Elrond sighed as he lay back, head sinking into the soft feather-filled pillow; relaxing into the cool sheets. It had been another long, pointless day, full of meeting after endless meeting, and greeting people he cared not to. He winced in relief as the kinks in his back were straightened out, and he closed his eyes, raising his hands to rub away at them. He was sorely in need of sleep. Blinking away at the gritty feel in his eyes, he turned onto his side, shifting around to get comfortable.

Remember me when I am gone away,

He sighed, unable to find rest in the wide expanse of the bed. He hated to sleep alone. After centuries of company, of sharing comfort and conversation, he was unable to reconcile himself to being alone; he felt bereft. Sitting up, Elrond fluffed the pillow, thoroughly, before burrowing his head back into it trying to sleep. Although his body was exhausted, his mind was restless, seeking something that was no longer there.

Gone far away into the silent land;

‘I hope all is well with you now,’ he thought, desperately hoping that she would be laughing in the sun, not pining by the shore waiting for his eventual journey over there. He hoped that she would not be short of companions.

Groaning, he buried his head beneath the pillow, clamping his arms down over it, trying to force the unwanted thoughts away. If he was ever to gain sleep tonight then he must forget the hurtful memories.

“Ah Celebrian,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to caress the sketch that rested on the bedside table, a tear billowing in his eye. The picture was an excellent likeness, drawn by his own hand on bright afternoon, yet it paled beside his memories of the original. There was no life, no movement in the picture; it was static.

Elrond let out a heartbreaking sob, “Why did you have to leave?”

He fell back against the bed, holding the picture over his heart, resting his chin on the rim of the frame. “It is so quiet without you here, I feel as if I am drowning in the silence.” He pulled the covers up, over her picture, and settled down, clutching it tightly in his grasp.

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

It was raining, Elrond remembered. A heavy summer shower, that sprang from almost nowhere; or so he had her believe. He fingered Vilya secretly.

<< The two ran hand in hand to the summerhouse, near the river, and stood in the shelter soaked through. Laughing, she turned to face him, shaking the rain out of her blonde hair. Her eyes sparkled with life as he leaned forward, wrapping her in his arms to protect against the cold.

“Well that was unexpected,” he joked, pulling her closer, breathing in her scent of flowers, and summer rain.

Reaching her arms around his neck she pulled his head down to her level, turning it as if to whisper in his ear. Instead, she grabbed his ear, gently tweaking it. “That was no accident Elrond Peredhil! You intended this from the moment we left the house.”

She turned away from him, bracing herself to venture back out into the storm, yet she stopped; Elrond held her fast by the hand, turning her back towards him. Pulling her closer, he enveloped her again in his arms, trying to master an offended look, which failed miserably as he was captured by her eyes. Smiling, she rolled his head down, and raised her lips to meet it. >>

Elrond shot up, woken by the dream. He instinctively reached over to the other side of the bed, checking to see if he had awoken Celebrian, but the spot was empty. He closed his eyes, curling up on his side, gazing once more at the face that meant everything to him.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann’d:

Lying there in bed he recalled the feel of her, wrapped in his arms, as they lay staring out at the stars through the open window. How he longed for that comfort now. When he closed his eyes he could still see the moonlight reflecting off her pale skin, deepening the curves beneath her cheekbones; he could watch the light glisten in her hair.

<< “What are you staring at meleth nin?” she asked, rolling her head along the pillow to look at him. He smiled back at her, raising one hand to brush a loose lock of hair from her grey eyes.

“I was just thinking how beautiful you were,” he replied, stroking her face.

She blushed, and smiled adoringly back. “You tell me that all the time, what is it that really concerns you?”

Elrond hesitated, unsure whether to bring the subject up and ruin this moment, “I was just thinking…”

“Yes?” she asked, propping her head up on an elbow.

He smiled, “I was thinking how beautiful our children would be if they inherited even a speck of your looks.”

Celebrian smiled, “They will be as strong and as brave as you, meleth nin. They will run as the very wind, and have honour and respect for all creatures.”

