Maglor

When the door has slammed shut behind Elrond’s back, the dull ache that has been smouldering in my chest since yesterday flares up the brighter. I lower my hand shading my eyes against the sudden light. Maybe the light will blind me, and the white-washed room will fade in the grey, formless space that has almost claimed me once already.

It does not. The swaying branches cast a lace of shadows on the windowsill. Tiny dust motes dance shimmering in a patch of the Sun a little above the floor. A glass on the bedside table casts a colourful reflection as a ray of light falls through it. “You are in the darkness because you turn away from the light!” But I have no right to reach for the bliss and joy the light brings. I should return to the shadows.

Still, I cannot make myself rise. Not yet. The Sun is warm on my face, and I have been in the cold for so long. Just a few more moments. A few more moments of comfort, and then I will get up, then I will draw the curtains, shut out the light, shut out the warmth, the intertwined themes of birdsongs…

The… intertwined themes of birdsongs…?

Breath hitches in my chest as I unsteadily approach the open window. The garden is basking in the glow of spring morning, and air hums with a harmony of sounds: soft creaking of boughs, chirping of crickets, buzzing of bees. Trilling of birds.

A whirlwind of melodies enfolds me, and I sink to my knees on the floor. Was she right, the Lady of Stars? Was music here all the time, only I refused to listen?

***

Later I walk in the garden. Fruit tree blossoms gleam white in the Sun, and at a sudden gust of wind petals swirl and flutter in the air. The grass is soft and vibrantly green. Flowers in shades of yellow, pink and purple line the footpath. A tiny bird lands in a nearby bush and sends forth a cascade of notes. A dove is cooing somewhere in the distance. A little brook follows the path, leaping over the stones with a tinkle.

I sit down on a garden bench in the shade of willows and draw my hand over the armrest again and again, savouring the cool, smooth surface of the stone. I can feel. I can hear music and speak with my own voice again. What an undeserved, unexpected blessing! A faint spark of hope flickers, so faint that I hardly dare to acknowledge it, lest it goes out. I will ask Elrond to forgive me. And one day... maybe one day I will seek out my family. I touch the ring on my finger. A mere thought of Auriel and our children makes me slightly dizzy. Oh, to see them again, to hold them, to hear their voices! My son and my daughter have grown; maybe at least one of them has chosen to follow the path of music. Maybe they have their own children now. Pictures come to my mind, I imagine my grandchildren running and playing in the yard of our house. I do not even know if the house still stands… but one day I might go to Tirion and find out. I might—

“I am glad to see you in sunlight.”

I did not hear the approaching steps and now jump to my feet at the sound of the melodious woman’s voice.

Lady Celebrían laughs. “I am sorry I startled you; I did not realize you were so deep in thought. I hope you were not thinking of anything sad though.”

“No, nothing sad, my lady. I was merely... remembering. And earlier, I was thinking about…” I fall silent briefly, and when I find the words, they surprise me. “I was thinking about joy. How awkward to feel it again. It is like a garment that does not entirely fit any longer.”

“It will fit again, one day. You will see.”

The unexpected weight of her words, the sudden shift in her expression is strange; it is almost as if this fair woman with the kind gaze and ready smile indeed knew what it meant to be without hope. And also… that far-off look in her eyes and her posture now remind me of—

“Are you well?” Hearing me gasp, she tilts her head, and now the likeness is even more startling.

“Yes, I am. It is just… You remind me of someone. Of my cousin.”

Lady Celebrían smiles. “I have been told that sometimes I do resemble my mother quite closely.” When I sway, her amusement fades at once. She helps me back to the garden bench and sits beside me. “I thought you knew.”

I shake my head. “I have been… quite detached from the events of the world for some time.” Artanis’ daughter! Who would have thought…

“For some time,” she softly repeats. “You have been alone for centuries. None should endure such loneliness. I am so sorry.”

Her compassion moves me deeply. “That is nobody’s fault but my own, lady Celebrían. I made choices and faced consequences.”

“As we all must, do we not?” She sighs. “But surely now you can look at the world with hope? Is your heart not lighter?”

I look up at the cloudless sky. Here I sit in the sunshine, healed in body at least, free from pain, with that tiny spark of hope still flickering within me. And do I not owe it to those who still care for me – to forbear causing them any further grief? I take a deep breath. “My heart is indeed lighter, lady. I am most grateful for your kindness and for the care your sons have bestowed upon me. And… your husband, despite the anger and dark memories my presence must have brought.”

The lady tilts her head again, in that peculiar way so reminiscent of Artanis.

“I do not think you understand my husband too well, so let me tell you a story,” she says. “It was in the Second Age. I am not certain how much of its history you know, but in short: my mother and me, we dwelt in Ost-in-Edhil, a fair city close to the Misty Mountains. Celebrimbor was its lord. He welcomed to the guild of his smiths an enemy, someone my mother repeatedly warned him against. Seeing that she could not sway his mind, at length she despaired and decided that we should leave the place ere disaster fell. So, we departed with but a small following, my mother and me. We were to journey south-east and join my father in Lórinand.

“It was a long way. The Dwarves granted us passage through Hadhodrond, but they suffered only me and my mother to pass under the mountains.  The rest of our company had to travel around, and we agreed on a place where we would meet on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains.

