A Midwinter’s Feast by Lilith

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A Shadow in the Morning

After receiving a peculiar invitation and following lengthy discussions with Celeborn and Galadriel, Celebrian and Elrond visit Mairen and Celebrimbor the morning after the feast.

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Early the next morning, a messenger arrived with a note.   Celebrían answered the door. Her mind had remained occupied with what she had seen and heard the previous evening and so she was slow to acknowledge the presence of the chestnut-haired apprentice of the Mirdain standing before her.   Before she’d managed to finish greeting him, he had shoved a note, written on thick and fine paper, into her hand and hurried down the steps and out into the street. Celebrían watch him for a moment or two before walking back inside her home, all the while staring at the note in her hands.  

 

It had been addressed to her, her mother, her father and the Lord Elrond in a very strong and strikingly beautiful hand she’d not seen before.   She looked closely at it and marveled at the regularity of the letters as she walked into the library. Her mother sat on the sofa Celebrimbor and Mairen had occupied only a little more than a day before.   Her father stood near the fire. Elrond sat in the chair nearest her mother. The three were speaking quietly and seriously among themselves. Celebrían supposed they spoke of her cousin and of Mairen. Little else had occupied her parents and the King’s Herald this morning.  They had discussed what she and Elrond had seen the previous evening and had talked about it at greater length than Celebrían thought was necessary. She knew — she had known — that her cousin liked Mairen and that Mairen liked him. She didn’t find it surprising. She wasn’t sure why her parents thought it was something about which they needed to talk.  She herself didn’t want to think about it or about her cousin kissing someone. She didn’t want to think about anyone kissing, but especially not someone to whom she was related. Moreover, she thought the questions Celebrimbor had asked of Mairen and the answers Mairen had given him before Elrond had come were far more interesting. She had tried to mention this to her parents.  But neither her mother nor father were listening to her. Both were more concerned with what Elrond thought than with anything she might have seen or heard.   

 

As she’d thought, they were discussing her cousin and Mairen, but, much to her relief, it seemed they were no longer speaking of the events of the previous night.   Instead, Elrond seemed to be asking them why Mairen remained in Eregion if her parents were as worried about her as they appeared to be.

 

“If you are so concerned about her,” Elrond said, “why do you not simply revoke her welcome?”

 

“Tell her to leave?” her mother asked.

 

“It’s not quite so simple,” said her father.

 

“Eregion was founded as a sanctuary,” her mother said,  “in part because Celebrimbor reminded us of the need for one.   Do you not remember? We left Lindon because we decided that we could and should establish a refuge for those who were either unable or unwilling to leave Middle Earth for the West.   We knew few whose actions in the wars had been blameless, and we knew of many neither able nor willing to set sail for Valinor. We wanted them to have a place to come and to begin anew, and we feared, after Celebrimbor had struggled for acceptance, that Lindon, despite Gil-Galad’s best intentions, might not be such a place.”

 

“He wanted it to be,” Elrond insisted.

 

“True,” Celebrían’s father answered.   He turned from the fire and, walking to the sofa, sat by her mother.  “But, at the time, the events of the war were too fresh, the memories too hard and the resentment too great.  How many in Lindon had friends and family who died at the Havens? How many remembered Doriath? So we decided to try again somewhere new.  Truth be told, I was grateful for the opportunity to be closer to my kin.”

 

“We asked few questions of those who wished to settle in Eregion,” her mother continued.  “To settle here, one needed only to relinquish any grudge, to refuse to fight battles long decided and to swear not to be a servant of Morgoth.   We felt there was little need to demand more information. We knew most settlers. We also knew that most of the servants of the Enemy had perished in the war, and so we thought we had little to fear from them.”   

 

“I am not unmindful of the need for such a place and I am grateful you saw fit to found it, but why should this prevent you from sending her away?”

 

“Because she was admitted under the same policy,” her father said.   “She came while we were away and she was questioned by Celebrimbor. She answered his questions to his satisfaction, and, indeed, I have little to fault in her answers.  They were not terribly dissimilar from others we’ve admitted.”

 

“And yet?” Elrond inquired.

 

“And yet we do not trust her fully.  But we have no proof that she is not who and what she claims to be.”

 

“But you have a feeling,” Elrond persisted.

 

“But that is not enough,” her mother said.   “Celebrimbor, angry as he was, informed me I cannot make such an accusation or turn someone away simply because I fear that that person might serve the Darkness.  He reminded me I must have proof. Most of our people would agree with him.”

 

“They would fear,” her father said, “that the expulsion of one person with no evidence to indicate wrongdoing meant that they themselves were no longer safe and that the promise of sanctuary we had made is null and void.”

 

“But this isn’t an old elven quarrel,” Elrond continued.  “This is a fear that she may have dissembled about her relationship to the Dark.”

 

“How many of them do you think may have recreated or omitted elements of their own stories?  How many have tales they do not want remembered?” Celebrían’s mother said. “They would fear we would begin to inquire into their lives as well or that we might accept an unsubstantiated accusation as truth.  Simply because they do not act upon those old grudges, well, that doesn’t meant the grudges are still not there.”

 

“But she’s only arrived.”

 

“And were we to challenge her residency here, we would already meet with a significant challenge.   Our cousin has more support than he knows, particularly among the Guilds as well as with the Men and the Dwarves.   But she has also been clever,” Celebrían’s father continued. “She has built support for herself among the guilds.”

 

Her mother picked up the tale,  “As you already know, both the stonemasons and the Mirdain have a very high number of masters who trained or whose forefathers trained among the Aulenossë and, indeed, with Fëanor.   Most abandoned the service of his Sons when the cost of the Oath had become terribly apparent. But many of those did not entirely abandon the House of Fëanor. Instead, they gravitated to Celebrimbor, and they consider themselves loyal to him.  Were we to dismiss her, they would be angry upon his behalf for they know she is dear to him. But they would also be angry on their own behalf. They would viewed this as if Mairen were being judged for her desire to escape a difficult past and believe they might be so judged too.”

 

“She has also been careful to build support among the other guilds and among the town itself,” her father observed.

 

“Her first suggestion,” said her mother, “which Celebrimbor implemented almost immediately was an overhaul of the sanitation system.  It seems the lower city was more susceptible to disease than we’d expected. Not really a concern for Elves, but certainly one for Men and Dwarves.”

 

“She has also,” her father began, “insisted upon fixing the streets, repaving some and deepening the drainage in others, and that too was done.   She has also proposed a number of projects designed to benefit the public, and she made those proposals in open council. The residents know her plans.  They support them.”

 

“Why shouldn’t they?” her mother continued. “She has improved their quality of life very quickly, and, if we implement even a third of her plans, it will improve beyond their imaginings.  Ost-in-Edhil will truly be a city unlike any other in Middle Earth.”

 

“Gil-Galad might order it,” Elrond offered.

 

“On what basis?   He granted us self-rule, and we have paid heavily in taxes to him for it,” her mother said.  “Besides, it will earn him no friends here. It will only undermine my position and Celeborn’s, and for what?  Such a move would merely raise the same fear that sanctuary in Eregion is only present when it is convenient for us.” 

 

“I see,” said Elrond and then he turned to her.  “Celebrían, you’ve been waiting patiently for some time.  What is it that you need to tell us?”

 

“What do you have?” her father asked.

 

Celebrían held the note out and said, “A messenger brought this; it was the boy from the Mirdain.  The one who cleared the streets with them.”

 

“Let me see it,” her mother said and took it from Celebrían’s hand.  She looked at it, but she didn’t open it. Instead, she turned to her father and said, “It’s from her.”

 

“Open it,” her father said.

 

Elrond agreed, “We should see what she wants.”

 

Her mother opened it.  Celebrían watched as she read it quickly.  When she’d finished, she looked at her husband and then at Elrond.

 

“Well?” Celebrían’s father asked.  “What does the lady of the Mirdain wish to say?”

 

“She has invited us, all of us, including Elrond, to visit her at the Mirdain tomorrow,” her mother said, her voice betraying no small amount of anger.  “Apparently, she had heard from a number of different people that the Lord Elrond had concerns about her presence in Eregion and about the projects the Mirdain had begun under her guidance.  She wants to make herself available to him and to us in order that she may respond to those concerns.”

 

Elrond stared at her in surprise, but Celebrían’s father only smiled.  It wasn’t, Celebrían thought, a nice smile. Instead, it was the smile she’d seen on his face when he was preparing to leave on a difficult hunt or when he played her cousin at an exceptionally close game.

