High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis

A/N: Before anyone starts about whether Elves sleep with their eyes open or closed, I think that in safe situations, they sleep with their eyes closed. I personally would like to think that only in war-time, or times where one needs to be vigilant, this “resting [the] mind in the strange paths of elvish dreams, even as [one] walked open-eyed in the light of this world.” is appropriate.

Thankies to Artanis for providing me with the name Anariel! (whatever comes from that is yours ;))).

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Chapter Seven     Preparations

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He was grateful for the darkness that surrounded him and his ponderings.

Some part of him found the night more peaceful, perhaps because the house was bustling with people during the day.

After six years, Elladan and Aurehen had finally decided on a date for the wedding. That day was now swiftly approaching.

Guests were arriving continuously, and soon the more important Elves would no doubt be making an entrance. Even now the House of Elrond held its importance, was considered a good household to be in alliance with.

And yet it were not his guests, nor the wedding and its preparations that occupied Elrond’s thoughts at present.

Earlier that evening, most of the household had been in the library, as was often the case.

It had been one of the scarce moments Elrohir was not in Tirion, and he had been speaking with his son.

Elernil had asked his father to tell him about the darkening of Valinor, and Elrohir, as much a storyteller as his own father, had happily complied.

Only one thing had been regretful, Elrond thought, his gaze resting on the small form lying in the bed which stood in the room.

He silently admonished himself once again for having allowed Celebriníel to stay in the library. He could have known, should have know, her age was too tender still to hear tales of that kind.

Even if he had not thought so at the time, he surely did so now.

Shrugging off his pondering state, he rose slowly and made his way to the door. It was slightly ajar, a soft light shining in from the hallway.

‘Ada,’ came her voice softly, and he could clearly distinguish weariness in it. ‘Are there spiders here? Large ones, not normal ones?’

In the darkness he smiled, before answering.

‘No spiders here, meluihên.’

‘But what if they come?’ her reply came almost immediately, as if she had anticipated his answer beforehand.

He felt sad for her, deep down. Yet another part of childhood innocence lost.

‘They will not come, little one.’

‘Will you fight them?’

‘Huhhm...’ he replied cautiously.

‘Will Ereinion fight them too?’

Quietly going back into the room again, Elrond sat down on the side of the bed, which still seemed much too large for her small body.

‘They will not come,’ he whispered soothingly, as he stroked her silver hair, which gleamed as some errant rays of Isil shone on it through an opening in the shutters. ‘But if they would, Ereinion and I, and all the others would fight them for you.’

A small hand caught his, small fingers wrapped themselves around his larger ones, and he allowed himself to be pulled down beside her. Moving closer, she sought a protective place within his arms.

‘For Elernil too?’

Kissing her head, Elrond nodded.

‘For Elernil too.’

With bated breath he waited for more questions, but they did not come. After a while, he knew she slept.

Staying as he was for a while, he tried to remember if he had ever done the same with Elladan or Elrohir, or Arwen.

He recalled similar circumstances, but overall, his elder children had matured more swiftly, it now seemed.

Another example of how Aman was different from Middle-earth.

Carefully, he released himself from his daughter’s grip and sat up. She had been sleeping in her own room for some years now, but still he could not keep himself from checking up on her before finding his own bed.

As a rule, he would find her fast asleep.

But tonight had been different. Quietly opening the door, he had found Celebriníel wide awake, sitting in the middle of that large bed, a small lantern on the nightstand, the sheets pooling around her, reading some book her mother had no doubt given her to read before going to sleep.

Upon seeing him, she had burst out in tears.

He had sat on the bed holding her and she had cried, her face buried in the folds of his clothing.

After a while of delicate questioning, he had received an explanation.

‘The spider.’

Ungoliant had been the spider to frighten his little girl enough to fear sleep.

Softly speaking, he had reassured her, stroking her hair, had even considered taking her with him, but had eventually decided against it.

She had trusted him enough to allow him to put out the light though, trusted him enough to sleep now.

Trusted him to keep her safe.

Celebrían’s voice was a whisper when it came.

‘Elrond?’ She touched his shoulder and he smiled up at her. She was already dressed for bed, and had no doubt missed him.

‘She was afraid to go to sleep,’ he elucidated.

