White Water Flowing by StarSpray

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Chapter Three

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They made their camp where they were, and in the morning the sunrise brought a beautiful view of the hanging valley. There was a lake there, a clear blue, perhaps fed by snow melt from higher peaks, but also, Celebrían suspected, there were springs. The more she gazed at it, the more convinced she became that it was precisely what she wanted.

“It’s very pretty,” said Elenel, ever practical, “but how are you supposed to get to it?”

“There are cliffs at Imladris,” said Taurendis.

“Yes, but those are going down. And the stone is of a different kind—and there were already ledges and things to be turned into paths. This cliff is entirely sheer. A goat could climb it, but not an elf.”

“I could,” Celegorm said mildly.

“Please don’t,” said Curufin and Caranthir together. Celegorm made a face at them, and Celebrían bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.

Aloud she said, “Of course, I don’t know how to get up there now, but we’ll figure something out. I shall consult with the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, unless anyone in present company has any ideas.”

“You’ll have to carve some sort of path into the rock,” said Curufin. “Dwarves would make a tunnel out of it, stitch-backing up the cliff side.” He eyed the cliff as though he had a few ideas already about how to go about it. Caranthir nodded in agreement, with the same sort of look in his eye. “You might also ask your Sindarin kin. They delved their new Menegroth into the mountains here. Aulë himself came to help them.”

No progress, of course, would be made then and there. But they returned to the base of the cliff so that Caranthir and Curufin would better examine the stones, and when it was time to depart, Celebrían invited the brothers back to her house on Eressëa. Caranthir and Curufin accepted immediately, the excitement of a new project apparently making them forget all about any potential awkwardness. Celegorm refused, only because he wanted to continue to explore the valley and the surrounding mountains.

“This will cause a bit of a stir in Alqualondë and Avallónë,” Elenel murmured to Celebrían as they began the trek back east.

“I’m sure the gossips will be delighted,” Celebrían agreed. “But I intend to go on as we did in Imladris, and that means everyone is welcome—including in the building.” She had not been there, of course, for the initial founding of Imladris. Her father had been—it had been a time of scrambling, of making whatever shelter they could, and desperately foraging for food. Her project would be very different in that respect. Comfort would be the goal from the very beginning.

They emerged from the woods streaked with dirt and sweat, with twigs in their hair, but all feeling very merry. Elvir met them near the docks in Alqualondë, and if he was shocked to find a pair of the sons of Fëanor in their company, he did not show it. “Did you find a place?” he asked as they made their way to the ferry docks. A cool wind picked up, blowing from the north and smelling of rain, and both Caranthir and Curufin took advantage of the excuse to draw up their hoods.

“We did!” Celebrían said. “We’ll tell you all about it when we get home. Have we missed anything interesting?”

“Lady Minyelmë brought you an invitation from Queen Lunamírë,” said Elvir. “And Queen Nimloth has come to visit Eressëa, and I think she may also have an invitation for you to Menegroth.”

“It seems you are in great demand at the royal courts, Lady Celebrían,” remarked Curufin as they stepped up the gangplank onto the ferry.

“For my mother’s sake,” Celebrían replied, “and also for Elrond’s.” She took a seat near the railing; this ferry was not very full. She noticed a few of the sailors take another look at her companions, but they were all quite young and she didn’t think they would know a Fëanorion on sight. At the mention of Elrond, Caranthir and Curufin exchanged a glance, but she couldn’t quite read their expressions.

At home in Avallónë, Celebrían was very happy to soak in a hot bath before supper, washing away the remnants of the forest, before dressing in soft blue linen robes. She left her hair loose and eschewed shoes afterward, and was pleased to see that her guests had also foregone formalities—though they were wearing shoes. Supper was served inside, since it had started to rain while Celebrían was in the bath.

There was a slight awkwardness as they sat down together. Celebrían was in the process of thinking of a harmless remark or question to open up the conversation when Curufin asked, a little tentatively, about Ost-in-Edhil. He did not mention Celebrimbor’s name, and ignored the swift look that his brother gave him. Celebrían knew lingering grief when she saw it. She considered the question, wondering whether it was even possible to talk of Celebrimbor’s city without mentioning his name.

