To Lose Hope, is To Give Up

A/N: As always many thanks to my beta Erulisse.

Chapter 9: Any hope ?

Celeborn stretched his back, after he secured the last items onto the great wagon ready to depart for home, and looked with satisfaction at the work done so far. Many days had passed and now the damaged part of the house had been restored and a new roof had been attached. He knew there was much work left, especially inside, but the most important steps were done, and this was necessary to help lift the spirits of the Rivendell elves. They were still busy removing the last remnants of the fire but soon they would have time to come to terms with what had happened. Afterwards, they would all feel the depression that held the valley in its’ grip much clearer.

The absence of their Lord could be felt everywhere. Many had returned to their day-to-day lives but the dark haired Elf-Lord´s spirit was too deeply connected to the well-being of the valley and because of that his presence was greatly missed.

Celeborn sighed, as he saw his daughter sitting on a stone bench in her favourite rose garden with her sons to the left and right of her. The two elflings looked downcast, not yet knowing what had happened to their father, but nonetheless feeling that something was amiss. Until now they had refused to allow the children to see their father, because they feared they would not be able to explain what had happened. For days, they had not eaten properly despite all efforts to distract them and they hardly left their mother´s side.

When he spotted his wife, waving at him and pointing at the children, he walked over to his daughter, picked up an elfling and sat beside the trio. “Hello you two,” he said and smiled at the sad faces looking back at him. “Would you like to join your grandmother? She has a surprise for you!”

Hesitantly looking up at their mother, Celebrían nodded encouragingly. Looking at each other the boys communicated silently and finally walked toward their waiting grandmother. She waited until her mother had received them, then Celebrían´s expression fell and tears came again to her eyes.

Closing the space between them, Celeborn laid an arm gently around his daughter’s shoulders and held her against his chest. “Do not despair yet,” he whispered. “Maybe he needs his time to heal.” Without looking up Celebrían shook her head. “I know you mean well, Ada,” she whispered, “but even Centhar has nearly lost hope. This morning I overheard him speaking to Glorfindel and Erestor. He asked them to take over Elrond’s duties.”

Having spoken these words so often in the past days the silver haired Elf-Lord sighed knowing that even his hope was waning now. “This means nothing, yet someone must take over the duties necessary to run this community and…”

Celeborn was interrupted as his daughter jerked away and looked at him with watery eyes. “How can our lives return to normal? They cannot replace him and we cannot simply go on, as if nothing has happened!” she shouted. “He’s still alive! Why did he have to go back to rescue this human?” Shaking violently, Celebrían sank to her knees knowing that her anger was misdirected and shameful.

Celeborn quickly knelt in the grass next to her and embraced his distressed child again. “I’m sorry, Ada,” she sobbed. “I didn’t mean what I just said.” Laying a finger under her chin, Celeborn titled the head of his daughter up. “Have faith. Elrond will recover. His time on Arda isn’t over yet. If you desire we can stay a little longer.”

Searching her father´s eyes for the meaning of this cryptic statement, Celebrían smiled faintly. “No, Ada. I am feeling better already. Thank you. I promise we will manage.” Wiping the remaining tears from his daughter´s face Celeborn smiled back. “Of that I’m sure, my dear. And now try to get some rest. Don’t worry about the boys, your mother and I will keep them occupied.”

…………………………………………………

Glorfindel stepped silently into the dimmed room and looked hopefully, as always, at the pale figure on the bed.  As usual he was greeted by closed eyes. The room was filled with the intense scent of athelas, vaporized in a steaming bowl of hot water to ease the Elf-Lord’s laboured breathing. This time however the magic plant seemed to fail. Glorfindel was not relaxed by inhaling the steam either. The affected breathing of the Elf-Lord however was not the greatest cause for concern. Elrond’s lungs would recover given time, but the distressing fact that the Elf-lord had not woken yet shocked all. Elrond had been unconscious for nearly four weeks now and there was nothing that indicated this would change anytime soon.

