High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis
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Chapter Twenty-Three Changes
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‘He is certainly acting... strangely.’
Celebrían looked up at Celeborn and smiled, settling her sleeping granddaughter more comfortably in her arms as she sat back. Almariel shifted easily and placed her thumb into her mouth, not waking.
‘Now, with Ereinion, strange is not something easy to pinpoint. He has his eccentricities, as Gil-galad had them.’ Seated near the window, she gazed outside observing the landscape covered in snow. ‘The question might be how many he has retained.’
Celeborn replied with a smile very similar to that of his daughter.
‘Or how to distinguish between his eccentricities, as you call them, and those of his actions that are unusual even to him.’
‘Indeed,’ Celebrían nodded.
‘But how,’ he asked, settling on the armrest of the chair to run careful fingers through the sleeping child’s hair, ‘does Briníel feel about all this?’
‘She is so young, which is very easy to forget. I care for Ereinion very much, I love him for being the friend to Elrond he has always been, I love him for his presence in my own life, in that of my family. But I cannot say he is an easy person.’
‘You did not answer the question.’
She looked up at him.
‘I think that she is in love with him. I do not know whether she truly knows who he is though.’
‘Your mother, she is very quiet of this.’
‘I have noticed, yes.’
‘All she will say, and this is with that mystical smile she is known to so aptly put to use in these situations, is that perhaps Celebriníel will steady him. And somehow, to me, that makes sense.’
Trying to smile, Celebrían shook her head, looking down at the sleeping child in her arms, her thoughts further away.
‘She does not steady him now, Adar. And here, mother can not dress him up in an Elven cloak, and give him a jewel to wear upon his brow, so he can meet my daughter under the trees of Caras Galadhon laden with flowers of gold.’
Offering his hand, Celeborn looked down at her.
‘Ereinion arrived with Elven cloak, and he needs no gem on his brow to shine, nor trees laden with blossom.’
Taking her father’s hand, Celebrían sighed softly.
‘There are moments when I certainly agree with you, but I must be honest as well. I must protect my daughter first.’
With a chuckle, Celeborn shook his head.
‘I doubt the daughter of Elrond Peredhil and Celebrían of the Golden Wood needs much protection. Perhaps she needs time, yes, but I do not think she needs protection, or even guidance. And you forget how Ereinion can be when the gloom lifts from his features.’
The last remark made a true smile light up in the face of the Lady of the House.
‘I do think he was the only person who could persuade Elrond to leave his books in Lindon’s libraries.’
‘I well recall one instance when Ereinion had gone off into the Ered Luin, together with Elrond, on one of those excursions they were always on,’ Celeborn nodded, his eyes twinkling. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. ‘I still believe Gil-galad chose to build Lindon where he built it so he could clamber around those mountains, truly.’
He chuckled, shook his head, and Celebrían saw no need to urge him to continue the tale he was about to embark on; Celeborn returned there out of his own accord.
‘It must have been in the early years of the Second Age, those years of peace, when Gil-galad’s crown was not yet so heavy.’ He nodded. ‘I remember, they had set out early, lightly packed with only bare necessities, and no communication of when they were to return.
‘I do not believe it was word from Círdan,’ Celeborn mused, shaking his head. ‘But in any case, the High King’s councillors wished to call a meeting, and sent search parties into the mountains, but without finding a trace of either Ereinion or Elrond. Even I went out to find them, at a certain point. I barely escaped the thunderstorm that broke out on the fifth day of searching, but it suffices to say Lindon was in an uproar.’
‘I do not think I have had the honour of hearing this tale before,’ Celebrían said with a smile. ‘They were trapped in the mountains?’
‘It was assumed so, for no one had heard or seen anything of them. Now, as you well know, the Ered Luin are notorious for being treacherous during and after heavy rain. Small caves filling up unexpectedly at high speed, a misstep easily turning into a grave accident...’
Celeborn paused for a moment, letting the sentence hang in the air a little, then the faintest of smiles appeared on his face, only for an instant, and he continued once more.
‘So we stood waiting, soaked to the bone due to attempted rescues and searches into the mountains for days on end, and the two of them come walking up cheerily, asking us what in the name of Elbereth we are doing. We learned they had crossed the mountains already by the time the storm broke, and spent some comfortable days in front of a fire, on the other side of the mountains in Eriador.’
