Xxxxxxx Outskirts of Tirion xxxxxxxX
"No," The marble warned. "Not here – not yet." She pulled her chisel back from the stone and turned to consider her sketch anew. The piece was a rare commission for her. It resulted from an unexpected interaction with Ingwion, who often came to Tirion to visit Findarato and his family and Celebrían. Somehow, the discussion turned to how remiss it was that the gardens surrounding Taniquetil's Halls of Learning lacked any examples of Noldorin sculpture. There was little wonder that Artanis' daughter, Celebrían, was skilled at reading hearts. But Celebrían's understated manner and ability to gently coax people out of their element was surprising. Nerdanel shook her head in wonder as she surveyed this unexpected commission. Dare she hope that the future might hold other surprises? Perhaps one day, one or more of her sons would return?
"Wait – do not proceed too fast." The perfect cream-colored marble was just as she had imagined. She put down her chisel and removed her fingers one at a time from the protective gloves. Oils from the skin could stain the stone. The marble was softer than usual, perhaps because it had been quarried recently. It had been a long while since she had set her mind to such a large piece. Most of her work focused on smaller pieces. Though somewhat infrequent over the years, her apprentices also favored smaller dimensions. Yet, this massive block of marble was to develop into a scholar in contemplation. Her heart raced at the possibilities that were waiting to be revealed.
"My Lady?" Nerdanel turned to see Alylissë, the new applicant for an apprenticeship, nervously waiting to be admitted. Nerdanel had still not deciding whether to take on the shy Elleth from a good family.
"Come in, Alylissë." The student approached hesitantly.
"A messenger from Edlothdor arrived with a letter for you."
"A letter from Edlothdor?" Nerdanel repeated in surprise as she accepted the post from the maid. The script was unfamiliar but was artful and professional as from a seasoned scribe or a loremaster. Her hand shook as foresight welled. This was a letter best read in private.
"Thank you Alylissë. I will retire to my study. Would you mind sweeping up and storing my tools?"
"Yes, Mistress." The youth curtsied and hurried forward. Nerdanel slowly made her way out of the studio, traversing the garden path to the house. Large enough to house their large brood and servants, Feanor had designed it as an escape from the protocol of the court. It had always been her favorite house, for it had the large airy studio meant as her retreat. It was a statement that her talents went beyond that of wife and mother. It was the only thing that remained with her.
"No, you have many talents." Her inner voice was that of her Adar. In reflex, she sought out the bond with her parents. "He is here!" She was surprised at what that might portend and hurried her step. She shed her smock and boots in the mudroom and stepped to the practical side shower, quickly scrubbing her hands and face. As she was drying, familiar hands embraced her from behind.
"Sell-nin, come, read your letter." Mahtan's face was filled with uncharacteristic emotions. Fear shot through her being, but her Adar's warm smile quickly dispelled it. She trembled as she sat down at the table and opened the letter – unfolding a long letter from Elrond Earendilion. Her Adar shifted his chair closer so he could wrap his arm around her shaking shoulders.
"Tears unnumbered shall you shed." Nerdanel laughed through the tears as even her stoic Adar wiped at his suspiciously glistening eyes. "He repents. He seeks to discern Eru's will for him. To think that at least one of my children is alive and finally on the right path! Makalaurë sent letters for us."
"I understand and agree with not sending the letters with a courier. But my son's letters are a good day's trip from us."
"He will come home one day," Mahtan said suddenly as he, too, brushed tears from his cheek. It will never be an easy path. I would like to meet this Elrond Earendilion, one who has lived so many different lives over the millennia yet somehow is still gracious and forgiving."
"I wish more would be open to forgiving, though I know no one could ever forget the evil my husband and sons have carried out.
"Yet, they have made many contributions, including inventions and discoveries," Mahtan paused, then continued. "Hard as it is to believe, even after all that tragedy, at least Makalaurë was able to show some kindness to two orphan boys." He reached across to squeeze his daughter's hand.
"You doubtless received invitations to the arts festival. Let us prepare some of your work to display. That way, we will not draw undue attention as we meet Elrond and retrieve Makalaurë's letters."
