Celeborn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverdefender) wrote2018-01-07 07:49 pm
silverdefender) wrote2018-01-07 07:49 pm
Entry tags:
Open RP Post
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All are welcome.
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pagansShe makes his knees weak just by being near. Long years at her side haven't changed, and he knows it never will.
She is beautiful and graceful, delicate and powerful. Fierce and kind. She sees into hearts, knows them, and takes joy in much. He basks in her light and relies on her to temper him where he would otherwise fly into a rage unchecked.
Celeborn sits and gladly remains close enough for their shoulders to touch and hands to remain entwined.
"Is it easy to acquire?" He wants to get some to put on her bruises, to lessen the strain on her power.
She is beautiful and graceful, delicate and powerful. Fierce and kind. She sees into hearts, knows them, and takes joy in much. He basks in her light and relies on her to temper him where he would otherwise fly into a rage unchecked.
Celeborn sits and gladly remains close enough for their shoulders to touch and hands to remain entwined.
"Is it easy to acquire?" He wants to get some to put on her bruises, to lessen the strain on her power.
"Easy enough; I shall acquire some when we are through, while you take a meal ere we retire," Galadriel says. It is not hard to guess why he wants it but it would do much good for him as well. She can find enough to calm both their minds...but not yet. The water is so wonderfully warm, as is he.
It is a strange feeling, this, and it takes a moment for Galadriel to reconcile what it is. Ease. She is at ease at long last; it is why the time here has felt so very long, she expects, that she has been in a constant state of alert and wariness without respite. She lays her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes, savoring the warmth and the calm.
It does not occur to her that this level of comfort and relaxation might be a poor idea while bathing because, at the same time, it does not occur to her that experiencing this would translate well into sleep. With her head upon his shoulder and the whole of her leaned against him, she drifts into the grey area before dreaming. It pulls her down and, for once, she does not fight it--it has never been this easy, so it is easily mistaken.
It is a strange feeling, this, and it takes a moment for Galadriel to reconcile what it is. Ease. She is at ease at long last; it is why the time here has felt so very long, she expects, that she has been in a constant state of alert and wariness without respite. She lays her head against his shoulder and closes her eyes, savoring the warmth and the calm.
It does not occur to her that this level of comfort and relaxation might be a poor idea while bathing because, at the same time, it does not occur to her that experiencing this would translate well into sleep. With her head upon his shoulder and the whole of her leaned against him, she drifts into the grey area before dreaming. It pulls her down and, for once, she does not fight it--it has never been this easy, so it is easily mistaken.
A few years after the sons of Fëanor claim their territories in East Beleriand, Curufin is camped in the woods on the east bank of the River Aros. Aros separates Doriath from Himlad. Curufin has been exploring the hunting trails that lead deep into the wedge of forest between Aros and its tributary, the River Celon. Curufin and Celegorm keep a watch on who fords the river further north at Arossiach, but they don't try to prevent travelers from crossing their lands. (Unless they are Orcs or trolls.) Especially not this far south in Himlad, where it is not unusual to meet mortals, Dwarves, or even Elves from Ossiriand. Or for that matter, Curufin's twin borthers Amrod and Amras. What he doesn't expect to see is anybody from Thingol's realm.
He is just returning to his camp amongst the pines and oaks, after fishing the nearest stream. He cuts some firewood and makes a cooking fire, cleans and spits the fish, and then sits back to think over the recent past. He's a little obsessive about this, being right across the river from the thick forest of Region, that is, eastern Doriath. The brothers had been given "permission" to dwell in the Marches, by King Thingol, long ago a friend of their grandfather Finwë, but now thought of by Finwë's Fëanorion grandsons as a real ass. When Angrod brought them the news that Thingol would permit them to pioneer in the Marches, they had laughed uproariously and replied that they would do as they pleased. They had said it in front of witnesses who would hopefully have reported their insolence to Thingol himself.
Curufin is in his old hunting clothes, dark green and black, and his weapons are by his side and near to hand. Bow, quiver, spear, sword, knife. The knife was just used to scale a fish, and he's currently cleaning it. He hums a tune and even sings a few bars of it in his low, melodious voice. His long hair is braided and its dark mass lies on his shoulders. His dark gray eyes gleam in the firelight.
