High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis

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Chapter Twenty-Two     Return

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When it seemed the eldest of the High Princes had spoken his last word, most of those present in his council chambers, including Fingolfin himself, departed gradually, speaking in hushed voices.

Ereinion was the last to remain, seated deeply in the chair nearest to the comfortable fireplace, his hand resting under his head, his eyes far away. This late afternoon, there were many thoughts occupying his mind, not the least his own council waiting for him, back in his own chambers, not far from here. And yet he did not rise, more or less trusting Elrohir would inform them there would be no meeting today.

After a while, it was Fingon who returned, and stood contemplating whether or not to disturb his son.

His eyes still locked on something unseen, the youngest High Prince spoke clearly, a slight trace of amazement in his voice.

‘You know, Adar, I had not expected this.’

Swallowing, Fingon shook his head.

‘I still hope every day my brother and sister return from Mandos. I have learned not to expect anything if it has to do with rebirth or rehousing. But somehow this does not surprise me in the least. In truth, I do not think it surprises you either, it is merely the time which is inconvenient.’

Biting his lower lip a moment, Ereinion finally looked up at his father.

‘What of the child?’

Fingon gave a short shake of the head.

‘We shall see what Fingolfin and Finarfin decide.’

Turning his gaze towards the fire, Ereinion nodded, irony heavy in his voice.

‘Of course. Even though they have known of this for five years before now.’

Folding his arms, Fingon strolled through the room, and began moving some papers on his father’s desk. Without looking up, knowing he would only see his son’s back, he took a deep breath before posing his question.

‘Have you met him?’

He watched his son sit up instantly, in such a way he could not keep observing casually. Ereinion turned to meet his eyes.

‘No.’

‘Do you...’

‘No.’

Leaving the papers as they were, he approached the chair he had left not long ago, the one nearest to Ereinion’s.

‘There will come a moment when you and he shall come face to face again.’

With a nod, Ereinion sat back again.

‘Perhaps, but not now, not today, not anytime soon.’

‘He is only a boy, Ereinion.’

‘I know that. Were you not nervous to see me, upon my return?’

Sitting back also, the elder of the two elves smiled.

‘Your mother made me see you, there was no room for argument.’

‘Well, here is plenty of room for argument.’

They sat silently for a moment, only the crackle of the fire audible.

‘There is a reason I ask this,’ Fingon said slowly, very attentive to even the smallest of his son’s reactions.

Only moving his eyes, Ereinion looked at him again. No answer, just two attentive grey eyes which indicated he was listening. Fingon leant forward, closer to the fire, his elbows on his knees.

‘He... has asked for you.’

Ereinion let an amused sound escape his lips.

‘How can he have asked for me?’

‘Do you remember who you asked for, at about that same age, I might add?’

Resting his chin on his chest, Ereinion was silent for a while, the flames dancing and casting shadows the only movement visible on his face.

‘I had to wait a long time before I could see Elrond again. It will not hurt the child to wait. And I was never as close to him as Elrond was to me. It does not seem right.’ He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. ‘I was the only one he asked for?’

‘You were not the only one, but you were the first.’

‘Who else?’

‘Galadriel.’

‘Ah, yes. Much more logical.’

‘What is it that makes you act so defensively, Ereinion?’ Fingon asked, giving his son a weary look. ‘Not merely this, is it?’

‘An accumulation of events. Frustration. Perhaps.’

However much he preferred to draw the answer out if his son, Fingon knew any attempts with that in mind would only make him close up tighter.

‘Your mother asked if you would have dinner with us.’

Ereinion nodded shortly.

‘Yes, though it would have to be tonight.’

‘Yes?’

‘I leave for Imloth in the morning.’

—~~*~~—

As Elernil strode out of his grandfather’s library, he already observed Celebriníel impatiently waiting. As soon as he had removed himself far enough from the doors as to be out of the hearing distance of those inside the library, she neared him with a chastising look.

‘You merely had to bring messages, what could possibly have taken you so long?’

Smiling, Elernil looked down at her, half a head shorter than he was.

‘Chess, Briníel. Your father would never have me leave without a game of chess. Although it seemed he was out to show Daeradar Celeborn my progress since he last saw me play. And do allow me to warm up a little. The weather is cold.’

Knowing very well she had not truly been asking for an explanation, he answered her anticipating look with a questioning one.

‘What?’

‘Oh well, if that is the case, do not deliver all your messages.’

