Chapter 44: Of Joy and Pain

A small crowd was gathered before Celebrían's door. Celeborn and Elrond, Erestor as well, though the counselor departed hurriedly before Caladhel and the others reached the far end of the hall.

"How is she?" Caladhel asked, her concern echoed by the eyes of Celebrían's sons.

"She is well," Elrond assured them all. "Istuion is examining her now."

"Why are you not with mother?" Elrohir asked.

A most embarrassed expression spread across Elrond's face and Celeborn was kind enough to spare his son from answering.

"He threw us out," said Celeborn. "All but your grandmother."

"Even you," Caladhel asked of Elrond, "husband and healer?"

Elrond struggled to maintain an air of ease, but his smile was strained, betraying his discomfort. "Istuion claims I become overanxious and unuseful when Celebrían is in pain."

Celeborn clasped his son's shoulder. "It is not so unusual," he assured. "The healers found me a nuisance, too, when Celebrían was born."

Elrond was not so easily comforted, if Caladhel read his expression rightly. Elladan and Elrohir tried their best to affect a somber tone, though it was clear they enjoyed a bit of amusement at their father's lack of control.

"And my father?" Caladhel asked, deflecting the conversation as well as she could away from Elrond. "Was he rendered unuseful as well?"

"Quite the opposite," Celeborn replied. "I do not believe I have ever seen an ellon maintain so level a head in the face of his child's birth. Your aunt was quite envious. Galadriel told me if we ever had a second child she would invite Lostechil to attend me at her bedside."

"I am sure he would have done all in his power to aid you."

"As am I." Celeborn put an arm around his niece. He drew her close and kissed her temple. "I believe Thranduil will prove as reliable when the day comes."

Caladhel bristled uncomfortably at his words, but she forced herself to smile. "We will see," was all the comment she could muster.

Caladhel's moment of unease went unmarked as the sound of boots upon stone drew all eyes to the end of the hall. The sound heralded the arrival of a man. He strode toward the gathered crowd, walking with a proud but noticeably uneven swagger. Tall he was and broad of shoulder with bright eyes and dark hair touched by a few flecks of grey. He held a bottle in his hand.

Caladhel felt rather than saw Roewen's unease at the arrival of this particular guest. The captain drew nearer to her side as the man approached.

"Prince Anardil," Elrond greeted.

"Lord Elrond, I received word your youngest is on the way. I brought a bottle of Gondor's finest to celebrate." He extended the offering, which Elrohir took gladly from his hand. Elrond's younger son had always enjoyed the flavor of Gondor's generosity.

"It will be a few hours yet before it is time to toast the day," said Elrond.

"Well then, I hope you don't mind if your sons and I get an early start."

"Of course he doesn't mind," said Elladan.

"So long as we save him a glass," Elrohir added.

Anardil moved to stand with Elrond's sons. Elladan rested his arm upon the man's shoulder in a brotherly gesture, one that marked the bond of the blood they shared with this distant mortal kin.

"I am surprised you have not given these two a dozen brothers and sisters by now," Anardil quipped, "if, indeed, I've read your love for your wife rightly."

"It is not for lack of us pleading," Elrohir assured him.

"My wife and I have been wed for a mere score years," said Anardil, "and we have half a dozen."

"It does not quite work that way with elves," Celeborn informed him.

"No? I was under the impression it worked the same way."

There was nothing but honest humor in the man's eyes, so far as Caladhel could discern. He had spent some years of his youth in Elrond's house and knew much of elves, but this lesson had clearly not been a part of the man's instruction. Caladhel turned her gaze upon her uncle, who in turn looked to Elrond; clearly believing the burden should fall to him.

It was not the first time Elrond had been called upon to explain such delicate matters, though it was indeed a mite awkward to instruct one now over a hundred years old. "Compared to mortals, a greater portion of our strength is required in the making of children. Thus, both parents must wish to create life in order for a child to be born. Chance plays no part in the matter, as it so often does with men."

Anardil accepted this revelation with a bitter bark of laughter. "One more reason to be jealous of elves!"

The laughter the Prince's comment evoked was cut short when the door to Celebrían's chambers opened and Istuion joined them in the hall.

"My lords, ladies."

"How is she?" Elrond asked.