 

“Apparently,” her mother continued, “ she would have made herself available to us today, but she assumed that we would need rest following their feast.  I don’t know where ...” She threw the note to the side.

 

“A less than subtle reminder that she had not been invited and thus need not play by the rules you have set,” said Elrond.  “Was there anything else of note?”

 

“She also indicated that the craftswoman who’d made the doll she gave to Celebrían would be at the Mirdain tomorrow and would be glad to offer a lesson on it to Celebrían then.”

 

“Interesting,” her father said.  “We may want to accept her offer.  Celebrían, would you go to the kitchen and see what there is for us to eat?  Call me when you think you’ve found enough and I will help you to carry it back.”

 

“If you want me not to hear, you could tell me to go upstairs,” Celebrían said.

 

“You’d like that less, and we are hungry,” her father answered.

 

As she left, Elrond said to her parents, “What shall we do?  Do we accept her invitation? It was unexpected.”

 

“Was it?” Celebrían’s father asked.  “We can assume, though we do not know for certain, that Celebrimbor confronted her with your questions and Galadriel’s concerns.” 

 

“Can we?” her mother interrupted.  Celebrían had reached the kitchen door, and, while she entered the kitchen, she remained as near to the door she might in order to hear what they said.   Although her parents seldom paid much attention to these matters, Celebrían knew very well where Elanor kept the food for them to eat the day after Midwinter.  Elanor never trusted them to fend for themselves. She arranged platters of breads and cheeses, dried fruits and other things for them to have and left them within easy reach.   But — and perhaps this proved Elanor’s point — her parents were seldom able to find what she’d arranged, though she’d done this as long as Celebrían was able to remember, and Celebrían had always had to find what had been left for them.

 

“I think so,” her father said.  “Whatever he may feel for her, he cares for you and for your good opinion.  He would have felt obligated to ask her. Your doubts matter to him.”

 

“I find that difficult to believe,” her mother answered.

 

“It is possible to value someone’s opinion and to chose a different path,” Elrond said quietly.  “I think we might also consider why she might be appealing to him. She may represent the opportunity to begin anew and to reclaim much of what he believed lost after the Noldor fled Valinor and fought a long defeat against Morgoth.”

 

“Morgoth was defeated,” said her mother. “We were not.”

 

“Because the Valar intervened,” Elrond said, still gently and quietly.  “And much was lost in the wars. Lands we loved. Friends we loved. Family.   Beginning again, though necessary, was both difficult and painful, particularly for one who lost much and who was not allowed to grieve, at least openly, many of those losses.”

 

“I meant Eregion to be a new beginning for us,” her mother continued.  “For me, for Celeborn, for our people, including my cousin.”

 

“But has he been able to achieve what he dreamed?”  Elrond asked. “Fully? He is ambitious. Besides, despite the realm you’ve built and the home you’ve made, we continue to lose.  Season after season, we watch our people leave and we see our accomplishments fade into memory. It is his nature to build and to repair; it was his uncle’s nature as well.   I saw Maedhros struggle to see all he touched turn to ruin. Celebrimbor is not his uncle or his father or his grandfather, but, at times, I wonder if he believes he continues to fight a long defeat, though the war has ended and both Morgoth and his grandfather’s jewels have gone beyond reach.” 

 

Celebrían was not entirely sure she understood what Elrond meant, but she thought of her cousin and how often she asked him to repair a toy that had broken or a trinket that needed mending.    She’d often apologized when she’d had to bring something he’d mended back a second or a third time, but he had never chastised her, though her parents had, and had said only that it was the nature of things in Middle Earth.

 

“Did toys not break in Valinor?” she’d asked him.    That had caused him to laugh.

 

“Of course, love,” he said.  “Of course, and particularly in my family.  We were not easy on anyone or anything. I was thinking of other things, however, but, perhaps you are correct, perhaps I remember it to be more perfect than it was.”

 

Pondering this, Celebrían began to move around the kitchen.   She’d located the platters of food, and then she began to gather plates, knives, a few forks and napkins and placed them near the door.   As she stood near it, she heard her mother’s voice raised and then her father reply.

 

“I agree, Galadriel, that we must remain vigilant where the lady is concerned, especially now.  But I do not believe the situation is as grave as you feel. However appealing she may be and whatever victory she might have won last night, we can also assume that she doesn’t believe she has fully allayed whatever fears he had.”

 

“It certainly sounded as if she did,” her mother said.

 

“Because she kissed him or he her?” her father asked.   “He’s too clever to be distracted for long, and, besides, that was likely to happen at some point.  His quarrel with you and confrontation with her may have hastened it, but he has had feelings for her and she has appeared to have them for him for some time as best I have been able to see.  If it had not happened before, it was out of uncertainty regarding what the other felt and concern for the impact upon their work.”

 

“She has appeared to have feelings for him.” her mother said coldly.  “She appears to have and to be many things.”

 

“She may,” her father said.  “What it means for her to have them and how that affects her plans for Ost-in-Edhil, well, we don’t know that.”  When Elrond began to speak, he held his hand up to indicate that he had yet to finish. “I don’t think he would have made his feelings so clear had she not calmed some of his concerns.   He’s not reckless, despite his family’s history. But she, at least, doubts he’s fully convinced or she’d not have invited us.”

 

“That may be,” said Elrond.   “When I saw them, he seemed to be addressing her concerns more than she was his and those were fears that he was more interested in the abilities she possesses than she herself.”

 

“It’s a pity you didn’t hear more of what they said before.”

 

“I do not know the city as well as one who lives here, and it took me some time to find Celebrían.   There were also revelers in the streets, and so I was unable to hear much before I found her.”

 

“Ah,” her father said.  “Do you suppose Celebrían heard more?”

 

“Almost certainly.”

 

“Would she have understood it?”

 

“I don’t know.  We could ask her.  At any rate, she might remember it, even if she didn’t understand it.”

 

“I’d rather we not,” her mother said.

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t want her to think it is a good idea to follow Mairen or her cousin around.   She slipped out twice within seven days to follow her cousin and the first time she ran directly into her.  This time, she didn’t, but what if she had?” Her mother paused. “I’m incredibly angry at her. She knew better than to leave in the dead of night in the winter.  She might have been very hurt because she decided to interfere in the matters of adults.”

 

“I don’t think Mairen means Celebrían harm.  We still don’t know if she means anyone harm,” Celeborn said.

 

“We don’t know that she doesn’t.”

 

“Which is why we’re having this discussion,” said Elrond.

 

“I rather we not ask her,” her mother repeated.  “I do not want her to decide that she needs to learn more about the woman than she already knows — I’m not being foolish; you know her nature.   She would either decide she needed to discover whether we are right to be suspicious or she would think she was helping us. But she would investigate.   Besides, I do not want her thinking about what she saw more than she has. What can Celebrían have seen that we don’t already know? We know Mairen’s story is peculiar.  We think she has motivations in being here of which we are unaware.”

 

“It is true that I fear that she has not been entirely forthcoming with us and, indeed, even with Celebrimbor,” her father said.   “But, Galadriel, are you more concerned about Mairen discovering Celebrían following her or what Celebrían might see if she follows her?   I do not think she’d harm her, even if she caught her prying.”

 

“Both.  She’s young, and I ...”

 

“She’s attended festivals, and she has seen men and women kiss.  She’s innocent, but she is aware that elves sometimes have feelings for one another and express it on occasion by kissing,” her father continued.  “If we weren’t unsure of the woman, I’d be glad. She’s clever, beautiful and interested in the things he is. She might be a good match.”

 

“He’s been alone a long time,” Elrond observed.  “In Lindon, I thought he’d rather given up an expectation of finding companionship.”

 

“Even if he has had his share of ... well ...” Her father’s voice drifted off, and Celebrían was unsure of what he meant.  She’d never seen her cousin with someone, certainly not with someone he seemed to like the way he liked Mairen. “But, still, nothing’s lasted and it’s mostly been the sort of thing that happens at festivals, though, well, I thought we knew the reason for that.” 

 

“This is exactly why I don’t want her following them around,” her mother interrupted, her voice sharper and colder.  “I don’t trust the woman and, even if I did, we don’t know where this flirtation between them will lead.”

