High Princes of Tirion
by Nemis

My thanks also go to Kalurien, for once again putting up with my weird grammar. She probably saw too many versions of this chapter than is good for a person.
A last nod to my LiveJournal friends. You guys rock. :D I’d be lost without you all, really.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine     Choices

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Propelled forward with force, a pebble flew across the water, skipping only once before encountering a wave it could not possibly surmount. The water swallowed it promptly. A moment later it was followed by another, which sunk in nearly the same manner.

Ereinion stood by the shoreline alone, a supply of small stones in one hand, flinging them away one by one with the other. Ithil had risen high, and was reflected in the dark waters below. The rain of before had long weakened and stopped, the wind close to non-existent, making for a night on which the only sound in the air was that of the ebb and flood of the sea.

On the second floor of the house which stood nearest to Elwing’s tower, Celebrían was seated on a windowsill, observing the Elf-lord outside while the fine curtains, moving softly in the wind, concealed her. After leaving the stables and entering the house some time before, she and Elrond had shared a bath and retired to bed. But neither of them had slept. She had left the bed a while ago when sounds from across the hall had indicated Ereinion had left his room, and subsequently the house.

Still in the large bed, Elrond lay awake. Staring at the ceiling, he found he was unable to pose the question which preoccupied him now even to Celebrían. The air around him seemed thick, uncomfortable to breathe, even if it should not be. And still more questions pressed themselves on him.

What are you to say? What are you to do?

He quietly wished for the anger of before, if only because it gave him something, a lead on how to react. He wished for the certainty and conviction with which he had spoken before. But it had gone.

‘Brí, do you think now would be a good moment to speak with him?’ he heard himself ask, his voice undecided.

Celebrían turned to face him, and she watched him silently a while. Elrond fixed his eyes on her, alert in a manner he knew was almost contrary to his body, which was entirely at peace. This anxiety he felt existed in his mind alone.

She rose and returned to the bed, sitting down beside him. As she placed a hand on his chest, Elrond rested his own over it, his eyes never leaving her face.

‘He knows you will come, whether it is now or later,’ she whispered. ‘I do not doubt he has heard us return and ascend the stairs. He suspects we heard him in turn. This would be as good a time as any.’

Raising a hand to her face, Elrond gently touched her cheek.

‘Lie down with me a little.’

Slipping between the sheets again, Celebrían settled against him, feeling him place an arm around her and bury his face in her hair. She kissed his ear in reply, resting an arm around his waist.

‘Tell me, El-nîn.’

‘I wonder,’ he started, ‘if we should not speak with Briníel first. I fear to influence her, and yet if I go down presently and speak with Ereinion. I...’ Shaking his head, he groaned softly and turned onto his back. ‘I do not know.’

‘I see the quandary,’ she whispered. ‘There is something to say for speaking with Briníel, but at the same time, this is something she must come to terms with, and decide upon herself.’

‘It seems to me, that if we give her time and freedom, Ereinion should do the same.’

Celebrían smiled and touched his lips.

‘Then perhaps that is what you should tell him.’

‘I do not say I believe he would force her into this because of his own selfishness,’ Elrond asserted.

‘I know you are not.’

‘I fear he will think it.’

‘You forget,’ she whispered. ‘He has long struggled with these feelings. He has long been uncomfortable with them, concerned over exactly what you are concerned over. Possibly he understands better than you think.’

‘Perhaps...’ The sentence trailed off into silence.

Stroking his hair, Celebrían said nothing, but softly began humming a dreamy melody Elrond recalled hearing before. For a while he attempted to recall why it sounded so familiar, but when she ceased he realised it had accomplished its purpose. It had cleared his mind a moment.

With a kiss to her brow he withdrew from her embrace, and slowly pulled away the sheets, stepping out of bed. As he dressed quietly, Celebrían moved to the window again. Elrond wrestled quietly with unruly buttons, but before leaving, he halted by the door and looked back. As if she knew he would, Celebrían turned, a reassuring expression on her face. Nodding to her, he then slipped out of the door, leaving it slightly ajar.

