The bell for the mid-day meal rang. Celebriel dropped the cloak she held and realized she had not given herself time to change—an ironclad rule that Celebrian insisted upon. "No unsuitable clothing when you come to meals. You wear a decent gown, and your hair brushed and braided."
"Even mother did not impose that on me, sister," she said out loud as she folded the cloak and replaced it back in the coffer. "I will not go hungry just because you think I would disgrace your table." She knew a better place to seek a meal.
She slipped down the stairs unnoticed and sought the kitchens. Here, she knew, the cooks kept back as good as they sent out. She would not be turned away, in spite of the fact that she was the sister of the Lady Celebrian. She had learned to seek refuge in kitchens long ago, enjoying the company of those who treated her as simply Celebriel, and not a princess of the Noldor.
Servers were coming and going, bearing the roasts, breads, and other staples found at Elrond's table. The smell of roast venison was making her hungry and she longed for a tankard of wine.
"Look where the miscreant has sought refuge," one of the elves said, "Are you in disgrace and barred from Master Elrond's table?" He began to fill a plate, heaping it with food and handed it to her. "You are in luck, as soon as the steward returns, he goes to the cellars to find us a bottle of wine, one that just came from Thranduil's kingdom in the North."
She took the plate eagerly, "Alas, I have committed the sin of neglecting to change my clothes. I hoped that I might find better company here; you gave me such a generous breakfast this morning that I have returned for more."
The elves laughed. They did not yet know the ways of this strange girl with her mane of red hair, but she was friendly and addressed them all in a courteous manner. She also had the healthy appetite of the young and returned her plate for a refill when she finished.
"Ah, he comes," cried one of the elves, "Master Steward, what delicacy do you have for us?"
The elf in question held up two bottles, "I am assured that these come from the cellars of Thranduil, himself, worthy of Elrond's table, but no less worthy of ours, I think." His eyes fell upon Celebriel, then he stammered, "But…"
"But you're going to fill our cups now, are you not? I am curious to find out if Thranduil's wine is as good as that I drank in Lorien." She held up her cup, "If you please?"
Clearly relieved, he filled her glass first, then the cups of the various elves who wished to imbibe the stolen delicacy. As they drank and ate, their tongues, if hindered at all by Celebriel's presence, began to loosen. The latest gossip and comings and goings began to fill the room.
This was the best place, she knew, of discovering the goings on of the house and the surrounding area. Even in the kitchen, the elves knew of any talk of travelers who would be arriving in Imladris, where they came from, where they were going to. They also, curiously, knew of the affairs of the family, and the disgrace she would face for being absent from the meal, but she didn't care.
What did spark her interest was the name "Mithrandir" and the imminent news of his arrival at Elrond's house. Was this the same Mithrandir who had appeared to her so mysteriously in the woods this morning? Just who was he, anyway? And what relation did he bear to her mother that he would inform her of her welfare? Was he someone Elrond was acquainted with?
"Who is this Mithrandir?" she asked, "I have never heard his name before. Is he acquainted with Lord Elrond or my Lady mother? Will he be coming here? I am curious as to who this person is?"
"He is one of the 'Istari', one of the five wizards who has appeared since the end of the War of Elves and Men. Men call him Gandalf the Grey, we call him the Grey Pilgrim because he goes about clothed all in grey. I have heard that he was acquainted with the White Lady, so I am surprised you have not heard of him."
"I am surprised, but then again, I am not. I spent much of my time with Lorinand's elves and did not pay much heed to the matters of the Noldor. If my mother had thought that I should know of him, I am sure I would. Lorinand deliberately isolates itself from the outside world, it is much safer that way." And I am sure Mother's magic helps, but what will they do when that power has left?
"Well, you will meet Mithrandir soon, though when no one knows. For all of his power, he is a kindly soul. Any question you have he will endeavor to answer—unless he does not want to," he chuckled, "Now, for dessert, I have an apple tart and cheese, may I tempt you with that?" He reached for the bottle and refilled her cup.
After her meal and the good company that went with it, Celebriel had no wish to seek the company of her sister and Arwen. No one had told her she was forbidden to ride, though permission had not yet been given, and she was eager to explore outside Imladris' borders. She would try to borrow a horse from the stables and ride a short way down the road. Maybe she would steal a horse if necessary
She did not admit it to herself, but her vision had her intrigued. Something was driving her forwards, perhaps it was to seek a glimpse of the mysterious Mithrandir in the flesh. If she met anyone on the road, she would merely greet them and move on. Her arrival was well known, and it would do no good to try to hide who she was.
She confronted the Master of Horse with a dilemma. Ariel, her mare, had just made a long journey and needed her rest, was there a horse she could perhaps borrow? And to her surprise, there was. Perhaps Elrond had not anticipated her and saw no need to forbid her access to his stables, so a horse was found and presented to her. Not as well-bred as Ariel, but sturdy and well-gaited.