He is just returning to his camp amongst the pines and oaks, after fishing the nearest stream. He cuts some firewood and makes a cooking fire, cleans and spits the fish, and then sits back to think over the recent past. He's a little obsessive about this, being right across the river from the thick forest of Region, that is, eastern Doriath. The brothers had been given "permission" to dwell in the Marches, by King Thingol, long ago a friend of their grandfather Finwë, but now thought of by Finwë's Fëanorion grandsons as a real ass. When Angrod brought them the news that Thingol would permit them to pioneer in the Marches, they had laughed uproariously and replied that they would do as they pleased. They had said it in front of witnesses who would hopefully have reported their insolence to Thingol himself.
Curufin is in his old hunting clothes, dark green and black, and his weapons are by his side and near to hand. Bow, quiver, spear, sword, knife. The knife was just used to scale a fish, and he's currently cleaning it. He hums a tune and even sings a few bars of it in his low, melodious voice. His long hair is braided and its dark mass lies on his shoulders. His dark gray eyes gleam in the firelight.
It's dangerous to keep bonds open, even those between parent and child, or husband and wife. Less so, now, maybe. But though Morgoth is defeated, Sauron is at large, fled from Eonwe rather than taken into custody.
(The Valar, as ever, remain careless with their own kin, and hers will doubtless be the ones to pay the price)
The Silmarils, too, are gone, and with them the last of her cousins, and Beleriand is crumbled beneath the waves.
The world has changed, and is changing, but some things remain the same.
It's not unusual for elven partners to walk apart, she knows it well. Even her own parents spent at times several years apart after their children were old enough to fend for themselves. But here, in Middle-earth, she worries, as no one in blessed Valinor ever had reason to. She has had no word past the time he promised, and she dare not open the bond, not when she has no idea what she might find on the other end. What use are her vaunted strength of mind now, when it is too dangerous to use? Even her Mirror is not helpful, clouded by her own fears.
Surely, at least, she would know if he died.
(But there are worse things than death, in Arda Marred. They learnt THAT lesson in the First Age)
Is he captured? Is he wounded?
Surely, she would know if he died.
All she can do right now is smile for their daughter, smile for their people, and watch the borders, anxiously.
(The Valar, as ever, remain careless with their own kin, and hers will doubtless be the ones to pay the price)
The Silmarils, too, are gone, and with them the last of her cousins, and Beleriand is crumbled beneath the waves.
The world has changed, and is changing, but some things remain the same.
It's not unusual for elven partners to walk apart, she knows it well. Even her own parents spent at times several years apart after their children were old enough to fend for themselves. But here, in Middle-earth, she worries, as no one in blessed Valinor ever had reason to. She has had no word past the time he promised, and she dare not open the bond, not when she has no idea what she might find on the other end. What use are her vaunted strength of mind now, when it is too dangerous to use? Even her Mirror is not helpful, clouded by her own fears.
Surely, at least, she would know if he died.
(But there are worse things than death, in Arda Marred. They learnt THAT lesson in the First Age)
Is he captured? Is he wounded?
Surely, she would know if he died.
All she can do right now is smile for their daughter, smile for their people, and watch the borders, anxiously.
The years apart weigh on him as he ghosts along the edges of the enemy's camps, darting in to sabotage when he could. So many times he'd almost been captured before he could slip free. He's had to keep his end of every bond closed, not daring to give potentially false hope to his loved ones until he could find and go to them.
It wasn't entirely difficult, once he slipped past the worst of the hoards. But by then, he only discovered the last place his family had been. Not if they were still there. Not even if they were still alive. He still doesn't dare open those bonds.
Not until he hears a strange rumor where it was believed he were the one who had been captured or killed. The knowledge itches at his heart, gnaws at doubts before he shoves them away.
Finally he sees the borders of the Greenwood, and takes a breath once he steps into the sheltering boughs. He moves along the path his heart knows, and eventually he senses others watching him, following him. He does nothing to reach for a weapon, only pushes his hooded cloak back to reveal his face as he pauses on the border of Lothlorien.
"I seek my Lady Galadriel," he calls calmly. "Where might I find her?"
It wasn't entirely difficult, once he slipped past the worst of the hoards. But by then, he only discovered the last place his family had been. Not if they were still there. Not even if they were still alive. He still doesn't dare open those bonds.
Not until he hears a strange rumor where it was believed he were the one who had been captured or killed. The knowledge itches at his heart, gnaws at doubts before he shoves them away.
Finally he sees the borders of the Greenwood, and takes a breath once he steps into the sheltering boughs. He moves along the path his heart knows, and eventually he senses others watching him, following him. He does nothing to reach for a weapon, only pushes his hooded cloak back to reveal his face as he pauses on the border of Lothlorien.
"I seek my Lady Galadriel," he calls calmly. "Where might I find her?"