‘She sleeps now,’ she countered with a patient smile, knowing very well how her husband could be caught up in his own mind at such moments.

‘I know,’ he replied softly, stroking his daughter’s hair, careful not to wake her.

He was many times older than the child lying asleep in the bed. And yet, despite her short years, it seemed as if she had been with him for most of his own.

‘Perhaps she has been,’ Celebrían whispered, moving some hair behind her husband’s ear.

Elrond only smiled, before catching her hand and pressing a kiss in the palm.

Leaving the door ajar, they crossed the hall and entered their own bedchamber.

He woke hearing the sound of soft whispers nearby, and found Celebrían and Celebriníel quietly speaking. Their daughter stood by the side of the bed, and Celebrían held the covers away.

‘You can stay, but be very quiet, or your father shall wake.’

With a nod, his daughter climbed into bed and lay down in her mother’s arms. Celebrían kissed her head.

‘Sleep now, meluihên.’

With a smile Elrond stretched his arm towards Celebrían’s face and moved a strand of hair away, baring her ear and trailing a finger along the edge. She smiled at him and closed her eyes.

Pushing himself up a little, he settled against his wife, resting his head on her shoulder, and watched the little girl lying in the nook of her arm.

He reached out to touch Celebriníel’s hair, and even though he was as gentle as possible, it made her look up.

‘Ada,’ she smiled, and offered a small hand.

Catching it, Elrond merely smiled.

The girl seemed to look at her mother for a moment before she rose and climbed into her father’s arms. Celebrían moved against him as well, and together they watched the small girl, whose eyes were closed again by now, her breath so very peaceful.

Neither Elrond nor Celebrían slept the rest of the night. There were soft whispers sometimes but most of the time they just watched Celebriníel. Hers seemed sleep enough for the both of them.

—~~*~~—

Elladan closed the door to his chambers and adjusted the collar of his tunic.

From afar he could already hear the mumble of voices; the guests that had been arriving for the past couple of days. Breathing in deeply, he began making his way to the other side of the house, hoping he could have some private moments with Aurehen. The wedding-preparations were taking up much of their individual time, and regretfully also any time they could spend together.

He could distinguish fast paces coming from behind, together with an amused humming, and felt a hand on his shoulder.

‘Nervous?’ Ereinion asked.

‘Yes,’ Elladan answered, smiling broadly. ‘Should I not be?’

The High Prince, dressed more stately than usual, even compared to his usual fine garments, shrugged amusedly, and winked.

‘I would not know.’

Then he walked past, swift-paced.

‘Where are you going?’ Elladan called after him.

Turning, walking a few steps backward, Ereinion smiled broadly.

‘Why, the stables, naturally.’

After those enigmatic words, he was off again, down the hallway.

With a smile and a shake of the head Elladan turned a corner and found himself confronted with some wedding guests, who instantly started congratulating him. Initially resigning himself to the shaking of hands, Elladan smiled as his father approached and rescued him from the well-wishers.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered, as they walked into the chambers together, only glancing at the crowd.

‘Not necessary,’ Elrond smiled knowingly.

‘I saw Ereinion run off a while ago...’ Elladan started, more or less seeking an explanation for the High Prince’s behaviour from someone who most likely knew more than he did.

‘Yes,’ Elrond said, sounding greatly amused. ‘Something to do with the Lady Anariel arriving.’

—~~*~~—

Offering his hand to the dark-haired Elf-lady, Ereinion assisted her dismounting her horse.

‘Welcome,’ he smiled, and she nodded.

‘My Lord.’

A little further removed, her parents had descended from their horses too, and the High Prince nodded courteously. Her father seemed quite pleased to see him here, but Ereinion cared very little. Presenting his arm, he and Anariel walked off without waiting for the others.

‘How was your journey?’ he asked.

‘Quite well, the weather is fine,’ she answered, knowing he preferred simple niceties.

Ereinion smiled.

‘Good.’

‘And how are you, my Lord?’ she enquired, with a smile.

‘Fine,’ he replied, ‘Quite well.’

Both were very aware of their lack of eloquence, but it did not matter.

Leading her into the main hall, Ereinion guided Anariel into the chamber where Elladan and Elrond were present as well, and he scanned the crowd for a moment.

Elrond raised an eyebrow at him, but the High Prince merely smiled, making his way to the other side of the room.

