A Midwinter’s Feast by Lilith

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The Merry War

Preparations for the feast are made, and Celebrían finds herself drawn into a snowball

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The day before Midwinter dawned cold and bright.  The snow had ceased falling during the night, and Celebrían woke to the pale light of the morning sun slipping in through the shutters.   She heard voices laughing and chattering downstairs and knew the household had been busy with the preparations for the feast since before the dawn.  The kitchen was the heart of activity in the household, but this was never more true than in winter.   When the days began to grow shorter and the nights grew longer and colder, the great stove in the kitchen was kept burning throughout the night to ensure the house remained warm.  Four of the servants slept on pallets around the stove in order to tend to it.  Celebrían had once asked one of the serving boys if he was sorry to be the one assigned to this job.  He’d laughed and answered that he liked it because he knew he would always sleep warm.   

 

 

 

She had thought that was strange and asked him if he had not always been warm.  He had said that he had been since he had come to live with the Lord and Lady.  She had been confused and asked him why he had not been before since he, like she, must have lived in a house and houses were warm.  He had laughed again, though the sound was not as nice as his first laugh had been.  Then he said that it was easy for her to stay warm in her pretty stone Golodhrim house, but for one, such as he, the houses were wooden and the walls thin and the wind blew through them in the winter and even an elf might grow cold.   This morning, nestled in her bed and not yet willing to leave the cocoon of warmth formed by her blankets, she thought about what he had said and wondered if he were still glad to wake in a room already warm.

 

 

 

She rolled to one side and nestled a little more snugly in her blankets.  She knew she would have to leave the bed very soon, but she decided she could until she was called.   While she lay still, she thought about the conversation between her parents five days earlier.  She remained very puzzled by it.  She realized that she knew very little about her parents’ lives and her cousins in the dark time before the Great Enemy had been defeated.   Her parents seldom spoke about those days.  She knew it had been a time of war and of trouble, but she had learned more from the tales of the other Elves living in the city than from her parents' stories.   Her mother told stories, but those tales were most often of the years she had spent in Valinor and of her brothers.  Sometimes her mother’s stories made Celebrían wish she had a brother or two or a sister.  But, at other times, she was glad that she did not have to share her mother and her father with another child.  They were busy as it was.   Besides, Finrod, her mother’s favorite, would have always had her in trouble had he been her brother if only because she did not always want to do her chores and he seemed the sort who would always do his and be cheerful about it too.

 

 

 

Her father sometimes told her stories of Doriath where he had lived as a young man and where he had met her mother.   She loved these stories though or perhaps because they were so different to the ones her mother told.  Doriath seemed very strange to her, a woodland realm half in and half out of the world and a place where time flowed differently and magic lived in the trees and the flowers and in the people who lived there.   She had told her father that Doriath seemed very different to her own world and peculiar.  He had been disturbed by this, and so she had hurried to tell him that she liked it and wished to know it better.  He had considered what she had said for several minutes.  Then he had said that Doriath seemed strange because she had known only tall stone towers, stone buildings and high walls and that she had lived too long away from the music of trees and of the living world.  He had spoken to her mother about it, and Celebrían had traveled this past spring with her mother to spend the summer and most of the autumn in Lórinand with their kinsman Amdir.   There, her father had said, she would learn of green and growing things and see the beauty in Yavanna’s craftsmanship as well as Aulë’s.    Celebrían had liked Lórinand well enough, but she had missed her house and her friends and her father and her cousin.   

 

 

 

Her mother had loved Lórinand.   She had been given seedlings of very beautiful trees by the Tall Men from Across the Sea some years before and had been uncertain where she wanted to plant them in Eregion.   There were no places, she had said, for a forest of tall trees within the city walls of Ost-in-Edhil and a very great and a very old forest already lived near to the city as it was and needed no newcomers to add to its grandeur.  Instead, her mother had brought the seedlings with them to Lórinand and had planted them there as a gift to Amdir for welcoming them.   

