Finding Home by Independence1776

Celebrían looked through the library windows at the vibrant, blooming flowers of all shades of reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows. Then she looked at her husband sitting in the window seat, leaning against one of the sides and staring out through the glass, eyes unfocused and mind elsewhere. She quietly stepped over to him and lay a hand on his shoulder. He reached up to place a hand on hers and tilted his head to give her a soft smile.

“Hello, Celebrían.” He dropped his hand from hers when she moved to sit across from him, entangling their feet. “Is there anything you need?”

She sighed internally. At times, they were still so awkward with each other. And he was still caught up in the mindset of Middle-earth, that he was still fighting the Long Defeat. It was a mindset that had taken her over a long-year to alter, and she suspected it would take even longer for him, thanks to having worn Vilya. “Cannot a wife desire to spend time alone with her husband?”

He glanced at the rest of the small library and then back at her, his smile growing. “I would like that.”

“Good.” She leaned her head against the window behind her. “What were you thinking of?”

“Rivendell. Aman is… a change.”

“Not always for the better,” she said.

He blinked and sat upright. “To hear you say that--”

She laughed. “It’s a different culture and land, Elrond. Of course there will be things that we prefer done otherwise!”She sobered. “I do miss the change in seasons, though. Wet and dry… The leaves still change, but I’d prefer an autumn and a winter versus what sometimes seems to be an eternal summer.”

“And as long as we live on Tol Eressëa, we are stuck with it. Though you aren’t technically an Exile--”

“I will not leave you again, Elrond, not even to settle where there is a normal seasonal pattern. For now, you must remain here.”

Elrond snorted. “Unlike your mother?”

Celebrían giggled. “You know how strong-willed she is. And she will not be living in Tirion. Merely visiting.”

Elrond’s lips quirked up even more. “I wouldn’t call that a visit, not with the amount of people she planned to see and stay with.” He glanced out of the window and then said, “I confess that I have not been entirely honest with you. I am bored, though I know I should not be. But living with Sauron on the rise again, to know that the Elves will not survive if Gondor and Rohan falls, to know that Men will eventually forget everything about the Elder Days and the twilight years… To be in Aman now… I do not know what to do with myself.”

She reached out and squeezed a knee. “We’ll figured it out, Elrond. You’ve been here a month. Give yourself time to recover-- and don’t you deny that you need it. Our relatives can wait, as can everyone else who wants you to travel to them rather than come here. King Finrod was quite clear he would be patient; I rather think he has his hands full dealing with Mother. There is time, Elrond.”

“There always will be,” he said, with more than a little bleakness.

Celebrían bit her lip and reached out again. She grasped one of his hands and held it tight. “Arwen made the right choice for herself, Elrond, as did your brother.”

He placed his other hand on their joined ones. “I know. And yet… I feel I cannot mourn her properly, not with Elves still able to sail West, any of whom might bring news of her. We know her brothers eventually will.”

Celebrían tilted her head, thinking. Finally, she said, “Then, after their arrival, we hold a mourning ceremony for her: you, me, our sons, Mother and Father, if he’s sailed by then.”

“And if he hasn’t?”

“We can’t wait forever to mourn our daughter. Or we do wait until we hear one way or another.” She took a deep breath. “The Valar will know before we will.”

“Will they tell us?”

“Grandfather Finarfin told me they did even during the First Age. I do not see a reason why they would not do so now.”

He pulled his hands away and rubbed his face before putting them back in hers. “I am being entirely too cynical right now. I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” She leaned forward slightly. “I think the mourning ceremony would help, Elrond, with or without my father’s presence.”

“So do I. But what should we do now?”

“Write her.” At his skeptical look, she gave him an exasperated one in return. “I know you wrote Maglor letters, Elrond.”

“I burned them before I sailed. Words on the wind I know will never reach him.” He sighed and clasped her hand tighter. “I can do the same for our daughter.” He peered into her eyes. “What will you do?”

She gestured with her free hand at the garden. “What I always have: I grew it for her for us to share when she sailed. Now it will be a memorial to her.”

Elrond glanced at the flowers. “You two did always love gardening.” He leaned forward and kissed her hand before releasing it. “I forget, sometimes, that this is a grief as a parent that I no longer need to carry alone. Thank you, Celebrían. And when the time comes, we will mourn her properly.”

She stood up and leaned forward to kiss him. “Good.” She took several steps toward the library door before glancing over her shoulder. “I will be outside weeding if you wish to talk to more.”

Elrond nodded, eyes already half-unfocused, becoming once more lost in thought. Celebrían quietly closed the library door behind her and went to change into a set of her gardening clothes.

After helping Celebrían pack the empty containers back into the picnic basket, Elrond lay back on the blanket spread on the grass, looking at the twinkling stars, the vista occasionally interrupted by bats eating mosquitos and other insects. He’d expected the different sky, having read accounts of those who had traveled in the East and South of Middle-earth, as well as Aragorn’s reports and Elrond’s own knowledge of the shift in the stars from Imladris south to Mordor. He glanced northward, toward the familiar constellations. “It disquiets me that the Sickle sets, despite knowing the reason why.”

Celebrían reached out and grasped one of Elrond’s hands. “Familiar things behaving strangely-- even in expected ways-- will do that. It took me several years to become accustomed to it, and I even now still accidentally look for it when it is not visible. But the southern sky is worth the change.”