“It was a beautiful city,” she said at last. “Founded mostly by the Noldor—followers of you and your brothers who had survived the First Age. Others came with my parents, alongside a fair number of Sindar. And Men, too, lived there—descendants of Edain who had declined to sail to Númenor, and also Men whose forebears had never passed over the Ered Luin into Beleriand at all. Anyone who wanted to dwell there was welcome, and the road to Khazad-dûm was very short.” She went on to describe the squares with their fountains, and the tree-lined avenues, and the large house in which she had grown up. It had been a very carefully planned city, more slowly built up than the cities and towns of Mithlond, which had been rather hastily constructed after the earth’s upheaval had finally settled. But it had been long finished by the time Celebrían was born. She had grown up underfoot of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, learning by watching and sporadic teachings, whenever someone had time or the inclination. She had loved her cousin Celebrimbor, too—he had always had time to teach her something, and had never minded when she wanted to watch him at work.

At least, until Annatar had come. But Celebrían did not go near that time in her tellings. She did not know what Curufin had heard of his son’s achievements, but she feared that they had been overshadowed by his end. The least she could do was let him know all of the great and beautiful things he had done in his city.

“You spoke of recruiting Celebrimbor’s people to build your house in the mountains,” Caranthir said after a while. “I had wondered why.”

“Many of them were there when Imladris was founded,” said Celebrían. “They’ll know just what I am talking about when I say that I want a similar kind of place.”

“You speak of that time as though you were not there,” Curufin said. “When did you leave Eregion?”

“When my mother did,” said Celebrían. “We passed through Khazad-dûm to Lothlórien—it was Lórinand, then, among other names. That was around the time that Rings were first being spoken of.” A shadow passed over Curufin’s face, and Caranthir looked at him. Celebrían hesitated—long habit making itself known—before she went on, gently. “It is not permitted to speak of it in Middle-earth, but here I do not see there can be any harm. Celebrimbor’s greatest work was the making of the Three Rings for the Elves. Sauron never touched them, and since his fall they have been put to use. Elrond wields Vilya—and its power was a great boon to us during the wars with Angmar—and in Lothlórien my mother bears Nenya. For a time Círdan kept Narya, in Lindon, though I do not know that he ever used it. It is now in the keeping of Mithrandir, one of the Istari.”

“Grey wanderer,” Curufin said. “I wonder which one that is.”

“Must be Olórin,” said Caranthir. “He wore the grey of Nienna.”

“I do not know what he was called before he came to Middle-earth,” said Celebrían. “It is not spoken of. But he became a great friend to us in Imladris.” She smiled. “I think he mostly uses Narya’s power to make his fireworks. I have always thought that Celebrimbor would have liked that.” That drew a small smile from Curufin, and with that Celebrían turned the conversation to other, less fraught subjects. She asked about Curufin’s own recent work, which brightened him immediately He made nothing of real consequence these days, only things like necklaces or diadems, useful only in their beauty. Many of the gems he used these days had been discovered in the deep caverns of the new Menegroth at its delving; Nerdanel had done some of the carvings on the pillars in the throne room, and received a store of gemstones and crystals in return.

“He made the crown that Dior wears,” Caranthir said.

“I have heard that it is very beautiful,” said Celebrían, “though I haven’t seen it yet, myself. But I am glad that Dior accepted the gift.”

“We never expected him to wear it,” said Curufin.

“Nor to become such good friends with Celegorm,” said Caranthir, “though I think Huan had a hand in that.” He peered at Celebrían. “We did not expect it of you, either, the daughter of Galadriel, and Celeborn of Doriath.”

Celebrían gave them her sweetest smile. “I was born long after the end of the First Age,” she said. “Ost-in-Edhil was a city of new beginnings. And Imladris is a place of peace and welcome, no matter who one is or what one might have done.” She paused. “Well, at Elrond’s discretion, but I cannot think of any exceptions.”