 

 

 

Celebrían had expected Lórinand to feel the way her father’s stories of Doriath made her think a forest should feel.  But it did not.  It was very pretty and it was full of things that were green and growing.  But it did not feel alive with magic in the way she had expected.  There was a feeling, deep and strong, of life around her in Lórinand, of green things and growing ones singing their song of life to her, of the music of living things different to her, but they were not wholly unfamiliar as she had imagined Doriath to be.  She had felt those presences in Eregion too.  The holly and the pine trees sang their song to her in Eregion as did the delicate golden-leaved trees growing near to the mountains and the strong oaks of the forest nearby.   The songs of Lórinand were different to those sung by the trees in Eregion, but they were still recognizable to her.  

 

 

 

She had decided that the difference — the strangeness — at the heart of Doriath was not the presence of the trees or the sense of being surrounding by those things that were green and growing, but rather that of the Fay Melyanna who lived there among the trees and the magic she had brought with her.   It was Melyanna’s magic, her father had told her, that had been bound into Doriath and had made it secure and safe from the evil in the world.  Melyanna had many gifts and unusual powers, notable among them were the gifts of song and of enchantment, and she had walked in the forests of Beleriand for she loved the deep, dark woods and the fellowship of the trees and of the birds.  There she had walked, singing in the company of nightingales, and she had met Elwë, a lord of elves, passing through those forests with his people for he had been summoned to Valinor.  But, Celebrían’s father had said, an enchantment had fallen upon Elwë when he saw Melyanna and heard her song.  He had forgotten his people and his purpose.  Instead, he remained in those strange and darkening woods with her, gazing into her eyes and holding her hand.  So in love were they that seasons passed, trees grew and years came and went and still Elwë and Melyanna stayed.   Caught the spell of Melyanna’s voice and by love, Elwë never came to Valinor living but stayed there, in the woods, with her.

 

 

 

“How does one stay still for hundreds of years and not notice?” Celebrian had wondered.  

 

 

 

“You haven’t been in love,” her father replied.  “It does very peculiar things to time.  You may think you’ve spent only a moment or two looking at your beloved and then find that an hour or more has passed.”

 

 

 

“An hour,” Celebrían had observed, “is only an hour.  That’s very different from hundreds of years.”  

 

 

 

Her father had only kissed her and laughed.

 

 

 

“What happened to his people?”  Celebrían had then asked her father for this had not been part of the story he had told her.

 

 

 

“Some of them continued on to Valinor,” her father answered.  “Others and I was one stayed and searched for him, though we knew not where he had gone.”

 

 

 

“It seems a very good thing for him that he met her but a very scary thing for you,” she’d said.

 

 

 

“It was a little frightening,” he had replied, “But, in the end, it was a good thing too.”  

 

 

 

He had then told her how Elwë had founded the realm of Doriath with Melyanna and had taken the name of Elu Thingol.   Those people who had remained in Middle Earth and had searched for him had made their home in there with Thingol and with Melyanna, his wife.   They had been safe and protected in Doriath, even from the Great Enemy, because Melyanna’s love had bound her to Thingol and had bound her power to Doriath where they made their home.   Her power had lived within the trees and the grasses, in the flowers and in the water, and even in the caves underground.  With its protection, no enemy might enter Doriath and no evil could pass through its borders.  It had become, her father said, a place apart from the world, shrouded in magic and mystery.  Time flowed differently in Doriath because of Melyanna and her spells.   Those who strayed unwelcome into its borders would find themselves caught in her power and drawn into a peculiar current of time, where they would stay, even as time passed and the world outside changed.  

 

 

 

In Lórinand, Celebrían had found tall trees and magic.  But it was only the magic of root and leaf and of flower and vine, magic she had already known.   She had encountered no loops and no whirls of time.  She had found no magic that drew her from the living and the waking world.  She had been a little surprised, for this was something for which she had hoped, and then, after a little thought, she was not.   There was no Melyanna living in Lórinand.  No Fay walked its path with her beloved and sank her magic into the earth to shape the trees and to bend the very currents of time.  No Fay had offered a gift of protection and sanctuary nor had any left the knowledge with which to make it.  Lórinand, then, was beautiful as it should be and magical.  But its magic was an ordinary one, of the world and subject to the passing of time.   