My lord Celeborn! is the gasp from the border wardens. The Lady looks for you, every day - quickly, quickly, this way - she says nothing but the whispers all say, she is beginning to despair.
Galadriel sits in her waiting room, weaving hope into the cloth that will become the cloaks of the wardens, and has none for herself. It has been so very, very long, and he has sent no word, nor has there been rumour or whisper of him. If he is not dead, then he must be taken, for surely he would return to her else? No longer has she hope then, but he loved his people, and for his sake, she puts all her Art into her work, to keep the borders secure.
(is there a whisper, at the edges of the bond? she turns away, not daring to hope)
She does not weep - Nerwen Alatariel Aranfinwiel does not cry useless tears since the Ice - and her hands do not shake, but her heart aches, within her as she works.
Galadriel sits in her waiting room, weaving hope into the cloth that will become the cloaks of the wardens, and has none for herself. It has been so very, very long, and he has sent no word, nor has there been rumour or whisper of him. If he is not dead, then he must be taken, for surely he would return to her else? No longer has she hope then, but he loved his people, and for his sake, she puts all her Art into her work, to keep the borders secure.
(is there a whisper, at the edges of the bond? she turns away, not daring to hope)
She does not weep - Nerwen Alatariel Aranfinwiel does not cry useless tears since the Ice - and her hands do not shake, but her heart aches, within her as she works.
He doesn't smile. Perhaps he has even forgotten how to.
But his heart lightens when he hears the news - she is here! Celeborn nods and follows till it seems they fly to where his heart is. Even if she's begun to lose hope, she is still here.
His gaze roams their home as he runs with the border wardens, feeling the peace and safety ease at the fraying edges of his spirit. Eventually he's led to where the Lady works...then he's left alone to knock on the door.
No, he doesn't let himself reach for their bond just yet.
But his heart lightens when he hears the news - she is here! Celeborn nods and follows till it seems they fly to where his heart is. Even if she's begun to lose hope, she is still here.
His gaze roams their home as he runs with the border wardens, feeling the peace and safety ease at the fraying edges of his spirit. Eventually he's led to where the Lady works...then he's left alone to knock on the door.
No, he doesn't let himself reach for their bond just yet.
She weaves hope and protection and her heart whispers hope to her, but she tunes it out. There is only the work of her hands, the work that will keep her people (his people, their people) safe.
"Come in." She answers the knock absently.
"Come in." She answers the knock absently.
Just her voice brings a flicker of a smile back to his lips. He opens the door and lets it close quietly behind him before finally brushing mentally against their bond.
What to say? All words silence when he sees her again. All he can do is go to her.
What to say? All words silence when he sees her again. All he can do is go to her.
She stills at the familiar brush, her breath catching, her hands, normally so steady, trembling.
No, no, no, impossible...
No, no, no, impossible...
The trembling is what finally gets him to move to her, kneeling beside her to reach for those hands.
"Galadriel..." A sigh. A breath. Life. Sorrow and rejoice. Love. All in just her name.
"Galadriel..." A sigh. A breath. Life. Sorrow and rejoice. Love. All in just her name.
She lets him take her hands with numb disbelief, lifting her eyes to his.
"Celeborn?" Normally, she'd never allow herself to sound so weak. But this... unhoped for, unlooked for... this is joy
"Celeborn?" Normally, she'd never allow herself to sound so weak. But this... unhoped for, unlooked for... this is joy
She doesn't have to be strong around him. Celeborn loves how she relaxes with him - always has. She enchanted him from the first moment he'd seen her.
Now is no different.
He brings her hands up to press kisses to her fingers, eyes never leaving hers. "I was lost. No more."
Now is no different.
He brings her hands up to press kisses to her fingers, eyes never leaving hers. "I was lost. No more."
A sob, and she flings herself into his arms, dropping her barriers to let him in.
"Celeborn"
Oh, you're here, you're safe, you came back to me!
"Celeborn"
Oh, you're here, you're safe, you came back to me!
He catches her and lifts her up as his mind embraces her just as warmly as his arms. Turning, he sits where she had and settles her in his lap to just hold her close. He rests their heads together as he takes in her reality.
Always, beloved. I will not leave without you again.
Always, beloved. I will not leave without you again.
She curls close, physically and mentally, weeping tears of joy.
I feared... she does not finish, too many memories of horror jangling through her, too many losses on both their parts.
Never leave me again.
I feared... she does not finish, too many memories of horror jangling through her, too many losses on both their parts.
Never leave me again.
Her warmth washes away the worst of the chill of loss and horror. He lets their noses nudge together as he gazes into her eyes.
