By Any Other Name by Grundy

Celebrían’s teeth did not chatter, mostly because she stubbornly refused to let them. She was the master of her body, and she refused to waste energy on chattering teeth, shivering, or any such nonsense. Even if her body really seemed to want to do all those things…

Her mother had walked across the Ice with the host of Fingolfin, enduring worse cold than this for years in the dark. By comparison, a river that has not frozen over yet this winter was nothing.

At least, that’s what she’s been telling herself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t really working. It’s bloody cold, and at least the Noldor on the Ice had been dry. At this point, she’d welcome numbness if it meant she wouldn’t feel the cold anymore.

She didn’t have any choice but to keep going, plowing doggedly on despite the cold and discomfort. She had to reach her father with her maps or it had all been for nothing. If she went back to dry land, the orcs pursuing her would have a far easier time running her down. The beasts have been tracking her for days – they’d stumbled across her trail after she’d thought she had successfully picked her way through the maze of their encampments – and could follow scent even if they didn’t have wolves with them.

In retrospect, she should have crossed the Mountains of Mist much further north and tried to find her father’s hidden refuge from the north or northeast. The eastern side was still fairly safe.  But she’d thought it would be easier to find the valley her father described coming from the south. Live and learn. As long as she managed the ‘live’ part…

She’s been waist deep or better in the river for hours – it was nearly chest height on her now, and she was grateful it wasn’t deeper. She’s getting too tired to swim against the current.  But she didn’t dare stop or slow. She also didn’t dare look back too often. She had a horrible feeling the orc pack was gaining on her. If she didn’t find the hidden camp by this evening, she might not reach it at all.

She cursed internally – she didn’t dare make unnecessary noise. For all she knew, the beasts might have realized what she was doing and taken a more direct path overland to cut her off while she followed the meanders of the river.

If she died now, she would be remembered by most as a foolish child, and that would be almost as infuriating as the grim fact of failure itself.

She froze at the sound up ahead. It wasn’t loud, but it also wasn’t natural. Something was coming down the river.

Orcs couldn’t be on the river, could they? They didn’t swim or boat that she knew of, as much because rivers like the Bruinen don’t like them as anything else.

There was no cover to be found, not unless she wanted to risk stumbling into an ambush – she can’t tell how close the orcs might be. (There were experienced scouts who would know just by the sensation how close the beasts were, but Celebrían was not one of them.)

She braced herself as best she could, and checked the strap on her bag. Whatever happened, she couldn’t lose that, or this will all have been for nothing. Her notes might be ruined, but the maps and her equipment, stowed in the case Celebrimbor had helped her make years ago, were still safe – that case was water-tight. (She’d realized the bag was leaking too late for the notes.)

The boat that came into sight was somewhat longer than the height of the average elf, low to the water, and looked made to blend in with the river and its rocky banks.

“Lady Celebrían?” its pilot called hopefully.

She didn’t drop the mental discipline that meant even her own mother couldn’t find her, but she did cautiously stretch her mind toward him, just enough to ascertain that he was an elf.

Good enough. Given the choice of ‘unknown elf’ and ‘orcs’, she’d take her chances with the elf.

“Indeed,” she replied.

The current and his own efforts brought him to her quickly enough that she had only a few moments to wait.

“I am relieved to have found you, my lady. The river says there are many orcs not far behind. We must move quickly.”

“I was afraid of that,” she said. “Moving quickly sounds good.”

She passed her bag up to him.

Then she put her hands on one side of the boat to boost herself up and in – and was startled to find the top less solid than it looked. What she’d taken for the top was actually just a fabric cover pulled over the open part of the boat. The small craft tilted alarmingly.

Fortunately, the other elf reacted quickly, leaning as far as he could in the opposite direction. He managed to keep them upright if not terribly well balanced as she more fell than climbed in, the cover collapsing beneath her weight.

“I see you are not very familiar with boats,” he said drily as he did his best to turn the craft about while she sorted herself out.

Celebrían wasn’t about to admit he was right, and tamped down on the traitorous blush rising on her cheeks.

The pilot dumped her bag in her lap and tried to rearrange the cover of the boat, to reattach it with her beneath it. The cover, however, kept tangling around her, and her own efforts to help just seemed to make things worse.