 

 

 

This morning Celebrían lay within her warm blankets and wished for a magic, such as Melyanna’s, to bind time and to slow it.  She would have liked to remain in her bed longer and not yet have to step into the cold.  She would also like to go back a little in time, to the time before she went to Lórinand with her mother, to the time when her mother had not been afraid, to the time when her mother and her father and her cousin had been happy and at peace within one another, to the time before Mairen had come and all had changed.

 

 

 

But she knew such a thought was impossible.  They were not in Doriath were time might slow and, even, stop.  In Ost-in-Edhil, time flowed on.  In Celebrían’s home, it was, even now, moving forward with the sounds of someone walking up the stairs and to her room.    She heard Elanor call her name softly once and then louder a second time and slipped reluctantly from her bed.  She searched for her warmest robe and opened the door, not yet ready for the day to begin.

 

 

 

But begin it had and very quickly too.   Celebrían had been busy from the morning and through her midday meal and after.  She had helped Elanor make savory meat pies to be served to the groups of caroling elves that would serenade them this Midwinter.   She had helped the serving girls and boys pull the fine linens from their chests for airing before they were laid upon the tables and sideboards for service.  She had then helped her mother make the house ready for the feast.  They had searched for the dishes her mother wished to use, delicate pieces made by the potters’ guild, and fine crystal shaped by the artisans skilled at shaping glass with their breath.   They had helped to lay new rushes upon the floor.  They had pulled several small tables into the great room to make a single long one and then surrounded it with a number of other smaller ones.   They had also set chairs, pulled, it seemed, from every room in the house, around it and to find the four great chairs, two in the center for her parents and two at each end of the table, one for her cousin and the other for the High King’s representative from Lindon.  

 

 

 

The Midwinter feast her parents hosted each year was much different to the formal events held in the Great Hall where most of the city would come.  This did include the few remaining Noldorin and Sindarin nobility in the city remaining in the city along with any representatives from the Greenwood or from Lórinand and then several master craftsmen, not all but rather the ones recognized as pre-eminent in their trade.   Their families were also invited and were seated at several smaller tables surrounding the main.  An invitation to this feast was a sign of the Lord and Lady’s favor and thus of belonging in the city, even Celebrían recognized this.  To be excluded, particularly as a master of your craft, signaled their disapproval.  

 

 

 

Having finished those tasks, they now began to decorate the house itself, placing carefully trimmed boughs of yew and of holly over the doorways and the windows.  The Silvan elves who comprised most of those working in the household believed it warded away evil.  Some of her father’s people, the Sindar, followed the custom as well, but Celebrían had not noticed the same intensity of feeling and of belief when they arranged the boughs.  Her mother had said that they followed the practice because it was tradition and not because they truly believed it would stop evil spirits at the door.   She knew her cousin thought it silly.  Like most of the Noldor, particularly those of the Mirdain, he considered it superstitious nonsense and teased her mother about hanging it.  But he had never asked her mother not to hang the holly or the yew and he never mocked the servants for their beliefs.  He never teased Celebrían for he knew she thought it was pretty and that it made her smile.   He liked things that were pretty too.

 

 

 

After they had finished hanging the holly and had arranged the yew, Celebrían and her mother had turned their attention to the tables in the Great Hall and had begun to arrange the lights, delicate lights made by her cousin’s hand and using the old techniques developed by his grandfather, upon the tables.   One lamp, Celebrían noticed, had been broken, its casing cracked and flawed.  It still shone with light but too heavy a touch might shatter it and cut anyone near.   She picked it up by its base to carry it to the sideboard by the window, thinking she would ask him if he might fix it for them later.    As she walked closer to the window, she heard the sound of laughter and of people singing and talking in the street.  She set the lamp down and opened the shutter to see.   

 

 

 

A small group of elves seemed to be walking very slowly up the snow-covered street.  Or were they?  Celebrían looked more closely.  She realized that the elves were not only walked but were using shovels to clear a path through the snow that had accumulated in the street.  They were laughing and some were singing they shoveled the snow away from the houses and into the center of the street.   Their voices sounded familiar to her, and she realized, noticing that the lyrics to the song were ones that would have had her sent to her room for a week if she’d sung them around her parents, that the workers were the apprentices and the journeymen of the Mirdain.  At the center of this group, working among them and laughing with them, were her cousin and Mairen.