 

“I’d say,” said Elrond mildly, “that it is a bit more than a flirtation, but I understand your concerns, Galadriel; had I a daughter ... “ His voice trailed slightly off for a moment and then he continued,  “Still I’d advise you not to exclude the lady entirely from your family or avoid Celebrimbor simply because he cares for her. That, more than anything, seems to have encouraged your daughter to follow them.   Perhaps you might counter this invitation with one of your own. Accept it, of course. But invite Celebrimbor to come this afternoon as he has in the past and include her in the invitation. See if she will come here, where she knows I am and where she is clearly on your ground and not her own.”

 

“If — and I haven’t agreed to this,” her mother said, “we make such an invitation, who would deliver it?”

 

“Celebrían,” said Elrond, “and I will go with her.  That will encourage him to attend and make it even more difficult for her to decline.”

 

“And to where?”

 

“Mairen’s,” he said.  “Atanvardo mentioned she intended to host a gathering to honor the dawn.  She will be home. He will be with her. We may ask her to come once her guests have left.  I would also guess that neither she nor your cousin will mind if Celebrían arrives. In fact, I would not be surprised if one or the other hadn’t already mentioned it to her.”

 

“Will he come?”

 

“He may be angry with you,” Celeborn said, “but he values your good opinion.   If you ask him and include her, he will come. He wants you to welcome her. He has wanted you to accept her, and, though he may not expect you to do it, he will continue to be open to the possibility.  As for her, she won’t oppose the invitation. She would prefer you appear to be the one excluding her. She dare not refuse a summons from you, not yet.”

 

“It would be wise not to turn him away,” said Elrond.

 

“Why?”

 

“He is close to her.”

 

“Clearly.”  Her mother’s voice remained cold.

 

“And he knows more of her than we do, so it is important that you remain close to him, so that he might feel he can express any doubts or concerns he may have or may develop in the future.   Besides,” he said, “they do not know that they were seen. It might be interesting and revealing to see if they are willing to let others know of what has passed between them at this point.”

 

A short time later, having been told to eat quickly and to dress still more quickly, Celebrían found herself walking down the same street she had the previous evening, accompanied by the High King’s Herald.  Snow had apparently continued to fall during the night because the street and sidewalks to either side of it were covered by a thick blanket of snow. It glistened and threw tiny rainbows of light into the air.   Long, thin icicles hung from the eaves of the houses. They too glittered and sparkled in the midday sun. Some of the residents had already risen. Perhaps having friends and family to visit the day after Midwinter, they had cleared the snow from their doorways, leaving soft and deep banks of it drifting away from the houses into the street.   

 

As he had been the night before, Elrond was an attentive and kind companion.  He seemed little inclined to discuss the purpose of their walk. Celebrían found this disappointing, but she was afraid to try to convince him to speak of it.  She knew her mother was angry with her. She did not want Elrond to tell her that she’d been asking questions about Mairen. Instead, she allowed Elrond to guide the conversation and answered the many different questions he asked her, most of which involved what she and her family enjoyed doing in Ost-in-Edhil and, in particular, on this day.   She told him that she normally spent the day reading and drawing with her cousin. He seemed interested in this and asked if she enjoyed drawing and if she liked to draw even if her cousin was not present to draw with her.

 

“Yes,” she answered.  “It’s something I enjoy very much, but he was the one to show me and to help me learn.   He also taught me how to shape things from clay, and I like to do that too. But we haven’t had as much time to sculpt or to draw lately.   We haven’t had much time for anything at all.”

 

“Because he’s been busy?”

 

“I guess, but I used to visit him at the Mirdain.  But mother has been angry since his friend — since Mairen — came, and she would not allow me to visit him.”

 

“He might have come to visit you,” Elrond observed.

 

“Yes,” she said, “but I think he was angry too.”

 

“What do you know of her?” Elrond asked, guiding her around a bank of snow. “Of your cousin’s friend?”

 

“Mairen?” Celebrían inquired.  She was surprised that he dared to ask her; her mother had said she did not want Celebrían to be reminded of Mairen. 

 

“Yes,” he replied.  “She. What do you think of her?

 

Celebrían paused, taking his hand and stepping over an icy place along the cobblestones.   She considered, “I have only met her three times.”

 

“That is two more times than I have met her,” he answered.  “Tell me about those times.”

 

“Why do you want to know?”

 

“I think she is an interesting woman, and I would like to know more about her.  It seems to me that you’ve spent time with you in ways that we — your mother, your father and I — have not and that she may have been more open with you than with us.  I wonder if you might have an understanding of who she is that we do not.

 

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Celebrían.  “I met her once in the forge when I went to visit my cousin, and then a second time when she and the Mirdain were cleaning the streets.  She stayed with my cousin and two of the other masters to eat and to tell stories after. Yesterday, I went to the market with her and with my cousin.”

 

“Did you have fun?” Elrond asked, guiding her around a series of soft banks of snow.  Celebrían noticed that someone had piled some of the snow high and shaped it into the image of an elf bending down to make a snowball.  

 

“I did,” she said.  “Most of the time, anyway.”

 

“What was the most fun?”

 

“In the market?   I showed her my favorite places  and then she took me to visit merchants I didn’t know.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“We had pastries made by a Man who had spent time in the East.”

 

“How were they?”

 

“Strange.  I hadn’t that anything like it, but they were also very good,” Celebrían explained. “She knew a lot about the East.  She told me stories about it and my cousin too.”

 

“Did she?”

 

“Yes, about oliphants and very large cats and birds with feathers finer than anything made by Men or Elves.”

 

“How did she learn so much?”

 

“She said she had spent time there.”

 

“She had?” he said.  “I did not know.”  

 

“She said she spent many years in the East,” Celebrían told him.  “She said it was very beautiful but that she missed the songs and stories of the elves.”

 

They walked a little further in silence, passing two elven families in the street.  Elrond seemed deep in thought. After several long moments in which they walked and did not speak, he began to ask questions of her again. 

 

“When did you not have fun?” he inquired.

 

“Only once, really,” she said.   “And it wasn’t anyone’s fault. My cousin mentioned my uncle Finrod and his death, and they ... they didn’t quarrel.  Not really. But she didn’t want to talk as much after.”

 

“Interesting.”

 

“But then she sang as we walked home — I think she did it to make him feel better because he was sad and angry.  She sang the tale of Finrod meeting and dueling Thû in song and then of Beren seeing Lúthien wake the land into spring.  It was beautiful.”

 

“Why was her singing beautiful?” Elrond asked.  “You have a good ear. Lisen is an extraordinary singer, far superior to Lindir and, indeed, to any I have heard save one.  Why do you think Mairen is a finer singer than she?”

 

“I ... her voice is clear as Lisen’s, but I felt what she was singing about.  I feel that when Lisen sings, but this was stronger. It seemed more real as if I stood in the song and was part that of world.  I felt Beren’s joy at seeing Lúthien and Lúthien’s surprise. I felt Finrod’s strength and Thû’s cunning. It came alive.”

 

“Ah,” he said, “That is a gift.  What else happened? Anything strange or different?”

 

“Lisen is the baker’s daughter.   She sells his goods in the market.  We bought some things from her earlier.  I wanted Mairen to try the fritters because they’re my favorite.  Lisen was strange around her. I don’t know why, but she touched Mairen and she ... she seemed startled.”

 

“And Mairen?”

 

“She didn’t seem different or as if she thought something was wrong, and I remembered that because, last night, she touched my cousin’s hand too and he seemed to think it was strange as well.   I just remembered. Does that mean something?”

 

“Almost certainly, but what I don’t know,” Elrond said, seeming thoughtful.  “What do you think about her?”

 

“She is clever.  She is very interesting,” Celebrían said, “and she makes my cousin happy.”

 

“I noticed,” he replied, lightly.  “How does she make him happy?”

 

“Besides kissing him?” Celebrían said, making a face.   

 

“I think that was probably the first time that happened,” Elrond said easily.  “Besides you might not mind so much when you’re older.”


 

“If you say so,” Celebrían said, though she doubted this.  “She is good at the things he likes to do, but, mostly, I think that she pays a lot of attention to him.”

 

“Flatters him, you mean?”

 

“No,” Celebrían replied.  “I mean she listens to him and notices what he likes and what he doesn’t.   She pays attention to what makes him happy and what makes him sad. She asks him questions, even ones about the past, and she listens to what he tells her.”

 

“Does she?   What else?”

 

“She said something else,” Celebrían said, “ when they ... after he’d mentioned Finrod ... but I didn’t understand it very well.   He asked her not be kind to him if she would only turn away from him because of what his family had done, and she said that the things his family had done didn’t frighten her.”