His eyes fixed on the sky, Elrond made his way towards the water. As dark as the sky was, so lay the water in front of him, not threatening, but not serene either. On nights like this one, Ulmo, through the water, seemed to enjoy showing his control. The night was fresh, but Elrond did not think it was the reason he shivered.

He had thought Ereinion to be too preoccupied with his stone-throwing, but as soon as he halted beside him, the High Prince’s eyes flashed to his face, only to quickly fix themselves on the water again. For a while, Ereinion simply continued throwing, saying nothing. But, flinging away the final stone, he seemed lost, stared at his suddenly empty hands.

‘I expected you to seek me out immediately and confront me when you arrived,’ he said. ‘But you did not.’

Elrond narrowed his brow and looked at the dark grey mass of water before him.

‘I had to seek out Celebrían first.’

Ereinion nodded.

‘I understand.’

His mind forced back to the argument between him and Celebrían, Elrond stood lost in thought a while.

‘Do you realise how easy it is to hurt someone you know so well?’ he said finally.

Slapping the grains of sand from his hands, Ereinion hesitated a moment before looking at Elrond.

‘I am well aware.’

As silence reigned again, Ereinion found himself unable to keep back the words foremost in his mind.

‘I tried to keep from giving in, but I could not.’

The words pulled Elrond out of his stream of thought, but he remained quiet as Ereinion averted his gaze.

‘I had not calculated this. I truly believed it was something of an infatuation. I believed it would pass.’

‘But it did not.’

Biting his lip, Ereinion shook his head.

‘I spent months agonising, wondering if I had just imagined it. At a certain point, I truly thought I had, only to return to Imloth and find myself confronted with feelings I knew I should not have. I never meant to. But it happened.’ He glanced at Elrond again. ‘Do you wish me to ask for your permission?’

Elrond focussed on the water once more.

There was no simple answer to give. Yes and no. Yes, because she is my daughter. No, because I have so little to say about this, when it comes down to it...

Speaking his mind before he could keep himself, Elrond uttered what possibly would have better remained a fleeting thought.

‘Can you say, with all certainty, that she loves you?’

‘What would you have me say?’ Ereinion whispered in reply. ‘I am all too well aware of how swiftly the winds of young love can change. However much you might doubt I have learned from past mistakes, I have my regrets,’ he added insistently. ‘I lost love once because I took my time. Alian was uncertain of my feelings, and in the end she judged I had been untrue to her, had not been open with her. I regret that.’ He paused to take a deep breath. ‘I will not let this happen again. I shall not allow it.’

Elrond seemed almost not to have noticed Ereinion’s words.

‘Why did she come to Tirion?’

Ereinion straightened his back.

‘A dream,’ he whispered. ‘I dreamt and she saw it, felt it. And she came. I know not how.’

‘Dreamt of what?’ Elrond sounded detached, his eyes far away.

‘Mordor. Dying.’ Ereinion swallowed, a dark look on his face. ‘It is not what you think.’

Slowly, surprised, Elrond turned his gaze back to Ereinion.

‘You know what I think?’

Locking his gaze firmly with Elrond’s, Ereinion’s reply was emphatic.

‘I did not bond with her.’

Swallowing, Elrond shook his head.

‘I have seen my eldest daughter choose love, with death as the inevitable consequence. It cannot therefore be entirely surprising I wish my youngest daughter to find love and happiness without such a final outcome.’

He cast a contemplating look at the High Prince. ‘You know my fears.’

Bending his head, Ereinion rested his chin on his chest.

‘Better than you think I do.’

‘You might never mean to hurt her, but...’

‘Did you never hurt Celebrían?’ Ereinion asked, glancing at Elrond. ‘I am aware the question is not fair.’

Tempted to make his reply sharp, Elrond found he could not quite manage the tone.

‘When Brí and I married, she knew of my eccentricities. Briníel does not know you quite that well.’