"All is well. It will be a few hours, still."

"May we see her?" Elrohir asked.

"Of course. She may receive visitors for as long as she wills." The healer turned his attention to Daerel, who had been waiting silently at Roewen's side. "You and I have some preparations to make. If you will excuse us."

Elrond dismissed the healer with a nod and he hurried away down the hall. Daerel followed after, trailing a few steps behind him.

Elrohir handed the bottle off to Anardil. "Don't open this until we return."

"Don't dawdle," the Prince countered.

Caladhel followed Celebrían's sons inside to find their mother, leaving Roewen to guard the hall. Celebrían was seated on her private terrace with her mother looking flushed but in no great discomfort. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of her sons.

Elrohir took a seat at his mother's side, worry alight in his eyes. "How are you feeling?"

She laid her hands on her stomach. "Eager to have this one join us."

"We are impatient as well," said Elladan.

Elrohir rapped his knuckles gently on his mother's belly. "You hear that in there? Your brothers are anxious to hold you. It is rude to keep us waiting."

"You will hold her soon enough," Celebrían assured him.

"Not before me, he won't," said Elladan.

"Says who?" Elrohir countered

"Says me. I am the elder brother."

"By five minutes."

"Then we are agreed."

"We are by no means agreed," said Elrohir.

Both ellyn looked to their mother who promptly shook her head.

"Don't look to me. You are grown ellyn. Decide the matter for yourselves."

The brothers pondered one another a moment before Elrohir spoke. "A contest then."

"Of what sort? I am better than you with a bow, and your skill with a blade is greater."

"Hand-to-hand it is!" Elrohir declared. "The first to pin the other will be the victor and the prize will be to hold our sister first."

Elladan was visibly displeased with his brother's proposal if his scowl was any measure. "And who will stand as judge?" he asked.

"Anardil, of course."

"Very well," he agreed, begrudgingly.

Elladan kissed his mother's cheek and Elrohir did as well before he rose. "We will return later to greet our little sister," Elrohir said and with a nod to their father they both were off.

They all heard Anardil grumble in the hall for being told their celebration had been put on hold till the contest was won. Celebrían shook her head at her sons through the door.

"You told them to decide on their own," said Elrond.

"So I did."

"Who do you suppose will win?" asked Caladhel.

Neither Celebrían nor Elrond answered her question. It was Celeborn who said, "Elrohir will win."

"You sound sure," said Caladhel.

"He is better than his brother at hand-to-hand. Elladan knows this, he simply refuses to admit it."

"Then why did he agree to the contest?"

"Stubbornness, I should think." Celeborn replied. "Elrohir knew his brother would not refuse the challenge. That is why he made it."

"Clever of him," Caladhel conceded.

"You are too kind," said Elrond. "Others would call him calculating." Here the Lord of Imladris sighed and creases formed upon his brow. "Elrohir might be the younger brother, but his will has always held more sway. He reminds me of my own brother in that way. Elros was always deciding for the both of us."

Caladhel was surprised by the tenor with which Elrond appraised his son, and also at the mention of his brother. She had not heard Elrond speak of his sibling before and by the strained look in his eyes, she suspected to do so pained him greatly.

"Is that so terrible a thing?" she asked.

Elrond shook his head, clearing his mind of old memories. "Merely an observation."

Celebrían reached out and took hold of her husband's hand to comfort him. "Elladan does not always fall prey to his brother's will, despite this latest victory."

"I can only hope he will continue in that fashion," said Elrond. "Elrohir requires restraining at times."

"They are still very young," Galadriel assured him, "still learning themselves. They will each grow into their own with time, as all children do. Your brother did not make every decision for you. You would not be here now if he had."

Elrond had no time to ponder Galadriel's wisdom for his attention was drawn to his wife by her sharp intake of breath. She closed her eyes and clamped down hard on his hand as her body did what it was meant to.

"What can I do for you?" he asked when her grip eased.

"Nothing yet. The contractions are mild and there is much time in between them. There is no need to hover. Go about your day."

"I am unlikely to accomplish anything else with you in such a state."

"Mother is going to help me with a bath. Why don't you seek out some quiet yourself for an hour or two and return with your harp? I would love it if you played for me."

"I could have Lindir come play for you if you have want for music. You know I am not very talented."

