Chapter Sixty-One: Readjustments
Celebrían gazed silently after the Doomsman as he faded softly from sight. Her mind was numb with the shock of what had just happened. Halanor had betrayed her, and betrayed Elrond. She had almost been raped. And she knew as well as anyone that if a married elf was raped, then his or her spirit would feel so utterly violated that it would instantly flee from his or her body, leaving the unfortunate victim dead.
Dead. The terrible word reverberated hollowly in Celebrían's mind. She could have died just then, she realized. If it hadn't been for Mandos' timely arrival, she would have been murdered on her wedding night… it would have been she that the Doomsman took to his Halls, not Halanor.
Was that the reason he had chosen this night – her wedding night – rather than any other? Had Halanor truly wanted to kill her? Celebrían shuddered inwardly – she wouldn't put it past him. But she whispered a hushed prayer of thanks to Eru for sending Mandos to save her life, as tears flooded soundlessly down her cheeks and her body was racked with fitful sobs.
How truly ironic it was, she thought (once the majority of her tears had finally subsided), that she owed her very life to the Lord of the Dead.
----
Elrond II panted hard for breath as he hurtled through the trees. He had heard the distant echoes of a terrible scream, and could only pray that it was not the voice of his beloved. With his godfather and mother-in-law at his heels, he burst out onto the moonlit lawns of Caras Galadhon, skidding to a halt at a sickening sight.
A horribly still silhouette lay crumpled beneath a mallorn tree a good expanse from them. A crowd was beginning to amass there at a safe distance, and their clearly terrified voices made the half-elf's blood run like ice water in his veins.
"We were all too late. No-one could survive a fall from that height."
"Who is it?"
"I'm not sure…"
Elrond II hurried toward the group of elves, and met a quaking Celeborn, whose face was every bit as white as his nightshirt. The silver-haired lord could barely speak for fear, nor could he stand without difficulty. The young half-elf supported him as he sobbed onto his son-in-law's shoulder.
"No-one knows what happened… he fell almost a hundred feet…"
"Who fell?" cried Elrond I urgently, coming up beside them. "Who was it?"
"H- he was one of your kindred," Celeborn gulped. "I never had the opportunity to learn his name, but I recognized him immediately by sight. His most striking feature by far was a disgusting scar on the left side of his chin."
Elrond II blanched in horror. His fears were true. "Halanor."
Elrond I brushed past them, anxiously threading his way through the crowd, who were all talking among themselves. Many were crying, and a few even seemed to have fallen into faints. It was a dreadful spectacle. Still he pressed on, until he broke through the mass of fearful observers and witnessed the terror first-hand.
The corpse was completely naked, its only covering being its own blood. Here and there, fractured bones protruded from the torn flesh, gleaming ghastly white in the moonlight. It was indeed Halanor that lay prostrate across the silvery roots of the mallorn, and he was indeed dead. No living person's neck could bend at such an angle.
Elrond I turned his head slowly as Galadriel approached him from behind, and he heard her horror-struck gasp. A strangled sob escaped her lips as she, too, beheld the grotesque display, and struggled to keep a hold on her consciousness. Her tense body relaxed only a small amount when her husband's hand found her shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly.
As they all gazed down at the bloody, broken thing formerly known as Halanor, a swirl of shadow just before it seized their attention. A tall figure clothed in long, darkly iridescent robes came into sight, a somewhat distant expression on his sallow face. His manner soon grew much more tender as he spoke telepathically to three elves in the front of the crowd.
Elrond, Galadriel and Celeborn, you will find Celebrían on the dais above us. Be wary as you reach the top; there is a damp area there that you would do well to avoid stepping in.
The addressees bowed to Mandos in reverence and thanks before hurrying past him, over the decrepit carcass of Halanor, and swiftly up the high spiraling stairway to the platform far above.
----
Celebrían looked up sharply at the sound of frantic footsteps coming from below her. She quickly wiped her hand across her teary eyes and straightened her dress, which was rather off-kilter, just as four breathless figures burst onto the platform. She instantly recognized her parents, her husband, and Elrond II's elder self.
