I am terribly sorry for the long sabatical I took between chapters. At least it gave some of you time to catch up, hopefully you have not given up on the story of Celebrin. I realize that the last chapters wasn't exactly connected to the main arc of the storyline, this next chatper hopefully, while it still ends in mystery, will keep all of you intrigued in this sub story enough to see it to fruitition.
This is a long chapter, but it will bea while before Ireturn to this substory.
As the ferry bearing her husband drifted away towards the shore of Forlindon the lady of Imladris sighed and turned from the harbor, lit by the glow of the sun peaking over the Ered Luin behind her. She felt cold then, an odd thing for any elf…perhaps it was the sea song that her mother had warned her about, yet it felt similar to the moment she first met her husband, as though she was reliving a dream that was shrouded in mist…
"Does the weather not suit you milady?"
As she turned she saw the lightly robed Lord of Mithlond sitting upon a rock holding what looked like rope in his hands; sweat dotted his brow as though he had been working all night long, for his hair which was once tightly braided now lay in ruins and his beard was gray with dirt. He stood from where he sat and comfortingly placed his cloak around her shoulders and she replied as he escorted her from the harbor up a cascade of gray-stone steps,
"It is nothing Lord Cirdan, I was…just enjoying the sunrise…"
"Normally people looking Westward wish to enjoy the sunsets…but then again I have never been a good judge of beauty…"
"Hir Cirdan…I wish to apologize for…"
"Do not say so Lady Celebrian, it is right that your husband goes to Forlindon to speak with Cullofea, I would not have accepted his help if he only went on my word alone."
"It isn't that…Celebrin is not in Imladris, nor is he in Lorien with my brother…he"
"Left into the unknown East… I have known for quite sometime, Curunir, now called Saruman, had returned from the East in the middle of summer, he sent me word of what had happened…albeit not the entirety of the truth, but I have surmised the rest…"
"You do not think him dead?"
Silence fell upon the ancient Shipwright as they reached the level of the great hall, which let out bell rings that echoed through the entire port. Mariners came from their lodgings surrounding the coast; they winded their way down crooked pathways and lamp lit causeways; and from the harbor left the forms of more elves, returning home from work upon the harbor and the ships. The Shipwright looked out into the scene before him and smiled, though not one of joy, rather it bore a sadness within it that was revealed in his voice, a hopelessness long thought over,
" When Celebrin first arrived here upon this broken shore, he desired to leave with your father and mother quickly, without regard for me or his foster-mother. Yet here he remained, begrudging me the years I had lost in my estrangement with his father. And in his life here, he helped to build almost everything you see before you. This Hall he designed for me, these steps he helped to lay, these trees he helped to bring to long age…and those elves, some he trained from youth and others he was trained by, he was raised by this city, even as he raised it. Just as the heart lives on two chambers so too does this city vibrate with the souls of two people…his and mine. This city would falter, and these shores would cry…Hope remains my lady, for him…because that is all we who love him still have…"
And the day passed on, and the two spoke in the privacy of Cirdan's dwellings, mostly of the very elf who knelt over the body of a mortal woman, beseeching the fires of her soul to reawaken as drums began to beat in the distance, drums foretelling doom…
And in the land of Mithlond, as night fell over the Harbor, and elves left the shores for meals in their dwellings by the sea, a cloaked figure entered the lodgings of Cirdan's guests, and stood over the sleeping form of the Lady of Imladris. He crept to where a bowl remained for washing and as he dipped his hands into the cold water; as he did so the form of the she-elf spoke, and sat up gently from her resting place.
"Why do you come so late husband? Have you eaten?"
To which the figure responded in a low whisper,
"Yes I have, thank you…the business took longer than expected."
"Why do you whisper? The children are sleeping in other quarters tonight far from us…"
The cloaked figure sat upon a lonely chair and removed his boots and cloak, which were dirty and soaked from the day. With a silent moan he massaged his neck and held his head in his hands. Worried his wife walked over to where he sat and, having knelt at his feet brought his eyes to match her own,
"What happened?"
"When I first arrived Cullofea greeted me warmly, as though nothing in the world was wrong, yet… the first thing we spoke of after our greeting was my visit with Cirdan. He knows what Cirdan knows, and what is more he admits to it…"
"I do not understand…"
"He intends to take over Noldorin lands Celebrian, and for my part…I agree with him."
"What?"
