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Finding Celebrian  by Dragon

Time was passing, somewhere outside those windows. The air grew colder, crisper - and sometimes smelt of wood smoke or sweet sap from newly cut trees. The leaves of the forests that blanketed the valley were changing colour again, leaving the bright reds and yellows behind, and turning into browns and oranges. The winds were picking up, and the leaves were tossed aside, leaving the bare skeletons of sticks and branches.

They would all come and sit with her, at times. She was seldom alone now. But it made no real difference. She could be standing in a crowd of her friends and family, and not one would be able to come close to where she really was.

~*~

Elrohir would sit on the end of the bed, patting his hand against her blanket covered legs as he spoke. He would speak on and on about matters of little importance, the changing colours of the woodlands in the valley, the new foal in the stables, the first frosts of autumn. Sometimes she could even detect a faint breathlessness in his tone, as if he was afraid of pausing to think of what he really wished to say.

Often she did not wish to speak herself, and lay back with closed eyes, letting Elrohir's pictures fill her mind. As usual her younger son could bring peace, but at times, when his voice caught or she caught him staring down pensively at the sheets, she wondered if he really still saw the world in the wonderful colours and sounds he spoke of.

He was like his father in that respect, never speaking of what troubled him.

Elrond was wonderful. He was always wonderful. Always there. It was he who would gently redress her wounds, help her wash and dress while still letting her retain her dignity, and hold her through the night. On the outside at least, he was cool and calm, making sure that she was comfortable and had everything that she wished for. But inside. . . he had to be hurting, at least as much as she was. They had long felt these things together and stood side by side as they watched them pass. He would not show it though. He had had too much practice at hiding his feelings.

And then there was Arwen, their precious Evenstar. She was seldom out of their room, sitting on the window-seat sewing or reading, always doing something. Often she would sing, hoping that her voice would raise her mother's spirits just as it raised her own. She was trying hard.

Occasionally she would come across with her cloth and show what delicate beauty she had been working on. That was hard, for Celebrian's hands were still too weak to manoeuvre needle and thread safely, but she would have dearly loved to take up her embroidery again and lose herself in intricate stitching and varying shades of pinks and yellows and greens.

Glorfindel and Erestor would come too, and sit and talk awhile when her family could not be with her. Not when they were not family themselves.

Erestor was apprehensive, nervous, but would sit close to her and gently take her hand in his, rubbing it with his thumb. He would speak of the weather, or would bring a book and read aloud from her favourite tales and lays, and through them she again began to feel joy and sadness.

Glorfindel was as ever, himself. He had come striding in one morning and sat astride the chair facing her bed, chin resting on folded arms, and had looked at her for a long time before finally speaking. And then he had not given her pity, or pretended that she was as well as he was.

"You were captured by orcs, Celebrian." He had said, and when she had closed her damp eyes and turned her face away, he had added. "The pain will fade, and in time you will forget. Pain. . . this pain, you do not understand this."

She had not replied, and he had not spoken of it again, instead sitting back with a slight smile as he recalled happy memories. Most she knew, but there were some that she had not yet heard. Elrohir and his flute, Arwen dressed up in her father's riding boots, tales of the times when she had only just met her husband. For this she loved him, but she could not live in the past forever.

Elladan would come everyday at the same time, and he would sit for one awkward hour on the window ledge, one leg hanging down into the flower borders on the terrace outside. These were hours of brooding silence, and Celebrian would watch her son's face as he thought, eyes dark and troubled and mouth frozen in a permanent scowl. He could not or would not think of anything to say, save for occasional dutiful comments in much the same tone as he would issue orders. Was she comfortable? Did she want some water? Could he fetch anything? She had tried to reach out to him, to pierce the wall that he had built between them, but so far all attempts had been unsuccessful. She was too weak to even walk over and hold him, and he was too much Elladan to initiate the movement himself.

She would have to wait.

~*~

Celebrian tentatively swung her legs out of the bed, supporting herself heavily on the chairs and small tables as she made her way over to the mirror.

She had always been fond of that mirror - she had had a similar one in Lorien - with flowers and stars carved in the honey coloured wood of the frame. She remembered how apprehensive she had been about coming to live in Imladris, as part of Elrond's family. How she had been afraid that she would not be able to settle in his house - would not be able to find rest in his room.

And then, after the ceremony, as she had tentatively entered their room, she had seen a parcel on the bed. She had unfolded the thin silk wrapping and inside was a mirror, finer even than the one at her home - her childhood home - and purely for her enjoyment.

Sitting down heavily on the small stool, and wincing as the motion pulled on her healing wounds, Celebrian rested her tired arms on the dressing table and idly traced around the tendrils of honeysuckle and roses on the circular frame.

It was just as beautiful as if had ever been, but the wood no longer reminded her of rich honey poured on warm bread. Rather, it was the shade of the creeping fungus that had grown in the shadows of damp rock. She could recall the smell - earthy with a hint of fishiness.