“We tarried for a few days in the Dwarven city as honoured guests, and it seemed a great adventure to me then, as I was still very young and had seen little of the world. But mother, wearied by the roof of stone, soon decided to press on. She refused the guards King Durin offered, maybe out of pride, but I think that rather out of carelessness. We had dwelt in peace for such a long time that unexpected perils seemed unlikely. Yet we were soon to learn better. Two days from the eastern gate of Hadhodrond we ran into Orcs.”

Lady Celebrían falls silent and clasps together her hands.

“You do not have to recall events that distress you, my lady,” I quietly say, but she shakes her head.

“No, I must tell you this. So… the encounter. Thankfully, it was but a small band that attacked us. My mother, as you perhaps know, is a formidable fighter, and I had learned to wield weapons while dwelling in Ost-in-Edhil, so, even though terrified, I was able to hold my ground. In the end, we prevailed over them. Mother had taken a light wound, but it seemed no more than a scratch. We journeyed on.

“Evening fell, and we made a camp, certain to reach the appointed meeting place on the next day. But during the night mother sickened. The wound was poisoned. It must have been a potent poison, for her condition worsened swiftly, and at dawn she was already burning in fever, hardly recognizing me.

“It was a miserable road from there. Stones and mud hindered my steps as I half-carried my barely conscious mother. I vaguely recall how she pleaded me to leave her, her voice hardly audible, fraught with pain. But it did not bring forth my compassion. Desperate and furious, I dragged her along. I may have shouted at her. I may have shaken her. I do not recall. Helpless rage is the only thing I remember with clarity. How dare she give up? How dare she even admit a thought of leaving me? In the end we stumbled into the camp where others already waited for us. Thankfully, one of them was a gifted healer. But it was a near thing.”

Silence falls. Lady Celebrían is looking down, twining a blade of grass around her finger.

“Why did you tell me this, lady?”

“Why?” Pulled from her thoughts, she looks up with a slight shake of her head. “So that you would understand the bereavement of a child who is about to lose a parent,” she softly replies after a long look into my eyes. “It was not your presence that angered Elrond, but the possibility that you might die. Even as I regretted my bearing then, so he regrets his unkind words now. Sometimes it is not lack of love that drives us towards cruelty, but excess of it. Do you not see? Do you not know he loves you as a son loves his father?”

My heart clenches. “My lady… this love is misplaced. I am not worthy of it. Not after what I did. After what we did, me and my brother.”

“After what you did?” Lady Celebrían takes a firm hold of my hands. “I have heard of that, the true stories, not those who paint you and your brother as heartless beasts. Finding two lost, frightened children, you sheltered and raised them. You loved them.”

“But still, we are beasts, my lady,” I softly reply. “We did all that after we had razed to the ground their home, killed nearly all their people and driven their mother to destruction. All that makes void any later kindness.”

“It does not.” Her eyes flash in another striking resemblance to her mother. “Kindness is never void. For your crimes you have atoned, long and bitterly, and you have been forgiven. It is your choice now – to accept this forgiveness or to turn away from it. I hope you will choose the former. Please, speak with Elrond. He has travelled away for a brief while, but he should be back tomorrow after midday.”

With a smile that softens her grave words she rises and turns to leave.

And suddenly I remember.

It was that one and only time when I travelled north in these last centuries. By mere chance I had heard of the mountain refuge and its half-Elven lord, and questions had burned in my mind, until I was not able to disregard them any longer. The valley was indeed hidden well; it took me weeks of futile search and several perilous climbs to find it.

In the first light of a spring morning I hid in a thicket of trees on a rocky outcrop. Shrouds of mist lifted. The valley and the Last Homely House lay at my feet. Countless waterfalls glittered on the rocks like silver ribbons. Far below, river murmured over the stones. It was one of the most beautiful places I had ever seen, enshrouded in a strange kind of peace.

Below, people appeared and started to arrange the place for some celebration. They adorned the wide terrace with green boughs and flower garlands, brought out tables and laid them. More and more people came. At length, lord and lady of the house stepped on the terrace, accompanied by two youths, apparently their sons. A song greeted Lady of Imladris, wife of Elrond, on her begetting day, and even though I was too far to discern faces clearly, there was no more doubt.

The celebration went on with more songs and laughter. The lady received presents: a tree sapling she at once planted on the edge of the lawn, a beautiful horse with silver coat and dark mane, and other smaller ones I did not clearly see from the distance. There was mirth and dancing on the green lawn.

Evening fell. Moon rose over the mountains. The feast ended and the crowd dispersed, but Elrond remained on the terrace together with his wife. Long they stood there with clasped hands, her silver head resting on his shoulder. What right did I have to destroy their peace, to taint their happiness? Blunt ache clawing at my heart, I turned away, faded in the shadows. It was the right thing to do.

All this flashes through my mind in mere moments. I rise to stop her.

“Lady Celebrían—” I fall silent as she looks over her shoulder. What would I say? That I have seen her before? That I have spied upon her family from a hidden place? I shake my head. “Nothing, my lady. It is nothing of importance.”

“If you say so. May I ask you something though?” She takes a step back towards me. “Could you call me by name? I have always thought of you as of Elrond’s father anyway.”

“I… Yes, certainly. If that is what you indeed wish… Celebrían.”

She smiles. “That is indeed what I wish, Adar.”

The word passes her lips so easily, and the garden around blurs for a moment.

“Thank you, Celebrían. For your kindness towards me. And mostly for being beside Elrond for all this time.”

Surely, I am only imagining the sudden shadow over Celebrían’s face and the brief fading of her smile?