“And they will be as beautiful as the sun and stars, even as their mother is; they will bring joy to all, and life to this house,” he continued.

Celebrian looked at him coyly. “So, how many were you planning on?” >>

The image faded, and Elrond found himself sitting up in bed, staring out into a cloudy sky, where the stars were hidden, and scarce light penetrated.

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel or to pray.

“If you could only see them now Celebrian,” he whispered into the night, wiping his hand over his face. “You would be so proud of them. Our sons have grown into fine, strong elves; brave warriors, yet so tender with their sister.”

<< The hunting party sat outside the main doors to Rivendell, waiting for their captain and his brother to mount. They were standing under the arch, one embracing his sister, and the other sharing some last, quiet words with his father, the Lord Elrond. Just recently there had been a marked increase in the number of parties going out, and the two sons of Elrond had been heading every single one. All could see the determination in their expression, the need for vengeance, and the grief, which they sort to relieve through this duty to their mother’s memory. >>

Elrond blinked himself out of the sight, which had become too familiar to him of late. He frowned. “I fear for them, Cel. Your passing has left them distraught; they spend all their time pursuing Yrch. I fear that this is one task that they will not relinquish. Their hearts are filled with hate now; there is little room for love. They should be spending this time in seeking wives, in knowing the joys of family, of life.”

He paled suddenly. “I dread that one day they will not return, or worse that only one shall. I do not think I could ever recover if I were to lose a child, like I have lost you.”

Sitting up, he pushed himself from the bed to sit on the window ledge, gazing out into impenetrable blackness, framed sketch still clasped tightly in his hand. “It is Arwen who has been hurt the worst by your leaving. She seems to be fading with every day that passes. She no longer holds any passion for the beauties here; everything she sees reminds her of you. The tree you planted at her conception, the flowerbeds that the two of you planned and tended together, they torment her; she longs to leave.”

His mind drifted back to the scene by the arch.

<< Arwen stood silent, wearing the white of mourning; she held a single frond of lavender in her hands. Her face was as pale as the dress she wore, not even her eyes giving any colour to the image. She stirred not when Elrohir’s arms wrapped around her; her fingers still clutching the plant, Celebrian’s favourite.

Elrohir’s eyes lifted and met his brother’s and the two shared a profound look, that excluded their father. Elrohir turned back to her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, and stepped away to be replaced by his brother. Elladan embraced her afterwards, pulling her to him, and brushing one hand through her hair. She took no notice.

Elrond looked away, unable to bear the loss in their eyes, eyes that looked so similar to the ones staring at him in dreams. >>

“It hurts Cel,” he whispered, rubbing a hand along the hair in the sketch, missing the feel of the silken threads cascading through his fingers. “Every time I look at our children, I see you in them. I try to hide it, but I fear I do not. They see it in my eyes and shy away seeking to lessen my pain, yet it only increases it.

“I do not know what to do; they will not accept any help from me, for they fear that I am worse off than them.” He coughed. “Mayhap they are correct. I cannot remember the last time I slept and did not dream of you.”

He looked away. “ Secretly I fear the time that I do.”

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

“How can I not!” he cried. “Over two centuries I have had you by my side, but what if those memories fail? I am not a pure elf, what if I lose them?”

Elrond wrapped a blanket tightly around his shoulders, seeking the warmth, yet feeling chilled despite it. He bathed himself in her memory, trying to force every nuance of their time together into his mind; trying to ensure that he would not forget one single second of their time together.

Countless images swept passed his eyes.

He focussed on their courting, and how they tried to hide it from her mother and father. Snatching a few, precious moments in the garden some evenings, gazing up at the stars. Or falling behind on a walk, to share their mutual love of the environment. Needless to say Celeborn and Galadriel knew all of what happened, and approved, or doubtless they would have contrived to prevent it.

He recalled the many nights upon which he slaved away, planning and organising the rehousing of the elves whose homes and families were lost during the fight against Sauron. How he had fallen asleep at his desk, only to be woken by her gentle hand upon his brow, and how she coaxed him into bed, where he lay resting his head against her breast, feeling the comforting beat of her heart.