 

 

 

“Who is that and what are they doing?”  Her father had also heard the noise.

 

 

 

“They’re clearing the street,” said her mother as she stood her Celebrían, “for tomorrow.  To make it easier, I suppose, for people to journey out of their homes.”

 

 

 

“Mama,” she asked, “may I say hello?   Our cousin is there.”

 

 

 

“I don’t think ...” her mother began.

 

 

 

“Celebrimbor is there,” her father said.  “I think no harm will come to her in the street.  I think it would also be well if we said hello to him and to the new master.   We should learn more about her, especially since she is known to Celebrían, and we cannot do it unless we speak with her and with those who work with her.”  

 

 

 

“Very well,” her mother said.  “Take your heaviest cloak and wear your gloves.”   

 

 

 

She looked at Celebrían’s father.

 

 

 

“I’ll go too,” he replied.  “And you?”

 

 

 

“In a moment.”

 

 

 

Celebrían hurried. She found her cloak and pulled it around her shoulders while her mother looked for her gloves.  Once she had those in hand, she ran out the door and into the street and into her cousin.

 

 

 

“Hello,” he said and picked her up.  “I hoped I might see you.  I noticed we were near your house, and I have missed you.”

 

 

 

“Hello,” she’d answered and rested her head against his shoulder.   His hands, despite the heavy gloves he wore, were wet and cold from working in the snow.  His face, exposed as it was to the wind, was flushed and also cold.  “You’re freezing, cousin.”

 

 

 

“I’m not.  We’ve been working.  It keeps you warm.”

 

 

 

“Unless you mean your nose and my toes,” said Mairen, her voice warm and rich.  “Hello, little friend. I am glad to see you again.”

 

 

 

Celebrian smiled.   She wasn’t entirely sure what she should say to Mairen.  Her parents were unsure of her, but Celebrían found herself drawn to the woman, particularly to the sound of her voice.  Low, rich and honey-sweet, its sound fascinated her and she leaned close to listen. 

 

 

 

Mairen laughed, the sound of it warm and deep in her throat.  She patted Celebrían’s back and pulled the hood of Celebrian’s cloak over her head.  Then she took her shovel and began walking towards the other elves who’d stopped working to watch the scene.  Before she had reached them, she turned and began walking towards Celebrían’s house instead.   Celebrían noticed her father.  He must have followed her from the house and now stood near the street.   Mairen stood near him, leaning on her shovel, and began to speak with him.  Celebrían heard their voices as they talked.  

 

 

 

“This is a very kind gesture.”

 

 

 

“In a sense,” Mairen said, that thread of laughter lingering in her voice.  “But it is also a very interested one.  The weather has been warmer as you’ve no doubt noticed.  I was afraid that the snow would melt during the day only to freeze into ice overnight.  That would make it difficult and a little dangerous for anyone, the Mirdain included, to find their way to the markets and to the guilds tomorrow, not to mention the festivities that evening.”

 

 

 

Celebrian saw her father nod and heard him answer,  “That was thoughtful.”

 

 

 

“I don’t like to see time wasted,” Mairen replied.  “Speaking of which, we have been working on the shovels for the project we’d planned to begin in the spring.  We were able to test those a little today and see how they might be improved.”

 

 

 

Her father tilted his head and smiled.

 

 

 

“I might,” Mairen continued, “make a few changes in the design for snow and then others to work more effectively in harder ground and in rock.   It is difficult to craft a design that suits both purposes, but these worked well enough.”

 

 

 

She looked towards Celebrían’s father and, receiving no response, added, “Truth be told, we also needed to get them out of the forges and into the open air.  Several days of snowfall and young men with only their work to do and no other place to go leads to very quickly frayed tempers and emotions running very hot and high, particularly with a festival to come.  This will sort most of that.”

 

 

 

To Celebrían’s surprise, her father laughed.  “That must have been your idea.   I can’t imagine Celebrimbor noticing.”