She rode without saddle or bridle, comfortable in her skills using feet and hands to manage her mount. The logical place to ride seemed to be in the direction of the bridge over the Bruinen (*Loudwater), and she let instinct guide her instead of trying to choose a path.
It was one of those late fall afternoons common to the North, but unlike what she was used to. Lorinand's leaves would be turning to gold to remain on the trees until the new growth of spring. It would be deliciously cool, but not the kind of cold she felt now, she thought as she clutched her cloak more tightly around herself. No wonder her mother had equipped her with so many warm clothes, it would take time to accustom herself to this new climate.
There were sentries on the bridge, but they let her pass. Maybe they weren't paying attention, or they mistook her for one of the younger elves—but what about her red hair? Would they report that they'd seen her and send someone after her?
She wandered further down the road, taking in the autumn colors, the sunbeams shooting through the trees that she had only vaguely noticed when she arrived here. Then she had felt closed in by the elves that had escorted her, but now she was feeling a heady sense of freedom. She had learned to enjoy solitude guarding Lorinand's fences, and now she was able to enjoy it fully, needing only herself and her horse for company.
Blessedly, she had seen no one on the road, but now her sensitive nostrils caught the scent of a burning fire. Her horse turned its head, inquisitively, and she told her, "I smell it too, it's someone's campfire. Who would be camping along Elrond's road when he is so close to entering Imladris?"
She led Arial into the woods, just far enough that she would be hidden from the road. "Stay here," she whispered in her ear, "Don't leave until I tell you," and began picking her way carefully through the thickets, walking soft-footed as only an elf might. Her hand was on the haft of her dagger, and the presence of her bow and arrows gave her comfort, though she did not in truth know if she suspected trouble.
The stranger had found a small clearing hidden within the woods. She could not see his face for his back was to her, but his long cloak was travel-stained, the grey it must once have been now almost a muddy brown. A merry little fire was crackling, just enough for some warmth and to cook the rabbit that was spitted over the coals. He seemed unaware of her, or if, by chance, he knew she was there, he said nothing. Was he waiting for her?
She stepped carefully into the clearing, not truly knowing if she wanted to disturb him. His back was still to her, so she said, carefully as not to offend him, "Old man, what are you doing in the Lord Elrond's woods."
He turned, and she recognized the man in her vision. "Ah, young Celebriel, I have been waiting for you, are you hungry?"
She smiled in spite of herself, then remembered her caution, "How do you know my name?" She removed her hand from her dagger, sensing that no threat was here.
"I know more about you than you may realize. Your mother has told me much about you and wished for me to join you for a short time. She knows that you may be unhappy, so she sent me to keep you company until you feel settled in. Imladris is not Lorinand, and despite what you are thinking now, she understands."
"But who are you? What is your name? In all my years in Lorien, I never saw or heard of such as you. And yet, you find me, you know who I am, you know my mother and I know nothing of you. I do not like secrets being kept from me!" She did not like to whine, but she felt frustrated, how many people that she loved had been keeping secrets from her? Were Amroth and Nimrodel among them? No, of all the elves in Middle Earth, they were perhaps the only ones who would not.
Gandalf watched her, a look of pity on his face that he tried now to hide. Galadriel had told him of her daughter, and the path she was forging for herself. "My mother called me 'Nerwen', 'Man Maid' when I was young, but I left behind my hoyden ways and embraced who and what I was. Celebriel is different, she excelled not only at boys' games, but she has determined that she will follow a warrior's path. This is new, for Elven women have never gone to war. I do not know if I approve, but Celeborn and I do not disapprove, for perhaps this is her destiny. But I think she will need watching over and guidance that I am afraid that the Lord Elrond might behold."
"Stay with her awhile, Mithrandir, let her know she has a friend she can trust. Her options may be more numerous than she thinks, as long as she feels she is not forbidden to pursue the one she wants. I do not think that any path is closed to her if it is of her choosing."
"I am sorry your mother never told you of me and sorrier still that I did not make your acquaintance when you were young. Let me eat my lunch, I would hate to think of this rabbit going to waste, then we will return to Imladris together. Where is your horse?"
"In the thickets, she will bear the both of us, I think if you do not care to walk. I know I should be cautious of you, but you feel worthy, Mithrandir—or may I call you Gandalf?"
"You may call me whatever you like, young Celebriel. Your experience is limited, but I think you will find Imladris a better fit for you than you think—if only for a while."
"If only for a short while," she said fiercely, "I am determined to return to where I belong, I do not belong here among the High Elves, and Elrond will find it hard to stop me if I decide to leave."