High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis
Earonn, this one is for you, with many thanks for providing me with the things that fuel my muse. *bows* :))
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Chapter Twenty When It Is Right
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With a content sound Celebrían welcomed Elrond’s warm body against hers. She had been between sleeping and waking for a while now, but there was no need to rise just yet. Her husband evidently agreed as he secured an arm around her which he used to pull her closer, softly kissing her neck.
‘Aer maer, meleth-nîn,’ he whispered, nuzzling her hair.
‘Aer maer, herven,’ she replied, closing her eyes again.
Outside, early birds chattered merrily, but Celebrían paid them little heed. The beat of Elrond’s heart, his regular breathing, his warmth against her, it all contributed to a nice peaceful mood, and it lulled her back into her half-sleep of before.
Unable to determine how much later, she woke to a soft humming, close by, fingers playing with her hair. Sighing she turned in Elrond’s arms and rested her head against his chest, hearing him chuckle.
‘It was a pleasant evening, last night.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied languorously, not caring whether she was dreaming or not. ‘Ereinion seems well.’
‘I thought so,’ Elrond answered, resting his head on hers. ‘And it was good Elernil came, Briníel does not seem very comfortable with Arinmîr. Although I might have imagined that, last night nothing appeared to be amiss.’
Celebrían laughed softly. She felt Elrond shift.
‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ She chuckled.
He eyed her curiously.
‘You make that hard to believe.’
Pressing her lips against his chest in a conciliatory manner, she reflected on why exactly she was amused. Celebriníel had indeed been remarkably amiable with Arinmîr last night. If she did not know any better, she would think it was to make someone jealous. Except there had been no one that had any cause to be envious.
Slipping her arm around Elrond’s chest, Celebrían ran two fingers down her husband’s spine and felt him move closer.
‘She is growing up so fast,’ he whispered, brushing his lips against his wife’s forehead.
Celebrían withdrew a little to observe his face.
‘Are you turning sentimental, El-nîn?’
‘In my old age, you mean?’ he shot back, his eyes full of mirth.
Grinning, Celebrían confirmed.
‘It must be that half-elven element in you...’
Growling, he guided her back.
‘All that Edain blood still pulsing through my veins...’
Celebrían had a hard time to cease laughing, especially since Elrond managed to keep such a degree of seriousness. A moment later, his mouth was on hers, and she was forced to stop, giving in to his embrace.
‘Wonderful Edain blood pulsing...’ she whispered into his ear as he kissed her neck, and she could distinguish a silent chuckle from him.
—~~*~~—
Quite awake, Celebriníel kicked forward the front of her dress, soaked due to her strolling through wet grass for most of the morning, and clinging to her legs uncomfortably. It was not unusual for her to be awake this early, but rarely was she only one of the few, which appeared to be the case presently. Erestor had been in the library, but he had been immersed in some manuscript or other, and she had left him to it. Her mind was not on her studies.
The evening before had lasted well into the night, there had been wine and storytelling aplenty, and yet it caused her to be up now, instead of comfortably in her chambers. She had not slept, not really. Changed into her nightdress, yes, and attempted to rest, but after a mere hour, she had risen again. Dressing warmly against the early-morning chill, she had walked without considering whereto, only the stars and some rays of early Anar as company.
Upon reaching the summit of one of the higher hills near Imloth, morning light had greeted her brightly, and she had simply stayed there, only vaguely recalling her thoughts had been far away.
It was quite impossible to explain what caused her to feel as she did. She was also incapable of telling whether the previous night had been enjoyable or the complete opposite. In a way, she was still angry with Ereinion for leaving so abruptly when he had last visited Imloth, even if she seemed to be the only one reacting that way. She had avoided him on purpose, addressing him only when absolutely necessary. But he had not noticed her distance at all. Possibly this had only irritated her further. But why was she angry? It was not as if it was any of her concern. If her parents did not mind his behaviour of before, there was no reason for her to...
Annoyed, she kicked the wet material away again.
Ereinion had acted much as she remembered he had when younger; discussing, teasing, laughing with everyone. For the sake of such normalcy, she had tried to do the same, even granting Arinmîr more than the usual cold shoulder.