You were right to fear.
He doesn't need to hear the rest of it to know.
I won't.
You were right to fear.
He doesn't need to hear the rest of it to know.
I won't.
Reaching up she tips her head to kiss him softly.
You... were not taken?
For a moment, her mental voice sharpens, a blade ready in case he needs it.
You... were not taken?
For a moment, her mental voice sharpens, a blade ready in case he needs it.
Edited 2022-10-18 14:20 (UTC)
He returns the soft pressure.
They tried. Many times.
They tried. Many times.
Her voice is the shine of a blade, vicious and proud.
I am glad you are safe
Of course. He would have been a fine prize, after all, one of Elu Thingol's last surviving kinsman on these shores, and her husband, with no considerably prowess of his own.
I am glad you are safe
Of course. He would have been a fine prize, after all, one of Elu Thingol's last surviving kinsman on these shores, and her husband, with no considerably prowess of his own.
He delights in that fierce strength too. He kisses her again.
Every time I thought I could return to you, you had moved on or I ran into more of the Enemy. I have been trying to get back to you almost as soon as we were parted.
But he'd refused to lead the Enemy straight to her. So he'd led them around in the process of frustrating them and weakening them.
Now they are a little weaker.
Because she hadn't wed a weak Elf.
Every time I thought I could return to you, you had moved on or I ran into more of the Enemy. I have been trying to get back to you almost as soon as we were parted.
But he'd refused to lead the Enemy straight to her. So he'd led them around in the process of frustrating them and weakening them.
Now they are a little weaker.
Because she hadn't wed a weak Elf.
stares at last tag wow that's a lot of errors I THINK ITS BEDTIME FOR ME
maiden_crowned
2022-10-18 02:40 pm (UTC)(link)
She nuzzles back into the kiss.
You underestimate yourself, husband she purrs back at him. She's pretty sure they're a lot more than 'little' weaker.
And you returned to me, that is all I wanted
You underestimate yourself, husband she purrs back at him. She's pretty sure they're a lot more than 'little' weaker.
And you returned to me, that is all I wanted
His grin is feral. Does she need any other proof of that?
Celeborn finally raises a hand to gently dry her face - and just to touch her some more.
No, beloved. They were the ones who underestimated me. And paid the price.
He hums softly, nudging their noses together.
As I always will.
Celeborn finally raises a hand to gently dry her face - and just to touch her some more.
No, beloved. They were the ones who underestimated me. And paid the price.
He hums softly, nudging their noses together.
As I always will.
She kisses the grin, pleased.
Good.
And then kisses him again.
Thank you
It is unfair to make him promise that, probably. So many have not returned, to her, or to him. But she is selfishly glad that he has, all the same. Probably, she should be more cautious - this could still be a trap - but his spirit is warm against hers, moonsilver bright and deep as the roots of old trees.
"You need to rest." She murmurs aloud.
Good.
And then kisses him again.
Thank you
It is unfair to make him promise that, probably. So many have not returned, to her, or to him. But she is selfishly glad that he has, all the same. Probably, she should be more cautious - this could still be a trap - but his spirit is warm against hers, moonsilver bright and deep as the roots of old trees.
"You need to rest." She murmurs aloud.
She's recovering in Lindon. While her physical wounds had healed, the darkness was still there. It was like it had seeped inside every part of her very being. Into her pores, her bones, her blood... her mind. She half expects to see Sauron out of the corner of her eye, lurking in the shadows. She knows why he had stabbed her the way he did - purposely missing her heart. He had hoped to infect her with the crown, hoped that he could change her and make her his. But he hadn't expected how strong her will was.
She's restless as she paces her room. Her hand constantly going to Nenya, needing to make sure that the ring was still there. She wants to be back out there, ready to fight. Looking for Sauron again. Because she can't stop, she doesn't know how to stop. She had lost so much - Finrod, Celeborn,Halbrand... if she stopped fighting what would she have? She no longer knows how to sit still, she's lost the ability to feel at peace. She knows she wouldn't be happy. Even if she returned to Valinor, she wouldn't be happy. How could she be? She felt so alone.
There is a part of her that now thinks she may never be truly happy, never healed. She feels lost, more so now than ever before.
She's restless as she paces her room. Her hand constantly going to Nenya, needing to make sure that the ring was still there. She wants to be back out there, ready to fight. Looking for Sauron again. Because she can't stop, she doesn't know how to stop. She had lost so much - Finrod, Celeborn,
There is a part of her that now thinks she may never be truly happy, never healed. She feels lost, more so now than ever before.
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