 

 

 

“Then you’d be wrong.  It was a joint venture.   Granted, he had little choice but to notice after we’d broken up three arguments over who was going to dance with the master baker’s daughter,” Mairen paused and looked at Celebrían’s father.  “Is she that pretty?”

 

 

 

“Yes, Lisen is,” her father replied.  “The young men and some of the older seem to want to be very friendly with her for the good it does them.  She has only had eyes for one of the city guard, but her father is not yet given permission for them to wed.” 

 

 

 

“Ah, must they wait?”

 

 

 

“If she hopes to receive her dowry, yes.”

 

 

 

“Of course.” The expression on Mairen’s face, which had been so very open, seemed to close slightly.

 

 

 

“Are you trying to clear all of the streets?”

 

 

 

“Not entirely,” she replied, “I started a competition with the stonemasons’ guild and to clear most of the area around the market.  It went so very well that we continued it into the upper city.  Unless they’ve already been here, we have won.  I hope we have or I will have very little silver to spend come spring.”

 

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

 

“I promised to buy the winners wine for the festival if we lost.  The masons are serious competition and they can drink a lot of wine.  We’ve had a nice advance on a dwarven commission but I suspect my share will be downed if these fellows weren’t fast enough.”

 

 

 

Her father laughed again.   “Looking to build some camaraderie with the masons before the spring?  The project is a fine one and it should improve the lives of everyone in the city."

 

 

 

She nodded, "Thank you."

 

 

 

“What’s the sign of victory?”

 

 

 

“Your house,” she said with a slightly crooked smile.

 

 

 

“Then you’ve won, my lady, and your purse is saved.”

 

 

 

With the knowledge that they had won, the apprentices and journeymen of the Mirdain cleared the path to Celebrían’s front door and then the steps leading to it.  Afterwards, they lounged on the steps and entertained Celebrían with tales of their morning and afternoon adventures in the city.   

 

 

 

“It’s a long walk to the walls and back,”  said one of the youngest of the group, a slim boy with chestnut hair.

 

 

 

“Longer still if you’re shoveling,” retorted an older man, but he said it smiling.

 

 

 

“Which you weren’t,” replied the young man.

 

 

 

Celebrían thought that they were silly and that she liked being around them very much.  She also liked being around her cousin.  He sat next to her and bumped her shoulder with his once or twice, but he hadn’t said much.   Celebrían noticed that he seemed to be watching Mairen and her father.    Not very after they’d finished and sat down, Elanor emerged form the door to ask if the Mirdain would like something warm to eat and to drink.  Elanor also shot Celebrían a very pointed look, and Celebrían knew she was expected to return to the house and to help.  But she did not want to leave.  She wanted to stay a little longer with her cousin and she wanted to hear what else might be said.  She noticed the sound of voices approaching the house from a distance and then she saw Mairen rise and whisper something to the young men.  They divided into two groups, one following her and the other following the oldest of the journeymen, and walked to either side of her parents’ house.  Most of them also scooped up some of the snow and began to pack it into balls.  Celebrimbor lifted Celebrian and, carrying her, followed Mairen.  Celebrían thought some mischief was about to occur.  A moment later, she saw a second group of elves, clearly the stonemasons, approaching the rear of the house.  Then she saw a volley of snowballs directed at them from the side of the house opposite to where Celebrían and her cousin, waited.  After a few very loud curses, the stonemasons dropped their shovels and ran to the side from whence the attack at come, pelting the smiths with snow. 

 

 

 

“Now,” Mairen whispered and the group with her began to run after the masons.

 

 

 

She winked at Celebrían.  “We’ll outflank them, assuming everyone does as they are told and no one slips.”

 

 

 

Her plan, however, didn’t seem to last very long.  After only a few minutes, both groups appeared to have splintered and both the smiths and the stonemasons ran after one another in the street and chased on another.  Mairen herself was dodging snowballs thrown with considerable force and accuracy by Kemmótar, the very serious master of the guild, both laughing uproariously.   Celebrían herself was hiding behind her cousin and found herself making and handing snowballs to him as they slowly worked their way towards the other smiths.    She noticed that the snowballs were being thrown with more wildness and less accuracy, and then, to her horror, she heard the rear door of the house open and then the unmistakable slap of snow hitting a cloak, followed by the still more unmistakable sound of her mother’s voice.