"Cirdan is a dear friend to me Celebrian. Yet Cullofea says things are not as the Shipwright tells them…He knows of the growth of darkness in the North, the one we in Imladris have been hearing rumors of through the men of Eriador, and the Dwarves of Khazad-dum and Erebor. Every day elves enter Lindon seeking respite from this and everyday his realm swells with Noldor seeking refuge…they long for a king Celebrian…"
"But… Him!"
"You do not know him as I do! He is kinder than he looks and has never once lied to me, or to Erenion… Where do our people turn if not to him… in uncertain times, do not many send their hope upon one, a king, a captain…and even a despot? How else can one explain the blind faith of the Noldor under Feanor, or how Morgoth ruled thousands of men,or how many flocked to my side after Erenion's death in that last battle…Cullofea could be a great leader of our people."
"It is not his bravery you speak of but your own weakness…your own fear…you too could be a mighty prince! Imagine how alive the shores of this land would become…filled with your people from Rivendell and others who would follow you!"
"I left that title prince a long time ago Celebrian! Have you now regained hope of becoming a queen! Have your plans for our advantageous marriage at long last come true!"
With that the eyes of the Lady of Imladris filled with a white fire that burned in rage beneath them, and she rose from where she knelt lovingly at her husband's feet. And with her hand struck him across his worn face. A small bruise grew on his cheek in the form of her golden wedding band, which glimmered in the firelight. She turned on her heels and as she was about to walk out of the room she look straight at him in his eyes and said,
"I loved you, the moment I laid eyes on you when you were nothing but a herald. I loved you, when you were a captain. And I loved you…when you were covered in soot, and motor, ten years ago…when you built me a study overlooking the Bruinen. If you fear to become greater than you are, it is not because I wish greatness upon you for me…but because everyone can see it in you…and you fear what they know to be within."
Into the night she left, and Elrond would have stood at that moment if it had not been for the glint of some strange jewel that had fallen to the floor. It was a small round gemstone, that shimmered blue in the night sky and in the darkness the Lord of Imladris could see a large crack within it…it had been mended. He felt as though his heart was filling with a strange sun-born fire, and the heat of an anger he had never know filled his breast…Never before had he felt jealousy and yet…as soon as the pangs had come they subsided…for in the distance he heard the faint sounds of crying…and walking to the doorway of their lodgings he saw his wife crying, leaning upon a statue of some unknown elf maiden caught in a living motion of a dance. She bore a wreath of willow upon her head and her hands seemed to still move in the wavering moonlight. Before he could say anything slowly approaching her, she spoke, at first in a whisper…
"I would still love you, if we returned to Imladris now, forsaking the title Cullofea wishes to take from you…But I would not forgive you…for a very long time…And it is not because, as you suspect that I have the desire to rule as a queen…It is because you leaving behind what Erenion left for you, would mean you wish to forget a moment in your life that was filled with sorrow…but also one in which you came back from the War…back to me. I have lost one good friend in his desire to forget his past…I will not loose you to it also…"
And with a tight embrace Elrond held his wife there by the sea…and in his mind he had decided what he needed to do…
The next day came and went, as the family of Elrond was taken around the city of Mithlond by that very same youth who had delivered Cirdan's ship logs. Galdor, as he was called by most who met him, though he was neither lord nor prosperous, but a page of sorts, following often in the train of Cirdan, following him with too close an eye as the young daughter of Elrond had at first thought. Elrohir and Elladan took to him rather well, and often ruffled him up with many of the tricks Erestor had grown far too wary of. On the day before their stay would come to an end, Cirdan himself showed them a sight he had reserved for when he was not busy. He led them through a long stretching pathway that went through a rather busy market place, passed a small fountain that was in the form of an elf playing a flute, from where the water spouted out into a silver-gray basin. Celebrian in that brief passing moment thought she had seen the face before, many times in her youth, though the eyes of the one she thought it looked like resembled another. Then they ascended steps which cut across a very steep hill, that one could tell had once been the foot of a large mountain. Even as they reached the zenith they still did not know what they were to expect until they stood upon a platform that had stairs descending the sheer cliff side down towards the crashing waves far below.