Xxxxxxx Kitchens of Lorien xxxxxxX
"See how the dough is still loose and tears easily? It would help if you kept up the motion. It still needs kneading." Bilbo directed, leaning slightly over to get a better view. Behind this group, the kitchen staff quietly gaped and tried not to stare overtly. Lorien was suddenly overrun by royalty. The two Peredhil were the most exotic of the bunch and were currently looking equally dubious at the mess of dough and flour on the marble counter. It was readily apparent that both had little experience in cooking, as their duties and stations kept them from what others deemed menial tasks.
"Your grandsons loved these, though I admit having trouble thinking of them as someone's sons, let alone grandsons. One look, and you know they are warriors." Bilbo's inherent optimism and encouragement bubbled out. His snow-white hair and wrinkles declared his advanced age and strange mortality; however, the rejuvenating air of Lorien had worked upon his mind, for the cadence of his speech had grown faster, much more akin to his younger years. Elwing looked up briefly. Her eyes glistened with melancholy at Bilbo's declaration. Earendil paused, perceiving her concern, and turned to the hobbit.
"Did you get to know them quite well?"
"Better than some, but they were still quite an enigma to me." Bilbo took a slow sip of his tea. "They often road with the Dunedain, but it was easy to mark when they or their brother Estel was at home because of Elrond's lightened demeanor."
"Estel?"
"Others called him The Dunedain or Aragorn, but I met him as a young prince – as insatiably curious Estel Elrondion."
"Elrond truly adopted him?"
"Oh, yes, he cared for him as a son. However, according to Erestor, Lady Gilrean always had the last word or say in Estel's upbringing. I did not know Elrond or young Aragorn so well in those days. But I enjoyed a few months in Rivendell after my adventures with Thorin. I thought Estel was a young elven prince." At Earendil's confusion, Frodo took pity and finally spoke up.
"My Uncle went traveling with dwarves about sixty years ago. But that is a tale for several evenings." Elwing shivered at the mention of dwarves. Bilbo was suddenly reminded of their task.
"Stop for a minute, Lady Elwing. Let us take a look at the dough now." He paused and examined it thoroughly. "I do believe it is ready now. Ah, this brings back good memories of comparing and trading recipes with the cooks of Rivendell! I could tell you some stories!"
Xxxxxxx Tirion xxxxxxX
"Sire, Prince Gil-Galad, fellow council members, I need not remind you that the number of refugees and returnees has swelled beyond the point that Tol Eressëa can handle." The executive council was but ten members and only advised their Noldoran on the most sensitive issues.
"Eru willing, there shall be many more reborn along with more returnees to integrate into life here." Lord Arandur indeed hoped that his own family would be coming soon.
"Lord Cirdan estimated in his correspondence that less than a handful of Noldor are left beyond the sea, but there are still many thousands of Sindar and Silvan. They will be pushed out as the Edain multiple and need to seek our shores eventually."
"We have given leave for returnees to settle on the mainland." Arafinwë reminded them. "We can not force them to relocate."
"There is still much animosity, both outright and covert, that makes the reborn and returned uncomfortable here." Gil-Galad offered seriously.
"Lady Celebrían and Lord Elrond will be a great asset for tolerance, especially as the leaders of a new Imladris."
"Sire, assign them the inland valley framed by waterfalls to found a settlement." One of the council suggested.
"Are you suggesting we command their service?" Arafinwë steepled his fingers and leaned forward. He had seen the great weariness in his own daughter's fëa.
"Why must more be demanded of them? They have already shouldered too much of a burden." Ereinion sighed. He prayed his cousin Celebrían and dear friend Elrond would be gifted time to heal and recuperate. "Aman is supposed to be a place where we have abundant time. Why should they be pressed again into service? Surely, it is too soon!"
"They are consummate diplomats. His heritage speaks for itself, and Lady Celebrían garners much sympathy from not only the trials she endured but also for the courage to develop her artistic talents. She could have hidden herself away in the palace, as others wished, Sire. Yet she transcended her hurts and brought some of the famed 'tolerance and diplomacy' of Imladris to Tirion."
