Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings, Elrond, and Celebrian are not mine. Neither is Valinor, or any other reference included in this story. No profit was made from the writing of this.
A/N: Thank you again to the two of you who reviewed last chapter, Mithrilel and sonotalady. I do so love hearing from you all, even if it's just a simple "I liked it!" And speaking of which, I hope you all enjoy this new vignette!
Note: This vignette is a response and reflection to one of my previous vignettes in this series: "Spark." Although chronologically speaking I believe "Ember" comes before "Spark," the two are interchangeable. Although you most certainly do not have to, I would recommend you go back and reread "Spark" at some point, either before or after reading "Ember."
The idea for this type of reflection was given to me by the wonderful Mithrilel.
~Ember~
He had missed her. Oh, how he had missed her.
He had missed her laughter, her warmth, her light – the feel of her hands in his. He had missed her voice, and her breath, and her dancing blue eyes. He had even missed the way her hair would tangle if she stood out in the wind, and the long hours he then spent carefully brushing out those tangles and impossible knots – he insisted on doing so for Celebrían had very little patience for such things, and would resort to simply tugging after only a few minutes.
But then her laughter had fled, leaving her cold and empty and bereft of warmth and light. Her eyes went dead, haunted by the horrors she had seen, and her hair tangled, not from dancing in the wind, but from hopeless thrashing among soaked bed sheets. He had still spent hours carefully brushing and combing her hair, but the curtains were always drawn, shutting out the night, and if he pulled too hard she would cry out and cringe beneath his hands.
Elrond shut his eyes quickly, seeking to block the memory from his mind. He breathed deeply, quelling the frantic beating of his heart, and sought frantically to push away his mounting terror. What if this is all just a dream? Will I open my eyes and see her standing before me, broken and dim – a porcelain doll made of shadow and fear? Or will she not be there at all – only cold emptiness in a darkened room, only a phantom of my hope?
A soft, warm hand touched his elbow. "Elrond?" a sweet voice asked, concern coloring the light tone a dark purple. "My Love, are you well?"
He opened his eyes.
And there, standing before him, was Celebrían, her blue eyes dark and her silver hair gleaming in the golden light spilling from the hearth. She seemed to burn in the light, golden and bright as the flames themselves. Gone were the shadows beneath her skin, lodged dark and sinister in her heart. Gone was the bitter ice of her eyes that mirrored dark nights and darker winters. Now…now she burned like an ember, dark and brilliant all at once, yet full of warmth and joy.
She reached up to touch his face, her long fingers caressing his cheek lovingly as she searched his gaze for some hint as to what troubled him.
Tentatively, almost fearfully, Elrond lifted a hand, and trailed a fingertip along Celebrían's chin. She did not disappear – did not turn to ash or dust before him, as she had so many times on those long, sleepless nights when he had prayed, begged for a simple glimpse, a single touch…
She smiled and leaned into his touch, before turning her head to leave a feather-light kiss on his finger. "I am here, Love," she whispered. "I am here, and I am going nowhere. I will never abandon you again. I promise."
"Celebrían…" he begged, voice a hoarse whisper.
Rising up onto her toes, Celebrían sealed the promise in the only way she knew – with a kiss. Elrond, after a heartbeat of hesitation, kissed her in return.
And then he gathered Celebrían to him in a desperate embrace, and bowing his head, he began to weep.