Down those stairs they went until they stopped at the base of the stairs, which was on a platform of gray cut stone. Before them stood an immense edifice cut into the sheer gray stone cliff. Columns wound up from the platform that jutted out toward the west behind them; up they rose until they became blended again with the craggy rock above. Between each column stood large arched doors, each one bearing an image upon its vast surface and above each the names of the places it was depicting. The furthest to the North was made of a light colored wood and bore an engraved scene depicting what appeared to be a city upon the shore, with a large sloping beach before it and in the distance an almost mountain-like tower above it, in bronze cirth it read "Brithombar of old, Fallen in fire and war". Next to it was a door of darker wood that was bordered with shimmering elvish silver; upon it was engraved an image of a large mountain surrounded by a large forest. In the midst of the mountain was a gate, both large and ornate it seemed to be an actual entrance to a forgotten kingdom, a kingdom beneath the mountain, above it in deep silver cirth "Menegroth, Fallen never by the hands of the Enemy". In her mind Celebrian knew Celebrin wrote those words himself, who else would subtly remind the Noldor in Mithlond of the Kin slayings. Beside it stood a door of the darkest wood, and upon it was born another ocean side city, though it stood without a sloping beach, instead it was surrounded by rocky hills and it seemed to be larger than Brithombar in size, for it had two towers that reached high toward the silver stars that were above it, studs of opals and pearls embedded into the wood, above it read in silver, "Eglarest, the Ancient Haven, long now it stands beneath the Sea". And the last, facing south, was a door of elegant shimmering wood, though the image carved into it was less detailed and less realistic than the others. Though one could not mistake its image, and needed not words in shimmering gold stating "Gondolin, Last of the Mighty Kingdoms in Beleriand". Surrounding it were the most magnificent jewels anyone had laid eyes upon, for they shimmered though the sun was blocked by the cliff before them, and some changed into different rich hues as the onlookers changed the angle of their gazing. In silence they gazed upon it and would not speak a word; silently and with the sense that he was teaching them a great lesson Cirdan spoke with the sea spread out behind him.
"This, as I promised is the Library of Mithlond…within it are housed four thousand, seven-hundred and thirteen maps, atlases, and ship logs. One thousand, two hundred and seventy-nine books of poems and songs- most of which are from Nogothrond and Gondolin. And lastly three thousand, five-hundred and two histories from every major city in Beleriand…though most I admit, are missing large fractions of volumes…specifically those from Doriath…and Gondolin."
His voice seemed to have trailed as he said the last end of it, awe was worn upon the faces of Elrond and Celebrian and their children, specifically the young Arwen who walked up to the dark doors in the middle and raised her hand to the bottom of the etching of Doriath, and her hand lay upon a still detailed etching of a she-elf, dancing beneath the silver moon above her, and in the bushes she saw the face of a forlorn man, watching, enraptured. When they entered, they were greeted by a rough looking elf who- despite his grace- had one leg; his face was stern as though he had lived a long military career. In appearance he looked like a Sinda, for in his face were the same roughly cut traits Celeborn and Uial shared as members of the same ancient land. Lamps and hidden windows illuminated the dark caverns of the library; light cascaded from the high curved ceiling, in which was embedded silver stars that glowed like the ancient lamps of the Noldor, still used to some extent in Imladris and Lorien. There were hung large tapestries and paintings of events from the first two ages of the world, each one as detailed as the doorways. Sounds of music emanated from three mezzanines that encircled the inner structure; the sound of teachers could be heard as well as the gentle shifting of looms being worked in the far distance. While his family stood at the sight of the voluminous library Elrond walked over to the smiling shipwright and in a voice filled with wonder and awe said
"How…this must have taken you…centuries…How?"
"I hid many things from you and other lords of the elven kind…I remember Erenion, when he was a boy telling tales of the vast libraries in Valinor. I always found it odd that those who need not remember would write their histories on paper that would decay after many centuries then in a dream one night this came to me and well, I had to build it, no one knew about it except Celebrin and a few select captains who leant me their crew men to build it. Am I correct that you are adding on to Imladris as we speak?"
"Y…yes we are…but only lodging spaces…"
To this the ancient lord smirked as he motioned them to follow him to an adjacent corridor much like the first only it was filled with elves pouring over immense pieces of parchment that bore on them sketches of boats. Each elf bowed their head as Elrond and his family passed, the twins became enthralled by one drawing of a ship that had a swan head at its prow and seemed to sail in the slight breeze that entered from narrow passages in the rock face, which allowed slender light to filter in.
They came to two large doors that were simple in form, save for a slight green border that wound its way around two trees carved into the door, one silver and one gold, their limbs grew out of the doors and beyond the doorframe, stretching out onto the very walls of the chamber. The shipwright stopped only a few feet from the door and spoke to them as though he were speaking to a guard of sorts; the debate between him and the doors went on for a few more seconds until finally a faint unbolting of doors was heard in the room. The elves, who at the time were watching the guests from Imladris intently, busied themselves again with their charts and ship sketches- or at least tried to appear busy. The trees engraved upon the doors moved, and the limbs that reached onto the walls shifted and receded back onto the doors from which they came, as though they were the guardians of the chamber that lay behind them.
