[Notes: written as a gift for AO3 user Grundy for the 2021 Innumerable Stars Exchange.]
Elrond's wife studied the heap of sandbags, a skeptical look on her face.
"Why is there so much sand here?" Celebrían asked. "It's not even good sand."
"It's sand," said Elrond. "I wanted sand and this is sand, so how is it not good sand?"
She made a face. "It's white. There's far too much calcium carbonate in it to be of use in glassmaking or to purify into silicon. Something that looks fair may do far less than something that looks like, well, regular tan sand."
"I think the white is lovely," said Elrond defensively. "And there's not that much sand."
Celebrían looked at him out of the side of her eyes; the pile reached above her head, and she stood taller than he did. "How many mules carrying how many bags did it take to get here?" she asked.
"I'm not quite sure," Elrond lied. "It's from Edhellond; your mother sent it."
"Oh no." An expression of vague horror flitted across Celebrían's face. "What scheme is she scheming now?"
Elrond paused. Several, I'm sure, he thought but did not say. "No scheme other than to send what I requested. We both grew up by waters, beloved, you at Nenuial and I at the shores of the Belegaer; don't you remember playing in the sand as a child? We both want children, and I'd like them to have sand to play with too."
There were three small springs that fell down Imladris's cliffs to join the Bruinen. Elrond and Celebrían had one dammed to form a pool and built their garden with the sandpit alongside the little pond; the water sparkled and chimed as it overran the dam wall. It was not the same sound that Elrond remembered from his childhood, for in Rivendell the water's song was lighter, more playful than that of the sea which had lapped at Sirion's shores.
"What are you thinking?" asked Celebrían softly as they sat on a stone bench at the edge of their little sand garden, just completed. The work had been more Celebrían's than his; these past few months she had reminded him of a bird fussing over its nest, wanting to make it perfect for its babies, though Celebrían decorated with gems rather than sticks: she was fond of pretty metals and stones that shone, and the many small diamonds and other jewels she had strewn amidst the sand and pebbles sparkled in the moonlight. She herself sparkled, a glow of her own; a part of Elrond was in awe of her, of them, of their life together and of the children that they had made, yet unborn and who would soon join them in the world.
"I've been thinking that our sons will have grandparents," Elrond answered. There was some wonder in the thought. He had never known grandparents, Idril and Tuor and Díor and Nimloth all lost, to the sea or death; Celebrían had known none either.
She caught his hand and squeezed it. "We have so much to give them," she said, and paused. "Them. I didn't expect to have to use a plural pronoun, but perhaps I should have expected twins."
Elrond had been surprised too. A twin himself, the nephew of twins, he had not expected to be a father to twins.
"Perhaps we should have," he agreed. "I…" Elrond hesitated. He admitted to himself that he had not thought of the possibility for fear of what it might portend; twins, in his experience, were not well-fated. Yet he sensed no doom, no ill portent, but life instead.
He looked at Celebrían; she smiled back. Their childhood will be one of peace and happiness, she thought to him, then said aloud, "This Middle-earth is at peace and will be for many long years. More than safe enough for children to play."
Celebrían had been born in a time of safety, in the early centuries after Morgoth's defeat, but Elrond and his brother had been born in the last days of Beleriand, and his parents too; none of them had known peaceful childhoods. But there had still been happiness and love and Elrond had memories he treasured.
"My father would bring my brother and me gifts on the few occasions he returned to Sirion," Elrond said after a moment. "Little treasures. Maybe a piece of driftwood carved into the shape of an albatross or a walrus tusk made into a fish. Corals too, and colorful rocks, and seashells, larger and more intricate than the ones that washed up on Sirion's beaches. I loved those shells. I wish I still had them; I wish I could give them to our sons. I suppose they are under the sea again, drowned with Beleriand."
He paused to shake away bad memories for good ones and continued, "We'd always build sandcastles when Father was home. He was very good at building them. Mother said he had Idril's gifts."
"Maybe one of our sons will also be an architect, like Idril or Turgon," Celebrían said, and took his mind in hers, as she had his hand. They reached out to their unborn sons, sleeping in darkness, awaiting the light of the world.
Elrond had some of Idril's gifts too. "No," he said, with the knowledge of what the Sight showed him. "They shall love the wild land and delight in traveling through forest and meadow." He paused: there was some vaguer knowledge too. "It will be our daughter who is skilled of hand. If you want…"
"Want what, a daughter?" Celebrían's laugh was as silver as her hair, as bell-like as the falling water. "Let's deal with these two first. But yes, I suppose I will!"