 

“Ah, I think I can see why he might be happy,” he said, “if she isn’t afraid of his family or his past.   Thank you. That makes a great deal of sense.”

 

Celebrían walked a little further and turned the corner, passing by a group of chattering Elves.  She looked at Elrond and said thoughtfully, “I don’t know much about his family. He has never really talked about them much.  But he’s spoken more about his family with her here than he has before. He’s told stories. He hadn’t told stories before.”

 

“Has he?”

 

“Yes, he told one about his uncle, Nelyafinwë, and the High King Findekáno having a snowball fight.”                               

 

“I haven’t heard that one,” said Elrond.  “I will have to ask him. I like the idea of his uncle being able to play in the snow, particularly with Findekáno.”

 

“Did you know his uncle?  You spoke about him earlier.”

 

“Yes, Celebrían,” he answered.  “I did.”

 

“He said he misses him.”

 

“I’m sure he does,” Elrond replied, his voice growing softer and more thoughtful.  “I miss him too.”

 

“Did you know him well?”

 

“Yes,” Elrond said, “I suppose you might say that I did.  He helped to care for me many years ago. I loved him, and I think he loved me, as much as he was able to love at that time.”

 

They passed the remainder of the walk to Mairen’s home in silence.  Once they’d arrived, Celebrían looked at Elrond anxiously.   

 

“Just go knock on the door,” he said.  “I’ll be here. It will be fine. Your cousin wants to see you and will be glad you’ve come.”

 

She walked to the door and rapped on it once, but no one answered.

 

“Try again,” Elrond said.  “Perhaps a little louder.”

 

She knocked a second time and then heard the sound of moving feet and voices.

 

“It was a knock,” she heard Mairen’s voice, warm, content and laughing.  “Answer it.”

 

“Must I?” Celebrimbor asked.  “We’ve had guests since well before the dawn.  It took more than an hour to persuade the last stragglers to leave;  three have already come back to retrieve something they left. I don’t see anything else lying around.  Who can it be now?” 

 

“A surprise,” she said, laughing.  “I’ve no idea. I wasn’t expecting anyone after this morning.  It might be your family.”

 

“That would surprise me.”

 

“Would it?”

 

The door opened, and her cousin stood before her.   He was simply dressed in his usual blue and dark grey, and he smiled when he saw her, though the smile faded slightly when he saw Elrond standing behind her.

 

“You were right, Mairen,” he said.  Celebrían noticed that his voice was neither pleased nor displeased.  “It is my family: Celebrían and the Lord Elrond with her.”

 

“Invite them in,” said Mairen, warmth and laughter still present in her voice.

 

“Please,” he said.  “Come in. It’s ...”

 

“Wonderful to see you,” said Mairen, as she moved to stand behind him.   “Celebrían, I’m very glad you’ve come.” She too was dressed plainly. She wore a simple dress, grey in color, though a lighter shade than the one Celebrimbor wore, and her hair was not braided or bound but hung loose around her face.    She was barefoot, Celebrían saw, and carried a platter of food, much of which had already been eaten, in her hands. She bent down to kiss Celebrían’s cheek and then, standing upright, smiled at Elrond. “My lord Elrond, it is a surprise to say the least, but I am glad you are here.  Come in.”

 

Celebrían walked carefully through the door and into the home.  Elrond followed behind her. He took her cloak and handed it to her cousin along with his own.

 

“Forgive me,” Mairen said. “Our guests left not very long ago, and so I’m clearing up and will be moving around.  But please come in and be comfortable.” She braced the platter along one arm and gestured that they were to continue through the entryway.   “Would you like something to eat or to drink? Almost everything is in the kitchen. We may go there. You can warm yourselves after your walk and have some refreshments.”

 

“I ...” Celebrían began and finished awkwardly. “That sounds nice.”

 

“Doesn’t it? ” Mairen asked.  “Come, I have some cider or spiced tea for you; which would you like?” 

 

“I don’t know,” Celebrían said.   “Which is better?”

 

“Why not have both?” Mairen asked.  She led them into an airy room with a high ceiling.   A variety of chairs and tables were arranged in clusters, and Celebrían saw that she had, indeed, been entertaining guests.  Some smaller plates and glassware sat on the tables. The room was very different in appearance from Celebrían remembered it before Mairen had come.   The elf who’d lived there before had preferred dark and elaborately-carved furniture and paneled walls of dark wood. It had been beautiful but the rooms had seemed smaller and very dim.    

 

Mairen did not share his taste.  The paneling had been removed, leaving plaster walls of a much lighter color.    Three of the walls were decorated with tapestries to which Celebrían’s eyes were drawn.  The one nearest her depicted an event she had often heard about in song, Orodreth's valiant defense of Tol Sirion against the forces of Thû.   It was remarkable in design and in execution, the colors shaded very carefully, so that not only was Celebrían able to see and to identify some of the individual elven warriors but the wolves and the orcs led by Thû were also distinct from one another.   Some orcs appeared taller and others broader while several trolls, their grey-green mottled skin capturing Celebrían’s eye, dragged powerful catapults and other strange machines into place. Even the wolves were finely woven. Celebrían saw a line of grey and black wolves outflank several elven soldiers.  A grey wolf was cut down by two elves while a gigantic black wolf with green-gold eyes stalked Orodreth. Curiously, though, no matter how carefully she searched the tapestry, she was unable to locate a figure she thought might be Thû.  

 

“What is it?” Mairen asked.   Celebrían was startled. She hadn’t heard Mairen come close to her.    

 

“Nothing,” Celebrían said.  “It’s beautiful.”

 

“But?” 

 

“I don’t see Thû.”

 

“Perhaps Thû is not there or perhaps Thû is hiding in plain sight,” Mairen responded lightly.  “But let your eyes rest from the search and look at those on the other side of the room. I think you might find them as interesting as, if not more than, this one.”

 

Celebrían walked to the farther side of the room.  As she did, she noticed Elrond gazing around the room curiously and walking in the direction of one of the doors.   She also saw her cousin begin to collect the plates and some of the glasses on the table. There were four paneled tapestries located on these two walls, three on the longer and one on the shorter.  These contained scenes about which Celebrían knew, including one she’d heard only two nights before, but two of which she’d seldom seen depicted. The furthest tapestry was primarily of the deepest and darkest black, the edges of it seemed to be a very fine border in varying colors and of a series of interconnected, abstracted shapes.   Or so it appeared until she stood before it. Once there she realized that the shapes were figures, the likes of which she’d not seen before, and most of which resembled something quite like the strange Fay of Atanvardo’s tale. There were winged figures, ones with the heads of birds and the hind quarters of animals, some bearing the shape of a fish or the coiled tail of a dragon, some whose faces were human-like but contained eyes, some as yellow as a cat’s, others a vibrant green and still others a beady and shiny black, unlike any Celebrían had seen on elf, man or dwarf.   At the center and the top of the frame was a figure crafted of mithril threads and thus seemingly made of brilliant light. It held in its hands a small but equally brilliant flame. At the bottom rested a shadowed figure of the deepest and darkest black. From the brilliant figure at the top and the smaller figures surrounding the edges, Celebrían saw fine and thin threads of colors moving towards the center of the tapestry. These were initially very fine and very close to black in color, but they grew thicker and brighter as they moved closer away from the edges of the tapestry and towards its center.   At that center, there was located a disk, made of many colors, but primarily blues, greens and browns. She realized that disk was Arda. 

 

“Oh,” she said.  “That’s ...”

 

“Weird?” Mairen supplied.

 

“The shapes of the Ainur ... I know you said that they didn’t have to be like us.  But ...”

 

“To see it is strange,” Mairen observed.   “But they often choose to appear as you are, though they may be otherwise as they wish and as their needs and the elements they prefer determine.   Do you see Uinen with her fins and strong tail? Perfect for one who slides through the currents of the ocean? Or Eonwë with his wings to fly above the clouds?”

 

“I do,” said Celebrían.  “Which is the shape at the bottom?  Is that ...”

 

“Melkor?  Wreathed in shadow?” Mairen responded.  “He whose rebellion signaled the arrival of choice and free will into Arda with all their great and terrible consequence for it and the Children.”

 

“Melkor?” Elrond said from the other side of room where he stood looking at the carved panel of a door.  “Is choice not the gift of Ilúvatar?”

 

“Had it significance until someone chose to embrace a path differing from the Harmony?” Mairen said lightly in response.  “However ill-advised that choice may have been? However terrible the consequences?”

 

“A point,” said Elrond. “A rather different one, but one nonetheless.’