Then the gates were pushed open from the inside by two stern looking guards wearing armor of gold and regal blue, one bore a banner embroidered with a seven pointed star, these were, as best to Elrond's recollection the guards of Erenion, but they had disbanded when Gil-galad died…didn't they? Behind them lay an empty chamber, gray and simple, devoid of tapestries or paintings, except for three boxes, which lay upon the floor. They were each of equal length, width and height and were simple, though perfectly crafted in their structure and making. They seemed solid, without entrance or exit, yet they were seemingly trunks meant to carry something of great weight and volume. Nothing was marked upon their surface except for one phrase etched upon all three: amen apsene, as well as three individual emblems. For the center trunk it was clear that the seal of Erenion and the House of Finwe was etched in the center, the other two were more cryptic, for neither had been seen upon the world in so many years. One was an eagle in flight bearing red flowers in its mouth and holding the star of Feanor and his sons. The second was a harp black as night with seven strings and on both sides of it lay two rivers one greater than the other.
Elrond alone went toward the chests and ran his fingers over the crests and the words etched into the thick wood. He was followed by Cirdan and Celebrian, then Elladan and Elrohir after, Arwen however stayed apart and looked onward with an expression of wonder and fear upon her face, gently running her fingers over her pendent she wore around her neck at all times. At first nothing was said and no sound could be heard except for the murmurings of the workers in the other chamber, muted by the doors, which had closed after their entry. The Shipwright was the first to break the silence as he went to a table in the corner of the empty room that had several cups and a simple pitcher of water upon it, he poured himself a glass and having drunken it said in a low yet audible voice,
"These we found, oddly enough, in the private quarters of Gil-galad, but they were not among his effects or belongings, rather they were in the wall…Yes a wall… you see Helkatil in all his eagerness to build a library of his own began to turn the old palace into a grand building to house his burgeoning collection of books and gifts brought from the Lands of Arnor, Gondor, and Moria. When the walls proved to be an annoyance he toppled them and my workmen, whom he had loaned, found these hidden away in the mortar and solid stone. They brought them to me, thinking perhaps I had placed them there, since I had built the palace as a gift for Erenion…As you cal tell I did not place them there. Their use and meanings are beyond what I can fathom, the middle one obviously belongs to Erenion, but what he wishes forgiveness for I cannot know, the other two however…"
"Maglor and Maedhros."
The others looked toward the door where the dark-haired daughter of Elrond stood clutching a book she had taken from the shelves of the library she had come from. She stared at the chests intently, and it seemed then that she had departed from the land and earth they stood upon, her voice became deep and filled with a wisdom few possessed in the world,
"The first is an eagle, a king among the others, with red flowers telling of the adornment of the king…and he bears the star of Feanor with one talon, the other has been cleaved…it is Maedhros's chest. The other is a black harp, black as the hair of Maglor and the harp a symbol of his defining trait. The two rivers, one greater the other lesser, are the rivers Gelion that bordered the Gap which Maglor protected in Beleriand."
Elrohir looked upon the chests and then his sister as though he were looking upon one whose wisdom outreached his own. He walked toward her and having called her name he touched her upon the shoulder; tears began to flow from her eyes and she covered her face as he wrapped his arms around her. Elrond looked to Cirdan who seemed to ponder this new occurance with new eyes, and who muttered something under his breath; Celebrian looked between her husband and her daughter and at last broke the silence when the tears of Arwen had ceased and all had settled,
"These cannot be their chests, those must be at the bottom of the sea or taken over to the undying lands when the Noldor were allowed to return."
To which the Shipwright replied,
"The last sons of Feanor and their belongings have disappeared into the unknown west or into the shadows…these however, as your daughter surmised correctly, are not their belongings but those of others, from whom they ask forgiveness. Obviously your daughter was more sensitive to the guilt and sorrow laden upon them, written in their very boards…that is why you were moved to tears is it not?"
The young elleth nodded and took the cup of water her brother Elladan handed her with trembling hands, Elrond furrowed his brow and sat upon one of the chests running over the tengwar carved by a knife that read Amen Apsene and he wondered what was behind them.
It was at that moment that an elf and a man raced into the tent of a dying woman and for a brief moment the elf stopped and smelled in the air a fragrance he had not smelled in years, when last he stood upon the shores of Lebennin.
amen apsene- hopefully my quenya was alright when i tried this translation, it is supposed to read "forgive us" if it doesn't please feel free to correct me.