Sight was not always perfect, thought Elrond several years later as he dug a moat in the wet sand. Elladan the budding architect was directing him while also arguing with Elrohir about the plans for the sandcastle, its blueprints drawn in the sand. He felt a light touch on his mind and looked up. Celebrían stood at the garden's edge. She smiled at him and sat down on a bench; Elrond raised himself up and walked over to greet her.
Celebrían caught his hand when he held it out and kissed his palm, before pulling him down to sit alongside her. She passed him a velvet bag.
"Your shells," she murmured.
The bag was heavy, heavier than it would have been if it were filled with actual shells. He dumped the contents on his lap: shells indeed, of various shapes, but made of alabaster and chalcedony and jade and soapstone.
Elrond smiled and found he could not stop.
"How long did it take you to carve these?" he asked. She had kept the project hidden from him.
"On and off over the past half dozen years. The trouble was obtaining the material; they didn't take overlong to carve. I enchanted some of them - hold that conch up to your ear."
Elrond turned the conch over in his hands – it was made of pale green jade, a stone that took well to Song – and did as Celebrían had told him. He laughed when he heard the sound of waves lapping against the shore.
"There," said Celebrían, and snuggled up against him, curling herself into a ball and resting her head on his shoulder. "A little bit of your childhood home, and all the stones I used came from afar, just like those shells your father brought you. Our boys can have such presents too."
He kissed the top of her bright silver head and pulled her closer as they watched their sons build a castle in the sand. Dusk fell and the evening star rose in the sky.
Arwen had dwelt on the coast before, many long years ago, in Lindon with its grey fogs and steel seas where under the clouds the sky was cornflower blue, and in Edhellond, where the waters were aqua and the breezes warm, the beaches a shimmering white, the sands calcium carbonate. It was the work of the Eldar, and in time the white would wash away and be replaced by pale brown sands of quartz.
Dol Amroth's beaches were now a pale brown, though when Arwen had last visited they had been white; she had spent some small time in the harbor when the beaches were still in the care of the Eldar and not its Númenórean princes. But her stay was sweeter now.
"Eldarion," she said, "go tell your uncle to stop tossing your sister around in the waves."
Her son nodded, very serious, and carefully wrapped his book in oilcloth before setting it in his bag; Arwen bit her lip to stop from laughing. Elrohir, she said to her brother with her mind, toss Eldarion in the water too. I don't think he'll start playing without a push.
She did laugh when Elrohir splashed Eldarion and he shouted and sputtered before splashing back, intent on dragging his uncle into the surf, as Tyelperíe threw sand at them both.
Arwen smiled and fell back against the blanket she had laid out earlier in vain hopes of not getting sand in her hair or clothes. The consuming sun was warm on her face; she basked in it, lying there content for long moments and listening to the splashes and shouts as her two oldest children and their uncle attacked each other, but sat up when she felt the approaching presence of her husband. Estel was climbing down the stairs carved into the cliff that surrounded the beach, Elerrille balanced on his hip and Elladan following behind him. Once they had reached the bottom, Estel kicked off his shoes and came to sit beside her, placing Elerrille down in front of them, and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips to kiss.
"Beloved," he said, and that familiar yet ever-new joy arose within her, that awe in her heart that they should be together, and the same awe was in Estel's face too. Then he frowned and reached out to their youngest child, placing a rattle in her chubby fist. "No, Elerrille, don't eat the sand."
Elrohir left the waves to greet Estel, and sat on the edge of the blanket, Elerille between him and Arwen's husband. Elladan, though, walked over to the older two children, still splashing at each other.
"I have a gift for you three," said Elladan very seriously; both Eldarion and Tyelperíe perked to attention and ran to him. Out of a pocket he pulled out a cowrie shell made of onyx, and a conch shell of jade. He placed the cowrie in Eldarion's hand and the conch in Tyelperíe's.
"Your grandmother made these," Elladan said; Arwen's children's eyes went wide. "I have more for you two and your sister, but these are two of my favorites."
"Don't give one to her!" Eldarion cried. "She'd eat it."
They all turned to look at Elerrille, who had given up banging her rattle against the sand and was now trying to fit it in her mouth. Elladan's face went just a touch taut and his lips twitched.
