A/N: This chapter contains some mild mature content. Please be advised.
Chapter Sixty: Love and Lust
The speaker trailed off, smiling slightly. Everyone present – with the exception of Vána – was bowing down, as far as space and clothing would allow. No-one else noticed that the Valië was still on her feet, as they all had their faces downcast.
"Please," said the newcomer amiably, "arise, all of you. I am here today as your equal in the eyes of Eru."
There was a broad stretch of silence, as the assembly slowly climbed to its numerous feet, and then a small and timorous voice piped up from somewhere in the back of the crowd of viewers: "What name is yours, my Lord?"
The blue-clad stranger gave a good-natured laugh. "I am Manwë. I was asked to perform the rites of this marriage ceremony. May I proceed?" he asked, turning his head calmly to look at Celeborn.
Startled and cowed, the elf-lord managed to nod and to reply with a slight nervous stutter. "Y- yes, of course, sire."
Manwë nodded kindly. "Very well. We are gathered here together to witness the union of this man and this woman—" he gestured to the groom and bride, respectively "—in holy matrimony, which is deemed honorable among all races, and therefore it is not by any to be entered unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
Elrond I and II listened especially hard into the ensuing quiet. The only sound was that of a slight breeze riffling tenderly through the leaves of the trees high above their heads. No-one spoke; Manwë nodded in approval, and his own voice rang out resonant and clear.
"Doubly blessed is the couple which comes to be wed with the approval and blessings of their families and friends," he beamed. "Who has the honor of presenting this woman to be married to this man?"
Celeborn and Galadriel spoke as one. "We do."
Manwë watched calmly as Celebrían moved to stand on the left side of Elrond II, and the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien stepped back slightly. Then the Wind-lord spoke yet again, as he took Elrond II and Celebrían's hands into his own, and clasped them together.
"Hand in hand you enter marriage, hand in hand you step out in faith. The hand that you freely give each other, is both the strongest and the most tender part of your body. In the years ahead you will need both strength and tenderness. Be firm in your commitment. Do not let your grasp weaken. And yet be flexible as you go through change. Do not let your hold grow to be intolerable. Strength and tenderness, firm commitment and flexibility, of such is a marriage made, hand in hand.
"Also remember that you do not tread this road alone. Do not fear to reach out to others when together you face difficulty. Other hands are there: those of friends and family. To accept an outreached hand is not admission of failure, but an act of faith. For behind us, beneath us and around us all are the outstretched arms of Eru. It is into His hand, the hand of Ilúvatar that, above all else, we commit this union of husband and wife."
Manwë addressed Elrond II alone, his tone clear and formal. "Do you, Elrond the Second, take Celebrían to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"
"I do."
"Do you, Celebrían, take Elrond the Second to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"
"I do."
At a nod from the Vala, Elrond I stepped forward and held out the golden wedding rings; Manwë took them both and gave one to each member of the waiting couple, placing them in their upturned palms.
"As these rings are circles, without end," the Wind-lord proclaimed, "so will your love be eternal. Wear the rings as symbols of your pledge of devotion to each other."
Elrond II dutifully slid the ring he held onto Celebrían's left-hand ring finger; she did the same for him. Both elves' eyes glimmered with a strange light as this was done, and they both stared up at Manwë in expectation of his next announcement.
The Vala then waved his right hand, and three candles appeared out of thin air: two were lit, the third was not. He held the lit ones forth to Elrond and his bride, and kept the unlit one for himself, saying, "Let these flames represent your love. Light the third candle now together, and let the fires merge, as you will become forever one with each other."
They both complied in silence, holding the blazing wicks to the unscathed one and setting it alight. Their faces bathed in soft radiance, the bride and groom both gazed in ecstasy at each other and at Manwë as he declared finally, "Thus, by the powers vested in me, I now pronounce you to be husband and wife."
Elrond II gently lifted the veil from Celebrían's face, took his new wife into his arms and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss to seal the promise once and for all. Everyone else began to applaud them, and the two newlyweds walked back down the flower-edged aisle: their first steps together as a formally wedded couple. Elrond II, in those golden moments, felt as though he was the single happiest – and luckiest – elf in all of Arda.