“It’s no use covering me up when I’m still wearing sopping wet clothes,” she sighed. “Give me a minute.”

She kicked her bag as far forward as she could, which she was relieved to find was far enough that it wouldn’t be under her feet. She then toed off her boots, tipping the water that pooled in them over the side, before kicking them forward also.

When she started pulling off her clothes, the pilot spluttered a protest. She snickered at the realization that despite the appearance of his boat, he must be Noldorin. No Linda would be bothered by nudity.

“Shush,” she told him firmly. “It’s better for both of us if I’m not sitting here soaked. Or did you fancy being cold and wet as well?”

It was the work of a few moments to shuck off her sodden socks, leggings, coat, tunic, and underwear, which she slid down near her bag and boots. Only then did she lean back against the pilot. She wasn’t sure if it was despite or because of his protests that he gallantly handed over his own coat.

She pulled the still delightfully warm garment over her like a blanket, leaning back against him as he finally succeeded in getting the cover back over the top of the boat.

“Try not to interfere with the paddle,” he warned her. “We need to make haste, and we’re going against the current.”

She nodded, and did her best to keep still, curled under her improvised blanket. It was warmer and she was mostly dry now. As far as she was concerned, this was a vast improvement on just a few minutes ago.

The pilot hadn’t been exaggerating when he warned the current was against them, not if the muscles she could feel working against her back were anything to judge by. It was taking serious effort to get them going upstream with any speed.

She felt rather than heard or saw the ripple of power from him, and then things eased somewhat. Their pace abruptly quickened.

She’d never felt anything like it before.

“What did you do?” she demanded suspiciously.

 “Saved you, I believe,” came the rather snarky reply.

She elbowed him, and not gently.

“Ouch! That was uncalled for,” he grumbled. “If this isn’t to your liking, my lady, you’re more than welcome to go your own way as soon as we reach the boundaries of the valley. I would leave you here, but there are orcs about.”

“I somehow doubt whoever sent you out to look for me will be thrilled with you dumping me as soon as you can,” she sniffed.

Particularly not if it had been her father!

“No one sent me anywhere,” he shot back. “I came looking for you willingly, though I’m beginning to question why.”

“You still have a commanding officer, I’m sure,” she replied. “Whoever it is probably won’t be very happy with you.”

“I rather think my commanding officer would understand,” he muttered.

Celebrían doubted that – even if her father might sympathize with the boatman’s bruised ribs, he would still expect her to be brought to him at once. Gil-galad, whenever he heard of what occurred here, would ream anyone who didn’t behave properly with her. She’s pretty sure abandoning her by the side of the river doesn’t count at ‘behaving properly’.

“I need to get to my father without delay,” she said firmly. “The maps I bring may make the difference for those trapped in the valley.”

“We are not trapped,” the pilot said, sounding rather annoyed. “We are safe enough and can hold out for several years if need be. Furthermore, if these maps of yours are so vital, would it not have been wiser to travel with a guard, or at least to have told someone where you were going? There was quite an uproar when your mother discovered you missing.”

She did not elbow him again, but she was sorely tempted.

“Oh, yes, it would have been wise to convince anyone else to dare my mother’s wrath,” Celebrían snorted.

It was for that reason that she’d picked her own way across the mountains rather than ask their allies to allow her to pass through Khazad-dum. She wasn’t about to let Durin in for such trouble!

“Had I told anyone I was going, I would have been prevented. You clearly don’t know my mother.”

“I know she has more sense than you do,” came the absolutely maddening reply. “She forms her plans carefully – and they have never that I know involved running off into an area known to be occupied by the enemy alone and unarmed without telling anyone her intentions.”

Celebrían had no good comeback to that, and fell into a rather resentful silence.

It didn’t help her mood that she couldn’t avoid contact. She tried to sit up rather than lean back against him, but swiftly discovered two things. First, that made it more difficult for him to row – not that she much cared about him having to work harder if he was going to be so aggravating! But it also meant her back was now exposed to the brisk winter air, and that was unpleasant when she’d just been getting used to not being cold.

She sank back against him, pretending to ignore the not quite suppressed chuckle behind her.

