Celebrian’s Journey

Snow swirled around the high, craggy peak of Caradhras, and the wind howled through the Redhorn Gate, driving a white fury into the eyes of five lone figures.
Celebrian blinked snow from her blue-grey eyes and raised a slender arm against the relentless wind. Being of elven-kind, she did not readily feel the icy chill of the mountain pass. Even so, like all of the travellers, Celebrian wore the grey cloak of Lothlorien to shield herself from the sharp ice fragments that occasionally fell from the jagged rocks above.
Darkness quickly fell on the mountain and as the elves reached the end of the Pass, they could see the lights of Rivendell glimmering faintly in the distance. The wind picked up, sending faint shrieks echoing through the air behind the elves, who shrank back against the cliffs in fright. Moments later, the cries faded away.
Celebrian was the first to recover, drawing away from the walls and laughing uneasily. “Perhaps it was only a trick of the wind,” she said lightly- maybe too lightly. “It was probably nothing at all.”
Then, a black-feathered arrow landed at Celebrian’s feet, and she jerked away with a gasp of surprise. More arrows began to fall, and the elves heard calls from the tops of the cliffs, but clearer than the last time: it was the Black Speech.
An elf shoved Celebrian backwards, and she felt packed snow on her cheek as she hit the ground. Moments later, the same elf fell, an arrow in his back.
Celebrian felt a large, meaty hand on the back of her neck and heard a harsh orc voice: “Hey! This one ain’t dead!” She twisted in her captor’s grip, struggling, and managed to pull away. Rolling over, she scrambled to her feet and ran. Then, she felt hot, burning agony race across her chest as an orc’s dart found its target. She spun with the impact, crumpling to the ice and striking her head on a rock. Almost instantly, darkness flooded her mind, and she knew no more.
* * *
“No! You are not going! I forbid it!” Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, glared at his twin sons, arms crossed. He was surprised that though he could easily make even the bravest soldier tremble in fear, he still found it impossible to win an argument with his children. “The mountains have grown too treacherous.”
“But, Father,” Elrohir’s calm voice melted Elrond’s stern gaze as he continued, “that is exactly why we must go. Elladan and I know those mountains better than anyone else.”
“Elrohir, I-”
“Something is wrong. We haven’t received any messages for days, and if Mother had decided to return later, she would have written to say so. You know as well as I do what that could mean.” Elrohir didn’t say any more, but his eyes spoke volumes: orcs. He turned to his twin, slate eyes smouldering with rage. “Elladan, start getting ready. We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.” Glancing back at his father, he grated out, “We will be going, Father, with or without your consent.”
As one, the brothers turned and left the Hall of Fire, nearly colliding with Arwen, who gazed up at them in curiosity. “Where are you going, big brothers?”
“Nowhere, absolutely nowh- ow!” Elladan winced and rubbed the spot on his ribs where his brother had just elbowed him.
“What Elladan means to say, Arwen, is that we haven’t heard from Mother for a while, and we’re just going to see what happened, that’s all.” Elrohir shot his brother a meaningful look. “Isn’t that right, Elladan?”
Still rubbing his chest, Elladan nodded, fearful that another word would earn him another bruise.
Arwen’s eyes lit up. “Can I come?”
Elrohir smiled. “Oh, of course you can come,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We’ll just have to stop a lot because itty bitty baby Arwen is scared of the dark. What do you think? No, you can’t come!”
Arwen stuck out her tongue at him.
“Come on, Elrohir, stop teasing her.” Elladan grabbed his mirror image’s arm and led him away.
Elrohir glanced back as he was dragged down the hallway and hissed, “Baby!”
His only response was an impression of an angry cat and a sharp stamp on his left foot.
Arwen wandered back into the Hall of Fire and found her father sitting in a chair near the window. He looked as if he had a headache. A tear slowly trickled down his cheek and he winced as if he was in pain.
Nervously, Arwen touched his hand. “Daddy, are you okay?” She clambered up onto her father’s lap, snuggling closer to him.
