Sweet Vision of Mine by yletylyf

One

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The meeting with the delegation from Lindon was just as exciting as Celebrían had anticipated. Concealing her delight behind an appropriately staid courtly expression, she tilted her head slightly to one side and listened avidly as everyone fought.

"You will cause a war," said Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor, his expression fierce and his fine jewelry flashing in the light. "A war I do not believe we can win!"

"Nonsense," said Galadriel, Lady of Eregion, her wrist flicking impatiently through the air, displaying the fine jewels adorning her own arms. "They will not go to war over trees. Men go to war over territory, and we are not proposing to take any territory from them!"

In return, Gil-galad launched into a heated monologue about Númenóreans' beliefs that owning territory included the right to do anything they liked with such land. It was a bit of a convoluted, overly wordy argument, and Celebrían's attention wavered. Her gaze flickered to Celebrimbor, who looked displeased, though whether it was with Gil-galad or with Galadriel could not be deciphered from his expression.

His support or opposition could determine the city's position on the Númenóreans, Celebrían thought. But Celebrimbor had been reclusive lately, and uncommunicative. She was worried about him, afraid that he was fighting with Galadriel again.

Her attention was brought back to the conversation when she felt Galadriel stiffen in response to something Gil-galad said that Celebrían had missed.

"You are merely unwilling to take a stance on this matter because of your ties of affection to the island's founder," Galadriel said, her voice low and vicious. "It has compromised your judgment for centuries."

The hit met its mark; Gil-galad took a sharp breath and physically stepped back. He looked stricken.

"That may be," said a soft voice behind Gil-galad—someone else from the Lindon delegation speaking up for the first time. "But it does not follow that we are wrong to feel so."

The owner of the voice stepped out from among the crowd of the Lindon delegation and, head held high, faced the Eregion lords and ladies arrayed before him.

Celebrían's breath caught in her throat.

He was tall, slender, and stately. His eyes shone with a fearless wisdom, tempered with visible affection for the subject of his speech. Adorned in far less jewelry than Gil-galad and Galadriel, he wore but a small circlet on his brow. It was, however, perfect for him—enhancing the strong lines of his face. He carried himself with an air of nobility and grace Celebrían had never seen the like of.

He was, without question, the most handsome Elda she had ever laid eyes on.

"Yes," Galadriel said, her voice softer when addressing this new speaker than it had been when speaking to the High King. "I know you bear your brother your deepest ties of affection and will always carry undying loyalty to his memory. It is commendable, Elrond, and I love you for it. But it does not follow that political decisions for our entire people should be made on the strength of this tie alone."

Celebrían made a slight sound, quite without meaning to. In that instant, she was beyond caring about politics. She wanted to take this elf's hand and gaze into his eyes and tell him exactly what was on her mind—that she would do anything for him.

At her slight noise, both Gil-galad and Elrond turned to look at Celebrían. Celebrían did not know what the expression on Gil-galad's face looked like. She had attention enough for Elrond and no other. His own eyes were suddenly locked onto hers, and her heart was pounding in her ears.

His mind was not open; he was not inviting her to speak to him wordlessly. He was only staring, mouth slightly open, unblinking.

"Elrond," Gil-galad said, and reached out and took his elbow. Elrond gave himself a little shake, tearing his eyes away from Celebrían and bowing his head to the High King.

"We have traveled far today," Gil-galad murmured, his own voice softer and kinder than it had been. "More debate will not serve us now. Let us rest and feast and reconvene the discussion on the morrow."

"Of course," Galadriel said gently. She reached out and took Celebrían's arm, tucking it inside hers. At Galadriel's cue, attendants swept out of the wings and descended on the visiting delegation to escort them to the nearby feast hall.

Celebrían stared at Elrond's back as they went. His stride was commanding and he was sure-footed. Celebrían thought she could simply watch him walk all day long and not grow bored.

"Darling," Galadriel murmured under her breath as she and Celebrían followed their visitors into the feast hall. "Is everything all right?"

"Mmm," Celebrían agreed, her mind spinning. Everything was quite all right, but nothing would ever be the same again.

During the feast, Celebrían's attention remained entirely on Elrond. He was quiet, she noticed; she caught him looking at her as often as she looked at him, which was much more often than he looked at or spoke to any of his near neighbors. Celebrían ate without tasting the food and let her mother's chatter wash over her without listening.