“What happens if a quarrel does break out?” Curufin asked, sounding faintly amused.

“My favorite solution is locking the involved parties in a room until they work it all out,” Celebrían said brightly, recalling her conversation with Nerdanel. Caranthir had just taken a sip of wine, and Curufin had to pound him on the back as he choked on it. “Unfortunately, Elrond never let me try, except with our boys. He likes to take a more diplomatic approach, and I suppose when one is dealing with adults that is the better option. But all that is to say—I do not believe in holding grudges, much less for deeds done so long ago, before I was ever born. It would deprive me of rather delightful company and interesting conversation. And,” she added, “it will give the gossips of Avallónë something to gasp about over their tea. I fear things have gotten a bit boring for them of late.”

The next morning, as Celebrían was dressing for the day, she was informed that Idril had arrived to speak with her. “You can send her up here, Anlas,” said Celebrían as she picked up her hairbrush. She had not yet changed out of her nightgown, and the scars from her ordeal in the Misty Mountains were visible. She was still unused to them, even after so long—most likely because there were few mirrors in Lórien. These days Celebrían purposefully sat herself down in front of her mirror before fully dressing. Someday, her hands would not shake as she brushed out her hair.

“Good morning, Celebrían,” Idril said as she swept into the room, clad in a gown of deep green, with pale green lace along her sleeves. “I have heard some very interesting things about your current house guests this morning.”

“I’m very glad to know that Avallónë’s gossips are having a nice morning,” Celebrían replied as she set her brush down. She thought she would wear her hair loose that day. “Are you here to scold me?”

“I can see that it wouldn’t do any good,” said Idril as she seated herself by the window. “Mostly I’m very curious as to why you were seen coming out of the woods with them near Alqualondë. Seems an odd place for a meeting.”

“They were kind enough to offer help with a project I am undertaking,” said Celebrían, as Anlas helped her settle her gown over her head and shoulders. It had a higher neckline than was currently fashionable; if Celebrían was not yet comfortable looking at her own wounds, she certainly did not want to attract others’ gazes. “Would you like to join us for breakfast? There’s time to send for Tuor, too.”

“Tuor is downstairs,” Idril said. “He was curious to meet—is it Curufin and Caranthir?”

“Yes, Celegorm declined to return so soon to civilization. Thank you, Anlas. Please tell the cook we’ll have two more for breakfast this morning.”

“Certainly, my lady.” Anlas smiled at Idril as she passed out of the room.

“Your household seems entirely unbothered,” remarked Idril. “I confess, I do not know my cousins well—I did not see them at all after we made it to Middle-earth, for they kept to the east, and then, well.” She waved a hand. “Gondolin.”

“I assure you, if there were any concerns my household would not hesitate to inform me,” said Celebrían, as she picked up her jewelry box. “And anyway, most of us either have connections to the Fëanorians, or were once counted among them—those that rallied to Celebrimbor after everything.” In fact, Anlas’ parents had once dwelt in Thargelion, though Celebrían seemed to recall a tale of them fleeing into the east instead of south in the chaos of the Dagor Bragollach. They had died in Eregion. “Ah, there they are.” She pulled out the earrings she’d wanted—sapphires, to match the bluebirds embroidered on her sleeves. “Speaking of relations, I heard that Minyelmë and Nimloth are on Eressëa. Are they horrified at my house guests?”

“I doubt it. Nimloth was slower to warm to the sons of Fëanor than her husband, but she’ll likely be pleased to know you’re hosting them. Minyelmë I am less certain of. She only rarely goes to Tirion these days—I am told that before the War of Wrath she avoided the Noldor entirely, but I do not know why. It seems to run deeper than the hurts of the Kinslayings.” She paused before going on. “I cannot, though, say that Elwing will be at all pleased.”