Shuddering, she suddenly held her breath, and sprayed the fresh autumn air with perfume, only relaxing when the room was filled by an unbearably strong scent of roses.

~*~

Glorfindel tore up the steps from the training grounds, hoping to get back to the Lord of Imladris' study in time to work through some of the backlog of papers and problems before dinner. He would gladly have skipped sustenance to work of the matters of the valley, but that was not an option.

The people of the valley needed a leader now more than ever, someone to follow, someone to believe in. The Lord of Imladris was far too busy tending to his wife, tempting her with anything that could possibly persuade her to consume something.

The twins were nowhere to be seen. Elrohir rarely ventured into public places now, and sometimes Glorfindel wondered if the younger twin intended to leave the community altogether. He seemed to gain little pleasure now from the halls, or feasts, or company. Elladan - Glorfindel stopped and turned on the path to look back down at the training fields - Elladan had become rather one-sided of late. Some might even say obsessed.

As he had expected, the older twin was still visible down in the training fields, face surly in its concentration as he spoke to a group of rangers. It would do the boy good to get away from there. It would do the people of the valley good to see at least one son of Elrond at the table. He could not subdue all the evil whispers and rumours alone.

~*~

"Elladan!" Glorfindel called loudly as he strode among the crowd of rangers to reach the half-elf.

The men parted frustratingly slowly, murmuring unclearly through their dark beards. Eventually he was able to see Elladan, scowling fiercely as he practised some new sword move with a heavily built ranger.

It hurt him slightly to see the elfling he had trained since he had been little above knee-high, adopting such moves - mortal tactics that relied more on brute force than skill. There was no beauty or grace in the way the blades danced, each stroke and thrust purely designed to inflict maximum injury. They did not even seem to be aiming, instead attempting to batter the other into submission through their armour.

"Elladan!" Glorfindel halted a few feet away from the pair and raised his eyebrows. "Your presence is required."

The half-elf felled his opponent with a mighty blow to the chest, which Glorfindel thought must surely have cracked some ribs, and rested on the hilt of his sword.

"Where?" Elladan's voice was surly and he wiped sweat from his face with the filthy sleeve of his tunic.

"At dinner." Glorfindel said firmly, face calm while his eyes dared the boy to defy him.

"Dinner?" Elladan said scornfully, turning back slightly to look at the crowd of men behind him, his smile mocking. "I am required to attend dinner?"

Resisting the urge to give the child a hard thump, Glorfindel turned away and headed back to the path, calling behind him, "I shall be waiting."

~*~

Regretting his words suddenly, Elladan sheathed his sword and set off at a run after the blond elf. Much as he wished he could, he could not make everything that had been before disappear with a wish and a curse.

Glorfindel was obviously in a temper, for he was storming up the steps at a fine rate, and it was difficult for the half-elf to catch up. By the time his boots hit the same step as those of his mentor he was drawing in air in painful gasps, each breath sending darts of pain through his chest. Warm sticky liquid was trickling from the old gash in his chest, and he hated himself for that weakness.

"Glor." His pain and breathlessness were clearly audible in his voice, and Glorfindel turned to look at him with humiliating concern.

"I am glad that you have decided to join me." The blond elf's stern face cracked into a grin, and he placed his arm around Elladan's shoulders, allowing the half-elf to relax into it without actually admitting that he needed support. "You are a heavy burden, Elladan. I have no intention of carrying you into that infirmary again."

Elladan smiled ruefully, "No."

Taking this as the closest he would get to an agreement to be more careful, Glorfindel smiled slightly. "I need your help, Elladan. The valley looks for a leader. Your father is indisposed."

Elladan gave the blond elf a sudden sharp look, "And you doubt your capability of taking on such a task?"

His tone spoke of suspicion of some ulterior motive, some trick. Glorfindel sighed. Elladan was right of course, he was perfectly capable of leading the valley for a while, and the main reason for his suggestion was to take Elladan's mind off vengeance. The other reason was not something that he wished to discuss at present.

"Naturally not, but it is not I that they look to." Glorfindel gave Elladan a sly look out of the corner of his eye. "It is your duty. You are the first born son. They look to you now."

"Cannot Elrohir take on the task?" Elladan asked grumpily, hunching his shoulders in such a manner that Glorfindel knew that he had already decided what he must do. "My time can be better used on other. . . duties."

"And what duties might these be?" Glorfindel asked doubtfully, and received a look that confirmed his worst suspicions. "Elladan. . ."

"I will. . ." Elladan declared forcefully, his eyes burning with a dark anger, only to be cut off by Glorfindel pressing two fingers to his lips.

"Take no oaths, Elladan." Glorfindel said gravely, then lifted his finger and tapped Elladan on the nose. "No good will come of it."




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