Her rescuer had enough sense of self-preservation to let her temper subside before he tried to take up conversation again. She judged it nearly an hour before he spoke – an hour in which she definitely only leaned against him because he was warm.

“We are nearly to the borders of our territory now, my lady,” he told her courteously. “Once we pass the first guards, there is a spot we will put in at. You will be able to dress there. I’m sure you’ll be happier arriving clothed.”

Yes, she would be. It would be much more dignified and grown up. Except…

“I don’t have any dry clothes,” she pointed out.

She didn’t care how ridiculous arriving naked or wearing nothing but his coat would look, she was not putting those cold, sopping wet things back on.

“But surely…”

He trailed off, probably calculating that pointing out that packing spare clothes for a mission like hers was quite basic would put his ribs at risk again. (He calculated correctly, as it happened.)

“My bag leaks, and even if it didn’t, I got rid of the last of my spare clothes yesterday. I was trying to steer the orcs onto false trails.”

“Ah.”

She couldn’t tell from that if this made her less foolish and more competent in his estimation or not. Not that it should much matter – she doubted she’d see him again once she reached her father’s camp.

“I suppose, under the circumstances, you might borrow mine.”

Between his reluctant tone and the idea of someone who had been so scandalized by nudity stripping down so she would have clothes, she couldn’t help the giggle.

“So you’re going to arrive naked instead? I do hope someone with artistic talent will properly record the scene.”

“I have spare clothes,” he told her matter of factly. “It’s wise to have a set in a dry bag, in case the boat overturns.”

She couldn’t miss the as it nearly did he didn’t quite suppress.

She bit her tongue.

Dry clothes, she reminded herself. Dry clothes.

Before she could decide what she could possibly say that wouldn’t sound rude, she heard the chirp of a bird that she was sure wintered further south.

To her surprise, her companion answered in kind – and then she understood it must be a signal.

“The outermost guard posts are just ahead,” he explained. “We need only go a little farther on the river.”

He waved acknowledgement to the guards as they passed, and got grins in return. No doubt he could look forward to some form of recognition for a successful mission, particularly since he had either volunteered or taken the initiative from the sounds of it.

Perhaps a quarter mile beyond that was another bend in the river, and he steered the boat confidently to the bank.

“Lean up, please, if you would,” he instructed.

She was reluctant to brave the cold air again, but did as asked, and he scrambled out to pull the boat far enough onto the rocky shore that it wouldn’t be caught by the river before offering her a hand to get out.

To her surprise, he then pulled the boat well up the bank, even beyond the highest water mark she could see. This was more than she had expected. He didn’t really mean to leave her here, did he?

“We will be going the rest of the way on land,” he explained.

She was rather puzzled by the thought she caught about not wanting to hold back the river any longer, but decided not to ask.

He pulled a bag of his own from the boat that proved to contain a towel and set of dry clothes, which she accepted gratefully. He was somewhat taller than she was, so she’d need to roll both leggings and the sleeves of the tunic up a bit, but it would work.

To her amusement, he hastily busied himself removing her bag and wet things from the boat the second she removed the coat. He was even wringing her soaked clothing out to give himself something else to focus on. Who knew Noldorin prudishness could be so useful?

“It’s safe to look now,” she informed him once she was clothed, trying not to laugh.

She saw it was him trying to suppress a blush now – he must know how hilarious her father’s people found Noldorin ideas of ‘modesty’.

“I’m afraid there is nothing to be done about boots,” he told her after a glance at her feet. “I have no spare pair.”

She shrugged.

“I’ve walked barefoot before.”

“Good to know,” he replied. “But fortunately for your feet, we’ll be riding – it’s much faster than walking. The main camp is at the other end of the valley.”

She didn’t get beyond wondering just where he might be hiding a horse before one came trotting up.

“Only one horse?” she protested.

Just when she’d had hopes that she would arrive looking mostly like an adult!

“I’m afraid I don’t have many of those to spare, either,” was the slightly grim reply.

She did feel slightly bad about that – she hadn’t realized they had so few horses. Her father hadn’t mentioned that.

“Probably because it would have unduly worried your mother,” he companion said.

She blushed. She hadn’t meant that to be heard – she must be more tired than she knew if he could so easily pick up the thought.