"But I want you to play for me, for both of us." The last she stressed by placing his own hand over her stomach.

Elrond conceded, for there was nothing he would not do for his wife today. "As you wish," he said and kissed her before bidding the others farewell with a nod.

"You as well," said Galadriel to Celeborn. "Off with you. See that your grandsons and Prince Anardil avoid mischief."

"I can but promise to try," the Lord said. He kissed his wife's cheek before departing.

Galadriel hurried off to call the servants for food and to check the readiness of her daughter's bath. Caladhel took the seat Elrond had vacated. She wondered at her cousin's state and something else that puzzled her since he mentioned it.

"I had no idea Elrond played the harp."

Laughter lit Celebrían's eyes. "Nor did I, until I found one stored away in his study – a work of art wrapped in linen and hidden away from sight. He has only played for me a few times and did so for the boys when they were young. He knows a few songs fairly well but would require more practice to be considered a musician of Lindir's skill."

"Surely he could find some time to practice if he so desired."

"If he desired. But I think to play brings back old memories from his youth, some he would prefer to forget."

"If that is the case, then why did you ask him to play tonight?"

"Because it brings him joy as well. He loved playing for our sons when they were young, as he will for this one. And I know he wants to remember, else he would not have kept the harp."

Galadriel returned with news that Celebrían's bath was waiting.

"Will you attend me for the birth?" Celebrían asked her cousin, who helped her to rise awkwardly from her seat.

Caladhel was made a bit nervous by her question. She had never attended a birth before, not in all her many years. She doubted she would be of much aid to Celebrían, but would not deny her cousin's request.

"If you wish."

Galadriel took her daughter's arm from Caladhel and helped her to her bath. Caladhel was left to straighten the pillows and assist the servants in setting out their evening meal.


Celebrían had her bath and after they shared a light meal. Caladhel found herself too anxious to consume much. After the food was cleared away, Galadriel encouraged her daughter to walk around the room to aid the child's descent. Caladhel found a book of poetry she knew to be one of her cousin's favorites. She began reading aloud to keep her cousin's mind fixed on something other than the waves of pain that came upon her at ever-shorter intervals.

Elrond appeared two hours later, apologizing for his late return. It seemed many in Rivendell sought to wish their lord and lady good fortune and Elrond found it difficult to escape them. He arrived with a bundle wrapped in linen carried under his arm. The harp was, as Celebrían had claimed, a work of art, the wood inlaid with gold and silver adornments in ancient Noldorin design.

Elrond played awhile seated at his wife's side, pleasant, simple tunes in a style Caladhel did not recognize. While clearly not a master, he played the pieces he knew well. The music soothed Celebrían, easing some of her pain but seemed to have the opposite effect on Celebrían's mother. Galadriel wandered out onto the terrace and Caladhel followed, thinking to give Celebrían and her husband a little privacy. Her aunt was staring out across the valley. The waters of the many falls were lit by the moon and stars. And so, too, were Galadriel's unshed tears. Caladhel knew not their cause.

"His playing isn't so terrible, is it?"

Galadriel drew a silk handkerchief from a hidden pocket of her dress and dried her eyes. "Quite the contrary. He remembers them well. I had forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"Those songs. Maglor wrote them for us, in Valinor, when we were children. My brothers and I were always pestering him to play for us. When Finrod decided he wished to learn the harp, he asked our cousin for lessons. Maglor taught my brother, too, with those songs."

Caladhel had no words of comfort to offer her aunt. The truth was she knew not what to say or whether it proper to ask the right cause of her tears. The memory of her lost brothers surely saddened her. But did she mourn also for the memory of Maglor, as he was before his fall? Did Elrond? It seemed to Caladhel that both Elrond and Galadriel might rightly mourn a soul who brought them joy. Regardless of what pain he brought them after.

Caladhel rested her head on her aunt's shoulder and wrapped her arms around Galadriel's right in a loving embrace. Galadriel said nothing, but acknowledged Caladhel by setting a hand upon hers. They stayed that way for a time pondering the stars, but their peace was ended by a sudden cry that halted the harper mid chord.

Galadriel broke away from her niece to check on her daughter. Caladhel followed after to find Celebrían clutching her husband's hand tightly. He encouraged her to breathe through the wave of pain. His eyes rose to Galadriel's at their return.