With a shuddering breath Glorfindel sat down in the overstuffed chair near the bed and looked at the unmoving figure. The burns were healing nicely, albeit slowly because of the lack of conscious efforts from the dark haired elf. But what worth did this have when he did not regain consciousness? Many thoughts circled in his mind of late and for the first time in his life he did not really know how to go on.

What if the Elf-Lord´s brain was damaged too much and he would never regain consciousness? What if he would wake up and was not able to lead Rivendell any longer? Both options were terrible images for the ones who hoped day-by-day that all would turn out well in the end. On the outside, Glorfindel still held the hope high for the sake of Elrond´s family but deep inside, he had nearly reached the end of his endurance. Bowing his head in despair, the golden warrior could no longer hold back the tears he had held in check for so long, and he was grateful that no one was witnessing this. All looked to him for guidance and strength and he played his part with much self control and will power. After weeks of hard labour and hoping every day for relieving news from the healers, he was weary beyond measure in both body and spirit.

He jerked up, when someone touched his shoulder lightly and quickly slipped his mask of confidence back in place. “Please take my seat”, he said softly to Celebrían, yet the look on her face told him that she had seen through his charade. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she whispered. The golden haired warrior shook his head and embraced the silver haired woman. Quickly hot tears soaked his tunic and so they stood relishing each other’s comfort. As Centhar entered the room, they broke apart and Glorfindel planted a kiss on Celebrían´s forehead and squeezed her arm reassuringly.

After closing the door quietly, he walked aimlessly down the corridor toward the destroyed part of the house. The outer walls were restored by now, yet the interior still looked chaotic. Even worse was the smell. The smell of fire burning was always there. It had penetrated every piece of furniture. The inhabitants had removed all draperies and hangings and all coverings and linens, either burned or unharmed, but the smell could not be driven away.

This corridor was the last to be restored, because no important rooms, like the kitchen or the healing ward lay here and had needed immediate attention. This day Glorfindel and many other inhabitants had the first opportunity to look through what may have remained of their personal belongings. Reaching his chambers, he climbed over a black pile of molten items, no longer recognizable. After a look around, he realized that not much was left of the room he called his. Unenthusiastically he poked at the scattered items at the floor not hoping to find anything he could still use.

Suddenly however his eyes widened, as he glimpsed his bow, lurking under the remnants of his bed. Quickly he removed the burned wooden beams and blackened sheets and could hardly believe his eyes. The bow was unharmed and it seemed as if the fire had made a curve around it. A smile crept back onto his face. The bow was a precious gift and had served him well.

With new confidence, he searched further and found many items the fire had spared. Stowing the things in a bag, he took a last look around and left the now useless room, walking down the corridor toward his temporary new home. The old rooms would be restored, if possible, but for now there were much more pressing things to attend to.

Walking by the twins’ bedroom, he stopped again and stepped through the gaping door frame, now lacking its’ door. Standing in the middle of the destroyed chamber, he shuddered as he thought about how much more disastrous the outcome could have become if the twins had not slept in their parent´s bed that night. He did not know if anyone would have been able to rescue the children. Then he sighed. The outcome was bad enough already.

Glimpsing something well known on the floor, he bent down to retrieve two fluffy stuffed toy horses made by Celebrían. They were a little dirty and tousled but otherwise unharmed. He stuffed them into his tunic knowing how cherished they were by their owners.

When he heard a commotion outside, he walked through the still supported main door and realized that the helpers were ready to depart. Having expressed his thanks already, he stopped before Galadriel and Celeborn and bowed with his fist over his heart.

Celeborn squeezed the hand of the golden haired warrior firmly after his wife had embraced Lord Elrond´s chief councillor. Waving toward the window where Celebrían stood the two wood elves nodded and turned. Glorfindel knew that Celebrían had said her farewell already.

Standing there until the procession was out of sight he turned and headed back inside. He had another task left to attend to, hoping that any item worth rescuing had survived.

To be continued……………………..