There he tapped Glorfindel on the shoulder and achieved Anariel to release his, and take the other Elf’s arm.

‘I would be much obliged if you would keep the lady Anariel company, Glorfindel,’ he said.

Before the golden-haired Elf-lord could accept or decline, Ereinion had already vanished into the gathering again.

Looking down, Glorfindel was confronted with twinkling grey eyes, and he could not help but smile.

‘You know Ereinion?’

‘My father knows his father,’ she said softly. ‘We have met several times in Tirion.’

‘I see...’

‘Now why did you do that?’ Elrond asked, as Ereinion neared, having paid close attention to the whole scene.

‘Do not act as if you are concerned,’ the High Prince smiled smugly. ‘Let us just hope her father will stop bothering me now.’

He patted Elrond on the shoulder. ‘If anyone asks, tell them you do not know where I am. In any other case, I shall be in the library.’

Elrond and Elladan looked at each other and smirked, as they watched Ereinion exit the chambers.

Spotting Ereinion with Elrond, Glorfindel was uncertain as to whether he should be extremely angry or something else. He was not here to take care of the High Prince’s responsibilities, or be the victim of one of his pranks.

‘You knew him in Middle-earth, I gather?’ her question pierced his thoughts, and he looked at her, for the first time, before nodding.

‘I did indeed know him there.’

She smiled and gazed across the room, though to no one in particular it seemed.

‘I only met him here on Aman. I have not been to Middle-earth.’

As she spoke, Glorfindel wondered what exactly her connection was to Ereinion. One could never be quite sure when it involved this particular Elf-lord.

‘You and he...’ Glorfindel started, but stopped as she softly laughed.

‘I was quite swift in discovering he had nothing more than respect for me,’ she said. ‘We are friends. Not even close ones at that. Though my father still seems to hope otherwise.’

‘Often I think he does not have respect for anyone,’ Glorfindel weakly smiled.

He looked back at Anariel to find an amused smile curl around her lips.

‘Has he changed much in comparison to who he was in Middle-earth? As a person?’

Narrowing his eyes Glorfindel stared into the distance for a moment.

‘Not a great deal.’

‘I expected as much,’ Anariel smiled.

—~~*~~—

With a content sigh he sat down in one of the alcoves on the first floor of the library, opening the book he had been reading, and tilting the chair back onto two legs; leaning it against the wall. Perhaps there would be a little peace and quiet for him at last. From above some bright rays of Anar made the hidden niche a very good hiding place for now.

Mere moments later, he heard quick footsteps which made him rapidly lean forward and return the chair to it’s original four legs.

His father had always forbidden him to do it, and even now the warning seemed to be curiously embedded into his awareness. He made more sound than he had initially intended, and shrunk from the loud thump the piece of furniture made as the other two legs returned to the wooden floor.

‘Be quiet,’ Elernil hissed as he slipped into the recess as well.

‘Excuse me?’ Ereinion replied, raising an eyebrow.

‘If Naneth finds me, she’ll make me go out and meet everyone,’ the boy said unhappily.

Smiling, the High Prince observed the rather regal clothing Elernil was wearing. He recalled his own adversity to wearing such ceremonial garments when he was younger and smiled.

‘We can hide here for a while.’

Elernil’s face brightened at once.

‘Can we play a game?’

Tongue in cheek, Ereinion nodded.

‘If you can find a board and pieces without being seen.’

‘Ha!’ Elernil smiled, sneaking out the alcove again to make his way over to one of the large cabinets that stood on the other side of the library.

Rising, Ereinion watched Elernil, holding his breath until he realised he was actually holding it.

Unaware of anything, he almost jumped when someone pulled his tunic.

‘What are you doing?’

Blue eyes looked at him enquiringly and Ereinion could not help but chuckle in relief.

‘You,’ he said, picking Celebriníel up, ‘gave me a real fright.’

‘Sorry,’ she smiled, the twinkle in her eyes indicating she was not truly apologetic at all.

Swiftly making his way back, Elernil shot into the recess again and Ereinion returned to the table as well. The boy began to swiftly set up the board and pieces.

‘Daeradar practised with me,’ Elernil said matter-of-factly, ‘He knows tricks.’