 

 

 

“What is happening here?”  she demanded.

 

 

 

“My apologies, my lady,” Mairen said, dusting snow from her cloak and walking forward.  “It’s been a difficult few days indoors. I thought to organize some entertainment for the guilds that might also be useful to the city.  I apologize if we disturbed you on what must a day of great preparation.”

 

 

 

“I see,” her mother said.

 

 

 

“Artanis,” she heard her cousin, “you can’t be angry about ...”

 

 

 

“Much to her own surprise, Celebrian saw her mother bend low, scoop up a handful of snow and lob it at her cousin.  It hit Celebrimbor squarely in the chest but he only brushed it away and smiled cheerfully at her. 

 

 

 

“Thank you, Mairen,” her mother continued.  “I am very glad to find the street clear, even if I hadn’t expected to find a merry war outside my door.”

 

 

 

Mairen smiled and bowed deeply.   She walked over to speak to Kemmótar and then several of the men who’d worked with him.   He nodded.   Mairen then pulled a small pouched from her pocket and handed it to him.

 

 

 

“But I thought she won,” Celebrían said to her cousin. 

 

 

 

“She’s not paying the wager.  She is paying towards their work in a way.  It’s more a gesture of appreciation than any true payment,” her cousin said.  “But he’ll and they will appreciate later when they visit the tavern later.” 

 

 

 

“She seems good at that.  Talking to people and getting them to work for her.” Celebrian asked.

 

 

 

“With her,” her cousin said.  “But, yes, she is very good. Much better than I had expected her to be.”

 

 

 

“Is that ...”

 

 

 

“Is it what?”

 

 

 

“Odd.”

 

 

 

“No, some people are better than others,” he said.  “Your mother is.  Your father too.  I have had to work at it.  Mairen is good at understanding what people want and what they need.  She listens well and hears the things we do not always say.”  

 

 

 

He stopped and smiled at her.  Then he looked towards Mairen who was starting to walk away from them and towards the side of the house.  “Come on, little cousin,” he whispered, “Let’s catch her while she’s not expecting it.”  

 

 

 

They ran as quickly and quietly behind her, but she heard them and, laughing, started to run away.  But she wasn’t running very quickly.   Celebrían laughed as her cousin caught Mairen around her waist and, lifting her up, tossed her into a snowbank, only to have her catch his arm and pull him down with her. 

 

 

 

Celebrían heard them laughing at one another and walked a little closer.  She tried to stay out of their reach, but both caught her hands and pulled her into the bank with them.

 

 

 

“Her mother will be very unhappy with us,” Mairen said.   “We’ll have to bring her in before she gets too cold.  Are you too cold, little one?”

 

 

 

“No,” Celebrían answered.  “She said I could come outside, and that ... that was wonderful.”

 

 

 

“It was,” laughed Mairen.  “It was cold.  It was wet, and now I am cold and wet.  But it was absolutely wonderful.”

 

 

 

“It was,” said her cousin.  “I hadn’t done anything like this in years.” Celebrían noticed he was now speaking her mother’s language when we hadn’t before.     

 

 

 

“Like what?”  Mairen asked, shifting to the old language too.

 

 

 

“A snowball fight.  Or anything that ridiculous and ...”

 

 

 

“Wonderful,” repeated Celebrían.

 

 

 

“When was the last time?”  Mairen asked.   Celebrian turned her head to look at her. Mairen’s eyes seemed brighter and more green in the winter air.  She had turned where she lay in the bank and was looking across Celebrian at her cousin.

 

 

 

“I’m not sure,” her cousin said.  “Himring, I suppose.   Do you know it?”

 

 

 

Mairen shook her head.  “Should I?”

 

 

 

“It’s an island now,” he continued.  “But, before, it was a high plateau.   My uncle Nelyo built a fortress on it to guard the North against Morgoth.  He thought he — we, in truth — needed to be where the attack might come first.“

 

 

 

“Did it?”