Shaking her head, more out of compassion for her father and the face he pulled than anything else, Celebrían grinned.
‘It certainly sounds like them.’
‘That day I vowed I would never go in search of either one of them ever again.’
Celeborn sounded as if he were still offended over it, but as his daughter quietly laughed, it did not take long for him to smile broadly as well. These little meetings between the two of them, few and often far apart, usually consisted of such things; she speaking her mind, not necessarily asking him to give his opinion, just to listen, and he trying to comfort her, to make her smile.
From the other end of the room, Aurehen entered, Elladan a little behind her, carrying his other daughter, who seemed very much awake. He softly spoke to the child, who giggled amusedly, a fist firmly secured around one of her father’s dark braids.
Smiling, Aurehen opened her arms for the sleeping Almariel. Celebrían handed her granddaughter away, and rose to greet her son and Almarinde.
‘Do you wish me to watch her for a while?’
Aurehen shook her head.
‘We shall bring them both to bed presently. I only hope Almarinde shall not wake her sister with all her chatter.’
Celeborn caught the small hand Almarinde offered him and looked at Elladan.
‘Your father and Ereinion are still caught up in their discussions?’
Elladan nodded.
‘I think I can say they have discussed the more gloomy affairs that accompany Celebrimbor’s return, and that both of them are now more or less sure of where they stand. Last I heard was that they were remembering a rather good wine they drank after returning to Imladris victorious.’ He chuckled.
Walking around the desk that stood in the chamber, Celebrían began searching through some papers she had left there this morning, before she had been asked to keep an eye on her youngest granddaughter. To Aurehen it seemed a sign to leave, and Elladan followed, attempting to keep his daughter quiet.
Listening to the sound of the child slowly fade away, Celeborn followed Celebrían and sat down in one of the chairs near her desk. He took a moment to look around, and found many familiar things. His daughter’s study was the place where most of the house gathered during the day. Usually if the library was empty, and Elrond could not be found in his working chamber, he could be found here, this chamber, straight across the library from his own. Somehow, where Elrond’s study could be imposing, doing justice to its name, Celebrían’s was the image of homeliness, a writing room, as well as a sitting room, a place around which the entire house revolved sometimes.
‘What do you think shall happen to Celebrimbor?’ he asked, forcing his thoughts back to the present.
Celebrían looked up, and her answer came almost directly, as if she had been pondering the same question in her mind not a moment ago. She likely has, Celeborn thought.
‘He shall fall under the High King’s guardianship regardless. It seems most logical Finarfin and Fingolfin wish to place him with family though. Close to those whom he knew in Middle-earth. And close to someone who might understand what he will go through, in years to come.’
Celeborn looked at her.
‘Ereinion? Fingolfin? Or simply Nerdanel in Tirion?’
Celebrían slowly shook her head.
‘Personally, I would immediately have Nerdanel take him under her wing. I suspect she has done so already, during those five years we know nothing of. But these decisions concerning the placing of the rehoused are considered very carefully. I cannot possibly tell you what the conclusion shall be in the end.’ She looked at her father. ‘I was told he has asked for Naneth and you?’
‘He has,’ Celeborn replied shortly. ‘We plan to go to Tirion in the not too distant future.’
From somewhere, voices began to grow louder, and, leaving her desk, Celebrían opened the door to gaze into the library. Elrond stood by the railing, apparently talking to someone downstairs. It sounded like Ereinion.
‘Apparently there has been an accident. He asks if the House of Elrond would welcome him and his following, so they can see to their needs here, before returning to Tirion.’
Elrond nodded.
‘The High King, and whomever rides with him, is welcome at Imloth.’
From below sounded the footsteps of someone retreating, no doubt to ride towards the already nearing party on horseback, to tell them Imloth was waiting.
As from out of nowhere, Elladan’s voice sounded, though Celebrían could not make out the words. She heard Ereinion again; apparently it had not been the High Prince who had just left.
Then her youngest son’s voice rose, very audible now.
‘Ereinion and I shall ride towards them.’
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Due to the bustle on the road and at the stables, Ereinion had not been able to study many of those accompanying Finarfin on his riding trip. As he took a moment to do so, he could not help but wonder how much of a coincidence this was. It certainly looked terribly arranged. He leant against one of the tables.
