Nightingales in Willow Trees by StarSpray

Chapter 1

The valley they were calling Imladris was simultaneously the most wonderful thing Celebrían had ever seen, and a complete mess. Of course, it had been an outpost under siege for several years, and a permanent dwelling place was only just starting to be constructed, so for it to be anything but a mess would have been remarkable. But it did mean that Celebrían took every chance she could to escape from the army camp and into the valley, using whatever excuse came her way. Anything to escape the mud and noise.

On this particular afternoon that meant she was down by the river, where the water and the nightingales in the willow trees drowned out the shouting and hammering from the camp. Her parents and Gil-galad and the rest of the really important people were gathered together somewhere else quiet, Celebrían supposed on the opposite side of the valley, having another in a long string of councils. There was a great deal to discuss, now that Sauron had been chased back to Mordor with his tail between his legs—as Ciryatur had put it. The question, Celebrían supposed as she set her basket down on the grass, was how long it would take Sauron to regroup, and what they would do when he did.

And in the meantime, there were wounds to tend and lands to heal and houses to build. Celebrían filled her basket easily with willow bark, and then hiked up her skirt and kicked off her shoes to go wading in the water. It was frigid with snow melt flowing down from the mountain tops. Little silver fish darted about the shallows between the reeds, scattering with each of her footsteps, that sent little clouds of silt billowing up and away to settle elsewhere downstream. The reeds she harvested for the weaving of mats and baskets.

There was no great hurry to return to the camp. Celebrían piled her reeds beside her basket, and went to sit in the sun on a rock in the middle of the stream, halfway beneath the pale green curtain of a willow tree. She sat on the warm stone and dangled her feet some more in the cold water, seeing how many of the little silver fish came to investigate her toes when she held them very still. In the tree just behind her a nightingale trilled, and across the river another answered; through the trees Celebrían glimpsed a deer and her spotted fawn, grazing contentedly. In a meadow nearby larks were singing, and beneath it all the river flowed, laughing, along its course.

Eventually she happened to look back upstream toward the camp, and saw a figure walking along the river, dressed in plain clothing and, as far as she could see, wearing no shoes. She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle: it was Elrond, looking not at all like King Gil-galad's herald.

But he did look like someone who belonged in this valley. She watched him stop to crouch by the water, trailing his fingers through it idly. Celebrían quietly withdrew beneath the willow tree; she could still see him through the leaves, but she didn't think he knew she was there. It felt terribly strange to watch him unseen, so she slipped back into the water and waded to the grassy shore. By the time she reached her basket and reeds Elrond had risen and was continuing to walk down the river towards her. He raised a hand in greeting when she looked up at him again. His hair was loose and unadorned.

"Good afternoon, Lady Celebrían," he said as he approached. As loose and relaxed as he had looked from a distance, up close she could see the circles under his eyes. He did not wear armor and was not carrying a sword, but there was a long knife on his belt.

"Good afternoon," she said, smiling up at him from where she knelt to tie the reeds together for carrying. "Are your grand councils finished for the day?"

He laughed. She had not heard him do that before, and was a little startled to find that she wanted to hear it again—and more, to be the one to make him laugh. "Yes, for today," he said. "I fear they are not as grand as you might imagine, however."

"My mother can make the meanest hovel feel grand," said Celebrían primly.

"That is true," Elrond said. He picked up the bundle of reeds, waving away Celebrían's protests. "But at least we know what will be done with this valley."

"Are you staying here?" Celebrían asked. Elrond looked at her, startled. She felt her cheeks heat, and looked down under the pretense of picking up her basket full of willow bark. "It just seems right. You're the one that founded the outpost, after all." She did not say that Elrond looked and felt as though he were made for this place, and it for him. It sounded a bit like something her mother might say, but Celebrían did not have Galadriel's gifts, and it would just sound silly coming from her.

"I and many others," Elrond said. "Including your father. But yes, I will stay and turn this place into something—more."

"It's a welcoming sort of place," Celebrían said. They fell into step beside each other, walking slowly alongside the river and through the trees, pine and oak, that lined the path back toward the camp.

"Yes," Elrond said. He was watching her, but Celebrían did not allow herself to stare back. "I hope you will return when it's more than a messy encampment."

"I would like that very much," she said, smiling at him. He ducked his head, either to adjust the reeds in his arms or to hide something else. Celebrían could not quite be sure.

She departed from Imladris with her parents and Gil-galad, to stay a while in Lindon before going south to Belfalas or perhaps back to Lórinand. Celebrían was unable to speak to Elrond alone again before leaving the valley; nor did she see him barefoot with his hair loose. But when they did speak together in company she did not think it was her imagination that the smile he gave her was just a little different from the smile he gave others, and when their hands happened to touch, or their arms bumped into each other, she was absolutely certain that her stomach did flips.

Nothing was said, but there was time. She could wait.