High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis
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Chapter One Homecoming (part one)
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Elladan stood at the prow of the ship, the hand of the Elf beside him resting on his shoulder.
Blankly observing the grey waves all around them, he considered he had finally grown somewhat accustomed to the ever-present salty smell of the sea-air.
He hadn’t looked back. Not when they had sailed away, and not ever during their journey.
It was all behind him now. And even though his parents waited there, somewhere in front of them, he could not help feeling the loss of what he had left behind.
Celeborn picked up on his melancholy and squeezed his shoulder gently, but did not speak.
The sails, not too far above them, sounded loudly, due to the wind straining them continuously, much like it playfully tugged at the strands of their unbraided hair, as the ship cut its way through the waters.
On the far end of the ship stood Círdan, seemingly staring into the distance. He had to be considering this was to be one of his last journeys as well.
But what was truly left in Middle-earth to miss? he asked himself. Perhaps your sister’s children, but they have their own family, and do not need you. You have chosen. This is where you belong. And to see mother again…
Passing the isle of Eressëa on their left, the eldest son of Elrond finally smiled.
‘It shall be soon now, grandfather...’ he spoke, before looking around. ‘Where is Elrohir?’
Celeborn, too, turned, and it was then that a tall Elf, dark-haired and grey-eyed, appeared from somewhere behind the foremast, pacing after a small, equally dark-haired Elf-child, strides as certain as if he were walking on land, despite the waves throwing the ship around, making it descend deep, no sooner propelling it upwards again upon the mere fancy of a single wave.
‘Elernil, deri-ennas!’
The boy, a mere eight years of age, stopped at once and waited for his father to pick him up. They joined the other two Elves by the ship’s rail.
‘Ada has explained me more knots,’ the boy proudly announced, and Elrohir watched the small fingers demonstrate the knowledge he had just acquired on a small piece of string, before he himself looked up at his grandfather.
‘We are drawing near, if I am not very much mistaken...’
Celeborn smiled.
‘Very true, we are nearly there. Mîrlinde is below?’
‘She is still not well, but she finally sleeps... I shall wake her as soon as they begin to strike the sails. Glorfindel has joined Círdan, I believe, as did Erestor.’
With a glance towards the afterdeck, Celeborn could indeed distinguish two other Elves having joined Círdan.
Elrohir meanwhile pointed into the distance and his son attentively watched along his father’s arm.
‘That is where your grandparents are, Elernil.’
—~~*~~—
Celebrían moved light-footedly across the grass in search of her husband.
Above, anar shone brightly at it’s highest point, heating everything beneath it almost uncomfortably.
Perhaps this had not been the best of days to work on the house. Then again, neither Elrond nor Ereinion would have considered postponing it, not even if it had rained, she suspected. This had been planned weeks ago already, before the latter had left for Formenos.
Some errantry or other for his grandfather, he had mentioned.
A strange thing, she mused as she neared the part of the house that was under construction, that Formenos was still such an important fortress, despite its terrible past…
Ereinion didn’t seem to mind, none of the High Princes appeared to. Still, the line of Fingolfin mostly inhabited Tirion at present.
Even if its youngest High Prince seemed to have chosen Elrond’s House as his home now.
She smiled. How could she object? She hadn’t minded his company when he had frequented the Gardens of Lórien, long before Elrond arrived, only a mere boy.
Very few people could get away with calling him the Elfling now, she mused with a smile. Elrond seemed the only one who teasingly kept bringing it up nowadays.
And Ereinion allowed it. To some extent.
Sometimes she thought their entire relationship was based on jesting, but then she would find them quietly sitting in a library, and she would be confronted with the fact that it was not.
But for now she just needed to find her husband.
—~~*~~—
Elrond wiped away the sheen of sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. He was near-hidden by the low wall on the second floor they had set up during the morning. A call came from below, and the tip of another wooden beam was handed up.
‘Got it?’
‘Got it!’ He returned, feeling it being pushed up as he grabbed and lifted it. As soon as they would reach the next level, they would not be able to transport the materials in this manner anymore, and they would need to hoist it up with ropes, but for now, this did very well. For a moment it seemed as if he would loose grip, but strong gloved hands grabbed the wood near the balancing point and drew it further in.
Together they placed it beside the others and Ereinion frowned.
‘Gloves, Elrond.’ He pointed at the pair of discarded working gloves on the floor.
Elrond smiled broadly.
‘Yes, sir.’