‘I have never said I would not give her time,’ Ereinion replied, his voice uneven.

Nodding, Elrond pressed his lips together.

‘There are moments, when I say with all the conviction that I posses that if she loves you, or grows to love you, only that matters. And then I go on to realise I, as a father, will in truth have a hard time abiding to such a romantic notion alone. You might love her, Ereinion, but can you make her happy?’

Ereinion met Elrond’s eyes.

‘I can try my best. And I do love her, Elrond, not because she is your daughter, rather despite she is your daughter. I have said to her I would wait. She knows how I feel about the matter. Much how you feel about it, it appears.’

Eyes fixed on the star-filled night sky above, Elrond seemed reflective.

‘Celebrían pointed out to me that my daughter was mature, and well able to make her own decisions. Perhaps she was right, and I am simply too protective to recognise it as thus.’ He looked at Ereinion. ‘I was torn... I am torn between whether I should have spoken to Briníel first. Perhaps that would have been wiser. But at least now I know where you stand.’

‘You mention perhaps in there often.’ Ereinion said with a small smile, which Elrond returned.

‘You always said I was too much of a thinker for my own good.’

There was silence between them once more, but it seemed a more comfortable one than before.

‘Let me speak to her first,’ Ereinion suddenly said. ‘I know your mind. Allow Briníel and me to decide how it goes further.’

Taking a deep breath, Elrond made an acquiescent gesture.

‘I have always trusted you with her. I shall continue to do so now. But promise me you will come to me if there is need for it.’

‘You have my word.’

‘She is like me, Ereinion. Too much thinking for her own good.’

‘I know it, meldir. I do.’ The expression on the High Prince face changed, softened somewhat, and he smiled faintly. ‘I wonder if it would be easier if we argued fiercely over this.’

‘It would not,’ Elrond replied softly. ‘It would hurt more people than merely you and I.’

He slowly turned, starting to walk back to the house with measured but deliberate steps. In a daze he climbed the stairs, pushed the door which he had left ajar upon leaving open, closing it after entering. Looking up, he met questioning blue eyes. Celebrían was seated on the bed again.

‘Yes?’

He nodded, then dropped onto the bed and settled against her, pulling her close and burying his face against her abdomen, closing his eyes. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

It was light shining into the room that woke Elrond, so different from that in their rooms at Imloth, which were situated on the western side of the house.

Burying his face in a pillow, he lay there a while, content to simply be.

Many thoughts occupied him; how he had not spoken to Ereinion as he had intended, or imagined he would before, and how difficult it would be to discuss the matter with Celebriníel and not give her the feeling he was interfering.

Just as he thought he was ready to rise and confront everything that needed confronting, Celebrían quietly entered, presenting him with a small breakfast.

‘Our daughter is inspecting boats with Ereinion, I thought you would like to know,’ she told him with a smile.

He joined her in smiling and turned onto his back before sitting up.

‘He said he would speak with her. But this is interesting news so early in the morning.’

‘Quite,’ Celebrían half teased, sitting down beside him and feeding him a piece of bread. ‘Aur maer, meleth-nîn.’

Suspiciously, Elrond chewed the bread.

‘Were you afraid I would storm down and drive them apart?’

‘Actually,’ she smiled, ‘I was not. If you had openly asked Ereinion to leave he would not be here now, I think. But when my husband drops into bed and falls asleep at once, I suspect he has need of respite.’

‘One of these days, Brí, you will have to accept you married an old Peredhel. I have slept little for the past nights, and no doubt this has an effect on my weak and frail body.’ He tried to look serious as he carefully studied the rest of his breakfast.

Bending forward, bringing her lips close to his ear, Celebrían tried very hard to keep from chuckling out loud.

‘For one so old and weak and frail, you managed quite well last night.’

Withdrawing, she watched his face for reaction, but Elrond kept his eyes on the food, shifting it around a little.

‘So my wife did not find it an entirely unpleasant experience?’ He glanced up at her enquiringly.