Straightening her shoulders, Celebriníel turned and made for the stairway. For a moment Elernil thought to experiment how long it would take for her to return, but decided Ereinion would not be entirely pleased with that.

‘Very well.’ He reached inside his tunic and collected the dispatch he had kept there, instead of with the other letters. ‘If you had been here when I arrived, you would have had it before I entered.’

‘I know,’ she replied, blushing, eyes on the letter that her nephew now pushed into her hands. Standing so for a moment, she finally lifted her head, and then quickly kissed Elernil on the cheek, only to speed up the stairway and disappear out of sight.

Shaking his head, Elernil shrugged, and went in search of his mother.

Breaking the seal and unfolding the paper before she had even reached her room, Celebriníel chuckled with delight. There was no addressee at the top of the letter, and most of it consisted of a list with several titles of manuscripts, but she had not expected anything else. With a smile she read the last lines, in their matter-of-fact slant.

I requested one of the librarians to go in search of the texts needed for your studies. Much as expected, not all could be located on such short notice, but I will carry those unearthed from the Great Library (as listed above) with me tomorrow, as I ride for Imloth to meet with your father.

Hoping this note finds you well,

E.

It was silly, she knew, taking such delight in a mere note meaning nothing. It meant nothing to him, in any case. Most likely he had sent someone else to take care of the matter in his name. Celebriníel did not think it was of importance, at this point. He would come tomorrow, and she would receive the manuscripts from his own hands, and that would be enough...

—~~*~~—

The following morning, Elladan, somewhere between waking and sleeping, after he had shortly returned to bed again, became aware of a soft tugging on his hair. The movement had become somewhat of a natural thing recently, and therefore he did not need to open his eyes to be able to catch the small fist which was wrapped around one of his braids.

A soft sound of disappointment was uttered nearby as he untangled his hair from the tiny fingers, and he opened his eyes to find one of his small daughters sitting beside him on the large bed, her lower lip slightly trembling. He smiled briefly, which only made her pout more, it seemed.

‘Shh, Almariel, no need to cry, come to Ada,’ he whispered, holding out an arm for her.

She quickly crawled closer and settled against him, slipping her thumb into her mouth and fingering her ear with her other hand. Elladan smiled as her grey eyes settled on his face.

‘You will see your sister a little while later, I promise, but when your Daeradar came this morning you were still asleep, so he took Almarinde with him, and you stayed with me.’

With what almost seemed a weak smile, the little girl blinked at him, then released her ear and stretched her hand out to catch his hair again.

Giving in to her request, Elladan was relieved to notice she was only just interested in holding it, at least for the moment. Smiling, he stroked her hair and followed her nose with his index finger, then her cheeks, knowing the movements soothed the child; her eyes were half-closed at present.

He found it remarkable she could just will herself to sleep everywhere, sometimes.

Equally remarkable was that he could just look at her, watch her sleep, for hours on end. Not that time mattered, but he could.

And there was no way to tell how much time had passed before Aurehen returned to the room and laughed softly as she saw the two of them.

‘Enchanted?’ she asked Elladan teasingly.

‘Completely,’ he replied, laughing up at her.

‘Nevertheless, perhaps you can go and save your father from Almarinde. You know how irritable she can be if her lunch is postponed for too long.’

Pressing his lips against Almariel’s forehead, Elladan made to rise, but was brought to a halt by a little hand still clasping a strand of his hair. With a chuckle, Aurehen helped him escape. Pulling his wife closer, Elladan looked at their youngest daughter, now asleep, her hand having returned to her ear. Turning up Aurehen’s face he kissed her gently, allowed his gaze to linger on her face for a moment longer, and then departed for the library.

—~~*~~—

Both Ereinion and Elrohir were swift in making their way up to the house from the stables. The wind had picked up considerably, and combined with the freezing winter-temperature, being outside was not comfortable at all.

Once indoors, Elrohir indicated he was going in search of Mîrlinde, while Ereinion went in search of Elrond.

He found the Lord of the House occupied in his study with a small dark-haired elfchild, whom he judged to be one of Elrond’s granddaughters. She was indeed, the eldest of Elladan’s daughters, Almarinde.

‘I take it you have heard?’ Ereinion asked, making his way through the chamber.

Elrond looked up as the other poured himself a glass of wine from the crystal decanter which stood on a small side table. He observed the High Prince crossing the chamber once more, glass in hand, to end up staring into the flames of the fire that burned comfortably in the fireplace.

