Celeborn the Wise

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

— Aureriel smiled warmly at the kiss her father gave her. “I am happy, Ada.” She replied happily, how could she not be? She had her parents and Torvald, she may be without her sister but Celebrian would want her to be happy. She looked at the cloak again and giggled, “Knowing my luck the cloak will be too small.” She jested for a moment, even if she was a bit that it wouldn’t fit him. “Why did you and mother allow to stay here?” She asked curiously, always wondering why her most beloved friend was allowed to live in Calas Galadhon.

“I am sure he will cherish it nonetheless,” he chuckled, delighting in hearing her laugh. It was like music to his ears, particularly after what had happened to Celebrian. It was a reminder that there was still light in the world, that even though the darkness was imposing, it was not everything. Sometimes it was all too easy to forget that.

“A number of things. A feeling on my part. Something more on your mothers. And the fact that he makes you happy.”

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wandering-maglor

“Most harbors in this area have been rarely used as of late, but I’m sure that we’ll have no trouble finding this one.” Maglor was familiar with this part of the coastline and he was sure that Celeborn would be perfectly able to remember where he had left their boat. Maglor stood. His soaked clothes clung to his skin and a coat of sand covered his legs from his feet to his knees–an expected result of kneeling on the beach. Shaking the wet strands of his hair away from his face he smiled at Celegorm briefly before he leaned down to pick up the sword.

He slipped his hands between the damp wood of the fallen tree and the sword’s cold steel carefully, wary of the sharp edges as well as the clumsiness of his own damaged hands. Lifting it up he held it flat across his palms. “This is a lovely sword, but I can neither carry it nor wield it. Shall we bring it with us, or leave it to rot with the rest of the relics of our kind?”

“...Let us take it with us as a token of what has gone on here, although it shall be used no more,” Celeborn answered after a moment of thought, carefully lifting the sword and returning it to its sheath where it would remain. He was unsure what would be done with it if they made it to Valinor, but he would cross that bridge when he got to it. If they got to it, that was. But no, he had to remain positive that they would make it.

“Come. Let us leave these shores at last and take with us the last memories of the Eldar on Middle Earth. And if I am weary, I have no doubt that you must be too,” he said softly, gesturing for them to move away up the coast. They would sail, and perhaps they might both see family again.

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wandering-maglor

Maglor was an elf with very few possessions–the traveller’s existence that he had lived for so long necessitated that he be able to move from place to place very quickly, with only things that could be carried easily. He owned the ragged clothes that he wore, the bag slung over his shoulder, and in it he had a spare shirt, a few ancient coins and trinkets, and his small ever-changing collection of maps–which he used with great frequency and skill.

“I assume that you mean a day’s walk north?” Maglor asked, looking out at the sky as the storm dissipated. The feeling of having lost any place that could be called home to active destruction or the ravages of time was one that he knew intimately. While Men rarely outlived their home cities the Elves of Middle Earth had been so often displaced in their long lives that it was truly no surprise that the species had eventually migrated from the continent en masse.

“Aye, north. There is a small harbour there that is seldom used these days and few even seem to remember its existence at the best of times,” he nodded as the storm began to disappear, the fresh scent from the rain still evident in the air. It was refreshing, like a fresh start, beginning anew. They did not know if they would be granted permission to enter Valinor, but nonetheless they could try.

Any possessions that he had were already in the boat, lashed under a tarp. It wasn’t much, some food, a change of clothes and a few things that held more memories than value, but they were valuable personally nonetheless.

“Please understand, I hold you in the highest respect.”

“And I am indeed honoured and grateful for such respect,” Celeborn answered, his head tilting curiously, one silver eyebrow quirked. While he did appreciate the sentiment, it was a rather odd statement to be spoken out of the blue and he could not help but wonder where this conversation was going.

@meludir

meludir

“There is rarely any respite in the Greenwood. And few even call the sickened forest by thst name anymore. They call it the Mirkwood and it saddens my heart, because no one takes time to see the beauty in it,” Meludir said.

“That is why I fight. Why I will continue to do so. In the hopes that one day, this world will be a better place and the children of tomorrow will be able to live in a world without darkness and war and death.”

He sighed, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Forgive me. My words have been less than kind. At times it is difficult to remember I and my people are not the only ones who suffer,”

“There is beauty in it still, if people will only have the patience to look for it. And yet so few seem to have that patience to look for the beauty in things anymore, another sadness come of the shadow on this world.”