"They are close in time now, and getting stronger. I think it time we summon Istuion."

"I will fetch him," said Caladhel.

She was out the door a few seconds later. Roewen sat in the hall as she had now for hours. Caladhel told her she could go, but the warden would not hear of it. She followed her queen as the elleth hurried down the hall. Caladhel had no need to go very far. Istuion and Daerel were on their way, laden with what supplies the healer might need. Caladhel informed Istuion of Celebrían's progress and all four picked up their pace as they returned to the Lady's door.

Caladhel forced herself to maintain an air of calm as they walked, but Daerel was not fully fooled. She knew her queen more than well enough to detect the tension in her eyes.

"All will be well, my queen. Children are born every day."

Caladhel found it strange to be comforted by one so young. "You are right, of course. But she is like a sister. It is hard to see her in pain."

"The pain is necessary for the child to be born, but it is temporary. And she has done this before. The pain is no surprise to her."

Caladhel hooked her arm in Daerel's as they walked. "I am glad I have you here to comfort me."

"It is not my first birth. I have attended three before today."

"Three more than me."

Daerel blushed with a mixture of embarrassment and unlooked for pride. It was not every day she possessed more wisdom than her queen. "I will take as much experience as I can gather. I hope to welcome a prince or princess into this world some day."

Caladhel's heart clenched with pain and joy all at once at Daerel's decree. "I should be grateful to have you at my side when that day comes."

Celebrían's labor progressed faster than her first, which Caladhel learned from Daerel was often the case, but not always. Elrond aided his wife, helping her to walk and bracing her while she squeezed his arms as each contraction rocked her. Caladhel noted the worry in Elrond's eyes when Istuion told her it was time. They stood in stark contrast to Celebrían's focused calm.

Galadriel dipped hand towels in cool water, which she used to wipe the beads perspiration from her daughter's face. Elrond held his wife to aid her balance as she pushed. Istuion monitored the child's progress with Daerel's silent assistance. Caladhel had naught to do but observe her cousin. Before today she would never have thought to describe her dear, sweet Celebrían as strong or brave. But today…

It was so fast she nearly missed it, so focused she was on her cousin's face. Istuion held the child and a few seconds later a cry pierced the air.

"A girl," he declared, laying the child on Celebrían's shoulder.

"I knew," she said her eyes fixed upon the child's face.

Elrond cradled them both, kissing his wife's cheek and the babe atop her head. "Of course you did."


Caladhel was asked to make the announcement. There was a small crowd waiting in the hall and all gathered cheered at the news of Lady Arwen. Elrohir and Elladan were eager to meet her. Caladhel informed them of the need to wait a little longer. Their mother was not quite ready for visitors. They waited in the hall together along with Celeborn and Erestor, Gondor's prince, and Roewen, who awaited her queen.

Those gathered talked amongst themselves for a while, for it was more than an hour before the door opened again and Istuion stepped out into the hall. Daerel followed after him, carrying baskets. Istuion warned Elrond's sons and the others not to pester Lady Celebrían long. Elrohir and Elladan nodded at his words but flew past him once he stepped aside.

Caladhel followed after with her uncle to find Elrohir already seated beside his mother, clutching her hand. "You look dreadful!" he declared.

Elladan slapped his brother in the back of his head. "She just gave birth to our sister, you dolt."

Elrohir looked upon his mother apologetically but Celebrían merely laughed and shook her head. "Well then, which of you is to hold her first?"

Elrohir stretched out his hands. "Hand her here." Elrond lifted the baby from her mother's arms and laid her in her brother's. Elrohir stared down into Arwen's sleeping face with marked disappointment. "Asleep already, sister? I believe mother is the one who requires a nap."

"She suffered a bit of an ordeal, herself, I should think," Elladan said. He took a seat beside his brother and after a few minutes Elrohir passed the child to him.

"We will teach you many things, little sister. Fencing and archery and how to make Erestor turn that special shade of red."

"So much wisdom to impart," Elrohir echoed wistfully.

"That is enough, you two," said Elrond. "Your mother needs rest. Your sister, as well. Return tomorrow. We will share dinner together."