There soon followed a wonderful banquet in honor of the occasion. Platters and goblets never emptied or ran dry. Song and laughter mingled with everyday banter as the elves – and two Valar – did full justice to the bounty. At some point Manwë stood up, lifted his chalice of wine and cried strongly, "Long lives and years of plenty to Elrond the Second and Celebrían!"
The toast was taken up eagerly by the throng, and a chorus of willing voices shouted back the blessings. All but one voice, that is…
A black-haired, grey-eyed elf of Rivendell, with a grisly scar on the left side his chin, had stayed stubbornly mute, and now gripped his wineglass so hard that it shattered in his white-knuckled fingers.
----
Much later that evening, beneath the ever-watchful, starry eyes of the night sky, Elrond I and II, Celebrían and Galadriel walked the half-lit paths through the trees of Lothlórien. Distant strains of song from those who were still celebrating grazed their ears, and many were the times that the wanderers found themselves humming along as they talked.
"I can't help but wonder how this is going to work out," Celebrían remarked with a light laugh. "I'm married to one half of an elf with two bodies, so theoretically I'm married to both halves. But no-one else knows that Elrond is one person, so if they knew that theory, they'd call me a bigamist…"
"Then let's not give them any reason to find out," Elrond I advised.
Galadriel opened her mouth to speak, but without warning, she swayed slightly where she stood. Her right hand gripped Elrond I's wrist painfully tightly. He stared down at it, and then up at her, and put two and two together in an instant. Clasping her own hands in his, the elder half-elf looked briefly into Galadriel's eyes before closing his own. His thoughts became a steady chant, and his lips shaped the words silently, but did not give voice.
Drive him back… Drive him back… Drive him back…
He barely had to ask before the flames leapt to help him, roaring in rage that was directed against Morgoth alone. He could dimly discern Galadriel summoning aid in her own way, rising against the Dark Lord with the fury of a thousand tempestuous seas. Fire and water merged, but neither extinguished the other; the waters bubbled and hissed, foam turning into steam. Morgoth would be boiled alive even as he drowned.
Celebrían could do nothing but watch in horror as the two other elves, standing stone-still and silent, engaged in a soundless war inside themselves. If only she could do something to help them, somehow…
But she scarcely had a chance to draw breath before an icy hand clamped over her mouth, and another gripped her forcefully by the throat. Unconsciousness claimed conquest after a momentary, one-sided struggle. And the two Ring-keepers were completely unaware.
----
Elrond I and Galadriel sank to their knees, trembling as the aftershock of the fight washed over them both. Elrond II dutifully ministered to his elder half, giving out a careful dose of icy power to placate Elrond I's furious fever. Only when this was finished did they get the chance to observe their changed surroundings. Celebrían was nowhere to be found.
"Sh- she might have run off," Elrond I suggested, without much conviction. "She's never seen us fight Morgoth like that before."
"Celebrían?" Galadriel called out urgently. The echoes of her voice fell weird and hollow upon their ears.
Elrond II added his own voice. "Celebrían! Answer if you can hear me!"
His shout did nothing but rouse a nearby flock of sleeping sparrows, and the only answer he received was their unsettled twittering as they all took to the sky at once. The younger half-elf looked to his companions in despairing desperation.
Where could she be?
----
Celebrían moaned faintly as sensation seeped slowly back into her mind and spread to her limbs. Her fingers flexed and straightened out again, feebly gripping soft cloth. The same brushed up against her cheek as she tried to move her head. Her eyelids fluttered, and she gazed blearily at the figure who lay beside her.
He was naked, save for the coverlet that came up to his waist and exposed his bare torso. His grey eyes glinted in lustful malice, and a hideous scar on his chin contorted strangely as he smiled at her. It was the ugliest and most terrible smile she had ever seen. Then the nightmare became even more real when the person spoke, in a voice that would return in her darkest nightmares for years to come.
"Whom were you expecting?"
Celebrían's mind reeled as terror crackled through her like lightning. This elf was not her husband! "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I want you, Celebrían," the stranger whispered, moving closer to her and folding his arm about her body – thank the Valar, she was still fully clothed! "I've wanted you for years, did you know that? Ever since before Elrond asked to court you. Yes, I was watching as he walked you through the garden that night."
