#:: verse :: apprentice to the loremaster ::

[celevrian]

@pertadhel redirected from here

Elrond   stood   still   at   the   embrace   given,   eyes   close   upon   dear   touch   and   breath   her   in,   his   heart   heavy   with   the   burdens   of   the   past   days   and   nights,   yet   also   inexplicably   lightened   by   the   warmth   of   her   touch.   The   weight   of   their   shared   grief   lay   between   them,   an   unspoken   acknowledgment   of   what   they   had   lost,   of   the   beauty   shattered   and   lives   cruelly   extinguished   in   Eregion. He   opened   his   eyes,   his   gaze   falling   tenderly   on   Celebrian   as   he   drew   her   closer,   one   hand   moving   to   the   back   of   her   head,   cradling   her   as   gently   as   if   she   were   something   precious   he   feared   breaking.   "I   am   here,"   he   whispered,   his   voice   carrying   the   gentleness   he   often   muster   for   the   sake   of   everyone.   "And   so   are   you." Elrond   pulled   back   slightly   to   look   at   her,   his   face   lined   with   exhaustion   but   softened   by   deep   compassion.   "True   fear   has   touched   us   both,"   he   said,   voice   thick   with   emotion   he   usually   kept   well   hidden.   "But   we   are   not   defeated.   Not   as   long   as   we   can   still   find   each   other   in   the   aftermath."   He   searched   her   eyes,   trying   to   will   some   fragment   of   hope   into   the   broken   spaces   left   in   their   souls. "Celebrimbor   is   gone,...   yet   we   live,   and   that   means   we   have   the   power   to   endure,   even   to   heal."   He   lifted   a   hand   to   brush   a   strand   of   hair   from   her   face,   the   smallest   act   of   comfort   in   the   face   of   everything   they   had   witnessed.   "I   had   many   things   precious   to   me   lost   today.   I   am   glad   you   are   not   among   them."

It was as if a well of open emotion at last let go, and she leaned heavily into his embrace, clinging tightly as if he was a dream that would leave her in the nightmare once again. Yet there was his touch, gentle and delicate; there was his voice, and his strength amidst the strain of exhaustion. He assured her of his existence, of the truth of his being there. Not a dream, nor a vision meant to torment her. Here in spite of it all.

Her tears fell easily with his words, relieved--barely restrained from the edge of despair, but tethered to safety by him. The bewildered shock was ebbing, and she leaned her into his brief touch. "You have no idea how much I hoped you would come. This entire siege--weeks of despair. I clung to the hope you would arrive somehow, even though I half expected to perish at any moment." her voice felt distant, detached from her body as her mind relived again the numerous times she'd narrowly dodged a falling rock, a wall, a sword.

"Gone. . ." her echo was whispered, and silver pools lifted to look at him, her lips trembling as her chest ached. "Gone but not forgotten. I saw him in the end, he had regained himself at last after weeks of madness. He died nobly, he died well." she knew he did very likely did not know much of what had happened, she wanted him to. He was Celebrimbor's friend. But he was right, they would heal, stronger than they were now, and they would see their friends again one day. Hope had survived, and so had they. That was enough to build from, for lingering in death would only allow the darkness to win.

In mirroring, her hand moved to his cheek. "My heart sings to see you, Elrond." She said, her thumb stroking the line across his cheek with gentle care. "I worried when I heard you were the commander of the army. I may not be a fighter, but even I knew it was an impossible battle to win." Her tears were drying, and her brow furrowed in concern. So strong he was, so brave, but she could not help but ask now that her own fears were slowly draining away in his arms:

"Are you alright?"

[celevrian]

Celebrian stepped forward, bringing their joined hands to her chest. she listened to his words but they were hard to believe, no matter how much she wanted to. Elrond called her strong ( strong, her mind repeated ) and she struggled to understand why. Her view of strength was skewed, she suspected, growing up with who she did. Strength by her definition was her mother's entire existence, and anything less. . . well, Celebrian knew she was definitely less.

She had no desire to fight battles, nor to rule realms. She intimidated no one, and she did not wish to. There was fear in her bones, she knew it well. Yet, he called her strong. Radiant, an easing presence. She may never understand why, or rather may never believe it, but----

There   is   no   need   to   change   yourself,   no   need   to   be   anything   other   than   what   you   are.

It was too much. Her mind ran blank, unable to form words in reply, and her free hand moved to touch his mouth. To stop the words perhaps? She didn't know, but it was instinct and she could not say the words to express her feelings. "Elrond," She said with a laugh, eyes upon his own. "Please. A moment I beg. . . I am not used to so many compliments. You've caught me at a loss for words."