Elrond lifted Arwen from his son's arms and turned to Celeborn. "Would you like to hold her next?"

"Of course." The Lord of Lórien held his granddaughter with practiced ease. Galadriel stood at his side admiring Arwen's tiny face and hands and the dark feathering of hair that framed her face.

Celeborn handed the child off to his wife after a few minutes before bidding his son and daughter a congratulations and a good night. Celebrían ordered her husband to his own room to rest, assuring him that her mother and Caladhel could tend her and Arwen for the remainder of the night. He was reluctant to go, but Celebrían brooked no argument. Elrond kissed her goodnight and so, too, his daughter before he departed.

Galadriel blew out the candles nearest Celebrían's bed before seating herself beside her daughter. "You should try to sleep if you can before she wakes to feed."

Celebrían nodded before turning her gaze to Caladhel for the first time. "You have not held her yet. Take her a few minutes while I sleep."

Galadriel beckoned her niece near and laid Arwen in Caladhel's arms. She could not recall the last time she held a child so young. Not since Rumil, to be sure, and even he had been a few days old. Caladhel adjusted the child in her arms and when she returned her gaze to Celebrían her eyes were already closed from exhaustion. Sleep claimed her fast.

Caladhel wandered out onto the terrace where the light of the lamps and stars were brighter. She took a seat on her favorite chair and rocked the child slowly back and forth humming a circular, rhythmic tune – a childhood memory. The night air was cool upon her skin but Arwen was swaddled in a warm blanket, hand-made by her grandmother. Caladhel's fingers traced her tiny ears and nose and the curve of her round little cheek. Little Arwen, such a beautiful thing…

Caladhel could not say how long she sat there weeping. The wave of tears overcame her and with her gaze transfixed on Arwen's sweet face, she had no will to stop them flowing.

Caladhel felt rather than saw her aunt appear on the terrace – a presence floating in the shadows behind her. She made no sound to betray her tears, but continued humming to the sleeping babe, hoping her aunt would go away. She was not so fortunate. Galadriel came to sit beside her. Caladhel could feel the weight of her aunt's gaze, silent and contemplative. She was certain Galadriel was wise enough to discern tears of joy from those of pain.

"Will you tell me what is wrong?"

"Nothing," Caladhel said.

"Why should nothing bring you to tears?"

Caladhel remained silent. She had not the words to explain. "She is so beautiful," she finally said.

Galadriel's gaze fell to babe in her niece's arms. "She is. I believe she will walk in the likeness of Lúthien."

"Is that what you have seen?"

"Only with my heart." Galadriel's gaze abandoned the child to alight on her niece's face. "Will you tell me why your heart should be so heavy tonight?

Caladhel remained silent. But Galadriel would not relent. It was obvious her niece was in pain.

"It is clear that something troubles you. You have been uneasy since you arrived, short of temper, with a melancholy heart. Your uncle has noticed, too."

There was a long silence before Caladhel found the words to voice the pain threatening to consume her heart. "I fear the vision you had will never come to pass."

"Why should you fear such a thing?"

"Because to create life requires both our wills."

"And Thranduil is not ready."

"So he says, time and again."

"You have been wed only a little over a hundred years. You have forever."

"Perhaps."

"Do you have cause to doubt him?"

Caladhel pondered the question for a time. It was not so very easy to answer. "I do not doubt his love for me. I only fear he fears himself too much, this curse he long believed lay upon him. He believes it still, at least partly. He fears he might somehow pass on that mark of darkness to our children."

"Has he said this?"

"He does not have to. I know him well."

Galadriel contemplated her niece's words for a time before she said, "I have seen no darkness in the child's eyes. Have you told him that?"

"I have not told him of your vision."

"Why not?"

"He does not trust such things. And I do not want him to believe wrongly that hope born from a vision caused me to love him."

"You should speak to him of your concerns."

"I do not wish to hurt him. Even after all this time, there are days when he questions how it is I could love him at all."

Galadriel wished she could impart greater wisdom, but she had none. All she had was this… "Then give him time. As I said, you have forever. It was more than 1,500 years before Celeborn and I had Celebrían."

Caladhel thought on her aunt's wisdom and as she did so her eyes cleared. The last of her tears fell away as the first rays of sunlight heralded the morning. A new dawn on the brink of eternity.