But despite her personal feelings, she was glad the High Prince had returned. His boisterous manner cheered her father out of pensiveness, and the stories they could tell together were a delight to listen to. There had been moments when she could have sworn he looked at her, when she was speaking with Arinmîr, but she had not been able to confirm those suspicions. Most likely she had just imagined it. Feeling her cheeks redden, she breathed in deeply. You are being so silly, Celebriníel...
As soon as her grandparents arrived, all would be well again, she was certain.
She nodded to herself.
These feelings were merely caused by her own nerves, because she had missed her grandparents. With a sigh she halted and caught part of her dress, wringing some of the water out of it, not being very successful.
‘Morning, Celebriníel.’
That voice...
Abruptly she turned to face the approaching Elf, knowing her cheeks were still red, wishing they were not.
‘Morning...’
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Ereinion woke to the sound of birds, stirring in surroundings which confused him for a moment, since he had been vividly dreaming of being at Lindon; being home. Curiously, he still considered that region far away as “home”.
And yet there were many things from recent years that had inserted themselves into his dream, making it a strange mixture of the past and present, confusingly so.
It was as it had been for a some time now, as it had been ever since that fateful day that he had fled Imloth, after laying eyes on the girl. He now knew what he had not before, and with more certainty than anything else. He loved her.
In his dreams, faithful deceivers that they were, she was his, in his dreams, his lust for her was no sin, not the terrible transgression it was in reality.
He turned and pressed his face into the pillows of the bed he had slept in for as long as her father had welcomed him into the house. The bed that had been offered to rest in, not to be shared by another’s flesh, nor by his own foolish dreams. He could feel his desire, having been woken by her likeness, by the images that so oft visited him.
Something had driven him to Imloth, a whim really. He had simply wanted to test his reaction. For some reason, he had convinced himself it had been his earlier confused state causing him to act as he had, convinced himself that reality would cure him soon enough. That one look at Celebriníel was enough to make it all go away, enough to make him laugh at the idea alone afterwards, that his own mind had put him through such agony.
But how wrong he had been. How very, very wrong...
And yet, he thought, turning onto his back again with a sigh, there had been a moment of complete happiness, just now, before he woke to be confronted with the true state of things.
It was a good thing she had not approached him yesterday, had not lain her hand on his arm, had not fixed those marvellous fiery eyes on him, defending her opinions. Not that her closeness with Arinmîr the previous evening did not worry him. But it was not his affair. He could only hope for her to be happy.
Pulling away the covers, he rose and crossed the room, stepping barefoot onto the balcony. There was no denying that the summer morning was fiercely cold. He suppressed a shiver, only dressed in the comfortable but thin tunic and trousers he slept in. The afternoon would no doubt be blistering hot. Stretching his limbs, Ereinion inhaled deeply. Upon letting his gaze wander down into the gardens below, he thought his heart would stop beating the next instant.
He observed Celebriníel and Arinmîr, disconcertingly close for his comfort.
Grabbing a firm hold of the balustrade, he watched the young Elf place a tender hand on Celebriníel’s cheek, before edging closer for a merging of lips.
Other than increasing his grasp on the balustrade, Ereinion did not budge, could somehow not tear away from the scene taking place a little further down. He listened carefully, perhaps for a sound of unwillingness from the silver-haired lady, so he could justify descending into the garden to protect her honour. But there came no such sound. His only consolation was that Celebriníel did not seem to respond, no hand reaching up to touch Arinmîr’s face or anything similar. She merely stood there, eyes closed, her left hand clutching the side of her dress.
It seemed like an eternity before Arinmîr pulled away.
With the Elf blocking his view, Ereinion could not see the expression on Celebriníel’s face, but the next moment she was making her way inside, leaving Arinmîr in her wake.
Guessing the young Elf would not follow, Ereinion found himself halfway through the room, shrugging on a tunic. As he sped through the hallway, he had the full intention of heading towards the garden, entirely ready to confront Arinmîr in as imposing a manner as he was able to muster.
Any intentions he had vanished when he halted halfway down the stairs, confronted with Celebriníel.
She looked up at him in surprise, but did not speak a word, simply stared back.
Opening his mouth, Ereinion attempted to gather enough words to form a coherent sentence.
‘Are you... I saw... I mean...’
Uttering no sound at all, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him, pressing her face against his shoulder. Gathering her in his arms, he rested his head against hers, stroking her back, any anger he had previously harboured forgotten for the time being.
‘It is all right...’ he whispered, not caring if it made sense. ‘Everything will be fine.’