She leaned her forehead against his own, and breathed to try and settle into this newfound place. At his side. "Well then. . ." Her fingers moved from his lips a little to one side and she placed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Elrond’s   gaze   softened,   a   warmth   filling   his   heart   as   Celebrian   spoke.   The   sincerity   in   her   words   touched   him   in   a   way   few   things   could.   He   marveled   at   her   courage,   the   vulnerability   she   offered   him.   Celebrian,   whose   strength   and   grace   were   often   concealed   in   gentle   silence,   was   now   before   him,   sharing   her   thoughts,   bare   and   unguarded.   He   knew   what   it   was   to   stand   in   the   shadow   of   great   lineage,   to   bear   the   weight   of   expectations   others   could   not   understand—and   to   feel   unseen   despite   it   all.

“I   see   you   as   you   are,   and   it   is   a   gift   to   know   you.   If   you   could   see   yourself   as   I   do,   you   would   know   how   strong   and   radiant   you   are,   not   just   because   of   your   lineage,   but   for   the   light   you   bring.   I   am   grateful   for   your   words.   They   are   far   more   precious   than   any   crafted   speech.”   Her   fingers   traced   the   lines   of   his   hand,   her   touch   delicate   and   hesitant,   and   he   felt   his   heart   stir,   a   quiet   sense   of   completeness   settling   within   him.

He   had   found   comfort   in   her   presence,   a   sanctuary   in   her   gentle   spirit,   and   he   wanted   nothing   more   than   to   be   that   same   refuge   for   her.   “Your   presence   already   eases   more   than   you   know.   There   is   no   need   to   change   yourself,   no   need   to   be   anything   other   than   what   you   are.   To   be   with   you   like   this   is…   more   than   I   could   have   hoped   for.”

He   smiled,   his   thumb   brushing   lightly   against   her   hand,   joining   their   hands   after   a   moment.   In   the   quiet   that   followed,   he   savored   the   simplicity   of   her   words   and   the   bond   they   created   between   them,   a   connection   both   fragile   and   unbreakable.   "It   would   be   my   honor.   To   have   you   at   my   side."

[celevrian]

. . . update to the rings of power verse . . .

Celebrían was born shortly before the War of Wrath. Celeborn, her father, most beloved and last tie for her mother to the earth below her feet, marched to war with promises of return . . . And never did. The last straw to her mother, and she joined the army, becoming a commander. Memory is thin, and though she was left in trustworthy hands, Celebrían became lost. Knowing only one thing: her parents had discussed moving east, and so Celebrían headed east, barely avoiding death and danger on every side. She was found by Amdír, a prince of Doriath, who took her in and adopted her as his daughter to be raised beside his son, Amroth. When he migrated to Lorinand, Celebrían went with him.

In the second age, she is known as the princess of Lorinand, and recognized as Amdírs daughter. But she desired learning, and she crossed the mountains into Eregion seeking Ost-in-edhil. Celebrimbor welcomed her and took her into his home as a guest. There she became the apprentice of the Loremaster, and the rest follows as previously stated. Admiration filled her for Celebrimbor who became a dear friend and mentor.

Concerning her mother and father, Celebrian believes that both are dead. And though she has heard the name "Galadriel" spoken in Celebrimbors halls, she has not come across her. The name means nothing to her, as young as she was when she was lost, she only recalled her as 'Naneth'.

[celevrian]

" what are you doing ? " the maia peered over the lady's shoulder, curiousity plain in her eyes, eager to find out what beauty might be created by her hands. ( vardamaiden )

Inbox Answered---

--- "I'm attempting a landscape." Celebrían replied, looking from the setting sun to the canvas before her and not yet glancing to the presence behind. It was still blocky and lacking in depth, and though Celebrían tried, she couldn't understand how to make it better. "Not a very good attempt, but at least I'm trying."

She heaved a sigh, mixing her colors a little differently and trying a few new brushstrokes. It looked a little better.

"Perhaps I need to take a break before I throw it in the river." At last she looked behind, blinked, and studied her guest. "Hello. Where did you come from?'

@vardamaiden

[celevrian]

❝ no harm will come to you, you have my word on that. ❞

Inbox Answered---

--- It was hard to believe his words surrounded by broken dreams. Remnants of a nightmare shattered on the steps of reality, and yet she still stood, silver gaze wet from tears. . . A gaze which looked upon him wretchedly. She had not meant for anyone to find her thus, still reeling from the screams within her mind that echoed for all eternity. She wanted to believe him, wanted to have faith that someone would keep her safe amidst the chaos they would soon be living.