Elrond barely noticed his daughter, too preoccupied with his own thoughts and those he was feeling from his wife. An unfamiliar emotion touched his heart. It was something he hadn’t felt since the battle when Gil-Galad had been slain: fear. I lost my parents, my brother, and my best friend. Must I also lose my wife and sons?
As if she had heard his thoughts, Arwen put a reassuring hand on his arm. “They’ll be all right, Daddy, I know they will.”
Elrond smiled gently at his youngest child as she yawned. “I wish that I had your confidence, young one.”
Soon, Arwen was asleep, her grey eyes staring sleepily at the ceiling.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Elrond turned, shifting slightly so as not to wake the girl on his lap. His sons stood behind him, each carrying a pack and looking resolutely determined. “Are you sure you want to go alone?”
Elladan frowned in puzzlement. “I thought that you were against our leaving.”
“I was.” Elrond’s throat tightened. “You were right.” He held up a hand to silence his son’s question. “I knew that something was wrong. I felt her being tortured…” His voice trailed off. “I was just afraid that I would be sending you to your deaths.”
Elladan’s face turned to ice at the word tortured, but he swallowed his anger. Stepping forward, he ruffled his sister’s hair fondly. “Don’t worry; she’ll still have her brothers when she wakes up.”
Elrond watched the twins leave. “Bring her home safely,” he whispered.
Arwen sighed and turned over in her sleep, unaware of the danger her brothers were about to face.
Elrond gently picked up his sleeping daughter and carried her to her room. After tucking Arwen into her blankets, Elrond resumed his watch in the Hall of Fire, not daring to sleep lest he miss any news of his wife’s fate.
* * *
Memory returned in small painful pieces as Celebrian woke to darkness and a kick in her ribs. She moaned as liquid pain spread across her inflamed wound. She heard a soft curse, the sound of a wooden bowl being placed on the ground, and hastily retreating footsteps. Then, she froze hearing voices outside her cell. “What do you reckon we should do with her?”
“Dunno. Have some fun, that’s my answer.”
Celebrian backed away from the door of the cage, the chain on her ankle rattling as it dragged on the rocks. In orc language, fun meant torture. She only had time for that thought before the door creaked open and a whip lashed across her back. She bit her lip to keep from screaming as the whip came down again and again.
A roar sounded from another part of the cave, and her tormentor left.
Celebrian’s pain-filled mind hazily realized that whoever had brought the water had cursed in Elvish.
The door creaked ominously again, and Celebrian flinched. When no blow came, she opened her eyes. Firelight from far away gave enough light for her to distinguish the tall figure in front of her from the shadows that danced on the walls.
The figure spoke in a female voice, though now it was harsh from beatings and disuse. “I apologize for kicking you. It was quite unintentional, I assure you. Are you hurt?”
“No, not terribly.” As she spoke, Celebrian felt warm blood trickle from her torn lip and back. Every breath shot needles of pain across her chest.
A rough but warm hand slid under Celebrian’s shoulder, gently helping her to sit up. “I expect that you’re tired of being in the dark all of the time. Wait a moment and I’ll get a candle.” The woman left, returning a minute later with a small stub of wax. Dim as the light was, it was enough to illuminate the face of the stranger.
Tears welled up in Celebrian’s eyes as the light fell on a battered and scarred face. “Elluin,” she murmured. Her friend from Lothlorien had disappeared twelve years earlier, and all had assumed she was dead after six months of fruitless searching.
Elluin gasped as she saw the blood running down Celebrian’s torn dress, oozing from the place where she had been shot by the dart. “Those monsters!” she exclaimed. “No one else has ever been hurt like that the first few days here. They try to keep us alive as long as possible. They must know that your father will kill them all single-handed if he finds you. They may be beasts, but they have some sense.”
Celebrian arched an eyebrow, then winced. “Us? There were others?”
