength, Celebrin, even now amidst despair... whatever happens, I will not leave you to live a life alone in this world."
Voices piercing his soul as whirlwinds pierce the stale wind, or how a river slowly cracks the foundations of a mountain, only to meet the immortal sea. Tears welled in his eyes as he caressed Celebrin's face, touching the scar upon his friend's right cheek, a scar he once could touch easily with the hand that now lay dormant, hanging form his shoulder. Weeping rivers of salty tears from his eyes his buried his face within the confines of Celebrin's tunic saying,
"Forgive me, Forgive me and my selfish heart."
Pulling his companion's face out from his breast he looked directly in his tear-laden eyes saying,
"For what offense shall I forgive you? You have done no wrong to me."
"I have lied, all these years I have lied to you…I have lied to one who has only asked that I be honest to earn his care."
"What evil bothers you Alphindil, that you say these things."
"There is a ship…whose sole destination, is the land of the setting sun…I have purchased a way upon that ship, with others who seek the straight path…to the Undying Lands."
Silence followed, and for what seemed like eternity nothing in the entire world made a sound, for years uncounted flowed through the mind of Celebrin and reason gave way to sorrow, and sorrow to madness and fear as he silently breathed in heavy breaths of air and in a low and growling voice he said at last,
"How dare you…How dare you do this, and tell me no word of it!"
"I was afraid, afraid of what you would do to prevent me from seeking out the only cure I have left in this life."
"It is not the only cure, you are only giving up too easily…"
"This is the only way…"
"The only way to find your happiness, is to cause me sorrow? I do not believe this to be true!"
"If you would but go with me, then we would not be parted so!"
"I cannot, you know that way is perilous to me."
"Why?"
"I will not go to a land of strangers, and abandon my home…I hear not the song of the sea, or the mythological voices of the dead beckoning me to join them…The woods of Arda have been my home, the coves of the sea my retreats…Arda has been our home for years uncounted, it surprises me you would abandon it so, when you have found nothing but joy here!"
"What joy? I have only found death here!"
"Am I death? Am I not life?"
"There are good memories here, Celebrin, but I can find no joy anymore, when I gaze into the forests or the rivers, I see the marring of the land. When I look now into the faces of my kin, I see hope…hope that always eludes me. When I see the stars, I see darkness, when I feel the bitter cold of winter, I feel my coffin of earth that I escaped when Sauron was defeated and all I had come to know was changed. When I hear the sea, I hear only its voice and nothing more…and for years I have ignored it, despite my soul and my longing! For you! When I see your eyes, I see you seeing the beauty of this world, and then I look out to where you see, and all I see is death… I once could see what you saw, but now…only fading, and death. Where once there was light, is now darkness; where once there was life, is now death; where once there was love is now emptiness, hollow winds, sweeping over a barren land. There is no peace this world can give me."
Shaking his head Celebrin tries to ignore all he has heard trying to dismiss it, saying only,
"It is the sickness…It is that which makes you this way!"
"Look into my eyes Celebrin! And tell me what you see!"
"Pain"
"Then you know what I have said is true, and you know the reason I must go."
At the loss of hope, Celebrin chuckled, his voice breaking and along with it the soul beneath it, and as if calling from the world of dreams, where all things are as deep as the ocean's depths he said,
"Is not love enough for you to stay Alphindil?…Are not the joys we once lived in and still could live in enough to keep you here?…Am I not enough?"
"No…"
In the silence that followed Celebrin felt his heart break beneath his breast, and he ran out of the chamber, into the gathering night. And he ran ignoring the calls that followed him, he ran until he passed the gate of Mithlond and beyond it to where the forests grew beside the river called Lune, and he ran into the very river, until it came up to his knees. And he fell prostrate before the eyes of heaven and wept bitter tears for the loss of his life, the loss of his hope and for the breaking of his hope. And he wandered the forests, beating at the strong oak trunks of the woods, tearing at his clothing until the dawn came, he then went by a secret path to the House of the Eledhrim, and there remained in secret thoughts he never before considered.
The morning passed, and still no word came from Celebrin; noon passed and no word, until Cirdan came to the chamber of Alphindil, his eyes downcast and his brow furrowed with disappointment; he said,
"I am sorry, but he will not speak to me, or to anyone…he remains within his chambers, and I hear naught from him, but cries of indignation…the hour grows late, it is time."