She breathed, shuddering and ragged. "You cannot save me. No one can save me." She whispered distantly, for the visions in her mind had been with her since she could recall life crowded her mind. She did not really see him, too engrossed in fire and crumbling towers, the faces of orcs, and the hands of shadows come to tear at her. Banners made of bodies, and a city turned to ash. Pain, so much pain, and screaming voices but all of them were hers. Screaming for mercy, for justice, for an end of the fire and pain and loss--

A gasp dragged heavily through her lungs and once again she was in her favorite hiding place, brought back to present like a plunge in cold water. Aemond before her, she reached a hand out to grasp at his arm, grounding herself. What had he said? No harm will come to you. An echo played, and she offered him a small smile. "Will you protect me then?" She asked, though her other hand drifted to his cheek, resting just below his missing eye. "But who will protect you?"

[celevrian]

❝ only lies offend me, never honest counsel. ❞

Inbox Answered---

--- "Well then, we should be able to get along quite well. I see no reason to lie when it comes to counsel. It lacks creativity and foresight, the latter because inevitably lies are always revealed, and the former because it's far more fun to solve things. " she paused and hummed, a finger going to her lips before she rattled on too much. "Though I will confess, my knowledge is limited from history, and history is biased by the mind of its recorder."

it was a problem she regularly ran into with her studies, for all of elven memory one would think the accounts of fact would be given more breadth of understanding. But over time she'd found a certain fallibility in accounts where the authors could only give hearsay, or opinion based information. It had slowly become her greatest annoyance, for such details contradicted one another, and left her huffing as she slid another book upon a shelf and silently questioned all of reality.

"I will give what counsel I can all the same." She continued on, toying with the feather in her hand as she opened her mouth, and froze. A blank met her inquiry of where she'd been going with that. "I'm sorry, what was your question?"

[celevrian]

it is a force more powerful than evil. it is death itself. (Amroth)

Inbox Answered---

--- "Death is not so bad, Amroth." Her airy voice replied. Though tormented by the sights of death, of knowing that even he would succumb to its clutches, she was used to seeing it. She had lost them all a hundred times, and loved them still in spite of it.

"Especially for us. We die, yes, but it is not our end. Fear a life that is worse than death. Broken beyond repair. A life that evil has touched and torn, and yet death cannot yet take them. Isn't that worse?"

@pxnxply

[celevrian]

"Chamomi---" she began to answer in obtuse bluntness, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. But then she caught onto his meaning, the familiar look in his eye, the tone in hiya voice as he said it, and laughed. "Just tea. For now. . but I make no promises going forward." The smile did not leave her face, and after his refreshments were removed from her hand, she poured her own and hurried to join him upon the settee. Careful not to spill.

Placing her cup on a small table, she settled herself, looking more like an elfling in her glee at her success. He was away from his desk, and she had his full attention ( though for a brief moment the tart and tea had her full attention, as she sorted her thoughts for speaking ), which was ---in her modest opinion--- a true victory.

Of course for Celebrian, it was a victory often won.

"No bothering has happened for now. Save for, as always, that crease between your eyes. I was inquiring what put it there." She reached forward as she spoke, perhaps too boldly, to touch the place between his brows. Yet she did not fear what it might do, she could lay her head on his shoulder and he'd likely let her.

"And I'll have you know, oh King of Elves, that this solution is the most portable one I can come up with. A moment of reprieve, to relax, then you can parent the rest of the elven headaches---I mean world, with a little warmth in you." She grinned at him most playfully and nibbled at her tart. "It's the least one of your humble subjects can do."

It was immediate, the effect Celebrían had upon his humour.

“I am serious,” the High King claimed, but his expression shattered to let out an amused snort when she mimicked his frown.

Preoccupations ebbed away as she moved around his office as though she owned it, and a sheepish look at her sweet reproach came to adorn his features.

“So your solution to my reveries is bringing me tea? Which kind of tea?” Gil-galad knew well they were both a force to be reckoned with in the realm of gossip, if they were both in the mood. A secret trait of his, only shared with those he felt most at ease with.

His expression sobered once Celebrían kept going, and the High King motioned toward the settee by the doors to the garden before standing up and taking both tea and tart from her hands.

“Always, Celebrían. Is something bothering you or would you rather only hear my bleakest worries?”

[celevrian]

"But I do worry for you." she insisted. "You cannot only give Elrond, you will drive yourself to ruin. " and she was concerned he would. That heart of his, so lovely, so large, beating with compassion and strength---but no one could withstand the tempests of life forever alone. She might have pursued it, insisted on pulling him somewhere quiet and making him rest--

But he asked a question.

Was she alright? . . . how to answer him. She swallowed and tilted her head forward, resting her forehead against his cheek as she considered cracking open that wound again so soon. She had always known it would end like this, perhaps that was the worst part of it. She had walked among the residents of Eregion knowing one day most of them would be dead, and yet had been incapable of stopping the inevitable.