 

“I did not say he chose well,” Mairen said.  “Merely that he chose and differently. Choices have meaning and consequence for good and for ill.”

 

“So they do,” Elrond said.   “So they do.”   

 

Celebrían turned to look at the other three tapestries.   The first of those showed the awakening of the elves at Cuiviénen.   Their bodies bare and their eyes wide with wonder they slowly arose and stared at the stars.   She noticed how delicate the weaving was, seemingly showing individual strands of hair, whether silver, gold and deepest brown, and how detailed the imagery, the lake glimmered blue and silver in the night and the patters of the stars in the sky were reflected precisely in the lake.  The forest, too, that surrounded the lake was dark and foreboding, and Celebrían thought she was able to spy a shadow among the trees.   

 

Next to this tapestry was another, bright in color where the others were dark.  It depicted Men, rising from slumber even as the sun rose into the the woven sky.   The men, some only beginning to stir, others seated and still others rising and walking, began to move in the direction of the rising sun.   Curiously, Celebrían noticed that many of these men were not pale as those living near Ost-in-Edhil were but rather dark of skin as well as of hair.   

 

The last tapestry showed a story she had heard only rarely and for the first time in the last year.   In it, the Great Smith was shown shaping the children of his mind and heart from the clay of the earth, then readying his hammer to strike them down as they cowered in fear before him and the bright figure Celebrían knew to represent the One.  This tapestry was made of warm browns and deep reds and seemed, as the scene shown in it, to be very much of the earth.

 

“He was impatient,” Mairen said softly.  “He could not wait for Eru’s own creation.   He craved more living beings to teach and shape in his image.  Even his Maiar were not enough.”

 

“The Smith?”

 

“Yes,” Mairen said simply. “He was always impatient but did not see it or understand it in others.”

 

Celebrían thought that her voice sounded hurt and sad, and she watched as Mairen, still carrying the platter in one hand, gently touched the figure of the Smith on the tapestry with the other.

 

“Mairen?” Celebrían asked.  She looked and saw that her cousin watched Mairen closely and had begun to walk towards them.  Elrond continued to inspect the same door. 

 

“Hmmm?” she answered.  “Ah, I was lost in thought for a moment.   Master Elrond, that is the door to the library and study.  Would you like to see it?”

 

Elrond seemed startled but nodded.  

 

“Tyelperinquar,” Mairen said, “would you ...”

 

Her cousin smiled and seemed ready to take the platter from her hands.   

 

“No,” she said.  “Can you show them while I take this to the kitchen?  When they’ve looked to their satisfaction, bring them there.   That will give me time to warm the food again and to make tea.”

 

He nodded.

 

“I’ll take those too,” she said, and he placed the plates atop the platter she carried and handed the glasses to her.   Celebrían noticed that his hand lightly brushed hers as he did and that, as his fingers lingered upon hers, Mairen seemed a little startled, her eyes grew wider and a light flush appeared on her cheeks.   

 

“Don’t ...” he began.

 

“I need to clean ....”

 

“I was going to say drop them,” he replied easily.

 

“Have you ever known me to?” Mairen answered and turned.  She began walking towards the corridor opposite the entryway.    The kitchen, Celebrían guessed, was there.

 

“Come, Celebrían,” her cousin said gently.  “Let us show Elrond the room about which he has been so curious.”

 

Celebrían followed him and Elrond into the library.   It was a fascinating room. In many ways it reminded her of the library in her own home, but, in other ways, it was extraordinarily and, thus, intriguingly different.   The walls of this room, much like the walls in the library at Celebrían’s home, were lined with shelves and those shelves were filled with books and with scrolls. Likewise, the center of the room held a table similar to the one her parents used for their work.   Similarly, a chair was positioned on each side of the table, indicating that the workspace was a shared one. But, where the space her parents shared was clearly divided and their interests distinct, this was a space at which two people collaborated, at which projects were conceived together, developed together and completed together.   There was a sense, too, Celebrían thought almost of magic in this place or, perhaps not magic, but a feeling that here, in this room and in the house, plans were being made, things decided, of great significance to her, to her cousin, to Mairen, to her parents, to them all.  It was a feeling much like the one she'd had when she'd seen her cousin and Mairen the night before.  But it was stronger and deeper here.  It was rich, as rich as the sound of Mairen's voice raised in song, and strange, as if the plans, projects and ideas envisioned in this place were beyond Celebrían's imagining.   She found herself thinking of and remembering her father's tales of Doriath and of the kingdom of Thingol and Melyanna, where the world was different, time moved strangely and anything seemed possible, and then she shook her head.  Her cousin was no elf lord to be lost in the forest, forgetting his duties and his people because he was beguiled by a Fay,  and Mairen was no Fay come to lend her knowledge and power.   Clever she was and beautiful and wise, and she was dear to her cousin and helped him in his work.  But she appeared to be an ordinary elf woman, albeit wiser and prettier than most.  Celebrían had touched her and hugged her.  Celebrían had laughed and played with Mairen; she'd been comforted by her.  Mairen was not different, not as Melyanna had been.  This not one of her father's tales of old where creatures of wonder and legend lived and breathed and where magic was felt in the sights and sounds of everyday life.   But, still, the thought lingered.  Still it remained.  Considering this, Celebrían began to look more closely at the papers and books arrayed upon the table.  

Celebrían noted the presence of a map, located at the center of the table. It seemed to show a mountain range — the Misty Mountains, she guessed, but it was designed to show the shape and the features of each individual mountain and their surroundings. Celebrían saw how three mountains stood higher than the others and observed the slow chain of foothills marking the descent in height and elevation from those great peaks.   Next to it was set another drawing; this appeared to be a mountain carved in two and revealed, not unlike the different layers of a cake, the different layers of rock and stone and earth that comprised the mountain.   

 

Next to it were papers containing notes, some in Mairen’s strong hand and others in her cousin’s finer and more elegant script, along with what appeared to be mathematical problems written, again, in both hands with many notes alongside each problem.   She noticed the strangely-shaped ruler next to it, really three rulers whose measurements she didn’t understand in one, next to it.   Across the table from it, she noticed another set of notes, covered almost completely by three books, the first two were smaller books, bound in deep black with no title or emblem upon them, and the third, placed beneath the two, was larger, bound in blue and seemed written in a script she did not know.  Moving closer, she lifted the books and set them to the side, so that she might examine the notes.  She understood almost nothing of them.  There were few, as if the problems had only been started or set up, as her mother would say.   Still, she noticed that one set of mathematical formulas was organized under a heading that read simply "On Time" and another set organized under "On Matter, Change and Expected Decay."   The notes themselves were written in both hands and overlapped with one line of symbols and notations written in one hand and then next other picking it up in the middle of the line or on the next.  Annotations appeared beside each set of notes, and those two were in both Mairen's hand and her cousin's.  It appeared, Celebrían thought, very much as if the two of them were talking but in writing and on the page.

 

As she considered these papers and notes, Celebrían glanced at her cousin.  He and Elrond were focused upon the plans surrounding the map of the mountains, and neither were paying much heed to her and to the papers she considered, and so she carefully replaced the books as they'd been before and made certain the notes below were covered.   She looked at her cousin again.  He had not noticed her; he and Elrond remained busy looking at the map, her cousin pointing out different features.   As she watched him speak with Elrond, his voice low and excited, she remembered how little she’d seen of her cousin that fall.  She remembered how she’d blamed her mother and her decision to forbid Celebrían to visit the Mirdain when days and then weeks had passed and she hadn’t seen him.    At the time, she had imagined him working alone at the Mirdain or sitting alone in his home. But, now, she realized that she had been wrong.   Her cousin hadn’t been alone. Instead, he’d spent the time he’d had once spent with her with Mairen, mostly working, yes, but seemingly enjoying it greatly. Then, perhaps because she understood this, she began to see other signs of the time he’d spent with Mairen and other indications of how much he enjoyed being with her.