‘Tricks?’ Ereinion frowned, setting Celebriníel down on the table and sitting down himself. He looked at her. ‘Does your Ada know tricks?’

With a broad smile, Celebriníel looked back at him.

‘Lots.’ Then she hopped off the table and pulled out a book from a lower shelve. As she sat down on the floor and opened it, Ereinion returned his gaze to his cousin.

There was a glimmer in Elernil’s eyes.

‘You will notice what I mean.’

‘Really?’ Ereinion smirked. An image of Elrond came to him, as much a boy as Elernil was now, using premeditated strategic set-ups to lure his opponents into a swift trap. Elrond had usually saved these ‘tricks’ for the matches he had little care to play, as to swiftly end them and still maintain his reputation as someone who would always accept a challenge.

Only once had the then High King fallen for such a trap. He had learned then that the young Peredhel did not allow an opponent the luxury of being slow. If one did not make certain pieces had a definite freedom of movement, Elrond’s opponents often found themselves trapped before the game of wills had actually commenced.

That first time, Elrond had defeated him in a mere seven moves. From that time on, neither had challenged the other for a simple game. From that then on, every game had been a true battle.

This same occasion seemed to have arrived for Elernil.

As the boy opened, Ereinion ran all the possibilities and known strategies through his mind. Nevertheless his first move was quickly made. The reply came too quick for his liking and he eyed Elernil curiously. A moment ago, this had just been his cousin, sitting across the table from him. Now he was rather Elrond’s pupil. All the while resembling Elrond too much for the High Prince to be comfortable with.

As he watched the game in progress, Ereinion suddenly understood what Elernil was planning. Without letting it show, he began to set up his own counter-strike.

Sitting on the edge of the chair, concentrating, Ereinion could feel a small hand catch his tunic and Celebriníel pulling herself up. As she swung small legs, first one, then the other, over the armrest, she wrapped her arms around his neck and leant over his shoulder.

‘Who is winning?’

Elernil stuck his tongue out, but Celebriníel seemed to ignore it. Instead, she watched the board while thoughtlessly playing with the top button of Ereinion’s shirt.

Then, when the High Prince thought he had everything in place to be able to win smoothly, Elernil brought out a piece and smiled.

‘Daeradar said you were going to fall for that.’

Quite amazed, but amused at the same time, the High Prince looked at the board.

The boy was right. The game was over and done.

He had broken one of the most important rules, one of his own most important rules; he had not paid attention to all the other moves. Not enough anyway.

It had Elrond’s name spelled all over it. Ereinion made a mental note to confront his friend.

Somehow in battle, he had never been this careless. Perhaps because then, the pawns and other pieces were flesh and blood, and these merely marble.

Celebriníel jumped off the chair and left the alcove much as she had entered it; silent and suddenly.

Thoughtful, Ereinion pushed himself back, balancing the chair on two legs again.

With a broad grin, Elernil showed what he had done.

‘Want to play another...’ he started, but then Mîrlinde’s voice could be distinguished from below.

‘Elernil, come down this instant!’

With a disappointed face, the boy left the chair and subsequently the niche, no doubt obediently making his way down and joining his mother.

The High Prince, not yet ready to return to his book, studied the board and repeated the moves in his mind.

This had certainly been a game to remember.

‘Ereinion,’ a well-known voice remarked, the tone cautioning. ‘That chair has four legs, use them all wisely.’

As a reaction, the High Prince felt his heart skip a beat and he propelled forward, placing his hands flat on the heavy wooden table as he tried to balance his weight.

He closed his eyes as he heard the amused laughter, before he glared into the direction where Fingon stood.

‘Will you not do that?’ Ereinion returned, rather more embarrassed because he had allowed himself to be surprised.

Fingon entered and smiled, looking at the pieces on the board.

Rising, Ereinion embraced his father and smiled too.

‘Elrond has taught him ‘tricks’.’

The other laughed.

‘You know enough tricks of your own, I am certain. It is time you concentrated more on using them.’

Ereinion turned serious at once. The elder High Prince noticed and tried to make amends.

‘I did not intend it like that, Ereinion, do not turn to anger.’

With a shake of the head his son smiled, albeit weakly.

‘I am not angry.’

Together they left the niche and stood by the railing, seeing Elrond and Fingolfin conversing on the lower floor.

‘He promised not to speak of it.’

