Patience Enough by Elleth

Chapter 1

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Wandering had begun to calm Celebrían again.

When she realized, already on the road down to her house, her hands began to shake and she skipped over the final flight of stairs to the door, and never even stopped to drop her cloak or remove her boots. She almost couldn’t hold the quill she put to paper to record this day, and the first few words came out shaky and near-illegible. Seeing the inkblots on the parchment, she laughed out loud and laid the quill down, forcing for a little longer what she had been re-learning over the long years of recovery.

Patience.

She kindled a fire, made herself tea, put away cloak and boots, unpacked her bedroll and spare clothes, and only then returned to the kitchen table, where the sheet of paper waited to record the momentous event. When she took up the quill again - a gift devised by Nerdanel herself, of glass inlaid with silver - her hands had calmed, and she began to pen a letter to her friend, humming as she wrote.

Nerdanel arrived two days later, having taken a ferry from the mainland to Avallónë as soon as her obligations allowed her, and by the time evening fell she and Celebrían were seated before the main fireplace, sipping mulled apple wine (Celebrían’s diluted with juice; she still did not trust herself to imbibe without risking nightmares) against the chill that had settled on the land, every now and then silvering the mornings with hoarfrost. It was not bound to become much colder, at least not this close to the sea, but Celebrían relished the remnant of seasons that had been preserved on Eressëa at the bidding of the Elves of the Outer Lands, and she much preferred them to the balmy warmth of central Aman.

“Tell me where you went?” Nerdanel asked, picking up the thread of an earlier conversation that had quieted into companionable silence.

“I grew restless again - and I missed going into the mountains,” Celebrían said softly. “I could not yet bring myself to go there alone, but I crossed the river and went north within sight of them,” she explained, and smiled. “It felt odd, not being afraid. I had forgotten what it was like.”

Nerdanel wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and Celebrían, laughing softly, leaned into her hold. “Having you for a friend… was the best that could happen to me here, short of Elrond himself accompanying me. If I had not known you were behind me, I would not yet be able to set foot outside my doors, and…” she trailed off and took another sip of her drink in contemplation, and could feel Nerdanel’s eyes rest on her in mild surprise.

“I am not asking for repayment; I do not think you are obliged to any such thing to me, if that is what you seek to do,” Nerdanel said, but even so Celebrían knew her well enough to tell from wordless clues - the tilt of her head, the slight raise of her eyebrows and the frown that momentarily crinkled the space between her brows - that her interest had been piqued, at the least that.

“But you are curious.”

“Of course,” Nerdanel admitted. “Although I should hope that it is not another book from Elrond’s library that you are giving away. At that rate he will be arriving to an empty house, when he comes.”

Celebrían huffed out a laugh. Nerdanel’s teasing was understated and the factual tone had at first fooled Celebrían into mistaking Nerdanel as aloof and more than a little cautious, but as time passed and the fog of grief lifted from her mind, there were traits to the other woman she recognized with almost startling clarity.

Some - certain gestures and intonations - were intimately familiar; Nerdanel and her mother employed them in much the same way, and what was more - Nerdanel had once sung her a Quenya lullaby to calm her hysterical crying out of a nightmare of her captivity, the very same that her mother had rocked her to in her earliest memories.

Other things were - had to be - less coincidental than a shared culture and close kinship. Nerdanel’s jokes were one such thing. Elrond, when joking in this manner, pursed his lips trying to stave off laughter much the same way Nerdanel did, they both had a habit of speaking softly and with immense focus - the very thing that had called Celebrían out of many of the numb-minded, estranged experiences that had befallen her while she was healing, not merely in Imladris, but also during her early days in Aman. Few others had availed to get through to her at such times; neither her mother’s family, nor such people of her father’s family who had already returned from the halls of Mandos.

Like Elrond, Nerdanel had driven off the flocks of the concerned and assured her that all was well. She had offered a safe refuge while the land itself worked its blessings on Celebrían’s body until she was ready to lay the foundations of the house on Eressëa she had planned together with Elrond in the rare calm moments before her departure. Nerdanel and others of the Aulenduri had helped build it. Celebrían had taken up the task of preparing it for Elrond’s arrival, giving it a sense of being lived-in and cared-for, and for a time Nerdanel had even joined her to make certain she was coping well.