Celebrían met his eyes and tilted her head, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

‘Perchance I shall require a repeat performance to adequately judge this.’

‘I shall gather what is left of my fragile frame and attempt to live up to expectations.’

Giving him an enticing look, Celebrían nodded.

‘Hmm.’

He smiled, and offered her some bread, which she gladly accepted.

‘Anything else, lady?’ he asked, touching her knee.

Bringing her hand up to his face, she mirrored his grin.

‘The pleasure of your company on a morning stroll.’

The sound was reminiscent of the constantly flowing waterfalls, and for a moment, as he closed his eyes, Elrond could imagine being back at Imladris, and it amazed him. Opening his eyes again, he found the skies were blue, the light blue that often accompanied a sunny day. The weather was warm, to be sure, but wind was present, causing the sand in the dunes to rustle audibly through the dry grasses.

Waves rolled onto the sand at the shoreline, but somehow the natural power, the force of nature, could not quite satisfy him. He considered whether even a storm would be able to satisfy him at this point. He doubted it very much.

But how perfect it was, the grey blue of the sea, the pale lightness of the sand and the yellow green of the grasses on the dunes. It was as all was supposed to be.

Narrowing his eyes, Elrond watched two figures scurry around several boats, some of which were lying belly-up in the sand.

‘Surely he is not thinking of taking any of those out to sea?’

Celebrían chuckled while catching his hand, keeping her hair out of her face with the other.

‘Possibly worse, I heard him speak about one of the small sailing boats which have been lying ashore beside the house.’

Elrond rolled his eyes.

‘Elbereth help us. Or them. Luckily Briníel is a good swimmer.’

A whistle sounded and they watched Ereinion raise a hand in reply, leaving Celebriníel and disappearing from view. And then seven or eight elves, Ereinion included, came into sight again, transporting one of the boats closer to the shore. There, they deposited it into the shallow water. All spoke shortly with laughing gestures and amused faces before starting to prepare the boat for going out.

‘You wish to go and see?’ Celebrían asked Elrond, already aware of his answer.

‘If only to inspect the planking,’ he remarked dryly.

‘They will be all right.’

He nodded.

‘I cannot deny Ereinion knows how to handle just about anything that drifts on water.’

As they neared, they were greeted by Celebriníel, who evidently had forgotten something and prepared to go back to the house. Embracing her father, she smiled at him.

‘No worrying, promise?’

Smiling obediently, if not without a certain wryness, Elrond said nothing and watched her run off.

While he was engaged in stepping the mast, no one could mistake Ereinion’s radiant smile. His enjoyment was evident.

‘You will allow it?’ he asked seriously, as Elrond cast a quick look into the boat. ‘It is a good ship,’ he was quick to add.

‘I do not think this,’ Elrond nodded, ‘quite deserves the title of ship. It is barely more than a rowing boat.’

With a grin, the High Prince jumped down into the sand.

‘I never thought I would say it, but I sometimes think you lack imagination.’

Chuckling, Elrond touched Ereinion’s upper arm a moment, as Celebriníel, dressed lightly and barefooted, came running back, dancing around them a moment.

‘Until later, Ada! Nana!’

Returning to Celebrían’s side, Elrond watched a short exchange between Ereinion and Celebriníel, in which the former tried to convince the latter that she should settle into the vessel as the others pushed it into the water, but she declined, and instead helped them, after tucking up her dress a little.

Celebrían took Elrond’s arm.

‘You are scowling.’

He snorted.

‘I do not doubt it.’

They watched the boat go into the water, far enough to be caught by the waves and guided further. The sails were hoisted up, and the craft slowly got underway, until the wind caught the sails and the boat glided through the water, picking up speed.

‘Now tell me,’ Elrond said softly, eyes still on the water. ‘I glimpsed it yesterday, but then you listened to me. It is time for me to listen to you.’

Celebrían fixed her gaze on the sand before her.