Elluin turned her head as if she had been slapped, and Celebrian felt tears running down her cheeks as she saw what had happened to her friend: her long silver hair had been chopped short, and jagged scars crisscrossed her face, neck, arms, and legs. Worst of all, the orcs had cruelly hacked the points of her Elvish ears to ragged pieces. “Yes, others.” Elluin choked back a sob. “They murdered Elfindel and everyone else. They beat them to death. Elfindel was the last. I had to watch him die, Cel. I had to stand there and see my husband murdered.” Elluin’s voice ended in a shuddering sigh.
Celebrian shivered uncontrollably as an orc walked down the tunnel, glaring with contempt at the Elf-maiden who lay slumped against the wall. He jerked a knife from his belt and started towards her.
Elluin’s voice rang out, thick and guttural, commanding in foul orc-language.
Celebrian gasped in fear as the orc bowed sullenly and left. Her gasp soon turned into a cough. “Elluin…he…obeyed you! Are you now with them?” She grimaced, holding her wound.
Elluin sighed. “I knew that you would ask that eventually. No, I am not in league with Sauron’s servants, nor will I ever be. That one…no, you would not want to hear it.”
“Elluin, tell me the truth.”
Elluin swallowed and turned away, weeping. “After Elfindel died, Cel, they kept me alive. I was their servant, their slave. I was helpless. Usually, I just got pushed around. On a bad day, I would be beaten. Then, their old chief died. There was a new one, crueller and twisted. I was asleep one night, and he shoved me into a corner and… I…I’m sometimes ashamed that I survived at all.”
Horror began to dawn on Celebrian’s face as her friend finished her tale.
“That orc, the one who just left…he…he is…my child.” Elluin drew a thin, ragged blanket out from under her shift and averted her eyes as she handed it to Celebrian. Then, she rose, turned, and fled, taking the light with her.
Celebrian wrapped the tattered cloth around herself, moved into a corner as far as her chain would allow, and fell into an exhausted, tortured sleep. Some time later, she awoke, cold and alone. Pulling the blanket tighter around her wounded shoulders, Celebrian closed her eyes, wondering if her husband or children had noticed that she had not even made it over the mountains.
* * *
Elrohir squinted against the blizzard that always seemed to envelop Caradhras. “Where are we going, Elladan? We don’t even know where Mother is!”
Elladan’s eyes held a far-off gaze, as if he was seeing something that no one else saw. “I do. Elrohir, run ahead and see if you can spot a cave, or a shelter, or anything.”
Elrohir dashed off, soon returning with news. “I found something. It may not be anything, maybe just a hole in the cliff, but I think it’s worth looking at.” He started off, his twin close behind him.
A few feet away, a cave had been carved into the cliff face. Elrohir sighed disappointedly, and had just turned to leave, when Elladan gave a call. “I think I found something!”
“What is it?” Elrohir rushed back to his brother and knelt down next to him, studying the rocks. His search yielded a clue: a small piece of torn, white cloth, edged in silver and green, and a patch of dried blood. Bile rose in his throat as he contemplated what the blood could mean. “I swear, if they did anything to Mother, I’ll kill them.”
Elladan nodded and unsheathed his sword. He started to carve away at the rocks around the cave opening with a strength born of desperation. Bit by bit, the hard stones began to give way under the furious assault of the elf’s blade.
Behind the pair, the twins’ horses nickered and whinnied in the frosty air of the mountains. “Holly, Cloud, shush! We’ll be back soon, I promise,” Elrohir called to the nervous animals. Then, he pushed aside the loose rubble that surrounded the cave, and froze. From inside the cavern, he heard orcs talking, and he walked over to his brother.
“Wha-”
Elrohir’s hand clapped over his twin’s mouth. He held a finger to his own lips, and indicated the cave. Orcs, he mouthed silently, then loosened his hold on Elladan.
Elladan nodded, then whispered, “How many of them are there?”
Elrohir shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I’d say about fifty, maybe sixty.” He swallowed as the bitter taste filled his mouth again. “They only have that large a group when they have captives,” he croaked hoarsely. “Mother is in there.”