"Should we find another haven for the returnees outside of Tirion? It would not solve the basic problem as they would again be segregated and separated from the main body of our people." Arafinwë pushed back from the table, signaling the end of the meeting. "We shall think carefully on these issues. They will not be solved overnight." He rose, and the councilors followed suit, gathering their papers and bowing before they exited. Only Gil-Galad remained at the table, staring out the window towards the gardens as if in thought. Arafinwë waited patiently for the Prince to speak.
"It is still hard for her to bear the oppressive presence of so many, especially knowing they are always thinking about the horrors she endured." Ereinion quietly confided.
"Few are privy to her private fears, for she puts on a brave face. More know her from her travels to Tol Eressëa, Alqualondë, and Edlothdor as she pursued her talents and interests. Many of the younger generations look up to her." Arafinwë continued.
"She has yet to disclose those facts to Elrond."
"Ah," Arafinwë sat back. "My sources also tell me that Celebrían is about to disclose that information." At Ereinion's surprised look, he continued. "Word has it he is healing well. Celebrían initially planned to come to Tirion for a short visit next spring before traveling to Lorien. I admit I only know the Peredhel by reputation and by what my granddaughter and daughter have told me. But my daughter tells me he will support all her endeavors. Are you taking a detour with your family before you head back home?"
"You know me too well." Gil-Galad smiled. "I am delighted that we have the chance to be together again. And, my King, are you not journeying to Lorien?"
"I, too, count my blessings to have a son and daughter returned and the joy of being surrounded by grandchildren during the festival season. Too quickly do they grow and want their independence."
"Ah, but you give your family ample room to explore. I hear they celebrate joyously when they return."
"Away with you, Ereinion!" Arafinwë laughed as he realized just who played in the garden outside. A familiar mischievous little elleth hid behind some bushes. Her Naneth was calling. "Your wife needs your assistance."
Xxxxxxx A Talon in Edlothdor xxxxxxxX
Celebrían pulled the blue silk dress over her head. Her husband's swift intake of breath was all the confirmation she needed that it was the appropriate choice for today. He helped free her hair and, with trembling fingers, fastened the silver clasps in the back. She shivered as he bent to reverently kiss her neck before whispering in her ear.
"You are so beautiful, Meleth." His musical voice added its caress. She turned to kiss him as she ghosted her hands up his torso, checking on his health and well-being now as a matter of habit. How much he had been through in her absence. He was much recovered, yet he would never be as he was. They were both changed – for better or worse.
"Change is inevitable even here in the undying lands." A memory from Earwen surfaced in her thoughts.
"So, beautiful, talented, and loved ….. yet you keep secrets from me." Elrond eye's glinted in amusement. Her smile blossomed of its own accord. "Is it not time to share them?"
"Perhaps it is." She gave him an enigmatic smile as she locked his fingers in her smaller hand. "There is yet time before dinner." She turned and pulled him towards the door.
"Where are we going?" His brow quirked in curiosity.
"My studio," she smiled provocatively. He knew the word's origin as it related to study. Yet, it was different from how she meant to use it. The excitement grew as she guided him down from their feet. He had sensed that she yet hid part of herself from him. But habits learned in her final year in Imladris were cemented within him. He would never push or invade her space but waited patiently for her to open up. Celebrían had recovered, and somehow, Eru blessed, still loved him. She would tell him when she was ready. He shivered in anticipation.
"Are you well, beloved?" She sensed even the slightest tremors through their bond. He smiled encouragingly.
"I am well. Lead on, Meleth-nin." They climbed down and traversed the meadow but suddenly turned in a new direction towards an area he had yet to visit. Several guards followed discretely, as their safety was still a prime concern. She felt his thoughts turn to those that guarded them and sensed when guilt rose within him.
"You do not need to do anything. You shouldered burdens for ages. Focus on resting and embracing your new and ever-evolving self. By letting Dior aid you in healing, you are both helping each other." She squeezed his hand reassuringly. The studio was cleverly built with round glass transom windows cleverly positioned below the roof that let in natural filtered light. Dozens of canvases were perched against the walls or on tables. A stool sat from of easel in the left corner of the room with painting supplies and charcoals haphazardly distributed on and around a neighboring table.