 

She noticed a book of the sort he often used to write his ideas and notes in next to one of the maps.  It was made of deep red leather and stamped at the center with the eight-rayed star he sometimes wore.   She saw another book, containing poetry and songs his uncle, the one whose voice had been golden, had composed, situated on a table by the door.   She noticed the small sculpture of a dancing girl, whose face was not unlike her own, placed upon a pedestal between the bookcases. She saw a set of pencils and of charcoal she knew to be his for she had often borrowed it in the center of the table.  Beneath it, she saw a series of sketches. One sketch depicted a man. His face greatly resembled her cousin’s, so much so that Celebrían believed it to be him, but then she noticed that this man’s nose was not quite as long as her cousin’s and his mouth was thinner and more pinched as if he struggled to let those things precious to him go.   She lifted it and then moved it to the side. Below it was one of her father, kneeling in tall grasses in narrow space between two rivers. Below that still were several of her mother. She appeared young in some and less young in others. She stood tall amid a wide grassy plain, hand in hand with her father. She sat smiling before a young man, who resembled her and played a harp.  She lay, dressed in leggings, a jerkin and a tattered cloak, her hands bandaged and her feet barely covered by worn boots, upon a tall wide rock and looked up at the stars. Finally, at the very bottom, were several drawings of Mairen. Some were of her hands, lifting a book, holding a hammer, or simply folded. Others were of her face, laughing, serious, and once cool and remote. Still others showed her at work, bent over a book or working at the forge, strong and powerful in a way that seemed elemental and that Celebrían had not imagined someone to be.   One other, the last, showed her seated, on a bench, a book held in her hand, her fingers marking the place; she was looking at someone or something with an expression so soft and so full of yearning it made Celebrían’s heart ache for her.

 

Looking at this drawing, at all of them, Celebrían saw that he drew Mairen with great care and delicacy.   She saw it in the lines of her face and in the way her mood, happy, sad, or serious, was tangible to Celebrían.   She noticed that it exceeded the care she saw in the drawings of herself and of her own family, and she felt her heart twist and ache.    Seeing these, seeing in them the way he saw his friend, she realized that while he had been away from her and from her family and while she had missed him, he had been here with Mairen, learning her and beginning to care for her.   She didn’t entirely understand her own feelings. She wasn’t angry at her cousin, and she wasn’t unhappy he’d come to care for Mairen. She was glad of it and glad Mairen cared for him too.   But she had missed him very much, and it stung, somehow, that he had not, seemingly, missed her as she had him. She wondered if her father was right and if she would not see her cousin much in the days and the weeks and the months to follow, if he would forget her as he grew closer to and worked more with Mairen.  The thought hurt and she tried, not entirely successfully, to keep the hurt from showing. 

 

“ ... part of the research we’d done for the aqueduct,” she heard her cousin to Elrond as she stared at the sketches on the table.   “The city is growing and we were concerned we’d not have enough water to support its inhabitants and industries as well as we might. We hoped too that it might allow for the building of some small luxuries in addition to the necessities.”

 

“Indeed, a most ambitious and interesting project,” Elrond said.  His voice was interested, but, when she looked up at him, she noticed that his eyes were on her face.    She looked down.

 

“I know, but I think it’s necessary to ensure ...”

 

“Celebrían,” said Elrond gently, “are you well?  Are we boring you?”

 

She shrugged.   “It’s an interesting project.  I don’t mind it. She told me about it yesterday.”

 

“But you mind something,” he observed.   “Should we move to the kitchen? I think she may be ready for us.”

 

Celebrían shrugged again, but then she saw her cousin’s face.   She saw that he, like Elrond, watched her closely and that he was as concerned about her as Elrond was.   She was embarrassed that Elrond had noticed and that, now, her cousin saw. She shouldn’t mind that he had a different friend.   She shouldn’t. She had her parents. He did not. He would still spend time with her, simply not as much.   He would not forget her, no matter how he cared for someone else or how fascinacted he was with their projects and plans.   She forced a smile to her lips.

 

“That would be nice,” she said.   Neither of them seemed entirely convinced.  Elrond squeezed her shoulder as he passed, but her cousin remained in the room, looking at her and then at the sketches.

 

“Nothing I feel for you and for your family has changed,” he said softly once Elrond had left the room.   “You remain three of the most important people in this world to me. That hasn’t changed. It won’t. It won’t change, no matter how important someone else becomes.  There’s room for all of you in my life and in my ...”

 

“I know,” she said, interrupting.  “I hadn’t realized, though, exactly what it — what she — meant.  I thought I knew but I see now. I thought you’d missed me when I couldn’t come.”  She touched the sketches.

 

He looked away from Celebrían and she saw his jaw tighten.   “I did,” he said. “I missed you very much. I’m sorry, Celebrían.  I am sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t make time to see you when you weren’t allowed to come and see me at the Mirdain.  I’m sorry I was angry at something that was silly and wasted time when I might have swallowed my pride and visited you,” he said, running his hand over his face.  “But, more than anything, I am sorry that things have changed among us — among me, you and your parents — that this change is not what I’d hoped to see. I am sorry that change seems inevitable in Middle Earth and that the change inevitably brings loss with it.”

 

“But that’s just something we have to get used to, isn’t it?” Celebrían said.   

 

“I suppose,” he said.  “She likes you too. I’ve said that, I know, but it’s true.  She does. She wants you to be with us whenever you can.”

 

“Then perhaps it isn’t a loss?” Celebrían asked.

 

“Perhaps not,” he said.  “I do not want it to be.”  Then he took her hand and led her from the room.

 

Elrond waited for them in the outer chamber.  He stood, looking closely at the tapestry showing the creation of Arda, but he turned and smiled when he saw them approach.

 

“Whatever she’s making,” he said, “it smells wonderful.”

 

“I’m sure it is,” Celebrían said, her voice quavering only a little.  “Which way is the kitchen?”

 

“This way,” said her cousin, leading her forward. 

 

They passed through a long corridor and then through another large and open room, the ceiling of which was partly made of glass and allowed the light of the sun to enter.  At last, they arrived in the kitchen. It was a much larger and brighter room than Celebrían had expected. She had not been in the kitchen of this home before. Most gatherings had been held in the more public room at the front of the home and seldom did anyone other than the servants visit the kitchen.  But, though it was new to her, she liked this room very much. It was bright with large and high windows that permitted the sun’s rays to enter. The space itself was open, with one counter made of a slab of stone and then another crafted of food to be used to clean and to cut different foods. A very large stove and oven set along the walls.  It was simply in design, but substantial, and it warmed the room with the fire within. The center of the room was occupied by an island, the top of which was covered by the same stone used to make the counter. On it was set a variety of foods, carefully and artfully arranged upon different platters. Stools of different heights were arranged around it.

 

“Come and sit,” Mairen said.  “Eat, and then tell us what brought you here.”

 

“We received your invitation,” said Elrond as he looked over the variety of foods set before them.   The small, fried pastries Celebrían had learned were called samosas were arranged on one platter while long thin pancakes filled with a variety of different foods, from beans and grains to different meant along another.  A third was designed to hold a space for several small tureens in which sat different soups. Another platter held cooked and carefully spiced vegetables. The room itself smelled of spice and, if possible of warmth and welcome.  It was soothing, and she settled quickly upon the tallest of the stools.   

 

“Did you?” Mairen asked.  “I wasn’t sure. Our apprentice had enjoyed last night greatly.  I wondered if it would arrive before tomorrow. That said, I am glad.  Still, I’d expected a note, not that I’m unhappy to receive a visit.” She gently brushed Celebrían’s shoulder as she set a plate before her.   Then she returned to the counter when she selected several pieces of a flat bread and walked to the stove where she began to warm them.   

 

“We were grateful for the invitation and accept it gladly,” said Elrond, taking a seat on the stool nearest to Celebrían.  “But we also wanted to be certain that Celebrimbor knew he was invited and, indeed, expected this afternoon and to be certain you understood the invitation included you as well.”

 

“Was there reason to think he was no longer?” Mairen asked, still busy at the stove.   Her voice was very soft but Celebrían was reminded of a cat stalking its prey. She knew Elrond would need to be very careful with his answer.

 

“No, but perhaps there was reason to think you might not be aware you were also included?”

 

“Perhaps,” she said.  She lifted one of the breads and set it to the side.  She smiled as she did so. It was a thin smile; her teeth were very white.    “When are we expected?”

 

“I don’t think there was a specific time,” he said.  “Was there one Celebrían?”

 

She shook her head.

 

“Then,” he continued, “whenever you wish.”

 

“Very well,” said Mairen, “but we — well, I, at least, — should clean before we go, but we may be ready shortly after that.   Would you like that?” she asked, turning to Celebrimbor.

 

He shrugged, “If you would.”  He had pulled a crock from a chest and brought it to her.   She smiled and set it to the side. She started to look for something, but Celebrían watched as her cousin reached to a rack located to the side of the stove and pulled a small saucepan from it.  He handed it to her.