“Of course not,” Celebrían said. “I wouldn’t expect her to. And I will do my very best not to put her into any awkward social situations.” She fastened her earrings, and admired the way they shimmered against her silver hair for a moment. They had been a coming of age gift from Celebrimbor. She’d had other pieces that he’d given her over the years, but most she had left with Arwen; at the time of her departure, she had not been able to fathom a time when she would want to bother with such things again. But now she was glad that she had at least brought the earrings, and a few other things that someone—Arwen, most likely—had packed behind her back.

They went downstairs to find Tuor already cheerfully in conversation with Curufin and Caranthir over coffee. He rose to kiss Celebrían’s cheek and to take Idril’s hand. “Idril, your cousins want to know about the tunnel out of Gondolin.”

Idril arched a slender eyebrow. “Really?”

“Celebrían has decided to build herself a small realm in the mountains, in a place up a sheer cliff face,” Caranthir said, as Celebrían seated herself. She reached for the teapot instead of the coffee, preferring a milder drink she did not have to fill with sugar and cream to find palatable. “We thought a sort of tunneling path would be the way to get up, instead of trying to cut steps or something.”

“I’m not sure how much I can help with that,” said Idril. “Our tunnel was fairly straightforward. Though I will say that you’ll have a much easier time of it than we did, since I rather doubt you’ll have to work in secret.”

“But how did you go about cutting into the rock?” Curufin asked. “Were there any songs of power used?”

The conversation went from there, Idril and Tuor quickly growing interested not only in the tunnel-path, but in Celebrían’s plans for the hanging valley above. Celebrían listened quietly, sipping her tea and thinking fondly of a coalition between the Gondolindrim and the Fëanorians.

Somehow the talk turned from digging tunnels to Gondolin itself, which of course only Idril and Tuor had ever seen. Curufin was very interested in—well, everything. Celebrían saw Caranthir glance at his brother more than once, with something like relief in his eyes. Even Celebrían could tell that Curufin was growing more animated and less withdrawn, even in the few days since she had met him.

The discussion continued after the meal, and since Celebrían was not needed, she slipped outside for a bit of fresh sea air. The rain had passed, and the sun was shining in a cloudless sky of the clearest blue. She walked down the path to the white sands of her small stretch of beach. As she tilted her head back to bask in the sunshine she saw movement, and turned to see Nimloth and Minyelmë walking up the beach toward her. “Well met, young cousin!” Minyelmë called, waving. “I am glad to see you back from your wanderings.”

“Good morning!” Celebrían said. “Elvir told me you’d both come to call.”

“I come as a messenger for my sister,” said Minyelmë. “She wishes for you to join us in Valmar for Midsummer.”

“And I came with the same invitation,” Nimloth laughed, “but I think instead I will suggest to Dior that we all go to Valmar too.”

“I will be very glad to join you all,” said Celebrían. “I would invite you inside now, though I must warn you that Curufin and Caranthir are here.”

Minyelmë’s eyebrows shot up. “I’d heard you were entertaining Fëanáro’s sons,” she said. “You must forgive me for begging off. I must leave for Valmar, anyway. Lunamírë is in a flurry of planning for all the festivities, and wants certain numbers sooner than later.” With another wave she continued on down the beach, leaving Celebrían alone with Nimloth.

“I’ve never met Caranthir, or Curufin,” Nimloth said. “It’s Celegorm that comes to Menegroth. I rather had the impression that his brothers didn’t really leave Nerdanel’s house.”

“Idril and Tuor are also visiting this morning,” Celebrían said, linking her arm through her cousin’s as they headed back to the house. “I think it is doing Curufin and Caranthir rather a lot of good to be away from home and among company.”

Idril and Tuor greeted Nimloth warmly when they entered the parlor, and Curufin and Caranthir rose to bow deeply. Nimloth waved away their formality, and joined the conversation cheerfully. She and Idril dominated, sharing stories of various mutual friends and relations, and apparently catching the Fëanorians up on all the gossip they were missing while secluded at their mother’s countryside estate. Celebrían settled into her favorite seat beside the window, feeling like she was halfway to remaking Imladris already.