Celeborn listened quietly to the other elf’s words. He could understand perfectly how the younger felt, had felt it himself often enough, and he took no offence at the abruptness of the words. He had been lucky enough to experience some years of almost peace under the safety of Melian’s girdle, but there had always been that shadow.

“You are forgiven, mellon nin, for I can understand your words perfectly and take no offence at them.The days are dark, but we push through and hope that there will be light on the other side, but it is always too easy to remember about the suffering of those apart from you when your own are suffering greatly,” he answered, resting a hand on the other’s shoulder lightly.

#meludir #v: main

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

— Aureriel smiled as her fingers ran over the stitches. “I remember the story, you still have it.” She replied turning to look at him. “Torvald gets cold and he needs a better cloak for when he goes riding.” She continued, the cloak was of dark moss green and the embroidered thread a deeper green. One much like what the wardens of their city wear.

“I am glad you and mother let him stay here. He is my dearest friend.” She spoke warmly as she brought the cloak to her lips.

“Although she did overestimate the breadth of my shoulders,” he chuckled fondly. He was still very fond of that cloak, even if it was just a little big. It held memories and it had been good for keeping warm in the harsher winters due to the way he could wrap it around himself.

“It is good to see you happy, sweet one,” he smiled, kissing the top of her head gently.

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

— Aureriel smiled at the feeling of her fathet touching her hair. “I do not wish for them.” She replied as she went about her stitching again. After a few moments she smiled holding out the embroidered cloak. “Do you think Torvald will like it, father?” She asked speaking of the young mortal man who lived in Calas Galadhon.

Torvald was her best friend as well as her protector.

“I am sure he will love it, my sweetling,” he smiled, letting his eyes rove over the embroidery. It was a fine cloak and would do the young man well, he had little doubt about it. The only thing that saddened him was the fact that he was mortal and at some point his daughter would have to deal with his death.

“I remember your mother making me a similar style of cloak back when we were young, in Doriath.”

Starter Call

#ooc

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

— “You need not apologize, Ada.” She assured, “We all are plauged with them in different time in our life.” She continued, before she placed another kiss on his hand. A bright smile then spread over her lips, “Come, sit with me.” She spoke once more, patting the empty space next to her. She loved the time she spent with her father, he like her mother was very important to her. She was always loved his silver hair, wishing she was like the stars more then the sun in her young years.

Celeborn smiled softly as he rose to take a seat beside her, one hand reaching up to tuck a golden tress of hair neatly behind her ear. She had taken after her mother in that regard, where Celebrian had taken after him in her hair colour. His gold and silver girls, he had always called them fondly as they ran through the trees, calling for him to chase them in whatever game they’d come up with.

“And I hope nothing will ever happen to you to give you ones similar to mine, penneth.”

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wandering-maglor

Maglor nodded, pleased by Celegorm’s answer. It seemed as though he had planned ahead for their proposed journey and that spoke well for the ease of their trip. Journeys made in haste with few preparations tended to encounter more problems in the long run.

Briefly Maglor wondered how he would be received should he be allowed to return to Valinor. Would he be hated? Avoided? He was reasonably sure that his mother would accept him, but there would be precious few otherwise that had loved him dearly enough to overlook his sins. Perhaps it would be better to simply die–to go to the Halls of Mandos to wait for the end of all days with his brothers if they were there–for he missed them more than anyone else. Maybe he would be able to ascertain their fate when he and Celeborn arrived.

It was that thought that solidified his decision to go deep in his Fëa. “When would you like to leave? For there is nothing here that I have left unfinished, I have no ties to this place.”

Celeborn had made sure to secure a boat the moment he had decided upon his plan of action. It was small, enough to suit the two of them, or if Maglor had refused, just himself. He had a small bag of his possessions, although they were few and far between and some food to hopefully last the journey. He did not know how long this journey would take if they were granted permission to enter.

While part of him was excited at the thought that more than had sailed would be there, it also made him uncertain. His parents had died when he had been little more than an elfling, and Thingol had been more like a father to him. Thingol, who he had last seen coated in blood and gore. He had sat long, washing the blood from that silver hair and the countless wounds, closing the eyes that still held that look of anger and betrayal. To see him alive now...he did not know how he would react to that.

“I have said my goodbyes to these lands, travelled far across them. All the places I have called home are gone now, faded or destroyed. I have nothing else to do. The boat is perhaps a days walk from here.”

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

— After a few moments Aureriel placed her hand on her father’s. “Do not worry. I have moved passed my grief for sometime now but i can still miss her.” She replied with a smile before placing a small kiss to his hand. Even at her age she had not found a partner or had a child.

She had raised two children not of her womb already. She missed being a mother, but would not have any if she did not love her partner.

