Desolation

Chapter Two.

Finally finished this wretched thing, despite the best attempts of my computer.

Farewell: More stuff to try to make you like Celebrían *laughs evilly* - it's all part of my plan to take over the world (it's very late at night and I've been fighting with the computer for the last hour. When I take over the world, Microsoft's evil minions had better HIDE.)

LSB: I know – poor, poor Elrond *thinks of the film and begins to cry again* He really does carry all the burdens of the world. Oh, to be Celebrían.

Earelen: Oh, I don't know – the ending might surprise you, but it's definitely going to be a bumpy ride.

Tanathir: Thankies. I loved the interaction between Elrond and Arwen in the film and demand MORE. Hence (having heard the rumours about it), I just had to write that scene.

Psycofoxx, odyssey, Emmica – thank you, thank you, thank you *eeps happily*

Summary: A short interlude. In the Undying Lands Eärendil and Celebrían discuss the Sauron's return and Elrond's choice.

A/N: Next chapter will return to Elrond in Middle-earth, but I wanted a different perspective on the crisis, and I am still doing research for the wider plot line. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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Celebrían wandered across the high meadow, her soft blue skirts brushing through the grass. The sunlight was warm and merry, and a faint breeze tugged at her silver-blond hair, but her cerulean eyes were pensively fixed on the eastern horizon.

When a solitary figure appeared in the distance, she did not even notice, engrossed as she was in her melancholic reflections.

The older Elf approached at a measured pace. In his dark hair shone the brilliance of all the stars and in his face was the great light which was before the Sun and the Moon, spilling from the Silmaril bound to his forehead.

"I bid you good afternoon, Lady Celebrían," he said pleasantly.

She turned hastily, expecting another, as she always did when she heard his voice. Her shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly when she beheld that ageless visage, but her sweet smile remained genuine as she stretched out both delicate hands to him in greeting.

"You remind me of him," she said in a voice like wind whispering through mallorn leaves.

"I shall pray to Elbereth for the day that I am able to stand before my son and see for myself how much truth you speak," he replied with amusement, although sombreness lingered in his face.

"All Middle-earth stands on the brink of destruction," she stated quietly once they had walked in companionable peace for some minutes. Sudden love flooded her heart as she recognised her husband's inflections in her own voice. "The Shadow may even touch us here."

She paused.

"Today, Erestor arrived, and told me that Elrond remains in Middle-earth," she commented sadly. "When the news of the fall of the One Ring to the Enemy reached me, I feared that I would lose my beloved Elrond to the darkness, that he would feel duty-bound to remain in Middle-earth. But I still had hope – until this morning."

Her voice cracked, but she raised her chin defiantly, every inch the Lady of Lothlórien.

"Did you expect aught else from him?" Eärendil inquired.

"Nay," Celebrían's inflection was reflective. She reached up and absent-mindedly traced the scar which stood out against the pale skin of her temple: the last memento of her terrible capture so long ago. "I loved his dedication even before I loved him, and have done so through all these long years. But I fear for him; I fear that I shall not see him again for many an age; that he will pass to Mandos' care, and that I shall be left for long years without him, alone and filled with sadness as no other is in the Undying Lands."

Eärendil sank to the warm earth and Celebrían tranquilly sat beside him, but her hands moved unceasingly, ruthlessly shredding bundles of grass.

"Dear child," the Mariner suggested, memories of old grief tingeing his melodic voice and swiftly colouring his wind-blown features with great sadness, "I do not pretend to have fathomed the mind of Ilúvatar, but I shall at least say this: that few things in Arda are immutable. Do not despair of your husband; I may see my son again."

Celebrían cocked her head at him, smiling quizzically although her eyes swam with a flood of tears as deep as the Bruinen in full spate.

"What does the Mariner see in his far voyaging?"

"All Middle-earth is aflame, and much hope is fled, but many great and wondrous deeds may yet be done. In the darkness of Gorthaur, some lights may yet shine." He smiled, a look of wistful hope flickering across his face. "The Star-dome may live up to his name."