Removing one of his own gloves, the High Prince of Tirion threw it into the direction of the Master of Lore, who snatched it out of the air and swiftly cast it back to its owner. With a teasing shake of the head, the Elf slipped it back on, securing the leather between the fingers, and turned to help the others. Elrond made to follow, when a call came from below.
‘Elrond!’
He walked over to the edge of the wooden floor and looked down, slightly squinting against the persistent sun.
‘Gwilwileth?’
Celebrían looked up.
‘Come down, El-nîn.’
Elrond grinned, and, resting his hand on the beam he had fastened earlier that morning, using it as support, he stepped over and lowered himself down. Celebrían stood by and watched, not entirely happy with this particular manner of descending.
Jumping down the last meters and landing safely, he came towards her with quick strides and, placing his arm around her waist, kissed her deeply before pointing towards the building site.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you will do yourself grave injury some day soon,’ she answered, subsequently putting her arm around him too.
‘Hmm...’ he replied, narrowing his eyes as if contemplating something. ‘You might be correct.’
As Celebrían looked up at him, she noticed his broad smile, and playfully slapped him against the stomach.
‘Promise me not to do so before your sons arrive...’
He turned serious almost at once.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your father has sent a message that the ships are approaching.’ she answered. ‘Arriving this afternoon.’
For a moment, he could do nothing. This was where he had been longing for ever since he had arrived here, a reunion of as much of his family as was possible. But somewhere there was something darker. If they were returning, it had to mean that Arwen...
He shook his head and tried to cast off the image, the thought.
You knew this would happen, meleth-nîn, Celebrían reached out, and he replied with a nod.
You are wise, lady.
Then, drawing her into his arms, Elrond laughed, attracting some attention from the others working.
A familiar voice responded to it almost immediately.
‘Is there any chance you would kindly remove your arms from around your lady and return to the work at hand instead of leaving us to do all the heavy labour?’
Elrond turned towards the speaker, one arm still secured around his wife.
‘The ship is docking this afternoon, Ereinion!’
With played exasperation the other Elf made a gesture of abandon.
‘If I had to compensate for every time I heard that excuse...’ Then he smiled. ‘Go then, we shall finish up for the day.’
So the moment had arrived, the High Prince judged, as he watched them stand. Either everything changes now, or it does not, but I fear it shall change, and my only hope is that it does so positively. He wondered if he was afraid to be sent away.
Does friendship end because of family? he rebuked himself. Of course not.
‘You will come to the feast tonight?’ Elrond called up, catching Celebrían’s hand and on the verge of leaving for the main house.
There was something Ereinion could feel emanating from Elrond, far removed as he was; a feeling of both joy as well as sadness. Then he remembered. The sons coming home was also the end of a daughter’s life, most likely. He tried to smile comfortingly.
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, meldir. I wish to see if these boys of yours are as impressive as you make them out to be.’
‘They are,’ Elrond returned, but not loud enough for him to hear. He smiled at Celebrían. ‘They are.’
As she lay her arm around his waist they began their way back in silence.
Celebrían softly stroked Elrond’s side as she silently spoke to him, about Arwen, about love.
I would have given up immortality for you.
He smiled in return.
And I for you.
But how easily is it for us to speak these words, though, he heard Celebrían say. We were never truly confronted which such choices.
He did not answer, and they spoke of another person, one that Elrond had known back in Imladris, when there had not even been a hint of what had come to pass after his departure. Or, perhaps, he had simply been too preoccupied to notice at the time.
‘What I remember is that she was always singing,’ Elrond grinned.
Celebrían only chuckled.
Arriving at the house, she hurried him into their chambers.
‘A bath is waiting for you, I shall collect you some clothing.’
Nodding, Elrond began to unbutton his tunic. Then he stopped.
‘Have you send word to the Gardens?’
Smiling positively, his wife closed a cabinet door after gathering what she had promised.
‘I believe a messenger was already underway... Still, mother will not know before tomorrow. And then again, I would not dare predict if my father would travel to Lórien or she would come here instead...’
Abruptly Celebrían halted. Noticing her waver as he started towards the next chamber, Elrond turned.
She looked at him, a trace of doubt marring her joyful appearance, his clothing pressed against her chest.
‘He will be coming with them? I mean... He would not stay behind, would he?’
Elrond smiled, coming towards her.
‘They are coming home, meleth-nîn.’