"Celebrían!" Elrond II sobbed, tears of joy and relief pouring down his face unchecked as he rushed to her side. "Thank the Valar you're alive!"
Celebrían wrapped her trembling arms fondly about him, murmuring in his ear, "It really is thanks to the Valar I'm all right. At least, thanks to Lord Mandos. He arrived here just in time to keep Halanor from…" She trailed off and looked away as she withdrew a little from him, afraid to speak the truth, for fear that it become all the more real to her.
"What did Halanor do to you?" Celeborn inquired quietly, kneeling at his daughter's side and taking her hand gently in his own. "Please tell us."
Celebrían drew a deep, shuddering breath, and launched into the terrible account. She left out no detail of their actions and speech, and struggled on courageously as the memories painted ghastly pictures in her mind's eye. She was weeping candidly before she finished, and the others all soothed her tenderly with kind words and soft kisses.
"Well, it's all over now," said Galadriel in hushed tones, absently stroking her daughter's hair. "You're alive and safe, and Halanor is dead. We can forget that it ever happened."
"Is it really all that simple?" Celebrían whispered uncertainly, as tears began to spring up in her eyes yet again. "Can things like this ever fade away completely?"
"In time they may," Elrond I replied, smiling reassuringly as he wiped the moisture from her face with the cuff of his sleeve, "if you will let them. Time heals all wounds, after all, does it not?"
Elrond II glanced at his godfather, and they shared a long, deep look. Time… that was the very essence of all that was holding them together. For years they had thrust the notion to the most neglected corner of their memory, hoping to move on in life as normally as they could possibly be. But now the thought that their existence depended on Vairë returned as clearly as ever. They forced it back again, concentrating on the matter at hand: Celebrían.
Celeborn coughed slightly, effectively breaking the awkward silence that had developed. "Perhaps it would be best if we all were to get a good night's rest. Eru knows some of us need it more than others," he added, glancing at his daughter, who was still rather ashen.
His companions all agreed readily, and they made their way back to their own platforms in other mellyrn. Some sleep would do them all a world of good.
----
Elrond II lay awake for a long time, gazing up at the canopy of silvery boughs and golden leaves that screened much of the night sky. The only sounds he could hear were those of his own breaths, and of his wife's. He glanced discreetly in her direction, starting slightly when she looked back at him; he thought she had fallen asleep long ago. Oh, well; all the better for him.
"Celebrían," the young half-elf murmured, propping himself up on one elbow, "I need to speak with you about what happened this evening."
Celebrían nodded, sitting up a little as well and meeting her husband's solemn blue eyes. "Go ahead."
Elrond II drew a slow, deep breath to steel himself before he spoke on.
"Celebrían, I am truly sorry that I couldn't reach you in time to stop Halanor. I know that as your husband, it is my duty to protect you however I can. But you know your mother and I were attacked by Morgoth tonight. It was during that time, while we were fighting him, that Halanor took you. We didn't even know you were gone until afterward… and it was quite a long time afterward. We came as fast as we could, but by then…"
"…Lord Mandos had already come to help me." His wife softly completed the phrase for him as he trailed off. "Yes, Elrond. I understand, you were… fighting your own battle."
Elrond II nodded. "I want you to promise me something, all right? If anyone says or does something to you, or so much as looks at you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable to any extent, I want you to tell me straight away. I love you far too much to let anything happen to you. From this hour forward, I am going to do anything and everything in my power to keep things like this from happening again."
Celebrían's eyes shimmered silver with tears in the starlight as she whispered, "I know… I promise."
"Thank you." Elrond II kissed his wife gently before lying down again. "Now, we should both get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day, an opportunity for a fresh start. And that's exactly what we need right now." He smiled fondly over at her. "Melin-le." (I love you.)
"Melin-le aw, muiner-nin," (I love you too, my dear one) Celebrían replied in a murmur, as she allowed her eyes to cloud over in deep sleep.
----
Morning arrived balmy and breezy, with the brightness of the sun and the general cheery atmosphere of the day effectively belying the tragic happenings of the previous night. But there was still one horrible reminder of that; Halanor's body had still to be cleaned up and buried.