Elrond looked south: at the brilliance of the Sírelenath that cast dim shadows on the light-colored blanket, the two hazy cloud-like galaxies, the bright and dark nebulas, and the multitude of stars and star clusters. “Yes, it is.”

Chapter End Notes

Sírelenath (River of Stars aka the Milky Way) is the Sindarin version of the Quenya Sirë Elenion, which Pandemonium_213 was kind enough to let me borrow. My thanks to Elleth for the translation.

If the sky is dark enough (aka with no light pollution or moonlight), the Milky Way does indeed cast diffuse shadows.

According to Note 2 of the Athrabeth, the Eldar of Aman do have proper astronomical knowledge, though only those who wished to study it learned it in depth.

Elrond released a deep breath when he heard Celebrían and another woman approaching the salon, though he couldn’t understand what they were saying. He turned away from the view of the garden and faced the door. Celebrían shot him a smile and waited for Elwing to enter the room before closing the door behind her. Elrond swallowed and said, “Welcome.”

Elwing’s green and white pinstripe dress rustled as she moved toward him, a wooden box under her arm. Her eyes-- old, as he’d not expected-- met his. “I… I missed you, Elrond.” She set the box down on the table, next to the tea service. “I hardly know where to begin.”

Elrond let the twitch of a smile show. “Neither do I. I suppose a cup of tea would be appreciated?”

Elwing nodded and sat down while he poured her one. He then poured himself a cup and sat opposite her. She ran a finger around the rim of the cup before saying, “I should start with an apology.” Elrond merely raised an eyebrow, knowing that if he said anything, it would come out sarcastic, which was not how he desired this reunion to begin. “I truly am. I know it’s hard for you to believe me, to understand why I acted--”

“I do understand,” he said softly. “I spent the past six thousand years trying to do so. I know that what happened was the awful convergence of several things, not the least that every single party involved was both wrong and right. But ignoring the political matters, ignoring what the Silmaril meant-- you abandoned us. And that I still find difficult.”

Elwing nodded and put her teacup down. “I know you’ve heard the theory that the Silmaril had an addictive influence. Or that I acted out of revenge. Or that I didn’t care about you. Or who knows what else. But there was no guarantee the Fëanorians would stop the slaughter even if I had given it to them. And…” she hesitated, just briefly. “I thought you two were hidden well enough that the attackers would overlook you but that any survivors would find you and bring you to Balar. I was wrong. And for that, my sons were raised by Kinslayers.” She reached out and pulled the box in front of her. “Elros corresponded with me. He said that you viewed Maglor as family. I do not pretend that did not break my heart. But Maglor raised you well. I cannot deny the evidence that I have heard over the Ages nor the man sitting in front of me despite every reason to refuse to see me. I only regret that I could not watch you grow to adulthood.”

Elrond nodded, not quite sure what to say. He hadn’t realized-- hadn’t guessed-- that the Elves on Tol Eressëa would pass letters between Elwing and Elros, nor that Elros would write more than one or two. He had been just as betrayed, angry, and heartbroken. “Are his letters in the box?”

Elwing smiled a little. “Some of them. He knew you would sail eventually, so he sent here the ones he wrote to you. I brought all of them, and a few of the ones he sent to me. I thought it would give us something else to talk about.”

Something else besides the accusations, the complexities, and the guilt. They could build a new relationship from Elros’ letters. It would never be what he mourned for as a child held and cared for by those who had destroyed his home around him, but both Elwing and he had matured since then. Elrond would not ignore this chance. “Yes, it does.”

Elrond looked at the small trunk, its lid open so that the papers inside were on the verge of spilling out. Elladan smiled and carefully removed a packet wound with embroidery thread. “Arwen wrote these letters for you.”

Celebrían held out her hands and Elladan placed them there.

Elrohir said, “Before you read them, we have other things to show you.”

He lifted out a portfolio and spread several ink drawings on the table, all in Arwen’s hand. Elrond and Celebrían leaned over to look at them. He recognized Gondor-- but the children? “Who are they?”

“That’s Eldarion, their oldest. He’s five. The twins are Meldë and Melimë; they’re three and utter terrors,” Elrohir said.

Celebrían laughed. “That reminds me of two twins I know.”

Elladan and Elrohir immediately got the suspiciously innocent expressions on their face that always signified trouble when they were young. Elladan said, “I’m sure I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Of course not.” Elrond lifted up the family portrait, drawn not long ago from the children’s ages. “Did you draw this, Elladan?”

“On our last day there.”

Elrond put it down before the tears welling in his eyes could fall onto the drawing. Celebrían leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. They clasped hands. Their daughter would never come home, but this was more than he’d hoped to received. Arwen was happy and that had to be enough.

When three stars gleamed in the sky, Elrond lit the candle and shook the match out. It was now the main source of light in the room, apart from a dim lantern near the door. “On the day of your begetting, Arwen, we remember you.”

He stepped away from the table in the center of the room, into the embrace of his family.

This was a private ceremony, rather than the public memorial held after Nienna informed them that Arwen had entered Mandos. Then, all those who knew her had needed to mourn. But this day was for her family.

Chapter End Notes

I know these last two chapters weren't long (nor the story itself for that matter), but they finished the larger arc I had in mind when I began this collection. So I'm ending the story.