‘That there was an important matter that needed to be discussed in Tirion. This is what you speak of?’

Bringing the glass to his lips and taking a small sip, Ereinion nodded.

‘Uhm, well, yes.’

The small child sitting in Elrond’s lap raised her face enquiringly up to her grandfather and offered her hand when he did not immediately respond to her. Catching it, Elrond smiled at her, then raised an eyebrow at Ereinion.

‘And?’

Breaking his stare into the flames to look at Elrond, Ereinion pursed his lips.

‘Fëanorians.’

‘Hmm,’ Elrond frowned. ‘Fëanorians? I shall need slightly more information than simply that.’

Leaving his position by the fireplace, Ereinion walked towards Elrond and Almarinde to take a chair.

‘Fingolfin called a family meeting. If I am not much mistaken, you were invited as well.’

Carefully Elrond handed over the small girl, keeping an observant eye on Ereinion as he held the child to his chest.

‘Elrohir was there.’

‘Yes,’ Ereinion replied, catching the hand with which the girl tried to grab one of his braids. ‘I noticed that much.’

While the High Prince concentrated on both the elfchild as well as the conversation, Elrond smiled and folded his hands, leaning back in his chair.

‘Are you going to explain it to me, or merely talk around it?’

Sitting the girl down on his lap, holding her hands, Ereinion faced his friend.

‘Celebrimbor has been released from Mandos’s Halls.’

Sitting quietly for a moment, Elrond finally rose and walked over to the decanter. There he poured a glass of the wine as well. Ereinion watched him for a reaction, but had a hard time piercing the stone façade, as Almarinde tried to escape his grasp.

Slowly, the Elf-lord returned, but did not sit down again.

Thoughtfully, Elrond twirled the reddish substance in the glass, still not having tasted it. Then his eyes flashed up, meeting Ereinion’s. ‘Recently?’

Attempting to keep the girl in his lap from taking a hold of the glass he had placed on the table next to him before she had been handed to him, Ereinion managed to half-nod.

‘Recently, but not very much so. This is where it becomes rather amusing. Apparently, this has all been kept quiet for some time. No wonder, really, considering what happened regarding the rings and such. There are many on Aman who have suffered greatly due to Celebrimbor’s craftsmanship.’

Shaking his head, Elrond set down his glass and offered to take back the child, then looked at his friend.

‘”What happened regarding the rings and such”’?

Ereinion shrugged, pursing his lips and lifting his glass to his lips again.

‘I do not have time for such pleasantries as to complain about jewellery that caused my death.’

As Almarinde settled comfortably in her grandfather’s arms, watching Ereinion, Elrond shook his head slowly.

‘How long has this remained silent then?’

‘Five years. I have not seen the child.’

The two adults were quiet for some time, both caught up in their separate streams of thought. Almarinde made soft chuckling noises as she finally caught one of Elrond’s braids and put the end in her mouth, biting it while looking up.

‘So the first has returned,’ Elrond finally mused, rather to himself than to anyone else, of which Ereinion was very much aware. ‘It brings me to wonder about the rest of them.’

The girl in his arms suddenly released his hair and squealed in delight, uttering something that came very close to “Ada!”. With quick paces, Elladan, who had indeed entered, neared and took her from Elrond, only to hold her up in the air for a moment, while she laughed cheerily.

‘Hullo, Almarinde, were you teasing your Daeradar and Ereinion?’ he asked with enthusiasm.

He lowered her and took her on his arm, smiling at Ereinion.

‘It is good to see you again, though I imagine your journey here was... wintry?’

‘I do very much look forward to sitting nearer to a fire in a while, to be sure,’ Ereinion grinned.

‘And I take it you have made the acquaintance of my daughter?’ Elladan asked, his glimmering eyes on the child in his arms.

‘Only the eldest,’ the High Prince replied with a smile.

‘Ah, we shall soon remedy that,’ the proud father promised, as he grimaced at his daughter, making her laugh. ‘If you have time, that is.’

While they were speaking, Celebrían entered, moving across the chamber to place a hand on Elrond’s arm in silence.

Noticing the unspoken conversation going on between them, Ereinion rose and smiled at Elladan.

‘I have time.’

He reached out to catch Celebrían’s hand in greeting momentarily, then looked at Elrond.

‘We shall speak of this further, I promise.’

Elrond slowly nodded in reply, and watched Ereinion follow Elladan, in search of his other granddaughter.

Celebrían smiled as she walked around her husband and studied his face.