“How can it be right that one day I shall move on?” he questioned. “That there shall come I time when I do not think of you every second of every day; a time when something other than my love for you fills my heart. I cannot bear the thought of life without you.”

Celebrian had filled much of the hole left from his brother’s passing, she had reawoken in him a light that he thought was long gone; and with her passing she threatened to drag him with her as well. His children saw only pain when they looked at him; he was damaging them by his presence here. Most of his friends and companions had perished, either in the fall of Doriath to the sons of Fëanor, or in the subsequent battles, which rent apart Middle Earth. Perhaps it was long past time for him to leave as well.

He wandered out onto the balcony, seeking relief from the torment, hoping the fresh breeze would cleanse him somewhat. The lilt of summer in the air refreshed him, the scent reminding him of her, drawing him under Celebrian’s spell.

He sniffed, bowing his head over the rail. “I cannot forget, and I do not see anything beyond this grief. It tears at my soul.”

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Elrond shivered in the warmth of the summer night; memories of old assailed him, and premonitions of the future intruded on his peaceful thoughts. Much to his dismay, he was able to imagine the horrors that Celebrian had experienced while captive to the orcs. He had treated her wounds, had seen her in an almost catatonic state from the shock, and it had almost killed him. Each time he pictured her beauty, her grace, it was always tempered by images of her bruised and beaten body, cowering away from the memory of their blows. He shuddered again, knowing that this was yet another night where sleep was unattainable.

Looking to the east he felt, within his mind, the pounding of heavy machinery, the burning of the dark flame, and he shuddered. Evil was rising once again; the orc attack was proof of that. Soon it would spread like a poison into every country, into every race that made its home on Arda. Would he then even have time to spare a thought to his beloved wife, safe overseas? Would there be time for anyone to find love? If the darkness won would such a concept still exist, or would all people be bound to one heart? Bound as slaves to the love of their great master. He shuddered again, gripping the railing tightly between his fingers, forcing through the thoughts of a possible future.

‘Are you free from such torments now, meleth nin?’ he wondered. ‘The attack was so much more painful for you, and you will be cursed with its memory for all eternity. Have you survived it? Or does it still weigh you down? Will you ever return to the joy that you once were? Or are you forever changed. Will I even recognise you when I too pass from this place?’

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you remember and be sad.

“I can never forget, and nor can you,” he mused.

His final memory of Celebrian was of her standing bowed down by the weight of her trials, supported by Galadriel. She would not accept such support from him, she still felt the hands of her aggressors ravishing her, and could not distinguish between his touch, and that of her nightmares. They had spent their last year together in separate rooms, for she could not bear to be so close to another male while she was so vulnerable.

There was no hint of pleasure in her face, no hint of anything other than the pain and fear that she was left in. She shied away from even her father’s touch, clinging to Galadriel as though she was the last pillar of support that stood firm in a rocking world.

Elrond did not know whether those memories had passed when she entered the light of the Valar; nor whether she was now bathed in laughter or still tormented. He sighed, knowing that he could never be truly happy until he was once again by her side, sharing a special smile that she reserved only for him.

He treasured every memory of her, except for the final year; each moment of delight, each kiss, each smile both soothed and tormented him. He treasured their time together, and mourned every second apart.

Gradually he became aware of a figure standing at his shoulder, offering silent support. Elrond closed his eyes, trying to control his emotions in front of this intruder, but was halted as a hand came down upon his shoulder, squeezing it lightly comfortingly. His heart burst then, and he found himself staring at the slowly rising sun before him, tears poring from his eyes. He made no sound, and nor did his shadow as the two stood shoulder to shoulder staring out over the railing.

Eventually his tears halted, and he turned to face his companion, summoning up a small smile for him. His smile widened, as he perceived the look of utmost relief upon Glorfindel’s face at the glimpse of the old Elrond resurfacing at last. The two turned from the balcony together, starting the new day.

It was a beginning.

The End.

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann’d:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel or to pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve:

For if the darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you remember and be sad.

Remember, by Christina Rossetti.