“Not for long,” Elladan snarled, jerking his hunting knife from his belt. He stalked toward the opening of the tunnel. A hand pulled him back.
“Wait,” Elrohir muttered as he strained the limits of his Elvish hearing, listening for any sounds that meant that they had been discovered. “All right. The entrance isn’t guarded- for now, at least. Let’s go.” He picked up his sword from the ground and followed his brother into the orcs’ lair. Immediately, the twins were attacked by a dozen orcs with knives.
Elladan hissed in pain as a blade buried itself in his shoulder. Jerking the weapon free, he plunged his own blade through the neck of his attacker. Then, he waded over the dead orcs to his brother. “Are you all right, Elrohir?”
“I’m fine. Come on. I think I heard something down the tunnel.” Elrohir started off towards the direction he had indicated. Almost at once, he tripped over something soft- something that moaned in pain as his foot hit it. Elrohir fell to his knees beside the prostrate figure of his mother. “Elladan!” he yelled. “I found her! Over here!”
Tears ran down Elladan’s face as he saw the ugly bruises and raised wheals of whip marks covering Celebrian’s skin, the festering wound caused by the orc’s dart. Her white dress hung in ragged and stained tatters about her, barely enough to cover her modesty. Elladan pulled a thick blanket from his bag, wrapping it around his mother’s body. “We have to get her out of here.”
Soft footsteps made the elves turn, blades raised. Elluin stood there, staring in disbelief. “Run. They’ll find you here if you stay any longer.”
Elrohir frowned, then his eyes widened in recognition. “Elluin! You’re alive! Everyone thought you were dead! What happened?”
“It is a long story, son of Elrond. But it is of no consequence. Go. Take Celebrian and get out of here, before they come back.”
“But what about you? Don’t you want to go back home? Don’t you want to see Lothlorien again?” Elrohir asked, incredulous.
An orc appeared behind Elluin, knife drawn. Then, to the brothers’ surprise, it spoke in fluent Elvish! “Who are they? What do they want with my clan?”
Elluin sighed, turning from the orc to Elladan and Elrohir. “He is why I cannot leave. He is my son. While I was a captive, I had him. Once Naraca was born, I resolved that he would not grow up to be an Elf-slayer like his kin. I have raised him as if he were an elfling, an ordinary child.”
Suddenly, more orcs appeared in the tunnel. The leader walked menacingly up to Naraca, and spit in his face. “Traitor,” he growled, then beheaded him. Then, he turned on Elluin. “So, this is the repayment I get for allowing you to live, Elf? Trying to turn him against us, were you? Well, you’ll see how I tolerate that.” He grabbed the elf-maiden by the throat and shoved her up against the wall, tightening his grip every second.
Elluin glared coldly and fearlessly at the leader, then glanced over at the twins. Run! Then, looking the orc straight in the face she said, “Go ahead. Do it.”
Elladan picked up Celebrian and hacked off the chain on her ankle with his knife. As he and his brother left, they heard the orc laugh. “I’ve seen how you want to be rid of me. Well, I’m feeling inclined to grant that wish.” There was a harsh snap, and Elladan stumbled at the sound. “He killed her,” he stated flatly.
“Just keep running, Elladan,” his brother urged. “We’re almost there.” The twins burst out into watery sunlight, and raced for the horses.
Elrohir swung up onto Holly and reached for his mother. “I’ll take her, Elladan.” He cut off his brother’s weak protest. “You’re wounded, and you need to rest.” He pulled Celebrian onto the horse, stunned at how light she was. Her head fell back against her son’s arm, and for a brief moment, Elrohir feared that she had already left Middle-Earth. But she stirred, and Elrohir let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. He nudged Holly into a gallop, Elladan close behind him. Soon, they had reached the thick pine forest six miles away from Rivendell. Elrohir glanced up sharply as he noticed that the golden rays of the sunset had faded over the edge of the mountains behind him.
Celebrian began to tremble with the cold, her breath making small clouds of steam in the chilly air.