He looked at her and ran his fingers through her hair. They were both preoccupied, and he understood that even though they had known this day would come, it had been impossible to truly prepare for. The only thing they could do now was act as normal as possible, and speak of this later, when there was more time.
With a smile, he placed his hand on her cheek and gently stroked her lower lip, forcing himself back to the matters of the moment.
‘The feast, you already informed the kitchen?’
Celebrían gave him a raised eyebrow.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you are marvellous.’ He grinned, quickly pressed his lips against hers, and made for the bathroom.
With a smile she watched him go, before laying out his clothing and leaving to see to some last preparations.
—~~*~~—
They had never visited Máhanaxar together before, and Celebrían considered it to be significant that this was the first time. Though the splendour of the Halls made it near impossible not to render any visit significant.
Carrying a soothing smile on her lips, she squeezed Elrond’s arm. Ever since he had left the bath he had been nervous. Not that she was one to judge, since she was equally anxious to see her sons again, only hiding it better.
Neither of them usually wore garments as ceremonial as those they had on today; the special light bringing out all the different hues in the blue material. Elrond’s tunic and trousers underneath were nevertheless grey, a colour they both often wore nowadays. It reminded Celebrían of Imladris, making her wonder how soon indeed they would be forced back to those old ways, their House slowly becoming a place of importance once more.
When her eldest son entered, his eyes found hers at once, and immediately after he indicated to his companions where his parents stood, he stormed towards her and Elrond. Celebrían recognised weariness, could see pain that had not been there when she had last seen him.
Releasing her husband’s arm just in time to be caught in her son’s tight embrace, she answered it with equal fervour.
‘Elladan...’
He did not speak as his thoughts flooded over her, and she tried to hold him even closer, desperate to give him that which he had missed so much. Finally they released each other, and as he stepped towards his father, her other son came into view...
They had received news of the betrothal of their youngest and the subsequent marriage, but no one of the arriving Elves had mentioned anything about children... A small dark-haired child hid behind his mother.
It took Celebrían by surprise, but not so much as to be taken aback. After embracing Elrohir, she smiled at the dark-haired Elf-lady beside him, catching her hand shortly before embracing her too.
Was it predictable that Elrohir had been captivated by a Noldorin lady? No doubt her beautiful features, and the friendly but intense grey eyes had had something to do with it too, she considered.
‘You must be Mîrlinde...’
The Elf-lady smiled and bowed her head courteously.
‘I am, Lady Celebrían... May I introduce you to your grandson, Elernil?’
The boy stole a look from behind her dresses, before being swept up by his father, who seated him on his arm. Celebrían found that the boy very much resembled her sons at that age; similar dark, perceptive eyes, the same physique... Evidently overcoming his shyness, the elf-child extended a small hand, grinning broadly.
‘Mae govannen, daernaneth.’
‘Well met indeed, Elernil.’ Celebrían smiled as she caught it within her own.
Elrond smiled at Mîrlinde, then at Celeborn, who placed his hand on Elrohir’s shoulder.
When Celeborn’s eyes met those of his daughter, Elrond motioned Elrohir to come nearer, so the two would have a little space. They stood silently for a moment, silent conversation more than obvious, but finally Celebrían flung her arms around her father’s neck and Celeborn caught her in his arms.
‘I promised to bring them, did I not?’ he whispered, stroking her hair.
She smiled, resting her head against his.
‘You did, and I should have known you would...’ Celebrían tried to control her breath, knowing tears lay very close to the surface. She withdrew a little and looked at her father intently. ‘Mother... I believe she is still in Lórien...’
‘I know, my little one, do not fret about it,’ Celeborn replied, sounding less disappointed then his daughter. He smiled broadly. ‘Your mother, she has a way of finding me.’
With a content groan Elrohir let his father embrace him, Elernil now seated on Mîrlinde’s arm.
‘Forgive me for marrying without you and mother being present?’ he asked softly, the plea only meant for his father’s ears.
Elrond pulled back and shook his head.
‘How can I not forgive you?’ he said, embracing his son again, before continuing in a whisper. ‘If there would indeed be need to forgive, which I do not believe there is.’ Withdrawing, he smiled. ‘Now let me take a look at my grandson.’
Mîrlinde handed Elernil over and Elrond raised an eyebrow at the boy, who seemed to be intently studying his grandfather’s face.
‘How did you like the ship?’
Elernil grinned proudly. Elrond was suddenly confronted with a vision of Elrohir riding a horse for the first time, reins clasped firmly in small fists, the same proud grin on his face.