Was she alright? There were two ways to answer that question. She would be alright, that was her answer from day to day, the answer she'd repeated ever since the siege began---but was it the truth? no. No it was not. She was far from 'alright'. Weeks of siege had led to the most horrifying sights she'd ever witnessed in reality. There was something which felt blocked, as if when she would try to touch it it would make her crumble---

Where better to crumble than here?

"I knew. . ." She whispered, taking refuge in the feeling of his touch, his being. "I knew this would happen from the moment I stepped past the gates of the city, years ago. I--I tried to stop it. Tried to warn him, but I could not even see him for weeks and when I did it was too late. If I'd told him sooner--" It was not her fault, it was not her fault. . .

But it was. It truly was. Her warnings had come too late, they should have come much sooner, the first time she'd witnessed the fate of that realm, crossing the threshold of his city. She could have told him of her visions before he had been so wrapped within the web of Annatars lies, but her own lack of courage had interfered. Foolish foolish cowardice. Now it was all gone. The faces of the dead replayed in her mind, they had names, lives.

She had not even realized she was weeping, everything pouring out in agonized sobs. At last she had finally crumbled.

Elrond’s   arms   tightened   ever   so   slightly   around   her,   a   subtle   gesture   of   reassurance   as   she   leaned   into   his   embrace.   He   listened   intently,   his   gaze   soft   yet   steady,   a   balm   for   the   storm   of   emotions   she   released.   Her   words   carried   the   weight   of   weeks   of   suffering,   yet   also   the   flickering   light   of   hope   that   had   endured.   It   was   that   hope,   fragile   but   unyielding,   that   moved   him   most   deeply.

He   let   out   a   quiet   breath,   a   sound   that   was   almost   a   sigh,   though   not   of   weariness   but   of   a   deep   and   abiding   sorrow.   His   own   voice   was   soft   when   he   finally   spoke,   careful   not   to   break   the   fragile   calm   they   had   found   together. “I   am   here,   Celebrian,”   he   said,   the   words   holding   more   than   their   surface   meaning.   I   am   here   for   you.   I   am   here   because   you   hoped.   I   am   here,   and   we   are   still   standing,   though   the   price   was   great.   His   tone   carried   the   weight   of   his   own   grief,   tempered   by   an   enduring   strength   that   had   been   tested   but   not   broken.

Her   mention   of   Celebrimbor   struck   a   chord   within   him,   the   pain   fresh   and   sharp   even   now.   He   nodded,   his   expression   solemn.   ��He   was   as   noble   in   his   end   as   he   was   in   his   life,”   Elrond   said,   his   voice   low   and   reverent.   “Though   his   light   has   gone   from   this   world,   it   will   shine   in   memory   for   as   long   as   we   endure.”   He   paused,   his   jaw   tightening   briefly   as   he   mastered   his   emotions.   “And   endure   we   must,   for   his   sake,   and   for   the   sake   of   all   who   are   now   gone.”   And   for   the   sake   of   all   of   those   who   remain.

What   was   left   behind   of   Eregion   now   remains   there,   upon   that   sacred   sanctuary   of   a   valley.   Elrond   looked   at   it   and   thought   it   was   home.   Her   touch   to   his   cheek   stilled   him,   her   words   of   concern   weaving   past   his   carefully   maintained   composure.   He   tilted   his   head   slightly   into   her   hand,   a   rare   moment   of   vulnerability   escaping   as   his   eyes   closed   briefly.   When   they   opened,   they   held   a   quiet   resolve.

“I   am…   as   well   as   I   can   be,”   he   said   honestly,   though   there   was   a   faint   smile   that   tugged   at   the   corners   of   his   lips,   a   testament   to   her   presence   easing   the   burden   he   carried.   His   hand   reached   up   to   cover   her   hand   with   his   own,   from   his   cheek   he   placed   their   hands   upon   his   beating   heart.   “It   was   indeed   a   battle   that   could   not   be   won,   but   it   was   not   fought   in   vain.   Every   moment   we   held   them   back   bought   precious   time   for   those   who   escaped.   For   you.”

His   touch   was   warm   and   steady   as   his   heartbeat,   letting   it's   beat   be   a   song   for   her   to   listen   to   and   see   he   was   well.   “You   need   not   worry   for   me,   Celebrian.   What   strength   I   have   left,   I   give   freely,   for   we   will   need   it   in   the   days   to   come.”   His   gaze   softened   further,   the   steel   in   his   demeanor   giving   way   to   a   gentleness   reserved   only   for   her.   “And   you…   Are   you   all   right?   You   have   endured   so   much.   If   there   is   a   burden   you   carry,   let   me   share   it   with   you.”