She was on her feet the moment it was polite to do so. She made her way down the table and approached Elrond. She did not need to worry about announcing herself; his attention was already entirely hers.

She gave him a short bow. "Lord Elrond," she said breathlessly. "It's so wonderful to meet you at last. I've heard so many stories—oh, but, I should introduce myself. I am Celebrían, daughter of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn."

Elrond's ears had gone pink, but his expression was unchanged from its basic, kind aspect. He cleared his throat, started to say something, halted several times, and his ears grew even redder.

"I am not a lord," he managed to get out eventually. "But it is the greatest honor of my life to meet you, Lady Celebrían."

"I am not the lady of anything either," she said, trying unsuccessfully to suppress the bubble of happy laughter rising in her chest. "Please, just call me Celebrían."

"And I am just Elrond," he said, his expression morphing into something sheepish looking.

"If there are to be no more political discussions today, perhaps I could give you a tour of the city?" Celebrían suggested hopefully. She found she was on tiptoe, leaning towards him slightly more than necessary. She was breathing too quickly.

Elrond did not spare his High King so much as a glance before giving his answer. "I would love that," he said immediately.

He offered his arm, and she placed her hand on it, a little thrill of pleasure going through her at the touch. Celebrían led him out of the hall and onto the city's main avenue, torn between watching Elrond and watching where she was going.

"You've not been here before," she observed, as she pointed out the tall towers sweeping towards the sky and various other landmarks of the city.

"I have not," he agreed, hesitated, and then darted her a meaningful look. "If I had known what was here, I would have come much earlier."

Celebrían beamed at him. "I was born here," she explained, "as you probably know. It is my favorite place in the world. I would love to visit Lindon, but Ost-in-Edhil will always have my heart."

"Well then. Will you show me your favorite place in your favorite city?" Elrond asked, a gentle smile on his lips.

Celebrían hesitated, with a glance back at the tower she lived in with her parents. "I'm not sure Mother would approve," she said, and then looked back at Elrond. "But yes. I will show you."

Celebrían moved her hand off his arm, in order to take his hand in hers. She gripped it tightly and tugged him along, ducking through crowds and weaving her way through a busy market.

"Everything here is so brightly colored," Elrond marveled.

Celebrían looked around at the city, trying to view it with fresh eyes. It was bright—the murals splashed on the walls, the various stands with their canopies and their wares, the rich brocades of the tunics and robes of the crowds.

"It must a bit different from the Lindon fashions," Celebrían said, with a slight giggle. Celebrían was wearing a wool robe that dipped in a sharp V down her back, dyed a bright aquamarine, a color and style that fit right in in this marketplace. Elrond—and the rest of Gil-galad's delegation—wore neutral-colored silks, with elegant and lightweight capes draped artfully over their shoulders.

Elrond's outfit was silver. It matched his eyes. Celebrían thought it was the finest color she'd ever seen.

"I like it here," Elrond said, but he was looking at Celebrían rather than the rest of the marketplace.

Celebrían smiled, gripped his hand more tightly, and ducked down a small deserted alley, away from the commotion.

"We do not appear to be approaching by the main entrance," Elrond observed, his tone wry.

"Tensions are a bit high between my mother and the guild," Celebrían explained, flashing him an apologetic look. "I do not think she will take Gil-galad to visit the guild at all."

"Ah," Elrond said, with a note of understanding in his voice.

"But I grew up there, learning to craft with all the experts, and—I'm not really fussed about politics at this moment," Celebrían said, watching Elrond carefully.

Elrond gave her a blindingly gorgeous smile. "I want to see what you love," he repeated.

So Celebrían turned, unlocked a short, unassuming door, and ducked inside.

"I take it this is the hall of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain," Elrond said, keeping his voice low.

"Yes," Celebrían said. "But do relax! It is not as though we are prohibited from bringing visitors."

She took him up several flights of stairs and into a long, narrow laboratory. "This has been my workshop since I was a young girl," she explained with a smile. "Not that I make much, with my own hands, anymore. These days, I commission work everyone else thinks is strange, and store it here while I look for places to display it."

