Day 14 (and 11, and 7) - Come On Up To The House

[grundyscribbling]

Summary: Celebrían worries about her daughter as the party from Imladris approaches Lothlorien.
Bingo Number: G57, O67, B11
Prompts (Cards): When They Visit Lothlorien (Lord & Lady of Imladris), Sauron (Second Age), Mourning Losses (Second Age)
Rating: PG
Word Count:
Notes: This one's very much a Daughters of Celebrían 'verse story.
Celebrían usually felt excitement when drawing near to Lothlorien.

Her visits haven’t been few over the years, but nor have they been many – she loved her parents, but she also loved her husband and her home. Between his responsibilities and his dratted ring, Elrond had only rarely been in a position to make the journey.

Thus their joint visits have usually been marked by excitement, tinged with the knowledge that they would be of necessity brief. More often Celebrían had one or more of her children for company than her husband. Once they reached adulthood, her children had made the trip as often as they liked. Those visits had been longer, allowing more time for relaxation spending time with her parents.

Now that the power of the Three had ended along with the One, both Vilya and Nenya were little more than trinkets – beautiful trinkets, and treasured keepsakes for those who had known Celebrimbor – but no longer a closely guarded secret, best kept separate for safety. Elrond is free to go where he will, and if he wishes to finally spend more than a few nervous days in the company of his wife’s mother, there was no longer anything to stop him.

Had things gone differently, she would be thrilled to be drawing near to her parents, at the prospect of uninterrupted time together as a family such as they have not enjoyed since the early years of the Age, when the world seemed bright and they had believed Sauron defeated.

He was defeated this time.

But the price…

Even before eagles appeared over Imladris, before Elrond had suddenly sunk into a chair murmuring ‘it is done’ in a tone that was an equal blend of relief, joy and sorrow, Glorfindel had returned to the valley. The look on his face when he saw her waiting had been warning enough that it was grim tidings he bore from the east.

The only thing that had kept Celebrían upright was the ironclad certainty that she would have known had her daughter fallen. But that was the only bright spot in the news Glorfindel brought.

Anariel had been only too right about the balrogs. Fortunately, she had succeeded in her audacious plan.

But Tindomiel had also been right. They had suspected, of course – after Tasariel went to pieces with no warning one afternoon, they had known something had happened. But knowing all was not well and knowing the full dimensions of the tragedy were two different things.

Glorfindel had told them of Willow, Anya, and Makalaurë. That had been grief enough to Elrond’s household, but they had still held out the hope that Xander might yet return. That hope had been dashed when the twins spoke to her after the Morannon.

Anariel had been unconscious at that point, the combination of her wounds and too many days without sleep having finally overcome her.

The contact they have had with her since has been anything but reassuring.

It had always been inevitable that she would be parted from her mortal brother and sisters eventually. That they had aged more as Numenoreans than Men of these later days had helped – and perhaps made the end harder when it finally came.

Had they not ridden to war with her, the surviving Scoobies might have lived another hundred years.

Celebrían knew her daughter well enough to fear that Anariel would blame herself for all four deaths – and to worry about how badly her daughter was handling the loss that the twins had concluded the best option was to bring her all the leagues from Minas Tirith to the Golden Wood.

It did not much help Celebrían’s state of mind to know that she was not the only one fretting, any more than it would help Anariel to know that she was not the only one grieving.

The youngest in their party – Tindomiel, Tasariel, Califiriel, Jesse, and Joy – were subdued, but not experienced enough to be concerned about anyone outside their own tight little circle. Celebrían was rather proud of how well the children were supporting each other through their grief.

Young Jesse, at only just thirteen, was doing his best to bear the loss ‘manfully’ and comfort his sister and cousins. The adults in the party were doing their best to subtly support him without robbing him of his budding maturity. Willow’s girls were leaning heavily on Glorfindel– including Tasariel, whose reaction to her mother’s death had been surprisingly elvish. Tindomiel was fussing over all four of them, despite being still rather teary herself whenever she thought on the three mortals she had known all her life, not to mention her grandfather.

The children were also doing their best not to think on the parting that awaited them in Minas Tirith. As Men, Jesse and Joy’s best hope for a happy future lay in Gondor, not Imladris. Though they were still nominally under Celebrían and Elrond’s care, they would become Arwen’s wards once she married, and remain in her household when the rest of the Imladrim departed – including Tindomiel, Tasariel, and Califiriel. After Tasariel’s reaction to Willow’s death, there was no more question of whether or not she would sail, and that her sister would had never been in any doubt.

But quite aside from their care for the youngest in the party, Elrond, Glorfindel, Gildor, and even Erestor were all concerned about Anariel. Celebrían was surprised to note that it actually seemed to be Erestor who was most worried – and that in turn worried her, for Erestor had been around to see how Elrond had handled the loss of his mortal brother.

Elrond, who was riding at her side, sighed.

Let us hope she is dealing better than I did, he said quietly, to her alone. I do not think I took it particularly well. Though it was a rather different situation.

Oh? Celebrían asked. She herself could see several differences, but she was curious about Elrond’s thoughts. She didn’t want to pry, but she did hope he was willing to talk about it. (Though if anyone had asked, she would not have expected to be having this conversation on horseback, but a few hours out from Lothlorien, surrounded by their family.)