Overall, Finarfin seemed the only one amused. Ereinion threw him a careful smile, and it was returned with an equally careful grin, which disappeared as one of the healers that had accompanied him inspected his arm, prodding and feeling for breaks in the bone, any swellings that could accompany injuries.
Elrond had reduced himself to being only a looming figure in the background. He stood watching, his eyes ever so vigilantly observing, his arms folded across his chest, leaning against the wall near a window.
As soon as the healer had stepped back, the High King caught his son’s sleeve. Finrod nodded as he listened to his father.
Finarfin’s eldest son had a way of unnoticeably moving through a crowd Ereinion was slightly envious of, and he watched Finrod approach Elrond, who lent him his ear with an eyebrow raised in amusement.
So Elrond, too, suspected this was no chance visit?
A moment later most surplus members of the High King’s following were being ushered out of Celebrían’s chambers. Erestor and Glorfindel disappeared with them, no doubt to see to any of the needs Imloth’s guests might have.
Ereinion smiled at Finrod, who looked at him a moment before allowing him to remain. Elrond left his place by the window and approached Finarfin. Celebrían had already been there, at her grandfather’s side, together with Galadriel.
With a smile, the former Lord of Imladris seemed to exchange some words with the High King, before he started his own examination. Celebrían looked up at Elrond, but he did not seem to answer her gaze purposely. Quiet sentences were exchanged between the three of them, with Finarfin every once in a while squinting when Elrond touched upon a sore spot. Finally, Celebrían rose and walked over to where Celebriníel stood. Galadriel remained until Finarfin gestured he would be fine, and she joined Celeborn who stood a little removed.
Now alone, Elrond glanced at Finarfin.
‘I do not believe I shall come to a much different conclusion than your physician has, my Lord.’
The High King nodded.
‘Humour me, Elrond, if you will.’
‘Of course.’
As the dark-haired Elf-lord, his cousin and the husband of his granddaughter, continued the examination, Finarfin narrowed his eyes.
‘Occurrences like these make me realise what the difficulty is with being Elvish.’
‘What is that, my Lord?’
Finarfin grimaced, and Elrond made an apologetic sound. The High King heaved a sigh.
‘We have to be reminded we are not invulnerable.’
Elrond did not look at him, but his voice sounded matter-of-factly, able fingers examining what he judged to be a very minor injury.
‘A mere sprain, my Lord, if even that. A painful inconvenience, nothing more.’
‘Do you ever need to be reminded, Elrond?’
Halting a moment, Elrond shook his head.
‘No... Somehow, living with the knowledge that no Elf is truly immortal for more than two Ages in Middle-earth, I do not think I shall ever have to be told again, my Lord. It was grown into my awareness from early childhood on.’
Studying Elrond’s movements as he continued, Finwë’s youngest son turned his attention away from Elvish mortality and his arm. He knew very well there was very little wrong with the latter. The sprain had come about when his horse stumbled on some ice on the road, and he had been forced to keep his balance while the reins had still been wrapped around his arm. Normally, he would have shrugged and continued onwards, but at this point he had used it as a guise to come to Imloth. Something of which Elrond seemed well aware.
‘Have you, by any chance, been following the discussions in the Council?’
Answering quietly, caution was already very evident in Elrond’s voice.
‘I have not followed them recently, no, but my son can surely inform me, would that be necessary.’
‘But you are aware of the fact that someone who has returned from the Halls of Námo Mandos, cannot lay claim on the High Kingship?’
‘Ereinion informed me of that, yes.’
Slowly the High King nodded.
‘I expected he would have. He has also informed you of a recent return, I gather.’
‘Indeed.’
‘It has made discussions blaze up again. But none can claim High Kingship from the house of Curufinwë, neither any of the elder branch of the house of Fingolfin. Even were Ereinion to father a child, no claim can be made.’
Elrond finished his examination and sat down. He folded his hands, his eyes fixed on Finarfin’s face.
‘I suspect I know what it is you are trying to say.’
‘Your grandmother would not be accepted, and your father cannot lay claim...’
‘And I would refuse to,’ Elrond interrupted. ‘If that is what you are speaking of.’
Finarfin smiled.
