Destiny's Arrow
(Celebrian's Choice)
The passing months saw a wondrous metamorphosis. What had once been little more than a tightness of her belly became a swell as Arwen's body grew to nourish and accommodate the new life she carried. Galadriel and Celebrian smiled knowingly at each new experience that pregnancy brought the younger elf.
At last, when her condition became impossible to conceal, Arwen told her grandfather of her state and decision, knowing that no excuse for a sudden disappearance would appease him. Despite his regret of it, Celeborn conceded the necessity of keeping her secret and agreed to do so. He and Glorfindel, however, took great glee in teasing her as her figure continued to expand.
"Come along, dumpling," as Celeborn insisted upon calling her, "we shall all have our supper sequestered in your room this evening," he laughed after Arwen had complained about having to take her meals alone. Supper, though, was interrupted by a small shriek from a wide eyed Arwen.
"It moved!" she laughed, placing a slender hand atop her rotund midsection. Nearly instantaneously, four more hands came to rest on her belly as Galadriel, Celebrian, Celeborn, and Glorfindel all gathered on her side of the small table to feel for themselves. The child did not disappoint, doing several more, what Arwen thought must have been, highly acrobatic maneuvers.
Celeborn and Glorfindel took a very paternal attitude toward the impending arrival that bordered on foolishness at times. Glorfindel would no longer allow Arwen to rest in peace until he had sung the unborn babe a lullaby, insisting that it would improve his ear for music.
Though elves placed no higher value on sons that they did on daughters, both Glorfindel and Celeborn had firmly decided that unborn was indeed a boy. Celebrian preferred to harbor no expectations, while Galadriel quietly maintained that Arwen, who knew it was so, would bear a daughter. Only time, a month at most, would tell.
At last, the day of the arrival came. When Arwen neither attended nor made any request for breakfast, Celebrian went to her daughter's quarters only to find her still in her dressing gown, pacing the room.
"Has the time come?" Celebrian asked, knowing that it had. Arwen nodded even as she stopped in her tracks, closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths to dull the pain as her pelvic girdle stretched a bit wider in contraction. "I will fetch mother," Celebrian smiled.
"And grandfather and Glorfindel if they wish," Arwen added, resuming her circuit of the room. Celebrian returned shortly with Galadriel, Celeborn, and Glorfindel at her back. Ordinarily, only the expectant grandmother and father would have attended the birth, but Arwen's was a unique situation. The reason for this usually minimal number became rapidly apparent. There were simply too many people in the room. Glorfindel, who understood the basics of childbirth but had never sired any children himself, was constantly underfoot of the other four people. He was promptly relegated to a post by the door. Should something be required of him, he would be notified, Galadriel curtly informed him.
Celeborn fulfilled the father's role. He stayed close to her and supported her when her knees weakened and her body sagged under the pain of more and more frequent contractions. She continued to walk the floor until the rate at which the contractions came made it impossible. Then, he helped her to the large wooden high armed chair in which Galadriel herself had borne Celebrian. He, then, took his place behind her and continued to gently remind her not to hold her breath as the birth pains became sharper. Gradually, though, the pain that tore through her lower body as it stretched to make way for the new life became, to Arwen, little more than raw sensation.
The labor itself was short. Before noon, Arwen held an infant elf-child to her breast. A shock of fine red hair stuck out in odd directions from the babe's soft head. Arwen smiled down at the daughter who dozed peacefully in her arms
Galadriel had not left Arwen's bedside all day. She extended a long hand to smooth the child's hair.
"What will we call her?" Galadriel whispered, looking into her granddaughter's exhausted, but happy face.
"Thurinhên. She is, after all, my secret," Arwen smiled. But then, a look of concern settled on her face. "Do you think her hair will turn dark?"
"No. She will stand apart. It is a mark of her parentage…her shame," Galadriel whispered, lowering her eyes with a deep sigh. "It neither my place nor that of anyone else to judge you or Legolas or her for what has been in light of what must be, but it seems that the Universe refuses to let it go entirely unnoticed."