‘Ada taught me more knots.’
‘He did? Now this is something we can use around the house, wouldn’t you say?’
The elf-child nodded. Then he narrowed his eyes.
‘Are you really my Ada’s Ada?’
Smiling broadly, Elrond glanced at Elrohir and they exchanged an amused look before he answered.
‘I am.’
‘My Ada tells stories about you...’
Laughing, Celebrían joined them, having observed the exchange together with her father, and placed her hand on Elrond’s arm. Her eyes glimmered at the sight of her grandson.
‘And do you enjoy them, Elernil?’
‘Very much,’ the boy answered his grandmother, a blush on his cheeks caused by all the attention. Celebrían smiled and bent towards him.
‘Good, because I think I would enjoy hearing them very much as well.’
He smiled at her and Elladan chuckled. Elrond, unable to hide his own grin, nodded towards the other end of the hall.
‘There is someone else I wish you all to meet.’
Elwing would have been perfectly content to merely observe the reunion of her son’s family, feeling very much she shouldn’t intrude. But her heart jumped as Elrond broke from the group, or rather led it, coming towards her.
‘Mother, meet Elernil. Elernil, this is my mother, Elwing.’
As Celebrían had, Elwing caught the extended hand the boy politely offered her.
‘Hello, Elernil.’
‘Hullo.’
The Elf-lady smiled at Celebrían, who had joined them now too, together with her sons.
‘And here are Elladan and Elrohir.’ she said, leading them forward a little, as if the grown Elf-lords needed a push in the back.
Visibly taken aback, Elwing allowed her eyes to study the faces of the generations before her. Elernil had something that reminded her of her own sons, possibly because he was very close to the age they had been when she had last seen the both of them together.
Both her grandsons seemed the perfect blending of their parents, dark-haired like their father, the same clear grey eyes, with Celebrían’s delicate features, faces elven-fair.
Sporting a radiant smile, Elladan embraced his grandmother, with somewhat surprising enthusiasm. Elrohir followed his example without delay.
‘It is good to finally meet you, daernaneth,’ he smiled. ‘And very fitting that this happens on the day my son, too, meets his grandmother for the first time.’
Celebrían nodded with a content expression on her face, placing her arm around Elladan.
‘The day is a very fitting one overall, I would say.’ she said, looking up at him.
Celeborn, meanwhile, greeted Elwing with a broad smile.
‘It has been a long time, Lady,’ he said, catching her hands amiably.
‘Far too long, Lord Celeborn...’ Elwing replied, shaking his hands with fervour.
‘And how is my brother? Well, I hope?’ he asked, looking at her intently, as if perhaps he was able to read the answer from her face already.
‘Well indeed, he lives by the shores of Araman now.’ she assured him.
He nodded slowly.
‘A long way from here.’
Elwing smiled.
‘Not that long...’
Still holding his grandson upon his arm, Elrond’s eyes met those of one of his closest and dearest friends. Carefully, he lowered Elernil down onto his own feet, and, not taking his eyes of the other, slowly began to make his way through the hall.
Nearing, both anticipated the embrace and opened their arms for the other, a fluent movement.
‘For a moment, I thought you had not come,’ Elrond spoke softly, patting the Elf’s back.
‘There was no reason for me to stay in Middle-earth... Not anymore,’ the other answered as he pulled away, catching Elrond’s lower arms. ‘Tis good to see you, mellon-iaur.’
‘And you, Glorfindel, and you... Be welcome in my house, as you always have been, if it so pleases you…’ Then, Elrond extended a hand to Erestor, who had entered too, only moments ago. ‘And you too, mellon-istui.’ He embraced him with equal sincerity, withdrawing to look at them both for a moment. Then he extended an arm.
‘Come, you must greet Celebrían and Elwing…’
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Elernil: star prince (Sindarin)
deri-ennas: stay there (Sindarin)
Ada: dad, father (Sindarin)
Mîrlinde: treasured tune (Sindarin)
anar: the sun (Sindarin)
gwilwileth: butterfly (Sindarin)
El-nîn: my star (Sindarin)
meldir: friend (male) (Sindarin)
meleth-nîn: my love (Sindarin)
Máhanaxar: the Ring of Doom, near the gates of Valmar, where the Valar sat in council
daernaneth: grandmother
mellon-iaur: old friend (Sindarin)
mellon-istui: learned friend (Sindarin)
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