 

 

 

“Eventually, but it came in other places too.  He was able to hold it for a time, but then it was lost and he moved farther to the south.”  He turned to face her too.  But he smiled at Celebrían and very lightly touched her nose with a finger.  She giggled and tried to catch his hand.

 

 

 

“We must have been there for Midwinter,” he said, resuming his story.   “Not all of us lived there with him.  We were scattered in order to try to hold more land against the Enemy.  But we visited one another often.  Nelyo we usually visited at Midsummer, but I remembering being there for a few Midwinters as well.  That time, I was there with my father and my uncle, Tyelko.  Macalaure was with Nelyo; he always was.  Carnistir had even come.  He didn’t always, and the twins.  Findekano also came.  That made it particularly special.”

 

 

 

“Because he was the High King?”  Mairen asked.  It had started to snow again, Celebrían noticed.  Mairen had too for she pulled Celebrían close and then wrapped her cloak over them both.   Celebrimbor noticed her do this and smiled briefly. 

 

 

 

“No,” he replied.  “It was special because we loved him.  Everyone did, but our family loved him very much.  Nelyo especially.  More than any other.  Always had.”

 

 

 

“Ah,” Mairen said, smiling softly herself.

 

 

 

“Finno had come to see him.  He was also the one to start it all, trying to make Nelyo laugh.  Nelyo wasn’t one to laugh much, not like Findekano.   He was often serious.  More so after the war began.  But, even before, I remember we would have to work very hard sometimes to make him laugh.  When he did, though, it was wonderful, irresistible.  Inevitably, we’d all start smiling and laughing with him.  Finno was the only one who found it easy to make him laugh; he always had and he always did.  Anyway, Nelyo was discussing something he thought was very important about the garrison and defenses at Himring, and Findekano hit him with a snowball.  Everyone was very still for maybe a minute while Nelyo wiped the snow from his face and then it became a fight for the ages.  None of Findekano’s retinue had any idea what had happened or what they should with the High King rolling around in the snow with my uncle.”

 

 

 

Celebrían noticed that he was smiling and that his eyes were very bright as he spoke.  Her cousin’s eyes were always very bright, brighter than her father’s, her mother’s or her own.   When she was younger, she had thought that she could see the stars in them.   She had decided that was silly when she’d grown a little older. Stars were in the sky and never fell into a person’s eyes.  People only said that sort of thing if they wanted to impress someone and not because it seemed true.   But, now, as she looked at him, she remembered and thought perhaps it was not entirely untrue.   Even as she thought this, something, Celebrían did not know what, changed.  The smile vanished from his face and the light dimmed in his eyes, and he seemed as sad as he had been the last time she’d seen him.  

 

 

 

“You miss them,” Mairen said very gently.   She reached across Celebrían and towards Celebrimbor.  She touched his shoulder lightly and then brushed the snow from where it had collected there and also in his hair.  “It’s alright to miss them.” 

 

 

 

Her cousin nodded but did not reply.    He slipped his arm under Mairen's and touched Celebrían’s hand where it rested atop Mairen’s cloak and took it in his very gently.  But his eyes returned to the woman lying on Celebrían’s other side.  Very softly, he asked her, “When was the last time you did this?”

 

 

 

Mairen didn’t answer immediately.  Her eyes were distant, looking over his shoulder at the falling snow.   Then she smiled  and met his gaze.  “I hadn’t,” she replied with a voice as soft as his.  “I hadn’t before.  This was new for me.”

 

 

 

“I remember very little snow in Valinor, outside of the mountains.”

 

 

 

“There was very little in the land of eternal summer,” Mairen said, and the music of her voice had shifted a very little.  “There was snow and a lot of it in the North during the war.  But we had no time to play even if we had somehow had the desire to do so.  

 

 

 

“And the East?”

 

 

 

“There was snow in the high mountains and in the reaches of the East far to the North.   But there was not snow where I traveled and stayed.   The seasons there were very different to how they are here or, even, in Valinor.  It was very beautiful with many strange and wonderful things to see.”  

 

 

 

“Like what?” asked Celebrían.