"If Nature marks her for what I cannot change, then I will change Nature's mark," Arwen said evenly after a moment's thought. Galadriel nodded.
That evening, Galadriel sent Glorfindel into the forest to find what supplies they would need to black Thurinhên's hair. By the morning, the babe's hair was as dark as her mother's and no one else was the wiser.
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"I cannot keep her, mother," Arwen told Celebrian sadly as they watched Thurinhên crawl awkwardly across the floor. "Haldir, I know, is suspicious and while he is trustworthy, others may not be so. What will I do? Though I know they love her, grandmother and grandfather no longer have patience for children. You and father cannot keep her. What could you tell him that he would believe?" Arwen sighed heavily. "And I? I cannot keep her. If Legolas discovered…"
"She will be mine," Glorfindel answered, sweeping the babe up into his arms. She gurgled and grinned toothlessly at him. Glorfindel held her high in the air and grinned back at her. He wrinkled his nose and nuzzled it against Thurinhên's.
"You cannot raise a child alone, Glorfindel. The way of your life would not permit it," Celebrian protested. "And besides, how did you beget a child with no mate? No mother for it?"
"We will say her mother was a maid in Galadriel's service and tell that died giving her to me," Glorfindel returned.
"And what of your life? Would you, could you give up your wild, roaming ways for her? How will you raise her? Hunting and running grueling, dangerous errands for my father is too perilous a life for such a one as young as she. How could you be a father to her?" Arwen argued. There was a long pause. Glorfindel regarded the soft, pink creature who cooed and burbled up at him as he cradled her against his chest. She felt warm and delicate in his arms. The love that he felt for her was stronger than anything he had ever experienced before. It was deeper than the love he bore his lord and lady, more profound even than his love for Arwen. Warmth, like that of a summer's day filled his heart until he thought it would burst. It was wonderful, humbling, and terrifying—this love that he felt awash with. This is what it means to be a father. I watched her come into the world. I am her father.
"I am her father," he said aloud. Both women looked at him, puzzled. "I would lay down my life for her as I would for you, either of you. I will willingly lay down the life I have led and begin anew as her father," he said, never meeting their shocked eyes. "I will be your father," he whispered to Thurinhên. "Yes," he said decisively, finally facing them, still holding the squirming infant, "this is how it must be. I will unstring my bow, sheathe my sword, and stable my horse."
"I cannot ask that of you," Arwen objected further.
"Why must you be so stubborn? Always, you fight me," he laughed. To Arwen he sounded weary. Perhaps he is, at last, prepared to reconcile his impulsive ways and live a quiet life—she thought. "Will you not see that this is the only way?" There was another long, somewhat uncomfortable pause.
"Not the only way," Celebrian said at last. Glorfindel raised a curious eyebrow. Willing as he was to fulfill his promise, such a change frightened him. More than staring down the most lethal adversary, taking absolute responsibility for another, for a child so young, was a daunting prospect. Celebrian spoke again, "Glorfindel will bring Thurinhên and ride with me back to Rivendell. We will tell Elrond the fiction of the serving maid-mother. Then I will take her to the West with me." Her pronouncement left both Glorfindel and Arwen in stunned silence.
"The West? Why would you go there, mother? Father is not ready to depart," Arwen questioned uneasily.
"I am going the Grey Havens, and I will cross the sea. Arwen, I am weary. The world is changed for me. There is so much hurt, such sadness. Even here, in the heart of my homeland, I feel it. Not even the magic of this place brings joy to my heart. Not even…," Celebrian paused as though the thought pained her, "not even the thought of my lord and husband, your father can abate this darkness that has descended upon me."
"But why, mother?" Arwen asked, a note of pleading in her voice. "Why when I have borne you your first grandchild? Surely that…," she trailed off.