 

“I think so,” she replied, setting the pan on the stove and then scooping a generous amount of the substance — it resembled butter but seemed a little different to Celebrían — into it.    “Now, Celebrían, please help and eat a few of these things and then help me decide what we should pack to bring with us, so we do not return to your home without appropriate gifts. As she does, my lord, perhaps you might ask me some of the questions that have disturbed you?”

 

Elrond seemed very surprised.   Celebrían bit into a pastry and tasted rich meat and a savory sauce.  She chewed contentedly.

 

“Perhaps,” Mairen continued, “this involves the very understandable fear that I was less than forthcoming with you when I was in Lindon?”

 

Celebrían took a second bite and chewed, noticing as she did that her cousin seemed very alert as she spoke.

 

“That would be one concern,” said Elrond, “yes.  I’m also curious about the fact that you seem very familiar with the East but neglected to mention that you spent time there.”

 

“And, given the association of the East with Melkor, this concerns you,” she said simply.

 

“Yes,” he replied.

 

“I thought it might, and that was one reason I concealed it,” she said.  She lifted the saucepan from the stove and drizzled the melted — it did seem to be butter onto the bread and then into a small ramekin next to it.   She handed the platter to Celebrimbor, her other hand resting gently at his back as she did. “I suppose I am very much like a child who has been caught in one wrongdoing.  In order to try to conceal it, I compounded it with several others. I am not sure what to say.”

 

“Perhaps the truth,” Elrond answered.

 

“I came to Middle Earth with the Host of Valinor, but, though the war was won and Melkor defeated, I no longer felt able to return to my home.”

 

“Why?”

 

“A half-elf of the line of Melyanna born in Beleriand and raised by Nelyafinwë and Kanafinwë asks me this?”

 

“I hadn’t a home to return to.”

 

“If you had, Master Elrond, would you have gone?  Had the Havens remained? Or your mother? After the Sons of Fëanor had raised you?  And loved you?  For they did come to love you, did they not?  And you them? Albeit both, perhaps, against your and their wills?"

 

A flash of pain crossed Elrond’s face.  Celebrían saw it mirrored briefly on her cousin’s face and saw it in the way he hesitated, for a moment only, before he set the platter of bread on the table.  She felt that peculiar feeling she’d had the previous day.  She began to think she’d wandered into a story, a wonder tale, even, but that she hadn’t been told what had happened before.  Instead, she was left to find her way through this strange and perilous world with little knowledge of the terrain or of the danger that awaited. 

 

“Forgive me,” Mairen said.  “I did not intend to touch, much less to scratch, a tender place.”

 

“I don’t ...” Elrond began.

 

“Perhaps you could return,” said Mairen, “but I was no longer the same woman who’d left Valinor.  I was different, I felt as if I’d been tainted by the war, damaged and sullied, no longer fit for the Blessed Realm.”

 

“You might have sought healing there,” Elrond said.

 

“From what?” Mairen replied.  “My body was uninjured. My mind was rational.”

 

“But your fëa was damaged.”

 

“Indeed,” she said, “and so I felt I would not be wanted.  How does one treat a soul no longer whole? Who would want someone so damaged?”

 

“That wasn’t true.”

 

“Perhaps,” she answered, “but neither you nor I know for certain.  At any rate, I feared I would not be welcome and would be cast out.   I’d spent much time during the war near the servants of darkness and their whispers were familiar to me.  I’d heard them so often that I began to think they were true; they convinced me there was no home for me on this side of night, no place in the realm of light.”

 

“And do you still feel that way?”

 

“I do not know.  I should have returned with the Host of Valinor and I refused.  I lost the opportunity and I do not know if the way remains open to me.   But. I hold with my choice, Lord Elrond. I think that there is more good I might do in Middle Earth than in Valinor had I returned.  I think that there is great beauty here and still more we might awaken. I think the children, whether elves, men or dwarves, deserve more than the ruins with which they were left.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Yes, my lord, I think that we have work to do and that it is good work.” 

 

Elrond nodded and accepted another of the pastries.

 

They ate the remainder of their meal if not in silence then in far less serious conversation.  Mairen and Celebrimbor had taken two of the stools nearer the stove and next to another.   Mairen asked Celebrían how she had enjoyed the feast and how her morning had been. Celebrían carefully asked her how the feast she attended had been.   Mairen had laughed and began to tell stories of the meal she’d had. It had been a very different affair to Celebrían’s feast, and Celebrían wondered if it had been better.  She felt, whether it had been or not, that Mairen would have made it seem the most entertaining event anyone might have witnessed. There had been music, livelier than Lindir and Lisen’s.  There had been Men and Dwarves as well as Elves, and they had brought their own traditions of the night. Finally, there had been fireworks and song that drove away the dark.

 

“Was it a long night?” asked Elrond quietly.

 

“For most of those who attended,” Mairen said, “I believed it was.   I left early, before the festivities were complete, however.”

 

“I am sorry.”

 

“Why?”

 

“That your enjoyment ended earlier.”

 

“I am not.  Tyelperinquar visited me after the feast you’d held and I enjoyed his visit very much.”  Her voice was mild, as if she spoke of nothing more significant than the snow, but Celebrían noticed that her cousin watched her face closely and that Elrond attended carefully to each word she said.  She placed one hand on the table, near to the place where Celebrimbor's right hand rested, though she did not touch his.

 

“And you?” Elrond said, lightly to her cousin.

 

“It is always good to see my friend,” her cousin said quietly.  He laid his hand gently over Mairen’s, slipping his fingers between her own. Celebrían looked at his hand, fingers wound in Mairen's, and she noticed that, for all the cuts and callouses upon it, the cut he'd received from the holly seemed no longer to be there.   But then, perhaps, she was mistaken; perhaps it had been his other hand.

 

“I see,” Elrond replied, his eyes on their intertwined fingers.  “May we help Mairen clear so that you and she may have more time with the rest of your family?”

 

Mairen set them to work, scraping the half-eaten food into a canister she intended to set aside later, and then wrapping the remainder of the pastries and the pancakes in napkins and then placing them in baskets.   She also found several small and delicate cakes, fragrant with a spice Celebrían did not know, and wrapped those as well. As they’d finished, she looked at Celebrían and said, “I think I have one more thing your mother would like.   I need to put some shoes on and then we may head to the courtyard.”

 

She guided Celebrían from the kitchen and left her near one of the outer doors, saying “I’ll only be a moment.”

 

As she stood, looking through the door and into a snowy landscape, Celebrían heard Elrond and her cousin speaking.

 

“You care for her,” Elrond said.  “That was clear to me yesterday when you spoke of her and was all the more apparent once that I saw you with her, even before you decided to make it very plain.”

 

Celebrían heard a rustle that might have been her cousin moving or might have been Elrond.  She was unsure, but, after the briefest of pauses, Elrond continued, “I did not say it was wrong, Celebrimbor.   She is a brilliant and remarkable woman. But I think that the way you see her and that you understand her tale has been shaped by the experiences of your own life.  I do not fault the choices you’ve made or the one you make now, but I worry that your affection and your own experiences have made it difficult to evaluate her objectively.”

 

“Can you fault what she has said?”  Celebrían heard the strain in her cousin’s voice.

 

“No, but I would have you be wary.”  Elrond’s voice remained very gentle and mild.  

 

“I promise you, Elrond,” Celebrimbor said, a resolve Celebrían had not heard before in his voice.  “If the day comes when I find that she is a threat to Eregion, to my people here, I will cast her from it and oppose her with all of my strength, even if it should tear my heart and soul in two.”

 

“May that day not come,” said Elrond.  “You are happy, and I am glad to see you content.”

 

Celebrían leaned her head against the door and looked out through the thin pane of glass at its center.   After a little while, probably no more than a handful of breaths, she felt a light hand on her shoulder and nearly jumped.

"I'm sorry," said Mairen, her voice softly musical.  "I didn't intend to startle you."

 

"I didn't hear you," Celebrían said.

 

“I noticed," Mairen said, "and I'm sorry you were frightened." She held Celebrían's cloak in her hand and extended it to her.  "Are you ready? I brought your cloak.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“Some place strange and wonderful,” Mairen said.  “The man who lived here before had a glass house. Haven't you one like it?   I haven’t kept it as well as I might.  I haven’t your mother’s or your father’s skill with growing things, and, though your cousin has tried to help me, he hasn't that gift himself. But there are some things in it that are unusual and that I think they may enjoy.”   