He packed her things into his bag, then slung both bags over the back of the horse. Celebrían didn’t protest when he helped her up, even though she was a perfectly competent horsewoman.

The valley was impressive, but she could see why her father had preferred to cluster his forces at the far end – it would give them time to react should their enemies breach their defenses. (And perhaps they might escape up secret mountain paths.)

“We’re safer than you may think,” her companion murmured in her ear. “There’s more than just a few guards protecting the valley.”

“I’m not worried,” she said stoutly.

But privately, she was. As they drew closer, she could see that more elves than she had expected had been driven into the valley – and more Noldor than she had thought. She didn’t recognize the principal banner among their tents. Her father led the Lindar, of course. They had drawn into two more or less distinct groups if the tents were anything to judge by.

But it was to a tent on what appeared to be neutral ground that they proceeded – large, Noldorin in style, but bannerless.

Her companion dismounted and turned to assist her.

“My lord! You found her!”

The speaker was unknown to her, though by his accent and armor, he was one of the Noldor.

“My lord?” she demanded pointedly.

Just who was her rescuer?

He had no chance to reply before Gildor emerged from the tent.

“You can call off the search party, he’s back,” Gildor called over his shoulder. “Alive and in one piece, even.”

She didn’t think the glare on her cousin’s face was for her – unless it was. She couldn’t rule it out.

Either way, she noticed she wasn’t the only one doing her best to ignore it. ‘My lord’ had contrived not to notice by reaching for her bag after he had helped her down.

“Elrond Eärendilion,” her father roared from inside the tent.

Elrond?

She didn’t elbow this time – she planted her feet and punched, catching him on the upper arm.

“You didn’t tell me-” she hissed.

 “You didn’t ask,” Elrond replied with a smirk.

Despite the glare it had drawn from the Noldorin officer, Celebrían would have gladly followed up on her first punch had her father not emerged from the tent. She was confident she could get away with smacking Gil-galad’s incredibly aggravating herald and right hand so long as Celeborn could pretend he hadn’t seen it. But not directly in front of him.

She had to settle for snatching her bag from Elrond and glaring at him, which wasn’t nearly as satisfying.

“I’m not sure which of you is worse,” Celeborn announced, crossing his arms.

At least she wasn’t the only one getting the scolding!

“You running off to get involved in this war without a word to anyone, leaving your mother as close to distraught as she’s been since Nargothrond-”

He levelled a stern look at his daughter, who had trouble picturing her mother distraught, least of all over her embarrassing miscalculation.

“Or you haring off alone on a misguided rescue mission beyond the borders without giving anyone a chance to talk sense into you. You are supposed to be old enough to know better!”

This time the look was directed at Elrond, who didn’t appear in the least bit troubled.

“I reached her relatively quickly and we’re both safely back. Events prove I was right to believe I could locate and retrieve her without a larger force,” Elrond replied mildly, inexplicably choosing not to mention how close the orcs had actually been. “I am not sure why you’re complaining. I am told her maps may be of vital importance.”

Irritated though she was at what sounded like Elrond entirely brushing off her father’s dressing down, Celebrían noted with some satisfaction that he was trying to unobtrusively rub his arm as he spoke. Served him right!

Celeborn still didn’t look pleased.

“As I know perfectly well that neither of you are likely to be bothered by anything I say on the subject, much less Gil-galad assuming he can be moved to say anything sensible, you will both answer to Galadriel.”

It took much for Celebrían not to protest the unfairness of her father’s solution – she knew perfectly well that in her mother’s eyes, there would be no acceptable excuse for her. But in Elrond’s case, ‘I saved your daughter’ would surely get him forgiven any rashness involved in short order!

On the bright side, her mother wasn’t actually here, nor was she likely to be anytime soon. What’s more, Celebrían was pretty sure Ammë wasn’t going to be in a hurry to try speaking to her over such a distance with Sauron on the loose, not to mention a horde of orcs so close by. Maybe she’d be less angry given time to calm down.

As long as she was indulging in wishful thinking, maybe Sauron would just drop dead choking on his own bile and save them all a lot of trouble…

At any rate, the optimistic view was that she had some time to come up with a good defense, or at least a somewhat sincere sounding apology.