‘It might very well be that we shall never have to deal with such issues. But of the House of Finwë only survive female lines. Through Turgon, and his daughter, your grandmother Idril, the first right is yours. Even if you would openly refuse...’ Finarfin stopped as Elrond raised a hand.
‘My Lord, we shall cross that bridge once it needs to be crossed, not before.’
Slowly, Finarfin nodded.
‘You are right,’ he smiled, as if somehow the answer pleased him. Now I would like to take a closer look at your granddaughters, Elrond. And you shall have to... Ah wait. Ereinion?’
The High Prince left his leaning position and approached them.
‘My Lord?’
‘There is someone waiting outside, will you please invite him in?’
Giving Finarfin a nod, and Elrond a questioning glance, Ereinion strode over to the door and opened it. For a moment he contemplated throwing it shut again, but merely stepped back and scowled at Finarfin, who bowed his head a moment in acknowledgement.
Finrod moved nearer to motion the elfchild that stood just outside to enter, and closed the door, leaving the room himself. Celebrían glanced at Elrond, who rose and nodded at the child. There could be no mistake, all the characteristics were there, even if not yet as pronounced, features clearly naming the face.
‘Welcome to Imloth, Celebrimbor, I am Elrond.’
Bowing his head shortly, observant eyes never leaving Elrond’s face, the boy’s voice was clear.
‘Suilad, hîr-nîn.’
Celebrían stepped away from the window, and offered a hand to Celebrimbor. He looked at her, then smiled, and placed his hand in hers.
‘Suilad, Celebrimbor. I am Celebrían.’
‘Suilad...’ he replied, glancing back at Elrond. ‘He knows me?’
‘Indeed, yes,’ she answered, returning his earlier smile. ‘I believe most people in this room know you. I am the daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel.’
For a moment, there seemed to be a sort of recognition that flickered across the boy’s face.
‘I remember their names, and I think their faces. But I do not understand why.’
‘You will, in time. Who else do you remember?’
He seemed to consider the question for a moment, glimpsing at Ereinion, then back at Celebrían. Finally, he turned down his eyes and stayed silent. Celebrían looked at Ereinion, then stretched out an arm for him.
If he wavered, it was only for a moment. As he had watched the child, he had been confronted with himself, feeling as he now did, only with the difference he had had his parents nearby. Who did this boy have?
Nearing Celebrimbor, he hunched down, and offered his hand.
‘Suilad, mellon-iaur.’
He watched grey eyes meet his, and felt a small hand being placed in his own.
‘Are you... Gil-galad... Ereinion?’
Studying the other curiously, nothing of his earlier reluctance remaining, Ereinion nodded.
‘They call me Ereinion now.’
Releasing Celebrían’s hand, Celebrimbor faced Ereinion. He brought up a hand, thought better of it, and quickly withdrew it, but Ereinion smiled.
‘It is allowed.’
Placing a hand on the Elf-lord’s cheek, the boy studied his face, turned it slightly, first to the left, then to the right, and stared at Ereinion, before whispering softly.
‘Why do I remember you?’
Ereinion tilted his head a moment, recalling the trembling older version of the young Elf before him, the words pouring into his mind.
‘If anyone can protect the Rings, it is you.’
‘What friend are you to ask this of me?’
‘Is it not our kin we can trust when all else fails?’
‘Some kin you are, if this is the way you wish to prove our kinship.’
‘You and I,’ he smiled weakly, moving onto his knees, ignoring the words, words spoken in anger and fear and confusion, ‘we were good friends.’
They had been, it was true. Before Eregion, before everything started spinning out of control. Before Annatar...
Small arms slipped around his neck and he answered, pulling the small boy close, realising, remembering, that it had helped him, had comforted him when he had been in this situation.
And he will have a much harder time than I...
‘Shall we be friends again?’ he heard the child whisper, and he nodded.
‘We shall indeed, Celebrimbor, we shall indeed.’
After that, when he had risen and stepped aside, Ereinion was uncertain what went on further in the chamber, he did not give it much attention. He knew Galadriel spoke with the child, but he could only turn his back, deliberating the future which now lay ahead. A sense of security for Celebrimbor was needed, protection, a feeling of being loved, unconditionally. This was important now. Not the orphans of Eregion placing blame on a boy. He decided he would need to speak to his grandfather at the earliest opportunity.
Celebrimbor had come to say goodbye at some point, and they had talked a little of unimportant things. Following that, the chambers had emptied.