For a fleeting instant, Celebrían was cheered, remembering the ferocious valour of her husband, but then a sudden wave of fury overcame her, and she sprang to her feet, her long skirts swirling violently around her ankles.

"How dare that … that … Sauron? If I was there, I would, I would … Oh, Eru save me, I cannot think what I would do."

Fiery tears slipped from her eyes.

"Gorthaur has taken everything from me: Elrond, my sons, even my parents in Lothlórien. And Erestor will not speak more than a score of words to me of my daughter. Why is Arwen not here? What reason is there for her to tarry in Middle-earth?"

Eärendil sighed heavily, and, rising to his feet, faced her.

"That is not my tale to tell, nor Erestor's. That task falls to Elrond alone."

Celebrían whirled around, Vilya's blue fire burning brightly in her gaze. Her head thrown back, her arms cast wide, she stood tall and imposing among the wild flowers. Never had she looked more like her mother.

"You go too far, Eärendil son of Tuor," she snapped. "All is ruined in the Hither Lands. My mother, my father, my sons have in all likelihood already perished. My husband will soon follow them to the Halls of Mandos; yet you tell me to be hopeful. And now you refuse me news of my daughter, the only living being I shall love in the years to come. Once again, I tell you, you go too far."

For a moment, he was shocked into silence, but them compassion overcame both pride and confusion.

Stepping closer to his daughter-in-law, he pulled her into a fatherly embrace. The figure of icy fury melted into his shoulder.

"I must apologise, Lord Eärendil," she sniffed into the thick cloth. "I am sorely grieved, and I long for Elrond, and now no-one will tell me why our Undomiel is not here."

Eärendil patted her back sympathetically, before settling once more onto the grass.

Celebrían sat back on her heels, regarding her father-in-law with miserable eyes.

"Child, they do not tell you because they fear to upset you at this time. I am afraid that the reticence of the Elves arriving from Middle-earth is my son's doing," he advised.

"Elrond…" she said with a watery chuckle."The foolish boy always did believe that he needed to protect me, that I would hate him if I did not. But ignorance only makes this pain worse. Will you not tell me?"

The Peredhel scrutinized her face deeply, reading the truth written there, then nodded in acquiescence.

"Arwen Undómiel has fallen in love with a mortal man, with Isildur's heir. It is for his sake that she will not forsake the Hither Lands."

"She has chosen the fate of Lúthien and of Elros," she whispered, awe-stricken.

Eärendil winced at the mention of his son even after these many ages, but merely replied, "Yes."

For a long time, there was silence. Celebrían fiddled with the cuff of her dress. He wondered what his daughter-in-law's reaction would be.

Finally, she raised her head, her face as pale as Ithil itself.

"Our Evenstar…" she marvelled. A sad but proud smile spread across her face. "Our brave little Evenstar… Is he a good man?"

"I believe he was," Eärendil replied curtly.

Celebrían's eyes widened in horror.

"A man … Erestor spoke of an Estel who stood at the Gates of Mordor with Elladan and Elrohir… Oh dear Eru, my poor children. My poor, poor Elrond. What agony he must be feeling at the awful deaths of so many. Oh, I wish I could comfort him!" she exclaimed.

Words failed both of them and they sat in the silence of the bereft, contemplating the wounds of the world and of their own souls, too profound and cruel to heal.

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Under the lazy afternoon sun, they meandered towards the road which ran east and west across the Undying Lands.

"I must help Erestor to settle the Elves who have arrived from Middle-earth. There is much to do for our people," Celebrían sighed.

"Indeed. Do not let hope fail in them," Eärendil replied, "nor in yourself. Namarie, Lady Celebrían of Imladris."

"Namarie, Lord Eärendil," she smiled.

The Mariner whistled to his horse, and began to ride away. As he passed from sight, she continued in a low voice, laden with emotion, "Namarie, Gil-Estel. Bring hope to my Elrond."

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Star-dome: the meaning of Elrond's name.

Gorthaur: a name which the elves gave to Sauron.

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Please review. If you don't, you never know, I might set the elven armies of the Second Age on you. On the other hand, I want them for my own *smirks*