‘We waited, Elrond, conscious or not, we waited. There is prudence in waiting for them too, I do not deny it. I cannot disregard your line of reasoning. Briníel is young, very young.’ Celebrían sighed and looked up at the coastline before them, stretching on for what seemed like forever. ‘But what if these worries are for naught? What if infinite happiness awaits them? Without the obstacles that we conceive to be there?’

Elrond bent his head.

‘Will it hurt to have them wait?’

‘I am tempted to say it would not. But how close were we to losing Briníel at the waterway?’

Clearing his throat, Elrond raised his eyes to the coastline again.

‘It is not a good thing to... I wish to say, I have often wondered about similar matters when still in Middle-earth. What if I had granted Aragorn Arwen’s hand as soon as I knew of their shared feelings? They would have had love earlier, perhaps. Love can bring about great things, but it can also be the source for the deepest of sorrow. Would it have sped up matters? Would it have been significant at all? Somehow, we are still only mere notes in a greater melody. No matter how many what ifs and would ifs, we do what is the will of Ilúvatar. The realisation that some things simply must be, and that we have no say over it, is a strange one.’

Taking a deep breath, Celebrían looked at him.

‘I believe Ereinion will do all in his power to bring her happiness.’

Elrond nodded quietly.

‘He made as much clear to me earlier.’

‘I feared at first that this was all because you were reminded of Arwen,’ Celebrían stated softly, entwining his fingers with hers.

He took a deep breath.

‘Many things go back to Arwen. I do not think it is possible to deny that. She was my youngest for so long a time. Even when you had gone, I still had her, and could see so much of you in her...’ he paused and met Celebrían’s eyes. ‘And then, realising that when I followed you, it meant I would have to leave her behind for good... But Briníel is not Arwen. You yourself have told me this before.’

‘I recall what you said to me, when you returned to me.’

‘Oh?’

‘She was happy. He loved her. She loved him.’

Bowing his head again, Elrond seemed lost in thought.

Celebrían was aware Elrond knew she had felt his disquiet over Arwen’s choice, faraway, here on Aman when he still lingered in Middle-earth. And that he was conscious of how she had pleaded in silence that she had imagined it somehow. He knew how she had implored the Valar to assure her all would be well, and that her little girl would be coming with her father to Aman. How the Valar’s silence had in a way answered her in that respect.

When he came to Aman, at last, Elrond had clung to that; Arwen was happy, she was loved. It had not been difficult for Celebrían to do the same. It had helped them both to reconcile themselves with her choice as much as was possible. Even if Arwen might have regretted her decision at times, much as all have moments of reflection and qualms, they had clung to that together; the hope their daughter’s happiness outweighed her grief by far.

Elrond’s thoughts had evidently wandered on, for when he spoke, Celebrían could feel his concentration on things past, a past of which she had not been a direct part.

‘I often asked myself how it would have been under different circumstances,’ Elrond whispered. ‘I kept wondering, what if you had not been waylaid, what if Arathorn had not been slain, what if Estel...’ He shook his head. ‘What if Aragorn had not been a mere child to carry such a burden. It is such a dangerous thing to indulge in such questions. They will so easily haunt you to the end of your days.’

A moment of silence ensued before Elrond continued.

‘But it was foreseen. If he had not been born, hope would not have come to the Dúnedain, and only Ilúvatar knows whether I would have ever made it to Aman. He... Had he not succeeded, who can say with certainty I would be here, now.’

‘We spoke of Arwen often before, but rarely did you mention Aragorn,’ she whispered at length, when Elrond remained quiet.

‘I worried for him as I did for Elladan and Elrohir,’ Elrond said, his eyes far away. ‘As Isildur resembled Elros, Aragorn resembled Isildur. He was my kin. I loved him as my own. He had my brother’s eyes.’

Halting, Celebrían pulled him into a firm embrace.

‘Be still, El-nîn.’

Forgive me, meleth-nîn, I promised to listen.

Celebrían smiled through her tears.

You need to speak of these things so much more than I.

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Aur maer: (S) good morning (aur: morning, maer: good)

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