Elrond walked down the middle of the room, looking at the art—conglomerations of glass and steel and jewels and precious metals—with intense concentration.

"What is it?" he asked, stopping at a piece of iron that Celebrían thought looked like an explosion, frozen in a moment of time.

"I have no idea," Celebrían said, beaming. "Isn't it brilliant?"

Elrond transferred his serious gaze from the piece of iron to Celebrían's face, and it relaxed into a smile. "Art in Lindon is not like this, either."

"Still," Celebrían said wistfully. "I should like to see it someday."

"You would never be unwelcome," Elrond said earnestly.

Before Celebrían could answer, the door behind Elrond swung open, and a swirl of silver and gold entered the room.

"Celebrían," the new arrival said in a tone of surprise, stopping short, his energy and motion transitioning almost disconcertingly quickly into complete stillness. His silver hair and gold robes settled into peaceful waves shaping his outline. His fashion did not take after either Ost-in-Edhil or Lindon; it was wholly his own invention. Celebrían had always admired it.

"I did not realize you were here," Annatar said, his tone very polite. "I apologize for disturbing you. I wished to borrow one of your books."

"You are always welcome to help yourself to any of them, of course," Celebrían said warmly. "You've met, I think? Elrond, Annatar."

Annatar gave Elrond a bow that was perfectly civil, if somewhat brittle. Elrond let go of Celebrian's hand in order to return it in equal measure.

"We've met," Elrond agreed shortly.

"Does Galadriel know you've taken the Lindon delegation straight here?" Annatar asked, an amused smile on his lips.

"It is only one person," Celebrían said, looking at Elrond with soft eyes. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Annatar looked at her quite seriously for a second, and then let out a light huff of laughter.

"I wish you two joy," Annatar said, his tone somewhat mischievous.

Celebrían could have protested that she didn’t know what he meant. But she did know, and actually, he was completely right. It was not worth protesting.

"Why did you not come to greet us and feast with us?" Elrond said, frowning at Annatar. "We expected to see you there."

"I have utterly no interest in the conflicts of the Eldar or the Edain," Annatar said dryly. "You must sort these things out without interference from the West, I'm afraid. Thank you, Celebrían, for the generosity with your books."

He gave Celebrían a warmer, more sincere bow than he'd given Elrond, and brushed past them to head directly for her shelves of books at the far end of the room.

"Let's get out of here," Celebrían suggested, taking Elrond's hand again.

Elrond nodded, but then looked backwards at Annatar, a slight frown on his face. He did, however, follow Celebrían out of the room without a word.

"Another difference between Eregion and Lindon," Celebrían said, breathless again as she led Elrond up another winding set of stairs that seemed to go on interminably. "You do not trust our beloved resident Maia."

"No," Elrond agreed, his voice calm and steady. "We do not."

"He's been so kind to me," Celebrían said. "He's been a wonderful teacher and friend."

Elrond hesitated, but then replied, "I'm glad."

The top of the staircase finally arrived; Celebrían pushed open the door and led Elrond out onto the small balcony that circled the very top of the tower. It was the tallest tower in Ost-in-Edhil, and had a magnificent view of the surrounding city, the river and plains and forest, and the mountains behind them.

"I see why you love it here," Elrond said quietly, still holding her hand very tightly.

Celebrían made a small murmur of assent. Tonight, though, her attention was not on the city.

"Celebrían," Elrond said, sounding almost helpless.

"Elrond," she said, tasting the name on her lips with delight.

Elrond reached out and took her left hand, clasping it as tightly as he was holding the right. "I felt, when I first saw you, that our spirits had always known each other. That I was always destined for this moment, even though I hadn't known it."

Celebrían's heart was in her throat. "I felt the same way," she said, her voice coming out lower than she'd intended. "I looked at you and knew that I love you."

"Celebrían," Elrond said, his voice thick. "I want to marry you."

"Yes," she said, blinking away tears that had suddenly sprung into her eyes. "Yes! I will marry you. Today or any day you name."

Elrond leaned forward, brushing his lips against her cheek where one tear had spilled over, tasting it with gentleness and wonder. Celebrían turned her head slightly, and caught his lips with her own. Elrond kissed like he moved and like he spoke—with assurance, with grace, with elegance.

Celebrían's heart would be his forever.