I Go To Find The Sun by cuarthol

I Go To Find The Sun

The gardens felt cold, dimmed, with unseen storm clouds gathering at the edge of his awareness.  Celeborn walked silently over moss-soft earth, passing by the many-hued blooms that on another day might have held his attention.

But today he followed the path to where Galadriel was sitting in an alcove, grief drawn over her features like a veil.  Celeborn stood a little apart, fearing to intrude too deeply until she held her hand to him.

“My lady, What has darkened your joy?” he asked, sitting beside her.

“My brother,” she replied.  She lifted a pile of pages written in Finrod’s delicate script.  “He always writes the most uplifting letters.  Poetic.”

The pain in her forced smile belied the attempted lightness of her reply, and Celeborn frowned and rested his hand over hers.

“Then why look you as though reading the blackest report?”

Her smile faded as she abandoned the pretense, drawing a shaky breath.  “He writes of his restlessness.”

She stood abruptly and took a few steps, but had no thought of where to go that was not here.  She clenched the letter in her hands, even as her heart clenched in her chest.

“He tells me he has lingered overlong beneath the hills and feels anew the desire to know the wonders beyond the mountains to the east, asking whether I might be persuaded to travel on his behalf and send him reports of those distant lands, that he might see them through my eyes and smile.”

Tears were already welling in her eyes and her throat closed around her words, motioning to two additional letters, still sealed with the mark of Nargothrond.  “He has sent messages of introduction to present to Nogrod and says his friendship of old with the Dwarves there will be of great use to me.”

Celeborn stood and tipped her face to his, searching out what dark meaning hid behind her words, confused as to what had caused her such grief.

“I know him too well,” she said, the letter’s pages falling from her hands like autumn leaves scattered on the mossy carpet.  “He seeks to comfort me but I see all he does not say.”

“I know him not well enough.  Will you not tell me?” Celeborn asked.

“Do you not yet understand?” she asked softly.  “The Bëorian is my brother’s subject - of course he would seek his king for aid, and receive it beyond measure.”

Celeborn’s eyes widened for a moment in shock, then he exhaled a soft ‘oh’ as the full weight of it settled on him.

“Would that Thingol had not been so rash in his anger,” he murmured.

“What bitter end must he foresee that he would bid me depart this land entirely and be spared its coming?”  She wiped at the tears that would no longer be resisted as Celeborn drew her into his arms, pressed her face to his chest, twisted her fingers in his tunic as a little sob at last escaped.  “I will lose him as well.  Oh, what cruelty!  Not a drop of blood did my brothers spill unjustly yet doom claims them even so!”

His soothing touch could not wash away the ink on those pages, though he ached to see her grieve before that doom of which she spoke had even fallen.  But he could offer one thing; there had been enough foolishness, let wisdom now guide.  Had not even Melian counseled Thingol to caution?

“Then let us depart,” he whispered against her hair.  “And send him reports of what lies beyond the mountains, that he might smile again under his hills.”

Chapter End Notes

Sister story to Say Not Farewell (simply could not miss the opportunity to use this outstanding pun)

In The Lord of the Rings, Galadriel says [of Celeborn]

"He has dwelt in the West since the days of dawn, and I have dwelt with him years uncounted; for ere the fall of Nargothrond or Gondolin I passed over the mountains and together through the ages of the world we have fought the long defeat."

I imagine Finrod, knowing his own doom was at hand and fearing for the loss of his last remaining sibling, urged her to flee before destruction took all of Beleriand.