"Yes. Yes she, and you, and all that I love are my joys. But even that happiness is overshadowed by my torment. Monsters lurk in the shadows of my mind. They haunt my dreams," Celebrian's hand went to her shoulder and neck. "Orc poison has dulled my vision of the world, but my true misery is the knowledge that such horrors can exist in this land. I do not wish to remain in a place where something so beautiful and fine as an elf can be twisted, perverted into something as vile, foul, and hateful as a goblin. No soul should loathe itself as theirs do. They resent us, true. We are as they were, a reminder of what was stolen from them. And they hate themselves. They despise what they have become but have neither the power to change nor the courage to end their miserable existence. They do not know where their souls will go when their tortured forms cease to be. They wonder if they have souls at all anymore.
I must depart, you see? I cannot remain because I have been poisoned, infected with this Darkness that I cannot fight. The longer I remain the stronger I feel it, the heavier it weighs on my soul. And, now, only the light of Valinor, I fear, will serve to immolate such a canker from my spirit. I must go. I will take Thurinhên with me if you wish it," Celebrian finally concluded.
Arwen was unable to speak. Glorfindel was also silent. Neither could find any fault with her argument and they pitied her. The quiet grew long and uncomfortable until, at last, Thurinhên began to cry for her mother. Still without a word, Glorfindel deposited the babe in her mother's arms. Arwen opened her robe a bit to expose a full white breast. The child quieted easily as she began to suckle and, finally, Arwen spoke.
"I would have you take her, but wait until summer, until she is weaned," she spoke softly as she watched Thurinhên's eyelids droop with sleepiness and contentment. "I do not relish being separated from her, but I thought I might at least keep you a while longer," Arwen continued. "I will remain here. Forever. And I shall never see you after. Either of you," Arwen looked up at her mother once more, holding back the tears that welled in her eyes. "I love you," she whispered, voice quavering.
"And I love you, my girl," Celebrian answered. Their parting was spoken of no more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Traveling with an infant made the journey back to Rivendell an even more delicate proposition than journeying to Lothlorien with two women had been. All agreed that another pass through the mountains would be dangerous and foolhardy. Though it would be a much longer road, Celebrian and Glorfindel decided on a route that would take them south, through Rohan. Thankfully, the return trip passed without incident.
Even when they neared home, the travelers sent no word ahead of their arrival, preferring to surprise the household.
Elrond's heart leapt at the sight of his approaching wife. Undignified as it was, the Lord of Imladris ran to meet them in only his dressing gown. Without a word, he lifted Celebrian down from her steed, swept her into his arms, and caught her mouth in a long, loving kiss.
"How I have missed you, wife!" Elrond whispered affectionately into her ear as he breathed in her intoxicating scent—sweet nephridil with the spice of crushed mallorn leaves. It was always strongest after she visited the home of her youth. He had missed her presence terribly. He had longed to feel her warmth and the shape of her body beside him. But something about her was different now—colder, distant. At the moment, though, Elrond did not concern himself with fleeting worries. He was only glad to see her, to hold her again.
"And I, you," Celebrian answered earnestly. Though the thought and memory of her distant husband had given little comfort in Lorien, his presence, his closeness warmed the heart that she had felt growing cold.
Glorfindel looked on in silence. Thurinhên slept quietly, concealed and cradled in a sling across his chest. Carefully, he dismounted and went to greet Elrond. The elf lord eyed his friend's bulging chest curiously.
"What do you carry, Glorfindel, that you bear as a babe?" Elrond asked, arching a curious brow. The blonde elf smiled brightly and leaned forward to show his comrade Thurinhên's slumbering profile as she cozied up against his tunic. Elrond's eyes widened. It had been an exceedingly long time since he had seen one of his own kind so young. "Whose is she? What is her name?" he asked. Paternal tenderness colored his tone as he extended a long hand to stroke her soft, black head.