In that time there were many more details that became apparent the more she thought about it, mannerisms that must have passed from Nerdanel to her sons - Maglor in particular, whom Elrond unflinchingly called ‘Father’ and spoke of with great fondness. Nerdanel was not him, as little as Celebrían’s sons were identical except to a stranger’s eyes, but something of hers ran strong in Elrond - the same humor, the same kindness, the same deep sight into the hearts and minds of others. More than once she had been tempted to recall an old phrase, kind as summer, and apply it to Nerdanel as well… but the words had their origin in her and Elrond’s courtship, and although they had readily been accepted as true, both by inhabitants and guests of Imladris, something in her balked to share them further. Not least because she missed Elrond dearly.

“Celebrían?” Nerdanel asked softly, and Celebrían blinked her eyes open to find that she had drifted off into the meanderings of her mind, and had perhaps been near dozing, for Nerdanel steadied the cup of wine that must have been slipping from her fingers. “Would you like me to help you to bed?”

“No, it is fine. I merely grew drowsy, thinking,” Celebrían said, pulling herself upright. “Today was a little exhausting; it takes time to get used to company if you live on your own. And I was thinking about… what I meant to show you, and with this I am certain Elrond would not object to you having it, although it is one book less in his library.”

In the ruddy glow of the fire, it was hard to say whether Nerdanel’s face was flushing, or if the light played tricks on her skin. “Celebrían, we have spoken about this - I am your family here, as close as any who has such a claim in Aman, after all that you have told me about Elrond. You owe me nothing at all for being by your side.”

Celebrían climbed to her feet. “Will it help if you consider it a family gift, then, to satisfy your curiosity and perhaps do you well, rather than a debt to settle? No,” she added, when it seemed that Nerdanel wanted to object, undoubtedly to argue that it would remain an unnecessary gift, whatever its rationale. She had done so before, over lesser shows of gratitude.

“Please. I know customs differ in Aman, but in Endor it would be graceless to continue to refuse, even if the giver were a pauper.”

“Very well,” Nerdanel finally relented, lowered her head and smiled. “It is not so different here, but it would also be graceless to be grasping and take advantage of your kindness.”

“I am not offering myself to be taken advantage of, Nerdanel,” Celebrían said finally, in a tone that, were she still Lady of Imladris, would have brooked no more discussion or objection from the household, though it lacked in severity. “I offer it freely, and if this is so important to you - I doubt it is a book that would be of much value to any but a few. In fact… it is a family matter as well.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” Celebrían said, and walking to one of the bookshelves that covered the back wall of the room from floor to ceiling, selected a slender volume from its place. “I had wanted to show you this before, but you were always so concerned about me that I could not find it in me to perhaps add to your worries.”

She weighed the slender volume, bound in maroon leather and embossed in gold with an eight-pointed, rayed star, in her hand, and held it up for Nerdanel to see. Her friend gave a soft, wordless exclamation, barely audible over the crackle of the fire, upon seeing her family crest, and all objections seemed to have vanished when Celebrían came to her side again. Nerdanel ran a calloused finger over the ornaments.

“There is this book - Elrond compiled it and gave me this copy to take here… I am afraid for all his eyes and ears upon the road it is rather thin, but… he never quite let go of the hope of finding his father and bringing him home, so that the Wandering Companies and those of our people who regularly travel abroad, to trade or gather lore and information, know to inquire after a wandering elven minstrel - some brought back tales even from Far Harad. Elrond sorted and assessed them… I think you may find it interesting.”

“I daresay.” Nerdanel’s voice was a little hoarse as she received the volume, and carefully opened it, finding first and foremost coastline maps marked in different inks. “I am looking forward to meeting your husband, when he comes. And Makalaurë, if he succeeds in finding him.”

“If anybody is to bring him home, it will be Elrond,” Celebrían said, once more leaning her head on Nerdanel’s shoulder as she perused the pages. “In fact, I am certain he will, however long it takes. All we need is patience enough.”