“Elladan! We must stop here! She can’t go on in this cold when she’s wounded, and neither can you! We have to stop for the night!” Elrohir turned to face his brother, but as he did so, Elladan gave a soft moan and fell from his horse into the snow, blood staining his shirt.
Before his brother could move or speak, Elladan had raised his head. “I’m fine. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.” He pushed himself back to his feet and climbed back onto Cloud with a tired grunt of frustration. “I hope we get home soon; I can’t feel my fingers anymore.”
At that moment, soft lights approached, revealing a small group of elves carrying lanterns. “Elladan! Elrohir!” One of the figures stepped forwards.
“Glorfindel, thank the Valar! Where’s my father?” Elrohir asked frantically.
The golden-haired hero of Gondolin stepped aside. Elrond stood behind him. “We saw you coming about ten minutes ago. What hap…no!” As Elrohir dismounted, Elrond saw his wife limp in his son’s arms. “Celebrian…” he said brokenly. Then, he noticed his other son, who held one arm as Glorfindel helped him off Cloud. Elrond stretched out his arms toward his wife. “I’ll take her, Elrohir. You go help your brother.” Lifting Celebrian into his arms, Elrond strode into Rivendell, his face set, but creased with worry.
Leaning on his twin’s arm for support, Elladan smiled softly. “Don’t worry, Elrohir. She’ll be all right.” Then, he collapsed.
Inside Rivendell, Elrond gently laid Celebrian on her bed. “Celebrian? Cel?”
Celebrian slowly opened her eyes, but they were wild and unseeing. She twisted away from him, fear filling her crystal gaze. “Get away!”
Elrond grabbed her wrists. “Cel! It’s me! You’re safe.”
Celebrian’s eyes slowly focused. “Elrond?” she whispered. “Is it you? What happened? Where’s Elluin?”
Elrohir stepped into the room behind his father. “She’s gone, Mother.”
Celebrian sank back onto her bed. Her eyes closed as a tear slid down her face. “Where’s your brother?”
Elrohir knelt beside his mother and held her hand. “He was injured. His arm is being tended to right now, but he’s fine.” He turned a worried gaze to his father as Celebrian closed her eyes with a sigh.
“She’s just asleep, Elrohir. She’ll be all right.”
“But Father, her eyes are closed,” Elrohir stated, puzzled.
Elrond chuckled softly. “I forgot that you’ve never seen anyone sleep with their eyes closed before, especially not an elf. She’ll be like that for a while, at least until she regains a little strength.” He grinned. “I remember that after Elros and I chose which race we were to be of, I went to visit him. Once, I found him sleeping in his study. He had never slept with his eyes closed before, so I panicked. He woke up because of the racket I was making and said ‘silence, you annoying elf, I’m only sleeping’. I felt that even with all of Middle-Earth between us, he’d never have stopped laughing at me.” He started s a hot, feverish hand wrapped around his own.
Celebrian glanced up at Elrohir. “You see the things that your father never tells me?” Suddenly, her eyes fell shut and she fell back against the pillows.
Elrond’s head jerked up, his face deadly serious as Celebrian’s breath rasped in her throat. “Elrohir, leave.”
“But Father-”
“Did you or did you not hear me? Now go!” The Lord of Rivendell practically shouted the last phrase.
Elrohir ran, bumping into Arwen as she tried to enter her mother’s room. “No, Arwen, you can’t go in there.”
“Why not?” the young elf questioned. “I want to see Mother.” She shoved past him into the bedroom and started to cry as she saw her mother’s wounds.
Elrohir quickly grabbed her arm and tried to lead her out of the room, but she jerked away, crying. She paused to wipe her eyes, and Elrohir sprang, grabbing his little sister by the waist and dragging her into the hall. He set his kicking, screaming bundle down and shut the door. “Arwen, Father is trying to help her. If you go in, he can’t do anything, all right?”
The girl nodded tearfully. “Okay, Elrohir, I promise not to go in.”
Elladan walked down the hall toward them. “How is she?” he asked.