"I'll give it to her when she's older," he said, his voice still admirably serious. "I have a special one for her too."
Tyelperíe's eyes were still wide; she bounced a little in excitement. "These ones are special?"
"They are very special," said Elladan. "They are magic shells."
The children were silent for a moment as they examined their gifts, then Eldarion cried out in excitement.
"Ríe, Ríe!" he said, shoving his shell before her face. "Look! I can see the night sky!"
She stared intently at the black polished surface, and her face lit up too.
"See, here's the Valacirca," said Eldarion, pointing, "and here's Earendil."
"Ooooh," she answered, then looked at the shell in her own hand and pouted. "Mine doesn't have stars. It doesn't even glow," she said, disconsolate. Arwen and Estel looked at each other, amused.
Elladan took her sandy hand in his and raised it to her ear, the opening of the conch against it.
"Listen," he said, and winked.
Tyelperíe bit her lip, intent, and Eldarion looked at her very seriously.
"I can hear singing!" she said to her brother and held the stone to his ear; Eldarion's face grew awed.
Elladan sat down in the surf. "I told you these are special. You know how your mother made many works of beauty and power? Your grandmother was like her. There are special Elven spells she sang into the stone. Eldarion, the cowrie shows you our beloved stars even in the bright sun, and Tyelperíe's conch captures the sound of the sea."
Tyelperíe had raised the shell to her ear again. "I hear voices," she said excitedly, "two of them. They sound like Elves. Do you think one of them is Grandmother?"
Elladan did not answer; Arwen saw him swallow.
"I think it is Grandmother," said Tyelperíe decidedly. She moved the stone away from her ear and studied it for a moment.
"Grandma, Grandma, helllloooo," Tyelperíe shouted into the jade conch, and Arwen felt a pang of that familiar old sorrow.
Estel threw an arm around her and pulled her against his side. Besides them, Elrohir grasped Elerrille's fist and stopped her from throwing her rattle at her parents.
"Elladan wasn't exaggerating," Arwen told Estel softly. "My mother did lay some small enchantments into some of those shells. If you put that conch to your ear you can hear waves, and sometimes sweet voices singing. Perhaps the waves Tyelperíe hears are washing over the jeweled beaches of Valinor and the songs are those that the Falmari sing. And the voices…" She paused. It was a silly thought, but sometimes there was grace in the world. "Perhaps the shell remembers its maker, and can carry her voice across the sea, though the world be crooked."
Estel laid a kiss on her shoulder; Tyelperíe was still shouting into the conch. "Then I hope your mother doesn't have a shell right against her ear. She might go deaf."
On a beach half a day's walk from Alqualonde, Celebrían kicked some diamonds out of her way as she ambled along; the gems glittered as they tumbled into the surf.
"Beloved," said Elrond with a queer look on his face; the sun reflecting off the sea made Vilya's blue stone flare with power for the briefest moment. He tossed her a conch shell. "There's some noise in this. I can't make it out, but I perceive that you might."
Celebrían caught the shell in her hand and studied it for a moment - it was a creamy white but had pale green streaks: unusual, but the color was familiar - and held it to her ear. She gasped, overcome, and quickly pulling it away, just the smallest bit, for the voice coming from the shell was very loud. Tears began to well in her eyes.
"Hello, Tyelperíe!" she shouted back. Let her granddaughter hear how loud it was. "We love you too!"
And though she stood on the far shores of the sundered world and all roads were now crooked, Tyelperíe heard her grandmother's words.
"I love you more!" she yelled into the shell, then said, somewhat more quietly but still quite loud, "Do you want to say hello to everyone else?"
Along the straight road her voice traveled and Celebrían put her hand over her mouth, some overwhelming feeling welling up from her heart.
"Yes," she said. "I want to say hello."
Tyelperíe ran to Arwen and flung herself into her lap, all long limbs and wet hair. "It's Grandmother," she said. "She wants to talk to you," and Arwen spoke, and Eldarion spoke too, and Elerrille gurgled, and on the shores of Elvennesse Elrond and Celebrían met their grandchildren.
[Notes: I gave Arwen's daughters names in Quenya, like Eldarion, in the pattern of the royal family of Gondor and, before that, Númenor.
Tyelperíe – 'silver crown.' Named after Celebrían
Elerrille – 'star radiance'. Named after Gilraen and Idril]