“As you say, Uncle,” Elrond shrugged, as if having to answer to her mother was no particular trouble. “But I believe we have more pressing business at the moment. The maps, if you would, my lady?”

Celebrían glanced sideways at him, unsure if he was being serious or just trying to divert her father’s attention to safer topics.

But she found that Elrond hadn’t waited for an answer. He strode into the tent as if he expected everyone would follow. Which, she belatedly realized, he probably did – and with good reason. He wasn’t just some bold scout as she’d thought, but a commander in his own right. The banner she hadn’t recognized would be his.

Her father scowled at Elrond’s back but nodded for her to go on in, and she could see others falling in behind him and Gildor.

She didn’t recognize all who gathered inside, though she guessed that they must all be important in the hierarchy of the hidden valley.

“We’re calling it Imladris,” a voice to her left murmured.

Elrond was clearing space on the large table that occupied the center of the tent, and gestured peremptorily for an orderly to bring another chair.

He was literally giving her a seat at the table, though she wasn’t sure if it was on trust or merely out of respect for her parents.

They’re your maps, aren’t they? You’ll be the one talking about them. Unless, of course, you want your father in a worse mood than he already is…

She shot a startled glance at Elrond. Her parents often spoke to her like this, confident they wouldn’t be overheard, and Gildor occasionally did as well. But it was rare for anyone else to attempt it, let alone someone she’d only just met.

He raised an eyebrow, as if to ask how else he could say anything without drawing attention to the remark.

“By ‘we’, he means ‘he’,” Gildor told her cheerfully, claiming the chair to her right. “He’s counting on wearing down all objections, given that we’re likely to be here a while.”

“I don’t see why anyone should object,” Celebrían sniffed. “It’s a good name.”

 “Don’t encourage him!” Gildor protested. “He’s so taken with the place he’s talking about staying, or at least coming back once the war is over.”

Celebrían could see no reason Elrond shouldn’t do exactly that if that was what he wanted to do. It would have the happy side effect of keeping him well away from Lindon, which was where she suspected she’d end up.

Unfortunately, she did see several of the Noldor visibly wondering why such a young girl was included in this gathering. She started pulling maps from her case, handing them alternately to her father and Elrond so that the meeting could start before any of the doubters could work up a protest.

It was one thing for Gildor to antagonize them – not only was her ‘big brother’ old enough to have fought in the wars of Beleriand, he could be every inch a prince of the Noldor when the mood took him. It was another matter for her. As far as most of the Noldor were concerned, she was just her mother’s daughter, which to their minds meant she was coddled, spoiled, and too young to know anything.

She had never gotten to sit in on a council like this before – usually she handed her maps over to either her parents or Gil-galad and answered any questions and gave explanations in private. They spoke for her in council if it was necessary. But Elrond either didn’t know that or hadn’t thought it sensible.

That meant he had to start the meeting by shouting down the older elves who thought listening to a youngster who hadn’t even been begotten until four hundred-odd years into the peace was ridiculous. Though shouted wasn’t quite right.

Elrond did not actually shout. But he had a voice that could cut through arguments or shouting if he chose, and he didn’t hesitate to use it, insisting that Lady Celebrían would not only have her proper title – which was neither ‘Celeborn’s daughter’ or ‘baby Arafinwiel’, thank you very much – but also be accorded the respect due the Noldaran’s principal mapmaker.

Celebrían hadn’t realized until he said it that Elrond had any idea who she was or that most of the king’s maps for the past two yeni have been her work. Given that he spoke with the Noldaran’s voice in Gil-galad’s absence, the Noldor had little choice but to fall in line.

Once Elrond had laid down the law, even the more strident doubters had to let the matter drop, and the meeting finally got down to business. And to her surprise, her maps were not just one of several topics of discussion, they were the entire point of the meeting!

Each one was passed around to be read, considered and discussed. Questions were fired at her from all directions – how up to date was each chart? When had she added the figures for the strength of Lorinand and the Greenwood? Were the numbers directly from Amdir and Oropher, or relayed through intermediaries? What could she tell them of the situation in Khazad-dum? How had she estimated Sauron’s forces? When had their positions (or estimated positions) been marked? How likely was it that they would have changed since? What route had she taken down the mountains and to the valley? Had she been able to do any scouting on the way, or had she been focused on slipping through as quickly as possible?