"I remember you saying you enjoyed painting in your youth, but in Imladris …" He paused. "You focused on needlework and our duties."
"Needlework was both a social endeavor as well as a necessity. As a Princess of Tirion, there were no necessities, and all was granted to me. But Lore Master," She paused for effect. "I agree that earned titles are much more fulfilling than those granted by birth."
"I never thought less of you that you…" His voice was rough with emotion.
"I know you did not." She reassured him. "But I …."
"You never gave yourself credit. You should see yourself through my eyes. You are amazing, talented, ever diplomatic, and I am truly blessed to have you."
"I am not my Naneth." Her old insecurities surfaced.
"There is only one precious, Celebrían in the world. Why would you want her to be a second Galadriel?" She watched as he looked through some of the other canvases. Some were from her dark period. Tears slid down his cheek, and she felt awe, pride, and love flow through their bond." He traced the date, over two hundred years after that fateful day. At his silence, she clarified.
"I did study in Tirion, too, for it was long before Daeradar would part with me. But the guild there was too much in awe of Daeradar to provide any serious criticism of my work. In Vanyamar- my hair does not draw unwanted attention, and I can move about more freely. Also, Vanyar, who learned of my Noldor heritage, are naturally more critical." The unvoiced question followed, and Elrond quickly stepped forward to grasp her hand.
"Yes, I love you in all your guises. I am quite content to bask in your shadow as the spouse of an accomplished artist."
"You would follow me on my tours?"
"You know I would. You said you would not mind being married to a simple healer. Is that still true – even if you are a famed artist?" He lifted his brow in inquiry.
"You were never simple," she laughed. And yes, I would love you no matter what your occupation, though healer suits your nature best." He moved slowly over to the easel. Fresh paint was still drying on the palette.
"Is this where you have been disappearing to?"
"Yes, sometimes I feel compelled to bring an image to a canvas, and other times it is just a relief to be away from all the crowds."
"Even from me." He smiled at her blush. There was truth there, but it did not hurt or threaten him. Was it not only natural and healthy that they followed their own interests? "I am in awe of your talent and thankful you have shared it with me."
"I finished it in the last few days, although I do not think I will exhibit it at the festival." It was a breathtaking view from the top of Tumnëa in the early spring. A few of the great tree's branches were caught in the majestic view. For a moment, he could feel the wind toying with his hair as the chords of nature vibrated deep within.
"I take it that you feel the view." He jumped at her whisper in his ear. How had he not noticed when she walked to his side? She smiled and traced his brow. "You were elsewhere for a while."
"It drew me away to that moment in time." His voice conveyed deep appreciation. She responded with a radiant smile as she pulled him over to expressly point out another work. It was more abstract. A combination of colors stirred and flowed to a midpoint as if three disparate senses were settling into a mutual truce. Elrond visibly trembled as he took in the masterpiece.
"Do you? Did you?" He shook his head, trying hard to put his shook into words.
"I have always been surprised that others could fear your heritage." She took his hand and stepped closer to the painting. Your spirit is jewel-like, so multi-faceted. Sometimes when we…" She blushed and then continued. "When you stepped off the ship. I felt the whirlwind and was immediately worried. Then much later on the beach by shell cottage…"
"This is what you sensed?" He traced it in amazement. His fingers ghosted just above the surface of the paint. She nodded.
"See how far you have come! There is still much healing to be had. But do not forget what has already been accomplished. For that, I thank Eru." She kissed him. "But I am unwilling to share these with others yet. I chose these five views of Imladris to display at the festival." Elrond gasped at the breathtaking scenes of the waterfalls of Imladris. Some had one or several buildings peeking from the falls.
But we must arrive on time for dinner with my uncle. He cautioned there would be further introductions." She smiled at the sudden wariness that surfaced in his eyes, reminiscent of the young twins. He sensed her thoughts and blushed at the memory. "Come now, beloved, it will not be too trying an evening."