 

She opened the door and guided Celebrían into the courtyard.   The snow was heavy and went nearly to the top of Celebrían’s boots and soaked the hem of her cloak.  Mairen seemed not to mind it and simply held her hand out to Celebrían. They walked to the farthest corner of the courtyard where a glass house stood.   Celebrían supposed that glass house was not an entirely accurate term. The walls of the house were stone, designed to retain heat, but the roof of it was made entirely of glass.    

 

Mairen pulled a key from a chain around her neck and carefully unlocked the door.  She gestured for Celebrían to enter and then followed her insight. It was warm in the glass house, very much so.   The tiles of the floor were warm, and Celebrían realized that the house was designed differently to her own.  Rather than containing braziers to warm the plants in winter, this home had been designed for heat to be carried from below, so that the floor felt warm beneath her boots and the heat rose from it into the building.  As a result, the glass house seemed as warm as a summer day in the midst of winter with no places where the cold had seeped though the walls.   Celebrían noticed that it was filled with plants, some bushes, some trees and some flowers, but where her mother's glass house was orderly, Mairen's had not been as well-tended and had become wild, almost like a small forest within its walls.  She also noticed that there were many types of plants and of fruit she had not seen before, including several plants bearing brightly-colored and exotic flowers and a variety of bushes and small trees carrying fruit with which she was not familiar. She touched an small fruit, greatly resembling a tiny orange.   

 

“Go ahead,” Mairen said.  “Pick it. It’s ripe. There are several others.  Have you had it before?”

 

"No," said Celebrían, "what is it?"

 

"It is called a golden orange.  It is similar to an orange, but is a little more sweet and a little more sour.  Unlike an orange, you can eat it whole."   She took one and, placing it in her mouth, ate it, skin, seeds and all.

 

"The skin isn't ..."

 

"Bitter?" Mairen supplied.  "No, it's sweet.   It's from the very far East, near to Cuiviénen.  Your cousin thought these might be new to you.  He said your mother only grew oranges and some lemons in your green house."

 

"He's right.  Those were a gift to her from Númenor, long before I was born."

 

"I suppose their continued trade here and with the East made other such delicacies more widely available," Mairen said thoughtfully.  "I am glad of it."

 

Celebrían carefully selected four of the tiny fruit, but Mairen laughed and handed her several more, saying that only four was not enough.   Then they both wandered over to a peculiar tree with very smooth lemons.

 

“Have those as well,” Mairen called.  “I can’t possibly eat them all, though I’ve tried.  It is such a remarkable building.  This green house was one reason why I decided to live here.   I walked into it and it was as wild as it is now, perhaps more so.  It reminded me of the East, of where I'd lived for so long, so I might be here among the Elves whom I had missed but still might have remembrances of it too.

 

“What are these?” Celebrían asked and pointed to a peculiar tree on which a green fruit hung, it was not smooth but rather oddly shaped and rather bumpy.

 

“Those are very good,” Mairen said.  “It’s a type of lime but with a flavor unlike any I’ve had before.  It comes from the East. You can also use the leaves when you cook. Take some of both.”

 

Celebrían did.  As she did, she noticed Mairen watching her closely, her green-gold eyes steady.

 

“Thank you,” Celebrían said.  “This is very kind.”

 

“Not really,” Mairen said.  “I’ve more than I can eat and would need to give them away.”

 

“Still,” Celebrían said.  “You needn’t have given them to us.”

 

“I suppose not,” said Mairen.  “I suppose I thought you’d like them and I thought you might also like this place, wild as it is. I also wanted to know if you were alright; you have seemed not yourself this morning.”

 

“I’m fine,” Celebrían said, looking at one of the flowers.

 

“Your cousin said that he and your mother quarreled and that you heard.   He was worried about what you heard and what you may have thought.”

 

“He didn’t say that to me.”

 

“He wasn’t sure how,” Mairen said gently.  “He didn't want to make you feel as if you had to decide which of them was right and which was wrong.  I thought I should because he said that I was the reason for it.  I also thought that I might ought to ask you in case you had questions you wanted to ask me.  It seems everyone does.”

 

“I don’t mind that he ... that you ...”

 

“That’s good,” Mairen said, “because we ... well, we’re glad you don’t mind ... but I feel ... I feel that you have worries.”

 

“I don’t really,” Celebrían said.

 

“But someone else does?” Mairen guessed. 

 

“My mother,” Celebrían replied.   

 

“What worries your mother?” Mairen asked, her face and eyes slightly obscured by the greenery.  “What does she think?”

 

“My mother believes that you are not what you claim to be,” Celebrían said.  “She is afraid you are of the Dark.”

 

Mairen seemed unsurprised.  “And you?” she asked. “Do you think this?”

 

“No,” Celebrían replied, looking at the fruit before her.  It was red and a little leathery in appearance.. “Not really.  But …”

 

“You want to ask?  To be sure?” Mairen responded, her tone strangely gentle.  She reached forward and picked the fruit, handing it to Celebrían.

 

“Yes,” said Celebrían, holding the fruit in her hand.  She looked at it and then placed it in her basket.

 

“Then ask me,” Mairen said.  “Ask me if you want to know.”

 

“Are you?” Celebrían asked, her voice faltering a little.  “Of the Dark?’

 

“What do you think?” Mairen inquired.  Her voice remained very gentle, even kind. 

 

“I don’t know,” said Celebrían.

 

“If I were of the Dark,” Mairen asked softly, her green eyes glittering and strange,  “I might be someone, someone of whom you’ve heard. Who do you think I might be?” 

 

Celebrían shook her head.  “I don’t know.”  

 

“Perhaps I am Thuringwethil?” Mairen asked.  Her voice was almost playful. “The vampire? Made of smoke and shadow.  Hiding in the darkness. Hunting? Am I she?”

 

“I don’t know,” said Celebrían, eyes fixed upon Mairen’s.

 

“Or perhaps I am Thû?  Perhaps I am of the shadow and the darkness?  Perhaps I am the one to have run with the wolves in the blackest night.  Perhaps I built Angband. Perhaps I raised Draugluin and fed Glaurung from my hand.  Perhaps I was the one to take Tol Sirion and to defeat Finrod. Perhaps that is who I am.  Perhaps I am Thû. Perhaps I am here, having outlasted my master. Perhaps I shall take this world and shape it as I wish.   Perhaps I will bend it and change it. Perhaps I will make it more beautiful than you can imagine.”

 

Shadow crossed her face.  She was more beautiful and terrible than Celebrían had imagined someone to be.   She seemed somehow not human, but alien and fiery. Her smile grew thin and cruel, the smile of a predator about to strike, the cold grin of a wolf on the hunt.

 

She bent to look at Celebrían, smiling that wolvish smile and held her gaze for a moment or ten.  Then, just as suddenly, her smile turned warm and gentle. She laughed, and the shadow vanished. The moment before seemed only a dream.

 

“Is that what you think I am?” Mairen asked. “And are you afraid?  Be not afraid of the Dark, little one. I will not let it hurt you, not while I am here.”

 

She touched Celebrían’s face, took her hand and twirled her around.

 

“Do you find me evil, little one?” Mairen asked and ruffled Celebrían’s hair

 

Celebrían thought for a moment,  “No, I don’t.”

 

“Good,” Mairen answered.  “Now are we ready to go?”

 

 

---

Chapter End Notes

Far too much reading on the construction of Renaissance and Roman townhomes was completed; Mairen's is a peculiar hybrid of the two.   

Green houses or the idea of growing plants in a controlled environment existed in varying forms since the Roman era.   I think Mairen would be fascinated by the idea but not the most capable of gardeners.  Cooking would be a different matter for her as it is science applied differently.

The idea of the tapestries grew from a terrific discussion on floor coverings on Discord, but is also connected to the idea of weaving and tapestries being important to the Noldor -- the telling of tales seems critical to them and telling them in the form of crafts, whether tapestries, frescos or a mosaic, seemed an interesting way of writing and remembering them.  Mairen, being Mairen, is quite intrigued by the possibility of reading the stories against the grain.

As for the idea of Eregion as a sanctuary, that arrived both from the general complexity of what does one do with those left in Middle Earth whether by choice or by decree and how does one create a place in which they all might co-exist.   The presence of the last of the House of Fëanor and the possible reactions to such a person after the War of Wrath, despite his own decisions, sparked more thought.   I also wondered how does one simply because one must account for why Sauron isn't booted out of Eregion earlier if Galadriel weren't too keen on his presence.  There are many different possible explanations for that.  This was mine.