He thought everyone had gone, but after a while someone came to stand beside him. Neither of them spoke for some time, the silence was comfortable, they both seemed to have enough thoughts to keep themselves occupied. But finally Celebriníel, the only one who had stayed behind, turned to him, slightly hesitant.
‘What did you feel that made you unwilling to see him before?’
Ereinion stared out before him. ‘I felt...’ He shook his head, then looked at her. ‘I was angry, angry with him for going to Galadriel first. And in a sense I was angry he came to me. That he dared burden me with not one, but two Rings.’
Celebriníel watched him questioningly, there was indeed a paradox in his explanation, but he smiled comfortingly in reply.
‘It does not matter.’
It did not feel like it mattered at this point. He was surprised at his change of mind nevertheless. The mere fact that Celebrimbor had reminded him of himself had changed everything.
Sitting down in the window he looked at Celebriníel, and could not help but continue to smile. How much time left between them? Two years? Less than two years... Closer to a year, even.
She shook her head and chuckled.
‘What is wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ he said simply. Then, he raised his hand, only to shortly touch her cheek with the back. As he withdrew it again, Celebriníel brought her own hand up, clumsily catching his in midair. Staying so for a moment, neither dared to look at the other. Finally, Ereinion gently turned her hand and restored it to her. Not wishing it to appear a refusal, he began to explain.
‘I...’ he started slowly, but Celebriníel interrupted.
‘What happened in the library...’
‘Celebriníel,’ he looked at her intently, cutting her short now. ‘At this moment...’
Her nod was short, and yet again she spoke before he could have ended his sentence.
‘I understand.’
How could she possibly? He was hesitant to say he himself comprehended at times.
‘I am not certain that you do.’
‘Really,’ she looked away. ‘I think I understand.’
‘Then tell me.’
She looked at him, smiling weakly, almost painfully.
‘You love another.’
The statement was short, to the point. And so horribly wide of the mark that there was nothing he wanted more than to kiss her, and hold her, to tell her she was wrong. Instead he rose and caught her hand again, shaking his head.
‘I love, but I cannot speak it. There are years standing between us, years that will have to pass. Many things can change in a short time. I cannot speak it now. I will not force anyone to accept something they might not wish to accept in two year’s time.’
‘Are you saying love is fickle?’ she whispered bravely, clasping his other hand in hers. ‘That I...’
Not allowing her to finish the sentence he pulled her in his arms.
‘I am saying some things have to be given time,’ he whispered into her hair, stroking her back. ‘If you have not known love, how can you recognise it for what it truly is? How can you know it shall still be there tomorrow?’
Celebriníel pushed him away, attempting to conceal the tears in her eyes with a quick movement.
‘Are your experiences in love so much greater than mine, that you know better than I do?’
‘Nay,’ he said, almost smiling at her flaming eyes. ‘Only you know what is in your heart. I apologise, lady.’
Walking away from the window, he had every intention to leave.
‘I know what it is you are trying to do,’ she said, as he had passed her, and had already crossed half of the chamber. Surprised, he made to answer, but she was already speaking again. ‘You try to keep me at an arm’s length. At least until the time you spoke of has passed.’
Bowing his head, he nodded.
‘I hope that you will forgive me, if this is true.’ He smiled. ‘And prove me foolish for speaking those words to you, soon.’
He turned to leave, but could not help react on her voice when she called to him.
‘Ereinion?’
He faced her again from the doorway.
‘Briníel?’
‘You will not go because of this? I do believe you are expected at dinner.’
‘I will return to Tirion in the morning, with the High King.’
She nodded.
‘Imloth looks forward to your return, my Lord High Prince.’
‘Celebriníel?’
‘Yes?’
‘Can I still write to you?’
A breath that sounded very much like a short laugh escaped her. Bowing her head and shaking it a little, she nodded in the end.
‘Yes, you can.’
When she looked up again, he had disappeared from the doorway.
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Celeborn’s story, we don’t really know much about the Ered Luin, so most I made up.
Note on Elvish: apparently the specialists have now decided nin (as in meaning “my”) has an accent: nín. I’m still sticking to nîn though, so don’t say I didn’t warn you. ;))
hîr-nîn: my lord
mellon-iaur: old friend, former friend
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