‘What was the matter?’

Elrond stared at her for a moment. He had felt her ask him the same question before, quietly, in his mind, but he had not been able to explain. He caught her hand. Somehow he could now.

‘Celebrimbor has returned. Or rather, he did five years ago.’

As most expression fled from her face, Celebrían exerted some pressure on her husband’s hand.

‘And what happens now?’

Entwining his fingers with hers, Elrond smiled weakly.

‘I do not know. If it brings back the past... I cannot say.’

‘For you, you mean? Or...?’

He shook his head.

‘It is true Eregion has always affected me differently than Mordor did. But I believe there might be some here on Aman who feel more strongly about the matter.’

Suddenly, there was a vision, one Celebrían had seen many times before, long ago, when sharing her lover’s dreams. It was only a flash, but there were enough emotions accompanying it for her to remember how it affected Elrond.

A body, pierced with arrows, hung upon a pole, functioning as a banner.

Then it had gone again.

‘We cautioned them,’ Elrond whispered, lost in thought, his gaze caught on something beyond. ‘But they did not listen. Not in time. I was not in time.’

Celebrían touched his face, making him gaze at her and smile.

‘I know it, El-nîn.’ She squeezed his shoulder.

Nodding, he offered his arm. Together they walked into the hall, looking down to see Ereinion hold Elladan’s second daughter, Almariel. As her sister, the girl was interested in catching the Elf-lord’s braids, but Ereinion seemed to have become accustomed to it, and easily held off grabbing little hands as he spoke to Aurehen, who had joined the two Elf-lords.

Celebrían rested her head against Elrond’s shoulder.

‘And the child?’

Elrond gave a shake of the head.

‘Ereinion has not said.’

—~~*~~—

Slipping into the library some time after leaving Elladan and Aurehen with their daughters, Ereinion smiled as he noticed Celebriníel, staring at a piece of paper. He stood there for a moment, drinking in the sight, wishing he could step closer and simply run his fingers through her silver tresses. He regretted having to disturb her.

‘There you are,’ he said quietly, but loud enough to draw her out of her musings. ‘I would have expected to see you downstairs.’

She looked up at him and smiled broadly as he walked over and sat down beside her, depositing a leather binder on the table.

‘I lost track of time.’ She shook her head. ‘I think I have been staring at this piece of paper for at least half an hour now. And I still have no idea what is on it. It just did not register.’

Raising a playful eyebrow, Ereinion smiled at her.

‘I am uncertain whether I should give you these, then. Your father will blame me if he finds you staring at those for hours on end.’

With a shake of the head, Celebriníel smiled back.

‘My father knows what it is to be engrossed in a manuscript.’

That smile will be my undoing soon, Ereinion thought.

‘Ah yes, he does indeed.’ He nodded as he began undoing the fastenings of the binder, attempting to focus on something else than her lips. ‘There is a very interesting account of the first travels of the Noldor into Middle-earth there.’

Taking the manuscripts from him, Celebriníel asked the question without looking at him.

‘Did you travel much in Middle-earth?’

He smiled as he saw her eagerly absorb the information before her, then nodded.

‘Though it is not mentioned much in the history books, I was quite well-travelled. Not always did I simply sit in my halls and bicker with Númenórean kings.’

Putting aside the document with care, and collecting a map from beneath her notebooks and other papers, Celebriníel looked at him.

‘What is the furthest you have travelled?’

‘Hmm, let me see,’ he replied, pulling the map closer and bending over it.

Celebriníel watched him, concentrating as he traced his finger from Forlindon in the west, all the way through Eriador, the pass of the Rohan, past Mordor, deeper into the south.

‘I travelled there, when my reign still knew peace, at which time the lands of Middle-earth were still scarcely populated. I have been beyond the river Harnen, have followed the road leading to the lands of Haradwaith.’

She looked at him, then at the southern part of the map before her, the only part which was tinted a light brownish colour.

‘Is it truly a desert place?’

‘Yes,’ he answered slowly, thoughtfully, ‘even when I visited it. Though perhaps, it has not always been so.’

‘Tell me.’

If this was the only thing she could share with him, words, history, Celebriníel thought, then she would at least endeavour to have him speak as long as possible.

‘Once,’ he began, ‘I think it was a green land, where grass grew, and the land was nourished by abundant rains. I know not why it changed.’

‘How was it when you visited?’

‘Dry.’

‘Ereinion,’ she insisted, tilting her head a little.