She was used to just making the maps, not having to defend them as well. She’d only ever shown and explained them to Gil-galad, and he wasn’t nearly as skeptical an audience. But she did her best to answer, without showing her annoyance – even when the questions grew repetitive or some people wanted to argue a point that had already been discussed several times.

“My lords, these maps are all my own work and I will vouch for the accuracy of the distances and elevations. If you know anyone who can do better, you’re more than welcome to send for them. I’d be quite interested to speak with them. I’ve marked terrain as best I could. Numbers for any army are only as accurate as the information relayed to me by their commanders. If it is my own estimate, as with Sauron’s forces here and here, I have marked it as such and am happy to explain how I arrived at my numbers.”

She felt like they peppered her for hours, and was grateful that the orderlies slipped in several times to bring warm drinks and small snacks – tiny sandwiches and savory morsels sized just right to pop into one’s mouth between questions and chew quickly without looking undignified.

Elrond himself only asked a few questions – though she suspected that was because he realized the others would cover just about anything he might wish to know. (She might have underestimated Gil-galad’s herald once, but she wasn’t about to make a habit of it.) He seemed most curious about any details she could give on the terrain surrounding the valley, and any approaches they might have overlooked.

“I wish to work with you directly once you have had time to rest and recover from the journey,” he said thoughtfully when the questions from his lieutenants and her father’s finally wound down. “We’ve put together some rough maps of the valley itself, and what we know of its borders. But there are no cartographers among us, so I suspect you can better our efforts easily, even before adding any information you may collect yourself.”

“Did you want me to just redo your maps, or should I make a proper survey of the valley?” she asked.

“If you have whatever you require for your ‘proper survey’, that would be preferable,” Elrond replied. “I can’t say that I have any of the tools I understand mapmakers would need available for you.”

He paused.

“I’m also keen to know anything you can tell me of this region here. We were not in a situation that allowed us to scout the territory in much detail on our way in.”

He was pointing at the Bruinen just south of where its two arms met. Why he found that particular point so interesting Celebrían had no idea.

“Anything you can tell us will be valuable, no matter how trivial you may think it.”

Celebrian nodded, though she had the oddest conviction he didn’t actually want her full answer in front of his entire council.

“Unfortunately, as I have said, my lord, my notes were damaged. But I will do my best to reconstruct what I remember.”

She didn’t say out loud that what she remembered should be quite good – the exercise of writing it down meant anything in her notes was also in her memory.

Elrond’s look suggested he’d caught that thought – she was starting to suspect that dealing with him was much like dealing with her mother. Though her mother has never done whatever it was Elrond had on the river…

A slight smile played at the edge of his lips, but he gave no further sign of amusement – or annoyance – at what might not necessarily be a flattering comparison.

“There being no further questions,” Elrond said in a tone that made clear it was a statement, not an invitation to ask anything more, “the rest of you can be off. I daresay the lady feels she’s indulged your curiosity long enough when she only just arrived without so much as a pair of dry shoes.”

She was certain he’d done that on purpose, for it sent half of the gathered lords out the door quickly, and drew a chorus of concern from those who remained as to what she was lacking that they might perhaps be able provide.  

She was surprised to see the cranky Noldorin officer who’d looked at her so disapprovingly for hitting Elrond quietly taking notes on what she required – starting with warm socks.

“The lady will be quartered with Celeborn, I take it, my lord?” he asked.

Elrond glanced toward her father for confirmation before nodding.

“I’ll see what I can organize and have it brought to Celeborn’s tent. I believe we should be able to answer many of her most urgent needs.”

“Thank you, Pelendur,” Elrond said.

Celebrían noticed there was real warmth in his tone, much like her father’s when he spoke to his deputy Orodlin. She didn’t recognize his name, though, and wondered what his place was in the Noldorin hierarchy here in the valley.

This wasn’t the moment to ask, though, not when her father was waiting for her.

“I’ll see you at the usual time this evening, Elrond?” he asked expectantly.

“Of course,” Elrond nodded before turning back to Pelendur.

Celebrían tried not to show any disappointment at being effectively dismissed, or let her father or brother catch her sneaking a glance back.