Elrond’s lips quirked, as much as for his own behavior so long ago as for the timing of the subject.

I may have had longer to prepare for it, but when it came down to it, I was not prepared at all.

Was the end very hard? Celebrían asked nervously. She had read that Elros had laid down his life willingly, happily, even – and she knew it had been in a time of peace – but Elrond would know better than any chronicler.

I would not know, in point of fact, Elrond admitted. I was not there. My brother in his insufferable conviction that he knew better than I did what was good for me decided I should not be with him for the end. He sent Gil-galad a letter explaining what was about to happen. Unfortunately, the letter arrived a bit later than he’d expected. I knew before Gil could tell me.

Celebrían blinked in surprise, unsure how to respond to that.

Let us just say it did not go at all as Elros had hoped, Elrond said quietly. Though he was likely right that I would not have been any better off for being there. But it was still very different. I had visited him not long before. He was hale and content with the course of his life. He died peacefully in a place and time of his own choosing, not in battle.

The last sentence contained much of Elrond’s worry.

Their sons had been able to tell them about Xander. But Glorfindel had been reluctant to speak about any death save Willow’s – and while he claimed he was unsure of the details, as he had not been with them at the end, to those who had seen the First Age, his reluctance was its own form of information.

Glorfindel glanced their way, but as he had Tasariel riding with him, he would not be joining the conversation. Anything he might have to contribute was not for her to hear, and would have to wait until both girls were safely asleep.

Instead, it was Gildor who took up the conversation.

The last time I came to visit Ammë in such a somber group, it was not long after you had disappeared and were believed dead, he remarked.

Oh? Celebrían asked.

She was rather curious about that. They’ve never really discussed in any detail how her family had reacted to her presumed death.

The boys had finally returned from an orc hunt so thorough Nolofinwë himself could not have found fault with it, and Arwen announced she wanted her grandmother. Once she said it, they instantly volunteered to escort her.

Celebrían sighed. She could well imagine her sons wanting to be with her mother – as close to a guarantee of safety as any of them knew in Middle-earth – yet not wanting to admit to it until their little sister had given them an excuse.

Oh, all three of them wanted to see her, Gildor agreed. And it was just as well – we needed them elsewhere so Elrond would stop trying to hold in all his own grief to be ‘strong’ for them. We all worried what would happen whenever he could no longer keep up the pretense…

Celebrían impulsively hugged her ‘brother’ – by Noldorin lights, as Finrod’s son he was properly her cousin, but Gildor, never one to insist on Noldorin ways if Sindarin were more useful, had declared her his little sister before she had even been born.

Thank you, she told him sincerely. I know it must have been hard for you, too.

Gildor, as she had expected, tried to play it off.

I’m a little more practiced at losing people than he is, he shrugged.

Celebrían tsk’ed at him. Elrond had lost plenty of kin, starting in Sirion and ending at what Anariel had apparently styled the ‘Battle of the Waste’.

Gildor gave her a reproving look.

I do not dispute that Elrond has had his losses as well, but I fear I still come out ahead in this unfortunate contest. Our uncles, Atto, Findë, and all of Nargothrond in the space of fifty years rather outdoes two parents, Maedhros, that little Iathrin girl, and Elros. Particularly when Elwing, Eärendil, and Glinwen didn’t die, just sailed. Oh, and don’t forget Ammë – she came quite close to dying at Menegroth. I thought for a few minutes that she had.

His usually cheerful face turned somber as he spoke of it.

Celebrían shivered. She didn’t like to think on the Second Kinslaying at all. Her parents rarely spoke of it– her mother for anger, her father for how shaken he had been at how close he had come to losing her mother.

She had difficulty imagining those years – even at the worst of the Second Age, people had not been dying in such numbers as they had in the First.

There were moments of joy in between all the death and loss, Gildor said thoughtfully. Enough to keep us going. But don’t trouble yourself with thoughts of those years now.

Celebrían sighed.

Thinking on the First Age might not be terribly pleasant, but it did take her mind off worrying for her daughter, who might understand intellectually that four deaths was a small price to pay for having destroyed three balrogs and a Mordor-bound army, but who now felt the full weight of that price.

Anariel had the right of it, nésa – they were few, but enough to do their country loss.

Celebrían couldn’t help the slightly rueful smile. Shake-spear as he had become known was not quite as respected a bard he had been in California, but thanks to Anariel and Tindomiel, the Imladrim were familiar with key parts of Henry V.

I don’t think anyone should quote the St. Crispin’s Day speech to Anariel just yet, hanno, she warned Gildor.

Ah, is that what it is properly named? Tinu has been calling it the ‘band of buggered bit’.

She had not thought on Spike in many years, but Celebrían had no trouble figuring out just where her youngest would have gotten that idea from.

Do not worry yourself too much, little one. We got Elrond through his worst times, I’m sure we can get our little sun through this.

Comments

[erulissedances]

I'm all for the "band of buggered bit" being not a fantastic fan of the Shake-spear myself. I'll have to read this again with all of the episodes ordered to get the full scope, but I liked it.

- Erulisse (one L)

[grundyscribbling]

Thanks!
I couldn't quite resist working Spike's rechristening of the St. Crispin's Day speech in.