He grinned, and received her reproving gaze with a shrug. Then he turned silent for a while, caught up in memories.

‘It is a vastness, it surpasses all imagination. Things are never what they seem there.’

‘I would think it was all sand,’ he heard her whisper.

‘On the contrary, the landscape is magnificent, diverse, though in a different way from how we know it.’

From how you know it, Ereinion thought.

‘The winds shape the lands there,’ he continued. ‘They change the scenery, shift mountains, transform points of reference. Sometimes the heat is almost unbearable, and all that lives there must adapt. There are dry places, but I do not think those terrified me as much as the rock wastelands did. The stones were brought there by ancient rivers, probably, water that flowed there, perhaps long before the first Elves awoke.’

‘It sounds like you were fond of it.’

‘It is a strange place. Confusing. But beautiful in its own way. It can be very much like certain conditions of the mind.’

And suddenly he recalled something, a strange detail, a detail not part of that memory, but connected to a different one.

‘The dust in the air enters your lungs... The weather becomes your enemy. Plants cannot live there. Nothing can live there.’

Celebriníel noted the change at once, and looked at him inquiringly.

‘Ereinion?’

‘Mordor.’

‘Oh.’

For a moment she contemplated resting a hand on his arm, just to let him know she cared, that she was there. But the moment passed as soon as he spoke again.

‘When I first started to remember... I thought I had gone insane.’

The mere tone of his voice gave so much additional information, telling the story behind the words, Celebriníel feared to interrupt, wondering if he would even hear her words, remembering a similar situation which had taken place when she had been much younger.

‘It must have been hard.’

‘For my mother, it was.’ Ereinion smiled at the memory. He looked at Celebriníel, who seemed relieved the moment had passed. ‘With my father going through the same only a little before, it was she who experienced the strain of it all. She has forgiven both of us, though.’ He chuckled and rose.

Desperate for him to stay longer, Celebriníel posed him a question she believed would keep him, at least for a while.

‘How does your mother?’

‘Well. She does well.’ He nodded as if to confirm his own words. ‘I think she enjoys my presence in Tirion. I take after her, and we feel most comfortable discussing dilemmas together. Likeminded, perhaps. And more objective when it concerns political matters.’

Self-consciously he realised he was talking nonsense, her presence, her eyes on him constantly, the most apparent reason for it. Celebriníel did not appear to notice.

‘Good,’ she simply answered, rising from her chair.

‘I must return there soon. To Tirion.’ For some reason he lowered his voice as he spoke, and placed a hand on the table, as if there was need for him to steady himself.

‘I know,’ she replied softly, looking up at him.

Without saying anything, she stepped forward, causing him, as an instinctive reaction, to bring his face close to hers.

Realise what you are doing... Be so very careful that you know... he warned himself.

Her hand was unexpectedly on his cheekbone, her cold fingers making the event even more palpable. When she stood so near him, a longing sprang from deep within him, a fire he had long tried to hide. To touch her face, to kiss her, to hold her...

But he would not allow it to guide him. He refused to let it shatter all.

Ereinion had to control every urge in his body to be able to withdraw, but withdraw he did. Celebriníel looked away, almost guiltily, before stepping back also.

‘I will see you tonight, at dinner?’ he asked, not looking at her, knowing that if he did, all his restraint would vanish like snow in sun.

‘Yes,’ he heard her whisper. ‘Tonight.’

‘Very well,’ he replied, before turning and walking towards the door as quickly as he could, trying to do so without acting too awkwardly. Celebriníel watched him go, and some time later caught herself still staring at the place where he had just disappeared. Taking a deep breath, she sat down and stared at the table, none of her notes making any sense to her at this point. Then she buried her head in her hands and closed her eyes, hoping desperately that when she opened them again, everything would be back to normal, or would at least have some feeling of normalcy about it...

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Daeradar: I suppose Elernil would call Celeborn (or Eärendil for that) the same as Celebriníel would, since we are talking about forefathers, and grandfathers or great-grandfathers are a rather awkward concept in Elvish families.

Almarinde: “almare” (Quenya) blessedness, bliss, “ind” (Sindarin) heart

Almariel: “almare” (Q) blessedness, bliss, “iell” (S) daughter, girl (thanks Case! ;))

Harnen: Gondor’s boundary with Near-Harad, a river in the southern part of Middle-earth, the name meaning “south-water”

Haradwaith: a vague term for the lands south-east of Harondor and Umbar, applying to Far and Near Harad

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