"Who are you?" Celebrían demanded again, shying back, but forcing her voice to steady.
The strange elf's horrific smile widened. "Call me Halanor."
----
Elrond II was at a complete loss. His wife was missing, and there was no way to find out where she had gone. She was just that – gone, without a trace.
"All right," he said at last, thinking aloud, "we need to look at this rationally. She might have left on her own accord, and on the other hand, someone might have called to her. On another hand, someone could have dragged her off against her will."
"But who in Arda would do something like that?" wondered Galadriel. "Does anyone we know have something against Celebrían?"
Elrond II looked to his godfather, and insight struck as rapidly as if a tree had fallen onto him. Someone didn't necessarily resent Celebrían, but there was someone besides Elrond II who had wanted to be near her, who had gone far out of his way to be beside her in the most undesirable ways…
Without any further speech, the young half-elf took off at a run toward Caras Galadhon, with the others hurrying in his wake. Elrond only prayed that they wouldn't be too late.
----
He was much too close to her. Celebrían tried to calm her breathing as that of the elf who was now nearly on top of her quickened. Maybe, she thought, she could impediment his twisted intentions by trying to reason with him.
"Halanor," she began, "if… if you've wanted to be with me so badly, why didn't you say something earlier?"
"I couldn't," Halanor replied, "because he was always there where you were. Lord Elrond was always hanging off your arm, showering you with flowers and moonlight and stupid sweet nothings. You didn't really believe all of that, did you?"
"It wasn't nothing – it was everything!" cried Celebrían. "Elrond loves me with his whole heart! Why else would he marry me?"
"Because you're so beautiful, of course," Halanor answered, breathing the words into her ear. "That's all he wanted, was to be close to your pretty face."
"That's all you want," the inwardly-terrified bride protested, letting anger enter her voice as she scrambled to her feet. "Put your clothes back on and get away from me."
Halanor grabbed her arm, yanking her down to a stooping position. "But I love you."
"Someone who loved me would never behave like you are!" Celebrían retorted, trying to wrest her wrist from his vicelike fingers. "Elrond would respect me and respect my body. You, on the other hand, have no love. Only lust."
Halanor gave another revolting smile, and with a great heave he forced her down on top of his naked form. Then he rolled over, pinning her forcefully to the mattress they lay on. "You're absolutely right, dearest. All I have is lust – and it needs a good slaking."
Celebrían's heart was pounding at triple speed. She couldn't move her arms; Halanor was holding them out from her sides. Her legs felt like lead. She could only watch as Halanor moved his horrible, leering face toward her, kissing her face, her neck and her chest, and tugging at the neckline of her dress with nothing but his teeth. All she could hear was his heavy, ragged breathing…
…and then a voice, so great and resonant that it nearly stopped her heart as she lay there.
"BEGONE, HALANOR!"
Halanor stiffened in horror, rolling off of Celebrían and onto his back. Forgetting his state of total undress, he could only gape at the figure who stood above him. Two dark eyes set in a pale face blazed crimson with rage, and two strong white hands gripped the elf by his quaking shoulders, hauled him upright and lifted him to the person's eye level. Halanor felt a warm wetness slide down his legs as he stared up into the incensed face of Mandos.
"Lust," hissed the Doomsman (his whisper was far worse than his shout), "is one of many sins. Rape is one of many crimes. Both, ultimately, can be lethal. For you, the sentence is doubled." He flung the unfortunate elf to the floor, andHalanor crouched there sobbing as the Doomsman roared, "Get up! I am the Judge. Your trial is now."
Halanor stood slowly, his legs barely able to support him. "I- I meant nothing, my Lord!"
The Vala did not speak, but moved purposely toward the naked elf. Halanor backed away in terror, not daring to look away.
He forgot that he had taken Celebrían up to his own platform in a mallorn. He didn't see the edge of it until too late… there was a gasp, a scream, and a sickening THUD from far, far below.
Mandos looked sympathetically at the shaking, sobbing form of Celebrían curled on the mattress, knelt by her side and spoke soothingly to her before he followed Halanor.
Your husband is coming for you, Celebrían. Fear not… you will be fine.