His daughter’s hand on his pulled him from his darker thoughts and he blinked before looking at her, managing to put a small smile on his face. True, he had lost much, that could not be denied, but he still had his wife and his other little girl to think of, still here with him.

“As I do. I apologise, penneth, my mind was lost on darker times.”

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

— Aureriel looked up at her father, “I know she suffers no long now. But I can not shake the pain from my heart. With all that I know of plants and healing did nothing. I felt as though I fail her and so many others because I could do nothing.” She replied, place a fair hand to her chest. For many years she would not leave her room after her sister departed.

What brought her out was a dwarf, a young wounded dwarf by the name of Thorin Oakenshield. He was wounded in the forest ill and near death, and she saved him.

It hurt to know how his youngest daughter felt, especially given how much her feelings mirrored his own. That sense of failure that he had not been able to protect her, that he had not been able to make everything better for her, that he had not been there for her to stop all of this from happening. His silver haired girl.

And it seemed to him as if he was destined to lose all the silver haired girls in his life. First Nimloth, his little niece and then his own daughter.

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

— Aureriel looked at him with a look of thought, “But you and mother had me during the start of this age. Was that not a dark time?” She asked placing her stitching in her lap. “I think i would have liked a little brother or sister..” she fell silent for a moment remembering her long departed sister, Celebrian. “I miss her still, Ada.”

“It was a dark time, yes, but your mother and I have seen many dark times together,” he answered softly, getting to his feet and moving towards his younger daughter, gently clasping her shoulder as he knelt beside her, “I know, sweetling. I miss her too, very much.”

Indeed, he couldn’t put into words how much the departure of Celebrian had pained him, but seeing her suffering had been infinitely worse.

Father Dearest || aureriel & celeborn

sheisthesxnlight

[ @celebornlordoflothlorien ]

— “Ada,” Aureriel asked sweetly, “Why are there so few children of our kin?” She asked curiously, never really see many her age. The golden haired elleth was the spitting image of her lady mother, Galadriel and just as radiant. Even at her age, nearly over three-thousand years, she was still curious.

Celeborn raised his head from his book, an eyebrow quirking at his daughter’s question. Even now she still surprised him and he set his book aside, pursing his lips for a moment before doing his best to answer, “Large families have never been common among the Eldar. And many now still feel wary of the shadow upon these lands. They do not wish to bring a child up under such a shadow, I presume. Why do you ask, penneth?”

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wandering-maglor

“Artanis has always been understanding of what seem to be the strangest things.” Maglor mused, half-smiling at the thought. For while Galadriel as he remembered her could sometimes be tolerant, but she also had been known to be short tempered and dominating when amongst her hoard of loud cousins. Galadriel was ever the most strong-willed of them, and it had showed in her longevity and success in life.

Maglor mused on this, avoiding the subject of his potential return to Valinor entirely. He had dwelt upon the things that he had left behind many times over his lengthy existence, his homeland, his mother, the music halls where he had first performed. It had always been pointless to contemplate, but that did not stop him from yearning. Now the possibility of going was his and he was not sure how to feel. Surely it was better to at least try to return, rather than sit and wait for death on these shores, but that did not mean that it was not frightening. Over their heads the storm began to clear, the rain transforming from a deluge into a steady patter. Maglor wondered–briefly–if Elrond would be willing to see him should he make it to Valinor.

“Do you have a boat? I’m afraid that at this point in my life I’m rather soured to the idea of stealing one.”

“Indeed she has, and never afraid of speaking her mind. I can truly say that I have never had a dull moment with her,” the love Celeborn held for her was evident in the way he spoke about her, the way his eyes shone at her mention. He had been in love with her from the moment he had first set eyes on her, her arrival in Doriath reminding him of when he had gazed upon the sun for the first time. And then she had knocked him out of a tree with a potato a few days later.

He had often wondered who would be there to greet them, should they sail. His wife and his daughter of course had sailed, as had his grandsons and his son-in-law. His cousin too, but other than those people, all of his family were dead and he couldn’t help but wonder if any had yet been released from Mandos’ halls. Would Thingol be there? Melian presumably would. What about his parents, his brother, little Nimloth? Dior? Elured and Elurin, Elwing? Oropher, or even Elmo? For indeed it had been over six thousand years since many of them had ever lived, was that time enough in the halls? And even that thought still saddened him, remembering that there were those he would not see, never again. Luthien, his little Arwen. Lost to him forever now.

“I have. I was able to procure one before I made my journey here. It is small, but fully functional and of good quality.”

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