“Not good. Father’s in her room right now trying to stop the poison from that arrow wound. How’s your arm?” Elrohir questioned, worried.
“It’s better now that I got it looked at, and it’s a good thing that I did; I still had a shard of metal in my shoulder. It doesn’t matter; I’m better now.”
* * *
Elrond bent over his wife’s body, his eyes closed, searching the world of shadows between life and the Halls of Mandos for her. *He walked along a path covered in grass under a starry summer sky. From the distance came the sound of nightingales and crickets, and he smelled flowers somewhere. Lights were shining ahead from a large hall, and a figure turned as he approached. “Celebrian, what are you doing here? Why are you leaving us?”
Celebrian smiled, though it was now merely a ghost of her former joyful grin. “I was about to ask you the same question, Elrond.” She turned as a tall dark-haired elf strode into view.
Elrond felt his jaw fall open as he saw the shade of who had been his closest friend. “Gil-Galad,” he breathed.
The Elf-king moved forward. “It has been a long time since we last saw each other, my friend.” He laughed. “The last time I saw you, you had that same look of utter bewilderment on your face.” He stopped, seeming to notice Celebrian for the first time. “What are you doing here Celebrian? Don’t tell me that you died from worrying about those boys of yours, did you?”
Celebrian also laughed. “No, they haven’t been much trouble at all as of late.” She looked away wistfully. “Actually, if it hadn’t been for them, I would have found my way here much sooner. They saved me from a band of orcs in the Misty Mountains.”
Gil-Galad nodded, then turned back to face the hall. “I can only stray from Mandos for a short while,” he said softly. “I must return.” With that, he vanished slowly up the path.
Elrond turned to his wife. “Why are you leaving, Celebrian? You know how much you will be missed.”
Celebrian sighed. “I know, Elrond, but there is nothing for me there.”
Elrond cupped her chin in his hand and stared into the bleak depths of her eyes. “Arwen needs her mother, Celebrian, and so do the boys. They all miss you terribly, and so do I.”
Celebrian smiled. “All right. I’ll come back, even if it is just for you and them.” She slid her hand into his and looked up at the stars as the turned from the Halls of Mandos.*
Elrond woke with a start, feeling a gentle hand stroking his face. He looked down and his eyes met the grey-blue ones of his wife. “Cel,” he murmured, gathering her into his arms. “I thought I’d lost you for good.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Elrond,” Celebrian said fondly, then smiled over her husband’s shoulder as her three children burst into the room, all wearing identical expressions of extreme concern.
* * *
After a small but very joyful dinner, Celebrian bent over the bed next to Elrond, who was already asleep. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then, she crept over to the small writing desk and pulled out a sheet of parchment. Taking a pen, she hastily wrote a message:
*Elrond:
I’m sorry that I can’t stay, but this is for the best. I’m leaving for Valinor. Don’t try to follow me. Tell the children that their mother has gone away for a little while. My love to them and everyone.
All my love,
Celebrian.*
When she was done, the Lady of Imladris stepped out onto the balcony and looked over at the beloved valley one last time. She sighed, then hastened to her children’s rooms, looking at them for a longing moment. Then, she closed the door and left.
* * *
The next morning, Elrond woke to find the note on his desk. He smiled regretfully as he read its contents. “Farewell, Celebrian,” he whispered. “I hope we meet again soon.”
* * *
Elrond stepped off the swaying boat deck onto the glittering shores of Valinor. Then, he saw someone he knew. The Lord of Imladris flung himself in a very undignified manner into his wife’s arms and held her close. “Arwen’s gone, Celebrian. She has chosen mortality.”
Celebrian nodded sorrowfully. “I know.” She glanced around, puzzled. “Where are the twins?”
“They’ve decided to stay behind and keep Rivendell in order until the next ship comes. They’ll be here soon.”
Arms about each other, the Lord and Lady of Imladris walked down the shimmering beach to greet an elf with a Silmaril bound about his brow: Elrond’s father.