The journey to the harbor was longer in Alphindil's mind than he had ever remembered, around each corner he expected the cloaked figure of his companion to greet him, as he had done many times before, and keep true the oath to go where he trod. Yet no such thing happened, and the closer they came to the harbor, the farther down the sun set below the straight horizon and the brighter the amber of its hue dimmed the day and made all golden and frozen in time. And his items were placed on board the ship, and he stood at the docks, until all the others had said their farewells and their weeping families and loved ones bid them safe journey and promises were made to meet again, if that chance were ever to arise. And the captain came, and told Alphindil,
"We cannot wait, the sun grows deeper and soon the tide will be lost to us…"
Alphindil looked into the crowd of the gathered and saw no familiar eyes, save for those of Cirdan, who sorrowfully bowed his head in a solemn farewell. And his reluctant feet walked up the boarding plank, and the gate was closed as the crew of the ship untied the ropes that kept the ship tied to the gray harbor.
And Alphindil wept in his heart, knowing all he had done was irreversible, and he could not think how cruel it was to not say farewell, but only how hurt Celebrin must feel to not even give a silent farewell to his companion, whose bond with him was stronger than that of family or friend. And as he saw the ropes becoming undone and the boarding plank pulled into the slender gray ship he heard a call go out from the crowd,
"Stop the ship, Stop!"
He looked up to see a darkly cloaked person run toward the harbor and was pulled back into the crowd; to which Cirdan intervened and told the Captain,
"Let him pass! Your lord commands you!"
And Alphindil walked as quickly as he could down the steps of the boarding plank and stood before the cloaked figure whose raven hair began to shimmer as the starlight as the sun was lost behind the horizon and the moon rose higher to be seen above the hills and cliffs that guarded the lands of Cirdan. And the figure removed his hood and revealed a tear strewn face, whose stern visage, kept back more tears and a broken soul. Alphindil smiled to see his companion again and was about to embrace him when he was stopped by Celebrin's hand and his sorrow laden voice spoke out,
"I have not come, to join you on this journey, nor do I bid you farewell, because you and I both know you will never return and our eyes...wil never meet again. I have come to look one last time, upon the person whom all my love- the love greater than family, or friend- has been cast upon. I loved you Alphindil, as I would love myself andas I would cherish Doriath, as I would cherish Arda, I cherish you the same. But my path, my friend, does not lead to where yours does…I know this now…"
And Celebrin knelt upon both of his knees and from his cloak he procured a dagger and bent low his head, allowing a tender braid to fall before his eyes, a braid that hung from the back of his head. And he took what elves cherished most of their bodies, what took all the immortal years of their lives to grow and if cut, could possibly never grow again, and he tore the braid loose from his gathered tresses of nightshade hair. The torn braid blew in the sea wind like a streaking comet across the star-lit sky, its dark hue like a steed whose uncommon color was that of the midnight when no moon shone out into the world and was as before the his and his gentle maiden's coming. And Celebrin rose from where he solemnly knelt and, taking the hand of his companion of long years, placed the gentle braid of hair into it, closing his fingers around it as if it were a prized; he then kissed the closed hand that held the lock of hair and said, with a breaking voice upon the edge of bitter sorrow,
"Take this…and think kindly of me when you see it…"
"Why…"
"Our friendship is broken, for nothing remains to keep it as it once was…my last hope is that this will remind you of what you left behind…what you chose to leave…Think it not a curse….but the last gift I have to give thee, the last piece of my heart I hold most dear, the piece where you will live always and never be apart from me, all the days of my life…"
And he embraced him, so tightly that breath almost escaped them both, and tears flowed down to the wood of the harbor, and he kissed the forehead and lips of his companion and wet his tunic with his farewell tears. Saying at last in a broken whisper,
"Go."
And Alphindil at last boarded the ship again, never taking his eyes off of his companion even as the ship left the confines of the harbor and passed the great Gates of the sea, where one could see the towers of Cirdan. Hope faded and shadows enveloped him, yet through tear-filled eyes he still kept his gaze upon the harbor and one lone figure, who dropped to his knees and crumbled in sorrow, crying out to the stars. And he heard the gulls call their song of farewell and the pale moon rose above the parapets of the mountains in the distance, and at long last Mithlond was a speck of a tear in the eyes of Alphindil as he himself kissed the lock of hair in his hand, and mourned the passing of an era, the passing of his heart.
Well this is the end of this storyline, it saddens me to end this story which i have had fun writing and pouring myself into...and I am glad any of you got this far did read this to the very end, even though response was muted somewhat. I thank you Elfique for beig my most vocal fan, and Redha thanks for that review you sent me, Archaic scribe, you prolly got this far by the time you read this and I hope you all enjoyed it.
Look for the sequel(s) coming up, depending on how interesting a character you all think Celebrin is. Now that it is over don't be shy to review or reply to this work, not that the story will change much but i would like to have your opinions- who knows it might change a bit.