How long they had stood like that before Ereinion realised how they had to look, he himself still partially dressed in his sleeping attire, and Celebriníel obviously upset, he could not tell. Discretely withdrawing, he motioned her to take his arm and they ascended the stairway, halting a moment at the top.
‘Do you wish me to take you to your rooms?’
‘No,’ she shook her head resolutely. ‘I wish to sit down a moment, somewhere where he cannot find me.’
Considering his options, Ereinion took a deep breath.
‘My rooms, but you will have to give me a moment to finish dressing.’
Celebriníel nodded, her eyes cheerless. Making an appeasing sound, he took her hand.
‘It was only a kiss, Briníel. It does not mean you are obligated to spend the remainder of Arda with him.’
She nodded again, attempting to smile, failing miserably.
‘Come on,’ he smiled, in an attempt to reassure her.
Guiding her down the hall quickly, he opened the door leading to his rooms, enabling them both to enter.
‘I will only be a moment,’ he told her, disappearing into the adjoining chamber.
Uneasy, Celebriníel lowered onto the chair, resting her arm on the desk beside it, accidentally disturbing some papers. She quickly withdrew her arm and concentrated on controlling her breath, focussing on her surroundings.
It had been some time since she had last been here. Not much had changed, there had been more piles of books in the past, but most furniture remained where it had always been. Observing the large bed, the disarray of the sheets made it seem as if Ereinion had only just stepped out. Which was probably precisely what had been the case, she reflected.
For a moment, she contemplated departing, but before she could make up her mind, he had returned, fastening a last wayward button of yet another tunic. He looked at her, a questioning look in his eyes.
‘How do you feel?’
‘I...’ she shook her head and returned his gaze. ‘Is it strange I am angry with him?’
For a moment he stared down at her, then slowly shook his head.
‘Not at all.’
She nodded.
‘Well, I am angry.’
She listened to him chuckle at her reply, and half-heartedly did the same. Then she fixed her eyes on the floor.
‘He just kissed me, he knows I did not...’ It seemed hard to find words at present. ‘I wonder if I... I was just treating him as I treat everyone else.’ She looked up as she uttered the last sentence.
Sitting down on a chest standing by the foot of the bed, Ereinion rested his hands on his knees.
‘You know, on occasion,’ he said slowly, folding his hands, ‘when you feel very strongly about someone, certain actions are easily misinterpreted. They can appear to mean things while they actually do not.’
Ereinion was more than ready to kick himself. Can you possibly be any more vague?
Celebriníel seemed occupied with her own thoughts.
‘Because I was nice to Arinmîr, he thought I was attempting to tell him something?’ she said finally.
It was hard not to rise and go to her, especially after her exasperated tone of voice. Hard not to catch her hands and press his lips against her fingers, kiss her face to chase the looming tears away.
‘He might have thought that, yes.’
She wanted him to embrace her again, or merely place an arm around her, some of the physical contact of before. But she was uncertain as to how this could be accomplished.
On the steps, it had been impulse, and that, somehow was forgivable, where now reason had returned. Well, some reason, in any case.
As she rose she did not meet his gaze, but he rose with her.
‘Perhaps I should go...’
‘Briníel...’
He reached out for her hand, and as soon as she caught it, she stepped closer while he drew her in. Resting an ear against his chest, she listened to his rapid heartbeat, felt his fingers touch her hair for a moment, brush past her other ear...
She felt her own breath become irregular and looked up, to find his face closer than expected.
‘Ereinion...’
He looked at her, his eyes smiling, something about him positively shining.
Is this the difference? she absently wondered, closing her eyes. Is this what it feels like when it is right?
She felt one of his hands move to her cheek and his breath on her skin. Then his lips touched her forehead.
‘You are the mistress of your own life, Celebriníel,’ he whispered, leaving her with not much else to do than nod in response.
Somewhere, far away it seemed, voices could be distinguished.
‘Your grandparents,’ he commented evenly, moving some hair out of her face.
‘I know,’ she replied, stepping away, needing a moment before she dared to meet his eyes. ‘Thank you.’
‘No thanks are necessary,’ he returned, with what seemed to be a short bow of the head.
Together they moved towards the door and departed the rooms. Celebriníel was quick to make for the stairway, only looking back when she was two steps down. She smiled.
Ereinion nodded and returned the expression, one hand still on the handle of the door. As she continued down, he merely stood there, eyes fixed on a now vacant spot on the stairs.