"She is mine," Glorfindel answered softly, "and her name is Thurinhên." He grinned broadly at the look of utter shock on Elrond's face. Questions flooded against the dam of the elf lord's manners and tact. Glorfindel could see it in his eyes. "Her mother was a serving maid of Galadriel's whom I have known for many centuries. We begat her after the celebration on the night of our arrival. My new wife died giving her to me," Glorfindel explained sadly. Ever the consummate actor, he seemed so absolutely genuine that not even Elrond, perceptive as he was, doubted his performance for a moment.
"And who will care for her now? Surely, you cannot," Elrond questioned. Celebrian squeezed his hand tighter. When he looked to her, her smile answered him. "You?" his eyes widened, "Us?"
"I would speak with you privately, husband," said she. Her husband's stomach lurched. The last time she had used those words to request a private audience, Arwen had been the happy result.
"Of course," he monotoned, attempting to maintain his composure. "Glorfindel," he began, not moving his gaze from his wife as he scanned for any sign that would confirm his suspicion. Finding none, he continued, "your quarters are as you left them. Will you require an additional bed for Thurinhên?" Celebrian directed and inquisitive look at Glorfindel, ignoring her husband's fixed stare.
"I do not wish to trouble you, my lord. She will sleep soundly next to my heart, thank you," smiled the elf.
Together, the four made their way indoors. Glorfindel excused himself to the kitchens in search of a suitable meal for Thurinhên who had woken and begun, rather noisily, to demand her breakfast, leaving his lord and lady alone in the corridor. Accepting his arm, Celebrian followed her husband toward their shared chamber.
"Now that you have my undivided attention, my dear, was there something you wished to discuss, or were you making a request best answered behind closed doors?" inquired the Lord of Rivendell with a bemused sort of half smile. Celebrian laughed a bit in spite of herself at his feeble attempt at subtlety. Perhaps a final encounter before I depart would ease the blow. Perhaps it would do us both good—she thought.
"Both, my love," she whispered.
"Then let us discuss first. I do not wish worry and concern to overshadow…," Celebrian did not allow him to finish. His lips, she captured in a tender kiss. Underneath the tenderness, though, Elrond sensed an urgency so strong that it bordered on desperation. It excited him. After a long moment, she released him, stepping back to look deeply into his stormy grey eyes. When she spoke, her voice was husky with desire.
"No more words, now. Only feeling. Take me in your arms, husband, and make love to me as though it is the last time." It was not a command, but a request, a plea. Elrond understood, and great tears welled up in his eyes. Though they stung, he would not let them fall.
"This will not be our final meeting, dearest," he whispered, speaking ever more softly for fear his voice would break. "Oh, but how I shall miss you," the words escaping him in a long sigh. He kissed his wife lightly, lifted her into his arms, and bore her to their bed.
Many hours passed as they made love. As Celebrian had instructed, not a word was spoken. He explored her body as he had in their youth; touching, caressing, finding new wonder in each of her familiar curves. She, likewise, celebrated their union with adoring hands, grateful lips, a joyful body, and an unburdened soul—if only for the span of their all too brief encounter.
As Celebrian lay in Elrond's protective embrace, catching her breath and pleasantly drowsy, she felt alive in a way that she hadn't since the fateful journey over the Misty Mountains. He listened silently as she recounted the tale of their journey, the battle with the orcs, Glorfindel's imaginary mate, Thurinhên's birth, and her own decision to depart for the Grey Havens with the child. When, finally, she finished, Elrond kissed her forehead and voiced the only thought that came to mind,
"I love you," he said quietly, smoothing his wife's silver-blonde hair back from her brow that glowed with fine perspiration in the soft light of afternoon.
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AN: Whew! Done with this frigging chapter at last! Forgive typos and stupid things, I'll fix 'em later…OK, so I sorta wimped out on the Elrond/Celebrian smut. I just wasn't feelin' it. I believe that Legolas may be feeling a little frisky in the near future, however ;). I am trying desperately to get back to Aragorn without rushing through this. I promise, I'm a-gettin' there. If any good, sweet wonderful readers want to leave me reviews it would make me exceedingly happy! ~DR