Nodding, Ereinion pursed his lips.

‘I will go and greet him.’

‘He would like that.’

As Ereinion descended the stairs, Elrond ascended them, understanding there was need for some privacy between grandfather and grandson. Fingon rested his hands on the railing and looked down.

Below Fingolfin exchanged some pleasantries with Ereinion, no doubt weighing the words he spoke, careful not to offend the elfling’s temper again.

The Lord of the House came to stand beside him at the balustrade, gazing downwards for a moment as well.

With a smile, Fingon spoke the words that were most forward in his mind right now.

‘Methinks my father treats my son as if he were his own because Turgon chose to remain in Mandos. Perhaps after Fingolfin permanently lost his other son, he now tries to gain another. Mine.’

‘Does that pain you?’ Elrond asked, his voice not condemning, even if Fingon thought it should be.

He had long realised this was an unnecessary sense of envy. Possibly it was because he feared to be left out.

‘It does too often.’

Elrond nodded.

‘If I know Ereinion...’

‘You know him.’ Fingon interrupted shortly.

‘... His loyalty is to you first, for he cares for you deeply, and has done so for two life-times.’

The words rang true, the High Prince knew.

‘And you are closest to his mother,’ Elrond continued. ‘Her opinion of Fingolfin is largely his also.’

With a grin of acknowledgment, Fingon looked at Elrond and smiled.

‘Most of her opinions are his also.’

—~~*~~—

He felt the handle of his blade lie comfortably in his clammy hands.

All around him, it was chaos, but in his mind there was a system to it, there were no worries.

He felled some orcs, it was easy, because this was not as it had been then, this was just a weak image that somehow replayed itself in his mind, and he could make certain the worst images were locked out.

Worst images? What do you mean?

And then any control he had disappeared. Suddenly it all was real, and he had to fight to protect his life... And not only his own...

He could see the dark haired Elf-lord close by, he could hear, could feel, what was approaching from the other side. It had been the subject of most of his nightmares for the first centuries of the Third Age.

Did he want to see? Why could he not see it?

No...

Cold grey eyes stared at him.

Please let me wake...

The plain was empty, just the two of them, or rather just him alone.

Dropping down beside the body he buried his head in his hands.

You know this is not real.

That does not make it less painful.

But he is alive... If you wake and walk across the house, he shall be there.

Then let me wake.

I cannot make you wake. You alone are the master of this dream...

With a scream he was up and conscious, safely at home. Speedily he rose from the bed and made for the next chamber, where he splashed his face with cold water.

‘Are you all right?’ came a voice from behind.

‘Yes,’ he smiled, turning. Before he had even seen the face of the person speaking, he already knew something was amiss. He was not at home. This was... Imladris...

Staring into grey eyes that more than anything resembled his own, as her face did, he swallowed.

The Elf-lady looked worried.

‘Ada? What is wrong?’

His voice was gone. He watched her smile, before she took his hand.

As they left the chambers that had been his for over an Age, they were suddenly in Lothlórien.

Cerin Amroth…

He tried to stop, but she wouldn’t let him.

‘Arwen...’

Still holding his hand, she lay down.

‘It is alright, Ada,’ she said.

I have to wake.

He looked around, only to find Celeborn.

‘You have to help her,’ he tried, finding his daughter’s hand cold in his already.

The silver-haired Elf-lord shook his head.

‘I cannot.’

‘You have to...’ he started, ‘You have to try... I tried to help Celebrían... Even if I could not keep her in Middle-earth, I tried, Celeborn, I tried.’

Please let me wake...

Rising to his feet, he tried to near the other, but he was gone. Looking back, Arwen too, had disappeared. In her place, lay a green mound.

Her grave will be there until the shape of the world is changed.

Then it became dark all around him.

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the darkening of Valinor: the destruction of the Two Trees of Valinor by Morgoth and Ungoliant shortly before the beginning of the First Age

meluihên: lovely child

Anariel: sun maiden

Hmm, as I said before, I assume Ereinion, Elrond and Elernil play something like, if not identical to, chess.
In chess, the move of a white piece, and the subsequent response from a black piece are counted as one move. So seven moves, are seven moves by both players, fourteen in total.

Peredhel: singular for Half-elven (Peredhil is Elrond’s epessë and the plural)

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