Finally he shook off his contemplation and descended as well.
Neither Ereinion nor Celebriníel had noticed that the window-seat a little further down the hallway had been occupied. The reason for this could very well be because the occupant had done everything in his power to stay unobserved.
It was true that Glorfindel might have still been experiencing some of the less agreeable after-effects of the quantities of wine he had imbibed the evening before, but by no means had the events in the garden and here in the hallway escaped his attention.
With a raised eyebrow he had noticed Arinmîr kiss Celebriníel, as well as the young lady’s subsequent hasty departure, but before he could have reacted on anything, his attention had been called to Ereinion storming out of his chambers. Since there had been little doubt in Glorfindel’s mind that the High Prince was perfectly able to deal with the situation on his own, he had patiently waited for what was to come.
Nothing could have prepared him for what had followed though. For a single moment he had even been somewhat disappointed when Ereinion had returned with Celebriníel, since it had made a confrontation in the garden unlikely.
Swinging a leg thoughtfully, Glorfindel smiled. But perhaps this was even better.
‘Very interesting,’ he mused, staring into the hall for a moment.
The evening before, he questioned himself, had there been anything particular about it?
Ereinion had been more good-humoured than expected. The reports from Tirion had led Glorfindel to expect the High Prince’s disposition to be gloomy, but nothing had indicated towards that yesterday. Rather the complete opposite.
And Celebriníel, where had she been... Glorfindel frowned. Everywhere but near Ereinion, now that he came to think of it.
How long had this been going on? How long could it have been going on? What was going on?
Slowly Glorfindel’s thoughts began to get clearer.
With Celebriníel still several years from reaching her majority, he could be quite certain Ereinion had not initiated anything.
So, was this the protecting behaviour of a cousin who only meant well, or was there more behind it?
Arinmîr approaching Celebriníel had not been surprising at all. Glorfindel had not expected the young Elf to act upon his feelings so openly, true, but it had been a matter of time.
But Ereinion... If he had gone out into the garden to speak with Arinmîr, Glorfindel would not have given it another thought; the High Prince had always been fond of his best friend’s daughter. But the mere manner with which he had watched over Celebriníel upon bringing her to his chambers, the small careful gestures that he had adopted automatically, and more specifically the look in his eyes when he gazed after her, told half of the story.
Celebriníel was harder to fathom. But he would try, Glorfindel nodded to himself. He would pay very close attention to the both of them indeed.
Starting right this instant.
With a veer in his tread he had not dared adopt earlier, for fear of increasing the pounding in his head, the golden-haired Elf-lord descended the stairway.
He could not withhold a grin when observing those gathered to greet Celeborn and Galadriel. Celebriníel was animatedly speaking to her grandfather, while Ereinion, hands behind his back, made polite conversation with Galadriel, Erestor by his side. Even paying close attention, Glorfindel could not distinguish any furtive glances from the High Prince towards Celebriníel. He seemed quite absorbed in the exchange with the Lady Galadriel.
That was, until Arinmîr entered the house from the gardens. It would have been impolite to just merely wander off without greeting the visitors from the Gardens of Lórien, but it had to be a very unpleasant experience for the young Elf.
If Celebriníel avoided his eyes, Ereinion definitely did not.
The High Prince was tall, but on occasions like these, he had the uncanny ability to appear even taller. Or perhaps Arinmîr was growing smaller with each step he took while under the scrutinizing gaze. At a certain point Celebriníel chanced a glance at Ereinion, how exactly Glorfindel was not able to make out, but it caused the blaze in Ereinion’s eyes to subside, though his stern expression was by no means gone.
‘Glorfindel, I cannot begin to imagine why you would have such an expression of sheer enjoyment on your features.’
The Elf-lord turned to find Celebrían standing beside him and Elrond, who had spoken, descending the stairway, occupied with the sleeves of his robes.
‘Was I?’ he remarked innocently, making sure his face was a expressionless as he could possibly achieve. ‘Very strange, I cannot tell you precisely why.’
Meeting Celebrían’s eyes, Glorfindel noticed she too had observed Ereinion and Celebriníel, and had perceived some undercurrent as well. She made to speak, but was cut short by a call from above, Elladan speeding through one of the galleries.
‘Naneth, Aurehen says it has started.’
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Aer maer: good morning
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