Elrond II had passionately rejected the notion at first, remarking icily that his wife's near-slaughterer didn't deserve a proper funeral, but he had ultimately relented for the obvious reason of general sanitation. Halanor was put in the ground with scant ceremony and few goodbyes. No gravestone marked his resting place. No-one really wanted to remember a killer, even one whose intentions had failed.
Celebrían stayed at Elrond II's side as often as she could, straying from him only when it was absolutely necessary. She was much more introverted and timid than she had always been before. Elrond II, knowing his duty as her husband, supported her readily where she could not support herself. He was determined to help her until she regained her old power of will, her self-assurance and dignity, and he would not back down before that moment without good reason to. In time, the half-elf vowed, his wife would be strong again.
----
When the time came at last for the newlyweds to return to Imladris, they were given fond farewells by their kin from Lothlórien and Greenwood. Elrond, Celebrían, and what were now left of the elves who had come from Rivendell rode off amidst the echoes of eagerly-shouted blessings and wishes of fair fortune. All of the travelers accepted them gratefully – even Celebrían, in what was perhaps her first vibrant show of emotion in days.
Elrond II smiled both inside and out as he listened to his wife calling thanks to her friends and family. She was regaining happiness, at least. That was a start. But how long would it last before the darkness arose to haunt her? She had slept through the past few nights with no obvious ill effects on her mind (although she might have had Lórien's help with that; he wasn't sure), but Elrond knew it was only a matter of time.
Celebrían couldn't help but notice her husband smiling over at him every few seconds as they rode off from the home that she had known for centuries. What was happening in the mind behind those pale blue eyes of his? She had a suspicion it was something more than mere cheerfulness at the prospect of returning home. It was something about her, she was certain. Now, if only she knew what it was…
----
The journey to Rivendell was lengthy in distance, but Time seemed to soar past them like an eagle on the wing. The summer sun liberally poured out her warmth and cheer, greatly lifting the spirits of those below. It seemed to be only a few days later when the company descended one of the steep sides of the valley, and crossed the threshold of the haven.
Whilst everyone was busy settling in, Celebrían approached Elrond II covertly. There had been something nagging at her mind for a little while now.
"Elrond," she said uneasily, "I've thought of something. I know as well as you do about who you and your godfather really are, and what with this new marriage I was wondering about… sleeping arrangements."
"Ah." The half-elf nodded slowly. "Well, it's really not completely up to me to decide on that. Maybe I should call my godfather so we can discuss it further. But – oh," he added a split-second later. "This could be quite a problem. Not everyone knows about Elrond the First and myself, you understand, and depending on what we decide, it might look more than a little out of the ordinary, if you catch my meaning…"
"That can be easily taken care of," Celebrían remarked, as an idea hit her. "We could try something like this…"
----
Elrond I lay awake in bed for several hushed minutes, until he was confident that no-one was stirring outside. Assured, he rose softly and straightened the blankets on his bed, then stepped into his slippers and crept down the silent, moonlit halls on cat-feet. He passed several closed doors to his left and right, and finally noted one that had been left slightly ajar. Even so, he knocked warily on the doorframe.
"Come in," whispered a voice that was identical to his own.
The elder half-elf complied, edging into the room and smiling at the two figures sitting up in the bed. Two pairs of blue eyes gleamed at him in the moon's glow. His godson called him over with a slightly crooked forefinger, and Celebrían allured him with a sly smile.
Elrond I obediently climbed onto the mattress on Celebrían's other side, moving closer to her as she shifted to give him room. They lay for a moment in awkward silence, and then Elrond II sniggered softly.
"If this is how things are going to be every night, we'll need a bigger bed in here."
"This is just an experiment, you must understand," Celebrían reminded him. "We'll make readjustments as we need to."
There was a long pause, and then a mutter from Elrond I.
"My arm is falling asleep."
"Move it, then," replied Celebrían. "Readjustments, you know."
"I'm halfway off the bed as it is!"
"All right, I'll move."
"Now you're lying on my arm, dearest," Elrond II yawned.
"I'm sorry, love. Is that better?"
"Much better, thank you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Elrond."
"Goodnight, me."