 

 

 

Mairen smiled.  “There are very large and beautiful cats with coats that seem touched by the sun,” she said and, turning to look at Celebrían, lightly brushed her cheek with her long, gloved fingers.  She then settled her hand on Celebrían’s shoulder and squeezed it gently.   "There are oliphants, almost as big as a house, and there are birds with plumes finer than than the finest cloak made by Men or Elves.”   

 

 

 

“As big as my house?”

 

 

 

“Not quite, little one.  But a small house, yes,” Mairen turned her gaze back to Celebrimbor and said very quietly, “It was very beautiful with wonders I had never seen, but it was not somewhere I belonged.”  

 

 

 

Celebrían noticed that her voice, still so very musical, had lost the thread of laughter she had grown used to hearing in it.  Instead, it sounded deeply and, to Celebrían’s mind, unaccountably sad.

 

 

 

Her cousin said nothing in response to this but released Celebrían’s hand from his hold.  Then he stretched his hand across her and very gently touched Mairen’s hand where it rested on Celebrían’s shoulder with the tips of his gloved fingers.  His hand lingered only for a moment before he removed it and reclaimed Celebrían’s hand.  The three of them remained quietly, half-buried in the snow.  Celebrían lay very still and watched the snow continue to fall, and, though she did not turn her head to see, she knew her cousin continued to look at Mairen and Mairen at him.  

 

 

 

After what seemed like a very long time but might only have been a moment or two, Mairen said very softly, “We really must bring her inside or her mother will have reason to be very angry with us indeed.”

 

 

 

Celebrimbor laughed, but he slowly raised himself into his arms and then to standing, being careful not to cause more snow to land on Celebrían or on Mairen.   He extended his hand towards Celebrían, and she took it and allowed him to pull her upright.   He reached towards Mairen, but she had already raised herself into a seated position and then neatly hopped to standing, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head and shoulders like a wet dog.   Celebrimbor pulled Celebrían away from flying snow and dusted what remained from her shoulders and her back.  Then he carefully lifted Celebrían into his arms.  

 

 

 

“I’m too big for that.”

 

 

 

“Not for me,” he replied.  “Never for me.”

 

 

 

Mairen laughed and pulled her cloak from her shoulders, wrapping it around Celebrían who tried to push it away.

 

 

 

“Do take it and let him carry you,” she said softly.  “You’ll be warmer.  He’ll be happier, and it’s only a little way.”  She leaned very close and pressed a quick kiss to Celebrían’s cheek.  “Are you too cold, little one?”

 

 

 

“No, but I don’t mind that we’re going inside.”

 

 

 

They walked slowly and carefully towards the rear of the house.  Celebrían noticed the door was already open.   Elanor stood in the doorway, clearly waiting for them.  

 

 

 

“The Lady says Mistress Celebrían is to go upstairs to bathe and to change before dinner.   Masters, the Lord has invited you both invited to come in and to warm yourselves with food and drink.  Some of your people are still here and some of the stonemasons too.  But others have begun to leave.   They are in the kitchen, near the stove.  The kitchen is not as fine as the great room or as you might be used to, but ...”

 

 

 

“It is warm and therefore perfect,” said Mairen.   “Thank you and thank your lord and your lady for us.”

 

 

 

Celebrían complained briefly, but her cousin smiled and said that they would at least stay until she returned.   Mairen smiled as she held a large mug of something with curls and whirls of steam arising from it and settled herself in front of the stove.  She waved as Celebrían was ushered unceremoniously upstairs. 

---

Chapter End Notes

Names are one of my (many) downfalls.   Kemmótar, with a very rough translator of builder of the earth, was nicked from Now We All Have Elvish Names.   A linguist I am not.  Other names, such as Elanor, borrow from ones we already know.  Still others, such as Lisen (apologies to Mr. Kay) and Andvari, borrow from other works and traditions because, in a number of ways, this 'verse is a thank you of sorts to the transformative works, stories, fiction and myths I've loved.

The project of which Mairen and Celeborn speak is a public works project she and Celebrimbor had planned to improve the city's sanitation and water supply.  Not as exciting, perhaps, as a ring, but she's a very big believer in the significance of local issues in politics and the need to build goodwill by fixing the potholes and other things.